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monstrousaffections1 · 3 years ago

Text

It’s Alright It’s Ok

I jump out of my bones as my father's angry yell erupts from the house like a slamming door. Instantly my heart feels the frost of fear glaze over the surface of my beating organ. Swallowing thickly I get off my bed and hide my computer under my bedsheets, closing it's lid to hide it's light. Silently slipping out of my bedroom I move into the hallway and walk past the laundry basket, heading into the kitchen where my parents argue, the tension that has been building for two weeks finally bursting open like a damn. I would give it a day, maybe two, before their bedroom door be locked while my father hurt my mother. Then it would take either myself or my sister bursting into tears to get them to stop fighting for another few months. Swallowing thickly, I kept my eyes down as I moved into the battle zone, Shadow, my cat, rubbed around my legs, demanding biscuits. He didn't care about the chaos, he was probably use to it by now. Opening the cabinet under the sink I got his food out as my father and mother screamed at each other.

"Shut up Carol!" The man yelled, his eyes bulging and veins pulsing in his neck. He was in my mother's face, screaming at her. The woman who had for ages from my childhood had mostly cried and screamed at this man to get off her, had began to fight back. She did that often. It only increased the fighting.

"You Shut Up!" She screamed back. I patted Shadow's back as he ate. He was a big black cat. Strong and in his youth. Going to the fridge I took a certain of milk and poured myself a glass, downing it quickly. The sound of the tv came from the lounge room. Going into the room I looked at my little sister who was watching one of my favorite cartoons. Kid vs Kat. Managing a smile, I took my place beside her. I always rooted for the cat. I don't know why, perhaps I just loved cats. Plus I could relate the mischievous chaoticness of the character. Or at least that's how I wanted to be. My mother's form entered the room just as the boy and the alien cat jumped into a cloud of dust meant to depict fighting.

"Ingrid, have you done your homework?" I sighed; couldn't she see I was trying to watch something?

"Yeah." I lied. I should have said I didn't have homework.

"Ok, well, let me have a look?" Although I appreciated my mother's involvement in school, as anyone who was anyone knew that my autistic brain couldn't understand anything the teachers gave me on paper. I also wished she wasn't as involved. I just wanted some space. I was sick of homework.

Begrudgingly I got up and went to my room, dragging my books out of my school bag and dumping them on the desk. I went and got a slice of left over pizza from the fridge and poured myself a cup of coke to try and calm my racing heart.

"Ingrid you have homework. Why did you lie?" I rolled my eyes, why did she think? I wished I had headphones like all the other kids at school. I just wanted to shut her out as she started to lecture me. Casting a blank wall around my brain I sat down at the table and started on the maths homework. My worst subject. Contrary to popular belief depicted in movies, not all autistic people are good at maths. I myself am a better at English than this. I had finished a six inch novel in a week. And I was the best story writer in class. But this doesn't matter much to the adults.

After being left alone to my own devices, I sat and stared at the first math question for about ten minutes before attempting to answer it. I know I am highly likely getting the answer wrong, but I just want to finish this and escape to my room. I wanna do this without my parents coming to help. Before I know it, it's seven in the evening. I've by now attracted the attention of my father who started by trying to help, has now ended up yelling after I have proved once again useless at math.

"Are you stupid!" he screamed at me as I sat with unwavering tenseness, staring at the page and refusing to move my gaze from the sheet. My chest was shaking. There was no other way to describe it. Outwards, I was calm. But inside my chest shook like a autumn leaf. I could feel everything building up inside me. I tried to level myself. Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't start crying. I repeated in my head.

"For God's Sake Ingrid! This is easy stuff! A Year 1 could do this!" He hollered and slapped my arm with a ruler. I didn't so much as flinch. I didn't want to give him that satisfaction.

"Do you even go to school!!??" I felt the first hiccup as I clenched my eyes shut and my sobs burst from my chest.

"Oh, great. Now your gonna cry." He muttered seethingly as though my melt down was a inconvenience. Mother was already serving out dinner wordlessly. This was a regular occurrence in our house. Homework that should only take five minutes, took three hours. Trying desperately to numb myself I packed up my homework to continue with tomorrow and wiped my eyes on my sleeve, trying to stop crying so I could eat dinner.

It's four in the morning when I sneak out of the house, dressed in my black hoody and trousers and my school bag on my shoulders as I lock the door behind me, take a breath, and take off running down the street. My runners pound on the side walk as I breath in the cold air of the early spring chill. I need this. Cold air, freshness, darkness just before the sun rises. Cars that pass through the street don't bother with the site of a teen girl running through the streetlights as though she were being chased. Even when my legs ache and I feel like my lungs are about to burst I don't stop. The sun's rays are barely kissing the trees by the time I reach the cultural center of my town. My throat crack a bit as a I swallow, having been dried out from my panting breaths. Rubbing sweat off my forehead I straighten up and stare at the sky. For a moment I want to disappear into the purple abyss above me. That'd be nice. Perhaps it'd be like in my stories. Just.... A life worth living perhaps. That'd be nice.

"Language!!" comes a shrieking yell from across the street. Snapping back to reality I look over to the collection of shops opening for the morning. I smile, feeling a familiar sense of warmness fill my numbed core as Bad is laughed at by his best friend, Skeppy, as the demon boy opens the shop door, peering at me with friendly white eyes. "Marr?" he calls. My smile softens as he uses my preferred name. I approach, shoving my hands into my pockets as a show of nonchalance. "Hey Bad." I raise a brow with amusement. Though he isn't fooled. He never is. I find myself pulled into a hug before I can even protest. Closing my eyes I hug him back, savoring the physical contact. That is until there is a photo snap and the blue haired boy snaps a picture. I frown and pull away.

"Skeppy! Delete that right now." I grumble, folding my arms with a frown.

"Nah. I think I'll add a few heart emojis." He teases as I fluster and puff up my cheeks. The demon beside me frowns, though his smile shows, he can never be mad at his friend. Rolling his white orbs he looks down at me gently.

"Breakfast. On the house." Bad and Skeppy were the only people I trusted. They didn't ask questions. Or offer to call anyone. They just let me hang out with them before work hours if I didn't want to be at home.

Nodding my head, I entered the café and sat down in a booth. Bad squeezed my shoulder and started the coffee brewer as Skeppy set up the tables and chairs for the day. Folding my arms to keep my fingers warm after I had pulled some of my hair out of my hood, I looked up slightly. Trying to think of a good way to start conversation.

"Did you guys sleep ok?" is it alright to ask that to people you don't live with?

Our words went back and forth in friendly small talk. Occasionally Skeppy would swear and get playfully told off by his friend. I would just laugh. Everyone in life is super serious. So it feels nice sometimes to just be around two goofs. I was given an expresso and hot pie. I savored the warm gravy taste, I wasn't even stressed but it was hard to not scoff it. A few people were starting to come in now. People on their way to work, stopping for a coffee and picking up take away. I wondered if it was nice. Living in a steady sense of movement. Where everything was the same and you knew what to do. Instead of struggling to hold together a toothpick structure simply cause nothing makes sense. I've missed opportunities for jobs simply because they've been offered while I was in the middle of a shut down. Same goes for friendships, or dates with boys, because I will just stare at them with a dumb panicked expression for a good five minutes while I try and figure out how to respond. In the end I am mistook for either rude or stupid. I am neither—Well ok I can be rude sometimes. But I'm definitely not stupid.

Feeling my anxiety levels raise I scull the rest of my coffee. Bad's tail stands on end in alarm as steam comes out of my mouth. "Careful you Muffinhead! You'll burn your tongue!" I shrugged with a smirking grin. "Hey look. I'm a dragon." I blow more steam out of my mouth. Skeppy busts up laughing from the kitchen as the demon sighs, rolling his eyes he ruffles my head. "Muffinhead." He mutters with a smirk. I hold up the cup. "Re-fill?" my hoody sleeve falls down slightly and the movement. Bad's smile slips and his eyes widen. "Holy shit what happened to your arm?" Skeppy chokes on a cackle. "Bad!?" finding it hysterical that the normally passive demon actually swore. I blinked and checked over my arm briefly, ah. Right. Pulling my sleeve down to cover the red marks from the ruler I shrugged. "Nothing. I'm fine." The demon stares for a moment before sighing in defeat. "At least let me get you some ice." Seeing the opportunity, I snicker, "But it's freezing!" Bad rolls his eyes, "For your arm, you Muffinhead." I poked out my tongue playfully.

With a cloth full of ice resting on my arm and a fresh cup of steaming coffee in front of me, I watch the pair work. Skeppy's diamonds are starting to sprout out of his arm. I do wonder how that doesn't hurt. But I'm just glad I'm not that kind of hybrid. Not that I'm any kind of hybrid. Considering how much the world changed after the Rifting, it's surprising that I'm not physically different as I am mentally. Even my sister is a Hybrid, despite my parents being human. She's a dog, by the fur coloring I'd say she's a kelpie. A car pulls up in the parking lot. It looks old, but the good kind of old. Kind of vintage, but not fancy. Just old. Through the windscreen three boys fight and seem to be bickering amongst each other. A tired looking man gets out. I recognize him. That's Philza, he shows up at school every now and then whenever Techno gets into a fight, or Tommy's pranks go horribly wrong, or Wilbur sasses out the teacher one to many times. He's a hybrid, either that or an angel. It's hard to tell. But he enters the coffee shop and walks to the counter. Huge black wings folded against his back.

"Bad, morning." He greet cheerfully and tips his weird stripped hat he always wears. I never liked that hat. It made me dizzy. He reads out a bunch of orders from a piece of paper, something about one flat-white, a mocha, a caramel latte, and a decaf frappe for Tommy. Bad nods his head and asks Skeppy to handle the order. I frown and tilt my head a bit. The strangely serious demon comes out from behind the counter and takes Philza by the arm, talking softly with him. I blink in surprise when they both look subtly towards me. I look down at the welt on my arm, pulling down the sleeve I bring my hand to my mouth and start to chew on my thumb knuckle. It seems I have over estimated the level of trust I should have given Bad. Rocking back and forth a bit I pick up my coffee cup to down it in one go. Don't trust grown ups. I'm about to pull my hood up when Philza comes over to my table, smiling down at me softly. I stare up at him with confusion. Fiddling with my fingers nervously.

"Hello, your Marr, right?" He raises a brow, his green eyes glinting with humor. My face heats up, and I avoid his eyes. "Uh.. yeah.. I think so..." he chuckles at this and puts his hand on the chair on the other side of the table. "Can I sit hear?" I blink in surprise, teachers and my parents never asked permission before they did things. Atleast my mum never did when she went through my school bag. Nor my did my dad when he turned down the music on my computer. I nod my head, continuing to rock back and forth. Sitting down he took off his hat, putting it in his lap. I stared at his blond hair that hung down to his shoulders. A crooked smile came upon his face, before it faded slowly. "Are you ok?" I started to scratch my arm. "I'm fine." This was my default response to most questions. He nodded his head as if this was a appropriate answer, he didn't pry. "How do you plan on getting to school, do you take a bus?" I shake my head, shrugging. I normally walk. Which is why I'm always late. He chuckles and takes his hat, putting it back on. "Well mate, if you'd like I can give you a ride, no strings." He winks good-naturedly. I look down, thinking for a bit. I don't trust strangers, even people with kids my age are dangerous. I look at Bad, chewing my lip. The demon smiles warmly and nods. Ok, I guess I'll give it a shot. I nod, "Yeah.. ok."

The hybrid gets to his feet quickly, "Great!" just in time for his order to be declared ready. With crow like laugh he takes the tray. "Welp, come on! The boys'll kill each other otherwise." he chuckles and heads out the door. After a moment of hesitation I follow him. The boys seem surprised when they spot me. Through a open window Philza hands the tray to Techno, a piglin hyrbid. I try not to stare at his tusks, it's rude. "Wilbur scoot over." Philza instructs his eldest son, opening the door for me. Tommy and his brother exchange a look before Wilbur undoes his seatbelt of shuffle over. I feel awkward as I get in, doing up my seatbelt and doing my best to avoid looking at the boys. As Philza turns on the engine there is a awkward, surprised silence. Until there isn't. "Who's the woman!?" Tommy inquires loudly. I wince.

#dream smp #dadza minecraft #wilbur soot #tommy innit

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sunnomnoms · 5 years ago

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Hi!! I wanted to request an scenario where the reader is a teacher in UA and is also good friends since their school years with Aizawa and Hizashi. She finds her old notes with some doodles and brings it to work so she could revive some memories with her friends. What she didn't remember is that she used to write Aizawa's name in her notebook with hearts around it... Kind of thing.... Thank you in advance ❤️❤️💖💖

AYYYY AN AIZAWA REQUEST yesyesyesyes this is so cute I love this. I hope I wrote him to your liking!! Also I am super sorry for the long wait! I had an unannounced hiatus and everytime I went to write this scenario Tumblr deleted it!!! >:,( but here it is!!

“It’s been years since I’ve seen one of these things!!” You squealed happily as you flipped through the pages.

“We were probably, what, second years back when I used this? God, that felt like centuries ago!”

You had found an old note book of yours that you used to use all the time in high school. You were a teacher now at UA, alongside your high school best friends, Shota and Hizashi. The three of you were often around each other along with other friends you had had. Though it felt so long ago, it’s as if you could remember that chapter of your life clearly...

“When do you plan to tell him?” Hizashi whispered teasingly at you as he peaked over your shoulder. You squeaked, pulling your notebook to your chest as a deep blush crept onto your face.

“C-can you not?? jeez Hizashi!” you whisper-yelled at him, to which he only laughed. The racket you two had caused caught a certain someone’s attention.

“What are you two doing?” Shota asked, turning around in his seat to face the two of you. He placed an elbow on your desk, propping his head on it. The teacher wasn’t in class yet so some students chatted away, it wasn’t a crime for you three to do the same.

Shota shifted his gaze to you, your slightly pink cheeks catching his attention.

“H-he’s flirting again, you know how he is.” You lied through your teeth, holding your notebook to your face to try and cover your blush. Hizashi laughed at the remark, adding a ��yeah, okay.” Shota sighed, humming a little as to say “ah, of course” before he let out a small yawn.

“I’m gonna nap. Wake me up when sensei gets here.” He said groggily as he rested his head in his arms on your desk. Before you could even respond, he was fast asleep on your desk. pulling down your notebook a tad, you revealed the heart filled smile you had towards his sleeping form. Hizashi has made some teasing comments here and there, but you hadn’t paid much mind.

It was true, you had a crush on Shota back then. To say your attraction towards him disappeared would be a lie, but the two of you were professionals now, and there was no room for fluffy feelings like that. While occasionally you wished for such a romance between the two of you, you always shook the thoughts away. Shota was your coworker, as well as just your friend.

With that said, you made sure to try and avoid bringing one of your notebooks that had love poems and confessions in them. You had a bad habit of day dreaming back then, and when you’re a teenager, you can imagine what kind of things you day dreamed about.

“You used to draw that little thing on all of my papers, I couldn’t escape it.” Shota said, pointing to a familiar, simple cat doodle you often did. You laughed, flipping a few pages to see the same doodle reappear several times. He chuckled softly as well.

“Oh! And here’s that freaking S!” Hizashi said, pointing to the infamous ‘S’ symbol probably all teenagers drew at one part of their life. “That thing haunts me!! I have no idea what it is or where it came from!!” Hizashi exclaimed over dramatically, earning another laugh from you. “I’m pretty sure everyone drew it.” You added.

The three of you sort of huddled around, reminiscing on old notes and doodles you all once did. Most of them were done by you, but some pages were filled with doodles done by all of you. Hizashi’s doodles usually contained random things, even memes at the time. Shota seemed to write small notes that usually were filled with sarcasm, and would occasionally draw little cats. Your doodles were always all over the place, from things like skulls to bunnies, or sharks and flowers. If hero work wouldn’t have worked so well in your favor, perhaps you would have been an artist. Who knows?

The time came when your off period was up, and the three of you had to go back to class and teach. You had left your notebook in the lobby, expecting to take it home with you when you left.

Unfortunately, you were a bit of a clutz that day, and had started to run late for your train.

“Ah, I’ll talk to you all tomorrow!!! My train is about to be here in ten minutes and it’s usually a fifteen minute walk, I gotta run!!” You called in a panic as you dashed out of the school.

“W-Wait, I could-” Shota called out to you, before stopping himself.

“... just give you a ride...” he sighed as he watched you scurry off without a second thought. He had to stay back for a half an hour anyway to file some paperwork, he would have had no issue bringing you home. But you were quick on your feet, and already too far and too determined to catch that train.

Aizawa laughed softly. You were always like this it seemed. You weren’t an idiot, no, but... an airhead? Sure. You often were oblivious to things going on it seemed. Not to mention how forgetful you could be.

On the topic of your forgetfulness, it seems you had yet again left something at work.

Shota looked over at you desk, noticing the notebook you seemed to have left behind while dashing off for your train. It wasn’t uncommon for this to happen, Shota was basically expecting it at this point. He let out another sigh, picking up the notebook. Upon noticing it was your old notebook from highschool, he opened it up to relive a few memories before getting back to filing papers. It was the same nostalgic things he had seen earlier, some things he didn’t remember, some things he remembered all too well. A small smile played on his lips as he flipped through the pages.

“What are you doing?” Shota inquired as he watched you scribble in your notebook.

“Nothing!! You can’t see yet!!” You giggled as you continued to intently sketch away.

Shota wouldn’t dare say it out loud, but he couldn’t help but find you cute like this. Maybe it was the way your hair fell in your face as you worked, maybe it was the little smile on your face, he couldn’t put his finger one what exactly caught his eye about the familiar sight. And yet, any time you did your little sketches, he’d sneak glances. Not at your notebook, but at you. You were just so cute when you were determined.

“Okay, I’m done. Lookie!” You said, placing your book on the desk for him to see. Shota blinked a few times before he realized what he was looking at. “It’s you!” You giggled.

It was a sketch of a cat, a black one, with the binding cloth around its neck. Shota felt a small smile pull on his lips as he looked at it.

“It’s so cute..” Shota muttered, before realizing what he had said. He looked up to you, expecting some sort of weirded out expression, but instead was met by your flustered expression.

“It’s just a doodle, it isn’t that cute! Haha!” You said sheepishly, waving him off.

As far back as Shota could remember knowing you, he had always recognized you as a strong girl. And yet, when you weren’t busy kicking ass, you found the time to be cute and endearing. Perhaps it was the duality you had that attracted him so much. But with how things have been recently with hero work and teaching, he doubted now was the right time to act on any sort of feelings. Shota couldn’t risk ruining the healthy work relationship the two of you had.

Shota flipped through a few more pages, and was ready to leave his reminiscing session there, until his eyes caught his name in one of the pages he passed. Blinking a few times, he flipped back a few pages, and scanned the page for his name. It didn’t take much scanning at all though. He felt his heart stop.

Not only did he find his name surrounded by hearts, but he found entire heartfelt notes. Little notes about the little details you noticed and loved, notes about how much you loved his long hair, notes about how you adored his love for cats, notes about how you admired his hard work on mastering the binding cloth...

Shota hadn’t felt his heart swell like that in years. It hurt almost, he even almost let out an audible swoon. Sitting down at his desk, he tried to process what he was reading. How many other Shota’s did they go to school with at the time? Was it really him she was talking about?

It had to be. Who else could it be?

Shota closed the notebook and sat back in his chair. His heart pounded against his chest, his head swarmed him with thoughts on what to do now that he had this information. He wanted to just kiss you, call you stupid for not saying anything for long, telling you he felt the same and still does. But that begs the question, do you still feel that way? The idea of your feelings fading away all these years later made his breath hitch. It was totally possible. You were teenagers, what if it was just a little phase? Something you were in and out of within a week?

Shota sighed for the umpteenth time that afternoon, settling for an idea he had. He’d come over to your apartment to drop it off, and he’d ask you about it then, right? Surely that was a fool-proof plan, right?

“What am I, 16?” Shota mocked himself out loud. He was acting like a nervous teenager again. Why?

Packing up and calling it a day (despite not filing a single paper...), Shota set off towards his car.

He held a hope in his heart that things haven’t changed too much from when you two were teenagers.

#shouta aizawa x reader #bnha imagines #bnha x reader #bnha x y/n #bnha x you #aizawa shouta x reader #aizawa shouta #aizawa sensei #mha x reader #mha x y/n #mha x you #mha requests #bnha requests #mha imagines #my hero academia x reader #boku no hero academia x reader #ryu bnha tag

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captain-aralias · 4 years ago

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today i have done very very little. i certainly haven’t started my COTTA but ask me tomorrow, and hopefully i will have because october is already half way done...

for now, i thought i’d post all the bits i deleted from Greener Grass, so they’re out of my head. i’ve just re-read them and i think all of them make the story worse, so it’s good they’re gone! but interesting.

plus, it’s no longer so incredibly painful for me to think about how i deleted 6,000 words from my 40,000 word fic because it’s done. so - now’s the time to share.

if you haven’t read Greener Grass, perhaps you’d like to! it’s a Wayward Son bodyswap.

here’s the stuff i wrote but didn’t use

Deleted scenes:

actually, to be honest, these are less deleted scenes, and more - alternate scenes. in most cases you can see where they came from/what they turned into.

from chapter 1:

(Baz POV)

When I get out, Simon is standing in front of the mirror trying to flatten my hair, even though I definitely told him not to.

“It’s all right, Snow – I can deal with it.”

“You didn’t bring a hairdryer,” he says defensively as I start pulling the kinks out with my wand.

I sigh, although I’m not actually angry about this. It’s just hair – it’s not as if he got it cut without asking me. That I really would have found hard to forgive.

“Do you even know what a hairdryer looks like?”

“Yes.”

“Because there’s one in the wall.”

“Oh.”

Snow’s eyes meet mine in the mirror (which is surreal, for obvious reasons) and then travel down the rest of my body.

“What the hell are you wearing? I look like I work in a bank.”

He looks horrified. As though the sight of himself in trousers that actually fit and a neatly pressed white cotton shirt is one of the worst things he’s ever seen. It really isn’t. He looks lovely.

I frown. “You needed some new clothes.” I lower my voice. “I didn’t look, if that’s what you’re worried about. I changed with my eyes closed.”

“Oh,” Simon says. “Er. You didn’t?”

“No.”

“I looked,” Simon says after a moment. “Twice.”

I stare at him and he shifts uneasily.

“I mean, did you not want to?”

“What?”

I’m not sure if my brain has shorted out from the knowledge that Simon has seen me naked, or from the clear invitation to go and look at him in the same state. Both, probably.

