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t0wnspersonb · 4 years ago

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Better Off As Lovers (Tsukishima Kei x Reader)

Word Count: 5,076

Warnings: SMUT, oral (female receiving), bad language, my shit writing

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salty4tsukki

said:

hello! i luv ur blog sm!! can i pls req a scenario (or hc if that’s easier) of tsukki and reader going from enemies to lovers? perhaps reader ended up doing tsukki a solid that saved his ass and that marked the turning point of their relationship? sfw+nsfw if that’s oki!! tysm in advanced :-)

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Here is some spice for you guys. I hope you like it, I had a lot of fun writing it lol. Tsukishima is such a fucking prick, I absolutely love it. @salty4tsukki I hope this was what you had wanted, also thank you so much for your support! Requests are closing tomorrow! I’m slowly but surely making my way through all of the requests and writing stuff up. I should probably be focusing on school but ya girl is avoiding responsibilities right now lmao. I hope you guys have a wonderful weekend!😚😚😚

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“You’re literally the fucking worst.” you hissed; eyes narrowed into slits. “I bet hell gave you back to earth because you’re worse than Satan himself.”

All you got in response was a raise of a blonde eyebrow and an ignorant smirk.

“You want to get hit? Is that what you’re asking for?” You threatened, holding your fist up for emphasis.

You had never been more upset; in all honesty you probably wouldn’t have been this annoyed about the situation if it was someone else.

But because it was him, you knew that it was intentional, it wasn’t an accident as everyone else was making it seem.

“Now, now…” Koganegawa said, stepping between the two of you. “Tsukki didn’t know that was your dessert. It was an honest mistake.”

“That’s not an honest mistake Kanji!” You screeched. “I literally told everyone how excited I was to finally get my hands on that famous strawberry shortcake from that bakery! I got the last slice and he went and ate it!” you pointed at the tall blonde accusingly; who’s smirk was growing wider and wider as you wailed about the unfairness of it all.

“Can’t you just go get another one?” Kyoutani huffed, rolling his eyes from his spot on the floor.

“They’re famous for a reason Kentarou! I had to get up super early to stand in line! And even then, the line was super long! I waited for hours! You think I’m going to do that again!?” You were all but hysterical now.

You might have already been having a rough day though, and your missing cake was the cherry on top to it all.

The soft huff of a laugh caused you to whirl around, your tiny fists coming up to hit Tsukishima on his chest repeatedly.

“You’re the fucking worst!” you huffed out, frustrated tears springing to your eyes. The tall blonde was full on laughing at you now, much to your embarrassment and anger.

You couldn’t lie, it was a tad bit irrational to get so upset over a missing slice of cake. But it was a long sucky day, you were looking forward to that delicious morsel of strawberry goodness after practice, and it wasn’t fucking there.

“You’re so weak,” Tsukishima mused, easily grasping your hands in his large ones, preventing you from hitting him further.

Despite his rude words, his grip was surprisingly gentle.

You still ripped your hands away from his in anger.

“Don’t touch me, you thief.” You growled, cradling your hands against your chest, eyes glaring into the tall male.

“You’re so annoying. I already apologized.” Tsukishima said, stretching his arms above his head.

“An apology won’t bring back my cake!” You snapped, grabbing your stuff from the floor. “You’re the worst Tsukishima. Let’s go already, Kentarou.” You huffed.

The said male rolled his eyes before saying goodbye to his teammates, following you out of the gym.

You were still fuming quietly as you two walked home together.

Funnily enough, you had developed a close friendship with the small male, which resulted in him walking you home since he lived close by.

“I hate him.” You whined, tugging at the bottom of Kyoutani’s team jacket.

He swatted your hand away, causing you to whine again, reaching for him once more, he sighed in irritation but let you hold onto his jacket this time.

“You guys just need to fuck already.” He said.

You stopped walking; causing Kyoutani to be yanked back since you were holding onto his jacket.

“What the fuck Y/n?” He growled.

“I would never in a million years have sex with someone like him.” You said, face twisting in disgust.

Kyoutani had definitely lost his mind with that comment. Tsukishima was your enemy, your opposite half, the worst person that you have ever met, there was just no way.

“Are you serious?” He asked deadpanned. “It’s so disgustingly obvious you two like each other.”

You rolled your eyes at him, releasing his jacket from your grasp as you guys continued walking. “You’re blind Kentarou, we hate each other.”

“I think you’re the one who’s blind Y/n. I’ll see you tomorrow for morning practice.” he said waving goodbye to you as you entered your home.

The rest of your night was plagued with thoughts of Tsukishima, leaving you with a bitter taste in your mouth despite the fact that you had brushed your teeth.

There was no way that Tsukishima liked you, nor you him. You did find him incredibly attractive, but who wouldn’t? He was tall and muscular, incredibly intelligent, and he was a good volleyball player.

Of course, people would find him attractive, but his personality was anything but, to you at least.

Your first ever interaction with him was entirely unpleasant, his mocking attitude and sarcastic comments left you with the worst impression of him, and it resulted in how you felt about him now.

But then… What did Kyoutani mean about you being blind?

You screamed loudly into your pillow.

****

“You look terrible.” Tsukishima raised his eyebrow at you, taking in your disheveled form.

“I didn’t get much sleep last night.” You muttered, rubbing at your eyes tiredly.

Tsukishima was actually quiet for once, somehow you had missed the flash of concern that shot through his eyes.

That didn’t go unnoticed by Kyoutani, who rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath how dense both of you were.

Practice ran smoothly, there surprisingly wasn’t any sarcastic comments directed at you from Tsukishima. For the most part, he left you alone today, much to your relief.

Now you were currently in one of the history classes you were a TA in. Between managing a volleyball team, and being a teaching assistant, it was no wonder you were always stressed out.

Funnily enough, Tsukishima was one of the students in that class.

“We’re going to hand back your midterm essays now.” The professor announced. You grabbed the papers from your folder and started walking around the class handing them back to the nervous students.

Your brows furrowed as you had realized that you only held three more papers in your hand, you hadn’t even given Tsukishima’s - oh. Your eyes widened slightly as you looked over at the tall male, he looked irritated, his eyes finding yours, there was a slight shake to his head.

He had never turned in the essay.

That’s right, the essay was due around the same time that volleyball practices were incredibly strenuous in preparation for some important matches.

But the midterm essay counted as a large portion of the grade, which meant that if Tsukishima received a zero, then he would fail the class, which meant that he wouldn’t be allowed to play volleyball any -

“I seemed to have made a mistake Professor.” You said. “I think I lost Tsukishima’s paper…”

What were you doing?

Shit, you could get in big trouble for this so why were you doing this?

“It’s not like you to be scatterbrained like this Y/n.” the Professor shook his head. “I swear you take on too many tasks, between this and being a team manager… Tsukishima, do you mind turning in the paper again to Y/n? Let us say… by the end of the day?”

“It’s no problem sir.” Tsukishima said quietly, eyes glancing over to you as you finished handing out the last of the essays.

“I’m sorry Tsukishima, I hope you can forgive me.” You said sweetly, bowing at him slightly.

What the fuck?

What the actual fuck were you doing?

Tsukishima was taken back by your tone and your show of respect towards him, that was new.

That was… shit was he blushing? He ignored the creeping heat in his face and the slightly quicker thump of his heart. He pushed his glasses up slightly. “It’s not a problem.” he said quietly.

You nodded at him once more as you made your way back towards the front of the room, ignoring the rising blush in your own face and the racing of your own heart. You got lucky that the professor really took a liking to you as his TA, you could get away with murder when it came to this class.

Tsukishima was incredibly lucky as well, he was the top student in this class, never missed any assignments, always participated in class, so of course the professor was going to be more lenient with him.

No one would have ever guessed that he had never turned in his midterm, except you.

That was something that you didn’t understand, why would you help him out?

It was because he was just part of your team, right? You were doing this because you wanted your team to succeed right? He was one of the best players you had, so if you lost him that would hurt the team… that was why, right?

Or maybe… maybe Kyoutani was right.

Maybe, just maybe, by chance you actually did harbor a small attraction to the tall blonde.

****

The rest of the day was seemingly uneventful, and you found yourself wrapping up the evening volleyball practice.

“Hey.” an all too familiar voice called out, a sudden shadow being cast over your small form as you began picking up the volleyballs on the floor.

You glanced up to see Tsukishima looking down at you, curiosity clear in his gold eyes.

“What is it?” You asked, ignoring the quickening of your heart. What was wrong with you?

“Why did you do that?” he asked, beginning to pick up the balls.

“What do you mean?” You sighed tiredly, you just wanted to go home. You had no energy left in your body to argue with the snarky male before you.

“You knew that I didn’t turn in the paper… why did you lie to the professor like that?” He asked quietly.

“Well…” your eyes slid over to him before looking down at the ball in your hands. “I knew that the professor would cut you some slack since you are one of his favorite students… plus… it would be bad if you got a zero, right? You would’ve failed the class…” You trailed off, your eyes glancing back up at him, taking notice to the small smirk that began to cover his lips.

“- and we can’t afford to lose one of our players! You’re tall and stupid but you’re a decent player so that’s why I did it! I didn’t want to hurt the team just because you were being stupid and forgetful!” You said, voice annoyed as you all but slammed the volleyball into his arms. “Hurry up and put those away, I want to go home.” you huffed, stalking away.

You hadn’t noticed the small smile that overtook his face as he watched you walk away.

“Are you ready to go?” You asked once you guys had finished cleaning up, Kyoutani nodded, grabbing his bag from the floor.

“Hold on.” a hand grabbed the back of your jacket, yanking you back into a warm and broad chest.

You blinked up to see Tsukishima peering down at you, eyebrows raised.

You could feel your face burn at his proximity and as you stumbled away from him.

“W-What is it now?” You stuttered out.

“Here. Professor said to give it to you by the end of the day. I just had to reprint it out.” he said, handing you his midterm.

Your eyebrows shot up. “Wait, you actually did the assignment?”

“It was already done, I just forgot to submit it.” he said, shrugging.

“And I thought you were just lazy and didn’t do it at all.” You said in awe, eyes skimming through the papers.

“Don’t put me in with the likes of you.” he snorted, eyes rolling, although there was an unseen fondness swimming within those golden orbs, unseen to you at least. It was entirely apparent to Kyoutani who seemed to have a larger scowl on his face.

“Shut up stupid! I’m going to grade your paper harshly now!” you hissed, glaring at him.

“You can try,” he drawled out. “But I did the assignment perfectly. I shouldn’t get anything less than an A.”

“We’ll see.” you snapped.

****

“Stupid Tsukishima. Does he have to be perfect at everything?” You grumbled to yourself as you finished grading his paper.

He was right.

He did the assignment perfectly.

You shouldn’t have said anything to the professor, especially if he was going to be so smug about it.

Why was he so infuriating?

You could see the flash of his smirk behind your lids when you blinked, it caused your heart to race, your fist to clench tightly together. You just wanted to slap that stupid smirk off of his stupid gorgeous face and -

Damn it.

It seemed like recently your thoughts were completely consumed by him.

“Speak of the devil.” You muttered to yourself when you noticed who was calling you.

“What do you want?” You hissed.

“Oh, good you are awake.” His rang smoothly through the speaker.

“Yeah because I stayed up late to grade your midterm, so I didn’t have to worry about it over the weekend.” You huffed, sitting back in your chair.

“Well what’s the verdict?” he asked smugly.

You could feel your nostrils flaring in anger at his tone. “You got an A. Which is surprising to me since you’re the biggest moron that I know.”

“I already told you not to lump into the same category as you.”

“I’m hanging up now.” you announced, your blood boiling at his comment.

“Wait. Go open your door.” he demanded.

You frowned. “Why would I do that?”

“Just do it and hurry up.” you could all but see his eyes rolling.

You huffed angrily, stalking over to your front door, and yanking it open to reveal the blonde male smirking at you.

You could feel your brows furrow as you tried to register what was happening.

Tsukishima, your enemy, was standing at the front of your home, cladded in his team jacket and joggers, and he was holding a bag.

“Took you long enough.” he said, removing the phone from his ear and stepping past you into your home.

He was already removing his shoes and placing them on the shoe rack near your front door, heading towards your kitchen.

“Are you just going to stand there all night?” he called out, never looking back.

That comment snapped you out of your confusion, you quietly closed the door, following after the blonde that was beginning to make tea like he was in his own home and not someone else's.

“What are you doing?” You asked quietly, eyes following his every movement.

“Just be quiet and sit down.” he said simply, and for some reason… you actually listened.

You wracked your brain for all the reasons as to why Tsukishima was in your home this late at night, using your kitchen.

You snapped back to reality when he placed a plate and a mug in front of you.

Your eyebrows raised slowly, but you couldn’t help the twinkle in your eyes as you gazed at the treat before you.

A slice of cake, but the strawberry shortcake from that bakery to be exact. The sweetness of the strawberries and cream, along with the earthy scent of the tea, caused a delicious warmth to swell up in your body.

“How did you -”

“It’s a thank you.” he cut you off, pulling up a chair across from you, tea and cake sitting in front of him. “For helping me out with the paper.”

You couldn’t help the smile that began to stretch across your lips, Tsukishima seemed shy almost, embarrassed maybe? Whatever it was, it was a pleasant change from his usual scowl and smirk.

“Did you wait long?” you asked quietly, carefully cutting into the cake. “They aren’t even open at this hour…”

“No, the line wasn’t too bad, I went after practice finished.” he said, glancing over at you. It was a partial lie, Tsukishima did wait a long time, but he did go after practice had finished.

“Why did you wait this long to come over then?” you asked, sighing in pleasure as you took a bite.

There was a reason why this bakery was so famous for their strawberry shortcake, it was the best cake you had ever had.

“I thought you might’ve been too busy in the evening, since you promised coach you would hand in those data forms tomorrow… and the in class activity we did today… you said you would grade tonight and get it back to us Monday…” he trailed off quietly, cutting into his slice.

You blinked at him, the thumping in your heart increasing.

Since when was he so observant with you?

“Since always. You’ve just never noticed.” he said, gold eyes boring into your own.

You could feel your face heating up, shit, did you really ponder that aloud?

What was this feeling bubbling up in your gut? It burned and turned pleasantly the longer you stared at him.

A sudden shyness washed over you as you broke eye contact, eyes casting back down to the cup of tea that was now resting between your hands.

“O-Oh.”

It was silent again, it wasn’t awkward, but there was definitely something lingering heavily in the air.

You just couldn’t place your finger on it.

“You have something…” Tsukishima began to say, suddenly reaching over, his strong fingers gently grasped your chin, tilting it up, thumb beginning to brush at the corner of your lips.

Without even thinking about it, your tongue darted out, swiping across his thumb, tasting the saltiness of his skin and the sweetness of the cream that had lingered at the corner of your mouth.

Tsukishima’s eyes darkened considerably; air rushing out of his nose as he exhaled deeply. His thumb rubbing against your lower lip.

Your eyes glazed over, lips parting slightly, inviting him entrance to your mouth. Tsukishima’s thumb pushed past your lips, resting on your tongue. Your eyes fluttered shut, your tongue gently running along the pad of his thumb.

You could feel the blood roaring in your ears, your stomach twisting in arousal.

“Fuck.” he whispered, the sound of a chair being pushed back, his thumb leaving the wetness of your mouth.

It all happened so fast, by the time you had opened your eyes Tsukishima was hauling you out of your chair and up on the counter. His large hand grasped your face firmly before slamming his lips against yours.

You gasped, allowing his tongue to snake his way in, exploring every inch of your wet cavern.

You couldn’t help the moan that tore through your throat, your arms coming up to wrap around his shoulders, fingers sliding into the blonde locks at the back of his head, your legs wrapping around his hips.

Fuck, you couldn’t get enough of this. He was everywhere, warm and solid against your body; all you could smell was him, all you could taste was him and fuck did he taste good. You could still taste the sweetness of cream on his tongue, the tartness of the strawberries, and him.

It was intoxicating.

You were drowning in everything that was Tsukishima and fuck did you like it. The way his big hands gripped at your face, your waist, pulling you closer, kissing you deeper, it was too much.

But it also wasn’t enough.

“What are you - ahh - what are you doing?” you whimpered out, eyes rolling into the back of your head as he trailed his hot lips against your throat, sucking and biting at every inch of it.

“What do you think I’m doing you idiot?” he breathed against the shell of your ear. He grinded his hips against yours causing the loud moan to escape your lips, he was hard against you.

“I don’t…” you whined softly as he grabbed your hips, pressing you tightly against his crotch, grinding against you sinfully. “I don’t understand… Tsukki… Kei.” you whined again, hips bucking up on their own, aching for more friction.

Fuck you were so wet, so hot and bothered, you needed him to touch you more.

“Fuck.” he hissed out, eyes squeezing tightly together as you whined out his name. “Fuck… you’re so infuriating. You still don’t get it do you?” he growled out, nipping at your lobe as his ragged breathing increased.

You couldn’t muster up any words, all that escaped your lips was a drawn-out moan as one of his hands reached up and massaged one of your breasts harshly.

“I like you, Y/n. I’ve liked you since the very beginning. But you never… fuck…” he hissed as you slipped a hand under his shirt, nails dragging against his smooth skin. You could feel the muscles of his stomach flexing beneath your touch, the pace of his hips increasing against yours.

“You never noticed.” he finally growled out, reaching up and yanking your shirt off your body. “The only time you ever paid attention to me was when I made you mad, you simple minded woman. It’s so easy to get you riled up…” he kissed you harshly now, teeth knocking together before he bit into your lip harshly, causing your nails to dig further into his chest.

“But then in class when you lied straight-faced to the professor… and then when you looked at me with that sweet expression, and those wide eyes… I couldn’t help but wonder what other kinds of faces you can make for me.” he finished quietly. His breathing was labored, and his lips were swollen but the intensity of his gaze caused your body to squirm.

“What do you say?” he asked, his voice deep and rough, his grip on you was still tight, but his hips had stilled, he was pulled back slightly from you, allowing you space to breathe.

“Please.” You whimpered out, tears springing up in your eyes, you were too riled up now, body too hot and aching for release.

You needed him. You needed Tsukishima to touch you more, you needed him to whisper filth into your ear, you needed to feel his skin sliding against yours, and most of all, you needed him be buried deep inside of you.

“I need to hear you say it Y/n.” He grasped your jaw, angling your face up to his as he stared down at you. “Say it.”

You could feel your lower lip quivering, you were aching for it, aching for him. “Kei please! Just - just fuck me already!” you wailed. “What are you waiting for!? Just fuck m-” he yanked you off of the counter, your legs wrapping tightly around his waist as he carried you to your couch, dropping you down haphazardly before his hands were everywhere, ripping the clothes off your body until you were completely bare.

He stared shamelessly at your nakedness, eyes running over every curve of your body. His hands rested on your bent needs, pulling them open and staring openly at your glistening cunt.

“Don’t look.” you whimpered, moving one of your hands to cover yourself up. He easily knocked your hand away.

“Don’t hide yourself from me.” he said as he moved to remove the rest of his clothing.

Tsukishima was beautiful, long, and lean, his muscular frame exposed to your greedy eyes as you scanned his body.

Your lips trembled at the sight of his stiff member, leaking precum and standing painfully tall.

He grasped his cock lazily, his hand easily sliding up and down his shaft as he gazed down at you. His other hand reached down to gather the obscene amount of wetness that was gathering between your legs.

“You’re soaked,” he moaned, eyes flashing dangerously. “You want me to fuck you? Or do you want me to taste you?”

You could feel your mouth run dry at his questions.

Tsukishima’s eyes narrowed slightly, his large hand coming down to swat at your thigh. You gasped the stinging sensation, your arousal spiking dramatically.

“Answer me.” he demanded.

Your lips trembled, eyes glazing over with unshed tears, you were so pent up, you needed something, anything that would provide you with some kind of release.

It was only for a moment, but there was a flash of gentleness, the hand that had swatted at your thigh rubbed at the skin tenderly.

“You’re so beautiful.” he said quietly, and then he was moving to situate himself between your legs, grasping at your thighs before his head ducked down and his hot tongue licked a strip up your soaked slit until it rested on your clit.

You moaned loudly; your head being thrown back as your body trembled with pleasure.

His tongue lapped lazily against you, flickering up and down against that swollen bundle of nerves, occasionally dipping further down, sliding into your entrance, tasting you completely before sliding back up.

It didn’t take long for you to get close to your orgasm. Your body was taut, aching for release. It was too much almost; your fingers tangled tightly in his hair, you couldn’t tell if you were pushing him away or pulling him closer.

All you knew was that he was giving you everything right now. Tsukishima pulled your clit into his mouth now, sucking hard, his front teeth gently brushing against it.

Your legs were tense, thighs quacking as you approached your release, the quiet room was filled with your drawn out moans and pants, wet slurping noises escaping your lower half as Tsukishima all but devoured your cunt completely.

You came with a cry, body convulsing against the cushions of the couch, thighs trying to close together, squeezing tightly against Tsukishima’s head. You whimpered brokenly as you tried to wiggle yourself away from the blonde that was still sucking at your clit, but his grip was tight, refusing to let you go, forcing your over sensitive cunt to produce another orgasm.

In the midst of it all, he yanked himself away, lining his stiff cock against your swollen entrance and then snapping his hips forward, sheathing himself inside of you completely.

A loud cry tore through your lips, you were still in the middle of your orgasm when he entered, your slick gushing out around him and spilling onto the cushions below.

“Are you gonna cum again?” he breathed watching you in awe as you struggled to adapt to his size.

“Fuck you are.” he moaned, your tight walls fluttering around him as your third one ripped through your body. “I can’t believe you came again just from me entering you.” he breathed out, hands resting on your hips.

Tsukishima gave you no time to adjust, his hips snapping forward harshly as he set a brutal pace.

You could feel your eyes rolling into the back of your head, your fingers gripping at the couch, needing something, anything to hold on to.

His cock rubbed against your walls perfectly, your body having no time to keep up with his movement, the stretch burned, the pleasure toe curling. Your legs were wrapped around his waist, pulling him in deeper, keeping him closer.

Suddenly your world shifted, Tsukishima hauled your body up, forcing you to sit on top of his thick member. You cried out loudly, this new position caused his cock to rub up inside of you at a new angle.

He never stopped, his large hands gripped at your hips now, forcing you up and down as you rode him, his hips snapping up to meet the downwards roll of your hips.

All you could do was grip at his broad shoulders weakly, struggling to keep up with his pace, struggling to adjust to the new depth that he reached within you.

But you couldn’t. You could hardly breathe, you couldn’t think of anything except for Tsukishima and the pleasure he was giving you.

“Look at you.” he groaned, eyes never leaving your face. “You make the sweetest faces when I’m inside of you.”

“Kei…” You sobbed. “Please.”

You weren’t sure what you were asking for at this point, the pleasure was mind numbing, the room was filled with sounds of your moans and his grunts, the wet squelching noises of your cunt as it was being stuffed over and over again was something that might’ve embarrassed you if you had the time to even think about it.

But you didn’t, all you could think about was unraveling again, all you could think about Tsukishima Kei. Your enemy, the most annoying man you had ever met, but he was also the most intelligent man you had ever met, the most beautiful man you had ever met, and now he was the only man that you ever wanted to receive pleasure from.

You came again with a loud sob, gushing around him, dripping onto his upper thighs, body trembling against his as you collapsed on top of his chest.

He groaned your name loudly, thrusting up sharply into your cunt once more before spilling himself into your hot center.

It felt like time had stopped around you as you struggled to catch your breath. You weren’t sure how long it was that you guys stayed like this.

But you have never been more tired, more comfortable in your entire life than right now.

You could feel your eyes drooping down, your face buried into the crook of his neck, his long fingers gently tracing delicate patterns into the skin of your back.

Tsukishima shifted, easily picking you up, your legs wrapped around his waist, his member still buried deep inside of you. You vaguely remember answering his question about where the bathroom was and soon you found yourself perched up on the bathroom counter.

You could feel his cum slowly leaking out of your swollen cunt, trickling down your leg as he gently cleaned you up. You didn’t even remember how you ended up in your bed, but now you were curled up against the tall blonde, wrapped up in the security of his arms as he rubbed your back gently.

“I still hate you Kei.” you mumbled against his chest, sighing softly before pressing your lips into his smooth skin.

“I know.” he smirked against your hair, pressing a gentle kiss on the crown of your head. “Go to sleep. We’ll go and get breakfast tomorrow.”

Okay maybe you didn’t hate him, but he was still infuriating to you.

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thebreakfastgenie · 3 years ago

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First Line Meme

rules: list the first lines of your last 20 stories. see if there are any patterns. then tag your favorite authors.

