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that-gay-guy-from-hell · 1 year ago

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Uncontrolled Instincts: Vergil x Male Reader

MINORS DNI; THIS IS FOR ADULTS ONLY

SERIOUSLY, GO AWAY!

SUMMARY: The eldest son of Sparda has been through many trials and tribulations within his almost fifty years of life. Despite this, Vergil was still learning about the different ways his heritage could bring him to his wit's end-- how it could bring him to his knees and leave him completely and utterly at your mercy.

BEGINNING NOTES: Requested by @kasianthus on Tumblr! (Sorry this took so long--didn't know if should still stage because of that so sorry if you aren't really into DMC anymore in the like year this took lmao sorry) This legit has been sitting half-finished for months (Like this was requested way back on March 5th lmfao); so I figured I should probably finish it lmfao 🦢💧🦢 Top/Dom Vergil x Sub/Bottom Male reader Pre-established relationship Semi-mindless smut with a lil' fluff Lots of smut--like a ton. Rut (Vergil); the reader is unaware of this being a thing in devils Minor scent kink Small masturbation scene (Vergil) Mating/Breeding kink (Possessive of the reader) Biting/Blood (Bleeding?) kink: Vergil bites hard enough to draw blood (he is a devil after all) then does some kind of painful stuff--it’s not very long or anything but I figured it is important to mention. Bruising + Scratching Minor Oral (blowjob; Reader receiving.) Monster fucker stuff; dick sleeve/slit stuff, etc. Devil Trigger sex Overstimulation Knotting 💧🦢💧 >Unrealistic sizes for his Triggered dick(s)--just let me have fun. If you want actual sizes, go to Vergil’s H/C chapter. >Because of the mental state Vergil’s in, he’s a bit sappy--almost reminiscent of V--during some parts. >I used the concept art from DMC 5 as a reference for Vergil’s (regular) Devil Trigger; figured I should put that here to avoid any confusion (since it’s very different from his 3-design and semi-different than his 4-design). Dante’s 5 DT has pupils so Vergil’s does too (even though the concept art doesn’t; neither does Dante’s concept art btw).

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“That is an idiotic suggestion,” Vergil’s lip twitched as he lightly snarled, “Although I shouldn’t expect much else from you.”

“Yeah? Well, if you’re so damned smart,” Dante crossed his arms as he leaned back in his chair, scowling at Vergil, “Then what’s your plan.”

“I told you,” the blue devil squinted, “I can handle it alone.”

Dante slammed his hands down on his desk and shot up from his chair, “And as I have told you ,” he rounded to the front of his desk, leaning against it slightly, and stood face-to-face with his older brother, “ No, you can’t. ”

The devils stared at one another, growling while exchanging death glares. Amongst the loud snarling, however, a stressed-out sigh could be heard. Lady, who had grabbed a beer, was trying to ignore the twins' incessant bickering. She's been waiting for over an hour for Nico and Trish to swing by and pick her up and she was almost at her breaking point. Quietly, she tapped her fingers against the half-drunk bottle while grumbling to herself. A part of her felt like she was babysitting two toddlers rather than sitting at the establishment of two middle-aged devil hunters. As she raised the bottle to take a drink, a loud commotion behind her caught her attention. Slamming down the bottle, she whipped around with a venomous glare.

With hands wrapped around one another, the twins wrestled momentarily only to be cut abruptly by Vergil slamming Dante’s back through the railing and treads of the staircase. A loud strangled coughing came from Dante as one of the metal bars speared him through the chest, splattering Vergil’s face with a trace amount of blood.

“What is wrong with you two?!" Lady’s tolerance had finally run out, "I just fucking fixed yesterday's damage!” She stood from her seat, arms crossed.

Hearing her irate tone, Vergil released Dante’s neck from his grasp and stood up; not saying a word.

Dante groaned, looking up at his twin, “Lil’ help?” He stuck out his hand which Vergil used to yank Dante back to his feet.

Vergil straightened his coat, “I think I will take my leave for today-”

“Good,” Dante shifted uncomfortably, placing a hand over the gaping hole in his middle, feeling it slowly repair itself, “Can’t stand you being so pissy.”

Lady pinched the bridge of her nose, “You are no better, Dante. Both of you are acting like children.”

“I am not,” Dante huffed.

Vergil glared at his brother from the corner of his eye before strutting towards the garage door, “I am leaving,” he stopped after he was slightly past Lady and turned over to his shoulder, addressing her, "Contact me only if necessary.”

With that, Vergil left The Devil May Cry.

Upon opening the front door to your shared home, Vergil instantly felt a heavy hazy heat spread throughout his limbs. He took a slow deep breath as he stood in the entryway, trying to get a hold of himself. Unhurriedly, he hung his coat and slid off his boots, mumbling to himself about his next move. He decided that a shower may ease his mind as he wandered into the cozy co-inhabited home.

The blue devil warily looked around, trying to avoid you. Eventually, he found you in the bedroom, making things difficult, since he needed to stop in there for clothing. He peered in through the door and saw that you were lying on your stomach, reading a book while softly humming. From where he was standing, he got a perfect view of your ass, only worsening his issue .

Vergil shook his head and took a deep breath trying to deter his thoughts; only after which did he realize that getting a deep whiff of your scent was perhaps the worst thing he could do at the moment. He stood with a scrunched face and closed eyes as he tried to ground himself, doing his best to ignore the overwhelming perverse thoughts eating at him, and the fiery feeling spreading to his lower half.

You turned over and sat at the edge of the bed, dangling your legs over the edge, “Hey-! You’re home early,” you flashed him a cheerful smile that quickly fell as you got nothing but silence in return, “Everything alright, Vergil?”

“Yes, everything is fine,” Vergil’s eyes avoided yours and his answer was quick and emotionless.

You raised a brow at his seemingly discombobulated reaction, “You sure?”

He nodded and moved to grab some casual clothing from the dresser, “I am going to shower.”

Your brow raised further, “Okay..?”

Vergil looked over to you as if he were going to speak but closed his mouth, turned away from you, and left.

In the brief moments that your eyes met with his, you noticed the small bits of dried blood on his clothes and face. It was probably Dante’s, knowing how much the two had been fighting the past week or so; however, that didn’t make it any better nor did it ease your mind. You slid off the bed, and placed the book on the nightstand, leaving the room. Unhurriedly, you meandered down the hall as you mulled through what could have upset Vergil so much.

As of late, he's been in such a sour mood that he barely even says "Good morning" or "Good night", not to mention the lack of physical affection. He hasn't even been sleeping in the bedroom with you, "preferring” to sleep on the couch. A frown decorated your face as a wicked thought echoed in your mind, "What if he is distancing himself so he can disappear…"

You shook your head, "He'd never do that, he loves me... Right?"

With another shake of your head, you decided that you were going to talk with him once he's finished his shower.

When Vergil entered the restroom, he lazily tossed his change of clothes off to the side and turned the shower faucet as cold as he could. While the water ran, he stripped down and neatly placed his worn clothing in the hamper.

Just being in your presence had made him unbearably hard and was driving him up the wall. It seems even the Dark Slayer isn’t able to conquer his instincts, much to his vexation.

A quiet hiss left his lips as he stepped under the icy water. Vergil’s skin was beyond sweltering, being so hot that it was bothering him; a man whose body runs on average at around 120°F (49°C). The contrast between him and the nearly frozen water created a sauna-esc environment--fog quickly filling the room. As he washed his face off, he stared mindlessly at the wall. He’d never experienced something like this before; and, to be quite frank, it's exhausting. The sheer amount of emotional ups and downs was enough to make him nauseous. Not to mention that he’d been avoiding any sort of affection towards or with you for nearly a week.

It all mixed up into a hellish disaster that Vergil just wanted to end. Tired of the immense toll this was taking on him, in every way possible.

With folded arms, he stood facing the water as a small discontent grumble left his lips. He had hoped that the cold water would have killed his hard-on; however, it didn’t. Now he was just miserably standing under frigid water with a rigid cock.

Vergil let out a low growl of irritation, his face scrunching into a grimace as he lightly pinched the bridge of his nose. Despite not being one for masturbation, he decided to try and handle his urges alone. He ran his hands up his face and then slowly back down, sighing loudly. Then he turned around and leaned his forehead against the wall, the water now beating against his back; a feeling that would have most definitely troubled him if he weren’t so worked up.

His brow furrowed as he shut his eyes, placing one hand on the wall and the other around his throbbing dick. Slowly, his hand moved at the thought of what he’d do to you if only you were here harshly pinned between the wall and him.

The feeling of you squirming underneath him as he bit down on your neck. Your groans as he shoves himself inside your tight hole. The feeling of your hands in his hair, pulling it in ecstasy. How deep and hard he would pound your insides. Growling obscene and perverse comments into your ear and watching you react; feeling you react. Folding you as he bent your legs up as far as he could, his nails digging into your skin.

Vergil wanted nothing more than to claim you --to breed you --to leave you unable to move and full to the brim with his cum.

The blue devil’s face scrunched further with every quickening stroke, trying to reach his peak, “Ngh- ha~” A frustrated whine of a huff escaped his nose as he bit down on his lip.

Unknowingly, he started bucking his hips into his hand in pursuit of the tantalizingly close orgasm. However, try as he may, it never came; all he managed to do was work himself up even further and nearly break his fingers from how hard he was pressing against the tiles.

After what seemed like an eternity, he removed his hand from his cock and just stood there with his eyes closed. He placed his face against his bicep with a deep exasperated inhale, trying to figure out a solution that wouldn’t involve him explaining what was happening.

A soft knock at the door caused Vergil to choke on his exhale, “Vergil, you alright? You’ve been in there for over an hour…”

Although you didn’t care how long he took, it was a bit concerning when his longest shower ever was fifteen minutes . In combination with how he was earlier, you were well within your right to worry.

He felt his cock twitch at the sound of your voice as he ran his thumb across his tip, doing his best to subvert the idea of asking you to join him, “I am fine,” he straightened his posture with a small sigh, “I will be out momentarily.”

The blue devil waited to hear you walk away before he turned off the water and stepped out. He dried off and slid on his black boxer briefs and an indigo t-shirt. Then, as per usual, he went to pomade his hair but found his tin completely exhausted. Vergil balled up his hands, his nails lightly puncturing his palms in anger. In his heated departure from the shop, he had completely forgotten to pick some up before returning home. In a vain attempt at normalcy, he used the dampness from the shower to slick it back.

Then the real issue became apparent. He needed to figure out how to hide his excitement . The blue devil mulled over different ideas as he moved his jaw back and forth. It was then that he noticed he, unintentionally, grabbed a baggy set of grey sweatpants; ones that would be able to hide most of his painfully aching flesh if he wore them just right and tucked himself in a very specific way.

After a few attempts, he managed to get it right and looked at himself in the mirror; it was barely noticeable, allowing him to take a sigh of relief. As he opened the door, he was able to place where you were in the house by the sound of your heart, you were in the living room. Knowing that if he saw you he’d lose the struggle with himself, he quickly slipped into his study; which was right between the bathroom and bedroom.

The Dark Slayer quietly shut the door and turned on a desk lamp. The room wasn’t anything too elaborate or fancy; it only contained three bookshelves, a small desk, and Vergil’s favorite chair. The blue devil grabbed his current book from the desk and sat down, making the plastic ever-so-slightly creak underneath him. With the lick of his fingertips, Vergil paged through to where he had left off in the novel.

After nearly ten minutes of re-reading the same page over and over, Vergil slammed the book shut with a growl. At this point, his body was beyond burning with lust and he wanted nothing more than to soothe his pulsating cock. Moving his jaw in thought, he debated trying to relieve his itch again; however, before he could decide, a gentle knock came from the door.

“Vergil..?” your voice was barely audible.

In a panic, Vergil snapped back, “What?” He scrunched his face and pursed his lips in immediate regret at how he answered.

There was a moment of silence before he heard you sigh, “Never mind, sorry; didn’t mean to bother you. I’ll leave you be.”

As you began to walk away, Vergil bolted up from his seat; upsetting you was the last thing he wanted to do. Opening the door as quickly as possible, he called out to you, “Wait-!”

You turned around; only a dozen or so strides away. With a brow raised in curiosity, you noted how disheveled Vergil looked: between his outfit, hair, and how overall ragged he looked you knew something was wrong. The two of you stood staring at one another for a minute or so; neither of you being sure what to say or do next.

The blue devil turned from your gaze to look down, shifting awkwardly, “I…” he stood with his lips slightly parted and shifted once more.

You took a few steps towards him, “Is something wrong, Vergil?”

He shook his head ‘no’ and tensed his shoulders, “Stay back,” although he intended it to sound commanding, it sounded more like he was pleading.

Your brow creased, “Why?”

That was the million-dollar question, wasn’t it?

The intense aching in his body only worsened by being near you, he scrunched his face trying to block out his insatiable yearning for you, “I can’t-” Vergil looked up from the flooring to you as he spoke softly, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“What does that-” you shook your head, “Vergil, what is going on?” You continued to steadily and carefully approach the high-strung man.

With every step you took, his body tensed up further and further. Part of him wanted to run as far from you as possible, ashamed and afraid of his need; the other wanted nothing more than to slam you against the floor and let into his sinful primal desires. He closed his eyes and took a deep steading breath; doing neither of those things--unintentionally allowing you to get closer.

You stood only two or so strides away and were able to hear a faint growling, “My Love?” When you went to grab his hand, his eyes snapped open.

Vergil jolted backward and hit the still-open study door that was behind him… which broke it right off its hinges with a loud cracking thud. You flinched at the sudden loud noise and pulled your hand back.

He turned to his side slightly to look down at the broken door, “Fantastic…” he then turned back to you with a sigh, “Forgive me, I-”

That’s when he noticed where you were staring at his body.

You squinted and pursed your lips, doing your best to stifle a small laugh, “Is your weird mood cause of that ?” You gestured with your eyes down to his painfully obvious hard-on.

Vergil shifted his jaw and huffed out a meek answer, “It is more than that, I am afraid.”

“Care to share?” you set a hand on your hip and smirked, very much oblivious to the severity of what was going on.

The blue devil shook his head, “No-” A shiver ran up his spine as he watched you slowly and intensely eye him up, “You’re not going to like the answer.”

“Vergil, we’ve slept together quite a bit,” you gently grabbed one of his hands, “What is so different now?”

His voice was strained as he gripped your hand tightly and paused a moment for a moment before continuing, “This is out of my control.”

“What? Vergil,” you furrowed your brow in confusion, “What does that mean?”

He opened his eyes and stared at you momentarily, using his tongue to play with his teeth in thought.

“Don’t make me beg,” you lightly teased.

