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shadowed-yet-vibrant · 4 years ago

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Something Was Burning

Izaya x Shizuo

Word Count: 2050

CW: vehicle accident, blood

It wasn’t supposed to end like this.

The end was supposed to have dignity. At least, with as much dignity as someone like him could hope to have when he took his last breath. Be it at the end of a gun or beneath the blade of a knife, there was supposed to be someone left for him to smirk at, the fleeting opportunity for one last laugh. The inevitable death was never supposed to be a sign of defeat, but rather the earnest embrace of karma’s overdue hands around his throat.

It wasn’t supposed to end pinned between pieces of crumpled metal, nothing but a seatbelt left to suspend him above a sea of broken glass. Not alone, without an enemy in sight, without any of the intimacy that would come from something as tantalizing as murder. Not an accident that arose without any greater purpose, no motive emerging from deep inside a broken human heart.

But something was burning.

Above all else, Izaya ached. He could hear himself gasping for breath as though he were listening in from a distance, a shaky rattle coming from a bruised chest. The belt across his middle had taken the brunt of the impact, and it was from there the pain radiated outwards, a reminder of how just one piece of fabric had kept him from launching to certain death. His ribs had paid for the small modicum of safety, the pain of mortality left in place of what would have otherwise been blissful nothingness.

Something was burning.

Plastic, melting rubber, and chemicals on the verge of combustion, a caustic mixture which had launched a frontal assault on his tender senses. But there was nowhere for the man to run, and even if he had been able to free himself from the wreckage, he suspected the pain shooting up his right leg may have rendered such an attempt futile regardless.

Izaya craned his neck to look at the car door above him, confirmation that the vehicle had indeed been thrown on its side in the crash. The last thing he had been able to comprehend was the truck speeding into the intersection and making contact with the driver’s side door in a brilliant flash of light. He felt no need to look forward toward the driver: there was no question the man was dead.

However dazed he was from the pain, Izaya could feel his mind struggling to give him a way out, a computational process which had started the moment the car had come to a halt on its right side. Within moments he had calculated how long until the flames would reach him in the back of the cabin, and to place the estimate above mere minutes would be unrealistic.

At the same time he had been running through the options to free himself from the wreckage, and was coming up painfully empty. Though he hadn’t yet put eyes on it, he knew his knife was no longer nestled up against his body. Its familiar weight was gone, a gaping absence in its place. It was the same case with his cell, both small objects having been ejected from his pockets during the cash. Unless he was able to release himself from the seatbelt and heave himself up through the window, he was still damned to burn.

He moved his hands to try and undo the belt, silently cursing Namie for pestering him about it so often that it had become habit. Though he would have surely died without it, in the moment he thought a quick death would have been somewhat more noble than this embarrassment.

It was only when he was fumbling for the belt did he take another look at this right leg, an area from which the pain was only growing more intense with each passing moment. There was little that could bring Izaya shock any more, but his stomach flopped as he took in the sight in full. His limb extended outwards from his hip with a sense of familiarity, but it disappeared into a gnarled hunk of door pressed up against the seat in front of him. The wreckage had him pinned, his leg stuck in a vice that no human feat of human strength could ever pry open.

Were there more time at hand, Izaya would have cursed to the skies. He would have reached forward and attempted to wrench himself free, emerge from the wreck like a hero, brush off help from onlookers who were still shouting in horror. But at the moment the only sound his constrained chest allowed was a short wheeze of laughter, a hollow sound that echoed amidst the deafening white noise filling the vehicle’s cabin.

But before he could close his eyes and embrace the crackling flames rushing towards him, Izaya’s world lurched. His sense of balance, already all but destroyed from the vehicle spinning out of control, once again swung sideways. The sound of crunching metal resounded, and the car slammed into the ground right-side-up with a great rattling of the suspension. Izaya bit his tongue as his leg twisted where it was pinned, instead letting out a grunt as his body was jarred yet again.

As soon as he was certain the car was back on its four wheels Izaya glanced out the window, wondering what force of nature could have turned the car over. And what met him at nearly eye-level was a familiar pair of tinted glasses, resting below angrily furrowed brows and a mop of blond hair.

In normal circumstances, this infuriating view would have taken his breath away in frustration. But at the moment, all he could do was give his enemy a dumbfounded stare, residual shock from the accident taking away all of his usual rage. Izaya could tell that it took the beast a moment to recognize just who he was looking at, expression frozen until those empty eyes widened ever so slightly. It was only then that Izaya found he still had enough strength for a fleeting smirk.

“Izaya,” Shizuo hissed, voice low and husky in anger. That constant state of rage had never abated, even when the man had taken the time to arrive at the scene of an accident and commit a rare act of kindness. The logic of this uncharacteristic assistance was beyond Izaya as he currently stood, so he grimaced and pulled halfheartedly at his leg in the hopes the car’s grip had loosened.

“What are you doing here, you brute?” Izaya asked, trying to buy himself some more time to focus. Now that the car was righted he felt as though there were some better chance at his survival as the flames grew nearer, his back already hot from their closeness. Death was licking at him, along with some distant thread of fear. He knew there was a decent chance that Shizuo would either walk away or speed up the killing process right then and there. Izaya would have preferred a chance to spar with Shizuo properly, rather than face his killer as nothing more than a rat in a cage, but it was still more dignified than succumbing to the chemical-fueled flames.

He could see the thoughts forming in Shizuo’s eyes, their gaze flitting from Izaya’s face to the wreckage of the cars, then back to the flames which had engulfed the rear of the vehicle. By now they were crawling into the far window and lapping at the leather seats, waiting to catch. Another few moments and Izaya knew that his soft collar and cuffs would begin to singe, his face already searing from the encroaching heat.

A scowl overcame Shizuo’s face, and he flashed his teeth in what appeared to be anger. Izaya drew in another short breath, no matter how much it hurt, and returned a smirk in kind. If he was going to be killed here and now, the least he could do was smile in the face of it, piss off that blond-haired menace one last time.

But instead of Shizuo’s arms reaching in through the broken window and making their way to crush Izaya’s neck, they wrapped around the side of the car door. The impact had crushed it inwards, making it impossible to open with merely human strength, but Shizuo was hardly human. Izaya watched in awe and shock as Shizuo secured his fingers into the ridges of the crumpled metal and pulled, grunting slightly as he did so.

That simple action, one which appeared to flow without any excess of effort on Shizuo’s part, resulted in the door slowly peeling away from the body of the car. The metal groaned as the frame was bent and snapped, shifting the entire vehicle with the sheer force required. Shards of glass from the window flew into the cabin, and Izaya looked away just long enough to shield his eyes. Seconds later the catastrophic noise had ended and sunlight streamed in freely, half of the car peeled back as though it were nothing more than a tab on a can of soda.

And it was now that the pain renewed in earnest on Izaya’s leg, and he gave an involuntary grunt as he looked down at it. Now that there was no longer a mass of metal pinning it up against the seat he saw his own flesh split open, his shin crooked and bone bulging beneath the skin as blood dripped from the lacerations.

Keeping a side-eye on Shizuo, who was taking a deep breath and staring into the car, Izaya fumbled with his seatbelt one last time, finally releasing himself from its grip. The fire was around him now, the flames reaching up to kiss him from either side. But the very moment that he was contemplating how to drag himself out of the vehicle without being able to put any weight on his right leg, arms wrapped around his torso, yanking him free from the car in a swift motion that wrenched his body through space.

It was all Izaya could do not to cry out, especially as his right leg bore the consequences of momentum and broken bone ground against broken bone. But he was freed, the smell of fire growing more distant, his limbs all freed from where they had been trapped. And now he was held surprisingly close to Shizuo’s chest, dangling from above the ground ever so slightly, suspended in an unexpected embrace.

He felt Shizuo’s breath hot on his neck, a gentle hiss of exhalation in his ear. And he could feel the gentle brush of hair against his cheek, shifting as he was slowly lowered onto the pavement. Whether it was the shock or pain that made him freeze, Izaya remained motionless as Shizuo laid him somewhat gently on the ground, a few long paces away from the remains of the wreckage. And as the man knelt and put Izaya onto the sidewalk, for just one brief moment, the hot skin of their cheeks collided. It was such an unexpected sensation that Izaya felt his eyes widen involuntarily. The contact ended as suddenly as it had begun, and Shizuo was already pulling away from him before he could react.

The sun framed Shizuo’s face in a way that was almost angelic, darkening his features as Izaya looked up at him, fighting to retain his comprehension through the pain. Unblinking, the man stood to his full height, finally releasing Izaya from his grasp. For a moment Shizuo was silent, expression pensive. Then he opened his mouth as though he wanted to say something, as though there was something on the tip of his tongue he was fighting to get out.

Instead of speaking, however, the man turned his back. He walked away, quickly disappearing from Izaya’s field of vision where he lay on the ground. Now other spectators were rushing forward, their shock wearing off, and the sound of sirens was growing near. Others descended around him, their hands both eager and fearful to touch him, wanting to render aid.

But all Izaya could think of was the brief moment where their cheeks had grazed, the tender way that the all-powerful monster had cradled his broken body. And where their flesh had met, something was burning.

#shizaya #durarara #shizuo heiwajima #izaya orihara #drrr #fanfiction #hey anyway I haven't posted fanfic to tumblr in about 4 years and haven't written any in probably 2 #so here I am back on my bullshit about a show I haven't watched in like forever #shizaya is my otp tbf #these two jerks live rent free in my head ok #anyway I hope that anyone reading enjoys! this was a fun break from studying law and let me stretch my writing muscles a bit #take care and have a good day everyone :)

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tobesobri · 4 years ago

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When the Lights Go Out (Halloween fic; 8k)

𝖆/𝖓: first off, happy Halloween yall! This is my second favorite holiday and so I really wanted to get something up in celebration of it! I’ve talked a lot on here about having trouble with writing recently and so I do what I normally do with writer’s block and I just leave what I’m stuck on and go off to write something random, which is what this ended up being. So, my writing style is definitely different and maybe not great, but this is just for fun so I don’t care! I still hope you enjoy! There’s spookiness (not too much), enemies (frenemies) to lovers, pumpkin carving, smut, alcohol consumption, and giant skeletons 💀 (oh and Harry dressed as Tarzan 🥵)

my masterlist 🎃 my askbox

𝕸ost people’s Halloween traditions weren’t too complicated; usually involving cult-favorite scary movies—ranging from Halloweentown to Nightmare on Elm Street—handing out Snickers and Kit-Kats to tiny trick-or-treaters, or just getting wasted at a friend’s haunted house party down the street. Their friend group, on the other hand, opted for a pumpkin carving contest every year on Halloween at Jason Hallow’s house, and, yes, his favorite holiday is Halloween because of his last name. And so, a few years ago when they were all undergrads together, he began hosting the annual carving contest at his house, in which they all paired up and, at the end of the night, whichever pair’s pumpkin came out the best—as judged by Jason, the resident Jack O’ Lantern expert—won whatever candy was leftover. That and marathons of R-rated horror flicks as well as occasional breaks to go out in the neighborhood and scare some of the kids while dressed in terrifying monster masks and slightly drunk off their asses from too much Tennessee whiskey.

Jason’s house was, hands down, the place to be in their neighborhood. Everyone who came by always wanted to join in on their festivities, and one year, they’d been just drunk enough to let a few of-age neighbors join in. This year, though, it was different. The stakes were higher. They were competing not only for the candy, but also for the much envied twelve-foot tall skeleton Jason had found at Home Depot which currently sat in his front yard amongst his other outrageous decorations. The skeleton was definitely the most noteworthy and had been the center of plenty group photos from just about every one of his neighbors since he had brought it home and especially tonight. In fact, every time the doorbell rang and he greeted another group of kids in his gory doctor costume—because Jason was in med school after all—every one of them squealed about how much they liked his skeleton. And so it almost pained him to have to give it to one of his friends after tonight, but if he’s being honest, he has nowhere to store it—he’d purchased it completely on a whim—and next year they will compete for it all over again anyway.

Tonight is also different because Harry and Y/N are not getting along. They all knew this beforehand, but simply brushed it off until they realized it was much worse than anyone had imagined. They had a horrible friendship—if one could even call it that—ever since they’d met as freshmen pre-law students six years ago. Sometimes they got along, but mostly, they bickered non-stop at each other, which all their friends took as misguided flirting. They got along for about six months once, after a drunken hookup, until, of course, Y/N hooked up with someone else and set off the volcano that was their relationship all over again. It had been calm recently with both of them needing each other’s help through their vigorous law school studies. So, a truce had been made and they tolerated each other at best. Tonight, though, the monsters had truly been unleashed and neither one of them had stopped picking at each other since they’d arrived.

It began on the street, when Harry took the spot Y/N had wanted to park in. Then at the door, when he asked her how her midterms were going and she felt like stepping on his toes until she crushed them. Which was perfectly logical since his was barefoot and mostly naked in his stupid Tarzan costume he’d recycled about four times now since they’d all known each other. He only wore it when the weather was warm, as he claimed, but they all had a suspicion he wore it so that he could watch Y/N drooling over him all night.

She wasn’t innocent either, in his defense, at least not this year when she came dressed in a sexy Beetlejuice costume, something none of them ever thought was possible. But she made it happen. She wore a too-short black and white vertical striped t-shirt dress—which had rips in all the right places, particularly across her chest—and a pair of neon green boots that were Doc Marten knock-offs she had found online. Other than that, she had spray painted the front bits of her hair a grey-green color and did her makeup to match the theme, dark purple smokey eyes and a green color used as contour. It looked good, she looked good, not that Harry would ever say that out loud.

Jason’s entire living room and dining room floors were covered with plastic tarps. He’d set up the usual fold-away tables and chairs for everyone. It was an easy clean-up job that wouldn’t leave pumpkin guts smudged into his hardwood floors or, even worse, the beige carpet in his living room. And, as always, he had a line up of various pumpkins on his kitchen counter—and the necessary kit of carving tools—ready to go. They usually didn’t start until nine-thirty or ten, once everyone arrived and had a few drinks in them and they had all agreed on what movies to watch. This year was a marathon of The Conjuring franchise, because Jason had spent way too much money on a box set and he would not be wasting them. Nobody objected anyway because the movies held a sentimental value to all of them. Every year since the beginning when a new movie came out, they all managed to go see it together, and also cause a horrible ruckus in the theater. Although they’d almost been kicked out a couple times, it was still some of the best memories together they’d ever had.

There was also that one year, when Annabelle Creation came out and Y/N and Harry were getting along on account of the LSATs, that they’d secretly gone home together. And then, of course, pretended it never happened.

That had been the second time they slept together, the second time she’d woken in his bed, with Harry’s annoyingly toned arm wrapped all the way around her, and the last as well because Harry got into a serious relationship their first year of law school and that had been the end of things.

Well… not completely the end. At least not until tonight.

“Okay we’re getting started!” Jason announced over both the music and the television, which someone turned down before Jason continued. He stood, wobbling, on one of the foldable chairs, for no other reason than the bottle of vodka in his hand. He was teetering on the edge sobriety and really didn’t give a fuck if he fell off. “Y’all know the drill! Isa’s handing out the cards. No whining. No trading. Or you’ll be disqualified.”

The cards in question were riddles that they had to match up with the answer. Half of them got the riddle card, the other half an answer card and that would determine who their partner was.

Y/N both wanted Harry as her partner and detested the idea at the same time. She was all for it because, well, he was hot dressed in nothing but his small piece of brown loincloth fabric hanging loosely on his hips. But at the same time, she knew they wouldn’t win together and she really wanted that skeleton.

The riddles were all hand-made by Jason on his computer and then laminated in his girlfriend’s school’s teacher lounge however many years ago. They all knew every answer to every riddle by now, but it was still a much more fun way to pair up than picking names out of a hat.

Y/N read her riddle twice, having absolutely no recollection of the answer to it, however—which was probably due to the alcohol she’d consumed herself within the past hour. She wasn’t all to blame, though, Harry had a lot to do with it too. She was still mad at him, for what she wasn’t sure, but she also could not stop herself from stealing glances at him and the only way to stop feeling so many confusing things about Harry was to drown it all away.

She read her riddle one last time: The person who built it sold it. The person who bought it never used it. The person who used it never saw it. What is it?

Her brain felt like mush after the third read and she hoped someone would find her first and give her the answer. She peeked around at people’s cards as they all tried to find their pair, some of them meeting up immediately and getting the prime pick of the pumpkins. It had dwindled down to just a few of them and she finally waltzed herself up to Harry, grabbed his card from his hand without his permission and read it.

In bold, 16-point Helvetica font, it read: A coffin.

Of course.

She rolled her eyes, shoving his card against his stupid bare chest and groaning audibly. “Figures I’m stuck with you.”

When she finally looked up at him, though, she wasn’t all that upset about her odds as she pretended to be. Not with the way his face set into a devilish, wicked, up-to-no-good look that made her want to rip him from the room and rip his useless Tarzan costume off too while she was at it.

He had also been drinking, which was made even more clear when he opened his mouth. “You’ll always be stuck with me.” And then he leaned in a little bit, his smirk widening and his eyes darkening and the sweet smell of vodka on his tongue strengthening, “Forever.”

She hated the buzzing in her stomach he caused, and hated that she liked knowing they probably would, at the very least, know each other for the rest of their lives. It had already been six years since they met and she still hadn’t managed to shake him off. And now they were finishing up law school together and getting offers to work at the same firm together. There would be no escaping him, not that she really wanted to.

The only time she wanted absolutely nothing to do with him was when he had a girlfriend. She hated seeing him in her classes, in her study groups, her circles, at her internship. He was always there, though, rubbing it in her face as she had once done to him. Hers was just a dumb hookup, partially just to spite him, and his was… well he dated the girl for entire year before they broke up and he seemed genuinely heartbroken over it. It had been serious, and Y/N had been seriously miserable the entire time. Even more so when she found out they’d split up and she just about threw a party while Harry moped around campus. She couldn’t help it, though, she’d liked him ever since they met, but then they just sort of… didn’t get along all the time.

She knew he liked her too, at least a little bit, or he’d never have slept with her twice. How much he actually liked her though was still up for debate, and so she chose keeping their weird hate-love relationship over ruining all of it by admitting her feelings for him. Plus, she liked working with him and getting his help on exams and papers too much to ruin that as well.

Y/N grabbed the third to last pumpkin, an unopened carving kit, and led the way to two lonesome chairs. They sat closest to the door, and farthest from the dining room and Jason, in their own little corner where they had enough room to stretch out given that no else had laid any claim on the other side of their table yet.

“So,” Harry began once they were settled and Y/N began opening the kit of tools, “what are we making?”

Before giving him an answer, she laid out all the tools on the table in front of them, next to their poor misshapen pumpkin, and then reached down into the side of her boot and pulled out a black sharpie; she’d learned a couple years back to start brining one. It might have been cheating, sketching her design beforehand, but Jason never outlawed it.

“I’m making Jason’s favorite Tim Burton character and you’re in charge of the guts.” She dictated confidently, slapping the sawing tool and the large orange plastic spoon in front of him so he could get started right away.

He eyed the tools for a moment, then the pumpkin, and then finally her. “Absolutely not. I’m not doing all the shit work while you do the fun stuff.”

“Thought you’d be used to that.” She half-mumbled, but he still heard her over the rest of the noise in the house. And, frankly, she was right. When they had interned together last year, she always handed off the demeaning tasks to him, like getting the coffee or making copies, while she did the much more interesting parts of the job. What she didn’t know was that she didn’t make him do anything. He always did it so she didn’t have to.

He sat back in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest, arms that her eyes—which were completely out of her control at that point—glued to immediately. He’d been working out ever since the break up and finally filled out the Tarzan costume a lot better. He’d always had a nice body, she knew that, but now… now he made her dizzy.

“I’m not doing it. Least not all by myself.”

She gave up then, mostly because she lost her will to argue against the pout of his lips and the flexing of his biceps—which weren’t ridiculously big, but they were subtle and modest and very much bigger than they had been this time last year when he’d dressed up as a shirtless baseball player. Most all of Harry’s costumes involved some level of nakedness and not much sense, but she didn’t complain too loudly. And his arms were definitely bigger now than they had been the last time she was in his bed and he was over her.

“Fine.” She groaned, grabbing the mini saw tool and then standing to begin carving a hole at the top of their pumpkin, around the stem. She made it big enough for them to be able to stick their hands inside, and then once she was finished, pulled the stem piece off and set it aside for later, chopping off some loose bits of pumpkin shreds first.

Despite his earlier protests, he was the first to dig into the pumpkin, standing as well and going hands first into the thing where he pulled out fistfuls and dumped it into a pile on the table. They went back and forth digging out the insides of the pumpkin until finally, Harry grabbed the spoon and really went in. And she didn’t even bother offering to help, and instead stared, again, at his stupid biceps and especially at his hands, which were slick from the pumpkin juice. She shuddered remembering where his hands had once been, and then pulled herself together remembering how long ago it had been and how very little interest he’d shown in picking up where they’d left off pre-girlfriend.

Once the pumpkin was fully gutted, they both sat again, and cleaned their hands off on the paper towels Jason had set up on each table.

She was the first to begin the process, sketching out the design with her sharpie of Oogie Boogie from The Nightmare Before Christmas. She’d carved the character before, but still needed a reference picture on her phone to get all the details right. And Harry watched her the entire time, memorizing her face for the millionth time while she concentrated, and sometimes he stared at her hands, too, hands he also found himself reminiscing over, to the point of needing to cross his legs so it wasn’t made visibly clear what he was thinking about. He was starting to regret recycling the Tarzan costume.

While they all worked, Jason answered the door and handed out candy about once every five minutes. The best part of their tradition wasn’t the pumpkin carving itself, but rather, the atmosphere. They loved the feeling, the adrenaline rush of it all. How messy everything would eventually get, how loud they all were. The anguished shouting when someone messed something up. The sounds of Thriller playing in the background mixed with the loud jump scares from the horror movies played all night long. It was heaven to any lover of Halloween (and they all loved Halloween).

She’d let Harry start the carving of the design, informing him what parts were staying and what parts needed to be cut away, before she ventured into the kitchen to grab them both a drink. On her way back, she paused for a moment, just watching Harry work over in their corner. The sight of him almost made her want to finally admit how she felt. Maybe it wouldn’t be too bad if he rejected her, at least then she’d know.

But then Zoe plopped down into her empty chair next to Harry and crushed everything back down like an aluminum can being recycled. She tossed back about half of her Smirnoff after Zoe had scooted closer to Harry and grazed her fingertips across his arm—the one he wasn’t using the carve the pumpkin. And at first, he ignored it, but then he set down the tool, pushed his hair back with his clean wrist and offered Zoe one of his annoying little smirks that Y/N always thought he saved just for her. But now, seeing him use it to flirt with Zoe, she felt stupid and betrayed. And stupid again for feeling betrayed.

She had no claim to him. She just had her memories, as inconvenient as they were at times. But that was nothing and it’d been so long that he showed any interest in her, in anybody, that for her to be jealous now was just pure selfishness. As much as she hated Harry sometimes, she still wanted to see him happy again.