@quolant tagged me in this literally months ago, but I don't think I ever did it, and I really want to! If I did it then, eh, whatever, I can do it again!

This is a mix of published works and WIPs, and it's actually not my last 20, because there is no good way to count that (based on when I started them? When I last worked on them?) but for the most part they're all fairly recent. Start Over is older and Fortune Cookie Wisdom is a couple years old but they're significant and I wanted to include them.

Published

Campfire (The West Wing)

When he’s eleven, his parents decide he’s old enough for summer camp.

The Emergency Room (The West Wing)

Josh didn’t remember getting in the car.

The Apple (The West Wing)

Donna stepped off the elevator, taking extra care not to slosh her coffee.

Chianti (The West Wing)

It’s two weeks after the snowstorm that blanketed New York City.

Fortune Cookie Wisdom (The West Wing)

Toby curled his fingers into a fist and knocked, the soft leather of his glove cushioning his knuckles from the hard wood of the door.

Start Over (The West Wing)

New Hampshire had been a whim, South Carolina had been a dream.

Life Cycle: A Play In Three Acts (on hiatus, NOT abandoned) (The West Wing)

It starts in an emergency room in Madison, Wisconsin.

WIPs

By Any Other Name (MASH)

The call comes the first week of September, when the leaves are just beginning to yellow and a cool breeze is chasing away the last days of Indian Summer.

Friends Like These (working title) (MASH)

Hawkeye sleeps through breakfast.

A Late Thaw (working title, aka Donna Moss Fic 2) (The West Wing)

In Massachusetts, she almost lost her nerve.

Home (MASH)

His son turns up on his doorstep unannounced, with a look in his eye and papers in his hand, and Daniel doesn’t have to ask what they are.

Family Reunion (working title) (MASH)

The telephone would have woken him, if he’d been sleeping.

Sometimes You Do (working title) (MASH)

The first people he sees by choice are Harold and Alice Gillis.

When Toby Met Josh (working title) (The West Wing)

Toby reclined against the wall, which was painted a lovely shade of bland.

Untitled, unpublished, but complete fic (Star Trek TOS)

Kirk sat at the table in his stolen, Klingon-decorated quarters, mulling over the events of the day.

Whatever Happened to Mandy (working title) (The West Wing)

Leo finds her mid-afternoon, while she’s looking for Josh.

Four Days (The West Wing)

The light in Toby’s office is on.

Strawberry Fields (working title) (The West Wing)

The night the president was shot, Ruth was making strawberry tarts.

The First Four Years (MASH)

Erin loses her first tooth in a piece of strawberry shortcake on the Fourth of July.

Seeing Ghosts (working title) (MASH)

When Trapper John McIntyre got back from Korea, he kissed the ground.

Untitled Airplane Fic (MASH)

The first thing he notices when he steps onto the plane is that it’s warm.

I don't see a lot of patterns. When I looked at some of my earlier works, that I chose not to include, I often started with dialogue. This is something I prefer to avoid now. I think the biggest pattern is that the first line is often fairly short, followed by a more detailed second line, but I didn't include any of those second lines. It's a pretty even mix of including character names or not, which was actually surprising because I often feel I go several paragraphs without mentioning the POV character's name. I also prefer that the protagonist's name not be the first word, although it is in several of these examples.

If you have any interest in or questions about any of these please don't hesitate to ask, I love talking about them!

I'm just tagging a few people I know are writers, no pressure! And if you write but you didn't get tagged, please do it anyway and tag me!!

@onekisstotakewithme @nimuetheseawitch @genderqueer-klinger @jessbakescakes @hufflepuffhermione

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costellos · 4 years ago

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a/n: the Crusaders have a very special place in my heart during the holidays. I finished Part 3 around this time last year, and things were a lil rough then. as a result, I wanted to focus on happier things for this year! so without further ado, here are ya fav globe-trotting boys and their fav holiday traditions.

tw: mentions of death and alcohol in Polnareff’s section.

❥ ┋ ❝ stardust crusaders & their favorite holiday traditions to do with you!

joseph joestar.

Joseph’s favorite holiday tradition is putting up Christmas lights.

the eldest Joestar is really obnoxious when it comes to holiday traditions. while he loves them all, he has a particular affinity for decking out his house in elaborate light displays. it brings him a lot of good memories from when Holly and Jotaro were still young.

that said, he has to get you involved in helping him. he pulls out the biggest boxes from storage and drops them at your feet. despite his being a literal millionaire, it feels very... suburban. not that you mind. you knew exactly what you were getting into when it came to Joseph. that childish zeal for everything keeps you on your toes, and while putting up lights may not be the most fun activity in the world, his boisterous laugh makes you think otherwise.

Joseph’s smiling ear-to-ear as you help him, especially when you set up an LED wire reindeer without his help. but nothing will top that toothy grin when you’re standing side-by-side, right in front of the house, and he plugs in the displays.

the house erupts into a flurry of colors ― blues, reds, whites, greens ― too many for you to count. that LED wire reindeer comes to life, with its head slowly rising and falling. and the trees, all laced with bulbs that mimic stars more than tacky lights from Home Depot, twinkle and dance to the displays around them. it’s beautiful. (and like him, a little obnoxious.)

you feel an arm wrap around your shoulder, pulling you to Joseph’s enormous figure. though his smile is unwavering, his gaze isn’t on the house in front of you. no, it’s on you yourself. for all the sweat and effort you both put into this, his attention still falls back to you. ↳ “haha! there you have it. you have a real knack for this, kiddo. couldn’t’ve done it without you. ...now let’s go back inside, I can’t feel my damn fingers...!”

muhammad avdol.

Avdol’s favorite holiday tradition is drinking hot chocolate.

though he doesn’t celebrate Christmas, Avdol enjoys the traditions that come with it for you. his personal favorite is drinking something hot after a long day. Cairo may be in the desert, but it still gets quite chilly at night!

he usually opts for tea in the evening (masala chai being his favorite), but he’s starting to warm up to hot chocolate. while American hot chocolate is far too sweet for him, a pinch of cayenne pepper and a little cinnamon makes it more tolerable.

it’s become something of a challenge to get him to drink hot chocolate. it’s not his first choice. sure, he’ll still drink it if you offer, but you’re quick to notice that small grimace as he takes his first sip. you’ve taken it as a sign to make something delicious for him. so you go back to the basics: cayenne and cinnamon. considering Avdol’s distaste for overly sweet foods, you opt to make the beverage out of semi-sweet chocolate. mix it all together with some warm milk, add a cinnamon stick and some nutmeg at the top, and you’ve got the key to Avdol’s heart.

you place it proudly in front of him. this has to be it. you know him well enough to recognize his tastes. yet when he rests his mug against his lips, taking that first sip... you can’t read him. his features are still.

truth be told, it’s exactly the kind of drink he’d love. damn. you nailed his tastes a little too well. but he's not going to admit defeat. seeing you try so hard to impress him in a desperate attempt to share your culture with him... it’s heartwarming. he doesn’t want it to end. so he sends you a click of his tongue, a sly grin, and the shake of his head. ↳ “it tastes much better, but I think something is missing... why don’t we try to find it together?”

jotaro kujo.

Jotaro’s favorite holiday tradition is eating Christmas cake.

Christmas cake is just a strawberry shortcake. it’s a simple dessert, something that most Japanese families eat around the holidays. Holly’s become a master at baking it. and while Jotaro doesn’t have much of a sweet tooth, he loves Christmas cake.

the only thing he loves more than Christmas cake is his family, though he’d never admit it outwardly. he has a lot of fond memories of eating Christmas cake right after dinner. sometimes if he behaved well enough Holly would sneak him a slice before then. even now he gets a warm feeling seeing all his favorite people together, sharing the fruits of Holly’s kitchen labors.

and because he’s dating you, you’re one of those people, too. the invite is casual; he makes it sound like you can come if you have nothing better to do. so of course you come. you show up at his house, smile in tow, eager to celebrate with him and his own family. (but let’s be real, Holly has adopted you as one of her own ― his family is as much as yours now.)

that same warm feeling creeps up on him as he watches you and Holly bake the cake. you look so happy here, so natural, as if you were always meant to be a part of this household. he won’t smile back at you. no, if you catch him staring, he’ll just dip his head and turn away. you know by now that he’s happy too, however.

when it comes time to eat, Jotaro won’t say anything. he’ll let his mom, Joseph, and Suzie Q do their little pre-feast speech, rambling some bullshit about tradition and midnight Mass. but when he looks back at you, standing there at his side, that warm feeling bubbles in his stomach once more. you belong here. this is where you’re meant to be: right here, with him, placed so perfectly within his own family. ↳ “hey. you know you can come back whenever. being surrounded by all this noise is actually tolerable when you’re here.”

noriaki kakyoin.

Kakyoin’s favorite holiday tradition is exchanging presents.

though his family isn’t Christian, Kakyoin fondly remembers his parents exchanging presents every year. small things, tiny trinkets and letters to express their love for one another. as such, he’s always wanted to celebrate it with someone special. he’d be lying if he said he hasn’t romanticized the holiday.

as such, he’s beyond excited to celebrate it with you. he tries to keep his cool about the whole affair, but his eyes are bright and he refuses to let go of your hand as he pulls you through the streets of Tokyo.

the city is decked out in all sorts of light displays, from hanging icicles to flashy LEDs. mascots line the streets delivering candy canes with advertisements for local restaurants. the smell of chocolate is evident throughout every street you turn on.

but the city is only part of it. a big part of the date, yes, but Kakyoin has the finale all planned out. he brings you to a shrine outside of the hustle and bustle. it’s a bit of a hike and it’s dimly lit, though you figure that’s why no one else is up here. he sits you down on a short bench, short enough for you to be sitting shoulder to shoulder, gazing down at the city below. that’s when he gives it to you:

it’s a small gold box wrapped with a red ribbon. fancy, you think to yourself. with his teasing you to just open it, though, you get to work pulling apart the red ribbon. you’re not sure what to expect. Kakyoin’s not one for brands, nor does he like anything flashy himself. had he gotten you something like that...? yet when you open the box, what stares back is a cassette tape. of course. he’s far more thoughtful than you gave him credit for. ↳ “clichéd, I know. but every time I hear any of these songs, all I can think of is you. I can, ah... I can play it for you when we get back.”

jean pierre polnareff.

Polnareff’s favorite holiday tradition is shopping for presents.

shopping for presents is a melancholy activity. it was a tradition he had with Sherry, to go about the nearest market and pick out the best gifts for their family and friends. she’s been gone for a while now. even still, it hurts all the same.

he’s beyond thankful that he has you. you don’t try to get him to forget about her, but you also don’t let him to wallow in self-pity. you honor her memory, letting him reminisce about better times. likewise, you’re more than happy to accompany him on his shopping trip.

Polnareff is quiet for most of the trip. it’s uncharacteristic of him, and if you’re being honest, a little uncomfortable. though you know he’s doing his best to focus. you can tell from the way his gloved fingers stay laced with yours, his grip tightening just the slightest to remind you that he’s still present.

you try to cheer him up by getting a spiced wine and offering to share with him. and. jesus christ. his eyes just light up. it’s that cute, couple-y shit that he loves and you did it for him like it was nothing. from then on, Polnareff is a little less mopey. more lighthearted. the Polnareff you know and so deeply love, back at it with his high-spirited self.

he stops you when it’s time to return home. shopping bags rest in his grip, with the faintest tint of red on his upper lip from all the wine. you’re pretty exhausted ― both from shopping and trying to keep him happy ― and he knows this, yet he stops you nonetheless. it’s a quick affair, where he puts a simple, glass heart ornament in your palm, the date written in silvery letters. oh? he must have gotten it when you weren’t looking. ↳ “you’ve helped me a lot today. you know that, vérité? I just... want to remember this day forever.”

#stardust crusaders #jjba #JoJo's Bizarre Adventure #jotaro kujo #Noriaki Kakyoin #Joseph Joestar #Jean Pierre Polnareff #Muhammad Avdol #part 3 #part 3!joseph #part 3!jotaro #alcohol /#death /#a holiday hooha with toya #toya whisks u away #headcanons #stardust crusaders (group)#long post #i'll put a read more on this after 24 hrs as always!

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tsukkisbean · 4 years ago

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never cold | third year boyfriend!tsukishima x gn!reader

genre: fluff and angst

warnings: jealousy, poor communication

word count: 4.0k

summary: you’ve always loved valentine’s day and believed it was a holiday worth celebrating and this year you have tsukishima to spend it with. however, much to your disappointment he tells you that he thinks the holiday is a waste of time and doesn’t understand why people even bother. so what happens when your secret admirer takes their chance to tell you how they feel?

a/n: i’m sorry this turned out kind of lame but nonetheless i hope you like it!!! ty for requesting!! also this is a repost bc tumblr is picking a fight :)

original request here

Every year, each class is assigned to run a holiday event for the school. So, when the school president notifies you that your class will be in charge of the Valentine’s Day event this year, you’re over the moon.

You’re determined to pull off an amazing event not only because your pride as class representative is on the line, but simply because you love the concept of Valentine’s Day.

During your break between classes you rack your brain, trying to think of an idea that will blow the entire school away.

“What about a kissing booth?”

You turn to look at your friend, nose scrunching in distaste, “Really? A kissing booth? I think that’s overdone and quite frankly, disgusting, Yachi.”

Embarrassment is written all over her face and you can’t help but feel bad at your small outburst, “Sorry Yachi, that was rude of me. I do appreciate you trying to help me though.”

Her messy blonde hair sways side to side as she shakes her head, “No, you’re right. I’d feel sorry for whoever has to kiss hundreds of random strangers.” A giggle escapes your lips when you see the way she gags at the thought.

“Hey, Y/N are you planning to do something with Tsukishima for Valentine’s?”

The question catches you off guard. You’ve been dating for just about a year now and you know he wasn’t exactly into these sorts of things but surely, he at least had something planned, right? Just as you’re about to respond, the school bell goes off, signalling the start of your third period.

For the rest of the day, your mind is preoccupied with brainstorming. Love telegrams? Serenades? Chocolates? No, although traditional, it was all too boring to you.

It’s only the when the ring of your cellphone brings you back to reality. Your face lights up at the caller ID, your finger quickly swiping across the screen.

“Kei! Where have you been?”

When you hear your boyfriend’s voice for the first time today, your worries seem to fade away. “Yamaguchi, Hinata and Kageyama kept pestering me to practice with them during all our breaks today.” You can just imagine the scowl he has plastered on his face.

“Well it can’t be helped. After all, interhighs will be here before you know it. You’ve got to set a good example for all your juniors.” You hear him sigh on the other end, “Yeah I guess but, that means we won’t be able to see each other as much.”

The corner of your lips lifts upward into a wide smile. Tsukishima has never been the type to be so forward when expressing his affection towards you, so you always cherish these types of moments.

You’re suddenly reminded of what Yachi asked you earlier in the day and you ponder whether or not you should bring it up with him.

“Hey, Kei?”

“Hm?”

“Do you have anything planned for Valentine’s Day?” You can barely make it out, but you definitely hear him scoff.

“Probably not. I don’t really understand why people go crazy over it. It’s so corny and unnecessarily expensive, it’s just a waste of a day.”

You nod your head, even though he can’t see you, “I see. Well I have homework to do, I’ll see you tomorrow. Goodnight, Kei.”

Before he can respond, you end the call, throwing your phone on the bed.

Why were you so upset? You know that your boyfriend was like this; you understand that he isn’t fond of big theatrics when it came to love. You like him and he likes you, that’s all that should matter. Yet, for some reason, you can’t get rid of the tight feeling building in your chest.

When you wake up the next day, your heart still feels heavy. Last night’s conversation still lingers in your mind, maybe because you know there’s some truth to what he said. Or maybe, it’s because you secretly hoped he’d take advantage of the holiday to show you how much he cared for you.

Pushing your thoughts away, you busy yourself with getting ready for another day of school.

When you arrive, you easily spot your boyfriend, his tall frame towering over most of the other students. One of his friends catches your eye, before giving your boyfriend a gentle a nudge, pointing towards you. Tsukishima turns to look at you momentarily before quickly walking off in the direction of his classroom.

Automatically, your lips turn into a frown. He must be upset because you abruptly hung up on him last night. You let out a sigh; maybe you’d buy him a slice of his favourite strawberry shortcake and surprise him after his practice.

During class your mind is anywhere but the lesson, your focus drifting between the Valentine’s event and Tsukishima avoiding you.

“Y/N”

“Y/N!”

Your seatmate gives you a sharp nudge to the side, bringing your attention to the front of the room.

“I believe you have an announcement for the class?”

You scramble out of your seat, smoothing out the wrinkles in your uniform as you make your way to the front of the classroom, “This year our class has been chosen to run the Valentine’s day event.” A mixture of groans and excited whispers fill the classroom, “If you would like to participate in the planning process please let me know. Those who do not partake in the planning are required to participate in the execution of the event.”

During lunch, much to your relief, a number of students approach you to offer their help. As a group, you exchange ideas back and forth and by the end of lunch break you’ve collected a wide variety of ideas. All that was left was to actually decide on one.

Happiness and excitement settles in your chest, and you can barely sit still for the rest of the day. When the final bell goes off, those helping with the event hurriedly crowd around your desk to continue the conversation from earlier.

“Okay well we definitely have to have flowers and chocolate! How can you have Valentine’s Day without those?”

“Singing attracts way too much attention. I would literally die of embarrassment if I got serenaded in front of the whole class.”

“Telegrams are so overdone, but I also think they’re romantic, they definitely fit the vibe.”

“What if we set up an event based on the red string of fate?” Once you hear the idea your heart falls in love.

“Watanabe, that’s a great idea! Students can send in their profiles and whether they’re looking for love or friendship. Then we’ll match them based on preferences. On Valentines Day, we’ll separate students onto two sides of the sports field. They’ll find the card with their names and put on their string before they set off to find their match!”

Excited chatter erupts among the group, everyone adding in their two cents. The next while is spent delegating tasks to everyone, from promotion to design to operations. By the time you wrap up it’s already close to 7pm.

Grabbing your belongings, you quickly throw them into your bag. Tsukishima should be wrapping up practice soon, and unless his teammates ask him to stay the two of you could walk home together.

Quickly, you make your way to the gym to find your boyfriend. From quite a distance away you can clearly hear Hinata and Kageyama shouting at each other as usual. When you arrive at the door, you’re greeted by a chorus of “hellos” from the volleyball club.

Your boyfriend jogs over to you, stopping just shy of the door. Upon further inspection, you can see the beads of sweat forming on his nose and forehead and you can’t help but smile, knowing how hard he must be working to make it to nationals this year.

“Y/N? What are you doing here still?” there’s a hint of standishoffness in his voice but you brush it aside, “My class was assigned to the Valentine’s Day event, so I stayed behind with some classmates to do some planning. I thought that we could walk home together?”

Tsukishima’s lips press into a thin line. Was he still angry with you?

“Sorry, but we’re still practicing.”

A voice chimes in from behind, “What are you talking about? You just said-”

The tall male whips around, you can’t see his expression but by the way Hinata reacts, you can tell he’s glaring at him.

“You know what, forget it. You obviously don’t want to walk home with me and I’m an adult so I can walk myself home.” Turning on your heels, you storm away from the gym, ignoring your boyfriend as he calls your name.

The next couple of weeks fly by as you’re busy preparing for the Valentine’s event. Applications flow in every day, and although you’re glad the event is a hit you can’t help but feel exhausted.

The fact that you and Tsukishima haven’t spoken properly since your outburst doesn’t help either. Your text messages are short and infrequent; a simple “good morning” and “good night”, and sometimes the occasional “have a good day”.

Before you know it, Valentine’s Day arrives. As you step onto the field, your heart is racing uncontrollably. You’ve spent the past month alongside your classmates working out every single kink to ensure everything would be perfect for today.

You raise your arm into the air, the red flag in your hand dancing in the cold winter breeze. Taking in a deep breath, you call out as loud as you can, “Ready... set.... go!”

Laughter fills the air as you watch your school mates stumble between each other trying to find their other half for the day through the sea of red.

“Pull on your string, you might be my match!”

“Quit pushing me!”

“Hey, stop trying to tangle my string!!”

“You guys are totally matched together, you’re literally the same person.”

Your cheeks start to ache from smiling so hard, but you can’t help yourself. Watching as everyone slowly finds the end of the red string creates a warmth in your chest. You haven’t felt this way since... well since the day Tsukishima confessed to you.

It had happened last winter. The two of you were walking home together after his volleyball practice. You’re not sure what came over you at the time but you thought it would be a good idea to throw a snowball at him. The look on his face when the cold white powder hit him square in his chest was absolutely priceless. But the moment didn’t last long when he made a much much much larger snowball.

You screamed at the top of your lungs as he chased after you, determined to get back at you. After a few minutes, your lungs started to give out and so you turned around, hands held up in the air, “I give up, I’m sorry.”

He narrowed his eyes at you, snowball still in his hands ready to throw it at you if need be, “What are you sorry for?”

You tried to stifle your laughter, for someone who acted so cool all the time, seeing that side of him was honestly quite refreshing, “I’m sorry for throwing a snowball at you. You must be cold.”

“No.” In three swift strides, Tsukishima is standing in front of you, “I never feel cold when I’m with you, Y/N.”

A distant voice snaps you out of your daydream. When you come back to your senses, you realize everyone has found their match and is waiting for your closing remarks. Grabbing the microphone you quickly thank everyone for participating, sending them off with well wishes.

Once the majority of the students leave the field, you round up your classmates, thanking them for all the hard work they put into the event.

As you head back inside, a familiar voice calls your name, “Y/N!”

“Watanabe, thank you for the amazing idea. There’s no way I would have been able to think of something as creative as this.”

They quickly shake their head, “No way, I should be the one thanking you. You had so many more ideas to add on that really brought it to life. This event was totally a hit, I heard a lot of people saying they want to do this again next year.”

A comfortable silence settles between the two of you as you head back to your classroom to grab your things.

“Hey, Y/N...?”

“Yes?”

“Are you doing anything tonight?” Your head snaps towards them, the surprise evident on your face.

“Ah sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I was just wondering since you always seem so excited to talk about Valentine’s Day.”

You reach out, giving their shoulder a gentle pat, “That’s okay, I don’t mind,” you pause momentarily, “I don’t think I’m doing anything.”

Watanabe nods their head, clearly thinking about whether or not they should puruse the current topic. When they choose to let it go, you silently thank them, not wanting to be reminded of the fact that you and your boyfriend were still on bad terms on the supposed most romantic day of the year.

When you arrive at home, you try to distract yourself with your homework. Hours pass by, not a single message, or phone call. Even if Tsukishima didn’t like the holiday didn’t he at least have the heart to tell you “happy Valentine’s Day? Pulling out your phone, you open up your chat with your boyfriend. But before you can start typing, the familiar typing bubble pops up and you quickly exit out. You watch your screen expectantly, jumping when your phone chimes.

[10:43pm] ♥kei♥: good night.

Immediately, your shoulders deflate. That was it? Another simple goodnight? Throwing your phone in the corner, you climb into bed and shut your eyes. Maybe in your dreams you’d meet Tsukishima in a world where he truly cared.

Your body feels sluggish in the morning as you make your way to your cubby. Instead of sweet dreams, you tossed and turned all night unable to get Tsukishima off your mind. Pulling your indoor shoes out of their slot, you drop them to the floor with a thunk. You slip off your outdoor shoes, and just as you’re about to put them away, a red envelope catches your eye.

You look around to see if anybody is watching you, but everyone around you is absorbed in their own conversations. Quickly, you stuff your shoes away, before tearing the red packaging open.

Dearest Y/N,

Where do I begin? When I first laid eyes on you, I knew you were an angel sent from the heavens. Seeing you smile at me sends my heart into a frenzy, and quite frankly, I’m not sure if I’ve even recovered from the last time you looked at me with those eyes. Those beautiful eyes that I could get lost in forever.

If only you were mine, I’d make you happy.

Love,

Your Secret Admirer

You were at a loss for words. From the way they addressed you, it was obvious it wasn’t your boyfriend. Yet, you couldn’t think of a single person that could have written you this letter.

The warning bell goes off and you shove the letter into your bag, rushing off to homeroom.

As the week continues on, so did the letters. No matter how hard you looked, you couldn’t figure out who was leaving them for you.

At your wits end, you decide to confide in Yachi. If you couldn’t catch sight of your secret admirer, maybe she could, “I’m telling you Yachi, it’s definitely not Kei. I have no idea who it could be and I have no idea how they keep slipping me these notes without me noticing!”