I can feel myself blushing. And see it in the mirror – Simon blushes easily, unlike me. It’s charming. And I can’t help but notice that the flush is spreading below the collar of the shirt I’ve put him in. (Crowley, I wonder how far down it goes.)

“It’s fine if you don’t,” Simon says hurriedly. “I know it’s a bit weird––”

“Simon,” I say firmly, “

reason for change:

i cut this back in february, so i’m not entirely sure - but basically i think it had to go because i knew i switched too early to simon’s POV because baz leaving to go to the bathroom felt so final (people leaving a room? it’s how you know the scene is over. no - that’s lazy). staying with simon meant i could write some of my favourite stuff in this chapter about him looking at baz and wanting him.

(Simon POV)

“Are you sure you’ll be all right?” Baz said to me as I tried to leave . “There will be a lot of vampires in there––”

I shrug. “I know how to handle vampires.”

“You certainly do,” Baz said. Then I think he realised he’d said that out loud and grimaced. “Please pretend I didn’t say that.”

“Done,” Shepard says.

“Speak for yourself,” Penelope says. “It’ll be burned into my brain forever.”

reason for change:

i mean, i kept most of this. i think i probably cut too harshly, and then missed the ‘handle vampires’ joke and put it back in in a different format.

Chapter 2

i hope you like... hundreds of version of exactly the same fucking scene.

BAZ

Lamb blinks. Whatever he was expecting, that wasn’t it.

It wasn’t what I was expecting, either. I suppose Simon has to say something. (And admitting that he’s the former Chosen One, and we want to see whether the Next Blood can give him his magic back, is unlikely to go down well.) But I’m not sure what he’s getting at with this particular avenue. And clearly, neither does Lamb.

“You do know what the Next Blood are, don’t you?” he says. “They’re like us, physically.”

“You mean, they’re vampires?” Simon says. “Yeah. I mean, I know. But they’re not vampire-vampires, are they? They don’t drink blood.”

I notice Lamb is wincing every time Simon says ‘vampire’. (As am I. Although I’m still invisible so it doesn’t count.) It’s at odds with the confidence that he’s been projecting so far. Which is a relief, actually. It’s good to know that the vampires here are still afraid of discovery. From everything Shepard said about them, I imagined they must be running this entire city. But this one at least still has some fear.

I can use that – if I have to.

I’m sitting in the booth opposite the two of them, on a fur-lined stool (most impractical). As long as no one tries to sit here, I have a clean shot at Lamb, if he tries anything. Although he hasn’t yet. I think he’s genuinely interested in us. (In me? In Simon? In whatever we’re doing here.)

“Would you mind not using that word?” he says now.

Simon looks confused. “What. Blood?”

“No. Although why not stop using that as well? For consistency.”

“Sorry.”

Lamb waves the apology off, gracefully. “But that’s it, is it? The feeding? That’s the thing you don’t like about being … one of us.”

“Yes,” Simon says. “I mean, no. It’s one of the things I don’t like.”

“Strange,” Lamb says. “I’ve always found it rather enjoyable, myself.”

I’m horrified (I knew we were sending Simon out to talk to murderers – but I didn’t expect them to brag about it over milkshakes.) Simon looks horrified too. That’s not usually a good sign for the people he’s horrified about. If he still had his sword, it would be drawn by now.

“Killing people?” he demands.

I grip my wand more tightly, but Lamb only laughs.

“No. That’s not much fun at all, is it? But it’s hardly necessary.”

“It’s not?” Simon says. Then I think he remembers the phone (although obviously, I’m right here. And I don’t think I would have missed this, even if I wasn’t). He says very clearly: “You’re saying vampires don’t kill everyone they bite?”

Lamb sighs. “Simon. You don’t mean to tell me you’ve been draining everyone you bite? No wonder you hate yourself.”

reason for change:

pass. (maybe i should remove this commentary portion.) i know i was having big problems with this scene. as you’re about to find out.

i think i probably cut this because i was struggling, and then i re-wrote it in simon’s POV, which you can see below, and then re-wrote again very similar to what we have here.

(Baz POV)

“Then don’t,” Lamb says. “Honestly, Simon, it’s not as if it’s compulsory.”

My wand clatters to the floor. Lamb’s head jerks towards where I’m sitting, but Simon is completely focused on him.

“What do you mean, it’s not compulsory?”

Lamb’s head twists back. He tuts. “Have you really been draining everyone dry? It’s really not necessary.”

reason for change:

a different version of the above? still not really working.

(Simon’s POV)

“Because I don’t like being a vampire,” I say.

Lamb blinks. Whatever he was expecting, that wasn’t it.

Even I wasn’t expecting it, but I don’t think it’s the worst lie I could have come up with.

Anyway, Lamb seems to be buying this, so I’m safe for now. In fact, he’s more interested in me than ever. He leans slowly forward in his seat, but I can tell he’s just pretending to be casual. He’s really paying attention.

“And you think the Next Blood can help you?”

I shrug. “Yeah?”

Lamb’s eyebrows are right down. “I haven’t heard anything about this.”

I shrug again. “Maybe you don’t move in the same circles.”

“I try not to,” Lamb says. “Perhaps that was a mistake.”

reason for change:

ok, this is an interesting one. here Lamb mistakenly believes that simon’s telling him that the next blood can change people back from being a vampire - and that’s why he’d team up with them to destroy the next blood. which i thought was cool and fun, and made sense of lamb being an ally. but ... it opens too many doors i’m not interested in and it’s a stupid misunderstanding where a few words could clear it up. so - i ditched this.

(Simon POV again)

“Because I don’t like being a vampire,” I say.

Lamb blinks. Whatever he was expecting, that wasn’t it.

Even I wasn’t expecting it, but I don’t think it’s the worst lie I could have come up with.

Baz does resent being a vampire. (Even if, so far, it actually seems all right to me.) I don’t think he’d love it even if the Next Blood taught him how to survive on transfusion, rather than rats. But it’d be a something. He wouldn’t have had to eat that squirrel, the other day. Or that dog I stole for him, which even I feel a bit guilty about and I didn’t have to eat it.

Lamb is still frowning. “You do know what the Next Blood are, don’t you?” he says. “They’re like us. Physically.”

“You mean, they’re vampires?” I say. “Yeah. I mean, I know. But they’re not vampire-vampires, are they? They don’t drink blood.”

Lamb grimaces. “Would you mind not using that word?”

“Vampires?” I say and Lamb sighs.

. “You mean, eternal life, not aging. Being stronger and faster than everyone else – none of that’s for you?”

I shake my head. I’m trying not to look surprised, even though Lamb’s just told me my boyfriend’s immortal. (I mean, Baz and I always knew it was a possibility. Frankly it’s a bit of a relief to have it confirmed – now he can make plans.)

“So, what?” Lamb says. “Are you just tired of life? Is that it?”

“No,” I say.

Because I’m Baz right now and Baz isn’t. He’s thriving.

Even I’m not tired of life. (At least, I don’t think I am.) Although I am tired of my life – all the sitting around. All the waiting for something to happen. Because it doesn’t.

Or it didn’t – I suppose things have been happening again, since we got to America. I’m being interviewed by a vampire (ha) about being a vampire. That’s different. Not good-different. But different.

“I don’t think I’d want to live forever, though, either,” I say.

“You don’t have to,” Lamb says. “You’ve been given the gift of choice.”

reason for change:

in this scene i was thinking a lot about rainbow saying that she likes to position scenes in the head of the person who cares about it the least. i think that’s why i was trying to force simon’s POV for so long. that and the fact that i thought it was cool, that the reader has this secret which is that Baz is there, and that in the version i eventually went with baz is passive and gets no chance to say anything - he just has to keep reacting.

i think i switched it back to Baz because i felt he deserved to be able to react, though. and you do kind of forget that baz is there, watching thsi scene, if it’s not his POV.

it has some of my favourite lines i cut though, particularly this bit: Even I’m not tired of life. (At least, I don’t think I am.) Although I am tired of my life – all the sitting around. All the waiting for something to happen. Because it doesn’t.

never mind!

(Simon POV)

“I don’t like hiding who I am,” I tell Lamb, because I know that’s what gets Baz down the most. It’s not that he has to eat rats – or it’s not just that. It’s that he has to sneak around, so no one knows he has to eat rats. It’s that his own family won’t even say the word ‘vampire’ out loud. “I’m sick of lying to everyone. And eating rats – I don’t like eating rats.”

Lamb makes a face. “Why are you eating rats?”

“Because I don’t want to kill people,” I say, even though it’s obvious.

Or at least, I thought it was obvious. Lamb looks surprised.

“It’s not compulsory,” he says.

reason for change:

we know this one now - this is simon’s POV, and i’d switched back to baz. this is quite good, though, re baz’s family.

(Simon POV)

“Aren’t you going to get that?” Lamb says.

He must have heard it vibrating (vampire hearing – I can hear it too, if I concentrate. Not just feel it.) Something must have gone wrong. I don’t want to draw attention to the fact that my friends have been listening in on our whole conversation. But just ignoring the call now he’s pointed out is probably even more suspicious. And if something has gone wrong, I should probably find out what it is.

“Yeah,” I say. “Hang on.”

“Take your time,” Lamb says smoothly.

I slide out of the booth, pulling the phone from my pocket. It’s definitely ringing, but the screen says Fiona Pitch rather than Penelope. Which is good, I think. It means nothing’s wrong. I reject Fiona’s call and there’s Penny’s call – still connected.

“Is everything all right

“Simon? Is Baz with you?” Penny’s voice says.

“What?” I say. “I thought he was with you.”

“He––”

“How dare you hang up on,” another voice says, cutting in over the line. (It must have been magic – I think, even on a posh new iPhone like this one is, you still have to choose to change the line). And I might not have recognised it, but I’ve just seen the owner’s name on my phone. i

When I look back over at Lamb, I see Baz taking a seat opposite him.

BAZ

Baz, right?”

I’m not sure what gave it away.

I’ve been here the entire time, and Simon hasn’t described me – himself – to Lamb. I would have noticed. And it’s not like Simon and I have matching terrible-boyfriend rings or bracelets (I’m not that pathetic.)

Perhaps it’s the look of cold fury I’m giving him. I know this look well – from the other side. I know Simon’s good at fury, that it looks good on him. Like he means it.

Whenever he used to direct that look at me, I knew I was going to have to duck. Or spell him first. It’s not an unattractive look, but I never got distracted when I saw it. I knew

So right now, I think I probably look like the sort of man who’s probably thinking seriously about ripping this Lamb’s throat out. The sort of man who’s just had to spend the last half an hour listening to Lamb trying to tempt my boyfriend into destroying me, like a sort of second-rate American Mephistopheles.

But Lamb doesn’t seem intimated by Simon’s scowl. He still seems delighted.

reason for change:

this is all victim of the POV swap. i knew i was struggling writing simon and lamb’s conversation so skipped ahead to him leaving to talk to fiona, and then back to baz.... some nice stuff here, probably, but ultimately it’s just slowing the action down. baz going right up to lamb is more dramatic.

(Simon POV)

And now I’m stuck trying to explain why I called her earlier today (I didn’t – Baz must have done it while he was out shopping) because Baz never calls, apparently, unless things are bad. Or he’s broken something in the flat and doesn’t know how to fix it with magic.

I mean, they are bad. (Maybe.) But I don’t think that they’ll get any better if I tell Fiona the truth.

So far, I’ve reassured her that Baz’s siblings are all fine. (“Just as annoying as ever, unfortunately.”) And his parents are fine. (“Both in the peak of health.”) And that his exams were fine.

“I’m going to be the top of my class,” I tell Fiona confidently because Baz is. “I’m a complete genius.”

“Hm,” Fiona says, unconvinced. “Tell me – how do you set the thermostat again?”

“Trick question,” I say. “I’d get you to do it.”

Fiona laughs – and it’s nice, I think. A real laugh. I think she does actually like Baz

reason for change:

i had the whatsapp group idea and it was better. this is me leaning into the idea of simon having to pretend to be baz.

(Simon POV)

“Let’s go, Simon,” Baz says.

He stands up next to me. He’s trapped by the booth and the table and me, so even if I wanted to stay (which I definitely don’t, if Baz is leaving), I’d have to stand to let him out. I do and Baz pushes past me, so he’s on my other side – with me and the table between him and Lamb.

“And I haven’t even told you about the Next Blood,” Lamb says.

I shake my head. “You’re right – it was a stupid idea. They’re not going to fix my problems.”

“I can, though,” Lamb says as Baz turns on his heel and I go after him.

“Well. You know where to find me,” Lamb calls, even though I don’t. I don’t think it matters though.

reason for change:

i wrote them a conversation with Lamb instead - here baz is just horrified by whatever it is he’s heard (who knows? i didn’t write it)

(Simon POV)

I stand up to let him pass and Baz practically drags me out of the restaurant by the hand. Out onto the strip where music is still playing and the lights are so bright it might as well be daytime.

Once we get there, though, he freezes.

“What is it?” I ask.

“Vampires,” he says. “Everywhere. Can’t you see them?”

and another version of this...

I pull Baz’s phone out of my pocket, tell Penny we’re heading back, and hang up.

Baz turns to me as I catch up to him. He has his wand out and flicks it, casting Nothing to see here over both of us.

“There are vampires everywhere

reason for change:

this is here because i wanted to write baz seizing simon and flying him up to their room, so he has to cast nothing to see here. also, he’s freaked out about vampires. but baz flying simon up to their room is insanity, so he shouldn’t do that, and baz can be freaked out about vampires because simon is kissing him and we don’t need anyone else.

Chapter 3

thank goodness we’re out of that shitty chapter (shitty from a writing perspective. as a chapter, it works ok! but i still resent it for the problems it caused me.)

it’s highly relevant that mid-chapter 3 is where i took a break and wrote my remix - which is also about wayward son and these themes (and just forced me to stop forcing myself miserably through this chapter). by the time i had to take a break, i’d written most of the flying and the biting, but not the end of simon’s first section in this chapter, or the ending.

(Simon POV)

Last night he found out that his body was different than he’s always thought it was. That’s something I know a lot about. I also now know something about what it’s like to be a vampire. But I’m not sure that helps. I think that’s just making it about me again.

Right now, my part of the story is just to be there for him, the way he’s always been there for me. Or maybe it would be if we weren’t in each other’s bodies right now. As it is, I think I can do a bit better than that.

I’ve dragged Baz out of the hotel (not physically, although he is stronger than me, so I could have done it.) (I just gave him a hand up out of the bath.) I wasn’t sure he’d agree to come with me, but I told him we were going to pick up a burger on the way, and that seemed to do the trick.

“A full sized one?”

“Remember, you’re meeting Lamb at two,” Penny called after us. “And you have to come back here first to pick us up first. Back by lunchtime, Simon.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Now we’re speeding out of the city in Shepard’s truck. (The cab this time, not the back. But this is pretty good, too.) I’m driving. Baz is leaning against the window

Although it might also have helped that I let him wear the floral jacket from yesterday (he spelled it bigger), even though I don’t wear patterns and it’s about a million degrees outside.

It’s only fair – I couldn’t face putting a shirt back on, so today I’m in Baz’s jeans, my t-shirt and I’m wearing my own jacket because I know Baz gets burned easily. Also, I asked room service to bring me a hat with a brim when they brought us breakfast and they did. A cowboy hat. Which is

“Eat,” I tell him now, passing him a bag full of

reason for change:

i was planning to just start this chapter with them driving out to go flying. but then i wanted to write more baz angst... so all this gets cut.

also, this explains why baz thinks that simon is going to get him a burger in the draft i posted, even though simon does not ever say that ;)

(Baz POV)

Even if it would take the pressure off a bit, perhaps. I know what I like, and presumably Simon knows what he likes – but it’s far too weird. (And it’s not the same as kissing. We’ve kissed before, in our actual bodies. This is just an admittedly bizarre continuation of that.) And anyway, it’s Simon I’m desperate to sleep with. Simon who I’ve always wanted.

Simon who is still talking.

reason for change:

i gave this to simon instead!

(Baz POV)

“And you should bite me,” he says breathlessly.

I swallow. (Although honestly, it’s not as if I haven’t thought it).

“All right.”

“You’ll like it,” Simon assures me.

“Well, you’ll like it too.”

Simon groans and presses his forehead into mine.

“Fucking pukwudgie,” he says as I laugh.

...

I never thought I’d be desperate to be back in my own skin, just that I wanted Simon out of it, but I need to be myself if I’m going to be able to do any of the things I’ve always wanted to do to him.

reason for change:

no idea. maybe because it’s too much like the mage’s heir.

(Simon POV)

He doesn’t start the ignition.

“I should have thought of this sooner,” he says instead. “But I could try spelling your wings away properly. While I’m in your body.”

“Huh?” I say.

My wings are definitely already gone. We wouldn’t fit in the cab, otherwise.

“Your wings,” Baz says. “I know no one’s been able to properly remove them before – even Doctor Wellbelove was talking about surgery. But I’ve always assumed it was because you were the one who cast the spell. So it’s possible that, now I’m in your body, I’d be able to get rid of them for you.” I’m staring at him. “I know we both hope that you’re going to get your own magic back,” he continues carefully. “But in case that doesn’t work – or in case you can’t control it …”

reason for change:

i tried to write this baz-magic wings thing in a few times, because i wanted simon to be able to tell baz that he likes his wings now (and it makes sense that baz would think of this). but ultimately it didn’t flow, that’s the reason i never managed to put it in. i gave baz the revelation instead of simon, re his fangs. so simon doesn’t get this big thing about his wings not being that bad - which obviously leads into what i eventually wrote for the ending which is that simon still.... isn’t completely comfortable in his body, he didn’t have exactly the same revelation that baz did. this is me trying to give him that, though.

(Simon POV)

“Do you want to see Lamb?” I say.

Baz makes a face. “Not particularly. It’s more of a necessary evil.”

“Because he can tell you lots of vampire things?” I ask. “Or because of me? Because if it’s the latter––”

“Of course it’s the latter,” Baz says.

“Then I don’t think we should go,”

“I don’t need my magic back.”

“Are you sure?” Baz whispers.

reason for change:

i probably cut it in favour of what i wrote below.

but essentially it’s all cut because i stopped writing this fic for a month and when i came back i realised that it was still chapter 3 and they couldn’t have this revelation yet!

(Simon POV)

Today, I’m even less keen on seeing Lamb again than I was yesterday. It just seems so pointless. And since Baz barely eats, and I am Baz at the moment, I’m not even that excited to go to a restaurant. (Besides, my mouth still tastes of him. However good this place is, it’s not exactly going to measure up, is it?) But I suppose we do have to go, don’t we?

Because Lamb’s still got lots to tell us. And it’s clear, Penny will kill me if we don’t get to try the food.

It’s just – Baz really doesn’t need transfusion if he can just keep drinking from me. And I can’t help thinking I should really have a better excuse to be tangling with possibly hostile vampires than a curry and maybe getting my magic back.

“Do you really think magic will make your life better?” Lamb asked me yesterday. And I said no.

Baz is already climbing out of the truck-bed and casting “Every time a bell rings” on his wings. I follow him, taking the driver’s seat. After a while he joins me in the cab of the truck and straps on his seltbelt.

I still don’t start the engine.

“Snow?” Baz prompts. “Do you need me to drive?”

I shake my head.

“I’m thinking.”

“Unusual,” Baz says – which is shitty of him, but I think I like that he’s being shitty. He stopped for a while, like how he stopped touching me. It feels like good sign that he’s started again.

“About going to see Lamb.”

“We’re already going to be late,” Baz says.

“I know,” I say. “But. The thing is. You’d still love me, even if I never got my magic back.”

Baz’s eyes flick to his trousers. He smooths down the fabric, even though there’s nothing wrong with it as far as I can see.

“Yes,” he says, without looking at me.

“Right,” I say, relieved. “So, I don’t need my magic back. Which means I only think we should talk to Lamb if you want to.”

Baz’s eyes flick back to my face. “How–?”

“Fiona told me,” I say. “On the phone last night.” I’m just going to say it – it’d be weird not to say it. “And it’s mutual, by the way. In case you’re wondering.”

Baz raises an eyebrow.

“Right.” He looks out the window for a moment and then back to me. “Needless to say, this is not how I imagined this moment going.”

That’s an understatement – he’s in my body, I’m in his. I’ve got at least a pint of Baz’s blood in my stomach and we’re in a truck in the middle of a desert. (I didn’t exactly plan this.)

“What I was actually going to say,” Baz says, “is: How can that possibly be your only consideration?”

“Because it is,” I say. “Before, I thought I needed magic to keep you––”

“You don’t,” Baz says quickly.

I nod. “So, fuck it. I’d only be shit at it again, anyway. I’m not going to risk you and Penny just so I can go back to being terrible at magic.” I don’t say that this would probably make me even more depressed, but I can tell we’re both thinking it. “I shouldn’t have even made you come on this trip. But I don’t mind speaking to Lamb again. If you want to. He seems all right.”

He doesn’t really. It’s just Lamb’s never tried to kill us, which makes him among the nicest vampires I’ve ever met. It’s still a relief when Baz shakes his head.

“I’m getting older. Frankly, it’s a relief. The only normal thing about me. And if I am immortal, I’d rather not think about it.”

That sounds about right. It’s what I’d do.

“Let’s not go then.”

Baz nods. “Just to be clear – you did say you were in love with me?”

“Yeah,” I say, grinning. “Yeah, I am.”

I take his hand and squeeze. This time Baz does smile. He pulls his phone out of his jacket pocket with his other hand and dials a number.

“Bunce – order takeaway. Simon and I have better things to do than talk to more vampires.”

Then he leans over (he gets caught in his seatbelt – I unbuckle it for him) and climbs into my lap.

reason for change:

as above - it’s the wrong time in the narrative for this confession, even though they’re mostly past their shit. and i thought i wanted to write this slightly withdrawn confession where it’s not overblown and we use the confessions they already got from other people, but... i think it’s wrong for this story.

AND.... because i wrote my remix��of bazzybelle, i wrote this thing where simon says ‘i love you’ in the middle of a sentence and baz almost doesn’t notice. so that’s good - i got it out of my system there in a much better place - and when i came back to this one, i was like... right... i mean, they can miss lamb because they were kissing, not because they just didn’t want to see him. that makes sense.

(Baz POV)

It’s not long before Simon gets hungry again. By which I mean, I get hungry again. I make Simon drive us back to the centre of Vegas where we can pick up a burrito and a milkshake.

“I’ve wanted one since last night,” Simon tells me, although I notice he still leaves most of it to me.

Last night feels so long ago.