Y/N made her way back slowly, eying what others were doing, until finally joining Harry again just as Zoe went back to her own pumpkin.

She was quiet for a moment, sipping on her drink, watching him as he got back to carving, before cleaning her throat as she finally said something, “What did Zoe want?” And she tried not to sound anything other than curious, but the way Harry glanced at her, with a raised brow, she knew she needed to be so much more subtle.

He took the other cup from her that she hadn’t drunk from and replenished his blood alcohol level. “She just asked me what I was doing after this.”

Instead of opening her mouth and being obvious, she just set her drink down and grabbed both the carving tool and the pumpkin from Harry to take over. He’d already done way more work than she had, so it was about time they switched anyway.

He eyed her curiously still, even though he allowed her to continue where he left off as he leaned back in his chair and took a break, downing what was left in his cup as she worked.

“You’re not jealous are you?” He finally asked, after a few moments to let his brain marinate in the alcohol in order to brave that question in the first place.

“No.” It was sharp. A piercing rejection he felt dig its claws deep into his heart. He couldn’t tell if she was lying or not, but if not, it hurt. More than he was willing to admit, even to himself. He wanted her to be jealous. He always did. That was part of the reason he’d gotten a girlfriend. And of course she was also part of the reason they broke up, if not all of it.

He nodded, “So it wouldn’t bother you if I went home with Zoe?”

He noticed her brief hesitation, when her hand stopped moving and she took in a breath of air, but then she settled again. “Doesn’t bother me what you do, Harry.”

Again, he nodded, still watching her just to get a sense of her reactions. Of course he had no plans on going home with Zoe. He just wanted to know. Where they stood. How Y/N felt about him. Whether she thought about their nights together as often as he did. When they were studying together and she’d shift her hair behind her shoulder and he’d get a whiff of her shampoo and be taken right back to one of those nights, and the nights that came after that when he got lost in that scent on his pillows until it eventually dissipated and left him craving more.

He tried again. One last time. If he still didn’t get the response he was hoping for, then he’d give it up and leave her alone. So, he sat forward, crossing his arms on top of the table, close enough to her now that the buzzing in her stomach reappeared even though she never braved a single glance at him. He was close enough that the smell of his cologne overtook the odor from the pumpkin. Close enough that she felt his breath on the side of her face when he spoke.

“So, I’ve just been imagining the way you’ve been looking at me all night then?” His voice was just above a whisper, and soft, caressing her ears as the sound crept its way inside of her. As it seeped into all the places the alcohol had been, although Harry was always something way more potent than whiskey or tequila. He made her head spin, made her feel everything and nothing at the same time. Made her heart flutter so much at times it hurt.

His words sunk in and all her motions stopped as she froze in place. She stopped carving their pumpkin, stopped blinking, stopped breathing. Staring blankly at their half-finished design until he was wrung out from her system completely. That never really happened, though, because he was staring at her, watching her with those glinting, impatient eyes, waiting for an answer. There wasn’t even the familiar hint of a smirk or a bit of amusement on his face anymore, either, that might have calmed her nerves. Because at least if he seemed to just be messing with her, she could play that game with him, but this was different.

He leaned forward a bit, trying to get her to look at him, to say something, anything, really. He’d be satisfied enough with her lies at this point. But he also knew the absence of an answer alone was all he really needed. He didn’t feel like he was getting ahead of himself, seeing the way her body reacted to him, by assuming that she felt, at least somewhat, the same way he did about her. Because if she’d been the one to ask if she was imagining how he’d been staring at her all night, he wouldn’t deny it.

Just as she opened her mouth, just as she had gathered enough words to form a coherent sentence, the room went dark. Pitch black, actually. The lights all around them flickering off, the television going blank, the music cutting out. And once the startled gasps and dramatic, drunken yelling had subsided, they were left in a ringing silence, so completely opposite to what they had been moments ago that it was painful for their ears to adjust to.

“What the fuck?” They heard Jason’s voice in the darkness and then, finally, a bit of light as he turned his phone’s flashlight on.

“Did the power go out everywhere?” Someone else asked.

And while everyone panicked, all Harry cared and thought about was Y/N’s hand wrapped tightly around his own on his lap. He wasn’t exactly sure when she’d grabbed for him, but once he realized she was there, he didn’t really care too much about the lights anymore. What he did care about still, however, was whether she’d ever answer his question now. If he’d ever get to hear what she was about to say just before the darkness cut her off.

A few of them stumbled about, making plans to go outside and check on things while everyone else stayed inside and waited. The room went dark for a few more moments as Jason left, but then someone else turned their flashlight on, and shined them at the ceiling so that there was at least enough light so that they didn’t have to sit in complete darkness.

If it wasn’t Halloween, the power going out wouldn’t have bothered her so much. Outages happened happened all the time. But now, in the middle of the second Annabelle movie with all sorts of other spooky shit around them, she couldn’t help but be terrified and imagine the worst. Like… what if there was a killer on the loose who had cut their power. What if the killer was chopping up Jason and the others and then eventually heading inside to do the same to all of them?

“Hey,” Harry mumbled beside her, inching closer and rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand, realizing she’d grown tense when her grip on him had tightened. “You alright?”

Hearing his voice again, she let out a breath of air and tried to relax. She watched way too many scary movies and this was most definitely not one of them. Just a power outage, possibly due to everyone being home and using lots of extra electricity on their lights and decorations. She had no reason to panic. Although it could be blamed on Harry as well, if he hadn’t made her an astronomical amount of nervous just before.

She nodded until she realized Harry couldn’t even see her very well. “I’m fine.” She finally affirmed, and, to his dismay, took her hand away from his.

They sat in their own silence for a while, listening to the quiet conversations around them, particularly to Zoe and Julie who were trying to look up any information they could even though their phones were slow from the lack of Wi-Fi and service.

After a little while, she found his hand again in the dark, and this time, she wasn’t afraid from the power going out, but rather what she was about to say. Because if there was ever an opportunity to spill your guts to Harry Styles, it was in a dark room where his grassy green eyes weren’t all over you, sucking every ounce of courage from your bones.

Her voice was in a whisper, and she finally looked at him, or rather in his direction. To the outlines of his face, of his nose and his cheekbones. Even though she couldn’t find the green, she knew he was there, waiting, listening.

“You haven’t been imagining anything.”

She couldn’t quite see it, but his eyebrows had hit the ceiling and before he could question her further, she continued.

“I was miserable when you were seeing Liv and so fucking happy when you broke up.” Her voice shook, but she didn’t let that stop her, “And then miserable again because you didn’t want me. And maybe you still don’t, but it would really bother me if you went home with someone else.”

The quiet almost ate her alive for the next few seconds when he said nothing and she didn’t have his features to go off of. But then, she felt him getting closer until, finally, his lips were at her ear.

“I’ve always wanted you.”

The buzzing was back but this time it was debilitating. Especially when he faced her and cupped his free hand along her jaw. And especially when he tilted her head back slightly to meet his lips, which had pretty good aim given their predicament. She missed the way he felt, she realized, once he was kissing her. Once he had scooted closer and released his hand from her grip on his lap. Once he grabbed up the other side of her face and pulled her closer. And then her hand was left to fend for itself on his thigh, and she, almost unconsciously, drifted her touch closer and closer and closer…

He moaned softly into her mouth when she toyed with the flimsy piece of fabric tied around his waist with her fingertips. And finally, she pulled apart from him, catching her breath before whispering, “Do you think they’d notice if we left?”

He shook his head, “Don’t think I care if they did.”

And so they were off. Trying not to draw too much attention to themselves even though she slightly tripped over the leg of the chair and he tried not to giggle too loudly while helping her. His hand fell into hers again as he led the way out of the living room, down the hall and into Jason’s guest room, closing them both off from any light source completely, not that they really cared too much about seeing each other; they just wanted to feel each other again.

And as soon as Harry had closed the door behind her, that’s exactly what they did. As she wrapped her arms around his neck; as he felt his way around her waist, he kissed her like he hadn’t kissed anyone in years. Like he was a dry, cracking desert and she was a vast river flowing through him.

He took brave steps towards the bed blindly, backing her up further into the dark room and managing to not trip over anything when he finally made it to the bed. They’d both, on separate occasions, spent the night in Jason’s guest room before, which helped when maneuvering around in the dark. For instance, Harry knew that Jason kept his secret stash of condoms in the bedside drawer. Harry had no idea why, but he was thankful for it right now, when, after laying her back on the bed, Y/N had already begun undoing his costume—with such quickness, he was sure she’d studied how the thing was connected to his body so that she knew exactly how to get if off if need be—and, within the next few seconds, tossed the flimsy Tarzan loincloth out of sight.

Which left him in just the black thong he wore underneath. If it were up to him, he wouldn’t have even bothered with it. But, when he had first gotten the costume and tried it on without anything, he imagined all the wardrobe slips and potential boners might not be in everyone’s best interests. So, he went out and bought the smallest pair of underwear he’d ever owned, tucked himself inside of them, and called it a day.

Those, too, were stripped from his body in a matter of seconds, or at least pushed down his thighs to where they no longer covered what they were intended to cover. But then she flipped them around, so that Harry was on his back this time, splayed across the bed and she was finally ridding him of the thong all together and not wasting any time getting her hands on him and he wondered, with how quick she was to get to this point, if she had been thinking about this all night. And if she had, then he would definitely have to whip out the Tarzan costume more often.

He seemed to sink into the mattress once he felt her mouth close on him, his eyes fluttering shut and his mouth hanging open involuntarily when he hit the back of her throat. He had no idea how he’d gone so long without her, or why either. Why had he been so stupid? Why did he let her think he didn’t want her? Why did he deprive the both of them of this? Of the way she felt circling her tongue around the tip of his cock, the way he knew she was looking at him even though he could physically not open his eyes or come down off his cloud long enough to tell her how good she felt. How much he missed it. How much he was probably in love with her, even if that might have been crossing some sort of line.

“Forgot how big you were,” she whispered, giggling almost shamefully after wiping her mouth on the back of her hand and giving him a break to actually breathe properly again.

“Think we both know that’s a lie.” He was out of breath already and he was right, although she wouldn’t feed his ego no matter what he said. Although she remembered his cock perfectly fine, she wasn’t exactly used to it. And maybe she had momentarily forgotten what he had hidden under his costume. It’d been two years since they slept together, and the first time it happened they’d been drunk.

She didn’t say anything else, just tried to hide the blush on her face—even though he couldn’t’ see it anyway—by taking a mouthful of him again. She didn’t let him come, though, of course, and he didn’t expect her to either. She never had before. She always led him get right to the edge, to where he was panting and writhing and digging his fingers into her hair, on the verge of screaming her name into the dark, and then she’d stop. Pull him from the back of her throat and leave him a sopping, moaning mess.

He’d somewhat recovered when she crawled on top of him and and sat on either side of his hips with her hands planted on his chest. And now that their eyes had adjusted to the darkness, she could see the curve of his lips as he smiled up at her and even the sinister little twist of his mouth just before he grabbed hold of the hem of her dress and ripped it off over her head, letting it fall onto the bed next to him. He wished they had just a little bit more light, but at the same time, it turned him on having to see with his hands instead. Having to reach up and cup her breasts in his palms and rely on his memories for a better visual than the one he currently had. And as she came down to kiss him again, there was one thing for sure he didn’t need any light or anything but his fingers to do.

He tossed her bra into the same vicinity as her dress and within seconds had his hands all over her again, and his tongue as well, wishing she was on her back so he could worship her in all the ways he desperately wanted to, but also aware that the power could flick on at any moment and he really didn’t have the time.

Not that she had asked, and maybe she just hadn’t thought of it yet, but he still, while continuing to make out with her, reached over, pulled the drawer open on the nightstand and reached inside to locate the box of condoms.

However, once he did, and he didn’t find what he was looking for, he sat up and pulled apart from her, twisting himself a bit in order to see inside the drawer. His other hand held onto her hips so she didn’t fall off of him as he searched the drawer. But, soon enough, he was laying back again, groaning as if he was in physical pain.

“There’s no condoms.” He muttered between his teeth and just that one little sentence ruined his entire night.

“It’s okay.” She assured, continuing to whisper just as he did so that no one would hear them through the thin walls. “I mean… we’re clean right? And I’m on birth control…”

He ran his fingers through his hair, looking up at her and trying to decide if it was a good idea or not. She was right, of course, but even so there was always a possibility. Even with condoms there was always that same possibility too. He knew one thing for certain. If he remembered correctly. There was absolutely no way in hell he’d be able to pull out, so that really wouldn’t even be an option either.

“If you don’t want to though, that’s fine.” She spoke again amongst his silence. It’s not like he would hate the potential consequences, and of course he would not hate feeling her without a stitch of anything in between them, he just needed to be reassured that’s what she wanted, truly.

“I do, just um… are you sure you’re okay with that?”

She nodded first and then, confidently, “Yes.” As she fell back into place over him, her lips came to his ear this time, “I want to feel you coming inside of me.”

His whole body shuddered, needing her more than he quite possibly ever had. And as she tucked her panties to the side and guided herself onto him, he would most definitely go outside and cut the lines himself if the power decided to come back on before they were finished.

“Forgot how wet you are…” He whispered, heart fluttering at the way she laughed while fucking him. He never forgot either, not quite. But feeling her again now, pooling around him, warm and snug, he again wondered why in the living hell he kept himself from her for so long. Sure, they didn’t like each other most of the time, but their first time together had been hot, drunk hate sex and ever since then he’d chased that feeling with other people, none of them ever quite adding up to her. He wondered if she thought the same. No one ever making her feel the way he did either. If, when she was with someone else, she thought of him instead.

He knew he wouldn’t last long the second she put her greedy hands on him, and so her being in control now was slightly dangerous. He wasn’t ready for it to be over, even if he was racing the clock, even if he could just take her home from here and do it all over again, properly. He didn’t want it to end as quickly as it started.

So, he flipped them back over, getting her on her back like he’d wanted to earlier. Slipping a pillow under her backside to get a better angle and letting her sink all the way through the mattress this time. He remained inside her the entire time, only making quick, shallow movements to avoid the sounds of their skin slapping against each other. But he gave up being careful about their noise level after she begged him to go faster, after he reached between them and rubbed his fingers over her clit to catch her up with him.

She tugged at his hair while he kissed her, breathlessly and without much of a second thought this time about how loud they were being. He assumed all their friends knew about them anyway, even if she chose to be ignorant to it. They all speculated about the secret hookups and the mindless flirting that was disguised as harmless bickering. So, he just stopped caring the closer and closer he got.

That was until he buried himself as far as he could inside of her, his hand wrapped around her throat the way he remembered her liking, and he felt the scream building beneath her skin, beneath his palm. Quickly, before her noises led to everyone barreling into the room to find out what was going on, he clasped his hand from her throat to her mouth instead. Holding tightly as she let it out, his eyes pouring into hers like a lake of shining emerald waters getting her to stay there in the room with him. So that she didn’t close her eyes and float away like he had before.

He titled her head to the side, kissed up her jaw to her ear. “Mm, I missed the way you sound.” He wanted to tell her how he thought about her pleads and her moans and her yells late at night when he was feeling particularly alone. When he wanted nothing but her, to either be inside of her, or to just have her there next to him. But all of that got caught in his throat, and instead, as he continued burying himself into her, he whispered like a growl in her ear, “Missed how well you take me.”

And although it made her moan, made her eyes cross and her fingernails scrape across his shoulder blades, he wanted to tell her that he missed how they fit together. How where he ended she began so seamlessly no one else could hardly compare. There had always been a seam with everyone else, with Liv, a visible divide between him and them, soldered together haphazardly. But with Y/N, it was smooth, flowing together as if they were the same person.

His hand slipped from her mouth as he began losing control, and soon she was the one having to cover the noises. Though, this time, she just simply pulled his lips to her own and felt all the vibrations escape from his throat against her skin, her teeth, her tongue. She breathed in nothing but the air from his lungs, and held onto his tightly as she began to unravel.

His moans quickened and quickened until she felt his release, warm and deep inside of her, just as her own gave way, until his body began to give out, until he was panting and no longer able to hold himself up over her. And so once they both descended from their cloud, once their wave had crashed onto the shore, he planted himself beside her, their chests in rhythm as they cough their breath.

And before either of them even managed to open their eyes or breathe steadily again, the surge of the power coming back on dimmed the haze. Their room was still dark, but light seeped under the door and the rest of their friends cheered from the other room as the music began again. And for a brief, stupid moment, Harry thought about fucking her again and letting her scream all she wanted, but that fantasy was cut short when he remembered their friends would soon realize they were missing.

“We should get back.” She mumbled. Although she made no sudden movements to get up. She even closed her eyes again, still off in another world.

And so Harry risked it, just for a few more moments, anyway, where he rolled closer to her and slid his hand up her jaw softly, pulling her attention toward him again as her eyes fluttered open, waiting.

“I was miserable when I was with Liv too. And we broke up because she knew I spent all my time thinking about someone else.” He swiped his thumb across her cheek, realizing for the first time that he’d probably royally fucked up all her makeup and then hoping she wouldn’t come to her senses and kill him for it.

“And who might that be?”

He smiled, sweetly this time unlike all his asshole smiles, and just as he glanced at her lips, ready to kiss her again, he was cut short.

“Yo, where are Harry and Y/N?” It was Jason, loud and clear and possibly headed their way to investigate his missing party guests who had snuck off together in the dark. Jason didn’t know that yet though, and as much as Harry would like none of their friends to find out, it wouldn’t exactly look great the two of them waltzing out of the guest room together. Harry’s curls in shambles, fresh scratches all across his back, and Y/N’s makeup smudged. There was simply no use in hiding what they’d been up to, it was written all over them.

Harry grabbed her clothes and handed them off while he went on a search for his own tiny pieces of costume. And just as they got decent again, there was a knock on the door.

“You guys in there? You better not be doing what I think you’re doing.” Jason warned and Harry and Y/n looked at each other for a moment before busting out laughing.

Harry got to the door first, throwing it open to a very surprised Jason, who then narrowed his eyes when he saw Y/N come up behind Harry.

“God, not in my guest room!” He whined as Harry pushed pass Jason, a looking Y/N following shortly behind, “Now I have to clean the sheets again! I just did them yesterday.”

“Sorry, mate!” Harry called over his shoulder, glancing down at Y/N quickly to give her one of his cocky little winks. And once they had reached the main room again, as he fell back into his chair, she realized just how many scratch marks she’d left on him, and wished he’d worn a costume with a shirt to cover it up.

She drowned out all the whistling and the comments about how everyone knew she and Harry were up to something, about the bets won and lost. All she heard was Harry’s voice in her ear, telling her how much he missed her and she wondered if it was real. If he really did miss her, or he just missed fucking her. If, when it was no longer October 31st, they’d just go back to normal. Like the horse-drawn carriage turning back into a lumpy, ugly pumpkin.

Harry noticed this, of course, because he’s a law student and notices everything, but just as he leaned in to ask if she was okay, she pulled away.

“I just, uh, need some air.” And then she was gone before he could do or say anything. She used through the front door, abandoning their poor pumpkin and headed toward her car. She’d left the keys and her purse inside, but it didn’t matter. She just leaned against the passenger door and gazed up at the stars, thankful for the clear night and warm weather.

And, of course, he was beside her not too long afterwards. She’d heard his footsteps against the pavement, knew he’d probably follow her out anyway.

He cleared his throat, half watching the same stars she was and half glancing at her. “Did I do something?”

“No, it’s um…” she faltered, her eyes falling to her feet. “Think I just had too much to drink.”

“Oh… I’m sorry. I—” she cut him off before he got too far in the wrong direction.

“No, I mean…” she pushed off her car then and faced him, “Are we just going to go back to how we always are after tonight? Because I don’t know if I can do that. But I never know what you’re thinking, Harry. Do you even like me or do you just like sleeping with me sometimes and arguing with me all the rest of the time?”

He continued to watch her for a moment, almost waiting for her to tell him she was kidding. But when she just ran a nervous hand through her colored hair, he realized she wasn’t.

He waited for a group of kids all dressed in various Star Wars outfits to pass by them before he began. “I guess I thought I was clear, but obviously not enough… I don’t just want to sleep with you every couple of years and pretend we don’t like each other in between. I think we’ve already wasted enough time, don’t you?”

She nodded once his words sunk in.

“Can we go finish our pumpkin now? And win the stupid skeleton. So I can take both it and you home with me?”

Again, she nodded, but this time it was matched with a smile. “Who says I want to go home with you?”

He rolled his eyes and threw an arm around her shoulder, pulling her close enough to kiss the top of her head as he steered them back toward the front door. “Guess it’ll just be me and the skeleton then.”

They both glanced over at the giant thing stuck in the middle of Jason’s front yard, still attracting every young person like it was a princess at Disneyland, and then she looked up at him again. “On second thought, I might like to see that.”

He shook his head, opening the front door for them, “M’sure you would.”

#sorry if there are spelling or grammar errors #im just glad to have written something tbh #but yeah let me know what you think! and i hope you all have a great halloween and that you're staying safe!#harry styles smut #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles writing

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scripturiends · 4 years ago

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stole all the air from my atmosphere

Read on ao3

Summary: Han Joonhwi thinks maybe pulling all-nighters wasn’t so bad after all, even when you’ve practically finished studying ages ago.

Rating: T

Word count: 1,577

Notes: Inspired by a poem by Timothy Joshua. And totally optional, but I recommend listening to this song while reading.

Hey, all. Thanks for waiting patiently for an update. This fic is in response specifically to a request I received here. I know a lot of people have been requesting for a sequel to ‘gave me no compasses, gave me no signs’ as well; truthfully, I’m not sure if this fic is in the same ‘universe’ as that one — all I can definitively say is that this still follows the canon. So, I’ll leave it up to you to decide if it’s the same timeline or not. I have a lot of fic ideas lined up for an “official” sequel, anyway. ;)

The Solhwi brain rot just gets more potent as we anticipate the new episodes — I absolutely love receiving plot ideas from all of you, and while it’s a challenge to interpret it in my own way, I still hope that it’s on par with your expectations. As always, I’d love to hear your thoughts and comments. You can send me a message anytime too! I know I say this often, but your continued support really really keeps me motivated to write. Would love to make new friends as well, if we can help it.

Okay, the note is getting too long now. As usual, the fic is under the cut, and all mistakes in this fic are mine. Enjoy!

There was that moment, when you stole all the air from my atmosphere; when my heart pounded within the might of all the planets.

It’s the third time Han Joonhwi has bit his tongue in the past ten minutes, attempting to stifle his oncoming yawns, trying not to cause any disturbance. He fights his drowsiness as best as he can, hoping that his companion wouldn’t notice — and yet, as his luck would have it, the moment he couldn’t hold it in any longer just so happened to be the exact same moment the person next to him lifted her nose from the book it was buried in.

Without looking at him, she flips another page. Tone commanding but masked with concern, Kang Sol mumbles, “Just go to bed already.”

So much for being lowkey, he thought. Joonhwi stretches himself awake, thinking of the perfect response: casual enough to make it look like he doesn’t care, but caring enough that she wouldn’t push him away. “Not until you’re done,” he finalizes.