As you ramble on about your secret admirer, you fail to notice how silent Yachi has become. When you finally realize, you notice how stiff she’s become; the colour has drained from her face and she’s not looking at you, but past you.

Slowly you turn around, only to be met with a cold pair of eyes. The grip around your wrist is tight as you’re dragged down the hallway.

“Kei, you’re hurting me. Let go!” Your complaints are dismissed as the two of you continue on, stopping only when you reach the gym used by the boys’ volleyball club. Your body is shoved into the supply room, Tsukishima slamming the door shut behind the two of you.

Click

“Why have you been ignoring me?”

Your mouth hangs open, completely lost for words, “Kei you can’t be serious.”

The way his gaze pierces through you tells you he’s dead serious.

“Is it because of the letters you’ve been receiving? Who are they from? Do you like them?” His questions come rushing at you so fast, you can barely catch everything he’s saying.

But the longer he goes on, the angrier you feel yourself become. You can hear the blood rushing in your ears, your body trembles with anger, you even think you might be seeing red.

“Do you want to break up with me?”

It’s like something inside you snaps and you can’t bear to listen to his rambling any longer, “Tsukishima Kei,” your voice rings loud and clear in the small room. For a moment even you’re stunned at yourself.

You open your mouth to speak again, but the only thing that comes out of your mouth is a weak sob. You lean over, resting your hands on your knees as the tears build in your eyes. It only takes a moment for them to start streaming down your face.

“Kei you’re so stupid, you’re so fucking stupid.” When you feel his fingers graze your skin, you immediately step away, your back hitting the layer of gym mats.

He takes a step towards you, “Y/N...please tell me what I did wrong. Please.” His voice is soft, barely a whisper.

When you look up at him, he looks just as ruined as you do. The area around his eyes is bright red, tears brimming his eyes.

"I wish you loved me more.” The words are bitter in your mouth, but there’s truth in them.

But when you see the look on his face, you’re instantly filled with regret, “Kei I didn’t-” but he cuts off you off before you can continue, “Is this because I said I wasn’t planning anything for Valentine’s Day?”

You say nothing, but your silence tells him everything he needs to know. Running his fingers through his hair, he lets out a frustrated sigh, “Maybe if you weren’t hanging out with Watanabe or any of those other people.”

“We were working on the Valentine’s Day event, and you know that.” you spit back at him, anger brewing in your chest once again.

He steps towards you again, arms trapping you between his body and the mats behind you, “I bet one of them is the one sending you the letters.”

When you don’t respond, he starts to make his way out of the supply room stopping momentarily to look back at you, “Y/N, I don’t need a shitty holiday to express how much I love being with you, when I do it everyday. Or at least that’s what I thought.”

With that, he leaves you, his footsteps heavy against the hardwood floors of the gym.

Over the weekend, you try to distract yourself from thinking about Tsukishima. But no matter what you do, everything always seems to lead right back to him.

Like the hoodie you’re wearing that he (reluctantly) gave you when you snuck out past midnight that one time. Or when your parents bring home the strawberry cake that the two of you would sometimes share at the bakery near your house.

While you drown in your feelings you ignore the knock on the door. But it comes again, and again, and again. Forcing yourself up from your bed, you make your way downstairs.

Swinging the front door open, you’re greeted by nothing but the emptiness of your front yard. Just as you’re about to shut the door, a flash of red catches your eye.

On the ground is a card and attached is a piece of long red string. The string passes your front gate but that’s as far as you can see. Cautiously you pick up the card, your name written clearly on the front. You don’t recognize the writing and so you debate with yourself for a few moments.

You shout to your parents that you’ll be back, not bothering to tell them why you were running off so late at night.

As you follow the red string you pass a number of familiar places. Your favourite bakery, the record store that has all the albums of your favourite artists, and the book store you like to hide in on rainy days.

At last, the string leads you to the park. Your eyes follows the string to where it disappears behind a nearby tree. Slowly you approach, your feet crunching against the snow.

Just before you can identify the person at the end of the string, a ball of white is hurled towards your chest.

You look down, the icy crystals already melting into the fabric of your hoodie. The sound of footsteps catch your attention, the culprit walking out with his signature smirk plastered across his face.

“What the hell was that for?”

Suddenly, you’re pulled into a hug. It’s warm and familiar, the feeling has you melting into his arms.

His hands grab fistfuls of your hoodie, pushing you closer to his body, holding you as if you were going to melt away just like the snow. Part of you is still angry at him for lashing out at you, but the other part of you knows that you were also in the wrong. So you stay, you stay in his arms because when you’re together like this, your heart knows that it’s home.

The two of you continue to stand there, breathing in sync, hearts beating as if they were one.

“Y/N I’m sorry.” His voice breaks the silence between the two of you.

One of his arms wraps itself securely around your waist, the other rising to cup your cheek, “I shouldn’t have gotten angry at you like that, it’s not your fault you were getting those letters.”

You shake your head furiously, wanting to tell him he’d done nothing wrong but when you look into his golden eyes. It’s a look you’ve never once seen before. It’s almost as if they’re pleading for you to listen, just for now. So desperate yet so full of love.

“I should have realized how important Valentine’s Day is to you. When you hung up on me, I should have realized. When I saw you the next day I shouldn’t have run from you. Being away from you hurt me, and I know it hurt you just as much. It wasn’t fair of me.”

There are a million thoughts running through your mind, but there’s one that you can see clearly.

“Kei, I love you.”

Maybe it was the winter chill, or maybe you’ve finally managed to fluster him, but nonetheless his ears burn a bright red.

“I didn’t mean what I said the other day - about wishing you loved me more. I know you do. I know you don’t say it often, but everything you do for me shows me you do.”

You ramble on, listing every action of love, big or small, that you can recall. Your speech is cut short when your boyfriend captures your lips in a chaste kiss.

His lips are cold against yours, yet when he pulls away, your mouth feels like they’ve been set aflame, “Y/N, I love you. If you want, I’ll make you feel as if Valentine’s Day is everyday.”

Your heart flip flops at those three words but all you can say is, “Kei you’re cold.”

Gently, he knocks his forehead against yours, “I’m never cold. Not when I’m with you.”

#tsukshima kei #tsukishima x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu fluff #clara click clacks

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kittensinsocks24 · 5 years ago

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Spinel is one of the best examples of trauma and emotional parental figure abuse I’ve seen in media: an essay nobody asked for

As some may know, the television film special for Steven Universe, appropriately enough titled Steven Universe: The Movie premiered on Cartoon Network last night after being announced one year ago at SDCC. It was here where we would get our first glance at the villain of the film, who we would come to find out upon release is named Spinel.

I as well watched this stephen university moving picture show. And, despite my initial jokes about “this bendy-and-the-ink-machine lookin’ ass bubblegum bitch”, by the time the credits rolled I looked like a drowned cat, and had wept real tears of pain over this poor, poor strawberry shortcake clown infant. But why? Why was I openly sobbing over a literal one-braincell jester girl with the color palette of magenta printer ink? Then it hit me: Spinel is many things, but she is, most importantly, a great mirror. A mirror for me, and any and all other victims of being taken advantage of by somebody you trust, look up to, and admire, most often than not, parents.

TW: Spoilers below for Steven Universe: The Movie as well as discussion of abusive guardians, short mentions of physical abuse, and discussion of emotional manipulation

While it’s true that Spinel is self-proclaimed to have been Pink’s “best friend”, I feel that to a more obvious extent she is coded to have had a parental, one-sided-admiration relationship with Pink. This is confirmed to me by her obvious youthful, playful and childlike behavior in her original state, her clinginess to the person she respects, and most importantly, her unquestioning belief in Pink Diamond’s love and belief in her best interests, despite obvious signals otherwise to an outsider.

Let’s start at the beginning: Past Spinel is, self-described, “innocent, loving, .....stupid.” Spinel was created, metaphorically and physically, to keep Pink Diamond happy and entertained. Her default state was to naturally seek Pink’s approval, to earn her admiration and joy, similar to how most often a child’s first and prevailing desire is to earn their parent’s approval and love. Despite it not being Spinel’s fault that Pink decided to leave her there with the false hope of her returning, Spinel inherently blames her own naivety and desire for Pink’s love for her current predicament. Maybe if she hadn’t been so trusting, had questioned what Pink was making her do, she wouldn’t have been alone all those years. That’s a feeling I think most trauma victims have looking back at their past selves and childhood, something that further drew me to Spinel’s arc as a metaphor for such.

“And then she smiled, that’s what I’m after: the smile in her eyes, the sound of her laughter.”

This is a situation I believe most if not all children of emotionally and/or physically abusive parents can relate to. The tale of an abusive parental relationship often starts off with a parent either having a child they weren’t emotionally mature enough to raise, or, more relevant in Pink’s case, “having” a child for selfish reasons of personal entertainment, or to fill a void in their lives somehow, realizing only too late the independent personhood of their new “toy” outside of them.

I’ve seen some say that Spinel was understandably left behind because she is shown throughout to be “clingy” and “annoying”, but you know who else frequently has those traits? Children. Especially children before they emotionally mature like Spinel does after her revelation about Pink. I can assure you for a fact that I was a very annoying child. Does that make it right that my parent emotionally withdrew after I was no longer pleasing or entertaining to them? Does that make it right that they hit me? No.

When Pink first “had” Spinel it’s clear that she genuinely enjoyed her company. Most toxic relationships have this sort of “honeymoon” phase, a time before things were so bad that the victim will often wish to go back to, not unlike Spinel. Even though Pink’s later actions erase any goodwill towards Spinel and make it clear that even in joyful times she never really cared for her, as somebody scarred by trauma Spinel inherently longs to go back to these days even if Pink was not actually as happy or good as she remembers.

Later on, we as the audience, privy to more knowledge, can see that Pink has grown irritated/bored with Spinel. But Spinel, much like a child, isn’t aware of this. Spinel loves and is devoted to Pink, and if Pink is happy, she is happy for her. Her trust in Pink loving her back and unwavering confidence in her actions blinds her to what is coming next. “Every day was so much fun! At least.... that’s what I thought.....” She even is so confident that Pink loves her back that she is 100% positive Pink will take her along to Earth.

“I was so excited! A whole new place to play!”

Pink instructs Spinel to stay put in the garden and not follow her, lying straight to Spinel’s openly trusting face that this request is the start of a “game”. Spinel, again only seeking nothing but the love and admiration of her pseudo-parental figure/person she obviously admires, does so without question. In her mind so full of love and genuine belief that Pink would never do something wrong to her, she never even questions that this may not be a game, that Pink is seeking to dispose of her, or that Pink may not return. Spinel takes Pink fully at her word, and thus waits, and waits, for 6000 years.

At first, Spinel remains ever the optimist she always is, entrusting that despite the obvious gap in time that Pink, having her best interests in mind, will come back to love and play with her.

As literal years go by, we can see that despite her best efforts the wait for Pink to “come around” (physically, but also emotionally if we view this as a metaphor) has taken a toll on Spinel. She’s visibly weathered, with tired eyes and a weaker smile. However even though this is clearly not good for her she continues to believe that, yes, Pink does love her and would never hurt her! She will come back!

Worst of all, and something even more stinging when looked at through the lens of an abuse metaphor, is Spinel’s line during this part of the song:

“Happily wondering, night after night, is this how it works? Am I doing it right?”

Annnnnnd this is where the waterworks really burst for me, folks. Spinel has begun questioning Pink’s actions, but her continued belief that Pink, again, would only do the best for her makes it so Spinel has begun, to some extent, to blame herself for how long it’s taken for Pink to return. Spinel feels perhaps she did something to displease Pink, that she messed up their “game” somehow, and this is why Pink has not returned to love her. She must strive and continue to be the best at this “game” or she is to blame for Pink not wanting to play with her. It’s a powerfully impactful line, but even worse for any child who went through a similar trial-and-error, self-deprecating process of trying to earn their parent’s unachievable love through grades, performance, or going above-and-beyond in any other sort of field.

Spinel is so desperate to finally get Pink’s love “back” that even though it is straining her mentally and (albeit to a lesser extent) physically, she will continue to do whatever Pink asked and even doubt herself and her ability to do things right if it means even a sliver of potential attention down the line.

Then, Spinel has a watershed moment most every child of an abusive guardian will have: she realizes she’s been abused. Through Steven’s broadcast, Spinel indirectly learns two things: 1, Pink is dead, has been dead, and was never intending on coming back for her even after all of Spinel’s silent years of devotion and trust, and 2, Pink proceeded to give others the love and attention Spinel could never earn despite all she did immediately after moving on and leaving Spinel for dead.

It is in this moment that Spinel not only physically “snaps” and changes into her much more threatening form seen in Act 1, but that she also breaks.

Spinel entertained and loved Pink for who knows how long before she disappeared, and even in her absence and the absence of love and affection continued to trust and care for her, and Pink instead simply chose to devote herself to new people, a new place, without them even having to earn her like Spinel did? It’s more than unfair, it rocks Spinel’s worldview.

Emotionally, the revelation that the person she adored, loved, trusted and respected and that she naturally looked up to not only did not care for her but actively chose to love others and ignore her despite all the mentally-taxing devotion Spinel gave her is more than she can bear.

“You keep on turning pages, for people who don’t care, people who don’t care about you. And still it takes you ages to see that no one’s there, see that no one’s there, see that no one’s there. Everyone’s gone on without you.”

Spinel transforms, a transformation symbolic of the venom and bile of her trauma. Despite her cocky attitude and speech about her “new look” upon initially showing up with her injector, Spinel notably is not proud of her new form. She views herself as broken.

Scarred beyond repair by Pink’s abandonment and actions. Something too messed up and warped to love, unworthy of affection and friendship.

Traumatized.

I’ve never met another person traumatized by parental abuse who didn’t also feel like they were too far gone. A monster, transformed and shaped into something horrible by their abuser’s actions.

“All that stuff’s easy for you to say! When you change, you change for the better! When I change, I change for the WORSE! I used to just be not good enough, not good enough for Pink,- but NOW, I’m not GOOD AT ALL!”

~ ~ ~

“Spinel, you’ve met The Diamonds before, right?”

“Yeah, but.... (notably hesitant) they’ve never seen me like this.”

With Pink gone, Spinel has nobody direct to confront about her traumas. Without any better coping mechanisms, Spinel’s only desire is to lash out at somebody, anybody for her pain. She specifically chooses Earth and The Crystal Gems for having been the objects of the affection Pink never gave her, despite not actually having a personal relationship with them.

“Y’know, I came here to take my anger out on a bunch of strangers, [...]”

When I first wisened up to the fact that what my parent did wasn’t normal, wasn’t something I should have gone through as an innocent child, I lashed out at any and everybody I felt was involved in some way. My father for never being around when it happened, never stopping her when it did, never getting her help, never calling CPS. My brother for never having to deal with her wrath, for always raising the bar with his good grades, making it feel harder and harder to earn the love I felt like I had to have.

Spinel’s maladaptive way of handling the situation is an all-too-common chapter in the life of the abused, and something that further strengthens the connection her arc has to real life people in similar situations.

When Steven confronts her that this isn’t the way to handle things, Spinel doesn’t see any other way. She doesn’t feel like she can trust anybody again, and doesn’t feel herself worthy of love. During “Found”, she’s noticeably hesitant and even resistive to Steven’s assurance that she’ll find somebody who truly does love her one day, too scarred by Pink’s deception to open herself up to the idea of healing.

Even when she does, it’s notably a delicate process. After turning off the injector, her own insecurity and trust issues due to her traumatic incident leads her, without any real evidence, to assume that Steven and the Gems value her as little as Pink did. She is both afraid of what she has become, again feeling she is too traumatized to be accepted and loved, and also afraid that they will leave her as easily and quickly as her abuser.

After failing to ever earn Pink’s love fully and the physical and emotional transformation her trauma has had on her, Spinel doesn’t genuinely believe anybody could ever want her company ever again.

“I’m the source of all your problems. Don’t pretend you want me here. What’s your plan for me, huh? Ya gonna put me somewhere? Gonna - LEAVE me somewhere? Gonna LEAVE ME ALONE?”

However, after the emotional catharsis of lashing out, sharing her traumas with Steven, and then spiraling into another emotional rage over what happened to her, Spinel, having begun to process her trauma, realizes that her hurting those only vaguely, tangentially related to her abuser and situation will do nothing to heal the pain inside her, and, more importantly, realizes that doing this is only pushing people away from her and failing to allow herself to open up to loving again.

And, of course, this is via a breakdown complete with agony-driven laughter, because Rebecca loves rendering me bald and taking an icepick to my similarly traumatized heart.

“(cracking with emotion)....What am I doing? Why do I want to hurt you so bad? I’m supposed to be a friend. .....I just want to be a friend.”

As low of a point as this is for Spinel emotionally, it shows that she has begun the slow but ultimately fulfilling process of healing. This new path continues in her next scene, where she opens herself up to The Diamonds with Steven’s coaxing, despite the person who spurned her having been a Diamond herself (this also easily could be viewed as a metaphor for opening yourself up to trusting mentoring relationships again and finding a healthy new parental relationship in someone either non-blood-related or in other members of your family).

In probably the most heart-wrenching scene of the movie for me, as The Diamonds reprise their song about opening their hearts up to a new member of their family (this also furthers my argument of spinel = child figure to Pink, considering the last person the trio sung this to was Pink’s literal biological son), Spinel sings part of Found again, finally believing Steven’s statement that she will love again, as she connects and converses with people who genuinely like her despite all she’s been through and become.

Spinel learns and accepts, for the first time in the movie, that she is worthy of love, and is not too broken or changed by her trauma to receive it.

And so I cried like the winner of a horseradish paste eating contest.

In summary, to me, and I’m more than sure to other experiencers of childhood emotional and/or physical abuse at the hands of somebody they trusted, Spinel is one of the best media representations of the complex moods, highs and lows, and experiences of going through, repressing, and processing trauma. Not only that, but unlike some other characters I can think of, Spinel gets a hopeful ending. She’s not so warped and broken that the writers deemed her too far gone and thus only worthy of killing off. No. Spinel is a trauma victim who goes through a dark period of coping in negative ways, but then comes out the other side ready to open herself back up to the idea of healing and moving on from her trauma and abuser. Despite all her baggage and scars, the movie assures us Spinel is just as worthy of a happy ending as any other person.

And I don’t think I’m alone in saying that if MY pained ass at the beginning of my traumatic processing years ago had seen that I could, that I CAN be okay despite it, that it would have meant so much to me.

And even though I’m still still learning to love again myself, I think deep down all victims hope we can become our own Spinel someday.

Somewhere.

Somehow.

We’ll love again.

TL;DR Rebecca Sugar wrote one of the best arcs about abuse on television ever and its star was a rubberhose baby who sounds like Betty Boop and whos shoes make the spongebob walk cycle noise sample and thats why you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover.

#su #su the movie #su the movie spoilers #su spinel #media essay #essay #parental abuse #abusive relationships #toxic relationships #su movie #su movie spoilers #rebecca sugar

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nomorelonelydays · 6 years ago

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kick your pretty feet up on my dash

Part 1 | Part 2

Two days after the Instagram account opens, Sidney unofficially gets put on naming duty.

The strawberry shortcake biscuit is named The Taylor.

The cream cheese-stuffed banana muffins, crusted with dark chocolate ganache, is The Fleury.

The slice of warm spiced peach cobbler (available for just two weeks), topped with a generous portion of thick, whipped cream and vanilla ice cream, is The Deidre.

He shares the account password with her, but she seems more interested in digging up her mom’s old recipes from an ancient box filled with yellowed index cards than photographing.

“I’ll leave that up to you,” she says, then passes him a card titled, ‘Cherry Layer Chocolate Cake.’ “I think I’ll make this for the holidays. What do you think?”

Deidre makes just one and a half cakes for a trial run (the other half, which had come out lopsided, is sitting in the back of Sidney’s fridge). It’s another instant hit.

Sidney watches a couple, two teenagers who are making it pretty painfully obvious that they’re on their first date, split a slice in a corner seat. She’s chasing the cherry around the plate with her fork, and he watching her like she hung the literal moon. He laughs a little too hard at her jokes, his eyes crinkling like Geno’s when he’s chirping Sidney. But with the way she’s beaming, it’s clear that she doesn’t mind at all.

He’s not jealous—or, at least, he doesn’t think he’s jealous. Having hockey and having a boyfriend have always been mutually exclusive. But now, with no obligations to the NHL, he’s supposedly free to do everything that he’s wanted to. He doesn’t dwell too long on it though, because the last thing he needs is to have an existential spiral in Deidre’s store over whether or not he’s missed his his golden hour to be happy the exact minute the Penguins drafted him all those years ago.

He finishes lettering the card for the cherry chocolate cake and slides ‘The Jack’ neatly into its proper holder.

Geno calls him on Thursday nights now, like clockwork. He’s grateful for the routineness of it, especially when he knows how much Geno lives on spontaneity. It’s always the same—updates on how the team is doing (good, the weather over in Pittsburgh (not so good), another dumb prank the rookies are trying to pull (hilarious, but slightly unoriginal with the shaving cream), even though it’ll never be as good as the ones Flower used to plan.

“How are you?” Geno asks one night, while Sidney is puttering around the kitchen to figure out what he wants to make for dinner. “Your tomatoes grow?”

“I think those are a goner,” Sidney grimaces. The entire plant had shriveled up weeks ago, despite Sidney faithfully watering them. “Guess I’ll just have to stick with the storebought ones.”

Geno is silent for a bit. Then, “Is quiet in locker room without you.”

Sidney pauses. “I doubt that’s true.” There’s plenty of rookies every year, eager to prove themselves on the ice and to establish themselves as a personality on the team. Besides, Sidney has never been the life of the party—that’s always been Geno himself.

“No, is quieter.” Geno sounds like he’s swallowing a yawn. “Different without you.”

Sidney’s heart flounders, and he has to blink a couple of times before his throat unclogs. “Maybe you should get to sleep. It’s pretty late over there.”

“No, I’m not tired,” Geno mumbles, sounding very drowsy. Sidney can almost picture Geno, hair-mussed and sleepy eyes about to close as he curls up on his mattress. “Want to keep talking.”

“I know you have practice tomorrow, G,” Sidney says. “You have the C now, you can’t get there two hours late anymore.”

“I’m never late,” Geno huffs. “You too early.”

“Get some rest,” Sidney says gently. “I’ll still be here next week, same as usual.”

“Maybe I call tomorrow.’

“I won’t go anywhere.”

“Wish you still here, Sid,” he murmurs. “Miss you so bad, some days.”

Sidney doesn’t miss a beat. “I miss you, too,” he whispers, because any louder and he knows his voice will crack. “I’ll be here tomorrow. And the day after, if you still want to call.”

“Okay,” Geno says. “Okay.”

Sidney’s restocking the brioche rolls when Deidre’s voice casually pipes up from the coffee machine, “You have a secret admirer, you know.”

“I know. It’s Samantha. PTA President,” Sidney says, trying to not sound exasperated. He only knows her name and title because she must’ve giggled it at him as a greeting every single time she’s marched in. “She asked me what the main ingredient was in the banana muffins and I told her banana like, three times.”

“She just likes to hear you say banana. And no, it’s not Sam.” Deidre makes a come hither motion with her hands and slides a napkin towards Sidney. “Yesterday afternoon, there was a young man, maybe around his 30s, who stopped by for a latte and he asked where you were.”

“Oh.” There’s something he can’t name fluttering in his stomach. The words on the napkin scrawled out, Jeremy, and a string of numbers. “What did you say?”

“I told him, ‘He’s a cute one, isn’t he? He’s the store eye candy, bringing in all the sales.’”

“Dee, you didn’t.”

“I did, and he went full red. It was adorable. And I told him that you pop in in the mornings and in the afternoon to help with opening and closing.” She leans forward, grinning. “I’m just saying, think about it.”

He thinks about it.

At night, he tells Geno, “I think I have a secret admirer. Or a stalker.”

Geno’s voice suddenly becomes infinitely more awake. “Have what? Someone stand outside your house? I read about this before, you need call police.”

“No, it was at the bakery. I got his number on a napkin. Well, the owner gave me his name on a napkin, so I don’t really know what he looks like. He could be 100. People in this town are usually…around that age range.”

Geno still sounds perplexed. “So say no.”

“What?”

“Say sorry, only go on dates with girls. But thank you.”

Sidney’s brain feels like it’s stuttering to a pause. “Geno, what the fuck?”

“What?”

“I don’t ‘only go on dates with girls.’ I—” Well, to be quite fair, he hasn’t gone on any dates at all. “You know this.”