Last FINISH

I can’t believe he loves me. (I can’t believe I didn’t cry when he said it. Although it probably helped that Simon managed to make the declaration so confusing that I wasn’t entirely sure I’d heard him correctly.)

FINISH

Bunce’s idea from earlier that we get other

“I should have thought of this sooner. I could probably spell your wings off permanently.”

I’ve tried before – so has Bunce. It hasn’t worked. Doctor Wellbelove has talked about surgery because nothing he knows has been at all effective. But I’ve always assumed the reason no spells have worked is that Simon wasn’t the one casting them. While it’s clear that’s never going to happen now, there is still this small window of opportunity where Simon’s body at least does have magic. My magic.

I thought Simon would be pleased with this suggestion, but he looks positively alarmed.

“But we already have a spell to hide them.”

“I know.” But it’s extremely inconvenient.

“I can ask Doctor Wellbelove if I change my mind,” Simon says – but I can’t

reason for change:

i’m leaving these weird half sentences and notes to myself in because a) that’s how i’ve stored them and b) i think it’s interesting to see where the thought processes dropped. this is another shot at the wings conversation. also - it picks up the milkshake thing from chapter 2.

i don’t seem to have kept it, but i wrote something where simon kept comparing baz’s fangs dropping to an inappropriate erection. (it seemed funny at the time)

and i never wrote it, but i think the reason i wrote that was because i was planning a version of this restaurant scene where they go to a bathroom and simon bites baz again and it’s just silly and playful after the intense stuff out in the desert. anyway - the low key version is better.

plus - the other thing to say about this chapter, i guess, is that about this time the thing about minors happened in thsi fandom. and i think i was trying to keep this chapter teen-rated so that no one would get upset. i wrote a much more sexual version of the bite. (which is still pretty sexual - i couldn’t get rid of it all) but i stripped back as much as i could and left a content warning at the top of the chapter.

Chapter 4

(Baz POV)

They’re Lamb’s people, right? Highly flammable.”

He makes a call from his watch. Tells whoever is on the other end to, “Let them get inside the house and light it up.”

“You got it, boss,” the person on the other end of the line says before hanging up. Braden grins at me as I stare at him in horror.

“What?” he says. “You think I wasn’t prepared for this?”

He wants to me to know what he’s done – because it’s clever. Because he’s that kind of supervillain. He tells me everything.

He had a truce with Lamb, but he wasn’t stupid enough to trust him. He always knew Lamb might turn on him – when Braden was close to his answers. When the time was right. That’s why the Next Blood has flamethrowers built into the ceiling of this house, the same way other homeowners might have sprinklers. It’s why the walls are lined with stainless steel, so the building doesn’t burn – only the carpets. Only the people.

I don’t even know what happens if Simon dies in my body.

Not that it matters that he’s in my body, because if Simon’s dies, however Simon dies, I’m done. My life is over. My life is Simon.

I have to stop this.

And I can.

I feel the fire crackling to life in my palms. (I was waiting for the right moment to try and escape. This is definitely the right moment.) I see Braden’s eyes widen. But before I can thrust the fire into his face, everything goes dark.

Not completely, dark, though. Just darker.

I’m outside. And it’s dark outside. It’s after midnight. Two days must have passed.

I pull fire into my hand again and throw it at the nearest vampire.

“What was that?” Penelope shrieks behind me. “That wasn’t me.”

She turns towards me and I grin. “Hello Bunce.”

“Baz?”

“Did you miss me?”

reason for change:

oh hey, did you think that the bit where shepard says - why does everyone have machine guns that are no use against vampires?? might be setting something up. well - it wasn’t initially. and then i thought - oh, it could be a sign it’s a trap and wrote this.

but my plan had always been to have baz confront lamb inside the house, pretty much exactly what happens in the fic, and for it to be a short-ish distance to simon. creating this fucking death trap inside the house means that all the bits with the gang and lamb have to be outside the house - and it just made the action really weird. also, it meant that baz - a vampire - literally has to run into a burning house to save his BF. who - as we know - is already saving himself.

(Baz POV)

Everything’s on fire.

Penelope Bunce cast a bubble around me with what I think was the last of her magic and I ran straight into this house, even knowing what Braden was going to do when I got here. (She tried to tell me she’d go instead, but she was clearly exhausted. Anyway, she’s not the one who knows where Simon is. And she’s not his boyfriend, I am.) (I told her to get back to the truck – and then I told Shepard to make sure she actually went. I also told both of them not to trust Lamb, even though apparently he’s been helpful so far. Fortunately I didn’t see him, so I didn’t have to choose between rescuing Simon, and setting my kidnapper on fire.)

It’s hot. And there’s smoke everywhere. Even though I was only led down these corridors a few hours ago, I can barely see where I’m going. I’m just stumbling on

reason for change:

because i realised this made no sense.

(Baz POV)

Fortunately, Simon seems to agree.

He kicks out at the window over the golf course. It cracks loudly. He kicks it again and this time the glass shatters. Falling in jagged pieces to the floor. Letting the night air in.

I cross over to him and look down. It’s only a few stories, I should be able to “Float like a butterfly” although it’s going to need a lot of magic. Magic I might need when we get down.

But Simon Snow doesn’t need magic to fly.

His wings are outstretched behind him, filling the room. He offers me a hand. “Come here?”

I know what he’s planning. I also know he can’t lift me. Not easily.

But making yourself weightless isn’t as difficult as a controlled fall. I cast “Light as a feather” and let him pull me in by the waist.

“Cheat,” Simon says as I wrap my arms round his neck. “I could have done it.”

I hang on as his wings I wrap my arms around his neck.

Tighter, as I feel my feet lift off the floor. As Simon carries me out and up, his wings beating powerfully behind him. I hold on to dear life, to Simon.

I shut my eyes

“I love you,” he says. Clearly. Easily. As though he’s thought about it and he doesn’t have any more doubts.

reason for change:

i wanted the i love you to be in baz’s POV, which is why i wrote this for baz - but it made this final baz section super long, leading into the prologue that also starts with baz. the weightless magic is nonsense and had to go. otherwise, i think i just wanted simon back in the story again. and the flight is his victory.

also - i tried to play myself again and put the ‘i love you’ before the end. KEEP IT TO YOURSELF, SIMON, FOR GOD’S SAKE.

Prologue

(Simon POV)

I’m sitting out on the sand, with my boots off and my jeans rolled up. It’s still early, so it’s quiet. No one else is on the beach besides a few dog walkers. Agatha says the taco-stands are amazing but they don’t open until later.

I can just hear the waves and the birds. I can hear myself think.

I’ve been to the sea before, but not like this. I was always there because I had to do something. Rescue Agatha. Find an underwater city. Try and convince the selkies to give back the ancient totem they’d borrowed from the Mage.

I’ve never just been on holiday. Even this trip turned into a quest almost immediately.

It makes me think maybe I should talk to Fiona about joining the WhatsApp group. Even though I would have to keep dealing with Fiona. (She’s sent someone to deal with Braden. I told her to leave Lamb alone for now, as I don’t think he’s hurting anyone. She said I should mind my own fucking business.)

Maybe I should try and actually go on holiday.

Somewhere quiet.

Somewhere peaceful. (Baz would like that.)

Somewhere with a double bed. (Baz would definitely like that.) (I reminded him I’d seen him naked earlier, while he was in the shower, and I’m pretty sure I heard him destroy Agatha’s shampoo rack by mistake.)

reason for change:

i was really struggling with simon’s bit of the prologue. i wrote most of baz’s final section (as well as the first baz section, which was easy) before i came back and wrote this.

this is me trying to work out what simon might be thinking about. again, i wondered if i’d blown all the revelations simon needed to have about himself in the previous chapters - but i worked it out.

then, after i’d written almost everything, i remembered the rock (it probably feels like i wrote that in just so simon could throw it away in this scene, but i literally thought of that an hour before posting. i wrote the rock so that braden would say ‘your magic’s gone!!’ originally he was going to be looking at simon’s blood, but then baz pointed out in his POV section that his blood wasn’t magic ... so... magic rock).

(Baz POV)

Simon’s eyes are still damp, but he’s smiling. “I don’t know why.”

Crowley, I think I’m crying now.

“That’s because you’re an idiot. Why wouldn’t I?” I wipe my face with the back of my hand. “Listen, I admit I saw this on Oprah, but Maya Angelou once said––”

“When someone shows you who they are, believe them,” Simon says quietly.

Strange. He must have seen that episode too. Not impossible (demonstrably) but I didn’t think it was his kind of thing.

I nod. “I know who you are, Simon Snow. You’re the bravest person I know. The most extraordinary.” Now I’ve started, the words are easier. “You’re the love of my life.”

I have more to say. I could probably talk about Simon’s virtues for hours, if I properly thought about it, but he tackles me before I can. Pressing me down into the sand. The ocean laps at our ankles as Simon kisses me.

“Shit. I’m getting sand in your hair,” he says after a while.

“I don’t care,” I tell him, even though I’ve just blowdryed it.

He doesn’t believe me. (I suppose Simon knows who I am, too.) When Penelope Bunce runs down the beach towards us, Simon is holding my hand and watching me trying to spell grit out of my hair.

reason for change:

i love a cyclical narrative - and although my story doesn’t begin with this quote, wayward son does. plus, greener grass is about showing someone who you are, so i thought it was appropriate. but i also knew it was cheap for baz to have seen the same show, even as i was writing it. and i think the nail in the coffin is that i struggle not to think of ‘you’re the fucking love of my life’ without thinking about the bill nighy storyline from ‘love actually’. would anyone else have thought of that? i doubt it. but it was there for me.

and this kissing scene is just so me - i find it embarrassing how typical it is. anyway, it went to be replaced by a slightly different kiss scene.

and that’s all i have! except that i struggled with the final ending. i sent it to giishu, who sensibly suggested i just leave them on the beach (which was everything i’d written so would totally have worked) (arguably better? we will never know).

but i really wanted this ‘troubles at watford’ ending - to show that they’d learned enough that they could handle anything now, as they were together.

i don’t know how obvious it is, but this is the feeling i was going for -

there’s still something in that, i think. might keep hold of it and think about it a bit more. we know seuss is important to the world of mages.

thanks for reading the fic! and all these bad bits.

#my deleted scenes #carry on #wayward son #my content

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treatian · 4 years ago

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The Chronicles of the Dark One: Breaking the Curse

Chapter 29: All Things Considered

Perhaps this was a fitting ending to the evening. Waiting by a squad car, the woods and his cabin bathed in blue and red lights, light rain drizzling down the back of his neck making him shiver…

An ambulance pulled up behind the Game of Thrones Truck, and a couple of paramedics, complete with a gurney, entered his property. He mentally reviewed what had happened in the last thirty minutes to lead him to this dismal place. Emma had found him, alone save for Moe French, who was a bloody pulp by the time she'd gotten there. She'd managed to pry him away and send him to the other side of the room where he'd cooled down, and she'd inspected him.

"I'm gonna take a shot in the dark and assume this is Moe French," she'd sighed before pulling out her phone.

"No one steals from me," he responded as Moe lay there, his head rolling back and forth, fading in and out of consciousness. Emma ordered an ambulance, told them where to find them all, and tried to help Moe by waking him up and keeping him awake by trying to get him to speak. But nothing had ever come from Moe's mouth. Not that he was surprised. Once a coward, always a coward. He should know. The problem was that Emma was smart, he didn't know what she'd seen exactly, but he knew that she'd seen enough not to believe for a second the story that he gave her.

"Moe called me, told me he wanted to exchange the other missing goods for his truck and a five-year extension on his loan. I suggested my cabin, and we were just discussing it when he tripped and fell. Isn't that right, Mr. French?"

No response, not that he'd needed it. Emma had seen him take a swing at him with his cane. She knew it was a lie, just as he did. The only thing was that if he were smart, he'd forget it was a lie and go along with it. Two against one was all it would take to gain his freedom, and when that one person was Emma, already disgraced and distrusted after her little stunt at the Council Meeting, well…she wouldn't be a problem.

It wasn't long after that she'd excused him to go and wait by the car. He could have left. He could have taken Moe's truck and gone back to town, but he didn't see the point. There was nowhere he could run. So he'd done as she instructed. He'd had time to think and to decide that this was probably a better ending than he could have hoped for. He'd imagined a lot about this situation, but looking at it now, he knew that he had acted in haste. He'd only been able to see the moment that he got that chipped cup back. Everything else beyond that he hadn't planned for. That was stupid on his part. Not thinking a plan all the way through to the end was a mistake an amateur might make. He had to be careful not to behave that way again, no matter what the concern was.

The concern…all this and still no teacup. All this and still no confirmation of who had told Moe French to take it. Really, what good had tonight been?

"So, I heard you managed not to break anything he needs," he glanced up to find Emma Swan approaching him as Moe was loaded into the back of the ambulance. Done already…how time could fly… "You're lucky, Mr. Gold."

He let out a snort of derision. He knew what was coming. Of course, he knew that nothing would hold up, and he'd be free again this time tomorrow, but until Moe French was stable and awake, he still knew what was coming. And without Belle's chipped cup to show for it…he wouldn't call any of this lucky.

"You got a funny definition of lucky."

"You have a funny definition of justice," Emma commented, crossing her arms over her chest and eyeing him with suspicion. "What did he really do?"

She wasn't ready for that answer yet. As much as he wanted her to be, he knew it was true. It was another comment to be added to the "someday" category, and until then…

"He stole," he explained away, the exact same explanation he'd offered before. Consistency was everything.

But the Savior balked at his response. "That reaction was about more than taking a few trinkets. You said something about how he hurt 'her,' what happened to 'her'…" he shifted his weight uncomfortably. He could hardly remember what he'd said to the worm, much less keep track of what she had or had not heard. "Who was that? What did he do? If someone needs help, maybe I can help."

Always the Savior and yet…so far from the real thing. "No. I'm sorry, Sheriff. I think you heard that wrong," he scoffed, looking into the distant blackness. Someday…

"You really don't want to cooperate?" she questioned with a mix of irritation and amazement.

No…he really didn't…because until he found a way to start winning again and turn her into the Savior she was, then she would never really understand what had happened. Then again, even if she knew, he doubted anyone would ever understand. Who could ever learn to love a beast like him? No one. Not anymore.

"Look, we're done here."

He'd tried. He'd tried to walk off and go to the front seat of the car, to play it off and escape what he'd known was coming, but he wasn't surprised when Emma stopped him. She was a better Sheriff than Regina gave her credit for. There was never any chance she'd let this go.

"Actually, we're not. You're under arrest…"

He stared at her as she finished reading his rights, trying to convey irritation and intimidation all at once, but he knew she was too strong-willed to care, and frankly, he didn't care that she was. He'd be free soon enough, that much he knew-

His heart stopped as she patted him down, and she reached into his pocket and pulled away his phone. She flipped it open, and he tried to maintain his calm demeanor all the while the lawyer inside of him was working away. Dove…the vibration…he had called, hadn't he? He hadn't tried to send him messages, anything that would implicate him. And the messages about Swan's movements over the last few months, he'd deleted every single one of them…hadn't he?

Emma's gaze slid to his own. "Who is Dove?"

He wanted so badly to swallow his nerves down, but he knew swallowing would show his anxiety. He didn't know what she was looking at now, but he wanted to convey innocence, or at the very least, control.

"An associate."

Emma raised her eyebrows and pushed a button. "Looks like he's been trying to reach you."

"I've no doubt he has." In fact, Dove had probably been trying to warn him that Emma was on his property. He wished he'd taken that call.

"Oh…" Emma suddenly piqued, turning the phone for him to look at the screen. He could hear the thing vibrating, and he didn't need to see it to know Dove was calling again. "Looks like he's trying to reach you now."

"Well…given the situation, I do believe I get one phone call," he smiled, motioning to his cuffs.

Emma smirked. "Make it quick," she explained, handing him the phone. He took it, but as the ambulance drove away, he noted that she didn't make any effort to leave him.

"Some privacy? Or must I explain the law to you?"

"Oh no, you don't, you're in my custody, and unless he's your lawyer and you can provide credentials to prove that, you have no reasonable expectation of privacy."

Smart woman. "Glad to see I made the right choice in Sheriff," he sneered before answering.

"Sir, I tried to tell you, I tried to warn you-"

"Don't speak," he stated, interrupting Dove so that she wouldn't hear anything more than he wanted to. His statements made it clear that obviously he was watching from somewhere nearby, dutifully looking after Emma after he'd taken Moe. Hell, he'd probably seen Emma take the phone from him and decided to call right then, thinking it was his best chance to reach him. But Emma wasn't his biggest concern now. He had only one message for his accomplice and only one chance to convey that message. There was no room for anything else. "I appear to be in a predicament, Mr. Dove. You know what to do."

"Yes, Sir."

"Once it's done, don't contact me until I contact you."

"Understood, Sir." He closed the phone and handed it back to her, but not before purposefully shutting it off.

"Quick conversation...and coded. How convenient," she explained as she pocketed it and helped him into the back.

"I'm a man of few words."

"Yeah…I'm coming to find that," she muttered before she shut the door, and they began a drive away from the cabin, following the ambulance back to the police station for what he was sure was going to be a long night. But as he glanced at Moe in the back of the ambulance, on oxygen, bleeding, and red with bruises that matched the shape of his cane's handle, he managed a smirk.

For Belle…it was worth it.

#Rumbelle #Rumple #Rumpelstiltskin #Dark One #mr Gold #Belle #Emma Swan #Regina Mills #Evil Queen #Moe French #Maurice #ouat #ouat fanfiction #fanfic

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malereader-inserts · 5 years ago

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Preen Them Pretty

Fandom: Good Omens Pairing: Aziraphale x Male!Reader Summary: The angel knows how to tend to you, his loving angel boyfriend Word Count: 1,465 Request: Yes, but I’ve deleted the ask so I can’t copy and paste it A/n: I had to privatise this because all the work disappeared but luckily I had this saved on Google Docs or I would have been so angry

Aziraphale watched you for the past few days now.

He had been suspicious as you had changed your behaviour recently when you lie down on any given soft surface whether it be the sofa in the backroom or the bedroom that occupied the flat upstairs, you would be lying on your stomach. Also, when you’re sitting in chairs, you don’t lean back.

So, his immediate thought was you were injured on your back and you weren’t telling him.

Which got him in a bitter mood with you as you two had promised centuries ago that you would not keep secrets from each other. But, you were quick to pick up on it and Aziraphale was very much a soft angel, so, it was no surprise that his grudge only lasted for five hours.

And then, he had noticed that you’re sleeping more, as both of you are angels it’s not necessarily needed. Thought between you and Aziraphale, you sleep just a tad more, it’s refreshing as you claim and you’ve been alive more than six thousand years, you have time.

Aziraphale had noticed that you were often in bad moods, well, sour at best. Which was great for warding off any potential buyers in the shop as you just roll your eyes, before sighing dramatically to the point the customer is already fed up with your attitude.

Then, Aziraphale came to a startling conclusion that it was your wings.

You had preen Aziraphale’s wings a few days ago and Aziraphale hadn’t had the foggiest of memory when he last did yours. Preening wings was an intimate action between lovers or trusted companions, which you and Aziraphale qualify for both for each other.

As you enter the bedroom, with Aziraphale following as he eyes your bare top, his blue eyes wandering up and down, examining your back muscles and then the area where your wings sprout out. You groaned as you flop in the middle of the double bed, turning your head to the side as you let out a sigh, starfishing the whole bed as Aziraphale couldn’t help but muster up a soft adoring smile.

“My love,” Aziraphale coos at you as you shut your eyes, ready to fall asleep. He placed one knee upon the bed and putting a gentle hand upon the lower part of your back, “Are your wings bothering you?”

“No,” You mumbled but you could feel the disapproval eyes burn into you, “Maybe, it’s stupid…”

“Well, your discomfort shall be tended by me, after all, we look after each other,” Aziraphale commented, almost a tut at the end of his sentence, he was most definitely judging him and yet you could not complain about it - he was right after all.

You whimpered as he kneels between your legs, running his hand on your back. You opened your eyes as you turned your head slightly in an awkward angle to look at him.

“I landed awkwardly,” You mumbled, shutting your eyes as you felt a shiver down your spine, “After visiting Heaven I was tripped over by another angel upon exit, and rather ungracefully fell down the escalators.”

“Oh, my love,” Aziraphale’s tone was pitiful yet concerned, “Show them to me, I’ll tend to them.”

“I can’t, Az,” You whispered, as Aziraphale raised an eyebrow, choosing to not bring up how painful your tone sounded, “They hurt too much to project.”

“(Y/n), I know it hurts but you have to,” Aziraphale says with a firm tone, stroking your hair, as you sighed, defeated and having the knowledge that your wings will never heal properly if they weren’t set correctly.

You let out a deep breath, shutting your eyes, as your wings emerge for viewing, letting a discomforting noise whilst Aziraphale wince. Nevertheless, Aziraphale gets up and strips his jacket. He rolls up his shirt to his elbow and goes fetching the tools for preening from the bathroom.

Settling back between your legs as he starts picking out the loose feathers, throwing them in the big bin bag. Aziraphale tries to ignore the bruising on the skin under the feathers, but upon brushing his hand lightly, you visibly flinched.

“Sorry,” Aziraphale murmured, “Who did this to you?”

“Doesn’t matter now, I talked to Gabriel about it, he’s not happy,” You replied back as Aziraphale hums.

“Ah yes, Gabriel does have a soft spot for you,” Aziraphale recalls, nodding to agree with you despite your eyes being closed, “Unsurprisingly, he did take you under his wings, hoping you’d be like him.”

“And yet, I turned out to be the polar opposite of him,” You chuckled, as Aziraphale was busy tugging on feathers, “Still, no matter how much I disappoint and go about the opposite of his expectation, I’m still on his good list.”

“Perhaps, you’re above Sandalphon on that list,” Aziraphale responded as he accidentally tugs on a fully attached feather, making you hiss at him, “Apologies, your feathers are quite untidy.”

“Yeah, well, Sandalphon hates me and I’ve probably gone down on his liking list,” You continued the conversation, opening your eyes to roll them, “Gabriel’s having a stern talk with him, so this probably won’t be the last time you set a broken wing.”

“It was Sandalphon?” Aziraphale gasped, pausing in his duty as he looks at you as you opened your eyes to look at him, “Well, I didn’t know he had it in him.”

“He’s an idiot,” You offhandedly muttered, Aziraphale doesn’t miss the bitter tone you held in your words, shutting your eyes again, “The dumbass said you can’t have a war without a war.”

“Well, I never said he was renowned for his genius,” Aziraphale commented, bitterly remembering why he doesn’t like the angel that harmed his beloved.

