#but no electrical equipment in our area said nope

[callalillywrites]

11:30AM: Out and about when we get a text from the major electrical grid company for our state. Our area is suffering power outage and internet outage.

No power means we're completely locked out because our double-bolted doors are also fully engaged. No outside lock to unlock the top bolt. Only way in is through our garage and that's now out of the question.

Just finished up grocery shopping when we got the text so we have cold stuff and it's over 90 degrees Fahrenheit. Thankfully, we have a friend close enough by we can borrow their fridge and freezer.

We're now eating out which is something we were avoiding with buying groceries and kill some time until power is restored.

Internet restored 1:30PM. Power restored 2PM.

Food retrieved and now finally home (3PM).

Not leaving the house for the rest of the day.

But what an adventure today's been. Made the most of it but 0/10 recommend.

[wonwooze]

Something told me it was you.

characters: jeon wonwoo/reader au genre: light smut, fluff warnings: cussing, alcohol consumption word count: 5841

Jeon Wonwoo is your best friend for life. You two met just before the two of you were supposed to depart for college. The two of you declared that the term platonic was the exact terminology to describe your friendship. You two were each other’s wingman, sworn protectors, and so many more. So it became a wonder, a great mystery when the two of you starts to realise that the line between love, and being in love is a fine one. Wonwoo best friends! to lover inspired by Zayn’s Tightrope. 

i. We Should Thank Seungkwan

messages

15:46

Seungkwan boo: hey loser. What are you doing today? Probably nothing I shouldn’t ask. I’m going to eat out with a couple of my friends tonight. You should come and stop being such a caveman. See  ya.

y/n: when? What should I wear? What friends?

Seungkwan boo: at 6, we’re going to a movie first at the mall. They’re my school friends. And they’re cool don’t worry. Be ready I’ll come get you.

y/n: ????? Ok

Seungkwan was a friend you, almost quite literally, found on craigslist. At the time you met Seungkwan, you were struggling with SAT and college application. Wanting to get into one of the top 5 universities didn’t help either. Equipped with wits, and endless resourcefulness, you found Seungkwan’s ad on craigslist. He was offering himself to be an SAT tutor, claiming that he almost graduated as valedictorian. After a quick search of his social media, Boo Seungkwan turned out to be enrolled in one of the top private schools in the country. You decided that he looked like a legit tutor that could help you ace your college application, and enlisted his help. As it turns out, Seungkwan was a better friend than he was a tutor. He was always hanging out with you at your house, or at his, telling the perfect jokes where he reiterates funny stories of his schoolmates—whom you never met—in great detail. You liked hanging out with Seungkwan, it would’ve been so much better if you have met him earlier, you thought.

That night was like no other. Seungkwan had never asked you to meet his schoolmates before. You’ve only seen their pictures on Seungkwan’s instagram posts, and have only heard of them from his anecdotes. All you know was that he had a large group of friends, and that they’re supposedly really fun. When Seungkwan showed up on your doorstep, he was eerily excited. He had a huge grin stamped on his face, and a Prius waiting behind him with the engines on. “I’m so excited for my friends to finally meet each other! You know y/n, I’ve been telling these fools that you would be a great addition to our friend group but they weren’t having it.” Seungkwan gestured to his friends inside the car. “Their loss, not mine.” You told him. “That’s the spirit!” He chimed.

When he finally shoved you into the backseat, and himself into riding shotgun, you finally had a look at the infamous Seungkwan’s friend group. There were a total of 5 people in that car, including yourself. You were stuck in the backseat, with two other guys you absolutely had never seen before. “Everyone, this is Y/N! She’ll be gracing us with her presence tonight.” That remark made you blush, and chummy in the gut, feeling the room temperature about to get awkward. You were always kind of anxious about meeting Seungkwan’s friends, fearing they decided they didn’t like you at the end of the day. “Hi.” You said awkwardly, waving your sweater paws lightly.

“You know, y/n. I always thought Seungkwan made you up just so he can ditch us lately. Nice to meet you though, I’m Soonyoung.” The boy sitting at the other side of the seat said by way of greeting. “Yeah, I always doubted you were real. I’m Vernon, nice to meet you.” The boy next to you said shyly. He was good looking, and had the faint smell of aftershave. “Yah! You guys are always on my neck it’s annoying.” Seungkwan chimed in from the front. And that’s how you met Wonwoo. Even if he didn’t made the introduction right then and there, you finally had a good look at him when the group finally arrived at the mall. He straightened his blazer before he reached out his hand to you, and with his baritone like deep voice announced that his name was Jeon Wonwoo.

“Wonwoo! Y/n is going to go to NYU this year! I was helping her with her application remember?” Seungkwan said in the middle of gulping down his cola. Your heart leapt when he mentioned NYU, still berated with the anxiety of college entrance procedures. “You are? Me too! What are the odds. Man I sure hope I get accepted though, it would suck if I didn’t.” “NYU is famous for its film school though, are you majoring in film?” This was the first chance you got of a private conversation with Wonwoo. “Nope. I’m majoring in English lit. Are you taking film?” “Yeah, I do actually.” You liked Wonwoo immediately. You remembered thinking his presence was so still, and calm, so calm that it softened your rough edges, and calmed your anxiety. “I hope I got accepted though. I don’t know what I would do if I didn’t” You told him. Wonwoo shrugged lightly, and nonchalantly adds, “You’ll get in. Trust me.” You’ve never trusted zodiacs, or tarot reading, or anything of the sorts. But the way Wonwoo said it, his deep set cat like eyes piercing into you, that day you decided you were going to trust Jeon Wonwoo and whatever he said.

The next time you met him was when the two of you settled into orientation day at NYU. Wonwoo lived in a dorm at campus area, and you got your own place 5 minutes away from him. The two of you were so delighted when you met each other that day. Wonwoo remembered thinking it was like a match made in heaven. Being the quiet, shy, introvert that he is, Wonwoo relished the idea of having company when venturing into a brand new territory. He secretly wanted to held your hand the whole time but refrain from doing so. That day, Wonwoo took you to eat at a wings joint near campus, and the two of you laughed your asses off listening to Wonwoo’s anecdotes about Seungkwan. Lips smeared with barbecue sauce, Wonwoo ended his sermon about Seungkwan with a statement that you had etched into your memory until today. You and Wonwoo had fought about a number of things, which band was better, which movie was better, which tie he should buy. Sometimes he changed your mind, and sometime you changed his. But on this specific issue, you have never changed your opinion about because you had agreed completely. That night he said, “we should really thank Seungkwan though. If it wasn’t for him, we wouldn’t have met each other and I wouldn’t have a friend at campus. Who would’ve thought he would be a blessing?” The two of you have never stopped talking since then.

ii. The Tale of Two Roommates

“Won!” You banged at Wonwoo’s dorm room at exactly 7 pm. The two of you were supposed to hang out at the library, studying for finals. “Just a sec!” You heard Wonwoo called from inside the room, and couldn’t help but wonder what is taking him long enough. Contrary to what you expected, when the door finally swung open it wasn’t Jeon Wonwoo that was at the other side of the door. It was Wonwoo’s roommate, Kim Mingyu, if you had remembered correctly.  “Oop! Sorry to startle you. Wonwoo is going to take some time, you better come in.” He said sweetly, a smile was breaking on his lips. Mingyu was kind of cute, and you wondered why Wonwoo never mentioned that fact. “Thanks! Um, Mingyu is it?” “Correct! I suppose Wonwoo have mentioned me?” Mingyu had eyes like sugar and caramel, sweet. “Only in passing.” You shrugged lightly. Mingyu proceeded to sit on his bed and fiddled his laptop.

“I hope you don’t mind me blasting a song through my laptop? I lost my headphones a couple of days ago.”

“Yeah no problem! This is your room anyway.”

“Just between you and me,  I lent my headphones to Wonwoo and I could swear he had never given it back.” Mingyu said, not looking mad at all, instead his visage was decorated with a dubious grin. Implying that him and Wonwoo are close enough to make fun of each other. You continued to wonder why Wonwoo never properly introduced the two of you. The person in question was still in the bathroom, hell, only God knows what he’s doing in there.

You had thoughts that Wonwoo was going to be taking too long, and the library is going to be crowded by the time you two got there, but in all honesty he was unknowingly doing you a favour. As you sat on Wonwoo’s bed on the other side of the room, Mingyu was casually playing music by different artists. His tastes ranges from electric music, dance music, to popular songs you often hear on the radio. Your heart skipped a beat only when he glances at you from across the room, and replayed the song that was playing before. It was from Arctic Monkey’s 2013 album, a song you often play when you were in the mood to fall in love. The song, titled Knee Socks, was dripping through the speakers, and Mingyu caught your head bopping along with the beat. “You know this song?”

“Yeah, it was pretty popular when it came out didn’t it?” You added. This time you held Mingyu’s gaze. “It is actually! God, I feel so dumb playing this song now. It feels so outdated.” You chuckled at that. What does an attractive man like Mingyu had to fear? He began to talk to you about the songs he played after Arctic Monkey’s famous ballad was over. And you realised that Kim Mingyu, had held your attention completely. There was something about him that reminded you of chocolate covered caramel. When Wonwoo finally came out of the bathroom, he had looked unusually dashing. His face was completely bare, save for his round eyeglasses he never took off. He was wearing a v-neck t-shirt that shown his perfectly sculpted collarbone. And his wet hair was still slightly dripping. Not that you had noticed any of this, because that night you were completely smitten by Kim Mingyu.

Since then, you’ve found yourself making up a string of unusual reasons to come over to Wonwoo’s dorm. Either to borrow a charger, borrow Wonwoo’s laptop, anything, just so you have an excuse to see Kim Mingyu. It was between your 5th to 6th visits when Mingyu finally asked you out on a date. Wonwoo, being Wonwoo, always warned you against it. “Be careful! I hear he has a reputation.” It’s always be careful this, be careful that. You only started to wonder if Wonwoo was making some of those things up. As reality goes, Mingyu turned out to be one of the sweetest guy to exist. He was always walking you back to your place, even if that meant he had to take a 5 minute detour. He was always careful of your feelings. He never disregarded anything you said. The first few months, your relationship with Mingyu was perfect. You hung out with him in his room, which gave you the additional advantage of hanging out with Wonwoo too. You made Mingyu hot chocolate when he’s craving for one, and the list goes on.

But some stories are not only about you. When you first started dating Mingyu, Wonwoo was always skeptical about it. He was never quite sure about the odds of you two being together. But when it looked like it was going perfectly, Wonwoo’s frown began to cease. His doubts replaced with another feeling. Wonwoo couldn’t quite give the feeling a name, he just knew it when he felt it. 

The first time was when he walked into the two of you cuddling on Mingyu’s bed. It was not like Wonwoo was seeing red, but it almost seemed like he did. He felt the tiniest pinch inside his gut, but no words were registered to explain the phenomenon. After that, he only dreaded the thought of seeing the two of you together. It was not as if he didn’t like seeing you happy, he did. He completely, wholeheartedly did. He just preferred he didn’t have to see it.

iii. You Shouldn’t Build Houses Out Of People

It was nearing the end of your second year in college when you woke up in Wonwoo’s arms. You and Wonwoo stayed being the best friends that you always were. The year that has passed only made the bond stronger. There has been an additional list of activities that you and Wonwoo had shared without making it awkward because you two are almost closer than any friend. Going out late at night for McDonalds, hanging out at his dorm, catching a midnight movie premiere together. It was always Wonwoo this, Wonwoo that, if not Mingyu this, Mingyu that. Wonwoo had hugged you, braided your hair, picked you up and swung you around when your short movie won a college award. You had hugged Wonwoo, caressed the top of his head, squeezed his hand when you get nervous. Anything and everything. You had stayed together with Mingyu too, the whole time. You caught yourself repeatedly saying a prayer for Wonwoo and Mingyu’s presence in your life.

This is where the chapters started to get ugly. Love stories, they tend to get ugly before the main protagonist had any idea what they had been seeing. The same pattern you had found happening with your relationship with Mingyu. It was not as if you didn’t love Mingyu, you do. And he loved you too. But as time strengthen some relationships, yours only wore it down. Mingyu was constantly distracted by his college, his devotion to his music projects, his friend group that doesn’t include you and Wonwoo. This is when you start to realise that love was not a given. It was supposed to be a companion you were supposed to caress, feed and entertain. It was a guest, that came knocking into two people’s heart. And when the people in question started to be too busy to take care of it like they used to, love began to walk out the door. And so then, when Mingyu began to choose hanging out with his band, instead of you, or when you made little effort in making Tuesdays with Mingyu happen again, that was when love began to fade into the background.

The breakup was harsh. It was not as if you had been too numb to not feel broken up about ending a year long relationship with Mingyu. You had silently wept for falling out of love, you often question what you could’ve done to make it turn out the other way. You and Mingyu was sitting at the bench in the dorm lawn. It was almost midnight, so no one could’ve overheard the silent sobs. “It’s hurting me. That we are together, but I don’t feel for you anymore. I feel for the memories. I clung to it as if it’s the only thing I have. It pains me.” Mingyu’s words would not leave your head for years to come. And you had silently nodded in pain, because it was hurting you too. To look at Mingyu, and to wish loudly that things were as they were before. It hurt you to look at Mingyu and could only think of the past when the memories of present was what supposed to hook you onto reality.

He had went inside after that. That night, Mingyu didn’t walk you home and take his usual 5 minutes detour. But Wonwoo did. Like all best friends do, upon seeing Mingyu coming into the room looking completely distressed, something in Wonwoo snapped. He grabbed his coat, ran down the stairs and caught you silently crying on the bench. Wonwoo walked you home. Staying completely silent all the way there. Tucked you in to bed, and brew you coffee. He stayed with you the whole night, skipped class the next day, and moved out of his dorm the next day. “I just think it would be awkward seeing Mingyu after this.” He had said when you asked him why. You promised you would help him find a place.

Before you two had found one though, Wonwoo stayed at your place for a couple of days.  And then days turn to weeks. You had an extra spare bed you only used if your parents come to visit, and Wonwoo was welcomed to occupy it anytime he want. It was quite a comical set up, Wonwoo sleeping on the extra bed in front of the tv, and you on safely tucked in your bedroom. Wonwoo’s stuff splattered everywhere in his space, yours neatly stacked in your bedroom. You having to walk over Wonwoo sleeping body when you had to go to the bathroom at 3 in the morning. It was quite comical, but it was extra magical. Wonwoo was the best roommate anyone could ever ask for, he made dinner sometimes, do the dishes regularly, he’d watched shitty tv with you all the time, and he’s basically a kickass friend. You didn’t want to admit it but having Wonwoo living with you clearly made your days a whole lot better. You slept better knowing the safety of Wonwoo’s presence. You studied better, because Wonwoo always offered to study with you—knowing that someone willingly endured a form of torture with you, had given you an extra serotonin boost. You almost wished he would never found his own place.

The one night that you highlighted vividly in your memory about this chapter you shared with Wonwoo, was the night of your final exams. Exams had always tortured you. You always had this innate need to do everything perfectly, but also freaking out over the limited time that you have in studying. It was not a strange phenomenon that sometime you broke down crying before an exam, it was an accepted reality. Especially, when the days are extremely bad. You would cry harder, or break easier. There was nothing in between.

When Wonwoo noticed this, he calmed you down immensely. You were instantly reminded of how Wonwoo’s presence provided you this strange sense of calmness that softened all your edges. Wonwoo told you not to get too hung up over it, you’ll ace it anyway, you’ll be fine, in his deep baritone voice you secretly admired. The cherry on top of the sundae was when Wonwoo brought you to your room, tucked you in lightly so you would sleep. “It’s okay to sleep now. We’ve been studying since 5, we can continue again tomorrow morning. Besides your exams didn’t start until the day after tomorrow right?” The way he said it so calmly just forced rationality inside your head, you did nothing but nod. You caressed Wonwoo’s hand lightly as he sat by your bed to fiddle with his phone. Anyone who didn’t comprehend the bond you had with Wonwoo would think that what you were doing implied that you were his girlfriend. But anyone who shared the same bond probably knew better. But you weren’t so sure you knew better either.

“Won. Please don’t leave.”

“What? I’m not leaving. I’m right here.” He said, not peeling his eyes off the screen. “I mean just sleep here tonight. I have plenty of room.” At that Wonwoo directed his gaze at you. Undoubtedly surprise at your statement. This, was the one activity you had never done together. “Are you sure?” He asked. Wonwoo, the compassionate, quiet guy, who had helped you strengthen your grip on reality, time and time again. Sometimes you ask yourself if you even deserve him. “I’m serious. Just sleep!” You tugged at his hand and tapped at the empty space beside you. “Okay..” He agreed, and proceeded to take off his glasses, put down his phone and lay down beside you. Granted, with Wonwoo on the bed, the space seemed to shrink.

“Are you comfortable?” He asked innocently. “Ugh, don’t make this awkward Won. Just flop on the bed, lay in it, whatever. My bed is your bed, too.” You said as you stare at him. Head propped on the pillow. It was not long after that you started snoring. And so did Wonwoo. Secretly he liked sharing your bed. Your warmth provided him a strange sense of comfort he never experienced before. Wonwoo, only wondered, not out loud though, at the strange beat of his heart that night.

The nights after that wasn’t as bad as the first one. Sometimes you flop over his bed in front of the tv and slept with him. Sometimes he slept on your bed. It was a shared routine that you two never talked about. Not a single word said about the nature of this new activity.

A couple of nights after, you were casually scrolling through your instagram feed only to be greeted with a picture of Mingyu, and a girl you recognised was his classmate. You didn’t know what it meant. Had it meant Mingyu was completely over you? Did he do it just to piss you off? You realised you were living in bliss when you were with Wonwoo. Completely unaware of the world going on out there. Almost like a honeymoon, you thought, but then quickly dismissed the thought as if it were foul. But that picture of Mingyu had completely shattered the serenity that sheltered you and Wonwoo. You threw your phone across the room. Seemingly seething with anger.

“The hell? What is wrong with you?” He began to walk and pick up the phone. Mingyu’s smile was still plastered on the phone. The same exact page. “Oh.” He said when he realised what it was all about. “Yeah. Oh.” Your voice was dripping with venom. Only then did you realise how your anger at the breakup has never really subsided. It was as if anger comes in waves, and this was about to crash, loudly. Wonwoo calmly put the phone down to pull you into a tight hug. His hug felt calming. If your anger was like waves, Wonwoo’s hug was like a lighthouse.