“Fine,” Vergil pushed you against the wall, a knee placed right between your legs, and holding both your hands off to your sides, “I want you,” he leaned closer, his breath tickling your ear, “I need to--” he paused for a moment in thought, “I need to breed you,” behind his voice you could hear a rumble, telling you how desperate he really is.

He placed small kisses along your jawline and pulled back to look you in the eyes, pleading with you to save him from this torment of self-restraint he has been going through for nearly a week now.

You raised a brow, “And how’s that any different than normal?” You gave him a suggestive sultry smirk.

He cautiously placed his lips atop yours; despite his current affliction, he wanted to make sure that he took things slow--at least, slow enough that he wouldn’t hurt you. The kisses were long, heated, and sloppy. The both of you moved your mouths together in an almost exaggerated manner, perfectly synchronized. Vergil pushed against you and a low rumble filled each of his motions; doing his best to show you how much he needs you. How much he desires you in your entirety; mind, spirit, and body. How much he wishes to consume your frail humanity and turn you into his sinful plaything.

The blue devil’s grip tightened around your wrists as he fought his urge to demolish you right here and now. The heat from his body was overwhelming. Both he and you were acutely aware of it, a very thin line of sweat adorning the two of you. Vergil pushed his leg up further between your legs, lovingly nudging your slowly growing arousal, listening to the faint groans you gave.

After a few minutes of these slow impassioned kisses, he slid his tongue into your mouth. Excitedly he explored every bit that he could. Though Vergil had tasted your sweet tongue many times before, he always had the same amount of giddiness as he did the first time. His growling had become prominent enough that you could feel it within your mouth; a new, but welcomed, feeling.

With a gentle roughness, Vergil bit at your lips and tugged on them, which you lovingly returned. A small smirk decorated his lips as he let out a happy huff against you before diving into another plethora of fiery lustful kisses. With each languid motion of his plush lips against yours, his grip tightened around your wrists; gradually losing the arousing factor and becoming painful--you weren’t even sure if he realized that he was doing it.

Breaking away from his lips for a brief moment, you let out a low hiss, “Vergil, that kind of hurts,” you squirmed against his hold.

He stood there with his forehead against yours, loosening his grip slightly. With a low husky growl of a voice, he whispered against your kiss-swollen lips, “I need more,” he nuzzled his nose against yours, “Please.” His eyes met with yours, they were heavy and glazed over; he wasn’t asking you, he was begging .

“Just--” You did your best to stay calm, knowing that Vergil was far from it, “Give me a minute to get ready and I’m all yours..?”

A small displeased grumble left his lips before he bit at your lower lip, pulling it slowly, then whispered against you, “You’d best hurry,” he released his grip on your wrists, “Best not to keep me waiting,” he turned and walked towards the bedroom, leaving you in a confused light-headed daze.

Once within the bedroom, he grabbed the nearly empty lube from the side table and set it on the tabletop. Absent-mindedly, he began to tap his foot, doing his best to ignore his slowly thinning patience. Vergil was still rather uneasy about informing you about what was truly going on. The two of you had been romantically involved for many years now, but it was only within the past year that the two of you had become sexually involved. In hindsight, Vergil regrets not explaining the consequences of doing so.

The consequences of mating with a devil.

A nearly inaudible creak in the floorboards caught Vergil’s attention, pulling him from his thoughts. Instantly, the blue devil was upon you and was as close to you as possible, his lips connected with yours once again. With a startled moan, you grabbed his biceps and felt him dig his fingertips into your sides as he tried to pull you impossibly close.

Not giving you a chance to think, Vergil moved you over to the bed and had you pinned beneath him. Using one of his hands, he held both of yours above your head as he stared down at you. He placed his free hand on your cheek, thumbing over your skin slowly, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

The blue devil’s hand drifted down your neck and to your chest, “I am sorry for this.”

“For what?” You tilted your head.

Without answering, Vergil leaned down and bit down on your neck. A sharp pain caused you to flinch and let out a low groan. He’d pierced through your skin and was working his teeth further into your flesh. It was uncommon for Vergil to make marks where others would be able to see them, but he never has drawn blood or bitten you this hard before. An uneasy feeling pricked at the edges of your mind--the unnerving feeling of being a devil’s prey.

Once Vergil felt the mark was dark enough, he leaned back up as he licked his lips and teeth clean of your blood. Your eyes met with his and Vergil had a crazed stare that sent cold shivers down your spine, it was a feral dominant look that only worsened the growing bad feeling in your gut. He moved to the other side of your neck and gave it the same treatment; puncturing your flesh deeply.

You let out a sharp moan as you felt him remove his teeth and give the new mark small loving licks. Curious as to how’d you respond, he took one of the tips of his split tongue and pushed it into one of the teeth holes. With pursed lips, your brow scrunched and you pulled away from the feeling; however, Vergil wasn’t done. He quickly placed another bite atop the same spot, moving ever-so-slightly out of line with the already there divots. The blue devil was enjoying the iron taste of the thick red substance and he wanted to taste you more; perhaps a side effect of him being the only Sparda descendant to consume human blood in mass?

With a third bite to the same spot, you finally spat out a whimper; one that wasn’t of pleasure. However, the devil didn’t notice and clenched his jaw harder at your struggling.

“Vergil, stop-!” You jerked away from him with a voice that was somewhere between angry and frightened--not a hint of enjoyment in earshot.

It took him a moment to react, removing his teeth with a low faintly animalistic huff. The blue devil leaned up and looked down at you, watching you writhe at the painful feeling, assessing the situation. A prominent red stain had adorned his lips, teeth, and surrounding skin; he looked as if he were truly attempting to eat you. A few tears pricked at the edges of your eyes which caused him to look away, almost shameful.

“Vergil?”

He released your hands and sat still, looking like a kicked puppy.

You leaned up and gently placed a hand on the side of his jaw, turning him to face you. Vergil’s eyes were glazed over and his lips slightly parted, still very obviously aroused but hesitant to continue. You ran a thumb along his lower lip, wiping blood off the stained surface. Slowly, you connected with his lips.

With a loving force, you pushed your lips hard against him and moved your hand from his jaw to the side of his neck, firmly holding him. Using your other hand, you grabbed a fist full of his shirt and pulled him into you. All the while, you’d pushed your tongue into his mouth which earned a surprised muffled moan from Vergil.

His mouth tasted, unsurprisingly, of blood and was broiling hot. Vergil worked himself into your grove, moving along to the rhythm you were setting; a rarity in your relationship. You moved your hand up from his neck and interweaved your fingers with his hair, grasping the strands tightly. A small amount of pride pricked at the edges of your mind as you heard him let out a low unfiltered moan and felt him tremble under your grasp. This, however, didn’t last long.

Unwilling to remain submissive, Vergil pushed you downwards again. Mindlessly his kisses began to wander around your skin placing small kisses along your clothed shoulders and chest. In return, you gently groped at his shoulders and arms, earning a low moan from your devilish lover.

You noticed that he was still wet from his shower as you ran your hands under his shirt giving his skin a soft smooth feel. Your fingertips flattened against his pecs, kneading against him. Slowly, you made your way over to his nipples and pinched them tightly. His back arched slightly at the feeling and he let out a low breathy moan.

However, the blue devil’s hands weren’t stationary and had begun to move, drifting downwards. They rested right at the edge of your shirt for a moment as he felt you grope his chest. Then, bit by bit, he slid his hands underneath your shirt. Taking the hint, you removed your hands from him and pulled the fabric over your head, tossing it somewhere in the room.

The blue devil’s slender fingers groped along your chest, seeming almost desperate to feel your body. Your hands grabbed the edge of his shirt and began to tug at it. Vergil leaned up and pulled his shirt over his head, looking down at you with slightly labored breathing.

In all his years of life, in neither Hell nor the human world, has he ever had he found another so captivating as you are. Even during times like these, times of sinful lust, you still managed to look holy to the tarnished devil; a sacred being that he’d gladly become a martyr over, someone he’d give his life up for. Despite his irritation at his current affliction, he can’t help but be glad that it is with you and that he found someone he wants to spend the rest of his life with.

As he stared, you stared back.

A small amount of pride tugged at your heart at how you’d managed to get someone like Vergil, someone so beautiful. Your eyes focused on his partially agape kiss-swollen lips that he’d roll his tongue over moistening them every so often. His hair was down courtesy of the lack of pomade and clung to the still-wet skin of his brow, giving him a rather ragged look. Despite Dante being his twin, the two looked nothing alike in your eyes--even with the same hairstyle. Slowly your gaze traveled to his half-lidded eyes when you noticed something; his eyes were the icy glowing blue of his Devil Trigger.

You wriggled to sit upright, “You’re quite worked up, huh?” With a smile, you watched Vergil’s face become red and you placed a hand on the side of his neck, thumbing over his throat softly.

“Why do you say that?” his voice quivered a bit as he felt your hand slowly move down from his neckline to his hips.

“You’re acting… strange ,” you ran your hand close to his bulge, purposely missing it, and rested your hand on his thigh.

He gave you a half-confused half-disappointed look.

“Not that I don’t find this…” you gently rubbed his thigh, earning a stifled moan from the devil, “ aggressively dominant side of you alluring.”

“Do you?” he smirked slightly, “How strange…” Vergil leaned in and gave you small pecking kisses.

You smiled widely and spoke between kisses, “Care to share what the special occasion is?”

Vergil quietly chuckled and murmured against your lips, “In time.”

Between loud sweet pecks, you gently whispered, “Come on, please Vergil?”

Instead of answering, he gave you a long kiss; one that only broke once he felt you pushing away for air. Vergil’s fingers gently ghosted the three-times-bitten dark spot he’d left on your neck, staring with concern.

Noticing his upset attitude, you grabbed his hand and brought it to your lips, kissing his knuckles.

“Does it… hurt ?” His voice was soft, with a small tinge of sadness.

“You want me to be honest?”

He nodded.

“Yes, it hurts, but-!” You made sure to cut him off, knowing damn well what he was going to say, “It’s fine and it’ll heal,” you ran soft kisses up from the hand you’d been kissing and to his shoulder, resting there for a moment, “It’s alright.”

“I am sorry for harming you,” he looked to the side, his eyes meeting with yours, “I didn’t think that I…” His voice cracked as gazed upon you with remorse.

You leaned up from his skin and looked at him with a soft smile, “Don’t worry about it, Vergil…” With a soft sigh, you leaned forward and placed a soft gentle long kiss on the underside of his jaw, “It’s flattering to know that you want me that badly, dear.”

Vergil pushed you back downwards, straddling your hips. His fingertips pressed into you as he eyed you up and down and, with a low dark desperate tone, he remarked, “That doesn’t even scratch the surface of how I feel right now.”

As he began to run his digits down your body, he leaned down and placed a very soft kiss on the tender spot. Bit by bit Vergil began to kiss down your middle, mumbling very softly against you, “ “The Fountains mingle with the river/And the rivers with the ocean,/The winds of heaven mix for ever,/With a sweet emotion;/Nothing in the world is single,/”,” he stopped right above your navel and lightly bit at the skin, staring up at you and locking with your eyes, “All things by a law devine/In one another's being mingle -/Why not I with thine?”.”

He continued until his head was between your thighs. You propped yourself up on your elbows and saw that he was already staring back at you. With hot and heavy breaths, he kissed the inside of one of your thighs all the way to your dick, then gave the other thigh the same treatment.

“Vergil-” You swallowed apprehensively, “Are you sure that you’re alright to be doing--”

“I won’t harm you,” he gave you a small smile with half-lidded eyes, “I promise,” his breath was heavy as he brushed his cheek and nose along your bulge, speaking in a quiet needy manner, “Let me taste you, please.”

Your breath caught in your throat as you tried to keep up with the sudden mood change; Vergil going from overly dominant to an almost submissive pleading. Before you even answered him, his fingers were within your waistband and were pulling at the fabric, completely exposing you to him. A small moan left your lips as you felt him kiss along the insides of your thighs once more. They were slow sloppy kisses, licking and biting at the sensitive skin.

Vergil stared at you for a moment, a smirk of pride tugging at his lips from how you were watching him with bated breath. Very unhurriedly, he ran his tongue down from your tip to your balls. As he ran back up, he split his tongue apart and slid your cock between the two sides. Encouraged by your low groans, he did the same motion back down.

Carefully he took your sack into his mouth and began to lightly suck on it. Instinctively, you placed a hand in his hair and grabbed it harshly, making the blue devil moan lowly. As he released you from his mouth, he made sure to stick his tongue out and run it up your seam.

Your fingers tightened as you let out a groan and a quiet call of his name.

Returning to your shaft, he placed kisses along the underside of your dick upward. Once at the top, he licked at your slit and watched as you squirm at his motions. With a heavy breath, Vergil placed his lips around your cock and gradually took you into his mouth. His hands found purchase on your hips and he pulled you as close to him as possible, the tip of his nose touching your lower abdomen. You fully leaned up, to get a better view of him, and placed both your hands in his hair as he bobbed up and down at a moderate pace.

“Vergil~ fuck that feels good,” you groaned as he began to move faster at your words.

He smirked in response. Although he’d never admit it, he enjoys hearing you say he’s doing good; that he’s the reason you feel good. However, unlike normal, he wasn’t planning on bringing you to your peak; instead, he removed himself from your dick and stood up. The two of you shared a long heated kiss that he used to lean you back down, then he pulled back.

“Turn over,” his voice was low and gravely, palming himself at the sight before him.

With a small nod and smirk, you did as you were asked. You could hear Vergil shuffling around before feeling him rejoin you on the bed with his hands kneading against your ass. Although his motions weren’t particularly aggressive, the pressure he was using was extreme and was going to undoubtedly leave bruises. If you listened very closely, you could hear him purring behind his growling.

You let out a small laugh, “You’re quite pent up, huh?”

He momentarily paused, his hands still gripping you, “You could say that, yes,” before you could respond, you felt him dig his fingers harder into you, “May I?”

With a smile, you turned over your shoulder to him, “How cordial,” you softly laughed, “Go ahead, I’m all yours Vergil.”

Once he let go of your butt, Vergil smirked slightly at the sight of you lifting your hips up a bit. He was almost tempted to skip prepping you but he bit his lip; he can’t have you getting hurt, he needs you to be available for him. After lubing up his fingers, he slowly slid the first digit inside.

Taking a deep breath, you did your best to relax into his hand. Vergil shifted so he could kiss you while continuing to stretch you. He placed several gentle pecks along your neck and your jaw, a rather loud purr coming from deep within his chest.

As he slid a second finger inside you, he heavily laid his head on the crook of your shoulder and began to give the area small heated kisses. You let out a small moan and turned towards him, kissing the top of his head. A smile tugged at your lips as you felt him let out a low happy sigh, his lips just barely hovering over your skin.

