#been isolating really hard this winter and only now realizing how bad it’s gotten

[so-what-im-a-lowlife]

..

[spicysoftsweet]

Chapter 12

Masterlist

Kumi stood at the kitchen sink, the sound of the running water over the dishes she was attempting to wash barely registering in her head. It wasn’t that she was thinking about anything else - the activity was mindless for her and her head was nearly blank. She stared outside the closed window above the kitchen sink, her hands still moving deftly as she rinsed plate after plate and set them aside to dry.

Outside was quiet and tonight, the sky was particularly bright and starry, and Kumi decided she liked living here.

The rural town, a drive out from bustling Kyoto, was quite peaceful, and while her and her grandmother lived in a more isolated region with the next house being at least a ten minute walk away, it wasn’t truly the countryside proper. She was thankful for this, once she’d awoken from her depressive episode where she’d lacked the will to even argue when her parents sent her away. The kids at school did look at her a little funny, few of them having seen a hafu before, but there wasn’t much difference from the behavior of the kids in Tokyo after a while.

Kumi also found that her initially stern looking grandmother was possibly the sweetest woman alive, pale as her mother and much smaller in height and frame as her. The old woman was also a very good listener and had been patient enough to hear her out once Kumi finally decided to talk, in sharp contrast with her parents who were now terrified to say anything, especially after her father had only said the wrong things initially.

Things were getting better, in some fashion. Kaksi had stopped calling her weeks ago so the guilt she felt any time she avoided the line was eased. She had almost lost her resolve when even Mitsuya called, but she was determined that the best way to heal would be to avoid anyone from back then. She longed to talk to Kaksi however, and she knew there was no one she’d meet that could replace that bond at her new school.

She was almost finished with her task when she noticed a small cockroach running along the outside of the windowsill, trying to make its way inside, attempting to shield itself from the growing winter cold. She found herself pausing and staring, not in fear but in fascination, until a memory came to mind.

“If you’re gonna ride on my bike, you’ll need to address it properly.” Baji told Kumi, matter-of-factly, crossing his arms over his chest but with a grin on his face.

“This is an inanimate object,” Kumi said, pressing her lips together. All she wanted was a ride home, and she’d already convinced herself that getting on this boy’s bike wouldn’t immediately cause her death but now that he was being silly about it, she was starting to have second thoughts. Maybe walking alone wouldn’t be so bad.

“Yeah, but it also has a name. Goki, like Gokiburi, you know.” He said, hopping over it with one leg, and letting it tilt. “If you’re gonna get on, you have to say ‘ Good evening, Gokiburi-san’ first, and then we can go to your house.”

Kumi readjusted her bookbag, looking at the space behind him on the bike, then at him. She shrugged.

“Go-ki-bu-ri?” she pronounced carefully, looking at him for approval and he nodded. She repeated the words he’d asked her to say with a bow, and Baji stifled a laugh.

She pouted.

“Hey, did you make me say something stupid?”

“No, of course not,” he replied, reaching out a hand behind him to help her up. It was her first time on his bike, and she did find that her heart pounded once she’d settled onto the seat.

“Please go slowly,” she pleaded, and he rolled his eyes.

“Fine.”

Kumi tried to resist the urge to cling to the boy too hard once the engine started, anticipating that he’d speed off to scare her, but instead he was considerate, moving slowly in the direction of her place. Once her heart rate slowed to normal, she felt the need to start a conversation, and she said the name again.

“Go-ki-bu-ri. Gokiburi. Goki… buri.”

“Huh?” Baji asked, eyes still facing the front.

“It sounds cute,” she admitted, with a chuckle.

He laughed.

“Oh really? Now that I think of it, it reminds me of you.”

Baji’s back tensed, perhaps anticipating a slap, but Kumi’s cheeks warmed up instead. She had no idea what a gokiburi was, and Baji only realized once she grew quiet and they’d arrived at her place that she had no understanding of the mean joke he had just made.

His own cheeks reddened, once she thanked him sincerely for the ride, flustered once he realized she’d taken his roast as a compliment. He didn’t have the heart to explain himself now, especially when it occurred to him that she was pretty when she smiled.

“I… uh, no problem!”

It was only the next day when Kaksi said bluntly, “he said you looked like a cockroach,” that he received that slap for real.

Kumi continued to watch the cockroach march along, until it was out of view, unsure whether to smile or cry.

---

As the end of her last year in middle school approached, Kaksi figured that she had no use in making new friends, so she drowned her troubles with studying, doing her best to enter a high school where she would be sure she’ll never see any Toman member again. Unfortunately, that was not what she truly desired.

Kaksi wanted her friends back - she wanted Baji to push her a little too hard when they would fight, she wanted Kumi to give her that annoyed look when she would tease her too much, she wanted to hear Mikey laugh and smile with his eyes and she wanted Kazutora to push her gently when she wanted to play on the swings nearby.

These were the thoughts that plagued her mind each time she would find herself crying by herself. She knew she wouldn’t feel this way forever, however. Nothing lasted, after all. She had learned that fact rather brutally. Yet sometimes it felt like none of her wounds were healing and one of the people she missed the most taunted her.

If there was someone that she had trouble imagining her life without, it would be Kazutora. Having known him since childhood, Kaksi figured he would always be by her side but she had been wrong and while his absence hurt, she had started to get used to it. Her most recent good memories with Kazutora dating back to before Shinichiro’s death, she couldn’t ignore the gap that was separating them anymore.

Kaksi would keep her promise and welcome Kazutora back in ten years, but the one that she wanted to see right now was Mikey. She felt a little guilty at that realization but there was no escaping those emotions anymore. While Kazutora was gone, it was Mikey that would have her on the back of his bike, it was him that would listen to her talk and it was him that made her laugh and while she was sorry that it had appeared to him that he was Kazutora’s placeholder, he was so much more than that.

She wished he knew that, she wished he believed that. Even though she had spent most of her time burying this love, Kaksi could never pretend like Mikey meant nothing to her. Sometimes she wondered what would have happened if she had returned Mikey’s feelings because she did love him so much, she hoped he would come back to her one day.

Unfortunately, she never saw his CB250T in front of her apartment block again or his face. Faster than she had anticipated she had graduated middle school and was getting ready to start a new chapter of her life. She was satisfied with the high school she was able to enter, she couldn’t be sure that she wouldn’t see any familiar faces until her first day but she figured that even if she did she could ignore them.

Once she had started school again, she was relieved to not have seen any Toman member she had ever been close to and had decided it was time for her to make new friends. But that turned out to be way harder than anticipated when only one week into the school year, rumors had started to spread about her boyfriend.

The worst thing about what she would hear was that it was too close to the truth for her to even argue. So she kept quiet when girls would mutter about Kazutora’s crimes whenever they saw Kaksi’s face. She did manage to always get paired up with someone when group work was unavoidable but she quickly learned that those who paid attention to her only cared about the grades she could earn them.

It was lonely but not that bad Kaksi convinced herself. By the middle of the school year, no one would look at her in contempt when she would have lunch by herself and that felt good enough. Those she would be nice to also started returning the favour and while she didn’t exactly have any friends, it started to be more bearable. Now she did still wonder about how Kumi, Chifuyu and Mikey were doing but she doubted her memory would ever erase any of the people she had loved and still loved and she was fine with that, most days.

There was one time though that she started sobbing uncontrollably. Frustrated by her homework, Kaksi had hurriedly and violently started to empty her desk’s drawers, looking for an old lesson she swore she had kept somewhere. Instead of what she was looking for, it was old pictures that had slipped from the pages of one of the many unused journals she owned. She had sighed picking them up without initially realizing what they were.

Once her brown eyes had focused on the faces printed on the paper, she wasn’t able to stop her tears. She wanted to smile, those pictures represented happy memories, after all, but she only grew nostalgic looking at Kumi’s cute smile, Mikey’s grimace, Baji’s frown and all the other Toman members she had once called her friends’ faces.

Once she had calmed herself down she had put those pictures away safely, somewhere it wouldn’t be disturbed again. Then she had gotten back to her math problem, tears all dried up. She still missed her friends and she wondered if they did too but maybe she was having a harder time moving on than they were, she wasn’t sure.

Either way, time always proved to be the solution to what she felt and suddenly she had finished her first year of high school. Things were moving by quickly and Kaksi had a pretty clear idea of what she wanted to do. She would be going to college after graduating and studying psychology, hoping she could pursue a career in that field eventually.

Her second year of high school seemed to be more interesting than the first one and she found it funny to discover all those new faces as the first years appeared. She wondered if what was told about her would spread to them too, she was unsure and she didn’t really care, having confirmed to quite a few people that her boyfriend was in fact in jail and they should probably not stay close to her (jokingly, although everyone took her seriously).

One person, however, started having lunch at her table every day. Kaksi assumed she was a first-year, not having seen her face before. She had wide blue eyes and white medium length hair. She was also much shorter than Kaksi and while she looked intimidating, it only made her prettier to Kaksi.

She hadn’t expected the girl to ever talk to her and especially not to say what she did, but Kaksi would learn fast that this new face was full of surprises.

“I love your hairstyle,” she said with a smile, the serious facade she wore seconds ago completely disappearing.

Kaksi’s eyes widened slightly. While they looked nothing alike, the girl had a very similar smile to Mikey’s.

“Thanks.”

“You should bring me with you next time you cut your hair,” she added, cheerfully.

Kaksi chuckled but agreed, having just met Senju Akashi.

---

Senju knew what loneliness felt like, being in the position she was in from such a young age she figured being close to anyone could only bring her trouble. So she spent her time with her brother and older men that shared her objectives. Still, she remained a fifteen year old even though she was on her way to be the leader of a growing gang very soon.

This was why when she noticed Kaksi wandering the hallways by herself and eating alone, her curiosity was picked. Senju didn’t want to ask her if the rumours were true but as they made a habit of sharing lunch together she eventually learned a few things about Kaksi.

From the way she subtly clung to her, Senju could tell she had been longing for someone to talk to and so did Senju. Yet there was a certain distance she wanted to keep with her new friend, not because she didn’t want her to get closer but rather because she didn’t want her to get hurt. It felt strange to Senju how quickly she found herself caring about the brunette.

“I can help you with this if you want,” Kaksi suggested, looking at the biology lesson Senju failed to understand despite reading and rereading.

“You’re a savior! Are you free this afternoon after school?”

Kaksi was about to agree when she remembered she had cram school on Wednesday afternoons. She shook her head.

“But I could pass by your place once I’m done,” she told her.

This wouldn’t do. Senju refused politely, making up a quick excuse but Kaksi pointed out regardless that her test was tomorrow morning and if she wanted help last minute this was her only solution. The brunette wouldn’t have insisted if this was the first time Senju had been reticent about having Kaksi over at her place. She didn’t know anything about the Akashi household after all, but Senju had a strange presence.

She was skilled at getting close to Kaksi just enough for her to not doubt their friendship but she was also distant enough that Kaksi started to wonder if maybe she was misinterpreting something. Despite anticipating that asking Senju to come over to her place instead wouldn’t change anything she asked her regardless but all that she earned was another excuse as well as her friend suddenly remembering she had something urgent to pick up now.

Kaksi sighed, left alone, watching the short girl walk away. Ever since they had met, Senju wouldn’t leave her alone but the minute she would want to see her in other settings than school, her friend would grow distant. Now that she thought about it, Senju never actually went to the hairdresser with Kaksi, she went by herself and had told her she had done it on a whim.

This had bothered Kaksi enough to notice it but she decided to stay quiet. Senju was still the light that had emerged in the darkness that was Kaksi’s loneliness and if she desired to keep her at a distance for a moment then so be it. Besides, this took nothing away from the joys of having someone to count on again.

---

“I figured you were too pretty to be single,” Senju told her, nonchalantly. “But I did not expect any of the things you told me.”

They both laughed, back rested against the wall of one of the high school buildings.

“I guess that was a lot for middle schoolers,” Kaksi said, with a sad smile, the memories of what she had just explained to Senju still haunting her.

Senju’s blue eyes stared at her friend for a moment. She felt bad for what Kaksi had to endure but she felt even worse for hiding what she kept. For someone who had paid the price of knowing people this involved in the sad reality of what it meant to be a delinquent, it felt unfair to Senju to ever think about telling Kaksi the truth about who she was.

She wondered what her friend would think if she was to find out, she would probably be terrified and angry but Senju had no intention of ever leaving Kaksi. She would escape death just to be able to laugh and share snacks with her.

Senju’s hand found Kaksi’s cold one and held it gently before resting her head against her shoulder.  

“I can’t believe you had to deal with all that.”

“I’m sorry,” Kaksi said, with a small smile. “This got depressing really fast.”

She was surprised that talking about the events that had unfolded almost two years ago didn’t make her cry. Back then it felt like overcoming her feelings were impossible but so many things had changed since. Still, Kaksi could never pretend that her scars didn’t hurt anymore but having met Senju she felt like maybe it was time for her to finally move on.

Senju didn’t say anything, getting up instead and extending her arms to help Kaksi stand up too.

“Let’s go get boba after school,” Senju suggested, smiling and holding both of Kaksi’s hands. “My treat after making you sad.”

Kaksi’s eyes widened slightly, this was the first time Senju had proposed meeting outside of school.

“Sure,” she agreed, smiling back and excited to see her after class.

This was something Senju had wanted to avoid, the fear of involving people she cared about with her life as a gang leader and she should have felt bad for putting Kaksi at risk even if it was a little bit but she just wanted a friend so badly. She wanted to go to the movies with Kaksi, go shopping with her, try new restaurants with her and have sleepovers with her. Those were all normal things Senju desired and for the first time, someone could give it to her and not just anyone.

Kaksi could feel her cold hands getting warmer thanks to Senju’s. They parted ways as the bell rang but soon they were reunited again and as they walked down the streets together, Senju found it to be incredibly addictive, maybe as much as Kaksi did too, hand in hers again as if she never left and never would.

---

It was endearing to watch but it remained bittersweet. When Mikey chanced upon the girl he used to love, three years after telling her he didn’t want her in his life anymore, he felt a strange sensation. His heart, which barely ever manifested now, fluttered for the first time in a while, reminding him that despite his feelings fading with time, some things would permanently leave their traces on him.

Kaksi had changed slightly, her hair appeared wavier with new bangs which Mikey thought suited her. She also looked a little more mature and he wondered if she’d grown taller too. He couldn’t be sure as he watched her sitting on the terrace of a coffee shop with an unfamiliar person who he assumed was her friend.

Her smile remained the same as she laughed at what the white haired-girl in front of her said. Mikey knew he should probably not stand there and stare but he couldn’t help it. It had been so long since he had seen her and the memory of her had never disappeared, remaining in the back of his mind.

He wasn’t sure if she had stopped talking to the other Toman members she used to be close with since Mikey would never talk about her but he figured she did. He had stopped seeing her pretty abruptly after all and he wasn’t even sure what her plans would be once she would graduate high school at the end of the school year.

He felt a little jealous about her friend, whoever this girl was she made Kaksi happy, happier than he had ever done. This was what he wished for, for her to move on from the troubles he could only bring to her. So he was relieved that after all, he did manage to keep her safe. Even though it hurt to know he could never be someone important in her life again.

Things had changed for the worst for Mikey but they had changed for the best for Kaksi and while he still missed her terribly he knew things were better this way. Even if Mikey would remain a bystander in her life forever it didn’t matter as long as she was happy and safe. Little did Mikey know though that trouble could never stay too further away from Kaksi.

So it was without knowing who was Kaksi’s innocent friend that Mikey walked away eventually, not sure he would ever see her again but hoping he would not, as staying away from him was more of a blessing than anything else. Then when he was gone it felt like his heart had grown cold once again.

Senju clenched her knuckles, sitting on the couch of the room she used as her office when she needed to talk business with her clients. She had been careless and she wondered what her next move should be. Her brother sat next to her, taking a sip of whiskey from the cold glass in his hands. He didn’t say anything, knowing that pointing out his little sister’s mistakes now would anger her more than anything.

“She’s just my friend,” she said, talking to herself, more than to Takeomi. “She has no business with any of this.”

“But she would have been a good target if you hadn’t anticipated this.”

Senju chuckled but rage overtook her. Whoever they were, this person that thought targeting Kaksi as revenge for whatever dirty business Brahman was involved, they were fucking stupid and would be easy work for Senju. Still, this entire situation was not supposed to happen at all. She knew that trying to rival Toman and having Brahman endorse various crimes would earn her many enemies but still, she had hoped no one would ever think about hurting the one she loved.

She was going to keep Kaksi safe and had already tightened her security but this still didn’t solve her main issue. Senju needed to tell her the truth. She had thought about it for a long time, and as her guilt built up and her fear increased she had found herself going out of her way to protect her, and this was exactly how she had come to learn someone thought of Kaksi as an easy target.

While Senju was confident that this would not happen again, she knew she had been selfish and if she had been any less careful, this could have cost her the life of an innocent person she cared deeply about. It was sickening, to say the least, and she realised it was terribly unfair to Kaksi. Senju was almost sure that once her secret would be unveiled that Kaksi would understandably part ways with her.

Her friend would be starting college soon anyways she thought, maybe this was the right time to tell her. Senju hoped that not seeing Kaksi would make it easier for her to move on once she would decide a relationship wasn’t worth continuing with her. This brought tears to her eyes as she barely slept that night but she couldn’t lie to her best friend forever.

---

“So you lied to me?” Kaksi barked at her.

The truth that Senju had just revealed to her on this Thursday afternoon felt like another knife sinking in her heart. Not only was her friend lying to her ever since they had met but she was also the head of an infamous gang, competing with Toman in the underground world.

“I was just trying to protect you.”

This was another lie. No, Senju had just been selfish and they both knew it.

“You knew how badly I needed to get away from all this,” Kaksi said, her brown eyes filled with tears.

She was right but Senju hadn’t anticipated that she would have grown that attached to this girl she meant to only share lunch with. By the time Kaksi had told her about her painful past they were already too close for Senju to even imagine how she would feel if she was to lose her.

“I’m sorry,” was all Senju could say as she watched her friend cry for the first time. “I fucked up.”

Kaksi stayed quiet for a moment. She couldn’t believe that even after all this time she could never really get rid of the ghosts of her past. No matter who she loved they always somehow found themselves involved in things Kaksi could never control. She didn’t want to try to understand why a person as kind and sweet as Senju would spend her life covered in blood.

There were a hundred peer-reviewed papers on the risks of delinquency she could easily dig up if she wanted to but as she was faced with her best friend’s betrayal she decided that it didn’t matter. Whatever reasons Senju would give her, it would never make up for her broken trust and heart. So, filled with anger and sadness, she asked the girl to never speak to her again.

Senju didn’t even want to argue with her; these were the expected consequences of her mistakes. So she left without a word, closing Kaksi’s door behind her, a few tears rolling down her cheeks. She wished that things were less complicated but as Brahman’s leader, this wasn’t a position she wanted to leave. She had grown up thinking that it was normal to live against the laws. She wished she could blame Takeomi for raising her this way but Senju knew she could only blame herself.

Kaksi and her were far too different after all and she didn’t want her friend to understand her, she didn’t think there was anything to understand. While it hurt to walk away from the only person she could say she trusted entirely with her heart and soul, there wasn’t anything she could do except comply with Kaksi’s wishes and not hold onto the past years spent by her side.

---

As usual, Kaksi found that drowning her troubles with keeping her mind busy worked. Not spending any more time with Senju she used her free time to study harder as the anxiety of graduation approached along with the tiring process she would have to go through to be accepted into one of the universities she wished to enter.

As she went through her notes for the hundredth time she wondered why even Senju would bother with school if she planned on spending her life making money through drugs, assault and prostitution. She doubted she would ever get an answer and she realised it didn’t really matter, she didn’t think she knew or understood Senju that much after all.