Sol scoffs, tossing her pen lightly on the table. “You don’t even take this class.”

Well, of course he knew that. But Kang Sol A — truthfully, he prefers to omit the distinction: no matter how many Kang Sols there are in Korea, or hell, even in the entire world, he’s only got eyes for one — is not getting anything out of him. If getting Joonhwi to admit his true feelings was her goal, she’s far from reaching it.

“You know why I’m here,” he sidetracked.

Unconvinced, she turns to him with a provoking look, and Joonhwi already knows she’s about to go on a long-winded rant. “Yeah, yeah, I do,” she started. “You want to hang out with me but instead of just asking like a normal person, you make up this lame excuse about how I need to study even though I was already planning on doing that anyway. You practically finished studying ages ago so you just sitting there doing nothing is really rubbing salt in my wounds.”

He watches her with both his hands on his head, suppressing a smile. Finding an opening, Sol pushes his chest lightly. “I don’t need you here. Get out.”

She said it so weakly that he knows there’s no way she could have meant it. Making sure she doesn’t lose her balance, Joonhwi quickly takes hold of her wrists and gently places them back on the table. “You talk too much,” he breathed.

Sol purses her lips in annoyance and propped her chin up with her hand. “Yeah, well, that’s why you’re dating me,” she pouted.

If she keeps putting him in his place like this, he might actually have to walk out, but not for the reasons she’d expect him to, like his supposed exhaustion. Joonhwi knows Sol doesn’t do this on purpose, but she naturally has a way of making him flustered, and he’s trying really hard not to lose his cool right now.

She stomps her feet lightly on the ground, groaning. “This is too difficult,” she complains, leaning her head on Joonhwi’s shoulder.

Really, really hard.

It’s funny how Sol can say something one minute and then completely contradict it by the next. She says she doesn’t need him there, but clings onto him like her life depended on it. Not that Joonhwi was complaining — but he does want to have a little fun with her. He wanted to stir her a bit with something like, I thought you didn’t need me here? He knows she hates being called out for snappy remarks that she only ever means as a joke.

But a quick glance at Sol, in her favorite pajamas and one of Joonhwi’s sweaters, on the very rare occasions she has her hair down, bangs falling on her eyes, Joonhwi decided against it. Her vulnerability shouldn’t be treated with ridicule; it should be met with an equal amount of softness. After all, no one else but Joonhwi gets to see Sol like this — he finds that as a privilege which shouldn’t be taken for granted.

“Okay.” He gives in. “Let me have a look.”

Joonhwi holds his palm out to ask for the reading material, which, as usual, Sol rejects. “Didn’t we already talk about this?”

He feigns innocence. “Talk about what?”

Her head feels heavy on his shoulder. “I need to be able to stand on my own if I’m going to survive law school hell,” she reminds him. “You can’t keep coming to my rescue for every little inconvenience.”

“So this is just a minor setback?” Joonhwi teases. He couldn’t help it.

“No,” Sol cries, “it’s a major obstacle.”

She snuggles up against him, and Joonhwi could literally feel the heat rising to his face. Nonetheless, he lightly holds the side of her head for support and asks, “So what? Are you just going to give up?”

“Of course not,” she mumbles, her breath hot on his neck. Joonhwi knows the law well, but he feels like this should be illegal.

“But sometimes I wish I was just naturally smart like you.”

He lets out a soft sigh. Like many other things, the pair have talked about this before, and Joonhwi has never denied that he and many others have had a significant head start over Sol. But this is what he’d always tell her:

“If everyone in this school had half as much of your wit, every crime in the world would have been solved by now.”

To which she’d grimace and respond with, “Yeah, tell that to the F I got in Criminal Code.”

But tonight was different. Sol wasn’t coming from a place of defeat, she was saying this out of frustration. She was probably thinking that maybe, had her life choices been different, she would have had it easier. That maybe, had she been as lucky in wealth and opportunities as everyone else, she wouldn’t need to work twice as hard as them. So that maybe, like Joonhwi, she could just comfortably sit in silence with him and enjoy his company.

Right now, he’s treading murky waters and he’s afraid that one wrong move could give Sol the wrong idea. Joonhwi has never been the type to open up to people, but she never made it difficult for him to do so. With Sol, honesty was just the default. Telling her things he’d never entrust with anyone else came as easy as breathing.

He takes her hand and gingerly intertwines it with his own. “I didn’t have it easy at the beginning either,” he admits. “Law school wasn’t even a part of my plan, and yet here I am.”

This is at least one thing he knows Sol could empathize with. After being betrayed by the last person he’d ever expect to hurt him, Joonhwi’s life took a turn. To an extent, he was motivated by rage. But mostly, he was just trying to find a way to turn that pain into something useful, trying to make sure no one else has to go through what he did. And call him foolish for being too hopeful or optimistic, but he believes this is something he and Sol can do for each other. They’re two sides of the same coin: the law owes Sol an apology, and Joonhwi is coming to terms with the fact that he might never get one, ultimately being robbed of the opportunity after his uncle’s untimely death.

Joonhwi knows his words bear significant weight to Sol. There’s a lot of things he wants to say to her but right now he just settles with, “I think you’re smart enough. If anything, you need to stop going overboard. What if you get sick again?”

She lifts her head and stares at him with doe eyes.

“That’s why I’m here.” He raises their interlocked fingers to show to her. “Why do you think I’m holding your hand? It’s so I can pull you out from under when you’re drowning in all of this.”

Sol slowly breaks out into an endearing smile, trying to repress her laughter but failing. “Heol. Han Joonhwi, since when were you so sentimental?”

Joonhwi doesn’t know where this newfound bravery came from, but he kisses Sol on the forehead lightly. “Since you needed it.”

Sol blinks, her expression unreadable, and Joonhwi fears that he may have done the wrong thing. But much to his disbelief, she instead grabs him by the collar and closes the gap between her lips and his. They crash against one another in perfect rhythm, and Joonhwi mentally slaps himself for not doing this sooner. Never has he felt more at peace than at this very moment, which was ironic considering he was supposed to be the one doing the comforting. And yet, the lines blur when he realizes that even when their methods are vastly different, they’re at their best when they’re in tune with each other’s needs.

And right now, this is what he needs the most.

Much to Joonhwi’s dismay, Sol finally pulls away; they’re both out of breath.

Still in a daze, he musters up the courage to ask such a stupid question. In fact, he’s surprised he could even speak at all. “What was that for?”

“You’re not the only sentimental one here. If you’re going to kiss me, do it right.”

That was when I knew, you were worlds more, than just a first kiss.

Send me your thoughts here!

#jtbc law school #law school #kang sol a #han joon hwi #solhwi #kim bum #ryu hye young #kang sol a x han joon hwi #fics #jtbc #kdrama #korean drama #mine #otp: why couldn't you be here sooner

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7-wonders · 4 years ago

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Love That Moves the Sun and Other Stars

Summary: If you thought defying death, becoming the most powerful witch currently living, defeating Satan, defying death again, and becoming immortal was difficult, you were obviously mistaken. Coronation, royalty lessons, and pesky in-laws make the idea of facing Satan again more appealing with each day that passes. Luckily, your husband is by your side for it all. But will the love you share be enough to get you through these challenges?

Word Count: 1292 (just a short little introductory bb to set this up)

A/N: Ahhhhh I'm so excited for this! This is officially the first chapter of As Above, So Below's sequel. I've had so much fun revisiting these characters again, and I hope you have fun reading. If you enjoyed, please like, reblog, and comment. If you haven't read AASB before, strap in and click this link, because it's 70k+ words of pure goodness. Lastly, if you want to be on a taglist, let me know!

(moodboard made by the amazing @brattylovee)

She feels them before any of her other senses pick up on them. Being a goddess means her senses are especially attuned to any sort of disturbance, and that’s no different here. It’s an evolutionary trait, one meant to make sure that those gifted with immortality have an upper hand in case of danger, but there’s no danger here. Achlys, or Zoe (she doesn’t really have a preference which name you call her), smiles when she realizes that those she cares about are finally home. Indeed, those around her begin to pick up on this return too. Even Cerberus lifts his heads up, studying the noises he hears before jumping up in excitement and bounding towards the throne room. Zoe chuckles, standing from her spot in one of the many sitting rooms and transmuting herself to the throne room.

The hellhound does not even blink when he sees that one of his mistresses reached his destination before he did, screeching to a stop and barking happily. The king of the Underworld stands in the center of the throne room, his new wife holding onto his arm. Neither you (the aforementioned new wife) nor Michael can wipe the smiles off of your faces, both so wrapped up in newly wedded bliss that it’s impossible to not let the rest of the world see how happy you are. Only Zoe clearing her throat breaks your eyes away from those of your husband’s, and you grin even wider when you see her.

“Zoe!” you greet, untangling your hand from Michael’s to wrap your arms around your friend. “I’ve missed you!”

“Oh yes, because I’m sure you had plenty of time to think about those of us here while Michael was whisking you around the world.” Her eyes twinkle with mirth as she teases you, briefly letting go of you to customarily curtsey in the direction of Michael. “My lord.”

“I believe we’ve been past these formalities for about 200 years now, Zoe,” Michael says as he comes up behind you and puts a hand on your shoulder.

“Force of habit.” Zoe turns back to you. “So? How was everything?”

“Oh, the honeymoon was wonderful. Michael took me to Greece, and he did some magic to make Athens look like how it did when everybody thought you lived on a mountain.”

“Stunning, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know what was better, Rome, France, or Greece.”

“They all have their charms.”

“Bet the sex was good, too.” Hecate appears with her arms crossed, smirking at you and Michael.

“That’s really inappropriate--” Michael starts, but you cut him off.

“You wish we would tell you.” You wink, Madison laughing and pulling you into a hug. Knowing that she’s finally getting used to hugging, you smile victoriously. “Anyways, the honeymoon was great...for me, at least.”

Madison laughs. “It wasn’t great for Michael?”

“No, he felt like it was ruined because I made him meet my parents.”

Michael scowls as if to emphasize your point. “I’m a god, why is it that meeting my wife’s mortal parents intimidates me?”

“He’s just being dramatic; my parents love him!”

“Do they know that you’re married?” Zoe asks.

“No, we said we’re ‘dating’ and taking things slow, which, in Underworld time, we technically did.”

“Gods, I wish I would have been there for that conversation,” Madison chimes in.

The doors open, interrupting your conversation, and Michael’s right hand demon appears with a bow. “My lord, welcome back.”

“Thank you, Cassius.” Like a switch being flipped, Michael assumes the position of God of the Dead.

“I hope you enjoyed your vacation, for we have quite the workload for you to tackle.”

“Yes, of course.” You look at Michael with a pout, which really isn’t fair on your part considering you just spent the past month uninterrupted with him, but still...you thought you would at least be able to relax with him a little bit before jumping back to work.

“King stuff?” you ask.

Michael nods. “King stuff.” He kisses your head just barely, already on the move to go handle whatever’s first on the long list that Cassius is holding. “But don’t worry, you’ll have plenty to keep you busy, what with the coronation and all.”

“The coronation?”

“Yes, your advisors will explain it further.” Michael glances behind his shoulder. “I love you!”

“I love you too.” But he’s already gone. “Did you two know anything about a coronation?”

“No, but it’s kind of assumed that there would be one, since you married a king and all,” Madison says.

“You’re my advisors, so tell me about the coronation.”

Madison laughs. “We’re far too important to be anyone’s advisors. No, as the soon-to-be Queen of the Underworld, you have an actual staff.”

“But...do I actually need a whole staff?”

“Considering you’ve never done any sort of crash course on how to be nobility, I would say that you do.”

You nod sagely. “Like in Princess Diaries.”

Madison and Zoe share a confused look. “I have no idea what that means.”

“Oh, it’s a movie. Basically this girl finds out from her grandma that--”

“I wish I could say that I’d watch it, but I won’t.” At this point, Madison interrupting you is so normal that it doesn’t even phase you anymore. “But let’s face it, you’re going in completely blind. You need some sort of help.”

“Why from other people though? I’d rather that you and Zoe just helped.”

“Neither of us are skilled at planning coronations, and we can’t guarantee that we’ll always be around whenever you need to learn something related to your new role. We’ll certainly try, though,” Zoe says.

“Who’s this ‘we’ you’re talking about?” Madison jokes. “Don’t stress about it, okay?”

“I’m not!” you insist.

“I can see it in your face, you totally are. Nothing’s going to change, and you have nothing to worry about.”

“Besides having to learn how to be a queen?”

“Besides that. But I thought you knew that you would have to do this?”

“I did, but I just didn’t think it would be so sudden. I thought I would have some time after getting back before having to deal with this.”

“Okay, you need to get out of your head,” Zoe says, “and we’re going to show you that things will still be as they were before you married Michael.”

“How are you going to do that?”

“Well, how much of the Underworld have you explored before?”

“Not much. Michael took me to Elysium for a date once, and we went to see the Fates, but the only other time I had been out of the castle was when I ran and that monster almost ate me.”

“Perfect. We’re having a girls’ night out, then, and showing you the fun parts of the Underworld.” Madison squeals upon hearing Zoe say this, and you can already see the wheels turning in her head. You’re not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing yet.

“There are fun parts of the Underworld?”

“Why would we continue to live here if there weren’t?” Madison asks, and you admit that she has a point.

“Consider it, like, a bachelorette party! Mortals do that, right?” Zoe looks at you in anticipation.

“Yeah, but I’m not really a bachelorette anymore.”

“So? It’s a belated party, and any event like this is an excuse to go have fun.”

“Oh, alright.”

Zoe claps her hands together. “Perfect! Let’s go find some suitable outfits.”

Zoe and Madison each take one of your hands, walking and chatting about the places that they want to take you and where they think you would like best. Though you huff and roll your eyes, you have to admit: it’s good to be home.

///

Tag List: @ladyrindt @hecohansen31 @xavierplympton @michaellangdon @trelaney @dark-mei-rose @blakescoven @ajokeformur-ray @michaelsapostle @nsainmoonchild

#michael langdon #michael langdon imagine #michael langdon imagines #hades and persephone #hades and persephone au #michael langdon au #ahs imagine #ahs imagines #ahs fanfiction #american horror story #american horror story imagine #american horror story apocalypse

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alluringjae · 4 years ago

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[ 23:45 ] ⮕ END

part of my collection of cookie cuts from all i do is wait

in order to understand, read the main story first here.

pairing: ghost!doyoung x female!reader

genre: angst, sum fluff if you really squint

warnings: death, grief

author’s note: someone asked me how i would interpret this scene, so here it is. this hurt A LOT. have fun though!

leave me some feedback, constructive criticism or hellos!

Mid-1953

At long last, the Korean War has ended after 3 years.

Over 5 million people dead, and to be one of the lucky survivors was a miracle.

The remaining soldiers who’ve fought through it all could return home, whilst civilians can properly rebuild all that was devastatingly destroyed in their cities. Their own normal lives included.

The fiercest 3 years of your life must you say, too engaged with self-studying your history books saved pre-war while dealing with the bargaining stage of your grief towards Doyoung. Every day, you couldn’t go on without overthinking the what-ifs. On top of that, your toddler Areum was at the stage where she loved creating a mess on the walls with her crayons. No matter how many times you’ve corrected her because it wasn’t your house, she continued anyway.

Now, she’s full-blown crying after you confiscated them and you’re on the verge of it. Thankfully, your mother stepped in to take her out for a walk in the neighborhood so you could unwind for a bit.

Since news broke out that the war ended, everyone from every street cheered and danced on the streets. You hailed with praise along with them, positive that things were going to get better. Yet deep down, you’ve selfishly wished that he was one of the lucky few to come home.

If only you didn’t chicken out so easily after he told you he was enlisting so you had a few more seconds with him.

If only you compromised him to join another field.

If only you told him about Areum earlier so he could go home.

These thoughts revolved your mind the most, instantly getting you to break down wherever you were. Even photos of him and you together were enough to tear down your walls. So, they remained hidden until the day you’re in a much better state of mind.

Dear god, you longed for him. Everything that consists of him.

In hopes to forget this tremendous loss in your life, you poured hot tea in a cup and started on this new book from this ongoing series, The Chronicles of Narnia. Getting it during this harsh period was tough, bartering it with old books you’ve owned in the market.

Fully preoccupied in the fantastical universe, flipping the pages quickly, you almost missed the continuous knocking on your door. You let out a tiny gasp and made your way to the entrance. As delusional to think it was Doyoung, you knew it wasn’t your mother and Areum either because they would’ve simply walked in. Opening it anyways, you were met by two young tall men. One had a bandage on his cheek while the other had a cast on his right arm. Noting their growing hair, they must’ve fought in the war.

Oh, if Doyoung was one of them.

“Hello, may I know who you two are?”

The one with the bandage spoke up, bowing first. “Hello, I am Lee Taeyong and this is my friend, Kim Jungwoo. We were good friends of your late lover, Kim Doyoung.”

Late lover.

Haven’t heard that since people in the neighborhood gossiped about your taboo pregnancy, but it’s not like they knew anyways. But from the letters exchanged with Doyoung before, he talked about these two highly. Whenever there were times of ease while serving, Doyoung was always up to mischievous things with these two. In a situation where they had to man up, they brought out his inner child.

“Oh, yes! Doyoung used to talk about you two in his letters, but I had no clue how you guys looked.”

By instinct, you invited them inside for tea by the patio. You’ve always wanted to meet them despite the circumstances. Bringing in a tray with a teapot and treats, mostly you were inquiring about their lives. Aside from knowing their positions in the team, you learned of their new plans moving forward.

“I want to return to university to finish my studies in mechanical engineering, maybe travel the world too.” Jungwoo stated, blowing on his cup before sipping it. He’s said to be an organized man according to Doyoung, always cautious of his surroundings. It balanced out his liveliness.

“Me too! I want to complete my major in finance, then marry my childhood sweetheart after a few years.” Taeyong expounded, his round eyes glowed in wonder. He must’ve been looking forward to this day, and you were content for him. Meanwhile, it processed to Taeyong what he said, realizing that it may have been insensitive.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” He burst out instantly. “I got stuck in my feelings there.”

“It’s okay, nothing to worry about. You shouldn’t apologize for how you feel.”

“I do think we should feel worried about you though.” Jungwoo interrupted, sighing heavily. “What happened with Doyoung-hyung all those years ago, we’re really concerned for you especially.”

At the mention of the painful memory, this wasn’t the right time to crumble. You weren’t capable to show your vulnerability to anyone but yourself. Plastering a wrenching pretend smile, “I appreciate the concern, truly. But I’ll be okay again. I’m planning to return to university too, then proceed to law school. A shared dream of mine and his.”

Taeyong and Jungwoo transparently viewed you like glass, coping with the grief of it. They were on the same page as you, and unaware to you, they knew his final words. With their interpretation, it only felt right to reach out to you. Befriend you, aid you in any possible way.

At the end of the day, three of you equally shared the suffering over the death of a loved one.

Sitting in peaceful silence, the front door creaked open followed by a tiny, high-pitched voice squealing.

“We’re home!” Your mother shouted.

“I’m at the patio, we have guests over!” You replied, pouring more tea for the two quiet boys.

From such a low-spirited atmosphere only did it liven up when an energetic Areum came into your setting. She had pigtails this time, satisfying herself with fresh bungeo-ppang from the neighborhood. No matter what you’re feeling, it took a single glance of her with her small moon-like eyes to recharge you.

“Mom, who are your friends here?” She pondered cluelessly.

The two boys exchanged looks at each other first, then to you in one breath. Their expressions of perplexity by how one’s hand was on their mouth and the other boy couldn’t stop staring at Areum, you identified exactly what they were thinking of.

“Areum, these are your dad’s friends in the army.” You animatedly confirmed. “The one with that tiny bandage on his face is uncle Taeyong, and the one with the white cast is uncle Jungwoo.”

Doyoung’s death was already so heavy to take in, but upon discovering this hidden surprise, Jungwoo wiped his tears on his sleeve. But you were fast to hand him some tissue. He was younger than you, so your older sister instincts kicked in.

“This is unjust, (Y/N).” He murmured across you so Areum won’t pick up his words. Your lips pressed against each other, maintaining a straight face at him. He was right.

With Taeyong, his arms spread out wide for the small girl who willingly walked to him. He loved children, having a nephew back home. He caressed her smooth hair down to her jaw. The first thing he distinguished was her pretty eyes followed by her squishy cheeks, resembling so much of his late friend.

“You’re so pretty, Areum. Did your mom tell you that you mirror so much of your dad?”

“Yes, she does! But I’ve never met him and I don’t when I will, uncle Taeyong.”

A tragedy how the splitting image of his best friend doesn’t see what everyone sees. But again, she’s only 3 and she can only process so much. She doesn’t know the real truth behind her father’s location, except that he was working far, far away. There are days she’d ask if he’d come back soon, yet your only response is not now. This isn’t the right time for her purity about life to stain.

“Well Areum,” Jungwoo gathered his senses again, crouching down to her level. “As his friends, we know that you look just like him! Prettier even.”

“Really? Tell me more about him, uncle Jungwoo!”

It’s about time someone else shared stories about your late lover because yours was short-lived. It’s even more intriguing to listen to what other people have to say about Doyoung that weren’t his parents. Some stories told by Taeyong and Jungwoo were new to you too, giggling along to their ridiculousness when they’re not training or fighting. Loving their presence, you invited them to stay for dinner with your family, which they couldn’t reject.

What started as a tense conversation transformed into a heartwarming experience. These two boys earned a spot in your life, aspiring for longtime friendships with them. The tender way they cherished for Areum like they’re own after meeting for the first time, it’ll fill in bits of her void. In exchange, they insisted to chip in for you and her lives so it wouldn’t be just you and your family. Struggling already with the consequences of the war, it only felt proper to do so.

“Doyoung has always been there for us, now let us return the favor and be there for you and Areum.”

Your protests were deemed useless, so you allowed them to do so. Once you finished law school and take the exams, you could pay them back. It’s phenomenal how Doyoung’s good influence towards others multiplied even after his passing. Maybe if you began to view things this way, you’d recover sooner. Although he’ll always be in your thoughts, it wouldn’t be as sensitive as it is now.

For now, you’re just going to enjoy the bliss Taeyong and Jungwoo brought, retelling old tales of a drunk Doyoung on the dining table.

From behind your garden fence in secret, Doyoung secretly observed as his treasured companions interacted at last with positivity. His only daughter mirroring his adored smile, he lived in that moment vicariously through her.

What a good time to visit today, truly.

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tales-unique · 4 years ago

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MEMORIES OF THE WEST III

Needless to say, Dutch is Interested. After the initial shock and suspicion subsides he hounds you with questions, all while marching you over to his tent, motioning two men over with a swift motion. Arthur and Hosea, the same men he had been talking with earlier on. You stand awkwardly between the three, fidgety under their gaze. Hosea seems the most agreeable of them while Arthur is wary of you, if first introductions are to go by, but Dutch doesn't waste another minute with the pleasantries. “Miss DuBois, if you please.”