It takes a full ten seconds for Geno to crackled back to life on the line again. His voice is hesitant. “You only bring girls to events. Like Halloween, or—”

“They’re my friends, I’ve told you. I’m not going to bring a guy in front of you guys,” he exclaims, then reigns in his voice. His heart is beating like a jackhammer boring straight through. “Hey, listen, I have a pretty early day tomorrow, I’ll talk to you next week, okay?”

“Sid, wait—”

He hangs up and puts his phone face down on the nightstand. It’s not his proudest moment.

I’m sorry(((, the text reads. The timestamp indicates that the message had been sent at 2 AM. You should go on a date with secret guy. Maybe he’s secret Ryan Reynolds.

Geno’s texts are never longer than five words, usually cryptic versions of a yes or no, accompanied by eyeless smilies. Sidney wonders if he’d been painstakingly worrying over each word since Sidney hastily ended the conversation.

I don’t think he’s Ryan Reynolds, Sidney sends back. Besides, no one in this town knows hockey. That’s gonna be a problem.

Geno’s reply is instantaneous, as if he’d been waiting.

Picky)))))

More messages follow in quick succession, before Sidney can even start typing.

But always best for u. Deserve the best only.

He laces up his shoes and heads to Dee’s.

It snows a little mid-December.

He helps Deidre with the decorations, hanging up tinsel and little snowflake cutouts on the window. She has a box of Christmas lights stored away in a dusty box from the attic, which definitely looks like they haven’t been disturbed since the 80s, but the one of the bulbs dies with a sad fizz the moment Sidney plugs it in. So they have to make do with the other nonflammable options.

The store looks nice. ‘Well-loved’ is a better word for it, with its mismatched decorations and ancient garlands. He snaps a photo of the mini tree on the counter for Instagram before he goes to help Deidre frost the rest of the ornament-shaped sugar cookies.

There’s commotion on the streets from all the tourists and families coming back for the holidays. He thinks about flying to Nova Scotia for the holidays, but then he realizes that none of Deidre’s children will be coming to Cardwell Point.

“They’re busy,” she shrugs indifferently, but she turns her back to Sidney as she busies herself with rearranging the shelfs. “It’s alright. That’s what Skype is for, right? Besides, I have to watch the store.”

He thinks about Geno, who’s probably headed to Florida soon to escape the onslaught of winter chill that he absolutely abhors, no matter how much he loves the city. He could Skype Geno, or Facetime him. Except Geno would always have the angle wrong, and Sidney’s sure he’d just get an on-brand mugshot of Geno’s nostril from the bottom up for the whole conversation.

He did ask Sidney if he wanted to go to Florida, except the way he had asked had felt like a given tagged with a question mark at the end (Florida w me this year?). Nonetheless, Sidney had been tempted.

But he also wonders if he’d feel even more homesick when Geno is physically standing in front of him again, all tall and loud and too big, too much, too many years of his unrequited love staring at him and making Sidney think that he has a chance. He doesn’t want to go to Florida to watch Geno pick up strangers at a club.

“I’m not going anywhere, either,” he tells her.

She looks over, finally, pursing her lips like she’s trying to hold back her smile.

@DeesBakeryandCafe

Season’s greetings and a happy New Year to our wonderful customers and families here in Cardwell Point. Hope everyone is spending time with their loved ones this holiday season.

Winter refuses to go. The clouds hang over the streets stubbornly, and each days trudges on like it’s dragging its feet.

He misses skating.

He misses Geno. Especially as it gets closer to February and teenagers and adults alike start coming to the shop in twos, their gloved hands clasped together as they squeeze through Dee’s tiny corridor when it’s really much easier to be in a single-file line.

He’s not jealous. He is not.

But he is lonely. And really fucking cold.

He serves up at least thirty slices of The Jack, which is apparently the most popular item these days thanks to Instagram. Deidre switches up the decoration, so the cherry-glazed design in the middle forms a big, gaudy heart. The Internet completely eats up. Sidney doesn’t understand it.

“It’s like a Titanic reference, right?” a customer asks, as he picks up the cake for his wife. “Like, an ‘I’ll never let you go,’ kind of thing. Jack and Rose?”

“Sure,” Sidney says. It’s really for his first childhood crush, but he can work with the Titanic.

The moment Deidre fills her last custom order of The Jack (and there had been plenty of those, for anniversaries to birthdays to just becauses), she tells Sidney that she’s figured out how to make her mother’s cheesecake.

“Finally worked out how to stop the goddamn filling from clotting,” she says, cutting him a slice. The cake has a brownie bottom, and the inside is perfectly creamy and smooth and dotted with dark chocolate chips. “What do you think?”

“I’m biased,” Sidney says, trying to not scarf down the whole thing like an animal. “I love cheesecakes. This one is my favorite so far.”

“Good,” she tells him. “You can name this one, then.”

His fork stops mid-air. “Weren’t you going to call it ‘The Lily’?”

She pats his arm affectionately, not unlike the day she did when Sidney told her why he ended up at Cardwell Point. “I figured she wouldn’t mind. This can be our second February special. God, I’m sick of The Jack.”

The next week, Sidney carefully slides The Geno in its display cabinet.

(Deidre doesn’t ask about the peculiar name. She never does, and Sidney is grateful.)

After over a decade in the NHL, he’s well aware of what he can and can’t have. But lately he’s been feeling selfish. He snaps a photo of the cheesecake and sends it to Deidre.

It’s a good photo.

“I got invited to a neighborhood potluck yesterday,” Sidney mumbles into the receiver, when Flower asks him how retirement is treating him. “I don’t know what to bring. Maybe I’ll bring something from the bakery.”

“Do you officially work at the bakery or are you just there because the owner is blackmailing you? Does she know who you are?”

“I just help out when I can. And no, I told you, it’s not a hockey town. They do have competitive knitting here. It’s a thing.” Sidney doesn’t have much to do these days, aside from working out and catching up on reading, which means that he does end up doing most of the latter in the café. Maybe he should take up competitive knitting. “I started an Instagram for her shop. We just hit 200 followers.”

“You know how to do that?” Flower asks, because he’s a little shit. “I’m kidding, I know you’re not actually a senior citizen.”

Sidney rolls his eyes. “I haven’t checked it in a while though. I let Deidre handle the posting now. It’s her shop, anyways.”

“What’s the handle?”

He tells him. Flower is quiet for a bit as he searches through the page. “Pretty cool, eh?”

“Yeah,” Flower says, his voice slightly off. “Yeah, it’s—it’s good. Looks like the real deal.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? Of course it’s the real deal.”

Flower makes a noncommittal noise. “Nothing. Cheesecake looks good. Does Geno know?”

“No,” Sidney says. “I mentioned the bakery once or twice. He didn’t ask. Not, uh—not after I told him about Jeremy.”

“Secret napkin man?” Flower remembers. “You didn’t go on that date?”

“No, I didn’t go on a date with ‘secret napkin man,’” he mimics. “I don’t think he’d care.”

“I think he’d care.” Flower always sounds so sure when he wants to be serious, and it’s one of the things Sidney missed most when he left for Vegas—there’d been a metaphorical hollow within the team for a good few months following his departure, and that void never quite got replaced no matter what.

“Maybe.”

Sidney can only hope. But he’s a little too old for hoping these days.

Foot traffic is slower when they hit March, but Deidre promises that it’ll pick up when Cardwell Point’s 11th Annual Theater Festival starts in the middle of the month, because that’s apparently the other big thing aside from the 4th of July Carnival Bash. Sidney has just packed up another dozen of red velvet cupcakes for Samantha the PTA Queen when the front bell jingles.

“Hello? I’m look for—”

Sidney heart leaps to his throat.

“Sid,” Geno says softly. He looks like the wind knocked him in (it probably had), mismatched Frakenshirts and all. “Hi, Sid.”

Samantha may as well not have even walked into the store at all.

“How are—“ He must be imagining things. But Geno takes another step, until he’s right in front of the counter and Sidney can reach out and touch just how real he is. He hasn’t changed much--still the same eyes, the same nose and lips, and maybe his hair is a bit thinner but he still makes Sidney’s chest feel too small and too big all at once. “Where did you—how are you here?”

“Fly,” Geno says sheepishly. “Wanted to see you.”

“What about—”

“No games until Friday.” He’s staring at Sidney like he’s looking his fill and he can’t get enough. “I—I see your post, and I just—buy ticket.”

“What post?”

Geno pulls out his phone and flips through it until he lands at a familiar Instagram account. He passes it over to Sidney, his hands warm as it brushes against Sidney’s fingers.

@DeesBakeryCafe

‘I love you’ tastes a lot like our chocolate chip cheesecake, The Geno.

“Oh,” Sidney breathes. “Oh.”

#retirement fic #sidgeno #okay!!! getting closer to the final part #probably wont be any posting during the weekday because need to do Real Job things #but hope you guys enjoy #wish i knew graphic so i can like...make a graphic header

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lizzieraindrops · 5 years ago

Text

Your chance to make the sun rise thrice (Chapter 2)

a river that still runs (8803 words)

Beth Childs has come to Helsinki to meet her best friend Veera for the first time in the Herbs on the windowsill universe, an alternate timeline where the original Helsinki massacre was prevented and DYAD routed by Clone Club Alpha’s successful publicity stunt back in 2001. Veera Suominen and Niki Lintula survived and decided to live in a little apartment together as qpp’s. Numerous Leda clones worldwide are now in contact via a secure online network that Veera maintains.

Note: This chapter is a bit heavier than the rest of the AU. Beth is still struggling with a lot of the same challenges in this universe, even if the events causing them are somewhat different because of such early canon divergence. But the whole point of this story is that things can end up okay no matter how rough it's been. She's getting the help she needs and she's gonna be alright. That said, warning for soft discussion of past abuse, the effects of trauma, depression and anxiety, and some suicidal ideation. And of course, lots of love and learning how to heal, with support from her best friend.

Fun fact: Veera's username is 3mika, and she always sets her font to the precise warm turquoise of hex color #2299aa. She thinks she's hilarious, and she's right.

Also on AO3 | Playlist | Aesthetic sideblog

Part 1: Herbs on the windowsill

Part 2: Someday colors

Part 3: Your chance to make the sun rise thrice | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

***

Beth wakes on a squashy couch that isn't hers. Morning-soft sunlight pours through the window above her, bouncing back off the walls to fill even the shady corners with a warm secondhand glow. Her limbs are soft, splayed under unfamiliar blankets and sinking into the cushions. She doesn't move yet.

The apartment. Helsinki. Beth's really here. She holds herself still, letting the truth sink into her. She half expects the usual anxious tension to clench her into a ball the instant she moves a muscle, but it isn't there. Neither is the invisible weight that so often pins her immobile. She still wakes frequently with both of them holding her body hostage, keeping her muscles unmoving but restless, even in sleep. Right now though, they're gone. She just lies there, soft beneath the window.

It's quiet but not silent. The occasional car on the little road outside chuckles as it passes. A soft rush of water echoes through pipes in the walls, running toward an early riser in another unit. These sounds fall strangely on Beth's Toronto-bred ears, isolated in the stillness of this of this little apartment on the outskirts of the city. Still, the early-morning atmosphere settles comfortably into her jet-lagged bones, murmuring a rhythm for her to sink into. The temporal upheaval of a transcontinental red-eye and a series of exhausted naps yesterday have left her a little unbalanced. And yet, here she is waking up with the day, and the ground under her feels so much more stable than she’s used to.

Beth breaks her stillness with a deep, deep breath that she can feel expanding all the way down to her feet. She stretches, too, but soon pulls the toes that get exposed back underneath the warm, scratchy blanket. The cushions of the old couch creak a little in complaint as she shifts, but her limbs remain supple. For a time, she just observes the sensations. Then, her awareness spreads beyond the couch and the window to the rest of the room.

All around her, an oddly blocky pattern covers the walls. It's one of the first things she noticed when she walked into the apartment yesterday afternoon. The pattern isn't wallpaper like it appears at first glance, but actually a multitude of small photographs. Most of them are unframed, but taped up in crisply aligned rows. In them, she sees the same face infused with a hundred different lives. Just above her, a sleeping, slack-jawed redhead with bulky headphones around her neck sprawls on the very same couch Beth's laying on now. A few rows down, a brunette and a blonde with their long hair in matching wild waves are leaning all over each other and grinning like devils. One of the few framed photos shows a girl with a hospital-short buzz cut and a delighted expression, sitting in front of what looks like a mouthwatering strawberry shortcake. Beth can see at least six others in the background behind strawberry girl. Among them are Mika with her unmistakable scars and Niki with her bright blonde hair, their arms around each other's shoulders.

Morning light glances off the glossy surfaces of the photos on the west wall. The particularly bright reflection off one of the framed photos draws Beth's eye. With a tiny jolt, Beth recognizes one of her own selfies beneath the glass. In it, she's wearing the same old turquoise blue sweatshirt that's spilling out of her suitcase next to the couch right now. Underneath it, she's wearing her track gear, so the photo is at least two years old. She'd had to quit cross-country so she could try to get the shitshow her life had become under control. She vaguely recalls sending it to Mika a long time ago. It's strange to think that her presence has been in this apartment for so long.

She's here. In Finland. Staying with Mika – Mika - and Niki. Far, far away from everything.

Sprawling on the couch she slept on with a sigh as if she hadn’t a care in the world, Beth can't believe she's really gone and done it. She's run so far away that there's an ocean between her and her problems. It’s so much better than she's dreamed, even if it's only for a little while. It’s worth it, even though she'll be going back far too soon. For the first time in years, it feels like she’s where she’s supposed to be right now.

It had all started out as foolish idea she'd floated one Saturday morning, months ago. She hadn't been serious at all. She'd woken up so relieved at not having to get up and go to work, until she remembered her weekly therapy appointment with a hopeless groan.

Putting off the genuinely daunting prospect of hauling herself out of bed, she reached out to snag her phone from on top of her dresser, checking to see if she'd heard from Mika overnight. After all, Helsinki was nine hours ahead, so Mika had already seen most of the day that was just beginning for Beth. They talked so often these days, since they'd first made contact over two years ago. Rarely a day passed without touching base. But there wasn’t anything since Beth had checked last night. She took it upon herself to send the first message of the day.

runwaterblue: god, i dont wanna get up and deal with any of thsi shit today

After her world fell apart, after finding out about Project Leda, after realizing that all her nightmares and more were real, after her father...

runwaterblue: wish i could come visit u and get away form everything for awhile

Mika replied almost immediately.

3mika: you can

It was evening in her time zone, but to be honest, Beth had no idea if she had anything resembling a regular sleep schedule. The girl was always online.

3mika: though you really should go to your appointment. you always feel better afterward

runwaterblue: howd you know i have therapy today

3mika: you always have an appointment saturday afternoons

runwaterblue: yes but how do you remember that? i cant evne remember my own appts lmao

3mika: you mentioned it months ago when you switched from sundays to saturdays

Beth shook her head with a smile. Mika was so good with details.

3mika: anyway. you’re welcome here, if you can get here

3mika: it would be great to see you

3mika: Niki wouldn't mind. we've had a bunch of Ledas visit us here, it's always fun

3mika: except that one time Dani and Ary got into a fight over football. some French-Italian team rivalry thing. that was not fun.

Beth laughed. It was funny how Mika was so good at making her do that, even on days like these. She leaned back against her pillow and held her phone over her head without sitting up, being careful not to drop it on her own face. She'd done that before. More times than she'd admit.

runwaterblue: i was kidding. id love to visit, but idk how id get there

runwaterblue: u should see the americans go off abt their football lmao. they're nerly as bad as the hockey freaks here

3mika: pls no

3mika: no more sports. it was a year ago and I’m still exhausted

3mika: sports are banned in this apartment.

Beth snorted. Mika wanted nothing to do with sports of any kind, and with Beth's athletic record, the topic had become a point of mutual teasing between them.

In so many ways, they were such different people, DNA be damned. Mika was reticent where Beth was outgoing. (Or at least, Beth had been. She was never quite sure how to think of herself these days.) Clone drama aside, Beth had been a pretty average Canadian high schooler. She got reasonable grades, played a few sports, and kept mostly out of trouble because there would be hell to pay if she didn’t. Mika was a brilliant homeschooled autistic orphan who had been raised in near isolation by her guardian after surviving the hospital fire that marked her skin for life. Beth mostly listened to pop music, and where no one else could hear, the occasional classical symphony. Mika held fast to Finland's weird obsession with death metal and dabbled in literally everything else.

And yet, Mika understands Beth like no one else does. And it's not just because they've both been through all this Project Leda bullshit. Though Beth doesn't know what she would have done without Mika to help her through that, too.

Beth won't ever be able to forget the moment that everything changed. Recognizing a her own face from the mirror on the evening news stopped her in her tracks, as something in her gut caved in with the hollow certainty that it wasn't her. Then face after face flickered before her, a flipbook barrage of déja vu. Blonde and smiling. Scarred and pensive. Braids and piercings and a rakish grin. Beth was rooted in place as people she had never been wearing things she had never worn said things she was never supposed to know.

That utter strangeness on the screen immediately seeped into her life like an oil slick into a river, tainting every thing she thought she knew with clinging uncertainty. Her father was inexplicably even more upset about it than Beth was, yet adamant that they shouldn't look into the matter. But it was already too late to stop herself from thinking. With slow horror, the truth of what exactly his behavior must mean dawned on her. And yet, even with the desperate growing certainty about who her Leda monitor must be, it was hard to believe that he could be anything other than her plain stern father.

He was always a bit strict and overprotective - probably well more than a bit, she realizes these days. But she’d thought that's just what it was like to be a cop's daughter. He'd never done anything really extreme, nothing beyond the firm discipline any kid could expect. He was just not a man to be trifled with, that was all. So until everything she thought she knew shifted that day and threatened to topple every assumption she’d built her life on, she had never truly dared to cross him.

Outright daring him to say to her face that he wasn't her monitor was probably considered a step beyond trifling. He did not take it kindly.

Two months later, Beth and her mother were living in an apartment on the opposite side of the city. It took two months for the two of them to lay plans to leave together, for good. For two months, her every move was watched. She spent two months knowing there would be hell to pay if she didn't give the performance of a lifetime pretending everything was fine, even while sirens blared inside her day and night. Two months was more than enough to teach her things she never wanted to know about the hidden marks fear leaves on the body.

Even after she finally escaped, her life was in tatters and nothing made sense. It wasn’t just the sudden jarring discovery of Project Leda, or the crisis it had forced her to confront. It was learning that, deep down, she had known that she’d never once felt free. She’d unconsciously kept herself from knowing to avoid exactly that conflict of wills that she’d known she would lose.

Trying to come to terms with what had happened and how it changed everything, Beth was continuously losing her balance. Questioning which parts of her life had been screwed over by her father and which by being part of some ridiculous supervillain science experiment was like trying to stand on two kickboards in a pool. She couldn't find her footing, and all she could do was try and stay afloat. She had to repeat her whole junior year of high school that she lost to this shitshow, while starting over at a new school, and only barely scraped her way into senior year. Now that she knew how honestly terrible she'd been at judging who in her life she could trust, it was as hard to talk to old friends as it was to make new ones.

Therapy helped her start sorting out what she was feeling, and how the environment she’d grown up in was really not the healthiest. She hadn’t realized how much she’d learned to doubt her own perceptions. That made constructing any kind of new understanding of her situation an uphill struggle. And of course, her therapist couldn’t help her confirm anything about a human experiment that was so illegal it had been an international secret. As she continued to stumble forward, Beth even started doubting her former certainty of the identity of her Leda monitor. She questioned herself and everything she knew until she wanted to scream with frustration or weep with confusion. The floor of the counselor’s office could have been mopped with her tears. It was, quite literally, driving her mad.

So, finally, Beth had taken up the invitation on the banner of every Leda news feature to "Contact the secure, clone-run Clone Youth Group Network (CYGNet) for answers by emailing [email protected]."

She wanted something concrete that would help convince her brain to stop reenacting these head games that warped her reality. It still insisted on playing through the patterns it had been taught, even in its teacher’s absence. She needed something that could brace her against the ideas that she was really just paranoid, overreacting, accusing, that this was all her fault for making a big deal out of nothing. Even with his other faults (cruelties, her mind whispered) aside, at least his involvement with Project Leda was unforgivable, and she wanted proof of it. Maybe if she had that, she could stop being mad at herself for not wanting to forgive. And if anyone had that proof, CYGNet would.

Maybe it was just because of the sheer blunt honesty about her motives, or the inescapable vulnerability of the message Beth sent, but Mika had replied to her within a day. And she'd been so gentle about it, too, enough to make Beth later question where the stereotype of autistic brashness came from. Then again, over email, Mika had all the time she needed to compose her thoughts and lay them out as softly as she wanted. She didn't have to spit them out as fast as she could to keep pace with a quick and painfully overwhelming world.

Hi Beth Childs,

I'm so sorry for what you had to go through. I still don't know how they got away with doing things like this for so long. I suppose people will always find ways to be cruel. But we've survived this long, and the whole point of CYGNet is to help us all heal. The experimental network has been dismantled, and we are assembling resources to help us. We've brought mental health professionals on to the project to develop custom programs for our needs. We can make them available to you, if you are interested.

I attached scans of some of your files that we recovered from DYAD. There are a few case reports with the signature of the person you asked about, spaced throughout your lifetime. There are also financial records with his name in the list of paid employees. He was without a doubt part of the Leda monitor program. I can provide all of the documentation that we have related to you, if you like, but I thought that would be too much all at once. I know these are hard to look at, but I hope they help let your mind rest. They are very real, and every awful thing we have experienced was also real, no matter how they tried to convince everyone that we were making it all up.

Please take your time with these, and stay in contact if you want to. You can join our mailing list, if you want to know when we have new information or new resources available. We're here for you.

And hey, if you just want to talk to someone who knows what it's like to deal with all of this, I'm here, too. You can reach my personal inbox or IM me at [email protected]. It'll be okay.

-Veera

Beth had started crying before she even finished reading the letter, much less opened the attachments. She cried so often these days. She only knew why half the time. But this time, it felt like the tears were extracting some of her pain as they left her, instead of just overflowing from the unending wellspring of her directionless distress. All of this was real, and someone else knew it.

Though she was grateful beyond measure for her mother’s untiring support, they were each other’s too-close, ever-present reminders of what they’d survived, trying to act like they weren’t, trying to convince each other and themselves that they were okay. Beth had needed something else, too, something until now unnamed.

This was a handhold, a backstop Beth didn't know she'd been desperate to find. It wasn't just the confirmation of what she’d concluded about her father. The ability speak plainly to someone she didn't feel the need to pretend around was an exhale of a breath held too long. At least one person in the world not only understood, but really and truly didn't want or expect her to act like any of this was normal or okay, or that she would ever be the same again.

Veera – or Mika, as she often went by online – made good on her offer of a sympathetic ear. Their correspondence started off with awkward, grammatically correct messages about the less painful details of their lives. Mika told her about the farmer’s market three blocks away where she went walking early in the morning before it got busy, and the plant stand there that her best friend and roommate Niki (also a Leda) had to ask her to stop buying so many succulents from.

At first, Beth tried to chatter like she used to, but there were no safe subjects. What had happened had touched all of her life. Normally, she’d talk about school, or sports, or her friends. But she was trying to start all over again at a new school with all the struggles that came with it. She didn’t have the time or energy for sports anymore, and talking about them hurt, now. Running used to make her heart sing. But no matter how she tried, there was no joy in the motion anymore. To top it all off, it was as hard to connect with old friends from her old life as it was to try and make new ones. She spent most interactions either doubting her own character judgement or dreading the moment people recognized her Leda face from the news.

She didn’t know how to talk about any of it to anyone. Maybe she could have if it had been just the clone thing or just the dad thing. But the two were inextricably entangled, and she still couldn’t even explain it to herself. It was all unbelievably horrifying, and any time she tried to be honest about it, people ended up disbelieving or horrified. Shocker.

Maybe, though, it wouldn’t be weird to talk about it with Mika. Mika already knew the worst. Beth didn’t have to hide that hurt from her to keep from shaking her world, or to keep her dismissal from hurting Beth. Maybe that’s what was hurting the most: the feeling that even after escaping, she still had to pretend to be okay. That compulsive stifling feeling choked her whenever it bubbled back up. On her bad days, a simple “how are you?” could reduce her to a blank face plastered over a raw tangle of emotions held motionless her own iron grip.

But Mika mentioned having bad days, too. Days came where she was too scared and nightmare-weary to do anything but make herself some tea and soak up some sunlight in the safety of home. Beth could casually say things like after those two months, i still twitch every time i hear a door open, and i wish my body would quit feeling like it doesn’t exist, my legs feel numb. It barely broke the surface of what it was like in her head, but was discomfiting enough for people that she held her tongue at school.