You were sitting next to him on his bed, your head atop his shoulder, and his chin atop yours. “I’m sorry.” He said, softly. You made a mental note that you could recognise his voice, anywhere, anytime. You only shrugged in response. Did your relationship not mean anything to Mingyu? It hurts the most when it almost meant the world to you. You were cherishing the way Wonwoo’s arms curled on your shoulders was like a sign of protection. It in and of itself, meant you’re safe. You could only wonder how someone could be of such importance to another person.

“You know, you shouldn’t build houses out of people, y/n. Because they come and go. So easily. Almost like it’s nothing.” He finally pulled himself away from his initial position to stare at you right in the eyes. His eyes, you’ve always thought was like a cat’s. But now you realised the gaze, the fire flaming behind it, it looked more like a fox’s. Everything about Wonwoo in that moment, reminded you of safety, protection, familiarity and home. He was the only thing in New York that tied you to home. You both came from the same small town, you knew the same people, you’ve been his friend since college barely even started. Wonwoo was, in every sense of the word, home. And that night you’ve decided to come back.

You’d like to think you were never on your right mind when you’re sad. You were always making rash decisions you would later either regret, or forget. You never really know what was into you, to get you to pull him by the t-shirt, close the distance between you two that initially felt like 5 miles, but was now nothing but a shared breath. You kissed him, so hard that it felt like you were drowning. Later in life, when someone offered you to pick between chocolate covered caramel and peppermint candies, you made sure to pick the latter. Because that night, Wonwoo smelled like peppermint candies, and you couldn’t get it out of your mind. Almost as if it was driving you crazy.

You’d like to think you were pushed by all the pent up anger, the unsaid feelings about how you secretly liked Wonwoo’s touch, Wonwoo’s presence beside you on the bed, just Wonwoo. It could’ve been the way Wonwoo was literally sitting underneath the moonlight, basking in all of its glory. It could’ve been the way his fox like eyes stared at you like no one ever does before, like he understood you, through and through. It could’ve been anything. All you knew was if you didn’t kiss Wonwoo, you would’ve gone insane. “Kiss me, Won.” You murmured against his lips. And to your surprise, he did. He kissed you like he had never kissed anyone before.

He, on the other hand, liked to think, he was carried off. He didn’t know what has gotten into his right mind kissing you like that. Like he was hungry. Like he was in pain. He had pushed all other thoughts from his mind. That night there was only you. He looked into your eyes, and was reminded of the person you have always been to him. The only person who would listen to his nerdy ramblings about movies. The only person who remembered the names of all his cousins who always caused him trouble. The only person worth a damn in this whole world. It was not long before his hands found the buttons of your shirt, and your hands slid into his back, passionately lifting his t-shirt. When he pulled himself off of you to breathe, you recited him, “I shouldn’t build houses out of people, because they leave. But you, you’re my best friend Won. You would never leave.” You pulled him into a kiss one more time, and that night was the night the two of you came home.

iv. What We Talk About When We Talk About Love

“Jeon Wonwoo!”

Wonwoo, startled, immediately turned around to see who that was. The owner of the voice was Kwon Soonyoung, his childhood best friend. Wonwoo had his hand on your back, slowly ushering you to Soonyoung’s direction. Kwon Soonyoung was a handsome 20-something year old. He was tall, not taller than Wonwoo, you made a mental note to yourself. His figure was very lean, like the figure of a professional figure skaters, or that of a professional dancer. Wonwoo with a grin stamped all over his face went up to him and gave him the tightest hug.

It was a festive evening. To be precise, it was Wonwoo’s friend, Seungcheol’s wedding. “Crazy how he is only a year older than me, but he’s getting married. Meanwhile, I couldn’t even score a date?”

Strange as it may seems, that one eventful night was the only time you slept with Wonwoo. You two woke up the other day, brushed each other’s hair, straightened your t-shirts and went on with life like nothing had happened. You had always thought it was one of two things; either it meant nothing, or it had meant everything and the weight of the thought had rendered your tongue useless. Either way, the two of you had never mentioned dating, or sex, or relationship in front of the other. As if it was a silent pact. The fact that this pact was never officially made just confirmed that Wonwoo and you practically operated on the same braincells.

“It’s because you have never made a move! Jeon Wonwoo, how are girls supposed to get to know you if you never made a move?” Unlike a normal person, Jeon Wonwoo never thought other girls exist besides you. It was always you, he thought of. You’re the only person he would call if he got into a fight with his mom. You’re the only person that should know his in depth feelings about his classmates. You’re the only person he thought of for a date to a friend’s wedding. After all, you’re his best friend.

“It feels like we haven’t seen each other in years!” Soonyoung exclaimed. The way he inserts himself into conversations strangely feels familiar. Soonyoung has a presence that made you immediately felt embraced, and at ease. He kind of reminded you of Wonwoo that way. “It’s because we truly haven’t, moron! How are you doing? I see you’re still getting 0 luck with girls.” Wonwoo teased him. The way the two interacted, made you think of brothers who have been separated for too long. Soonyoug playfully slapped Wonwoo’s back and gulped down his champagne. “Aish, don’t go flexing on me now that you got yourself a beautiful girlfriend!” He said, gesturing to you who were just standing there.

“Me? I’m not his girlfriend! I would never! No offense to you though, Won.” A smile emerged on Wonwoo’s face. It is a running joke that you would never date Wonwoo, and vice versa. You once told him, “At this point, we’re practically twins!”

“None taken, my lady.” Wonwoo said, still with the smile on his face. “Oh! Thank god. I was about to give you a whole essay on why you should rethink your decision.” Soonyoung teased, winking at you. At that the three of you laughed. You’ve never met Wonwoo’s childhood friends before. But he had always assured you, they’re like family to him, so they should be family to you too.

You, Soonyoung, and Wonwoo took up a table of five, joined by Seungkwan, and Seokmin who just happened to know Seungcheol too. You gave Boo Seungkwan a kiss on the cheek, reminding him how much you missed him. Seungkwan and Seokmin was such a comedic duo, you couldn’t help but burst with laughter every five minutes or so. It was one of those days where you really enjoyed yourself.

Weddings were not particularly your type of events. Strangely though, weddings were always graced with a type of magic that you could sense through the air. It might be because of how weddings itself was supposed to be the strongest union of two individuals who loved each other endlessly, and sacred enough that it could only be broken through death. It could be because a wedding is the happiest moments of a person’s life. It could be because for everyone else who was invited, it was a chance to reunite with old friends, and families.

And that night, the magic poured on your cheeks like raindrops. That night, as you sat by Wonwoo’s side. Feeling strangely nervous for finally meeting Wonwoo’s friends, he held your hands so tight, as if it was a secret message. And the message reads; don’t worry, you’re safe. What’s crazy is how he never let go of your hand the entire night. It was an unspoken gesture, but it was there. Even when you have finally loosen up, and laughed along with Seungkwan and Seokmin, he still wouldn’t let go.

When Seungcheol came up to the stage, serenaded with lovely romantic tunes, and began to start his speech, an homage to his wife. The night began to descend into something you are not entirely sure of.

“If I was supposed to describe my wife in three words, I’m going to be at a loss of words. Because how do you even try to describe someone so attentive, so caring, so beautiful, entirely intelligent, possesses the kindest heart, with just three words? 

My wife has given me everything I thought I didn’t deserve.”

During that pause, Wonwoo clutched your hand a little bit tighter.

“I was not the least bit stable when I first met her. That is even an understatement. I was just a mess. I was all over the place. I was late on bills, I was fired from my previous two jobs, and worse, I preferred to be drunk than having to face any of that senseless reality.”

This time you clutched his hand tighter. At one point, you could feel your own breath flowing in and out of your lungs.

“But, my wife? She was like a god sent. She came into my life like the angel Gabriel. Gave me a sense of direction. Helped me get sober. Helped me find a place to live that was not my mother’s basement.” Seungcheol earned quite a number of chuckles at that. But if you look clearly, his wife’s, as well as his friend’s eyes were starting to brim with tears. It must’ve been a dark chapter in his life.

“This woman practically saved my life.”

You turned your head, to get a look at Wonwoo. He was still staring directly at the stage, there were bits of tear on his clear, perfect eyes. As you look at him, you were only reminded of one thing. That night at your place, where Wonwoo was basking in the moonlight. Tonight, it was as if he was the moonlight. His grip on your hands felt like a comfort, security. The way he had always made you feel.

“So, when they asked me to write an homage to the angel who I’m now proud to call my wife, I thought, ‘man, how am I supposed to do that?’”

Wonwoo must’ve felt your stares, because now he was looking at you. There was such tenderness in his eyes, that couldn’t be compared. You’ve never seen Wonwoo this way before. Like a godsent. There was only one time that almost, briefly mimics this moment. It was the day you two went to the beach, for the first time together. Wonwoo was staring straight into the sunset, the wind whipping his hair, the glow of the sunset framing his visage. The scene was so dreamy, you almost thought it didn’t happen.

“Man, I suck at this. I hope my wife isn’t disappointed.”

Again, Seungcheol earned a number of laughter at that. And from the looks of it, his wife isn’t in any how disappointed. There were visible tears running down her cheeks, threatening to undo her makeup.

“So, let’s all raise our glass.”

Wonwoo’s stares was like daggers in your heart. Threatening to undo a secret long unraveled.

“To the most beautiful woman, I have ever met.”

As Wonwoo was fixing his stare at you, everything seems to finally made sense. There has always been a reason why you fit him more than his favourite sweater. To the most beautiful woman, I have ever met, a sentence fit only for you.

“To the love of my life.”

Claps erupted from all around the venue. And when you knew, you knew.

[bangtanstorytimetheater]

Virtuoso - A MYG Story

CHAPTER ONE

ONE

"We've decided to transfer you to the Chattanooga store."

My manager's words felt like a bad breakup. I felt my heart sink in my chest. This transfer, though unexpected and utterly terrifying, was going to be a huge leap in my career.

The music company I worked for was a small, but very well-respected chain in the tri-state area. I was proud to hold a position there, hosting field trips for elementary-aged children, and helping students demo instruments to find the perfect one. It was a rewarding job that I looked forward to every day, and I was eternally grateful for the opportunity. This transfer would have me leading the new field trip program that the company was getting ready to roll out at the other store.

I had worked at Bangtan Band Box, or BB's as the locals called it, for nearly four years. It was a great place to work, and I had watched business really take off over the time I'd been there. Thanks to a recent year-long renovation project at the store, all of the studios were now equipped with gorgeous new digital pianos and state-of-the-art soundproof walls. Everyone was thrilled with the way it turned out. We even had a grand re-opening block party. Of course, without fail, there was always at least one person who still had a complaint about something.

"The sound on these things just isn't the same. The keys don't feel right. It's not a piano..."

Ninety-two year old Jane Young was the sweetest little lady I had ever met. She was probably the only person at this store whose complaints didn't annoy me. We had grown incredibly close over the past few years I'd worked there. She was a sort of relic, being the very first ever piano teacher to teach lessons at BB's original location. Mrs. Young was the childhood piano teacher of the company CEO, and he had insisted on bringing her onboard when he opened up shop over thirty years ago.

"Jane, I completely understand where you're coming from," I said, reaching out to place my hand over hers on the counter, "They really don't feel the same as acoustic pianos, but admittedly they are pretty nice. At least we'll save a few thousand dollars a year on tuning. And I suppose all we can do at this point is just make the best of it, right?" I smiled, hoping to pull her out of her funk. Jane had been through so much over the years, spending nearly every day of the past three decades in this place, and she was not keen on all the sudden changes.

"You really are wise beyond your years, Faye. I suppose I could at least appreciate the new carpet. That iced tea stain from three years ago will certainly not be missed." she chuckled.

There's the Jane I was hoping to see today,  especially  today. Should I tell her? No, not yet.

The Following Monday

"Faye! How've you been?" Jin flashed his familiar warm smile and casually held up a hand in a lazy wave. He was always so soft spoken, but still cracking quiet jokes that had you in stitches. He'd worked at the Chattanooga BB's for a few years and we'd known each other from district meetings. He was still fairly new to being an assistant manager, but seemed to be pretty comfortable in his position.

"A bit nervous about the sudden change, but I'm looking forward to working with you. Glad that you're here on my first day. Makes it a lot easier, that's for sure." I sighed. Despite years of auditions and stressful interviews in my music career, meeting new people was still sometimes a bit stressful for me.

DING!

This store had a very loud door chime, entirely different from the one at my previous store. It was jarring, making me jump. Jin let out a louder laugh than I had ever heard come from him. I suppose being in his own store, he probably felt more at-ease than when he was attending the stuffy district meetings. It was nice to hear him laugh so genuinely.

"Didn't you guys have a bell like that at your store?" he asked, setting down his keys next to the register and taking off his coat.

"Nope. And I startle easily, so this will take some getting used to I bet."

"Hey man!" I heard a booming, but cheerful-sounding voice from somewhere over my shoulder. I turned to see a beautiful man with warm, honey skin walking towards me, his dusty blue sweater and light blue jeans accentuating his perfect tan. He had just walked in through the front door and was sweeping his wind-blown golden brown hair out of his eyes. He had a guitar case slung over his shoulder, covered in happy stickers - rainbow flowers, smiley faces, Korean hearts, and the words HOPE WORLD in big, bubbled letters across the center of the case lid.

He must be a teacher here.

"Hope! Hey, this is our new transfer, Faye Jansen. She just moved here from the Woodland Hills store. Faye, this is Hope." Jin said as he motioned towards the statuesque man in blue who was now standing face to face with me at the counter. Hope flashed me a huge, toothy smile as he carefully dropped his guitar case to the floor next to him and extended his hand to shake mine.

"Pleasure to meet you, Faye. What a nice surprise!" he smiled and squeezed my hand gently, "You can call me Hobi."

Why do I feel a little flustered? Is it warm in here or...?

Nevermind.

"Y-yes. Thank you. The pleasure is all mine. It is wonderful to meet you, Hobi. What instrument do you teach?" I asked, trying to turn the attention away from myself. I had seen the guitar case, so he was obviously a guitar instructor, but I was too flustered to think straight. I wasn't normally shy around anyone, but he was strikingly handsome, in a way I had not seen in real life before, so I almost needed a moment to catch my breath.

He seemed to notice that I was feeling a little flustered, glanced down at the guitar case then back up at me and smiled, seeming a little amused.

"Guitar. I assume you play something as well?" he asked, his fingers fidgeting with the strap of the clear plastic messenger bag slung over his shoulder.

"I studied classical voice in college, but I also play oboe and piano. I did all the demos for the field trips at the Woodland Hills BB's." I was proud of what I did, but I wasn't trying to sound too proud. Musicians can take perceived cockiness to be a huge turn-off.

"Ah, wind instruments. I envy that. I could never get past my initial few trumpet lessons as a kid. I thought I was going to pop a blood vessel in my face!" he laughed, "So instead I break old peoples' hips."

"Oh yeah?" I laughed, "That sounds terrible. Care to elaborate on that?"

"A group of us here have a jazz ensemble. We play shows every Thursday and Saturday. The older folks love to get up and dance. Let's just say that sometimes they dance themselves right into needing a wheelchair the next day. Anyway, we get pretty decent paying gigs at The Yeontan Lounge, playing all the old jazz standards. You should join us sometime. We love having other artists step in. Speaking of, Jin will you be at practice tonight?" Hobi said, suddenly turning towards Jin.

"You're in the ensemble too, Jin? That's amazing. What do you play?" I asked, excited to hear more about the group, and especially excited to hear them play.

"Upright bass. You should sing with us tonight, Faye. I heard you sing karaoke at the company party a few years ago. You sounded great. Are you still performing these days?" Jin asked.

"I haven't performed in quite a few months, but I'm sure I can manage a casual jam session tonight. What song should I prepare for you?" I asked, my disciplined mind already scrambling to come up with the perfect piece for my vocal range.

"Why don't you sing At Last by Etta James? That's a classic. Can't go wrong there." Jin suggested, glancing over at Hope for approval.

Hobi stuck out his lower lip and nodded, raising his eyebrows. He seemed pleased at the song suggestion.

"Hearing a classical singer take on At Last is going to be something special, I bet. Looking forward to it," he said. "See you tonight."

"Likewise," I said, watching him walk towards the hall of studios.

DING!

There's that goddamn door chime again.

Startled at the sound, I clumsily dropped the pen I had been holding against my notebook, and it loudly clinked on the glass countertop.

As I reached to pick it up, embarrassed at my unintended slapstick routine, out of the corner of my eye, I could see someone walking in my direction from the front door.

I looked up, and it was as if time slowed to a crawl. My eyes met the gaze of a tall, slender man with shaggy black hair and smooth, porcelain skin, wearing a button-up denim jacket, skinny jeans, and converse - all black. He didn't stop walking, but our eyes locked until he was out of view.

Instantly, I felt this surge of electricity throughout my body, as if he physically touched me when he walked past me. It was strange... and exhilarating. His deep chocolate eyes had so much fire behind them, they burned straight into my soul.

I had to know his name.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Thank you for reading the first chapter of my book! I'll be updating every Sunday at the very least, but hopefully more frequently than that.

Looking forward to your feedback and suggestions!

This first chapter is dedicated to the lovely 0o_pervy_noona_oO who started me on my Bangtan ff addiction, and inspired me to write my own.

[jbbuckybarnes]

Zerfall - 12/14

Pairing: Bucky x named!Reader (Agent Andromeda) Summary: After Hydra drops virus bombs in 7 major American cities in the height of summer, the team is locked in their emergency bunker for weeks. The virus commonly called the Summer Poison successfully brought the infrastructure to a halt in all big cities. When the virus slowly starts burning itself out SHIELD Agents and Avengers are sent out to bring back order into the cities and the international relationships. Not without hurdles. Warnings for this chapter: Pandemic, crime, canon typical violence, flirting, kidnapping, weird grammar. Not beta read.