“Oh,” you clear your throat, eyes flicking between them. You suddenly feel small , but you try to hide it as best you can. “His name is Jebediah Kramer. He’s a gambling man from Saint Denis who, I happen to know, has just come into a large sum of money.” “Just how much money are we talkin’ here? And how do you know about it?” Arthur speaks up, eyeing you suspiciously. He looks intimidating, all broad shoulders and piercing eyes. If it were under different circumstances you might have enjoyed the sight. You give him a tight-lipped smile instead. ”At least a couple thousand, and I know ‘cause the no good, pompous, cheating son-of-a-bitch took it from my brother in a rigged poker game!” The three fall silent. Dutch has his hands on his hips. Hosea crosses his arms with a slow nod. Arthur just watches you with suspicious eyes. “So that’s why you’re more than happy to let us rob him blind!” Arthur breaks the silence, throwing his hands up in the air. “You just need someone to do your dirty work, huh?” He turns to Dutch, a scowl on his face. “I bet it aint even that much money, it’s not worth the risk Dutch! Not with all the heat we already have!” “Easy, Arthur,” Dutch waves his hand dismissively, “any lead is welcome, you know that—” You’re surprised by his support, but none-the-less pleased. “—But I admit, I am curious why you would let us ride away with your brothers wrongfully taken money. Care to enlighten us further?” Now, not so much. “Well, the money wasn’t my brothers to gamble with,” you sigh, fidgeting, “he took it on loan, and was supposed to pay it back, but obviously he couldn't with it all gone. Jebediah, ever the kindhearted rich man,” you sneer, “offered to pay off the debt and give a little more besides for a trade,” your voice tapers off into a murmur at the end, your teeth nipping the inside of your cheek, anger bubbling in your stomach. “Well?” Dutch probes, impatient, “what trade ?” “For my hand in marriage!” You hiss low, stomping on the mound of dirt you hadn’t realized you were shoveling with your foot. “And the damned idiot said yes ! Like I’m some pet o-or a piece of furniture that don’t have feelings or a mind of her own!” Flustered, you take in a deep breath in order to try and calm yourself, crossing your arms tightly across your chest. “So yes , it’s a little bit of dirty work on my behalf, but the way I see it you’re the ones who get the better end of the deal. And you can keep anything else you find too, I don’t care. It ain’t mine after all,” you shrug, cold and distant. It’s a little sobering for the men before you but you don’t care. Jebediah is a rich man who doesn’t give two hoots about anyone or anything but himself; he deserves far worse than this, but at least your brother will have learned a harsh lesson and you won’t have to marry that fool Kramer. He’ll be too busy nursing his ruined ego to focus on you, after all. You hope. “Well,” Dutch drawls, breaking the stalemate, “ain’t that something. What do you say, gentlemen?” He asks Hosea and Arthur, both of whom have stayed quiet after your little outburst. “I doubt Miss DuBois would be so, well, so animated over nothing,” Hosea states, “I say we take a look into this Mr Kramer.” He offers you a small smile and a dip of his head, which you return. “And you, Arthur?” Arthur grumbles, shuffling from one foot to another before he shakes his head. He takes out a cigarette, holding it between his lips before looking you dead in the eyes. “Better not be setting us up like fools, Miss,” he growls, striking a match. Through the smoke he looks like one of those mountain men you’ve read about in your books, all rugged and rough. Now you can see why they sell so well among the ladies in the gentry. Dutch nods, a hand coming to your shoulder in a reassuring pat. “Well then Miss DuBois, I think the matter is settled! Now, all we need is a plan .” Reconnaissance — the first phase of Dutch’s plan. A trip to Saint Denis was in order, he explained, to return the stolen bride-to-be and in the process integrate themselves into the business of Jebediah Kramer directly. Of course it wouldn’t be that easy, you told yourself, but humored Dutch with a smile and a nod anyway. “We should have taken the train! ” You huff, shifting in the saddle to try and get the blood flowing to your legs. You’ve been riding for a while now and while you’re grateful not to be walking all the way to Saint Denis, you would have preferred your own mount instead of sharing one. Especially with a certain ill-tempered cowboy. “Quit your whining, we’ll make camp as soon as we get to open ground,” Arthur grumbles, growling in frustration when he, too, has to readjust to get comfortable. The large stallion he rides, a hulking Ardennes, snorts in complaint at the unruly riders. You shush him gently, smoothing your fingers out along his neck. “Only if you mean it this time,” you counter sourly. Arthur just chuckles, recalling how you fell for the lie twice before you called his bluff. He does mean it this time though and it’s not long before Arthur picks out a suitable spot to set up camp. It’s just enough for two weary travelers on the road. Two small tents, two bedrolls, and a small fire. You sip at a strange concoction that Hosea gave you, made out of American Ginseng, which he said would help boost you up a bit after your ordeal. It tastes funny, but you do feel better. Arthur is smoking, eyes on the rabbit that he’s cooking. You’re curious of him, but he doesn’t seem like the kind of man that enjoys being quizzed and questioned. You decide to do it anyway. “So...” You start, trying to make small talk to fill the deafening silence. Arthur flicks his gaze briefly to you, but it’s soon back on the rabbit. “So?” He repeats when you remain quiet, raising an eyebrow. “So, what’s it like being an outlaw ?” Not the most original question in the world and you know it. You cringe inside and you can see the tension in Arthur's expression. He’s probably been asked that before, plenty of times, by all sorts of people and you feel stupid. He scoffs and shakes his head, distracting himself with the now cooked rabbit. You awkwardly decline his offer for some. You’re too busy hoping a hole would open up and swallow you whole “Sorry,” you murmur sheepishly, “that was, God, that was awful!” Arthur snickers, making you smile. “Well I wasn’t gonna say anything, but now that you mention it,” he teases, the awkward tension leaving your shoulders as you laugh. It didn’t sit right with him, how uptight you were. Especially since he knew it was because of how standoffish he’d been with you in camp. The stress of everything with the law, that mess in Blackwater, and Dutch acting strange was weighing heavily on him but that didn’t give him the right to be mean to you. He could have been civil about it. Hosea always taught him to be, even when disagreeing, not that Dutch ever minded him being more of a brute. And a brute he had been. Until he saw that look in your eye, that is. Like a puppy who was kicked for being a little too excited, a little too much for those around it. With a sigh, he gives you the once over before sitting up straighter. The cooked rabbit meat is stowed away for later, when you’re both on the move again. “You really wanna know what it’s like to be an outlaw?” He asks and you visibly perk up, surprised that he’s answering your question. “Are you really gonna tell me?” You counter, narrowing your eyes. You’re suspicious, but the smile creeping onto your lips betrays your excitement. Arthur finds he quite likes this side to you; maybe you are more suited for this life than he gave you credit for. “Well, it ain’t fun,” he breaths, “I mean, you’re practically living it already. You’ve been kidnapped, starved, hustled into some fools errand by a gang of misfits, and now you’re planning to rob some rich fool blind and get out alive to spend the money!" He chuckles. “All we gotta do is get you in a gun fight and girl you’ll be the real deal,” he adds, smirking. You’re quiet for a moment, studying him, before you break down into laughter as Arthur watches you in amusement, illuminated by the firelight. “You really think so?” You laugh, shaking your head, “I don’t even know how to use a gun!” “Then I’ll teach you,” Arthur says after a moment of contemplation, “you’ll need it if you’re gonna run with us.” The resoluteness of his tone stifles your laughter and you once again look at him with those wide eyes, barely contained excitement brimming within. “You will?” Suspicion radiates from you again but he waves it off dismissively. “Yeah, you’ll need to know just in case things go wrong,” he explains, “but c’mon now, it’s getting late. We should get some sleep while we can.” Stifling a yawn, you nod. Arthur will have you up with the dawn chorus so that you can make good time so you need all the rest you can get. Burrowing down into the blanket on your bedroll you sigh contently, peeking up at the stars as the fire becomes glowing embers. The stillness of the night surrounds you, coaxing you into a restful sleep as twinklings lights above fade to black. Arthur listens as your breathing evens out, steady and constant in your slumber. He stares up at the stars, ruminating on just how it came to be that you were there, with him, about to pull off something daring and downright foolish with the possibility of no pay off. Before he left with you Hosea had told him to have faith in you and your knowledge, but could he really be so quick to trust? Turning onto his side, Arthur watches you with interest. You’re curled up like one of those pretty cats in a basket, soft fur and sweet purrs. Long lashes kissing the tops of rosy cheeks. You’re an honest girl, he’s sure, but the more he watches your peaceful, sleeping face, the more he’s concerned that you’re in over your head, and that just doesn’t sit right with him.

#RDR2 #RDR2 Imagine #RDR2 Imagines #Red Dead Redemption 2 #Red Dead Redemption 2 Imagine #Red Dead Redemption 2 Imagines #Arthur Morgan #Arthur Morgan Imagine #Arthur Morgan Imagines

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daretosnoop · 3 years ago

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Chapter 1: The body in the Entrance

Here is it guys!

So, I changed the order of some event around to fit better with plot pacing. Also, I extended the mystery beyond one night because that gives me nothing to work with.

I know I said that this is a romance between Henry and Nancy, but it’s not going to really be that because: 1. Who falls in love over the span of 4/5 days? 2. Henry can’t just go from one relationship to another 3. I have a hard time believing in quick love/relationships. I need foundation, and it’s reflected in my writing.

I plan to continue the series beyond CRY, and build their relationship. So if you don’t ship, don’t worry, you can still read this. I suggest listening to the soundtrack while you read to enhance the experience!

Had anyone asked Henry Bolet what love was, he would have had no answer. No honest answer, that is. Love was a parent’s devotion to their children. But his parents died when he was young, and their will somehow declared his father’s brother, Bruno Bolet, as a fit guardian. Love then, must be the desire to look after someone. But Bruno tossed him around from boarding school to military school. Summer and winter breaks were the only chance Henry got to see his uncle, but as he grew older he learned to use his sparse vacations more wisely. At twenty-five, he supposed he couldn’t complain much. Bruno never hurt him. He ensured Henry was clothed, fed, educated, and safe.

But surely, Henry thought, a person could expect more than Maslow’s base level of needs?

That was all life seemed to teach him. If you’re able to stay alive and keep moving forward, be thankful and keep your mouth shut. Be good, be quiet. And Henry was good. He performed well in school. And he was quiet. He silently bore the bullies, the snickers, the shunning. It paid off in military school where his silence was applauded as patience and he was promoted to officer at a young age and expected to delegate arguments. The nub of anger in him, an anger that appeared on the night his parents died, screamed at his fragile backbone. Its voice molded with the voice of his superior officers, commanding for attention among other orders. With so many years being called private Bolet, corporal Bolet, sergeant Bolet, and officer Bolet, Henry almost forgot his name. It wasn’t until he met Summer at a random bar that he remembered.

She sat by him while his fellow soldiers mingled with the other soldiers. It was their scheduled night out and the soldiers wanted to go to the bar. Outnumbered, Henry had no choice but to agree. To disagree would lead to a lack to trust and camaraderie, especially with him. So he sat somewhere dark and quiet in the bar, hoping no one saw him till it was time to leave. But like her name, Summer’s warmth crept into his corner.

“Hey there,” she cooed. “What’s your name?”

“Bolet” came the automatic reply.

“Oooh a cold one are you? Don’t worry. I don’t bite”. She nudged him a little and Henry could smell the alcohol oozing off of her.

“Henry,” he muttered after a long pause.

“Hen-ry”. She played with his name, brought it to life. “I’m Summer”.

Henry nodded, waiting for her to continue.

“Why don’t you join the other men? They seem to be having fun?”

“On duty”.

Summer’s eyebrows perked as she took in Henry’s response.

“So you’re not drinking?”

“It’s not my thing”.

“Ooh, a cleanwhistle,” she edged closer towards him. “A proper soldier”.

Henry said nothing. He could feel Summer’s gaze on him and didn’t know what to do.

“Come join us,” she spoke suddenly and got up, pulling him with her towards a group of people. They quietened when he and Summer approached and she introduced him as the “officer in charge”. It got a few chuckles, but Summer’s face showed pride. Henry didn’t say much, didn’t have to. Summer talked for the both of them, and the other members of the group seemed to have no problem with his trepid responses. Excitement, a rare emotion, flowed through him as he listened to the conversations that flowed through the drinks. It didn’t help that twice Summer gave him a peck on the check. She ordered more drinks. Henry paid for the first one, but then cut her off in concern. A chorus of coos went around the drunk group as Summer proudly declared him as “a good soldier”.

“My good soldier,” she whispered to him and Henry let himself fall.

It was Summer who persuaded him to leave the military.

“What will I do then,” Henry asked.

“Don’t worry,” she placed a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll tell you”.

She suggested taking up a degree in accounting. It would be a 180 from the military, but the analytical side would be familiar. Henry considered letting his uncle know of the changes he was making to his life, maybe even introduce Summer to him. But Bruno never responded to the letters and emails Henry sent, nor did he pick up the phone. After a while, Henry just stopped calling. And anyway, there was no need to be concerned. Summer’s decisions were always right. She didn’t attend college, but she worked in the local café. Since she couldn’t accompany him, she suggested he stay and work in the café. After all, most freshman were too busy enjoying their youth to offer any real friendship, and since he was older than the others, it would just be too awkward for him. So he spent his free time in the café. He allowed her to crash in his apartment and picked up her slack.

Summer would often complain about her coworkers, her parents, Henry, even herself. The more time Henry spent with her, the more he saw how tired she was. She was often too tired to help out and frequently disappeared for days at a time. Henry was most worried about those days because she never bothered to let him know when she was going or for how long. Whenever he tried to bring it up, she would snap at him, exclaiming her need to discharge from the world. He tried to explain it to her, how his parent’s sudden death made him a little paranoid.

Summer listened to him. She then held his hands and said, “I’m sorry, but I’m not your parents. Get over it”.

So Henry got over it.

Now, two weeks from graduating, he stood in front of the Bolet manor struggling to get over his uncle’s sudden death. Summer had scoffed when Henry informed her of his uncle’s death. She didn’t understand the point of attending the funeral of some estranged relative who barely cared about Henry.

“He took care of me Summer”.

“So?” she exclaimed.

But when she saw that, for once, Henry would not be persuaded, she rolled her eyes and let him go with an aggravated sigh. A permission he thanked with a shopping spree.

“Just come back when you’re done Bolet,” Summer said as she left for her parent’s house.

It was at the funeral he learned that Bruno had made him executor of his will and also dedicated thirty percent of the estate to him. It was no measly figure. Bruno Bolet’s house was of average size, but his estate encompassed the cemetery plot that belonged to the Bolet family. Even the ten percent that Bruno’s housekeeper was to get landed her a pretty sizable fortune. It was the housekeeper, Renee Amande, who welcomed Henry to the Bolet manor and showed him to his room. The house was very clean, which was all Henry could think of saying as she led him to his room.

“Of course it is. I keep very high standards,” She turned and looked straight at him. “Though Mr. Bolet was an eccentric and disorganized man, I always ensured he lived in a clean home and ate regularly. You don’t get to 98 single and alone”.

“He seemed quite content to live alone, from what I know of him,” Henry said. He couldn’t help snapping back. The anger he held had started to ebb out during the funeral and Henry had no outlet for it.

Renee stared at him. Her eyes roved around his figure, taking in this so called nephew of Bruno Bolet. She didn’t trust him. He certainly played the role of a Bolet very well with his eyeliner, painted nails, and what looked like a fishnet glove on his right arm. But what nephew never met or even called his uncle? Renee entered into Bruno’s life when he was in his sixties and he spoke very little of his family. Oh Bruno prided himself in the Bolet family’s eccentric personality and their history with New Orleans’s ghosts, but he always held Renee and most others an arm’s length away. But New Orleans was linked to the Bolet name.

The Bolets started out as gravediggers and worked their way up to undertakers. Everyone, both living and dead, knew that if you wanted to be taken care of in death and the afterlife, you came to the Bolets. The family owned the largest cemetery in New Orleans and everyone took advantage of that. Taxi drivers who picked up the occasional ghost rider would drop them off at the cemetery. They would usually find a dollar for their trouble, though it never covered the fare. It was an unacknowledged law that the construction of any infrastructure had to have the approval of the Bolet family. Progressive or not, no one wanted to anger the ghosts of New Orleans.

Yet here stood the heir of the largest cemetery. The next Bolet set to inherit the role of his name. Renee knew from Bruno that the Bolets erred on the side of melancholic, but Henry’s aura radiated cynicism. That boy is trouble for you Renee.

He didn’t object to her desire to stay until the will had been properly sorted. He didn’t object to staying in Bruno’s old room, now stripped of life. He didn’t even object to her carrying on as a housekeeper. But something was off with the boy. At first she though it was grief. But the lack of connection between nephew and uncle made her assume greed. The boy kept staring at his phone with a dark frown on his face. At breakfast, he only nibbled on the blueberry cornmeal pancakes. When she showed him Bruno’s study, Henry just grumbled and set to work. Renee always took pride in Bruno’s workplace. It was a perfect blend of Bruno’s eccentricities and the Bolet’s prestige. But seeing Henry sort through the numerous papers that decorated the dark oak desk, Renee couldn’t help but feel disgust.

He doesn’t deserve any of it.

Summer had been endlessly calling Henry since he landed in New Orleans. Frustrated and stressed, he put the damn cell on silent. But the missed calls piled up until finally, his phone died on him.

Thank god, he thought, then immediately felt guilty. Summer was just concerned about him. He didn’t even notify her that he landed and attended the funeral. He slept fitfully in a bare room and had no appetite for the breakfast Renee kindly made for him. He didn’t even get the chance to thank her for the pancakes when the landline rang and Henry was pulled into conversation after conversation. Everyone swooped in like vultures, desperate for a piece of the Bolet wealth. From last payments for furniture to unfulfilled I.O.U.s. Bruno Bolet had a lot of money and a lot of places he threw his money. Thankfully, it didn’t look like his uncle was in debt, but the mess he made of his finances made Henry nauseous. How could anyone be so careless on the things that mattered?

The first thing Henry did was grab a trashcan and clear out what seemed irrelevant. Advertisements. Confirmations and thank you for attending parties. Some random info on skulls. And an envelope from a research institute. Rubbish. As both executor and inheritor, Henry was caught in making sure Bruno’s will be carried out, but also in ensuring that no one swooped in and took something without permission. He also had to deal with Bruno’s remains.

After the cremation, Bruno wanted Henry to bury him in the Bolet garden. Where exactly, the old coot never specified. After roaming around a bit, Henry saw a red-eyed vulture sitting atop a shrine. Below it, there were four other red-eyed vultures. Suddenly a gust of noises crowded his mind. They whispered words, some of which Henry barely heard. Am I losing it? He should have been terrified, but whether it was a lack of sleep or the start of insanity, Henry found himself at ease with the whispers. They surrounded his presence and grew louder as he approached the vultures. Here…Here…Here, they urged and as Henry looked around the shrine, he saw a pot hole with the name Bruno Bolet on it. But how to open it?

The pot hole was shut and no matter how hard Henry tried to lever the lid up, it remained fastened to the ground. Taking a closer look at the pot hole, Henry noticed a lock design. So, it needs a key? But where was he supposed to find a key in Bruno’s mess? He sighed and gave up. He’d just figure out some other place to bury his uncle. The whispers cried out as he left, but fell silent when he approached the double doors of the study.

That night, the whispers came into his room. They swarmed around him, chattering. Tittering whenever he sprung up from the bed.

“Go away,” he shouted.

They shivered.

“What do you want?”

Skull… man… skull… find… man… arrives

Henry flopped back onto the bed. He didn’t have time to chase after the adventures of some Skullman. Maybe he really was losing it. Maybe his uncle’s death was affecting him more than he anticipated. He wasn’t unnerved by their presence. They felt like meeting an old friend, not that Henry knew what that felt like. The only person he had was Summer. Speaking of which, Henry reached for his phone and saw that Summer had called again, numerous times. He sighed, then called and prepared for the onslaught.

“Hen-ry!” Summer’s high-pitched voice spoke through the silence of his room. Immediately, the whispers become silent and Henry could feel their presence leave the room.

“Hey Summer. Sorry about not calling you before. It’s been hectic.”

“God, Henry you’re such a jerk. You couldn’t even call me one time to check-in on me? Don’t you care about me?”

“Course, I do. How are you doing Summer?”

“I’m bored. My parents are working and I have nothing to do”.

“Didn’t you mention that you made plans to go to the beach with some friends? That’s why we bought those swimwear outfits”.

“Yaaa, but what can I do if my friend suddenly decided to bring along her boyfriend? Do you know how lame I look saying I have a boyfriend but not bringing him along? See how inconsiderate your uncle’s death is?”

“Sorry about that Summer,” Henry replied weakly. He never really figured out what to say to Summer when she got angry.

“You have to make it up for me,” Summer demanded. She sounded serious and Henry knew that a stubborn Summer was an uncooperative one. Still, he tried.

“Aw, come on Summer”.

“No buts, Bolet!”

“Alright, alright,” Henry said, trying to pacify her.

“How about I get you some CDs? That way you can listen to them until I finish around here?”

Summer was silent for a while and Henry held his breath.

“How long will you be gone for?” she asked.

“I’ll get you enough CDs for two weeks. How’s that? That way, if I finish early, you get extra CDs for another time?”

“You’re really pushing it Bolet”.

“I know. I’m sorry”.

“Just hurry up!”

Saying so, Summer hung up on him and Henry dropped the phone to the ground.

There was a local antique store in the old French quarters. The owner, Lamont Warrick, didn’t hesitate to introduce himself to Henry at the funeral and procure a business card.

“For anything you deem useless, just toss it over to me”.

Henry didn’t have much on him. It didn’t help that Renee seemed to always keep an eye on him. Between the whispers and her unexpected presence, Henry didn’t know which was worse. Honestly, he was so close to snapping at her to just get it over with if her intent was to kill him. Her badgering presence was something he didn’t want to deal with. He didn’t know from where he was supposed to get the money to by the CDs Summer wanted. He only had a debit card on him and the stores only took credit. He cursed himself for never applying for a credit card. He never really needed it seeing as uncle Bruno and school took care of everything. It wasn’t until he left with Summer that he had to really take care of himself.

He didn’t need much, just enough to get the CDs and pay for shipping to Illinois. He knew it was wrong, illegal even. He could be forfeit from his inheritance. He would be a hypocrite for sure. But if he didn’t do this, Summer would be mad at him, and if Summer was mad at him—he didn’t want to continue that thought. So he grabbed a box and quickly chucked some clutter from Bruno’s room. The faster he did it, the less he would have to think about what he was doing. Giving Renee a quick excuse, Henry shuffled out of the manor and headed towards Zeke’s curiosity shop.

Lamont gave Henry a friendly hello and perked his eyebrows when he saw the box. Lamont felt bad when he saw Henry Bolet for the first time. He knew Bruno Bolet well. The man spent a lot of time at his curio shop, and frequently bought items. His housekeeper, Renee also frequented the place. But Bruno was the one who truly admired Lamont’s collection. In Bruno, Lamont found an appreciator of junk. The discarded bits people didn’t want, or had no place for, all found home in his curio shop. Bruno often invited Lamont over to see the Bolet manor, so Lamont knew that the house was a trove for antiques.