She missed her though and she loved her, so much that she wondered how bad morally it would be to make up with her and how dangerous exactly was it to stay in her close circle. This was all irrational thinking, she knew and she would benefit a lot if she used that energy to learn her physics lesson instead but Kaksi was tired of losing people she cared about.

Which was worse? Dying prematurely but surrounded by the people she loved or dying old but lonely? She wanted to believe that it was bad luck that had her meet the wrong people but what if she just could never run away from what she longed to escape? Maybe Kumi had made the right decision leaving Tokyo and maybe she should do the same but leaving was unlike her, wasn’t it?

She knew she was wrong for thinking this way but how would Senju ever move on from all this if no outside forces pulled her out of it? Kaksi was aware that wanting to stay by Senju’s side hoping that she would leave behind the path she had currently chosen was a waste of time but she was an idealist and way more optimistic than she thought she was.

Or maybe loneliness was that scary, she didn’t really know. What she did know though was that Senju wanted her by her side, unlike everyone else she had never wanted to leave her behind. Even if it was selfish in a way, it felt good to know that someone needed Kaksi as much as she needed them. Still hesitant, she gave the situation more thought.

Senju felt like she couldn’t even look at Kaksi when she walked down the hallways and the fact that the girl would pass by as if she had never even known her made it all the more painful. Both of them sat by themselves and ate lunch separately again. They both realized their separation was dreadfully obvious since multiple people would ask them why they weren’t seen together anymore.

Kaksi would tell them this was none of their business while Senju told them to get lost. Soon she started wondering why she even bothered attending high school anymore - she had already chosen the path she would be taking as early as her first year and if Kaksi wasn’t going to help her out with her biology classes then she had no interest in spending any more time around these people.

She wondered if Kaksi would care if she dropped out of high school now but she realised she should not think about her friend at all. Even though it was impossible when she would see her face every day. So she made her decision and stopped attending school. Once Kaksi noticed, she worried about Senju but she figured this was none of her business. Part of her was scared that something bad had happened and she thought about texting her but she figured that if that was the case, she would rather not know.

They both ached from the separation regardless. Senju felt like she was always on edge and all the little things that once brought her joy became boring to her but that might have been because Kaksi made everything better. Senju was shocked by all the pieces of herself that Kaksi had left in her life.

As Senju brushed her hair while getting ready to sleep, she found the cherry-scented lip balm Kaksi wore hidden in the drawer of her vanity. She picked it up and smiled before applying it to her lips, she ran her tongue over them slowly, enjoying the sweet taste. It tasted better on Kaksi’s lips though, she remembered. The memory saddened her and yet she couldn’t help thinking about her first sleepover at Kaksi’s place.

Only the orange light from the lamp on her bedside table was on as they laid next to each other in bed. They had started play-fighting when Kaksi touched Senju’s bare legs with her cold feet but being much stronger than her friend Senju had managed to overpower her and remained on top, hugging her tightly instead.

She remembered they had talked about nothing and everything while she listened to her heartbeat. Back then Kaksi had thought she had never held another girl this close to her, even when she would hug Kumi it felt different but maybe it was because she was a few years older now, she didn’t really know. What she did know was that it was enjoyable.

Eventually, Senju had gotten slightly annoyed when Kaksi mentioned Kazutora again, but she figured it was normal to feel that way about him considering how he had hurt Kaksi and that despite that she had promised to wait for him until his sentence would be over. She didn’t say anything though, instead listening to her friend’s soft voice.

“I guess I’ll just have to wait until Kazutora’s out,” she had said.

Senju had rolled her eyes at that sentence, thankful that Kaksi couldn’t see her expression from the position they were in.

“You’re seriously not going to date or do anything at all with anyone until he’s out?” Senju had asked, hiding her annoyance as best as she could.

“I guess so.”

“You know seven years is a long time and there’s a lot of cute guys out there to make out with.”

Kaksi had chuckled then.

“Kazutora’s cuter,” she had joked.

“As cute as me?” Senju had asked teasingly, looking up at Kaksi this time.

“Okay, maybe not as cute as you but unlike him, you don’t want to kiss me.”

“Who said that?” Senju had replied, thinking she wouldn’t mind if they kissed once or maybe more now than she thought about it again.

It wasn’t visible but that comment had the heat spread over Kaksi’s features and as much as she wanted to ignore it she knew this was not a response she would have towards any of her friends, no this feeling was too familiar. Kaksi hadn’t said anything and Senju thought she should be filling the silence.

“I’ll kiss you if you want,” she told her, smiling.

And so they kissed. It was Senju’s first, slow and soft. Her lips pressed against Kaksi’s shyly and she worried for a second about how she would feel if her friend pulled away but she didn’t. Kaksi’s hand held Senju’s face instead and she kissed her back tenderly, her tongue meeting hers soon. This wasn’t an innocent kiss, both of them knew but never addressed it. They didn’t have to, they were as close as ever and cared about each other.

They hadn’t kissed again after that night though Senju wished they had, she wasn’t sure Kaksi did, however. Despite that moment they had shared, she would still talk about Kazutora and all the plans she had for the two of them. Senju hadn’t expected her to forget Kazutora after one kiss but she wished Kaksi was a little more realistic sometimes.

But it didn’t matter anymore, Kazutora was more likely to kiss Kaksi than Senju would ever again now and that thought sickened her. Senju rolled over under her bedsheets and considered she should get rid of the small things that reminded her of Kaksi. Even though she wasn’t sure this would help in any way.    

---

The spring of the year 2008 marked the beginning of a new chapter in Kaksi’s life. As she woke up by herself in her newly rented apartment, a few minutes from her campus she wondered how Kumi was doing. She had stopped trying to reach her years ago but not thinking about her was almost impossible. She should be a college freshman like her now, probably attending a prestigious university.

For a moment Kaksi wondered if Kumi would ever return to Tokyo and if she had made the right decision not following through with her college applications to other parts of Japan. Despite the fresh smell of change and flowers blooming outside, she couldn’t help feeling like she was heading nowhere.

Kaksi hadn’t talked to Senju in months and she wondered if moving out from her parents' house had been a good idea after all as the weight of loneliness never really disappeared. She quickly got invested in her classes though, finding her field of study very interesting and fulfilling although she did struggle a little bit with adapting to her new lifestyle. She did not make any friends that semester, finding the number of people attending her classes a little too intimidating but maybe she was just too fragile still to try again.

On her way back home one afternoon she had decided to treat herself to coffee and some pastries, heading to the nearest bakery. It was a pet shop however that had caught her attention while she made her way over there. She stared through the glass windows and smiled at the sight of a few puppies, energetically playing with each other.

“An archaeologist?” he asked. “What even is that?”

Kazutora chuckled as a frown appeared on Kaksi’s face.

“Are you serious?” she asked, disappointed by Baji’s answer. “It’s a scientist who studies history by digging up human remains and artefacts.”

“Boring!” he complained, rolling his eyes at her. “Sounds like something you would enjoy.”

Kaksi’s eyes widened slightly before hitting his arm but Baji laughed as a response.

“Well I want to be a pet shop owner!” he said with a wide smile. “Pets love me. What about you, Kazutora?”

Kazutora stayed quiet for a moment, realizing he had never really thought about that question before.

“I don’t know.”

“You should work at my pet shop then!” Baji suggested excitedly as if he had been suddenly struck by the greatest idea.

Kazutora laughed.

“Seems like a good plan.”

Kaksi’s eyes filled with tears as the memory replayed in her mind and she decided it was time for her to move. She barely ate the chocolate muffin she had bought and drank her coffee once it was completely cold once she was home. It had been a long time since she had seen Baji and Kazutora but not long enough for her to contain her feelings it seemed.

She should pay Baji a visit, she decided. She would go tomorrow afternoon with some flowers. The last time she had visited his grave was on his birthday last year but she figured she should tell him that after all, she had decided to not pursue her studies with the goal of becoming an archaeologist. It was a little sad how the three of them would not achieve what they had talked about back when the days were simpler.

---

Kaksi was happy to see Baji’s grave wasn’t without flowers when she arrived. Even though they were dried up now, it seemed like someone had dropped him some not too long ago. She placed the new ones she had just bought over the dead ones and sat in front of his grave, a sad smile on her lips. As she usually did when she visited, Kaksi talked to Baji.

“I started college,” she told him. “I decided I’d study psychology though not anthropology.”

She paused for a moment as if she was waiting for an answer.

“I’m not sure you would find this less boring though,” she joked, smiling.

Kaksi filled the silence with a few more sentences and stopped once tears started rolling down her cheeks. She dried them off quickly before standing up and bidding goodbye to Baji. She really could never seem to stop crying when she would come to visit him. She left with a smile regardless but it faded quickly once her eyes landed on the man heading in her direction only a few meters away.

His green eyes widened at the sight of Kaksi and he stopped in his tracks. He didn’t think he would see her here or at all. Both of them stared at each other for a moment before breaking eye contact and starting to walk again in the direction they were headed. Chifuyu wondered if he should stop and talk to her as he approached and the same question clouded her mind.

They had both subconsciously agreed to stop midway between Baji’s grave and the exit of the cemetery. Chifuyu was hesitant to speak but he gave her a small smile. She had changed, he had noticed. She looked healthy but he couldn’t tell if she was happy or not, her brown eyes unreadable to him. Kaksi wanted to compliment his own hairstyle change but she didn’t say anything except for a polite greeting.

“It’s been a while,” Kaksi added, hesitant.

“Yeah.”

Chifuyu rubbed the back of his neck nervously. He hoped she was doing good but he didn’t think it would be wise to catch up with Kaksi.

“I hope you’re doing well, Chifuyu,” she said with a little smile, not waiting for his answer before walking away.

He murmured a little thanks and you too and even though he wanted to talk to her, Chifuyu walked towards Baji’s grave instead. Kaksi could feel a new wave of tears washing over her and she decided to sit on an empty bench she had spotted on her way home. She missed all of them so much still and the fear of never getting over these feelings took over her once again.

At that moment she knew what she had to do. She needed to see her again, she didn’t think she could stand eating by herself again tonight. Kaksi took out her phone and dialled Senju’s number. When Kaksi’s named appeared on her screen, Senju almost dropped her phone. She picked up as quickly as she could and wondered if she was dreaming for a moment. She didn’t excuse herself as she ran out of her office, leaving her brother behind.

“Kaksi?” she said, in a small voice.

She could hear the girl sniffle at the other end of the line and Senju worried for a moment.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Kaksi replied, her voice trembling. “I just miss you.”

Senju’s blue eyes automatically filled with tears at those words.  

“I miss you too.”

Kaksi smiled.

“Do you think we could meet soon?”

“We can meet now,” Senju replied. “Where are you?”

The brunette chuckled before sharing her location with her friend. Senju didn’t think twice before heading out to meet Kaksi. So she did miss Senju as much as she missed her but was that really enough for her to be forgiven? Senju was scared that her friend had only called her in a moment of weakness and she would lose her again somehow but as she appeared at the crossroads where Kaksi stood she figured it didn’t matter if she could be reunited with her even for a short moment.

Her friend smiled at her, her nose and eyes still red from crying. Senju walked over to her as quickly as she could and it was arms wide open that she welcomed her, embracing her tightly. Senju held her just as tightly, her face resting against her chest. They stood on the sidewalk like this for a moment. Then as Kaksi was reminded of how comforting Senju’s warmth felt, she decided she couldn’t afford to lose her again.

[someone-give-me-a-hug]

I never believed in karma

This is a little story based mostly on a story of when I was younger and a prompt I found somewhere that said right a story about why you believe in karma. I was bored and so we have this. also this isn't proofread so :) there are a few mentions of abusive behavior.

I never believed in much as a kid. I knew from the age of 4 that the Tooth Fairy wasn’t real. That Santa was nothing but a myth. Not even being read stories of miracles and magic, giants and dragons could sway the little pessimist in my head who would constantly nag that the world was cruel and the universe could never give back. My parents hated it, in fact, it became a running joke that they found it so hard to convince me to believe that they would drop me off at the police station one day and see if I would believe in the miracle of them coming back. It was never that funny but everyone else would laugh. When I was about 8 my parents were divorced, it was like the only world I had known had been split down the middle like a dry log and placed on the fire that fueled my spitful ways. I was angry, at myself, at the world, at the same stupid universe who tried to trick kids into thinking the chocolate eggs in their garden came from a rabbit who had now torn my life into 2 separate factions; one filled with the rage of a drinker who screamed at the little things but wore the sweetest smile and held me tight as though I might be the next to leave and another filled with false promise and manipulation. Neither was ideal and so I taught myself how to grow up and focused on becoming better than my parents. The years went by in an endless cycle of the seasons. Spring spent watching the cherry blossom tree in my fathers' fancy new house bud and grow whilst wishing to be anywhere but there, Summers spent in isolation, left alone and separated from my friends, Autumn spent in public libraries to get away from home for a few hours and Winter spent praying for the isolation of summer or really anything to get out of Christmas dinner and having to face everyone. Father time treated me as well as he could, the image of a wise old man, gray beard littered with the stories of my life, and eyes that looked straight through you as if you were a ghost. No matter how much time passed I still didn’t believe in anything of great significance and I certainly didn’t believe in Karma. That was until I turned 11. It had been a couple days after my birthday, I had gotten a few bits and bobs that would find their way into the draw of rubbish that was religiously searched by my dad but most importantly I had gotten a phone as a way of contacting either parent when I was staying at the other's house. To me this was a dream come true! I could finally text the people that mattered and blend in with other kids my age who for the last 2 years had been trying to act 5 years older on the internet. I wasn't allowed it at night (which was understandable as I would spend all night trying to contact and interact with people all within the four walls of my room and huddled in between the 2 plush white pillows I had on my bed). Little did I know, my dad would search through the messages sent to my mum or grandma about how unhappy I was up at his with his girlfriend who treated me like I was a problem, and where I went below the dog in the pecking order. Now in these messages, I had referred to my dad's girlfriend as a “Step-witch” and when he found this out he wasn’t happy at all, I was locked in the lounge and shouted at for more time than I would like to admit. Now one thing I will say is when I get scared or too emotional I can’t talk, the words escape my throat and the oxygen can never find its way in. I begged and pleaded fresh tears gliding down the salty remains of the old ones to be able to write as a way of speaking and saying sorry. “No!” they insisted “we won’t tolerate this disrespect and you aren’t a toddler you can speak like a normal person!”. After that, I wasn’t allowed to use my phone at all and all the messages I sent had to be run through them before my finger could hit the send button. A few weeks later when it was time once again to make my Monday trip to Dad's after school I was shocked to receive a message from my father telling me my mum would be dropping me up as they couldn’t manage it. It wasn’t until mum left me on their

meticulously de-weeded and bleak front door and had to let myself in with the spare key that I realized what had happened. The house had been swept through by the flu, everyone was sick! Not wanting to give up the ongoing battle of where I should live with my mum, my dad had said he was busy and asked her to drop me up when in fact he was bedridden by the vicious illness. They were all coughing, sniffling, sneezing into a tissue, and then throwing it onto a growing pile the size of Mount Everest herself. The only one who seemed to be unaffected was my Oldest step-brother, let’s call him Dan. Dan never treated me like some old gum he had stepped in that just wouldn’t get off his shoe like the others, he never said anything bad to me or about me (at least to my face) and he was the only person in the house who treated me as if I was human. So as my Dad and Sammy (let’s just call her that for now) were holed up in their room Dan took it upon himself to take care of me for the 3 days of my stay. You see Dad and Sammy had lost their voice and resorted to writing on paper to communicate to us what they needed (or they used their phones but they were charged on the other side of the room to the bed and they could hardly muster up the strength to walk all those 10 steps to get them). However, there was 1 problem with this: all the led in the pencils were always broken and could never sharpen right, all the pens never wrote and we could never make out the frantic hand signals they would make. Now I’m not saying they deserved it for everything they did nor am I saying that it was karma who ripped their voices from their throats just as they had ripped my only means of communication to the outside world and to plead my case that day. All I am saying is from that day forward the universe and all her wonderful ways stuck on that tiny list of things I believed in. And who knows maybe next year I might catch a glimpse of a fat, red and white man and his big clumpy boots climb back up the chimney, leaving presents and mince pie crumbs in his wake.

[phoenixfeatherquill]

Midwinter (1/5)

AN: I’m doing a Midsommar fic and you guys can’t stop me. I’m in the mood for dark fucked up smut, so sue me. A friend on Twitter helped me with the Swedish!

They were going to kill her next.

It was only logical.  Once the Midsommar celebrations were complete, once her title of May Queen was completed, once the community settled into their usual routines, Dani felt certain they would kill her.  Perhaps for their next ritual.  A harvest festival?  A midwinter ceremony?  Dani didn’t know.  She didn’t especially care.

The thought did not concern her.  Death was no longer something to be feared, just an inevitability she would reckon with when the time came.  She had lost her sister, her parents, and now Christian…

She did not want to think about Christian.  His death had brought her a euphoric, crazed delight, a sense of control that she’d never felt before.  

She smiled.  It was still dark, but she knew it was morning.  Her body had shifted its circadian rhythms to accept darkness as a reality in the fall and winter, She smiled a lot more nowadays, it seemed.  

“Dani? Are you awake?”

She shifted to her side.  Her bed used to be next to Christian’s and Josh’s, but now there was no more Christian or Josh.  Now her bed lay next to Pelle’s, which gave her a curious combination of fear and protection.  

“Now I am,” She whispered back to him.  

“It’s morning now,” He said softly and sat up. “Let’s walk together.”

She raised herself up on one elbow.  No one else seemed to be up, save for a few mothers who were cooing at fussy babies.  

“It’s still dark,” She murmured.

“It will get darker as we get closer to Yule. Come. It’ll be too cold for morning walks soon.”

He offered his hand to her.  Pelle had been taking her on a lot of walks lately.  He was an early riser naturally, something that Dani would never be able to relate to, but she shrugged nevertheless and pulled on a pair of denim shorts.  

Pelle shook his head.  “Too cold for those. Almost October.”

She looked at him.  He knew perfectly well that she only had about a week’s worth of clothes, all summer garments.  She was only supposed to have been here for a week.

“Here,” He tossed her a pair of fleece-lined pants.  She’d seen him wear them before.  They were far too big for her, but she was able manage them, tightening the strings as far as they would go.  He gave her a sweatshirt too and she tugged it on as well.  It smelled a little of peppermint and something flipped in her stomach.  She hadn’t worn another man’s clothes since Christian…

“Ready?” He asked her with a smile.  

“You owe me coffee,” She returned and pulled on her sneakers.  

“Deal,” He took her hand in his and led her outside.

It was that odd time of morning partial to Sweden, where darkness surrounded the community but light framed the edges, as though the sun wanted to come out but wasn’t sure how.  The cold grass tickled Dani’s ankles and she shivered a little.  Pelle squeezed her hand a little as they began to make their usual rounds about the compound.  

“I’m surprised it hasn’t snowed,” She commented.

“Soon,” Pelle told her. “Probably this week, actually. We’ll need to get you warmer clothes.”

Dani said nothing.  She didn’t see much point in that, since she was fairly certain they would kill her eventually.  Still, Pelle seemed to expect a response, so she said simply, “I like wearing your clothes.”

Pelle laughed.  “I like you wearing them too. But they’re too tall for you. You’re so small, Dani.”

His voice was undeniably tender and Dani looked up at him.  He cared for her, at least of a sort.  Months and months had passed since the summer solstice. Perhaps he was fond enough of her to be truthful now.

She stopped short in front of the remains of the burned temple.  The fastidious Hårga had not cleaned up much of the temple ruins; she could still see the blackened pieces of wood all around. She inhaled deeply and smelled the incoming frost Pelle warned her of—but in her mind’s eye, she could still smell the pungent stench of burning flesh.  