Zerfall Masterlist || M a s t e r l i s t

“Does that mean we finally have an off day?” He asked the next day at noon with his morning hair in his grey sweatpants. “Yep, but also that we need to help in Brooklyn a bit so we have both in check. The Bronx is also at 90% back. Queens might be the only problem but with all the people we already have? Might even solve itself,” you said in your thoughts. “You really had to make it about work, huh?” He grinned and got up from the couch. “Hell yes! It’s my job to save the city, Barnes!” You called out. “Gosh, please, for heaven's sake, stop calling me by my last name. We’re partners, not working at a bank.” He chuckled coming to a hold in front of you with his hands in his pockets. “Thanks for saving my ass, Bucky.” You smiled up at him. “It’s what I’m here for.” He grinned back down. “Always watching my 6, I know.” An eye roll was inevitable from your side. “Celebratory pizza?” He asked grabbing your waist. “Oh hell yes. I’m so glad this damn tower has electricity.” You got excited. “And hot showers,” he added. “And soft beds,” you sighed. “Privacy and dental care.” “Music,” you whispered. “Why? Wanna dance?” He grinned. “I’ve never been asked for it before, so I’d say yes.” You flirted back. “What a shame,” he said pulling you closer. “Friday? Can you put on slow music?” You asked the AI. Calm music started playing and he started swaying you around in a slow dance. The softness his eyes carried was incredible, nowhere near what it was in the beginning of you two working together. You started smiling and got a smile back. His left hand squeezed your waist and he eyed you for a little longer, now having the permission to. You let your hands wander to his neck, letting him lead you a little more. The small movements of his lips and the sparkles in his eyes were so apparent all of a sudden.

Before there can be anything more than a dance you get interrupted by a loud boom sound in the distance. You both turned towards the windows and saw a dust cloud coming up from lower Manhattan. You got your comm earpiece, “Please tell me that explosion near Brooklyn Bridge was one of you.” “Nope.” “Nope.” “No.” “Fuck.” you muttered, “Can you get there with us Agent Bee?” “Already on my way,” he answered. “Grab food from the pantry, we’ll eat on the way.” you said while grabbing your equipment. As soon as you both were on the ground Bee contacts you again, “The civilians say they might’ve blown up New York City Hall.” “Shit! The only freaking area we didn’t check down there.” you hissed. “You get onto my back, eat, I run faster than you.” Bucky nudged you. “Oh, we’re pulling a Twilight in the middle of the apocalypse? Nice.” There was no other way to lighten the mood and he really WAS fast. 15 km/h was no joke and he probably was even faster without someone on his shoulders. “If this wasn’t for a mission I’d have a few comments.” you called out, grabbing onto him tighter. “Get your gun ready.” he said already in full mission mode. “Alright, Sergeant.” You did as you were told. He must’ve known there were people already around the entire explosion zone and you had the perfect line to kill all of them with perfect shots in the torso and head. “I’ll never get tired of how good you shoot.” he chuckled while aiming at the people charging at you. “I’m coming from the bridge.” Bee alerted you. “It’s a lot. I don’t have a line of sight on your side, but I assume it’s at least 20 on each side. Stay safe.” you answered after finally getting the last guard from your side. “Will do.” came back. “Buck, I could really use one of your knives,” you called over and got it thrown into your hand. While he continued shooting whatever came near you from anywhere but your 12, you were charging at guards on the south side of the building in a beautiful dance of momentum moves and knives in throats. “Behind you,” you yelled over and saw him kick a guard 15 feet far against the remaining wall of the City Hall. “I could use some help over here on the east side,” Bee yelled into his comm. “Coming,” you yelled back and made a run for it, trusting Bucky to have your back. You got through the guards in almost perfect symmetry. Your training was specific for the smallest of attack strategies. Agent Bee had a few advantages to you but your talent with a pistol and a knife was balancing that out. “Davis? If you can hear me, we need some help at the City Hall. I don’t know if we can handle this without your help.” you screamed into your wrist while seeing more people coming at you. “Fucking hell, where do all of these bastards come from all of a sudden?” Bee grumbled. What you didn’t see were the people coming from behind until it was too late. “Fuck you!” You groaned, defending yourself and kicking shins where you could. “Not so good anymore, Agent. Are you?” A big, crazy looking guy grinned. He wore a trench coat, had a deep voice, had a look of absolute insanity on his face. Next to him two buff guys that looked like they were high ranking military men before this apocalypse. “What do you want from me?” You hissed at them. “We want our beautiful city back. You did a great job getting rid of all the Eagles, Outcasts and Vultures. But why take Randalls Island from us, dear?” He asked. You heard gunshots outside, death, the place inside smelled like gunpowder, was full of dust and had a big open roof from the explosion. “Well, you never tried to communicate.” You squinted at them. “You never gave us the chance.” A door was kicked in and you saw Agent Bee and Bucky standing there. “Cause you don’t deserve one!” He yelled. All weapons in the room showed either at you or them. “Make one wrong move and your pretty partner here is dead.” The insane dude spoke to them. “What do you want?” He groaned annoyed, taking down the weapon enough to not seem dangerous. “You. We thought you’d come.” The man grinned all of a sudden. It dawned on both of you and you shook your head when his eyes flashed to you before going back to the leader. “For what?” He asked. “You’re still a wanted person in the underground. You know that as well as I do.” “That wasn’t the question.” “Well, but that was my answer. You’re smart enough to put the pieces together, aren’t you?” He chuckled eerily. You saw Bee click the side of his watch in the subtlest of movements, a distress signal. To whom? You didn’t quite know. “You come with us and she is free. Or you’re all dead.” The nameless man repeated.

You whispered almost soundless, “Buy time.” “Who wants me?” He asked with his eyes flickering between you and the leader with more distress reflecting in them than you were okay with. “Take a wild guess. Hydra!” The man got impatient. “You know he needs to come voluntarily.” Bee realized in the face of the nameless man that was looking away from you. “No shit, bringing them a dead soldier won’t bring them anything.” “Too bad.” You grinned hearing what was coming and the man turned to you. The perfect moment for Wanda to come in through the hole in the roof and fuck them up good. “Hold those three down for interrogation. We kill the rest.” you yelled over after kicking the guards left and right to you away and got a pistol thrown towards you by Bucky.

[inactiive-shit]

Skeptical Belief

 Fandom: Sanders Sides

Prompt: Ghost hunting

Warning: Deceit, Remus, demon-thing

Pairing: Primarily platonic Analogical; background romantic Intrulogical, Anxceit, Royality, Remile

Words: 3,715

@sanderssidescelebrations

​Note: they do talk about temperature in degrees fahrenheit. For reference, 32 degrees fahrenheit is the temperature at which water freezes and is equal to 0 degrees celsius

It was two in the morning, and Logan watched Remus spread their sleeping bags out on the dusty floor, open and layered one on top of the other. Logan would’ve complained, said that they were taking up more space than using them as they were meant to would, but it was getting increasingly cold (colder than it should have been, maybe) and if he didn’t sleep next to his space heater of a boyfriend, he might get hypothermia and die.

So spreading out the sleeping bags would do.

“If we die here, I am going to kill you,” Dee said. He was curled into Virgil’s chest, who was on the far side of Remus. The cold must be pretty awful for him. It shouldn’t have been so cold.

“No one else who came into this house has died from any sort of paranormal experience,” Logan said for the umpteenth time since they had arrived at the house. “In fact, it’s impossible to prove that anyone has ever died from the paranormal because we have yet to even prove its existence. Which is the exact reason we are here.” Logan slid under the blankets on the outer edge of their giant blanket-pillow-conga-line. The eight of them had all come with separate sleeping bags, but it was seeming more and more like preserving body heat and stealing each others’ was going to be the priority.

“Logan, do you even believe in the paranormal?” Roman demanded from across the room. He was sitting in the blankets next to Patton who was on Dee’s far side. “It doesn’t seem like a very logical thing to do.”

“Yes, Roman, obviously I believe in the paranormal, otherwise I would not be trying to prove it exists. You know, I already explained to you why we are doing this. Do you live to ignore me?”

“No,” Roman said, offense coating his voice. “I live to love Patton.” He grabbed at Patton sides to make him shriek.

“I’m just glad we’re all hanging out together,” Patton giggled, wiggling away from Roman’s fingers. “It’s been so long, and even if it is in a dirty old house, well, at least we’re all here.”

“Aw, Patton, that’s so sweet,” Emile gushed. He was on the other side of Roman. Remy was pushed to the farthest edge from Logan, and about as happy about this whole thing as a honey badger. Honestly, Logan could not have told you why they all decided to come; only two of them were invested in the investigation (Remus and Virgil), two wanted to hang out with everybody (Patton and Emile), and Dee, Roman, and Remy were actively against coming here.

Still, they’d all shown up, and now they were all part of Logan’s very first filmed investigation. He’s been wanting to do it for a while, for science. (It’s only breaking and entering if you’re not doing it for scientific purposes, it’s only bullshit if you don’t record the results.) Virgil, just as determined to catch a ghost on camera as Logan was, had brought one of his good, professional cameras for them to use. Logan was eternally grateful for his best friend’s support.

Remus was invested because, despite what the others thought, he was actually very supportive of what Logan liked. He also wanted to break and enter and provoke a spirit, but in the name of science, so did Logan. So they were pretty damn well aligned on that front.

“Patton, I thought you would be against breaking the law,” Remy said, sounding snappier than usual. Logan sometimes wondered if Remy was psychic; he had an uncanny ability to foresee how things would turn out, and he often gave random pieces of advice for no discernable reason. (He once told Logan he might save what he was working on. Logan had, simply because it was good to save your documents often. Not two minutes later his laptop crashed and lost all the progress he’d made after the save. It was totally inexplicable.)

“I mean, nobody’s lived here in a long time,” Patton said. “And the worst thing in the house is probably just some cockroaches.”

“Cockroach? Where?” demanded Remus. “I’ll take care of it.”

“There better not be any cockroaches in here,” Roman said. “I will walk right out of this house and take that van all the way back to the city. I am not waking up with bugs in my hair.” Roman shivered so dramatically it pulled the blankets off Logan. He yanked them back, goosebumps already breaking out over his skin. It was too cold in this house for October, and especially when the low for the night wasn’t even supposed to dip to thirty.

Logan jotted the information down in his notebook and then began adjusting Virgil’s camera.

“Don’t worry, Ro. I’m sure none of the bugs are going to come near us,” Patton murmured.

“Yeah,” Virgil added. “They won’t want to get too close to your snoring.” Dee snorted and Roman gasped.

“You take that back, Dark and Stormy! I do not snore!”

“Whatever lets you sleep at night,” Virgil said. “Even if you keep the rest of us awake.”

“Hey!” As the battle raged on, drawing in Remy and Emile too, Logan carefully set up whatever equipment he could reach without leaving the warmth of the blankets.

“What’re you doing with that?” Remus asked, pointing to the spirit box Logan was fiddling with.

“Making sure the calibrations are correct. It should pick up any voices that we can’t hear, assuming it all works. There is, unsurprisingly, little scientifically conducted research on the paranormal.”

“I do so love when you talk dirty to me, Lo,” Remus sighed, looking at Logan in a way that he could only describe as adoring. Logan flushed.

“If anybody is going to be talking dirty,” Dee interrupted, “it will be me and I will be talking about how disgusting our blankets are after touching this floor.” He dragged one finger across the floorboards and then held it up, gray even in the poor lighting. “Disgusting.”

“Shut up,” Virgil said. “I’m doing laundry when we get back and you know it.”

“I don’t want you to touch this muck, either.” Dee wiped his finger off on Remus’s blanket. “God, we’re all going to get infected and die.”

“Oh, it’s not that bad,” said Emile. “Plus, nothing can compare to what happened last time we went out on one of Logan’s adventures.”

“Scientific venture,” Logan corrected him, taking a sip of water before capping the bottle and placing it next to his pillow.

“Covered in cow shit,” Remy countered.

“And mud,” added Roman.

“Not to mention-”

“I thought it was fun,” said Remus. He pulled Logan to lay down on top of him. “We got to roll down a hill.”

“And got covered in literal shit,” Roman said.

“You screamed like a baby,” Remus said fondly. He rubbed Logan’s arms. “You’re freezing, Nerdy Wolverine. Are you okay?”

“It is quite cold,” Logan said. “But I assure you, I am capable of handling the cold.”

“Are you sure you’re okay, Lo?” Emile asked. It was the first time all night he’d sounded genuinely concerned. “It’s kind of stuffy over here.”

“It’s what?” Logan asked at the same time a cold draft hit his skin and a shiver wracked his body. He pulled himself up from Remus to grab the thermometer sitting a couple feet away. “Emile, what does the thermometer read?” There was a moment of silence as they shuffled around to reach it.

“It’s about sixty-five,” Remy said.

“I swear it feels hotter than that,” Emile added. “Let me see that.”

“That’s insane,” Logan whispered. He tapped on his thermometer a few times as though it were a broken remote. Then he began writing in notebook again.

“What is it, L?” Virgil asked, propping himself up on an elbow.

“This thermometer says thirty-five,” Logan said. “There is no way it should be that much hotter less than twenty feet away in an enclosed room. This is-this is impossible.” Remus took the thermometer out of Logan’s hand and took a look.

“Now it says forty,” he said. Logan spun to see, wrote more down.

“Pass it to Virgil,” Logan ordered, not looking up. “Emile, pass that one this way.” The thermometers made their way across the room, getting readings from each person as they went. Thirty-five at Logan, forty at Remus, forty-five with Virgil, all the way down to sixty five where Remy was. It was not possible to have so much variation in such a small area. There weren’t even any warm air currents due to the chill outside and the heating hadn’t working in almost two decades.

“I need to look at the heating and cooling units,” Logan muttered. “The electricity, possible drafts. With a stretch of logic, this could maybe not be paranormal, but it would take so many factors to line up that it is almost entirely unprobable.” He looked up from his notebook, felt the smile on his face that he couldn’t stop. “This could be real, scientific data of an anomaly at least, if not something supernatural.”

“Do it in the morning,” Patton said. “It’s already late, you don’t need to stay up any longer, kiddo.”

“But something could have changed by the morning. For accurate, scientific data, I need to do it now.”

“Nope,” Remus said, wrapping his arms around Logan and rolling him to the inside of their blankets. “We already stayed up all night last night-”

“Ew. I did not need to know that,” said Roman, gagging.

“-and I’m exhausted, but I can’t sleep without my teddy bear.” Remus squeezed Logan and Logan was engulfed in his warmth. “You’re not allowed to get up.”

“Remus,” he protested.

“Nope. Nighty-night.” Remus laid on top of him.

“Night, everybody,” Patton added. “Sweet dreams.”

“You can’t control your dreams. Unless you’re a lucid dreamer, and that’s pretty rare, but anyway,” Emile said, curling into Remy, “I hope it’s a refreshing sleep.” Agreeances of either sentiment were echoing through the room, and then the lights were dimmed and they were all trying to sleep.

Everyone except for Logan and Virgil who had come here to catch a ghost, goddamnit. They were going to stay up even if it involved lying about it. So Logan began doing complicated math in his head, hoping that would keep him awake until he could get to his water bottle for his energy drinks. A full night’s sleep could come later; they had a mission.

About thirty minutes later, Logan carefully sat up and shifted to look at some of his equipment. It was a couple degrees colder, but nothing else of note had happened. Logan reached over and poked Virgil’s shoulder. Virgil stayed still just long enough to make Logan think he’d fallen asleep, and then he slowly started moving.

“You were making me doubt your dedication,” Logan whispered. Virgil shushed him and gently pulled Dee off his chest. As soon as Virgil moved out of the way, Remus and Dee rolled into each other, which conveniently created just enough space for the pair to sit on the outside of their blanket train.

“Dee’s a light sleeper, I had to be sure he was out,” Virgil said. “He’d definitely kill me for staying up again.”

“Well, he can complain about it tomorrow once we have a spirit on film and evidence to back it up.” Logan reached for his water bottle. “What do you-uhm.” He couldn’t find his drink. Logan looked toward his pillow where he’d put in, but there was nothing there. “V, my drink is gone.”

“Where’d you put it?”

“Right there.” Logan motioned. “Did you move it?” he asked, staring at the spot. Virgil sighed.

“Why would I?” he whispered, not nearly as bothered as Logan by the bottle’s disappearance. Then again, it wasn’t Virgil’s bottle. “Remus probably did, though. That’s the exact kind of thing he’d do to undermine the integrity of the investigation.”

“I do not appreciate you quoting me at me out of context about my own boyfriend,” Logan said, “though it is nice to know you listen.” He searched the room with his eyes. “You don’t see it anywhere, do you? I need to know where it went.”

“Uh,” Virgil muttered, searching now too. “There. By the T.V. stand.” He squinted, a little more concerned. “You should probably ask Remus if he moved it.” Logan shoved Remus’s shoulder just enough that he would answer. There was a fine line between coherent and able-to-remember.

“Um, Remus, did you move my drink?” Logan asked, eyes fixed on the bottle.

“No,” Remus mumbled, mostly asleep and definitely not in any state to be moving things without alerting Logan. He pulled Dee a little closer.

“Huh,” Logan said, and pointed the camera at the bottle. He shared an excited glance with Virgil. Carefully, he removed himself from the sleeping pile and crept across the room. He could voice over this part later. For now it would be better to catch anything happening around him with the night vision on the camera, and try not to wake the others for what could be nothing.

“Logan, get back here,” Virgil hissed. “You don’t know how that got over there.”

“There’s only one way to find out,” Logan retorted, picking up the bottle. He inspected it closely and, to his bewilderment, found an ashy handprint. “Look at this.” He presented the bottle to the camera before passing it to Virgil. A shiver worked through Logan’s body and it was hard to say whether it was from fear, anticipation, or the cold.

“What the fuck?” Virgil whispered. “L, what the fuck?”

“It’s proof,” Logan said, voice shaking. “It’s-” A creak sounded from the next floor up, like someone stepping on the old floorboards. He froze, looked at Virgil.

“We’re investigating that,” Virgil said.

“Don’t forget the camera,” Logan said. They pulled on their boots and Logan grabbed the spirit box and thermometer. Virgil lifted the camera and nodded at him. Taking the lead, Logan set off for the stairs. They ascended silently, listening for any other errant noises. At the top, another creak sounded. They froze, watching intently. Virgil nudged Logan’s arms and mimed talking.