Another stifled moan came from you as he began to curl his fingers and return to kissing your neck, slightly nipping at it as he traveled along your neck and shoulder.

Quietly, as if afraid to speak, Vergil whispered between kisses, “I love you, my delicate little Lily.”

With a soft laugh, you looked at him, “That’s new-- “Lily”..?”

He chuckled, seemingly embarrassed, “Yes, I thought it appropriate. Do- do you not like it?”

“I don’t mind; just curious as to- ngh-” You groaned as you felt Vergil add a third finger.

“As to what, my love?” A cocky smug smirk tugged at his lips.

“Why did you th-think,” you closed your eyes and bit your lip, doing your best to hold back a moan, “to use it now?”

Vergil hummed in thought for a moment, making sure to keep his lips close enough to your skin that you could feel his lips vibrate--sending a shiver through you, “Because you remind me of such…” He removed his fingers and leaned up, “You are so very fragile-- so very breakable; and yet,” a chill ran up your spine as you felt Vergil run his nails from your shoulder blades down to your hips, leaving a minor scratched trail down your body, “you allow me to taint your beauty --to toy with your naive innocent humanity….”

His hands rested on your ass momentarily, letting out a low sigh, before fully removing his hands.

With a gravelly sensual tone, he continued, “Do you want to know why I want you so badly, Dearest?”

Hearing him shuffling around slightly, you nodded as a small amount of butterflies began to form in your gut.

The blue devil laid down over you, getting as close to your ear as possible, “Because you are mine-- my human plaything; do you understand?”

Against your lower back, you could feel his cock twitching and could feel how unbearably hot his skin had become. You swallowed hard, “I’m not sure I do.”

Vergil placed his forehead between your shoulder blades. He used one hand to prop himself up and the other was around his dick, stroking it slightly, as he whispered, “You are bound to me; in both heart, soul, and body .”

Without allowing you to respond, he prodded at your hole with his tip and slowly began to inch his way inside. A loud moan left your lips as you did your best to relax into him; feeling each bit of him that entered your body.

“You are my mate,” once fully seated inside you, he returned to your ear, “My one and only,” the blue devil kissed your ear, then gently bit and tugged at it, “for the rest of eternity.”

He sat back up with hands now placed on both sides of your hips. In response you picked your ass up, creating a downward dog position.

It started slow and controlled. He’d only pull out an inch or two and very carefully push himself back in, not wanting to harm you. However, these gentle motions didn’t last very long. Vergil did try his best to control himself; biting his lip, gripping onto you (unintentionally bruising you yet again), et cetera, but it didn’t work.

Vergil pulled his dick out, leaving just the very tip of it inside you, and rammed into you. It was hard enough that you jolted forward and let out a moan that was somewhere between pleased and startled. He repeated this motion but picked up the pace with each jab. Soon enough, all that could be heard throughout the house was the sound of his balls hitting your skin and your moans of bliss. Vergil wrapped his hand around the front of your neck and pulled you upwards, bringing you into a kneeling position.

Now using quick shorter thrusts he wrapped his arms around your middle, holding you flush against his body. A small amount of drool left the corner of your mouth as your vision became blurry, completely engulfed with the feeling of Vergil inside you. Mindlessly, you laid your head against the top of his shoulder which gave him plenty of room to bite and suck at your neck. One of your hands found its way to his hair, grabbing it tightly, and your other was neatly interwoven with a hand from your devilish lover. Your grip tightened on his hand as you moved your hips, doing your best to complement Vergil’s pattern.

This pose didn’t last very long. Vergil roughly shoved you back down and stood up, pulling out completely. Before you could question, you felt him harshly yank you over onto your back. Now facing upwards at the disheveled man, you got a proper view of him and you noticed several things that were just ever-so-slightly off. His teeth were much sharper and slightly thicker. A finite amount of scales had appeared on his cheekbones. The glowing icy blue eye color that you’d noticed earlier, was even more apparent and had heavily dilated pupils in the middle that were intensely trained on you.

You placed a hand on his cheek, very carefully thumbing over the black-blue scales. He leaned into your touch, his eyes closed tightly, and gave your palm a long kiss, momentarily staying with lips pressed against your hand. An unintentional confused 'huh?' left your lips at how hot his breath and mouth were, he was scorching; the hottest you’ve ever felt from him. Slowly, he opened his eyes and leaned back up.

The blue devil slid off the bed and pulled you to the edge then put his tip back inside only to slam as hard as possible into your hips.

“Fuck~ Vergil,” you arched your back and wrapped your legs around his hips.

With a smirk, he repeated the action and created a pattern of extremely hard and moderately forceful thrusts that he switched between every four or five thrusts. Vergil looked down at you with a devilish smile, reveling in how undone he made you. Getting an insurmountable amount of arousing pleasure from the sounds of unintelligible gibberish moaning coming from you. The sight of your body being moved by just the force of his jabs. All he wanted to do was feel your insides even more, to reach as far as he could inside and claim every bit of you.

He grabbed your legs and pulled them up, resting them on his shoulders. The feeling of sinful pride he had only increased as he heard you call his name and saw your hands grabbing the sheets tightly. He slowed his hips for a moment, still maintaining the force of each thrust but trying to prevent himself from making a mistake and Triggering.

Vergil’s hands slid from your calves to your thighs, firmly kneading against your skin--his fingertips being imprinted into your skin with dark marks. A very distant dark part of him wanted to eat you, to bite your flesh --to mar it up --to cover you with his scent --to make sure you know exactly which devil you belong to. He licked his lips as he let out low heavy breaths from his partially opened mouth. Feeling his peak coming, he looked up at the ceiling as his thrusts became shorter and his pace picked up, moving faster than before.

Typically, he wouldn’t finish this fast but he couldn’t help himself. All he’s wanted to do for nearly a week is just fill your insides, and he was going to do just that. Vergil shifted slightly, making sure to hit your prostate with each gyration.

He let out a loud growling moan, cumming inside you. Only a few moments later did you call out with a sharp moan as you felt an intense orgasm ripping through your body.

Slowly, Vergil rode out both your orgasms. Gently, he removed your legs from his shoulders and pulled out of your body. You gazed into space for a moment before leaning up slightly to see Vergil, confused as to why he hadn’t said anything.

You audibly swallowed as you stared at him, “Y-you’re that pent up, huh?”

Vergil shamefully met your eyes. He was still hard and had scales on several other spots on his body. The thoughts of allowing himself to cut loose, to show you his inner urges without a filter made him both unfathomably terrified and overwhelmingly aroused. This was bad and he knew it, and seeing you so blissfully unaware of the danger you were in only tempted him further.

“Vergil,” you sat up fully a small grunt leaving your lips at the dull pain from being slammed so hard, “You alright?”

His lips thinned as he furrowed his brow, avoiding your gaze once more, “I am fine; however, I…” He paused, unable to finish his sentence.

“We could try it out, you know,” you gave him a meek smile as his eyes flicked to yours.

He shook his head ‘no’, “I can’t risk hurting you for something so trivial.”

“This is obviously not ‘trivial’. You never have this issue-- not to mention how different you’ve been acting,” you reached out to grab one of his hands, “What’s wrong, Vergil? You can tell me; I promise I won’t judge or get upset.”

The blue devil intently watched as you ran your thumb over his knuckles, “Fine…” He moved to sit beside you on the bed, staring straight ahead, “You know what an animal in “rut” means, correct?”

You nodded, “Yeah,” your eyes thinned as you slowly turned to him, “Vergil, you don’t mean--?”

“I should’ve told you before we…” he sighed with his shoulders tensing, “Because you and I became intimately involved, I now will go through this every spring,” he looked over to you, momentarily locking with your stare, “and you are the only one that can give me… relief .”

With a slow nod and deep breath, your eyes flicked between his hard-on and his gaze, “Guess I didn’t provide enough “relief”, huh?”

He gave you a small smile, “I’m afraid it’s not something that will be able to be soothed with only a round or two or even three, my love.”

You moved your jaw in thought and stood up. Sighing softly, you moved Vergil’s arms off to his sides and sat on his lap. You placed one hand on his chest and used the other to push a strand of hair out of his eyes, resting the hand on his cheek afterward. A loud purring emanated from his chest, vibrating your fingers, as you stared softly into his icy-blue eyes, “I love you so much Vergil; you know that?”

The blue devil smiled, “I do,” he leaned closer to you, placing his forehead against yours, speaking in a breathy whisper; his breath ghosting along your lips, “I love you as well; more than words could ever describe.”

The two of you connected lips and the hand that was on Vergil’s chest slid up to his face; allowing you to cup it between your hands. Vergil took his hands and ran them down your sides and then settled to hold your lower back as he continued to give you sloppy sweet kisses, gently pushing his mouth against you.

Cautiously, Vergil bit at your lips to ask for permission to enter your mouth; which you accepted. He let out an unintentional elated moan at the feeling of your tongue with his. His fingertips dug into your skin, pressing and kneading against you in excitement. With a lustful aggressiveness, Vergil pushed you onto your back--down onto the floor of the bedroom.

Making sure to maintain the kiss, Vergil shifted the both of you around so he could line himself up with your hole. Slowly, he slid back inside and devoured each of the divine noises that you made in response. That thought made him growl slightly; he wants to defile you over and over, to hold you for as long as you will allow him to.

Only once he was fully within you did he break off the kiss and allow you to take a deep breath. He held himself up with his arms, looking down at your breathless form. A prideful smug smile tugged at his lips as he began to move slightly, grinding himself into you. It didn't take long for him to reach a moderate pace. You reached up and ran your hands along his body, feeling each divot, each curve, each soft and hard surface; taking notes to yourself as if you hadn’t ever been allowed to touch him before. His heart was pounding so fast that you could feel it no matter where your hands were.

The blue devil’s mind was reeling. He was so engrossed in how good you feel that he hadn’t noticed how hard he was slamming into you, pushing you along the floor with each pass of his hips. His growling had returned, albeit tenfold louder and a great deal more animalistic; completely replacing his moans.

�� Although you know Vergil has issues with you touching his back, you were too immersed in the moment and wrapped your arms around him. One of your hands found its way to the back of Vergil’s head, threading your fingers tightly into his hair. You did your best to try and wrap your legs around him too; hoping to prevent him from shoving you along the floor any further.

He did stop for a moment, only to take the opportunity to pick you up and slam you against one of the walls of the room; knocking several things from their hanging spots. A sharp moan left your lips as you felt his nails aggressively dig into the sides of your thighs. Vergil placed his mouth at the crook of your shoulder and nipped at the skin, leaving various marks.

You let out a slight hiss as he got a little too close to one of the deeper marks from earlier; in a way to seemingly apologize, he gently licked at your neck. He then leaned back and looked at you for a moment, letting out a set of shaky breaths. Vergil connected lips with you as you slid both hands into his hair; grabbing fistfuls of the silky white strands. His kisses were aggressive, pushing your head against the wall. Your body tensed, legs tightening around him, you were getting close--and so was he.

Quick jack-rabbit thrusts replaced his previous tempo. His wandering grip continued as he slammed your hips down into his, moving your body in a harsh rhythm with his. The two of you parted lips allowing you to throw your head back--at least the best you could being against a wall--and Vergil placed kisses on your windpipe.

The blue devil placed his head on your shoulder as he focused on fucking you. It didn’t take long for him to reach nirvana, spilling himself inside you with a low sustained frustrated growl. You reached your peak as well; cumming with a low grunt and gentle groan of Vergil’s name.

He ground against you and let out gentle shuddering breaths against your neck, giving you slight goosebumps. Without removing himself, he carried you back over to the bed and laid you down. Propped upwards using his hands, he stared down at you. Vergil was breathing heavily with a hung-open mouth and had a layer of sweat on his brow. More scales had appeared and his stare was oddly blank, as if he were lost in deep thought. You watched as he used his tongue to play with one of his canines and his brow twitched into a slightly agitated state.

“Vergil?” You weakly grabbed one of his biceps, giving it a light squeeze, “Is everything okay?”

A set of quick blinks brought his eyes back into focus, accompanied by a shake of his head, “Yes, I am alright--sorry.”

After a pause, he leaned up and gradually removed himself. A shiver ran up your spine at the feeling and you stared up at the ceiling for a moment before tilting up to look at the blue devil.

“Oh…” You gave him a dumbfounded stare. He was still hard, cock twitching at your surprise.

Once you looked up at Vergil’s face, you saw that he had crossed his arms with one hand over his face; mortified and ashamed of what was happening.

With an awkward laugh, you took a deep breath, “So, how many rounds do you need, again?”

Vergil’s eyes slowly met with yours as he shook his head, whispering, “I’m… unsure.”

You scrunched your mouth to the side, “What about trying to use your “Trigger”? You seem even worse off than earlier, Vergil.”

He removed his hand from his face and shot you a stern glance, “No, I can’t risk hurting you--”

“Vergil, if you keep this up, you will hurt me,” you grunted in slight pain as you sat up fully, “I can only take so much,” you laughed slightly, placing a hand on the back of your neck, “Especially with how rough you’re being.”

The blue devil thought for a moment, his tongue playing with his teeth. A part of him knew you were right, that if this continued there was a very high chance he would hurt you, and he really loved the idea of allowing himself to let go--to show you what he could really do. Still, the sheer amount of uncontrollable possibilities kept him hesitant.

What if you don’t like it and he’s too far gone to stop?

What if he manhandles you too hard and breaks something--either something in the room or, more importantly, you?

What if he hit you against the wall or floor too hard and hurt you?

What if he bit you and couldn’t stop himself from sinking his teeth in too far?

What if you died because of him and his stupid demonic instincts?

“Vergil..?”

He flinched at your sudden closeness. You’d gotten up and were standing in front of him, concerned that he was standing silently for so long. With one hand on his bicep and the other cupping his face, you made small circles with your thumbs. His eyes fluttered shut and he leaned towards you, placing his forehead against yours.

The two of you shared a very sweet and emotionally soft kiss, drawing it out for quite some time.

With lips just above his, you quietly pleaded, “You can do whatever you need to, Vergil; it’ll be okay.”

Vergil swallowed hard. With one final squeeze of his arm, you let go of him. His eyes flicked all over your body as he gave it one final thought. Taking a deep breath, he nodded; he had to try it.

All he could hear was the loud pounding of his heart as he allowed himself to Trigger. Soft cornflower blue light filled the space. You smiled at the sight before you. It wasn’t very often you got to see Vergil use either of his Devil Triggers; his normal Trigger being a much rarer sight.

Under his breath, he let out a soft chuckle at your doting stare. Although he’s never told you, he finds it amusing that you’re so enamored with his devilish forms. He unfurled his wings from his sides and mindlessly stretched them outwards before bringing them back in close to his body. Pride pricked at his heart as he saw your expression of such a trivial act.