“When will you rebuild it?” She asked him.

“Spring,” Pelle told her. “One of our rituals to welcome the sun. And you’ll preside, as our May Queen.”

Dani looked at him hard. “Will I?”

Pelle looked surprised. “What do you mean?”

“I’m the last one left,” She said pointedly. “How long do I have?”

Realization clouded Pelle’s sky blue eyes.  “Oh, Dani…no. You are our May Queen. We won’t have another queen for ninety years; until the next Midsommar celebration…that is, we will still celebrate the solstice. But not like last time.”

Dani digested this.  She doubted this meant that the Hårga would let her leave.  This didn’t particularly bother her though, because Dani was having trouble remembering what there was to return to.  Her family was dead, Christian was gone, and she couldn’t quite summon the energy to care about finishing her degree.  She had friends that were probably wondering where she was.

“What will I do here?” She asked him.

“Whatever you please,” Pelle told her seriously. “We honor the May Queen. She is…our goddess, you might say.”

Dani considered.  “What does that entail?”

“Different ceremonies,” Pelle knelt down and picked up a bit of charred wood interestedly. “A ceremony to say goodbye to the sun—we’ll symbolically say goodbye to you and you will sleep in your own rooms, rather than in the common area. When spring comes again, we welcome the sun and you back into our common area. We celebrate, we feast, we make merry—”

“Sounds lonely,” Dani said without thinking.  She wasn’t sure where that came from.  When she first arrived at Hårga, she’d resented the lack of privacy.  The cacophony of coughs, snores, and lovemaking kept her up at all hours.  But somehow she’d gotten used to it and her own chambers, separate from the Hårga seemed isolating.  

“No, no,” Pelle shook his head. “We adore our May Queen. We…pamper her, you might say. The best foods, wines, ales, whatever she needs. And she may choose a consort, if she wishes.”

He tossed the charred wood towards the temple and Dani started a bit. “Consort?”

“Yes,” Pelle replied but didn’t seem inclined to elaborate.  Dani waited a few moments and when she realized Pelle wasn’t going to continue, she exhaled.

“What does a consort do?” She crossed her arms.

A small, somewhat sly smile crossed Pelle’s face.  “Oh…whatever the May Queen desires.”

“Ah,” Dani kicked a piece of burnt wood. “I get it. I don’t know if I’d be into that.”  

Pelle cocked his head.  “Oh?”

She really did not want to get into this conversation.  Besides, he’d been close to Christian, hadn’t he?  He probably had heard all about how bad she was in bed, how frigid she was, how there was something wrong with her.  She chewed her lip.  She had walked in on Christian complaining to Mark about this very subject once, and she recalled the burning humiliation and the subsequent fight.  

“I don’t want to force anyone to do anything they don’t want to,” Dani said finally. “Especially with me.”

“No one forces anyone to do anything,” Pelle told her earnestly. “It’s considered an honor to be chosen by the May Queen. But people may refuse the gift, if they wish.”

“They’d refuse with me,” Dani retorted.

“What makes you say that?”

“Pelle,” Dani sighed. “I’m not stupid. I know—I know Christian complained about me to you and Mark and Josh.”

The sun had just started its slow ascent and Dani noticed its cautious gold touch the tips of Pelle’s hair.  He was silent for a long moment, as though trying to pick his words carefully.  

“Christian was my dear friend,” He said finally. “But he—was not always honest with himself.”

He scratched his head. “My sister was not overly impressed by him. Nor my aunts.”

Pelle was referring to the strange, outlandish sex ritual Dani had caught Christian participating in with Pelle’s underage sister.  She shuddered at the memory.  

“Is that what it’s like here?” She asked in disgust. “All those women watching? Chanting?”

He shrugged.  “Not always. Maja wanted to get pregnant. It was her first time, so she was nervous. Our aunties were there to support her, comfort her, ask the gods for a baby.”

There was so much of Hårga culture Dani would never understand.  Women crooning over her as a man penetrated her—the idea seemed repulsive.  The ritual seemed to have worked, in any case; Maja had announced her pregnancy a week prior.  The news had filled Dani with the strangest emotion of all—apathy.  She did not care that Maja was having Christian’s baby. She had no jealousy, no anger, just blissful neutrality.  

“My point is,” Pelle cleared his throat. “I thought—I have always thought—Christian was unfair to you.”

Dani narrowed her eyes.  “You’re just saying that to be nice.”

“No,” He shook his head. “In fact…”

He hesitated for a moment and Dani stared at him curiously.  The sun had nearly risen now, and people were leaving the common area to prepare breakfast and start their early morning chores.  

“I would show you,” Pelle said finally. “If you were to choose me as your consort.”

Dani’s mouth went dry.  She hadn’t felt this taken aback since she’d been named the May Queen and he’d taken her face in his hands and kissed her so deeply.  Color rushed to her cheeks and she couldn’t figure out how to respond.

“Pelle! Jag måste prata med dig.”

Ulf was calling him.  Pelle cast a almost mischievous grin towards her and jogged towards Ulf.  Ulf glanced at her and gave her a cautious smile.  Dani couldn’t seem to figure out how to move her legs.  She watched the two men disappear around one of the cabins, speaking in rapid Swedish.  

I would show you, if you were to choose me as your consort.

She hadn’t planned on choosing anyone as her consort.  Spending the entire winter having her every whim catered to seemed a promising prospect (though who could really tell with the silver-tongued Hårga), but the whole concubine nonsense seemed…archaic.  She didn’t need a consort.  She was just fine on her own.  Sex was stressful and Christian had played on every insecurity of hers when they were together, making the whole prospect seem so unappealing…it had been a relief when he stopped bothering her for sex, which only happened after her family died…

She thought of the barely concealed disgust on Pelle’s face as he’d delicately suggested that Christian had been the problem, not her.  She was also forced to admit that she thought of his kiss more often than she should. It was not the gentle kisses on her cheeks her handmaids (as they called themselves) gave her when she was crowned, but something altogether deep and passionate.  

He hadn’t kissed her again, so did it truly matter?

She started towards one of the cabins, where she knew they would be preparing breakfast.  But as she crossed the commune, she couldn’t help but hear Pelle and Ulf speaking passionately.  

They were standing near Pelle’s garden and hadn’t noticed her—not that they would’ve cared.  Most of the Hårga believed her Swedish was rudimentary at best, and they were mostly right.  But while her conversation skills were lacking, Dani understood more than they thought.  

She was not an eavesdropper at any rate, so she would’ve walked on by—until she heard her name.  

“Stannar du här på grund av Dani?”

She froze.  She understood that sentence.  Ulf was asking Pelle if he was staying because of her.  In an instant, she remembered that Pelle was in university too and had not returned to finish his degree.  

“Hon är ensam.”

She is…something.  But by the concern in Pelle’s tone, Dani guessed he was explaining why.  

“Din resa är inte slut än.”

Ulf was telling him he wasn’t finished with…a journey?  His journey.  

“Mitt öde är här.”

Pelle’s journey was…here.  Here?  

“Älskar du henne?”

She didn’t understand that one.  Ulf was asking him something.  Something about her.

“Ja.”

Yes. Dani shook herself.  Enough snooping.  She was hungry.  So what if it sounded like Pelle was staying in Hårga for her?  What did it matter?  They would dispose of her as soon as she inevitably offended them. Like Mark.  Like Josh.  Pelle was too optimistic.  And anyway, why should she trust him?

The memory of his lips on hers flashed through her mind.  She swallowed hard.

Fuck.

[your-iron-lung]

La Chasse au Loup - 1

available to read on AO3 HERE

Story Synopsis: All things considered, there’s a lot of strange things a man could find in the back-bush of his own farm, rural as it may be. Some of it he could be aware of and do his best to work around, but a lot of it went so far under the radar it almost wasn’t worth thinking about. Mostly it was animals- a goat or a sheep that hadn’t been bedded down proper wandered out overnight and didn't wander back come morning. Turned up the next day in the bush in a strange, disemboweled sort of way.

It's coyotes that do it, Wayne reasoned. Wolves, maybe, but whatever it was it certainly wasn't anything living under his very nose.

Chapter Word Count: 3133

Pairings: (background, minimal) Wayne/Daryl

Genre: Dark/black comedy with a lil bit of drama

Next Chapter: 2

Chapter Warnings: blood and some bones being kinda funky, but nothing graphic

Notes: now, i know what youre all thinking. youre thinking, ‘duke, what are you doing! dont start another werewolf fic while youre still tryingta get no shade done!! are you coocoo banans or what!’ and the answer is yes

yes i am

(tho this is supposed to be short and funny and its mostly all written out anyway. this first bit is a lil dark but i swear to GOD its supposed to be funny. pls believe me. pls laugh.)

-------

THE STORM

The storm that hit the farm was one that the local meteorologists had been nervously talking about for days, warning both farmers and locals alike to start taking serious precautions against it. ‘Make sure your delicate crops are appropriately cared for, and be sure your livestock have a proper, sturdy shelter to take cover in, because, folks, this is going to be a  bad one.’ 

Spring storms often were. Wayne’s mother liked to put it in his head when he was younger that it was because the winter and summer seasons used springtime as a battleground of sorts, fighting it out like gods from some old mythos. Spring storms, as she put it, happened because winter was taking too long to leave and summer was quickly growing impatient. Their clashes turned violent fast, and that's how spring got a reputation for its disastrous weather.

If his mother were still alive today, he was sure that she’d say this storm was going to be a real battle for the ages. It was winding up to be one of the worst the area had had in awhile, aiming to hit Letterkenny in the dead of night when its people were at their most vulnerable.

Should probably just surrender there, bud , he sometimes found himself thinking whenever he heard new reports regarding the storm, each incoming update worse than the last.

Expect heavy gusts of wind and moderate to severe structural damage, quoted the forecasters. Hail was guaranteed, and it was going to bring plenty of thunder and lightning with it. The rainfall was expected to be heavy, so be wary of localized flooding. Isolated tornadoes would be a strong possibility- make sure there was a way to receive alerts if one should pop up. 

“With the way they’re talking, you’d think the sum’bitch was gonna be rainin’ fire and brimstone on us,” McMurray grumbled one day, and Wayne found that he agreed that they might be talking it up a little bit. He couldn’t remember a time when an unnamed storm warranted so much precaution.

Wayne’s thoughts on the impending weather notwithstanding, he understood how important the farm was to his livelihood; he and Katy depended on it to get by, so if there was any sort of threat to it that could be prevented, then it was only right that they ought to do something about it. Nothing worse than being caught with your pants down, so to speak.

With the enlisted help of Dan and Dary, they’d gone around reinforcing all the windows and barn doors, checking for any fundamental flaws in the integrity of their buildings while Katy went around making sure the crops that could be saved were secured before extending that same courtesy to Dan’s estate. It was hard work, and they were all bedraggled and worn out from all the extra hours that had to be put in on top of everything else they’d been dealing with as of late, but they all felt a little more secure from their efforts. 

(They’d paid special attention to fortifying The Garden as they’d worked on making sure the farm was secured; they couldn’t risk its contents being exposed, and if anyone asked  why it warranted so much focus, well, they had to protect Dan’s perennials.)

By the time the storm finally rolled into town with its thick, voluminous black clouds slouching ominously towards Letterkenny to be born, Wayne again found himself mentally calling for its surrender. All his blustering with McMurray left him feeling slightly foolish as he stood out on the back deck of his small home to face the bastard’s approach, lightning already beginning to flare out of the clouds to illuminate itself against the backdrop of a rapidly darkening evening sky.

He wasn’t a man who’d ever really been affected much by storm anxiety, but as he stood there thinking about it, flicking his unfinished dart away, he reckoned he might be feeling it now.

(Although,  to be fair  , his anxieties weren’t because of the storm itself, but rather, were in anticipation of the storm’s aftermath and what it might dredge up. Things had been oppressively ominous around the farm the past few months, and of course it was only suitable that a storm of  this  magnitude should serve as a catalyst; he just hadn’t yet figured out what it was a catalyst to.)

His mind weighed down with his thoughts, Wayne turned his back on the stormfront and stepped inside as the first strong gust of wind surged past him, slamming the door shut after him with a loud bang. 

The suddenness of its closure made him flinch, and the uneasiness harbored in his chest squeezed tightly for an instant. Gus jerked up from where he’d been sleeping by the door and whined pitiably at the noise. Wayne crouched down as he stepped by him to pet his head reassuringly as the distant, Delicate Sound of Thunder announced the storms arrival.

“Oh, it’s alright,” Wayne muttered lowly in a babying tone before stepping away, ignoring the miserable way Gus plopped his head back onto the tile with his eyes turned nervously towards the door.

He peeked his head into the living room to check on Stormy before making his way upstairs, mentally going over the emergency plans he’d made with Katy and Daryl (who lived with them now for safety’s sake) in case the worst should happen: where their emergency supplies were stashed, which one of them was going to round up the dogs, and where they were all going to go if a tornado  should whip up.

They were as well prepared as they could be. All that was left to do was sleep through it; there was choring that needed to be done in the morning, and a man needed his rested energy to do them efficiently, impending doom or no.

The door to the guest bedroom where Dary had been staying was uncharacteristically shut when he reached the upstairs landing. Wayne stopped by it and considered checking in on him, but decided against it before settling into his own room and getting ready for bed, where he laid sleepless for hours, listening to the storm as it came to town, bringing all its rage with it.

The wind outside wasn’t just howling as it blew past, but  screaming  , screeching like a mateless fox in the night. Every thud and thunk of debris as it slammed against the house had him calculating the damages in his mind (  casualties of a seasonal war),  leaving him to wonder if his barn would even still be standing by the morning.

But if not, then it could be rebuilt, the livestock replaced. It would be a financial hit, sure, but all the family animals were inside, and unless a tornado really did come bumbling through, then everything would be fine. Stock could be replaced; his family couldn’t, but they were all safe and accounted for. If he stayed awake worrying about it, then he’d be too tired to make any needed repairs by the time the storm finally did peter out.

He inhaled and exhaled slowly, trying to ease his mind, and felt all the stored up tension he’d been holding slide out of his body. As he focused on the machine-gun rhythm of the heavy rain hammering down against the roof, he could almost tune out the screaming gale, and adjusted to the aggressive white noise as being something soothing.

Later, he wouldn’t remember falling asleep; it was only after he woke up that he’d realized he’d even slept at all. He woke up feeling disoriented, his phone pinging an alarm at him from where he’d set it down. Grabbing it, he checked the tornado watch alert and then set it back down, an anxious little curl forming in his stomach.

He sat in bed, alert and awake despite feeling as though he hadn’t gotten more than about an hour’s worth of sleep. Something wasn’t right, and it wasn’t just because the storm was still there and lingering, thrashing Letterkenny hard enough to provoke an early morning alert.

It was preternatural, the way it was lingering, hovering over his home as though it had some sort of vendetta against them.

A loud bang came sharply and abruptly, capturing wholly Wayne’s attention. He fixed his head in the direction it came from and heard muffled voices coming from somewhere downstairs. The howling wind rushing by his bedroom window masked the urgency with which they spoke, but all the same he was able to understand that something bad must have happened sometime in the night.

Had the barn collapsed? Was a funnel cloud forming? He hoped that whomever it was pounding their way hurriedly up the stairs wasn’t about to tell him someone he knew had been hurt.

The door to his room slammed open, banging against the wall. Katy stood there in the opening, breathing hard, her face shadowed by the darkness of his room. 

“ It’s Dary,” she said urgently, panting. Her slender form, backlit by the hallway light, was visibly shaking.

He didn’t have to be told twice. Wayne sat up in bed quickly, shucking the blankets off of himself so fast that he flung them straight to the floor as he came to a stand. 

“What’s the fuss?” he asked as an eerie sound came drifting up the stairs behind her. She stared at him with dazed eyes before turning her head to the side to listen to it as it crept up from down the stairs, and before he could kindly ask  what the fuck is going on, she turned around suddenly and left. 

He listened to her footsteps race down the hall and back down the stairs, utterly alarmed. Her panic was uncharacteristic and unnerving, spurring him into action as he heard another loud bang emanate from downstairs. He took long walking strides as he made his way after her, subconsciously coming to realize that the sound that had lured Katy away was of someone moaning. 

Katy’s voice, shrill, disappeared as someone ( Squirrely Dan , he realized belatedly once he was halfway down the stairs) furtively whispered to whomever it was that was making that awful, miserable moaning that it was going to be okay.

“You’re alright, Dar. I gots you, I gots you.”

Making it to the downstairs landing, barefoot and full of purpose, Wayne turned towards the kitchen where all the noises were being made and was stunned still by what he saw.

There was blood  everywhere . Splattered on the floor, on the furniture, and in the center of a small pool of it was Dan, cradling Dary’s limp, motionless body amidst the overturned dining chairs. Wayne’s mouth dropped open, his eyes blinking hard as he both tried to get over the shock of what he was seeing and processing it all in the same second.

Dan looked up at him when he stepped close, pale-faced and covered up to the elbows in runny blood, fresh and staining his denim overalls a dark, grotesque burgundy. All Wayne could do in that moment was stare, even as he realized that what was making that horrid noise was Dary.

Dary, who looked ridiculously small as Dan held him in his trembling arms. Dary, who was naked and coated in blood and viscera, looking more like a newborn than a man. Dary, whose eyes were open wide but rolled back and blind, exposing nothing but red-veined white as his mouth hung limply open, releasing that droning moan in one continuous breath.

One of his hands was clutching at Dan for support, and his legs-

“What the fuck,” Wayne choked out, because as he stared down at him, he could see that both of Dary’s legs were hideously broken. 

“I don’t knows,” Dan gasped, his bearded face wet with tears. “I don’t knows what’s happening.”

“Where’s Katy gone?”

But before Dan could even respond to him, her screams supplied the answer. 

“Gus!” He heard her screech, her voice pitching wildly as she screamed furtively into the wind. “ Gus !”

Though it was hard, Wayne managed to tear his eyes off of Dary to turn towards the backdoor, alarmed to see that it was hanging weakly off its hinges, rustling as easily as a leaf in the breeze, opening a portal into the horrific grey rain that came in to splash against the linoleum. A flash of lightning illuminated her briefly as she stood in the yard shouting, her hands cupped around her mouth as she screamed for Gus over the sharp crack of accompanying thunder. 

In the back of his mind, all Wayne could think of in that moment was of the tornado alert. All their precautions had been tossed aside, and if disaster struck now-

Well, it almost wasn’t worth thinking about.

Leaving Dan and Dary in the kitchen, he rushed out after her, striding into the snow and mud barefoot to grab her roughly by the arm, her hair whipping around in the harsh wind in long wet strands that struck at his face.

“Inside!” he bellowed, trying to pull her back towards the house. 

“Gus is out here!” she cried out hoarsely, pulling her arm out of his grip. “He’s out here, Wayne! He got out when Dary came in!  Gus! ” she continued to scream, heedless of the danger she was putting herself in.

Wayne’s heart sank as he both saw and felt the desperation in her voice. He looked around briefly, trying to discern if he could see any sign of where his beloved dog had gone, but it was impossible to see anything in the torrential downpour.

Freezing water flooded down his face in such strong streams that it was all but blinding, such that he had to squint hard to keep the rain from inhibiting him totally. He could barely see Katy between the hard pouring streaks of rain even though they were only standing a few feet apart. If Gus  was out there, then he was lost.

“INSIDE,” he ordered again, even though it hurt him deeply to do so, but for as much as he loved that dog, he couldn’t risk losing her over him. Katy let out an exhausted sob, but let Wayne take her by the wrist and sternly guide her back to the safety of the house.