Sometimes, Beth got tired of constantly thinking about all this shit and tried to lighten things up. On one comically disastrous occasion of cultural exchange, she liveblogged Mika her attempt at eating the infamous Scandinavian lutefisk, along with an audio recording of the incoherent horrified noises she made after tasting it. In return, she received a recording of someone, presumably Mika, laughing harder than she’d ever heard anyone laugh before. It made Beth smile. Not many things did, back then.

Slowly, as the formality fell away from their transcontinental conversations, their heavier stories seething below the surface seeped in. Beth had been in therapy long enough now to know that she couldn't just recklessly unload on people the way she did in counseling sessions. But a counselor couldn't always provide the same kind of unspoken solidarity that someone in the same boat could.

Bit by bit, slipped into the chats that were becoming a daily occurrence, they talked about monitors, about what the experiment had really all been for, why that both was and wasn’t important, and how they'd discovered they were a part of Project Leda. Putting words to the pain hurt, a lot. But the ability to lay out long-unspoken truths in front of each other, knowing they were believed in the way that only people who have shared something can, was a healing kind of pain instead of the festering one Beth had been living with.

The two of them had more in common than they'd thought, growing up a world apart. Beth's experience raised under the subconscious wariness of her father's hovering thumb felt a lot like what Mika described growing up largely isolated with her former guardian. But sometimes, whenever they realized that something they'd both thought was normal was pretty not, they got a good laugh out of it despite the weight of their pasts. Mika seemed somewhat accustomed to her normal being considered pretty weird, so she usually took the revelations in stride better than Beth did. Beth wouldn't find out for at least a year after meeting her that it was because of her Asperger's, since it was a topic Mika seemed quite sensitive about.

Mika explained it once, in a conversation full of long pauses on her part and watching the typing icon disappear and reappear on Beth’s. The way she put it, it just meant that her brain worked a bit differently than most people's, processing sounds and sights and all the information it took in at different speeds and with different emphases. The difference could turn everyday things like the sound of a refrigerator running into a splitting headache, or something as simple as the soft texture of her favorite jacket into a kind of bliss. That alternative way of processing also extended to things like words and emotions as well. Sometimes, it took her longer than the world was willing to wait to process them into something that made sense. It often made communication tricky, trying to compensate for the gap in mutual understanding with most people. The world and the people in it could be so overwhelming sometimes, so fast and bright and full of noise and uncertainty and bewilderingly arbitrary social conventions. But the biggest challenge was other people expecting her to do everything the same way they did, ignorant of the fact there were any ways to exist other than their own, and completely oblivious to the fact that she was already putting in at least twice as much effort to communicate with them as they were with her.

And yet, even coming from such a different perspective, Mika gets it. Beth says sometimes i dream of drowning and its not a nightmare and i wake up not knowing how to feel, and Mika says I still dream of burning and wake up not knowing which fires are real, and they both say yeah. And they sit there across the world from each other knowing these things, knowing that it doesn't fix anything. And yet, it does change something. Nothing's any better, really. But somehow, the knowledge that someone else understands makes it a little easier to bear.

And that's just it. Somehow, without ever even having seen her face, Mika sees Beth clearer than anyone. All of her, all the ugly parts she hides so that they can't hurt anyone, and all the good parts that she also hides so that nobody can hurt them or take them away from her. Mika sees all of that and then just tells Beth another story about the Northern Lights she sees on the regular. Apparently, in Finnish, they’re called "fox fires." Beth hardly ever sees the aurora, living relatively far south in a bright city. But her stories about life in the metropolis by the lake intrigue Mika as much as the tales of the twisting green lights do her. And Beth can talk about something lighter again while not having to pretend that the heaviness isn’t there, too, even while she’s just once more trying and failing to explain poutine. For her, the weight never really goes away. But the effort of pretending she’s not carrying it takes more out of her than the weight itself. Mika understands that.

Maybe that’s why Beth had talked it over with Mika first, even before her mom, when she was considering taking a gap year after she hopefully managed to finish her senior year of high school. (God, it was so hard to think about English or math or whatever when just that morning she’d woken from a nightmare about being back in a not-home house that she never escaped.) Beth's mom had been so unbelievably supportive of Beth's recovery, even while she herself was adjusting to the wrenching change in both of their lives. It was both inspiring and a little intimidating. If her mom managed to run a household and raise a daughter all on her own, even while trying to heal from her own trauma, how could Beth not do her utmost, too? She was grateful to be able to talk to Mika about it, to get a reality check from someone who both understood her situation intimately and didn't make Beth feel that pressure of expectation. In the end, Beth did decide to take a year or two off before considering college, and her mom was again nothing if not supportive. Beth figured, after this entire mess, she deserved some time to herself to work on sorting her shit out, and her mom agreed.

After graduating with reasonable if not flying colors, Beth worked a series of part-time and odd jobs that didn't stress her out too much, letting herself focus on her own healing. In between her mom's support, seeing a counselor regularly, and the security of having a friend she could really trust, Beth felt like she was making progress. Slow progress, sure, but progress, nonetheless. Considering that she had seventeen years' worth of lies to unbelieve and emotional trauma to finally acknowledge, Beth figured that there was only so much she could do in the three years she'd had.

Her days were still hard. Getting sleep and waking up and eating and even just existing were still so fucking hard sometimes, and it was horrible. Some days, the thinnest sheet trapped her in bed like it was a car pinning her down. It felt so stupid for such simple things to be so hard. But then her therapist would remind her that that’s what mental illness and trauma was, that this was what the wounds in her mind and heart made her feel like. And once in awhile, sun broke through the shadows, and she had a day that reminded her what an okay day felt like – that okay days existed. That more might.

Now, she’s here, lying in a bright living room so far from home, with her dearest friend in the next room. She’s comfortable, except for the knot in her neck from sleeping oddly on the couch. The soreness pales in comparison to the usual tensions that are so strangely absent. Beth can’t remember the last time she felt this okay. She’s not steeling herself to go to work. She’s not dreading the next conversation with her mother that goes quiet as they both remember awful things they don’t mention. She’s not bracing herself for the next time her brain runs rampant worrying about whether she’ll run into the subject of her restraining order somewhere in the city and have to wonder if he'll honor it.

None of that reaches her here. There’s something about this quiet little pocket of space. It’s overrun with a proliferation of potted plants, from the sprawling lacy-leafed monster in the corner, to the fern peeping out of the kitchen, to the vine cuttings spilling out of an oddly familiar leaf-shaped glass bottle on the sill. Sunlight streaks through leaves and windowpanes and across the colorful patchwork of rugs on the floor. In the midst of it all, Beth is held by a palpable aura of gentleness. It holds her so softly that she doesn't need to hold herself in. It's like the layer of caution that she always keeps wrapped between herself and the rest of the world has simply dissolved away. In this moment suspended in morning light, she is okay.

She feels safe.

The realization undoes something in her. She feels the tears starting, and she expects the taut tension of involuntary stifling that always comes with them to return. But it doesn’t. She lies still and soft on the couch with the water creeping over her cheeks, breath occasionally catching but flowing freely. She savors it in the quiet.

The soft thunk of an ill-fitted door opening breaks into her odd reverie. Mika’s up. Beth sniffs and scrubs at her eyes halfheartedly, but she can’t hide them right now and she doesn’t want to. Mika notices immediately, and comes trotting over with quiet steps, leaning forward all concern.

"Beth," she says softly. She shifts from foot to foot like a nervous cat, watching Beth with enormous eyes. Beth has never met anyone else with such an intense stare. Or maybe it's just the fact that Beth knows beyond all doubt that she's being looked at by somebody who really sees her in her entirety. It's like she's staring right into Beth's soul. But Mika was able to do that long before they saw each others' faces. They've shared so many thousands of words over screens and seas, so many emotions that have gone otherwise unspoken, so many too-early mornings and too-late nights on the fringes of each other's dawns and dusks.

“What’s wrong?”

Finally, a flash of that sick tension runs through Beth’s body. It’s been okay when Mika has asked that before, when it was just silent letters on a screen. But out loud, the question falls on her ears like every well-meaning inquiry she’s ever had to scramble to find an acceptable answer for. The strain begins to cinch tight around her again like coarse ropes across barely-healed skin, ready to compel her to replace the truth with something safer. Her arms and legs tied, she begins to freeze, railing against herself for tainting the softness, the safety of this place.

"Beth." Mika says again, softer but more urgent.

In the gap between thoughts created by hearing her name, Beth seizes the chance to redirect them to the present. She clings to the welling in the corners of her eyes, the warmth of the sun caressing her back. The leaves of trees whisper outside the third-floor window in a mild breeze. The brightness spills over the sill and across Mika’s asymmetrical, half-craggy face and lights up tufts of her short hair as she steps closer. The couch dips as Mika sits down next to her, tilting Beth toward her.

Without meeting her eyes, Mika lifts a hesitant hand that hovers in the air between them, uncertain yet reaching. Her gentle palm falls onto Beth's forearm as softly as a floating leaf. The fingers curl around Beth’s arm just below the wrist, firm but not tight. Comforting.

The softness surrounding Beth seeps back into her, saturating her. As the memory fades like a ripple into water, the tension slackens. But it leaves her shaky, with traces of a familiar ache in her neck muscles, one that goes deeper than the simple stiffness from the couch. She sucks in a few unsteady breaths while Mika gives her arm a gentle squeeze.

“Sorry,” Beth says in a small, awkward voice.

Mika tilts her head. “Why?”

“Uh, I didn’t mean to bring all – this mess, in here.” Beth rubs the back of her neck with her free hand. “It’s so... soft, and okay, and – I don’t wanna ruin it,” she says, trailing off into a mumble.

“Hey.” Mika moves her hand from Beth’s arm to her shoulder. When Beth looks at her, she’s looking right back. Mika's eyes dart down to the floor for a moment, but then return to hold Beth’s with deliberate steadiness. “It’s alright. It’s like this here because we wanted it to be safe to be messy. You’re not ruining anything.”

“... Oh.” She’s steadied by Mika’s fingers curling around her shoulder, by the tendrils of sunlight spreading across her head and back and arms. Mika’s voice is small but steady, and somehow it comes from the same throat that makes that huge pealing laugh. It’s so strange how they sound nothing alike. Until yesterday, Beth hadn’t heard her voice since the lutefisk incident. They’d mostly kept to text and pictures. It had seemed easier, the way it gave them both plenty time to think before they spoke through their different uncertainties. Beth was already planning her trip before they realized that they’d never actually called each other. By that point, it sounded like more fun to meet in person the old-fashioned way.

"I'll make you some tea." Mika abruptly stands and lets go of her. Beth is sad to lose the contact. She flits across the room toward the kitchen in her soft cotton pajama pants, complemented by yet another black graphic tee for yet another Scandinavian metal band Beth's never heard of. Or at least, she'd never heard of them before Mika, who has something to say about all of them, and now Beth knows more than she'll ever need to.

Mika moves in and out of view behind the half-wall that separates the little living room from the kitchen. The fronds of the fern on the counter make a green rustling as she brushes by them. It sends soft feathered shadows waving across the wall opposite the window. Beth hears the rush of water boiling out of sight, and soon sees steam rising from the mug that's being handed to her.

"It's hot," Mika says unnecessarily. She sits down next to her again, this time leaning into Beth with her arm. Beth’s glad for it.

"Have you ditched the bags and gone loose leaf?" Beth says, eyeing the fragments of bright green leaf free floating in her mug.

"It didn't come in a bag. It came from the window."

"The window?"

"It's basil tea. For the fear and pain. Five large fresh leaves in two hundred and fifty milliliters water. We grew it here."

Beth takes a cautious sip. It's surprisingly sweet, and the savory smell of the steam rising from it curls into her sinuses. The aching in her head and neck begin to relax. It's unfamiliar, but it feels like home should, just like everything else here.

"Thanks," Beth says. On an impulse of craving closeness, she leans her head onto Mika's shoulder with a sigh. The sensation of contact deepens as Mika leans against her, too.

Beth holds the cup close, fingers wrapping around its warmth. She takes another sip and gets a bit of leaf stuck in her teeth. The way she scrunches up her face trying to dislodge it pulls a tiny laugh out of Mika.

“You don’t have to be okay here,” Mika whispers. “You can just be. That’s what we do.”

Beth finds her eyes wet again, but she smiles while she sets her mug down and wipes them away. “Kinda already wish I could stay here,” she says with a chuckle.

“... That’s probably not impossible.”

“Really?” Beth asks wryly. “Not even twenty-four hours, and you’d already be willing to put up with me?”

“Twenty-four hours and twenty-seven months.”

Beth melts a little even while waving the idea aside. “I wasn’t serious.”

“I know, but... weren’t you looking at the school here?”

“I mean, yeah, but... really, my mom just thought I deserved a break to get away for a little while. She’d saved up a bit, and I didn’t want to make it a big deal or anything, but she really wanted me to. She knew I wanted to come see you. Checking out the school was mostly an excuse. I know it’s a great place, but... I don’t really think it’ll help with what I wanna do.”

“What do you want to do?”

Beth sighs and leans back, looking at the ceiling. Mika follows her so that they’re still shoulder to shoulder, and pulls her feet up to tuck them in cross-legged.

She flounders for a moment, trying to find where to begin. She hasn’t told anyone this yet.

“This Leda crap has been kind of awful, right? It’s screwed so many of us up. But there’s only, what, a few hundred of us? And that’s not the only reason things get messed up.” She swallows. Her eyes trace irregularities in the ceiling: a knot in an exposed wooden beam here, a sealed and repainted crack there. “Kids like me are a dime a dozen. There’s so many people out there going through hell, just because they got stuck with people who are hurting so much that they hurt other people. And then they go on and hurt more people. It’s a cycle that’s really fucking hard to break.”

Breaths that have become harsh force her to pause and let them lengthen again. A touch on her knee draws her eyes down to a hand resting on it palm up, offering. Beth takes it. Mika squeezes her fingers in reassurance.

“When I was little, I wanted to be a cop like my dad, did you know that?” Mika, eyes wide, shakes her head. “Yeah. That was always my plan. I used to think he was so brave. Wanted to be just like him.” She shudders. Mika grips her hand, steady. “Even if I could do it better than he did, the system is still full of people like him. It’s broken. I couldn’t – I can’t end up like that. I can’t keep being a part of this shit. I want to actually help people.

“I never thought about it before I met you, but the people you brought in to do therapy programs and all for CYGNet? They’re amazing. The stuff I’ve gotten from them has helped me so much. And I don’t know what I’d do without my regular therapist. These people really help people like me. Like all of us. Those are the kind of people I wanna be like.”

Beth’s voice drops and becomes small and secretive, but firm. “I’ve been looking at the social work programs at home. There’s some really good ones at the uni near where mom and I live now. And that’s the city where I grew up. I know how things work there. I know it won’t be easy, but. I could really... do stuff.”

Silence stretches. Beth looks at Mika, only to be completely thrown off by an expression she can’t make heads or tails of. “What?”

Mika’s face is blank yet soft, only barely hinting at her thoughts in the faintest crinkling of her eyes. It’s funny, how quiet her face is most of the time. Beth never would have guessed, going off her online impressions of her. Mika’s so expressive and eloquent with her written words. In person, she is much more subtle. But even after only a day spent around her, Beth is already starting to see how her movements speak volumes in a language of their own. The flickering of her hands flares to life with excitement. The casual shake of her head tosses her hair out of her eyes even when it’s not in the way, like she’s clearing the slate of her mind. And much like Beth these days, she goes very still and tense when she’s getting uncomfortable or overwhelmed, the way she did after a particularly loud whistle at the train station. It shows in her shoulders. They’re soft now though, and she just watches Beth and squeezes her hand once more.

“You’re really amazing, you know,” Mika says.

“Wh- huh?”

“Well.” She looks away and turns their hands over, but doesn’t let go. “After the awful things you’ve been through – nnnh! Don’t pretend,” she says, looking back sharply as Beth begins to protest that she didn’t have it that bad. Mika knows her so well. Beth can’t help but laugh a little. “After all that, you just want to help people. All I ever want to do is get away from them, most of the time.”

Beth quirks a brow at her with a bemused grin. “Really? Because setting up and running an organization that provides mental health resources and extremely important information to a few hundred people is a really shit way to not help people.”

“I never talk to most of them! And CYGNet only has one hundred and thirteen members, not hundreds.”

Beth rolls her eyes with an exaggerated motion. “Yeah, so, you’ve somehow convinced, what, a whole freaking third of a huge group of scared strangers to trust you?”

“A lot of that was Niki and the press team, she’s way better at talking to people th–”

“And you’ve been careful enough and clever enough to keep them and all the information you got from DYAD safe and secure? I can’t even imagine the organization and, and cyber-security and whatever the hell else you put into all this. That you still put in. And look what you’ve done. You’re helping so many people. You found something only you could do, and do it really damn well.”

Mika looks down into her lap, half her face flushed. The raised ridges and swirls of the scarred side are pink, but not as dark. Her shoulders curl in a little, but she doesn’t pull her hand away from Beth’s. If anything, she holds on a little tighter.

“You don’t have to like talking to people to help them. You don’t have to be someone you’re not,” Beth says gently, then pauses as a new thought occurs to her. “Why did you talk to me?”

Mika gives a tiny shrug, eyes still downcast. “You reached out to me. Most people are scared, or suspicious, or hard to talk to, but you were just... honest. You told me exactly what you needed, even if that meant sharing your painful secrets with a stranger. I...” She trails off, looking toward the closed door of Niki’s bedroom. She blinks slowly.

“It reminded me of something Niki said a long time ago. When we first met. We didn’t trust each other at first. But when things got bad, we needed to, and she just... We’d only known each other for a day. She told me a true story that people had called her crazy for, and trusted me to believe her. And when I told her about... my Asperger’s, about being autistic, she just told me something about herself, too, another thing that a lot of people get cruel about when they know. This was back before she came out, too. She was hardly out to herself, then, really. But she told me anyway. ‘Secret for a secret,’ she said.”

“She’s really special to you.” It’s not a question. How could it be, with the sheer softness of love rounding out every syllable and making Mika melt into the couch and into Beth’s shoulder.

“She’s... yes. She’s my family.” Mika looks out the window, and the bright light dances over her nose. “I don’t remember ever having one.”

Beth slings an arm around Mika’s shoulders and smiles as she curls closer into Beth’s side. “Looks like you’re part of a pretty big one, now,” she says, waving a hand at the dozens of photos on the walls circling them.

“I guess so.”

“No need to guess. The evidence is right there. And I’m right here.”

Mika turns those huge eyes on her again. She’s done that multiple times now, even though Beth knows she rarely looks people in the eye. Eye contact is too much, most of the time. She describes it as too intense, too distracting, too intimate. Meeting those eyes – so like Beth’s own, but filled with such a different kind of light – Beth thinks she understands a glimmer of it. If every eye she met were as overwhelmingly expressive as Mika’s, Beth probably wouldn’t meet them all either. It keeps taking her by surprise, coming across their eloquence in an otherwise quiet face. Caught by that gaze, every emotion that lives in it touches Beth. Right now, it’s soft with adoration but shaded with a gradient of doubt. The width and depth of Mika’s eyes reveal a clear view of a vulnerable, aching, healing heart that spent eleven years starving for the love it needs and still hasn’t forgotten the famine.

It might be breaking Beth’s heart. No wonder Niki is always showering her with hugs and kind words and gentle hands on rounded shoulders. Maybe one of these days, Mika will have spent long enough finally getting to soak up all that affection that she won’t look at Beth like this when she says the simple truth.

“Hey. Here I am. Really.” Beth’s voice is a little choked up. She pulls Mika into a proper hug with both arms. Mika squeaks in surprise at being squeezed so emphatically, but returns it all the same. God, but she gives the best hugs of anyone Beth’s ever met. All contact and even, firm pressure and steadiness. “It’s so damn good to see you. I can’t believe you’re...” real, Beth thinks but doesn’t say. I can’t believe I didn’t imagine you. I can’t believe you’re just as kind as your words. I can’t believe how good it feels to be around you. “I can’t believe I’m really here.”

Mika doesn’t say anything. For a moment, one of her hands leaves Beth’s back to fiddle with something, then comes back to give her a little squeeze that Beth returns.

Beth’s phone buzzes a notification behind her on the little glass-top table next to the couch. The table’s wooden base is a round blob carved into the shape of a very fluffy and very ugly sheep with curly horns. Beth’s arms loosen from their embrace as she turns to look at it, bemused. No one but Mika really messages her except for her mom. But if it’s morning here, it’s about time for bed at home. She checks it, just to be sure she’s okay.

But it’s not from her mom.

Mika reaches out to gently grasp her forearm again as Beth shoots her a quizzical look and opens the message.

3mika: I'm glad you're here.

Beth's heart quails.

To think, that her darker days might have kept her from ever being in this moment. Beth might never have gotten to this point, hurt but healing and here. Here, she's seven time zones and an ocean away from the cycle of pain she grew up in, barely aware she needed to escape. She might well feel safer right here in this crossroads of time and place than she has at any other in her entire life. It's a realization that's as humbling as it is nourishing.

Already, the distance this journey has taken her has given her so much perspective. She wasn’t sure, before, whether the work she’s been considering was just a response to what she’s been through – or just a way for the cycle to keep her within its spiral. But she’s seen what Mika can do, what Beth could do one day, if she keeps on.

It won’t be easy. She’ll go back, and deep-seated memories will try to drag her back into small dark places. But being here, even for only a few hours, has already changed her. She can change, and she can grow, and she is already tapping into new strengths that her past has yet to reckon with. She is here, right now, in spite of all of it. And today is not a dark day.

“Me too, Mika. I’m glad to be here, too.” Beth’s tongue stumbles over the name, because she’s never said it out loud before, only read it on a screen.

Surprise sends Mika’s eyebrows up and her eyes wide again, like she’s never heard it before, either. Maybe she hasn’t. She tilts her head again like a question, touching her ear and looking at Beth.

Beth grins. “Mika.” A smile blooms on that curious face, lighting it up. She’s the one who pulls Beth into a hug this time, and it’s both fierce and soft. When she lets go, she leans into Beth’s side again and they stay like that, arms over shoulders and comfortably curled up together, soaking in the warmth of each other’s presence like leaves drink in light. The simple sweetness and companionship of it soothes Beth’s heart, seeking its way into the aching crevices. It’s an odd feeling, both seeping inward and flowing outward, trickling all the way through her until it warms her cold toes in a way that feels both new and strangely familiar.

A long, sleepy yawn announces that Niki’s awake now, too. Soon, she comes out of her room stretching her arms over her head. Mika reaches a hand out toward her to wave in greeting, though she leaves the other arm draped over Beth’s shoulders. Niki smiles at them. That kind smile, too, adds to the warmth washing through Beth. Her feet practically itch with it, and with a growing sensation of déja vu. She fidgets her toes against the floor as Niki walks over to brush Mika’s outstretched hand like a touchstone.

“How'd you sleep? Isn’t that couch the comfiest?” she says to Beth.

“Well, I’ve got a crick in my neck, but I still slept better than I have in years.”

Niki turns her sunny smile on Beth. “Good to hear it. Weird, though, I nap there all the time and my neck’s always fine. Huh. Anyway, I think I might make waffles. You two want some breakfast?”

Mika nods, but doesn’t let go of Beth yet. Beth is lost in thought, trying to remember what that light, floating feeling in her feet reminds her of.

“Sweet.” Niki ambles toward the kitchen and bends down with pursed lips to peer at the fern perched on the counter. “Hmm. You still look a little pale. Let’s get you some more sun.” She brings the plant over to the living room and is fussing over settling it on the sheep table when it clicks for Beth. A physical memory washes over her, for once welcome. She lets it fill her, refreshing like a deep breath of cold morning air her lungs are suddenly hungry for. She flexes her calves and ankles, her legs remembering the joy and freedom of stride and strike. Her bones are finally recalling how they once carried her with ease, even while they're adjusting to the new weight of who she's become. Fully alive again for at least this moment, her soles are practically prickling with the desire to eat up ground.

“How about you, Beth? Do you like waffles?” Niki asks, fluffing the fern’s crinkly green leaves. Mika squeezes her shoulder.

Beth grins and plants steady feet on the blue rug in front of the couch. “Save a few for me? I think I might actually go for a run first.”