Cautiously, you approached him and reached out to touch his chest. This was the first time Vergil had allowed you to be anywhere near him while in a non-human state. His scales were hot to the touch, but not painfully more along the lines of freshly dried linen or hot asphalt. Through your fingers, you could feel a low rumble coming from within his chest.

With a slight shake, Vergil placed a hand over yours and locked eyes with you. Uneven breaths left his lips as he waited for you to say something-- anything.

You smiled softly and inched closer, placing your head on his chest, “You are so beautiful, you know that?”

A noise somewhere between a scoff and a laugh left his nose, “That’s not what one should say when face-to-face with a devil.” Vergil wrapped his arms loosely around you.

“I’m not just face-to-face with “ a devil”,” you smiled wider and looked up at him, “I’m face-to-face with m-my…” you stumbled over your words as an embarrassed shade spread across your face, your confidence quickly dissipating.

“Your what?” He tilted his head in curiosity, wanting nothing more than to hear you say it.

With a voice no louder than a whisper you looked away from his eyes, “with my mate.”

He stared with parted lips before giving a small smile, “How strange to hear you say that,” Vergil leaned down to you, whispering, “Are you sure this is alright?”

Without answering, you connected your lips to his. Your hands slid up to the base of his neck on either side, gently scraping your nails on his scales as you went along. His arms tightened to pull you closer, placing one at the small of your back and the other on your ass. Slow careful kisses turned to sloppy impassioned French kisses. Vergil's tongue desperately felt the inside of your mouth, now being able to reach even further inside. You let out a surprised grunt at the feeling but were quickly distracted by a harsh groping motion against your ass.

Once you broke apart, the two of you stood staring at one another. Curious as to what he’d do, you ran your hands slowly down his torso. The heat coming from his body was unbelievable but his lower abdomen was tenfold worse. Distantly you found yourself worried if his cock would be too hot for your body to take in. As your fingers worked their way down, you took note of the texture changes between his chest, stomach, and the bright blue V that pointed to where you were headed.

Gently, you rubbed your fingertips up and down the glowing area, earning a stifled groan from Vergil. Curiously enough, you were expecting the area to feel akin to the rest of his scales--hard and rough--but were greeted by a warm velvety silk feeling. As you kneaded against him, he pulled you into another set of passionate kisses. The hand from your lower back traveled up your spine and braced the back of your neck, pulling you as close to him as possible.

Mindlessly, he leaned forward and dipped you back slightly. He broke from your mouth and kissed the corner of your mouth. Bit by bit, he kissed along your jawline, to your neck, and finally your throat. All the while, your fingers continued to their original destination. Carefully, you teased the area around his still-hidden cock and lightly ran your middle finger along his slit. Vergil’s breath hitched and he stopped his kisses, his breath washing over your skin.

A sultry smirk tugged at your mouth as you felt his tip begin to emerge. Vergil’s wings uncontrollably flexed outwards at the odd feeling, much to the blue devil’s surprise--and slight dismay. He’d never thought about trying anything even remotely sexual while like this, so the feeling of your fingers kneading against him made him feel as if he were a virgin again; feeling overwhelmed by nothing but the slightest of your touches.

You slowly ran his tip between your fore and middle fingers, feeling pre-cum dripping onto your digits. His cock was pleasantly warmer than normal, eliciting a small groan from you as you thought about him being inside you. The cum that decorated your fingers was also hotter than normal and seemed to be much thicker. The blue devil took a deep breath and shifted slightly, his wings curling around the two of you. In an almost painfully slow motion, Vergil ran his tongue along your neck, small papillae scrapping the sensitive area. He let out a shaky breath as you stroked along the sheath where his cock was, making his cock appear much faster than intended.

Before you managed to have him fully out, Vergil picked you up and placed you onto the mattress. He placed both his hands beside either side of your head, still standing, and his wings outstretched behind him. You stared up at him as a small shiver ran up your spine at the sight. Vergil’s eyes were dilated heavily and were fixated on yours. A part of you knows you should be afraid or at least apprehensive about what is happening, but you couldn’t be bothered; you were much too invested in the moment.

A wicked grin adorned his face, teeth on full display, “You really want me, don’t you?”

“And if I do?”

“Hmph,” the blue devil leaned back up and pulled your hips to the edge of the bed.

With slow long pumps, he touched himself to the sight of you. However, when you tried to lean up to see, he quickly pushed you flat.

“Did I tell you to move?” His voice was utterly layered with an overwhelming dominance.

Your gut churned and twisted as you waited with bated breath for him to ram your body, except, the blue devil knew he had to be careful with you. Although it was seen as a dominating move, Vergil laying you back was done to keep you calm. If you’d seen him fully erect, you would’ve tensed up tenfold worse and this would’ve been much more difficult than it already will be.

He grabbed the lube from the nearby table and coated his cock. Whatever excess was on his hand, he very carefully put it at your entrance--making sure his claws didn’t knick you. After a small debate, he dragged you a bit closer and put your ankles on his shoulders, aligning himself with your hole.

“Relax,” he placed a hand on your stomach, skin dipping down slightly from the tips of his claws, “Just focus on your breathing.”

You pursed your lips and stared mindlessly at the ceiling, doing just as he said and taking deep calm breaths, trying to keep yourself from tensing.

Vergil pushed his tip in, earning a gasp and deep grunting moan from you. Bit by bit, he continued to push inside, doing his best to fight the urge to slam against you. You were gripping the bed, pulling on the already decimated sheets. The size of Vergil’s cock normally is something that would make most men green with envy but the size he was working with now was nothing short of “porn star” material.

His hand that was on your gut slid up to your chest as he leaned down into you, causing him to push inside quicker than intended. Doing his best to not cut you with his claws, Vergil groped at your pecs and lightly kneaded against you. Low in his chest, he was emitting a purr that was intense enough that you could feel it through his hand.

After what seemed like an eternity, he was fully seated within you. Heavy deep lust laden breaths left your agape lips as the blue devil closed his eyes, focusing on the feeling of your innards snuggly squeezing around him. Vergil could feel your rapid heartbeat and could practically taste your arousal; being able to smell human pheromones just like a human can a fresh baked bread, sometimes being strong enough to give a taste to the air. It made his body ache, giving him a strong sense of pride to know that you were just as madly into him as he is you.

You placed a hand atop the charcoal-grey scaled hand on your chest, “Vergil…”

The two of you locked eyes and Vergil leaned down to you. Gently, he kissed you. It was a physical manifestation of a promise; a promise that he will take good care of you. The black and blue scaled devil tilted back upright, his fingers lightly clawing up your middle sliding to rest on each side of your hips. With slow careful--almost fearful--motion, he began to test what you thought of his devilish body. A string of low groans left your lips as you closed your eyes, focusing on the feeling of his cock. Your chest was moving in an almost exaggerated manner as Vergil slowly ramped things up. The unhurried nature of his movements allowed you to feel each rib of his cock, feeling every time one would leave and re-enter your aching hole.

In an elongated teasing manner, Vergil removed himself out to his tip and pushed back in--making sure you felt every bit of him and savored him. He closed his eyes, doing his best to keep a level head as he intently listened to the breathy moans leaving your lips.

Once more, he removed himself out to the tip; this time, however, he slammed back inside. A sharp mixed noise of a grunt, moan, and gasp came from you. His eyes opened as he repeated the action; making sure to remove himself slower than before and return twice as hard.

Your back arched at his actions, eyes focused on the ceiling above you. When you looked back at Vergil, his eyes were trained on yours with an unplaceable emotion hidden behind his gaze. His emotion became clear when he harshly pulled out and slammed his hips against you; no longer feeling the need to hold back.

With each thrust, you were pushed up on the bed and his hands would yank you back down to meet the brutal bucking of his hips. All that could be heard was the sound of his hips hitting yours and the wet squelching from the previous rounds and copious amounts of lube in your ass. Concentrating on your expression, Vergil failed to notice that his claws had sunk into your skin which anchored his grip into you. Leaning down, he placed his face in the crook of your shoulder; kissing you carefully.

After a moment, he leaned back up slightly to place his nose beside yours. You placed a hand on his cheek, thumbing over the leathery skin. Your pinkie mindlessly ran along the silver spikes that formed a beard of sorts at his jawline, curious as to what it felt like. He leaned into your touch and, despite him still jackhammering away, he felt a warm sweet feeling at your overly gentle treatment of him.

“Grab onto me,” Vergil whispered, his voice thick with lust and uncharacteristically gruff.

You did as he asked, wrapping your hands around the backside of his neck. Vergil picked you up and wrapped his wings around you, pushing you tightly against him. A small hiss slipped through your lips at the feeling of your dick rubbing against Vergil’s torso. It didn’t hurt per se but it was extremely overwhelming. Your nails dug into his scales, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.

Seeming to notice your distress, the blue devil began to lightly lick and nip at your neck and throat. He took a long deep inhale of your scent, pressing his chest against yours, desiring to get closer to you than possible. As he exhaled, you felt his hot breath wash over you and tickle at your skin causing you to let out a restrained laugh.

With a hum, Vergil slowed slightly and took a moment to enjoy the closeness of your bodies. The feeling of your soft human skin against his scales made his gut twist. A distant hidden part of him felt an odd arousal from the idea of how fragile you were--how he could crush you instantly if he wanted; completely contradicting his main anxious mindset.

Moving your hand to his chest, you pushed him away, confusing Vergil for a moment, before you cupped his face and pulled him into a kiss. Lazy sloppy kisses caused him to let out a small moan, which intensified at the feeling of you repeatedly biting at his lower lip. His thrusts switched to a moderate pace as his fingertips kneaded against you. As you pulled away, he let out a disappointed huff, which was quickly replaced with a dark low gravely moan.

Despite not being able to break his hide, you leaned down and bit his neck; at a somewhat odd angle because of the horns that wrapped around to the front of his head. It is rare for Vergil to allow you to bite him, however, feeling you claim him--just as he did you--made his body ache. After a moment, you stopped and placed a soft kiss against him. You repeated the action on the other side of his neck, Once done, you trailed kisses along his neck to his throat and placed an elongated kiss against his Adam’s apple. Vergil let out a small grunt at the feeling and, when you tilted back, you were met with heavy half-lidded eyes.

The blue devil nudged you to expose your neck and placed his face in the crook of your shoulder, breathing heavily, “I love you.”

Without allowing you to respond, he pushed your hips downwards and fucked into you as quickly as possible. A loud groan left your lips at the inhuman speed of Vergil’s cock and you grasped at whatever you could, causing Vergil to let out a surprised huffed moan at your unexpectedly rough touches. His claws left the new loving craters in your thighs and slid to your ass, pulling you apart.

Before you could question, your eyes went wide. The blue devil pushed his knot inside you, somewhat forcefully, as he let out a thunderous semi-whiney shaky moan. Once buried into you, his hands returned to your hips and his claws to the same holes as before.

You let out a whimpering moan as you hit another peak, feeling his cum gush inside you. He hadn’t disclosed anything about a knot or that he was going to use it inside you, but you weren’t complaining. It felt as if he’d been pent up for a year with how quickly and how much was being released.

It was both a painful and heavenly experience.

All the while, Vergil could only continue to repeat your name and whisper how much he loves you; almost as if he were begging for you to say it back, as if you weren’t already committed to him. With a soft kiss against his horn closest to your mouth, you whispered, “I love you,” which caused him to grind against you, attempting to further spear you than he had already.

Unsure what to do now you were stuck together, Vergil laid you back down and laid atop you. His wings were stretched out flat and his forearms were wrapped around your torso, across your shoulder blades. With his face directly down onto your chest, his eyes fluttered shut and he purred loudly. Although you wanted nothing to do but lie still, curiosity got the better of you, and you ran a hand along his horns which made him purr tenfold louder.

Admittedly, Vergil wanted to stay as you were, interlocked and him pinning you down; but he also wanted to patch you up. You could feel how fast his heart was beating; whether it was from fucking, cumming, or nerves was anyone’s guess. All you could do was lay there and take it while listening to his breathing and purring. The two of you stayed interwoven for nearly ten minutes, Vergil shifting several times in an attempt to remove himself.

Finally, he stopped twitching. He stood back up and carefully slid out which was accompanied by an audible pop and your hips quivering. Vergil’s chest heaved as he de-triggered. Beyond tired, he returned to the same position as before and laid against your chest.

“Vergil?” Your voice was raspy and very overtly worn out.

Without moving, he spoke against your skin, “Yes, my love?”

You placed a hand in his hair, running your fingers through the utterly disheveled white strands, “How do you feel?”

He quietly laughed, “I am calm, for now; if that is what you are asking.”

With a heavy exhale you hummed a sound of relief.

“How are you feeling?”

“Want me to be honest?”

“Mhm.”

“Like I was just in a category five hurricane.”

“I’m sorry,” he placed a kiss against your breastbone, “Is there anything I can do to make up for it?”

Lightly, you ran your fingers down his neck to his shoulder blades, sliding up his arm, “Help me get into the bath?”

Vergil smiled, “Of course, my dear,” he shifted upwards and placed a kiss against your lips, “Anything for my mate.”

===

ENDING NOTES: Originally I had planned to also have Sin Trigger sex in this but I thought that would be a bit too much to digest from one story; plus “Bed of the Blue Devil” is entirely based on that aspect. Also between the teaser from yesterday (early this morning) and now; I found out that I have the ‘rona so… Life is really great--it’s just one thing after another, I finally wanna write and do stuff but now I’m exhausted and feel like someone beat my skull in with a sledgehammer 🦢💧🦢 Poem Quoted: “Love’s Philosophy” Percy Bysshe Shelley

If you like this please consider checking this on my AO3. There are extra chapters and my H/Cs over there, so please consider checking them out! Comments, Likes/Kudos, and shares are always appreciated! Thanks so much for reading!! :)))

MASTER LIST FOR TUMBLR

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theangrypomeranian · 10 months ago

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Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Spread the self-love ❤

I'm sorry this is so late orz life has been pretty crazy this past week lol.

Baby Steps

Summary:

After going through a terrible break up, Tina is left trying to pick up the broken pieces of her heart and life. Luckily, Zeke is there to help her with his tried and true method: touch therapy (literally). Through many trials and tribulations, they slowly learn how to grow and move on...together. A story of healing, friendship, and falling in love.

i doubt anyone is surprised by this choice lol. this fic is my pride and joy, i worked on it for a year and kept up a consistent update schedule for it. it's a story that is very near and dear to my heart and helped me start to heal my inner teenager.