As they rushed up the steps and out of the rain that was slowly turning to hail, there came the sound of a frightened dog hiding from underneath the porch. Wayne had never felt such relief as he did as he saw Katy to safety before sprinting back down the wooden steps, nearly slipping in the slush as he did so. There was a spot of latticework that lined the back-porch that he’d been meaning to patch up that smaller, wild animals had been using for shelter, and as he rounded the corner to it, he found Gus there lying in a terrified heap.

Ignoring the cold and the muck and the mess he was making of himself, Wayne wasted no time dropping to his knees to grab Gus and roughly drag him out of his little cove of protection. He was shaking badly as Wayne effortlessly tucked him up into his arms, carrying him back into the house with his whimpers in his ear. He held Gus by the collar for a moment as he tried to situate the door back into place before releasing him, letting him bolt into the living room to shake himself dry and hide.

Soaking wet and breathing heavily, Wayne wiped the water off of his face and unknowingly streaked mud across his forehead before returning to Dan’s side, who still sat with Dary in his arms. Neither of them had moved from their position on the floor, but even as Wayne tried to re-fix his attention on what happened to Dary to see where all that blood was coming from, he noticed something that didn’t make any sense. 

When Wayne had looked him over before, his legs had been terribly broken in such a way that they'd looked almost digitigrade, the bones cracked at unnaturally sharp angles that seemed to strain against his skin, but now they looked like they were-

And even as he stared down at them, the noise Dary was making suddenly keened and Wayne was able to  see  the bones in his legs shift, moving back towards what accounted for normal with a sickening crunch. 

“Wayne,” Dan whispered, terrified. “Wayne, I don’t knows what to do here.”

Well, that makes two of us, Squirrely Dan , he thought hysterically to himself.

“Just- fuckin’- I don’t- just- just take him upstairs,” Wayne barked, speaking too harshly in his confused panic. He honestly had no idea what to do; didn’t even fully understand yet what was even going on, but even as Dan flinched at the initial command, having some sort of direction seemed to solidify his resolution. His round face lost its helplessness in a quick second as he nodded resolutely at the order. Wayne helped him situate Dary’s unconscious, lax body into his arms before getting to it, tromping heavily up the stairs with dutiful purpose, handling the extra weight expertly and trailing blood behind them.

Wayne watched them go before turning his attention to Katy, who had picked up one of the overturned chairs and was now sitting at their table, her head in her hands. Her hair, stringy and  loose from being in the rain hung in long, miserable strands, masking her face in a way that was reminiscent of a Japanese ghost.

“Where’s Stormy?” Wayne asked, throat clenching uncomfortably at the thought that she, like Gus, could’ve gotten loose and was out there in the storm somewhere. The sounds of the wind howling and threatening to blow the kitchen door down were more disturbing to him now.

“Locked in the bathroom,” Katy replied tersely, holding an unlit cigarette in her trembling hand.

“In the bathroom,” Wayne repeated with a frown, turning his head in the downstairs bathroom’s direction. The inside light was on, and from the slight crack under the door he could see the shadow of Stormy pacing anxiously by the entrance. “Well... what for?” 

“She attacked Dary when he came in.”

“What?” With so much to process, Wayne was struggling to understand this strange sequence of events, such as they were. “She attacked him? What was he doing out there?” 

“He wasn’t… he wasn’t  right  when he came in,” Katy said, her whole body shuddering at whatever memory she’d recalled. Before Wayne could ask her what she meant by that, exactly, she elaborated further, saying, “Wayne, it’s  him  . The sasquatch, wendigo, fucking  thing.  Killing all those animals. All those  people- Wayne, it’s Dary. Daryl.”

[kogo-dogo]

Long-winded grief post. You don’t have to read if you don’t want to. 

The year’s end in the wake of everything is just messing me up, I guess. I’ve spent the past few days wavering between “disconnected from reality” and “sobbing incoherently.” My half-brother is visiting with his half-brother, which is enough to make me panic at the thought of all the things I’m going to have to do last minute in order to give the impression that I’ve not let my life fall apart. My surviving family on mom’s side have been pushing about me going back to clean out her house, which I understand to an extent, but I am not emotionally ready to face.

I’ve lost a lot in 2020. I lost my job and I’ve been struggling to find another. I’ve lost my idealistic view of a lot of people. I lost a huge chunk of my social circle because I was very reliant on work for human interaction. I’ve lost faith in a lot of my family. I’ve lost a lot of faith in myself. And finally, as the final kick to the gut, I lost mom.

I really can’t overstate how much that last one has fucked with me. Courtesy of years of training and trauma, I have a hard time showing weakness, even to people I care about. I either convince myself that I’m being abusive by being emotional, or I’m being a burden, or I’m being childish, or I’m being irrational. So, barring some sad posts, I really just try to swallow it and stay strong.

I am failing miserably due to the gravity of the loss, though. It’s easier when I can distract myself, but as the days ticked closer to Christmas and now creep closer to New Year’s, it’s... it’s impossible to really choke back. Facebook keeps slapping me in the face with posts from years before, pictures of her last Christmas in the hospital, dumb anecdotes I’d write in college during my winter breaks at home with her before she got sick. I have had to isolate every picture of her on my laptop because I kept running across them and sobbing. A telemarketer left me a voicemail, which made me go check my voicemails and. Well.

Spoiler: I’m stupid and listened to some of them.

She’s one of the only people who ever left me voicemails; hell, she’s one of the only people who ever got a hold of me by phone. The 22nd is the last day I had a coherent conversation with her prior to her going home on hospice. I made her cry. I hate myself for that.

I’m trying to swallow a lot of this and go into the new year with more a positive mindset: I will get her house cleaned out, I will find a job, and even if I’ve basically lost the last of my family who cares about me, I’ve got a small but solid group of people who’ve proven to be more familial than my actual blood. I have an incredible boyfriend who went above and beyond for me, even if he doesn’t fully realize it. I’ve gotten closer to my cousin, who has honestly been a godsend in keeping the less savory members of mom’s family off my ass.

I’m trying to temper the urge to wail and ignore all these constant reminders of Bad Things with just a promise to myself that I’ll, like, manage. I’ll get through this. I can make this work, and I will be okay.

I really wish I could just let myself cry, though. Actually cry. Not some half-assed sniffling that I try to choke down so I don’t make anyone feel bad. I feel like I need it. I feel like I need it a lot.

[autoclavesarchived]

dead sea | the magnus archives (ao3)

a character study of martin & depression

Martin wakes up, and doesn’t want to. This is always how it starts—the creeping fog, the wretched emptiness, the realization that he can no longer find a single reason to go through the motions of living again. It’s a slow descent. He can feel himself slipping back into that bad place again, and he is both aggressor and spectator in his passivity. On these days, he doesn’t think he can be a person even if he wants to.

(It had started the previous evening when the sun sank down. It’s so lonely out at nightfall. To look outside and see nothing else, only pinpricks of solitary light in the distance, to be the only known quantity in a sea of darkened glass. It was like the slow fade into night had bled something loose inside him.)

That had been a different kind of void, though. Less illness, more sadness, a sheet of blunt-edged melancholia. This raw, record-scratch morning is far less quantifiable and infinitely worse.

Radio static in his head. He is in so many pieces. It’s hard to keep himself together when the sun has fallen right off the edge of the world and his body now feels like the unwanted inhabitant of a car crash; no, nothing quite so violent and screaming as that. A haunted house, maybe. A muffled crime scene before its investigation.

Somewhere in the middle of this glitching mindscape, a person that Martin would like to believe is his real self cries for it to stop. This self is still alive, just—inaccessible. Quietly pigeonholed into the attic, quarantined under floorboards like a bad secret. Is there a way back home? Is there a way back to you? he thinks, blindly. There is no answer, or at least, none that he can hear. Depression, in its slow and imperceptible way, continues to take up residence inside of him.

It seems so unreasonable, but he can’t bear to even lift his head. He’s just so tired.

Outside is a riotous spring, green and pink and yellow. Last fall, when the cold set in and winter rusted shut its grip around them, he’d wanted it to be spring so badly that he would have given up anything to see it happen. A hand, an eye. A lung, even. The nights had been so long and aching then. Now, the days are, too. Outside is spring and Martin is acutely aware that it is passing him by.

Time distorts strangely when he’s like this. He wakes from the blink of a sleep-sick nap to find the sun burning too high above him, and the door creaking open; a rattle of keys being set down, plastic grocery bags rustling onto the kitchen counter, and Jon’s quick footsteps walking down the hallway.

“Martin?” he hears Jon call. “Martin? I’ve got the shopping but we should really see if—”

Their bedroom door opens, the noise of it interrupting whatever he had been about to say. It’s a little darker in here with the blinds half-turned, but not dark enough that he wouldn’t be able to see Martin lying curled on the bed.

“Martin?” he repeats, more quizzically this time.

“Jon,” Martin says. His voice is raspy from disuse, so he tries again. “Jon. Hello.”

Jon draws nearer. “Is this a bad day?” He is windswept and smells like sunlight, like the springtime he’d just been outside in, and Martin can hardly bear to look at him for envy of what he wants to be. What he couldn’t be if he tried because he is barely a person right now. But that isn’t Jon’s fault, he reminds himself very carefully. Jon is trying to take care of him. (His expression has not changed in the slightest after seeing Martin motionless on the bed, all the blankets pulled up despite how mild the day is, and he is silently thankful for it. He knows what a miserable picture this must make.)

“Yeah,” he manages. “Do you—can you… come here? Please.”

“Of course.” There’s a sweep of air, and the bed dips; Jon sliding in between the sheets unquestioningly at his appeal even though the day is in its prime and it’s only Martin’s brain being irrational and happiness-deprived.

It takes a minute, but they shift so that they’re facing each other, bodies only a few inches apart on the mattress. Martin can feel the difference of a second presence and the warmth it exudes. He can feel himself reaching for it, too, with his half-starved self. A puzzle piece, or a stray bracket looped inwards.

“Can I touch you?”

Martin nods. He desperately wants Jon to touch him. He needs to be reminded that he’s real, and that he hasn’t just made this up in his mind as a respite from the echoing wasteland of the sadness. Jon is real, and that means Martin is more than a single lonely blot on the horizon.

“Okay,” Jon whispers, and doesn’t ask anything more of him. Soon enough, Martin feels hands skim the backs of his wrists, glide up his forearms and across his shoulders. They trace the pattern of freckles on his chest, forwards and backwards. Light, undemanding touches, so quintessentially Jon in their repetitive familiarity. Eventually, he pulls him closer so that their bodies are pressed against each other in a sort of half-hug: Martin’s head tucked into the bend of Jon’s chin, one of Jon’s legs draped over his hip, their torsos a single warm line from collarbone to stomach. Jon is normally so much smaller than him, and all rangy and bird-boned to boot, but when he gets like this, his presence is expansive, comforting. Martin feels lazily enveloped in it. The whole bed smells like Jon now, aftershave and rooibos tea and something citrusy—oranges, maybe.

He lies carefully still in familiar arms, and he thinks he should feel something more about this. He thinks he should feel happier, or more grateful. It’s not that he’s not, exactly, more that he’s just… temporarily divorced from it. As if he’s looking at the feeling, or the implication of it, from a point very distant at the edge of the sky. There’s something in the way that makes it hard to directly feel anything. He is looking at the happiness of someone else’s body, and then back down at the happiness-shaped imprint on his own. The place where happiness is supposed to be, but isn’t, right now.

He tells Jon this. “I think I should feel something about this. I think I should feel something about you right now. It isn’t right that I don’t.”

(He just feels so hollow. He didn’t know absence could take up so much space inside a person. Right now, he is a tenant in his own head.)

“You don’t owe me anything, Martin,” Jon says, the steady vibration of words in his throat humming through the top of Martin’s skull. That sensation, the intimacy of it, is the closest Martin thinks he has gotten to feeling something today.

“I love you. You don’t have to answer that right now, but I just wanted you to know. When you come back, I’ll tell you again. As many times as you want.” The light stretches and slants as Jon speaks.

Martin is sometimes afraid that there is no back. There is no returning. It really does seem like this is all there is, this static on a broken loop and his mind slowing like the drip of a hospital IV. If that is true, then it’s not Jon, or even the feeling of happiness that is unreal; Martin is the imposter here. The magic trick, the illusion, the Eurydice caught between person and not. There is nowhere to go back to, because the emptiness is the only part of him that means anything.

(“I love you,” Jon had tried, over and over, achingly, the first time it happened, and finally Martin had screamed at him, “I love you can’t solve this, Jon!” They’d had a long conversation that night about love and illness and how sometimes he was so numb he could die from it. Since then, Jon only says the words because they are true, not as if they could save Martin. It might seem uncaring to anyone else, but it works for the both of them.)

I love you, Jon says now, like a fact, and Martin wants to say it back, he really does.

The figure in his head, the one that he has to believe he can go back to, tries to say it. But even in the isolation of his own mind, it only comes out as a faint I really loved you, you know. He doesn’t mean for it to mangle like that, the past tense of it softly mocking. He still loves Jon—that much is not an illusion. That much is also a fact. It’s the apathy again, leaching the feeling out of his actions and his speech. There is an I love you- shaped wound on his self and it is one he cannot quite reconcile with the love he knows he has for Jon. I really loved you, you know. And the version of me that loves you, that can love you, is still out there. Just not here. There’s all this untethered, inaccessible love here, Jon. I want to be able to feel it for you.

Jon falls asleep for a while after that. He’s still clutching at Martin, the weight and anchor of his body a welcome warmth. Martin stays awake, so he looks at Jon to fill the time.

Jon is rendered looser when he drowses. He’s more inexact somehow, edges less sharply defined and face slack, unreserved. It isn’t that he withholds on purpose, and especially not from Martin, but his defense mechanisms forget to reset themselves in sleep. It’s part of why sleeping next to him is an almost unbearable closeness all by itself—a reminder that he is trusted enough to see this. Martin reaches out with a hand, and is nearly startled when it brushes Jon’s face. He’d expected it to go right through him, for some reason. He isn’t sure whether he’d imagined himself or Jon to be the insubstantial one in this scenario, but in any case, his hand finds solid skin.

He touches his fill of Jon’s angular cheeks and cradled shoulders and pinned dark hair. He’s so beautiful, all of him. Aftershave and rooibos and oranges; it feels like a foreign landscape, but Martin is determined. He is relearning the things that make up Jon the way a man deprived of senses does.

When Jon wakes up—in fits and starts, squinting at the sun that is now slouching golden across the room—Martin embraces him and very quietly says that he’ll start putting the groceries away.

So they get out of bed together, even though Martin feels like he hasn’t walked in weeks. He lifts the bags off the counter to sit down and sort through them on the floor. It is the most human thing he’s done today.

Sorting is a quiet, menial sort of task that doesn’t require much thought, which is good, because his head is still weighted down with buzzing. He sits in the sunlight and lets the rice and orzo and tinned olives and fruit pass through his hands as he puts them on the shelves, thinking, our food, our sunlit kitchen, this is the home we have made. (I really loved you, you know. He can’t change the tense of it yet so he just repeats that word, love, until he can pretend to forget the context of it. No past, no future, just love, said like it would replace the emptiness.)

Afterwards, Jon makes them baked pasta with three different kinds of cheese. Evening paints the length of him glorious and blue. As Martin watches, he shreds thyme and basil and mixes breadcrumbs to cover the top layer the way Martin likes best; Jon, who is reasonably talented at yet notoriously opposed to the idea of cooking, does all this without batting an eye. Martin is sure he will feel something about this, too, later.

[barnesnmrnoble]

The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

Read on ao3!

Word Count: 2000

Summary: Bucky is moving from the couch, carefully detangling himself from the pile of limbs him, Clint, and Tasha had become, before he really registers the soft knock on the door. Clint is half asleep, curled around Tasha like a koala bear relishing in the feeling of her hand carding through his freshly washed hair, while old Christmas reruns of dog cops play on the big living room tv.

A/n: Merry Christmas to the wonderful and darling @cuddlememerrick​! I hope you enjoy dear! Much love from your no so secret santa! 

The pairings in this are pretty vague, its open to interpretation for whoever you want to be together.Or if you want them all to platonic, there is no real mentions of romantic relationships. I tried to keep the reader gender neutral but I may have missed some pronouns or descriptions so if you see any let me know! anyways!

HAPPY READING!

________

Bucky is moving from the couch, carefully detangling himself from the pile of limbs him, Clint, and Tasha had become, before he really registers the soft knock on the door. Clint is half asleep, curled around Tasha like a koala bear relishing in the feeling of her hand carding through his freshly washed hair, while old Christmas reruns of dog cops play on the big living room tv. He grunts softly when Bucky moves him over, but doesn’t give anymore than the grunt and nuzzles back into the brushing fingers over his scalp. Bucky understands, he feels all soft and cuddly in the god awfully ugly Christmas sweater Clint had brought over and made him wear. He isn’t complaining too much, it’s really soft. 

The door swings open with a loud jingle, damn bells Clint had put on every door as “decoration”. Why does it need to be made known that he is opening literally any door in the house, including the bathroom door. Clint really gets into the Christmas spirit and Bucky may glare at him every time he ends up underneath a doorway, because yeah, every doorway also has mistletoe hanging from it and Clint always catches him and kisses his cheek. It makes it really hard for Bucky to keep up with his grinch-y attitude when Clint does nothing but make him smile all day long. 

 “Hey, I didn’t think you got back until next week?” Bucky doesn’t hide his surprise when he opens the door to see you, and he is clearly happy to see you home finally. It’s been two months since you left on a minimal communication op. Nobody had heard from you in the last two weeks, and there had been no mention of you coming home early. Nevertheless, he is happy to see you and knows that Clint and Nat will be too. The four of you are nearly inseparable. 

You look a little worse for wear, a bruise or two forming on your cheek and around your eye, favoring your left leg and heavily leaning against the doorway. You leaning, seems less out of pain and more out of exhaustion, both physical and emotional. The question he asked nearly a minute ago finally reaches your brain, and you nod. It’s about all you have the energy to muster up as a response. Really you should've just gone to your own place, taken a quick shower and crashed for the next four days but you couldn’t override the part of you that needed to see them, that needed to have company after two very long months being completely alone and isolated. 

Bucky doesn’t even hesitate, he knows just what you need. He bends over and scoops you into his arms, bringing you over to the couch and plopping you down between Clint and Nat. He disappears for a minute and comes back with another one of Clint’s ugly sweaters, strips you of your tac vest, and carefully replaces it with the soft fabric of the sweater. He throws another look to Nat and they do their freaky “silent conversation with their eyes” thing and she kisses your cheek before she runs off down the hallway. With Nat’s departure and Bucky off doing other things again, Clint attaches to you like a sleepy, happy parasite, and you can’t help but join him. 

You don’t even realize you’ve fallen asleep until you start to wake up to Clint hovering over you with a washcloth, carefully wiping away the dirt and grime on your face. Apparently while you were out, he took the liberty of brushing your hair out and twisting it into a neat braid that pulled everything from your face. You have no idea how he manages, but anytime Clint plays with your hair, it becomes so soft and all you want to do is run your fingers through it. 

The apartment smells different than when you fell asleep, like chocolate. It smells like Bucky’s amazing chocolate chip cookies, and when you see him appear from the kitchen with a plate freshly baked cookies you can’t help the grabby hands you make at him. “Are those…?” There isn’t much need to finish the sentence, by the smile on his face Bucky knows what your about to ask and his dopey grin answers the question. He nods, before he goes back to grab drinks. 

Tasha glides into the room a moment later, three large pizzas and what looks like little jars of black and grey goop balancing precariously on top. With one hand, she grabs onto the jars and blindly throws them your direction and Clint barely moves to catch them both easily.  Nat drops the pizza onto the coffee table, opening the first box and grabbing a piece. She holds it out for Clint and he cranes his neck to take a bite before grabbing one of the jars (of what, you haven’t figured that out yet but you’re too tired to try.) “Bucky, come on, hurry!” You snort quietly when you hear Bucky huff his way back into the room. “Yeah, yeah, I’m comin’.” 