Aziraphale settles back into preening your wings, finishing one side and going to the other. As he finished taking out and loose feathers, he goes to your right wing where the injury was at. Slowly hovering his hand over the injured area, your wing structure started to set itself.

You let out a moan.

“Feeling better dear?” Aziraphale smirks upon your moan as you scoffed, feeling his smug smirk burn into your shoulder.

“Not in the mood, love,” You tell him as he nods, “Maybe tomorrow.”

“Alright,” He agrees, your wing wasn’t fully healed, but it was set.

At least you were able to allow the bone in the wing to heal properly. Next Aziraphale gets a damp cloth, tending to each section of your wings to remove the dirt, grime and unfortunately the dried blood from your nasty trip. He smiles to himself when he seems you visibly relax under his touch.

Once your wings were fully washed and cleaned, it needed to be polished as you like to say. Aziraphale collected the preening oil from the base of your wings, being careful as it was usually the most sensitive part of an angel’s wing.

He lathers your wings in the oil, making a spin of himself by massaging each muscle and area of the wing. You let out a content sigh, this had been the best you’ve felt in days. Aziraphale wipes his hands on the cloth.

“How is that?” Aziraphale asked, convinced you’ve fallen asleep on him.

It was common for angels to fall asleep after a preening session, to feel someone you trust upon their wing, it is very intimate between the two angels. It’s so relaxing that angels cannot help but fall asleep.

“Better,” You let out as you feel the pressure of where Aziraphale sat disappeared, “Love?”

“I won’t be a moment,” Aziraphale calls out as he placed the tools and such back in its place.

You sat up, dizzy with tiredness and love at the same time. You stare at him with a sleepy smile as he emerges from the bathroom. You see that he had changed into more comfortable clothing as he sits against the headboard of the bed. His long legs stretched out as you flop against him.

Your head landing upon his thick stomach, you murmur is happiness at the softness, hugging his waist tighter. Aziraphale chuckles, at least someone appreciates his stomach when Gabriel and himself don’t. You sighed as you felt Aziraphale place his hand on your shoulder whilst the other hand was preoccupied with another book.

You shut your eyes, content in using your boyfriend as a pillow, refusing to hide your wings for the night. Aziraphale didn’t mind that much, at least he could keep an eye on the injury if something was to spontaneously happen to your wing.

“Thank you, my love,” Your voice hazed up with tiredness but Aziraphale brightens when he feels love radiate towards him.

He tickles the back of your neck with a smile, “Anything for you, my dear.”

#aziraphale x male reader #x male reader #aziraphale imagine #aziraphale #good omens #good omens imagine #good omens x male reader #personal favourite

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kagehinataboke · 5 years ago

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only time will tell - chapter 4

“You’re fucking late. Again.” As usual, Katsuki is waiting in the classroom when Todoroki arrives, fifteen minutes late and in a cold sweat. Katsuki is wearing a basketball jersey—he’s on the school team, apparently—red track pants, and sneakers. His ever-present scowl seems especially sour today.

Todoroki takes off his backpack and clips his sunglasses to the collar of his shirt. “Sorry. I had to run here from a shoot.” He turns to the remedial students scattered around the room, plastering on a smile. “Did everyone wait long?”

All the girls immediately shake their heads, and even some of the boys, albeit reluctantly. Todoroki flashes Katsuki a smug look, and he clicks his tongue in annoyance. Over the past week, Todoroki has been late to nearly every remedial session—and Katsuki isn’t happy, to say the least.

It’s not like Todoroki can help it: his agent basically ignored him when he asked her for an easier schedule. He has photoshoots or interviews nearly every day after school, so he has to run back to make it to the remedial lessons at six. He didn’t even have time to change today, so he’s still in the ripped jeans, collared blue shirt, and brown cardigan they put him in for the shoot. He even still has makeup on, although it’s probably been ruined by sweat.

“Now that you’ve deigned to join us, your majesty, let’s start.” Katsuki picks up a stack of papers on Aizawa’s vacant podium and passes them around. “These are practice tests. You morons are going to use what we went over during the last session and get over eighty percent on these, or we’ll do proofs for an hour straight. Got it?”

Silence.

Todoroki looks up after stripping off his cardigan and rolling up his shirt sleeves to find them all looking at him, including Katsuki.

Todoroki clears his throat, and everyone looks away instantly. “Sorry. Ah… You were saying, Bakugou?”

Katsuki, seeming significantly more annoyed than before, restarts his speech. Todoroki lingers in the background, only half-listening. He isn’t sure if he’s actually much help at these remedial lessons. His goal was to work closely with Katsuki, but there haven’t been any chances. On top of Todoroki always being late, Katsuki actually treats this like a job. He’s surprisingly dedicated to helping their classmates, to the point where Todoroki feels like dead weight.

“The hell’s up with you?” Katsuki demands after the remedial students leave—all having finished their tests with scores over 80, much to Katsuki’s pleasant surprise. His tone is more confrontational than conversational.

“I already apologized for being late,” Todoroki sighs. He already knows where this is headed: they’ve had the same exact talk every day this week. He doesn’t want to have it today. All of his energy is gone.

Perhaps Katsuki can tell—they did used to be close, after all—because instead of the inevitable scolding Todoroki was expecting, he receives a quiet, “Don’t be late again.”

It’s strange. More than strange, because Katsuki is being soft again. First it was back at the shed, and now this. Todoroki can’t deal with the way his look changes sometimes; the way his eyes seem to shift, becoming questioning, becoming different; with the way they eventually return to normal again, and the moment is gone.

Katsuki is just… so different. His hair, for one, and his piercings—and his attitude, most noticeably of all. Well, maybe second most noticeably. He’s also, to put it in simple terms, attractive now. Incredibly so. Todoroki obviously never saw him as anything more than a friend when they were kids, but now? Now it’s like the wool’s been pulled from his eyes. He sees all the things he couldn’t see before—like the curve of muscles under Katsuki’s jersey, and the way the veins in his arms flex as he picks up papers, or the way his black hair makes his eyes look a shade even deeper than red.

“What are you staring at?” Katsuki’s gaze settles on his face, and Todoroki thinks about not looking away. He thinks about staring back until he can find something recognizable in these eyes that he used to know so well.

But then he gives in; averts his gaze; clears his throat. “Nothing. I was just lost in thought.”

Todoroki does look up again, only briefly, to see that Katsuki has gone back to collecting papers. The ebony of his hair against the tan skin of his neck as he bends over the desks is strange and foreign.

“Your hair,” Todoroki finds himself saying. “I miss it being blond.”

“What?” Katsuki looks at him as if he’s lost his mind. Todoroki doesn’t fail to notice the way his hand flits to his scalp, then quickly back to his side. “Why the fuck are you saying that all of a sudden?” He snatches the last paper and roughly elbows Todoroki aside. “I’m going to put these away. Get lost already—and don’t be late tomorrow.”

Todoroki stares at the door for longer than he should. He isn’t sure if it was his imagination, but he thinks he saw faint red dusting the back of Katsuki’s neck. The black of his hair only made it stand out even more.

It probably was his imagination. And he should probably leave, because Katsuki will most certainly yell at him if he sticks around. ‘Damn Half n’ Half dumbass bastard, what the fuck are you still doing here? ’ or something along those lines. Half n’ Half is Katsuki’s new favorite insult. It’s because of Todoroki’s hair, which he started dying for his modeling career and never bothered to change.

Before Katsuki really does come back and scold him, Todoroki gathers his things and heads outside. It’s dark already—it’s nearing eight thirty—and the sky is a dark blue quickly encroaching on black. The night breeze is chilly enough that Todoroki stops by the front gate to put his cardigan back on. He’s got one arm in the sleeve when he spots someone vaguely familiar lingering just outside the gate.

It’s the guy Katsuki was talking to on the first day of school. What was his name, again? Shigaraki? It’s strange that he’s here so late, but if he and Katsuki are friends, maybe he can tell Todoroki a bit about him. Even if the guy is creepy, it’s worth a shot.

“Hey.” Todoroki approaches cautiously, waiting until he has Shigaraki’s attention to continue. “Are you looking for Bakugou? He probably won’t be out for awhile.”

Shigaraki’s expression is hard to read, but he’s smiling, at least. Even if it’s a strange, not-all-there smile. “Is that so?” He shrugs away from the wall, sticking his hands in the pockets of his gray sweatshirt. “He was supposed to go to a café with me. Why don’t you come instead?”

Todoroki frowns, fingers tracing along the edge of his backpack straps nervously. Why would they be meeting up? He remembers enough of their conversation to guess that Katsuki doesn’t like Shigaraki very much. But this is such a good opportunity… Ugh.

“Okay,” Todoroki agrees, pushing away every ounce of doubt. “What café?” He can’t pass up a chance to learn more about Katsuki—at least, not when he still refuses to talk about anything other than school.

“Just follow me.” Shigaraki is still smiling.

Todoroki tries very hard to convince himself that it's a reassuring smile and that he isn’t being lured into an alleyway or abandoned building to be murdered. Fuyumi would kill him twice over for being stupid enough to follow a stranger—even if that stranger knows one of his friends. Ex-friends? Whatever.

Ah, he was psyching himself out for nothing… The place Shigaraki brings him is a plain old coffee shop, with a pastel interior and comfy booths and the heavy bitter-sweet smell of espresso. They take a seat in the corner, surrounded by plush cushions and decorative paintings. Not sinister in the least. In fact, the place puts him at ease enough to get down to business.

“Sorry to do this right when we sit down, but…” Todoroki leans forward in the booth, glancing around to make sure that Katsuki isn’t somehow here to eavesdrop. He isn’t, obviously, but he still keeps his voice low anyway. “I was wondering… exactly how much do you know about Bakugou?”

* * * * * *

“Shouto, you’re home late.” Fuyumi glances up from her spot at the kitchen table with a raised brow. She’s got a laptop in front of her and several open files, as well as a half-empty cup of coffee. It looks like she’s expecting a long night.

Todoroki kicks off his shoes at the door. “Sorry. I went to visit a café with… a friend from school.” Better to lie than to have her asking questions.

“Oh, you made a friend? That’s good.” Fuyumi has already turned back to her work: crisis averted. Todoroki breathes a sigh of relief, but he isn’t in the clear yet. She snags his wrist when he tries to pass her to reach the stairs. “Hold on. Did you eat?”

“Fuyumi— “

“Don’t ‘Fuyumi’ me, you brat. I made you rice balls. They’re in the fridge, and if you don’t eat them all, I swear I’ll set your favorite sweater on fire—“

“Okay, okay.” Todoroki grimaces and switches directions to head into the kitchen. “I’m taking them. Geez.” He grabs the rice balls from the second shelf and retreats upstairs, sitting cross-legged on the floor to eat.

He’s exhausted after running from the shoot straight to the remedial lesson, then spending two hours at the café talking to Shigaraki—who isn’t actually a bad guy. He’s a bit awkward, and there’s definitely something strange about him, but he seems nice enough. He told Todoroki a lot about Katsuki. Apparently, they used to hang out in middle school.

Todoroki didn’t end up finding out what caused Katsuki to change so much, but he does know a few things about how to deal with him—courtesy of Shigaraki, whose number is now saved on his phone. The thing that stuck out the most was that he said to be ‘cute,’ whatever that means. Todoroki figures he’ll have to try out some different things.

It’s weird. For once, he’s feeling so hopeful that he can’t stop smiling. After he finishes the rice balls, he composes an email to his agent—and then deletes it and starts another one. He still isn’t quite sure how to quit. Can he just come out and say it? That somehow doesn’t seem like it’ll work. He’s never actually quit anything before, so he doesn’t know what one is supposed to say.

Ah, he’s getting a message. He'll worry about it tomorrow. Todoroki gets up from the floor and sits on his mattress before checking it.

from: Touya at: 10:36 PM.

>> Hey, I’m coming back to town this weekend. I tried to ask Fuyumi if she wants to meet up but she’s ignoring me. I think she’s pissed.

Touya, huh? It’s been a while. Todoroki last heard from him right after their dad died. Of course he’d only come to him when Fuyumi is mad.

to: Touya at: 10:38 PM.

>> She has a right to be mad. Did you apologize?

The answer is obvious, even before the response comes. Touya might be the most irresponsible person in the world.

from: Touya at: 10:40 PM.

>> No. She’s the one who’s overreacting. Why should I have to apologize?

Todoroki rolls his eyes. He’s not even going to bother responding to that. His brother probably won’t listen, anyway. Why is everyone so immature? Touya refuses to apologize, Katsuki keeps giving Todoroki the cold shoulder… The world is full of imbeciles.

Todoroki gets up to grab his bag with a sigh, pausing when he knocks something off his bed. His and Katsuki’s smiling faces beam up at him from the carpet, their arms wrapped around each other like they never want to let go. Todoroki forgot he had the picture on his bed. He’s been looking at it a lot recently, getting caught up in nostalgia. (He isn’t a very productive person.)

Katsuki really did look much better with blond hair. The black makes him blend in too much. Todoroki always thought he was the kind of person born to stand out, with his crimson eyes and hair the color of winter sunlight. In fact, the whole reason Todoroki chose his current look to trademark in the modeling industry was because of Katsuki. He was going for blond on the right side, but it turned out more white—and by then it was too late to change it.

Todoroki probably shouldn’t be obsessing over his hair so much. It’s pointless, especially when he’s been over about a million fantasy scenarios in his head—scenarios where things turned out differently. But Katsuki is a different person now: Todoroki knows that. He’s crass and unfriendly and completely impossible to figure out. He doesn’t want anything to do with him, but there are times when it seems as if there’s something between them. To put it simply, Katsuki’s hair is the absolute last of Todoroki’s problems.

But still, if even one thing were to return to how it used to be, then…

Ah, never mind. He shouldn’t get his hopes up.

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#finally updating chapters on tumblr rip me #there will be more chaps up on ao3 soon too #yay #uwu #calla.txt #my writing #tdbk #todobaku #bnha #model au

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surveys-at-your-service · 5 years ago

Text

Survey #239

i just want to sincerely apologize if my surveys take a negative nosedive again. i know this one’s kinda grim and i don’t want to make that a routine, but things are just rough right now and i’m not gonna lie on a survey, y’know.

Do you know anyone who works at McDonald’s? Not that I'm aware of. Do you know anyone who plays heaps of sports? Probably through school. Have you ever been suspended from school? No. Where do your cousins live? Aaaaaaall over the U.S. Have you met any of your second cousins? Possibly at some point? Do you like the All-American Rejects? I like "Move Along" and "It Ends Tonight" is good, but that's all off the top of my head. Oh wait, of course there's "Gives You Hell." When was the last time you wore a skirt? WOW I have ZERO clue. Probably not since elementary years. Have you ever finished a whole video game? Plenty. If so, which one(s)? There are way too many. Do you know anyone with a pet snake? Me, Sara, probably others. Which one of your friends has great music taste? Sara. Was the last person you hung out with single? That would be my young niece and nephew... so yeah. Have you ever attended a private school? I'm a private college now. Have you ever been in an abusive relationship? No, thank Christ. Have you ever cooked for anyone other than yourself? I made breakfast for Sara once. If your phone has a hole for phone charms, is it on the left or right side? I don't have one. Would you rather live in the city, the suburbs, or the rural area? Kinda like... suburban mixed with rural. I don't wanna be totally isolated, particularly away from necessary stores and such, but I also do NOT wanna be swarmed by people. Maybe like a loose neighborhood in the woods outside a small town? Do you know someone who is really ambidextrous? Sara. Did you use a pencil today? No. Are you adopted? Nope. Have you ever had your car break down on you? Never when I've driven, not that that's been much. With Mom, yes. Dad, idr. Jason's prom night, yeah; his truck broke down otw home at a stop light. Oof. Who was the last person that cried in your presence? My mom. It's the worst. When was the last time you ate at your favorite restaurant? Oh wow, probably not since my last birthday. What was the last thing someone gave you? A close family friend/my former teacher lent me a $20 just in case I needed anything while my mom was up in NY. Can you write your name in a foreign language? My first name (at least) is the same in German; even though "y" doesn't exist in the language, I guess it does for foreign names?? Idk about my last name. Who is the person you often go to for venting? Sara. Do you keep an actual journal or diary? No, not anymore. I did briefly when I had that WILD and totally random Jason obsession episode, but once I came off that godawful medicine and I went back to normal, I deleted it. Have you ever been prescribed Vicodin? That sounds very familiar... Maybe? Perhaps that's what was prescribed after my surgery? Have you ever cheated on someone without them finding out about it? Well considering I've never cheated and never would, I can't answer this. Was the last person you kissed male or female? Female. Who were you with the last time you went swimming? Colleen, at the beach. Does your dining table currently have place mats on it? No; we don't even eat at it. What was the last thing you cooked in an oven? I myself have literally never used an oven. I'm scared to. Oh wait, yeah I have... on some occasions where Mom needed me to put something in there or take something out, but idr what. But boy and I can tell you without memory that I was jumpy as hell about it. Is it hard for you to be “just friends” with the opposite sex? No. It's difficult for me to like-like people, especially men when you consider I'm generally afraid of them, on top of I'm just paranoid and don't trust easily. Do you prefer wheat or white bread? Wheat. Do you have an electric toothbrush? No, but coincidentally, I actually have that on my Christmas wishlist. Have you ever had an “exotic” or “abnormal” pet? Do you consider a Chinese water dragon "exotic?" Then I have a ball python morph. Have you ever eaten lobster? No, and considering crab is nauseating, I doubt lobster would be too different. What is your grade point average (if you’re still in school)? I don't know right now and don't know where to find it. Have you ever played croquet? Oh yeah. My sisters and I LOVED that shit as kids. Who was the last person you called? Dad. Have you ever watched Ghostbusters? No, believe it or not. When was the last time you drew a picture? Yikes... been a while. Not since I started a concept drawing of encompassing a panic attack in a meerkat form, as I tend to do. I haven't touched it in months. It's right on the second shelf of the table beside me, so... my only remaining excuse as to not finish it is that the paper is horribly wrinkled now. Are you happy? Not exactly. Should you be doing something now? I could be doing the practice exam work my math professor gave us all considering it's extra credit, but. Yeah. I'm absolutely awful at math and barely passing but I don't exactly need another stressor right now. Is there a smoke detector on every floor of your house? We only have one floor. What was the last kind of soup you ate? I tried vegetable soup anyway when I got my tongue pierced because I literally could not eat solids for over a week, but I'm a picky asshole who didn't like it so wasted the can. I had to survive almost exclusively on meal replacement shakes and popsicles. Warning from the wise: you want your tongue pierced? You better fucking want it bad because healing is a P R O C E S S. Or at least mine was, having to get it re-done and all... Have you ever had to do a class in summer school? No. Have you ever went a year without getting your hair cut? I don't think a year... but maybe? Do you think you could go a week without sugar? Considering sugar is in like... EVERYTHING, probably no? Would you be willing to go one day each week without meat? I don't really pay attention, but I probably already do. I'd like to eat as little meat as possible. Hell, I wish I could go full-on vegan. Do you feel comfortable telling people how much you weigh? NO. Do you have any talents that your friends don’t know about? No. Are you any good at sewing? Never tried, not interested. Has anyone ever interviewed you about one of your hobbies/talents? No. Would you ever consider experimenting with drugs? Marijuana for medical purposes if I didn't have to smoke it. I'm not smoking anything, I don't care what it is. What’s been tugging on your heart lately? I guess life in general. Mortality, death. Teddy died in my arms, I saw my grandmother physically ravaged by cancer, and just life hasn't been the kindest lately. I've been thinking about how time just flies, how every moment should be cherished even though it's so fucking hard, and just yeah. I don't wanna go down this rabbit hole. Are you comfortable with who you are? Have you accepted who you are? I don't know dude I shouldn't be taking a survey during like an existential crisis lol. What is the last thing you did that made you feel guilty? Decided to get some really unhealthy fries with my dinner. Would you have sex with the last person you texted? It's not a matter of "would," I want to. I may have already, I don't really know what separates foreplay from lesbian sex. Do you consider weed, marijuana, pot, etc. a drug? This isn't even an argument anymore, it's fact. It's a mind-altering substance. "Drug" does not always equate to bad, either. Are you planning on kissing anyone tomorrow evening? It'd be nice. Do you require a lot of private time? Oh yeah, but way less than I used to. I get depressed if I'm alone for too long now. Have you ever done something humiliating while drunk? N/A What is your favorite classic Disney movie? The Lion King. Do you like looking at old photographs? Yeah, usually. Do you enjoy puzzles? Yeah. Do you prefer painting or drawing? Drawing by a long shot. I'm taking a painting course this upcoming semester though, so hopefully that'll up my skill and thus enjoyment of it. Do you ever wear high heels? No, I don't have a reason to. Do you use belts? No, considering I never wear anything with belt loops. When was the last time you played Uno? Oh my fucking god, it's been forever, thankfully. When I lived with Colleen, as did her younger sister, we played Uno a lot, and then, AND THEN, came the night Chelsea dyed my hair red. Mind you, the ONLY TIME dyeing my hair had been truly successful and long-lasting. The process took hours, and we played Uno round after Uno round... and now I literally hate it. What do you like better, kiwis or pineapple? Oh man, I love both, but I gotta say kiwi. Are you trying to grow out your hair? No, I actually need to cute it again. What is your favorite perfume/body spray/cologne? Don't have one, really. Have you ever wanted to try karate? Not seriously. How often do you drink water? Ah yikes... I really fell out of my regular habit of drinking multiple bottles daily. Do you ever wear headbands? No. How many video games do you own? A lot. There's like a huge CD case in a living room drawer full of them. I've been considering making an EBay or something to sell a shitload of them as I'm sure a lot are actually pretty valuable now, but I think a lot about how I want to pass them down to my current and possibly future nieces and nephews when they get to a certain age to figure video games out or even have a console that can play PS1-PS3. Have you ever been to a casino? If so, which one(s)? No. What’s your favorite suburb in the city you live in? Why would you... name that on the Internet...? Besides that even, I pay no attention to suburbs' names I happen to pass. Have you ever visited a sex shop? No. I don't know if I could ever muster up the courage to even go in one. I'm the type that would just order online. What’s your favorite place to get pizza? I'm a basic Domino's bitch. How many times have you been to the beach? Multiple, but not a LOT. I have little reason to ever go, and it's never my idea, that's for sure. Has there ever been a fire inside your house? Tell me the story. Childhood home. Trying the Jiffy Pop popcorn that you make over the stove. Next thing y'know the thing is seriously on fire and we had to use the fire extinguisher. Fuck you, Jiffy Pop, the harbinger of the next fucking idiots moving in setting the entire house on fire thanks to the stove too. Have you ever had a scary encounter with a wild animal? No, besides like bees 'n the like being near me. Have you ever had a spray tan? No. Do you own any sports bras? Where’d you get them from? No, but I'd like at least one. Wouldn't know what to use it for, it's not like I go jogging or anything, but. I think it'd be good to have at least one. Have you ever had sex in a kitchen? No. What’s the most expensive restaurant you’ve ever eaten at? I have zero clu- no wait I'm gonna guess the Italian restaurant we went to on Sara's birthday, but that's just a guess judging by how it was fancy as fuck. Who crosses your mind the most? Sara. Have you ever been on a scavenger hunt? Probably as a kid. Ever been to an auction? No. would you ever get acupuncture? omg no Ever got stitches? At least twice. What is a must have on your french fries? At least some salt. Entirely saltless fries are boring. How do you like your meat cooked…medium rare? well done? Nothing less than medium well. If meat tastes even a little bit beneath lukewarm I can't take that shit. Are there two colors that you just simply despise? Bright yellow and puke-green. What do you usually do with recurring dreams? ... Nothing? What CAN you do? Have you ever been told you were hot by a complete stranger? I don't think someone has used the term "hot," but I know I've been called pretty, at least. Do you want to be single or with someone? I want to be with Sara. It kinda feels like we still are, like no feelings have changed, we're just not "official" anymore and not "bound" to one another. Have you ever had a sleepover with the opposite sex? I actually have twice (or thrice?) platonically with my younger neighbor FOREVER ago. We were still kids. Then there was a big (birthday?) party at my place where Juan stayed the night, and then I believe there was an occasion Girt totally knocked out on the couch so... I guess it turned into a "sleepover?" lmao Who are you closest to in your family? My mom. Who were the last 3 people to text you? Sara, Mom, and my sister. Have you ever dated someone in jail? No, and I wouldn't unless it was for something incredibly stupid or I'm aware was a false charge. What’s a movie you cannot BARE to ever watch again? Nothing's coming off the top of my head. Who got you hooked on the addiction you're addicted to (If you have one)? ... I just connected it all in my head. Jason got me into the Amnesia game. I got into custom stories for it. I was playing one one day. I got stuck. I YouTubed it for help. Guess. Who. I. Fuckin'. Found. This is a revelation; I have discovered the main purpose of my and Jason's relationship. Perhaps things do happen for a reason lmao. Are you a little bit cautious around horses? Do they scare you a bit? Not really, but I wouldn't say I'm in no way cautious. They definitely don't scare me, though. I just respect that they're very powerful animals and I'm not experienced with handling them. Have you ever burnt your tongue like REALLY bad? If so, what on? Yes, on rice that was literally right off the fucking stove lmao. LOOK I didn't know it had JUST come off and I was hungry as fuck but boy did I have REGRETS considering the burn lasted for well over a week, maybe two. Do you think having a sleepover with a guy is theoretically acceptable? Um, yes...????? Do you like to have cake on your birthday? Which kind of cake in mind? Yeah, and red velvet or chocolate frosted, depending on what I'm feeling.