2. i hate accidents (except when we went from friends to this)

Summary:

Best friends Louise and Rudy get married for tax purposes. No, really, that's totally it, honest. No way are any actual feelings gonna form. No way... ...unless...?

the fic i wrote for Roudise week 2023. this story was SO MUCH FUN to write omg. the whole premise started as a joke between my beta reader Red and I about these two getting married for taxes and the prompts for the week were announced i knew i had to use the idea. it was a huge hit with the Roudise side of the fandom and i'm so glad that they all loved it so much.

3. Safe and Sound

Summary:

When Tina Belcher is reaped for the Hunger Games, she's sure that her life is over. But when Zeke Tisdale volunteers as the male tribute and promises to protect her in the arena, she realizes that she might have a chance of surviving this...if she can avoid falling for him.

the Hunger Games AU i wrote for Zekina week 2023. as most of my followers probably know by now, i freaking LOVE the Hunger Games series, both the movies and the books (though I lean a lil more towards the books lol). the prompts for the week immediately made me think of it, and since i'd already had the first 2k or so words typed out already i figured why not finish it for the week? it was also written as the week went on because it was a last minute decision lol.

4. Long Way Home

Summary:

After Zeke leaves for three months to work for a logging company in Alaska, Tina receives a call telling her that he passed away in an avalanche. Devastated but determined to stay strong for her loved ones, she must learn how to live without the one that got away. ...or does she? Because unknown to all, Zeke survived - and he is fighting with the Last Frontier to get back home.

my current WIP. this one started as a weird ass dream i had about my otp and i told Red about it, then she proceeded to pitch a reworking of it for a fic and i was instantly in love with the concept. it's very niche so i don't blame anyone for giving it a pass, but i love it and that's all that matters. and for the fifth rec i'm putting down two because i genuinely cannot choose between them (and since when do i ever follows the rules for these kinds of asks XD):

Meet Me in the Afterglow

Summary:

Three months after she's peer pressured into breaking up with Henry, Susmita gets a call that her grandmother has died. Henry offers to take her home for the funeral and she quickly realizes that she's made a huge mistake. Can she sort through her feelings and win back her man? Or is it too late for them?

i LOVE this fic. normally i hate break up fics but i worked very hard on this one and did SO MUCH RESEARCH for it. overall i think i did really good with it and i'm always thrilled when someone reads it.

you better leave (it's not safe in here)

Summary:

Tina lives an idealistic life in the small community of Victory. Every day is the same, structured, secure. All of her neighbors know and like her, and her husband Jordan is a quiet unassuming man who works hard so that she can stay home and be a good housewife. Life is good and peaceful. However, sometimes she can't help but feel as if she doesn't belong there, and her nightly dreams of a tall and handsome man with an accent make her question if her marriage is really as happy as she's been led to believe. But then strange things start to happen and Tina starts to wonder if something more sinister is going on in Victory...

the Don't Worry Darling AU that no one asked for lmao. i was so let down by the movie but still loved the concept, so i decided to use it for a fic and loved the end result. just like with LWH, this one is very niche so i understand why it's not more popular. but i really love this fic and hope that one day it gets the recognition it deserves.

#pom answers #hey nikki #fic rec #pom writes bb fic #zekina #roudise #hemita #bob's burgers #bobs burgers #thank you for the ask!

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darthnell · 2 years ago

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hello!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 2, 3, 4, 17, 20, 37, 40, 45, 68, aaand 76 with widow's bite and/or true vengeance :> for the ask game :)

Hi mait !!!!! <3 <3 ty for the asks !! :D So many omggg :0 gonna. put this under a readmore too bc i Cannot shut up LOL

2. Do you plan each chapter ahead or write as you go?

So..! I think with my longer stories, I generally like. Have the gist of how the story itself is gonna go, but I tend to leave a lot of the chapter dividing for later / when I get to that part of the story. Bc for chapters specifically, I think the way I write is highly dependent on how the scene goes..? Like maybe when I get to a certain scene, I'll realize I need to split it into two chapters, or I shuffle this scene that was supposed to go into the next chapter into this one. And I like having that sort of leeway as I go ! Like, I'm preeeetty sure that TrV is gonna end at 68 chapters, but it's more like 68 +/- 1 LOL. And I didn't have a super solid chapter count for that until like well into the Games portion (currently, the story is at ch 60).

3. Describe the creative process of writing a chapter/fic

Ooh ! Okay so for chapters, I can talk about TrV, and for fics, I will talk about TBWB since I basically Just wrote that one.

For chapters, I typically have in mind the scenes I wanna write. Sometimes a certain scene needs some leadup into it, especially if it's an important one... Like the characters getting to that scene, or a transitional scene from the previous one into the upcoming one. And once I've got my opening sentence - so, once I've figured out where Exactly I'm starting - the rest tends to come easier. Looking back thru my past TrV chaps, I tend to start a lot of them with a single somewhat attention-grabbing line. which honestly mostly serves to grab my attention when writing LOL. Starting with dialogue is also fun. But yeah, then I work my way through the chapter/scenes (mine tend to be a couple scenes long, with an average of ~4.2k for the whole fic). Each chapter should be driving the story in some way, though that doesn't necessarily mean every one has to be action-packed. Character-driven chapters work just as well ! But typically, I have a set of points I want to hit in each chapter. And that can be super vague, but I find as I write, it gets more specific as I go line-by-line.

For an entire story... The Bridges We Burn is a fun example because I for the event I wrote this story for, I basically had 5 weeks give or take to write the entire thing. The concept of this event was I received an oc from someone else participating, and I had to write a story where they won the Games. So! I got my character, Aslan (pokes him), beautiful kind 6'7" goober from D5 bdhvbhd. ((Side note, typically I'm writing my own characters, but I for sure find that starting with character and a few Situations/concepts is a lot easier than not)). I already had some ideas for what I wanted to do with my arena and some fun events, so what I needed to do now was like. Organize everything. What kind of story would make this character really shine? I will say though that like. Oftentimes, the Situations kind of generate in my brain like. Near-instantaneously, so it's often just a matter of organizing them. Now for Aslan's case, it was pretty easily spelled out on his character form - one of his core traits was trying to see the best in everyone, and rejecting the notion that you can just pick and choose people based on worth, and that the world is inherently cruel. Kid's also got a bit of a savior complex. So, that's a lot of very fun things to put to the test in the Games (: Naturally, I threw him in a situation where he faced a lot of needless cruelty and was also rendered pretty helpless in preventing the deaths of the people he allied with. So, his trials and tribulations regarding all of That, and his reaction to those events were where I had my story.

..And okay, I'll talk a Little bit about it with Ven too. One of her strong notions was her privilege. As a resident of D2, and a kid whose parents are both Victors, she grew up basically assuming that winning the Games was her birthright. And this notion was immediately put to the test in the first chapter, which was the funeral of her little sister, who'd volunteered for the Games when she wasn't supposed to, and died. So, the premise of Ven's story is confronting that (and a whole lot of other things). ...And then naturally I am putting her through the wringer in the Games ehehe..

4. Where do you find inspiration for new ideas?

Bro seriously just take inspiration from fucking Everything. Eat up the world around you, be it tiny irl experiences or media or something you see on your news feeds that makes you go "Ooooh!" (mait yk that weird sea creature post thing u reblogged from me? wouldnt that make a sick arena mutt? :D). You can make anything into inspiration if you're creative enough ! And it's also like. Really fun to think about things in this manner. Also like. Read books, watch shows, play neat video games, talk to people about characters and your ideas and theirs, it's Fun !!! Seriously, anything can be a Hunger Games arena if you think about it hard enough.

17. What do you do when writing becomes difficult? (maybe a lack of inspiration or writers block)

Ngl, I personally refuse to call it "writer's block" (or "art block", etc), I just don't like the term. Feel like it's too easy to create a feedback loop of "oh, I'm having a hard time writing, it must be writer's block" to "i have writer's block now so I literally Cannot write" and I don't wanna touch that loop with a ten foot pole. IT DOESNT EXIST IT CAN'T HURT ME..

But, ofc sometimes writing can be difficult !!! I rly do wanna start doing this more, but I've read that the best thing to do when it feels like you can't write is to read. I rly wanna read more books. It's good for the soul. Kisses Frankenstein's creation on the mouth. (that was the last book i read bjhvdhd). But yeah reading !!! Be it books or other fics or whatever suits your fancy. Some other things that can help are like. Getting out and moving around; exercise, if that's up your alley. I used to run a lot more than I do now, and that's a good hobby for writing, it allows you time alone with your thoughts to plan and shit.. really good. But like walking, or bike riding is good too. And if you're in a discord server that has a sprint bot, or anything like that, those are v helpful too ! Get other people to join you and hold you accountable ! 100 words is better than none ! 10 words is better than none ! You can do this !

20. Have you noticed any patterns in your fics? Words/expressions that appear a lot, themes, common settings, etc?

One thing about me is I rly enjoy writing really bizarre and graphic injuries. Apparently. I don't know why. It's just fun !! Sorry Aslan. I think it's cathartic in a way though, maybe. It's also really interesting to see how I can tie back the horror to the themes of the story.

I used to do a thing I noticed where I'd write like.. alliterative descriptions sometimes? I don't rly know if I still do that though.

Uhh some themes I like playing around with are family; Ven's is rly big on that, and Aslan's re: his adoptive family also tracks. I think grief is a pretty common one in my stories as well - though that's kind of expected in a hunger games fic where so many people are getting offed. But TrV definitely goes into that a lot more.. and my exchange fic from last year, Desiderium, touches on it a decent amount. Another theme I enjoy playing around with, esp in terms of thg fic is images. Concepts of "pretty" and "ugly" and "beautiful." Public images for victors, and stereotypes. What sort of angle the tribute character is going to play - if they're going to pick an angle. Very neat stuff. I think I wrote a post about that recently.. yeah, this.

37. How do you choose where to end a chapter?

Generally on an interesting or intriguing note. Sometimes with a really poignant line or scene of piece of dialogue. Sometimes a surprise event. I ended one of Aslan's chapter's mid-sentence, which was fun c: Playing around with expectations of a scene is just Fun. ..I ended his finale mid-dialogue too LOL (they had to knock him out in order to get him out of the arena.. oops).

Usually though, I end the chapter at the end of a scene. Haha. No shit nell. Uhh yeah. Cliffhangers are fun too ! Not always necessary. But yeah, good to end on something that makes you want to keep reading. ..Now I kinda wanna see a collection of all my chapter endings...

40. If someone were to make fanart of your work, what fic or scene would you hope to see?

!!!!! :0 Man that's a good one :0 Probably Ven bc I am simply always obsessed with her. We been knew LOL. I haven't done like a fullbody of her in her arena outfit yet - I've been meaning to do art of her in all her outfits but alas. ..Yeah, I think just like. Now that everything's gone to shit in her story, I think I'd cry if someone drew one of the soft scenes w her and Mari, or her and Mari and Percy... ;--; I miss their dynamic :c

45. Do you want to break your readers‘ heart or make them laugh?

Yanno. Who says you can't do both !!! I love little haha funny moments interspersed throughout a good narrative; that's how life is, after all. But um. Given the nature of what I write.. I gotta say break some hearts LMAO.

68. What, if anything, do you do for inspiration?

Ooh uh, I think I kiinda answered this one earlier but. Reading/consuming media. ..Not tumblr tho ngl, scrolling apps are rly not good if u wanna get in writing/creative mindset. Like pinterest maaaaybe depending on how you use it but in the end. scrolling app /points gun/... uh yeah, getting outside and going places is good. physical exercise (though don't hold me to that lol). Even just talking to people about your ideas is good for that sometimes ! bounce inspiration off of each other...

76. Did you have any ideas that didn’t make the final cut of [Fanfic Name]?

Okay, so for TrV and Widow...

Man, I wrote Widow so long ago that I don't even super remember... I know there was a scene of Riin and her mentor Janus watching the latter's Games. I'd originally written that to be included on the train ride home from Riin's Games, but it didn't end up being super necessary for that point; kinda took away from Riin's story. So what I did was I rewrote it from Janus's pov and posted it as a separate fic, No Sleep for the Wicked ! :D

From TrV... hm. So there were def some scenes between the larger Career pack that I cut, just cus they were like. Bits of dialogue that didn't really add anything and they didn't fit well within the scene/chapter/story, so they ultimately weren't necessary. I think there was also a scene of like. Percy sniping a bumblebee with an arrow bc he was so bored and had no other way to show off his skills LOL I genuinely can't remember if I included that or not.. I feel like I didn't though. There's another scene that like.. I didn't exactly cut, it just wasn't observed by any of the pov characters, and it's basically just a convo between Percy and Mariposa after Ven got bitten by the wolf, and they discuss..... Things (idk I didn't actually write it lmao). There's another not-quite-deleted scene from pre-Games between Gaspar and Viper - which I didn't include because neither of them are anything close to pov characters LMAO I just thought it was fun. That one was pretty much just Gaspar telling Viper that he only got the volunteer spot bc Viper's mother bribed the Academy ((and Gaspar lmfao.. fucker literally does not need money and yet...)) and warning Viper not to underestimate Mariposa. Which. Worked out So well for him LMFAO. ((For those unfamiliar, Viper got killed so very dead by Mari <3 oh - Viper and Mari are district partners from D1 and Percy and Venatrix are dp's from D2)). There were also a few scenes that had a lot of reworking go into the final product so like they didn't get cut but some lines got trimmed where they didn't quite flow and stuff.

Okay, that's all for my rambling rn, thanku again for the questions Mait !!! <3

#nell clownery here #true vengeance 151 #hunger games #hunger games fanfiction #hunger games oc #venatrix pyke #hunger games fanfic #the hunger games #my writing #writing #fanfiction #ask game #fanfiction writing

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succubusphan · 2 years ago

Text

Two Man Team - Chapter 8

Summary: This is the story of two struggling friends who after many trials and tribulations find their way back to each other and build the life they've always dreamed of.

Or how Phil changed his life by talking to random strangers on the internet.

Rating: E

Tags/warnings: Friends to lovers, Friends with benefits, mental health issues (mainly anxiety), Slow burn, Dan is a psych student. Canon divergence (the timeline is altered and some things never happened), Slutty Phil, Angst with a happy ending. The fic spans many years.

Author's Note: Written for the OSPBB 2023 @oldschoolpbb. Thank you @effingmeteors for being my life saviour and beta as usual and to my artist Lin @anironsidh.

Edits and the art will be added at some point, we are busy bees.

POSTING EVERY DAY UNTIL IT'S COMPLETED.