“What's going on? I think I missed a lot in my impromptu nap.” Clint beams with his blindingly bright smile. “You did. Face masks, comfort food, a good christmas movie,” He puts his hand by his mouth and whispers not so quietly, “and a little alcohol.” You hum happily and make grabby hands in the direction of the alcohol and cookies Bucky brought in pointing at him and saying “You. Are my favorite.”

“Hey! What the hell! This was all my idea.” You raise an eyebrow at Clint and he squawks indignantly. “It was!” You can’t help but laugh, pulling your legs from where they were folded underneath you and wrapping them around Clint like he’d been doing earlier. “You’ll always be my favorite, hun.” He winks at you, placing a sloppy kiss on your cheek. Bucky is now grabbing Nat and plopping them both down on the couch at your back, forming a similar cuddle pile to earlier, now just with the addition of you. 

It’s been two long months of being alone with no one to talk to, none of Clint’s big smiles and dumb dad jokes (and most importantly, no Lucky.), none of Tasha’s softness that’s reserved only for the people she loves, none of Bucky’s giant hoodies and his amazing cooking. And maybe two months isn’t that long but it felt like it, and you want nothing more than to be a little buzzed and curled up in between all of them. 

Your peaceful train of thought is interrupted when Clint drops a glob of freezing cold black gel onto your face and starts to spread it around. “God, Clint! That’s freezing!” He just shrugs and smooths it out across your face. Behind you, Tasha is spreading the grey gel on Bucky, who is complaining just as much as you are. This stuff is really really cold.

 Luckily for you, once Clint and Nat finish lathering your faces in the masks, they turn to do it to themselves and Clint spends the entire time complaining much louder than you had. It’s karmic justice, and really, it’s the little things in life that make you happy. 

Clint has yet to tell you what the movie is but when he gets up to get it started, you realize why. He picked Die Hard. You and Tasha have been arguing with Clint and Bucky for months that Die Hard is not a Christmas movie, going as far to tweet Bruce Willis about it. The boys still refuse to believe that it’s not a christmas, even after Bruce Willis replied with “It’s a goddamn Bruce Willis movie, boys. Not Christmas.”

“Really Clint?” He nods, a mischievous smile on his lips before pulling you tight against him again. “Hmm, hand me a piece of pizza?” 

______________

The four of you watch the movie in relative peace, Bucky, -weirdly enough- is the one to cause the ruckus. When the timer you’d set for the face masks goes off, well, let’s just say taking Bucky’s off was a bit more painful than the others.

 “Tash?” She looks up at him, immediately realizes her mistake. Her eyes are wide and a bit sympathetic but she is doing a poor job at hiding her amusement. Bucky sighs. “This stuff isn’t supposed to go in my beard is it?” Nat sputters and shakes her head and Bucky is whining again because they have to peel it off and that shit hurts when it’s not stuck in facial hair. Beyond your laughter, you do sympathize.

But it’s an odd picture to see the fearsome Winter Soldier tearing up while pulling off his face mask.

It takes him almost 20 minutes to finally pull it off, and by the end, it hurts so bad, he makes Nat just rip off the last of it around his eyes. Which of course, was a big mistake. The moment it came off Bucky threw his face into Tasha’s chest and you could hear the litany of curses that bled from his mouth. Clint couldn’t hear it, he’d taken his aids out a while ago, but he could relate, he’d done it the first time him and Tash had done face masks. 

____________

It’s nearly midnight when you start to drift to sleep again, Tasha is asleep, her head in your lap. You’ve bashed through four Christmas movies.  Well three, and Die Hard. Your entirely too full on pizza and cookies. You’re sure you ate through 3/4 of Bucky’s cookies. But it’s nice, it leaves you with this warm and fuzzy feeling that’s entirely too ironic with the holiday cheer surrounding you. 

Clint took your hair out from the braid after you pulled off the face masks and was now running one hand through the hair again, carefully pulling out the flecks of the mask that had gotten in your hairline. It was probably what was lulling you to sleep. You fight the strong pull and press your lips to the calloused skin of his palm, at least where you can reach. You pull your hands from Natasha’s grip and sign as best you can to Clint, Thank you. I didn’t realize how much I needed this. He only hums deep in his chest and presses his lips to your forehead. You reach across Tash and poke Bucky’s shoulder, who is clearly about to crash hard, his eyes flutter close only to spring back open every few seconds and you know the only reason he is staying awake is the bet he made with you and Clint that he would be the last to fall asleep. He is pretty notorious for being the first to fall asleep during team movie nights. 

He won’t ever admit it, but it’s easier for him to fall asleep surrounded by the team and people he trusts then when he is alone with himself. Though it’s extremely rare to find any of the four of you without each other. Whoever is out on an op, it is guaranteed to see the others in together, cuddling or sleeping, or really just spending time together. If the boys are out, its you and Nat, if it’s you and Tash, the boys find comfort in each other. It’s a nice balance for a group of touch starved assassins.

You sign to him as well, unwilling to break the air of comfort by using your voice, thank you. Now, sleep. He gives you an incredulous look, silently telling you he won’t lose the bet. I don’t care about the bet. Sleep. 

You should get everyone at least to the bed or somewhere more comfortable than the couch, you know you are going to wake up with a kink in your neck and most of your body sore but you don’t care, it’s just how it is and you know none of you would ever change it for anything.

[rogsclogs]

Some Day One Day (Brian May x Reader); part 12

I’m sorry this took a while to post, I was unhappy with how it originally turned out and had to rewrite it a couple of times. Hope you enjoy it, next part will be up very soon, hopefully by tomorrow. The series is almost over :,)

tag list: @brighter-thanthe-sky @im-a-sheerheartattack @fruityfreddie @discodeakygotmorerhythm @killer-queen-xo @destiel-stucky4ever-loki-queen @alfinaldelarcoiriss @warren-lauren @kazzish @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls @avengerraven1023 @imgonnabeyourslave

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

They lived happily ever after since then.

At least, that's what I’d like to tell you, but we both know that’s not how it’s going to go, don't we?

However, things did go perfectly right for quite some time and everything in Brian and Y/N’s lives was amazing, especially their relationship. As soon as Y/N started her master course she got right into it, arriving at every lecture on time and with all her work done and ready to hand in, much to Brian’s happiness. All he wanted was to see her succeed, after all. At first he had offered to help her do her school work, but she obviously refused to let him do so, her pride taking over her rational side which told her that getting help wouldn't be such a big deal after all. Even when she did have classes with him she always rejected any help Brian offered, which kind of frustrated him, but he was even more proud of her when she got things right knowing she did everything by herself.

Then, right after school, he would drive her back to their apartment and they would spend the afternoon together, sometimes baking cookies for Emily and sometimes having sex for hours on end, depending on their mood. 

Mostly the ladder, though.

Y/N was in the second trimester of her course when something started feeling off.

She started waking up feeling something within her bugging her and she went to sleep feeling the same way.

She had been vocal about it with Brian, but even though he was keen on having a doctor visit her, she kept pushing her visit back, not wanting to cause any trouble to anyone and figuring whatever it was that made her sick would soon disappear.

knowing how easily she was affected by stress, she also figured that that could be the reason behind her sickness, after all she was still going through a hard time with her family and such, none of her relatives were particularly happy to find she was living with a man who was twice her age and had a daughter with another woman, but she couldn't be bothered to hide it either although she’d never told anyone that he was in fact her university professor, that was way too risky for anyone to be aware of. Still, most of her family were totally against it and a huge part of them had stopped talking to Y/N altogether, not that she was too sad about the loss, it was mostly just disappointment making her upset.

It could be the stress of knowing everything in your life is going great, cause that is in itself a reason to be stressed out, especially when you're used to dealing with constant chaos and people trying to mess you up.

It could be the immense love she felt for Brian moving around in her body everyday, which she often though would make her sick because she truly loved that man more than anything and anyone else.

It could be some of the things that little Emily offered her to eat when she played cook, they could absolutely be toxic for all she knew (she immediately felt silly for thinking something like that, knowing damn well how obsessed Brian was with double checking anything that came close to his daughter’s mouth to make sure it was safe).

It could be anything in the world and it was probably temporary anyway, so why would she worry the people around her? There was no need for it.

And maybe Y/N could have gotten away with it, if it hadn't been for her body giving up on her, quite literally.

It all started on a foggy winter morning, Y/N woke up feeling rather ill and couldn't bring herself to have anything for breakfast. Brian had tried to convince her over and over again, but there was no point in forcing her to get food in her system if she felt like she couldn't keep it down anyway.

She felt extremely nauseous and lightheaded, and Brian was worried knowing she was most likely not telling him just how sick she was really feeling, so he tried to convince her to stay home from school, even promising to collect all the worksheets she would need to catch up on her homework, but to no avail. Y/N was very stubborn and sometimes Brian wished she could just give into his requests when they came from a place of worry and care, but he knew it would be pointless to argue so he just forced her to take whatever medicine he had at home and got in the car with her and Emily.

The whole ride he kept an eye on the two girls in the backseat (Emily didn't like sitting by herself back there, so whenever Y/N was around she would always offer to keep her company) and soon realized Y/N seemed to be moving in slow motion, like she was too tired to react to what Em was talking to her about. Not that the little girl would notice anyway, she was rambling about something that had happened at daycare the day before and she had her usual bright smile taking over the features of her face. She was way too young to realize how pale Y/N looked and how distracted she was, especially because she tried her best to keep up with the conversation, mostly so she wouldn't worry Brian.

She even offered to walk Emily into the building where her daycare was, which Brian begged her not to do as a lot of people there knew who Emily’s mom was and he knew they wouldn't keep their stupid mouths shut.

He tried once more to convince his girl to get back home right before they got into the school parking lot.

“I can tell you're not feeling great, why do you do this to yourself? Just take a goddamn day off Y/N, you're not gonna miss that much anyway”

“Brian, you know how I feel about days off when they're not necessary”

“But right now it IS necessary! It’s basically written all over your face that you're sick, I've never seen you look this pale before and you haven't even had anything for breakfast, which is not only unhealthy but very unlike you. Please, I am begging you, just let me drive you back home, I don't care if I'm ten minutes late to my lecture, I'm sure everyone will understand”

“I’m not having this conversation with you again, Bri. I’m fine. I’ll see you in third period” was all she said before angrily stepping out of the car and slamming the door behind her, leaving Brian in his car to curse himself for pushing her too far. He should have just listened to her, if she needed something she would tell him without being forced to.

He pushed himself to get out of his vehicle and to stop thinking about Y/N, he had more important things to focus on: papers to grade, lessons to go over and his students’ questions to answer. He couldn't afford to let her distract him, no matter how much he cared for her wellbeing, after all she was a responsible adult.

They both went on with their day as normal, even though Y/N kept feeling worse by the minute. All the people who had seen her that morning could sense that something was going on, but only a few of them pointed it out to her, not wanting to seem rude. She had sighed deeply and ignored everyone’s questions, wondering if she really looked so bad that everyone in school seemed to be so interested in knowing how she was doing. 

She almost got into an argument with Joe because he too tried to convince her to go back home. After their ‘date’ at the cinema, Y/N had tried her best to distance herself from him, not only because she knew Brian didn't love the idea of them hanging out, but also because she was almost positive Joe was crushing hard on her, and she didn't want to lead him on or have to deal with any jealousy issues. Still, he tried to talk to her almost on a daily basis and didn’t seem to get the memo that she just wasn't interested, so Y/N dealt with it and stopped complaining, knowing there was not much he could do once school was over. On that day, however, he had gotten so much on her nerves that she couldn't help but slightly lash out at him, it was none of his business how she was feeling and she didn't want to admit how seriously worried she was starting to become for her own health.

So, she just isolated herself until third period eventually came, and she made a mental note to herself to apply some makeup before entering the lecture hall so that maybe Brian wouldn't be too worried about her if she didn't look sick.

However, she never actually made it to the bathroom as she felt herself slowly slip out of consciousness right as she was getting there and her body fell limp on the hard floor. 

[dancing-with-dichotomies]

“Lone Pearl Cowgirl” Ch5 update/Important mentions

I've been feeling... Pretty super horribly awful down lately, like bottom of the bottom... Been fighting several things at once. A persistant seasonal depression, probably. My massive damn writing block that's haunted every single thing I've tried to write all this damn year, and part of the last too. My damned body that just Won't. Stop. Hurting. EVER...

And my abusive family, my family that is literally in a damn cult, my family that "lowkey" supported the second-coming of the worst kinds of evil, even though not a small portion of our family once escaped that... Them holding me down, manipulating me knowing I am disabled, isolating me all my life and using me...And I can only hope that being able to live away from them won't just be a dream when I'm disabled but can't get disability, live in one of the priciest damned states in the country, and my parents keep sabotaging me and using me and manipulating me. I've tried to claw myself away from them. It hurts to keep seeing them selfishly sabotage me and having others judge me. So much of my life hurts, but especially lately, around winter, around my birthday... And they always actively dunk on me harder around my birthday...

That, plus my pain increasing, and... and, and, and... Well, you probably already get it if yer one of the ones who even really cared, so I won't go on if yer not, but...

Anyways I feel like it so I wanna tell the people who REALLY helped me to survive what was one of the worst bouts of depression I've had in years, even knowing I generally get depressed periodically... You guys are really the ones who made a difference this time and you should know it.

crappy-crapolice  -- Change yer nickname already, Crappy. Yer the awesomest. XP XD Really dude, most of the time we just BS and have fun with various fandom shit, but you've seen me at my lowest points not just once but a few times, seen me get paranoid and doubt you a few times, but you've always been so patient and amazing about reminding me that it's my mental illness making me think/believe those things. And you've always been so great at reminding me when I need those reminders, but without judging me or shaming me. You've been so nice about really listening to my issues and realizing how many struggles I face that the average person doesn't, how I get way less help, way more demands, and way more obstruction than the average person, and you've showed me real sympathy instead of the usual "get over it already, nobody cares about what happened in your past only that you can contribute in the present" or "I'm sorry that happened to you, but also this bores me, can't we just talk about nice things 24-7..." type 'sympathy' most people settle for all too quickly... You've been the one to remind me of my own limitations when most people don't even want to hear about it, won't even let me finish before they judge me. Most just settle for assuming that someone in a bad position must deserve it. That they're not working hard enough or something. You're one of the few that really understood... Because you're one of the few who really listened long enough and didn't just blow me off or dismiss me. You treated me like I'm still a normal human being even when I've been in the midst of going kinda crazy from the stress, and that's what's managed to bring me back sometimes... Also, I hardly ever even TALK about the fandom we started out in anymore, I actually kinda dislike that fandom more than not after it all was over with, and you've still treated me like a friend. A lot of people would just drift away if you weren't interested in their fandom anymore. But you care about not just my other fandom interests too, but my original work. That really means a lot to me, NOT-Crappy. Thanks, dude. <3

Iris - People like you give me hope for the future. You work so incredibly hard for such a selfless cause. People even really mistreat doctors where you're from, and you're still determined to make it your life mission to heal and save and educate as many people as you can. Of course like I've told you to, you need to remember to make time for yourself! But I'm so incredibly grateful you've made time for me too... Again, we fandom BS a lot, but we also talk about the heavy stuff too, and I wanna let you know I appreciate it, that it helps make it feel lighter about it overall and I hope you do too. You always really listen and talk with me, have answered questions I've had, and are concerned about how I'm really feeling, instead of just rushing to cover up my troubles. It's doubly impressive that you manage to be so patient when you work so long and so hard. I have some pretty bad issues with feelings of being abandoned and "disappeared", so I really especially appreciate you talking me through that. It's also super impressive to me that despite us having a couple times where we both kinda unintentionally offended the other saying things that didnt quite come out right over the keyboard, that we managed to talk to each other about how we felt about it and clarify that no harm was meant. I know you're really busy and sometimes a while goes by where we don't talk, and even still it's easy to trust that you wouldn't just disappear on me, and that you'd really care if I truly disappeared too... I just want you to know. You're not just a My Hero-fan, you're a legit real life hero to me and I know to a lot of other people too. <3 <3

closet-cryptid/Michelle - We sometimes go a while without talking nowadays, I know we both know how hard it is with a little one, and that yer net sometimes goes in and out. But again, yer one of those friends I trust enough that it doesn't  matter. It actually amazes me even more because there was a time where we had a pretty big disagreement to say the least, and both said some pretty harsh things. I was fully prepared to burn our bridge of friendship, but to my deep surprise, you actually apologized some time later, and I did too, and I feel like we're better friends for it now. And again, yer one of those people who don't just  try to cover up troubles with fandom. We have our fun fandom discussions, but you've always been really willing to listen and really be sympathetic when I need to be sad too, you care about the real me and not just the me that made content for the fandom, and that's why we're still around to still putz about the fandom junk too. IZ FOREVER! XD (and I hope you and your sisters feel better too <3)

csp124 - Yer a newer friend, but yanno, you've proven to be a good one. Again, we can putz about fandom junk or other fun stuff, but you've been truly understanding about allowing me to talk about the bad junk that's been worrying my mind so much lately. You've been really helpful especially lately because you didn't just give up on me because my illness wouldn't let me stop "being negative" for a while, as some people reduce it to. Even though I didn't want to look on the bright side for a while, you kept bringing it up to me. It took a while, others gave up on me and got frustrated or angry with me, but you're one of the ones who kept being positive when you knew I -couldn't-, not that I just -wouldn't-, and understanding of my darkness too...

unified-multiversal-theory - Everybody here has helped me along a lot in various ways this year, but you've shown a special interest in my original work especially that really helped give me the inspiration I needed to get this latest chapter done. I feel so proud and relieved to have gotten chapter five finally done, and have more hope than I have in a while that the rest might be possible too. It's really deeply disheartening, a whole new level of isolation and depression, when so many people time and again, even other creators you'd hope would get it or at LEAST encourage you a LITTLE instead of being overly critical, especially those that get heaped with praise themselves, either ignore you completely/never give you a chance or even tear your creations down, claiming that they're trying to be "helpful/constructive". It's not that I can't handle constructive criticism, but I can recognize my characters being torn down by someone who is being overly critical because they dont really care one whiff about my work and REAL, ACTUAL -constructive- criticism like the kind you gave me, where you actually found a few errors that, while it depressed me for a moment to realize I had forgotten something so silly and needed to rewrite almost a while page because of it lol, IT ACTUALLY HELPED ME FINALLY FINISH THE DANG CHAPTER INSTEAD OF PARALYZING ME WITH DEPRESSION AND FEAR ABOUT MY ENTIRE WORK. You actually discussed my ideas and plot in detail and that's been so incredibly helpful. I know like Iris yer busy, so I wanted to say thank you for taking the time to help me with this especially. This work means more than a lot to me, a lot of people just blow it off like a silly story but it's SO much more than that. Helping me with this has really improved my outlook on life lately. I know everyone knows I love and live for my daughter, that she's the reason I keep existing... But she's not the reason I was made to exist in the first place. I feel like this story and her sister-stories are. Sometimes I confuse it because everything is confusing in this world, and because there's a sea of people who think the crazy shit Christians and Muslims and men in general do makes sense but somehow I'M the really crazy one, but... Just, thanks. I just feel a lot saner now that I made progress on something that means so much to me, and to know there's at least a few people out there who also really take interest in and appreciate it. <3

itsmorethanjustafantasy - We actually don't talk too much at all lol, here and there we talk a bit about fandom, but yanno... I just wanted to mention again how nice I think you are for sending people holiday well-wishes. Growing up with 90+% of my family in the Jehovah's Witnesses cult, and because of how sick I was growing up, my birthday and other holidays were especially hard times for me. Always on the outside looking in. Trained to tell other people it didn't matter and reject any holiday wishes or gifts given to my face when they were around, but deep down always feeling so lonely and isolated and excluded. You're one of those people who just out of the blue wishes people well on the holidays. For most people it's probably just nice. I just wanted you to know it did a little more for me though. It was nice to do for me, but it also made me feel included, and like someone remembered me. Thank u for that. Belated Happy Halloween, and upcoming Merry Christmas!