#survey #quiz #questions #bored #random

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floralseokjin · 6 years ago

Text

sometimes it’s best to remember the past is just a memory...

pairing | kim seokjin x reader genre | angst, suggestive content, mention of a miscarriage words | 6,411

inspired by | Haruki Murakami’s short story “A Folklore for my Generation…”

listen to | Epiphany, Autumn outside of the post office and Tonight/This night

He had not been imagining it.

Your voice had sounded the same last time and it did now. On the phone at half past nine in the evening. Age didn’t change a thing. The slight lilt in your tone, the dreamy murmur that sometimes broke into an accidental whisper, it was the same as all those years ago.

His was not. He was certain.

Stresses and strains from work, and just life in general had surely changed that. His voice was a lot deeper now, gravelly. Maybe even monotone at times. He had forgotten what it felt like to speak with enthusiasm. In fact, he had forgotten that emotion all together over the years.

It wasn’t an immediate thing. Gradual, definitely. Failed employment, then overwork, then failed relationships. These past six years had really taken its toll on him. He wondered if he looked old. You hadn’t said anything upon bumping into him six days ago.

That’s where this had all began. Six days were nothing, gone in the blink of an eye usually. However since seeing you, they had dragged by. He suddenly had more hours to ponder on what ifs and should haves. Torture really. One he thought he’d escaped years ago. He’d told himself to be quiet. To stop acting like he was nineteen again. It was stupid. It was reckless, but it was also impossible to quit. Not now anyway.

It had been six days since he’d last seen you. Six years before that. But here you are now, on the phone. You speak like you’re having a catch up with an old friend. It makes him uncomfortable, but he doesn’t say anything. A part of him doesn’t want to stop you because you sound so happy prattling on. It brings back memories of when you used to call him in the middle of the night back at school. Maybe that’s why your voice falls so naturally into a whisper. Habit. A habit with him.

He wants to ask you how you got his number, but he is also a creature of habit. You know this. He’s had the same cell phone number since he was seventeen. It follows each stupid bit of technology he purchases. Maybe he should have changed it. He would not be having this conversation of he had. But then… Did that mean you’d kept his number after all this time? Saved in your own phone: Seokjin. The thought made his heart feel funny. He had deleted yours the night you’d broken his heart. He’d regretted it immediately. He’d given up the fight.

It also meant you still knew him well. You still knew he was that creature of habit. That was both reassuring and painful at the same time. Sat on his leather sofa, inside the apartment he lived in by himself, listening to your voice, he truly felt pathetic.

You tell him you live just on the outskirts of the city now, a four-bedroom house. One of those new modern ones built just two years ago. He closes his eyes and repeats something he once knew off by heart inside his head. White picket fence, red bricked walls, a slate grey front door. That’s what you’d wanted when you were nineteen. You’d told him too many times to remember exactly. Your dream house with who you’d live in with your husband. It was always husband, never him. At the time he thought you hadn’t wanted to tempt fate, to scare him off even, but no, you really had never been picturing a future with him. It filled him with a warped satisfaction to find you were not living in that dream house. Childish. Stupid, because you probably didn’t even care. You probably didn’t even remember. He was a fool for holding on.

A fool always.

He had been a fool for you ever since that first meeting. You’d gone to different schools. His an all boy, yours an all girl, but he’d grown infatuated the moment you were introduced at one of the soccer games his school held. You were a cousin of a friend. That friend he no longer knew the name of. Funny how some memories stick and others didn’t. You were embedded into his memory. It was only a given after all the times you’d shared.

He was shy and inexperienced when it came to girls. Seventeen years of age and hadn’t even held hands with one. You were much the same, maybe that’s why you worked so well together. Each other’s first in many ways. Until it ended. Even now it was hard to understand where it all went wrong. Was it always supposed to be that fleeting? He guessed in ways you had told him that from day one.

Kissing you really was addictive. It was all you both did, and for a while that was enough, but his body was soon raging with hormones he couldn’t ignore. However, you refused to take things further. Kissing and over the shirt groping, sometimes you even let him see hints of your bra. It was infuriating for his incessant horny mind. You didn’t touch him though. He was left to boil and ache as you kissed for hours on your bed in your room. He was always kicked out ten minutes before your parents were due home from work. He told himself it was okay because at least he got to feel the warm swell of your breasts under his palms. It was okay because he had the privacy of his own bedroom when he got back home…

You were saving yourself for marriage. That’s what you told him, and he accepted your wishes without any whining. He told himself he could wait a few more years. In hindsight he realised how naïve he had been, how in love. He truly thought he’d be the one to marry you. He’d thought you were going to be his forever… In fact, it was just two years. The last two of high school before he went away to college. You were staying home.

Looking back, six years having passed, two is nothing, but he still holds onto it like it’s all he has, or all he had. He remembered he was beyond sick the night before he had to leave. The only thing that made it better had been when you’d invited him to spend the night at your house. Your parents had left on vacation, and he couldn’t stop imagining what it would be like to lie next to one another and sleep. It was all he wanted. It would get him through this first semester until he could visit and see you again. However, to his surprise, you wanted to do more than lie…

You’d kissed him so hard that night he couldn’t catch his breath, let alone speak, especially with a mantra of I love you’s falling from your tongue between tangled mouths. He felt like he was floating, momentarily distracted from the reality of tomorrow. So he was stunned when he felt your hand touch him. Want in the place of love. I want you, I want you, I want you. You wanted him. He was so thrilled he’d forgotten to ask what made you change your mind.

However quickly, he’d gotten scared, the pressure of the situation sinking in as you lie under him, bare and beautiful. He remembered you’d felt so tiny in his hands, as if he could break you at any given moment. He had been so scared. So scared. But the warmth of your body soon filled him with reassurance and love. It was like he’d been made for this. Made to make you feel good, made to hear his name fall from your lips in breathy whispers.

It seemed a little unfair that you couldn’t repeat such an act. Once was torturous, not now that he’d had a taste of how amazing it was to love you fully, but at least it made his travel a little lighter. Made the distance seem shorter. Now he had a reason to return. It hadn’t crossed his mind that the night could be considered a parting farewell…

Looking back, it probably was in your mind, but because you loved him dearly, you couldn’t give him up just yet. Even though you knew at the time you needed to. He didn’t blame you. He never had. It was just one of those things.

You were together just six more months.

In that time he’d visited during semesters too, unable to stay away for too long. You made love copious amounts, unable to keep your hands off one another for longer than five minutes. He liked that. Making love to you. He never wanted to stop. Back at college he would brag to anyone who would listen. That he had a girlfriend back at home, you’d dated for two years, and he loved you very much. Perhaps he had tempted fate in the end…

That night in his car, parked in an abandoned car lot, the rain pelting down against the glass, he knew it was over before you even opened your mouth. You had been distant for a while before, taking too long to reply to his messages and not picking up when he called you. He knew time had run out, but he still wasn’t ready.

He wasn’t proud of it, but that night he’d begged. It most definitely wasn’t like him, but he couldn’t help it. He wanted to be the man you’d love forever, he wanted to be the man you’d marry, but you were adamant he couldn’t be. When he asked if you’d ever loved him, you had cried. Loudly and messily, fat, chunky tears falling down your face. Of course you’d loved him, you still did, but it had to be over. Why was he making this so difficult? He knew the end had to come soon. He knew, somehow he knew, but he couldn’t let it happen. It was too soon. Then you’d continued, telling him how that first night together was supposed to be the last too, but you were weak. You’d wanted to share your body with him, but in the end couldn’t stop. You’d only caused yourself more heartbreak now.

Your best friend was getting married. You’d heard the news two weeks ago, around the same time you’d stopped replying to his messages. It all made sense. This man was older, he had a job, a house. He was already set and could look after your friend. Seokjin was in his first year at college, no money to his name. He had nothing to give you, bar his love, but that’s wasn’t enough. He’d tried to change your mind, begged you to give him a chance. He’d graduate, and he’d get a well paying job, a house. He’d look after you, all you had to do was wait. He’d clung to your hands, wet with your tears that still fell, while his stayed lodged in his tear ducts, unable to free. They didn’t even fall when you had shaken your head and told him your parents didn’t want that. They didn’t want you to wait.

He’d swallowed tight and respected their wishes that night, driving you home in silence apart from your sobs. When he stopped the car you’d kissed him one last time. It felt different, now a true parting farewell. It tasted different too. Salty from your tears. He never had forgotten that taste, even years later…

Six months later he heard from your cousin, the friend he nor longer remembers the name of, that you were engaged to a man four years older. Already graduated, freshly employed, a house in his name. That was the day he’d finally let the tears fall.

Now here you were, nearly five years into the marriage. A failed degree, now a housewife. No children, no pets. Just you and your husband. Although, maybe just you… To put that modern roof over your head he had to work long hours, often away. That’s what you tell Seokjin on the phone. He half-way listens, lost in thoughts of the past. He wonders if you’re happy. Happier now than you were back then, and as if on cue, you open your mouth to ask a question. He can hear your lips part against his ear as if you’re here in person, a second away from kissing his lobe. He always did like that.

“Don’t you ever feel like you’ve made mistakes in your life?”

That’s a loaded question. He sucks on his breath as he tries to think of an answer. It’s only polite, you are asking him after all. But he still knows you quite well to understand your true intentions. You want to offload. Perhaps you want to confess…

Of course he feels like he’s made mistakes. He tells you about certain jobs he’s taken in the past, how he wishes he’d tried harder, or not at all. He even tells you about failed relationships. He has a lot of them, starting from you, but he misses out that detail. Concentrates on the others. Looking back, he should have paid more attention to the women who let him into their heart. He didn’t know when he’d turned so cold. It was always they who were trying, never him. It was always they who split up with him too. He never felt much afterwards. A little disappointment maybe, but only because his list was growing longer. He should be married by now, or at least engaged. The perfect catch: graduated and employed with a house. That’s what you’d wanted, right? What every girl did…

He picks and chooses what he tells you, most stuck as thoughts in his head. It seems odd to share such depressing realities with someone who has it all. He keeps his biggest mistake to himself. He would never even dream of letting that one out. Sometimes he doesn’t even let himself think of it. It’s not even a direct statement, more like a question.

Should he have tried harder that night in his car? Should he have put up more of a fight? Could you both have been happier together? In some alternative reality maybe he had fought for you, maybe you’d waited for him, finished college too and grown together, like it was supposed to be. You would be married by now, living in that house with the white picket fence, red bricks, slate grey door. Instead he’s living there on his own… Maybe you would have a child already, or maybe you were pregnant. His heart clenches at the thought, so he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, willing his voice to sound lighter as he moves things to you.

“What about you? Have you made mistakes?”

“Many,” your immediate response is, your laugh tinkering down the line. It sounds shrill, unnatural, forced. He’s silent as he waits for you to explain, unable to make sense of the racing of his heart.

You wonder if life is supposed to be so stagnant. You sleep the same time every night, woken up by your alarm clock, but for what? You’re usually alone, and one person doesn’t make much mess during the day. Your chores are overcome 9am and then you’re free to do what? Each day is the same. No smiling, no laughing, unless it’s the television, and even that doesn’t entertain you anymore. You and your husband have never been on vacation. The revelation shocks Seokjin. You’d always talked about travelling when you were younger. You’d talked about a lot, but your reality seems to be the stark opposite. You’re despondent, perhaps even depressed. Your life seems to be even more mundane than his.

He finds himself sad, frowning up at the ceiling, lost in thoughts once again. When you ask another question, his heart sinks, but not because it’s bad. It’s because he’s weak, and he’ll agree immediately.

“Can I perhaps see you again soon?”

He comes by your house at 9pm. On the dot. Just like you’d agreed the night before over the phone. You message him your address and surprisingly he finds it easily. The walk is a little bit of a long one from the subway, the bite of autumn very apparent and he pulls up the collar of his jacket as he picks up the pace, knuckles growing red from the cold. He stops a couple feet away from your house when he spots the number, heart thudding slowly in his chest. He’s nervous. His palms are sweating. There’s no vehicle in the driveway, your husband away on business. You wouldn’t have invited him otherwise.

He takes five steps closer, until he’s staring head on with your porch. The bricks aren’t red. They’re white. There’s no picket fence, not even wall. As he knocks on the door, the sound deafening inside his ears, he realises it’s blue. So dark it’s nearly black. Not three seconds later you’re opening up, as if you were waiting on the other side. Neither of you speak as you stare at one another. A silence that isn’t awkward surprisingly. It’s like you both need it to let the situation sink in. You break it first, taking a small breath before his name floats from your mouth.

“Seokjin.”

He can’t help but flutter his eyes closed, letting the sound of it fill not only his ears, but his head. It doesn’t go unnoticed surely, but when he opens them again you’ve stepped back, your arm out in a gesture that tells him to step inside. He hesitates as the sole of his shoe presses against the threshold. He has no clue what will happen once inside, maybe that’s what scares him the most. He shouldn’t be here, his mind screams. He’s weak. You’re weak too. He can tell by the way you look, your eyes sad, already glistening with tears that threaten to fall.

He enters anyway. Makes his way inside the living area as you guide him through the hallway. Your house is empty. Too big for two people. His looks tiny in comparison, but even if on his own, it’s still cosier than this. It’s cold inside here. Plain. Walls white, not even cream. He takes a seat on the linen sofa as you go inside the kitchen to make him a drink. Tea. Milk and one sugar. Like it’s always been. Habit. A creature of habit. The sofa is red. The only pop if colour in this place, but at least it’s comfy. He still feels out of place, afraid to sit back, afraid to relax.

When you hand him the beverage he notices your eyes are now ringed red. As if you’ve just been crying. You’ve done a terrible job at hiding it, but he doesn’t bring it up. He doesn’t know what to say. He wants to know what you’re thinking but he’s scared. This is a mistake, but he’s here now. He can’t leave you. Not yet anyway. He can suddenly taste your salty kiss from that night in your car. It makes his heart ache. He feels nineteen again.

He watches as you take a seat in the adjacent chair. That one is grey. It also looks hard and uncomfortable. You spread a smile across your face, it looks painful. It still doesn’t age you though. You look exactly the same, despite the years that have past. Six—now seven, days ago he hadn’t had a proper chance to notice. Your voice the only thing he’d remembered. He’d been in a rush, late for work because the first train has been too packed. By chance he’d bumped into you. There wasn’t even time for small talk, but the meeting had messed up his entire day, his head full of chaos. It had never cleared, and now he was here. Making awkward small talk in person as opposed to the phone.

It’s his turn tonight. You ask how funny it is that you haven’t bumped in to one another before. He forces a chuckle that definitely doesn’t sound real and explains that he’s only moved back home a few months back. Before then he’d been in the next city working a job he hated (once again). The breaking point had been another failed relationship, where he realised he didn’t need to do this, stick the long hours at a position that made him miserable. The money had been amazing, but it was just lying inside his bank account. He had no interests to spend it on, no lover to spoil. That’s how he’d moved back home. He’d found himself a less stressful job. His savings helped buy him the best little house. White picket fence, red bricked walls, a slate grey front door. He repeats that detail again, knowing how much of a sucker he is, but the memories make him feel better sometimes, and home wasn’t home without you. This was how he would remember. However now here he was…

“Do you know that I spend almost half the year alone in this house?”

You don’t sound bitter, just very sad. Your expression downcast. It’s almost like you feel guilty for bringing up your own misfortunes again. Could he even call them that? You had almost everything. A husband, a large house, wealth… Still lonely though. Lonesome in this giant house all on your own…

“Are you thinking about having children soon?”

As much as the words kill him, he thinks having some type of company may help you. He’d never known you to be so withdrawn like this. This wasn’t the girl he had fallen in love when he was seventeen. She was always happy, smiling, laughing… Your laugh was infectious. It had been so long since he’d last heard it. Something told him he never would again.

“There was an instance a year or so ago…” you begin, trailing off, tapping your wedding ring against your mug. A nervous habit. “Something happened, I didn’t get to carry her to full term…”

Seokjin’s eyes widen, feeling like an idiot immediately. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. Please—” He stops himself when he watches you shake your head, a slight smile on your face as you try to reassure him.

“It’s okay, Seokjin. You weren’t to know.”

That doesn’t stop him from feeling guilty. No wonder you act so different now. He can’t begin to image now devastating an event like that can be. He feels sick. He wants to change subjects, to make it all better again, but all he can think of is asking you about friends. That probably won’t be the best idea. What if they’re married with children of their own? Are you reminded of your devastation every time you’re around them?

He sits awkwardly, conversation now stunted. He thinks of how he’s been living his life all this time, trying not to think of you very often, and how you were here, going through your own troubles. Maybe you just need a friend…a friendly face… That’s why you’d invited him here tonight.

“My husband still believes I was a virgin when we met.”

This time Seokjin’s throat grows dry. You chuckle but it’s not the laugh he’d always known. He has no clue where to go from here, not expecting the turn in exchange. It’s falling on uncomfortable territory. The way you look at him now, you’re searching for his reactions. It’ll change the way you continue.

“I could never tell him the truth. He wouldn’t have minded, but I made him believe he was the first and only man I’d ever loved. He doesn’t know about you.” You’re speaking without thinking now. As if you were confessing secrets you’d kept hidden for years. Six. You had no one else to tell them too. Only him. “He doesn’t know what we had…”

Seokjin stares at you for a moment, trying to read what’s going through mind. He can’t make sense of it. Why are you bringing this up? What’s the meaning of all of this? You stare straight back, eyes shiny once again. When he murmurs your name, a gentle warning, he watches you close them, eyelids delicate, much like how he shut his earlier in the night. Your bottom lip quivers. His heart squeezes tight. Still nothing makes sense. Your eyes open once more.

“I need to confess something.”

That fills him with no confidence whatsoever. He’s scared because he has no clue what you could mean. There’s nothing you could not have possibly told him. He hasn’t seen you for six years. So much time has passed. You’re adults now. What could he possibly need to know that’s so important? He waits in silence, patiently, not trusting himself to speak. You finally continue.

“I lied that night.” More silence. This time he doesn’t bear to breathe. For some reason he knows exactly what that night is. “My parents weren’t the ones who didn’t want me to wait. It was me. I’m so sorry.”

Seokjin’s head starts spinning at that precise moment. He now sinks further into the sofa. Two minutes ago he still couldn’t relax. He’s still not relaxed. He’s just afraid he’ll fall forward. You take his silence as a need to continue, but he doesn’t want to hear it. He can’t hear it.

“My parents always loved you. They would have been over the moon if we’d married one day. It was me.” It sounds like you’re crying now. The tears finally escaping. He doesn’t know for sure though, he can’t bring himself to look at your face. “All my friends were getting engaged. I felt pressured. We were only supposed to be high school sweethearts. That’s all.” Your voice breaks, a violent sob rattling your chest. “I was so sure it wouldn’t work out between us, and I didn’t want to get involved further. I didn’t want to get my heart broken even harder. Seokjin, you were always so perfect, so considerate. I knew you’d accept it if my parents disagreed.”

That’s enough. He can’t take anymore. He stands up abruptly, slamming his mug onto the coffee table with accidental force. He hasn’t drunk a drop. It’s cold now, and the milky liquid spills over the brim, landing on the glass underneath it. It’s not fair how such stupid words can fling him back into the past. It’s not right how they can affect him with such power, make him feel like he’s nineteen again, back inside his car, getting his heart broke once more. He’s reliving it, and he doesn’t want to, because it was all a lie. He could’ve fought for you. He could’ve made you see how you were meant to be together, but you’d stopped that. You’d tricked him.

“I think I should go,” he mutters, still unable to make eye contact with you. “This was a mistake.”