Lamont once asked Bruno who would get the house and the artifacts upon his death. He supposed some people would take the question as insensitive, greedy even, but Bruno understood what he was really asking.

“A relative of mine would inherit the majority”.

Seeing as Bruno was already hitting his 80s, Lamont assumed the relative was older. But when he saw the relative, this Henry Bolet, as a young man, all sympathy burst forth. This Henry was younger than him. Lamont had heard that Henry’s parent’s died when he was only eight. Bolet news spread like wildfire in New Orleans. Bruno would have been his only other relative. To have him die too. Lamont knew it was wrong. The young man didn’t seem to want company, but business was business. If he didn’t want comfort, maybe this Henry would understand business.

“Didn’t take you long to stop over,” Lamont said as he eyed the box. “Didn’t bring much either”.

“This is just a small sample. I’ll bring the rest later”.

Lamont was confused. People didn’t decide to sell a small portion of their junk and save the rest for later. It was usually a full overhaul, especially when death was the cause. Most just wanted to shove off the remains of the dead, as if they were scared of the memories the junk contained. Henry himself looked distressed, as if he was in a hurry.

Lamont perused through the box. Some old photographs. A locked box, and what seemed to be a top hat and skull costume. He’d often see Bruno wearing the top hat. It would sell. The box would also sell. But the rest would be hard to pitch to customers. No one really wanted the photographs of an unknown person, or their letters. Lamont sighed.

“Your uncle died 2 days ago, right?”

“Yes, and?”

“Well, let’s just say that in my experience, people don’t bring in things to sell 2 days after someone dies. Also, they don’t bring a small box”.

Henry became very quiet and Lamont continued.

“Hey man, I’m not judging you, but I’m assuming that you need cash fast”.

Henry gave a stiff nod.

Lamont sighed again. It was common in his business for people to quickly sell off something they assumed was junk when strapped for cash. He never bought anything from them. If they got caught, he could also get into trouble and Lamont had a family to worry about. But this kid, he looked so, so naïve. He clearly had no idea what he was doing.

“Look, I can’t buy this”.

Henry’s face fell.

“But,” Lamont continued. “Here’s what I will do. How much do you need? Hundred bucks?”

“Two hundred,” Henry muttered, then scowled. He couldn’t Lamont in the eyes.

That’s nothing, Lamont thought. But the kid looked so worried about it.

“Okay, so let’s say this. I give you the two hundred. I’ll even take this box and make a receipt for you if it will make you feel better. But, in exchange. When you actually go through your uncle’s possessions, you invite me over and let me have first pick over the artifacts. I take two hundred dollars’ worth with me. Deal?”

Henry nodded and Lamont rang up a bill.

A couple days later, after dealing with an endless amount of callers, Henry pushed it all away. Slowly Bruno’s estate and finances were sorting themselves out, but Henry needed a break. Feeling perky, he offered to treat Renee out for dinner.

“About time I saw some Southern hospitality in you, young man”.

Their plan of enjoying the May breeze in the French quarters at a local café was ruined by the onslaught of rain. Henry apologized to Renee, but it was clear that the woman blamed Henry for the rain. They ate in silence and returned back to the manor to see the front door open.

“Did we have a break-in?” Henry exclaimed.

“Oh dear. This is highly unusual to happen in New Orleans. Normally it’s so safe, we needn’t lock doors,” Renee wondered.

Henry turned towards her.

“You didn’t lock the door?!”

“No dear. Like I said, it isn’t necessary”.

Henry pointed to the door.

“Yes, I can see how unnecessary it was”.

Renee eyes flashed.

“No need to take that tone with me, young man. I am not speaking nonsense”.

Henry resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Why was he bothering to argue with someone who made huff-puff hoodoo powder in her free time? It didn’t help that the whispers came back to him. They followed him to that curio store, screamed more like it, as he ‘sold’ the junk. They were screaming now.

Skull… man… skull… man… fall…

Henry massaged his forehead.

“Let’s just infiltrate and assess damage”.

As both he and Renee stepped into the house, Henry caught the sight of footprints. One wet and small. The other muddy and large. The muddy one indicated that it’s owner had long left the house, but what caused him concern was that the smaller foot prints only went in one direction.

“Be careful Renee. I think our thief is still inside the house,” Henry whispered.

“Understood,” Rene whispered back, eyes watching the floor and mirroring Henry’s thoughts.

They stepped cautiously into the foyer and Renee reached for an umbrella. Smart, Henry thought. The thief might be armed. It would be best for Renee to arm herself. Henry clenched his hands into fists and tensed, ready to throw a punch.

When they stepped into the living room, Renee let out a gasp and dropped her umbrella. In front of them was the award-wining cemetery model Bruno made a long time back. Below the table, and splayed out, unconscious, at the centre of the living room was a young woman.

#nancy drew #henry bolet #CRY #legend of the crystal skull #nancy x henry #what's their ship name? do they have one?

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haruno-sakura-san · 3 years ago

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Can't remember if I posted this before, but I was reading through my notes on my phone and found it. Either way, enjoy this playful one shot with Sakura and a mystery man!

🌸❓

"Rough day?" A man who slid into the seat next to Sakura at the bar asked. "None of your business." She snubbed him. "It's been a while since ive seen a leaf nin drink like that," he observed unprompted. She mentally noted that she wasn't wearing her heite. He was either assuming from her gear or he recognized her. "I'm off duty." "I would hope so." Her gaze cut back over to him. A hood and tinted glasses obscured any identify features, but even so he looked incredibly mundane. In her line of work, that was also incredibly dangerous. "Listen, you seem like a nice guy-" "That assumptions a bit premature." "But I'm not here to meet anyone so if you don't mind-" "Actually I do." She glared at him for a long moment, not wanting to be interrupted again. "See, I'm waiting for someone myself." He offered finally. "You don't say" her tone thick with disinterest. "But I'm beginning to think I've been stood up." He sounded more amused than put out. She wondered if it was some kind of pickup strategy to get her to feel bad. "I can't imagine why." She said in the same flat tone. "My thoughts exactly."

Sakura made a sharp sound of disapproval. "My deepest sympathies. I don't see how this has anything to do with me." "Well, it really doesnt, on the surface. But you see, here I was feeling sorry for myself when I see you stomping in here, looking like you've just dragged yourself through a pigsty-" "It was a river bed." "Oh thank you- a river bed. Possibly the sorriest sight I've seen all day - not that I would normally say such a thing to a lady. I'm sure you look at least pleasant under normal circumstances." "Does this story have a point?" Feeling her anger swell at his commentary. "Of course, I just thought it might be nice to commiserate together - one passing stranger to another." She hates the cocky way he inclines his head, gesturing between them with his glass. "No, thanks." "Oh come on - why else come to a bar?" "For a drink - unbothered." "If that were the case, then I'd think the liquor store down the street would have done the job." "And what, have a few drinks at the store front? They have laws against that, you know." "You dont have a hotel room to drink in?" "Of course not" "Interesting." He purred. She realized she said too much. "So your plan was to get tipsy and then travel back to konoha or wherever your headed, seemingly alone, in the middle of the night." "I don't have to explain myself to you." "No, I think I've got a good handle on the situation without any explanation. Where are your teammates anyway? Isn't there someone around to keep you from making dangerous decisions like this. A captain maybe or a boyfriend?" Sakura slams her glass down against the wood of the bar. "For your information, I can more than take care of myself. I have an extremely high alcohol tolerance. And I've had too long a day for a pretty boy like you to be picking at me when all I want to do is have a drink in the peaceful Haven that is my own mind. So shut your trap. Am I clear?" "No, I have several questions." She snarls and begins to crack her nuckles in preparation to put this idiot though a wall when the bar tender yells, "No fighting in my bar! Take it outside if you want to act like animals." She settles back into her seat. "Sorry, sir. No need for that. This poser isn't worth the energy," she grumbles under her breath. "Lets backtrack to pretty boy. That had a nicer ring to it." Clenching her jaw, she takes a deep breath, exhales and takes a long drag on her drink. "So are you going to tell me the river bed story, Pocahontas?" "If I do, will you leave me alone?" "It certainly won't hurt your chances" She huffs. "Fine. I got caught in a fishing net." There was a beat of silence. "And?" She gave him a long-suffering look. "And was dragged behind a fishing boat." His eyebrows rose. "And how did that happen?" "I was pushing the boat. It was beached on a shallow part of the river." "Pushing it?" "Yeah." "Remind me to tip that bartender for not letting you deck me into next week." She smirked into her drink. Damn straight. "So when the boat broke free these fishermen did what? Cast their nets right done on top of you?" "Yup. I had to cut myself free and everything." "No good deed goes unpunished I guess." "Technically it wasn't a good deed, they were paying me to help." "That's even worse. And no one noticed you were missing onboard?" "Well, they wouldn't let me on the boat in the first place -" "Why not?" "It's bad luck." "Bad luck?" "To have a woman on board." "Wait a moment. So before the ship got stuck in the first place, while it was sailing, where were you? Nearby on the shore?" "No. I was running alongside them in the water." He laughed outright. "Running alongside them. That's too good. They didn't even give you rowboat." Her face flushed. She hadn't thought to ask for a row boat. "They were absolute assholes. Usually I can take quite a bit of crap from a client, but when he told me to pay for the net." "Pay for the net!" "And the lost profits for the day" "Ha!" "I told him just where he could shove his

lost profits and came to the nearest bar. I feel a little less sorry for myself now. Glad I could help. Now leave me be." "You don't want to hear my story?" "Not part of the deal. Now scram." He pouted, cheek resting on his hand. "But we were getting along so well." "You have a very twisted sense of relationships if you think that was getting along well." "I cannot argue with that." She didn't know if it was the alcohol or the bickering, but she was finally feeling a little unwound. Studying his profile for a moment, she thought it must definitely be the alcohol. "If you're going to stare, i might as well tell you my story." Definitely the alcohol. "I wasn't staring." She huffed, turning sharply away "Would admiring be more accurate?" "Do you ever shut up?" "For the majority of the time yes I do. It's quite liberating to go on and on like this. Strangers make some of the best conversation. You don't have to hold back because they will never see you again, probably not even remember speaking." She hated that he was right. She also hated that she couldn't see his eyes, instead watching his lips move. Kami must hate her because he had rather nice lips. "You're admiring again." They said. "Staring," she corrected. "Staring then." He said in a low voice, leaning in slightly. "Tell me your story." She said, trying to break the moment by divert this exchange to something hopefully safer for her psychy. Those damn lips curlled up in a feline grin. "Of course, my little mud pie." "Don't push it." She snapped, "You were meeting someone." "Yes, I've been seeing them for some time now. We are both wonderers so we meet about once a month. " "How long is some time now?" "Hmm, about ten years maybe." "And you guys haven't made it official yet?" "Well, it's complicated. They are a little old for me, and I'm not sure what society would think." She got the feeling he was making fun of her, but didn't get the joke. "They've never once been late or missed a meeting. I'm a little worried you see." For the first time since meeting the guy, Sakura felt a little bad for him. "Plus theyve got hands and eyes that wander a bit too much for my liking." "Sounds like they finally got bored and left." She commented. "Well. Even so, the meetings were as much about business as pleasure." "And just what kind of business are you in exactly?" "I'd say we were in the same field." She scoffs, looking him up and down again, not able to make out anything helpful from his form from under his travelling cloak to back up his claim about being a Shinobi. It was convenient line for civilian men who hit on kunoichi, so she rolled her eyes. "Sure you are." "Don't believe me?" "I believe you'd say just about anything to get on my good side."

"Hmm," his lips curled in that feline way, "And I thought leaf nin we're very skilled at seeing underneath the underneath." She froze, recognizing her sensei's phrase. "Who exactly did you say you were meeting again?" "I didn't." She slowly turned toward him, hand sliding to her thigh pouch under the bar, but it was too late. Here eyes were locked on his red, glowing gaze, pin wheels spinning. She felt her consciousness being torn from her body and into the inky black of his sharingan.

🌸❓

Quite sure this was supposed to be Itachi but it's quite OOC for him. So I'll leave it to you reader to fill in who it is. I guess I like Shisui for it myself but don't limit yourself haha.

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madlymiho · 4 years ago

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Hello!!!! If I'm right on time can I request spooky alphabet Casper, Frankenstein, kill, supernatural & Unexpected with Law & Zoro? If not then delete this.

Hey anon! ☺️ you were in time!

Law's S and F letters has already been answered, so I won't put it again here!

Thanks for requesting my alphabet! 🤓❤️ I hope you'll enjoy it!

Spookyvent #12

Zoro

Casper: Do they believe in ghost? Would they hunt for them? Do they believe in a life after death or are they down on the ground most of the time?

Zoro isn’t so much a believer (remember how he claims he didn’t believe in God even when he was in Skypeia?), so ghosts? Meh, possible, for sure, maybe it exists, maybe not. Who really cares? If they exist, well, he’s not afraid of them, and he’s more curious to know if he’s able to slice them in pieces rather than truly study them. Can he kill a ghost for a second time? That would be a nice thing to discover for sure! If Luffy believes it can be fun the hunt them and discover their existence wherever they are, yeah, for sure he’s in! Zoro lives for the thrill and the fun, and he’s probably the one who doesn’t blink when his captain comes up with the stupidest ideas. So frankly, Zoro is swinging between his non-beliefs in general, and the very fact that his world is a damn example of weird things happening. If it happens, it happens, he will only care if it can bring some fun and challenge in his swordsman’s life!

Frankenstein: Favorite literature to read during this spooky period? Comics? Novels

Not that he’s the most idiotic man on Earth, but Zoro isn’t a thorough reader either. He sometimes borrows some comics to Usopp or Franky, he avoids to ask the damn cook for any kind of reading as well (because he knows what he will find), and he’s not really into very complicated books like Robin would enjoy. What can be his options? Chopper prefers to read medicinal books, Nami is into romance or navigation stuff, and Brook prefers some classical readings Zoro finds too boring to actually care. Perhaps if any of them could offer him a story with sword and war, he will pay attention and might try to read (if he’s not falling asleep during the process).

Nah, really, the best option remains in having a member of his crew (Robin, for sure), picking a very morbid and bloody story to read it out loud, so at least, he wouldn’t have to read it himself - especially not when someone can do it better than him!

Kill: What would be their most favorite way to kill someone? What is their method? Are they able to kill or would they get cold feet?

Killing isn’t what motivate Zoro to fight. He’s not looking for any sort of murder, and this is not the Straw Hat’s philosophy, on the contrary, they always prefer to try saving soulds rather than condemning them. Zoro will always make sure that he’s not deadly hurting someone, only seeking for the challenge of the combat rather than the death of his opponent. Even the most cruel ennemies he fought aren’t dead today, even if Zoro definitely has the power to end their lives.

Zoro has honor, despite his choice to become a pirate, and killing someone is a part of the forbidden thing of his own code.

Supernatural: What are their beliefs? Do they actually trust in supernatural existence in the first place?

Absolutely nothing, this guy is bulletproof to any kind of supernatural beliefs. You can put him a ghost, a god, a zombie, for sure he’s surprised, but he believes they are some kind of explanations, coming from the Devil Fruits in the first place. Real ghosts, real demons, all of these, he clearly thinks they are a myth and nothing else. He’s very rational, and would never pay attention this kind of stuff, preferring to live his life in peace.

Supernatural things aren’t a thing for a swordsman, he has to remain down to earth to prepare himself to claim the title of being the best fighter, and for that, he can only count on himself anyway.

Unexpected: What could really surprise them, what would be the most unexpected situations to spend Halloween for them?

Having a quiet celebration can be the only surprise for Zoro here. Quiet... the only world which would never define the Straw Hat and their chaotic vibes. It seems almost frightening to imagine that they can behave. Imagine how it can be so disturbing to have them all quietly seated around a table, eating in peace and soft voices, until they would all choose to sleep rather than doing some mischief in town?

So scary... It gives goosebumps to Zoro for sure!

Law

Casper: Do they believe in ghost? Would they hunt for them? Do they believe in a life after death or are they down on the ground most of the time?

No, definitely, Law doesn’t believe in ghosts. He doesn’t really believe in anything from the supernatural area, mostly because of his scientist mind for sure. Of course, as everyone, he has sometimes wished to be able to see his family again, or Corazon, because it could have offered him a bit of comfort when his days were dark and clouded. But right now, as the grown-up edgy man he is, frankly, ghosts are nothing but stories. Even in a world like the one he lives in, he can’t allow himself to really have hopes in those beliefs. So he doesn’t care, and wouldn’t hunt for them. Surely, he has better things to do.

A life after death? If he’s not certain about it, at least it hopes it exists. Probably because he wishes to see the people he lost once more. He wants them to forever live pain-free, in a soothing world they will all deserve. But it’s only his personal hopes, and not something he will share with anyone.

Kill: What would be their most favorite way to kill someone? What is their method? Are they able to kill or would they get cold feet?

It really depends on the person, Law would avoid killing someone if he can. He doesn’t believe it’s necessary, especially with the power of the ope ope no mi he has. After all, he can remove organs and uses them to balckmail those people, so killing innocents, or pirates, just for the thrill to kill someone else? No, really not for him. He’s also a doctor, and it would be a contradiction for him to assassinate everyone on his path.

Though, for the people who hurt his loved ones, you better be sure that death can be on the menu. He prefers to come up with a long prepared plan rather than just rushing to kill that person. His emotions are honestly blinding his judgement, and his way of killing might be utterly brutal, depends on what the person for sure. So yes, Law can kill, Law will kill if he has a good reason - he’s still a pirate after all - but he’s not thirsty for blood and can definitely control his wrath.

Unexpected: What could really surprise them, what would be the most unexpected situations to spend Halloween for them?

Probably endind up trick and treating with any member of his crew or some allies like the Straw Hat, or just... celebratring Halloween in the first place. The real surprise would be that someone eventually find the good arguments to make his change his plans. He doesn’t want to go outside, he doesn’t want to party, he doesn’t want to put a costume on... If anyone manages to make him change his mind, well, that would be quite a feat here! After all, Law hates when things don’t follow his plan, and he’s not very comfortable when something breaks what he has anticipated for days, or weeks.

For sure... He’s afraid of the chaos Hallowen can be if he’s around the Straw Hat for example, quite sure that he would have the most stressful night of his entire life for sure!

#one piece headcanons #one piece imagines #trafalgar law #roronoa zoro #trafalgar d. water law #zoro one piece #law one piece #one piece headcanon #one piece imagine #spookyvent #one piece halloween #one piece writing #anon request #queued

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musicanddancingthroughlife · 4 years ago

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Shklance -- Courting Pt2

It’s been a few weeks haha. Here’s a part two to the first part, which you can read here. Let me know what you think, cause it’s been a bit since I’ve written anything, honestly. Gotta say, I’m loving Keith haha he’s a lot of fun to write. Anyway, hope you enjoy it!

In other news, if anyone cares and ever reads these notes, I’ve really just been busy this summer. I spent about a week and a half sleeping, and I’m still trying to catch up on all the sleep I missed during classes, but I’ve also been attending a bunch of weddings. Like. So many weddings. And most of them are my husband’s family so one of us is always in the stupid party, and by the time they’re over I’m completely drained. Plus, work and family drama, as usual. Hate it but oh well I guess. Even now, I’m just dead tired and want to sleep, but I’ve got stuff I’ve been putting off and really need to work on haha.

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

The problem was, they had to be discreet. And Keith was anything but discreet. Take this morning, for example. It was the day just after Shiro and Keith had slipped into (no, Keith, we did not break in!) Lance’s apartment, and it was obvious that Lance had had a rough night of it. Now that they knew what they were looking for, it was obvious that Lance was having a hard time. He looked thinner than usual, and there were dark circles under his eyes, and he definitely seemed a lot more quiet and mellow than he usually was.

“Hey, Lance!” Keith was offended when his greeting was met with nothing more than a suspicious glare, because seriously??? They were friends! It’s not like Keith was planning anything nefarious – he just wanted to say hi to his close friend (and maybe possibly hopefully boyfriend, please please please) and then enjoy some time with him! He absolutely did not deserve a glare for his efforts!

“Um. Hey, Keith. Uh… what’s up?” Keith was pleased to see that Lance still offered him a bright grin, because that meant that they were still okay. Which meant this would be fine!

“What did you eat for breakfast this morning?”

Shiro face-palmed behind Keith, and Lance stiffened before forcing himself to relax. “W-what do you mean?”

“I should think that would be a simple question, Lance, what did you eat?”

“Ummm breakfast?” Lance laughed, the sound slightly higher than usual. “Was this a quiz? Did I pass?”

Keith opened his mouth, intent on finding out just how much nutrients his boy had actually consumed, but Shiro’s hand landed heavily on his shoulder and cut him off. “We were just wondering if you would like to join us. For breakfast. Which we haven’t eaten yet. Because we were waiting for you!”

Lance looked uncomfortable, shifting his weight from foot to foot and glancing all around them as he responded, “Actually, I’m okay. I’m not all that hungry.” Except, that was right when his stomach gurgled noisily, and Lance sighed and glared accusingly at his own midsection. Keith had to stifle a laugh because it wasn’t funny, goddammit!

“Lance,” Shiro sighed, “just come do breakfast with us. It won’t kill you, and you have some time, okay? Just try to enjoy a couple of hours of your weekend.”

Lance still looked like he wanted to refuse, but Shiro clapped him on the shoulders and steered him towards his car, while Keith excitedly bounced ahead to get the door for him. First he got to break into an apartment, and now he got to kidnap somebody? Not to mention all the extra time spent with the most beautiful boy he knew? It was literally a dream come true!

Okay, actually? This was a nightmare.

Lance was absolutely scarfing down his food, and while both Shiro and Keith were pleased to see he was being taken care of for once, that didn’t change the fact that he shouldn’t have been that hungry to begin with. He’d gone through more pancakes than Shiro, and that man ate like a tank! If it weren’t for the warning looks Shiro had been shooting him since they’d met Lance that morning, Keith would’ve dove right in with the questions about Lance’s living situation, but he figured that for now, he would just keep sliding Lance extra bits of food and wait patiently for Shiro to broach the subject.

They were seated at a diner, one frequently visited by other college kids, though Shiro and Keith themselves hadn’t been there in a couple of years, since they’d realized they could actually save on money just making their own meals together, plus, Keith was generally a fan of staying in, and Shiro didn’t mind staying home with him. Definitely meant they could have more – ahem – fun together, so that was always a bonus in their eyes. Even more so if they could figure out how to get Lance to join them…

“So. You had housework planned for the weekend, right, Lance? Any chance we could convince you to just… come spend the weekend with us instead?”

Lance inhaled his food too quickly at that, forcing himself to stop and take some time to then clear his airways and sip some water. Shiro looked apologetic, while Keith kept a close eye on Lance to ensure he was okay.

“Why the hell would you say that?” Lance demanded when he could. His voice was a hoarse rasp that made Keith wince to hear it.

“Why wouldn’t we?” Shiro countered.