In general, there were a few other people that popped in when I was temporarily mad with grief and pain and helped talk to me about the rough stuff, bookrebelwordwarrior, kendallandherstuff, and a handful of others, sorry if it's been a while and I forgot anyone specific, but yeah. To everyone who really helped me and and didn't just give up on me, who not just remembered the good in me, but helped me to eventually see it again too, and help that goodness actually -grow-... Help bring out what -I- feel is really the best of me, not what others want me to be... Thank you. I can't say I'll never be depressed again, I've seen too much and there's so much stacked against me, but I'll try my best to keep trying, to keep believing progress is possible even when it feels like your life is currently stagnant and there's an ocean of people who don't care if you die or that you even ever existed. It's sad that there's so few, but life is just barely bearable when people really show they care. <3

So, consider this latest chapter of Lone Pearl,  "Faithful Phil and the Martyred Mother", dedicated to you guys. <3

https://archiveofourown.org/works/20041537/chapters/51013765

[get-well-soonish-blog]

Where it all Began

OK, so I’ve created an Instagram account dedicated to showing the world what it’s like to be me. Might as well link a blog to it, amirite?

Why does that matter?

Now what?

What are you even going to be talking about, Katie?

Some questions that might be buzzing around your head, I know. 

We all kind of walk through this world doing what we do every day. And maybe some of us find that significant, but maybe some of us don’t. If you see yourself as “just a student”, or “just a person in an entry-level, coordinator position, or “just trying to get by”, I promise you that means something. 

About four months ago I made a move that changed my life so profoundly it has quite literally shaken me down to my core and showed me who I am, what I’m made of. But let’s rewind to just before that all happened.

I’m sitting on the couch of a family I nanny for in what felt like the middle-of-nowhere-Indiana. It’s just about 1:00 pm, the baby is asleep and I’m watching The Walking Dead. My tortured relationship has just come to a complete end (you’ll hear about him later, I promise), my roommate hates me (you’ll hear about her too, don’t worry), all of my college friends have moved to places like Seattle, and Chicago and I’m so sad I can’t even cry. I’m stuck in the cement that I’ve let set around me blankly staring at my MacBook Air as character after character dies and I. Feel. Nothing. I was supposed to have a skype interview with a company in New York but I consciously decide to skip it. “I forgot, I’m sorry, can we reschedule? No? Ok, thank you for the opportunity.” I can hear the script I’m writing for the email scene I’m about to direct. And that’s when my phone rings...

“Hi, is this, Katie?”

“Yes, this is she.”

“Hi Katie, this is Alex. I’m calling on the behalf of Agency. We were supposed to have a Skype call at 1:00.”

“Oh, yes, I’m sorry my internet isn’t working properly. I’m so glad you called...”

A little bit different than the original script I was writing, but I went with it.

Fast forward four months, and here I am; writing to you from my desk at that job in New York *shhhh* to tell you about why I need to talk to you; why I feel my story is important to tell, as is yours. I left that couch, bad relationship, horrible roommate situation, town one month later and I can quite literally say that I never once looked in my rearview mirror as I drove far, far away from that place in the midwest to a new one in Upstate New York.

And that’s when my life became perfect! The End...

I wish that was how it went. But everyone knows that putting distance between yourself and the problem(s) isn’t always the answer. Things follow you and more often than not, it’s time that we need. I really, truly, vigorously believed that leaving all of those people and memories and that place behind was the cure-all to this disease that, I thought, was my anxiety and depression (queue post for later about what I actually had going on in my cute little brain). I also thought I loved change! I was ready for it because change is always a 100% guaranteed breath of fresh air. 

Wrong. 

Not only was distance not a cure-all, it was isolating and the change was so vast and challenging, I wasn’t sure I could handle it. 

My mother and I aren’t close. I remember smelling her nightshirt when I was little, trying to absorb something from her. Looking back I’m not sure what that was, really. Maybe it was whatever kindness she had left in her after my dad left or a smile. Her smell was always floral but sweet and I needed it to put me to sleep. There was a time when I found her, her scent, comforting. But as I got older I began to appreciate that less and eventually not want it at all. Our lack of a relationship isn’t entirely her fault. I recognize that I’m my own, closed off person, afraid to get to know the woman who brought me into this world. But after the transition to the North Country, I called her almost every day like I was five and I needed to smell her nightshirt to be able to rest. I cried that I’d never make friends here (shout-out to the wonderful humans who have taken me in and now call me their friend). I thought the midwest was desolate, but really I didn’t even know what desolate was until moving here. The midwest was a friend I’d become too familiar with and bored of. It was a place I took for granted and only saw the times I’d had my heart broken or falling outs with close friends or dropping out of college after four years of half-hearted-hard-work. But the North Country was an alien from a galaxy I’d never even heard of and couldn’t communicate with or relate to. I’d forcefully thrown myself at it only to realize it looked nothing like what I’d loved and known for so long. 

For the first several months, I found no comfort here. The job was harder than anticipated and most of my coworkers, for lack of a better word, sucked. The agency was at the forefront of a rebrand and I’d come in at the worst, most disjointed time in their 41-year history as a company. So, not only was the job not panning out but like I said, I truly had no friends. It was sub-zero, constantly snowing, dark by 4:30 pm and I was beginning to resent the reason I’d come here in the first place; to get away from things that pained me. I drove to and from work in pitch black, every day. I love being outdoors, but I’d never been winter hiking and had no proper gear to get out there and no money to buy said gear. Everything was a mess of pure and hopeful expectations collapsing in on me and whether I created it or not, I felt I had no control over the clean-up. 

But somehow, dirty clothes found their way into my hamper and friends were made, gear was purchased, work settled down. And now, today, I feel like I’ve finally gotten a grasp on my new life. It feels weird to write that down... “my new life”. But how I’m living now looks nothing like what it used to so I guess it really is “new”.

I’m taking canoe trips and becoming more active and going to therapy once a week. I had such a rough go for those few months, and so many things to sort out. Through therapy and some much-needed soul-searching, the only conclusion I’ve come to is that I need to take care of myself and SLOW DOWN (As my girl, Kacey Musgraves says, “I’m all right with a slow burn.” That’s kind of been my theme song for the last few months). Take that job, be patient with myself in adjusting, say yes to more experiences, but learn to say no when it’s just too much, do what benefits me. Sounds selfish, I know, but I’ve always given so much of myself to others and left none for myself. And I’m tired of feeling empty with nothing left to give to the most important person in my life; me. You might be thinking, “damn, she’s really taking this selfish thing seriously”. And that’s because I am. Going out with coworkers on a Tuesday might be fun, and I might be missing out on a few laughs, BUT going home to work out, and cook dinner and relax before another day of work is mindful and soothing and it’s what I need to feel like my best self. Learning to say no to things I feel I’m missing out on has been quite the process, but I’ve never felt empty or depleted doing it. 

So to answer the questions I think might be buzzing around in your head... 

1. This matters because I feel all stories are important and deserve to be told. It’s also part of my emotional wellness and healing. I went to school for writing and though I’m in a position in my professional life where I write content, I’m not writing anything I truly feel could change anything. Even if this doesn’t change your life, it will change mine (there I go learning to be all selfish again). 

2. And now, I tell you how I try to stay sane, try being the keyword. There are days I still am so sad I can’t cry. And there are still days in which I miss that toxic relationship, distressed couch, and abusive roommate. But there are more days now than there ever were of fun mistakes and happy adventures. I guess when they say the only direction there is to go from rock-bottom is up, they’re not lying. 

3. I’m talking about emotional wellness! A combination of therapy, guided meditation, exercise and *mostly* clean eating does it for me, and I’m curious to know what does it for you. I’m talking about being raw and open and honest with oneself, admitting to your mistakes, and honoring your flaws. I’m talking about obtaining contentment. People strive for happiness but really feeling happy isn’t something we’re meant to feel in our normal state. Happy, elated, excited are all things that take us higher, far above the level of contentment. Contentment is where I strive to be. Contentment is where I feel warm and secure and like I’m ready to take on whatever life throws at me because I can; because I’m standing on a solid foundation of neutrality that I’ve built with my own, small, chubby baby hands. 

So... if any of this interests you, stick around and read a while. Also, check out get.well.soonish on Instagram to put a face to the name cause it’s a pretty good one ;).

[omgnotanothercpblog]

Random AU time!

Seven Brides for Seven Brothers AU

Jack, Lardo, Ransom, Nursey and Dex live in a backwoods cabin in 1850s Oregon. Let’s throw Ollie and Wicky in there to make seven, but they remain in the background, a la canon. 

(Because it’s my AU, same-sex marriage is commonplace and accepted. Just go with it.)

Jack goes into town looking for a wife (or husband, he’s not picky), someone who can cook and isn’t afraid of hard work, because isolated cabin, etc.

He meets Bitty, who works in a tavern. Bitty can cook and he’s a hard worker, check and check. He’s cute, too. Jack makes a move, i.e. proposes marriage.

Because this is based on a Hollywood musical, Bitty doesn’t tell Jack to shove it where the sun don’t shine, but accepts his proposal. It helps that Jack is hot. Bitty doesn’t mind hard work, but it’ll be nice to only have to take care of Jack and himself, as opposed to a horde of people.

Surprise!

So Bitty finds himself part of a large family. Not a bad thing, even if they do live like bears. Bitty whips the place into shape - chore lists, etc. He does do all the cooking because the others... Just no. Of course he’s sad that Jack just wanted a servant and not really a husband, but he’ll deal. Too bad Jack’s head is up his ass and he doesn’t realize he needs to reassure Bitty in regards to their relationship.

In an effort to not live like bears anymore and maybe even meet people, the family goes into town to help out at a barn raising. They do meet people - Lardo meets Shitty, Ransom meets Holster, Nursey and Dex meet Chowder and Farmer (Ollie and Wicky have already met each other). The barn gets raised, things happen and they get kicked out of town. Oops.

Now that they’ve gotten a taste of companionship from people other than themselves, and because winter is coming, they decide to go and fetch said companionship. Jack gives his blessing, because it worked for him, right?

Many shenanigans later, and they all come back with their crushes. Only instead of asking, they straight-up kidnapped them (Ollie and Wicky helped Ransom with Holster, because he’s a Big Boy), and the townspeople pursued them. Cue the avalanche and them being snowed in for the winter.

Bitty is Not Impressed and kicks them all out to live in the barn. Jack is completely befuddled. Yeah, he figured they’d at least ask, but he doesn’t really see the problem? Bitty tells him exactly what he thinks of that and also how he doesn’t appreciate being married just to become a servant. At least at the tavern he was being paid, etc. Jack is hurt and angry - Bitty really thinks he only married him to do housework? - and goes to live in an even more isolated trapping cabin for the winter.(Might as well be productive while brooding.)

The kidnappees are also Not Impressed (Shitty is a little impressed), and there are pranks, but over the winter everyone eventually falls in love. They play hockey on a frozen pond (sorry you missed it, Jack!) and there’s canoodling. Also, it turns out Chowder and Farmer were already together. Nursey and Dex finally face their feelings for each other, while also realizing they’re in love with Chowder and Farmer, who admit they are in love with Nursey and Dex, so that turns into a whole happy poly relationship.

Spring arrives. Jack appears, apologizes to Bitty and tells him he loves him. Bitty forgives him. The townspeople also arrive, but instead of being upset, they bring the preacher to perform everyone’s wedding, because Johnson has been talking to them all winter, convincing them that everything is fine. Everyone gets married, Ollie and Wicky unveil the plans they drew up for a new Haus that will hold everyone, and they all live happily ever after.

[margotverger]

smoke & lemon | hanniholidays

[Takes place directly after 'The Other Woman'.] After her meltdown in the attic, Molly enters a vague dissociative state. When the world suddenly becomes devastatingly real, threatening her with yet another meltdown, there is only one logical person to turn to for support: Reba McClane. Written for the prompt 'Fireplace'.

Read on Ao3!

After the meltdown in the dark of her attic, Molly went to bed. She slept, or so she would tell people if they asked (they didn't), dreamless if they would ask further (they didn't), and she continued on with her life. She dropped Wally off at school. She bought groceries. She tidied the house. She drank tea, because it was the heart of winter and that was what people did during the heart of winter, even though she did not feel cold. The truth was, Molly did not feel much of anything in the days following her meltdown. To call it an empty feeling would be incorrect, for that implies a vessel, and she felt like much less than a vessel; she felt ghost-like, intangible, something hovering in the air like a mist after rain, watching as the woman people called Molly acted out every act a single mother was supposed to act. At one point, she wondered if she were going to live out her whole life like this, separated from her body.

      As she watched herself play the part of Molly Foster, how everybody reacted as they had reacted before, not a seed of discord sown, she wondered if that would be quite so bad.

      In fact, on the eleventh of December, she all but resolved to remain in this state. Unfortunately, for miss Molly Foster, it appeared that the universe had made its own resolution: to absolutely go against everything she planned, regardless whether it be in line with what it wanted for her in prior years. So, on that day of December 11th, when Wally had been dropped off, the groceries had been bought, the living room had been cleaned up, and the kettle put on, Molly suddenly felt devastatingly real.

      Every thought that had eaten her up in that attic, every ghost of a bitter memory that had filled the dusty air and hung above her as she slept like some sort of demented mobile for an infant, returned in full force, and suddenly her body—that had been empty of even herself—now felt very, very full.

      This time, however, Molly was not swallowed up by the shock of it all; after all, hadn't she experienced this only a week prior? It may have been as cruel and unforgiving as it had been before, but it was not so dark and isolating; there was no fear that Wally would overhear, there was no crushing dark, and there was a phone right in front of her, which was some anchor to the outside world. And, while there may not have been many who Molly could rely on, if at all, there was somebody who might have been able to help her.

While Molly expected a guest, the doorbell still succeeded in sending a sliver of dread along the line of her spine; it had been all too reminiscent of the insistent visits of paparazzi and hungry journalists from before. Still, this time Molly knew that she was all but forgotten by only the most obsessive of fans and conspiracy theorists, and she knew who her visitor was. So, she swallowed her anxiety down with a gulp of tea, and made her way to the door.

      Each lock—four in total—clicked as if ancient as she undid them, and while the lengthy process did not help the paranoid feeling in her gut that the other would be displeased by her call, at least it gave her some time to prepare. After all, it had been months, and their meeting had been scarcely a conversation; it had been rather dry, actually, spoken over Earl Grey tea and relatively mundane.

      (Weather's nice. It is, yeah. Little cold out. I don't mind the cold. Me neither.)

      But it was a conversation. A normal, regular conversation, when she had been entirely robbed of the experience after the disappearance of her ex-husband. And frankly, a normal conversation was what she needed right now.

      The door finally opened, and with it a rush of cold, but Molly did not feel it. Warmth surged in her stomach at the face of Reba McClane; the soft curve of her cheeks, the dark brown of her eyes, the peek of white teeth. She did have a lovely face. A kind face. It was no wonder that even Dragons could discover tenderness at the sight of her. “You came.” The presence of a relieved sigh, the release of which entirely unplanned, surprised her. Had she been that convinced she wouldn't come?

      At that, Reba frowned the tiniest of frowns; not one ill in intent, but as if genuinely confused by the statement. “Of course I did.” Then, her expression shifted into something softer, mouth curving with a smile once more. “Now, are you gonna let me in or what? It's pretty cold out here.”

      “Oh, yeah, ha. Come on in. I made tea.”

*

It was odd, having someone in the house. Everything felt out of place, including herself, and she had to bite the insides of her cheek to stop herself from fidgeting. Instead, she busied herself with pouring a cup of tea for her guest, as well as topping up her own. God knows she needed it. “Sorry the living room's a mess, I've only gotten in not long ago—“

      “It's fine, Molly. I can't tell.”

      “That's very kind of you.”

      “I mean, it's not a matter of kindness. I just can't see.”

      “Oh. Oh shit, you're right.” Momentarily her horror at her own foot-in-the-mouth moment of stupidity absolutely dominated her, eyes widening with the sheer terribleness of it all. She even had a passing urge to clasp at her mouth—or her pearls, like some faint-hearted Southern lady—before Reba cracked up, instantly melting the hard block of abject horror in her chest. It wasn't long before Molly followed suit, her laugh beginning with a bubbling snort and ending with a wheeze. “Jesus. I'm more out of it than I thought.”

      “No kiddin',” Reba trailed off with a smile, “but I'll let you off just this once.”

      “Generous of you,” Molly grinned in response, feeling the hardness of her muscles melt with the gentle banter, “ah, there's tea on the table in front of the couch.” Reba navigated the room, not effortlessly, but with the kind of care that one would no doubt master after a life of being blind; she folded herself on the couch, sinking into it with a sigh. “Good couch?”

      “Great couch.” She didn't say it, but Molly could tell the plush of the couch must have been heaven after a long drive. God knows how much the taxi charged… It seemed rude to offer to pay, or at least like she would be knocked down, so she would have to find other ways to repay her for her time. “It's cold as hell in here,” said Reba, rubbing her palms together, “you got heating?”

      “Oh shit, I didn't even notice.” She was so used to it, at this point, that the cold hardly fazed her unless it came with a gust. At once, she was called to her feet by the need to heat it up, though not without an apologetic prologue: “I warn you, this is an old building, it doesn't have… typical heating.” Rather, a large fireplace that consumed half the wall, and lets out a gentle breath dragged from the sky above. It was not an eyesore in the slightest, but it was hardly practical. What it had in aesthetics, it lacked sorely in ease; though, once she reflected for a moment, the chopping of trees did provide a useful hobby and a sense of security. Still, sometimes she had to wonder if a government-ordained home really had any use being so… complicated to uphold.

      (If she had to theorize, she would think that its many 'unique' factors would scare her into purchasing her own property, but unfortunately for the government and real estate in general, she was still held firmly by her paranoia, and so neglected to make any purchases that could be tied back to her name.)

      “It's a fireplace. Is that… okay?” Needless to say, Molly was hesitant to get fire involved, in any shape or form, after hearing the horror story the Dragon inflicted on her.

      Reba scoffed, but not with ill intention. “Of course it is, girl, put that heating on before I freeze to death.” Molly smiled faintly, and could not help but think of the Robert Frost poem. After a moment of quiet as she set about preparing the fire, Reba voiced a soft addendum: “But thanks for asking.”

      “Of course,” Molly responded, and then brought the fireplace to life. The flames were large and bold, but far from frightening—although her first few dalliances with such a thing were not so devoid of fear—and the effect was immediate. After appraising the fire, Molly settled down next to Reba. “It'll take a little while for it to heat up completely, but the tea should help.”

      “Oh, right!” Reba reached for her cup and inhaled its fumes. “Do I detect a trace of lemon?” she asked, almost impishly, directing her gaze to where she suspected Molly was.

      “Perhaps,” came her response, as light as Reba's inquiry. She took a sip of her own tea, which had cooled from scalding to a drinkable warmth. It did, in fact, carry a trace of lemon—due to the citrus peels prepared alongside the original leaves—alongside the lemon grass, and of course, the dominance of bergamot orange; all this, coupled with a black tea base—she had considered instead using a green tea variant, but there was a reason she defaulted to this—and a splash of milk and two spoonfuls of sugar, made the cup of tea something delightfully rich yet creamy. Reba drank, and her face scrunched and opened with a realization.

      “Earl Grey?”