“No,” you cry, flying from your chair before he’s even had time to move an inch. “Seokjin, please.” You’re begging, clinging onto the collar of his coat. He hasn’t even removed it. “Please.” You bury your head to his chest, your sobs shaking your chest, and instead of pushing you away he wraps his arms around you, squeezing you tight, comforting you as you cry. You still smell the same, like cherry blossoms. Same perfume, same you. The anger that filled his body moments prior slowly seeps away, just as your cries cease.

When you look up at him, chunky tears stay trapped between your eyelashes. He wipes them away instinctively. Something he didn’t do that night. You stare at one another longer than you should, until you break the quietude.

“Don’t you think it was fate we met again?”

You sound so hopeful he doesn’t want to ruin it for you. It was by chance. Not fate. Never fate, he doesn’t believe in such a thing anymore. But as he nods he can tell you’re clinging onto such a thought. You believe in that fate.

“I missed you so much.”

He goes to hug you again, unsure if he can trust his own voice to speak. His insides feel fragile, and he doesn’t want to cry in front of you. Deep down he’s missed you every day for six years. It feels so good to hear you say the same thing. It feels so good to have you in his arms again. You pull back, desperate to continue. “I missed how you feel, how you sounded. I missed your scent. I missed your body against mine…” Your hands fall inside his coat, palms softly sliding down his chest, and it feel so good he has to close his eyes. He feels like he’s been deprived of touch for too long. It’s not the case, but your touch is the only thing that makes him feel alive.

“I missed how you touch me…” He can feel your breath against his jaw, not sure when he tilted his head. Your hands now slide to his neck, his face, stroking his cheeks. He lets out a shaky exhale and let’s his own hands rub against your back. This is wrong, but he can’t stop. When he opens his eyes, you’re gazing up at him, eyes wide, mouth parted. Time stands still and then he’s kissing you. Finally. It’s salty again, lips wet from your tears. It rips at his heart, but he supposes this makes it even more bittersweet.

It’s not long before that mantra is back. I want you, I want you, I want you. A moan tears at his throat, an alien sound that he hasn’t made in forever. It’s only for you. He clings to your waist as you move to kiss his earlobe. You’re happy when he gives you the exact reaction you’d been after. He can tell by the way a giggle catches in your throat. He loves that sound. Oh, how he’s missed it. How’s he missed you…

“Please Seokjin, please let me have you,” you beg with a whisper. He’s too weak and too far gone to refuse. He wants to have you too.

Your bedroom is white as well. The bedsheets matching. It seems so sterile, not like your room back at your parent’s house. He’s already out of his coat, you’d dropped that to the floor by the stairs. He lies you on the bed, placing himself over you as the kiss deepens. Your hands grow wild and impatient, but somehow they clash with his. You try to unbutton his shirt the same time he tries to do the same to yours. You try to reach for his mouth the same time he tries to kiss your neck. Nothing is running smoothly, and soon it’s hard to ignore.

This should be perfect, he used to know your body so well… It’s meant to all come back to him in an instant, it’s not like he hasn’t dreamt of your body pressed against his again over the years. In reality, he feels like a fumbling idiot, and soon he realises his body isn’t reacting as he thought it would. He wants you, he really does, but not like this. You’re not his anymore. You’re married. This is a betrayal and he thinks you know it too. Your kisses slow down, your hands fall to your side, and then they’re back again, pushing at his chest.

“Stop, please. I’m sorry, please stop.”

He listens immediately, even more so when he hears you’re crying again, words fluctuating as your voice distorts. He watches over, unsure how to comfort you, in the end leaving you bury your face in your hands as you try to control yourself. “I’m so sorry,” you cry quietly, muffled by your palms, but he can make it out. He reaches with one hand to stroke your hair gently. You have nothing to be sorry about. You slowly peek at him, cheeks tinged with distress and embarrassment.

“I can’t hurt my husband like this. I-I thought if I stopped thinking about him, I would-would—

“Shush,” he interrupts you, the sobs in your chest starting up again. “It’s okay. Don’t be sorry, it’s okay.” Comforting soon comes naturally, like a switch had been flicked, and he slowly kisses the top of your head, one hand now stroking your cheek as the other holds him above you.

“I want you so bad, Seokjin,” you whisper, staring him straight in the eyes, and he believes you. Or course he does, because he wants you too, but fate won’t allow it… He rolls over, his side landing on the mattress as he wraps his arm around your middle, holding you to him. You press in close. “If I had a time machine…”

“Don’t be silly,” he tells you, kissing your temple this time. You reach for his lips, pecking them slowly. He can’t help but steal his own kiss. It’s salty again, your tears back. He knows the taste will haunt him for the rest of his life now.

“I’m sorry I lied to you. I’m sorry you couldn’t have me again.”

There’s nothing he can do to soothe you fully, so he kisses you. Deeply, letting his eyes close. Maybe this classes as a betrayal, especially when you’re still chanting I want you’s between tangled mouths, but to him it’s a goodbye. He thinks you understand the same thing. You both need this. You need to let each other go softly, because the first time had failed. Built on lies and regrets. This time no truths are hidden.

“I miss you,” he murmurs, finally pulling away, needing to make that clear.

You bury your head in his chest, falling sleepy, and he holds you close. “Please stay with me tonight,” you ask. He has to agree. He’s a little selfish, and he wants your last night to stretch a little bit longer. “Tell me again, what our house would’ve looked like.”

Our house. Our. You had never said such a thing when talking about it all those years ago. You really hadn’t wanted to tempt fate back then. Now there wasn’t any fate to tempt, so you could be honest. Your house. His house. He quietly recites what you want to hear, agreeing with himself not to disclose that he now lives in such a dream home. White picket fence, red bricked walls, a slate grey front door.

He stays awake as your breathing evens out, sleep coming for you, despite little sobs still rattling your chest every now and then. He prays you’ll feel better tomorrow, but he knows it will take time. In a way, this is your true ending. Just six years too late. He feels out of place on this bed, able to smell the other man despite you hardly sharing a bed together while he works away. He looks to his left and sees a photo frame on your vanity. Seokjin didn’t know if he truly wanted to know what the other man looked like, but oh well, there was no turning back time now. At least you looked happy in the picture, your eyes alive and bright. That eases his mind. He knows that you love your husband.

He knows you miss the past Seokjin. He’s certain because he realises now that he misses the past you. His mind feels oddly clear, despite holding you like this at the dead or night. It’s the past for a reason, but he had held onto it tightly, through years and years of what ifs and should haves.

Your voice, your face, it was all the same, but there was a difference. You both had aged, maybe not physically, but mentally. You’d grown without one another. You’d had your chance back in high school and it just wasn’t meant to be. It had taken some time to understand that, but it was finally clear now. He didn’t regret coming here tonight. Not when he felt this moment of clarity so strong. Not when he could hold you like this and say goodbye properly.

Your alarm sounds at 5:30 in the morning. Like usual he guesses, and somewhere along the line he’d fallen asleep too, arms still tightly wound around you. You rouse slowly, but once awake you both get up. You’re silent for the most part, unable to even make small talk, not now when there’s nothing left to say. However, you do offer him breakfast. He politely declines, knowing he needs to leave now. It’s finally over.

You stay beside the door as he steps outside into the chilly air. It’s still dark out but he doesn’t mind. He’ll be on a train home in no time. Before he leaves he makes you promise that’ll you open up to your husband when he gets back. You’d been though some trauma no doubt, one he couldn’t begin to understand. You were lonely here on your own too, unhappy. You needed your husband, and you needed to let him in.

Seokjin doesn’t look back when he walks away, knowing it will only make his heart hurt, but he feels you watching him until he’s out of sight. He walks leisurely, despite it being colder than last night. It’s like he needs the silence to keep his head clear, just until he gets used to all this.

Five minutes before he hits the subway it begins to rain. One drop, two drops, not a shower, but a downpour, growing torrential quickly and out of the blue. Out of habit he goes to wipe his face but then stops to look up the sky, closing his eyes as he gets soaked. He lets the drops fall against his lips. Salty kisses. He’ll hold onto that. Not with pain, but with love. He touches his mouth, the sensation of yours still there for now, and then he holds the hand out into the air, palm up, feeling the rain hit it furiously.

More clarity.

When you’d left all those years ago you’d taken a part of him with you. He’d done the same. He’d been carrying a part of you around, unable to escape. Last night you’d returned them to one another.

He was slowly going to grow whole again, and so were you.

It would all be okay. He would no longer miss the past.

#seokjin angst #bts angst #jin angst #bts fanfic #seokjin fanfic #jin fanfic #floralseokjin:writings #fic:epiphany #me: this will be 4k tops #also me: can't stop writing #i also made myself cry for the first time ever so

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tara-l-blackmore · 5 years ago

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Double-Edged

To whom it concerns, I've been lying to you. All along, since day one, no matter who you are, if we’re spoken, I’ve lied to you. I have always lied to you. What's the lie? Easy: I'm a good person. It's the truth. I'm not a good person. I'm not nice. I'm not selfless and altruistic. I'm nothing more than a piece of shit. Anything that stated otherwise was me lying to you. I'm a bad person. I'm not at all what I’ve made you believe. I'm not nice. I'm not good. I'm a mean, bad person. I'm not being a bully to myself: I’m being honest with you. I'm immature and irresponsible, and I'm childish and pathetic. The truth is that I’m a very lonely person during the day. Because I am disabled, it means I’m a housewife. But I can't even do housework, so I’m barely even that. I'm a 35-year-old child. I'm spoilt rotten. I love getting presents. I love being the centre of attention. I love being loved. I'm so lonely that I forget about my age, about how to behave, what it means to be a friend. All I want is to be loved and love back without it being an embarrassment or burden upon anyone. But I am an embarrassing burden. I lose every friend I make, because I barely do the bare minimum of what it takes to be a good friend. I expect people to fawn over me, all while never doing anything of the sort in return. Whatever anyone has said about me is true, especially if they were especially close to me (you know who you are; I’m not wasting time and putting names in, nobody cares). I start out the perfect friend, but the first time I start to show my true self is usually when things begin to fall apart. I forget that nobody wants to know about that side, nobody cares enough about me to want to try, and even when they do, the reward is barely a grain of salt within a bag of poison powder. It's not worth it. I have been offline for most of the past month. I received – and continue to receive – bad news from my doctors, and I’m losing hope. I know people don't hang out with me to be my free therapist, so I’ve been keeping things to myself. I've noticed that, though it's said often, the fact is is that nobody wants to know about my problems. I serve as a sort of advice columnist, and I forget my place. My neediness makes me stupid and blind, and when people show me even a whiff of kindness, I’m ass-over-teakettle from their affection, eager for more and more. I start to lose focus, and I start to use people. A lot. I'm never gross – love in this context is always familial or friendly, never romantic – but especially because I attract a younger audience with my scribbles, I forget that age sometimes isn't just a number, and no teenager or young adult wants to spend their free time listening to some disabled middle-aged-housewife bitch about her problems. So what I’m trying to say is: I’m sorry. I'm sorry I lied to all of you, and I’m sorry I hurt all of you while doing so. In full honesty, that was and never will be my intention. My true intention is to serve as a kind of mentor, an adult friend to ask questions you for some reason cannot ask your parents but need answers to, and urgently. I again refer to the advice columnist part above. It's something I love to do and if I could get paid to do it, I would. But the truth remains, and it simply states that I am not qualified to help people that way. I'm not able to properly give that kind of advice, because I am uneducated and no professional. Hell, I’m not even an amateur. What is truth is the fact that I care about every person in my life who is kind to me. That is real. That is not part of my two-faced life. I truly care, and if I say so, I truly love. But I know that it's not enough, especially once I become comfortable enough to start sharing back. People often ask me to share, and lately, I’ve been refusing. I've discovered a pattern, one easy to see with hindsight, one I perhaps refused to see in that need to feel loved and special. When I do share, and people begin to discover the real me, save the rarest of cases, they all start to freeze me out. I think things are going great, I feel happy to have a new friend… and I lose them, almost right after. Because my shit sucks. But I need someone to listen to me. I can't do this, anymore. I can't be the perfect friend, anymore, the nice, sweet person who will drop everything to help you. I want to be. I yearn to remain as such. But without that ability – the ability to share in return, to ask instead of offer the advice – I cannot remain in that kind of friendship, anymore. I'm very sick. It's getting worse. I don't know how much longer I have. And I know that one of the worst feeling in the world is to be forced to watch someone you care about die – or maybe the whining and complaining will get old, and you can't take the sadness, anymore. I can't guarantee that I’ll be able to be as supportive for you as you are for me, because I’m losing the battle against death and suicide. I certainly don’t want to drag anyone else down with me, let alone make anyone falsely assume – should it happen – that my suicide is anyone else's fault but my own. I just… want to be loved and cared for, and I want to be able to love and care for you in return, the way we both want. If you've outgrown any need for me, and haven't had the chance to say so, I’m telling you that it's okay to go, now. You don't have to keep me as a contact out of some kind of old loyalty to me. I hate that. I don't want that. I want a real friend, not a person who dangles friendship in front of me but never lowers their hand. I'm tired, I'm sick, and I’m lonely. I need help, and I need love. I need a lot of both. And I’m so very tired of chasing after it, of chasing you down, dragging you to me, screaming at you for attention, while you scream back for your freedom. And I’m not saying that nobody already does this. I can think of several people who do not need to know any of this, who do support me back, and who go out of their way to contact me. If you do that, this isn't for you. But this is about a lot of you. So please, if you feel this way, I understand, and you can cut that last tie, okay? I'm not saying these things because I want to be alone. I'm saying them so that, when I need someone to remind me that I'm not alone, someone will actually be there to do it. And so that I can do the very same for them – you. I've been offline and isolated for a while, now, and it's given me a lot of time to soul-search and think over my life's decisions, and what they've amounted to be. One of the first things I became aware of was how unhappy I make people feel, and how terrified I am to trust them as a result. I've spoken to perhaps two people throughout this entire time, and one of them I told to leave me, because of the abuse I’ve been heaping upon them – and how even they don't realise how miserable I make people. I'm aware there are exceptions. But at the same time, this also goes out to those exceptions. I'm giving everyone a “Get out of jail free” card, here, and I mean it. There's a chance I will be going away for a while, soon, and I won't be able to speak to people online for fuck knows how long – a week at least. I don't know how many of you will still be here if/when I come back. So instead of waiting for that to happen while I’m away, I’m inviting you to leave now. As always, I will say nothing, even if we've known each other for a decade. That has already happened, and as promised, because they terminated the friendship, I have not spoken to them or bothered them since. Because when I say it, I mean it. I may be a two-faced asshole, but I have some honour. I have to go to bed, now. I don't know what I will wake up to. No, this doesn't mean I’m killing myself – I’m absolutely not. It also doesn't mean I’m going to delete my entire internet fingerprints, either. I will still write, still interact with readers, and still chat with people who aren't afraid of my bleak sides, or whom have the patience to put up with my bullshit. I can't act, anymore. I can't keep pretending that I have no problems, no hopes and dreams, and no need for comfort and support. I do. I'm desperate for them. And that's why I’m a garbage friend. I'm not ending friendships with anyone. What I am doing is offering you the chance to walk away, and blame me for ending it. It's the only thing I can give you: the satisfaction of knowing you have hurt me deeply, and the ability to claim that I did it to myself, alone. And you wouldn't be wrong. But if I do wake up tomorrow, and some of you are still here… Then talk to me. Prove it. Show me. I'm fine with different kinds of friendships (once-a-month chatters, daily talkers, yearly updates); I just want us both to agree on the level and type of closeness or intimacy we reach (platonic and familial, remember. I'm not interested in romance at all. Zero per cent). I have not been feeling like we are on equal ground with a lot of you, lately. All I want to know is where I stand in your life, so that I know what to expect – and what not to expect. I don't think that's too much to ask. It's late; I need to sleep. I'm done, anyway. I'll probably regret this tomorrow morning, but it's too late to think about it, now. You have the key. Use it or don't – just tell me if I need to lock it behind you. That's all.

#Omoni gets personal #health #who cares

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iliketowrite1996 · 6 years ago

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Suits and Secret Moments part 11 of 13

The series is beginning to wind down a bit! I have at least 2 (maybe 3) parts after this. So, within the enxt two or three weeks this will be done!

Once again, thanks to everyone who has read it and those who have been messaging with me back and forth as I decided what direction to take this story in!I know how it will end and you’ve all helped me bridge the chapters together.

Trigger warning and themes- lies, betrayal, heartbreak, manipulation, violence

There are moments in life where you have to make decisions that could make your life take a completely different route. For example- that day that T’Chaka Udaku himself dame to talk t to your high school class, you abandoned all thoughts of whatever you were originally going to college for in favor of a major that would get you hired at his company.

You hasn’t necessarily planned on having kids. At least not yet. But you found yourself pregnant and you’re patiently awaiting the arrival of your child, a mixture of apprehension and excitement swirling inside of your stomach every time you feel the child move.

You never planned on hurting Erik. In fact you took every precaution to reassure that you didn’t. You and T’Challa cut contact unless you were both hanging out with Erik. You reassured him that even though you did not fall as quickly as he did, you still feel something special with him. You love him and you took every measure to make him feel though.

Your downfall, though… your downfall was not meeting up with Onika, but not telling Erik that you did so.

He makes that evident as you have your first real fight, voices hushed and heated, like a flame: harmless when contained but deadly if not monitored closely.

“ I can’t believe not that you not only met up with my ex, but you didn’t even have the decency to tell me?,” he hisses.

It’s been three weeks since that day. Erik ended up picking Darion up from school, and Onika happened to be on parking lot duty today.

The truth came out and here you are five hours later, Erik confronting you about it. He’s mad but it’s not the mad where he was when he found out that Darion got hit at school and the playground attendant did nothing about it. It’s quiet. Angry. Contained.

He’s holding back his anger, and it’s worse because you’d rather him get it out so you can move on.

“I promised her!”

“You’re committed to me, “ he snaps ,”Not Onika. I should’ve known that Darion’s mother is working at his school and you know that.”

You do know that. In hindsight, maybe it wasn’t for the best to keep that from Erik. You were trying to do the right thing though and you truly thought that you were.

“Erik! I’m sorry,” you take his hand in yours “please! You have to believe that I never would do something to hurt you.”

“That’s the same empty lie T’Challa told you. Isn’t it? Now you’re using it on me,” he deadpans.

And you don’t know if it’s because he’s mad and hurt or if he really sees it that way. Perhaps he really does feel the tables have turned, that he is you and you are T’Challa and he’s going to get hurt.

But you grab your keys, telling him to call you when he wants to actually talk before leaving for your own apartment for the night.

It isn’t until you’re sitting in your hand packed apartment, boxes everywhere as you maneuver through the cardboard box jungle and flop into your bed that the tears stream down your face.

You could call Deena, but she’d confront Erik. Peter would let you vent and if he was a bit older and not consumed with his own drama you’d totally take him up on that. But he’s stressed enough and this doesn’t concern him.

So you call the only other person you can.

“Hello?”

“T’Challa,” your voice cracks.

“Hey, what is wrong? Why are you crying?”

Maybe this is a mistake but you need someone to listen. And maybe you’ll regret this tomorrow but right now, you know he’ll be here for oh. and that’s good enough.

“I need to talk to you.”

There’s a beat, a momentary silence, a pregnant pause before you hear these four words: “I’m on my way”.

So you lean back in your bed, trying not to stress out for the baby’s sake.

T’Challa is on his way, and you just need a friend. You’ve done that for him and he for you.

Because right now, in a surprising turn of events… he’s the only one you can depend on.

What you don’t know is that there’s someone else behind all of this, an individual who has an influential role in all of this and assumes that they will never be figured out.

And when they do… you’ll have all of the pieces to the puzzle.

Because what’s done in the dark can’t be hidden long. It will come to the light.

And when the light shines on it…Everything will be much clearer.

When you open your apartment door, T’Challa finds you clad in one of your old college t-shirts, the fabric stretching out across your pregnant stomach. You're clad in a pair of maternity leggings. Your eyes are red and puffy. You look wore for the wear.

He feels awful when he thinks to himself how beautiful you still look.

‘’What happened,’’ T’Challa questions you, sleeping inside of the apartment, locking and closing the door behind him when he does so.

You pad over to the couch that has yet to be covered in plastic, something you were planning on doing tomorrow.

‘’So… I ran into Onika a few weeks ago.’’

Ah. Onika. She’s quite infamous in the Udaku family for that stunt she pulled half a decade ago- leaving N’Jadaka all alone to raise Drion by himself, no call or text or even an email since. T'Challa never really liked her, never really liked the way she always seemed flighty. It was clear that N’Jadaka wanted a clean start after her, because she really did him wrong. That was the first time he’d ever been in love. And T’Challa has never seen his cousin so happy as he was when he was with Onika.

He'd’ never seen him so broken. Not since his mother passed away. When Onika left him behind, N’Jadaka kept asking himself the same questions: What did he do wrong?, Why would she do that?, and would she ever come back?

That’s the same thing that he asked himself when he lost you, but he already knows that he did wrong and why you stopped speaking to him and left Wakanda Inc.: because he messed up the good thing that he had for something that seemed like an eas replacement, and he has to deal with it now.

This is his redemption, though. You trusted him enough to call him over to talk. That’s progress. No?

‘’How did that happen?’’

‘’She works at Darion’s school,’’ you settle into the couch cushions, waving your hand, ‘’That’s not why I asked you to come here, though.’’

‘’Let me guess: you told N’Jadaka and he was less than thrilled.’’

Of course he was. N’Jadaka has made it his mission in life to forget Onika, removing all traces of her. Whatever she left behind, he destroyed or got rid of. Gone were pictures of the love of his life, the mother of his child. He cleaned his apartment and sheets until her scent was no longer presence, deleted all social media to avoid having to see her, purposely acted as if he had no idea who the neighbors were talking about if they asked about her.

So now, for her to walk into his life like it’s a nice sunny day in a park, five and a half years later… he’s not feeling it. He’s really, really not. T’Challa knows why. Because he felt that way when Nakia did the same thing to him, applying to Wakanda Inc. shortly before T’Chaka left the company to his son.

So, it’s with narrowed eyes and suspicion creeping into every syllable the way doubt is creeping into your own mind that he asks, ‘’Did you do this to hurt him?’’

‘’What?!’’

‘’I know you. He’s committed to you. You’re just as scared of commitment as I was. So now, when you see someone who really wants to love you and raise a family and be with you and treat you like his equal… it terrifies you.’’

The silence is loud as his words hang in the air, like a chandelier ready to fall on its victim- beautiful and nice to look at, but heavy and dangerous if ill-timed.

It’s beautiful that T’Challa knows you so well, still.