“You can’t just get my hopes up like that, man, you’ll end up breaking my heart.” Lance returned to his most recent stack of waffles, eyes troubled.

Keith pounced on that and said, “So, if you thought we meant it, would you agree?”

“Are you kidding?” Lance asked, “Anything that gets me out of housework would be a godsend. Plus, you’re both a huge help when studying, and Shiro’s a fantastic cook. It would literally be like a win-win-win. For me, anyway, I’m not sure what you two would get out of it. And therefore, you must be joking,” Lance said, his voice trailing off. And, there, that! It was the stupid matter-of-fact way that Lance seemed to just accept that no one would want that with him that made Keith’s blood boil.

Shiro, though, was calm when he said, “Honestly sounds like it’s a problem for us, if it’s a problem for anyone. But trust me when I say that we would love nothing better than for you to come over to our apartment and ensure you’re actually getting decent sleep and food.”

He and Keith watched anxiously to see what Lance would say. Keith’s brain was already racing to think of alternate ways to ensure Lance was all right. Only about 43% of them involved breaking a law, which he definitely considered a win, because that meant there was a greater chance of Shiro helping him!

“Why do you assume I won’t do those things on my own?” Lance asked.

Shit. He caught onto that way quicker than they hoped he would.

#shklance #shklance fic #takashi shirogane #keith kogane #lance mcclain #vld #vld fic #voltron #voltron legendary defenders #voltron fic #voltron au #shklance au #jessi rambles #mywriting #my writing

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 5 years ago

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But You Can Never Leave [Chapter 7: Forget Everything You Know]

Hi y’all! I just wanted to take a moment to thank you all so much for reading and for showing me and my fics some love. You better believe that I see EVERY. SINGLE. reblog, comment, tag, and message, and they mean the absolute world to me! I know that a lot of content creators are frustrated and taking breaks right now, but rest assured you will not be able to get rid of me if even a SINGLE person looks forward to something I write. I’ll finish this fic (eventually), and I’ll finish the next one too (it already has a name!), and I won’t disappear or leave the Queen/BoRhap fandom at any point in the foreseeable future. Lots of love to you all, stay safe, and I hope you enjoy! 💜 💜 💜

Chapter summary: Y/N brings home some friends; Brian attempts an intervention; John draws a line; Roger gets an answer.

This series is a work of fiction, and is (very) loosely inspired by real people and events. Absolutely no offense is meant to actual Queen or their families.

Song inspiration: Hotel California by The Eagles.

Chapter warnings: Language.

Chapter list (and all my writing) available HERE

Taglist: @queen-turtle-boiii @loveandbeloved29 @killer-queen-xo @maggieroseevans @imnotvibingveryguccimrstark @im-an-adult-ish @queenlover05 @someforeigntragedy @imtheinvisiblequeen @joemazzmatazz @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhye @namelesslosers @inthegardensofourminds @deacyblues @youngpastafanmug @sleepretreat @hardyshoe @bramblesforbreakfast @sevenseasofcats @tensecondvacation @bookandband @queen-crue @jennyggggrrr @madeinheavxn @whatgoeson-itslate @brianssixpence

Please yell at me if I forget to tag you! :)

“Smile, everyone!” Your dad peeks through the viewfinder of the Canon F-1 and beams. “One...two...three...say Queen!”

“Queen!” you all shout gleefully. The flash illuminates the dining room, and you blink away momentary blindness. The table materializes back into vision: lobsters, clams, haddock chowder, sourdough bread, fried oysters, pierogis with Vermont cheddar cheese, cranberry sauce, mashed potatoes...and, of course, Boston cream pie for dessert.

“Ah, perfection,” your dad sighs contently. “Please continue, Mr. Mercury.”

“Mr. Mercury!” Brian whines, incredulous. “Like he’s got a bloody PhD or something!”

Freddie cracks a lobster claw. He hasn’t taken his sunglasses or wrist-full of clanging bangles off all afternoon. Your parents are profoundly confused by him, but welcoming nonetheless. “I’m a professor of lusciousness. Pay attention and you could learn something.”

Brian rolls his eyes and dunks a hunk of sourdough bread into his chowder.

“So,” Freddie tells your mother between bites of lobster dripping with drawn butter. “Our darling damsel in distress was in the clutches of that horrid, dodgy wanker when none other than our very own Roger Meddows Taylor—”

“You weren’t even there!” Brian protests. “I wasn’t even there! This is, what, a third-hand account?!”

“Eat your soup, peasant. Thank you. Anyway, our beloved Roger comes raging out of nowhere, red-faced, nostrils flaring, a terrifying sight to behold, grabs this guy by his hair and slams his despicable face directly into a marble column. Broken nose, cracked orbital socket, blood everywhere! It was magnificent. I’ve never been more proud.”

“Good for you!” your mother cheers, patting the back of Roger’s hand encouragingly. He smiles at her, warmly, radiantly, like the wildfire he’s always reminded you of. And you marvel at how every human on this earth is made of the same fundamental components—blood and muscles and vessels and nerves, hearts and enigmatic brain matter and ribs, vulnerable parts, armored parts, all webbed together like nature’s own organic circuit board—and yet the marks they leave on you can feel so different: burns, scars, bruises, shadows, imprints that are deep enough to brush bone and never fade.

“Mom, the guy could have died!”

“Did he?” she asks innocently.

“Nope,” Roger says.

“Well then, Mr. Taylor here is a hero in my book.”

“Mr. Taylor!” Brian groans.

“I was petrified he would turn out to be the son of an executive or producer or something and the band would be ruined,” you say. “Fortunately he was just someone’s annoying frat brother from college who already had a reputation for being a sleazebag. So, we were in luck.”

“You were in luck that Mr. Taylor was there,” your mother points out, gazing at him dreamily. This delightful English boy is going to be my son-in-law and give me gorgeous, doe-eyed grandchildren, that look says.

“Yes, a literal superhero,” John says ruefully, sipping a Manhattan. Your dad has a passionate love for mixing cocktails, especially for guests who also happen to be rock stars.

“Mom. Don’t make his ego any bigger, please. I’m begging you.”

Roger snarls around a mouthful of Boston cream pie, sending your mom into a fit of giggles.

“I’m just glad you’re okay, dear.” She smooths your hair. “And that you have people to keep you safe all the way over there across the ocean, and that you’re happy.”

“Yes, your work environment is much improved, isn’t it?” Brian says. “That supervisor you had at the hospital was an absolute bear!”

Your dad strokes his short grey beard. “Well...” he admits. “That may have been my fault.”

Brian’s brow crinkles. “Really?”

Your mom turns to you. “You didn’t tell them?!”

“Oh, is there a scandalous backstory?” Freddie inquires, elated. “Do tell, darling!”

“Once upon a time, in a kingdom far far away—just kidding, it was here in Boston—my archnemesis Patricia and my dad dated.”

Roger drops his fork, appalled. “No!”

Freddie’s nose wrinkles in revulsion. “Why?!”

Your dad rocks back in his chair and laughs loudly, heartily. “She wasn’t always so cantankerous, if you can believe it. She was a sweet girl, wonderful even. But then I met my future wife, and...” He smirks guiltily. “What can I say? The heart wants what it wants!”

You nod along. “And I got the illustrious honor of being an outlet for the frustration stemming from Patricia’s lifelong unrequited love.”

“You saucy minx!” Freddie playfully lashes your mom’s shoulder with a cloth napkin. “Homewrecker!”

She chuckles, not the least bit offended. “People get together under all sorts of strange circumstances, and you know what? You can’t wreck a home if the home wasn’t already half-wrecked before you got there, that’s what I think.”

Roger raises his Patriot’s Punch. “I’ll drink to that.”

Brian clutches his New England Express, bewildered. “Are we...toasting to infidelity?”

“Oh, does that horrify you?” Rog asks sarcastically. Brian grimaces, but dutifully raises his glass.

“We’re toasting to love,” your dad clarifies. “However it comes, as long as it’s true.”

John holds his Manhattan aloft. “To love.”

Freddie clinks his Flying Elvis against the other beverages, including your parents’ wine glasses and your Cranberry Crush. “Cheers!” Then Fred glances at the clock and swiftly polishes off his slice of Boston cream pie.

“Can’t you all stay a little longer?” your mom pleads, collecting plates and gazing longingly at Roger. “This has been so much fun...”

“They have soundcheck at seven, Mom. We have to leave for the stadium soon.”

“Well, before you jet off to your next adventure, can I treat anyone to a long distance call?” your dad asks.

Brian perks up. “Really?!” You know there’s a ring in the future for Chrissie; not an expensive or extravagant ring (not that Chris would want that anyway), but a ring nonetheless. You know because Brian has taken you shopping to help him choose one.

“Of course! You can use the phone in my office. It’s Valentine’s Day, after all. I’m sure there are some lovely ladies back in jolly old England who would be over the moon to hear from you.”

“That would be very much appreciated!” Brian says. “And thank you so much, this has been such a treat, you have no idea how long it’s been since we had a proper homemade meal.”

“I had to rehabilitate the reputation of us Yankees, didn’t I? Now come on, Mr. May, I’ll show you to the office...”

“Mr. May...I like the sound of that!”

“Ten minutes, Bri!” Freddie calls, following them down the hallway. “Then it’s my turn...!”

You begin gathering up the empty glasses, but Roger promptly snatches them away. “No way, Boston babe. You go relax. I’ll help your mom.”

“I think she’s in love with you.”

He grins. “Do you have a secret stepdaddy fetish I could exploit?”

“Oh my god. Roger.”

He snickers and sweeps off into the kitchen. It’s only then that you realize John has disappeared. You check the kitchen, the living room, the hallway, the study, and finally the front porch; John is standing outside in the cold, smoking and watching the setting sun. The sky is threaded with cerulean, rust orange, lavender, indigo. You pull on your coat and go out to join him.

“We’ll make it to Florence one of these days,” you promise John, resting your arms on the wooden, white-painted porch railing. Your mother hung baskets of fresh flowers for the band’s visit, which swing lazily in the breeze. “Crank out a few more hits and we’ll get the record company to add it to the tour itinerary.”

“Wouldn’t that be nice.”

“Are you going to call Veronica?”

He shrugs, frowns, exhales a lungful of smoke into frigid New England air. “I don’t know if I should.”

“You don’t think she’d like that?” you ask, confounded.

“I think she might like it too much.”

“Ohhhhh.” You read his soft greyish eyes, which are faraway and somber, sad even. “I’m sorry, John. You know she’s wild about you.”

“I know it.” He takes a drag off his cigarette. “She’s the first person who ever was, actually. The first person who ever noticed me. Came up to me out of the blue at a disco and asked me to dance, me! So I said yes, like you do when you’re the guy nobody notices. And then I said yes again, and again, and again, until one day I realized...oh, this girl thinks we’re getting married. When the hell did that happen?”

“I noticed you,” you contest.

John chuckles and nods. “You did,” he agrees. “Right away. Tried to win me over when I was too nervous to finish a sentence around you. But that was long after I’d met Veronica.”

“Well, you can’t break up with her tonight. On Valentine’s Day?! That would be traumatic.”

“Agreed.”

“We’ll have a few days in London between the American and Asian legs of the tour. You can think it over and decide what to do then. I’m happy to arrange the getaway taxi if that’s something that interests you.”

“Yeah.” Again, he peers out into the Western horizon, into rising stars.

“John?”

Now he looks to you. He’s a little too thoughtful, too low. There’s something you’re not seeing.

“...Is there somebody else?”

He doesn’t speak; he just stares at you with those velvety azure-grey eyes, drums his fingers against the railing, lets the ash from his cigarette crumble into the snow-dusted Blue Pacific Junipers.

Roger barrels through the front door and out onto the porch. “There you are, Deaks! I thought we were going to have to find a new bassist. Enlist Nurse Nightingale’s mum or something.”

John smirks and crushes the rest of his cigarette in your father’s ashtray. “I suspect you’d do just fine without me.”

“Oh no. No way. Not happening.”

“That’s kind of you,” John says, unconvinced.

“Here, I’ll prove it.” Rog holds out his calloused hand. “If you ever leave, I leave too. Come on, Deaks, shake on it. It’s official. It’s a pact. There’s no Queen without John Deacon.”

Reluctantly, trying not to show how pleased he is, John shakes. “Alright.”

Roger grins triumphantly. “Signed, sealed, delivered. You’re ours for life, baby.”

“Deaky, do you want the phone?!” Freddie yells from inside the house.

John sighs and exchanges a knowing glance with you. “I guess I should say hi.”

“Okay, but quickly!” Rog presses. “We gotta go!”

“So bossy...” John ducks inside; and Roger, though he’s not wearing anything over his pale pink button-up shirt—sufficiently sophisticated to impress your parents—comes to the porch railing to join you.

“You’re not staying out here, are you?” You eye his thin shirt worriedly, the goosebumps rising over his collarbones, his bare forearms where he rolled up his sleeves to help your mom wash the dishes.

He tosses you a mischievous wink. “I’ve got no one to call.”

Roger looks up at the hanging baskets of flowers, plucks out a cerise carnation, and offers it to you. You mean to say something witty, something sardonic, something that will make him laugh; but all your words vanish into cold February air. You take the carnation, smiling helplessly.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” Roger whispers.

You just let me know if you ever change your mind, okay?

Okay.

He turns to go back inside the house.

I won’t fall in love with him. I won’t fall in love with him. I won’t fall in love with him.

Then Roger pauses in the doorway. “You coming, Boston babe? I can’t have you catching pneumonia or something. I won’t know how to fix you.”