#orphan black #clone club #veera suominen #beth childs #niki lintula #mk ob #mika ob #herbs on the windowsill au #lizzie taking up space #lizzie's adventures in writing #welcome back yall #long post #fic #ob fic #that a garden will grow

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porcupinedolan-blog · 6 years ago

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Better Man (G.D) Part One

Summary: Michelle Downey is a single mom to her beautiful two-year-old daughter, Amelia. Not once has she ever thought of replacing the man who left his family a year and a half ago. That is, until Grayson waltzes into their life.

Warning(s): swearing, and lots of fluff

Word Count: 1500+

My Monday morning started just like any other. I woke up around 5 am, put my makeup and some clothes on, and walked downstairs to get my morning coffee. I grabbed the Folgers jar siting by my coffee maker and poured in a scoop of grounds. I turned on the coffee maker and watched as the coffee slowly dripped into the coffee jar. I went into the laundry room and grabbed Amelia’s soft pink blanket out of the dryer and zipped it up in the Strawberry Shortcake backpack that I had handed down to her. I heard little footsteps and turned to see my sweet angel rubbing her eyes and yawning in her pj’s. I smiled at her and took her back upstairs to change her diaper and clothes and brush her hair and teeth. At approximately 6:15 (never a minute earlier or later), Amelia was all buckled up in my white Honda Civic and I strapped myself in, pulling out of my driveway and on my way to drop her off at daycare.

I walked into my office and placed my belongings in my closet, and immediately was overwhelmed by papers sitting on my desk. I sat down and sighed, staring at the pile of work I had to do today. I heard a soft knock on my door, and peered up at the glass. Whats the point of knocking If I can see you? I motioned for my assistant, Miles to walk in. He walked in and shut the door behind him and stood with his arms crossed in front of my desk. “Can I help you?” I asked. He sighed and rolled his eyes.

“Ms. Downey, you never read the emails I sent over the weekend.” He demanded. I rolled my eyes and sat back in my chair.

“Miles, it’s Monday. Saturday is for sleeping and I don't move on Sundays. Did you forget what I taught you when you first came onto the job?” He uncrossed his arms and sat in the chair in front of my desk.

“No, I just had a flashback to the fifty slide powerpoint you had made up.” He said sarcastically. I gave him a look when I saw my boss coming towards my door. I stood up, and she let herself in. I dramatically held out my arm and slouched back down in my seat.

“Please come in.” I muttered under my breath.

“Ms. Downey, when am I going to have that novel that I gave you last Wednesday approved for publishing?” Mrs. Calloway crossed her arms in annoyance and looked around my office.

“Um, I don't know, I'm not really a fast reader.” I sarcastically replied. She out her hands on her hips and whipped around to turn and peer at me. Miles’ eyes widened and he motioned for me to cut it out. I rolled my eyes. “I will email the reviewer and ask them again to see if it’s finished.”

“Thank you.” She sneered. She looked around at the office once more. “Miles, why don’t you have Michelle keep up with her office?” She asked. I looked at Miles who didn’t once look up from the maroon leather notebook I got him for his birthday.

“Because, Mrs. Calloway, I’m too busy being your bitch to notice.” She whipped her head and shot him a dirty look. I had to hide my laughter while he still didn’t look up.

“Whatever.” She waved him off. “Anyway, I need that book ASAP, so please let me know when it’s done. If you have to sleep with someone to get it done then by all means...” She trailed off. I rolled my eyes.

“Anything else?” I asked. She took one more look around and then shot a fake smile at me.

“No, thank you.” She whipped her head around and swiveled out of the room, taking the cold air with her.

Miles shot his eyes up at me. “Why are you so rude to your mother?” He asked.

“Yeah? you're one to talk.” I accused. “I swear it takes everything in me not to rip her head off sometimes.”

“Grow some balls, Ms. Downey.” He answered and flipped another page. I sighed and threw my head back in my chair.

During my lunch, my friend Melanie and I walked across the streets of Los Angeles to our local Starbucks. Sitting down, we both sighed relief of being out of the office. Melanie works across the street from me at a law firm that her husband owns, but she also happens to be my next door neighbor, while her daughter also happens to be Amelia’s best friend.

“Eric has literally spent our nights doing work at home and it has gotten on my nerves every single time.” Melanie complained. She sighed and put her phone face down on the table. I smiled.

“See that's why I leave work at work. I need a break from it. I think it’s hard too because Eric owns that place so you both are always about work.” She nodded in agreement.

“How’s things with your mom?” She asked and took a sip of her coffee. I shrugged.

“I don’t know. I can’t ever tell with her. She’s been all about work and not about Amelia at all ever since James left.” I answered. Ever since my boyfriend walked out after I gave birth to our daughter, things in my family have been weird. I haven’t been going to the family gatherings to avoid the ‘where is James?’ and ‘Why aren’t you married yet’ and ‘how do you get through the day by yourself?’ questions. It’s also put a strain on my relationship with my mom, who is the CEO of the publishing company that I am the President of.

“Oh my god.” Melanie said with wide eyes.

“What?!” I asked, half expecting her to see some huge celebrity that she was in love with.

“That guy Is so hot and he is totally checking you out.” Clearly, high school wasn't over for Melanie. I turned around to see the most beautiful brown haired boy staring at me, and quickly looking away when I turned. His green eyes shifted back to the counter where he was waiting for his coffee. His crossed Armes showed off his biceps and his dangly earring shimmered at me as I turned back around to face Melanie.

“Yeah right.” I said and smiled. “The chances of a guy like that wanting me are like the chances of me going back to a family reunion. It’s never gonna happen.” I laughed. Melanie rolled her eyes at me and chuckled.

“Alright. But hey, if you never put yourself out there, Amelia will never know what it’s like to have a father figure in her life.” She grabbed her coffee and walked out, patting my shoulder as she passed me. I sighed and looked at my watch, seeing the text message from Miles asking where I am. I rolled my eyes and threw my coffee out, grabbing my purse, and opening the doors to the busy streets. I’m halfway out the door when I slam right into someone, someone that felt about ten times bigger than me. They sent me flying backwards, and fell on top of me with one big “oof”.

I looked up to see the man that was staring me down in the coffee shop. He looked at me wide-eyed, picking himself up and giving me a hand to stand up. After standing up, I brushed myself off and he handed me my purse. His charcoal grey tee hugged his ripped body so perfectly and I had to pull my eyes away from him. “Whats wrong, didn't get a good enough look at me back in there?” I sarcastically threw at him. He chuckled, unsure of whether or not I was kidding.

“I’m so sorry, are you okay?” He asked, running a hand through his hair. He looked almost too perfect. Almost like a prince, but I wasn’t sure if he was supposed to be my prince or someone else’s. After eyeing him up and down, I gave him a small “yeah”. “I saw your friend leave and I got the balls to come in there and talk to you but it didn’t exactly go as planned.” He chuckled again. I gave him a weird look.

“Yeah, well if you want my number, you’re gonna have to work hard on not collapsing on me this time.” I giggled. He let out a breath of relief, probably because he thought I was gonna be a bitch.

“I’m Grayson, by the way.” He held out a large hand and I eyed the blue bracelet wrapped tightly around his wrist. Taking his hand, I smiled softly.

“Michelle.” He smiled at me.

“Maybe I can make up for the fall sometime this week? Are you are any night this week?” He asked. I smiled and then thought about Amelia. I was never free any night of the week. Finding a babysitter that isn’t Melanie is hard.

“How about you give me your number and I’ll let you know.” I smiled. He chuckled.

“Ah, she’s a cocky one.” He stated.

“No, just a girl who knows what she wants.” I smiled and handed him my phone. After putting his number in, he handed it back to me and said goodbye. My phone buzzed.

The witch is on her broom.

I sighed and rolled my eyes and strolled back to save Miles from the nightmare that is my mother.

Tags: @killmonger-dolan @dolansdream

A/N: Hey guys! This is my first Grayson Dolan fanfic. It’ll be comprised of parts (I’m not sure how many), but hopefully I’ll be able to upload on the weekends. I’m thinking one part Saturdays and one part Sundays. Let me know what you think and if you wanna be tagged in it!! xoxo, Meg

#Grayson dolan #dolan twins #grayson dolan fanfic

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singingunderthecurtain · 7 years ago

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You Got The Rhythm (M) | Taemin

Author: @julietsoddeye AU: Canon Genre: Smut Pairing: Lee Taemin x Reader Trigger Warning: some swearing, club setting with people showing public displays of affection Word Count: 1,809

Plot: You are forced by your best friend to go to a party and now you are hiding in the restroom while she is making out with a stranger. You are ready to leave the club without her but suddenly you hear a well known melody. 'Move' is playing in the background and you start thinking that maybe you could go dance for a couple of minutes and then go away.

A/N: I was inspired by an imagine I read from a comment in a Taemin MOVE edit on Youtube.

— — — — —

“I swear to God, Jiyoo, I am going to kill Ha-Eun.”

You hear your best friend, Jiyoo, chuckle over the phone followed by a string of nonstop coughing and sniffling.

If she wasn’t as sick as she is, you wouldn’t be here right now. You wouldn’t be cooped up in a small cubicle of the club’s restroom. Thankfully the restroom was kept clean since you are in a much fancier place than they usually frequent to.

“That’s if you can pull her away from the guy…”

Jiyoo laughs and let out another orchestra of coughing through the phone. You’re thankful you’re not with her right now, inhaling all the germs she’s blowing out. Remind her to clean her handphone every day as to not spread out some more virus.

“Do not fucking remind me, I swear I will really kill her. She said she won’t leave my side. Guess what, not even an hour later and she’s already eating a stranger’s face.”

You made gagging sounds that made Jiyoo chuckle again, more cautiously this time, as to not trigger her itchy throat.

“You both owe me a month supply of french vanilla latte and strawberry shortcake!”

If Jiyoo wasn’t sick, you would be in the comforts of your tiny apartment right now, sipping wine while reading your latest favorite book. Since Ha-Eun and Jiyoo bought the tickets to this exclusive club months prior (because the place is, after all, exclusive and always booked and you’d die of waiting first outside of the club before you get in), they didn’t foresee that one of them will suddenly get sick.

And if you didn’t owe Ha-Eun your life, for saving your ass from failing to submit your essay last week, you wouldn’t be hiding out in the restroom either. With your best friends knowing you’d rather stay inside and enjoy the company of your pet cat, they did not only used that fact against you, they also threatened they will tell on you to your Professor.

Of course, you know they will never rat on you like that, but the fact that those snitches did the blackmailing while you were smashed drunk last night, you didn’t even know what you were doing. And they have the audacity to take a video proof that you agreed to come with Ha-Eun in Jiyoo’s place. Assholes.

Jiyoo finally said goodbye with an excuse of being loopy because of the cough medication she took, with a grumpy but sad face permanently plastered on your face, you agreed to end the call and decided to just play on your phone.

Twenty minutes in with you playing mobile games, you realize you can leave the club any damn time you want, with Ha-Eun exchanging mouth germs with a stranger, no one was to stop you from going. So you exit the stall and an already bashed girl coming straight to it even though there are seven more empty cubicles to empty her stomach in, you took on a last look in the mirror. Checking just to see if you still look like a decent human being.

Satisfied with your look, you were about to exit the restroom when the familiar voice from your favorite song suddenly played and the crowd went crazy when the throbbing of bass is gradually growing until the beat of the chorus blasted!

“Shit!”

You whisper loudly to yourself as your body involuntarily move you into the middle of the horde of sweaty bodies of attractive people. You couldn’t help but groove into the rhythm, your body swaying along to the beat, your hands touching yourself all over as you feel the vibrations of the booming speakers all around you.

You could dance for a little bit and leave once the high is gone.

Girls and Boys around you start grinding on you as if they were getting affected by your dancing. One girl even put her hands on your hips and you let her touch you for a bit until a man, her boyfriend you hope, snatched her away and proceeded to make out with her, clearly affected by the sexy ambiance the music is giving off. The girl then dry hump her boyfriend to the tune of the song.

You laugh silently, still dancing and feeling yourself. Cannot be stopped by anything because of the vibe of the song. This is your favorite song and this is a club, you don’t care about anything right now.

You felt another person touch your back and you let them do whatever they were doing not giving a damn because, God fucking damn it, this song is driving you insane. It was one thing listening to the song with your headset secure in your ears, but it’s totally different in this current setting.

Slowly, you can feel the stranger on your back grip your waist and you just leisurely lean on to his touch. Grinding your ass on the stranger’s crotch, his warm chest and torso plush against your back.

You can tell he’s a man because his touch wasn’t delicate and his chest flat but strong on your back.

“God, you’re so good.”

You were suddenly jolted from your dancing high when you felt his growl on your neck, his breathing making your skin crawl in the best way possible. You know that voice, you can’t mistake that voice anywhere.

You twist your head and torso and come face to face with…

Taemin!

SHINee’s Taemin!

Lee Taemin, the same man who sang the song you’re both currently dancing to.

His hands are still tight around your hips, almost grabbing your ass now, with your mouth slacked and jaw on the floor. Taemin cackled as he snakes one of his hands up to push your mouth close in a gentle manner.

He flashes you a smile before speaking again.

“Wanna get out of here?”

Taemin’s eyes scan your whole face as you vigorously shake your head yes. The smile on his face hasn’t left when he suddenly grips your hand and literally tugs you out of the crowd into the back door of the club.

Nobody seems to pay no attention to the both of you, even though Taemin is a very famous member of an idol group. Probably the people around you are important people of the society as well and nobody gives a fuck who you are in here.

A black van is waiting outside the club and Taemin briskly yanks you inside of it.

— — — — —

You aren’t even drunk, in fact, you haven’t touched a single alcohol tonight. Yet you were having a hard time finding your stupid key inside your purse. Your purse wasn’t even that big too, but because Taemin was so impatient and already consuming your lips with his, you can’t even do the simple job of palming the damn key or even just the keychain attached to it.

“T-Taemin...”

You successfully push his name out of your mouth, before he found your lips again. He hums a response as his hold on the back of your head tightens so he can taste and have all of you. Finally, after a while, you manage to push him off, his face scrunching in confusion.

“What’s wrong?”

He whines and you giggle at how adorable he looks. He may be older than you, but he looks so cute when he does that. A thing he does sometimes on television shows you watch of him.

“Let me grab my keys first, or do you want to do it here outside the hall?”

Taemin bit his lips and lets go of you while looking around your empty apartment hallway. Nobody was outside by now because it was already 1 AM on a Saturday night.

You finally found your keys and the moment you pull your door open, Taemin then pushes you inside and closes the door with his foot. Without wasting any more time, he grabs your face again and crashes his insatiable lips to yours.

You can feel his want for you bulging on his black skinny jeans, rubbing on your belly as he pushes you on the wall of shoe cabinets, hitting your head slightly on the wooden material behind you.

“Fuck!”

Taemin cursed when you suddenly grip his hair, pulling him back, his lower lip in between your own lips, releasing him with a pop. His mouth found your neck when you let go and starts sucking painful yet pleasurable sloppy open-mouthed kisses.

Your hold on his soft hair tightens when he swiftly grab your clothed pussy under your skirt. His hand pushes your underwear aside, his pointer and middle finger already sliding on your clit conveniently with how slick you already are because of him.

“Shit, you’re so wet.”

Your breath hitched, squeaking out a tiny yelp when he dips his fingers inside of you without caution.

“Tae-Taem…”

You couldn’t finish saying his name with him fucking his fingers into you. He bit on your earlobe as you hook one of your legs on his thigh so you can be closer to him as much as possible, his hand in between the two of you.

Taemin abruptly pulls his hand away, shoving his fingers inside his mouth for a taste. The skin on your cheeks tingle and you feel it flush with his action.

“Where is your bedroom?”

Taemin ignores your whining and how hard your death grip is on his hair still.

“There.”

You pointed at the door directly across from the apartment entrance, Taemin pushes your leg off of him and kicks his shoes off with you doing the same. You threw your purse on the couch when he snatches your hand again to pull you with him.

He probably has a thing with pulling a woman’s hand with the number of times he did so with you tonight, you notice.

You bit your lower lip when he pushes your door open, switching the lights on and you were met with a reasonable amount of SHINee and Taemin albums on your small bookshelf. You thank yourself and the Lord above you because you didn’t put up all the posters that came with the albums or you would embarrass yourself more. You hear him chuckle under his breath before speaking.

“You like me that much?”

Taemin faces you with a shit-eating smirk on his lips and you so wanted to smack his mouth if he wasn’t so fucking attractive.

“Shut up and just fuck me already!”

His smug grew into a gluttonous, borderline ravenous grin.

“Alright, as you wish.”

Aikie Masterlist | Michiko Masterlist | FIC RECS | FIC REC SIDEBLOG

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cass-chan12 · 6 years ago

Text

Felony of the Heart (Ch 2)

Fandom: Fairy Tail Genre: Romance and Friendship Pairing: Main- NaLu. Sides- Gajevy, Gruvia and Jerza

Summary: What would you do if you were forced into a school that deals with Delinquents and young adults that have committed felonies? Lucy Heartfilia would rather chance it than going back home to being married off. What lies ahead for the blonde is unknown but she's convinced she can make it through with him by her side

Chapter one

CHAPTER TWO

"How we need another soul to cling to"- Sylvia Plath

Lying in the darkness was scarier than I imagined.

Sleep would never claim me that first night, from the tiniest of sounds my eyes would snap open and stare at the ceiling for ages. No thought would come to mind, no tear would form in my eyes now would words come to my mouth. All I could focus on was the occasional buzzing of a mosquito or one of the other girl's soft snores. I continued to listen and I would pick up on new sounds such as the strong wind outside creating a gentle howl, or a creaking sound of wood outside the room, which proved we were literally watched over 24/7.

It must be past midnight and the lids of my eyes didn't falter and my twists and turns in my bed from the restlessness made too much commotion, so I decided to stay on the side facing my neighbour's bed. It was the small bluenette I sat next to in Confessional's. She was fast asleep with tear stains on her face; I had heard her cry tonight but chose to ignore it. We all did in this dorm; there were a lot of young girls in here- which led me to ask why they would do such heinous things to get in here. But I can't judge, I don't know them or what they've done. I'm wary of making friends here but the loneliness makes my heart ache. Back at the house this feeling came many times, but I had friends there to stop the aching. I was alone now and I don't know how long it will last.

I did manage to sleep, maybe a few hours. The morning siren went off and boomed across the campus; waking all of us up. Moans and grumbles creaked in the room similar to the movement of zombies, all the girls, including myself, got ready for our first day of learning and disciplining- as the Principal explained to us yesterday.

There were a lot of rules and regulations set, it seemed like they must have copied a prison handbook.

1) All electrical devices are prohibited

2) The main house, Gardens, sports grounds (Aka the boot camp course) are prohibited to enter unless accompanied by a supervisor or teacher.

3) The front and back gate, the fence and the opposite sex's dormitory are prohibited with or without supervisor or teacher. If you are caught in any of these areas, you will be punished with a week's worth of community service.

4) Flashy and bright clothing will be taken from personal items.

5) Personal items must be kept in the provided foot locker under each student's bed.

6) Wake up calls; Monday-Friday 5:30am, Saturday and Sunday 6:00am. Breakfast will be served at 7:00am on all days

7) Before leaving to Breakfast, dormitories must be cleaned to House guardian's approval and students must be dressed accordingly.

8) Classes for students start at 8:00am- 16:00pm. Dinner is at 18:00pm. Lights out at 21:00pm

9) Mondays gather for assembly. Confessional groups are on Sunday at 10:00am.

10) Any attempt of escape will result in a transfer to a state prison.

But the way I understood it, this place was a state prison. This was barely a school besides the actual classes, not to mention we get cleaning assignments every day. It will be tough for me since I didn't have to do that back home, but between cleaning a toilet and going home… I'd clean every single one here instead of going back.

As I put on my clothes I looked to the outside window, some students where already going to the cafeteria in which my stomach growled for attention. I finished putting the ugly grey uniform on and tied my hair loosely with a hair tie that was in my foot locker under my bed. When I got the okay to leave after I cleaned my section I walked down the stairs and peeked into the dormitory rooms I passed and the aura was plain miserable. My generation really loves their sleep…

I reached the outside of the Dorm house and through the trees I noticed the sky was clouding up, slowly becoming overcast. The mood is as depressing as it can get, but now I don't know whether I can last till Lunch. My shoes clacked against the cobblestone pavement and the many shushed tones of voices swept passed me, either it was gossiping or the fear of speaking too loud in the hell hole. I ignored the comments that were loud enough to hear, but one word kept coming up.

Alone

Yes I am alone but so was everyone else. It occurred to me how true that statement was when I collected my breakfast and sat one of the large tables. Everyone spoke to each other but their eyes and expressions showed those of an outsider. I saw a few of the people that where in my Confessional session, I noticed especially the small blue haired girl; whose bed is next to mine in the dorm. She looked lost and depressed, searching for a seat.

I slowly lifted my arm and waved to her, she blinked and shuffled her feet shyly towards me. She placed her tray across from mine and sat down keeping her face downwards hiding her expression. I coughed trying to catch her attention and get some eye contact which seemed like the only attention I could get here.

"I'm Lucy. But you probably know that" I joked dryly.

She looked up like a helpless animal and smiled slightly. "I'm Levy. Likewise" she countered.

I smiled at her and turned my attention back at my food, which looked more inedible than when I picked it up in the first place.

"This food looks foul." I said dropping my spoon back in my bowl.

"Back at my old school, it wasn't any different." Levy said taking a bite from her oatmeal.

I frowned at the plate losing my appetite quick. Until I felt someone else sit at the table.

"Here; try putting this in. It'll make it taste better." A female voice said

I peered up and saw red; a beautiful scarlet red. It was the girl from my Confessional group, and even though her hair was neatly tied up it was still striking as ever. She handed me some Honey in a small container which clearly wasn't given out in the school. I took it stealthily without anyone else seeing and quickly added it to my porridge. I took a bite and moaned in delight, the taste of something so simply sweet was delectable.

"That's so much better, thanks." I said.

She smiled and lifted her tray to walk away. But I coughed to stop her "You want to sit with us?" I asked shyly.

She smiled again with a little red hue sprinkled on her cheeks, giving away the suspicion she wanted to sit there in the first place. She put her tray next to mine and sat down tucking a stray piece of her pretty hair behind her ear. She cautiously brought more honey out of her pocket and added it to her porridge.

"May I ask where you get this?" Levy asked.

Erza 'hmmed' while eating her breakfast. She swallowed and then smiled "Before they took my personal stuff I snatched my recipe for strawberry shortcake and exchanged it for anything I want out the kitchen."

Levy and I were shocked, just how good was this recipe if it gave her fulltime access to the kitchen?

"Wouldn't you get in trouble if one of the dictators found out?" I asked

She smiled again which was comforting since this place really didn't showcase anything to smile about. Erza's features were calm too, it was strangely soothing. I thought about it, her and I were in the same boat. In confessionals Zancrow mentioned she pleaded guilty with the case she was charged with, and not to mention that blue haired kid admitted she was dragged into his situation.

She didn't belong here either.

"Well I had a friend in here before I arrived and he gave me some tips of the school. He also told me that the cafeteria is the safest place to breathe in here." she explained

I looked around the area and it did seem happier than everywhere else. The chattering was louder and sounded like a normal high school; which kind of made me anxious.

"Why is that?" Levy asked.

Erza pushed her tray away from her and rubbed her belly in satisfaction. "Ahhh… I think it has to do with the cafeteria supervisor. Rumour is that he blows his duty to tend to his prized doll collection."

I wasn't sure I heard properly but Levy was laughing which made me giggle a bit too. Sounds like a freaky dude if that were true, but regardless the room seemed less depressing and did lift my mood. It was strange how I made two friends in here, although both really didn't look like they belonged here in the first place.

I couldn't for a fact, believe the small bluenette in front of me, was in here. She was the size of a small child and was in her bed crying her eyes out only a few hours ago. It didn't fit either way you looked at it, but my thoughts went back to what she said in the confessional room, she said she only did what she did to get enough money and run away from home. I can relate, so who am I to judge her. And of course; Erza being dragged into something by that blue-haired guy, from her personality she seemed very girly but at the same time she had an aura of respect around her: Something you wouldn't find in a real Delinquent. I should stop pretences and judging, I will be around these people for who knows how long and I might learn a thing or two like I had meeting Levy and Erza.

It was almost time to go to class so I waved goodbye to Levy and Erza and went back to my dorm to get my books that were pre-ordered by the school. I grabbed the books and stuffed them in a backpack that was in my footlocker. A small slip of paper fell out of one of the books which looked like my schedule. I cringed a bit at my classes; every lesson was just about two hours, I had Math then Languages, after was History then finally Sciences. We had one lunch break for 45 minutes.

I'm going to die today.