“Hello? Is anybody there?” Logan asked. They waited with bated breath for an answer, but none was forthcoming. “Let’s just keep going, see what’s up here that we could’ve missed earlier,” he muttered to the camera. They went forward at a snail’s pace, hoping for anything to happen.

And then a door swung open with a terrifying creak.

“Need some oil on them hinges,” Virgil said, voice higher than it normally was. Logan gulped, staring.

“We’re going in, right?” he asked.

“Definitely,” Virgil said. He had a white-knuckled grip on his camera, and Logan shivered. He glanced at the thermometer: twenty-eight. Shit.

“It’s getting colder,” he said, inching closer to the door. Virgil snorted.

“I had no idea.” Logan heard his teeth chatter together, and then he shoved the door the rest of the way open. It whined the whole way, longer than even the squeakiest of hinges usually made noise, and then the door stopped. The room was empty save for two dark shoe prints. It looked like the same thing that had been on Logan’s water bottle.

He took a step closer. Virgil grabbed his arm like a vice. “Did anyone ever die in a fire here?”

“Henry Smith,” Logan said on autopilot. “1899. The entire house was destroyed. They rebuilt this one decades later, but the original was in this exact spot.”

“Okay. Okay,” Virgil said. He released Logan’s arm. “This is probably Henry Smith, then. Let’s do this.” Logan watched as Virgil steadied his shaking hands and then took one step into the room. Virgil followed.

“Come in,” said a disembodied voice, just low enough to send shivers down Logan’s spine and settle a feeling of wrong in his chest. His breath was knocked from his lungs and puffed in front of his face, visible.

“Oh, shit,” Virgil whispered. The shadows moved in a sort of humanoid shape, reaching out for them. “Oh, shit!” Virgil yelled at the same time Logan shouted, “Fuck!” They both were pulled out of the room by their shirts. Remy was standing there, madder than Logan had ever seen him.

“Run,” he snapped and raced for the steps. Virgil was on his tail, Logan half a step behind. There was a fourth pair of footsteps behind them, too close for comfort. Logan thought he could feel a hand ghost over hair, what the fuck.

They clambered down the steps in a frenzy, not making any effort to be quiet, Virgil and Logan screaming. They hit the landing and launched themselves for the front door, at which point Virgil stopped, door held open.

“The others,” he gasped.

“We’ll get them,” Logan snapped, shoving the equipment into Virgil’s hands. “Get these outside before they get broken.” Virgil didn’t hesitate. Logan and Remy dived back for the living room, and Logan was glad to see they were all awake already.

“Lo? Is everything okay?” Remus asked. Logan grabbed his water bottle and Remus’s shoes.

“Who was screaming?” Patton yawned.

“We pissed something off, we need to leave. Now.” Logan pulled Remus up and then Dee. “Move, move. Come on, hurry up.” A dark laugh echoed down the stairs. Patton squeaked, and then everyone threw themselves into overdrive. They managed to get out the door in less than a minute. All the blankets were still in the house, but Logan was not half as concerned about the blankets as he was the evidence Virgil was cradling.

“Let me see what we got, let me see,” he muttered. Virgil was already playing the camera back.

“What just happened?” Emile asked, hands shaking ever so slightly. Logan motioned him over to see the small screen of the camera. They all crowded and watched as Logan crept up to the water bottle, watched Virgil and Logan both freeze, their mouths move.

“Where’s the sound?”

“I don’t know,” said Virgil frantically. He fiddled with the settings, smacked the camera gently against his hand a few times, but nothing happened. “That’s not right.”

“It’s-it’s fine. You’ve still got the spirit box, right?” Logan asked. Virgil nodded. They focused back on the screen, watched as Logan went up the stairs, watched as they both stopped moving again. They watched as the door opened by itself.

“Holy shit,” Roman whispered. They got closer to the door, watched as Logan almost stepped in, watched as Virgil stopped him. They watched as, in the room behind Logan, shadows moved along the floor, far too purposeful for comfort.

“I didn’t even see that,” said Virgil, sounding sick. Logan felt a hysterical giggle rise and swallowed it. He kept watching as they went into the room, as the shadows really started moving then, slithering toward them. He watched as they both stumbled out backward, watched as a face with red eyes and sharp teeth and a bone-chilling smile flashed in the darkness. Then they watched as the film corrupted and the file disappeared from the camera.

“What the fuck?” Virgil said numbly, looking at the camera. He clicked through his memory card. Everything was gone. “What the fuck?” He glanced at Logan.

“The spirit box,” Logan said, lurching for Virgil’s pocket. “The spirit box.” He pulled it out and rewound it to when the creak came from the second floor. It was all there, if staticky, up until Virgil said, “Okay. Okay. This is probably Henry Smith, then. Let’s do this.” The squeal it emitted then was so loud and unexpected that Logan dropped the spirit box - and watched it shatter on the concrete. It almost felt like it had been smacked out of his hand.

“I don’t understand half of what just happened,” Roman said slowly. “What did just happen?”

“How did you know where we were?” Virgil asked Remy, totally ignoring Roman. “Or that we were about to die.”

“You think I was dumb enough to go to sleep with you two idiots in the same place? No, ma’am. I learned my lesson with you two. Can’t trust y’all to go to the grocery store without almost dyin’.” Remy’s southern accent was rearing its head. Logan wanted to be offended, but Remy wasn’t wrong. Still, that didn’t negate that he was acting funny-like he was lying. “Now y’all better get in that damn car. We’re leavin’.” He stomped to the car and yanked the driver’s door open. Emile slid into the passenger seat. Logan collected the shards of his spirit box, useless as it was now, and climbed into the van. Remus settled in next to him, wrapping his arms around Logan.

“You’re freezing,” he muttered. His mustache tickled Logan’s face. “Are you okay?”

“We got actually evidence of a ghost, real video of things that happened, and it’s all gone,” Logan said. “I am the opposite of okay.”

“I know, Lolo,” Remus said. He pulled them a centimeter closer together. Any more and Logan would be sitting on Remus’s lap. “But at least you have your water bottle, right?” Logan startled, examined the water bottle he was, in fact, holding. It still had what looked like an ash handprint on it.

“I-yes, at least I have that.” Logan smiled. “Thank you, Remus.”

“Anytime,” Remus said, kissing Logan. The van started and Logan glanced out the window just in time to see that terrifying face leering at them from the second floor. He made panicked eye-contact with Virgil in the mirror.

“We’re coming back, right?” Virgil whispered in Logan’s ear from the seat behind him.

“Obviously,” Logan whispered back. Remus smiled dreamily.

“I can’t wait until we all die together,” he said. Logan snorted and leaned into him.

“At least it will be together,” Virgil whispered.

“Yes, at least there’s that.” Logan finally fell asleep for the first time in two days on the drive back into the city. It was almost morning, and none of them would be doing anything before noon, but Logan could sleep now and maybe when he woke, he’d find a new way to catch a ghost. It was just a matter of belief.

[all-pacas]

I’M SO BAD AT THE INTERNET I NEVER EVEN NOTICED YOU CAN LEAVE COMMENTS ON KO-FI

HERE YA GO, MY PAL!!!

ages ago @theres-no-comma and i riffed this gigantic hs au thing, and just for fun one afternoon i tried to write it. and then gave up. but there are definitely some words here!

The house has seen better days.

The neighborhood is suburban and quiet; not a wealthy area, but a good one, with family homes and the occasional old growth tree. Bikes propped up against porches. Signs tacked to posts advertising lawnmowing and snow plowing. And then you round the corner.

The Clay house is the one the neighbors all sigh about. Shaking their heads and exchanging dubious glances, superior expressions: ah, those people. The front yard ankle high in grass and weeds, surrounded by a thick wall of ramshackle fencing �� little more than yards and yards of chicken wire, stapled to randomly placed posts — all to keep the goats in.

There are three of them. Some of the neighborhood kids like to throw cookies or apples at them, over the wire, giggling as the goats rush towards the wire for the snacks.

The backyard is bare, although often noisy with teenagers, shouting and playing four-person football or soccer or hockey.The grass has all worn away, aside from the occasional patch of hardy weeds, when it rains it turns mostly to mud.

The lot behind the house had been empty and marked for development; Mr. Clay bought it a year prior and turned it into a community garden. This was almost enough to make up for the house's other sins: while the house was weeds and mud, the garden was tidy rows of flowers and vegetables and planters for seasonal rental. Mr. Clay himself would walk the neighborhood monthly or so, knocking on doors and asking for compost.

The porch sags slightly, the eves all draped with fading Nepalese prayer flags, all drooping and limp. A bench placed to the right of the door is piled high with sports equipment that has also migrated onto the floor. The door itself has a penis carved into the wood, just above the doorbell.

A van, the type you thought stopped existing around 1974, careens up into the driveway. Mr. Clay, the owner, has a pink electric Tesla; this is the new van, the one belonging to *the teenagers*.

They pile out of the van with plastic grocery bags.

They are siblings. When asked about their parents, they will straight faced lie, each lie more elaborate than the last: eaten by wolves. Murder cult. We don't have parents. We woke up in a lab two years ago. Once:

Fjord and I are the parents, Veth is our kid. Haha, nope, that was super weird, I'm actually gay.

And the whole incest angle. That's a thing you just dropped in there.

And I'm older than you. Also.

Sure, sure. But mostly: gay.

All three share a passing resemblance. They have the same dark complexions and hair, a certain shared loud stubbornness, but not much more unless you really look. Fjord and Beau are tall and athletic. Veth, who often goes by Nott, is lying if she says she's five feet tall.

They rush out of the van and into the house. Inside, the living room is clean but dingy, with a carpet worn flat, a sagging sofa, and an abundance of thriving house plants. A girl with blue-dyed hair is playing on the family's Playstation 2. A red-haired teenager is reading a romance novel with a cat in his lap. A adorable little girl with a green dress and a black bob haircut is nestled up against Jester.

None of these people are related, none of them even have keys, but no one is at all shocked to see them in the living room.

"WE HAVE BACON," Veth, who often goes by Nott for some complicated reason ("It's not complicated, she's a stubborn as fuck little turd and it was all she said when she was little.") yells, hefting her grocery bag above her head.

Beau snatches it from her and heads into the kitchen, which is tiny and cluttered, snacks and energy drinks and motivational posters everywhere. She takes the special frying pan out of the cupboard — the one specifically for the purposes of cooking meat, Clay's concession to his non-vegan wards — and opens five packages of bacon, beginning to cook them in batches.

"Hey Kiri," Fjord says, collapsing onto the sofa with a Gatorade. As the oldest, he feels marginally responsible to… be a good host, or keep an eye, or something. No one is quite sure if Kiri… has parents? Lives nearby? Is okay?; Jester had found her alone on a playground for a week straight, played with her, and eventually started inviting her over. Kiri doesn't talk. She's not stupid, she'll shake her head yes or no or sometimes imitate something she just heard, but she doesn't say anything on her own. And now just shows up at the house most days.

She nods at him.

We might have just accidentally adopted a homeless kid, Fjord once said.

Eh. Not the first time, Beau had shrugged.

What do you mean? Veth asked, looking up from whatever she was currently plotting with Caleb, who was also absolutely a homeless kid even if he and Veth were both in denial and both seemed to believe no one else had noticed Caleb was now sleeping on the floor of her bedroom.

Caleb is random hanger on number one. He and Veth had shared a lot of AP classes — Veth sucked at sports but was a total fucking nerd, which everyone now knew from painful experience not to mention to her face. She bites. — and they had become best friends within about a day and a half. Cool cool cool, Fjord hadn't even bothered giving the dude a shovel talk about hanging out around his little sister, and then Caleb had graduated and moved in, all in the span of about a week.

When Beau asks he says he's taking a year to work and apply to university, but he's clearly homeless and clearly running away from some drama. No one is sure what, except for probably Veth, who has never said. If Caleb wants to pretend he's not actually living here even though he definitely is, whatever. It's cool. If that's what makes the dude happy.

Veth goes up behind him, leaning over the back of his chair to read over his shoulder. "Caleb, why are you reading smut with a kindergardener in the room?"

"I am not reading smut, I am reading a novel, you just came up on me at a part with smut."

"READ IT OUT LOUD!" Beau yells from the kitchen.

"I AGREE!" Jester yells from the sofa.

"ABSOLUTELY NOT!" Caleb yells, his blush matching his red hair.

Jester is, by comparison, the only normal one. Like, she's not fucking normal at all. She's Beau's best friend, despite being this bubbly girly-girl and Beau being an incredibly gay jock delinquent, and she and Nott are also really tight, so Jess just comes over and hangs out a lot. Like see? That makes sense. That's a normal reason to hang at someone's house. Not "this house is a weird orphan magnet, come in and loiter."

Which Fjord has to admit applies to him and his sisters, too.

Jester is cute, her hair dyed blueberry-blue, always wearing tons of earrings and cute shit. She's loaded, her mom is famous and ultra-busy, but she doesn't have airs like some rich people do. Fjord likes her, but also she has a crush on him, and that's… that is a thing. Anyway, she's also around all the time, but at least she's not a non-verbal kindergartener or a hobo in denial.

The house now smells like bacon.

After a few minutes longer, Beau emerges from the kitchen with a casserole dish piled high with freshly cooked bacon. She places it on the coffee table and they all dig in.

[script-a-world]

Hi guys, I’m glad I came upon your blog. If you could give me some help in the right direction I’d really appreciate it. My idea is to have a planet [not our earth nor solar system, I need to create new ones to fit my story] devastated after a genocidal war and the end result is the bad guys completely defeated and the ones left over fled the planet. Now, the planet is pretty much ruined and sort of back in the Bronze Age with random bits and pieces left over of more modern stuff but anyone who can create more is basically gone so everything will have to be rediscovered and reinvented. But most importantly, the people that are left are from all over the world, hundreds of little tribes with as little as 1 to 2000 survivors with a total of a million population. They did get off world help to finally defeat the bad guys so there’s a further extra quarter million aliens staying behind to help rebuild the world. You’d think with aliens, they’d have technology? Nope. Everything is magic for them. So here’s a dilemma, use magic to rebuild the world or stay in the Bronze Age and rebuild with their own technology, that would take another thousands of years. People are divided or mixed. So we got a world that looks like a magical realm one town and the Bronze Age the next town over, and everything in between. End result is like I’m writing a fantasy story set in the Bronze Age but people have modern ideas and knowledge with no way to actually use them. They know what democracy is, the minority know they deserve rights and freedom. They can drive a car, they can use a computer, but those things are basically all destroyed and no one knows how to make them. So, any ideas on where I should do my research or problems the people will face, or perhaps similar stories I could draw inspiration/ideas from? Thank you!

Synth:  For any computers they had, look into the worst-case projections from back in the 1990s when Y2K was becoming a looming concern, and for electric stuff in general check out what mega huge solar flares have the potential to do right now.

Saphira:  The best thing about this scenario is that though the people are decimated and scattered, they have not lost their memories. This means anyone who had any training whatsoever still has it. Even better, literacy is still strong. They can still teach these things to their children and that is their greatest asset. What you have is not so much a race to resources, but a race to a Communal Knowledge, a Library of Letters.

What tradesman still live? How much do they understand the craft? How can one tradesman get help from another? How do we preserve what knowledge we still have before it fades? Sure we know what a pencil looks like, how it works. I can figure out a wood barrel, but I have no idea where to get graphite, or how to make rubber for an eraser. Maybe someone in the next tribe over might know. We can substitute graphite for charcoal for now, and send out a letter to every town nearby...

Most will not be tradesmen, I'm guessing. They can still read. They can still run. They might go about the destroyed world and look for scraps. Maybe a snapped motherboard. Maybe an entire gundam: who knows? Whatever they bring back, if it can jog the memory or provide insight, it has value. Look at how much we humans learn about our history and technology just by looking at old common tools and of all things the jars and plates.

Now not everyone will be so dedicated. Some will see the Arcane way of doing things that the Aliens provide, and think Well, why not? What if we simply cannot figure out some piece of advanced tech? Really hard to rebuild computers when you don't have a way to make silicon. Well, until we figure that out... Why not... Cheat? We'll uh, make it genuine later but for now we just need it to work...

I suggest try recreating something you have with household items. How would you recreate a doorknob? Yes, seemingly simple. Deceptively so. Take down what problems you face. Consider asking Google the same as asking the Arcane Aliens for help. What problems, what thoughts, what sort of experience is it?

Good luck.

Feral:  The first thing that comes to mind is what's left?

People remember how to drive cars? Are there still cars hanging around? People who not only know how to drive but how to maintain and/or hotwire the left over vehicles may very well do so.

The same goes for any and all technology that people can get their hands on. For all of human history, we have re-purposed the cultural artifacts left by previous societies; why wouldn't your people?

In terms of why people might choose to go with the aliens or try it on their own  is going to depend heavily on their access to clean water and food sources. A clean water source is paramount. And after a planet wide war, there might not be many water sources left that do not require filtration. Do the people have access to filtration technology? Or are their options alien magitech, war with a tribe that has filtration, or die from dehydration?

Constablewrites:  From the related works to study angle, the Schizo Tech trope is probably a good place to start, since the order in which they revive given technologies is probably not going to be the same order in which they were originally developed.

Like a lot of After the End stories, a lot is going to depend on how long they've had to recover from all of this. Consider that if it's been more than a generation or two, a lot of the knowledge of how to use this stuff will die out just because there's not much point in passing it down anymore. Are parents going to teach their kids to drive once they can no longer make the cars function? There will still likely be records of this stuff and people who choose to study it, but the widespread practical knowledge and experience will die out as soon as the technology is no longer viable. Just look at how many people these days don't know how to sew their own clothes, which was considered an absolutely critical life skill less than 100 years ago.