Total Word Count: 75k ish

Read on Ao3

CHAPTER 8: Don’t Let The Sun Go Down On Me

April 2017

Phil rushed through the streets of London, briefly considering if another “Why is Phil running?” situation was worth making it on time, or if he should just slow down and put up with the fucking drizzle. He cursed the weather and his fucking anxiety over being late to places and tried to block any negative anticipation, things that hadn’t happened yet - he was only wet. His therapist always tried to keep him rooted in the present, even if occasionally planning was required for his career, she wanted Phil to stop predicting the future in catastrophic ways and he felt like he was almost getting the hang of it, almost.

He was just five minutes away from his destination when he heard a voice that sounded too familiar.

“Phil!”

He froze on the spot, feeling like his heart was going to explode out of his chest and gave Dan a wide eyed look. He had only noticed a very tall figure totally obscured from view by their oversized coat and hood standing outside a bakery.

“Haven’t heard from you in a while…” Dan said pensively, “How are you?”

Phil resisted the urge to turn around right then and there. ‘Haven’t heard from you,’ Really? Was he serious? He almost said something, but he didn't want to appear so affected. So he answered as casually as he could. “Fine.” He paused, trying to come up with another word, but not knowing what else his life was about. Honestly, it was just work. Barely anything else, just work. “Filming, hosting… you know how it is.”

Dan nodded. “Yeah.”

“So, how are you? What are you up to?” Phil tried.

“I'm actually working in theatre, doing some plays. I graduated from uni and I have patients, so that’s cool as well. And I’m thinking of self-publishing a mental health book at some point, like a guide to keep people afloat. A small project, of course.”

Phil smiled proudly, despite everything. Then, he noticed the blonde guy standing close to Dan, very clearly shooting daggers at both of them but particularly Phil. “Sounds great,” Phil said. “Hi,” he addressed the man.

Dan blinked, as if he had forgotten that he was with someone already. “Oh, this is Sebastian. Sebastian, this is Phil, my friend.”

Both Phil and Sebastian raised an eyebrow at him and Dan was trying very hard not to blush but failing miserably. With the way Sebastian was looking at Phil, he could only guess that they were involved, potentially partners, and that Sebastian knew exactly who he was and about his past story with Dan. He had an accusatory gaze, a not so subtle ‘I know you two fucked.’ That’s right honey, I had him first and there’s nothing you can do to change it. “Nice to meet you, Sebastian,” Phil smiled, unbothered.

“Likewise,” said Sebastian tightly. His voice sounded as stupid and annoying as Phil had imagined, this only made his smile bigger.

“Oh, give me your phone, I’ll put in my new number,” Dan said after a pregnant pause.

Phil grabbed his phone from his pocket but it was at 0% and had shut down at some point.

Dan bit his lip but got a pen from his backpack and started to write the numbers down on the palm of Phil’s hand, the contact sending shivers up his entire arm. Phil wondered why Dan didn’t just ask him for his number and put it in his own phone, but the entire situation was so uncomfortable and weird with Dan being the only one pretending that it wasn’t, that Phil didn’t want to point out the obvious or seem eager to get back in touch with him. He did have some decency and self-respect still, so as soon as Dan was done with his little note, he pulled his hand away. “Well, this was nice, but Mark is waiting for me at the cinema and the movie is about to start.”

Dan’s smile finally fell and Phil took it as a small victory. “What are you guys going to watch?”

“Deadpool,” Phil said, now annoyed that Dan was still talking.

“We should go to that one,” Dan said to Sebastian.

“Not today,” Sebastian snapped.

Dan opened his mouth but before he could say anything, Phil started walking away. “Bye!”

“Tell Mark I said Hi!” Dan yelled after him.

“I won’t, he doesn’t like you,” Phil said, only at half the required volume for Dan to hear. He left that one to chance.

As soon as Mark saw him, he knew that something had happened and pestered Phil until he confessed and showed him the note on his hand: Dan’s phone number with the words “call me please” under it.

Mark was quiet during the entire retelling of the story and Phil was about to have a mental breakdown right in the line for the kiosk, but before he could question Mark, it was their turn. They bought 2 cokes and a huge bucket of salty popcorn to share and went up to the queue for their screen. Just as he shuffled everything around and handed Mark some things, Phil realised the moisture of the cup had smudged the ink on his hand away. He stood there in shock, not knowing how to feel about it.

“Fuck,” said Mark when he saw why Phil was delaying the queue.

Phil looked into his eyes, his mouth agape.

“You were really going to call him, weren't you?”

“I - I don’t know,” Phil admitted, and for a moment, he felt his anxiety trying to rise and consume him but he rationalised things instead. He took a deep breath and stood off to the side with Mark trailing along. He shut his eyes and breathed deeply until he was able to force his body to relax. He looked into Mark’s worried eyes and smiled faintly. “I guess the choice has been taken off my hands. If it hadn’t been, I would have fretted over it for who knows how long. This was probably for the best.”

“You could still try to find him on social media if you really wanted to. Do you still have him on Facebook?”

“No, one of the last things I did on Facebook was unfriend him and that was years ago.” Not wanting to continue pondering about it, Phil just walked down the hallway to get his ticket checked. They entered the theatre and looked for their assigned seats, awkwardly sidestepping down their row since the lights had already been lowered for the ads to begin.

Once they were seated, Phil could feel Mark’s eyes boring holes into his face.

Mark leaned closer and whispered: “It’s still an option to consider if you want closure.”

“The universe did me a favour; this is a sign to drop it and never think of Dan again,” Phil said, sounding confident despite the uneasiness brewing in the pit of his stomach.

“Don’t tell me that you haven’t thought about him all this time, I know for a fact that you have. Ignoring this will not make that go away.”

“Drop it,” Phil snapped, hearing people shush him. He lowered his voice again. “You’ve hated him for a while anyway, why do you care?”

“I don’t,” Mark shrugged. “I care about you and I don’t think you have moved on.”

“I’ve dated, Mark. What more do you want? He has a partner too, I told you. He was there with him.”

“Oh,” Mark said. “Well, give it a thought.”

“The movie is starting. Pass the popcorn.”

---

Phil spent the next few weeks trying his best to forget about the whole thing, but it popped up in his mind in the most inconvenient moments, like during his radio show or when he tried to film a new video. He couldn’t help but try to picture how his life would be now if Dan hadn’t given up on their friendship. Would they still be hosting together? Filming together? Sharing their London flat?

He briefly considered telling his therapist but he wasn’t ready to hear what she had to say about it. Instead, he remembered what Mark said and logged into Facebook after a million years of absence. He searched for Dan’s profile and gasped at how good he looked in his profile picture with his hobbit hair. He heard their voices in his mind: “Would you keep your hobbit hair for more than a day? Never!” Nature was wise, Dan looked better than ever with his curls.

Phil looked at his previous profile pictures and there were none with Sebastian. He was listed as Dan’s boyfriend though. It caught Phil by surprise, even after seeing them together in the streets of London, Phil didn’t think he would see the day Dan dated a man publicly. Then he noticed something: Dan had sent him a friend request.

He hesitated briefly but if he thought too much about it he was going to faint, so he did what he had become accustomed to do when in doubt: he accepted the request. Then he felt frozen in time not knowing what else to do. Should he be the one to reach out first? Well, technically, Dan had taken the first step with the friend request so maybe it was his turn.

He opened their conversation and his fingers hovered over the keyboard as he stared at the last pathetic attempt Phil made to reach out in 2012 which still had the read receipt. He was about to back out of the screen when Dan messaged him.

“Can we talk?”

Phil started typing a no but deleted it. He paused for a moment. He started again but this time he pointed out the last message above that had been unanswered for years. He deleted it again.

“Phil, please.”

Phil heard the words just as if Dan was begging right in front of him and hated himself as he typed an “ok.”

“I don’t want things to get messy over text. We should meet at a park or a coffee shop and discuss it in person.”

“You’re pushing your luck.”

“I know I fucked up really badly. Please give me a chance to apologise properly and to explain.”

“I’ve moved on without any explanations. Why would I want them now?” That was a lie. Not only had he not moved on, but he still wondered what the fuck happened exactly. Many times he’d wished he could live inside Dan’s brain to better understand.

“I don’t remember you being so snappy when you were unbothered by something.”

Phil looked at the screen blankly. He had him there. Dan knew him too well, but he wasn’t about to admit that. “People change. I never thought you would do what you did but here we are.”

“If you don’t want to meet up I could call you right now.”

Phil panicked. Fucking Dan, he knew that Phil hated calls. Meeting up was less scary, especially if he had time to plan his replies. Not that anything ever went according to plan with Dan. “Fine. Piccadilly Circus at 5 this Thursday.” It was Tuesday so that gave him two days to prepare.

“I have a show at 7. Tomorrow at 5?”

“Alright.” It was not alright, that only gave him… he looked at the time, about twenty hours to prepare. Dan was not giving him a chance to back out, which was likely to happen if they planned for a later date. He took a deep breath. It would probably be better to rip the plaster off and move on.

“Text me when you get there, I’ll be in the area.”

Phil pursed his lips. “I don’t have your number, I had an accident with a soda at the cinema.”

“An accident with a soda?”

“My hands got wet, ok?”

“Oh, right. +44 20 7734 3124.”

“Right, see you tomorrow.”

“Thank you for doing this.”

Phil was about to reply, but this time, he smiled and closed the conversation. This time he was the one leaving Dan on read.

---

The following day had Phil overthinking his outfit and wishing he could just ask his followers for advice but he knew that Dan would see the tweet, so he thought back to the poll he’d posted a few months ago and went with the top rated shirt.

He opened his laptop and the first thing he saw was Dan’s profile before Safari crashed and he had to open it again. Once again, he saw Dan’s profile and almost clicked away when something caught his eye. Dan’s relationship status was now “it’s complicated” and Sebastian was no longer tagged.

He smiled and grabbed his keys on the way out, his laptop left abandoned on the sofa.

---

Phil hated himself the moment he laid eyes on Dan. God, how did Dan look even better in person than in his pictures? His hair was perfectly curled at the top and seamlessly faded on the sides. He wore a grey flowery shirt over a pink T-shirt which made evident how much bigger his back was and his jeans were tight enough to display his thick thighs. Phil had to stop that line of thought immediately before it crossed the PG boundaries. Dan smelled so good too, not that Phil was smelling him, that would be creepy and stupid.

“Hey,” Dan smiled confidently.

That was another thing, Dan was so fucking confident. Unlike in 2012, it was coming from him in waves. He looked like someone who was very sure of who he was. It made Phil feel inadequate and like he hadn’t made that kind of progress all the time they’d been apart. “Hey,” he said, sounding as lame as he felt.

“So, do you want to go somewhere?”

“Hard Rock?” Phil asked, trying to remember any good places around. It was too hot and he wasn’t in the mood for sweating in front of Dan so aircon was a must.

“Sure,” Dan smiled and pressed his hand to Phil’s back gently, guiding him there.

That hand was burning Phil through his shirt like hot iron, but he tried to seem unbothered.

“So, how have you been?” Dan asked as they walked.

“Uh, just - taking a few days off at the moment. Mostly scripting new videos and relaxing,” Phil said. He’d thought he’d have the walk to compose himself but Dan clearly wanted to break the ice immediately.

“Relaxing is good.”

Fuck, it was his time to ask something. “Err, so you are still acting?”

“Yes, just small roles here and there but I got a bigger one in an indie production starting in September. Nothing too fancy, just ten shows.”

“Ten?” Phil asked, that actually sounded like a lot for an indie production.

Dan waved him off. “It’s just a hobby. My main focus now is mental health advocacy. I’m working with Young Minds, the charity.”

“Oh, wow.”

“I want to help young people who don’t have access to resources. I think it’s very rewarding.”

“I bet it is,” Phil said, impressed. He knew that Dan was not trying to brag, but was perhaps seeking Phil’s approval. Some things never changed.

“I haven’t gotten to anything important like that,” Phil said,

“You hosted the fucking Brits!” Dan said, not letting him be humble. “I watched it, you were hilarious.”

Phil finally smiled at that. “Thank you,” he said, before he realised that he was being too nice and cleared his throat. They were finally at the door and before Phil could pull it open, Dan pushed it open for him, keeping him from making a fool of himself.

They got a booth by the windows and ordered.

“Why did you message me?” Phil asked, cutting the pleasantries.

Dan looked a little taken aback but didn't hesitate. “I wanted to catch up and also give you an explanation of why I acted how I acted back then.”

“I don’t know if I want to know. What would it change?”

“Everything… I hope that it changes everything,” Dan said. “First of all, I should apologise for leaving you in the dark like that and for being so chaotic and irresponsible with our work and with us. I promise that it was not intentional, I just didn’t have the proper tools to process everything that was happening in my life and I had to take a step back.” He rushed to say, as if he was almost afraid that Phil would interrupt him or just up and leave. “I know you must have questions too.”

“I guess,” Phil admitted. “But I don’t know where to start.”

“Let’s start with the easiest and go from there. I stopped doing YouTube and collabing with you and dropped out of everything because it got too overwhelming. I didn’t start making videos with the intention of being famous, and having so many eyes on me and commenting on everything I did got to be too much for me. I could have handled it better if literally every other aspect of my life wasn’t falling apart at the same time.”

Phil nodded. “I did notice you getting overwhelmed but when were we not overwhelmed?”

“I know. But that was honestly the least of my issues. I would say the main one, if you want to jump to that, was my sexuality crisis. You know my previous history in that aspect,” Dan said, pausing to take a deep breath, “and it took me a lot of work in therapy to come to terms with the fact that I’m actually gay. Or, well, queer, but men are what I’m mostly interested in. I don’t know about anything else. You know I had a girlfriend and I was attracted to Sam who was afab but non-binary. I think the androgyny helped me in a weird way because they looked like what I liked but if someone questioned me, that was a person with a vagina and older people wouldn’t really think much of it. And yes, I know it’s a fucked up way to see it. It was unfair to think that way about Sam.”

“Did you guys end up together?” Phil asked, not knowing if he wanted to know or not. Phil had become so obviously jealous back then that Dan had stopped mentioning Sam at all.

Dan snickered. “You had your special vendetta with Sam. No, you’ll be happy to know that I realised that they were probably looking for attention or an ego boost, maybe even subconsciously. I don’t think they were interested in me, not really. I also realised that thinking of them as just someone safe to date to explore my sexuality wasn’t fair, so everything worked out in the end.”

“Right. I didn’t like them anyway, so I’m glad.”

“I know,” Dan said and his brow burrowed into a frown. “That’s what really pushed me to leave everything behind.”

“What?”