I sighed heavily and walked to the school building slowly with the weight of the bag on my back and the wind sweeping past my face. I missed the sun; the trees in this place created an impregnable shield for sunlight to come in. The clouds would sometimes break away for some sunlight, but the only opening there to let sunlight come through was beyond the front gate. My gaze at beyond the gate looked suspicious to the guards patrolling the yards; I shifted my gaze at the school building and avoided eye contact.

Entering the school, there were more guards posted by the door checking our bags and pockets. This made me extremely uncomfortable; the woman guard scratched through my bag and checked my pockets (with no regard to the manner she was doing it.)

The school looked the same with every door I passed or every corner I turned; which would make it very easy to be late to class with everything looking the same. Students were trying to find their homerooms, many of which bumped into me and roughly I might add. Some of the students that did looked incredibly scary, and I was scared that if I had complained I might be flattened.

As I kept walking I recognised the guy with piercings on his face from my Confessional session, Gajeel, I think his name was, except he had them taken out and his long black hair had been chopped off. Normal didn't suit him. He noticed I was staring, his response made me quake in fear.

"What are you staring at you Bitch!" he yelled.

Startling the other students I kept my head down and quickly apologised. I sprinted off down the hall to avoid any further confrontation but stopped as I heard another voice.

"Calm down you shithead!"

My body swung around as I heard the familiar voice. The blur of pink filled my sight and gnarling teeth become the second thing I saw.

"You wanna start with me you pyromaniac?!" Gajeel yelled.

"You started this fight when you yelled at her!"

The boys were centimetres away from starting a fist fight. I quickly dashed to the pink haired pyro and grazed my fingers on his shoulder "Natsu" I mumbled.

He didn't listen and kept staring at Gajeel, growling like a beast. I put my hand on his shoulder this time. "Natsu stop." I said with my voice trembling.

He looked over his shoulder and caught sight of my face. His onyx eyes that displayed anger and ferocity had simmered down and dulled. He was about to say something until I felt a hand grabbing my arm.

I was shoved back by one of the men that had escorted me yesterday. Two more of his co-workers roughly pushed themselves though the crowd that had gathered when the commotion had started. The large men both pushed Natsu and Gajeel against the floor with their arms twisted to their backs. Yelps and hisses emitted from the boys and my own pain of the man's grip was ignored from what my eyes were witnessing.

"I understand your love for violence, but obviously your peanut sized brains don't understand where you currently are" appeared another voice.

My fear escalated. This man was beyond intimidating, he was fairly normal looking but his stature was big and his eyes were cold and vicious. His voice was deep and sent shivers down my spine.

"Greetings Mr Dragneel, Mr Redfox, I am Azuma-sensei; Head of Discipline. You boys are my first cases of the school year, well done." He said formerly with much indifference.

He turned to me and my face felt cold, I could feel myself paling in front of him "Careful miss Heartfilia, getting involved in trivial things like this might just get you into deeper trouble."

He snapped his fingers and the hand that was holding tightly on my arm was let go and left me almost falling to the floor, I stumbled but managed to stay on my feet. I rubbed my arm soothingly and remembered that my arm was still bruised from yesterday's handlings. My eyes lifted up from my arm to see the two boys being taken away outside the school building. I clicked my tongue in distaste, going to such extremities over a fight that didn't even happen. I was close to stopping it anyway.

Remembering the softening of Natsu's eyes reassured me he was going to back down. Natsu… Why did he do that in the first place? Was he itching for a fight or something? Why did he…

"Don't give up. We're in this together."

"We're in this together." I mumbled.

I didn't know what he meant at first but it's all clear now. These people who were called our teachers and our disciplinarians and even our own principal, they are here to do what they are paid to do. That's to torture us. And they ENJOY it. So if they are not looking out for us, then it's up to us to look out for another.

Class seemed like an eternity, it was so close to lunch I could almost hear my stomach yell across the room. 'Just one more period' I told myself.

As I sat at my desk my eyes immediately looked outside the window, fortunately enough my desk was right next to it. High on the second floor I could peer beyond the fences into the lush forest. Although something else caught my eye, I saw two figures and I squinted to concentrate. I rubbed my eye at the realisation of who the figures were.

In the midst of a hot summer's day, Natsu and Gajeel were being severely punished physically. Battered and bruised the boys were digging up trenches and filling them up again. The hard ground made every movement harder than the next and by the looks of it the boys have been working ever since Azuma-sensei took them in this morning.

I lost my appetite. How could I think of food when Natsu was out there suffering because he was looking out for me? I looked over to the two and they were heading towards the boys dorm, what a relief.

"Miss Heartfilia, unless you'd like to join the labour outside, I suggest you pay attention." The teacher, I think his name was Rustyrose-sensei.

My head snapped to the direction to the board with no hesitation and Rustyrose continued on with his class.

My mind didn't concentrate though. It just did a direct U-turn back to Natsu. I felt my cheeks warming up at the thought of him. The boy could really have bad issues with his pyromania, yet why does that make me more curious about him?

Trying to look like I was concentrating, the bell rang signalling lunch time. I almost sprinted to the cafeteria. All thoughts were diminished as my stomach overpowered my brain. Although my Stomach never had a nose and the smell of lunch was less than pleasing. I think it was meatloaf… I think. Sat at an empty table hoping I get Levy or Erza to sit by me… Or even Natsu.

I shook my head furiously. I huffed and shoved a piece of whatever in my mouth, I had confirmed it wasn't meatloaf.

"Gross, what is that?"

My body stiffened at the familiar voice. My head looked up to the pink haired boy that had been plaguing my mind since this morning. He was in a new clean uniform and probably had to shower after the manual work he did. My eyes darted to the scratches and bruises along his arms. I felt terrible.

"I'm so sorry Natsu." I said softly.

His happy smile, which seemed to be the first I've seen of his since I've met him, disappeared. I couldn't look him in the eyes, I would cry if I did. I felt the bench move and looked up to his face which was level to mine.

"Don't be. I honestly don't care what they do to me in here." He said.

He smiled again, I liked it. It was warm, joyful and natural. Like everything he had experienced this morning was nothing.

"If the best they can do is make me work then fine, I don't mind. Because in the end I protected my friend and that's all that matters."

"You hardly know me though. How am I your friend?"

I admit that sounded harsh, it wasn't my intention to make it sound like that. He kept smiling though; I couldn't bring myself to be mean to him with that goofy smile on his face.

"We both have something in common. We both deserve a better life."

The words never hit harder, I wanted to cry at that simple truth. I did deserve one. I craved for it.

"There are some other kids in here that deserve better lives too. I think we should befriend them and start a group." he suggested and interrupted my thoughts.

That wasn't a bad idea. The thought of having more people having your back would help. Although in a school like this you have to be wary.

Then it hit me "I know two people to start with." I said smiling at him.

"Yosh! We're in this together" he said cheerfully, almost making that line of his a motto.

I recited.

"We're in this together"

#felony of the heart #fairy tail #fairy tail nalu #nalu #fairy tail fanfic #fairy tail fanfiction

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transformedmind · 4 years ago

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The Donut Sin

I can often be found on social media sharing healthy recipes, exercise tips, and pieces of my weight loss journey in hopes that it will encourage others. After losing 140 pounds status-post bariatric surgery, I have largely changed my relationship with food. Food is no longer a source of comfort. I found that turning to food for relief in this way actually ended up hurting myself even more. I now follow a strict, low-fat and low-sugar, 3 meals a day, roughly 1200 calorie diet that is mainly protein. I’ve done fairly well with it, results themselves being evident.

However, I am still human. Which means sometimes I mess up.

Coming home from the July 4th fireworks last night, Ethan and I had a sweet craving. “We’ve got halo top ice cream at home,” we told ourselves. But that wasn’t enough. We craved something tastier than “just the stuff we have at home”; something worthy of a holiday. It’s all right to indulge on a holiday, right? It’s America’s birthday, after all!

Fortunately, or unfortunately, busy post-firework traffic kept us from getting to Sonic, one of the only restaurants still open after 10. We considered McDonald’s, but the parking lot was packed. “Let’s try the one by the interstate,” I told myself. But as we drove toward it… drats, it was closed! We had finally resigned ourselves to our already-at-home treat.

But then I saw it on the side of the highway: a gas station. Guess what gas stations have? An ice cream freezer!

I turned my blinker on and pulled in. “I’ll wait in the car,” Ethan said, trusting me to find something he’d like.

The ice cream freezer was right next to the front door. It had multiple delights: ice cream cones, Snickers bars, strawberry shortcake bars, ice cream cookies… I made my selection of two, completely ignoring any nutrition facts labels, and went to pay at the register.

While waiting in line, I saw another devilish delight. Something I haven’t eaten in well over a year, because it has absolutely zero nutritional value, and is literally the antithesis of my diet.

Donuts.

I knew I shouldn’t. I hoped the patron in front of me hurried so I wouldn’t have time to look at the options. But it was too late. I was in too deep. I had seen them all: mini donuts; devil’s food donuts; frosted donuts; cinnamon sugar donuts.

I stepped forward, laid my ice cream on the counter, which was already contraband for me, and quickly grabbed a bag of mini chocolate donuts, too. I paid the man, said I didn’t want a receipt or a bag, scooped up my guilty pleasures and ran out.

Ethan shortly scolded me when he saw the donuts, but then immediately opened them after he had finished off his ice cream. I also indulged in a few - who keeps count when they’re eating mini donuts? - and went to bed.

The next morning, there they sat on the coffee table. The evidence of our poor decision-making late at night. But now it’s the light of day, we’re well rested, and we can now make better, healthier decisions, right?

Right!

So we threw the bag away, right?

(I’m now thinking this would make a great Anakin/Padme meme.) The answer is, nope!

This morning we got up, sat on the couch, and opened that bag up again. Because even though we knew it was wrong… boy, it still tasted just as good as it did last night.

There are a few things I want to pick out from this story.

Why did we get donuts? It started with a desire. We had a desire for something sweet. I think there was some nostalgia for Independence Days when we were kids, linking fireworks to ice cream/tasty treats in our brains. That desire led to a plan. A plan that was initially thwarted by busy traffic, busy parking lots, and closed restaurants. Every avenue we could have taken to get to a restaurant for ice cream was essentially blocked.

We could have stopped there. But once that desire got deep inside of us, it had taken root. It wanted to be fed. It was so hungry, it was even willing to compromise. Gas station ice cream isn’t quite the same thing as a blizzard/McFlurry/Sonic blast… but we were willing to settle. Anything even remotely resembling ice cream would have sufficed.

Once we had made the decision to get ice cream, it could have even stopped there. But once I let go of that boundary that says I won’t eat something against my diet… the possibilities were endless. Nothing was against the rules. My mind (re: not my stomach) wanted sweets, and temptations abounded. The list of attempted justifications my mind set forth were endless:

“It’s America’s birthday! Calories don’t count on holidays.”

“It’s just this once. Just tonight. It won’t happen again.”

“You’ve worked so hard, and you haven’t had it in so long. You deserve this.”

“Look, it’s even on sale! It’s a sign.”

And that’s how my decision to go against my diet for ice cream, also led to my donut purchase.

What were the consequences of my decision? Well, not only did I go against my diet, but I also encouraged Ethan to break his. Sure, he could have refused… but I placed that temptation in front of him.

Okay so what, I broke my diet one - err, two times (last night and this morning). Big deal. So what, right? Well there are other consequences. I’ve likely either gained a pound or stalled in my weight loss (I know what you’re thinking, “boo hoo,” right?). I ate more than a day’s worth of calories, not to mention the fat and sugar content. Another possible consequence could have been falling ill. I could have gotten physically sick as a result of my decision, if my body had rejected it, as is easily possible after bariatric surgery.

But I didn’t get sick. And my clothes still fit. So what’s the harm?

Well, the harm now is that I have to essentially restart my diet. Because diets aren’t about the foods we eat, not really. It’s about our mindset. Our relationship with food and its purpose in our lives. That’s why I typically prefer to call it a “lifestyle” because it’s meant to be permanent, not a temporary fad. And now I have to make it through the next several weeks, knowing in the back of my mind I ate something bad and nothing too bad resulted from it.

What’s to stop me from doing it again? Or doing something even worse next time? Because often times it is like a cascade. Those with food addictions will continue to eat more and more, and can’t even consider quitting until they come face-to-face with serious consequences. And even then, if their addiction is too deep, it may be too late to turn back, at least of their own accord.

So why have I titled this piece, “The Donut Sin?” Well, when we sin, it often starts the same way. It starts with a desire. My and Ethan’s desire to eat something sweet was not in and of itself a bad thing. In fact, I would say it’s God-ordained, because He created us with the taste buds to appreciate sweet foods, and also created our neurologic pathways that lead to dopamine release - meaning, for most of us, we see eating something sweet as a treat, or “reward.”

Desires in and of themselves are not sinful. After all, even the Bible says God will give the desires of our hearts to those who delight in Him (Psalm 37:4). Many desires are universal, meaning all humans experience them. These typically include things like the desire to love and be loved, to feel wanted, to feel satiated/quenched, etc.

God made us to have these desires. He also created a way for us to achieve these desires: He calls on us to trust in Him. God created us with a need to know Him. We were made to be in relationship with Him. He teaches us through His Word that all our needs can be found in Him.

In Matthew 4, we read about Jesus’ experience in the wilderness. He fasted 40 days and nights, and he was hungry (v. 2). Satan used Jesus’ hunger and tempts Him to betray His trust in God by using His power to turn stones into bread (v. 3). But Jesus thwarted the temptation, stating, “Man shall not live on bread alone” (v. 4). Jesus was both man and God. Because He was man, He was tempted, as are we all. But because He was also God, He was able to subdue these temptations, and lived a sin-free life.

Satan is often referred to as the Tempter in Scripture. He also knows what desires we were created to have. And he tries to pervert these desires in ways that cause us to set our hearts on this world, rather than setting our hearts on God. He does this by using temptation. After all, he tempted Eve in the Garden (Genesis 3). “Did God really say…” and “you will not surely die…” he told her, encouraging her to doubt, setting his trap (emphasis added). We all know how that story ends.

When we are faced with temptation, we can do one of three things. First, we can give in. This is what happened to me. I had an innocent desire for something sweet. I was tempted with donuts (which it should be noted, I only saw because I put myself there in the first place) and gave in. Second, we can let it linger. Considering. Day in and day out, we can let it sit there. Looking at it from time to time. Occasionally reaching out for it, but no, deciding against it, pulling away. Friends, let me tell you, if you are in that metaphorical gas station and those donuts are sitting there tempting you, you need to leave. Because this second option always ends up with the same results as the first. If you allow temptation to set itself up in your life, your inaction by not tearing it down, will in fact allow it to grow. Unfortunately, because of the fall, we are all addicts. We’re sin addicts. And like my example of food addiction above, one sin can lead to another, and another. Oftentimes with growing consequences. Sometimes those consequences affect other people. When that temptation takes root, and our initially innocent desire becomes more important than our desire for God, we will let anything satiate it. I initially desired a DQ blizzard, but settled for gas station ice cream… close enough. Although we have a desire to be loved, and that desire can be fulfilled by God’s love, too often we allow Satan to pervert it, by convincing us that someone loving us on this earth is “good enough.” I’ve certainly been guilty of this in my life.

The third option when we are faced with temptation, is to turn to the One who was tempted and overcame it. We turn to God. We fill our hearts and desires from knowing and cherishing Him, by being in relationship with our Creator. In so doing, we destroy the temptation. Not only do we prevent it from taking root in our hearts, but we also often have to take physical action. We have to leave that gas station.

For those who may be thinking they are only tempted because God allowed it to happen, let me be clear: God will never tempt you. That’s what Satan does. We see several stories in the Bible where God tests the faith of those who believe in Him. Job comes to mind. But God will never encourage you to fall into sin. That is the complete and utter opposite of who He is. I could have said, “well, God let me walk right into that gas station.” And that would be right, He did. He didn’t strike me down with a lightning bolt to stop me. But do you know what He did do? He made traffic busy so I couldn’t get to Sonic. He made the one McDonald’s parking lot seem unappealing, and the second one closed. He put several obstacles in my way to stop me.

Friends, know this: if you turn to God when you are tempted, and ask that He keep you from falling, He will protect you. But if you keep running toward that sin, despite every obstacle put in front of you, eventually He will let you do it. That’s the beautiful irony of free will. We are free to trust in Jesus to break our chains that bind us to sin, but we are also free to sit there and continue to be trapped. God won’t force us. And unfortunately, many of us will choose to sit there, when the escape from our cage is so readily available.

A lot of times we will try to justify our sins, as I did. Well it’s just this once… I deserve this…

Sin is sin. It is dirty. It is unrighteous. It is an act of rebellion against God (Isaiah 66:24). There is no justification for it, despite our feeble attempts. Our Creator is yes loving, but He is also holy, sovereign, and just. To tell of only one part of Him is to miss how mind-blowing and awe-inspiring He is. Because He is holy, He cannot allow sin, which is unholy, to enter His Kingdom. Because He is just, He is the Judge, therefore the One who will determine our fate. The punishment for our sins? Death (Romans 6:23). An eternity apart from God. But if there is no justification for our sins, and because we are human and therefore can’t help but to keep on sinning, despite our best efforts… what hope do we have?

This is where Jesus comes in. God saw our sin dilemma, and sent His Son to solve it. “For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life” (John‬ ‭3:16‬). Some might say, well why didn’t He just say sin doesn’t matter anymore, and let everyone go to heaven? Because He is just. There is no justice in pretending our moral failings simply didn’t happen. Imagine a mass murderer on trial, but instead the judge not only stopped the trial, but gave the mass murderer a mansion and a million dollars and a clean record. How would we respond to that? “That’s not fair!” True, it wouldn’t be fair. Because God instilled us with the same sense of fairness, or justice, that He also has.

When we read Scripture, we find that we are that criminal on trial. But God doesn’t just cancel the trial like the judge I described above. The trial still happens. But instead of us being found guilty, God declares His own Son, Jesus, as the guilty party. He stands up and pleads guilty, although He was guilt-free. He does this so we can be found innocent. And similarly to the judge above, God not only doesn’t give us what we do deserve (which is God’s mercy), He also gives us something we don’t deserve (which is God’s grace). But what He gives us is so much sweeter than a mansion and a million dollars… He allows us to live in relationship with Him, having His Spirit inside of us, with the promise we will live with Him in eternity. In effect, He does give us that clean record as the criminal above. Though we were dirty, He can make us purer than snow (Psalm 51:7).

“Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.” (Romans 8:1)

“If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness.” (1 John 1:9)

“For I will forgive their wickedness and will remember their sins no more.” (Hebrews 8:12)

It’s true, eating a donut is not in and of itself a sin… but the mindset behind it could be. Let’s examine our hearts and minds today, and remember where our priorities lie.

#Bible #Jesus #Scripture #truth #donuts #sin #God #holy #righteous #weight loss #temptation #transformedmind

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albatrossmuffin · 8 years ago

Text

Free! Novelize Chapter 6: It’s Meaningless Without You

I cannot impart to you the miracle that happened for me to get this to you. It’s actually been ready for a couple weeks, but I haven’t had the time to type it up. SO before we begin, a couple notes:

-I apologize for the blatant irreverence for verb tense; it switches from present to past and back again. So I tried to leave it as similar as possible so it can drive all of you crazy too I apologize for that in advance.

-Also again with the spacing, practically everything has its own paragraph in the book.

-‘Dice Talk’ is literally what the phonetic vocabulary word is for the dice game in the chapter.

-There are a couple lines it is a bit hard to tell who is talking without seeing their speech pattern, so I added the first letter of their name in a bracket after the line just as an aid.

-And finally, the Japanese language frequently doesn’t believe in periods, causing a lot of run on sentences. I adjusted accordingly, but if anything seems overly long, that’s why.

Now then:

Chapter 6: It’s Meaningless Without You

~Haru’s Point of View~

It’s meaningless without you.

This is the second time I’ve heard Makoto say those words.

The first time was when we were in elementary school. The first time was when Makoto had invited me to swim in the relay together with Rin.

Without Haru…it’s meaningless without you!

I want to swim together with you—!

Makoto is my childhood friend; he’s a natural existence that’s always been by my side since long ago. Therefore, for me, I’ve never formally thought ‘It’s meaningless without Makoto.’ And in the first place I only swim free. So even if I swam in a relay, there was no reason I had to swim together with Makoto. Of course, there was no reason I had to swim with Rin either. You’re always alone in the water. It’s irrelevant that you’re swimming together with someone. So the first time he had said “it’s meaningless without you,” I was a bit bewildered. In an instant I couldn’t understand how I should take Makoto’s words, how I should accept them.

When we were in elementary school, I had stared fixedly at Makoto’s face without saying anything. In a time-sense it had probably just been an instant. But for Makoto that instant had probably felt like forever. He soon became flustered, and said “Sorry for saying something weird,” with a smile. At that time, I probably should have properly returned Makoto’s words. I shouldn’t have spoiled myself thinking that Makoto would understand me even if I didn’t say anything.

And now, after over 3 years of time has passed, I hear those words from Makoto’s lips yet again. The night of the training camp. The storm on the deserted island. Makoto was swallowed by a wave trying to save Rei, who was drowning in the night sea due to the sudden weather change. It had forcibly resurrected the ocean-related trauma Makoto had experienced when he was young.

I dove into the raging sea and rescued Makoto, who was sinking. Nagisa was saving Rei but I lost sight of them in the storm. Believing that the two of them were safe, I somehow pulled Makoto to a nearby small uninhabited island.

The rain pelted the beach as Makoto lay there, his breathing weak. I became absorbed in the task of trying to get air into Makoto’s lungs. I secured the airway, and brought my lips close to Makoto’s perilously open mouth.

But, before I could give him air, Makoto coughed sharply and regained consciousness.

Fleeing the storm that ravaged the deserted island in the middle of the night, Makoto and I rested under the shade of a rock. Even though time had passed since we had come out of the sea, because of the slanting rain we were unable to dry, and remained soaked. I understood that our body heat was gradually being stolen away. In the first place, why had Makoto agreed that the destination of the training camp be the ocean? We could’ve probably had it in a place other than the ocean. Makoto has long held onto the trauma of losing the old fisherman he was close to when he was young in an accident at sea, deep in the bottom of his heart. So, why—?

Under the shadow of a rock on a deserted island, and in the middle of a storm that showed no sign of letting up; although it was almost drowned out by the sound of the wind and the devastating rain, that moment was when Makoto said those words for the second time. Those words, the same as when we were in elementary school.

Because I want to swim together with you again.

I want to swim a relay with you again.

Without Haru…it’s meaningless without you.

*******

“What’s wrong, Haru-chan?” Nagisa said worriedly as he peered into my spaced-out expression.

“Nothing…” I am looking out a window. The storm outside is already settling down.

We met up with Nagisa and Rei; when we took refuge in this abandoned rest house the storm had still been raging, but after we had searched for food and drink together and dried off our soaked bodies, Nagisa had suggested, “Why don’t we play Dice Talk?” as if to blow the heavy, dispirited air away. And while we were talking of silly things, the storm passed on. Makoto also regained his composure, and told Nagisa and Rei about his personal trauma. After we went outside, we were bathed in a sky full of stars, spread out before us after the storm. After that, we decided to go back in the rest house and wait for dawn.

It was at that moment.

In my head, I once again recalled Makoto’s words from before. It’s meaningless without you—

In the end, this time (now the second time), I couldn’t properly give Makoto a reply.

As I happen to look at Makoto, he appears to have already completely calmed down, and with an unopened instant coffee he found somewhere in hand, he asks me, “Do you want some?” with a smile.

The danger of this incident has also passed; all that remains is this time while we wait for dawn. Drinking coffee is all well and good, but now we should probably sleep, even just for a little while.

At that moment Nagisa spoke in a cheery voice, his eyes sparkling. “Hey hey, since we’re here, why don’t we play that game again until morning? Dice Talk Part 2!”

Nagisa has endless energy.

He means an invented game where we roll a dice that our names are written on, and the person whose name it lands on has to reveal something like an embarrassing experience or a love story. On this dice that was made in an impromptu fashion, Rei’s name is written three times, while Nagisa, Makoto, and my name are written one time each.

“I have nothing else to say; I already spoke in abundance the last game…” [R]

“Well, probability-wise your odds were 2 to 1.” [M]

“This time, I want to hear all of your stories. Therefore, I am proposing new rules.”

“What kind of rules?”

“The person whose name comes up when the dice is thrown says a topic they like. Then, based on that topic, everyone will talk in turns. This way it’s fair, and I can get to know more and more about everyone.”

“I think that’d be good! Since we only heard your stories before, I was about to get sick of the game.”