It’s heavy that he knows exactly what you’re feeling, before you even know it yourself.

‘’I wouldn’t do anything to hurt him,’’ you snap, ‘’I’m not her.’’

T'Challa visibly relaxes then,settling back against he golden pillow that adorns your cream-colored couch, ‘’Good. Because he’s head over heels for you.’’

‘’I love him too,’’ you reply, ‘’And I think I’m in love with him.’’

T’Challa ignores the way his heart skips a beat, pushing forward with his questions and statements.

‘’So what made you hold onto that secret?’’

‘’Onika asked me to. She told me she wanted to see Darion without Erik being involved or something,’’you rub your eyes, tiredness beginning to make you feel a bit fuzzy, the truth coming out.

‘’So…,’’ T’Challa slips his feet onto your coffee table, ‘’You know that's probably why he was mad right? Because he's trying to protect Darion. He doesn't want him to find out about Onika and her ditch him again,’’

You hadn’t really thought about that. At least not fully.

‘’And then you also didn’t tell him because you’re worried if he knew that Onika was in a place where he could easily talk to her that he will go for her again, to rebuild their ‘love story’. Tell me that I’m wrong,’’ T’Challa raises an eyebrow at you.

There it is- he found the truth that was hidden down inside of you, underneath the fears that and walls that Erik had tried so hard to crush and dismantle in pursuit of your heart.

‘’He still loves her, though! He wouldn’t care so much about this if he didn’t have some strong feelings! I heard us argue, but I Heard passion more than anything. He still cares! He always will. He falls so fast, T’Challa. She was his first love and the mother of his child. I don’t know how to compete with hat.’’

T’Challa sighs then, silently kicking himself for being part of the reason that yo y believed that N’Jadaka would dare betray you.

‘’You're not her, no. But N’Jadaka… he doesn’t love based off of proximity. He can’t. In fact, he wouldn’t be with a woman if he didn’t think that they’d be good to Darion and treat him ell. He sees that you do. He practically gushed about it at the last family dinner night. It was sickening.’’

T’Challa’s light tone causes a giggle to bubble up inside of you, and it spills out into the air before you can contain it.

Bast.

He’s missed that sound so much. ‘’He loves you,’’ T’Challa continues, because he has no time to fall in love with you all over again and drive a bigger wedge between him and N’akada than there was when he confessed that he couldn’t stand Onika, ‘’Look, you may question me. I do not lie about this, though. I promise, N’Jadaka loves you so much. I know for a fact. You did not see the way that he was looking at you at dinner last month. I know my cousin. He’s found a good thing, and he wouldn’t dare let you go. Not unless you pushed him away or walked away.’’J

That makes you giddy and upset all at the same time because now you have absolutely no choice but to confront your fear: commitment.

He wants it and you want it. Gone is any excuse you have to run from it. You know Erik is what is best for you, so why can’t you just let it be for ronce?’’

‘’Sometimes, ‘’T’Challa tells you, taking your hand in his, ‘’You gotta look at all the facts and still dive right in. Don’t… don’t make my mistake. Don’t let someone who you love and who treats you right go and hope that you find someone else that you can grow with. Please. Take a chance.’’

‘’Take a chance’’.

Those are the same words that he would have whispered to you two months ago if you’d taken him back, if you’d even given him the time of day.

Four months ago, he definitely would’ve tried to sleep with you, tried to lure you away from Erik. He would’ve promised you a night of passion in exchange for you dumping Erik, and he’s ashamed to even think of it now. He would've made empty promises, knowing how fickle he used to be, how waiving his mind still is sometimes.

Now, though, he settles for passing you tissues and comforting you, pulling the blanket over you when you fall asleep, after firm instruction to tell him to just spend the night, the roads being too slippery for him to try to travel tonight.

Good intentions often lead to bad confrontations, though. T’Challa knows this.

Like when Erik tried to introduce you two, right? It opened up some pettiness and irritation.

Him being there for you opened up the door to a possibly beautiful friendship between the two of you…

But it also opens the door to allegations and to whispers and to theories and to jumping to conclusions.

So when Erik opens the door the next day to find you and his cousin asleep on the same couch… he sees red.

Because had it been any body but T’Challa with anybody but you, it’d been fine. If it had been T’Challa with anyone else but you, or vice versa, he would’ve been fine.

But this is T’Challa and it’s you and he knows your history and the feelings and emotions that don’t just go away.

He knows.

He’s been trying to push those same thoughts and feelings about a certain brown-haired, cinnamon-skinned beauty for five and a half years now.

There’s no surprise when he starts screaming at you too, then, is there? No shock coursing through you when his fist connects with T’Challa’s, when you he to yell for him to stop. When he calms down because he can't see it’s stressing you out and, well, you’re carrying his baby (maybe?) he sits at the kitchen table, eyes peering at T’Challa through his gold-rimmed glasses as the other man nurses a pack of frozen peas that you'd yet to clean out of your freezer.

‘’Someone start talking. Now,’’ Erik seethes, running hand through his short dreads,’’ ‘Cause this don’t look good for either one of you right now. Sneaking around and spending the night and I got to find it after taking my kid to his grandpa’s place.’’

‘’N’Jadaka, nothing happened!,’’ you slowly make your way to his, gagging his reaction to your approaching figure carefully, ‘’I promise.’’

‘’That sure ain’t what it look like!’’

‘’Looks can be deceiving, cousin.’’

‘’Man, T, don't even go there. I’ve been dealing with you acting all superior and perfect and like you can do no wrong, always competing with me and provoking jealousy your whole life, everyone thinks you’re the good guy and all you ever did was hurt girls after Nakia left you, breaking one heart after the other.’’

‘’You were the same way, N’Jadaka. Or need I remind you about the woman you met before Onika?,’’ T’Challa spits, fighting fire with fire, ‘’Don't start this fight, N’Jadka. I will not have it.’’

‘’I will not have it,’’ you place the emphasis on ‘I’, ‘’This is my apartment. Now, Erik. nothing happened. He came over because I called him, yes. But we spent so much of the night figuring out how to save my relationship with you.’’

‘’Yeah>?,’’ he deadpans, obviously not impressed, ‘’Why's that?’’

‘’Because…,’’ you take a deep breath, ‘’I’m in love with you.’’

He blinks once, twice, again, fourth time. For the first time in the nearly two years that you've known him (probably a shorter amount of time, but it feels like it’s been awhile) , Erik is speechless.

‘’Yeah?’’

‘’Yeah,’’ you nod, feeling a weight lifting off of your shoulders then.

You’re truly in love with him. It took this and almost losing him to see it, but it’s the truth

If you’re gonna face your fears, you might as well do it for the right one.

T’Challa can’t understand what the difference between ‘I love you’’ and ‘’I’m in love with you’’ is,but he knows that something special is happening to you two. There’s an energy of sorts shifting in between the two of you, something that he can’t quite put his finger on, one that he wishes he could take and pocket for himself.

He’s lost you. He'll never get you back. Not now. Not unless there’s some change of events.

But you’re happy and N'Jadaka is happy. So, yeah. Maybe he doesn’t want that change of events.

So N’Jadaka apologizes and T’Challa forgives him and slips out of the apartment as you and Erik embrace, a cheesy and romantic way to start your morning and to end a fight that could have been a lot worse had T’Challa not intervened.

Wow. He really did dive a woman he still loves back into the arms of his cousin. On purpose. Something that T’Challa is well aware he never would’ve done this time last year.

That shows growth.

More importantly, though, T’Challa did it because he loves you.

Sometimes love doesn't look like ending up with someone. It looks like dog what is best for them and for their heart.

Maybe one day he won’t have to keep telling himself that.

The door close behind him, and he realizes, that, yes, he did the right thing.

Maybe one day he’ll wholeheartedly agree with that and not regret his decision.

Yeah.

Maybe someday.

DISCLAIMER- I OWN NO MARVEL CHARACTERS, THEY BELONG TO THEIR RIGHTFUL OWNERS

@ashanti-notthesinger @destinio1 @afraiddreamingandloving @starsshines-blog @airis-paris14 @syreanne @chaneajoyyy @90sinspiredgirl @shemiahsmelanin @zillmonger @skysynclair19 @bidibidibombaclaat @marvelpotterlove @constantlycravingtheunknown @imaginewhoever @wakanda-inspired

#au erik stevens #erik stevens x reader #erik stevens imagine #black panther x you #black panther imagine #black panther imagine series #black panther imagines #tchalla x reader #reader insert #t'challa x reader #reader #black panther reader insert #reader insert imagines #reader insert imagine #imagines #imagine

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xadial · 7 years ago

Text

On Lance’s Vlog

so. that happened.

i know a lot of people are feeling cheated on this. i know i was looking forward to some actual character development, but we got what we got and i am so ready to analyse this.

i usually keep my mouth shut about this stuff but what i saw was actually interesting and contradicts what others are saying. i was... amused, more than anything? if you forget about the potential of the blog and the multitude of things that would have been better to talk about (lance’s!!! family!!!!) there was some interesting stuff i picked up on.

disclaimer: i am tired and wrote this in three hours so it’s only roughly edited, slightly incoherent and probably missing bits.

bear in mind this is just my interpretation and while i would be okay with a\\urance i am going to be quite negative about it here, not because klance owns my soul (i mean it does) but because the video is literally 80% a\\ura and it’s impossible to avoid. i will try my best to be impartial and critical.

okay. let’s do this. (and yes i have an hour’s worth of english that’s due tomorrow that i’m not doing in favour of this hellhole of a fandom.)

for all of you saying ‘a\\urance confirmed’ – this statement is made by the majority of you because a\\ura is literally all he talked about for half the video. thing is, we know already that he has a crush on a\\ura. we knew this very clearly from the very first time we saw them interact. we haven’t learned anything new on this subject and there’s been no real development on it through this vlog. (apart from maybe the fact that the crush is still there when we thought he’d grown out of flirting with her or the crush had mostly worn off. character development? never heard of her)

what really interested me is that the clips shown where he was ‘flirting’ with her were the ones that made it very, very obvious she’s not interested.

the one time she reacted like she didn’t want to throw him off a cliff was in that space mall episode (2x07) when he offers to buy her something shiny and she says (this is paraphrased okay) ‘i’d love something shiny’. so why didn’t they include that?

the most obvious answer: to make it very, very clear a\\ura is not interested in him.

the thing that bugged me when i first started watching the show, that i couldn’t put into words until recently, was this – the trope where a guy flirts with a girl who’s not interested, and she keeps declining him and he keeps pushing until he ‘wins’ and the girl says yes. it’s unhealthy as hell and it completely put me off a\\urance, which completely fit this, until recently when lance started actually treating her as a person. or so i thought. grr.

the other explanation for the clips with allura, that i’m far less convinced about, is that it could be done for humour, but this would be in incredibly bad taste, invalidate a\\ura as a charater and all of lance’s development and honestly? it’s not fitting with how the show has treated their female characters at all. (that being said consistency and character development isn’t this shows strongest point if this vlog was anything to go by. yes i am still salty about this.)

for a\\urance to be confirmed more the vlog would have to include allura showing interest, to be blunt. the thing is, there are two people in a relationship, not one. lance likes her, we got that loud and clear from the start. but a\\ura is not interested. a relationship cannot happen when only one person is interested. there are scenes that could be interpreted as romantic between them (at a push but still) and none. of. these. were. included. in. the. vlog. why? to emphasise he’s chasing a dead end.

this video was literally showing lance being a deluded fool completely failing at anything and everything to do with flirting with girls. the only time he didn’t get completely wrecked in this video was with plaxum and that was all of three seconds of the video and is never going to happen. otherwise it shows he’s completely clueless that what he’s doing isn’t working (or it’s a front/facade – more on that later). again, space mall episode, 2x07, he actually makes a couple of girls blush – why not include that instead of him getting slayed by nyma?

because they want to emphasise how utterly miserably he’s failing to live up to his ‘lover boy lance’ name.

my other main point was this one small thing: ‘pretty’. lance says this:

yeah she’s [a\\ura] great

i mean she probably thinks i'm great and strong and pretty--

—i mean not pretty, pretty, i mean,, ha---

han--*eternal sigh* is there –

is there– computer is there a delete button on here?

lance. you wear face masks and hair towels. and you’re concerned about your masculinity?

to put it plainly this video was painfully painfully straight. and the fact that the vlog was basically all about how much lance loves women was kinda intriguing for me? add this thing at the end where he’s afraid to call himself pretty and tries to delete the fact he ever called himself that and i’m kinda... huh.

either the show has made him into this caricature of lover boy lance and that’s literally the only thing he’ll ever be or he’s desperately in denial.

let me explain:

lance is good at putting up masks. he’s good at acting all brash with a shitload of bravado when he’s feeling insecure. and it’s kinda logical that the more insecure he feels the more and more bravado appears.

i know that some of this is literally just the style of animation but his expressions in this? half of them are so over-exaggerated and fake. in animation exaggeration in expressions is used to convey emotion but to have this much in such a short clip is strange to me.

at the start he outright lies to make himself look cool – ‘you can call me sharpshooter, it’s what my friends call me’.

no, lance, it’s what you want your friends to call you, even though they never have.

it sets the tone of the whole thing up as an exaggeration or straight up lie. this tone is continued throughout and it basically means that anything he says you have to take with a grain of salt – which, as we see, is completely and utterly backed up by the aforementioned utter failure to flirt with girls, especially a\\ura. this whole thing is just fake fake fake.

i mentioned insecurities – if you haven’t noticed lance is insecure by now i’d be a little surprised. in the space prison he talks to lyca about being the seventh wheel (2x10). he wanted to be black paladin solely to give himself some feeling that he was useful to the team (3x01). and then there��s the famed ‘bedroom scene’ (3x06) where he does all that finger counting and basically says he’s useless to the team.

he never lets this slip to any of his team, he covers it up by trying to appear loud and arrogant. (he does confide in keith but that’s not the point of this)

now, what’s the main reason for bending the truth and lying? insecurities.

if we say that he covers his insecurities with bravado

and this is shown through exaggerated behaviour and expressions...

and the vlog had a hell load of exaggerated expressions and outright obvious lies...

he’s hiding something.

and what was he exaggerating? his love for girls. his sexuality.

exaggeration to cover up his insecurities, perhaps?

his insecurity about his sexuality?

could it be he’s in denial about his sexuality, then?

(klance bonus - it’s a popular therory keith developed a crush on lance after the bonding moment(tm) and lance has had a crush on keith since the garrison, just mistook the feelings for rivalry. now if this video is just one whole load of denial it would fit in very well with the coming to terms with his sexuality thing. it’s just so blatant to me there’s something off about this video and this is how i interpreted it. why are you so concerned with looking completely straight, lance?)

anyway, i’ll leave it up to you. to me lance is bi and i would bet good money he will be confirmed canonically bi. strangely enough this vlog has only reaffirmed this in my mind.

okay so maybe the entire point of this was to back up the lance is bi argument. i’ll just leave you with this:

fingerguns.

#if this is on any tags it's not meant to be on please tell me!! i'll censor it i'm just tired and might have missed some things #i'm so sorry i really don't hate a\\urance at all it's just so prevalent in the vlog #ha #vld meta #lance vlog meta #vld analysis #lance vlog analysis #lance vld #lance vlog #sorry for the tags i have no idea what to put #allurance critical #lance is bi #dreamworks is a mess #by the way i'm fucked with that homework murder me plz #klance #kinda

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fearofaherobrine · 7 years ago

Text

Roleplay Server Log #242

“Dn vs Everyone”

[Dn] Comes up the path and idly kicks a spider out of the way - You came out here to play with a cat?

[Doc] It's no business of yours!

[Lie] Feels like she should don CP's armor again-

[CN] Comes out onto his balcony- DN! LOOK! I HAVE MY OWN ROOM!

[Herabrine] Fuck off or I'll drown you

[Dn] Gives the treehouse a calculating look and nods a little bit-

[Doc] Curls up a little-

[TLOT] Snarls at him- Get lost.

[Lie] - Wish we had that sword CP's NOTCH had right now...

[Dn] You really think a sword would get rid of me?

[Notch] Growls at Dn.

[Dn] Flicks his eyes over Markus and then stares at him. - You're either a bold or a foolish player to be wearing a NOTCH skin.

[Notch] It's my skin. You're the copy. I'm the original.

[Dn] Hisses. - Liar.

[Stevie] Removes his hand from CP to start moving between Notch and DN-

[Lie] - It isn't a lie

[TLOT] It's true. He is the Supreme NOTCH.

[Dn] Pfft. Then you should show me your strength. If you claim such a lofty title.

[Notch] Swallows thickly-

[Lie] - Gifted to him by those far more peaceful and welcome than you

[Doc] He doesn't have to prove anything to you, and neither do I. - thumps hir tail angrily-

[Dn] Whatever. He's just another weak player putting on airs.

[Stevie] - No he's not!

[Herabrine] No one cares what you think, you ice-coated prick.

[Dn] Did you say something to me? Little Steve?

[Stevie] Growls, his body subtly shifting into a fighting mode he's used before-

[Dn] Sweeps his hand down and makes an icy blade from his palm. - Don't bother people above your station. Common spawn.

[Stevie] - That really all you got?

[Dn] It's all I need. - raises his blade-

[Stevie] Quickly spawns his sword and darts forwards, sweeping at DN's chest-

[Dn] Parrys him artfully and toys with him a bit-

[Stevie] Deadpans at the extra and unnecessary movements-

[Dn] Circles around him, jabbing playfully at him and making the ground slippery-

[Stevie] Watches the distance between him and DN carefully, knowing the length of his reach-

[Dn] Pokes and parries, just trying to give Stevie a bunch of little cuts and piss him off.

[Stevie] Spots the opening he's looking for and spins, not leaving his spot, shattering DN's blade within the first part of the spin and the end dragging his blade through the NOTCH's chest-

[Dn] Spins away with a gutteral groan, clutching at the ripping wound. He falls to the ground with just a tiny bit of heart and bleeds out-

- /DarkNOTCH was killed by player Stevie/ -

[Stevie] Huffs a bit-

[Notch] at Stevie- You killed a bad NOTCH, I hate to say it, but Cp would be really proud of you.

[Doc] Grumbles- I wish he'd stay dead.

[Stevie] - Only reason I could is from all the fighting I've done with my brother

[Steve] Practice is practice. And you know what you learned from it has served you well.

[Notch] Probably saved your life a few times over...

[Stevie] - Oh absolutely

[Notch] Rubs the tiny kitten and whispers- I love you, and your brother does too.

[CP] Mews a little in his sleep-

[Lie] - Here, I'll take him back, should probably get a bit of sleep myself

[Notch] reluctantly passes Cp over, and gives a little yawn of his own. - I wonder where Flux is? She should know about this too.

[Stevie] Dots of blood are showing up on him from where DN poked at him-

[Lie] - You okay there Stevie?

[Stevie] - This is nothing, I'll be fine

[Lie] - If you're sure... Then I'm going to bed with this little one

[CP] Tiny purrs-

[Doc] Pulls out a potion and holds it out to Stevie between two claws-

[Stevie] - Really I'm fine, it's just a few little pokes, no need to waste one on me

[Doc] There's no waste. I like making them.

[TLOT] Come on Stevie, we'll walk you home.

[Notch] I think I'm going to bed too. Good night guys.

[Stevie] - Thanks, to both of you- He takes the potion and chugs it quickly out of habit

[Steve] Anything for a brother. - Pats Stevie on the shoulder.

[Flux] Is pacing around in Notch's house, her body not stable and her edges being very translucent and misty-

[Notch] Comes inside to find her- Flux? You look a bit unstable.

[TLOT] Walks beside Stevie- What's on your mind?

[Flux] - This is the second time...

[Stevie] - Not much really, recently won a bet with Alexis, but only barely

[Steve] What did you win?

[Doc] Gets between them and a spider and growls at it so it skitters away-

[Notch] It's not your fault Flux, please don't blame yourself.

[Stevie] - Not having to clean my side of the house, and got her to allow me to restrain her a little

[Flux] - This is the second time that bastard has deleted CP and I have been able to do nothing!

[TLOT] Kinky. Glad to see you guys are spicing up the relationship a bit. Just make sure you're doing it for want and not for guilt.

[Stevie] Blushes a little- Yeah...

[Notch] He didn't tell you he was going. Would you really have been able to help? It sounds like what was done to him this time was totally unlike anything this NOTCH has tried before.

[Doc] Visit Lie okay? Stay nearby. She needs support, and likely Cp will too. He may respawn in a weakened state.

[Flux] - Still, both of them were so very important to their original father! And to watch one of them be deleted, and now having to go through this! I have failed at protecting those most important to him...

[Notch] Looks down, unsure what to say.

[Doc] If Alexis ia still up, you should telll her what happened too.

[[Stevie] - Yeah, I will. And we currently have an excess of meat from the bet so I'll probably take some of it to Lie

[Flux] - I just don't know why I even exist anymore if I cannot perform that one simple duty...

[Notch] Flux... you don't have to exist for a duty. It's okay to just be.

[TLOT] Thank you Stevie.

[Doc] Waves good night-

[Flux] - But server's exist for a reason...

[Notch] Servers exist to make a place for life to flourish. Sometimes the players will stumble and fall no matter how closely you watch them.

[Stevie] Waves good night as well before entering his house-

[Flux] Has gone quiet, but her body is beginning to solidify again-

[Notch] Opens his arms wordlessly-

[Flux] Steps into them, where her body makes contact with him she becomes completely solid-

[Notch] Everything will work out Flux. And I'll be here for you every step of the way.

[Flux] - Thank you

[Lie] It's afternoon when Lie pushes open the door to the bar with an insistently mewing kitten in her arms- Hey Sam? Got any meat on hand?

[Sam] Um... sure. Did I miss something? - Starts taking out steaks and chops- How do you want them prepared?

[Lie] - CP... Was deleted by his NOTCH... He's rebuilding his body... And any way that's easy to get off the bone for him

[Sam] Makes a grave face, even for a skull- Then I am glad he survived in any fashion at all. I'll chop up some ham for him-

[Lie] - Thank you- She sits at the bar and sets CP on the counter-

[CP] Mews a little and sniffs the surface, smelling that food had been there before-

[Sam] Is already filling a bowl and cutting more, he scoots it over to her- How long do you think he'll be like this?

[Lie] - Well he was a spawn egg for about a day and a half or so... So hopefully not too long...

[CP] Tries to crawl into the bowl as he's eating-

[Sam] Raises his eyeridges at Cp. - Should I go make more?

[Lie] - Probably, he's eating like there's no tomorrow

[Sam] Goes to get more and lays serveral full bowls of pork chops on the counter before furiously chopping. - Perhaps you should see the Doctor about this?