“Not Sam, but the fact that I felt like our friendship had crossed so many boundaries that neither of us knew where we stood at any given moment and it was too confusing. We were too jealous of everyone but we weren’t dating, and at times it seemed like you wanted to sleep around, and other times you wanted to be my boyfriend and I - I was the same. To be perfectly honest,” Dan said, pausing as if he wasn’t sure if he wanted to say something, but he shook his head and continued. “I wanted to be your boyfriend but I wasn’t out of the closet. I am not out of the closet in half of the aspects of my life today, and - and I thought that with me providing therapy at times, it was so wrong,” he let out a humourless snort. “It is a huge no-no to date your patients and even though I wasn’t officially your therapist or had graduated, we had the rapport necessary for that. I felt that I was in part responsible for your feelings for me. When everything around you is so unstable, it’s easy to cling to someone you see as a safe space and project your feelings into something that it’s probably not real.”

Phil’s mouth was agape. “That’s -” he let out a puff of air and gestured vaguely.

“I know, It’s a lot,” Dan conceded. “It was too much for me.”

“You didn’t give me a choice to tell you if my feelings were real or not,” Phil said, feeling offended at the implication.

“You wouldn’t have known. If you ask someone if their feelings are true and they will say yes 100% of the time, even if they are projecting,” Dan explained. “I felt guilty for potentially causing the confusion and also for not taking things anywhere either. I know that from your end it must have felt like I led you on and bailed but I was just as confused as I thought you were, so that was no good.”

“And now?” Phil frowned. “Do you still think I was projecting?”

Dan let out a deep sigh. “I don’t know, but I wish I would have stayed and tried to work it out - with you. We always worked things out together.”

Phil was about to interject when Dan continued.

“On the other hand, I don’t think I would be who I am today if I hadn’t left the safety blanket that was our friendship. You kept saving me every single time and I needed to learn to save myself, to be my own person, not just Dan from Dan and Phil. And I think that you grew into such a beautiful person and into your brand. I feel like being Dan and Phil on camera and in life was stunting our growth. So while I wish I would have stayed and I apologise for the way I handled things, if I had to go back I think I would still leave. For a while at least. I didn’t think it would take me this long to figure it out.”

There was a pregnant pause. Dan kept looking into Phil’s eyes, as if searching for something, but Phil was in a turmoil so big that he could barely form a semi-coherent thought. “I don’t know what to say,” Phil admitted, feeling like his head was about to explode. None of the things he’d planned to say applied to the conversation anymore.

Dan inclined his head in understanding and continued. “I also needed to stay away from the public eye to resolve my identity crisis,” he said. “I am getting tired of having to come out in my day to day life though, so I’ve been writing a YouTube video, a massive one, explaining everything. I think that people deserv- well, no, they don’t deserve it, I know I don’t owe them an explanation - but I would like to let them know why I was so rude at times. Speaking of rude: Do you still speak to Charlie?”

Phil frowned, thinking for a moment. “Skies?”

“Yeah,” Dan confirmed in a sour tone.

“Ew, no. Of course not,” Phil said, taken aback. He hadn’t even thought about Charlie in years. “Outing people is not cool.”

“Good. I don’t like that guy,” Dan admitted.

“I know.”

Dan leaned forward just a tiny bit, his voice low and almost secretive. “Would you please read the script and watch the video before it comes out? It will be very honest so you will be mentioned.”

“Oh, boy.” Phil’s eyes widened. “What do you plan to say? You haven’t posted in years.”

“Maybe I’ve finally lost it,” Dan laughed. “For now it says something around the lines of that we were friends and more than friends but when it comes to our current relationship we are both very private people so we won’t comment on it.”

Phil downed his already cold coffee but remained silent until he really processed what Dan was trying to say. “So it is a coming out video of sorts.” He said, trying to predict people’s reaction to that.

Dan nodded. “Is there something I shouldn’t say? My thought process was that we never said it outright but people know we had sex. We constantly posted about it on Twitter and everywhere and you have hickeys in some videos. They were not stupid, they’ve always known.”

“Except for the ones that wanted us to be straight because they want to fuck us,” Phil reminded him.

Dan huffed. “I hope those ones cry.”

“That’s mean,” Phil said but smiled.

“Being homophobic is meaner.”

“True,” Phil said but he reminded himself that he had always tended to do this, just what he was doing now. He was putting Dan first, already helping him with a new project, bouncing a concept and hearing him out just like Dan wanted. It was time to put himself first, and that was something Phil did manage to make progress on over the last few years. “Alright do that,” he mumbled and tried to stir the conversation back to their past issues. “There are a few things I want to know for my peace of mind.”

“Ask away,” Dan said, sitting up.

“Why didn’t you text me? It’s been five years. It just doesn’t make sense with what you’re saying.”

Dan paused, considering it for a moment. “I didn’t understand myself and didn’t want to drag you or our friendship down but I did hope you’d text. Every birthday, and every holiday, I waited, but you never texted. It wasn’t a clean cut that I wanted either, but you stopped reaching out, so it happened naturally.”

Phil’s face morphed into one of pure rage, he knew this because Dan leaned back, almost bracing himself for impact. “I stopped reaching out? When I texted you, you seemed fucking bored and annoyed with me, so I figured you would text me if you really wanted to stay friends,” he hissed. “You know, that’s fucking rich coming from you. You gave me so many mixed signals and only reached out when you needed a shoulder to cry on, or someone to solve your problems, and then just hoped that I would never take the hint that you wanted me fucking gone. How was any of it my fault?”

“I don’t think it was your fault,” Dan said, defensively, “but I think that you sent some mixed signals as well which didn’t help at all.”

“I wasn’t confused. I cried myself to sleep so many times because you acted like you wanted to be my boyfriend and then decided to pretend that it never happened and just asked me how to get into someone else’s pants. What the fuck was that about?” Phil snapped, trying to keep his voice down.

Dan winced. “Well - you were my only friend. I’m not defending my actions, I’m just explaining what my thought process was. And you were experienced with just sleeping with your friends.”

Phil narrowed his eyes at Dan. “Are you slut shaming me?” he said but continued without waiting for a reply. “I told you for years and years that all I wanted was a relationship, someone who treated me well, that didn’t cheat on me and that loved me. How did you take it as me not wanting to be with you? I was just doing what people offered, which was casual sex.”

“And there was Mark. He was not casual,” Dan snapped, raising one eyebrow at him, his eyes full of barely restrained rage.

“I told you a million times that Mark and I were not dating. It was not like that between us. We just had sex because we weren’t dating anyone else.”

Dan exhaled through his nose in disdain. “What about all the times Mark made it clear that I was not welcome in the flat? He was jealous.”

Phil scoffed. “He wasn’t jealous, he just started to hate you because he thought that you were playing games with me and sometimes he did things to test his theory, like kiss me in front of you or be hostile. You failed miserably every time by the way.”

“That drove me insane. I was so jealous of him being able to touch you like that whenever he wanted,” Dan’s face fell, now looking more sad than angry, his voice going lower. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I’m sorry that I messed up so badly, I really am. Now that I know myself better, I know that - I never got over you, Phil. I still feel exactly the same.” He reached to rest his hand on Phil’s. “If you still-”

Phil pulled his hands away. He felt a cold sensation running down his body and stood suddenly. “No,” he said and rushed out the door, hailing a taxi and going home.

#succubusphan fics #phanfic #phanfiction #phan #phan au #dan and phil #ospbb 2023

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the-firebird69 · 15 days ago

Text

Call me up is trying to grab me that's Tommy f I'm half bill and he's a guy messing with the taxes but yeah Trump is involved and helped

The rock

Olympus

There's so many problems they're going to have so much trouble and you guys are going the wrong way you're going to get killed you too Tommy and Trump

Hera

Hahahaha

Zues

It's really obvious cuz you're people getting killed and the rate is going up a little and you adjust the numbers in the formula. Right now the rate is going up every hour about 3.5%. but if you said it the way you adjust the mathematical formula right now we care about 7.35% increase and it will keep increasing at a higher rate every hour this hour is probably 3.5% and the rate of increase is changing every hour this is not happened for a long time. Your trumpsters are going to die nobody wants to listen to s*** you want to shut down society when they have this huge huge factory complex down there and you you can't even touch it you just have big mouths what a bunch of keen assholes. My son wants Bill Lund to come out and to look at figures and stuff and call those guys in and the wine at them I mean they need it our son didn't it's not deserve it they got everybody going and you guys were a trial and tribulation on site and he did a lot of work to make it work I think was having him fix people's problems well after the job was done in different projects for being fixed by our son so he says what is this is a purchasing purchasing issue Blake says I don't care what it is I needed to fix it so he said okay I'll fix it and it worked. My son says it was fun and I do get the job done and it happened and Joey said you know this sounds familiar it says it's fun but I'll get it done now things went South there but it's because of 9/11 and people are getting hurt his boss couldn't stand it and our sunset he said on the way out tell James crossed that I said thank you for everything in the hallway. He was in tears my son loved it he learned a lot there you got a lot of stuff done and you look back to Blake and later Brian and Bud and said it's wrong I had a great time it says he learned a lot and we heard what you said laundry and through no fault of Bud is it's a difficult thing to do and these guys have to stop on his on the family he doesn't have many left in it s kind of a shamble and it's wrong and you should see it now but I brought it up because he went and had a bud zero and it's not a big deal he likes it and thinks he can drink it in the social setting and doesn't have to drink much alcohol it doesn't get along with his system very well but boy does it taste like Budweiser he said it tastes exactly like it it really does he has an idea that certain alcohol doesn't have a ton of taste and you add a little to it and you can drink and people will think you're not drinking there's a whole bunch of places for that and they used to do it and they like it and it kind of saying this is not bad and Bud Otis it's hodess loves it and says this is great it's a couple plugs in consecutive order and it works for him and it was it was a nice day he relaxed and let Ken sniff it and he's kind of saying you do better on alcohol than these meds and you people drink and for certain reasons I guess and he says it it's to anesthetize yourself from the paint the pain of what's going on and he said it smells really really good so he'll probably have one next time and no filter is flood out yeah it goes away very quick it's only a few hours it's very little and he can say he has cough syrup and that would work it really goes back to Billy z he's trying to get suits and it's for combat in the tunnels and he says if to go against the empire and he's lying this is going to be huge tons of people are going to try and see what happens and what to do it is a huge deciding factor is what people are up to and how they're handling things now but they can't afford the way it is it will never lead to anything soon we will be getting to changes that are occurring around here and we will inform people of what they are and that will be later on today

Thor Freya

Olympus

Good you have to charge the battery and you have to fix your fan

Hera

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yellagalqotm-blog · 1 year ago

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This short story commemorating my fifty years of living in Central Florida is a both a snapshot of life in the "Sunshine State" during the 1970s as well as a nostalgic look at the trials and tribulations of a 10 year old still trying to figure out life. (Some names have been changed to protect the not-so-innocent!)

August, 1974

“I heard my mama cry…I heard her pray the night Chicago died….” crooned the pop group Paper Lace over the tinny AM airwaves on our car radio.

Our 1968 Ford Falcon station wagon had been on the road for a couple of days and travelled over 2400 miles from Syracuse when we rolled into Altamonte Springs, Florida on that hot summer afternoon. My dad had just retired from the Air Force and we were moving to the “Sunshine State” after being stationed in New York the previous year.

I was ten years old at the time and having been born into a military family, I was well acquainted with the routine. Move to a new place, go to a strange school where I don’t know anyone, slowly start to make a few friends, Dad gets transferred, and the process starts all over again. By now, I’d already been to three elementary schools and was about to start at a fourth. But this time felt different. This was going to be our family’s final move - to Florida.

Even though I had previously lived in Florida for a year in 1968 with my mom and brother while my dad was deployed to Vietnam, I did not have too many memories of what the place was like as I was only four then. Now, my ten year old imagination was full of more recent secondhand tales I’d heard about Florida - mainly from tv and other kids.

All I knew about Florida was 1) it was full of alligators, 2) there were poisonous snakes everywhere, and 3) homes were regularly ripped apart by deadly hurricanes. Why on earth would anyone want to live there? And why were my parents making us move down to this awful place that sounded like hell on earth?

Speaking of my parents, they were in the front seat discussing the location of the Kentucky Fried Chicken where my Uncle Mike was going to meet us and guide us back to Aunt Mary’s house. Mary was my mother’s younger sister who had been living in Florida with her family for years. They seemed to have survived Florida’s hurricanes and dangerous creatures, so I figured we just might have a fighting chance.

I was the oldest of the four kids sitting in the back seat. Besides me, there was my brother Robert, a jokester who, like myself, enjoyed watching cartoons and drawing. My sister Laurie was the studious one who, when she didn’t have skates strapped on, had her nose in a book. The 3 year old clutching the Mrs. Beasley doll was my youngest sister Suzy.

As we got closer to our final destination, I stared out the window at our surroundings. We were approaching Altamonte Springs on Interstate 4, a long stretch of highway cutting through Central Florida. Cars zipped past us plastered in bumper stickers that promoted local radio stations like WLOF 95AM and BJ105 FM while others declared Orlando the “Vacation Kingdom.”

There were also lots of signs and billboards challenging us to “Arrive Alive.” To my somewhat morbid and overly imaginative young mind, this smacked of a cruel irony. Sure, Florida wants us to “Arrive Alive” so we can perish via a gator attack, snake bite or a killer hurricane!

Orlando’s Television and Radio Landscape

“If I had a box just for wishes and dreams that had never come true. The box would be empty except for the memory of how they were answered by you.” (Time in a Bottle by Jim Croce)

We soon got into the swing of things during those first couple of months. Because we still did not have a permanent residence, we lived with my Aunt Mary and her family. I remember it was a large, split level house where you enter through the front door and there was a flight of stairs taking you up to the living quarters and another flight taking you to the game room and two extra bedrooms downstairs. My siblings and I shared one of those rooms on that lower floor.

The main thing I remember about that downstairs area was the huge pool table. We’d never seen one in real life before and were fascinated. My dad and Uncle Mike patiently showed us how to handle the cues and which balls to aim for. I was never any good and I am still a lousy player to this day. But I love playing pool when I get the chance.

Another thing that enraptured me in particular was the air hockey table - especially the hum and the “whoosh” sound it made when it was turned on. Once while my aunt, uncle and cousins were out for the day, my siblings and I were bored and looking for something to do. Our attention turned to the air hockey table upon which sat a piece of notebook paper with the words “Out of Order” scrawled on it in a child’s handwriting.

This was no doubt that work of my oldest cousin, Matthew. I had an intense dislike of Matthew because, as he was a year older than me, he seemed to enjoy bossing all of us around and was consistently tattling on me. Being the oldest of four myself, I was not used to being the one tattled upon, so I found this new structure in the scheme of family dynamics quite upsetting indeed. The charges against me, according to Matthew, included: “Linda’s eating with her hands.” “Linda didn’t say thank you.” “Linda called Robert a name.”