Oh, you realize, with horror and yet relief, all those grueling lies stripped away. It’s too late.

~~~~~~~~~~

You knock on the frame of the dressing room door. “Hi Bri!”

He glances over from where he sits in front of the mirror, rimming his eyes with inky liner. Soundcheck went swimmingly, and now Queen has thirty minutes until they need to be onstage. You can hear the disembodied reverberation of voices from the waiting crowd through the walls. “Hello, love. Come in.”

“Freddie said you needed to see me. Did you rip a sleeve or something? I brought my kit—”

“No, it’s not that.” He pats the chair beside him. The boys practically always get ready together before a show, but you suspect profoundly introverted Brian is experiencing one of his post-socialization crashes after dinner with your parents. Something about him is tired, very tired, almost drained to empty. “Join me.”

“Sure,” you say cautiously. You shove your medical kit onto the countertop and then reach to feel his forehead. “Are you feeling alright...?”

“I’m fine, love. I just have a favor to ask.”

“Anything.”

Brian sighs deeply, sets down the eyeliner, swivels his chair towards you. “I need you to promise me that you’re not going to start seeing Roger.”

You titter, deflecting, brushing Brian’s hair away from his troubled, angular face. “Well, as the official Queen touring nurse, I see him quite a lot.”

Brian catches your wrist. “I’m being serious.”

Now your brow knits into tight agitated lines. “I’m curious as to why you think that’s something you have a say in.”

“Bloody hell, I’m not trying to offend you—”

“Job well done.”

“Dear, please, listen to me—”

“Eight months,” you hiss through your teeth as you tear away from him. “For eight months I’ve listened and avoided and resisted and ignored and it’s not going away.”

“Oh, fuck,” Brian breathes in despair. “You love him.”

There are tears biting in the periphery of your vision; you don’t want them to be there, but they are. Your voice is hoarse and trembling. “Bri, please don’t.”

Brian shakes his head and motions with his hands frenetically, desperately, trying to make you understand. “Look, sometimes...sometimes the people we love, the people who own us, the people who fucking set us on fire...they’re not the people we end up with. And that’s not always a bad thing. It’s necessary. It’s self-preservation. Because sometimes the people who set us on fire would burn us alive.”

You gape at him, furious, stunned. “That’s just fantastic, Brian. You’re a true romantic. Jesus christ, does Chrissie know about this? Is that why you’re with her, because she’s, what...safe?!”

“No, that’s not fair, Chrissie’s great, she’s steady and supportive and she’ll make a wonderful mother one day, and my parents adore her—”

“Those aren’t reasons to marry someone, Brian!”

“They are!” He leaps to his feet. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you! You have to think about these things, you have to be rational, you have to protect yourself—”

“Why the fuck do you care?” you flare bitterly.

“Because you saved my life.”

“Stop it, I didn’t.”

“You did, I truly believe that. And I want you to stay with the band. And I want you to be happy. But, dear, please, I’m begging you...this is not the way to do it.”

“I’m not going to go out to some pub and drag home a random guy who’s suitably passionless and predictable enough to be Brian-May-approved.”

“That’s not what I’m asking you to do—”

“Because you’re such an expert on relationships!” you shout, exasperated. “Planning to propose to Chris while you’re still secretly pining over some fling from New Orleans, fucking groupies and then having the nerve to mope around guilt-ridden the next morning as if anyone but you was responsible for that decision, and do I say anything about it?! Do I ever say a single fucking word about it to you, or Fred, or Roger, or your future wife, or anybody?! No, because it’s not my life!”

The dressing room door flies open and John storms inside. “What’s going on?!”

You cross your arms and stare at the floor. Brian’s wide green eyes flick to John, to you, back to John. If it was Freddie, Brian would tell him in a second, would try to enlist him in the effort, and it would probably work; but John is a different story. John won’t side with Brian over you, everybody knows that. And John has a talent for sharpening words into blades. “Um. Nothing.”

“I could hear you in the hallway,” John says flatly. “Obviously it wasn’t nothing.”

Brian points to you. “Have you tried to talk her out of this? Maybe you should, maybe she’d listen.”

“It’s not my choice to make, just like it isn’t yours. Worry about your own body count. It seems to be growing exponentially these days.”

Brian scoffs. “Because you’d be so thrilled if she ended up with him, right?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?!” you demand.

Brian and John glare at each other from across the room. John raises his eyebrows, daring Bri to answer. Brian gnaws his lower lip, but doesn’t elaborate. The air is heavy, tense, electrified.

“Don’t upset her again,” John says darkly.

Brian shows the white palms of his hands in surrender. “Fine.”

John waves for you to follow him. “Come on.” And he slams the door behind you as you both escape into the hallway.

“I’m sorry.” You chase away stray tears with the back of your hands. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to get anyone worked up right before the show...”

“Don’t worry about it. I treasure any excuse to harass Brian.”

You study him, seeking answers, seeking more than you know how to put into words. “Do you think I’m being stupid? If you do, you can tell me.”

“No,” John responds carefully. “I think you’re being hopeful. And I’d like to believe that stupidity and hopefulness are two very different things.”

You smile. “I don’t deserve you.”

“That’s very inaccurate.” He fluffs his hair with his fingertips. “Do you want to touch it before we go on stage?”

You feign demureness. “Hmm...”

“Oh come on. You know you want to. It’s extra voluminous right now, Roger shared some of his magical mousse or whatever. Something way too expensive. You should thoroughly berate him for it.”

You laugh. “I’ll see what I can do.” You comb your hands through his brunette hair, and John’s right; it’s extraordinarily full and soft, and smells like honeysuckles. “You always know how to get me smiling, don’t you?”

“You do insist that I have game. Though I remain skeptical.”

“Good luck tonight. Not that you need it.”

John’s rough thumb lifts your chin, then whisks away a tear you missed. “You’ll be watching, right?”

“I always am.” And that’s the truth; you haven’t missed a Queen show since you met them.

He beams, those gentle grey eyes incandescent. “Then we’ll have an ocean of luck.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Exactly twenty-four hours later, Queen is in New York City.

The thunderous bassline of the opening act shudders through the concrete walls. You’re staring yourself down in the bathroom mirror under harsh florescent lights, your palms gripping the cold rim of a white sink, your eyes shimmering with black and gold shadow, your lip gloss slick and crimson. There’s not a single thing left to do. You’re running out of time.

You breathe in, breathe out, snatch your purse off the floor, breeze out into the hallway.

You can hear the boys’ laughter even before you open the dressing room door. Inside, Brian is tuning his Red Special with his mantis-like legs propped up on the countertop, John is attempting to teach Freddie how to make popcorn in a microwave without setting anything on fire, Roger is scrutinizing his hair in the mirror and frowning as he rearranges it with a comb.

“Hello, darling!” Freddie warbles. “Can I interest you in some delicious and expertly-prepared popcorn?” He opens the microwave, and smoke pours out. “Oh, you bitch!”

“I’ll pass, Freddie.” You glide to where Roger is sitting, knot your fingers through his blond hair, and tug his head back so you can kiss him. He tastes like mint gum and the ghost of smoke and reckless intemperance; he tastes like everything you’ve ever wanted. There are gasps, and surely dropped jaws as well; but you don’t have eyes for them. “Okay,” you tell Roger.

He stares up at you with huge, starry eyes, a dazed grin slowly lighting up his face. “You changed your mind.”

“Come find me after the show.”

“Yes ma’am.”

You move to wipe your blood-red gloss from his lips, but Roger stops you, knits his hand through yours, stands to meet you.

“Leave it,” he murmurs. “I want them to know.”

“Want them to know...?”

His lips touch yours again, smiling and scorching and ravenous. “That I’m yours.”

#roger taylor fic #roger taylor x reader #but you can never leave fic #but you can never leave #but you can never leave series #queen fic

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luminous-studiess · 5 years ago

Note

Seeing as you mentioned in one of your last posts that you’ve learnt how to study in the pas semester, I was wondering if you could share with us your tips & tricks, please? I love your blog ❤️

hi!!!!! first of all, thank you so much for the kind words. it always helps when i hear that people like my content, and it’s nice to know when people on studyblr reach out and motivate each other. i hope you’re doing well as well!i guess i have to preface this with the fact that studying in undergrad is very different from studying in law school. also, studying in different undergraduate courses constitutes very different studying styles as well. for me, i took literature, so it was a lot of writing papers and not much memory work. in law school, there was a LOT of memory work. i did really badly for several months because i wasn’t used to studying for those kinds of exams. i may make posts if anyone’s interested on how to study specifically for literature or law classes, but for now, these are general tips on how to study.this is a long-ass post, so my apologies!

HOW TO STUDY!!!!!!! A HUGE GENERAL GUIDE FROM SAM FROM LUMINOUS STUDIES, AFTER ~7 YEARS OF HOMESCHOOLING, 4 YEARS OF UNDERGRAD (AND A MAGNA CUM LAUDE) AND ONE TERRIFYING SEMESTER OF LAW SCHOOL.

FIRST THINGS FIRST: general tips, some life advice, preparation

- actual intelligence matters very little in school. some people learn faster, some take a little more time. being smart in itself does not matter when you don’t work. actual hard work can compensate for a less retentive memory (as i’ve found out over the semester). discipline and a lot of hard work always pay off, even if it seems rocky at first. make the resolve to dedicate a set amount of time to study everyday, even if it’s just an hour or so. a little is better than nothing. - my constitutional law professor (aka my favorite professor) advised one of my classmates to log her work hours. while it seems tempting to set a specific timeslot to get things done, sometimes life gets in the way, and you don’t actually get to work at 3 pm. maybe most of the time you sit at 3 pm is spent fiddling on your phone. to actually track productivity and consistency, time the hours you actively spend studying. put away all your distractions. personally, i like the forest app because it forces me to stay away from social media and lets me use the pomodoro method. on good study days, i get to log my work time in batches of 25 minutes. again, it can be the amount of hours you put in, but what matters is the quality of work you put in. stay consistent. i promise you. it helps- on the study environment: sometimes studyblr convinces you that you need a coffeeshop, an aesthetic library, a beautiful italian garden to get things done. that would be ideal, but most of us don’t have access to that. i suggest you evaluate if you work better in public spaces with a little sound ambience, to hold yourself accountable (coffeeshops, the school library, with friends), or in private, quiet spaces. once you know where you work best, know what keeps you focused. is it tea? a glass of iced coffee? a lofi playlist? a podcast? i find that process a little fun because it keeps the study process a little less dull and uncomfortable, as it often can be. don’t forget to keep it pleasant/rewarding, but note that overindulgence can distract you. trust me, i know this from experience.- study materials: are what you want and what you need. you don’t need anything fancy. personally, i need many colored pens and highlighters because i have a color-coding system for cases and provisions, but for undergrad, my best weapons were just a black ballpen and a nice mildliner. it’s preferential, and just see what works for you. - on study anxiety: i have mental health issues. i’ve been seeing a psychiatrist (and lately a therapist) for depression and anxiety, and it used to be really, really bad, to the point i couldn’t start. i think the best place to start is to find that kind of help if you really have bad mental health. but if it’s the kind of anxiety that stems from being worried that things won’t turn out well, or that there’s too much to do, it’s always best to start, and to remember that even a little, or something imperfect, is still progress. try it for 5 minutes. if you still can’t do it, rest. but sometimes we just need a little push. other things that really calm my anxiety are a good baroque playlist (check out baroque lute/jordi savali’s the celtic viol/bach’s goldberg variations on spotify!!!), jazz, or lofi, and lavender room spray. i also like to use gifs which help you with breathing techniques. you can find them all over tumblr and twitter. it’s also really helpful to ask others for help when you feel stuck. i’ve asked professors for a little consideration and classmates for advice and clarifications when i’m confused. reaching out to other people is often a great way to start the learning process.

- scheduling: i find it hard to keep on top of things, so i’m really thankful to the classmate who added me to a google calendar with all the class assignments. i think it’s a great system for knowing what the assignments are, so google calendar is your friend. for daily tasks, bullet journals help keep me accountable. i have a really simple one. quick and dirty. ACTUALLY STUDYING: methods, tricks, tips- consider the subject. different classes require different methods. some classes like math and chemistry – which, disclaimer, i have very little experience with – require practice problems. for literature classes, this requires much free analysis, annotations, research, and your own interpretations. other classes like history and geology require the memorization of topics. consider what information you need to learn, and how you want to approach it.- TAKE NOTES DURING THE LECTURE. i can’t stress this enough. if the teacher or professor mentions it, it’s probably important. nowadays, for major classes, i mark the topic on the syllabus with a special-colored highlighter that i won’t use for anything else so i know it’s crucial and will probably turn up on an exam. note: if they place special emphasis on a bit of information because it probably WILL turn up during the exam. one of my professors mentioned that a case would probably turn up during the philippine bar exam and guess what. it did. listen to the professor, don’t goof around on twitter (me to my undergraduate self, tbh), take good notes. make the notes into a reviewer during exam season. pass the class.- pre-studying helps. this is mandatory in law school, because mostly, you go to class to regurgitate what you’ve studied (or didn’t study) on your own from the syllabus. for undergrad, however, it helps to give yourself a background on the material so you can engage in the class, and take notes more efficiently. also, as much as possible, do the required reading. you’ll probably do it in one night anyway before the exam, so at least spread your work out and do a reasonable amount weekly.- on that note: if you’re going to rush through the syllabus and do “a semester’s worth of info” in one night (yes we’ve all seen Those Memes) anyway, it will be less of a pain in the ass to actually do the work slowly and consistently every week. trust me. this comes from a procrastinator who’s getting bitten in the ass, so please learn this as early as you can. it saves you a lot of pain later on.- THE CLASS SYLLABUS IS YOUR BIBLE. it’s all there. before classes, go through it. keep it with you during class and annotate it if you have to. some of my friends like to space the syllabus out on a document file so they use the headings for note-making. the syllabus will be your friend during review season.- always learn actively. if you don’t know a word or term, it will always help to google. make notes in the margins. make flashcards so you state information and retrieve it instead of just recognizing it. form study groups. rewrite your notes. engage with what you’re learning and it becomes so much more interesting, and so much easier. - set a time to unwind religiously. breaks are so important to avoid burnout. i like friday nights for unwinding, family dinners, reading, watching series. please rest. REVIEW SEASON: HOW TO COPE. HOW TO PASS. HOW TO CRY AS LITTLE AS POSSIBLE. - exams are scary. i used to enjoy them, until law school, where i’ve been beaten up thoroughly by every exam. but strangely enough, this is where i only learned how to actually study for an exam with huge blocks of information. i realized that this method really helps for undergrad, and probably will get you honors if you stick to a similarly solid method. - study as early as you can. once you know when the exam is, make a study plan. two weeks is a good minimum. sometimes, there are professors and teachers who announce only a week before, which is unavoidable, so honestly. just make a plan. i tend to assign a set number of syllabus pages to cover/study for on each day so i have time to do a second reading/quizzing. - HOW TO REVIEW: remember the class notes? remember the syllabus? those will help you cover everything you need once you schedule. the syllabus is your map for what you need to cover. assume that everything in the syllabus is something you need to go over at least once, so assign a set number of pages/topics per day. the class notes are your guide on what to focus on. note the special topics which have been emphasized by the lecturer. it also helps if you know what parts you’re very unsure about, so you know what to work on again when you have extra time. i tend to make reviewers out of my class notes, which also helps to retain info, because i go over it again. make time to re-read and quiz yourself. - blanking out on exam day? i can honestly assure you that it’s probably because you didn’t sleep enough. you’ve studied the information, but sleep deprivation either makes you fall asleep during the exam (which has happened) or forget what you learned (which has also happened). if you’ve made the time to repeat what you’ve needed to learn, the studying isn’t the problem. i make a rule to try and avoid all-nighters when necessary because sleep is integral in helping you retain information. when i need extra time to study, i go to bed early, and wake up around 3 or 4 am to study some more. it really helps.DEALING WITH FAILURE: - my professor (a huge businessman, constitutionalist, overall a very successful person) told me that he would not get where he is now if he hadn’t failed. failure is growth because you know you’re doing something. the only true “failure” is when you stop trying. some days are hard, some days don’t yield the results even when you work hard. it’s okay. be gentle on yourself. you are still growing.- sometimes i think about the fact that “gifted child syndrome” aka burnout and perfectionism stem from how many smart kids are often praised for their intelligence and not their work ethic. so when they do badly later in life, they think it’s because they weren’t “smart enough” and give up easily. i think much of doing anything entails a lot of embarrassment, a lot of hard work, and lots of failure. it’s so hard to put up with, and it can often be depressing and unhealthy and put you in a bad place. sometimes we need to talk to someone professional, if it gets to that point. but sometimes, it also helps to realize that a little hard work will help us to get where we want to be. - ask for help. i talk to my friends, my parents, and my professors when i’m stuck. it really helps.ok, whew. i know there’s so much more about studying. but i hope this helps for now. please let me know if you guys want more specific study guides. good luck, loves! you got this.– sam

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spriggan-tail · 5 years ago

Text

Big Bang Event!

This amazing story was written by the talented @superfreakerz! It was super fun working together to make this piece (with @ccrispy modding us :P) ! We hope you enjoy it :) @nalugruviaevents

Modern/Comedy

Summary: Lucy goes to throw eggs at her ex's house and finds some else is already doing it. She joins the strange, pink-haired boy and gets to know him in the process.

________________________________________________________________ “Run!”

Lucy parked down the street, just for safe measure. Taking a deep breath, she threw her black hoodie on to cover her golden locks of hair, which would only serve to help identify her if left exposed. She couldn’t have that happen. Not when what she was doing was technically illegal.

Stashing her wallet in the glovebox, she grabbed the carton of eggs that was sitting on the passenger seat. She turned on her phone’s flashlight, for she needed to make sure she got the right house. Taking another deep breath to calm her jittery nerves, the girl mustered up some courage before swinging the car door open and heading out into the night.

Lucy Heartfilia was a good person. More than good, actually. She was exceptional. She had straight A’s, never missed a class, and spread kindness through every person she met. But tonight, she was going to channel her inner rebel for some revenge. Tonight, she was going to egg someone’s house.

Not just anyone’s house. Her ex-boyfriend’s house. The sleazy dude deserved it after everything he had done.

Clutching the carton of eggs to her chest, Lucy kept looking over her shoulder to make sure that nobody was around. It was nearly two in the morning, so the chances of someone going on a stroll were slim to none. So far, the odds were in her favor.

As Lucy approached the correct house at the corner of the street, her heart dropped to her stomach as she saw someone else. They were clad in similar clothing as her, black sweats and a black hoodie that shadowed over their face and hid their features.

Lucy stopped in her tracks. What kind of person goes out at that time of night in all black clothing? Only murderers do that!

Then again, I’m out here…”

But that was different. She was there for justice! This person, she had no idea what they were doing.

Swallowing thickly, the girl was about to turn and head back to her car. Perhaps she could get revenge a different way. A less dangerous way that wouldn’t get her in trouble.

But then the person turned towards her.

Lucy stifled a scream, willing her legs to turn back and run. To just run to her car and get the hell out of there.

“Shit,” she heard the person mutter. It was a boy judging from their voice.

Lucy shivered in her spot, sweat dripping down her face. Her stomach felt like a washing machine as the person began to walk towards her. Unfortunately, Lucy wasn’t a fight or flight type of person. She was the kind of person who froze in times like these. All she could do was watch as the boy approached.

He stopped just in front of her. Lucy couldn’t make out any of his features thanks to it being nearly pitch black, along with his hoodie shadowing over his face.

Great, if he hurts me, now I won’t be able to identify him.”

Lucy squeezed her eyes shut. If the guy was going to kill her, she’d rather not watch.

“Who the hell are you?” he asked, shocking her.

Lucy opened her eyes, peering at him again. At his rude tone of voice, the fear that had consumed her before was replaced with irritation. Glaring back at him, she shot back, “Who the hell are you?”

“That’s none of your business!” the boy replied, looking over his shoulders. “Just get the hell out of here! And don’t tell anyone you saw someone here!”

“So you are a killer?” Lucy asked, her brows drooping in concern as she took a fearful step back.

“What the hell? Of course I’m not a killer! Why would you think that?”

“You just said-!”

“I’m not a killer! I’m just egging someone’s house!”

Lucy closed her mouth, her eyes growing wide. Sure enough, glancing down at his hands, she found an egg resting in one of them rather than the gun she was imagining.

“No way,” she breathed out. “Me too.”

“What?”

“Me too!” Lucy showed him the carton of eggs.

“No way! That’s awesome!”

Lucy pointed her flashlight at the house she was going to target. There were already some egg remnants splattered over the wood frames. She turned towards him.

“Wait, why are you egging this house? Do you know Dan too?” she asked.

“Nope. I lost a bet and as punishment, I’m supposed to egg this entire street and try not to get caught.”

“Well, you chose a stupid time to do that then.”

“Oi! You’re out here too, you know!”

“That’s because I know Dan and his schedule. He’s out right now. But with everyone else, I’m sure they’ll be home sleeping, and throwing an egg at their house will just wake them up. You need to do it while they’re at work.”

The boy brought a hand to the back of his head, rubbing it as he gave an awkward chuckle. “Huh. Guess I didn’t think about that.” He glanced towards the house. “So, wanna join me?”

“Okay!”

Lucy set down the carton of eggs on the pavement. Opening it, she grabbed some ammunition. Her heart pounded in her chest, a wave of excitement rushing over her. She’d never done anything like this before, and once she was done, she was never going to do it again. It just wasn’t her scene.

Looking over her shoulders to make sure nobody else was around, the girl chucked an egg at Dan’s house, wincing as she heard it crack against his door. It was fun, but also terrifying at the same time. It was exhilarating.

A giddy laugh slipped past the girl’s lips as she covered her mouth with her hands.

“Wow. This is actually kind of fun,” she said, turning towards her partner in crime.

“It is, huh?” he replied. He threw an egg at the house again. “So, what’s your name?”

“Why?”

“I’d like to know who I’m breaking the law with.”

She giggled. “I’m Lucy. And you are?”

“Natsu! Nice to meet ya, Luigi!”

“It’s Lucy!”

“Yeah, yeah. Lucy, Luigi, sounds the same to me.”

She rolled her eyes. “Shut up.” Grabbing another egg, she furrowed her brows as she threw it as hard as she could at the door. It landed on the doorknob, bringing a grin to her face. Next time Dan went to open his door, his hand would land on the slimy yolk. “He deserves it.”

“So, why’re you egging this dude’s house?” Natsu asked, bringing her out of her thoughts.

Lucy shrugged. “He deserves it.”

“What’d he do?”

“He’s my ex. He cheated on me.”

“Oh. Sorry about that.”

“Don’t be,” Lucy replied, waving him off. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m pissed he cheated on me. You shouldn’t cheat on anyone. But we weren’t together that long so it doesn’t sting that much.”

“Then why are you doing this?” Natsu asked.

“Because the girl he cheated on me with is a girl I know from school. She’s one of the sweetest girls I know, and once she found out he was cheating on the both of us, she was devastated. Turns out they were together longer than we were, so her feelings ran pretty deep. I’m doing this for her. She didn’t ask me to, but the guy deserves it.”

“He sure does,” Natsu replied, throwing three eggs at once. All of them landed on the window. “You don’t think he’ll blame you for it if he calls the cops?”

“If he does, I’ll just tell them I saw you doing it.”

“Oi! That’s just evil!”

“I’m kidding!” Lucy replied, followed by a soft giggle. “Dan won’t go to the cops. He hates them. Not to mention there are a lot of people that hate him, he won't be able to pin it on me.”

“Hope you’re right about that,” Natsu replied. “I can’t afford a ticket, and I especially can’t afford goin’ to jail over a few eggs.”

A content silence fell over the two as they continued to throw eggs at the house. Every crack against the wood frames made Lucy feel a little bit better. She’d never been cheated on before now, but it wasn’t a good feeling, no matter how serious she was with Dan. Revenge was sweet.

And enacting her plan of revenge with an interesting guy at her side was just extra icing on the cake.

“So, do you go to school?” Natsu asked, bringing her out of her thoughts.

“Yeah, I go to Magnolia University,” she answered.

“Same here! Whatcha majoring in?”

“Creative Writing. What about you?”

“I’m a STEM major.”

“Seriously?” Lucy turned towards him, her mouth parted wide. “You don’t strike me as the type.”

“How so?” Natsu asked with a chuckle.

“Well, I just figured STEM majors are stuck studying all the time and not out breaking the law.”

“Ehh, well, studying’s not really my thing. Breaking the law usually isn’t either, but dares and bets are. I’m just really good at math and science, and my friend told me I should just get my major and then I’ll be able to get any job I want.”

“Sounds smart enough.”

“What about you? You write stories?”

Warmth traveled to Lucy’s cheeks. “Uhh, yeah.”

“You should let me read one!”

Lucy arched a brow. Was he implying that he wanted to hang out after this whole fiasco? Her blush deepened. She wouldn’t oppose to that. However…

“Nope. My friend is going to be my first reader,” she said. Picking up another egg, she aimed for a part of Dan’s house that hadn’t been marked yet. “But if you want, I can lend you some other books that I like.”

“Nah,” Natsu replied with a shrug. “I’m not really into reading. I just wanted to read yours.”

Lucy was glad that it was dark out. Otherwise, her tomato-red face would have been visible.

“W-Well, too bad.” She chucked another egg. “So, what was that bet you lost anyways?”

Natsu snorted. “I was at the pub with my friends- you know the one downtown, Fairy Tail? I was there and my friend Gray dared me to get this one girl’s number.”

“What happened?”

He shrugged. “Somethin’ about my eating habits disgusted her, so she turned me down.”

“Eating habits?” Lucy thought, trying to imagine someone with bad enough table manners that would prevent them from getting a date. “I’m sorry you got turned down.”

“Ehh, I’m not,” he replied. “I wouldn’t wanna go on a date just because of some bet anyways. Especially with some random girl I don’t even know.” He turned to her, and the only thing she could see beneath his hoodie was a wide grin. “Thanks to me losin’ that bet, I got to meet you and end up egging this guy’s house!”

A bright smile spread across her face. “Then I’m happy you lost. Now I have a partner in crime. Literally.”

“Yep! How old is my partner in crime, by the way?”

“Twenty. What about you?”

“Twenty-one. Ha, I’m older!”

Lucy nudged him playfully. “Don’t get so cocky, it’s only by one year.”

“Listen, kid-!”

Lucy slapped his arm. “I’m not a kid!”

Natsu cackled, his mischievous laughter filling the air. Lucy couldn’t help but join in, his laughter contagious. It wasn’t too high, nor too low. It was just right.

Talking to Natsu was easy. Even though they knew next to nothing about each other, she felt like she had known him her whole life. He was down-to-earth, funny, and had a personality that made her want to get to know him even better.

She hoped he would ask her out by the end of the night.

As Lucy was about to throw another egg, a blinding light appeared as a car turned the corner right next to them. Squinting at the car, her stomach dropped to the ground as she recognized it to belong to a certain ex of hers.

“Shit,” Lucy muttered. “That’s Dan.”

“What!?” Natsu replied, whipping his head towards the car, in which a man started to climb out.

“Who are you guys?” Dan asked, taking slow step towards them. “Wait, are those eggs? Are you egging my house?”

“What do we do?” Natsu whispered to her.

“It’s simple,” she replied. “Run!”

Grabbing his hand, she made a dash towards the end of the street. Turned out she could be a flight kind of person as long as she had someone with her. Her heart thrashed around in her chest, partly due to the warm hand locked with hers, but mainly because of the man that was chasing after them. At least Dan wasn’t much of a runner.

“Where are we going?” Natsu asked.

“My car! We’re getting the hell out of here!” she answered. “There it is!”

Reaching the car, Lucy let go of his hand to go to the driver’s door. She unlocked the car for them, sliding into her seat and locking the doors once Natsu was settled. She could see Dan charging towards the car in the rearview mirror. Her hands shook trying to jiggle the key into the ignition before Dan reached them, otherwise he would recognize her.