[Lie] - They already know, I'll go see them about food once CP falls asleep

[Sam] I take it he's just gorging himself and passing out?

[Lie] - Yeah, but he's adorable while doing it

[Sam] Smiles softly. - Just like a cat.

[Gk] Walks in with a solem expression and starts at the sight of Lie. - Lie? Did you get another kitten from Alexsezia?

[Lie] - No that's CP, his spawn egg hatched

[CP] Is having a bit of difficulty climbing out of the bowl to get to the next one-

[GK] He's a KITTEN?!

[Lie] - Yup, a very hungry one

[Gk] Holy fuck. So... please tell me this isn't permenant.

[Lie] - No, Doc says he'll get bigger soon as he gains more pixels

[Gk] Thank goodness...

[CP] Falls out of the bowl-

[Lie] - Careful!

[Sam] Moves to scoop him up and place him before the next bowl. - It's okay, it's not like he can scratch me.

[CP] Eagerly bats towards the meat-

[Lie] - So anything new over by your place GK?

[Gk] Endrea's just all tied up in knots with everything that's going on. She can't hide from the kids how stressed out she is.

[Lie] - She was of great help though when I had to go over to CP's server to talk with his generals

[gem] -come through the door with eddy and Edward on her shoulders-

[Gk] Hey Gem...

[Sam] Waves merrily-

[gem] what happened gk you seem sad? -waves at sam-

[Gk] Cp lost a fight with his NOTCH - Gestures at the kitten- This is all we have left.

[Lie] - It's better than it was

[gem] that notch should die

[Lie] - Agreed, but we're not even sure how he managed to delete CP

[gem] well if you do I am willing to help stop them because I don't like the sound of them.

[Gk] Same, but we don't even know where to start. Cp has thrown whole armies at him and nothing-

[CP] Little mew as he bites into a chunk

[Lie] Gives CP a little pet-

[gem] if that notch has a weapon that can delete people could we steal it and use it on him?

[Gk] Who knows?

[Lie] - I doubt he'd let that weapon out of his sight. We do know it's a sword though

[Gk] I wonder how he got it in the first place?

[gem] so if we could long range chop the arm out that is holding that sword we could take it.

[Lie] - Maybe this one specializes in coding? It's been trying to delete CP for a very long time... And somewhat succeeded the first time

[gem] -tries to pet cp-

[Gk] Could we trick him onto a locked server and then delete the seed?

[Lie] - That didn't work for TLOT's NOTCH... So who knows

[CP] Ignores Gem's pets as he's eating-

[Gk] Do you think that bitch Insanity has anything to do with this?

[Lie] - I doubt it, she protected CP from the NOTCH and she wants CP back, so why would she encourage his deletion?

[Gk] If she can't have him nobody can? We know she interfered when Flux tried to save him-

[Lie] - True

[CP] Mews as he digs his nose into the chunks-

[Gk] Pulls out a couple of cookies and offers them to Eddy and Edward. He was obviously drowning his sorrows in chocolate and sugar at Sweet Alex's house-

[Sam] Don't forget to come up for air!

[eddy and Edward] -are saying thank you in ender while now noming on the cookies-

[CP] Pulls out a piece that Sam missed, it's still pretty big-

[Lie] - CP...

[Sam] That's a bit much. Have a small piece, I'll cut that up -Tries to gently take the chunk from the kitten-

[CP] Growls and tugs on the piece-

[Lie] - He did that with Notch last night

[Sam] It's adorable- Gets it away from him and cuts it smaller before passing it back.

[CP] Pounces on it-

[Liz] *noses way in, crunching a shard on the way

[Gk] Hey Liz. Are you.. eating a rock?

[Sam] puts hir hands on the bar to push up and see Liz over it- Ummmmm

[Lie] Sneaks one of the pieces of CP's meat for herself-

[eddy and Edward] -climb down and sits together on the bar table-

[Sam] Speaks and gestures- Does anyone want food or drink?

[Lie] - Yeah, might as well eat while I'm here

[gem] sure

[Liz] mhmm, eating mommas shiny gems

[Liz] Want try? *pops a shard out and offers

[Gk] Is she... okay with that Liz? Um, I think I'll pass. My teeth aren't that strong - He grins, showing his triangular choppers-

[Liz] i think so? We have so many.... *crunches shard

-Liz looks around and tries to climb into counter. Shi too big though-

[eddy and Edward] -keep out of liz's way-

[Sam] Already has the meat out and starts slicing it and making a very large ring sandwich with a bit of everything.

CP] Takes interest in the ring of meat-

[Lie] - Oh no, stick to your bowls

[Sam] Makes a show of putting veggies on it too-

[CP] Still wants the meat-

[Lie] Pulls him over to his bowls- Stay over here

[Gk] At least he's small enough that it's easy to move him away from stuff.

[Lie] - Yeah... Can't wait to see what he gets into when he gets bigger...

[gem] he is going to be a trouble maker

[Sam] Flicks hir gaze at the rows of bottles and thinks about Cp weaving in and out of them-

[Gk] At Liz- You should probably get down....

[Liz] - blep-

[Lie] Watches as CP crawls into another bowl to eat-

[Gk] Where's he putting it all? He must have eaten four-five times his own weight easily already.

[Lie] - He did this last night too

[Sam] Finishes with the sandwich and sets out plates before slicing it up and making a tub of mustard with touchie syrup-

[Lie] - Thanks Sam, it looks good!

[gem] thank you sam i just can't wait to dig in

[Sam] Makes a welcoming gesture- It was fun cooking for the coronation, but it's nice to just rattle around my little kitchen where it's quiet.

[Lie] - Yes, but I wouldn't have asked anybody else to make food for the coronation

[Sam] You are too kind.

[CP] Suddenly gives a little yawn-

[Herabrine] Runs by outside the window and cannonballs into the bay. - Hey Aqua!?

[Aqua] Is surprised and makes a trilling noise at her-

[Herabrine] Shapeshifts and hops over the dragon before falling back down into the water with a heavy 'plunk'

[Sky] -pokes head in, he shirtless, look at them scars - is Liz in here? I saw hir go this way.

[Gk] Points at hir-

[Sam] Points to Skys chest with a questioning face.

[Gk] Did it get hot out there again?

[Aqua] Follows Hera and blows a few bubbles at her-

[gem] i am glad aqua is have a good time in the ocean

[Sky] Shi stole my shirt and ran.

[Liz] *smile and crunch

[Gk] Did you eat Sky's shirt Liz?

[Liz] No! Shirt tastes funny. Liked the feel though!

[Sky]-soft embarrassed huff as he enters fully-

[Herabrine] Happy splashing and frolicking with Aqua-

[eddy and Edward] -wave at sky-

[Lie] - Well, looks like somebodies in for another few hours of sleep

[CP] Is curling up in his food-

[Sam] Little huff of air like a chuckle-

[Lie] Picks him up and cuddles him near her chest-

- /Player DarkNotch was killed by MasterHerobrine/ -

[Gk] Pfft, someone's getting an early start.

[Lie] - Stevie got him last night

[gem] i keep seeing him die why are so many killing him?

[Gk] He's really trying to piss off as many people as he can. He's a prick and he's making Doc even crazier then they nomally are-

[Lie] - He's an ass

[gem] -is clearly mad about dn- they then need to stop being an ass

[Sky] How much of a dick? Should i give mix a heads up? She doesn't handle pricks too well.

[Lie] - I think I'm going to run over to Doc's place and see if I can't get another meat cube or two- Grabs a couple of sandwiches and quickly scarfs them down

[Gk] Go ahead Sky. He's just mean and unreasonable. He acts like we're all just messing up the game.

[Sky] Will do when i get home..

-Liz cronch-

[Lie] Finishes her food- Thanks for the food Sam! I'll stop by later with some veggies to restock for you!

[TLOT] Over the chat- Hey Mix? Just letting you know I'm ready to go talk to the raptors again whenever you're availible for translating.

[Steve] Also Dn and Mb are having a fist-fist in our yard if anyone wants to watch.

[Lie] - I'm sure if CP were normal he'd join in

[Gk] Unhappy sigh-

[gem] i kind of want to see that

- /Player DarkNotch drowned/ -

[TLOT] I think they're not stopping anytime soon despite that.

- /Player MasterHerobrine fell from a high place/ -

[Mix] - over chat- Im ready when you are too. Been rounding up light feet.

[TLOT] Are we taking them over to stay Mix? Or just visit?

- /Player DarkNOTCH suffocated/ -

[gem] -takes eddy and Edward and goes over to the fight they are now flying over it-

[Dn] Is choking Mb while Mb stabs his stomach repeatedly-

[Celine] Is flapping around being generally squeaky and upset.

[Lie] Is walking towards the castle and going around the fight-

[Mix] Why are they dying so much? Also i plan to have a few visit, itd be good for them

[gem] -lands on a tree next to the fight-

[TLOT] Because one is an unforgivable jackass and the other likes to fight.

[Mix] Ah.

[Crim] - nudges open a door, slinking outside -

[TLOT] At your leisure then

[gem] -throws a planet at dn's head-

[Steve] Notices - Hey Crim.

[Liz] - blep-

[Dn] Is impacted by the deceptively small and infintely dense object and slams into the ground

[Mb] Uses the opportunity to punch his head repeatedly-

[Crim] - scuttles over to stand beside Steve - They play no good.

[Dn] Kicks Mb in the crotch and the two roll in the dirt-

[gem] -giggles at dn failing-

[Steve] Well they hate one another. And pretty much everyone hates DN, he's a jerk.

- /DarkNOTCH was killed by player MasterHerobrine/ -

[Mb] Gets up and braces himself for Dn to come running out again- Fight me some more you fucking coward!

[gem] mb should i throw more planets?

[Dn] Comes roaring out a side door with a pair of ice blades-

[Crim] - snorts - Should bites him?

[Lie] Comes up next to TLOT and Steve- Enjoying the fireworks?

[Steve] You'll have to catch him first.

[TLOT] Well enough. I know Doc is hiding because of this dipshit. I'm rather glad that Mb wants to kick his ass over and over again.

[Crim] - hunkers down and watches, slowly creeping cat-like toward them -

-liz bleps hir way over to watch the fight -

[Dn] Is weaving and stabbing as Mb slashes at him with an axe-

[Lie] Notices Crim- Crim no! Stay oer here

[gem] -talking to no one in general- why ice swords is ice things the best he has because i can guaranty my room is colder then he can put out.

[Crim] - is totally concentrated on the two others. He opens his mouth, little drops of purple drip off his two fangs -

[Dn] Punches Mb and freezes his arm where the impact landed.

[Mb] Staggers back with his right arm frozen in front of him-

[Dn] Weakling glitch.

[gem] that seem like a good temperature for me

[Crim] - sneaks as close as he dares, his head is following DN like a snake -

[Dn] Looks down- Get away from me you little freak.

[TLOT] I wouldn't talk to him like that....

[Crim] - hisses and lundges out, sinking his fangs into DN's boot. Almost as fast, he lets go and scurries away.

[Mb] Stumbled into the water and is using the warm bay to thaw.

[Dn] You little worm! Arrrgh! - He shivers uncontrollably and then collapses-

- /DarkNOTCH was killed by playerCrim/-

[Celine] Bounces around the shore squeaking unhappily-

[Mb] I'll be fine. Stop that.

[TLOT] That was impressive.

[Crim] - scuttles back over to Steve and hides behind him - Me bites good.

[Steve] Yeah! Holy shit. - Pats Crim cautiously-

[Crim] - rumble purs -

[Lie] Smiles at Crim- Good job Crim, just be careful, okay?

[Crim] - nods - Me go hunt many legs or no bites again.

-There's the sound of slamming doors inside the castle-

[TLOT] Ah. I see someone has decided to take the hint, for now.

[Steve] Many legs?

[Crim] - sticks out all his legs funny and makes clicking sounds like a spider -

[Steve] OH! Spiders! Be careful, okay?

[Crim] - nods - Many leg's eyes make bite hurt. They no hurt Crim.

[TLOT] Oh you like to eat the spider eyes? That makes sense. Don't stay out too late okay? They'll be spiders in the woods over there at the bottom of the yard near Mudsdales rolling spot and the koi pond. Stay in sight of the castle and call out if you need help.

[Crim] - nods and scurries off.

[Lie] - Say TLOT, do you have any more meat cubes on you? CP finished last nights and he ate a few bowl-fulls over at the bar

[TLOT] Oh? Yeah, we made plenty of copies. - Gives her a small stack.

[Lie] - Thanks, I get the feeling I'll be needing these

[CP] Little snore in his sleep-

[TLOT] It looks like me, Steve and Mix will be heading out for a bit, if anyone wants in, they're welcome to join. It won't take long.

[Steve] Cute little snores. - goes for the ear scratch on Cp.

[gem] -jumps down from the tree- gem eddy and Edward reporting for duty

[CP] Ears flick a little but he snuggles into Lie's hands-

[Steve] Oh, Lie. Do you need me to do Cp's paperwork since he's.. indisposed?

[Lie] - I didn't even think about that when I was over there, and I bet he does have some piled up since I haven't seen it in awhile. I'll talk to Endrea about opening a way over there and see what's going on with that

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writing-royza · 7 years ago

Text

Two Hundred and Thirty-eight - Mischief, 3.0

A/N: Happy Monday, everyone; sorry I’m late. Internet trouble yesterday and now an entire chapter of Snap Shots got deleted from the file, so I have to rewrite it... It’s a banner week lol. But I can push through this, no problem. Please enjoy. :)

I do not own FMA.

Two Hundred and Thirty-eight - Mischief, 3.0

Riza stood in front of the bulletin board, idly reading as she waited. Not much was especially interesting amid the general notices of office changes, upcoming events for the months, duty rosters, except for the flyer announcing General Grumman's annual Spirits' Night party.

"Please tell me you're dressing up this year," Roy's voice murmured in her ear. "And that it's at least half again as tempting as that fortuneteller outfit from last time?"

Smothering a smile, she didn't turn. "Hard to say," she answered cryptically. "My visions have said nothing so far, sir."

He snorted quietly, moving off along the hall. "Come on. We've got work to do." He waited until she caught up and fell into step behind him before speaking again. "Grumman mentioned that the rumour mill has been pretty active the last few days. Heard anything interesting?"

"Only that Havoc's ideas for Spirits' Night costumes range from the strange to the ridiculous to the downright questionable." She frowned, thinking back. "And I think I remember hearing that Breda caught on to a plan by some enlisted men to go ghost-hunting at the local cemetery. He made sure they know better than to try."

"Good. I'd bet it was just some slightly drunken barracks talk, but better safe than sorry." He shook his head. "Not that they'd find anything to hunt, but I'd rather not see their arresting paperwork come across my desk."

"I would think if they went on Spirits' Night, it would be like open season for ghosts." Her face was serious, but her tone belied the joke.

"Hard to hunt something that doesn't exist," Roy shot back good-naturedly. "Science doesn't lie, Lieutenant. If human transmutation isn't possible, then neither is the concept of ghosts."

He closed the door behind himself, still smiling faintly, his head still slowly spinning from alcohol and the fervent kiss goodbye Riza had given him when she dropped him off. Shrugging out of his coat, he hung it from the the hook on the back of the door, wishing she could have followed him in… but she had needed to go home. Home to Hayate, home to take off that costume herself instead of letting him do it….

Roy shook his head at that, smiling to himself as he flicked on the lights and moved deeper into the tiny apartment. Trust Riza to dress up as something —rather, someone — that was guaranteed to simultaneously annoy him and make him laugh. He'd always said she and Edward could pass for siblings; he hadn't expected her to try and pass for the boy himself. Even now, the memory replayed in his mind.

She had pulled him aside at the party, a few blonde strands already escaping the braid down her back, smiling at the way he had stared for a good five seconds before starting to laugh. "It's pretty good now," she'd said, "but I need one last touch put on that I'm hoping you can help with."

"Since when does Fullmetal ask for my help?" he'd teased. "What is it?"

Shrugging out of the red jacket, she had set it front-down on a nearby table, smoothing the back out. "I wasn't able to get the flamel on in time." She tapped his hand with one finger. "I was hoping you could take care of it. Just change the colour in the right pattern?"

"Sure…." His eyes had glinted with private mischief. "But it's going to cost you…."

Dropping onto his back on the couch, not bothering to change his clothes just yet, Roy smiled again, eyes closing. Tomorrow, when they were alone, maybe she would —

A faint crackle, just at the edge of his hearing, brought his eyes snapping open and his train of through jerking to a stop. He held still, gaze on the ceiling as he listened intently… and there it was again. Just faintly, like radio static in a distant room; one of his neighbours, maybe? Probably.

Eyes falling shut again, he took a deep breath to dispel the adrenaline that had built up. Heightened sensations brought on by his own daydreams were nothing new. He just had to calm himself and —

"Can you hear me?" the voice whispered.

He was sitting bolt upright in a matter of seconds, eyes searching the dim room for the voice, and finding nothing. Getting stealthily to his feet, he eased toward the desk, in the direction it had come from. The thought nagged at him this was probably just an overheard telephone conversation from a neighbouring apartment, but —

A quiet giggle split the silence. "You're not going to find me over there." He froze in place instantly, before it spoke again. "Do you want to play a game? If it'll help you find me?"

Roy didn't answer, not past the chill running up his spine or the dread building in his chest as he kept slowly scanning the room. There was another giggle, sounding uncomfortably like Elicia, before the voice said "I'll give you a hint. You're cold right now, but if you start walking, you might get warmer."

His eyes still moved warily from place to place in the apartment, watching. "Say I play along," he said aloud. "Will you at least tell me who you are?"

The voice turned silky sweet."You can stop looking for me when I don't want to be seen, Mr. Mustang. Don't you know you can't see ghosts unless they want you to?"

In an instant, he was thinking of anyone who might be willing to play such a bizarre prank. A Homonculus they'd missed... or Selim regaining the memory of who he had been... Edward trying to make him flinch... Somehow, the last one seemed the most plausible. He had seen the boy only an hour ago at the party; like as not, this was some kind of payback for all the teasing he'd given him as a subordinate.

He relaxed. No such thing as ghosts. Think of the science. "All right." He took a pair of steps back toward the couch. "Am I warmer now?"

"Warmer." He took another step. "Waaaaaarmer..."

He made it all the way to the radiator on the opposite wall before the voice giggled again. "Ooooooh, you're red-hot!"

Puzzled, he looked around but saw nothing. "...You're supposed to be the ghost of the heating system?" Another laugh was the only answer. Still, it wouldn't have led him here if there wasn't something he was supposed to find... Dropping to one knee, he looked underneath the radiator... and reached past the pipes to withdraw a small, handmade doll.

"Pretty, isn't she?" the voice asked, gleefully.

Turning it over in his hands, Roy felt his stomach drop. Yellow yarn for hair, pinned up in the back, blue clothes, black boots... brown eyes. "...Is this supposed to be Hawkeye?"

"Very good!"

It took three steps to get him to the telephone to call her, to make sure she was all right, but when he lifted the receiver to his ear, he was met with silence. Heart beginning to thud, muscles re-tensing, he slowly placed it back in the cradle. "All right, you have my attention," he said, careful to keep his voice under control. "Now what?"

There was one last, fading laugh... and then a final crackle of static. Roy waited, listening... and started violently at a crash behind him. Whirling on the spot, he stopped just in time to see a stack of books and papers still settling from their fall to the floor from his desk.

And as he stood there, trying to figure out how they had managed to fall, the apartment went dark around him.

A chill ran down his spine despite himself, one hand instinctively going for the gloves in his pocket. Perhaps they weren't entirely useful against a spirit, but to have them on was a comfort. Turning slowly on the spot, he waited for the next occurrence...

A noise from behind made him turn, to find moonlight and cold autumn wind coming through a window that hadn't been open when he turned his back. Eyes narrowing in suspicion, he took a cautious, silent step toward it... and froze, looking to his right as a tap sounded from the other, still shut window.

A ping! sent him looking toward the tiny kitchen area. Physical noise; that was something he could deal with. Edging in that direction, fingers held ready to snap, he kept his eyes moving for the source of the noise.

Another ping! and, as he stopped to search out the source, something lightweight hit the back of his head. Spinning on the spot, still seeing nothing, he growled low in his chest out of annoyance. Someone or something was toying with him, and even Edward wouldn't work this fast. But who?

Silence held for a full three minutes, in which he stood stock-still. Listening. And suddenly, it was shattered. Roy snatched up the ringing phone, one hand still ready to snap at a second's notice. "What?" he bit out, not caring whom he might be speaking to.

"...I - I was just calling to -" Riza's voice faltered, and she started over. "Sir, are you all right?"

He could have melted through the floor in relief. "Oh. Lieutenant, it's you. I'm sorry, I thought -" He stopped himself; unwilling to try and explain what had been happening. "I thought you were someone else. What can I -" He broke off again as laughter - not belonging to Riza - came over the line. At least three or four different voices.

And then, as the lights came back on, he got it.

Leaning back against the rear of the couch, he shook his head. "Why do I get the feeling I've just been had?"

Riza's voice was slightly wavered as she struggled to contain her own humour. "Probably because you have been, sir. Look out your south window."

Carrying the telephone with him, he did as instructed, and immediately spotted the small group standing around the payphone on the street corner below. "I thought perhaps it was too much for one person to manage on their own," he said, unable to keep from smiling. "But I suspected that at least Fullmetal would be involved."

"He was, to an extent," Riza explained. "Most of these suggestions were his. We were just the ones who carried them out."

"I see. And who did what, exactly?"

"I was the voice on the radio that Fuery hid inside your apartment. I was also the one firing paper pellets at your pots and pans from the open window." There was no mistaking the subtle pride in her voice at what the little group had accomplished. "Fuery ran communications, and temporarily cut the power and phone connection. Breda ran fishing line through the same window to topple the books, and Falman got Major Armstrong to alchemically make that little doll and took care of placing it before he arrived at the party tonight."

He lifted an eyebrow, knowing her keen eyes would see it even from the street. "And Havoc?"

"Check the rooftop directly across the street." He looked up, finding the blond man grinning from behind a chimney. "He kept us apprised of your movements, so we could organize better."

"I see. Well, it was very well planned out; I would commend all of you... if I weren't so pissed off." He grinned. "Do you have any idea of how bad this is going to come back to haunt you?"

"With all due respect, sir?" The challenge in her smile was visible even at this distance, brown eyes burning with that mischievous fire he loved so well. "Bring it on."

#fma #fmab #Roy Mustang #Riza Hawkeye #royza #royai #fma fanfiction #royai fanfiction #snap shots

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