“Nagisa-kun, how horrible! Weren’t you the one who made the dice in the first place?!”

“Eh?? But I just wanted to learn lots of things about you!”

It’s times like this where Nagisa is a little devil. Rei opposes his devilishness with a serious expression.

“I feel the same. I want to know more about everyone.”

“Well then, why don’t we give it a try with Rei’s rules? I also want to hear everyone’s stories,” Makoto says, mediating between the two. “We haven’t met with you for these 3 years, Nagisa, and…” Makoto looks in my direction with a fleeting glance.

“I’ve always been together with Haru, but the idea that I can hear stories I don’t know yet, it would feel like a new and interesting discovery.”

“Well then, it’s decided. Here goes!” Rei threw the dice, and ‘Dice Talk Part 2’ began little by little.

It rolls across the floor, and the first one to appear on top is ‘Rei.’

“Fine with me. I will propose a topic. Yes, first is…”

After a little build-up, Rei forcefully pushed his glasses up with a finger and said:

“Do you eat the strawberry on top of a shortcake first, or save it for later? How about that??”

For that build-up it’s a pretty common question.

“Whaat, Rei-chan, you’re fine with that??”

“At first I’ll start with a light jab. Nagisa-kun, please go first.”

“I’m definitely on the side of eating it first, you know? Because after all, your favorite food should be the very first. Don’t you want to eat it when you’re hungry and you’re in high spirits? And listen. If I cherished it, when I’d be like ‘Yes, let’s eat it!’ my older sister would probably steal it from next to me.”

“I see. I thought that you would most likely eat it first. But for it not to be simply because of your desires, and for you to have such a theory…”

“Nagisa has three sisters, after all,” Makoto says with a smile, and I supplement with an idiom.

“The weak are meat the strong do eat.”**

“Yes yes! ‘The weak are strawberries that the strong eat,’ is that the one?”

“That’s not an idiom. Next, Makoto-senpai, please answer!”

“I’m…well…”

“Ha! Mako-chan, it can’t be that you snatch the strawberries away from Ran-chan and Ren-chan like my sisters?!” Nagisa says jokingly.

“There’s no way that Makoto-senpai would do that,” Rei interjects without hesitation.

“Right! No matter which, Mako-chan is probably the one being stolen from.”

“Haha, Ran and Ren both love strawberries…but when I’m eating alone, I’m probably the opposite of Nagisa. I save the best for last. I make myself be patient, be patient…imagining the other times I’ve eaten it, the taste, the texture, the smell, getting more and more excited—! But, I still have to wait. When I get to the point of, ‘Ah~, I can’t take this anymore!’ I take the first bite…that’s about the gist of it?”

“How stoic…”

“That sounds painful~”

“Makoto is the type to push himself.” In place of Makoto I jump in again.

“Which type are you, Haru-chan?”

“Either way works for me. I don’t really like or hate strawberries.”

“Okay then, what if it was mackerel?” [R]

“Ooh, mackerel shortcake!” [N]

“We’re not talking of such a fishy smelling cake! I’m talking about a normal meal set with mackerel grilled with salt, served with dried daikon, hijiki,** miso soup, rice, and pickled vegetables. In this situation, please consider which you’d eat first.”

“It depends on my mood that day.”

“Well, that makes sense for Haru…”

It’s just as Makoto says. What I eat first changes with my mood that day. I just decide about that time at that time. I don’t like to be tied down by something. I always want to be free—

As soon as I thought that, I suddenly realized something.

I only swim free. As I say that, I am imposing being free on myself. Is that really being free? Compulsory freedom. The impairment of being free. What is really being free—?

As if to save me, who had gone completely silent and lost in thought, Makoto asked Rei, “What about you Rei?”

“Rather than think about whether to eat my favorite food first or not, I am on the side of always thinking about beauty as I eat. If I eat the strawberry first, then there’d only be cream left on top of the shortcake. I like to leave the attractive red of the strawberry resting on the pure white of the cream for the very end. However, as one is in the middle of eating the sponge, it loses its beauty. So that is where the theory of how to eat shortcake comes in.”

“There’s such a theory?”

“It is a theory I’ve created. While cutting the sponge, cream, and strawberry cleanly a little bit at a time, you can eat it beautifully while preserving an exquisite balance to the very end—!”

“Is eating it that way really delicious?” Nagisa expresses his frank doubt, but Rei, unperturbed, clearly states:

“Being beautiful is the first priority!”

After that Dice Talk continued. Probability-wise, there are more times when Rei asks questions.

“What is your first memory that you can remember even now?”

“What are your words to live by?”

“If the Earth were going to be destroyed in one week, what would you do?”

“When you take a bath, where do you wash first?”

These are Rei’s “jabs,” as he called it. These typical questions are thrown out one after the other.

My first memory is water. The memory of the water I was soaked in for my first bath. I’ve told this to both my family and my classmates, but they replied ‘There’s no way you’d be able to have that memory.’ No one except for Makoto would believe me. However, I certainly still have that memory. The memory of up until that point I would cry fiercely, but as soon as I was soaked in the water, I was wrapped in a strange sense of security. So I suddenly stopped crying.

And of course, my words to live by are ‘I only swim free.’ I’ll leave it at that.

As for how I’d live my final week if the world would be destroyed, I wouldn’t do anything special. I’d live my life as usual, and at the end I’d like to welcome it from in the water. That’s it.

When I’m going in the bath, the first place I wash is of course, the bath tub. If I don’t wash the bath tub first, I can’t relax and soak in the water. That’s something even inside myself I absolutely won’t yield on.

“No not that, Haruka-senpai. I meant where on your body do you wash first…”

“Why would you ask that, Rei.”

“The first place you wash in the bath. This is supposed to reveal desires or aspects of one’s personality that are hidden.”

“No, Rei-chan! You can’t forcibly expose something Haru-chan is hiding!”

“No, I didn’t mean to force anything, I simply wanted to look from a psychological viewpoint—”

“Sure sure, Rei-chan. Don’t worry about that. Next, let’s go!”

Prompted by Nagisa, Rei reluctantly rolls the dice again. This time, the side with ‘Nagisa’ on it was revealed.

“Ooh, it’s finally me! It’s my turn to ask a question! Well then…”

Nagisa thinks for a moment, then looks around at everyone, saying “How about this: What is a dream you’ve had recently that’s been funny, scary, mysterious, or left an impression on you?”

“If you look at that question from a psychological perspective, couldn’t you deduce hidden desires as well?!”

“Really? Well, it’s fine isn’t it? Rei-chan, what’s a dream you’ve had recently?”

“I…hmm. It’ll have to be the dream where I can fly. I think it’s because I’ve always done pole vaulting, but even now I’ve had the dream where I can fly pretty often. But the dream I had a few days ago was best among all the dreams I’ve had about flying. In the dream, I was then thousand meters up in the sky, above a sea of clouds so I flew like I was swimming. By the way, from a psychological standpoint, a dream about flying conveys the meanings of an admiration of freedom and liberation.”

“Ooh Rei-chan, then you just keep being freed! Soo can you tell what my dream means then?!”

“Fine with me. Please tell me, and I will analyze it.”

“Let’s see…In the dream I had recently, I was playing with a penguin in the Antarctic, when this giant strawberry-shaped spaceship came from the sky and attacked. Then, to save the penguin they kidnapped I tried to transform and fight them but no matter how many times I tried, I couldn’t transform! In the end I transformed into straight-from-the-pot udon noodles, but I couldn’t change back and I was covered in egg and eaten by a polar bear. But inside the polar bear’s stomach, I reunited with Rei-chan, who had grown a beard.”

“I don’t understand…”

“What? Even though I told you all that? Won’t you interpret my dream?”

“It is so theoretically illogical that it is impossible to interpret. More importantly, why do I show up in your dream inside the polar bear’s stomach with a beard?!”

“Not just a beard, but you were wearing a Santa hat too. Although you were wearing a suit and tie…”

“I am understanding it less and less!”

“Tch. Well, Haru-chan what dream have you had recently?”

“I don’t remember. Even when I have a dream I usually forget it quickly.”

“Wow, really? Then how about Mako-chan?”

“Me? Well, I…”

Makoto’s expression clouded for an instant. Did he remember having some kind of bad dream?

However, that expression soon disappears as he glosses over it saying, “I’m the same as Haru. I don’t really remember any dreams I’ve had recently…” He finishes with a smile.

On the next roll of the dice, ‘Makoto’ was the name that it stopped on.

“This time it’s my turn to ask a question? Well then…”

After thinking for a moment, he asked this question:

“How about this: What are you most afraid of? I mean, I just told you guys about my fear of the ocean, so I’d kind of like to hear about what everyone’s afraid of…”

Nagisa raises his hand to answer first. “Okay! For me, I’m afraid of my older sisters. Especially the oldest. Usually out of the three, she’s the nicest, but if you make her mad…” As if he was telling a ghost story, Nagisa suddenly raises the tone of his voice.

As if he’s a little scared, Rei asks with a serious expression, “What happens if you make her mad?”

Nagisa answers as if he’s full-on telling a ghost story, “Do you want to hear?” He said it as if once you’d heard it, you’d never be able to go back.

“…No, let’s leave it at that. When I consider that whenever I hang out with you at your house, I’ll probably meet your sister, I feel that not knowing is probably more prudent.”

“Oh, as expected of Rei-chan! Then I’ll just end my story at that!”

Nagisa tried to end the story on a forcedly bright note, but stopping in the middle like that and not hearing the end heavily weighs on one’s mind. However, it seems that Makoto didn’t want to pry any further than that.

“Haru, what are you afraid of?” He cast it over to me. “What thing are you most afraid of? It doesn’t have to be a thing; it can be a concept.”

A thing I’m afraid of, a concept I’m afraid of—

I work through my memories, thinking about it.

At that moment, suddenly, the sight of Makoto drowning flashed through my mind.

I see—.

I realized. I felt as if an emotion I’ve not been able to put into words had finally become concrete for the first time. What I had felt at that time had been fear.

Makoto’s weak breathing as he lay out on the beach. The fear that I would probably lose Makoto like this. The fear that the existence that had been so natural to me up until that time would suddenly disappear—

“What’s wrong, Haru-chan?”

“Nothing…” I answer, but it seems I couldn’t hide my turmoil.

Makoto looks at me with worry. “Haru?”

I’m at a loss for words, but I answered quickly to gloss over it. “I…I’m afraid of water completely disappearing from this world. That’s it.”

After that we continued Dice Talk for a while longer, but before long everyone became sleepy, and our senses became hazy. Nagisa dozes off first, and next Rei tiredly takes off his glasses. Before I knew it I also became sleepy, and I had a dream.

In the dream, I am floating on my back, slowly bobbing in the middle of the open sea. There isn’t a cloud in the sky, and there’s no wind. There’s not a single wave, and the smooth clear sea extends out as far as I can see with no land in sight. As I entrust my body to the drifting ocean water, I suddenly see something to the side of me. I see a toy orca floating there, bobbing and swaying. I’m not sure why, but I thought strongly that the toy was Makoto’s. However, I can’t see Makoto anywhere. Only the toy orca who had lost its owner is floating amongst the waves. Where is Makoto? Where did he go? I fall into a panic in an instant. The fear that the one who is naturally by my side has disappeared. In the dream that feeling of fear alone multiplies and is magnified, until I couldn’t bear it anymore and cried out:

Makoto! Where are you, Makoto!

In the middle of the calm sea that stretches on without end, I continue to desperately call out Makoto’s name.

Makoto—!

When I opened my eyes, the inside of the abandoned rest house had gotten slightly brighter. Outside of the window, the dawn had started to break.

Rei and Nagisa sleep very close to each other, letting out tiny even breaths in their sleep.

However, Makoto is not next to me.

“Makoto…?”

I snap awake at once. It couldn’t be that he really—?

I leave Nagisa and Rei asleep and I break into a run towards the outside.

Makoto stood on the beach in front of the rest house.

Amidst the rising sun, he looks back at me.

The quiet sound of the waves.

Makoto’s hair fluttered gently in the breeze from the ocean.

Seeing me flustered as I hurried out of the building, Makoto asked in confusion, “What’s wrong, Haru?”

I was a little embarrassed for having lost my composure; I turn away abruptly, saying “Nothing. When I woke up and saw you weren’t there, I was just a little worried…”

“Sorry, sorry!” Makoto says with a smile. “It turns out I couldn’t sleep, so I came out to feel the wind.”

“That’s fine then…” I murmur in answer.

I’m thinking about properly talking to Makoto. About his earlier question. About what I’m afraid of. To talk about what I fear the most.

My greatest fear. It’s the fear of suddenly losing an existence that has been so naturally there. I thought that this answer will probably be a reply to those words: It’s meaningless without you! This feeling that until now I hadn’t been able to form into concrete words inside myself.

However, if I do it now, I feel like I’ll be able to properly put it into words.

Makoto. I—

“What is it, Haru?”

“I—”

I started to say it, but in the end I’m at a loss for words.

Formally putting something like that into words is embarrassing.

“No, it’s…”

Seeing me stammer like that, Makoto smiled.

Seeing that I thought, Ah, that’s right, reconsidering. Makoto sees through my heart.

Seeing Makoto’s smiling expression, I murmur to myself, as if relieved, “It’s nothing. Thank you, Makoto…”

Makoto understands me even if I don’t say anything.

Again, I’ve been spoiled by Makoto’s feelings.

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

Several more notes:

-I’ll repeat my note about Makoto’s ‘perilously open’ mouth from before: The original word is insinuating that Makoto’s mouth is open because his life is in danger.

**The best translation for the idiom used is “The law of the jungle,” but as that didn’t fit with Nagisa’s next line I went with the other translation of it.

**This is daikon, and this is hijiki. To translate them literally would’ve ruined the flow of the dialogue, so I left them alone.

Finally, Makoto is hinting that he had a dream we should know about, and happily parts of it have been translated from the prologue here and here.

Now if anyone needs me, I’ll be screaming into the void because formally putting something like that into words is embarrassing.

I hope you enjoyed!

#free!#free! novelize #makoharu #nanase haruka #novel #my translation

752 notes · View notes

toukenra · 7 years ago

Note

Aaaaah! I just realized in my ask I didn't specify the saniwa's gender. I asked for kasen, kashuu, and taroutachi being given presents and they realize the saniwa likes them. Can the saniwa be male?

[Continuation]: I can’t view the rules on mobile so just ignore this if it breaks the rules plz. I was wondering if you could do kashuu, kasen, and taroutachi receiving gifts from their master and realizing they’re giving them gifts because their master likes them.

Hi there my dear. I apologize for not being able to get to your request! I feel so bad! T.T. Please forgive me! I have been working on this request for quite a long time and it ended up being so long! I hope it’s to your taste.

I also further apologize if there’s any grammatical errors (It’s currently quarter to 1 AM here and I just finished studying for a test.)

Anyway, please enjoy!

Everything under the cut (as always~!)

-Mod Catharia.

KASHUU

“I’m sorry but I can’t see you right now, Kashuu.”

“Oh…” (╯_╰)

You don’t fail to catch the disappointment on the Uchigatana’s face and it kills you

“Ah, I see. When can I come visit you, Aruji?”

“I’m not sure if when I have any vacancies, Kashuu. You may need to ask either Hasebe, Kotegiri or Tomoe.”

You’re cruel …You rejecting Kashuu Kiyomitsu is equal to kicking a puppy

“…Alright.”

Kashuu literally looks like a kicked puppy, shame on you Saniwa

Do you not have a conscience?

He’s your starting sword and you treat him like this

You’re too cruel…

I’M SORRY KASHUU! I DIDN’T MEAN IT! /PLEASE STAY AND KEEP ME COMPANY!

You were so tempted to bang your head against the wall and just throw yourself into the brunette’s arms

But you had to keep your composure and act like a respectable Sage

Yeah right, half the time you’re missing from the office and raiding the pantries for food or napping in the storage house at the back.

You just give Kashuu a weak smile and pat his hand comfortingly

“How about when you come back from sortie, I’ll treat you…”

“Will you really, Aruji?”

“Yup.”

The brunette finally relents and gives you a smile before bowing

“Alright, I’ll be heading out now, Aruji.”

“Take care!”（＾○＾）／

Once the Uchigatana leaves the premises of the citadel you quickly put your plan into motion

You enlist the help Izuminokami, Horikawa, Shokudaikiri, Hasebe and Tomogata

You convinced the last two to help you after pleading and using those puppy dog eyes

Sneaky (¬‿¬)

When Kashuu finally returns from the sortie, he is immediately ushered to the repair room and was provided with a special talisman to hasten the process

After being ushered to the baths and getting dressed, He immediately goes into your office but you weren’t there

Cue the disappointed pout and sigh from Kashuu

He was about to leave but he notices a basket and a small sign with his name on it

Come to the kitchen, something delicious is waiting for you there… -A

The Uchigatana walks to the kitchen and sees a delicious-looking slice of strawberry shortcake with another note.

You must be hungry, Please enjoy this treat and once you finish please come to the library…-A

It was to celebrate his first year as the first sword of the citadel

To thank him for his service underneath you

And well…

“What is it Aruji?” He looks at you a bit confused

Your rub the back of your head while you flush a bit

“...Well...I wanted to tell you that-that I like you...”

...

“I-I like you too Aruji.”

Neither of you speak but your faces looked like it was going to combust anytime

*Silently roots for you two* (〃艸〃)

OHMAIGOD YOU TWO ARE SO CUTE (〃ﾉωﾉ)

KASEN

He was intimidating at first but then you warmed up to him

You two briefly spend time together mostly having tea, caring for the flowers in the garden or helping in the kitchens

The first time that you felt something was when you caught sight of him sitting in his room, concentrating on his own work

You definitely knew that Kasen Kanesada was a man versed in the arts so what way to learn about tea ceremonies and literature than asking him

You had a genuine curiosity and wanted to learn about it

So eventually you would pass by once in awhile to learn about literature and became much better at brewing tea

Soon, you decide to write him a poem as a way to convey your growing feelings

...But how?!

Asking for help is definitely out of the window because the last time it was a disaster:

You had asked Uguisumaru, Tonbokiri and Kotegiri who would actually help you in writing a poem

…But somehow a few more people had heard about you writing your little poem

Yagen told you that both Tsurumaru and Mikazuki surprise, surprise had heard from Uguisumaru and is now asking everyone to help their beloved master write a love letter.

Since when did a poem become a full blown love letter!? (⊙︿⊙)!?!

You stared at the two suspects down who try to look like they had no idea what was happeninng

I swear to God that the two looked so smug, knowing smiles underneath those sleeves

Everyone decided to contribute in their own way by writing their own sample letters

You were so flabbergasted when even Kasen even handed his own version

A personal endeavor would be much safer

Within a few days, you finally finish your haiku and wrote it down on a piece of paper

You invite the Citadel’s resident poet to your room, showing him your latest arrangement of flowers

“ It was quite difficult to make.”

“It looks wonderful, Aruji. The Peach Blossoms work well with Carnations and Baby’s Breath...”

You smile proudly over your work until Kasen spoke up once more

“Ah, how about this week’s haiku Aruji? Would you like to read it out loud?”

You feel yourself break a sweat and a nervous smile on your face

It’s now or never, honey...Do it...

“Actually, how about you read it...I made it with you in mind...”

“Me?” The purple-haired Uchigatana raised a brow but held his hand out looking quite excited.

He quietly reads the paper and you tug at the sleeves of your hakama nervously

In a few moments his usually calm face turned a bit pink...

...And you immediately averted your face to the side to hide your own blush before speaking

“Er...Kasen-”

“A moment, Aruji.” he interrupts you

In the corner of your eye, You suddenly see Kasen reach for a piece of paper and write on it

Eventually, he pushes the paper towards you and he silently urges you to look at it

It read as follows...

At the perfect timeI love you my darlingAmorous spirit

D-darling!? Σ (O///.O///)

hE JUst CALled YoU daRLInG!?!!

You almost pass out because it was such a blatant declaration from the usually conservative warrior

You stare back at Kasen who was hiding half his face with his sleeve, looking quite flustered.

“U-um…Kasen…I-Is this…”

“W-well…It’s my response, Aruji…” He finally looks at you in the eye

“…I-I have grown rather found of you as well, Aruji…I like you.”

You may have passed out shortly after due to being overheated from the sudden confession and guess who came to keep you company…

…You guessed right, Darling–Kasen did…

TAROTACHI

The first time that you met the Oodatchi was when your main party returned from sortie and they brought him and his brother, Jirotachi, home

You greeted them with a welcoming smile and Jiro literally picked you up in a tight hug while Taro merely nodded in your direction as a sign of acknowledgement

“I heard so much about you, Aruji! You’re so tiny!”

“I-I am…?”

If you stand beside them, you actually look like a midget…LOL (ᗒᗜᗕ)՛̵̖

“Brother please, put him down.” Taroutachi would scold his brother

“Awee, you’re no fun!”

From that day on you got along quite well with the two brothers and once in a while you would help them with some chores around the Citadel

One night, after having dinner, you decide to make one last round to sure everyone was settling in comfortably for the night

You pass by Jirotachi and Tarotachi’s room to bid them a goodnight

…But you are greeted by Jirotachi alongside the three Yaris– Nihongou, Tonbokiri and Otegine– who were quite drunk

I’m not surprised…Jiro has his way with convincing people….and some sake doesn’t sound so bad either…

You call a few others to help you move the Yaris back into their room while you usher Jiro into his futon

Sadly, the said Oodatchi didn’t seem to want you to leave but instead clung your arm.

“Zzzz…”

“Jiro-san…Jiro-san…please let go…” (-_-)ゞ゛

The large man just clung unto your arm and you just sat there quietly until Taroutachi entered the room

He just took one look at you and his brother drunkenly clinging to your arm before walking over and taking the limb off of you

“I apologize for my brother’s behavior, Saniwa-sama.”

“It’s alright, Tarou-san. I just want to make sure your brother was alright.”

You were suddenly surprised when you heard a small chuckle from the taller man beside you

Thump…Thump…Thump…

“I appreciate you watching over my brother, Aruji.”

What’s this…?

“Thank you…”

The smile from this handsome man was going to kill you one day…if not tonight…

“You’re very welcome.” You quickly get up, letting the Oodatchi get ready for bed, feeling your cheeks flaming

When you were about to be leave, you when you notice that Taroutachi’s futon looked a little to small

LOL can you imagine this guy’s feet sticking out??

That’s probably going to be a problem when the could season comes

You make a mental note on the bedding and make your own way to your room

You continue to have these odd feelings surfacing whenever Taroutachi was around

You looked at various symptoms you were experiencing…

You’re sick…love sick…huheuhe ෆු(*˃ர்˂*)ෆු

You basically thought you were going to have a heart attack

You debate whether to go see a doctor…or Yagen at least

The purple-haired Tantou claimed that you were perfectly healthy and told you to just take it easy

You follow his instruction because Yagen can be scary sometimes

Once you returned to your study, you were greeted by a package and you perked up–it was the item you ordered

You decide to carry the package to it’s destination, excited to give it to the person it was intended for

On the way to the Oodatchi’s room, you bump into someone while carrying the package but thankfully the person caught your arm before toppling back

“Are you alright, Saniwa-sama?” came the familiar voice.

“Y-Yes…”

You feel the package being taken from your hands and Taroutachi’s visage greets you

“Where do you need this, Aruji?”

“Umm..It’s actually for you…” You smile sheepishly

“For me?” You nod in response

When you two reach his shared bedroom, you allow him to unpack it’s contents and he looked quite happy

You bought him a brand new futon which was much larger than the one he currently was using

“Thank you, Aruji…You didn’t have to buy this for me.”

Again that handsome smile has surfaced once more and it made you flush a bit

God, You can look at him all day…Wait, get a hold of yourself! (o.o)!!!

“Please, it’s a gift…you deserve it for working so hard.”

“You have my thanks, Master.”

You don’t have to say you liked him…You were pretty sure he knew well enough

A few days passed and you could feel the stares of a few people which unnerved you a bit:

…Hasebe came in the office with slightly red eyes…was he crying??

…The Tantous kept passing by, looking expectantly at you…Huh?

…Even Yamanbagiri was slightly pouting…What is wrong??

The Shoji doors situated behind you slammed open catching you off guard

“WHERE’S MY FUTON AS WELL, ARUJI!? YOU GIVE ONE TO TAROUTACHI BUT NOT ME!? HOW UNFAIR!!” ( ≧Д≦)

#touken ranbu #request #saniwa #Male Saniwa #Kashuu Kiyomitsu #Kasen Kanesada #Taroutachi #Headcanon #ask #dellvanity #Mod Catharia

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