      “Earl Grey. I remembered it was your favourite. And, well, it seemed fitting.” For Earl Grey tea had been the drink they had shared over their first conversation, as Wally napped at Molly's side, in the waiting room of the FBI's headquarters. Molly had been prepared to sit in silence—how would she strike up a conversation with the other woman?—and yet Reba had approached her, offering her flask. It's Earl Grey, she half-warned, half-apologized, sorry, it's my favourite.

      “Ah, so you weren't lying when you said you liked it.”

      “No!” Molly laughed, taking another drink. With the ambient scent of smoke—the kind that was woody and safe, compared to the crueller scent of its more nefarious cousin—and the taste of lemon and various citrus on her tongue, Molly felt more at home than she had in a year. “I loved it. I still do. It's becoming my favourite too.”

      “Well, I'm glad to hear.”

      “You know, I never, ah, got to thank you for that.”

      “Hm?”

      “Reaching out to me. I really appreciated it. I still do, actually. I needed it. I imagine you needed it too,” she added thoughtfully, “and I think I was too out of it to even thank you properly. I know it was the tiniest conversation ever—“

      “We were talking about the weather,” Reba said with a smile, and Molly's chest warmed. Reba remembered it, too, even though so many months had passed.

      “Like two strangers in an elevator. Yet it… it really helped. That little dose of normalcy. God knows I've needed some normalcy for a while. That's actually why I thought to call you. In like, what, a year? The span of a year, that was the last proper, decent conversation I had, where I didn't feel like I was being scrutinized or… like I was in any kind of danger. You make me feel comfortable.” Safe goes unsaid.

      A moment of silence as Reba took it in.

      “Sorry, did I go too far?” Her knuckles blanched against the porcelain of her cup, suddenly struck by a pang of anxiety. Silence was always a garden for paranoia; like weeds, fears would burst from the soil of her mind and dominate the entirety of it.

      “No, no! I… That's the nicest thing anybody's ever said to me in… well, ever. It means a lot. And hey, Molly… for the record… you make me feel comfortable, too. That's why I came. Being around you… it's a breath of fresh air.”

And like that, the garden was purged; weeds destroyed to the root, and in their place, flowers of euphoria and joy bloomed in their stead with petals of yellow and pink. She smiled, wide, exposing her teeth; this time without any strain, nor any timidness restraining it from its full splendour.

      “So, about that weather, huh?”

      “Cold as anything!”

[ourladyadelaide]

This is a very long post, so sorry :)

Hi guys! Again, sorry for being so bad at posting. SO much has been happening and I haven’t really had the chance. Or rather, sometimes it’s more of a lack of motivation. To be honest, I’ve been struggling a bit. It can be really hard for me to juggle school, going to new places and exploring, and finding time for myself. I want to do everything at once! I get so overwhelmed that I somewhat isolate myself. 

While I adore the friends I’ve made here, it’s not the same as being around people who have known me my entire life. Sarah left on Friday, and it was so nice having her here. Her flight from DC to Brussels got delayed due to the bad winter storm, causing her to miss her flight. 

The only direct flight to Copenhagen until Sunday night. 

We tried to find anything that would get her sooner, which ended up being a 15 hour bus ride. Sarah was such a trooper! Once she got here, we went to brunch and did some exploring of the city. 

BUT, I’m getting ahead of myself. Let me rewind back to February, when I went to London with Lizzie. We got in late on Thursday and met her friend, Will. We went to this crazy bar (I can’t remember the name) which had insane art work everywhere. It was a very neat introduction to the city. 

On Friday, we got brunch and then proceeded to spend 4 hours in the British Museum. We tried to see everything, but it was so big that it was impossible. From there, we went on a very classy ride on the London Eye, complemented by champagne. Definitely worth buying the tickets ahead of time! We got to skip the line and everything. 

After a nice dinner in Chinatown, a couple of Will’s friends took us to a bar a little outside of the city where we saw some local bands perform. Honestly, it was one of the most fun nights I’ve had abroad. The music was so good and the atmosphere reminded me so much of Richmond house shows, it was almost nostalgic. I knew right then that I would be returning to London as soon as possible. I could not get enough of the vibes.

On Saturday, we did some more sightseeing, first going to the Imperial War Museum and then to Parliament. We also stopped in the National Gallery, but I wish I had been able to spend more time there. I did get to see a couple famous Van Gogh pieces, which completely made my day. After dinner, we went to an... interesting club. It was a cool atmosphere but the DJ was honestly terrible. I still had lots of fun, except accidently going into the men’s room and getting yelled at by security. Guess I’ve gotten used to the unisex bathrooms here in Copenhagen!

Finally on Sunday, we had brunch with some of Lizzie’s friends and then went to the Tate Modern. Again, I wish I had more time to do some exploring, but I guess I’ll go back to London again (Mom...).

Flashforward to last Saturday: Since Sarah wasn’t going to get to Copenhagen until Sunday morning, a couple of my friends decided to go out Saturday night. We went to Jolene’s in the Meatpacking district, which is close to where I live. We danced for a very long time, but my friends Shannon and Sam weren’t really digging the techno music (my FAVORITE music to dance to, mind you), so we decided to head out. Since it was already late, I decided I wanted to go home. However, as we were discussing our plans, we realized that this guy who had been creeping on Sam had followed us out of the venue and down the street and was lurking. They were heading downtown so I warned them to be safe and headed toward my home.As I walked past him, I told him to leave them alone. He responded with the creepiest smile. I watched him follow them and proceeded to text Sam frantically. I started to quickly walk home, but managed to get lost in the maze of the bars and clubs of the Meatpacking district. When I finally found my way and was headed in the right direction, I suddenly felt like I was being watched. I turned and saw the same guy, now following me. With a little help from liquid courage, I started screaming at this guy, telling me, no so kindly, leave me alone. Luckily, he backed off, and I had the chance to run all the way home. Shoutout to Sara Jane for answering my frantic calls and virtually walking me home. :)

Like I said before, on Sunday, Sarah got here, we ate and explored a little bit of Nyhavn and downtown Copehagen and Christiana (wink wink) before returning home. Sarah promptly fell asleep after dinner, so we didn’t do too much Sunday night. 

Most of the week consisted of going to museums, going to restaurants and bars, shopping, seeing the Botanical Gardens, and hours of Ru Paul’s Drag Race. Even though many of my peers were traveling across Europe, I was so thankful to be in Copenhagen with my best friend for a week. After all this excitement of being in a new place, a little piece of home to remind me of who I am was exactly what I needed. As I said before, studying abroad can be very overwhelming. There are many times were I feel utterly alone, depressed and anxious. Although I’m used to being apart from some people I love, it’s very hard being away from everyone I love. At the same time, I haven’t really missed Richmond. I really like being Europe and experiencing so many new things. Also, I really love clubs. I love to dance, and I love that everyone in Copenhagen loves to dance. It’s a very complicated feeling, missing home but also dreading returning home. I’m not really sure how to feel about it.

One of the most complicated aspects I’ve dealt with here is my loneliness. At times, I very much enjoy my solitude. For example, after Sarah left on Friday morning, I was by myself until Saturday night when my roommate Allison returned. On Friday, I felt lonely and sad. However, Saturday morning I woke up, did some homework got ready and left Copenhagen to go to see the Louisiana Museum. I love going to museums by myself and I really enjoyed the day I had by myself. Even today, I went to my favorite café, Buzz Kaffe, and worked on a paper literally all day. I didn’t feel lonely once. Until now, as I write this.

I feel like I spend too much time dwelling in the fact that I am alone. The reality is, I’m not alone. I have many people that love and care about me. However, being physically alone always makes it seem to apparent. I’m trying to learn to love myself more. 

To be completely honest, I’ve been struggling with binge eating, especially when I feel anxious and sad. I mean, the food here is AMAZING. But also, since I haven’t been drinking or smoking as much, I’ve been using food as my crutch to dealing with my negative emotions. This is a completely turnaround from last year when I was anorexic. I’ve gained almost 15 pounds since last year. While this can be seen as a good thing, it makes me hate myself. All I can see is how “ugly” I look. I’m trying really hard to see the beauty within my face, body, and personality. Somedays, it’s okay and I feel very good about myself. Other times, I feel very hateful of myself, which leads to more binge-eating.

Through research, I know that trying to starve myself or limiting my eating is not the answer. I’ve been trying to eat more healthy meals, exercising more, and walking everywhere instead of taking the bus. But... everyone here is GORGEOUS. It’s so hard NOT to feel ugly and unloved. However, I know I can overcome this, like I have overcame so many things in my life. I have faith in myself to be stronger than I can imagine.

Until next time.

[skywardsoul]

Alchemy Assistant (chapter 2)

Chapter 2 of my gift to @blookity-bloke!  I hope to upload chapters at about this pace (or hopefully faster) so I hope you all look forward to that. Oh and while it isn't hyper detailed or prevalent of anything, I feel like I should add a warning: there is mentioning of vomiting in this chapter. So uh, on that cherry note, I hope you enjoy!

AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/13128132/chapters/30373950

FF.net: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12771610/2/Alchemy-Assistant

Akko would be lying if she said she wasn’t nervous. Ever since she had left the alchemist’s cottage, Akko just couldn’t get her dark smile out of her head. Seeing those razors of teeth pull up into that grin made her blood run cold. Still, she had to consider herself pretty lucky (for what was probably the first time in her life). To think that she would be able to find the one alchemist in the land to be working on an Emerald Blood cure. Having to work as her personal test subject hardly seemed like an unfair trade when she thought about it that way. In fact, she still felt kinda bad that she wasn’t able to pay Sucy with anything more material. So she was 100% determined to make sure she would be the best damn lab assistant she could be.

With that silent promise of determination made, Akko decided to set out for Sucy’s cottage the first thing in the morning. Remembering the blustery winds of the other day, Akko made sure to dress a good bit warmer than before, wearing her orange winter coat over her apprentice uniform. A bright orange coat wasn’t really the dress of a proper witch, but she was sure that Chariot wouldn’t mind, given the weather. The older witch always had been very understanding. Making sure to lock the door behind her, Akko started on her trek to the alchemist’s house. Considering her apparent attitude towards visitors, Sucy’s house was much closer to Akko’s village than one would think. If one knew the way, it wouldn’t take them more than a half hour’s trip by foot, even less if they went by horse. That being said, it wasn’t like the house was particularly easy to find. Tucked away in a forest clearing, pressed against a grassy hillside, the small building was easily missable, even more so considering it lay off the main forest path. Still, Akko couldn’t help but notice that it was far from an unreachable destination. Sucy certainly wasn’t inviting visitors, but she wasn’t keeping herself so isolated that they couldn’t come.

Making her way through the winding forest trees, Akko soon found herself at the worn wooden door of her destination.

“Alright Akko, This is it,” she muttered to herself in an attempt to steel her nerves. “Just knock on that door, and be the best alchemy assistant that Sucy has ever seen!”

And with that, Akko moved to knock on the door...only for it to instantly swing open and for her to fall flat on her face. Slowly, the brunette girl moved to pick herself up, letting out a groan as she rose. As her vision came back into focus, she noticed Sucy standing nearby, one hand on the door handle, the other over her mouth as she tried to (poorly) hide her snickering.

“Good morning Mrs. Kagari. I didn’t expect you in so early.” Sucy said with a chuckle as reached down, helping Akko to her feet.

“You’re certainly more excited to be my test subject than I thought~”

The alchemist gave a dark chuckle at this, one that only got louder as Akko’s face flushed. She had just wanted to be punctual, and show that she was taking their agreement seriously. That was it. She certainly wasn’t excited to return and be experimented on. Sure, Sucy was quite pretty, but that had absolutely nothing to do with her desire to be a good assistant. Nothing at all.

“I-I just wanted to er,” Akko stuttered. “Make sure you knew I was serious about this…” the brunette trailed off as she looked down in slight embarrassment.

Sucy responded with a simple pleased hum. Despite not looking her in the eye, Akko could just tell the other girl was looking her over.

“Alright then!” Sucy said, breaking a period of silence with a clap. “Why don’t we get right to it and put you to work?”

Akko sprung into action at this, leaping forward to grab the other girl’s hands in her own.

“Of course! I’m ready to do anything you want me to!” Akko said determinedly, her fiery eyes meeting the calm red of Sucy’s.

Akko had expected the alchemist to give another one of her dark laughs at this, that sly, toothy grin from before accompanying it. She did not expect the other girl’s eyes to widen slightly in surprise, nor the slight dusting of pink that spread across her cheeks. That was when Akko registered just how forward she had sounded with her declaration, and just close their faces had gotten. Dropping Sucy’s hands, Akko took a good step or two back, rubbing the back of her head sheepishly.

“Uh yeah, um. Just tell me what to do,” she said in a much more quiet, and less desperate sounding voice.

Sucy didn’t respond immediately, continuing to stare until she suddenly shook her head as if to clear her thoughts. Giving a small cough, the alchemist gestured towards the work bench where she and Akko had sat two days ago.

“R-right. You can start by, uh, cleaning my cauldron,” Sucy said, pulling some cleaning supplies from herself, and handing them to a now bewildered Akko. While she had literally just promised her compliance to do anything, Akko couldn’t help but respond with.

“That’s it? Cleaning?”

“Uh yeah,” Sucy said dryly. “I have other things to focus on right now, and don’t really have time to do it myself. You can use the big sink in the kitchen, the one on the far right,” she said, pointing over Akko’s shoulder.

Akko didn’t know why, but she couldn’t help but feel a sting of disappointment. She should have felt relieved, excited even, that she wouldn’t be forced to drink some vile concoction and sprout ears or turn blue or something. Instead, she felt more like she was being slighted. Did Sucy not trust her to help with something more important? Did she doubt Akko’s resolve to stay and help with the more dangerous testing?

“Come on Akko, get ahold of yourself!” She shouted internally at herself. “Sucy’s just being nice, starting you off with something simple. Gotta get yourself acquainted with things before the real work starts.”

Nodding her head in resolve, Akko made her way to the cauldron. The young witch in training couldn’t help but feel slight awe as she approached the old stone basin. Having been a student under Chariot for several years now, Akko was quite accustomed to magic. Well, she was at least accustomed to seeing magic (her actual creation of magic could still use some work). Yet something about the cauldron, the tools around it, and all the various vials on the shelves excited her. Alchemy was just so fundamentally different than the magic that Chariot was teaching her. Witches used magic to create the impossible, conjuring things for their use or to augment their abilities. Alchemist on the other hand, used their magic to draw out the properties of their ingredients, exemplifying traits that already exist. The intricate differences were fascinating to think about. Part of Akko really wanted to ask Sucy all kinds of questions about alchemy and the type of magic she used, but a much larger more responsible part realized it was probably a much better idea to just focus on her task at hand.

Hefting the cauldron from its place on the workbench, Akko turned to face Sucy with a determined smile.

“Leave it to me! One clean cauldron coming up!” as she spoke, Akko moved to rest the cauldron on her left shoulder, freeing up her right hand for a salute.

For a second time, Sucy simply stood and stared before responding. It was pretty obvious that she was quite surprised to see Akko lift the fairly heavy cauldron so easily. The brunette had never been one to brag about it, but she had to admit she was proud of the strength she had built up from years of helping Chariot with chores.

“Oh yeah, um, guess I’m a bit stronger than I look, huh?” Akko said with a giggle. “Compared to chopping firewood all day for Chariot, this is nothing, trust me!” she said, smiling.

Sucy seemed to have once again returned to her normal self, turning around and lazily waving a hand over her shoulder.

“Yeah yeah whatever,” the alchemist said flatly. “Just try not to break it or anything yeah? Cauldrons aren’t easy to replace.”

Moving towards her front door, Sucy stopped to take what looked like some garden tools that were hanging on a rack nearby.

“I’ll be out in the garden, inspecting some...specimens I have growing there. Don’t bother me unless it’s an emergency, and you better be done cleaning that when I get back.”

And with that, Sucy turned and shuffled out her front door, leaving Akko alone in the cottage. Deciding she should just get right to it, Akko walked over to the kitchen. It wasn’t hard to spot the sink Sucy had been referring to. With a slight grunt, she set the hunk of rock into the large basin, and took a step back to inspect it. The cauldron was mostly unremarkable in appearance. It was made of a dull, gray stone, and seemed to have been carved unevenly. The only real feature of note was the dark blue etchings on its sides. They must have been some kind of symbol, Akko vaguely remembered reading something about alchemy circles at one point, but she was far from sure. It was strange, to think that such wonders, both beneficial and deadly, could come out of such a simple, and quite frankly, ugly lump of stone. Still, it was her job to clean said lump of stone, not judge it’s beauty, so Akko rolled up her sleeves, turned on the faucet, and furiously began to scrub the inside of the cauldron with a brush.

Things had been going quite well, Akko scrubbing away diligently, when an absolutely repulsive smell struck her. Dropping her brush and taking several steps back, Akko covered her mouth and nose in disgust.

“Urgh! それは何ですか!?” Akko shouted, slipping into her native language amidst her surprise.

It had to be one of the most repulsive things she had ever smelled, a cross somewhere between spoiled meat and rotten eggs. Where the heck had it come from? It definitely hadn’t been present a few minutes ago? Akko’s train of thought was interrupted as she was hit by another wave of the mystery stench. This was just great. How was she supposed to finish cleaning the cauldron when all she could think about was this nasty smell?

That’s when something clicked in Akko’s mind, and she slowly approached the cauldron, which had now overflowed with water. No, it couldn’t be. The cauldron wasn’t stinking like that before! All it took was one wif for Akko’s worry to become reality. Maybe this who assistant thing really wasn’t for her after all.

“No!” Akko shouted internally. “You’ve got to do this Akko! Sucy must be testing you after all! Testing your resolve to clean something that smells this nasty!” the brunette reasoned to herself.

“Little does she know that it’s gonna take a lot more than some crappy smelling rock to stop Atsuko Kagari!” and with that thought, Akko took a big breath of Air, slipped her robe over her nose and resumed cleaning.

This had to be some sort of test! She just knew it! There was a perfectly good reason why Sucy had her first task be cleaning this cauldron!

“R-right. You can start by, uh, cleaning my cauldron,” and Sucy had absolutely no idea why she just said that.

“What the hell was that!?” she screamed in her head.

She had been planning to have pick the morgue blooms in her garden for her, and see how the girl would react to their hallucinogenic spores, so why in the world did she ask her to clean her cauldron. It was all Akko’s fault! The girl had caught her off guard. Sucy had to admit she had been quite excited for the girls arrival, and had woken up pretty early to make sure she was ready when she arrived. She had never really had any help with her work before (mostly by her own design) let alone someone willing to be a test subject. She had the entire day and the various test she was going to conduct all lined up and meticulously planned...until that oaf of a girl had said what she did.

“Of course! I’m ready to do anything you want me to!” Sucy heard Akko exclaim as she replayed the moment in her head.

The conviction that had been burning in her eyes, the sudden closeness of her face, the actual words of her statement; it had all been too much, too overwhelming. Sucy had tried to focus once the shorter girl had stepped back, but her brain had betrayed her, echoing Akko’s words throughout her mind. Her mind was all but shot, and when it came time for her to issue her new assistant a command she panicked and said the first thing that came to mind.

“That’s it? Cleaning?”

Sucy fought the urge to cringe at the other girl’s obvious confusion and disappointment. Apparently even she had been expecting much more out of today. Well it was too late for that now. The only way she could get Akko to do something else was backpedal her previous words and no way was she doing that. That would only lead to questions on Akko’s part about why she had changed her mind and Sucy would much rather swallow her most toxic ingredients than explain why.

“Well I got all hot and bothered earlier when you basically swore yourself to me and it threw me off.”

Yeah. Definitely not happening.

“Uh yeah,” Sucy said dryly. “I have other things to focus on right now, and don’t really have time to do it myself. You can use the big sink in the kitchen, the one on the far right,” she said, pointing over Akko’s shoulder.