“Uhh, feel free to speed it up!” Natsu exclaimed.

“I’m trying! My hand won’t stop shaking!” she shot back.

Natsu groaned before taking her hand in his. His large hand covered her smaller one, guiding it steadily towards the ignition. Once it was in, she quickly turned key, bringing the car to life.

“Let’s go!” Lucy shouted, flooring it just as Dan reached the bumper. The tires screeched across the pavement as the two made their escape. As Dan’s form slowly started to disappear from the rearview mirror, a boisterous laugh slipped past her lips in excitement. “We did it, Natsu! We-!”

Glancing over at the boy, she found him slouched over and giving hushed groans and occasional whimpers.

“Natsu?” she asked, her voice laced in concern. “What’s wrong?”

“Motion… sickness,” he answered, followed by another whimper.

Lucy blanched. “Motion sickness? Are you serious?” He nodded. “That is the lamest thing I have ever heard.”

“Shut up.”

Lucy turned on the carlight to see how he was holding up. Glancing over at him, she could see that his face was pale and dotted with sweat beneath his hood. His cheeks were puffed out, a sign that he was going to throw up any second.

A shrill squeal escaped Lucy’s mouth as she shoved her hand against Natsu’s cheek and pushed him towards the window.

“Don’t throw up in my car!” she shouted.

Rolling down the window, she peeked at Natsu and watched as he stuck his head out the window. His hood flew back in the wind, revealing pink tufts of hair. Her eyes went wide, her mouth parting slightly.

“You have pink hair,” she said absentmindedly.

“Yeah,” Natsu grumbled in reply. His voice was strained from his sickness. “Probably another reason I got turned down for that date. People aren’t really a fan.”

“I-I like it.”

“You do?” he asked, turning to look at her.

Lucy nodded, ignoring the blush rising to her cheeks. “Pink is my favorite color.”

Natsu’s lips twitched upwards into a small smile. “What about you? I haven’t had the chance to get a good look at you yet. Are you bald or something?”

“Oh, right. And no I'm not bald, idiot.” Lucy brought her hand up to her hood before taking it off. Natsu’s eyes went wide. “Yeah, I’m just a blonde.” She’d heard enough blonde jokes to last a lifetime. She figured he might as well get them out now.

“Your hair isn’t just blonde. It’s golden!”

She flushed, keeping her eyes on the road. “Th-Thanks. So, where do you live? I need your address so I can drop you off.”

Natsu opened his mouth to reply when his eyes grew to the size of golf-balls. Shoving his head out the window, he hurled what felt like all of his insides. Lucy screamed.

“You actually barfed! It’s illegal to throw up out of a car window while driving!” she cried.

“Well then… that’s two illegal things we did tonight,” Natsu replied, his head hanging out the window.

“Forget it! I’ll just bring you over to my place!”

“Wow, Luce. Shouldn’t you at least ask me on a date first?”

“Don’t joke about dates after throwing up!”

They drove in a content silence until Natsu spoke next.

“You know, I never finished my punishment for the bet,” he stated.

“What do you mean?” Lucy asked, peeking at him.

“I was supposed to egg the entire street, but we only got Dan’s.”

“Who cares? I think egging one house is good enough! I’m sure your friends will understand.”

“Nope. They won’t. Only way I can think of getting out of another punishment is managing to get a date like I was supposed to.”

Lucy glanced towards him. “Oh? With that girl from before?”

Natsu rubbed the back of his head, his cheeks starting to match his hair. “I’m sure they’d accept any girl. So, what do you say? Wanna go on a date, Luce?”

Lucy’s cheeks were set ablaze. “A-Are you serious?”

“Yeah of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well, I don’t want to go on a date just to get you out of your punishment.”

Natsu sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Luuucy! That was just my attempt to be smooth and you ruined it! Of course that’s not why I’m asking you out, weirdo!”

“Oh. Then yes! I’d love to go on a date with you, Natsu.”

The two shared an eager grin. Their night was crazy, to say the least. To think that such a good thing could come out of getting cheated on and losing a bet made them think that maybe it wasn’t so bad after all.

#Fairy Tail #Nalu #Natsu Dragneel #Lucy Heartfilia #Natsu x Lucy #nalugruviabigbang

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purplesurveys · 4 years ago

Text

916

What Rhymes With “AIR”?

1. Are the walls of your room bare or do you have things hanging up there? I have some things on the wall, yes. A few paintings, Audrey Hepburn wall decors, and a poster of Nam Joo Hyuk. I used to have wrestling posters but my mom, ever the control freak, removed them because she didn’t like them. Sigh.

2. When’s the last time you went outside to enjoy the fresh air? I went out this morning to take Cooper to the vet for his anti-rabies shot. I didn’t necessarily do it to enjoy the fresh air, but that came along with the experience as well anyway.

3. Do you watch the Fresh Prince of Bel-Air? I started watching it this month actually! It’s super fun and Will Smith’s physical comedy is hilarious, but it isn’t really the type of show I’d binge-watch given how old the jokes and some of the tropes already are. I definitely don’t dislike it, but I just take longer to watch the episodes.

4. When’s the last time it felt like you were walking on air? Sunday, when I had my virtual grad and found out my parents and aunt and uncle got all my favorite food delivered to the house :) We had baked sushi, baked samgyeopsal, Pancit Malabon, and pichi-pichi that day, aaaaahhhhhh.

5. Have you ever been on air, on a radio station? Very briefly. One of our field trips in high school was a visit to a major broadcasting network, and we we were brought to their AM radio studio. The broadcaster on air at the time – one of my favorites of all time – welcomed us and gave us a chance to say hi on air.

6. Have you ever felt like all of the air was coming out of your lungs? Sure, but I guess it’s more accurate to say that I’ve occasionally felt the sensation of my chest increasingly tightening.

7. Has it seemed as though anything has ever disappeared into thin air? Have you ever pulled an idea out of thin air? The first one, yes. I have this stupid ability to drop a certain thing and have it disappear forever; I hate that it happens to me all the time lol.

I can relate with the second situation as well; when I was still in school and had to write essays, reaction papers, anything of the sort, I’d wait till the last possible minute to start working on it since it’s by then that the good ideas start pouring in.

8. Have you ever wanted to be on “Who Wants to Be a Millionaire”? Sure. I’ve enjoyed trivia for as long as I can remember, so the show has always been right up my alley.

9. Do you know a billionaire in real life? No. I know a loooot of CEO kids, kids of MNC owners/executives, and kids of political dynasties though...comes with the environment I grew up in and the schools I went to.

10. Would you like to be an heir or heiress to a fortune? I wouldn’t say no to that.

11. Would you be able to successfully get away if you ever came across a bear? The one thing I keep hearing is to stay very still, so I’d be doing my best to do just that. I got no other survival skills though and if there’s apparently anything more that needs to be done during a bear encounter, then I don’t know of them.

12. Where’s your favorite place to go? How long does it take to get there? Hmm I’ve loved going to many places. My favorite vacation spots so far have been Sagada - that’s a 15, 16-hour road trip from Manila; Vigan - 8-hour road trip; and Palawan - an hour or so plane ride from Manila. If we’re taking nearby places, I like going to coffee shops to unwind and have a pastry or two. I don’t have a favorite one; I just go to whichever one’s the nearest to me at the moment.

13. How often do you err on the side of caution? I keep it at a healthy 50/50. There are times I’m okay with taking a big leap, but if I’m not super invested in something anyway and/or if there’s not a lot in it for me, I play it safe.

14. How often do people say they’re angry with you? My life revolves around being a (very cautious) people pleaser and making sure I don’t piss off people. The only people who have told me they’re angry with me are my mom and girlfriend.

15. Do you own any long underwear? I have never heard of these until today. I’d love to live somewhere so cold I need to wear clothes specifically meant to be worn underneath my actual outfit lol

16. How much Tupperware do you own? I’m Filipino, man. Filipino moms practically make it their life’s mission to collect as many Tupperware containers as they can. I’m pretty sure we have a bunch that we didn’t even own to begin with - just magically ended up in our cupboard after all the parties and gatherings we’ve had hahaha.

17. What color is your underwear right now? Green.

18. Do you still sleep with a teddy bear? I never slept with stuffed animals; I preferred pillows.

19. What pair of your shoes has the most wear and tear? In my first year of college the only shoes I owned was a pair of Keds. Used it for everything and it unsurprisingly ended up being super worn out - soles got detached from the shoe and all that. I think we still have it here at home – still destroyed – but it’s been untouched for a while.

20. Do you like to play Solitaire? It was a great boredom buster game for me for a time, especially when phone apps weren’t all that expansive yet. I haven’t played it in many months though.

21. Do you or your family own a full set of silverware? We do.

22. What do you have to take everywhere with you? Phone, wallet, car and house keys. Because of school I’ve also developed a habit of accidentally bringing my laptop nearly everywhere I go – I brought it to the vet once, lol

23. Would you like to visit Delaware? Yes. Delaware actually stands out in my memory because I remember reading in a kids’ almanac many years ago that it was the first to become a US state. Ever since then I’ve kinda bookmarked the place in my head.

24. Last time you received dental care? December. My tooth had been hurting for a couple of months but it became absolutely unbearable by that month so I had to book an emergency appointment days before Christmas. I felt super bad for the hassled dentist (who doubles as a family friend, which made it more embarrassing)... but at that point I was crying myself to sleep every night and would wake up at 3 AM crying in pain, and I would’ve done anything for the toothache to go away.

25. If you could go anywhere in the world, where would it be? Somewhere brutally cold.

26. Where in the world is Carmen Sandiego? I’ve never been able to relate to this question, lol soz.

27. Are you satisfied sitting here, taking this survey, or would you rather be elsewhere? I’m satisfied for now. I found more potential leads when it came to job-hunting and I’m not feeling too anxious anymore. I’ve been so focused on looking for corporate communications/PR jobs in the private sector that I forgot about the possibility of applying my skills in something I’m even more passionate about - museums! We have a few government agencies focused on museums, culture, and the arts and I definitely see myself performing in the jobs they offer. It’s even better because it’ll help me get my foot in the door in government positions, and as someone who’s indecisive about law it’ll be a great bridge to start with. Guess we’ll just have to wait and see.

28. Last time you sat in a barber’s chair? Early March.

29. Do you own any cans of compressed air? I’m not sure...had to look that up. Maybe we do? Idk. Dad will sometimes hoard random grownup stuff from the hardware store so I’m not ruling this one out.

30. Do you have a swivel chair at your desk? Nope.

31. Do you prefer an armchair or a rocking chair? Rocking chair.

32. Would you rather have a beanbag chair or a hanging swing chair in your room? Hanging swing chair sounds so hipster and awesome lol. I’ve had my time with a beanbag chair anyway.

33. What’s the last non-survey related questionnaire that you had to fill out? SSS form.

34. Are there any crimes that you feel make someone deserving of the electric chair? Not really a death penalty kinda gal, but if anyone had to sit in the electronic chair it’ll be people torturing and abusing animals for fun.

35. Do you know anyone who uses a wheelchair? Yes.

36. Do you know anyone who is on welfare? I probably do.

37. Do you play Modern Warfare? Nopes.

38. Do you ever feel like life is unfair? It is, objectively. I’m a little pessimistic when it comes to this.

39. Have you ever visited Times Square? No. I dunno if I wanna go there...it seems so crowded and claustrophobic, not to mention super tourist-y haha. I’d love to visit once just to see the bright lights and the giant ads, but I’d much rather be at museums and historical sites.

40. Do you tell people to “take care” at the end of a conversation with them? Sometimes. I’ve been saying it a lot more often these days, for obvious reasons.

41. Where is somewhere that you would like to move to? Canada. But I also feel like if I moved there immediately it would be such a culture shock in terms of the weather, culture, how far away I am from family, etc. and I doubt I would cope well. I suppose I can move to either Vietnam or Singapore first, as kind of like a baby step.

42. What is something in your home that needs to be repaired? One of the stovetop burners stopped working last night and my dad’s determined to fix that.

43. What kind of sleepwear do you own? I go to bed in just my normal home clothes; I don’t change to anything else.

44. What skin care products do you use? Water. ;) I’m one of the lucky ones lol.

45. Do you have any spyware on your computer? Nope.

46. Do you own any sportswear? What sports? I have athletic shorts from when I played table tennis.

47. Do you like Fred Astaire? Sure. I’ve only seen one movie of his (Funny Face) and he was a delight in that.

48. How long does it take you to prepare a meal? I only ever make instant meals, oops.

49. Do you know anyone named Pierre? Yes, Eva’s youngest sister is a Pierre. I’m just not sure if it’s also the same spelling.

50. Are you going nowhere fast? I hope not. I’m giving myself a quick break for now after studying for 18 years straight but like I’m not out of ambition or anything like that at all.

51. How often do you have a nightmare? Not very. They only show up when I’m going through a depression. My last nightmare was two or so years ago.

52. How often are you able to catch something in mid-air? It’s unpredictable with me. Some days my reflexes are great but sometimes I’ll just be so clumsy.

53. What do your lawn chairs look like? Brown and wooden.

54. How many chairs are at your dining/kitchen table? Six; just right for our family of five.

55. Favorite type of footwear? Sneakersssssss.

56. When’s the last time one of your senses were impaired? From what? My left eye still gets irritated from time to time. We never really found out what’s wrong with it; my first checkup happened on the day before lockdown, so we never got to go back. When it starts to act up, I usually have no choice but to wait for it to go away.

57. Have you ever been in a hot air balloon before? No. I’ve been to hot air balloon festivals though. That’s enough for me haha; I’m not desiring to be in one and be up in the sky.

58. Do you have a good health care plan? My parents do for us kids.

59. Last time you went to the hardware store? Months ago.

60. Have you ever played foursquare before? No. I thought that was just a website. Oops.

61. Do you own any types of eyewear? I’ve worn a pair of glasses since I was 11. I had needed them much earlier but my mom always thought I was being a sissy and just ‘wanted’ glasses to fit in with other kids. It was such a stupid mindset, and it was so stupid of her to not believe her kid WHO WAS STARTING TO NOT SEE. It was only when I took an eye exam at the school clinic and the school wrote her a letter that she finally believed me, but I had been suffering for a while and could barely read the chalkboard for like two years, which definitely affected my grades.

62. What brand of cookware do you have a lot of? Not sure about brands.

63. Nothing can compare to: Having a complete, loving, and supportive family.

64. Have you ever worked in a childcare center? I haven’t.

65. Do you have a “beware of dog” sign on your gate? Nah. I usually say it myself. Kimi never got used to strangers.

66. Have you ever attended daycare as a child? I guess you can say that? It wasn’t daycare per se but some malls used to have play areas/centers and my mom used to drop me off in those while she ran errands for a few hours. Those aren’t too common nowadays because I guess it’s more dangerous to leave your kids now, even with attendants, but they were a fun part of my childhood.

67. Are you very aware of your surroundings? I’m honestly a little ditzy so no. I always need a more responsible, more street smart friend by my side especially when I’m going somewhere unfamiliar.

68. Have you ever had an au pair or a nanny before? We used to have househelp, but we never saw them as nannies. A vast majority of them never met my mom’s (extremely high) expectations and quit in a few weeks or months, sometimes even days; the few ones who did eventually wanted better lives for themselves and resigned after a few years, which we didn’t stop them from doing. At some point my mom gave up having help around and realized that ultimately, she’d rather clean up and do chores her way.

69. Do you know anyone who has had an affair? Yes.

70. How much are you willing to spend on airfare? I’ve never bought my own ticket so I don’t know how much they’re supposed to be on average...but I imagine I’m willing to pay a lot of money if it means going to the destinations of my dreams.

71. Who do you care about the most? The friends that I count as family.

72. Are you more likely to choose truth or dare? Truth. I’m too shy to do dares and I’ve never had a problem telling the truth anyway.

73. Have you ever seen the Blair Witch Project before? Yes, a few times.

74. Do you like the name Claire? Would you spell it with or without the I? I love it, it sounds elegant and graceful and it’s one of my favorite names. I prefer it with an I – I don’t know any Clares, actually.

75. Last time you went to a fair? Last week of January.

76. What can be done to make life more fair? Ending world hunger and poverty and making education accessible for all.

77. How much are you willing to spend on cab fare? Not much. Cab fares should be fair after all.

78. Do you have a lot of flair? To some extent, I guess. I’m certainly not dragging myself down haha.

79. Do you own flare jeans? Nopes.

80. Is there a glare on your computer screen right now? There isn’t.

81. When’s the last time someone glared at you? Sometime in the last week would be a safe guess. My mom will sometimes communicate through glares and I’ve picked up the habit from her as well.

82. What type of hair do you have? (color, length, texture, etc) How often do you wash it? It’s black, quite thick, a bit on the wavy side, and has a tendency to get frizzy when it’s humid. Length-wise, it currently reaches just my collarbones. After a rebonding disaster around a decade ago my hair got a bit dry and it never really recovered from that, so I need to wash my hair with a giant blob of conditioner every time I take a shower otherwise it would get dry and hard.

83. Do you know the difference between a rabbit and a hare? I know hares are larger, but that’s about it.

84. Do you like to eat eclairs? LOVE them.

85. What do you consider to be your lair? My car has served as my safety bubble for so many depressing days in college. That’s why I got a little heartbroken when my dad told me he might have plans to sell it to my aunt (his sister).

86. A female horse is called a mare. What is a male horse called? A baby horse? Stallion; foal. Thank you, kid’s almanacs haha.

87. Have you ever used Nair before? Did it work? I used Veet in middle school when razors still scared me. It worked, but it took a whiiiiile and sometimes it wouldn’t even take all the hair off, so eventually I just started shaving.

88. Has anyone ever told you to “grow a pair”? No, and no thanks.

89. What is something that you own a pair of? Dogs.

90. What is a rare quality that you have? Other people will have to answer that. They’re the ones who see me and get to decide what’s rare about me.

91. Last food you pared? I don’t think I’ve done that.

92. Do you know someone who is a debonair? Sure.

93. Do you like to scare others for fun? No.

94. What is something that scares you? The idea of being in a plane crash, for one.

95. Do you like Sonny and Cher? Can’t say I’m a fan or that I’ve listened to anything of theirs.

96. Do you know how to share? Do you like to share? Sure. The only thing I’m a little selfish about is my food lol.

97. Have you ever played a snare drum before? A few times before, yes.

98. What do you do with your spare change? I give them to the tambays who help me get out of parking spots. That or I use it to buy food in school, since everything in UP’s cheap enough to pay with coins.

99. Do you know how to put on a spare tire? No. I’m interested to learn though.

100. Have you ever gotten a spare while bowling before? Yep, it’s happened a few times.

101. When’s the last time you wished someone would spare you the details? A week ago.

102. Do you win games fair and square? Sure. I’ve only cheated once and that was on an exam.

103. Do you know how to find the square root of something? Not anymore. I do have a bunch of perfect squares still memorized, though.

104. What are the characteristics of a square shape? Four equal sides that are also right angles.

105. Have you ever been called a square before? No. I don’t know what that means either, so if I got called that I wouldn’t know how to react.

106. Do you prefer the elevator or the stairs? Elevator.

107. Do you ever stare at other people? Only if it’s a bizarre situation. Once when this drunk guy got arrested in BGC and was being physical with the police, I stared and watched the whole thing. I do try to look away for most scenarios though.

108. How often do you swear? A few times a day.

109. Do you ever “swear on your life”? It’s not a saying that I commonly use, no.

110. What do you like to “tear up”? Eh, I don’t really like tearing up things.

111. What type of wares would you sell? Not interested in sales or business, so that’s a pass for me haha.

112. What kinds of clothing do you like to wear? I like wearing whatever’s trendy, as long as I genuinely like the look.

113. Have you ever had a pregnancy scare before? Never. [a-zebra-is-a-striped-horse]

#survey #surveys

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gracewithducks · 5 years ago

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Strange Traditions (A Christmas Eve Sermon)

There is a man in Ohio who creates artwork out of chewing gum; he shapes gum in tiny little sculptures… using nothing but his mouth.[1] There’s a couple in Tokyo who recently went viral for posting pictures of their cats, which isn’t too unusual, except that the cats are wearing hats – bunny ears and crowns, Viking helmets and wigs – all kinds of hats made from the hair those cats shed around the house.[2]

And I’ve realized we all have weird things we do, things that make no sense, that others find strange or even a waste of time… but it brings us joy, so we do it, even if they don’t understand.

Some of us dress up like Star Trek characters. Some of us study the Elvish language of the Lord of the Rings. Some of us love to bake cookies and cakes, even when everyone we know is on a diet. Some of us read the same books over and over again. Some people make works of art out of beach sand and sidewalk chalk, even knowing it’s all going to wash away. Some people train for marathons, or jump out of airplanes, or collect stamps or build ships in bottles.

As for me, I knit stockings.

On its surface, not that strange. It all started innocently enough: my grandmother always knit stockings for our whole family: generations of stockings, each one unique, each one knit with love. And we love those stockings. As a kid, opening our stockings on Christmas Day was almost more exciting than opening the presents under the tree. Under the tree you’d get the usual pajamas and socks and, if you’re really lucky, that one thing we’d hoped and wished for all year. But the stockings were a free-for-all of surprises: candies and hairbows, puzzles we didn’t know existed, books we didn’t know we wanted to read, games and puzzles and funny little toys that sometimes were more fun than the big ones under the tree.

Stockings are an important part of our Christmas traditions. But when I was starting my own family, my grandma let me know that, because of the tremors in her hands, she couldn’t knit anymore. It was heartbreaking for her, but it was also nerve-wracking for me – because as the only other knitter in the family, the job of making stockings was handed down to me.

And when I say that I knew how to knit, I mean that my grandma – the same grandma – had taught me how to knit a potholder when I was about twelve years old. I don’t think I even ever learned to purl, just to knit – straight knit – the end.

But my grandma handed down her knitting needles and yarn, and I resolved to do the best I could.

I started working on my daughter’s stocking, the first stocking I’d ever made. And because I wasn’t so smart, I didn’t start working on the stocking until after she was born – which was about two months before her first Christmas. I still remember frantically knitting whenever anyone came to visit and offered to hold the baby; I remember wearing my daughter strapped in a Baby Bjorn and dancing around the living room, trying to keep her happy, while I knitted behind her back.

Somehow, I finished that stocking. And the even bigger wonder is that it actually looks like it belongs. It’s not perfect, but none of them are; they’re all made with love anyway.

When my husband and I found out we were expecting again, I knew I needed to plan another stocking. But because I’d only made one stocking before, I wanted to practice, to try following my notes and see if I could do it again. So I decided that, as a joke, I’d surprise my husband by making a stocking – not for a family member, but for Doctor Who. And if you don’t know who Doctor Who is, that’s okay; he’s a character in a British sci-fi show, and Doctor Who always has a Christmas special – a Christmas special which actually airs on the BBC on Christmas Day.

Since the Doctor always shows up for Christmas, then, I decided to make him his own stocking, with a picture of his time machine on it. And from that one stocking, a new tradition was born.

Yes, I made stockings for all of my children. But I’ve made many more than that. Every Christmas, I surprise my husband with another silly stocking for his collection, a stocking based on something he loves. We have Iron Man and Captain America; we have Harry Potter and Thing 1 from Doctor Seuss; we have a stocking for Despicable Me’s Gru, and for the Staypuft Marshmallow Man, and even Mickey Mouse.

Along the stairway to our house is a wall of stockings. My husband isn’t surprised to get a new stocking each year; he looks forward to them – and that year’s design is always a secret – and I so much love the planning, creating, and surprising him.

It’s a strange tradition, I know. Whenever I explain it, I always get some funny looks. People always want to know if I make my whole family new stockings every year (I don’t) or whether my husband gets presents in all those stockings – (he doesn’t).

Even my own extended family is confused. Earlier this year, my brother was over to visit, and he gazed up at our stocking collection, looked at me, and said, “You know, there are – other – things you can make, right?”

Of course I do. I make other things. I love making things. But I really, truly find joy and delight in making those novelty Christmas stockings – even if no one else gets it. I love our strange little tradition. It doesn’t have to make sense. It doesn’t have to follow the rules.

Sometimes I imagine – and to be clear, this isn’t in the bible; it’s my own imagination – but sometimes I imagine that, when God was creating humans, when God had the idea to create these free but flawed beings who would live in God’s creation – I imagine an angel walking up, looking at what God was making, and saying, “Are you sure that’s what you want to make? It looks messy, and loud, and it’s probably just going to break all your stuff.”

And when God nods, and the angel wrinkles his nose and says, “You know – there are other things you can make, right?”

And God’s like, “I know. I’ve made other things. I enjoy making other things. But these are different; each one is different, unique, and I delight in planning and creating each one – and maybe they’re messy, and maybe it doesn’t make sense… but love doesn’t have to make sense.”

And when God was planning to come down at Christmas, to get down and play with those unlikely and perplexing creations, to shrink to our size and play by our rules, so that we might see God’s love even more – when God said, “This is my idea: I’ll go down there as a baby” – I imagine that same angel wanders by and says, “Really? That’s your plan? Haven’t you learned anything?”

And God says, “It doesn’t have to make sense. Love doesn’t make sense. But it brings me joy. And that’s enough.

This is the lesson of Christmas: that God’s love for us doesn’t make sense – but God loves us anyway. God loves us too much to stay away, but God loves us enough to come down to our level, to squeeze infinity into an infant, to subject God’s self to cold, to poverty, to grief and hunger and pain – so that when we go through suffering, we know we are not alone.

God loves us enough to do the unusual, the bizarre, the impossible: to come and be with us.

And it doesn’t make sense. But some of the most important things we do in life don’t make any kind of sense: like telling your family to split the last pieces of pie when there isn’t enough to go around, and you tell them you didn’t feel like pie tonight anyway; or a grown adult getting down on the floor to play Legos or Barbies, or folding yourself down to fit on a playground slide; it’s driving for hours just so you can have dinner with your family, or giving a few dollars to the stranger at the side of the road, or inviting a stray animal to share your home and be your family; it’s sitting with someone who’s sick, even if they don’t know you’re there; telling your mother-in-law the biscuits really don’t taste burned at all, or going to your friend’s favorite restaurant even if you don’t like it. It’s buying coffee for a stranger; it's practicing for hours to bring music to worship, even knowing the beauty is fleeting – just a few moments and it’s over and gone; it’s gathering to worship a God we can’t see, celebrating a baby king sleeping on the hay, lighting candles and singing about heavenly peace on an earth that’s far from any kind of peace at all.

There are things we do that make no sense, and we wonder how much they matter – but they’re done from love, so maybe those things that don’t make sense are the ones that matter the most of all.

Love that doesn’t make sense – and love is what Christmas is all about.

This so familiar story of Christmas, this story which makes us comfortable and nostalgic on nights like this – this story is in fact a strange tradition: a tradition of looking for God in the cold, the hungry, and the helpless, in the most unlikely corners of a dangerous and perplexing world.

May the God who delights in you, may the God who loves you enough to be born in Bethlehem – may that God bless you, and may you know that you are loved. And may you too love even when it doesn’t make sense, seeing beauty where others see nonsense, bringing peace into the most unlikely places of all. May we all hold onto this strange tradition of generous, extravagant, beautiful, unlikely love.

God of strange traditions, God of risk-taking and self-sacrificing love: we are so thankful for the tradition, the story, the truth that brings us here tonight. We are grateful that you loved us into creation, even when it didn’t make sense; we are thankful that, when we were lost and cold and alone, you came to meet us right where we are. Meet us here tonight. In Jesus’ name we pray; amen.

[1] https://www.ripleys.com/weird-news/annual-2012-gum/

[2] https://mymodernmet.com/hair-cat-hats-ryo-yamazaki/

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