Synth:  The pro-alien-tech people clashing with the pro-DIY people seem like another potential source of conflict to help drive your story. Do the pro-tech people think the anti-tech people are stubborn and stupid for not wanting such easily accessed assistance? Do the anti folks think the pros are lazy for just accepting these handouts instead of working hard to do things themselves? Are there conspiracy theorists asking "But what are their real motives and goals?" about these aliens? Have people split themselves off into different groups/factions/entire separate settlements based on whether they embrace or shun the alien magitech? Which side do your main characters fall on, and what happens when they meet someone from or have to travel through an area populated by people from the opposing side? Hell, do all the members of your main gang of characters even share the same views regarding magic vs. going it (very) old school? What kinds of experiences might someone have that could change their mind about the alien magic? (e.g. someone against magic comes down with some horrible disease for which medications no longer exist, but can be cured pretty easily with magic. Does magic suddenly seem acceptable now that it's their life at stake, or will they go down with their principles? What about someone gung-ho about magic? What might make them decide "Actually how about No," and turn away from it?)

Tex:  I wonder if those survivors communicated with each other - the survivors of zombie-style apocalypse/ELE (Extinction Level Event) in movies such as I Am Legend and Zombieland utilized ham radios and sent out distress signals and messages containing news about holdout locations where other survivors could travel to and be safe. Radios don't require a ton of materials or knowledge to build from scratch (Boy Scouts of America has kits for building a crystal radio), and they're relatively easy to learn how to use. If there's manuals around to build something, and someone deems it important, it's probably going to get built.

That being said, the first generation of survivors is integral for the rebuilding of society. If there was enough tech left over for survivors to leave the planet, did they do so without contacting those left behind? Was any technology repaired or retrofitted for other purposes? Does this planet have any sort of internet, or even libraries? What about fleeing survivors that pledged to come back after X amount of time or Y reason? Settling on a new planet is awfully similar to restructuring society after a devastating event, so the skill sets between the two activities have a lot of overlap.

Being able to flee the planet and presumably settle somewhere else implies that the people are capable of interplanetary travel, if not interstellar. If there's FTL drives, could these be used to power city grids, so as to take advantage of electricity, LANs, and digital information repositories? What about power supplies or engines in transportation vehicles? These can be retrofitted for use as generators, and if you're crafty enough, to boost the range of telecommunications equipment.

You only need less than a thousand people to start up a society, so having a million people, even disparate, means that the aggregate knowledge is much higher than would even be needed for colonizing a new planet from scratch. The fact that these aliens use magic isn't necessarily an issue - can they be convinced to move heavy objects, can their skills in magic be used to repair power lines or other things? What about using them to help find ore and mineral deposits to make the raw material for tech again? Are these aliens capable of scrying or telepathy, and would they be willing to create a pseudo-telecommunications net (think magic phone network where the aliens are the phone booths) across the planet to allow the different tribes to talk with each other and come up with some sort of plan? A division of labour to complete a task according to skill set can be complementary instead of contradictory, and would allow the planet to recuperate to its antebellum technological peak much faster, even if some people decide to go without it.

[edogawatranslations]

999: Alterna (2) - Part 6, Chapter 3

Table of Contents | Previous: Part 6, Chapters 1-2

Chapter 3

Eventually, we reached the black door.

Luckily, this time, there was no monitor set up to display a question. After inserting the key, the door opened without a hitch.

A familiar scene stretched out before my eyes. As I took a few steps through the door, the lavish central staircase came into view. According to the wall on our left, we were on [C-Deck].

“It feels like we’re back to square one,” Lotus said, grasping onto the handrail while gazing down at the lower levels.

The grandfather clock showed the time as slightly past two o’clock. Less than four hours remained. We couldn’t afford to dawdle.

“Where’s the elevator?” Lotus asked me.

“Over here.”

I strode past the central staircase and walked over to where the two elevator doors stood side-by-side. Just as I had seen earlier, there was a small keyhole below the call button.

I took the key out of my jeans and shoved it into the keyhole. The lamps around the elevator suddenly all lit up at once, as if awakened from a deep slumber.

“Sweet, looks like it’s working.”

“Move over.”

Lotus pushed me aside and hit the “up” button. The sound of motors running reverberated around us, and with the clear ringing of a bell, the yellow doors on the elevator to our left opened.

The three of us went in. There were buttons for floors [A] through [E], but I immediately pressed the [A] button. The doors closed, and we began our slow upward ascent.

“This elevator sure is taking its sweet time,” Lotus said with an irked expression.

Although there were only two floors between [C-Deck] and [A-Deck], we had yet to reach our destination.

Gazing at Lotus’s profile, I suddenly remembered Clover’s story from earlier.

“The kids who were abducted were divided into two groups, and started the Nonary Game in different areas.“

“Apparently two died during the game. One of them was Nona. She was just an eight year old girl, and the youngest among the participants.”

Should I tell Lotus the truth? Or would it be better to keep quiet?

As I wavered, the elevator finally stopped at [A-Deck].

The moment we stepped out, we were met with an iron door blocking our path. The number [6] was haphazardly scribbled on its surface.

We found it. Another numbered door.

But that wasn’t all. The path leading out of the elevator stopped at the [6] door at the end of the hall, but on the right stood the [2] door, while the [1] door stood on the left, both of them just as imposing. A <RED> was equipped to the side of each of the doors. I checked the bottom of each device just to make sure, but all of the circuit boards were neatly in place.

“Let’s head back. We should tell everyone else about this,” I said, turning around to walk to the elevator.

“Just a moment,” Lotus called out, stopping me in my tracks. “The three of us can open the [1] door.”

[5] + [6] + [8] = 19 1 + 9 = 10 1 + 0 = [1]

“Are you really starting this again? Forget about it. Even if we left the others behind, we wouldn’t be able to open the final door,” I responded, fed up with her selfishness.

“I know. I just felt like pointing out the possibility...”

“We’re leaving.”

I pulled Akane’s arm, and we headed into the elevator. Unwilling to be left behind, Lotus rushed to follow us.

We returned to [C-Deck] and got off. I turned back to look at the elevator, and a thought suddenly popped into my mind.

“Hang on for a second,” I called out to Lotus, who was about to walk back to the passageway.

“What is it?”

“Maybe we can use the elevator to check out the lower floors...”

“Don’t be stupid. The lower decks are all flooded. Are you asking to drown?”

“But look closely. The walls and floor inside the elevator are completely dry. I think it’s worth a try.”

I pressed the upside down triangle button with my index finger. The doors opened once again.

“June, you wait here.”

“Hey, what do you plan on doing?” Lotus shouted, ruffling her hair.

“Scouting.”

“Are you serious? Everything below us is completely submerged.”

“Then let’s test that theory.”

“...Test?”

“If we do this...”

I stepped into the elevator with one foot, swung my body around, and pressed the [E] button.

I swiftly pulled back my body and hopped back from the elevator. The doors closed, and the elevator started to move.

I strained my ears. The sound of the doors opening vigorously echoed out from below. Upon hearing that, I pressed the upside-down triangle button once again. Before long, the elevator doors opened. As I expected, there wasn’t a single drop of water inside.

“But how?” Lotus asked, her eyes widening in shock.

“If [D-Deck] is submerged, how can the even lower [E-Deck] be completely fine?” Akane asked. She also looked surprised, as if she had been possessed by something.

“The elevator shaft and part of [E-Deck] must be some sort of sealed-off enclosed space. It’s like submerging a flask in water. There’s a part of [E-Deck] that isn’t flooded.”

“I see. So that’s why this ship is still afloat,” Lotus said, pounding her fist on her palm in realization.

“Yeah, that’s probably it,” I nodded, stepping towards the elevator. “Right, so I’ll go and see how it is down there. June and Lotus, you two wait here-”

“B-But...” Akane furrowed her brow.

“It’ll be fine. Just listen to what I say. Got it?” I placed my hands on Akane’s shoulders, before quickly turning around and hopping into the elevator.

I pressed the [E] button, and the doors began to close. On the other side, Akane appeared to be slightly shaken, before suddenly-

“I’m going too!”

She slipped through the shrinking opening and maneuvered into the elevator. I panicked and tried to open the doors, but it was too late.

The steel doors shut completely, and the cage started descending with us inside.

“Geez... Don’t be so rash,” I said.

I brought my hand to Akane’s head and ruffled her soft hair. She looked up at me and laughed joyfully.

“Do you remember? When I whined about never having seen a dolphin before... Jumpy, you said, ‘Then I’ll take you to the aquarium during spring break.’ I felt so happy then.”

“Ahh... I guess something like that happened, huh.”

The more I talked with Akane, the more the lost memories of my childhood slowly resurfaced.

Akane continued, “But my mom suddenly passed away, and I had to move in with my father... In the end, we never did get to go together, did we?”

“...That was a difficult time,” I said, shifting my gaze away from her.

“Nope, not at all,” Akane quickly denied. “I think my mom might get mad at me in heaven for saying this, but I was thrilled to be reunited with my dad and brother. I hadn’t seen them since I was an infant.”

“...Brother?”

“Huh? Did I never mention him? I have a brother who’s three years older than me, named Aoi. I hadn’t seen him since we were separated when I was four.”

It was the first time I heard of him, but for some reason, the name Aoi rang a bell.

“Have you been getting along with your father and brother?”

Akane tilted her head ever-so-slightly, and her eyes quivered with loneliness.

“I’m sorry... I don’t remember.”

“Ah, that’s right.”

A bell rang out, and the elevator came to a halt. I was confident that everything was alright, but I couldn’t shake off the anxiety of watching the doors open.

There was nothing out of the ordinary. Water was nowhere to be seen, and like on the other floors, hallways extended on and on, with no end in sight.

The electricity was functioning normally here too, as the hallways were still dimly lit.

I grabbed Akane’s hand, and we stepped in unison out of the elevator. An unnerving silence filled the entire area.

I looked down the hallway. Indigo-colored bars blocked the path forward. Unfortunately, it appeared that we could not continue any further.

“We’re... in the middle of the ocean, right?” Akane asked, glancing around at our surroundings.

“Yeah.”

“Then there may be dolphins swimming around right next to us just beyond these walls,” Akane said with a smile. “Sorry... I know you might get mad at me for not being serious, but I think I’m a bit excited. Today feels like the spring break after our elementary school graduation ceremony, and I’m on an aquarium date with Jumpy...”

Tears suddenly streamed down her face.

“...If only this was all a dream,” Akane continued, letting out little sobs. “I’ve been reunited with Jumpy after all this time, but... why... why did it have to turn out like this...”

Upon seeing her crying face, a wave of emotions rushed through my heart. Riding those emotions, I embraced her.

Akane’s heartbeat, her warmth... I felt all of it in my body.

“...Jumpy?”

“Don’t worry. This is a dream. We’ve been inside a nightmare this whole time.”

The inside of my nostrils started to ache. My chest felt heavy, as if it were filled with lead.

“Let’s go to the aquarium once we wake up from this dream. Okay, Kanny?”

“...Okay.”

I heard her bashful voice rise up from around my chest.

Next: Part 6, Chapters 4-5

[andinewton]

Second Chances - Avengers Redemption Series - Part One - Chapter 43

Characters:  Loki, Maia Tomson (OFC), Sigyn, pretty much everyone from the MCU appears at some point, including some special appearances by members of the X-Men!

Pairings: Loki x Maia Tomson, Loki x Sigyn,

Warnings:  Smut, so much smut, violence, swearing; listen, it’s NSFW and 18+, just bear that in mind!

Word Count: 179105

Summary: Loki has been handed over to The Avengers to pay penance for his past crimes, underpowered and underwhelmed by his post he is assigned a new ‘guide to Midgard’ by his superiors and is more than a little surprised when a petite freckled, redhead is waiting in the conference room, not at all like the previous handlers he has been assigned, who quit after a very short time with the snarky god. Maia Tomson is a trained literature teacher and counsellor, maybe not someone you would have picked out to be a guide to the God of Mischief but her mentor, Charles Xavier, knows she likes a challenge, and when The Avengers ask him to recommend someone she is top of his list. Surprised by the assignment, Maia takes it on, promising to do her best, but was not counting on a mutual attraction with her charge.

Join Loki on a journey to discover that his heart is not as frozen as he believes it to be, an adventure spanning almost a millennia of love gained and lost and rediscovered in the most unlikely of places…

Master List

Chapter 43

Summary:  The Avengers return and immediately jump to conclusions.

Tony and Steve stood at the top of the stairs leading down to the training area, looking at the ice coated room in puzzlement. 'Can a broken air conditioning unit do this?' Steve asked as he carefully walked to the edge where the handrails held icicles. 'Nope. Not to this degree. Icicles on the unit maybe, but not an entire hanger.' ‘So, what could do this?' Realisation dawned on them both at the same time and they looked at one another. 'Loki.' They chorused as they turned for the door.

'If he's hurt her there'll be hell to pay.' Steve said as they ran through the corridors. 'FRIDAY, locate Loki.' Tony yelled.

'Loki is in his apartment, Boss.'

'And Maia?'   'She's with him.' 'I don't think he'd hurt her intentionally.' Tony hoped he was right. 'But unintentionally, that amount of ice...' Steve left the words hanging in the air between them. 'FRIDAY, how are Maia's vitals?' 'Body temperature is a few degrees down, Captain Rogers, and she doesn't seem to have conscious brain waves.' 'Unconscious?' Steve glared at Tony before peeling off at high speed, leaving Tony behind. Loki jumped as the door crashed in, and he calmly paused the movie before looking over the back of the couch to see Steve stalking angrily towards him. 'There had better be a good reason for this intrusion, Steven. The doc has just been struck by lightning and disappeared.' 'Where is she?' Steve demanded. 'Maia?' Loki frowned. 'She's right here, sleeping, which she will not be for long if you continue to yell.' Steve reached the back of the couch and looked down to see Maia seemingly sleeping soundly with her head on Loki's thigh, a blanket covering her. 'What did you do in the training room?' Steve came around the couch and crouched on the balls of his feet, pressing his fingers to the pulse in Maia's neck, but he did lower his voice. 'I did nothing, your security feed will show you that, once you stop jumping to conclusions.' Maia stirred and Loki shushed her, stroking her hair, and Steve watched in astonishment as Loki's face, which normally frowned or smiled slyly, softened as he looked at her, such raw emotion Steve hadn't seen in a long time. 'I passed Maia some news she was not expecting and in her grief her power overwhelmed her.' Loki said quietly. 'She passed out and you brought her back here.' Steve got to his feet as Tony came through the door. 'Actually, she did not. It has still tired her but not to the point of immediate unconsciousness.' 'You were told no powers out of the cell.' Tony said as he looked over the two, cuddled up with a movie like any couple would on a Sunday. 'As I told Steven, I did nothing, and it was unintentional.' 'Maia.' Steve explained. 'Really?' Tony raised an eyebrow. 'That still doesn't explain why you were in the training room in the first place.' Steve added. 'So suspicious.' Loki narrowed his eyes with a smile. 'Maia expressed the desire for fresh air but as I thought it unwise with so many of The Avengers off site we settled for a tour. That was where we started.' Tony glanced around the room and everything seemed in order...apart from the scorch mark on the carpet. 'What happened here?' 'Ah, yes, you will also see the activation of some sprinklers in the corridors. Maia's magic is being temperamental and sparking at times. I'm afraid her Stark Phone is no more.' He nodded towards the kitchen counter where the melted unit lay. 'Son of a bitch.' Tony went and picked it up, looking at the mangled and melted handset. 'She did this?' 'She's been woken up by noisy Avengers.' Maia grumbled and Loki chuckled as he helped her sit up. 'Feel better, love?' She nodded before looking at Steve standing over her. 'Am I in trouble?' 'Why would you be in trouble?’ Steve asked as Loki waved him to a chair. 'Nearly setting fire to the compound, twice, and freezing your training area. I hope there isn't too much water damage.' 'It hasn't melted.' Tony came and sat in the other chair. 'How long ago did it happen?' Loki checked both the time stamp on the movie, then the clock. 'Approximately two hours.' Steve's frown deepened. 'That should have started defrosting by now, no, Tony don't even think about saying I'm an expert.' Tony was smirking, he had thought about it. Instead he turned back to Maia. 'Can you defrost it?' She glanced at Loki before answering. 'I guess I can try.'   'That's all we can ask.' Steve said. 'I do hope you are not suggesting she try this immediately?' Loki looked between them. 'It needs defrosting before the electrics and other equipment are completely shot.' Tony explained. 'This exhausts her.' Loki said firmly. 'Absolutely not.' 'I'll try once.' Maia added and Loki gave her a startled gaze. 'This is unwise.' 'One try, without unleashing it fully, and if it doesn't work, it doesn't work.' 'You know what I'm going to say.' He shook his head. 'Stubborn.' She smiled at him. 'But you can help. You're more attuned to what I need to do than I am.' She turned to Tony. 'I'll try, but all cameras are off, and no audience.' 'Why not?' Stark's brow furrowed. 'Peer pressure. So far it's only acted on its own without my prompting when I've been emotional. I don't want that caught on camera again.' 'What do you think, Cap?' Tony looked at the man sitting opposite him. 'Trust them?' 'Maia, sure. Loki's reformed but he's still the God of Lies.' 'I'll keep him on a tight leash.' She smiled sweetly. 'Kinky.' Tony said as he got to his feet. 'You wanna go now?' 'No time like the present and all that.' Maia slipped her shoes back on. They got up to leave but Loki paused as he drew level with Stark. 'If this ruins our date...' 'You'll throw me out of a window?' 'At the very least.' Loki smiled slyly.

Chapter 44

[annamaetion]

Independence Day: Downtime

Dikembe Umbutu -Congolese Warlord Floyd Rosenberg -Government Accountant

The harvester queen had been vanquished and the sphere was secure. Finally some time to relax and to finally catch their collective breaths.

Floyd could hardly believe that he'd survived, but he put off those thoughts for now. He sat on a soft patch of soil out near where he'd defended Area 51 with Warlord Umbutu just a bit earlier. Umbutu sat with him, watching as Floyd contemplated the gun he'd been handed.

"Do you think they'll let me keep this?" He asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

"You have the heart of a warrior." Umbutu said, seemingly out of nowhere.

Floyd looked pleased but was somewhat shocked. "That's the nicest thing anybody's ever said to me."

Umbutu shrugged, "You remember that I brought that blaster --you have-- with me from Congo? The one they gave you was taken back by the doctor."

"Are you asking for it back?" Floyd asked smiling, "Or--"

"I am saying that if anyone here tries to take that blaster from you they'll have to go through me as well."

"Neat. Best present ever." Floyd smiled with unbounded glee, "Thanks man..." Floyd canted his head slightly, "So... odd question. What do I call you? Dikembe... Umbutu... I'm not sure which of your names I'm supposed to call you."

"When talking to me you may call me Dikembe, but introduce me as Warlord Umbutu to those who don't know me if I should come up." Dikembe angled slightly more towards Floyd, "What name do I call you by? I remember Director Levinson called you Rosenberg, but I'm not sure I remember if you were addressed by any other name?"

"You can call me Floyd."

Dikembe stuck out his right hand. "Apologies Floyd." He said, his pronunciation of Floyd's name slightly clumsy but getting there, "I judged you quite wrongly during our first meeting and I mistook your enthusiasm as-- misplaced."

Floyd took his hand and shook it, "Well to be fair to you, before today I hadn't ever had any real experience fighting with weapons." Floyd withdrew his hand and shrugged, "By the way, that alien mind thing? That looked super painful, I was scared that you'd somehow got struck by a laser or something..."

"And I was very concerned how, at first, the sphere seemed to be 'eating you' the hive mind fears it after all... and so too do I.  It is the shade of their fear, but I cannot shake it."

"Maybe you're just anxious, because I know I am."

"I do not know this word, 'anxious'."

"Uh. Unsure about the future? Worried about could happen-- but like a background baseline feeling?" Floyd shrugged, "Wanting something to do...also? It's a complicated feeling."

Dikembe nodded, "Anxious sounds like what I am feeling."

They again lapsed into a comfortable silence, both casually watching Area 51 personnel scurry about to clean and collect the shield generators. The school bus still sat where it had been nearly crushed. The children had long since been placed in the bases' mess hall, both Dikembe and Floyd were glad to see that the kids looked more or less okay.

Suddenly a nearby radio crackled to life. "Hello-- uh this is Julius Levinson. Director Levinson's father-- er one of the kids is missing his backpack, could someone check the bus and let me know if you find one on it? Uh-- over."

Floyd exchanged a glance with Dikembe "Well I was planning a trip to the mess hall anyway, you want to come with me?"

Dikembe nodded, "It will be interesting to see what they have for food on this base."

Floyd grabbed the radio and they headed over towards the bus. The backpack was quickly located under one of the back seats and one of the kids' rabbit hats lay on a nearby seat as well.

"Floyd to Julius, come in Julius." "Yeah-- Julius here." "Located backpack and a hat, you guys are still in the mess hall right? Over." "Yes we're still there...over." "Headed your way, over and out."

They handed the backpack and hat to Julius upon entering the mess hall, he grinned and handed the stray articles to the kids that they belonged to.

"Thanks, I guess I should have thought to do a final check, but with all that's been happening I guess it completely slipped my mind."

"Of course, glad to help. Anything good to eat around here?"

Julius sighed, "Military rations and MRE's mostly."

Floyd contemplated a nearby set of three vending machines. He quirked an eyebrow, "Well, I've got an idea. Dikembe would you help me move these machines away from the wall?"

"Yes of course."

Once the machines had been moved forward Floyd set to fiddling with the bottom of the first one, "Thanks, now lets see here—yup. You'd think an Area 51 base vending machine would be more secure than your average one. Nope, totally a commercial model."

The vending machine whirred to life and started turning each spiral in quick succession. Bags of chips and various other treats rained down into the collection area.

"Tada!" Floyd said grinning widely, "Don't go overboard or anything though don't want to be responsible for any tummy aches." Floyd then moved on to the drinks machine.

Julius laughed, "How'd you learn to do that?" "Well, I've got a broad electrical knowledge and programming know-how. It was one of the requirements for me being Director Levinson's accountant. Gotta have someone to simplify the technology expense account for the military higher ups."

The kids were happy clamoring over the pile of goodies and collecting drinks grinning and laughing. The eldest of the kids remembered her manners by turning to Floyd and thanking him. The other kids chimed in with a flurry of thank you's and yeah's nodding happily.

"No problem, glad to help. Hey pass me a package of funyons?"

One of the myriad of kids tossed him a bag of the fried onions.

"You a fan of onions Dikembe?" "Yes?" "Toss a bag to him too."

Another bag was thrown, but this time to Dikembe.

"They're battered and fried onions. Try them and tell me what you think."

Dikembe opened the bag and sniffed tentatively at the contents. Extracting one he brought it to his mouth and tossed it in.

He chewed slowly and nodded, "It is very unusual. You Westerners put a lot of salt on your foods however, is there a water bottle that I might have?"

The elder blond girl walked up and handed Dikembe a water bottle. "Here you go sir."

"Thank you." Dikembe said simply.

Suddenly Director Levinson was at the door to the mess hall, "Hey Dad- Uh Rosenberg... kids. Warlord... Umbutu."

"Hello David," Julius greeted his son with a hug that was shyly received, "What did they say about when we can leave here?"

David wobbled his hands in a so-so gesture. "We're still working on re-establishing the communication networks, it could take a while before we can get ourselves organized enough to wrangle the kids' parents."

The group cast glances at the kids collected around the far table in the corner munching on their snacks.

"For now I guess they'll have to stay here. We'll have a better time getting them some real food in Area 51 after the dust settles a little."

"Good. I guess we should figure out where they'll sleep then."

"There's some barracks a ways off from the main barracks. Should be space for them there."

Julius nodded, "Okay kids we'll be heading off. Follow us to the barracks we gotta to get you guys some rest."

The kids muttered their agreements and started collecting their respective things.

Floyd turned towards Dikembe, "Are you headed back to Congo anytime soon?"

"Not tonight, the pilots are in need of rest, and the planes we do have are in need of refuel or repair. I will have to remain here for now."

"Right yeah- I guess I should have figured." Floyd scratched the back of his head as he watched the kids file out of the mess hall. "Maybe we should follow them, so we know where the barracks are?"

Dikembe nodded, "And we should also help make sure the children are looked after as well."

"Yeah, that many kids is bound to be something even Area 51 isn't really equipped to deal with." Floyd brought up the rear of the line of kids with Dikembe following right behind him.

—    —    —    —    —    —    —    —    —    —

The school bus kids, the ones that had originally been with the bus that is, had numbered 22 before Julius had joined them with the three kids he'd traveled with. 25 kids was a lot to keep tabs on, but Floyd gladly teamed up with Dikembe to help Julius with the task.

Soon the number began to dwindle as families or relatives of the kids were located. Two weeks passed with Floyd beginning to wonder when Dikembe would leave back to his kingdom (is it called a kingdom if his official title is warlord?)

He didn't want him to leave, so he didn't ask. Dikembe called him his 'Warrior Brother' and ate every meal with him. Floyd would miss looking after the gaggle of kids, which he lovingly thought of as the jackrabbits because of their hats.

He'd especially miss Dikembe, his cool and aloof demeanor was the sort any action hero would be proud to sport. Basically he was too cool for him to be associating with a nerdy government accountant like Floyd.

Those tallies on his arm and machetes on his back were pretty badass too.

One morning a few days after the last of the jackrabbits now being looked after by family Floyd worried that he'd be left behind in Area 51 with very little that he could do that he was qualified for.

Floyd sat sullenly in a corner of the former barracks and pondered this. Maybe he should follow Dikembe to Congo?

Julius appeared at the door to the room and brightened upon spotting him.

"Floyd, there you are." "Hey Julius. What's up?" "Umbutu was looking for you? Something about The Congo?" "Oh?" "Yeah he was looking for a ride or something, he's in the main hanger- he asked if anyone had seen you." "So he hasn't left yet?"

"Like he'd leave without saying goodbye to you?" Julius laughed, "You two have practically been joined at the hip these past few weeks."

Floyd shrugged, "I guess you're right, thanks for finding me."

Floyd stood and strode out of the room.

The entire walk to the main hanger filled Floyd with a mounting dread. Was this goodbye? He supposed that it was long past time for Dikembe to head home to Congo (he was the warlord after all).

The main hanger was a livelier bustle than it been the previous week, now that communication channels had been re-established, there were now ways to organize the supplies that needed to get ferried about.

Honestly Floyd wasn't really up on the latest thing that Area 51 had decided on. There should be more meetings, or maybe there could at least be a memo?

Dikembe was always easy to spot in almost any room, tall and looming. So Floyd found him easily.

"Hey, heard you were looking for me?" "Yes Floyd, it is high time for me to return home. I would like it very much if you would accompany me." "I-I uh, sure yeah- that'd be awesome..." "What bothers you?" "I-I don't think I'd really fit in. I mean: 'Dangly, pale, bespectacled English man." He said pointing at himself derisively, "Yeah that’s totally the guy who would fit into a tribal(?) African warrior culture. He'll fit right in."

Dikembe rested his hand on Floyd's shoulder, "You would make an excellent addition. As an ambassador to the western world and and English teacher-- if nothing else. Though you're a warrior if ever I saw one."

"Ah. That's a good point actually. About the ambassador to the Western world, I mean."  Floyd shrugged, "After all Dr. Marceaux is staying here to figure out the sphere."

"Indeed, the good doctor did act as our ambassador for a while." Dikembe said nodding, "But even if she were wanting to return with me, I still would have requested you come."

"Well, okay." Floyd said smiling widely, "When are we leaving?"

"The pilot is ready now."

"Awesome. Let's go then."

—    —    —     —     —     —     —     —    —

The Congolese people seemed a little put off by Floyd, but eventually settled their concerns after getting used to him.

Well, for the most part.

Dikembe's council of fellow warriors shot looks at Floyd and grumbled derogatory things in their native tongue behind his back. They had only tolerated the female doctor because she only was interested in her studies of the aliens' language.

She had never overstepped her welcome by being so foolish as to correct their English! He should be more respectful.

Dikembe overheard these men from time to time, wanting very much to throttle them the first few, and growing increasingly more worried with the frequency of the complaints. Could his council not see Floyd's worth?

They mocked his name and his pale skin, called him weak to his face!

Dikembe felt troubled, maybe if they could see Floyd as the warrior that he was underneath the layer of their own underestimation?

Floyd didn't seem to let it get to him, he'd known there would be some push-back. In truth he'd expected a lot more derision from the council of elders.

It wasn't until a conflict with a group of harvester aliens, that Floyd was able to prove himself. (pod... swarm? What's the collective term for the harvester aliens?)

Floyd only had minor abrasive cuts whereas other established warriors said they owed their lives to Floyd as he had provided much needed cover. The warriors said of him, 'Calm, and vigilant. Seemingly seeing enemies mere moments before their attacks.'

This quieted the descent from the elders, finally, Floyd had secured the reputation of a warrior amongst his people.

"Of all the things you've got to worry about on a daily basis, the aliens are almost the most predictable." Floyd murmured, "I think this pocket of them must have gotten desperate to ambush us though. They've mostly stayed hidden and stuck at night on small groups or lone travelers."

"Yes... or children." Dikembe offered somberly.

"They- the children aren't allowed to leave the secured perimeter until the last of the aliens' are cleared out." Floyd said confused, "There hasn't been a kid attacked since I've gotten here, and it's going to stay that way if I've got any say in it!"

Dikembe sighed. "Before, with my Father in charge— he said that children had to be trained from an early age to be warriors— to learn to fight on their own." Dikembe slowly gestured to his younger brothers' photo on the wall.

"Oh." Floyd said simply, "I see."

"When I took over, I vowed to avenge my younger brother." Dikembe shook his head, "a part of me wonders if we've really made a dent if that was only one of the harvester queens."

"Well the sphere did say no one had ever killed a harvester queen before," Floyd noted, "so we've showed the resistance that it's at least possible."

Dikembe nodded, "It is a start."

—  —  —  —  —  —  —  —  —  —  —

A year passed, and the aliens left on earth were estimated to be less than 100 worldwide. Absolutely none left in all of Congo or in the surrounding countries thanks to the sizable efforts of the warriors and citizenry.

There were celebrations being planned all over, one year anniversary of the defeat of the harvester queen, and the Twenty-first anniversary of the original attack's win.

"Floyd. Warrior brother?" Dikembe was puzzled, Floyd had not made it to breakfast that morning, it wasn't like him to sleep in. Today was special— they were supposed to celebrate the anniversary of the win together after all.

Dikembe knocked on Floyd's door, "Are you in there?" A light groan emanated from behind the door.

Floyd opened the door slightly, "Good morning Dikembe— sorry I slept in, but I was just so comfortable this morning."

The door shifted slightly revealing a bare chested Floyd, "I figured if I couldn't sleep in— today of all days— when could I?" Floyd chuckled at his own joke, very much unaware of the assessing look that Dikembe was sweeping over his bare chest.

"What?" Floyd said, having finally noticed Dikembe had yet to say anything. Upon realizing he was being stared at Floyd began to shrink back and he nervously placed his arms in front of his chest.

"Uh— I'll just go get dressed --now."

Dikembe silently entered the room and closed the door behind him, "No need to dress yourself on my account— you have no need to be ashamed of your bare chest."

Dikembe noted the tally marks on Floyd's left arm. The small black lines on his upper arm, standing in a stanch contrast to the pale skin, were very far above where his tan line started.

"You would even hide your tally?"

Floyd shrugged, "Well, sort of?" He shrugged shyly, "It makes sense to start at the top of the arm and work down it... I sun burn easy, so long sleeves are just to be practical."

Dikembe took a step toward Floyd and traced the small tallies with his right hand, "You have made great progress this past year," he counted out the tally in his head, "You are nearing a count of seventy."

Floyd arm was smooth to Dikembe's rough callused hand as he clasped his hand over his shoulder. Floyd still wasn't looking Dikembe in the eye. Dikembe realized that Floyd was shaking slightly.

"Why are you shaking?" Dikembe asked confused. It was not cold in the room... maybe Floyd had caught a chill, and that was the true reason for him sleeping in.

Floyd's eyes darted around, only briefly meeting Dikembe's gaze. However, it was enough for the seasoned warlord to recognize fear and uncertainty.

"What troubles you?"

Floyd sighed, "Didn't sleep well last night if I'm honest, the one year anniversary is technically only because the twentieth anniversary was interrupted by another invasion." Floyd's gaze finally settled on Dikembe, "The aliens seem to really like attacking on significant dates...is what I'm saying."

Dikembe nodded, "This is true, but the downed alien ships do not stir— and I feel nothing of the hive mind."

Floyd offered a watery smile, but the first genuine one he'd offered that morning.

Something shifted between them, and a very fragile— very small— moment hung in the air. A moment that was more of a feeling. A feeling, one year and many battles in the making.

A warlord of Congo, fighting since birth, for his brother— fighting against his fathers decisions about the recruitment of children.

A pale British man, former government accountant, who went from working in liaison with the military to fighting alongside the military. Then chosen to become the Congo's ambassador to the West.

The differences of their backgrounds and cultures were too many. The moment—the feeling— was surely too fragile.

                                                       But.

Where others, might have faltered. Where so many other possibilities branched from the conclusion of this conversation... so much easier possibilities with less far reaching consequences...

Both Dikembe and Floyd simultaneously  reached into the feeling and listed in the direction of the other.

The kiss was short and chaste, barely a brush of their lips.

It shook both men to their cores. The kiss changed everything.

It was a silent admission of what had been growing between them in the past year, and was perhaps more fragile than the moment previous.

Neither man said anything, the only sound in the room was their breathing.

Then Floyd tilted his head to the side, imploring Dikembe with a seeking question in his look.

Floyd then purposely surged forward and kissed Dikembe.

Dikembe's hands grasped at Floyd. The right hand gripping his shoulder harder, and his left hand found itself at the small of Floyd's back.

They lost themselves to the moment. Their pasts and titles were no longer barriers between them. Or, maybe, they never really were any barriers— other than the shallow ones, imagined and then taught by society.

When they finally broke apart Floyd smiled self-deprecatingly, "You could do a LOT better than me. I can't be worth all the problems that I know—"

Dikembe silenced him with a deep kiss.

He parted only a sliver of distance between their mouths to reply, "I still do not understand how you do not see your own worth. I made the mistake of not seeing it when we first met, and since having been proved to be wrong I have had to fight to make others see it."

Dikembe kissed him again, even more deeply than the last time. Passion ramping up with each kiss, with his hands and arms set to holding Floyd close. Another pause as Dikembe continued his line of thought.

"Now I will fight to make sure that you see." Dikembe clasped Floyd's face with his right hand, "I will see to it that you no longer have cause to so disparage -the man— I have found cause to love."

"L-love?" Floyd was both visibly elated and shocked in equal measure. How could a Congolese Warlord possibly-?

He wasn't Warlord Umbutu to him- no, he'd long since been just simply, Dikembe.

Floyd smiled wide and surged forward into Dikembe's proffered kiss.

[vgckwb]

Danganronpa: Away Chapter 4: Hold Me, Thrill Me, Kiss Me, Kill Me (Part 1)

The night after the third trial. Location: The Ultimate Killer’s secret lair.

Monokuma is talking to the Ultimate Killer via a monitor. “You know, you really need to keep your emotions in check, sir,” he said. “It’s starting to become a problem.”

We see a man wearing an all black ensemble, consisting of a turtleneck, a vest, camo pants, and a balaclava. “I know,” he says, in a deep voice. “But that Arbil kid is too good!”

“Well, he IS the grandson of the person who almost beat you” Monokuma added.

“I know” the Ultimate Killer said. “And I’ve taken every precaution to make him feel the deepest depths of despair. And yet…” he looks at a series of dials, “he still seems to not be falling into it. He manages to climb out every SINGLE time. It’s INFURIATING!”

“Well sir, if you’ll listen for just a second,” Monokuma said, “I have an idea.”

“...Go on” the Ultimate Killer said.

“Well, what if we use something cheerful, and twist it so it becomes despair inducing” Monokuma said.

“Sounds like you already have a plan” the Ultimate Killer said. “I trust your judgement.”

“AHAHAHAHAHA! Very well! You will not be disappointed!” Monokuma said. His screen blacked out.

The Ultimate Killer continued talking to himself. “Those students are the last thing that stand between me and my ultimate goal. Even a handful of them could ruin everything.” He looked at a photo of them all “And Pierce. You said Jacob found you? Are you his final act of revenge? Given that I didn’t find anything about you in my searches, that seems likely. Still, I’ve beaten Jacob once already, I can do it again!”

The former Hope’s Peak Academy, Justin’s Room:

That night, the nightmare returned. I was being dragged out of a courtroom, screaming. On a table, I could see evidence: broken glass, wire cutters, a pair of gloves, and a bloody knife,

However, new to the dream this time were pictures. One of them was a diagram to a house, with details written on it about how the crime was committed. The other was a photo of a woman face down in a puddle of blood. It was harrowing, but also the diagram looked incorrect, and the picture could prove it. Still, it didn’t seem to matter. I was still being dragged out, and the menacing smile was still beaming at me.

I woke up in a panic. “At least I know why I was shouting” I said to myself. I tried remembering more of it, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t get back to sleep easily either. So, I decided to do what has become routine at this point, and go to the art room late at night to make sub-par figures of those who are no longer with us. I headed down, made the figures, came up, and passed out.

I was rudely awakened by Monokuma’s morning announcement. I sighed deeply and got ready. Normally, I’d moan about how I hate waking up early, but now I would be willing to wake up at sunrise every morning if it meant everyone stopped dying. That’s just what they want though. They want us to feel so hopeless that normalcy feels like a goal that needs to be reached instead of the bare minimum of acceptable standards.

I went down to eat breakfast. It was quiet. Understandably so. Then Tammy broke the silence. “DAMMIT!” she said. “We can’t give up!” Everyone looked at her. “Well?! You all know I’m right!”

“...We do…” said Annabelle. “But we don’t have enough to go off of. And we keep getting distracted by these...events…”

“Is that what they are?” Andy asked. “‘Distractions’?”

“I didn’t mean it like that” Annabelle said, nervously.

“But she is right,” Pierce said. “At every moment we get closer to defying the Ultimate Killer, Monokuma comes at us with a new motive. It’s another layer of complication.”

“Well, it’s not like we can just stop fighting” Jay said.

“Oh, but you CAN!” Monokuma said, popping up. “In fact, THAT’S what I’m counting on.”

“Oh good. You’re here” I said, sarcastically.

“Someone’s cheery this morning” Monokuma responded in kind.

“What do you want?” I asked.

“Well, thanks to this previous trial, I have finally had enough time for my machines to finish the remainder of the school!” Monokuma said. “I thought you’d be interested in that.”

He had successfully gotten our attention. “The REST of the school?” Cassy asked.

“Welllllll, the rest of the school I’m allowing you to visit anyway” Monokuma said. “The basement’s still mine.”

“Oh” said Cassy.

“I guess that’s another attempt to raise our hopes and put us back down,” I said.

“...You know, it’s less fun if you keep saying it” Monokuma said.

“Yeah, well my job isn’t to let you have fun” I said.

“Wow. Buzzkill alert!” Monokuma said. No one responded. “Anyway, there’s two areas now left to explore. The third floor, and the field out back. Where do you wish to explore first?”

We thought about it. “Let’s do the third floor first,” May said.

“But after we finish breakfast!” Duke added.

“Fine by me” Monokuma said. “I’ll see you all later.”

We all finished breakfast in silence. Despite what they wanted us to think, we are getting closer. We know bits and pieces, but things didn’t connect to make the bigger picture yet. It’s like a jigsaw puzzle. We have some of the details, but not enough to tell it’s whatever is on the box.

Afterwards, we all headed upstairs. A previously walled off section of the second floor was now open, and everyone's favorite bear was there waiting for us. “How did you enjoy breakfast?” he asked.

“As any breakfast can be the day after two of your friends were murdered” May said.

“So EXTRA yummy!” Monokuma said. When no one responded he said “Oh right. You guys aren't at that point yet.”

“I’d rather not be at that point at all” Annabelle said.

“See, you say that, but people keep getting murdered!” Monokuma said.

“Because you FORCE US too!” Andy shouted.

“Me? I don’t FORCE anything” Monokuma said. “I just give incentives. YOU do the killing!”

“We can argue pointless semantics later” I said. “Just show us what you want us to see.”

Monokuma wasn’t pleased. “FINE! Let’s head to the third floor.” We all followed him upstairs.

Once we got up there, we noticed there wasn’t a lot to see. Most of it was just more classrooms, and the hallway was smaller. At the end of the hallway was a window. However, there was one room that was different from the others.

“Is that?” Annabelle asked. She ran up to the door and opened it. “It is! It’s a broadcasting studio.”

“Yup” Monokuma said. “This is where I do all my announcements!”

“Wait. If you had this room in use, why not have it open?” Pierce asked.

“...If you MUST know,” Monokuma said, “this entire building had several problems. Problems I can obfuscate, being a robotic bear and all, but problems nonetheless.”

“So, you could survive in it, but not us?” Jay asked.

“Pretty much” Monokuma said.

“But you want us dead!” Tammy said.

“True” said Monokuma. “But letting the building kill you is no fun.”

“Wait. Where’s the door to the bell tower?” Cassy asked.

Monokuma seemed confused. “The what?”

“The bell tower” Cassy reiterated. “You know, the incident that closed down this school was that a bell fell on some students.”

“...Oh THAT!” said Monokuma. “I blocked it off. I’m not allowing you there.”

“What?! Why not?!” Cassy asked.

“Because you’re trying to figure me out” Monokuma said. “And I can’t have that.”

Cassy said “So you’re admiting to having a had in it?”

“Nope” Monokuma said.

“But you just-” Cassy said.

“And as long as you can’t investigate that area, you can’t prove it either way” Monokuma said. Cassy was mad.

“Um, could I have this room?” Annabelle asked, cutting the tension.

“Pardon?” Monokuma asked.

“Well, it’s just, I kind of want to do the announcements from now on” Annabelle said. “Is that OK?”

Monokuma thought about it. “Well, I could use some help, but I’m still the head honcho around here!”

“Hooray!” Annabelle said.

“Wait, you’re siding with the enemy?” Andy asked.

“Not really…” Annabelle said. “But I figured taking over might help keep me sane! I’m used to reporting on news and stuff, but ever since I’ve been here, I had no outlet for that.”

Hmmmm. That’s not a bad idea.

“Ooo! Ooo! Can I also come in and play music sometimes?” MAy asked.

“Sure. Why not?” Monokuma answered

Monokuma seems to be going along with this too. He’s planning something. I just know it.

We took a look inside the studio. It looked like your average public announcements room. It had a camera, as well as equipment for recording sound. It also had a backdrop for whenever Monokuma broadcast his messages.

We then looked around the classrooms. These classrooms we just like the classrooms on the floors below us. “Look, I can tell you’re not impressed” Monokuma said. “But the reason this area was locked off was because it was so high up.”

“I dunno. I just kind of expected more out of Hope’s Peak more than anything” Sophie said.

Jay looked out the window. “Wait, is that a track for running?!”

“Yup!” Monokuma said. “And the best part is, you can run it!”

“Right, we can go outside now” Duke said.

“Yeah, let’s check that area out!” Jay said.

“Follow me! Again…” Monokuma said. We all followed him down the stairs and to the very back of the hallway on the first floor. He opened the door leading outward and we saw not only the track, but an outdoor basketball court, and a shed.

“Wow,” Andy said.

“Basically, you can go anywhere that is fenced in” Monokuma said, pointing out a large fence surrounding this back section to the school.

“What happens if we don’t?” Pierce said.

“Why don’t you answer that question?” Monokuma said. “Is the fence A. Mounted with sub-machine guns that will kill anything that crosses its path? B. Electrified with 10,000 volts of electricity? C. Covered in so much barbed wire that attempting to escape it would be futile? Or D. All of the above?”

“I’m gonna guess D” Pierce said.

“DING! DING! DING! You are correct sir” Monokuma said.

“Figures” Pierce said.

“Still, this is pretty cool” Jay said. He lined up on one of the starting lines. “Ready, set, go!” He then took off with tremendous speed doing laps.

We all watched in awe until Cassy said “What’s inside the shed?” “Have a look for yourself” Monokuma said.

We all walked in to see some outdoor sport equipment and other activities, as well as a washer and dryer. “What’s this for?” I asked.

“Oh, well, you know how you humans get all sweaty after a workout. This is to wash your clothes afterwards.”

“So, what are we supposed to wear in the meantime?” Cassy asked.

“Huh. You know. I didn’t think about that” Mnokuma said.

“So, we’re just supposed to be in our skivvies for a while?” Cassy asked.

“Wait, you wouldn’t WASH your skivvies in this process?” Monokuma retorted.

Cassy’s entire face turned beet red. She put her hands in her face and said “Oh God…”

“Look, I’ll rectify this somehow” Monokuma said. “I’ll talk with the bird and see what we can do.”

“Thanks goodness” Cassy said, hands still in her face.

“By the way, I’m still going to have to take your usual laundry. This is much smaller than the set I have” Monokuma said.

“Oh yeah, are we ever going to get access to that?” I asked.

Monokuma thought about it. “Probably not” he answered. “That’s in the basement, and I have certain things in that area that might not be suitable for everyone.”

“OK?” I said.

“Anyway, seeya!” Monokuma said, disappearing.

I looked at Cassy. She was still embarrassed. “Um, Cassy? He’s gone.”

“I know,” she said. “I just…”

I smiled. “I get it. I’m gonna go back to watch Jay. Meet me out there when you’re ready.”

“I will,” she said. I left.

I met up with everyone. They were all watching Jay. He was speeding around the track at speeds I couldn’t even imagine. Looking at him, there was no doubt. He was the Ultimate Track Member. “And time!” he said, finishing. We all looked confused. “Oh man, did no one time that?”

“Well, you didn’t ask us…” Andy said.

“Darn it!” Jay said.

May opened her eyes. “Three minutes, 21 seconds.” We all looked at her in disbelief. “What? I’m good at tracking revolutions per minute. This is basically the same.”

“Yes! I still got it!” Jay said.

“Well, congratulations Jay,” I said. “Speaking of your talent though, I want to talk about something.”

“What is it?” Jay asked.

“Later” I said. “I want to think about it some more.”

“Well, OK” Jay said. “Now, who wants to help me get some hurdles?”

Duke, Pierce, and May helped Jay get hurdles. Jay then proceeded to run more laps, but jumping over hurdles this time. We were all still impressed.

“Hey,” said Cassy.

I looked over confused. “When did you get here?”

“Just now” she said. She observed Jay running. “He’s very good.”

“I smiled. “The best.” She smiled too.

“And TIME!” Jay said.

May stood still for a second. “Four minutes, 51 seconds.”

“Alright. Alright. Not bad” Jay said. “And with this area open, I can practice now more than ever!”

A stomach growled. “Oh. Sorry guys” Sophie said. “We’ve just been exploring for a while. I guess I got hungry.”

“Well then. To the dining area!” said Duke.

We had lunch. We were eating more than we had this morning. However Tammy spoke up. “This isn’t right,” she said. “Two of our friends died yesterday. Now we’re having lunch as if nothing happened?! What’s wrong with us?!”

We all looked at her. “She does have a point,” Annabelle said.

“Yeah, but it’s not like we can give up eating” May said

“But what can we do?” Jay asked.

“Actually…” I said, “I’ve been thinking about that.”

“Oh right. You were saying that earlier” Jay said. “So, what is it?”

“Well,” I said, “this is a bit risky, but there’s something we could do.”

“Hm” Pierce said. “Something is better than nothing. What is it?”

I sat silently. “Well, now that the whole school is open to us, I was thinking; Why don’t we just have school?”

Everyone was confused. “What?” Andy said.

“Hear me out” I said. “We’re all experts on something. So why don’t we try and teach it to everyone else?”

“And, how would that help?” Tammy asked.

“Well, it might help keep our sanity,” I said. “Plus, we’d be proving to Monokuma and the Ultimate Killer that they haven’t broken us yet, which I think our friends would want.”

“I getcha” Pierce said. “But, how is this risky?”

I paused. “I think Monokuma wants that from us,” I said. The table was shocked. “He was willing to let Annabelle use the announcements room for things. We’d be playing right into his hands.”

“So, why do it?” Cassy asked.

I smiled. “Because he’s also risking something. If we start getting on an emotional high, and he isn’t able to bring us down, then his plan backfires.”

“Smooth” said Duke.

“I’m in,” Pierce said. “I’ve been waiting to go head to head with Monokuma. So let’s do it!”

“Sure” said Andy.

“...OK” said Tammy.

“I like it,” said Sophie.

“I’m in too,” said May.

“Alright!” said Annabelle.

“Of course I’ll help,” said Jay.

Cassy hesitated. “I don't like taking huge risks. But what other choice do we have at the moment?”

I smiled. “Then it’s settled. Let’s spend the rest of the day coming up with a curriculum and then figure out what we’re going to do tomorrow!” Everyone nodded and walked off.

Everyone except Cassy that is. “What is it?” I asked.

She smiled. “So, what are you going to teach?” she asked. “You know, as the Ultimate Lawyer.”

“Well…” I thought about it. I then realized something she had realized earlier: That, having just discovered my talent, I had no inherent knowledge of what the law was. I was just playing by the rules of this courtroom. “I see the problem now.”

She chuckled. “Come on. You can help me teach” she said.

I was puzzled. “Really?”

“Of course” Cassy said. “We go well together you know?”

“Uh, yeah” I said. She nodded and walked off. I followed her. We ended up in her room. “So, what are we going to do?” I asked.

“Well, that’s a tricky thing isn’t it? Cassy said. “There are many facets to being a detective. I wouldn’t even know where to start?”

“Well, why not start where you started?” I asked.

“With my parents getting murdered, and the people who would eventually become my foster parents getting framed for it?” Cassy asked.

“That’s not quite what I meant,” I said. “You managed to figure that out, despite, I’m assuming, you not having the resources you have now.”

“True…” Cassy said. “Basic deduction is key for detective. However, it isn’t inherent in some people.”

“Or actively ignored by some people '' I said.

Cassty looked at me confused. “What do you mean by that?”

“Well, back when you put on that play, Duke automatically disqualified Katie. I don’t think Duke is stupid, just willfully ignorant sometimes.”

“I see…” Cassy said, looking off to the side. “But yes. That is helpful. Do you want to stay here and help plan some of the class with me?”

“Uh, sure,” I said. Cassy sat down on her bed with a notebook and started taking notes. I sat down next to her, watching what she was writing, and helping her when she needed it.

Then I realized the situation I was in. I was with a girl, on her bed, very close. Furthermore, she invited me here herself, and asked me to do all of this. We were so close I could feel her shoulder on my chest. My face grew ruby red.

“Justin, what do you think of this?” she asked, pointing at some of her notes. She saw my face. “Are you alright?”

“Uh yeah” I said. “I’m just...warm is all. I think I need some water.”

Cassy looked at her notes. “OK. It’s getting kind of late anyway. I can work out the rest of my notes myself.”

“Are you sure?” I said.

She nodded. “Positive.”

“OK” I said. “Well, thanks. Bye” I said, closing the door on my way out.

Once I got out there, I sighed a sigh of relief. But my relief was only temporary, as I heard Pierce say “Wow. I think you’re finally starting to get it.”

“Pierce?! But- How- Wha?”

“I could sense it,” Pierce said. “And it was either you getting embarrassed, or someone finding someone who had come back from the grave. I opted for the more logical choice.”

“Thanks…” I said.

He chuckled. “Follow me” he said. I wasn’t sure what he was up to, but I followed him. We went to his room. “So, you seem to get it now, huh?”

“Get what?” I asked.

“Justin…” Pierce said. “You really think you can fool me? I saw how red your face was after being in Cassy’s room for so long. I bet you’re realizing you’re starting to like her.”

“What? Pierce, that’s crazy!” I said. “I was just embarrassed after being invited into a girl’s room and getting so close to her.”

“Really?” Pierce said. “I wish there was a word for that.”

“You know what I mean,” I said. “I would have been embarrassed if that had been any other girl.”

Pierce grinned. “Are you sure about that?” I nodded. He sighed. “And here I thought you were learning. Or maybe... “ He glared at me. “You're just being willfully ignorant.”

“What?” I said.

“Some people choose to not see the thing that’s right in front of them” Pierce said. “The reason varies, but the result is the same.”

Wait! Wasn’t I just talking about this with Cassy? I looked at Pierce. Maybe it's just coincidence. After all, he’s good at sussing that kind of thing out.

“You seem like a smart guy. What’s keeping you from seeing this?” Pierce asked.

“Simple” I said. “There’s nothing to see.”

“Hm. Be stubborn I guess” Pierce said. “Let me ask you this though; If I can see it, and the rest of the class can see it, what makes you think Cassy, who may I remind you is the Ultimate Detective, doesn’t see it?”

“She told you herself” I said. “She only believes in facts.”

Pierce sighed. “Alright, I’ll play along. So suppose there was something to see. What do you think she would do about it?”

I thought about it. “Well, I assume she would do her usual detective work. You know, investigate?”

“OK, OK” said Pierce. “So now that I’ve met you halfway, try and meet me halfway. Now, since I and everyone else in class do see that within you, do you think it’s possible Cassy might have noticed that, at least from us?”

“Sure…” I said.

“So, would she still investigate?” he asked.

I thought about it for a minute. “I guess so. But it didn’t seem like she was investigating me.”

“Fool! That’s detective 101” Pierce said. “Never let the person you’re investigating know you’re investigating them.”

I was stunned. “So, you’re saying she’s investigating me?” I asked.

“Who knows?” Pierce said. “I’m just trying to help. Anyway, I’m going to grab dinner. Wanna come with?”

“Sure” I said. The two of us walked down to the dinning area to grab dinner. A few other students were there already.

Soon, everyone else was there. “So, does everyone know what they’re going to teach?” Cassy asked.

“I think so,” said Tammy. “Although, figuring out how to present it is hard.”

“Yeah, teaching isn’t easy” May said. “And none of us are Ultimate Teachers.”

“Too true” said Jay. “But I think I’ve got an idea.”

“Please tell me it isn’t ‘break our bones repeatedly’” I said.

“No no, nothing like that” Jay said. “That training regiment is only for people who want to make track their passion! It’s very advanced.”

“I see…” I said.

Once we finished eating, most people decided to call it a night and head to their rooms. I went out and hit up the shopping area to see what I could get. I bought a few items from the store, and then headed to the MonoMono Machine.

Two things of note popped out. One was a daisy. “Huh. It’s a miracle this thing is still alive. Then again, I guess the same could be said for us.” The other thing that popped out was a record. “‘Good Intentions’?” I read. “I might have to check this out. If only I could find a record player.”

I started to head upstairs when I saw Jay sitting by the stairs. “Hey Justin” he said

“Hey Jay” I replied.

“So, would you mind taking me to see your statues of Buck and Elliot?” he asked.

I was stunned for a moment, but then I said. “Sure. What brought this up?”

“Well, I know it’s a thing you do” Jay said. “And I want to see your hard work.”

“Well, when you put it like that, how could I say no?” I said. We headed to the art room. I showed him the statues.

Jay stared at them. “Well, they aren’t terrible,” he said, “but one of the reasons for this to not have happened is that you could have probably gotten Roman’s help on these.”

I smiled an embarrassed smile. “I know they aren’t the best, but the thing that got me to do this was him and Maria dying.”

“I see,” Jay said. “Silver linings I guess.”

“I guess” I said. I decided to remember the people who I made statues of.

Buck. A born leader, and a bold individual. If anyone knew how to rally our group into action, it was him. Though he had the mouth of a salty sailor, he had a heart of gold, and really cared for everyone.

Elliot. Such a joyous individual. I know she liked winning, but I could tell she loved seeing the smiles on people’s faces as she accomplished those feats even more. And yet, she wasn’t smiling herself. On the inside anyway. It just goes to show that sometimes the brightest smile can hide the saddest feelings. I wish I would have realized it sooner.

“Well, I should go,” Jay said. “I need to put the finishing touches on my curriculum.”

I smiled. “Goodnight” I said. The two of us walked out and headed to our rooms.

As I laid in bed, a lot was crossing my mind. We have made a bold decision to face down Monokuma by willingly taking part in one of his games. Yesterday’s murder and trial were excruciating. We want this to stop. That hasn’t changed about us, even though it seems like a lot has changed about us. In a way, I envy those that died. They’re no longer being tortured by this ruthless madman. And yet, I pray for the strength to survive this ordeal. If today has proven anything, it’s that we’re willing to take bigger risks.

I then thought of Cassy. I gasped. “...No. Pierce isn’t right… Is he? Whatever.” I tried going back to sleep. All I could see when I closed my eyes was Cassy. That’s all I saw until I could manage to fall asleep.

[chantalkrcmar]

Hitting Close to Home

Well, the ills of the informal construction industry have hit close to home — as in, actually in our home. The irony, of course, is that the Human Security of informal construction workers is the focus of my dissertation work.

Under the sheer weight of age and making it through one too many monsoon seasons, one of the beds in our home broke soon after we moved in. It just caved in on itself. So my in-laws decided to get a new bed. And how did they do this? By going to IKEA (yes, there’s a new IKEA in Mumbai) or one of the local furniture shops? Nope. They did it the old-fashioned way: by getting a new one built from scratch. By word of mouth, they found a middleman/contractor, and through him, they got carpenters. The carpenters then built a custom-designed bed.

I did what any PhD researcher worth her weight in salt does: I started asking questions. And here’s the dirt…The apartment across the hall from us is getting a huge rehab project — a complete rewiring of the apartment, which basically means getting the whole apartment broken apart and rebuilt. This requires electricians, carpenters, and unskilled laborers. The middleman in charge of that project is someone who has been working on various projects in our apartment complex for years. So my father-in-law approached him (didn’t take much since he was just across the hall) and asked if we could share the carpenters with our neighbors. Apparently no one minded this arrangement because soon three different carpenters were taking turns building our new bed. I asked my father-in-law about wages, and he said that he pays the contractor who then pays the workers. I hope this contractor is an ethical man, though I have heard many stories now from activists and NGO workers that middlemen/contractors often are pretty slimy. Let’s just say, they don’t have the best interest of “their” laborers  in mind. But since my father-in-law is not at all slimy, and seems to care genuinely about others’ well-being, I’ll hope for the best.

A few days ago, I noticed that two of the carpenters were working with an electric hand tool that was making shards of wood, and tons of dust, fly around the bedroom. They were wearing no eye protection, though I am almost certain they should have been. Also, the electric tools they use look old, battered and not-entirely-safe. For some reason, I was feeling too shy or too worried about challenging my in-laws or too hesitant for god-knows-what-reason to step in and ask about safety goggles. The carpenters also work barefoot all the time. (Barefoot is such an Indian thing, though, so I can’t chalk this up to unsafe labor practices necessarily, so much as just what you do here.) I know splinters are not a life-and-death matter, but still it can’t be comfortable getting thousands of splinters a day.

But then yesterday, I noticed one of the carpenters Mr. Gruh had a bandage around his hand. I could see it was fresh. I asked him what happened and he told me the drill and his hand had an encounter. I also asked him if he was ok. He gave me the Indian head nod, which is completely ambiguous. It could have meant, “Yes, it was just a little scratch.” or it could have meant, “No. I’m not at all ok. I might get gangrene.”

That little chat took me to the end of my Hindi skills and the end of my patience with the dubious safety conditions in our own home. So I enlisted Rahul’s help to continue the conversation. He asked Mr. Gruh if he needed medicine. Mr Gruh responded that he already put medicine on his hand, and made it clear he did not want to talk about it anymore. I was not entirely satisfied but I could not think of what else to do — short of dragging a grown man to the doctor, which he did not seem to want to do, or picketing my own in-laws’ (and now also our) home. Mr. Gruh is back at it again today with his bandaged hand. I looked for signs of worsening but could see none. I really hope this is not a serious wound.

But this case illustrates the many hazards of working in the informal construction sector. I know that if a worker got seriously injured working for them, my in-laws would pay for medical care. Most informal laborers are so poor that they could not get medical care for themselves. (It’s mostly a pay-out-of-pocket healthcare system in India, and the few government healthcare schemes they have for the indigent are horrible and barely implemented.) But again from what I can tell from my research, most employers are not interested in their employees’ health and well-being, and don’t provide or pay for medical care. Besides, there is so much grey area. When do you know that an injury is serious enough to warrant medical attention? What if you don’t even know about the injury? And what about paying for time that someone can’t work if s/he gets seriously injured? Since there are no rules in the informal economy, each situation is dealt with on a case by case basis. Where’s the justice or clarity in that?

And how complicit am I in this informal economy? Almost everything in the Indian economy is informal; it’s the very air we breathe here. In fact, 92% of Indians work informally — meaning no laws, no regulations, no social security of any kind, generally horribly low wages, and health hazards up the wazoo. So it cannot be avoided. The irony is not lost on me given my PhD work. As I am critiquing and challenging the informal economy, I am also participating in it.

My family and I buy many of our fruits and veggies from roadside veg vendors… we ride auto rickshaws all over the place…I get clothing altered by the tailor whose shop is the size of a closet…much of our trash and recyclables are sorted  by rag pickers…I regularly go running on the reclamation pathway along the Arabian, a pathway that is being constructed by informal workers… This pathway is the slowest construction project in the history of humankind, so I have watched it evolve over years of visits to Mumbai. There is an ever-revolving group of laborers constructing the path. The work conditions are hard and I have not seen a single piece of safety equipment there: not one hard hat, not a single pair of work boots. Just this morning I was running and took a peek into their living quarters. Dirty, squalid, cramped. A bunch of men with temporary bedding under a portion of the pathway which is raised enough so they can sleep under it. No toilets or water in sight. In earlier years, I would see families working on the pathway, so little children were running around the rubble and the rebar. (Though hazardous and unhealthy, this site is nothing compared to mega construction projects that abound all across India. Imagine how bad it is for young children who run around huge construction sites with heavy machinery, unguarded elevator shafts, tetanus hazards everywhere, chronic-illness producing dust just waiting to settle into their little lungs, and on and on.) Stay tuned to find out more about where the women and children have gone…

And, of course, we are taken care of in so many ways by Ambubhai. My father-in-law takes care of Ambubhai and his family financially; their medical needs are met; Ambu will be fine even in retirement. But my father-in-law does so simply out of the goodness of his heart, and his own sense of justice. You can’t rely on every employer of informal labor to even have a heart. And if you read anything about domestic service anywhere around the globe, it’s clearly an exploitative work situation, and domestic servants often face abusive conditions. This is why systems have to be in place. Not just laws on the books. There are plenty of global and Indian policies about the informal economy that look great on paper. But implementation is weak and inconsistent. Relying on individual kindness to pay people what their labor is worth, and to provide them basic necessities like water on the job site, is insufficient and often leads to terrible conditions.

Oh, where is my place in this crazy global informal economy? Researcher, consumer, concerned citizen of the world, beneficiary, privileged one…

[livetofishdotcom-blog]

Most articles on our blog are informative. The goal of such articles is to help our readers gain more understanding about fishing, boating, and the equipment available. This article is a break from that tradition. What you’ll read below is a true story about a recent fishing trip to Stuart, FL; the sailfish capital of the world.

Atlantic Sailfish Caught by Live to Fish team member

This was not your average fishing trip.  In fact, if the entire trip could be reduced into one word, that word would certainly be an antonym for average.

Imagine having more disposable income than you knew what to do with.  I don’t have to ask you to imagine enjoying fishing.  That’s kind of a given if you’re reading this.  You earned your wealth through the sale of a business you’d worked hard to build.  One started out of your garage.  Here you are now, a bit older and grayer than before, but well before that point in life when your physical state beings to fail you.  You’re young enough to enjoy the fruits of your labor.

What follows is a glimpse into what that life would be like.

Many of us dream of being able to go fishing anytime we want, anywhere we want.  Well, all that takes are two things: time and money.  Some of us dream of having that boat big and stout enough to tackle the world’s oceans.  We’d surely plot one course after another to coveted tropical locales known for being the best location in the world for whatever species we’d decided to wake up and target.  Even for those for which money is not an issue, time on their yacht’s engines and the wear and tear of the trip is an issue of concern.  Well, that makes sense.  In those cases, yacht transport ships become an option.  How much does it cost to ship a 60′ Viking from Stuart, FL to…say Costa Rica?  As of December 2017, approximately $48,000.00.  One way.

Now, back to the trip that actually did happen.  This fishing expedition involved flying to Stuart, FL on a privately owned plane, staying at one of the most well appointed marina’s along Florida’s Treasure Coast, and fishing aboard a 60′ foot Viking meticulously maintained by a dedicated captain and crew.

There are a number of truly beautiful things about private air travel.  When does your flight leave? When you get there. Baggage check? Nope. Security line? Nada. Flying with a knife? A firearm? Good for you!

I couldn’t tell you what airport we landed at in Stuart, FL. I can tell you the 236 mile trip takes up to 3 and half hours by car.  Our flight consumed less than 50 minutes. Truthfully, I could’ve cared less about where we landed. I was on this trip to catch fish. Not learn about Florida’s private airports.  That doesn’t mean you can’t be impressed by the logistical improvements. FYI, flying privately… it never gets old. Never.

It was a smooth landing. Thermals aren’t really an issue during a winter evening. The fuselage door opened. Stairs lowered. A gentleman stood smiling. His hand out to assist with luggage. I learned he was the Captain.

Standing a hair over six feet, he had a youthful, gregarious way about him. A crew cut revealed blond hair. A color I’ll wager came about through years under the sun. Clear blue eyes, an honest face, and an affable demeanor. All the qualities you want in a Captain. None you don’t. His actions revealed a truly genuine interest in ensuring every detail of our trip was taken care of. Every contingency planned for. Every system on the Yacht he commanded, electrical or mechanical, running perfectly.

Of course, one never knows how skilled a Captain is until the vessel leaves the dock. On the water, there’s no such thing as perception being reality. You can’t possibly “fake it till you make it.” You make it. If not, the cost is often much higher than mere loss of reputation.

Luggage stowed, we piled into a large extended cab pickup truck. The Captain parked conveniently a few feet from the plane. So much for walking down a cramped airline aisle made for runway models with full blown anorexia, piling into a trolley, managing not fall down an escalator, or feeling like a sardine in an airport. All just so you can navigate your way to either curbside pick up, or baggage claim.

A 10-minute ride took us to Pirate’s Cove Marina. More importantly, we arrived to board the vessel Aluminator. The remarkable 60’ Viking Sportfishing yacht. She sparkled though the sun had set long ago.  Even the moon was absent from the night sky.

As if the vessel alone wasn’t impressive enough, a brand new, custom built 16 ft Dragonfly Boatworks, LLC Emerger model flats boat rested on the expansive bow.

Located in Vero Beach, FL, I learned that the iconic recording artist Jimmy Buffett owns a large share of Dragonfly Boatworks.  Given the apparent build quality, I’ll comfortably speculate that Buffet’s involvement is more financial than hands on. I’ll also comfortably speculate that Dragonfly Boatworks has a drug free workplace policy. A potential hurdle of sorts for that certain “son of a sailor.”

Stern livewell aboard the 16′ Emerger Flats Boat.

          Now, back to the Viking. I challenge the most jaded yachtsman to pass by this vessel without stealing a glance; if not a prolonged, jaw dropped, stare.  You enter the main saloon is possible by passing through an automatic, push button, sliding door.  The door closes automatically about 10 seconds after you pass through.  Once through, the interior provides no shortage of eye candy.

Live to Fish aboard 60′ Viking Yacht, view from inside the main saloon facing the stern. http://www.livetofish.com

Live to Fish aboard 60′ Viking Yacht, view upon entering the main saloon, facing towards the bow.

Guest room aboard the 60″ Viking.

In Pirate movies, there’s almost always a scene involving a pile of gold, precious gems, and assorted treasures. Usually revealed in some deep dark cave, after much bloodshed and hardship. I didn’t see a pile of gold doubloons, but I doubt my reaction would have been the least bit different. My eyes absorbed what was both an exceptional feat of marine engineering and a true-life representation of the finest in interior yacht design. Counter tops. Granite. Couches and furniture – where do you find leather that soft? Precious hardwoods gleamed throughout. I wondered how many coats of varnish it takes to create such a glamorous sparkle? Nevermind. I don’t want to know.

My first impression of the Captain proved true. A walk through the Aluminator’s spacious kitchen, well-appointed stateroom, spacious master cabin, and twin guest bedroom, revealed food and drink stocked in an over abundance of supply and variety. You couldn’t have found a speck of dust or dirt if you crawled on your hands and knees with an ultra bright headlamp and magnifying glass.  The same could be said for how well kept the engine room was.

The trip to the area where trolling for sailfish consumed about 20 to 30 minutes. Cruising speed was in excess of 30 mph. Trolling speed varied between 6 and 7 knots. We came prepared; trolling 4 hooks, 2 teasers, and two dredges. The hooks were attached to rods equipped with the to hell and back reliable Shimano TLD 25s and 30s. (LThe teasers were controlled by massive electric reels. A control box for the electronic reels could also be found on the second level helm station. Located in the ceiling above the Captain provided him with quick, uncluttered access.

http://www.livetofish.com

http://www.livetofish.com

http://www.livetofish.com

In addition to the Captain was a first mate. This guy ran the show in the stern. He watched every line, every rod, and every school of baitfish; simultaneously.  It was as if he had a fish eye lens for vision. The first mate had a powerful build, dark hair cut short, and a full-grown beard. His attire, from head to toe, spoke volumes. A well-worn trucker’s hat, quintessential Costa Del Mar sunglasses with blue 580G lenses, and the ever popular white rubber boots.  Despite a heavy Scandinavian type build, his reflexes were on par with an Olympic ping pong player.  I’d put him up against the best the Chinese have, any day.

A teaser rig consisting of a recently caught mullet hung from an outrigger protruding from each side of the Viking Sportfishing boat.

As soon as one of the rods showed the tell tale bend of a sailfish, the first mate yanked the rod from the rocket launcher, yell to the Captain, and jerk back on the rod to keep the sailfish interested.  Those of us aboard to fish took turns in an organized rotation whenever a fish was caught.  Despite being in the sailfish capital of the world, a bent rod wasn’t a guarantee of catching a sailfish.

Live to Fish Shirt worn while fighting a sailfish

Each rod had 200 yards of 40 lb test monofilament on.  At http://www.livetofish.com, we sell 104 different kinds of 40 lb test line alone.  Overall, we offer 1,789 options for fishing line and leader material.

Reeling in the 200 yards of line was no easy task.  Though the Captain would back down on the fish, the drag was set to no more than 8 pounds.  This light drag was necessary to avoid a break off.  200 yards of line out, with a game fish on the end, creates a significant amount of stress on the line.  What ensued was an extended period of fast paced reeling to recover all the line and prevent slack in the line.  You wouldn’t know whether you had a sailfish, or a Bonito, until the fish was close enough to the boat.

There were a fair number of Bonito caught.  They’re a smaller relative of the tuna.  When caught, these fish quickly found their way down into one of the ice filled coffin boxes.  They would be used as bait or perhaps to feed a hungry crew member.

We were after sailfish.  To this end, the Captain did not disappoint.  We fished for two days with sailfish being caught each day.  The second day saw three sailfish caught.  Hence, three sailfish flags were raised before returned to our slip.

Atlantic Sailfish Caught by Live to Fish team member

The sailfish is indeed an impressive species.  It’s known as the fastest fish in the Ocean; exceeding speeds of 68 MPH.  They are carnivores.  Hence, our bait selection of mullet and rigged ballyhoo.  At Live to Fish, we sell both artificial and frozen ballyhoo.

We’d fish until about 3:00 PM.  With the days starting at 6:00 AM, there were no objections to heading in at this time.  When fishing for the entire day, the question of lunch usually presents itself.  What to bring is most often determined by what’s easiest to transport.  Ready made sandwiches top the list due to the fact that they don’t require any preparation.  Lunch on this trip consisted of sandwiches, but they were far from the ready made versions.  Fresh deli meats of more types and varieties I can recall filled one of the numerous refrigerated food drawers in the beautiful galley.  Fresh deli breads, different types of mustard, and other toppings were all available.

With the setup as it was, all you had to do was sit back on one of the overly comfortable seating areas, waiting for the first mate to shout, “fish on!”  Though everyone agreed that this type of fishing in ultimate luxury is something anyone could get used to, there’s something about inshore fishing that will always be more appealing to me.  

Pursuit of Atlantic Sailfish in Complete Luxury. Most articles on our blog are informative. The goal of such articles is to help our readers gain more understanding about fishing, boating, and the equipment available.