This was not how she had wanted to start the day. Sucy had to resist the urge to groan in frustration at this whole stupid ordeal. What was she even embarrassed about? So what a cute girl had promised to do whatever she wanted her to. No, correction. Not cute, stupid. She most certainly did not find Akko cute. She was simply her guinea pig, nothing else. Huffing slightly to herself, Sucy decided the best thing right now would be some fresh air. Looks like she would be picking the morgue blooms herself. She was just about to inform Akko of her plans when the brunette’s actions shook her from her thoughts.

Annoyingly, for the second time today, a matter of minutes apart no less, Sucy found herself absolutely dumbfounded as the short brunette girl lifted her solid stone cauldron with ease. It took every bit of will power the alchemist had to keep her mouth from gaping like a fish. It duly registered in her now shot mind that Akko was saying something. Exactly what, she had no idea, but it was quite clear that she needed to leave. Now. She heard herself make up some lame comment about not breaking the cauldron, Mention the mushrooms in the garden, and the next thing she knew, she was out the door. Once she was outside, and out of the eyesight of her new assistant, Sucy felt herself blush.

How the hell was that even possible!? How was a girl that small that strong!? Impossible!! Sucy tried not to, and failed, to think about how easily Akko could lift her. The brunette’s word once again echoed in her head, this time accompanied with a rather embarrassing image of Akko carrying her bridal style.

“~anything you want me to…”

With an annoyed groan Sucy made her way towards her garden. This girl was going to end up being the death of her. Maybe this assistant mess wasn’t the great idea she thought it was.

It turns out picking deadly mushrooms in the crisp winter wind was just what Sucy needed to clear her head. The lavender haired alchemist let out a relaxed sigh as she made her way back to her cottage, a bundle of morgue blooms held securely under her arm. So Akko had a problem with personal space. That could be dealt with. No use in getting flustered everytime the other girl put her face close to her own. She’d just have to tell her to back off more, maybe adding in some punishment if necessary. Sucy chuckled darkly to herself as she imagined the other girl yelping in surprise as a toothed plant hidden in her hood bit her on the nose. Yes there was no reason Akko still couldn’t make a good test subject.

Putting the more...emotionally confusing events that had occurred earlier that morning behind her, Sucy decided that it was probably best to check up on Akko. She highly doubted that she could really mess anything up just from cleaning a cauldron, but remembering back to just how carelessly Akko had grabbed a random vial from her shelves because it ‘looked pretty’ told her it wasn’t a good idea to leave the brunette alone for too long. As she reached the front door, Sucy suddenly became aware of a faint sound coming from her kitchen window. Curious, she left the front door, and made her way closer to the small, round window, stopping just beside it to listen closer. It wasn’t long before Sucy recognized the sound. After all, when one worked with potions, that more often than not tasted terribly, they got quite familiar with the sound of someone retching. That only left the question of why? It was almost certainly Akko, as there was no one else in her home. Did she make herself sick somehow?

Sucy couldn’t help but feel a twinge of worry as she thought about it. Making her way back to the front door, Sucy stepped inside her home, closing the door behind her and making her way to the kitchen.

“Akko, are you alright? I heard you through the window, and it sounded like you were gonna puke your guts ou-”

Sucy cut herself off mid sentence as a powerful odor hit her nose. What the hell was that? The cottage certainly hadn’t smelled like this earlier. With a sigh, she continued into the kitchen. The sight that greeted her was almost comical. An exasperated Akko, looking rather green in the face, was running back and forth between the open kitchen window, and her cauldron, still sitting in the alchemy sink. The brunette girl would stop at the cauldron, scrubbing furiously for several seconds, before darting towards the window, coughing and retching loudly. Then, after taking a deep breath, she would return to the cauldron, repeating the cycle. After watching for several minutes, and holding back several raspy laughs, Sucy cleared her throat. Akko stopped mid dash, whipping her head around to face Sucy.

“Hey, uh, whatcha doing there?” Sucy said, biting back a laugh.

If Sucy had been expecting any sort of reaction, it definitely wasn’t Akko throwing herself onto her knees, and wrapping her arms around her legs.

“I’m so sorry!!” the brunette wailed as she pressed her face against Sucy’s legs.

The alchemist felt her blush from earlier threatening to return.

“W-what the heck are you talking about? Sorry about what?” Sucy asked confused.

“I tried!” Akko responded, seemingly on the verge of tears. “I really tried to clean it honest! But it just started to stink so BAD, and I didn’t I didn’t want to puke on your floor, so I came up with the window idea, but that cut my progress time in half and i-”

“Akko!” Sucy said curtly, cutting off the other girl’s stream of words. “Just, shut up. Tell me what happened, but, normally.”

Standing up, Akko took a deep breath...which instantly caused her to divulge into a coughing fit for several seconds. Sucy rolled her eyes as she patiently waited for the other girl to regain her talking abilities. Finally, Akko calmed down enough to explain herself.

“I was cleanin’ the cauldron like you asked, but it started to stink, like superbad,” Akko said matter-o-factly.

Sucy gave a contemplative hum, as she turned to look at the cauldron. It didn’t take her long to realize the problem.

“Don’t tell me...you didn’t try to use water to clean it did you?”

Akko simply stared back at her slack jawed

“OF COURSE I USED WATER!! WHAT KIND OF QUESTION IS THAT!?” Akko shouted in frustration, pulling in her hair.

Sucy merely chuckled before responding.

“Dathomirian roots react poorly to water. They let off a noxious smell when they get wet. The last potion I made used them as a key ingredient. Their residue is all over that cauldron.” Sucy explained dryly.

Akko crossed her arms unamused. She narrowed her eyes at the alchemist.

“Then what the heck was I supposed to use?” Akko asked crossly.

“Uh, the bottle of cleaner I handed you,” Sucy said, pointing to the bottle she had given Akko earlier along with the scrub brush.

The bottle sat on the counter, clearly forgotten. Sucy watched as Akko turned to look at it, the slowly turn to look back at her.

“You could have told me that!” Akko exclaimed, waving her hands in the air.

She had a point there. Sucy was just so used to cleaning things like this herself, she hadn’t even stopped to consider that Akko had absolutely none of her ingredient know how. This was going to be harder than she thought.

“Yeah you’re not wrong,” Sucy admitted as she walked towards the cauldron. “Sorry about that. I’m not used to working with someone else.”

Sucy felt herself smirk as she looked her cauldron over. It was actually pretty clean, considering it had been done incorrectly.

“I gotta admit, you did a pretty good job cleaning it. You pretty much got all of it.” Sucy said approvingly.

The alchemist quirked an eyebrow as she noticed a sizeable glob of purple root residue sticking to the edge of the cauldron. Pulling her wand from her side, Sucy scrapped the glob onto the tip of it, turning to face her assistant.

“Well, almost all of it,” she said slyly.

Akko’s face immediately turn several shades greener as she recoiled from the goo.

“Ugh! That stuff doesn’t bother you!?” the shorter girl asked incredulously.

Sucy cackled before answering.

“Not anymore. Trust me, any alchemist worth their salt has smelled WAY worse.”

Akko seemed to think about that. Suddenly, a flash of her earlier conviction streaked across her eyes. Slowly, Akko ever so carefully moved closer to Sucy and the foul smelling goop.

“What...are you doing?” Sucy asked, genuinely confused.

Akko merely tightened her gaze in determination.

“You said it yourself, alchemists are totally used to this kind of stuff. If I’m going to be a good alchemist’s assistant, I have to get used to it to!” Akko explained confidently.

Sucy blinked in surprise at this. What was with this girl? Combined with her declaration from earlier in the day, there was no doubt left in Sucy’s mind that she was taking their deal beyond seriously.

“Akko, I uh, appreciate the sentiment, but you don’t have to-” Whatever Sucy was about to say however, was cut off, as Akko suddenly wretched, ran hurriedly to the window, and proceed to violent puke out it. With a sigh, Sucy set her wand down in the cleaner and moved to rub Akko’s back as she emptied her stomach.

“Maybe we should just call it for today,” Sucy said somewhat quitely.

While she had surprised herself by suggesting it, she realized that it was probably for the best. Letting Akko take one thing at time really did seem like the best option, and she was suddenly thankful that her more ambitious plans for today had been tabled. The last thing she wanted to do was scare Akko off, or even worse, genuinely harm her in some way.

Akko however, didn’t seem to agree. As soon as she was done throwing up, the brunette girl swung her head back inside, turning to face Sucy determinedly.

“No way! I’m not giving up yet! So what I got a little sick to my stomach? That’s just part of the job!” Akko said. Sucy was less than convinced

“I promise I’m fine! Honest! Give me something else to do!”

Against her better judgement, Sucy moved a contemplative hand to her chin. It was true that she had plenty of other experiments initially planned for today, the morgue blooms she had set down on the counter seemed to sparkle at her as she remembered her earlier plan of having Akko test the effects of the sopres. It shouldn’t be too strenuous on her, if what she had read was correct it would be like experiencing sleep walking, and Akko had said she was okay…

Turning to look at the other girl, Sucy couldn’t help but notice the determined twinkle in her gaze. The brunette girl bunched her hands into fists in front of her excitedly. Sucy was about to give in and explain Akko’s next assignment, when a flash of disgust and horror crossed Akko’s face.

“OH GODS THE SMELL GOT ON MY HANDS!” was the last thing Akko screeched before returning to puke out the window.

Sucy sighed as she once again rubbed Akko’s back.

“Okay yeah we are definitely done for today.”

She wasn’t 100% certain, but Sucy was pretty sure she saw Akko nod in agreement the best she could.

[winterune]

A Natsume Yuujinchou Fanfiction #1

Prompt: Greeting/Goodbye

Title: A Winter’s Day

Length: 2040

A/N: this is my entry for @natsumeweek​ 2017 event. Also, this is my first time participating in any fandom event, and my first time writing a natsume fanfic and it was quite fun writing this. I’m not entirely sure this fic is about greeting/goodbye. I hope it is. The story is set six months after Takashi was born and Reiko was still grieving for the death of her daughter. I haven’t read the manga but from what I remember and gathered in the anime, Reiko died young so I have always thought Reiko died before Takashi was born. So I guess this is a bit of a “what if...?” I’m sorry if the ending is weird Hope you enjoy^^

Also available on AO3 and FFN

All her life, she had thought luck was never on her side. Shunned by her family, shunned by her friends, shunned by everyone in the entire town, she had always thought she would live her life forever alone. But here she was, sitting on the porch of her daughter’s home—

No, it was not her daughter’s home anymore.

Dead. Her daughter was dead. She was gone. That bright source of life.

The girl who always had her back straight, her chin up, as if she was ready at anything the world threw at her. The girl who loved flowers and knew the name and meaning of every flower and wanted to open a flower shop one day. The girl with the strong, courageous, kind heart who never left her side.

That child she had raised for twenty-five years by herself was not part of this world anymore. Like a bright warm light snuffed out so easily.

“Mother.”

Reiko looked up. A man was standing behind her, holding a baby in his arms. Her son-in-law, the man with whom her daughter had chosen to spend the rest of her life.

Reiko never knew why this young man chose her daughter. Surely everyone knew about her. She couldn’t understand why anyone wanted to associate with someone with a mother like her. But Reiko never asked. Maybe she was still afraid. She didn’t want to know his reasons. Just the fact that he had chosen her daughter was enough. The fact that he even ran away with her to escape his family was enough. She knew how much her daughter had loved this man. Reiko didn’t want to damage that.

So Reiko stood up and held her hands over to him with a smile. “Here,” she said as she took her grandson from his father.

“Thanks,” her son-in-law said. “Sorry, I just need to make lunch for a bit.”

“Ah… no, I should—”

“That’s okay. You’re the guest right now and I need someone to watch over Takashi for a while.”

Reiko felt bad that she wasn’t helping but she let her son-in-law disappear around the corner to the kitchen. She remembered just last year how she was cooking dinner there with her daughter…

Reiko sighed. Going here was a mistake. She still wasn’t ready. It had already been six months and she was still not ready to face this house where so many memories of her child still persisted.

She felt movements in her arms and saw Takashi squirming lightly. Reiko tightened her arms around the six-month old baby and made soothing sounds. “There, there.” She gently swayed her body from side to side. “There, there.”

Takashi. The name her daughter had given to her son. He had a soft face like his mother. His hair—pale, dusty blonde—was soft like his mother’s. Takashi had stopped squirming and was sleeping soundly against her chest. A smile tugged at Reiko’s lips.

“You know, Takashi-kun, I used to be a lot stronger. I got into fights a lot and at the end of the day, I was always covered in mud. Well, it’s either that, or bruises. You’d think I was a thug—well, I did carry a baseball bat a lot, but… I had fun. No, I don’t mean beating youkai is fun, and I didn’t really beat them up with a baseball bat. Thinking about it, I guess they were probably my only friends. I never spent much time with them, though…” Her voice trailed off.

A lump formed in her throat and she found it hard to speak.

“Your mother was a wonderful person. She was the bravest, kindest person I knew and it’s a shame you will never know her.” Reiko chuckled. “I know I raised her but she always managed to surprise me in any way she could.”

Takashi let out some noises and it appeared Reiko had woken him up. But he didn’t cry. He only yawned and blinked his eyes, looking up and meeting her face. He babbled and cooed and reached a gloved hand to her face. Reiko smiled.

“Good afternoon, little one,” she said quietly. “Did you have a good nap?”

He blinked then looked around and that’s when Reiko realized the snow. It was snowing.

“Oh, look, Takashi-kun. It’s snowing!”

Takashi was enraptured by the falling puffs of snow. Reiko dared to step into the yard and when snow fell on Takashi’s head, he shook his head and laughed and smiled and it was the warmest thing Reiko had felt in months.

His laughter died almost suddenly and Reiko saw him staring at something.

“What?”

She followed his gaze—

Toward her daughter’s neglected garden. Her son-in-law had tried to plant some flowers, but failed, so now it was only a fenced-in space of dirt with patches of snow here and there. And there, among the rocks and pebbles and snow was a shadow.

A shadow with glowing white eyes that blinked.

Reiko’s heart beat went up. Not at the shadow itself, but at Takashi.

He could see it.

“Reiko~~” the shadow whispered but it was as loud in her ears as a thunder cracking the sky. “Reiko~~”

Reiko had learned not to pay too much attention on things that could not be seen or heard by others. And she would have managed to ignore the shadow-youkai if Takashi’s gaze had not been so raptured by it.

But what surprised her was that he was not afraid. His eyes lit up at the sight of the shadow-youkai.

“Reiko-san?”

Reiko’s head jerked up.

It was a voice she never knew yet felt so familiar.

And there stood a boy, teenage, around fifteen or sixteen, with dusty-blonde hair and gold eyes. When their eyes met, he couldn’t hide his surprise that she had seen him, and she knew without a doubt who he was and that he was real and maybe that was that youkai’s doing or some other youkai’s doing because there was no way her grandson had grown so much in such little time.

“Reiko—”

The apparition disappeared, as if blown by the wind. But the shadow-youkai was still there and Reiko decided to bring Takashi back into the house.

~*~

Takashi opened his eyes. He was on the ground. Huge trees surrounded him. And it wasn’t snowing. The leaves were gold and yellow and the ground was littered with dead leaves.

“You’re finally awake,” an annoyed voice came from his chest.

Nyanko-sensei was sitting there.

“You’re heavy, Sensei,” Takashi groaned.

Sensei leaped onto the ground. “Seriously! How long did you have to sleep?”

“I saw Reiko-san,” Takashi murmured, sitting up slowly. “And I saw my father. And my old home. And Reiko-san… she saw me.”

Nyanko-sensei blinked. “I guess that was that Ayakashi’s doing.”

“What?”

“You just returned his name, remember? I guess he has the ability to bring you to the past.”

Ayakashi? Now that he thought about it, he did just return the name to a shadow-youkai.

“So it’s not just seeing their memories like usual?” Takashi asked slowly.

“Yes,” said a deep voice. It came from the trees. Takashi turned his head around but couldn’t locate the source of the voice. “I brought you to see Reiko.”

“Why?”

“You saw my memories. I had been searching for her to ask for my name back, but she had grown old and she had grown sad and she was not the Reiko I used to know. I decided to leave her be, then, and let her keep my name. I did not expect to meet her grandson in the town where she used to live, and I did not expect her to have given you the book. I am sorry that she had passed away. I would love to know how she met her end because the last time I saw her, Reiko was grieving the loss of her only daughter. Letting her meet you, even only for a fraction of a second, had given her joy beyond measure.

“As a thank you gift, here—”

A small envelope floated down from the foliage until it landed safely on Takashi’s up-turned palms.

“A letter from Reiko. Thank you, and farewell.”

A gust of wind blew through the trees, shaking the leaves. Birds took flight in terror and animals immediately burrowed into their dens. Takashi kept a strong hold on the envelope until the wind died down and everything was quiet.

“He’s gone,” he whispered to himself.

“Are you going to open that?” Nyanko-sensei asked. “If not, let’s go home so we won’t be late for Touko’s dinner!”

“Wait, Sensei,” Takashi told him as he settled into a more comfortable position and opened the envelope. Inside was a piece of paper, yellow on the edges, the ink already fading.

Hello, Takashi-kun,

I’m Reiko, your grandmother. This must be a bit sudden to you. I don’t know when you will read this but when you do, there is a chance that I might not be there anymore. In fact, I have a feeling I won’t be able to see grow up. That is quite a shame because I know you will become a wonderful boy.

Takashi-kun, I would like to apologize. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Takashi-kun. If you somehow have gotten to know your relatives, you would have heard one or two things about me. I’m sorry. I can’t say sorry enough. I have the ability to see youkai and I know that you can too, Because of that, many people don’t like me and I have lived a life isolated by everyone. I’m sorry that you might lead a similar life like mine. I know it’s scary that you can see things other people can’t. I know people may shun you and hate you for it and you may feel the need to close yourself and shut everyone out. But trust me, Takashi-kun, that that doesn’t apply to everyone.

There are people who love you. There are people who will love you. Believe in that, Takashi-kun.

I made a mistake. I made a mistake of not trusting anyone. I didn’t even trust my own daughter fully. Even though she had always stayed true beside me in all her twenty-five years of living, I couldn’t bring myself to trust her fully. So please, Takashi-kun. Don’t make the same mistakes I made. Don’t hate them. Don’t hate youkai. Don’t hate people. Believe in them. Believe in those who stayed with you.

You know, Takashi-kun, I saw you, once, on a winter day. It might have been a trick of the light, but I knew with all my heart that what I saw was real. It was you, Takashi-kun. You’ve grown, and healthy, and you look exactly like your mother and father. If anything, I think you look quite like me too haha. I wish I could have known you.

Anyway, I don’t know when you will read this, but wherever you are, whenever it is, I wish for you wellbeing and happiness.

P.S. I have a book I want you to have. I’ll just slip this letter inside it so you’ll know which one I’m talking about. It has names of the friends I made when I was at school. I want you to keep it. It is a very precious treasure of mine. Keep it safe.

Love,

Natsume Reiko

“Reiko-san wanted me to keep it safe, Sensei,” Takashi said.

“Well yes. You keep it safe until you die and then the book belongs to me. That was our deal,” Nyanko-sensei said as he washed a paw.

Takashi made an exaggerated sigh. “Until the day I die doesn’t mean you can slack off in your bodyguard duty, Sensei,” Takashi retorted.

“What?” Sensei leaped to four feet and hissed. “Who says I’m your bodyguard? You are my prey.”

“Yes, yes,” Takashi said. He stood up. “Come on, Sensei, let’s go home. I’ll treat you manju on the way home.”

Sensei grinned. “Yay! Manju!”

Takashi stashed the letter in his bag, beside the Book of Friends, and took one last look at the forest he was leaving. There was no more trace of the shadow-youkai, or any youkai.

Thank you, Reiko-san. And hello to you too.

~ END ~