Anyway, my dad saw my cousin’s note, tossed it aside in an air of disgust and plugged in the air hockey table. We enjoyed a few games before carefully putting everything back to the way it was afterwards.

Of course, the color television in that downstairs room was the main focal point for all of us kids, including our cousins. Central Florida television in the mid-1970s was a plethora of colorful, corny fun! Every day we tuned into our local UHF station - WSWB, channel 35.

A local children’s program called Uncle Hubie’s Penthouse Barnyard came on in the afternoons. Uncle Hubie, bedecked in a beat-up hat, overalls, a checked shirt and a bandana around his neck, was played by a gentleman by the name of Hugh Turley. I don’t remember much about the program other than the catchy, ragtime style theme song played on the piano. From what I gather, the premise of this show was that Uncle Hubie struck it rich and moved his entire barnyard, chicken coop included, to the top of some urban high-rise building. The only other things I recall were the cartoons shown and that Uncle Hubie’s mailing address was in Bithlo, Florida.

After the Uncle Hubie show, my brother Robert and our cousin Danny would excitedly tie bath towels around their necks and race towards the tv just in time to watch “Batman.” Pow! Biff! Wham!

Afterwards came one of my new favorites, “Lost in Space”. I had never seen it before and immediately became a huge fan of the series. I always wanted to be Penny Robinson and travel in space with my pet monkey….I mean Bloop. Next came “Star Trek”, where I was introduced to Captain Kirk, Mr. Spock, and phasers set on “stun.” Finally, our early evening television viewing was rounded out with “Mayberry R.F.D.”

Local radio in the mid-1970s boasted an interesting collection of stations. My favorite at the time was WLOF, 95 AM, which played mainly top 40 pop tunes. My mom was an avid listener of some of the early talk shows. Her favorite call-in talk show was an evening program hosted by a man named Mike Miller.

One day, not long after our arrival in Florida, I remember my dad threw all of us kids in the back of our station wagon and headed over to the local Kmart. I distinctly recall walking into the store barefoot, wearing my spaghetti strap green romper suit. It felt liberating not wearing any shoes and thinking that maybe Florida might not be such a bad place to live after all! But I had a feeling that if my mom knew we were traipsing through that store shoeless, she’d be mortified. But that worry quickly evaporated as we headed towards the electronics department.

It was there that Dad bought me my first transistor radio! It was a small, olive green Solid State that had a white wrist strap, a dial for tuning and a couple of knobs on the side for volume and for switching back and forth to AM and FM bands. Oddly enough, I can still remember the plastic, metallic smell that it had. I treasured that radio for a long time. Later on in my teen years, I would switch my radio station allegiance to WDIZ, an FM station based on Lee Road in Winter Park that played album rock.

Summertime: Pools and Peaches

“We had joy. We had fun. We had seasons in the sun. But the hills that we climbed were just seasons out of time…” (“Seasons in the Sun” by Terry Jacks)

One of the first things that hit us kids the moment we set foot in Florida was the searing heat. Florida wasn’t just hot, it was tropically hot. The humidity felt like a tangible lead weight pressing down on our small frames as if it was trying to drive us down into the sandy soil.

Playing outside was definitely off the table. My mother for years would constantly urge me to go outside and “knock a ball around” with my sister, only to be met with an incredulous stare. Me? Go OUTSIDE? You’ve GOT to be kidding! Of course, I never said that aloud. Instead, I’d just wail “It’s too HOT out there!”

Luckily, during those initial two months when we stayed with my Aunt Mary, we had access to something considered the Holy Grail to most kids: an in-ground, backyard swimming pool! A “cement pond” as the Clampetts of the “Beverly Hillbillies” would call it.

Sometimes we’d have to impatiently wait to use it because Uncle Mike needed to “shock” the pool. I used to think he threw a toaster or some other electrical appliance in there for some bizarre reason known only to adults. Of course, I’d eventually learn exactly what the pool shocking procedure entailed and why it was performed. But all we cared about at the time was getting our sweaty, overheated behinds into that lovely, cool, aquamarine water.

Both of our families spent many happy hours in that pool. My cousins, who were decent swimmers and daredevils, would show off and do jumps off the diving board. I didn’t know how to swim so I was happy to stay and paddle around in the shallow end.

I remember one day while we were out poolside, there was some talk on the radio about President Nixon and impeachment. But all I heard was the word “peach” being said hundreds of times, so I thought it had something to do with fruit. From the attitude of the adults, it was something serious. However, to a ten year old, all I kept thinking was “Geez, how dangerous can peaches be and what has our president been doing with them?”

Dining Out 1970s Style

“If you wanna a drink of water, you gotta get it from a well. If you wanna get to heaven, you gotta raise a little hell.” (“If You Wanna Get to Heaven” by the Ozark Mountain Daredevils)

Despite the fact that our family never really dined out, unless McDonalds counts, I still vividly recall visiting a few Central Florida eateries which are no longer with us.

One of the first places we dined out with Aunt Mary and her family was Tom’s Pizza in Maitland. The blueish white neon sign in the front window continuously flashed “Tom’s Pizza - 25¢”. I don’t remember much from that visit other than the place was dark and the harmonica solo from “If You Wanna Get to Heaven” by the Ozark Mountain Daredevils blared in the background.

One of the popular fast food burger chains of that period was Burger Chef and there was one in Fern Park, not too far from where we’d eventually settle in nearby Casselberry. In addition to the orange and blue color scheme and the chef hat logo, I fondly recall those delectable hamburgers. The burgers were so juicy, in fact, that one squirted me squarely in the eye after I squeezed it a bit too hard in my eagerness to shove it into my mouth. I haven’t been attacked by a better burger since!

Pizza parlors were places we didn’t go to often but when we did, it was a treat! There was a place in Casselberry called Shakey’s which catered to families and featured “Golden Age” show reels of Laurel & Hardy as well as the Little Rascals.

Shopping, Turtles and Roses (Oh My!)

“Can it be that it was all so simple then? Or has time rewritten every line? If we had the chance to do it all again, tell me, would we, could we?” (The Way We Were by Barbra Streisand)

My mother loved going to stores and that’s what we often did on the weekends. Our main target was usually the Altamonte Mall, which was visible from my Aunt Mary’s backyard. The first time I walked into that mall, I was dumbfounded at how huge it was. I’d never seen so many stores under one roof. And there were two floors of shops!

My dad was never one for the retail experience, so he would find a place to park himself while Mom whipped around from shop to shop with the rest of us in her wake, breathlessly trying to keep up. Back in those days, Mom idled in high gear. She talked fast and walked even faster. Because Suzy was barely out of her toddler stage and her legs would never keep up with Mom’s lightning-fast gait, she often stayed with Dad.

Back then, in the days before mobile phones, we had to arrange a meeting place and time before going our separate ways. Luckily the Altamonte Mall had the perfect central meeting spot. In the center of the first floor was a seating area of benches, bright red carpeting and a cluster of modern, stylized turtle sculptures. So, whenever my family visited the mall, we’d often agree to “meet by the turtles” at a predestined time.

Near the mall’s turtle habitat was Ferrell’s, a late 19th century themed ice cream parlor. The employees were outfitted in 1890s style flat boater hats and the long sleeve shirts with ties. They served gigantic sundaes and had just about every flavor of ice cream my young mind could think of. One day I felt a bit adventurous and ordered the bubble gum ice cream because it looked so pretty and colorful. A half hour later, I was left with a huge, flavorless wad of gum in my mouth. I wish I could say that this was an important lesson I learned in not being taken in by good looks alone - but I’d be lying.

The travel agency with its lush carpeting, sleek desks and beautiful posters of Big Ben and the Eiffel Tower was an early fascination of mine. I was particularly attracted to the glossy brochures and travel magazines. And once I realized that they were actually free for the taking, I’d always walk away with an armful. Once we got home, I’d spend hours pouring over the pages of exotic locales and dream of the day I could see them in person. My mom often declared that I’d eventually become a travel agent myself.

Other stores I remember were Casual Corner, Pants USA, the Gap, Lerners, Stuart’s, Zales, Tom McAnn, and Baker’s Shoes. But the stores I spent the most time in were the mall’s two record shops - Camelot Music and Chess King. Later on in my teens, I’d spend pretty much all of my allowance in those music stores on the latest albums by the Sweet, Queen, Van Halen or whatever group I was into at the time. I also spent many hours in B. Dalton and Waldenbooks, usually browsing through books about said rock groups.

During the pre-food court days of the 1970s, the mall had just a few snack counters and full service restaurants. Chick-fil-A was an early fast food outlet in the mall. I also remember a German restaurant called Mr. Dunderbak’s that was dark, festooned with hanging sausages and had a strong sauerkraut smell.

The York Steakhouse was a family favorite of ours. It had an orange, yellow and brown interior which was set up cafeteria style. I was never a huge steak eater so I’d often just order the chopped sirloin steak as it was more of a burger patty in gravy.

Another mall we’d visit was the Fashion Square Mall which was just east of downtown Orlando. The Naval Training Center was next door, so every Friday evening and on weekends, the mall’s concourse was a sea of white, starched navy uniforms.

There was a store at the Fashion Square that specialized in men’s clothing. I can’t remember the shop’s name but I DO recall that on Friday nights, a couple of male salesclerks would stand in front of the store and give out single, long-stemmed roses to the women who walked by. Sometimes Mom got one. And because I was tall and a bit mature looking for my age, I once got a rose, too!

And Now for a Word from Our Sponsor…

Speaking of stores, I can still remember the words to a lot of the commercial jingles back then. Well, at least I THINK these were the words!

Kmart:

Kmart is your savings store, where your dollar buys you more.

Eric Adams Furniture Warehouse:

Pick it out in the showroom, where the savings are great.

Pick it up in the warehouse and take it home in the crate.

Eric Adams Furniture Warehouse, Eric Adams Furniture Warehouse.

Don Mealey Chevrolet:

Don Mealey Chevrolet, Don Mealey Chevrolet

So you can have the car you want to drive….TODAY!

The 1970s School Pod System

“You went to school to learn, girl, things you never, never knew before. Like I before E except after C and why 2 plus 2 makes 4.” (“ABC” by the Jackson 5)

After that first month at Aunt Mary’s, the summer started to wind down and the new school year reared its ugly head. My cousins went to a private, Catholic school where the students wore uniforms. I thought that was pretty cool and wanted to go there. But because we didn’t have the money and - more importantly - we weren’t practicing Catholics, my siblings and I were enrolled at Spring Lake Elementary in Altamonte Springs.

I still recall that first day of school. I was going into fifth grade, wearing a new outfit and carrying a lunch box that I didn’t really care for. All the other kids had cool lunch boxes with pictures of cartoon characters or pop stars on them. I had a strange looking, oblong cylindrical thing adorned with yellow flowers that zipped around the top. It was more of an adult lunch box - something a teacher would bring to school. Because I was tall and mature looking for my age, my mother attempted to dress and accessorize me accordingly. For a short time, she insisted I carry a purse any time I went anywhere. But eventually, I won out on that battle - at least until I hit my teens.

As I mentioned before, I’d already attended a few different schools before we moved to Florida. But Spring Lake was new experience for me because it was a pod school. In the 70’s, many schools were based on the pod system, which meant open classrooms and very few walls. I remember our fifth grade class had three walls but the back of the class opened into a huge common area shared with the other fifth grade classes. We could hear what was going on in other areas. I don’t know what the thinking was behind this concept. I’m guessing it was a money-saving measure. But it was obviously quite easy to get distracted.

Regardless, I loved this new school. My teacher, whose name escapes me now, was very nice and used to read stories like “Island of the Blue Dolphin” to us after lunch. Speaking of lunch, I don’t think this school had a full cafeteria because I remember the meals being served usually consisted of a sandwich, a drink and a piece of fruit shrink wrapped in plastic on a styrofoam tray.

Another thing I remember vividly about this school was the day the book fair rolled in. My teacher sent me home with a book fair order form the day before and I’d carefully perused it before making my choice and pestering my folks for the money. As an avid young reader, the opportunity to visit the bookmobile and buy a book of my choosing was a real thrill!

Trick or Treat

“The zombies were having fun. The party had just begun. The guests included Wolf Man, Dracula and his son.” (“Monster Mash” by Bobby "Boris" Pickett & The Crypt Kickers)

Being a military brat meant dealing with constant change. Despite our nomadic lifestyle, I was always very fortunate to have made good friends in every neighborhood where we lived and at each school I attended. The downside was I always had to say goodbye a short time later. During our brief stay at my aunt’s house, I remember befriending a girl around my age who lived down the street. Her name was Caroline and I could swear her surname was Kennedy.

Caroline was a year older than me, which meant she must have just started junior high school that year. We’d sometimes hang out at my aunt’s house in the family room or I’d go over to her house. Caroline was the one who introduced me to Wacky Stickers, those delightful decals that spoofed well-known brands of foods and household products such as Kentucky Fried Fingers, Neveready Batteries and Cheapios cereal. As a budding artist myself, I was fascinated with the vibrant artwork which closely resembled the original products being lampooned. Each pack cost about a quarter and included several wacky stickers, a cardboard puzzle piece and a stick of gum that was easily mistaken for another piece of cardboard. We could only get them from the Lil Champ, which was a popular chain of convenience stores in Florida at the time.

As Halloween loomed, Caroline asked if I wanted to go trick-or-treating with her around the neighborhood. I was surprised because I had reckoned we were too big and beyond the age of trick-or-treating. My mom had kept me home the previous Halloween because she reckoned I was getting too tall and old for it. But now, here was a girl even OLDER than me who was going. So I asked my mom and after some misgivings, she miraculously let me go. Caroline and I didn’t have any costumes. We just wore regular clothes and carried a couple of pillow cases for our haul. We combed the entire neighborhood that night and filled those pillow cases with all kinds of sweet goodies. I can still remember the strong smell of all that confectionary combined into one fruity, chocolatey aroma. That was the final year of actual door-to-door trick-or-treating for me. For the next couple of years, my family would take us to the mall so my younger siblings could trick-or-treat. Then, I was more of a bystander but I DID still get the occasional piece of candy from a sympathetic merchant!

A Race that Nobody Wins

“Half-breed, that's all I ever heard. Half-breed, how I learned to hate the word. Half-breed, she's no good they warned. Both sides were against me since the day I was born.” (“Half Breed” by Cher)

It’s said that all things must eventually come to an end, and our two month stay with Aunt Mary and her family was no exception. During final months of 1974, my parents closed on a house in the suburban town of Casselberry, Florida. Once again, I had to say goodbye to a school I had grown to love and to my new friend Caroline.

Up until then, I never really gave my ethnicity any serious thought. I knew I felt different from other kids, but I was mainly focused on my height because I was often about half a head taller than classmates. