#could that be a response to a song called hospital calling them liars?

[eliza-and-her-monsters]

the tortured poets department

Vi x reader

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Part I

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TW: Brief mentions of mental illness (anxiety, PTSD), military induced injuries, self harm, hospitals, death, and fighting.

WC: 5k

Part II

the black dog

“Alright, pick your poison, doll.” Vi spoke the moment we made it to the packed bar, my hands already shakily pulling at the long sleeves of the flannel.

“Umm, I don’t really know much about alcohol besides whenever Caitlyn used to steal from our parents stash whenever we were younger.” I shrugged a bit, glued to the counter for dear life.

“Well, let’s see… did you like something more sweet or sour or-”

“I think I don’t mind a little bit of sour.” I spoke up, cheeks glowing with a slightly embarrassed flush, meanwhile the permanent smirk on Vi’s face never seemed to slip as she turned towards the bartender.

“I think I’ve got something you’ll like.” She voiced before waving him over. A few moments later I held onto a orange colored fruity drink called a Rum Runner that seemed to be the perfect combo of sweet and sour. I guarded it for dear life as she lead me towards the jukebox tucked in the corner away from the dancing uni students in which the bar staff had cleared out an entire space now being used as a makeshift dance floor.

Vi passed off a shiny coin for the jukebox in her hand once we reached it, leaning a casual shoulder against the wall. “Give ‘em hell.”

My own little grin stretched on my face as I took the coin with a flourish, twisting it in my fingers as I weighed the options in my head. “Now, with great power comes great responsibility. Or whatever it is Kurt Cobain said.” I joked just before sliding in the coin to its slot just before the screen lit up to display the option to cue up a song.

“Well, I also hear that Kurt Cobain was a bit of a liar so-” I heard her whispering in my ear nearly causing me to shiver. I don’t think I had ever been so close to another girl’s lips before the moment I turned my head to face her. Hands freezing on the dial as if awaiting them to press to mine.

Vi was patient though, testing the waters but not moving out too deep. Though I wasn’t sure if it was respectful or teasing as I flicked my doe eyes upwards to meet hers. And it was then I noticed the tattoo inked just below her eye along her cheekbone, either a number 6 in roman numerals or her nickname. Perhaps even both. A few tattoos of various gears crawled out from underneath her leather jacket, and I had the sudden urge to reach my hand out and brush my fingers along the inked lines.

“You know, one of my sister’s first criminology reports was on the conspiracy theory of if Courtney Love killed Kurt Cobain or not.” I muttered almost nervously, it’s what I did whenever I got flustered, I usually found something to say about Caitlyn. So far the tactic had been unsuccessful though. Turns out talking about how your sister was much better and smarter than you in every way was a turn off. Not that I had been in really a ton of situations to warrant me getting flustered, but I was definitely flustered now.

Vi’s muscular chest stood right at eye level as she stretched herself back up to her normal height. Still so close, like she was hovering. “And her conclusion?”

“Inconclusive.” I answered, finally getting myself to spin around and face the jukebox once more. My brain had suddenly gone blank of all music so I quickly decided to queue up Heart-Shaped Box. “She still got an A.” I added with a little sigh before I could spin away from it to finally free up the space.

“She’d make an excellent lawyer.” Vi almost laughed as she shoved her hands into her pockets.

“Maybe if she wasn’t so obsessed with working in the field… doing all the dangerous stuff, you know, running into the line of fire-”

“Okay you know detective work isn’t like in all the movies and crime shows, right? Caitlyn’s gonna be just fine. She can hold her own, you know that.” Vi stated, her hand being pressed to my lower back in some attempt to comfort me whenever it only just felt like it was sparking my crush-induced nerves all over again. Or maybe it was too soon to call it a crush? I wasn’t entirely sure what a crush was even supposed to feel like.

From the same table I could already hear a hefty amount of arguing and chatter as I sipped away at my fruity drink, an offended groan breaking from Ellie’s mouth as she snatched up what looked like a tarot card from another spread already laid on the table. “Mills, can you believe what Jinx’s tarot deck just called me?!” She exclaimed as she held up the card with an almost comical pout.

“The Fool?” I wondered with a head tilt. “I don’t think that’s what that means.”

“I told you it’s not.” Jinx huffed as she stood up to pluck the card from Ellie’s fingers. “The Fool represents innocence, new beginnings, you’re a free spirit… a little naïve, definitely not level-headed. Are you a water sign by any chance?” She wondered curiously as she seemed to study her face.

“Sagittarius.” She answered with a scowl causing Jinx to nod.

“Actually, you know what, that makes sense.”

“Why? Literally what does that mean? I’m not a zodiac gay!” Ellie exclaimed almost as if the conversation was stressing her out.

“Try living with her, she blames most of her problems on ‘mercury’ being in ‘retrograde’.” Vi went on with her fingers raised in quotations. I couldn’t help but lean forward curiously to scan the rest of Ellie’s spread. The Wheel of Fortune and six of cups in reverse… interesting.

“Vi, can I have a word?” Caitlyn spoke up from her spot across the table next to a boy with strikingly white hair who seemed to be leaning into Jinx every opportunity he got.

The chorus of sounds that sprung up from the table was reminiscent of a primary school classroom whenever someone gets called to the office. It was almost comforting to know the childlike aire of people never seemed to fade in university. It wasn’t comforting to hear Caitlyn’s request however as she pushed her slender body up to her feet.

Vi only took it all in stride though, meeting her with an equally as hard stare as she followed suit. “Why not? Lead the well.”

“I will.” Caitlyn added, whipping around to head towards the stairs leading towards the first level of the pub.

“Oh this is way better than tarot.” Jinx responded after only a quick passing moment before flying out of her seat so fiercely I almost thought she was going to knock the entire couch over. “C’mon new girl, you’re probably gonna wanna hear this.”

My breath hitched in my throat as she managed to hoist me up to my feet. My hands instantly darting outwards to grip Ellie’s wrist to drag her along with me, naturally. “Ow, Millie! That hurts!” She winced as she wrestled her arm out of my grip. “Don’t worry, I’m right behind you.”

Jinx immediately flashed us a stern look with a finger to her lips before she could climb the stairs. A duo of voices already carrying from around the corner where the two stood. “What part about ‘off limits’ do you not understand?!” Caitlyn was snapping immediately as she crossed her arms across her chest.

“Your sister is a grown adult, Caitlyn, you don’t have to play protector 24/7 anymore!”

“Oh that’s fucking rich coming from you.” Caitlyn practically sneered.

“It really is.” Jinx mouthed back to the two of us.

“Is it, Cait? Because even I tried to be semi normal with Jinx after all of our trauma and let’s not act like there wasn’t a hefty amount of it. What is this actually about, Caitlyn? Be honest. Is this about her or us?” My heart seemed to lurch in my chest at the one singular word. Us? What did she mean by ‘us’? Did I even want to know what she meant? Was it stupid to feel the sudden crushing weight of that one tiny word?

From one step below me I could feel Ellie’s fingers lacing through mine in a silent declaration. I’ve got you. No matter where this conversation leads I’ve got you.

“There is no ‘us’, Violet. There never has been and there never will be. And even if there was you know damn well I’d choose her happiness over mine every single fucking day. Got that? You don’t get to hurt her. I swear to god if you hurt her-”

“What am I actually going to do, Caitlyn? Do you think I’m this big bad supervillain-”

“I’m talking about your underground dealings! Your little underground fighting ring that Sevika somehow still lets go on even though someone was literally killed-”

“Keep your voice down!” Vi exclaimed in a whisper yell as she held up a finger, eyes encircling around the area as if looking for somebody. Such as three meddling freshmen hiding behind a corner. “We have company.”

“You guys go, I’ll take the fall.” Jinx whipped around to shoo us away. Ellie was already grabbing my arm, wanting to waste no time.

“A-Are you sure?” I stammered, a little bit more hesitant as I slowly let Ellie pull me down the stairs.

“It’s okay, won’t be the first time I’ve been caught, won’t be the last.” Jinx shrugged before slipping off into view and I finally let Ellie tug me from view just in time to see my sister’s cold blue eyes peering around the corner to investigate.

“Holy shit…” Ellie let out a long gust of air as she pressed an anxious hand to her chest. “I feel like I just got sucked into a thriller dark romance dark academia novel or something. Sevika has an underground fighting ring? S-Someone died!?”

“Who’s Sevika?” I wondered, my mind slipping into several directions all at once as I lifted a hand to my lips as if to bite my already chipped nails.

“Sevika’s our coach. She’s hard as shit, doesn’t take crap from anybody which is needed because we have a couple spoiled nepo babies on the team.” Ellie seethed a bit to herself before letting her eyes briefly glance over towards the same blonde haired woman who had supposedly ‘knocked her lights out’ during practice. “Are you okay? I know that was probably a lot.” She gently wrapped her hand around my upper arm as if to ground me in some way. And I hadn’t realized how badly my heart was pounding so intensely until I finally felt it behind my ribs. “Mills, you’re shaking.”

“Yeah I um- I think I just need some air.” I stammered, swallowing a dry lump down my throat. Ellie’s slid a protective arm around me before my knees could buckle as she pulled me towards the back door. Tangling my fingers up into her flannel as I wrapped an arm around her waist.

I gulped down a heavy dose of chilly night air the moment she pushed through the double back doors. From above us a lively back patio stretched on, tufts of smoke filtering downstairs through the gaps of the railing. I felt something plastic and metal at the same time being pressed into my hand. My seldomly used inhaler that I frequently forgot… and Ellie and Caitlyn never did. With a shuddering gasp I placed the opening between my lips and sent a gust of the medicated air through my lungs.

“You okay?” Ellie spoke up once the tense moment had passed.

Ellie wasn’t nearly as tall as Caitlyn or even Vi, in fact she was exceedingly average. Still I had to catch myself tilting my head upwards to meet her eyes as my own furrowed together in worry. “Are you okay?” I directed the question back at her as I lifted a hand to place against her freckled cheek.

Ellie sighed and encircled a hand around my forearm as if to hold it in place. “I- I don’t know… I guess. It’s just- I-I thought this shit only happened in books and movies and stuff.” She frowned, running a hand through her unkempt hair before whirling around to take a seat on a nearby ledge that encircled a mostly dead garden. Slowly I trailed over to take the spot next to her causing her eyes to lift towards me ever so slightly. “Millie?”

“Hmmm?” I hummed in response as I laid my head against her shoulder.

“Promise… Promise me if you do get involved with her that you’ll be safe? I mean I know I make a lot of jokes and I talk a lot of shit but- if something actually happened to you, i-if I lost you I-”

“Ellie-“ I shushed just before I could feel her voice break, slipping my arms around her shoulder as I pulled her in closer with a tight squeeze. It wasn’t like her to get emotional too often, it definitely wasn’t like her to cry. Sometimes I almost wondered what she was like before she met me, if there was any correlation to be found. But I knew she had been through a lot.

All of the doctors and nurses at the retreat we were at mainly kept her diagnosis at PTSD, she referred to it as that even herself. She was a US Army veteran who had been stationed in the UK and sometimes I wondered if my parents hated her strictly for that reason alone. Sometimes I almost thought about why she was discharged too and what could’ve really been behind it. An explosion near base that left her with a gunshot wound to the side, a perforated eardrum, a traumatic brain injury, and a shit ton of shrapnel scarring that she now had covered up by a tattoo that spanned the length of her forearm. If anyone knew pain it was Ellie.

I hadn’t been able to stop crying the night she told me and even then I felt bad because of how she comforted me during the whole thing. It should’ve been the other way around and I knew that. But I still thought it could’ve attested to the kind of person she was. And a lot of the times I looked at my own measly self inflicted scars and wondered how I even deserved to stand next to her.

“You are the only good thing that has ever happened to me, Amelia.” She muttered as she leaned her head against mine with a long and shaking breath.

“Ellie, love.” I sighed as I placed another hand against her cheek to peer into her green eyes. “You aren’t on the battlefield anymore, nothing’s going to happen to me or you. I promise. You’re safe now.”

“I hope so.” She whispered after another moment of hesitation. Carefully she wrapped her hand around my wrist and I tried to ignore the sting in my heart once she removed my hand from her face. “We should be careful, in case Vi comes out here. You do like, you know, like her, right?”

“I don’t know.” I answered as I leaned back on my hands slightly. “She’s certainly a looker. But I just- what if it’s too soon to tell? How do you even know whenever you fancy someone?”

“That little ache you felt in your chest whenever Vi called her and Caitlyn an ‘us’? That’s one way you can tell.” Ellie answered as she gave my ankle a little nudge with her combat boots.

“How did you know, you creep?” I nearly giggled as I looked towards her with a lifted brow.

“Because I’m your best friend? Plus, that’s also whenever you started reaching for my hand.”

“I didn’t think I- I thought you grabbed my hand-“

“I did, because you started reaching for it. I mean, either way it does kind of check out doesn’t it?“

“Yeah… I guess you might be right.” I huffed, gnawing on my bottom lip as I fought the urge to stretch my fingers out to Ellie’s all over again. Before I could make contact though the back door swung open once more causing both of our heads to turn in unison.

“So, how much did you hear?” Vi said simply as she strode outside, still as calm and collected as possible with her hands shoved into her pockets once more.

“Oxford has an underground fighting ring?” Ellie blurted out before I could even construct some way to cover up our probably suspicious disappearance. If I wasn’t curious enough myself though I probably would’ve rolled my eyes. She was already a pretty shitty liar though.

“You surprised?” Vi wondered next with a slightly tilted head.

“Why were you so secretive about it in the hallway if you’re being so casual now?” Ellie wondered next, almost rather bravely as she fiddled with the evil eye bracelet around her wrist.

“I didn’t want the wrong person to hear.” She added, her blue eyes briefly sweeping over to me before she took the seat on my other side immediately causing Ellie to tense up almost protectively. “Whatever you think it is though, it isn’t… generally.”

“Caitlyn said somebody died though-“ Ellie stammered next in disbelief.

“It was a freak accident. It had nothing to do with the fighting or- or anything like that.” She propped her elbows up on her knees, sore subject it seemed. Vi knew more than what she was letting on though, neither of us seemed willing to push at the moment however.

A moment of hesitation passed before Ellie cleared her throat and shook her head, “I think I’m gonna go back in, I’m freezing my dick off out here.” Ellie remarked as she pushed herself up to her feet and let her eyes scan over me briefly. “You gonna be okay?”

The thought of being alone with Vi only made it feel like my heart was being sent into overdrive all over again. I didn’t even know why the thought of being alone with someone I liked scared me so much. She was older, more experienced, hard and cold yet inviting at the same time. A curious kind of inviting. “Yeah, I-I’ll be okay.” I stuttered with a nod.

“Okay, call me… if you change your mind.” Her hands curled into fists briefly, like she herself was about to change her mind. Something else lingering, but whatever it was she didn’t act on it. Only turning her head to drag herself to the door.

“You know there’s definitely some sexual tension between you two, right?” Vi questioned as she pulled a half used pack of cigarettes from the pocket of her ripped black skinny jeans.

“Excuse me?” I questioned in shock with my jaw neatly dropping. “But Ellie’s- Ellie’s not-“

“Don’t try to tell me she’s not a lesbian.”

“Oh no, she’s definitely a lesbian.” I almost snickered, the thought of Ellie ever being with a man nearly sending me into fits. “But just so you’re aware, two lesbians can definitely have a super close friendship and not be in a romantic relationship.” I huffed in response as I crossed my arms and shook my head. “I mean honestly, I’m really starting to question your intentions.”

“Oh doll, you should always question my intentions.” I nearly shivered at her words. A tremor shooting through my legs that I hadn’t felt before leaving me clamping them shut as if to silence the irregular feeling.

“So… do you just have a thing for Kirammans or something?” I wondered, wringing my hands on my lap in some way to think of something else. Anything else.

Vi scoffed and rolled her eyes with a shake of her head, “Yeah I was waiting for that one to come up.”

“I mean it’s a valid question, is it not?”

“Caitlyn and I slept together a few times last year… that’s all we did, that’s all it was.” She placed a cigarette between her lips and lit up the end. “It was a hookup, a good hookup which is why we did it again but- it didn’t go any farther than that.“

Anxiously I fiddled with the ring on my finger, stimming in every way I could it seemed to distract from the clench in my chest as she described her relations with my sister. “So, why else would you be interested in me then?”

“I’ve seen you around occasionally. Whenever you go to games with Caitlyn or jack the university library where you either obsessively write on your computer or read some book that’s bigger than your entire forearm.”

“Do you watch me or something? Like a creep?” I couldn’t help but smirk slightly as I stole a glance over at her.

“You’re hard not to look at.” She answered, blue eyes meeting mine as she withdrew a long puff of smoke from her lips, the cigarette dangling in between her fingers haphazardly. That same churning feeling seeming to overtake my entire body now, my eyes briefly glancing down towards her lips for the most minuscule of seconds. Not minuscule enough for Vi not to notice though as I watched them curl up in a tiny smirk. “I saw that.”

“Saw what?” I murmured innocently, bringing a hand up to my lips to bite at my nails again. Vi only let out a chuckle of her own though before taking another drag of her cigarette.

“Nothing darlin’.” She added, the pet name causing my toes to curl in my Mary Janes. “Anyways, then from like, May through July you disappeared for a while. So I wondered if your parents might’ve actually let you take another year off or you managed to actually break the cycle of Oxford alumni.”

“Not quite.” My face fell at the mention of the summer’s events, catching my bottom lip between my teeth as I dropped my hand back towards my lap. “No, the uhhh… the summer was rough. But I met Ellie though so- I guess it worked out. I just, you know, wish it could’ve been under better circumstances. That’s why we aren’t a thing, if you’re wondering. It’s usually a bad idea to date the friend you meet whenever you’re in a psychiatric facility.”

Her expression seemed to come with a subtle understanding, softening momentarily as she flicked out the remainder of the cigarette. “S-Sorry, i-if I just trauma dumped on you o-or anything.”

“You didn’t. You aren’t.” Vi shook her head, rough fingers finally brushing on top of my fidgeting ones. I never knew it could feel so comforting having them stroking my knuckles in the way she did. “How are you now? Like… in the aftermath?”

I wanted to groan and fight and kick and scream at the frustrating sting that always crept into my eyes whenever someone would ask if I was okay. I should’ve been tired of hearing it by now. It shouldn’t have had an effect the way that it did but still somehow it had felt like forever that someone had actually asked me that. How are you afterwards? I know you went through hell. But how are you now?

“I think… all things considered, I could be worse. But- I think I could be better too.” I answered with a small shrug. A strange feeling of warmth seemed to envelop over me as she slid her fingers through mine. Each small touch inching closer and closer like she was giving me the chance to protest, to pull away, to do whatever I needed to do to feel comfortable. But I enjoyed her touches, her big hand overtaking mine and I wanted to feel it on my cheek, knotting through my hair, around my waist, against my thighs. Fuck, I didn’t understand why. “Vi.” I muttered her name like it was the only thing I knew how to say, lifting a shivering free hand but not knowing what to do with it, where to put it. What was I even supposed to do? “I-I’ve never done this before- f-felt this before. W-What do I do?”

“Shhh…” Vi whispered, softly brushing her finger underneath my chin so I had no choice but to look up at her. Transfixed in her blue eyes until I crumpled. “You don’t have to do anything.”

The last time I felt anything similar was with Ellie, over the summer, where I shouldn’t have felt for anything besides trying to get better. Even then it was completely different. Ellie was sunshine. Ellie was laughing and jokes and making all of the nurses’ lives hell as we snuck around the ward and fell asleep in each other’s beds.

Vi felt like the opposite. She was the moon. Hauntingly curious and dark. Like she was beckoning me forward with every subtle touch setting off sparks against my skin. She was a new experience, unfamiliar territory just begging to be explored.

“Tell me what you want.” I shivered as I felt her hand against my cheek and I didn’t know if it was the cold or just her. “If you want me to leave you alone, I’ll leave you alone. But if not-“

“Will you- W-Will you kiss me?” I stammered all over again, it was like I couldn’t get any of my words right as I kept shooting glance after glance at her lips. A noticeable scar running through her upper lip.

That same telling smirk crept back into her expression, my chest clenching as I watched her rise up to her feet as if she was about to tell me no. “You ever been kissed before?”

“Ummm… n-no, not really.”

“Not really?”

“No, n-no I haven’t.” I finally answered fully, peering down at my lap as if in shame. Waiting for the rejection. The declaration that I wasn’t at all what she wanted and the inevitable and probably unnecessary heartbreak that would follow afterwards.

“And you want me, some good for nothing chick you met at a bar to kiss you?”

“Why did you ask me what I want if you’re just going to challenge me about it!” I wondered as I finally launched myself off of the bench but I only lost all sense of authority once I realized our height difference again.

“I just want you to fully understand what you’re getting yourself into.”

“It’s just a kiss!”

“You seem like the kind of person who takes that thing kind of seriously.” Vi voiced with a casual shrug as if she already knew she was right. She didn’t have to ask for confirmation because she already saw right through me. It’s not like I haven’t had a ton of opportunities. I could’ve easily kissed Ellie now countless of times but I hadn’t because I knew what would happen afterwards. She’d look at it as ‘getting my first kiss out of the way’ and I’d probably just fall in love with her. How dangerous could it be to fall in love with somebody so quickly? I was a disaster, a ticking timebomb waiting to happen.

“You’re right, it’s stupid.” I spoke, finally pulling my eyes away from her to face the ground. My body was a tense wreck, my chest hurt, I was definitely going to get sick from being out in the cold for so long, and I didn’t see any good in staying out here for any longer.

I turned on my heel to head back inside as I tried to hide the disappointment and complete idiocy on my face. Before I knew it though I could already hear Vi clearing her throat from behind me, “Wait.” She ordered, and if that wasn’t enough to halt my steps I could feel her hand snaking around my wrist. My breath caught in my throat as I felt her whirling me around to face her with ease.

My body pressed to hers and suddenly I could feel every inch of every muscle beneath her clothes. Her hands overtook my waist, sliding around me until I couldn’t smell anything but the nicotine on her breath and the expensive cologne that wafted from her pulse points. Before I could even contemplate what was happening I could feel her lips on mine. A gasp froze in my throat as I registered what was happening, shivering gasps for air the moment she broke away, scanning my face as if to determine where I was. If I was okay. And before I knew it again I was clamoring for her lips once more.

My arm flew around her shoulder as if to hold myself up, not like her hands gripping my waist weren’t already doing a great job at that. I just wanted to touch her, seeking out her warmth. My hand slipping underneath her jacket as if to drag across the flimsy material of the wife pleaser she wore underneath. Her lips were so much softer than I could’ve ever predicted they would be, but electricity felt like it was coursing through my veins at the sensations of her pulling me in by the waist anytime our bodies naturally separated. It was warmth and disaster at the same time. A forest fire burning up all around me as our lips moved in sync. Her hands leaving a burning trail as they seemed to settle on my hips. God, how was I supposed to ever get enough whenever she felt like this?

My breathing came out in shaking gasps of air once our lips broke apart. The feeling without them was almost unnatural they felt so perfect and made for my own. I wanted more, I was desperate for more but too scared to speak the words as I stared up at her with widened eyes. “Vi…”

“Fuck, you say my name like it’s only meant for your lips alone.” She whispered, my hand curling against her chest as she traced the outline of my lips with her thumb. “Should probably get you inside before you freeze to death.”

My lips seemed to burn as she stepped away, every inch of the cold sweeping back into me as I nodded in response. Vi’s warm hand pressed to my back to lead me towards the back door and instinctively I couldn’t help but bring my hand up towards my lips that I could’ve sworn were still tingling.

She was going to ruin me, wasn’t she?

A/N: Elmelia girlies I have got some good shit cooking up for you next. Vimelia girlies also don’t stress though because I am nothing if not messy! 🖤

[for-the-liar]

Hospital - The Used /// AMBULANCE - My Chemical Romance

[nevergiveupneverrun]

Bodyguard - Chapter Fifty-three “Dead end”

Hello everybody, how are you? Here is chapter Fifty-three of my Story Bodyguard, yay!! I hope you will like this chapter.

I’m sorry in advance for the mistakes… English isn’t my first language and I do my best. Here is the link to the previous chapter: Click Here.

I hope you will enjoy this chapter :) 💛

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- I hope that it will work, Mer… I have no other way anyway… hurry up… I have to find a source of funding, otherwise, I will have to delay or cancel the construction of the home…

.

Amelia has been in the corner of the living room on the phone with her manager for a few minutes.

I wait wisely letting my gaze stop on the elements near me in the room.

I came back to this apartment with a strange feeling: I didn’t feel like I was in my place yet. To belong to this place.

I was trying to find my markers and my automatisms alongside Amelia.

Her attitude was, however, a little more distant than before: she often avoided my gaze, isolated herself as soon as possible. As if she had a course of action in mind that she set out to apply. Maybe I was having ideas, or I was just more sensitive to the least of her reactions… the fact remains that a host of contrasting sensations mingled when I return as Amelia Shepherd’s bodyguard.

.

My eyes get lost around me when I suddenly make out o CD cover that calls out to me, placed near the player.

How could it be there?

I approach it automatically and my fingers slide on it.

I caress this piece of plastic with my fingertips and I recognize my handwriting on the sheet of paper that is used for cover.

I open the case, but no CD inside… would she have listened to it?

This disc was so special to me… which allowed me to not be overwhelmed at certain moments of my life… but by what miracle did I then have it in my hand?

- Ok, I got a text from Jackson, he’s going to spend the afternoon at the hospital with April, we will be able to go, I am reassured to know that April is surrounded, Amelia informs me, approaching me. I hope he will boost her, for her physiotherapy exercises…

I turn my back on her, still focused on my discovery.

I can see her presence on the side, her shadow growing near me.

- You can enlighten me… this CD… how come it is here?

- It was a surprise that I discovered when I finished unpacking the boxes from the chalet two days ago, she replies.

In her voice, a soft and calm tone calls out of me. Like a veil of tenderness.

And a suddenly more relaxed attitude which takes hold of her at the mention of the CD.

Almost an Amelia who metamorphoses before me.

- There was an envelope in one of them that I hadn’t paid attention to and that slipped to the bottom when I removed the clothes. There was a little post on it that said: "to keep some of this haven of peace"… signed by Rosie.

I smile while listening to Amelia’s explanation.

It looked like spitting Rosie.

She knew what this cd meant to me… she thought having it with me would be more useful than being locked in a closet.

- I think that she had to undo one of the packages to add this disc before sending them… Amelia concludes.

- Yes, Rosie is full of resources, I add, keeping my smile. You… did you listen to it? I asked a little feverish. 

Amelia stares the plastic case, hesitates for a few seconds, then decides to answer me with a smile on her lips. Frank and spontaneous. 

One of the first I observe since our reunion.

A show that fascinates me.

- With a title like "Hunt’s symphony" how did you want me to resist… it’s a wonder this cd, I never tire of it for two days…

I remain silent listening to her answer. 

This cd indeed contained a series of titles sung by my parents, some songs that I had recorded myself with my father when I was still a teenager… and a song that I had written especially for him… a bit later…

- Your mother’s voice is overwhelming… I guess it’s your father accompanying her…

I nod while the echoes of the melodies of the cd echo in my head.

I am surprised that Amelia develops her impressions and does not immediately end this exchange, but I welcome her words carefully.

- You have a great voice too, but I already told you… I truly like the title "goodbye"… which seems to stand the test of your father’s death… but my favorite is the duo of your parents… it made me dream…

This song that she evokes, it allowed me to keep my head above the water.

To defeat my demons.

It was sacred to me… a song that we don’t touch and that I was unable to sing or even hum… this title has been repeated thousands of times, by many different artists, but for me, it was only my parents who were legitimate to sing it: two beings madly in love with each other… forever.

I would never know that for my part.

- Their cover is magnificent, we perceive all the love that emerges from both… I understand better when you told me about little things that allow us to keep in ourselves the people we love, to make them live and resonate inside us. Is it that song for you?

- You got it right… I weakly confirmed.

- It’s a great declaration of love to sing this song like this… they were really in love with each other… in love and happy…

She stares at me intensely at the end of her comment and our eyes remain connected for long seconds. At this moment, strangely, Amelia doesn’t dodge this silent exchange.

She stays focused and fixed on me.

The moment is destabilizing, I perceive electricity vibrating between us… my old reflexes are expressed again: this chemistry suddenly makes me uncomfortable and leads me to finally look away.

I clear my throat slightly to break the connection.

- Uh… are you ready… can we go?

She takes a few seconds, then sighs quickly confirming to me that she reluctantly goes to this meeting.

- Yes, let’s go, she says. Let it be behind me… I don’t like being trapped in a situation, having no choice but to ask for help… from the last person on my list…

She retrieves a leather jacket, which she quickly wears while tying a light scarf around her neck.

I imitate her and also put on a leather jacket over my suit, then grab my crash helmets and give her hers. Jackson is no longer available, I decided to take her on a motorcycle. This vehicle was also much more practical than a car to escape a possible chase.

We leave the apartment in a few minutes and find the motorbike parked a few steps down in the street.

- Can you remind me of the address, please? 

- Uh… you take the direction of Bellevue, the domain address should be indicated next…

I nod my head at her directions and help her fasten her crash helmet securely, as she struggles with the fastener.

I put my crash helmet on and put myself on the motorcycle first.

I take a hand from Amelia and help her sit behind me, stepping over the mount.

I give her a few seconds to find the ideal position, well wedged behind me, and I turn the key.

I turn my head slightly towards her to give her one last instruction before I start.

- Above all, you hold me well, in all circumstances…

She does not answer but supports my request when I feel her arms tighten tightly and her hands cross against my stomach.

.

Thirty-five-minute drive later, we arrive near Bellevue and I notice a sign effectively designating a domain.

Amelia points her finger at me and tells me in a loud voice behind me: "it’s over there!".

I then scrupulously follow the other signs and after a few minutes, we enter a large paved alley, bordered by plane trees: it thus leads to an immense wrought-iron portal, beyond which there is an imposing building… a castle…

I have to stop in front of the closed gate. 

Amelia gets off the motorcycle and removes her crash helmet while approaching a case that looks like an intercom.

- Does he know you were coming? I ask, letting my voice carry beyond the helmet and worrying that entry will be denied. 

- No… I preferred not to warn him to prevent it from lasting too long… I have no desire to get stuck here for several hours.

She presses a button unlaid in the case and a female voice eventually rises.

- Yes, hello, can you announce and indicate the subject of your visit?

The question is of a rather surprising formality which makes me smile slightly.

- Hello, I’m Amelia Shepherd, I’m coming to see Alex Karev.

- Do you have an appointment?

- Yes, he is waiting for me…

Amelia’s response is pronounced without hesitation and proves effective when we perceive the portal to open gradually.

- I didn’t know you were such a good liar.

- It’s not quite a lie, since the time he makes it easy for me… she says while putting on her crash helmet and sitting again behind me.

I restart at low speed and enter the domain.

We drive for a few meters before I cut off contact, in front of the large castle door in front of us.

We both get off the bike and take off our helmets. I rid Amelia of this accessory which I place on the motorbike and she hastens to move her head vigorously to replace her hair.

A creak awakens behind us and I turn my head: a silhouette takes shape in the doorway… a male silhouette descending the steps to meet us.

And a face that I recognize immediately.

- Amelia, what a pleasure to see you! He announces with enthusiasm.

Amelia faces him quickly and gives him a big smile… an attitude the complete opposite of what I had observed during the evening for her foundation where she had done everything to avoid him.

But I’m not fooled: I know she is playing a role right now.

She did not come here for pleasure but forced to finance her project.

- Hello Alex, excuse me, I come to see you without warning, but I wanted to speak with you on a very important… and an urgent subject…

- There is no problem, he says with a smile. I have no particular constraints and my parents are traveling… besides, I was expecting a bit of your coming, I think I know what you want to talk to me about, I had a few comments…

I perceive Amelia tense up near me, uncomfortable by understanding that Alex has a very precise idea of the purpose of her visit.

I remain surprised to hear him say that he still lives in this domain with his family: he was however at least 35 years old. But apparently in families of this stature, the blood ties are different and dissipate less quickly: an inheritance and a fortune to be managed seem to give rise to certain duties.

- By the way, I heard the sad news that your friend April had a serious accident, I hope everything is fine? He inquires in a soft and compassionate voice.

- She is recovering slowly, but she is in good hands, thank you for caring, Amelia answers weakly, looking down.

A presence is suddenly guessed behind the host of the house: a young woman, dressed in a strict suit.

- Sir, are you sure I should leave you? My service should not end in two hours, she announces shyly, a little embarrassed.

- Yes, Marie, as I just told you, take your afternoon. I don’t need you anymore… he confirms without looking at the one who turns out to be a housekeeper.

- Alright sir, see you tomorrow.

She advances a little more, nods respectfully, and joins a small car, parked a few meters away.

I feel a piercing look at me and quickly notice that Alex is watching me intensely.

- We weren’t introduced, I believe, he says, holding out a hand.

I shake his hand firmly while perceiving the voice of Amelia by our side.

- Alex, I present to you… Jackson. He’s a musician friend, he kindly wanted to drive me to your house, because my driver is sick.

I listen to Amelia’s words, a little surprised that she doesn’t reveal my true identity, but I don’t let anything show through.

She was probably afraid that Alex would recognize me…

He indeed stares at me intensely as if he was studying each feature of my face precisely. 

But he ends up turning his face and tearing his hand away from mine, addressing Amelia again.

- I suggest you come in, Amelia… Jackson, you can park your motorcycle in the garage, there are threatening clouds coming. I think it would be more prudent.

I take a look at the sky and note that it has largely darkened, raising fears of an impending storm.

- Thank you very much, my motorcycle will appreciate, I answer with a weak smile to reduce the tension that I perceived between us.

- I’m going to open it from the inside, it’s the brown door that you see 100 meters in front of you.

- Alright, thank you, I answer politely.

- Amelia, please, come in, he says placing a hand behind Amelia’s back and guiding her up the stairs.

I take a last look at Amelia who is looking for my eyes before turning around one last time: I read in this look all the weariness that already inhabits her… she was forcing herself to ask for his help.

I place my hands on the handlebars of the motorcycle, helmet in hand and the other hanging on the handlebars, and advance to the section of the domain indicated by Alex.

The door opening is engaged, I hear behind me: I can see the brown door rise and gradually reveal a car body.

I turn around towards the entrance of the castle but it is a closed-door that already faces me whereas Alex and Amelia entered inside.

I arrive at the entrance to the garage, the automatic door is completely raised from now on.

.

I take a few steps in the place that has just been revealed to me while guiding my motorbike: the surface of the room impresses me directly. It’s not just a garage, it’s almost a whole ground floor full of cars.

I go a little further and scan the different vehicles around me, lit by several neon lights installed on the ceiling: Rolls Royces, vintage cars, Porsches, legendary American cars, 4x4…

I try to find a place for my motorcycle and find the ideal place in a corner at the back of the room, facing me. I push my motorcycle carefully, sneaking between a Rolls Royce and an old Cadillac, then set it aside by operation the kickstand. 

I can’t help but quickly glance at all these cares with sparkling bodies again, giving me a quick tour of the different models almost installed here on display.

Questions are promptly asked during my contemplation.

What does life in an environment of this nature look like? 

An everyday life where you can have everything you want, where everything is accessible?

Do we still only have dreams?

Is that enough to be happy?

Experience had shown me the opposite: all the artists I had encountered, some of whom could, in the same way, afford everything they wanted, were mostly tortured, neurotic, and alone… deeply alone.

I instinctively think of my parents, of my conversation with Amelia a few hours earlier at the apartment: happiness is not just a garage full of luxury cars… happiness is as simple as sharing a song…

I didn’t know Alex and yet I was sure of one thing: this man had everything he wanted, but he lacked the most important… what it takes to be happy.

My thoughts fade when my attention suddenly stops on a vehicle.

The front bumper is damaged and spots of color intrigue me.

I kneel and distinguish shiny traces on the body… my piqued curiosity, I slide my finger there.

The sensation allows me to define more precisely the substance: it is not painting, it is more fluid than a chemical component… sliding easily on my finger and dressing it in a bright red color…

My heart suddenly accelerates by identifying this liquid on my skin…

I lean a little more, to observe the license plate as if by reflex.

But I’m going wrong: this plate is quite usual with a series of numbers and letters.

And yet… I keep this disturbing intuition in the back of my mind.

Something suddenly strikes me when the elements making up the registration number do not seem perfectly straight and aligned to me.

I touch the piece of metal, nothing abnormal… although, by scrutinizing the metal plate a little more precisely, I discern two very distinct shades of white: the one near the edges is less vivid, more beige than white.

My fingers roam the expanse of metal and I surprisingly perceive an edged revealing itself under my skin as a junction.

An edge.

My fingers grip it and so I detach with surprise the license place. It is a magnetic section that can be applied and removed just as easily.

I watch the object in my hand in disbelief: a removable license plate, this is not something common on the market…

I feel the tension increase in me and I end up looking down again at what this plate hid: what appears before my eyes, doesn’t surprise me, but confirms all the suspicions that were beginning to be expressed deep inside me. 

Because of no letters or numbers on the real plate of this car… of this matt black 4x4… just a sign, a symbol that I have long looked for in the streets of Seattle… which I recognized with horror on the evening of Amelia’s concert.

It is there in a few inches from my eyes: this mysterious Ferry Boat which has haunted me for many weeks.

.

Amelia…

A name that invades my mind… that repeats itself with the rhythm of my heartbeat and the intensity of my pulsations.

Without knowing it, I just lead her straight into the nets of our worst enemy…

I have to find her as soon as possible.

A click sounds as I sit up, ready to pounce, and the darkness suddenly surrounds me.

No more light in the room and a metallic noise echoes simultaneously.

My eyes are destabilized by the sudden darkness and I lose the space of a few seconds my bearings.

I groped my way along against the cars to head for the door.

This metallic noise… it seems familiar to me and I realize that it corresponds to the mechanism of the door. But this time, it marks the closing of the garage entrance…

An adrenaline rush spreads throughout my body and mobilizes all my senses in a fraction of a second. My vision quickly adapts to the low light and I note with fright that the door is already half-closed.

I move as fast as I can, in a fight against the mechanics.

I slide on the hood of a car to gain ground, but I watch helplessly the rapid descent from the entrance to the garage.

I’m just a few steps away, I run without paying attention to the shocks against my legs as I hit vehicles. My heart is pounding under the intense effort and tension that assail me. I finally reach this automatic door… but only a handful of free centimeters, too little for me to sneak…

.

A deaf clatter rises after a few seconds.

The entrance just closed completely in front of me.

.

I am trapped in this garage.

The fault of my lack of speed.

The fault after a few seconds of hesitation and reflection… very useless. I can only blame myself. And the tension turns into nervousness against myself… then into sharp and guilty anxiety.

Amelia is only a few meters away and yet I can’t reach her.

.

Here I am stuck… in an impossible situation…

Like the ultimate twit to a bad disaster movie.

What’s worse for a bodyguard than being away from the one he must protect…

What could be worse for me than being helpless, facing this closed door, being fully aware from now on that Amelia is in the greatest danger.

One of my fists violently hits this metal wall in front of me.

A deaf sound pierces the silence that surrounds me.

.

Behind this gate.

In the castle.

What is going on?

Does he intend to harm her?

Is she safe and sound? Injured? Sequestered?

.

Because Amelia is alone…

.

Not with Alex Karev, heir, and privileged donor of the singer’s foundation.

.

But with the man who has been harassing her for months.

.

The author of the threats, destabilizations which have marked these last months.

.

The crazy who inscribed this veil of terror and anguish that now dresses the singer’s face and eyes.

.

The monster, responsible for the dramas that clouded her life…

                  –––––––––––––––––––––––

Thank you for reading. Have a great week 💛

[kumeko]

A/N: For the @heroeseverafter zome! I wanted to do a play on Lilo and Stitch (with obvious cast above!) and for once only one member of the big three appears here. The amazing @mabbofu on twitter made spot illustrations/line breaks for this!

Summary: Eri didn’t know what to make of the red monster tearing through her trash, only that he looked as lonely as she felt.

…

…

…

…

“We’re going to be late.” Eri looked away from the car window to the front seat, where her mom was glaring at her dad. Arms crossed, jaw jutting out slightly, she was the picture of irritation. “Again.”

 Outside, the rain fell, quietly tapping on the glass. It sounded like a song and Eri swayed in time with it. There were few things she looked forward to more than dance class, though she still wasn’t good at it. Maybe she could practice with her brothers. Or, rather, brother—Izuku was a terrible dancer, worse than her.

 Her dad smiled at her mom playfully, looking at her over his spectacles. “Didn’t you hear? It’s in fashion?”

 Eri giggled. Even her mom couldn’t help but crack a smile. Almost nothing could stand up to her dad’s jokes. Looking at her through the rear-view mirror, he winked.

“Don’t think I didn’t see that!” her mom warned, but the fire was gone from her tone. Sighing, she fiddled with the radio, flipping through the channels.  “Next time, we leave when I say so, okay?”

 “Roger!” Her dad mock saluted.

 “Roger!” Eri chirped, following suit.

 “You two…” Sighing, her mom turned off the radio and looked back at her. “Honey, why don’t you practice the song they’re teaching you? What was it again?”

 “Aloha o…” Eri frowned, fumbling over the last sound. “Ow?”

 “Ow?” Her mom chuckled. “Well, you are learning three languages. Maybe your brothers can help you with it? I’m not all that good.”

 “It’s easy.” Her dad hummed the song softly. “It’s a beautiful song. Let’s sing it together, Eri! One, Two, Thr—”

 -x-

“—ee is the answer.”

 Eri blinked. The window she was staring through was her classroom, the voice her teacher’s. Any sound of shattering glass, of a horn blaring or tires screeching were all in her head. Unconsciously, her hand touched her forehead on the scar that was barely visible through her long hair.

 She was safe. That was a memory and she was safe. Her stomach flipflopped, and she forced back bitter vomit that wormed its way up her throat.

 Turning back to the front of the classroom, she eyed her first-grade teacher. Mr. Toshinori, looking as frail as ever, coughed into his elbow. It sounded like he was hacking up a lung. Every part of him looked like he should be in the hospital. Finished, he straightened up and smiled feebly. “What do you think will happen if you add two and two?”

 “Mr. Toshinori, don’t you think you should quit being a teacher?” From the front row, Eri’s classmate Mertle asked, not bothering to raise her hand. She flipped her red hair with a hand. “You’re dying.”

 “I’m not—” He hunched over as he coughed again.

 BRINNGGGG!

 Interrupting him, the bell chimed a second time, letting them know that school was over. A dozen chairs scraped against the floor as students immediately leaped to their feet.

 Struggling to maintain some semblance of control, Mr. Toshinori said, “Guys, I know this is our last day of class, but don’t forget—”

 It was too late, half the class had already stampeded to the exit, into the waiting hands of their parents. Eri felt bad for him.

 “Hey.”

 Eri tore her eyes away from her sad teacher. Mertle stood beside her, arms crossed, a sneer on her face. Looking down at her, she raised a brow, “You heard the bell right?”

 Her friends stood behind her, identical snobbish looks on their faces. “Right?” they echoed.

 Eri nodded. “Y-yes.”  

 “You spend all day staring outside. At least you’re not deaf, and just a space case.” Mertle pushed up her glasses. “Why’d you drop out of dance class? Is it cause you suck?”

 Dance class. Eri bit her cheek. “I…”

 Let’s sing together.

 “What’s going on here?” As though sensing her distress, Mr. Toshinori came over, a disapproving frown on his face. “Mertle, are you—”

 “I’m just cheering her up!” Mertle snapped back, flipping her hair and walking away. “The weirdo doesn’t talk otherwise.”

 “Mertle! Detention!” Mr. Toshinori sighed, shaking his head before crouching down in front of Eri. Giving her a gentle smile, he asked, “Are you okay?”

 She didn’t know the answer to that question anymore. Eri nodded her head.

 “If you need anything, you can talk to me.” He rubbed her head. “I know it must be hard these days, but I’m here for you.”

 The door swung open with a loud bang and her older brother Izuku stood at the entrance, panting. “Eri!” he jogged to her table, glancing up at the clock. “I’m sorry I’m late!” He bowed his head once. “I wasn’t fast enough.”

 “I-it’s okay,” Eri mumbled, shaking her hands in front of her. Sweat dripped down her brother’s forehead and her shoulders sunk. Every day, after school, he ran to her classroom. Izuku didn’t join any clubs, didn’t hang out with his friends, just made a beeline straight to her.

 She wasn’t worth it.

 “Any faster, my boy, and you should be on the track team.” Mr. Toshinori chuckled, resting a hand on Izuku’s shoulder.

 “M-m-mr. Toshinori!” Izuku’s eyes grew wide as he stared up at the teacher. Flustered, he ran a hand through his hair. “I’m not that fast. Just…”

 “You weren’t that late today.” Mr. Toshinori squeezed his shoulder, his voice gentling. “And I said before, I don’t mind waiting.”

 “That’s fine! I’ve got this.” Izuku pumped his hands, giving Eri a bright smile. “Right?”

 She nodded in response and his smile dimmed a notch.

 -x-

 Eri blinked awake, her throat parched as she stared up at the dark ceiling. Outside, the leaves rustled as a cool night breeze blew through them, crickets chirping restlessly as the hour wore on. Water, she thought. Her tongue felt like sand in her mouth. She glanced at the table next to her bed. Usually, her mom would have put a glass there, would have brushed back her bangs before kissing her goodnight.

 She wiped her eyes. Slipping out of bed, Eri quietly padded out of her room. To her left, at the end of the long hallway, was a locked door. Her parents’ room. Mirio had shut it when she came back from the hospital, locking it tight. We can deal with it later, he’d said.

 She heard the word Never. The door had only opened once, before the cremation, and Mirio had gone in alone. Izuku had read her a story while they waited downstairs, his eyes sliding away by the end of every paragraph. Eri couldn’t remember what the story was. Maybe he’d never finished it.

 No, she didn’t need to go there. What she needed was water and that was downstairs. Eri turned to her right, toward the stairs. The floorboards creaked lightly with every step. Her brothers’ bedroom lights stayed off.

 “What did he….”

 “Just…”

 At the top of the stairs, Eri froze as she heard voices. Quickly, she sat down on the stairs, slowly lowering herself down the steps until she could hear them better. In the living room, Mirio sat on the couch, hands clasped, jaw resting on his knuckles as he thought about it. Izuku paced back and forth as though the answers could be found if he walked enough.

 “They’ll just take us?” Izuku asked, his hands curled into fists. “They’ll separate us?”

 “If I can’t prove that I’m taking good care of you, yes.” Mirio raked a hand through his hair. “Money’s a little tight because of all the bills, so they’re concerned.”

 “But…that’s just unfair!” Izuku stopped walking, his arms at his side. “I…what if I get a job too?” His expression brightened. “I can get a job after school and-and-and I can go to work after I graduate!”

 “No!” Mirio sprang to his feet and Eri shivered. She’d never seen her brother look so angry. Even Izuku took a step backward. Calming down, he smiled and grabbed Izuku’s hands, carefully uncurling his fists. “You can’t daydream while on the job, you know? And how’re you going to finish all your homework when you’re working.”

 “But—”

 “It’ll be fine,” Mirio interrupted, his smile even brighter as he pulled Izuku close and hugged him tight. “Look, tomorrow I’m starting a new job, a nice one down by the beach. And Nejire and Tamaki said they’d help out as much as they can. So don’t you worry about money, unless you want to be like Scrooge.”

 “But—”

 As though to prove his point, Mirio quacked.

 “O-okay.” Izuku relaxed slightly.

 “And you’re going to university.” Mirio pulled back, brushing Izuku’s hair out of his face. “It’d be a crime to keep the greatest mind out of university.”

 Izuku bit his lip. “You didn’t get to go.”

 “Yet.” Mirio bopped him on the nose, winking. “I’m just delaying it a little, that’s all.”

 “You will go, okay?” Izuku pressed, a determined expression on his face. “After me, right?”

 “As long as I can use your notes.” Mirio chuckled. “Now, let’s go to bed; you’ve got school tomorrow and I can’t be late for my first day.”

 Eri scrambled backwards, trying to keep out of sight, but the stairs creaked at that moment. Immediately, her brothers looked behind them, up at the stairs.

 “Eri!” Mirio’s eyes widened before he gave her the same reassuring smile. “What’s up?”

 “E-e-eri?” Izuku had always been the worst liar.

 Getting up, she weakly waved. “Water,” she mumbled.

 “Water! Got it!” Izuku ran to the kitchen.

 “Careful not to spill!” Mirio called out, heading up the stairs toward her. “Let’s go to your room to wait for him, okay?”

 She nodded, grabbing her brother’s hand. It was warm. This close, she could see the bags under his eyes, the lines on his face. He never looked so tired, so old before. Maybe it would be better if he didn’t have to take care of her, if she lived away.

 As she slipped back into bed, Mirio carefully tucked her blanket around her. “Still kinda chilly, isn’t it? Maybe we’ll get Christmas in July!” He sat on the edge of her bed, his hand gently brushing the bangs away from her eyes. Did their mom do that for him too? “You okay, Eri?”

 “Yeah,” she mumbled.

 “Got your water!” Izuku stumbled in. Coming to a stop next to her head, he offered her the glass. “Did you have a bad dream?”

 “No,” she answered truthfully, sitting up to drink. Her mouth still felt parched. Maybe the thirst would never go away.

 “You know what we haven’t done in a long time? Singing lullabies!” Mirio took the glass from her and set on the side table. Imploringly, he leaned forward and asked, “Do you want to sing with us, Eri?”

 “No,” she answered immediately.

 Mirio’s expression tightened but he kept his smile up. “Alright then, we’ll sing instead. Close your eyes.”

 -x-

 Eri rocked her feet back and forth as she sat at the kitchen table. It would be another hour till dinner, another hour till Mirio came back from the beach. Beside her, Izuku poured over sheets of paper, filling line after line with tiny, cramped writing. His homework was much harder than hers. And longer.

 Outside, something metallic rattled. Eri looked at the kitchen window curiously, but from here she couldn’t see anything. Izuku hadn’t noticed, muttering under his breath something about sins and triangles. Sneaking a glance at him, Eri slipped off her chair and headed to the backdoor.

 Opening it a crack, she peeked outside. There was a concrete slab, a grassy hill, two trashcans—

 A trashcan rattled and Eri jumped. Was it a mongoose? A monster? Staring at it, she waited, but the can didn’t move. It only rattled every now and then, as though someone was rolling around in it. Behind her, Izuku was still concentrating on his homework. She didn’t want to bother him; it was time she fought monsters on her own. Gathering her courage, Eri slipped outside.

 “Hello?” she called out as she got closer, clasping her hands together nervously. “Are you a monster?”

 The trashcan fell over in response and she tried not to shriek as she jumped back. For a second, nothing happened, and then this big red thing crawled out. Eri stared. What was it, a dog? A cat? It was a big, furry animal, with four legs and long antenna sticking out of its forehead. Looking a little dizzy, it shook its head and coughed. Clouds of black smoke escaped its lips.

 It had to be a monster. A fire monster. It looked her, with big, unblinking eyes, before returning to the garbage. Tearing apart the bag with its claws, it nosed through the refuse.

 Eri stared. It was a hungry monster.

 -x-

 “Hey, are you here?” Eri whispered, sneaking out of the house with a plate of meat. This was what having a pet was like, she imagined. Every day without fail, the red monster would come to sniff through their trash. Izuku was always busy with homework and Eri finished hers early, so she snuck out to feed him.

 The second she set down the plate, he reappeared. When she backed away, he crept closer, sniffing the plate suspiciously before wolfing down everything on the plate. And almost the plate itself, but when she’d chased him away, he got the picture. He was a smart monster.

 So smart that he wouldn’t let her pet him. Eri frowned. This wasn’t at all like having a pet. All she did was feed him. Like right now. As she put down the plate, the monster poked his head out of a bush.

 “Arrwhhh?” he growled.

 “Can I touch you?” she asked hopefully.

 The monster hissed, shaking his head. His long, floppy ears whipped back and forth.

 Shoulders slumped, she walked back to the back door and sat on the ground. Deeming it safe, the monster jumped out of the bushes and rushed to the plate. He gave a happy grunt at the sight before immediately devouring everything in front of him.

 Smoke rings still escaped is mouth every now and then. Maybe one day there’d be fire too. Eri glanced at the distant shape of the volcano. Her mom (and her heart hurt at the thought) used to point at it, calling it by the names of her native tongue. Kazan. “Bakugou.”

 Before she could say anything else, the monster’s ears straightened and he looked at her. He grunted.

 She wasn’t sure what to make of that, only he looked a bit happier. Eri tried again, “Bakugou?”

 The monster looked at her again, grunting once more. Was that his name? She nodded. “I’m Eri.”

 “E-ry,” the monster, Bakugou, repeated.

 “Can I pet you?” she asked, holding out her hand.

 True to form, he ignored her and finished devouring his meal.

 -x-

 “Oh no.” Izuku paled as he rifled through his backpack. Hastily, he pulled everything out: loose sheets of paper, textbooks, a gumwrapper. Turning his bag upside down, he shook it twice but nothing else came out. “Oh noooooo.”

 Eri tore her eyes away from the window. The trashcans hadn’t rattled yet; Bakugou hadn’t arrived yet. “Something wrong?”

“My homework.” He slumped on the kitchen table and bemoaned, “I left the math sheet in my locker.” Hands on his hair, he tugged on the curly tufts. “And it’s due tomorrow.”

 His teacher, Mr. Aizawa, was oddly strict and Eri gnawed her lip. “Are you in trouble?”

 “Yeah.” He banged his head on the table once more before sitting up suddenly. “Iida!”

 “Iida?” Eri cocked her head. She vaguely remembered meeting her brother’s friends. He was the tall, serious one, the one who smiled stiffly.

 “I can get a copy from him.” Jumping to his feet, Izuku dashed to the door and swung it open. Slipping into his shoes, he dashed out. The door barely closed before he ran back in in. “Eri.”

 “Y-yes!” She ran to the door.

 “Is it okay if I leave you alone? It’s just for ten minutes, okay?” Izuku looked at her beseechingly.

 “T-that’s fine.” Eri nodded her head eagerly. Any other answer and he’d stay behind; she’d already caused him enough trouble with adding to the list. “Good luck.”

 “Thank you!” Izuku hugged her tightly and then he was off again, the door banging shut.

 The house quiet. Eri looked behind her. The lights were on in the kitchen and living room, but nowhere else. Now that she thought about it, it was the first time she’d been left alone. She padded quietly to the kitchen, turn on the water, and filled a glass. Maybe she should turn on the tv; she didn’t like how quiet it was.

 Outside, the trash cans rattled and Eri jumped. Leaning on the sink, she peeked outside to find the red monster outside. He growled, hungry, and she lowered herself to the kitchen floor. She’d almost forgotten it was time to feed him; she wasn’t entirely alone then.

 She wasn’t alone. Eri glanced at the front door. Izuku wouldn’t be back for a while. It couldn’t hurt to let him in, just for a little, would it? No one had to know. Opening the side door, Eri stared at the expectant Bakugou. He growled at her once but did little else. Hesitantly, she suggested, “Come in.”

 Bakugou didn’t move, only giving her a dubious look.

 “The foods inside,” she added, stepping back.

 He gave her a second look. As his stomach grumbled, he reluctantly got on his feet and crawled over. At the threshold, he hesitated. His belly rumbled once more, and he trotted in.

 Eri sighed with relief and followed him to the kitchen. Now inside, all of his reluctance was gone and Bakugou was investigating everything in the house, especially the knives for some reason. He opened every cupboard, poked his nose into every shelf, and Eri winced as spoons and pots fell out in his wake.

 “You can’t do that,” she reprimanded, picking up the fallen cutlery.

 If Bakugou was listening, he didn’t react. Instead, he swung open the fridge, far stronger than his appearance suggested. “Food!” he uttered, the word barely recognizable.

 “You can’t—”

 “Eri!”

 “Are you okay?”

 Eri dropped the pans with a huge clang as she heard not just Izuku’s voice, but Mirio’s as well. He was home early. Really early. It hadn’t even been five minutes since Izuku had left. “H-here,” she replied back, running to the fridge. Trying to grab Bakugou, she whispered, “You have to go!”

 He dropped an egg on her head.

 “Don’t be scared, but we have a guest today! From Social Services!” Mirio said. There was a thud as something fell, followed by the sound of footsteps.

 She paled. That was even worse than just her brothers. “You really have to go!” Jumping up and down, she managed to grab Bakugou’s foot. As she yanked him, she fell backwards with a soft groan.

 Bakugou reacted quickly by pulling his leg free and scrambling up the counter. He hissed at her, smoke escaping his mouth again, and she wasn’t sure if she’d imagined the flicker of fire this time. Before she could get on her feet, Mirio and Izuku were standing at the kitchen entrance.

 “As you can see.” Mirio gestured. “She’s…” He trailed off, his eyes widening as he took in the mess. “Uh…”

 “What happened?” Izuku gasped.

 “Kids are kids?” Mirio suggested, laughing nervously.

 Behind him, the tall, reedy man adjusted his glasses. “I see.”

 “What do you see?” Izuku asked, still staring at the mess. “And what is that?”

 Bakugou didn’t take kindly to being gawked at. He ran along the counter and Eri wasn’t sure if he was trying to escape or attack her brother. Either way, if he leapt out of the kitchen, the rest of their house would be as messy as this room. Chasing Bakguou, she grabbed him as he leapt off the counter. An entirely unwanted action, he struggled in her arms, trying to escape.

 “You can’t!” she said, tightening her grip. Panicking when he didn’t relent, Eri glanced at her brothers. What was she supposed to do now? Before she could think about it, she started humming. By now, she had forgotten the words to the song, but the tune, the tune was still there.

 Slowly, Bakugou relaxed in her grip.

 “We heard pets are great for theraphy,” Mirio quickly explained, pulling the social worker away. “Still training him though.”

 “Yep, training, definitely training,” Izuku chimed in, propelling the stranger forward by pushing on his back.

 As they headed to the entrance, Eri slumped to the floor. Letting go of Bakugou, she sighed. That wasn’t good. Her brothers would be in even more trouble now. And it was all her fault.

 “Arawww,” Bakugou growled, sounding almost friendly.

 “It’s okay.” She held out a hand. “You’re a problem but I’m one too.”

 Bakugou stepped forward, sniffing her hand. Approving, he sat down and arched his head toward her. Did that mean she could pet him? Hesitantly, Eri laid a hand on his fur. He pushed his head further into her hand, giving her an impatient bark. Excited now, she petted him. His fur was softer than she’d expected. There was a rumbling sound, almost like purring, and when she glanced at his face, there was something like a contented smile on his face.

 “Eri.”

 At the sound of her brothers, Bakugou dashed to the other side of the kitchen and watched them warily. She looked up to find Mirio and Izuku standing at the kitchen entrance, their eyes wide.

 “Eri, you’re smiling,” Mirio whispered.

 She patted her mouth. Her lips were up and oh, she was smiling. Before she could say anything, four sets of arms were around her, bodies colliding as both her brothers hugged her.

 “I was worried you’d never smile,” Izuku mumbled, crying.

 “I’m so glad.” Mirio kissed the side of her head.

 Eri couldn’t help it—surrounded by all this love, she broke into tears and clung to them. “I’m sorry, it’s all my fault—”

 “It’s not!” Izuku snapped. “Nothing is.”

 “But Mom and Dad—”

 “You’re fine, Eri, don’t blame yourself.”

 “And that guy—”

 Mirio pulled back and wiped her tears with his thumb. “It’ll be fine. I can deal with him. Don’t worry about it.”

 Bakugou growled and Eri glanced at him. Gathering her courage, she asked, “C-can he stay?”

 “Him?” Mirio stared at him for a long moment before bursting into a smile. “Sure, but we’re going to have to housetrain him.” He gestured at the room. “Can’t have this happen again, right?”

 Eri nodded vigorously. “Y-yes. I’ll teach him, I will! He can be good.”

 “What is he?” Izuku asked, taking a photo with his phone. He started to scroll through the internet, mumbling under his breath about different breeds of dogs and cats.

 A monster, Eri knew, but she kept silent. Whatever he was, he was going to be family now.  

[heymeowmao]

Idol Room w/ Got7 (190521)

- Youngjae and Jackson during the intro song, I- 

- Jackson/BamBam: Who sang this song? // Hyungdon just talks over them XD (Pentagon Hui, good job!!)

- Jinyoung - He Is Psychometric’s Kiss Scene - YG/MK: screams/squeals ; BB: Oh, you kiss with your eyes open? ; JB: RIGHT IN FRONT OF MY SALAD??!? / JS: Very good.

BB: Wow, what are you doing, in a hospital? To a sick person?? MCs jump on the train: What are you doing? To a patient??? JY: I’m sorry

JY: I practiced the scene with Jackson a lot MC: Oh, with Jackson? /thinks/ WITH JACKSON?!

JY/JS: /goes for it/ JB: THEY’RE REALLY GOING FOR IT?!

JY: /ends up laugh-spitting on Jackson/

Jus2 - JB’s trying to explain why the unit is called “Jus2″ and Hyungdon just- “Could you sweep aside your (hair) curtain?”

Yugyeom: - Maknae on Top - YG messes with JY and JS a lot bc he “likes their reactions” - Connection King: Friends w/ Chef Lee Yeonbok bc they were in the Jungle together, says he could bring his members to Chef’s house but never had. JB is especially salty about this - Connection King: Brings up ‘97 line, and how YG made friends w/ Jungkook right before BTS exploded into fame, insinuating YG only makes friends with those about to be famous. :p YG names Youngjae (yaass) as the one to look out for in 2019 (Even though JB wanted to be picked, bc Jus2 is still on tour... Poor JB) - If you could invite Jungkook or JB to the Chef’s house, who would you pick?  YG: Of course, JB-hyung. (Only) BC I’ve known him longer... ~ JB’s cute “It’s okay” to Jackson when he was standing by the wall :)

Jackson, about walking around Beijing: Yeah, some people recognize me MC: You can’t walk, can you? (bc there are too many people) JS: I can walk... (bc I have two legs)

BamBam - Fan-meeting tour gathered 15k people, brand model for 6 different brands JS: When we go to Thailand, BB’s everywhere: on the streets, shopping malls, airport... MC: Then, when BB arrives at the airport, it must be crazy JS: There are 8 thousand people. If there aren’t then BB doesn’t leave the plane XD

JB has a hard time explaining “Eclipse”, rolls into a ball: “I don’t even know if I’m doing well or not, right now...”

NICE CHOREO.

At the “I won’t let go of this light called you” part, Jinyoung grabs on to JB like this :’)

After they keep failing at the stop-go dance: JY: Do we HAVE to do this corner?

29:03 - 47:02 - Leader Games (BB and JB fight for the Leader Crown)

[HOLD UP! 32:20 - JB is holding that blindfold, but we didn’t see the scene. We were deprived of prime JJP content, right there. OTL ]

BB’s proposition: I’ll make it fun and let anyone eat what they want JB’s proposition: I’ll allow a 25,000W allowance for every meal

Mark - BB; After today’s schedule, let’s go eat beef Bam - JB; We have a schedule everyday, so there’s no other time to eat (picks the luxury meal over no meal) Yugyeom - BB; I always play around at the broadcast stations anyway, but let’s make it fun Jackson - JB; Since he’s always been the leader, he has a sense of responsibility and I have trust in him. I think he’ll protect us well ♥ Youngjae - BB; I want to prove he’s a liar (fix his lying habits) JB - JB; If it were me, I’d write my own name At 3:3, the tie-breaking vote was Jinyoung’s, in favor of JB. :’) (JY has such a gratifying smile on his face, knowing this last vote was his) Jinyoung - JB; A leader is a leader forever. JB, Hwaiting JB instantly knew it was JY’s and went to give him a hug and handshake.

MC: Then, that means BB voted for JB? BB: Yeah, I did. MC: Wow, and JB voted for himself?? JB: oTL

47:03 - 49:25 - JB proves how much he can fit in his mouth

49:50 - 50:01 - Cute JinGyeom Moment -  JY: You've started talking a lot more after being in Jus2. It's nice. YG: Right? :) I'm excited. It's been so long since the 7 of us were together, that's why. JY: (So cute, our Gyeom-ie =^^=) 

50:08 - 57:52 - Flying Toast

Ending Fairy Yugyeom~~

[keprambles]

Panic! At The Disco: This Is Gospel [OFFICIAL VIDEO] This video is important to me for a few reasons: Here is a long personal...

[badassbellarke]

Who does Bonnie murder?

That is the big question people are asking.

First of all, I AM LIVING FOR THIS SEASON AND THE MYSTERY. It is so juicy because there are a lot of separate story-lines and questions floating around between our core characters, as opposed to the previous seasons where everybody was working together to get away/cover up murder.

Suspect - Bonnie freaking Winterbottom.

Let’s get right to it. As a whole, I’d say this character is quite unknown in comparison to the Keating four and Annalise herself. What do we know about her, really? The ‘what’ usually leads to the ‘why’ and the ‘whom’. 

Well, we know she is an attorney of law. 

We know she is a killer. In fact, one could argue that she has had her hands in every single murder on this show thus far and is by far the most responsible. She has not killed every single person herself but she has been involved or in the know about them all. Frank, too. 

We also know she has a history of mental illness. To what extent I don’t know if that has been shared (I have a terrible memory?) but we do know as an audience that she is very unstable. We have witnessed it many, many times. She acts with impulse and without regret.... possibly a sociopath? 

She was sexually assaulted and abused by her father, and raped by his acquaintances whom he set up. Which, no doubt, caused a lot of trauma and contributed to her mental instability. 

Her father had been in prison her adult life and was later murdered by Frank.

She is a compulsive liar. Annalise is supposed to be her best friend and most trusted ally, however Bonnie has lied to her a countless amount of times straight to her face without any guilt. Not to mention that she had an affair with Annalise’s husband without remorse, too. 

She has an estranged sister who is presumably troubled.

She gave birth to a baby boy when she was fifteen years old and remembers the entire experience, but said she never saw her son after birth. He was later kidnapped from the hospital by Bonnie’s sister. 

She manipulates people and uses them, especially her boyfriends or partners. She has a problem with intimacy. 

My question is, what is her motive? What is her gain?

Victim - John / Jane Doe.

We know that the person killed cannot be any of these people: Laurel (she is seen grabbing Christopher from Bonnie after Bonnie murders John Doe), Michaela (she finds Bonnie in the bathroom covered in blood after the murder), Annalise (she is dancing at the wedding reception when Frank approaches her to confess what has happened), Frank (he finds Annalise at the reception afterward), Asher (Connor finds him outside the reception having *relations* with Mrs. Walsh), or Connor (he is at the reception waiting for Oliver to make a toast). 

That leaves Oliver, Nate, Gabriel, or Bonnie’s sister Julie. 

Who can it be? Whose death left Annalise broken on her apartment floor? 

I have my fingers pointed towards Nate Lahey, Oliver, and Bonnie’s sister.

Oliver Hampton. 

Why would Bonnie want to kill Oliver? Well, that is the easiest part of my theory. Oliver is a hacker and we know that he was investigating Gabriel and trying to figure out what Frank had to do with him. 

If Gabriel is Bonnie’s son then it is possible that Oliver figured it out and was going to tell somebody, possibly Gabriel himself. Oliver has a guilty conscience and always wants to do what his moral compass says, especially after the Simon incidents last season with him almost dying and then being deported. Oliver is done with the lies and schemes. 

This could have conflicted with Bonnie’s long term agenda of keeping her son a secret, and maybe she snapped. Maybe she kills Oliver to simply keep him quiet. All the other people that are in the know such as Frank, Annalise, Nate, and Laurel are all excellent secret keepers, Bonnie wouldn’t worry about them, but Oliver? 

And let’s be honest, killing Oly off directly after he finally married Connor would be in perfect Shonda Rhymes fashion. She loves a tragic story. 

(I HATE THIS THEORY SO MUCH ILY OLIVER HAMPTON-WALSH PLEASE BE SAFE)

Nate Lahey

The only reason I am typing his name is because of how Annalise reacted to the news  and how she crumbled onto her floor once she returned home. She was devastated. And we all know she is in love with Mr. Nathaniel Lahey Jr. 

Also, he was looking deep into Gabriel’s past trying to figure out who he was and who Bonnie’s child is, which might have compromised things. He might have found out something he shouldn’t have known such as particular DNA evidence pertaining to Bonnie, or her sister. 

The only thing I can’t wrap my brain around though is how Bonnie could have managed murdering a guy twice her size by suffocating him like shown. You would think that Nate can fight back hard enough to get away from someone of her size, especially at a crowded party not very far away. So unless Frank was her accomplice and somehow subdued Nate, it doesn’t seem logical that she could kill him, especially without being hurt in the process. He carries a gun. 

But who else’s death would upset Annalise to such a degree? 

And why else would Bonnie have his cell phone after the murder had taken place? Michaela calls his phone and Bonnie takes it out of her purse to silence it and send it to voicemail. 

Either Nate helped her commit murder and his cell phone fell out of his pocket, which for an Officer is highly unlikely and goes against his better judgement, or he himself was murdered. 

Julie Winterbottom

In the bathroom scene at the wedding reception when Michaela confronts Bonnie, Bonnie seems jolted and out of character. Her responses to Michaela almost sound rehearsed and impersonal, and it is the same when Laurel walks in to grab Christopher. The Bonnie we have come to know has a lot of love and affection for Christopher and Laurel, too, and she is generally a bit warmer to them. This Bonnie appears uncomfortable and secretive. This Bonnie appears... different. Unhinged. Snapped. 

Annalise says to Frank in the latest episode, “I’m worried about Bonnie. She isn’t herself when she is around her sister, I’ve seen it.” 

Did Bonnie snap and kill her sister? 

Bonnie’s sister did after all kidnap her song all those years ago, and she confessed to burying him in the woods alive. Certainly enough motive for Bonnie to want her dead. 

Let’s face it, Bonnie and her sister do not have a good relationship in general. Julie even admits that it has been a DECADE since they have seen each other and she was very hostile about it. Julie is an ex addict and alcoholic from the looks of things, and Bonnie couldn’t deal with it any longer so she separated herself. The only reason why she decided to see Julie again was because she wanted to know the truth about her son, and what she learned I believe sent her over the edge. 

Her sister not only kidnapping but also killing her baby is devastating... I could see that being traumatic enough for her to break. And Bonnie is a very spiteful character, we even witness this as she attempts to call the police and report her sister for having an unregistered firearm. Frank says to her, “you’d regret this tomorrow” but I’m not sure that she would have. 

Bonnie wants revenge.

Who did you think she killed? x

[linaofthemyscira]

Bad At Love

Pairing: Dick Grayson x Reader

Words: 1854

Prompt: I’ve never been good at requests, so here goes! Can you please and thank you write an imagine for Dick Grayson based off of the song “Bad at Love” by Halsey? Maybe angsty by referring to the reader’s past relationship experiences and Dick just hates watching the reader get hurt over and over again? (I am so so sorry if that’s long and confusing, you don’t have to do it if it’s too confusing)--Requested by @writing-yj

Warnings: angst and fluff together (flangst?? Is that what it’s called?) and language!!

A/n I really like this song so like YES! Also, I hope it’s not too clichéd cuz I’m a sucker for certain cliches in instances like these. I HOPE YOU ENJOY!!!

You and Dick had been living with each other for only 6 months, and your apartment was already getting cluttered with unnecessary items.

“Dick, it’s time we clean out our apartment. I can’t live like this anymore. It’s a mess!” You had told him.

“Okay, okay. I agree it is messy. We could clean some stuff out,” he looked around, scratching his head.

“No, we have to clean most of this stuff out. Most. Not some.” You placed your hands on your hips.

“Fine. Most,” he sighed.

Weeks passed and neither of you cleaned out your belongings from the apartment. Finally, you had one weekend off and took the time to start clearing things out. You started with old furniture, taking an old, worn down nightstand and putting it outside in the alley for someone to take. You also took an old armchair that was dusty and ratty and put it in the alley too, right next to the nightstand.

Next, you moved on to little trinkets and things you collected over the years. You grabbed a trash bag and began to fill it up with tiny papers with guys’ phone numbers, old calendars, pieces of origami and broken pencils. Everything that you no longer needed, dumped in the trash.

You then took all of the clothes you no longer wore and put them in a bag to donate to charity. It was better than just throwing them away, especially since you knew that someone out there needed clothes as much as you did.

Lastly, you took care of the miscellaneous items. You were rummaging around in your closet when your hand brushed a small box on the top shelf way in the back.

“What the…?” You mumbled. You took down the box and blew the dust off the top. Then, you turned to your bed and sat on it.

You opened the mysterious box slowly, unsure of what to expect, but once you fully took off the lid, you gasped. All the memories came flooding back and you dropped the box on the floor, some of the contents of the box falling out. Tears started rolling down your cheeks, and you quickly wiped them away in case Dick came into the room.

You picked up the box and the items that fell out and placed them on your mattress, sifting through them and beginning to let the tears fall shamelessly.

The first thing you picked up was a photo of you and your first boyfriend, smiling happily atop a mountain in the Appalachians. You recalled that day, how much fun you had and how carefree you were back in high school with him. It was all so fun, but it ended as quickly as it began.

Your boyfriend broke up with you because he felt that you weren’t paying attention to him, and it was true. Deep inside, when you were that teenager back in high school, you knew you were only dating him to say you had a boyfriend. You didn’t even love him. It was infatuation at best. Yet, it left you in tears and heartbreak.

You set the photo aside along with the tiny teddy bear that he had given you for your birthday. Next, you found a photo of your next boyfriend giving you a piggyback ride. You smiled fondly at the photo, remembering the day it was taken. It was your one year anniversary with him, and your mother had taken the picture. You fell in love with this one. He was good to you, treated you the way you were meant to be treated. You paid attention to him and cared about him, and even fell in love with him. Everybody thought you two would last...but it fell apart soon after your anniversary.

You broke up with him this time because he fell in love with another girl. He left you feeling broken and insecure, like you weren’t good enough. The break-up shattered your world, and you swore on that day that you would never date a guy again. They were snakes and liars, and it wasn’t worth the pain.

So you experimented a little, which is where your next relationship brought you.

You put the picture of you and your second boyfriend back in the box, along with the locket he gave you for your anniversary. Next, you came across a picture of you and your first girlfriend. She was from California, and she was amazing. She made you realize your true sexuality and helped you discover more about yourself than your past boyfriends ever could have. She was a free spirit, one with nature and it’s living beings. She was bubbly and lively and she was a singer who had a steady job at a restaurant. You thought it was meant to be...until you got a call from the ER.

You didn’t know she was taking it until you rushed to the hospital, desperate for her to be okay. “She OD’d,” the doctor had told you. She was gone. Another relationship shat on by the universe.

You put her photo back in your box and picked up a new one. Sure, you had fun with your first girlfriend, but the next one that came along was a guy again.

You held out for a long time though, since, by this one, you had trust issues. But he wasn’t willing to let you go that easily. He came back to you over and over until you told him that you would go out with him. Once you started dating him, it took off and it was the best. He was everything you could have ever asked for and more. Personally, you thought he was the one. You thought you two would last forever.

Then you met Dick.

And everything changed.

Suddenly, your boyfriend at the time (who you dated for 2 and a half years) wasn’t everything you wanted. He seemed insignificant compared to Dick. You and Dick started off as friends first after you accidentally smacked into him while he was chasing a perp on foot and you were running into your work building. After that, it was clear that you were truly meant to be with him.

But you were with someone else. And he had a relationship that “complicated”. The timing just wasn’t right. So you stayed friends for a quite a while until you couldn’t take it anymore. You remembered that night all too well.

“I’m sorry, Tyler, but I can’t keep pretending that I’m in love with you anymore! I’m sorry.” You cried.

“I—I can’t believe you, Y/N! I thought this was real! I thought we were going to be together for the rest of our lives! Hell, I even bought a fucking engagement ring. I’m just—I don’t even know what to say.” Tyler rubbed his temples. When Tyler mentioned the engagement ring, you gasped. You had no idea he was going to propose.

“You...you were going to propose?” You asked.

“I was. But I guess that’s not happening anymore,” he scoffed. Both of you stood in an awkward silence for a couple of minutes before he broke it.

“Who is he?” He asked.

“Who is who?” You asked back.

“He. The guy you’re leaving me for. Who is he?” Tyler asked. You gasped at Tyler in shock. How did he know? You didn’t even tell him about Dick. You sighed and sat on the couch solemnly.

“He’s a police officer. From Blüdhaven,” you said, “How—how did you know?”

“Please, Y/N. I can tell that someone else came into the picture. I was that person before,” Tyler laughed wryly.

“Which person? The one who came into the picture or the one who fell in love with the new person?” You asked.

“I’ll let you figure that out.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

“Ty...I’m so sorry. I wish that this didn’t happen,” you started silently crying.

“But it did. It’s okay. He better be worth it though,” Tyler told you.

“I hope he is too,” you muttered.

That night, you packed some of your belongings and slept at Dick’s apartment, telling him what happened as soon as you arrived.

And, since then, you’ve been with Dick. It felt like it happened just yesterday, but it was only a year ago.

You smiled sadly at the photo as you placed it back into the box with the other little gifts your past boyfriends (and girlfriend) gave you. You began crying again at all of the emotions that bubbled up from going through memory lane.

“I’m bad at love,” you sniffled and wiped your eyes.

Dick heard you from the living room and decided to investigate, worried that you had hurt yourself or something.

“Y/N? He called as approached the room. When he saw you crying, an alarm went off in his head and he immediately rushed to your side.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” he asked you with concern. You tried to speak, but all you could do was sob and sniffle. Dick brought you in for a hug to calm you down, caressing your hair and pressing soft kisses to your forehead for comfort. Eventually, you stopped crying and slowed your breathing down enough to form a sentence.

“Dick...I’m bad at love. I think you should leave now while you have the chance,” You sighed.

“What? No, Y/N, don’t think that.” He gave you his puppy eyes as you looked down ashamedly, “Hey...hey. Look at me.” Dick brought his hand to your cheek to tilt your face up so you could look at him clearly.

“You’re not bad at love. I know you’ve had a rough romantic past, but that doesn’t mean you’re bad at love.” He told you.

“Dick--” you started.

“I’m not going anywhere, I’m gonna stay right by your side to love you...to protect you....and to cherish you forever and ever,” He continued while pressing kisses on your cheeks.

“The last time someone told me that, he left me.” You sniffled.

“Well, I’m here to stay. I hate seeing you broken like this, so...I vow that I’ll be by your side and I’ll love you. No matter what. Okay?” He said. You nodded in response and offered a small smile.

“There’s that smile I know and love! Come on, show me those teeth,” Dick beamed at you. You rolled your eyes and bared your teeth at your boyfriend, but not in a smiling manner.

“Hey! Not like that!” he backed up. You laughed at Dick as he stood up, knocking over the box onto the floor again. Though, this time, you paid no attention to it. Dick laughed with you and launched himself at you, pinning you to the bed and hovering above you.

You giggled beneath him, feeling much better now that he was around. Dick caught you off guard when he suddenly placed his lips on yours.

Somehow, you knew that this time, you wouldn’t be left feeling battered and heartbroken. You finally felt secure, and it was the best feeling in the world.

TAGGING:

Permanent:

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Dick Grayson:

@sp00ksbb

(Crossed out means I couldn’t tag you, ALSO please let me know if you are interested in being on one of my taglists!)

[origetlopez]

DISCLAIMER: Triggering themes below. Content delves into issues of sexual assault and suicide. If these subject matters are unsettling for you, please please please please do not proceed with reading. Thank you. 9 Years Ago — Post Gymnastic’s Injury “Siempre serás mi hermana.” Marisol said when she started to get up from the edge of the hospital bed. Her smile had a way of shimmering brighter than light itself, and positivity radiated from her like the warmth of the sun. Even amidst the cold reality that Orianna’s future was in complete disarray, it was her little sister who gave her the slightest glimmer of hope. She was the only one thus far who consoled Ori since the accident and the surgery, or at least, attempt it. There wasn't any wonder why her sister was the jewel of the Lopez family. Her kindness shined as much as her beauty did. She was innocent and sweet, yet so incredibly brilliant in every way. She was a promising young woman in the making. Orianna never showed her twinge of jealousy about her little sister’s perfection out loud, but she admired Marisol for it as well. Especially in a time like this. Marisol was the only family member that Orianna felt close to, and her little sister praised her when no one else would. Orianna was never going to be enough for their father or mother, but she would be enough for Mari. It was her encouragement that Orianna was able to recover after her accident. She may have lost her shot at the Olympics for good, but at least she still had her little sister with her every step of the way. 6 Years Ago — Sophomore Year at USC; Night of the Party “Come on, Ori! You should come out tonight, you’re always studying!” Marisol said with a pout afterward. As if that pout would make her cute after pointing out Orianna’s lack of social interaction on the USC campus. The eldest Lopez sister turned her head in Marisol’s direction with narrowing eyes. “Don’t think for a second that pout makes you cute for saying that,” She said, continuing, “��and I go out!” Orianna defended, even if that wasn’t entirely true. Since the accident, Orianna still had a lot on her mind, including school. She wasn’t sure she wanted to be here. The only reason she enjoyed living near campus was so that she didn’t have to live at home. However, their parents were still nearby, , of course, . Their father lingering not too far to make sure his money that was spent on their education was put to good use. All this education, and for what, the hopes of getting a semi-decent job to please their father? It is not that Orianna did not want to go out, but she had a lot on her mind. Besides, she hung out with her sister’s friends a majority of the time. It was not a bad thing as the sisters were close in age. Ori had always been wrapped up in gymnastics, whereas Mari had freedom and became more of a social butterfly. As always, Marisol thrived. “So, come out tonight! You have no excuse not to!” Marisol argued, then used her cute sister charm once again as she came and wrapped her arms around her big sister’s shoulders. Clinging onto her and squeezing her tightly while adding, “Plus, I need mi hermana with me to celebrate my new single life!” On that special mention, Ori did a slight roll of her eyes. Not because she was annoyed with her sister, but because the mere mention of Marisol’s ex made her skin crawl. He was that stereotypical captain of the football team who was arrogant and controlling, yet his boyish looks and charm made most people blindsided by his true nature. He wasn’t a good guy as everyone believed him to be. Orianna saw the way she treated Marisol, and luckily, she helped get her sister out of that relationship before it went south. Still, the thought of him brought out the inner disgust in Ori before she laughed it off. “We celebrated that two nights ago. And as much as I love celebrating that fact — I also have a paper due.” That was a lie. Her paper wasn’t due for another week, but Orianna didn’t want to go out tonight. She needed an excuse, and the best way out of it was to use their father. At least that was something that Marisol couldn’t argue against. She knew how their father was, “I need to focus. Otherwise, our father will have another reason to be disappointed.” Patting her sister’s arm to let go of her, Marisol gave a sigh and another pout, only this time more defeated. Ori had won the battle against going out. “Tell me how the party is! And be safe!” Orianna emphasized one more time, getting an annoyed I will as a response. Orianna didn’t know it back then, but that was the last time she was going to see that glimmer of hope from her sister. That glowing warmth, or that sun-filled smile. The moment Marisol walked out that door, she was gone for good. Still 6 Years Ago — Post Party, Day Later “Mari! Get your ass up! You’re gonna be late!” Orianna shouted from the other side of the door. It wasn’t like her little sister be cooped up in her room for a day. Unless maybe she was sick. Even then, Marisol would put on a whole show on the couch. Making sure Orianna saw a display of her lack of wellness. Marisol also rarely missed class, and it was completely unusual. The unsettling feeling that something was wrong began to build in Ori’s stomach. At the same time, she continued to act as an older sister would in this scenario. “I’m coming in there. You better be dying or rushing to get ready!” Orianna announced as she opened the door to her sister’s room, setting eyes on her for the first time since she left for the party. Her sister was still in the same cute outfit that she wore to the party the other night. The only difference was that it looked tattered and worn. Almost like it had been through the wringer. Her makeup smeared, and she almost laid on her bed as stiff as a cold body. For a second, Ori thought she could have sworn that she wasn’t breathing if it hadn’t been for the soft choking back of tears that happened a few seconds after Orianna barged in. The look of a teasing older sister immediately fell from Ori’s face as she became scared and confused at the sight of Marisol. “Mari,” Orianna said with a rising alarm, moving to her sister’s bedside. Her hand came to the top of her head delicately. Almost afraid if she pressed too hard, she would smoosh a flower. Her other hand just barely touched Mari’s arm when her little sister shook and shivered at the feeling. Never would Orianna expect her sister to react that way to a loving touch from a family member. The reaction encouraged Orianna to continuously be gentle as she investigated what was wrong with her. “What happened?” Ori asked, and there was a distant, lost look in Mari’s eyes. It was dark in them, and they grew darker as her broken lips uttered every women's worst nightmare. 5 Years Ago — Apartment “You can’t ask me or Mari to go back there! He is still at that school! They’re sitting on their asses doing absolutely nothing while he is still winning them goddamn trophies and being their poster boy!” Orianna voiced loudly into her phone against her father as she approached the apartment door. She worried less about struggling with the bags in her hands and more about making a point to her father. “Look, Mari already dropped out. I plan to do the same—“ The moment she said those words, Ori could hear her father’s voice rising on the other end. Her mother was in the background, attempting to calm him down, but there was no use. At this point, Orianna had failed her father for the second time. Leaving school because of what happened to Marisol was not a good enough reason. Meanwhile, someone had to take care of Mari. She wasn’t herself anymore. “Cuuurrrkshhhh oh no, I think we’re breaking up! Gotta go, bye!” Orianna obnoxiously pretended that the call was being disrupted before abruptly disconnecting on them. Her frustration had the better of her, and she didn’t want to deal with her father trying to control the situation. Orianna dropped the bags near the counter and kicked closed the door. With a heavy sigh, she put her phone down on the counter. In that brief pause, Orianna heard the music playing in the background. It was just as loud and annoying as the phone call had been, and Ori needed just a moment of peace. At least to clear her head from all of the thoughts running inside of it. “Mari! I’m back ... can you turn that down, please?” She said with a heavy sigh as she started to relocate the bags to the kitchen. There was no response. “Mari! Turn it down!” She called out again when she set the bags down once more, this time on the kitchen table. She tucked her ebony hair behind her ear, starting to sort through and organize the groceries when she saw it. Another one. Social media hate, staring at her from an open laptop. Ever since Mari accused him, she received bullying messages, calling her a liar. All defending his honor and not caring how he violated her sister’s. It pissed Ori off even more than she already was. She was about to shout again when suddenly, the song that had been blasting in the background was repeating itself, leading Ori to pause. “Mari?” She called out again, this time taking her hands out of the bags completely, her head and eyes turned in the direction of the hallway leading to the bathroom where the noise was coming from. Orianna couldn’t begin to explain it. Only that at that moment, she had this unease come over her like a tidal wave. Her movements seemed so slow, worrying about what she might find again when she came across her sister this time. The vibe itself felt so off, almost eerie, as she neared the bathroom door. It was completely shut, but there was nothing but the sound of the music blasting inside. When she finally reached the door, Ori pressed her ear against the side of it to listen to other sounds apart from the music. There was nothing. No water-running, no sound of a toothbrush swishing against that perfect smile, no hairdryer-blowing against the same ebony hair. A dead silence hid in the noise. Orianna didn’t ask one more time for her sister. This time her hand, twisted the doorknob and gently pushed the door open. Marisol lay in the bathroom tub. A deep slit from the wrist and up the middle of her forearm on both arms. The red-stained water barely reached the top of the tub. Orianna went into two different modes: action and panic. First, Ori focused on getting her sister out of the bathtub. Then, trying to get her to wake up. A mix of tears and fear at the little response she was getting. At a time like that, it is hard to think about the right things to do. “Mari? Oh my god, Mari no, no.” Orianna began, her brown eyes filling with the realization of the truth in front of her before her heart and mind could comprehend it. She squeezed her sister close to her. Uncaring that her clothes were getting soaked from the red-stained water and blood pooled on the floor. Her hands tried to stop it against Marisol’s wrists, but it was no use. The reality was sinking in, and Ori was at a loss. Her head pulled up, and she started screaming for help. Not that anyone could hear her pain over the music, and by then, it was already too late. Orianna had always been too late. 5 Years Ago — Vegas Bound “Don’t blame yourself,” They said, “…you have to let it go.” Shortly after the funeral, everyone was asking Orianna when she would return to school, or life basically. For everyone else, it seemed so easy. All of their friends, minus Leti continued to carry on. He continued to succeed at school. Meanwhile, Orianna was stuck. No urge to go back. No will to continue on the hopeful path that her sister inspired her to have. Orianna wanted to get away from everything, and everyone. There was no more hope for her here. Marisol was supposed to be the promising young woman. Though within months, she was forgotten by most. Orianna didn’t want to be that. She needed to make something of herself so That is when Orianna took her sabbatical. She packed her things and moved to Las Vegas. She was twenty years old. Marisol was eighteen when she took her life. Call it survivors guilt, but if Orianna had only gone with her that night, maybe things would be different. It was up to Orianna to do something with her life. To prove her worth, to make an impact in some way, to make noise when others refused to listen and to stand for something. It wouldn’t be done perfectly, though it would be done her way. Orianna forced herself to take the leap and become stronger, not just for herself, but for Marisol too. “Siempre serás mi hermana.” Ori said one last time at her sister's gravesite before leaving for Las Vegas. She left behind a bouquet of red roses for her. It would now be Orianna's turn to become the promising young woman for the both of them.

[lezliefaithwade]

Faith, Hope & Charity

At Vatican City, I overheard two American tourists with distinctly southern dialects discussing the beggars asking tourists for change.

“You’d think they would do something about it,” the man said to the woman, who nodded in agreement while admiring her recently purchased crucifix.

Visitors waiting for their designated museum times can sit in the square or stroll through any one of a dozen souvenir shops that sell religious artifacts for exorbitant amounts of money. Things that generally sell on Kijiji or Amazon for next to nothing are priced three or four times higher in the square. And these tourists beside me had opted to give their money to thieves in suites rather than beggars in rags. Interesting. I have to assume they were religious; hence, why the crucifix? True, it could have been a gift for someone else, but even so, it seemed so biblical, me sitting at the Vatican beside two reasonably well-dressed people who were loudly condemning the poor.

I’m not against people with a belief. I’ve known some incredibly kind Christians and some indecent ones too. I’ve dated Jews, Greek Orthodox, Coptics, atheists, and agnostics. Sometimes I meet people who tell me they’re spiritual, and I take that to mean that they believe in a higher power but not an organized religion. The thing about organized religion is how desperate they are to recruit you. I’ve made the mistake a few times of accompanying a friend or boyfriend to their church or temple of choice only to be cross-examined at “friendship hour” afterwards.

“Don’t forget to sign the registry” “Be sure to leave your e-mail?” “How did you like the service?” “

I’m always so tempted to say, “I didn’t like the service at all. I thought the little speech in the middle was boring as hell. In the theatre, you’d never be able to get away with so little effort.” In fact, during a few of those boring lectures, I’ve actually wondered what it would be like to review them. Can a person be a homily critic?

Last Sunday at St. Thomas Episcopalian, Reverend Porter spoke on the story of the Good Samaritan in what can only be described as a futile effort to instill any empathy whatsoever. His monotone delivery showed no sign of excitement or interest in the very subject of which he spoke, and his overuse of gesticulation could be better served as choirmaster. I highly recommend any churchgoer avoid this Liturgical season until Easter, when things will hopefully become a bit livelier.

I’ve often made the mistake of expecting more from those who claim to believe. After all, the general consensus (and I don’t think I’m going out on a limb here) is that someone who follows the word of God is most likely going to practice kindness, love, compassion, forgiveness, and understanding.  It’s like a person who boasts of being a great chef and then serves you store-bought pasta with a lumpy Béchamel. “I don’t wish to offend,” you might say, “But do you really expect me to swallow this crap?” If Catholic school taught me anything, it was how rarely one saw the word of God put into practice. Not that everyone was mean, but the “Do unto others…” doctrine wasn’t generously applied. Sadly, more often than not, I’ve often been disappointed by those who claim to be followers of Christ. I think, if Jesus were around today, He’d be disappointed too. Sometimes I imagine Christ with a Twitter account and millions of followers towards whom He’d constantly have to correct in a never-ending stream of tweets like:

“I cannot be held responsible for everything the prophets said,” or “I didn’t even know Leviticus.”

People who have no religious beliefs whatsoever can also be surprisingly horrible. I’m always slightly taken aback when they denounce religion taking the stance that this makes them somehow better than everyone else. I’m easily tricked into thinking they are, then let down when they behave just as badly. These are the people who fight for climate control while driving an SUV. They’re firmly against bullying, then bully you when you disagree with them. I kind of subscribe to the whole: Let he without sin cast the first stone. As advice goes, it’s pretty good.

My belief system runs somewhere between Spiritual Deism with a side of Christianity and a strong desire to be Jewish.  My Jewish boyfriend for seven years reminded me of what it meant to be part of a family, something I always wanted.  I looked forward to Friday Shabbat dinners where we’d gather over brisket and discuss important issues like the colour of the car Bernie was going to buy.

“It’s red.” He’d nonchalantly say while savouring the dinner.

“Red?” his Mother would announce. Fork down, dinner halted. “You’re not a red car sort of guy.”

“What does that mean?” Bernie would ask, oblivious to where this was going.

“You’re a blue car or a gold car-- not red. You’re brother here; he’s a red car driver. Mr. Flashy. Mr. Look-at-Me. But you…you’re definitely not red.”

“I can be flashy!”

“Never!”

“Sure, I can.”

“Not going to happen.”

“There are plenty of times when I’ve been flashy.”

“Name one?”

“Aunt Zelda’s birthday party?”

“Aunt Zelda’s birthday party? What are you talking about?”

“I did that impersonation of Lenny Bruce.”

“Oy vey. Shut up and eat your brisket. And tomorrow, change the colour of your car.”

My first husband’s father, Ezzat, was completely the opposite. A proud Egyptian, he’d grill me over dinner with questions like, “Do I or do I not ALWAYS ask you about your father?” to which I’d cautiously reply, “Well…I wouldn’t say always.” The next thing I knew, I was being called a liar, and he’d refuse to cross the threshold of my home. Once, while I was still suffering from dry sockets after having my wisdom teeth removed, he blended lamb, lentils and carrots together in what can only be described as vomit. It was a lovely gesture, but he was deeply offended when I couldn’t drink/eat it. I offended him a lot. Looking back on old journals, it strikes me now that no fiancé in the history of the world was more disliked. At night I’d pray, “Dear God, what have I done to make everyone hate me?” And all I heard back was, “Who’s everyone?”

Christian or not, it isn’t easy being a good person. When people run a stop sign, then give me the finger when I honk, I’m apoplectic, ruminating all day on what an asshole they are. If someone cheats me or slights me or makes me the subject of a lie, I brood and stew, giving away too much power to those who wish to hurt me. I aspire to be most like my father, who was always kind and courteous. Walking down the street in his later years, he would say hello to everyone and mean it. He was genuinely interested in people. I was grateful that he didn’t seem to notice women blanch when he called them “dear” or, after exchanging pleasantries, would leave someone with a “God bless you.” As his dementia grew worse, he appeared to become more and more beatific. Whether playing monopoly or eating a sandwich, he relished every moment accepting his fate with grace. As I sat beside his hospital bed and watched him pass from this world to the next, I believed he was embraced by something.

I think about my friends who have been oppressed yet still find the ability to forgive, celebrating at Baptist churches with a kind of joy I rarely see anywhere. I have learned a lot from my Black friends, and colleagues about what it means to be, if not Christian, then Christian like. I’m humbled by the love I’ve received when I probably didn’t deserve it.  

Hollywood would have you believe that Christians are either assholes or saints, and regardless of which category you fall into, you’ll suffer in the end. The assholes are hoisted on their own petard, and the saints are martyred.  I have a famous writer friend in L.A. who once said to me, “It was easier to come out as gay than Christian in Los Angeles.”

When I was seven, I saw the movie Song of Bernadette based on the true story of a young girl visited by the Virgin Mary. As a result of her miraculous visitations, Bernadette is rewarded with tuberculosis of the bone, suffers terrible pain and eventually dies—all while being persecuted by a nun who is jealous of her visions. At seven, I put two and two together. If that’s what happens to you when you’re humble and devout, then count me out. The last thing I wanted was for God or Mary or Angels to appear before me. And it wasn’t just Bernadette. Saint Afra, Saint Aggripina, Saint Basilissa, Saint Cecilia, Saint Dymphna, Saint Eurosia, Saint Susanna, Saint Juthwara, Saint Noyala, and Saint Winifred were all decapitated for their faith. To make matters worse, Faith was my middle name. What was my Mother thinking when she saddled me with a Christian moniker?  From what I could tell, since the basis of sainthood appeared to be suffering under horrible circumstances, I was eager to abandon the idea of being good altogether.  As long as I had a little larceny in me, I could stave off being burned at the stake or decapitated.  When misbehaving, my Mother would ask, “Why are you so bad?” And I would answer, “So I don’t become a saint.” I could see no situation in which becoming pious was worth it.

Back in the Vatican museum, I stood beneath the Sistine Chapel ceiling with hordes of other tourists feeling a bit like I was in purgatory waiting for judgment. Guards constantly chastised us to be quiet as we craned our necks to catch a glimpse of God. “There’s so much nudity,” I heard someone say, “God doesn’t look like that.” I was tempted to say, “It’s not a photograph. It’s an interpretation.” But I wisely kept my mouth shut. As I stared at the Delphic Sibyl, I remembered the legend: …born between man and goddess, daughter of sea monsters and an immortal nymph; she became a wandering voice that brought to the ears of men tidings of the future wrapped in dark riddles. It sounds like Sibyl might be pretty busy these days. Finally herded outside, most of the people around me had already put Michelangelo’s frescos out of mind. It was just one more thing to cross off their bucket list. Instead, their attention was now on the line-up at the Vatican pizzeria where for 10 Euros you could have a slice with cheese. 2 more Euros, and you could have water add an extra Euro and you could have it blessed.

As my time to visit St. Peter’s Basilica drew near, I lined up like a good little pilgrim to enter the “Holy Door” and passed into the atrium. I didn’t feel the presence of God there, just tourists who couldn’t resist a good selfie in front of the Pieta. Michelangelo’s sculpture masterpiece conveys the sorrow of the Virgin Mary, her right hand clutching her dead son while her left-hand falls limp at her side, resigned. I was contemplating the gesture when the woman beside me asked her friend,

“What do you suppose it means?”.

“Maybe she dropped her cellphone,” her companion quipped, and they laughed. It echoed shrilly through the chamber like hyenas. I sometimes feel the same way about women as I do about Christians. I expect them to be better and disappointed when they aren’t. I’m sure they feel the same way about me.

[acabloe]

Soon Goodbye, Now Love: chapter four

chapter one 

chapter two

chapter three

new ppl who r just seeing this it’s a guardian angel A/U find pt 1 n two  here ☟

Ao3   ff.net

tw’s: swearing, mentions on depression

still based on this song lol

a/n: is It copyright if I include lines word for word from the movies also is it weird lol too late. 

Chapter four: Make a Wave

Chloe had sat awake all night at her kitchen counter where she had a clear view of the living room and the small sleeping girl on her couch. Paranoia had led to the performance of unnecessary extra work while she waited with a small bath of coffee and her laptop, constantly visually and audibly aware of the situation if anything arose. 

Certain that she would be able to leave her job four or five hours early the next day because of the extra labor, she thought of what the girl- Beca, would do after carrying out the medial plans Chloe had made. They were, now that she thought about it, of a very impractical a nature and it had only just dawned on her how unrealistic they were. Granted, Beca seemed like she wasn’t completely hopeless. Although Chloe was not sure if she believed everything about her story, she knew that the girl wasn’t without resources; She said she’d lived in the city beforehand and she had to have paid some money to travel all the way from Massachusetts to New York.  She considered maybe meeting her again after work since she would be getting off so early, but she was still wary of the entire situation and how rash she was being. The thought that she had so expeditiously befriended this stranger she had found wandering alone in the middle of a field with no shoes or clothes and a long and kind-of gap-filled story was making her brain hurt.

After an extremely uneventful evening, the early hours of the morning dawned and Chloe threw together a small breakfast for herself and began to prepare for the day ahead. She found an old Barden school-sweatshirt in her closet to give to Beca and a pair of trainers she no longer wore, assuming for the time being that the girl truly didn’t own a pair of shoes.

After a brief interval of hesitation, she gently nudged her sleeping guest and murmured a cheerful greeting upon the girl’s stirring. Beca dressed in her newly-cleaned clothes, ate the cereal Chloe gave her in groggy gratitude and at the turn of the hour just as Chloe had promised, they left for the city in her red 90′s Nissan pulsar. 

 The conversation shared hitherto had been sparse and for the most part admitted on Chloe’s initiative, but after ten still fairly uneasy minutes of driving, Chloe found herself want of a more social reciprocity from her apologetic and rather acquiescent companion. 

“Do you mind if I turn on the radio?” Chloe glanced at the girl who was gloomily hunched in on herself, eyes flickering over the passing architectural and natural parade of suburban New York.

“Sure.” She shifted and smiled faintly in response. 

“Do you care what I play? I have a Sia CD in the glovebox there.” Beca dutifully withdrew the black and white cased CD and handed it to Chloe. 

“I didn’t even know they made CD’s anymore.” The jesting comment was thrown quietly but it had not gone unnoticed. Chloe chuckled as she placed the disc in the thin slot of the dashboard.

“She’s a comedian! Well, well, well, a real spokesperson for our generation, aren’t you? Don’t appliance-shame me­, this car is too old for an AUX chord.”

“If you say so, grandma.” Chloe was enjoying this new-found charismatic confidence of the stranger she had only met a few hours ago. As the first song began she hummed along to the all-too familiar melody. She had maintained a sort of comfortable fondness for the artist, as her acapella group had sung a few of her songs in concert when they had been together and listening to the album made her feel melancholic, but peaceful. Even though she didn’t really keep in touch with the girls, she still held them all very dear and her sense of pride for everything they had done together was still running strong. 

“Do you sing?” Beca’s voice was soft and monotone as though she didn’t want to ask the question.

“Funny you should ask, I used to sing in college. I mean, I don’t make a habit of boasting, but our acapella group performed at the Kennedy center with one of the songs on this album!” She smiled through recollection.

“Your A Capella group? oh my God, you are old…that’s nice though, I guess. Congrats.”

“See? I’m a cool grandma.” She increased the volume on the controls and instinctively jumped into the harmonies. The conversation dwindled yet again and she struggled desperately for another topic of conversation.

“Do you?” In Chloe’s side-view she saw Beca’s head turn toward her in confusion.

“Huh?” 

“Do you sing?” 

“Oh. Haha. In your dreams.” Her laugh resonated in a somewhat forced manner as if the subject had affected a sore spot and she became sullen within seconds, returning to the window. This unusual air made Chloe question whether Beca’s statement was true, and if it was perhaps more of a self-deprecating comment. After the first song ended and the second followed suit, Chloe’s doubts were confirmed (admittedly to her delight) as Beca quietly began humming the melody underneath Chloe’s higher intervals. A few words through she softly joined in with the lyrics and Chloe was taken aback by a pleasing (if a little rough) voice, harmonizing in absolute-pitch beneath her own. Their tones blended well, and though Beca was singing softly and with little motivation, their phrasing synced well, Chloe thought. They sung past the chorus and as the bridge began, she addressed Beca with amusement and determination.

“You Can sing! You liar!” 

“Dude, shut up. Just ‘cause I do doesn’t mean I can.”

“What the hell? Your voice is great! You know this song so well, it’s actually almost like you’re singing the arrangement we did for the president.” Chloe smiled when she observed she was making Beca blush. 

“Wait, you’re in the Bellas? Wow. I um…I saw that performance online actually. It’s, like, viral, you know that, right? Also, ever since that David Guetta song I’ve been really into Sia.”

“Oh, God, yeah of course I know, that perforamance almost got us disqualified. Wait, you know David Guetta?”

“Dude, I fucking love David Guetta. Titanium?”

“What a a BOP! Are you kidding me?” 

The last chorus came in and the two girls sang and with a litte more vitality than they had been doing so, especially Chloe. As the last chorus faded into the quiet between songs, Chloe was nearing the end of the highway and the toll booths signifying the entrance to the city could be seen on the horizon.

“So, where are you thinking I should drop you off?” 

“Oh, um…I guess the bank on 15th, if that’s cool? I can make my way from there.”

“Gotcha.” Chloe was unsure how to approach the next subject. 

“You know...if you need anything I’ll be there to help you get back on your feet? You can spend another few nights at my place until you have somewhere to go. Also, I can speak to that friend about the job, I think she’d really appreciate someone else at her café and I’m sure it pays well. Now that I think about it, she’s just around the corner from 15th, I’m going to be early for work anyways, I could introduce you two. If it’s too soon to think about work I totally understand.”

“No, yeah, um, wow, that’s so kind of you. I…I’ve already taken so much of your hospitality, um, I can’t thank you enough for what you’ve done, you must think I’m so awful. I owe you so much, dude. If it’s not, like, encumbering you that would be so great.”

“Really, it’s nothing I swear. You’re a friend now, I’m here to help. Her name is Flo, she was in the Bella’s with me! She’s super sweet, I promise.”

-

Beca passionately inhaled the perfect euphoria of stepping inside Flo’s coffee shop. She had spent so much time in this building her last year on earth. Nothing had changed except for the fact her favorite latte was not on the large chalkboard Manu above the counter, which she didn’t blame Flo for; she doubted very many people ever ordered a sage latte. This recollection made her again dismal when she was reminded that not only Chloe had been made to forget her existence, but also the entire earth and all those she held near. 

The café was small but well and minimally decorated. The floor dipped into the ground as opposed to a raised platform and the ceiling was low with old, dark beams stretched across, between white plaster and strings of tiny warm white string-lights. The counter in the corner was short and littered with large glass bell-jars filled with assortment upon assortment of scones, muffins, donuts, cakes, and cookies. 

The tables surrounding Beca and Chloe were packed with well-dressed people sipping drinks and typing loudly on their laptops and as the two girls gingerly navigated through the labyrinth of perfumed hipsters. Beca finally spotted a very frazzled and frayed variation of her tiny happy friend busily flitting around the tiny kitchen and she smiled in excitement. They finally reached the counter and when Chloe shouted her name Flo turned with a disgruntled looked which quick turned to ease when she saw who had called. 

In Beca’s timeline, the Bella’s intimacy had grown only stronger after their acapella careers had come to a close. Most of them had lived together in some variations of two or three, and they met up often and spoke regularly. Beca had dwelled constantly while she was in the Higher City on whether, if in the universe that had come of Beca’s death, the Bellas had still stayed close or simply grown apart. She had immediately noticed when she met Chloe, how much more subdued and almost depressed the inner layer of personality had been. The thought of living a life away from some of the most amazing people she had ever met, and missing what had been such a huge part of her day-to-day was gut-wrenching to consider, she felt deeply guilty and sympathetic for Chloe.

As she watched the two of them converse, she noted that they still clearly maintained a pretty cordial, if a little formal, relationship with one another. They greeted each other familiarly and then Chloe pulled Beca forward for an introduction. 

“So, Flo, This is Beca! she just got here from Massachusetts and she’s looking for a job, I know you’re a little strapped here so I thought you could maybe use an extra hand and interview her? Or whatever you do when you hire someone in this industry?” Chloe passed her arm around Beca’s shoulders warmly.  Flo sighed and reached out her arms to Chloe in a gesture of gratitude. “You are my savior, Chloe. Work has been like an old man throwing dead-weights into basketball hoops. All these rich people care about is what kind of non-dairy, dairy product they ask for and if you do not get it right they ask for your manager. Which is me. Obviously. I would hire you right now if I had the time. I’m closing the register in fifteen minutes if you want to wait in the back? I’ll be right there.” She gestured to a small hallway in the back of the room and turned to return to her work. Chloe faced Beca with a grin. 

“So, I’m gonna leave you here, but here’s my number. Don’t hesitate if you need anything at all. I work about fifteen minutes walk from here. Text me, keep me updated. I’ll keep in touch, okay?” Chloe wrapped her arms around Beca and hugged her tightly. Beca was unsure how she could respond appropriately other than simply apologizing and thanking her profusely. So, that’s what she did, and then Chloe was gone, out the door and around the corner, bright red hair fluttering behind her in the bitter city wind. 

She had just made herself comfortable on the couch when Flo breezed through the door, still in her apron and lightly dusted with flour. Beca knew the moment she stepped in the café what she would have to do and say. She knew that Flo would sympathize and that she could trust her. Flo sat own at a desk adjacent to the couch and brought out a plaque with a few papers Beca assumed were applications, but Beca scooted to the edge of her seat and placed her palm on the wooden surface before Flo could speak.

“Flo, wait, um...just stop for a sec’...how do I do this? Okay, this is going to seem like a very odd request but can I hold your hand, just, for, like, a millisecond?” Flo’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion but she complied hesitantly, reaching her hand to touch Beca’s.

“Um, sure. Do you want some water or something? Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah, Yeah I’m fine, just...give me a second.” Beca took her hand and held it securely. She needed just the right amount of contact. She closed her eyes and within less than a split second, Flo withdrew her hand with a gasp.

“Beca Mitchel?! Bitch ass hoe, what are you doing here?!”

a/n: sorry this chapter took so long kids! If anyone cares, I was in New York with my chorus performing at carnegie hall, also if Anna wasn't there at the performance imma b hella pissed bc not only does she a) have an obligation to attend acapella and Choral performances, now that she holds the face of acapella in her palm, but she was also b) in NY at the time and I c) tweeted her twice.

[dwestfieldblog]

THERE IS NO SAFE WORD

ATEH MALKUTH, VE-GEBURAH, VE-GEDULLAH, LE-OLAHM...

Anybody who understands my music will never be unhappy again. Beethoven. That sounds like a cue for a song...and here it is...

Well, now we know the actual defined amount of stubborn dumb stupidity for sure in America. Over 70 million morons. Loved seeing Trump jr call on his dad to wage ‘Total war’ (A phrase Goebbels used in Berlin 1943 when the allies were approaching... and we know how that ended, go on Big Don, do the honourable thing for the first time in your foul life.) Junior also said ‘It’s time to clean up this mess and stop looking like a banana republic’. Why yes son, it is, so off you all pop. Daddy is busy implanting his loyalists in the Pentagon and already thinking of running in 2024 but by then he should either be in prison or in exile on a tiny freezing Scottish island with a one hole golf course where he can still cheat. Seems likely he, family and their backers are planning to make good use of their through the looking glass rabies crazed sheep and continue to destabilize America for the Kremlin. Loved that the orange psychopath tweeted early ‘I WON THIS ELECTION, BY A LOT!’ and watched as he demanded all votes be counted...and the more they were, the more he lost by. HILARIOUS.

And his call to arms to ‘Stand back and stand by’ to The Proud Boys, who are not far right Nazi thugs at all no sir. To misuse Hunter S Thompson’s genius for the hundredth time, I hope that this is where the wave (of populist filth Trump has been riding) finally breaks and rolls back. But over 70 million morons say different. The 80 million who voted for the other guy must be happy there are so many who can clean the streets and fill the shelves at food shops. Education needs to be improved in America and Britain next year, a ‘LOT’.

January 20th 2021...Celebrate with joy the end of a despotic douche bag...allow the world to feel lighter. Republicans, you should feel ashamed. America, this bastard has been undoing your Constitution like a prom queen’s girdle for a button mushroom quickie rape for four years and couldn’t have cared less about Covid and how many of you died...as he said ‘It is what it is’. So SAD!!!! Arf. Donald, you are and were nothing more than a spoiled five year old brat with as much empathy for humanity as a lizard. A banishing ritual will need to be performed in around the White House...call up the Native Indians, the witches and South Park and cleanse the area of astral poison. The swamp will be drained when the deranged incubus’s entire family of scheming wannabe aristocrats vacates for good.And don’t let him sit at a little table to pardon them and himself.Lowlifes...speaking of whom...

It has taken a lot to make me smile this year (what, you too huh?) but seeing Rudy Giuliani giving a press conference between a porn book store and a funeral parlour in a parking lot did it. The T family, Jared, Rudy, Pompeo, Paula White (the Unchristian millionaire), the slurring ‘star witness’ Melissa Carone, spokeswoman Kayleigh with her cute little cross and all the rest of those despicable liars must all be flushed down the drains, no second chances, repentance or absolution.And as for Dr Scott Atlas telling the American public to ‘rise up’ against the safety measures called for by the state against Covid...A doctor telling you to ignore the rule against large indoor gatherings etc. A doctor.RISE UP? 12 million cases in the US as of mid November...254 thousand dead. That number is rising fast. Good luck from keeping the world falling on you Atlas, Wonder what the orange one offered him to blab such stinking dung. Another doctor with a hypocritical oath.

The smug toad Steve Bannon on yet another shitestirring podcast,spoke about beheading virologist Dr Fauci and the Director of the FBI Christopher Wray...‘I’d put the heads on pikes, right. I’d put them at the two corners of the White House as a warning to federal bureaucrats, you either get with the programme or you are gone.’Twitter banned him outright (and how long did that take?) but the ever wonderful facebook didn’t think that advocating murder online like any other good fundamentalist was reason enough. They believe in the first amendment, hurrah for the robot Zuckerberg.Like? Dislike? Delete, good luck.

And meanwhile the EU budget, involving 673 billion pounds for Covid connected concerns has been blocked by the continuing charming behaviour of Hungary and Poland. And why would they do that at this time of dire need? Why, because the release of the funds is dependent upon the rule of actual law in each of the countries to which the money is allocated. They have some very naughty politicians there who are upset about this and the darlings have taken it personally. These men could well be directly responsible for hundreds of unnecessary deaths. Hungary’s PM Orban said the clause would ‘jeopardise trust’ between member states. Well pal, they already don’t trust you due to your actions in the last ten years over freedom of speech, assembly, judges etc etc.

The Polish ‘Justice’ minister said the clause was ‘...really an institutional political enslavement, a radical limitation of sovereignty’. Sounds like Nigel Farage.(btw, Love that he lost 10 thousand pounds betting on his golden mate to win the US Presidential election. Oh well, you can pick that up fast enough from taking the Euros you rail against eh? Got to relish the classic two faced double English standards he stoops so low to wave so high) Anyway, I digress, if it seems unfair to Poland and Hungary that they act more like actual democracies rather than extremist populist swine, perhaps they should also leave the EU and team up with Mother Russia and Uncle China.Again, Vladimir must be well pleased with how Europe and America are collapsing.

Belarus...the ‘police’ are beating up women, using stun grenades on unarmed pensioners and teens. These are not police and have nothing to do with any law other than that of the jungle. Lukashenko is their Trump, a man who always swore his country would be independent of Russia and then accepts 1.5 billion dollars in loans. Good luck with paying back the interest with your soul Alex, needs must when the Devil drives eh? Loved how those loyal to the dictator described the protestors as truants and transsexuals’. 150,000 of them? Seems a lot. But never mind, hired thugs and sadists are always easy to come by, whatever the country and whatever the year. Easy work and fun if you enjoy it, conscience free. Sure they are just trying to feed their families.

China wants a global QR Covid code, making tracking humans even easier via their brilliant technology. Let’s see who falls for that one, would you want yet more personal data known by those who created the virus and shot their own children? (For the record, I do not think Covid was taken over there and released by enemy agents and I certainly don’t think it was created by accident any more than the updated version will be.) Making a fortune out of others’ misfortune seems quite like disaster capitalism for communists.  Drug companies will be hoping the 19 virus will ‘mutate’ to 21 and 22 in order that we will all need annual vaccines.

Prague, on the anniversary of the Czechoslovakian Velvet Revolution on November 17th, 250,000 march against their PM, (an ex informer to the communists) who has been Premier for too many years...another rich businessman deep in corruption scandals, I loved his comment after witnessing the thousands that he didn’t ‘understand’ why they were doing it. That said, there were many protesting against the use of...face masks. Ok, by all means choose not to wear them. Then stay the hell away from everyone else until you are vaccinated and don’t you dare go to hospital when you fall ill. Deal?

Englerland...The manic baldhead liar Cummings has at last been kicked out of Downing Street and a fine and noble advisor he was to the PM eh? Herd immunity my arse. Seems possible he might work for Farrage and continue destroying the system from within. Fnord. God help us all, the ‘UK’ is hosting the United Nations Climate Change conference in November 2021 and taking the presidency of the G7 in January...with Boris at the helm? Nobody takes this blustering useless lying cretin seriously unless their jobs depend on him. Tory supporters, what does it take for you to see reason, how much evidence of unending failure? At very least replace the Chumocracy rampant in the government or Doom, damnation, despair, death and more doom will repeat.Nice to see we get the vaccine tested on us first...guinea pigs are safer for the rest of the world on an island...

Fascinated to see that 20m pounds were not available for poor children’s free school meals but 21 million in taxpayers’ money for a go between businessman to get PPE (piss poor excuse/personal protection equipment) for NHS staff, was. How much did the go between pocket? 55 thousand dead in UK, fifth in the world,so proud of the levels of national intelligence and Govermental planning. Brexit and Covid in a double whammy with the most incompetent and corrupt government in my lifetime. As John Lydon used to rant on a perfect loop;’ This is what you want, this is what you get’. Possibly I am abusing his actual meaning, sorry Johnny. No future for the UK...None for me anyway...

Was the UK and America’s snowflake nonsense, seeded with the birth of instagram, tik tok et al/ forums with young folk seeking approval from their peers and feeling important when they were ‘Liked’? A few years later in the (ha ha) real world, they are easily insulted by others who do not find them having much depth or value. Kids’, being ‘liked’ is not the same as being respected, or loved. Pretend alpha males, being feared is not respect either.

‘Since words contain both denotations (referents in the sensory-existential world) and connotations (emotional tones or rhetorical hooks) humans can be moved to action, even by words which have no real meaning or reference in actuality. This is the mechanism of demagoguery, advertising and much of organised religion’ RAW. It also explains why, in tandem with tones, symbols and an altered brain speed,directed Will can cause change in ‘realities’. The litany of ritual, the mantras of magick and images focused to fire with the Tantric arrow. Oops, missed again. Anyway...back to the negativity☺‘

...as population increases, wages fall but later prices increase....and the relation between them –is to be considered the index of revolutionary potential...and can be predicted as precisely as eclipses in astronomy’. Robert Anton Wilson, The Widow’s Son (Hilaritas Press) 1985.

Thanks to Covid, hundreds of thousands of businesses have collapsed; the jobless or part timers are unable to pay rent or feed their families...and receive little or no support from governments who have either pocketed their taxes or just given rewards and contracts to their friends. The overload stress levels and knock on effect on those who had the virus and still suffer -or those who could not get into hospital for treatment will be massive. Every populist knows there has never been a better time to manipulate the fear and anger of the masses. Demonstrations, riots and harsher laws will spread each creating their own chain reaction.Watch out for Nationalists pointing fingers, don’t buy their snake oil. Avoid giving groups like QAnon any of your energy, paranoia is a creepy way to live and a sleazy way to die.

Ten months of reading emails which come across like distress signals or suicide notes from friends or that scene in Interstellar when the son knows his father could be dead by the time the message gets through. BUT...‘Help may arrive invisibly and unexpectedly from unknown sources’. Be open to this. Be sensitive and attuned to quantum parallels, there is a reaction going on to all the uff and crud, sidestep, step to the side... Allwhere and all now. You don’t need to ‘believe’ this, just be aware, sense it.

TANA, ORPHEUS, ARADIA, LUCIFER (or Robin, Marian, Orfee, Bride, all ye gentry come from Side)...Protection and guides, projected archetypes created by our minds and evolved by themselves...

We, as a species, exist in a world in which exists a myriad of data points. Upon these matrices of points we superimpose a structure and the world makes sense to us. The pattern of the structure originates within our biological and sociological properties.Persinge and Lafreniere.1977.

The intelligence should direct the will. Aquinas. The light of the body is the eye; if therefore thine eye be single, thy whole body will be full of light. Matt6:22.

Have tied the last five years together and I have a feeling my time in this country is coming to an end, give it seven months perhaps. Thank you for reading, hope some was entertaining...Withe much Love from Donkey Oti, and Onan the Barbarian, stay healthy, wishing you the best Christmas and 2021 possible, Ba-ra-ka, Et in Arcadia Ego . Love, always.                                

[westywrites]

The Orphan Experiments

Chapter 1

Time for a new multi-part story! Updates on this one will be every Wednesday and Friday similar to the last one. Once again, this is not the newest story in terms of how recently it was written, but it has, like the others, been under continual editing. I think this is one of my favourites because I really the characters.

I’m going to try out something new and put little excerpts from the chapter at the top above the Read-More and see how that works. 

Next

Excerpt: “Now I need to make sure you understand why exactly these kids live here instead of with other foster parents." Mr. Kleary nodded. "They are problem children, very troubled. They all have been kicked out of multiple homes and schools. They don't get along well with anyone and certainly not each other. What these children need is a heavy hand, do you understand?"

The house was large and foreboding; three stories high and very plain. The dull lawn and perfect off-white paint seemingly screamed that nothing good happens there. A young man with messy hair stood on the front porch, biting his lip. Shortly after he knocked the door was opened by a girl with curly black hair. She stared at him, deep brown eyes making quick judgments of the tie on his neck. The man smiled.

"Hello!" He bent a little to get more on eye level with the small girl. "My name is James Kleary, may I come in?" The girl said nothing in response. "I'm to be your new skills teacher here, it's very nice to meet you." The man put out his hand as if to shake the girl's. At this motion she flinched and ran up the stairs against the right wall of the entryway. Mr. Kleary stood awkwardly for a moment before calling out the name he had made note of before he came and bracing himself to meet the kind of woman he expected to run a place like this. A clattering of footsteps was heard from a room down the hall. A stout woman, easily in her fifties, hurried to the door; her face was kind as she invited him in. The lady led him down the hall and into a bright kitchen. The cheerful atmosphere contrasted to the rest of the house and did a great deal to ease Mr. Kleary's nerves.

"Okay, so here are m-" Mr. Kleary began to pull out his resume but was quickly interrupted by the lady.

"When can you start?" She was buzzing about, pulling things out of cupboards and putting things away, seemingly randomly.

"But you haven't even seen-”

"Doesn't matter! These children just need someone to put up with them for some time during the day. Lord knows I can't do it on my own all the time. The old skills teacher, he was tough but this batch is bad." She made a judgmental sound. "Those savages got the man in the hospital this time."

"Oh my," Mr. Kleary responded less to what the lady had said but more how she had said it. She talked about the children as if they weren't human beings. "I'll start immediately if you'll have me."

"Oh good, good! My name is Ms. Singer." She smiled tautly and extended a hand for him to shake. "I am the homeowner and head caretaker of the children here. I do all the cooking, cleaning and disciplining." She tossed a wooden spoon into the drawer and began to walk off. Mr. Kleary followed silently as Ms. Singer gave him a quick tour of the house. It had a simple layout with dull furniture and duller walls, just a standard four-bedroom home with three washrooms and a study. The children shared rooms; two girls in one and two boys in another. Ms. Singer lived in the master bedroom and the adjoining washroom was all hers. The final bedroom was small and unkempt with a tiny ensuite.

"This will be your room. You'll spend nights here but the rest of your time will be spent with the children." She pulled the door closed as they left. "You will teach in the study; history, English, math, all the usual subjects, taught following a strict curriculum. You will show up to meals on time, you will report any infractions to me immediately, no matter how minor. Are you even listening to me?"

"Huh? Oh, yes, definitely." He had zoned out entirely before they had even entered the bedroom. "Can I meet the kids now?"

“I suppose." The judgmental tone had crept back into Ms. Singer's voice. She led him to a living room where four kids were watching cartoons and looking bored. She stopped before she entered the room. "These are the kids. Now I need to make sure you understand why exactly these kids live here instead of with other foster parents." Mr. Kleary nodded. "They are problem children, very troubled. They all have been kicked out of multiple homes and schools. They don't get along well with anyone and certainly not each other. What these children need is a heavy hand, do you understand?"

"Loud and clear, Ms. Singer, or may I call you Andrea?" Mr. Kleary smiled.

"No, you may not." Her curt response made Mr. Kleary flinch a little. "These children need to learn respect so under no circumstances should they think of you or me as anything other than Ms. Singer and Mr. Kleary." She looked at him as though talking to one of the children of whom she thought so lowly. He nodded quickly. He was starting to doubt his choice in going to that house, but these children obviously needed someone who actually cared.

"The one in the corner, the little Mexican who answered the door when you knocked, her name is Rosa Falto, 10 years old, though she will not shut up about her birthday next week. She is a major flight risk, ran away from all the homes she's been in within the first few weeks. She’s scared of the world and incredibly shy but easily the most tolerable of the children. The girl laying on the floor is Willow Harrington, 12 years old. She is attention craving and overly emotional. She broke the nose and arm of the owner of her last home because he tried to comb out that Afro of hers. The ginger boy is Jacob O'Neil, 12 years old. He is a thief and a liar who lives to cause mischief. He was responsible for the prank that put their old skills teacher in the hospital. The little black boy is Tanner Cole, 11 years old. He claims to hate everyone and acts like it too. He is an angry child who will stay silent until it all comes out screaming." Ms. Singer gestured inside. "Now it's time for you to meet the devils."

The children all turned and watched silently as Mr. Kleary entered the room. He could tell by their faces that they had heard everything Ms. Singer had to say and that they had heard worse before. After an awkward moment of silence, the children went back to watching their cartoons and seemed to pretend that Mr. Kleary wasn't even there. Mr. Kleary shot a look back at the doorway, smiling and shooing Ms. Singer away. She sighed and left, her footsteps receding to the kitchen. As soon as she was out of sight Mr. Kleary sighed and plopped into an empty spot on the couch. The boys, on either side of him, looked shocked and kind of afraid.

"Man, she's got a stick up her ass, doesn't she?" Mr. Kleary said to Tanner. "A stick so far up it hits her brain!" The children laughed slightly in surprise, disbelief on their faces. Except for Rosa, she just stared with wide eyes.

It took a while but each of the children eventually came to enjoy Mr. Kleary's antics. He was the strangest and happiest adult any of them had ever met. He pulled pranks on them as often as they tried to pull any on him and his lessons were taught in badly sung songs or horribly drawn cartoons; he drove Ms. Singer up the walls. The children loved it and Mr. Kleary loved the children. He came to understand them as so much more than Ms. Singer had made them out to be. Rosa was brilliant, Tanner wanted to be an artist, Willow wanted to play hockey, Jacob was an aspiring stand-up comedian. Each of the children was able to shine and every time they did Mr. Kleary was filled with pride. His strange ways even seemed to brighten Ms. Singer at times and she began to give him some leeway with how he taught. Though this was partly because she knew he would ignore the rules anyway.

One day, rain and a boring history lesson had the children complaining and fidgeting in their seats; it gave Mr. Kleary an idea.

"Ms. Singer!" Mr. Kleary half shouted as he ran down the hall, the children staring after him in confusion. "Ms. Singer, I had an idea!"

"Good lord, Mr. Kleary how many times must I tell you not to run?" Ms. Singer stepped out of the kitchen, her polka dot broom in hand. "You are going to fall and break something."

"It's a dreadful day." Mr. Kleary was smiling and bouncing slightly as he talked; standing far too close to her.

"I guess..." A bit of worry crossed her face. "What is it that you want?"

"I want to go to the museum!" Mr. Kleary put a hand on her shoulder. "I have a friend who is in charge of the guided tours there. If I call her she can arrange something by the time we get there!"

"What does a dumb museum have to do with it being a dreadful day?" Tanner asked, alerting the adults that the children had snuck down the hall.

"Dreadful days are museum days, of course!" Mr. Kleary said it as if it were obvious. "Do you want to come, Ms. Singer? It'll be fun!" He continued to bounce slightly.

"No, thank you." She looked at her watch. "There's too much to be done around here." She turned back towards the kitchen. "Be safe and don't do anything stupid."

"She said yes!" Mr. Kleary was halfway up the stairs before he paused to look back at the children. "What are you waiting for? We're going to the museum!" The children ran after him.

"Hello and welcome to the Richardson Street Museum. We first opened our doors to the public in 1962 with only..." the tour guide droned on in an unenthused voice.

"Don't bother with the script, we won't be listening." Mr. Kleary smiled as he slid a small bottle back into his shoulder bag. "If you just lead us around and tell us some cool facts every once in awhile we'll be happy." And so it went on like that, the children ran ahead and pointed to cool things and the guide seemed much happier to say the things he found fascinating. Mr. Kleary ran about with the children at times, but mostly he followed along, walking and chatting with the tour guide. After close to three hours, the tour guide stopped Mr. Kleary for a second.

"Melissa, the guide coordinator, told me I should take you guys up to where we're storing the exhibit that's gonna be set up soon." The guide seemed excited. "Well, she said I could as a favour to you if your group was well behaved. It's really important that they don't touch anything up there."

"Of course. I promise you they'll be the best of any children you've ever seen." A smile grew on Mr. Kleary's face. When he called them, the kids quickly came over and stood attentively as Mr. Kleary explained where they were going. “Nothing there will be behind glass yet, so you have to be very careful not to touch it, okay?"

"What's the new exhibit about?" Jacob asked as the others nodded.

"It's about Native art and technology from before the Europeans came." The tour guide replied quietly. "You'll be the first to see it who doesn't work here." This was met with quiet excitement. The guide led them over to the back corner of the museum where there was a second, older styled elevator marked staff only. The guide put his arm out, blocking the door until everyone was in. He stepped in after them and pressed a button with no marking on it. Suddenly, something put Mr. Kleary's nerves on edge, something wasn't right. He looked to the children, they were all there. He looked back to the guide; when he wasn't looking the guide had pulled a mask of some sort over his mouth and nose. Mr. Kleary shouted for the children as he whipped around to face them, but before he could he fell to the floor and everything faded to black.

[withered-pages-blog]

Liar 8/? (Tom Riddle Jr/Voldemort Imagine)

The sound of shuffling was the first thing you remembered waking up, the second being the pain in your shoulders. Raising your head weakly, a soft grunt escaped your lips.

“Don’t move, Y/N.” You turned your eyes and blinked lazily at him - Riddle. “What are you doin’ to me?” You slurred softly.

“You fainted, again.” Stiffening up and clumsily standing on your own, you moaned, “Stop. I can walk.”

Dropping your arm as if it were ice-cold, Riddle straightened his robes. You turned to thank the other student who had assisted you but when your eyes met his blue ones, your gaze hardened. “What are you doing here?” You spat, shoulder leaning against the cobblestone wall.

“I’m helping you,” Abraxas smirked, “I think I deserve a little appreciation, don’t you?” Scoffing, you forced yourself to stand and waved the two off, “I feel fine, let’s just go back to class.”

“Your back was covered in leeches, Y/N. You most likely fainted from loss of blood and you need to see the matron.” Tom said, inspecting the wall behind you. “How many?” You paled, stomach flipping unpleasantly.

“At least ten.” Malfoy’s smirk widened, “They were full with your blood.” You whipped your head around and clenched your jaw, the blonde looked satisfied with your response and he stepped closer to you. “I wonder how they got there.”

Your face reddened with anger at his indirect confession and with shaky hands, you shoved him out of the way. “Y/N,” you heard him sing-song at you teasingly from afar and your breathing became labored.

Breaths became shorter and louder with every step you took and as you came to the doors of the hospital wing that familiar warm, wet sensation tickled your cheeks. You stood there and cried, fists balled up, face scrunched hideously and hair falling in your face. Quivering in your robes sorrowfully, clenching your eyes shut and raising a fist to wipe at your wet face, you focused on steadying your breathing - only to gasp in fright at the sound of a young girl.

“Why are you crying?” You whipped around, back against the door and wide-eyed, “What could you possibly be crying for? Nothing you’re going through could be worse than what I’m going through.” Blinking away tears, you examined the girl.

Pale skin with a broad face framed by thick, round rimmed glasses. Her dark brown hair was pulled into two ponytails and her blue and white tie did nothing to bring any attention to her. Had she not spoken to you, you’d have never noticed her at all - she practically faded into the walls behind her.

“I’m not crying,” you defended, “and I don’t think this should be a competition.“ The girl watched you carefully, arms crossed and eyes puffy, “I cry a lot.” You snorted, “Good for you.”

Turning to the door, you pushed against it weakly, stepping into the unfortunately familiar room. “Who’s there?” The woman called from behind a curtain. “Myrtle,” The Ravenclaw girl called and you shot her a glare, “Y/N.” You added bitterly.

“You two can’t stay away for long, can you.” She joked as she revealed herself, “Alright Y/N, what seems to be the problem?” The Ravenclaw, Myrtle, gawked at the two of you, “B-But what about me?”

The matron looked exasperated, “I’ll get to you in a moment, Miss Warren.” Myrtle huffed as she sat down on the end of a bed, folding one leg over the other and watching you with squinty eyes.

Brushing her off, you grabbed the curtain and pulled it across the bed, shielding yourself from the nosy girl. “I was in potions, ma'am,” you began undoing your tie and unbuttoned your white shirt which was dotted with blood.

Turning to expose your back, the matron gasped, “What happened, dear? Who did this?” She inspected your bruises flesh, “Is it bad?” You asked anxiously, “These look like bite marks.” Frowning, you hummed, “Someone put leeches down my back in class. I guess there were a lot.” The woman’s soft fingers traced your lower back and she tutted, “I fainted once I felt them moving but Riddle thought it might be due to blood loss, insisted I come here.”

“That boy really has kept an eye on you, hasn’t he? Such a sweet young man.” You grimaced at that but agreed reluctantly. “Am I going to be alright, ma'am?”

Tie in hands, you traced the stripes on them absentmindedly as you thought back to potions. “I think so, dear. Do you know who did this?”

“I do, ma'am.” You jumped as the top of a head full of silky brown hair revealed itself from above the curtain. “Tom!” Myrtle gushed and you watched the silhouettes moving behind the white material.

He towered over her and she stood closely to him, “What are you doing here? He admitted it?” You threw the curtain open without thinking and instantly regretted it. Eyes meeting with his, Tom narrowed his gaze for the briefest of moments before turning his head and clearing his throat.

Tossing it shut, you shook profusely and your entire body felt as if it were on fire. “She admitted it.” Trying your best to brush off your humiliating action, you lifted your shirt over you shoulders, buttoning it as you spoke. “She? Who?”

Myrtle huffed and you saw her pigtails sway as she turned, “Olive Hornby.” Riddle answered, paying no mind to the girl by his side. “Olive is always being mean to me!” The Ravenclaw declared. “Olive put the leeches down my robes? Are you sure?”

Grabbing the curtain and pulling it aside, Tom examined your surprised face, wide-eyed and lips parted. “But she wasn’t even - ”

“She was behind us, partnered with Abraxas.” Your eyes narrowed and you scoffed, “Of course she was. I’m so sick of him.”

Myrtle took a step forward, nose scrunched, “Sick of who?” Her tone was constantly whiny and every time she spoke you cringed. “None of your business.” You snapped and the girl flinched, bowing her head submissively. A moment of silence passed and your stomach welled with guilt.

Sighing, you yielded and slumped onto the bed, “Malfoy,” you started, “We’ve hated each other for years and he’s always going out of his way to mess with me.” The brown haired girl’s eyes softened and her arms unfolded, “Isn’t he your friend, Tom?”

You clenched your fists, you’d completely forgotten the two were associated. Seeing them together at the front of Slytherin table was one thing but Abraxas actually followed Tom around like his own shadow.

“We’re acquainted, yes.” He admitted, “I just stopped by to tell you that Hornby is going to be punished by the Headmaster personally, so I’ll be going now.”

You nodded, heart dropping at the thought of him leaving. “What about our grade on that practical lesson?” The brunette raised a brow at you, “We’ll have to do it again, we were pardoned temporarily. We’ll finish that while you serve your detention after classes today.” Your heart dropped even lower and you blinked up at your classmate, who stared back at you blankly before his lips curled into a faint smirk, “You didn’t forget did you, Y/N?”

You wanted to protest, to complain or somehow weasel your way out of it, but you knew the sooner you went the sooner you’d be able to go to your room and just sleep the day off. You simply didn’t have the energy to argue.

[sugary-shot]

Beautiful Liar, a Kuroko no Basuke fanfiction

Summary: What happens when the person you cherish so much leaves you in the darkness? You’re falling down, no one to catch you down there and no one to hold your hand to prevent you from falling down the endless dark pit. You’re sinking in quick sand, drowning in the darkest place in the sea. And that’s what happened to Kuroko Tetsuya.He loved each and every one of the Generation of Miracles, and yet they treated him like garbage- playing him for their own sick amusement. After realising that he wasn’t meant to be by their side anymore, he broke. He turned, walked away;And committed suicide.The Generation of Miracles knew they were wrong. Heck, they wanted to rewind time and slap their past selves for being so inconsiderate for their beloved phantom’s feelings. But no one can rewind time, no matter how many times you beg; the clock won’t tick backwards.Five years later, their former manager drags all of them to a boy band concert. As the concert starts, they all see their precious former teammate on stage, singing. Kuroko Tetsuya was still alive, but what happens when he doesn’t remember any of them? 

Chapter 5: The Emperor’s Mistake

"Hey, don't go near that kid!"

"Why?"

"Don't you know? That kid; Kuroko Tetsuya, is just like a ghost! No one likes him. He's so weird!"

I was always alone. I didn't have any friends. Everyone distanced themselves away from me, saying that I was a ghost. Was I really that invisible? I'm human like them too..

So why?

Waking up from his slumber, he stared at the ceiling for two solid minutes before realising he was on his bed. After recollecting whatever memory he forgot, he almost immediately sat up; a loud groan escaped his lips as he did when a painful jolt went through his entire body. When did I.. He furrowed his brows, a hand making its way to rest on his forehead, rubbing it in a circular motion.

"Tsuya-chan!" Shiro's voice echoed in his ears, and the said teen visibly winced as his voice too loud. A pair of arms was suddenly wrapped around his neck; the youngest member in his group tightly embracing him. "Shiro..kun?" He called, narrowing his eyes at the silverette. "You-You're okay.." He hiccupped, his hug getting slightly tighter as he buried his face in his shoulder. "What do you mean I'm okay? What happened?" Everything felt so blurry to him- he didn't know, he couldn't remember. Shiro didn't answer and began to sob, apologising dozens of times when Kuroko didn't even know the reason why.

"Shiro," This time, it was Seiji. Tetsuya turned his head to the side and finally noticed that the whole group was in his room, all looking extremely worried. He frowned and looked at his twin who was still sitting on the couch with wide eyes. When he realised that the younger twin was looking at him, Takumi turned and looked away, his lips pressed in a thin line. Yuki, who noticed the two, decided to answer Tetsuya's unspoken question.

"You had another attack," the tealnette's eyes widened, "the doctor said that you shouldn't push yourself too hard. One more attack and you'll end up staying in the hospital again." He stressed the last word, his eyes narrowing at the teen. "You made us worried sick." Yuki walked towards him and placed his hand on the blue locks, ruffling them until it was a complete mess; not like it wasn't in the first place. "Don't scare us like that," he murmured, leaning down to place a kiss on his forehead; his way of telling it was going to be fine.

Kuroko exhaled deeply, closing his eyes as he took in the new information. "I'm so sorry," His words were barely a whisper, but it was loud enough for the four boys to hear as it resounded around the quiet room. Seiji got up and walked towards the bluenette, sitting on the bed and wrapping his arms around the other once Shiro let him go. "Don't worry about it," he reassured, "it's not your fault."

After getting a lecture from the two - three, if you include Haruko - mothers, and frequent visits to the doctor, Kuroko was - finally - able to go back to school. The male was now walking towards his middle school, a book in his hands. The book, in fact, contained the songs he planned to sing during his groups' debut concert. He was humming the melody softly, trying to remember the lyrics he had written himself.

" ♪ This person trapped forever seems to be more like me now ♪ " He sang in a soft voice, not noticing a certain redhead peeking at the book from his shoulder. "Kuroko, what's that?" He jumped and turned around, sighing when he noticed it was just his basketball captain. "Akashi-kun, that wasn't funny." He frowned, and the redhead let out a chuckle. "Sorry, sorry. But really, what was that?" He asked again, walking towards the shadow. He got a sigh as a response. "It was nothing." He replied,  hastily stuffing the book back in his bag.

"You have a beautiful voice, Kuroko. I wouldn't be surprised if you suddenly become a singer." A blush crept to his cheeks, and his heart was beating a little too fast; both from embarrassment and the thought of Akashi actually finding out he is going to become a singer. "Stop talking nonsense, Akashi-kun." Kuroko argued, turning his head away. Akashi went near him with a sly smirk and whispered in his ear suddenly, "But what if I'm not?"

The tealnette turned to him with a questioning look. "I mean, you always surprise me; ever since we met during that autumn day. You were the first person who managed to surprise me again and again, Kuroko." With his oh-so-prince-charming smile, Seijuurou gave his comment. The tealnette narrowed his eyes at the other, just what was Akashi planning? They rarely interact with each other outside of basketball, so why now? "We're going to be late for school. Shall we go now?"

With another suspicious glance to the redhead, Kuroko followed him from behind; the questions still lingering at the back of his head.

Since then, the two slowly became the best of friends and the troubles Kuroko had was long forgotten. Surprisingly, Akashi had brought up the phantom's (past) relationships with the other Miracles one day but told him that he'd help him get over them. "We don't share the same feelings, we're not the same person; so I don't know how you actually feel at this moment. Heartbroken? Outraged? Cheated on? Hurt?

I don't know. Telling you to forget about them is wrong; I don't know what you've been through, nor do I know what memories you had with them. But I promise that everything you went through has built the you now." The redhead placed his hand over the other, intertwining their fingers together. Kuroko was silent the whole time, though a blush crept to his cheeks when Akashi suddenly held his hand. He instinctively pulled his hand away, surprising the other. Akashi closed his eyes, and continued his pep talk.

"Do you know why I told you to not practice shooting or dribbling?" The soon-to-be-idol shook his head. "You're not a light, Kuroko; You're a shadow. When the light is stronger, the shadow grows darker. Without a light, a shadow cannot be produced. However, when there is no light at all, when there is only darkness; the Moon becomes the one that shines.

I understand that losing Aomine hurt you, but remember that even when you lose your light, it only means that you're one with the darkness. And when that happens, a true light will come up and become the light that guides you." Akashi ended his speech after that and looked at the shadow who was looking back at him with a questioning look. He raised a hand and placed it on his head, patting and smiling at the tealnette. "It's okay if you don't understand it now. You'll understand it sooner or later. Now, break time is about to end. Shall we go?"

Practice was finally over and Kuroko was dead tired. However, he couldn't go back to his house yet; he needed to go to the private school where the other band members were supposed to wait for him because of some "idol business", as per Haruko. It was already late in the evening and he had school tomorrow. He need to shower fast and get ready; Takumi had messaged him that Seiji was the one who'll fetch him and he didn't want the high school student to wait any longer.

"So you're with Akashi now, huh?" Aomine came up to him after practice suddenly, taking Kuroko completely off guard. "You really are something, Tetsu." The way his nickname rolled off the other's tongue made him cringe in disgust. Of all times, why now? "I can say the same to you, too. Taking someone else's boyfriend; and you said you wouldn't stoop down to Haizaki's level." The way Kuroko retorted back obviously hurt Aomine's pride, but he wasn't going to let this guy get away with it.

"What about you? After we broke up, you suddenly hooked up with Kise. What, did you miss having a dick inside you?" This time, Kuroko turned to look at him. Yes, he was a virgin and the two never had sex, but if he was going that way.. "Maybe I did. But if I were to compare, Kise-kun gives better kisses than you, and was a thousand time better than you ever could. You should learn from him, Aomine-kun." The latter narrowed his eyes at the shadow and growled at the insult. "Why the fuck would I need to learn from a bastard like him who hogs chicks all the time?" Did the two break up? Though in all honestly, Tetsuya didn't want to deal with him nor did he give two shits about their current relationship. Not now, not ever. "First of all, you suck. Second of all, don't insult him like that; at least he gets girls, not like you."

And the next thing he knew he was slammed against the wall, the other gripping his school uniform collar. "You got really annoying in just three months, huh?" Daiki's voice resounded around the quiet locker room, his eyes narrowing at the tealnette. "As if you're any better," the latter countered, slapping the hand away and walking towards the door. "Running away?" The power forward growled. "No," Tetsuya responded, "just distancing myself from a disgusting being as yourself."

Kuroko exited the locker room and made his way to the school's back entrance, spotting a limousine and Seiji waiting for him there. "Geez, can't you use something less flashy?" The tealnette complained at the elder, frowning as he got inside the vehicle. "Sorry, your brother was complaining about you staying here so late in the evening and asked me to fetch you. Didn't have any other car available." Kuroko sighed, shaking his head as he did. "Rich people," he muttered. "Like you're the one to talk." Seiji chuckled.

Once they reached to Seirin Private High, the two got out of the limousine and went inside. "So this is the private school Haruko-san was talking about?" Seiji crossed his arms, looking around the place. Indeed, there were some seniors who the two recognised as the children who previously studied in the same music agency as them. "It has four gyms, one swimming pool and two tennis courts for sports and exercise, two dance studios and four music rooms for each year, and two libraries. I'll say, Seirin Private High is quite the school when it just opened this year." Kuroko commented, taking out his phone that vibrated, indicating he just received a message. "Ah, Takumi and the others are with the headmaster in Music Room 3. They're having a recording."

"Right now? The headmaster sure wants to know how talented his students are." Seiji shrugged. "Well, let's go then. On the way, you can tell me this friend of yours. Akashi Seijuurou, the heir to the Akashi Conglomerate, right?" Of course, Kuroko was surprised to hear it from Seiji; no one in the group - excluding Takumi - knows that he and Akashi were friends. "As usual, your mom instincts are terrifying."

When they reached the Music Room, Takumi was currently singing and was too into it that he didn't even realise the two had just entered the room. The music room was divided into two by a glass wall; one side for recording while the other side was for the technical things Kuroko didn't really know much about. "Ah, Sei-nii and Tsuya-chan, you're here." Shiro called them over to sit beside him. "Only Yukki and Taku-chan finished the recording. I'm up next, then you two can choose who goes first." The two teens nodded at the youngest words, and Kuroko asked where was Yuki. "Yukki went to the restroom after he finished."

At that time, Takumi finished and the headmaster clapped his hands, nodding. "Great, as expected from the leader. Which position are you in again?" Takumi gracefully accepted the bottle of water he was offered to and drank the water before replying, "I'm the rapper." The headmaster - whose name was Shin - nodded.

"Well, it's my turn." Shiro stood up and went to the other side of the room, while Takumi took his place and sat beside Tetsuya. "You okay?" Takumi slumped back and rested his head on his twin's shoulder. "I'm tired, Tetsuya. Our good-for-nothing father just sent me another pile of work and I need to finish it by the day after tomorrow. And on Saturday, I need to be his proxy for an event right after our dance lessons. I'm gonna die, Tetsuya."

"You're exaggerating, Takumi." He sighed, "He told me to follow you, and when you go to that event on Saturday, I have to be his proxy for a meeting." Takumi's eyes widened and he sat up, looking into his brother's eyes. "What?" Tetsuya was caught completely off guard; Takumi looked furious. "Didn't I tell him to back the fuck up?"

"Calm down, Takumi." Tetsuya scolded, hitting his head. "It's just a meeting, I can handle that much." Seiji stared at them from the corner of his eyes, sympathy evident in them. Being in the Kuroko family wasn't a blessing- it was a curse. Every single person in the entertainment industry knew that.

After a while, Shiro finished and Tetsuya decided to go next. "Great! I want to see how good you are compared to your brother." With a nod, Tetsuya went inside and took his place behind the mic, taking a few deep breaths. Then, he began to sing.

"Words you're saying, facial expressions; I can't understand. The hardest thing in the world for me is to try and gain your trust. If you teach me how to truly love you, Do you think that we will never be apart? Maybe we could even be more than just what we are?

Making a heart that's like the wind; stay with me forever, Difficult I know, still I'm holding on, I'll keep on waiting here just for you!"

"Tetsuya," Takumi stared at his brother, noticing the expression on his face; hurt. The younger Kuroko had been hurt again and again and even though he had promised that he'd protect him; he didn't. Tetsuya was never the one to voice out his feelings, after all. Maybe it was because of the harsh childhood the two experienced, Takumi wasn't sure. He glanced at the headmaster who seemed pleased when he heard the younger sing. Out of all the people in the room right there and then, he knew it like the back of his hand;

Tetsuya is talented.

[Time Skip]

From: Ogiwara-kun Subject: Winter Cup

Hey, Kuroko! So as you know, my team's going for Finals! Can't wait to fight against you!  We're totally not gonna lose. We're going all out on you guys, so be prepared! >:D

Kuroko stared at the text message he received a few hours ago. Yes, Meiko Middle School is going to move to the Finals. Teiko was still in the semi-finals, but the win for them was absolutely obvious. Tetsuya turned his phone off before leaning against the lockers, pulling his knees to his chest and burying his face between them.

"Ogiwara-kun is really anticipating our match, but.." He closed his eyes tightly, his shoulder shaking slightly. "Akashi-kun, why did you change? Why? You said we'd be together through thick and thin, so why did you go against your words? Why did you do this to me? Weren't we friends?" He muttered, the tight grip he had on his knees slowly weakening and he just leaned against the lockers, tears running down his face.

"Why did you turn to someone you promised you wouldn't?"

It all happened a few days ago; Murasakibara had stated during practice that he didn't want to attend practice anymore. Akashi had protested, and they ended up having a basketball match. Akashi was about to lose in an utterly humiliating defeat by 4-0 when the tables turned by the eleventh hour and he won. After the match, the heir suddenly announced that he didn't care if they attended practice or not as long as they didn't flub during matches.

Kuroko had voiced out his thoughts about how that wasn't a team, but Akashi had responded by saying that teamwork wasn't important as long as they bring back gold- after all, winning is everything. He suddenly went to first name basis and Kuroko swore he never felt so disgusted hearing his name rolled off the tip of Seijuurou's tongue.

You turned around to face me, To not say stupid lies, You smiled but I knew it was just a poor disguise.

Kuroko was honestly excited to fight against his childhood friend; that was all he asked for. The reason why he went to this school, the reason why he joined the basketball team, the reason why he went through all that suffering, the reason he did everything he could to stay. So the fact that he got hurt during the semi-finals and that meant him not being able to play with the other indeed hurt him- it felt like he was stabbed right in his heart. It hurt him so, so much.

"Akashi-kun, please play this game seriously; I beg of you!" He pleaded, bowing his head in front of the redhead. The redhead agreed, telling him that he'd show them the true Generation of Miracles. At that time, Tetsuya felt relieved.

Of course, he was too naïve.

The opponent's team was crushed to pieces, the Miracles barely breaking a sweat as they walked back to the locker rooms. The look on Kuroko's face was something someone could read like an open book; miserable, pathetic, heartbroken, despondent, betrayed. Of course, he had asked all of them why they did that. Their answer?

"Eh, Kurokocchi's friend was in the rivaling team?" Kise gasped.

"Well, they'd get crushed either way." Murasakibara yawned.

"It was naïve of you to think that we could go all out." Midorima commented.

"Even if we want to, we can't. They're too weak." Aomine stated.

"Why didn't you say about all the other games? Why did you voice out only in this match? Don't you think that was and is selfish of you?" Akashi questioned.

Tetsuya knew. He understood all that. He was selfish, he only thought about his childhood friend's happiness, while ignoring the other teams they went against. But wasn't it okay to be selfish at times?

No.

This wasn't the first time he was being selfish. The time when Aomine left him and how he desperately tried to reconcile their friendship, the time when he used Kise's naïveness for his own need, the time when he got mad with Midorima for forcibly trying to help him move on from his past, the time when he wanted Murasakibara to stay by his side and how he got upset at him when he didn't tell him about his plans of moving and the time when he actually hoped for Akashi to stay by his side. He was so selfish, he knew it like the back of his hand; and yet he put a blind eye to it. The miracles weren't the only one to blame; it was still partly his fault.

When he exited the suffocating room, the room that the people inside had pointed their fingers back at him, when he went to apologise to Ogiwara; there he was, standing just outside the room with a hurt expression. Kuroko was stunned, he didn't know how to react. Ogiwara suddenly just appeared before him and walked away with a disappointed look, leaving the tealnette who was still in his trance.

When he did realise Ogiwara had left, it was too late. Thinking that he couldn't catch up with the other, he took out his phone and shakily dialed his number, running out of the arena. Ogiwara answered after the second ring. "Kuroko, how could you?" Ogiwara's trembling voice asked over the phone, making the one on the other line shake slightly. He heard. Ogiwara had heard his conversation with Akashi. It was his fault it ended like this. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry! Ogiwara-kun, please forgive me!" The other begged in a pleading tone, looking around as he finally got out of the building; but the reply he got only made him stop, bursting into tears. "I'm sorry, but I can't. I can't do it anymore. You're just the same as the other miracles. Cruel and selfish, just like them." The call ended just like that, making the tealnette fall to his knees, hot tears streaming down his pale cheeks as he covered his mouth with his hand, trembling violently.

Why is it always my fault?

There he was now, standing at the school's rooftop; dangerously close to the ledge. His heart was beating so fast in his chest that it hurt; but he didn't care. Not anymore. His phone vibrated, indicating that someone was calling him; it was Takumi. He answered the call, lifting the phone and placing it just beside his ear. Takumi began scolding him about how late it was and how he still wasn't back yet. "Yuki even went to see the game! He said you were injured and that you disappeared as soon as the game ended! Where the fuck are you?"

Silence.

Now, Takumi was worried. His instincts told him something was wrong and he needed to see his younger brother now. "Tetsuya, you okay?" He asked gently. There was a slight pause until, "I don't know anymore, Takumi." Tetsuya breathed out. "Everyone left, even Ogiwara-kun; and you know what sucks? It's all my fault. It hurts so much. I keep ruining everything, I don't even have the courage to jump--!"

"DON'T JUMP!" Takumi shouted, startling the other. "Tetsuya, you know death more than I do. You're familiar with grief more than I am. Surely you wouldn't make a foolish decision like that?" Just when Tetsuya was about to reply, the door opened. "Hey kid! What the hell are you doing here?" A security guard came up to him, his face looking as furious as ever; after all, students weren't supposed to be at school at this time of day. Kuroko turned around and took a step back, and before he knew it he was falling. His chest beat wildly; he closed his eyes and before his back hit the hard concrete ground, he wanted to scream out;

I.. don't want to die yet!

Aomine was walking to school when his shoulders suddenly felt heavy and made him lean forward. "What the-- Kise!" He pushed the said male off his back, Kise grinning from ear to ear. "Morning, Aominecchi!" Kise greeted. "You're too fucking loud," the ganguro complained and began walking to school with Kise behind him. The two began talking as they made their way, though the conversation ended as soon as they reached the school.

"Why are the police here? Why is Satsuki and Coach Sanada with the headmaster? Why is Satsuki crying?" Aomine walked towards the school, pushing the other students away; until a police officer stopped him. "This place is off-limits today. All of you, go back home!" Some students cheered and the crowd soon dispatched; though the Miracles ended up staying there longer, demanding for answers.

Momoi suddenly went to them, her eyes were red and her face was stained with wet tears. She stood in front of Akashi and raised a hand, slapping him across his face. "Satsuki/Momocchi/Momoi/Sacchin!" The Miracles yelled at her, pulling her back only to get slapped as well. "Tetsu-kun always went to me after you broke up. He always seek comfort and I always had to face a crying Tetsu-kun at the end of the week." Momoi muttered. "I really hope you guys are happy that you broke him; because he's not coming back."

"What.. do you mean?" Kise decided to speak up, looking at the girl. Satsuki took a bag from Coach Sanada's hold and threw at their direction. "Those were Tetsu-kun's things; his wristband, his uniform, his medicine and his resignation letter. Why I'm giving to you this? Well, let me tell you something;

Kuroko Tetsuya is dead."

The weight I carry is now gone, So please don't worry anymore, Oh I'm, I'm a beautiful- no, a cowardly liar..

"An Akashi never makes a mistake, huh?" Seijuurou muttered to himself as he held onto an iPod that Kuroko also left with a note that said 'To: Akashi-kun'. He turned it on and found a message that was entitled as 'The Little Prince'. He played the message, his whole body froze when he did.

And at that time, he knew he let go of something that he held precious deep down in his heart. Akashi Seijuurou made a mistake.

For this fic, please listen to; https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4ArExeVXiHU

≤ First ¦ « Previous ¦ Next »

[slimacwrites]

Who’s There (An Emerald City Fanfic)

A spec fic of what would happen if Lucas was forced to send Dorothy back to Kansas after she’s badly hurt but first manages to record her a message to explain and remind her that everything was real.

Here you go, @fairytalesandtimetravel​! Your plot bunny actualized! It’s not exactly the same at the end but I hope it pleases you anyways. This was really fun to write. Also, can someone tag @spartanguard because my tumblr won’t let me and they wanted to be tagged!

Winds whipped around the city square, picking up debris and slamming it against the stone facades of the surrounding buildings. Somewhere in the distance a woman screamed, a remnant of the fear the Beast Forever had created within Emerald City still holding strong, but the streets were too dark to see anyone who may have made the noise. Not that Lucas cared.

Not when Dorothy laid nearly lifeless in his lap. Fading in and out of consciousness and altering the weather with her responses. A gash cut deep into her gut, the Beast Forever’s final stand before Dorothy blasted it into nothingness in a last show of power.

“She can’t stay here,” Mistress West shouted into his ear from where she stood beside him, studying the swirling clouds above them. West had stood with Dorothy against the Beast Forever, reclaiming the magic she’d dulled with opium for decades, after the Wizard proved completely useless and Glinda shadier than an oak tree. The battle had been relatively short once Dorothy and West began but it had been violent. Too violent for Lucas to do much but survive.

Lucas didn’t need to ask what West meant. Not when she was so carefully watching the tornado Dorothy had called on as a side effect of her untrained power. No. He couldn’t lose Dorothy. Not when she was the only one who’d found him. The one who’d saved him and stayed with him. And now he was powerless to save her, to contain the slowly draining life and return it to her. See those eyes roll and those lips smirk one more time.

Useless. He was damn useless.

Even though he’d told Dorothy he wasn’t normally so useless, one of the first things he’d ever said to her.

He was a liar too then.

“Can’t you do something?” Lucas asked, feeling that desperation quell up in him as he held Dorothy tighter against his chest.

West shook her head, turning from the clouds to examine the widening pool of blood under Dorothy that would surely stain the cobblestones for weeks. “Nothing I could guarantee. I’m not that kind of Witch. Not after years of not using magic. And the Wizard took all of Glinda’s girls- no way we could get to the dungeon in time and still save Dorothy.” West almost sounded sorry, features twisting a bit as her hooded eyes once again looked to the swirling clouds and debris filled winds. “But since she already called the tornado- I can bring it down so it can catch her, send her back. It should take her to Kansas since it brought her here. Spells have a sort of memory with that. Her people can save her.”

Memory. And Lucas was not a part of that memory. Lucas was from Oz, had never seen Kansas, even if he carried one of it’s towns name. Lucas might throw it off. Reduce the chance of the plan’s success. Of Dorothy’s survival.

There was no question then. Lucas heaved himself to his feet, holding Dorothy’s limp body against his chest. Wetness seeped through his own clothing as he did so but he tried not to concentrate on how much he was covered in Dorothy’s life.

“Set her down over there,” West instructed, pointing at a space that was away from them.

Every step felt like his own gut was being opened. He hated himself for how much he didn’t want to lay Dorothy into the tornado and send her back. How much he wanted to keep her with him, even as her ruby red blood dripped from his fingers. How much he didn’t say to her. How much he should have. Consequences be damned.

But there was always someone to save. Always someone who wanted them dead.

Never time to say the words he wanted to. Ask for a future he desperately dreamed off.

Lucas reached the spot West had instructed him to leave Dorothy and he laid her down as gently as he could, slipping the long tweed jacket from his shoulders to cover her body like a blanket. She didn’t even respond. Lucas watched her, kneeling beside her, trying to memorize the face he’d come to hold so dear. Wishing he could tell her he-

“Lucas! Get out of the way! I need to bring down the tornado now!” West shouted from behind.

Then it hit him. How he could tell Dorothy what she needed to know. Ensure that she knew she’d never be alone so long as he was breathing.

“I need one second!” Lucas hollered back, moving to lift the coat from Dorothy. Her music box. Phone. Right, phone. When she’d played him those songs she’d showed him how to take a picture and a video, though the concepts still baffled him at times. There was a picture of the two of them captured on that little box but he needed to add one more. Lucas located the phone in the pocket of her leather jacket and pulled it out, calling up the needed program. Perhaps it was his desperation that made it work or perhaps the universe had finally deemed it fit to cut the two of them a break.

“Dorothy,” he started, feeling a lump forming in his throat. He coughed gruffly, needing to push through and get the words out. “Dorothy, I am so sorry, you don’t have a lot of time we have to send you back, it’s your only chance. Know that I will find a way back to you, I love you-” The phone screen went black. Cutting off anything else he might have said. Lucas frantically pressed the buttons, but nothing responded, the little machine as lifeless as Dorothy was.

Lucas roared in frustration, angry at himself for wasting time. Wasting words. He didn’t even know why he’d promised to make it to Kansas. If that would ever be possible. Was that time he could have told Dorothy more about why he loved her? That she deserved this chance and happiness? To accept permanency in her life because she couldn’t keep running? Would she even see any of his message? A tear rolled down his cheek.

“Lucas!” West shouted, sounding strained. Lucas waved to her, but never took his eyes off Dorothy. Lucas placed the phone back in Dorothy’s pocket, zipping it up, then placed a soft kiss against her cold lips. And regretted it. Because now the last memory he had of Dorothy wouldn’t be how strong and lovely she was- it would be of how wrong it felt to touch her when her fire was no longer lit.

Lucas scrambled up and back to West. The witch sputtered out words he didn’t understand as the tornado swirled lower, picking up and twisting tendrils of Dorothy’s hair in warning. Just before it touched Dorothy, there was a bark and a brown blur as Toto flew from his hiding space in a nearby building, rushing for his master and climbing on top of her legs like the guard Lucas desperately wished he could be. A moment later the Tornado touched both of them and they were gone.

“I really hope that dog came with her,” West muttered between gasping breaths.

Lucas nodded, relief that Dorothy wouldn’t be alone flooding him. “Don’t worry, Toto did.”

A strange beeping pulled at Dorothy’s consciousness. Her brain felt sluggish as it searched for an answer to the sound. Flying monkey drone? Was West doing something strange? Dorothy pried open one eye then the next, taking in her surroundings. What she saw hit her with a painful clarity.

She was lying in a recovery room in Lucas Medical Centre, Em asleep in a chair at the foot of the bed, Henry’s work coat hanging on a hook by the door.

She wasn’t in Oz.

Lucas wasn’t standing at the door watching over her.

West wasn’t making some snarky comment about how they’d defeated The Beast Forever.

Lucas wasn’t standing at the door.

Lucas was gone.

Tears filled her eyes and she blinked them away, glaring hard at the tiled ceiling. There was so much she should have said to him. So much she wanted to say still. But she’d been so scared. It had been so easy to pretend everything else was more important, to pay attention to the needs of the rest of Oz instead of telling Lucas that she-

“Dorothy!” Em’s voice broke through her swirling thoughts, bringing her gaze back down from the ceiling to watch her adoptive mother rush to the head of the bed, features pinching when she noticed Dorothy’s tears. “Are you in pain? Do you want a shot of morphine?”

Dorothy wasn’t in pain. She could barely feel whatever injury had brought her to the hospital. But how could she tell Em that? How could she explain that she’d fallen for an amnesiac from a realm that she was brought to in a tornado? But Dorothy nodded anyways, because numb was better than the emotional pain threating her, hearing the little hiss as Em pressed the pain relief dispenser at her side.

“Do you know what happened?” Em asked, bending closer. Dorothy shook her head. She knew what had happened in Oz. She had no idea how she’d ended up in Kansas. “The tornado hit when you went to visit your birth mother. When you didn’t come home we got worried. After the storm passed Henry and I went out there and found you in a field. You’d been stabbed by something in the winds. A police dog was guarding you, barely let us close.”

“Toto,” Dorothy whispered before she could stop herself.

“What?” Em asked, pulling her chair closer so she could seat near Dorothy’s head to hear her better. Dorothy shook her head, telling Em nonverbally to keep talking. “We called the ambulance and they took you into emergency surgery right away. You needed blood and have forty stitches in your abdomen but you’ll be fine. You’ve been asleep for two days.”

Dorothy’s thoughts swam. “So you found me right after the storm?”

Em nodded. “As soon as we could.”

But what about the weeks she’d spent in Oz? What about the days she’d spent in Oz’s wilderness with no one but Lucas and the dog for company? She remembered that. Remembered finding Lucas, tared and feathered in Nimbo. Remembered being Mistress-New-Mistress after killing Mistress East. Remembered the opium laden path she’d followed for days. Remembered making love to Lucas but refusing to think of it as anything but a good fuck. Remembered the planning with Mistress West to Kill the Beast Forever. The boy they’d freed from Mombi’s apothecary and finding out that he was actually a girl, a princess no less. Remembered watching Lucas kill Mombi to save her from the witch’s anger at what she’d done. Remembered the feeling of magic and the feeling of home, somehow tied to Oz. She remembered everything.

And yet nothing seemed possible.

Had it all been a morphine fueled dream?

Had she never actually found someone she actually wanted to stay with?

Had she never had Lucas?

Pain swirled up in her, threatening to blow her apart. If she’d been in Oz it would have released in a magical earthquake. But she wasn’t in Oz. She was in Kansas and no longer knew what was real.

“I think I want to go back to sleep now.”

Dorothy didn’t wait for Em’s answer. Instead she just closed her eyes and willed herself to sleep.

Days passed in a blur and Dorothy didn’t really care to keep track or participate more than as a passive recipient of explanations of her condition, instructions for release, Ryan’s flirting that paled in comparison to Lucas’s, or at least the man her mind had conjured up. She was told the cops had found Karen’s body in her storm cellar, a dead police officer in her home, and as Karen’s next of kin, Dorothy would inherit the trailer home after the crime scene was cleaned. The police dog who’d been at the scene, Toto (though actually named Thunder), had been retired immediately, refusing to do any tasks. Toto (Thunder) lived with his officer as a pet, though apparently kept running away to Karen Chapman’s land, apparently much to the frustration of his owner and entertainment and curiosity of the town. No one had any idea what had actually happened that night of the tornado. At least Dorothy wasn’t alone in her confusion.  But she seemed to be alone in her frustration.

After a week in the hospital Dorothy was released into the care of her adoptive parent’s home. As Dorothy was being wheeled out of Lucas Medical Centre by Henry, a nurse, Maria, rushed up to them with a white bag. “Dorothy,” she started, holding out the bag. “This stuff came in with you. It needs a wash but thought you might have wanted it back.”

Dorothy took it with a dull nod, pillowing it in her lap, not bothering to look inside as Henry began to wheel her to his truck again. Dorothy was quiet the entire ride home, pretending to sleep as they rolled past the cornfields and the sign marked Lucas before pulling into her family home. Henry helped her out of the truck and into the house, Dorothy asking to be brought straight to her bedroom. She wanted the quiet, the peace away from everyone to try and figure out what had happened, what was real.

Dorothy settled in her bed with a sigh. A few moments later there was a knock on her door as Henry reappeared, holding the white bag Maria had given her. “Here, in case you want something.”

She took the bag, settling it on her lap. “Thanks.”

Henry cleared his throat, pausing at the door. “I don’t know what happened, Dorothy, or what you’re going through, but you’ll figure it out.”

Henry closed the door, leaving Dorothy alone. She sighed, shutting her eyes for a moment before reaching for the white hospital bag. Might as well figure out if she could save her favourite flannel shirt she’d been wearing the night of the Tornado and all through her potential Oz dream. Dorothy undid the tie at the top of the bag, confused a bit at the weight of it, before pulling it open.

And losing her breath and control over the tears she’d barely been able to fight off. Because inside the bag, folded at the top wasn’t her flannel shirt. It was a long, tweed coat, far too big for her. Lucas’s coat. Dorothy pulled it out, bringing the rough fabric to her nose. It still smelled of a man’s sweat and had the dirt stains covering it of time spent in the woods, in battle. In Oz. The last time he’d been wearing it had been the battle against The Beast Forever. Had he given it to her before she was brought back to Kansas? Lucas had nearly nothing in the world, memories included, and yet he’d given her his coat. Unable to help herself, Dorothy shifted slowly, grunting a bit at the discomfort her stab wound still caused her, and pulled the coat over her shoulders, sliding her arms into the too big coat.

It was the first time she’d felt comfortable since she’d woken up in the hospital.

The first time she’d felt truly warm.

The first time she’d felt that she was remotely sane and her memories weren’t the result of a fever dream. Because where else would she have gotten the coat?

Dorothy reached back in the bag and pulled out the police jacket she’d worn in Oz. It was disgusting, stained with blood and mud. But it was there. Another element of her memories becoming tangible.

Wait-

Back in Oz, after listening to music with Lucas and kissing him for the first time, she’d wanted to keep her memories so she’d taken a selfie with him.

Was her phone still in her jacket pocket? Dorothy unzipped the pocket, feeling excitement and anxiety well up inside her. This would be the proof. The proof that everything was real. That she’d had Lucas and Oz and a home and adventure beyond her wildest dream. She pressed the home button on the phone but the screen stayed black. Dead. Hopefully just with the battery.

Dorothy cursed before digging around in her bedside table for a charging block, too sore to walk across the room for her wall plug. A few minutes of the phone being plugged into her portable charger and the little apple appeared. Dorothy pulled the coat closer around her as she waited for the phone to boot up. Once the screen had lit up she quickly pulled up her photos app.

And there it was. The selfie she’d taken with Lucas in the woods of Oz, him looking very confused as she grinned beside him.

Real.

It was all real.

But that wasn’t the last entry into the photo list. The last was a solo video of Lucas. She clicked it, confused when he would have filmed it because she was certain she hadn’t. Was it a mistake? Would she get it hear his voice? Dorothy practically slammed her finger over the video, bringing it up and holding it so close to her face that her eyes nearly crossed, as if she could get closer to Lucas by doing that.

“Dorothy,” he started. It was hard to hear Lucas over the swirling wind behind him. He was in Emerald City by the look of the background. Had he taken it after The Beast Forever was defeated? Was it some sort of goodbye message? Lucas certainly looked sombre enough for it to be. “Dorothy, I am so sorry. You don’t have a lot of time we have to send you back, it’s your only chance. Know that I will find a way back to you, I love you-”

And then the screen went black.

I love you.

Lucas loved her.

Loved her.

Dorothy scrubbed tears from her eyes and watched the video through three more times. She hadn’t made any of Oz or the people there up. She hadn’t made Lucas up. There was someone out there who loved her.

And she loved back.

But she had no way how to get to.

Despite her frustration things got easier after she’d found Lucas’s coat and video. Because she was going to get back to him. She just had to wait for tornado season. She was still Mistress East. Somewhere inside her was the power to get back and she was going. She was going back to Lucas. That determination drove her through physical therapy as she healed and the moment she had been given the okay to live alone, she moved to her mother’s abandoned house. Wanting, needing, to be close to where the tornado had picked her up and set her back down. Finding relief in the hundreds of journals Karen had kept, filled with details of Oz and magic and tornado tracking.

Two weeks into her new life at her mother’s old place, there was a barking in the yard. Toto stood there, barking at the door. The moment she rushed from the house, falling to her knees in yard, Toto was on her, yipping and licking at her face. All Dorothy could do was whisper good dog as she was overwhelmed by the creature that had guarded her and gone through two tornados at her side. Another piece slid into place because Toto clearly remembered their time together in Oz. The dog was another affirmation of her time in the land she’d come to think of as home. Toto’s owner had shown up a few hours later to get the dog but had stopped the minute he saw Toto laying on his back as Dorothy rubbed his belly vigorously. Apparently the dog hadn’t let anyone touch him since the tornado. Except for Dorothy. The woman he had protected in that field as the EMTs rushed to her. The police officer had left and returned twenty minutes later with Toto’s bowl and leash and Dorothy had a dog.

The months continued to crawl on. The first tornado of tornado season had hit everyone by surprise, a bit too early for it to be normal, but not that unheard of to be concerning. Dorothy had had no idea how to get to Oz in it, not having got through all her mother’s journals, so she’d hidden in the storm cellar with Toto, eventually falling asleep in it.

The next morning Dorothy and Toto crawled out of the shelter. Dorothy led Toto around the property, checking for damage, lingering near the scarecrow in the corn field as she always did. She could never move past it without being reminded of the man she was waiting to go back to. A melancholy feeling filled her as she trudged back to the property, relieved that there hadn’t been too much damage, just a weird little patch of grass being pulled up near where she’d touched down months prior, but disappointed she’d missed her first chance at going back to Oz. Dorothy wasn’t a patient woman and there was always that lingering fear that the right kind of tornado, or any tornado at all, wouldn’t arrive.

As she often did after she walked by the land’s scarecrow, the minute she stepped into her house, she slipped on Lucas’s coat. It no longer smelled like it had when she first got it, but she still brought the too long sleeves to her nose, comforted by the rough texture as it brushed her skin.

Two knocks sounded at the door. Toto barked, rushing to the sound, tail thumping on the wall.

“Who’s there?” Dorothy called, moving to the door.

“Someone who’s still uncertain at how this is a joke.”

Dorothy nearly ripped the door from it’s hinges as she opened it to reveal the man she’d been so determined to get back to, looking rather wind whipped. Lucas grinned at her.

Know that I will find a way back to you. Lucas had kept his promise. Somehow, someway, he’d gotten to Kansas. To her. At that point it didn’t matter how. Just that he did.

I love you.

Dorothy stepped into his space and pressed her lips hard against his. When she pulled back, she grinned up at his dazed expression. “Knock, knock.”

“Who’s there?” Lucas asked, still baffled by the joke, but gamely playing along.

“I saw the video.”

Lucas sputtered at her words before giving her a careful look, unsure of how to continue the joke.

“I saw the video, who?” Dorothy prompted, squeezing his arm.

“I saw the video, who?” he repeated.

She grinned and pulled him into the trailer home. “I saw the video, and I love you too.”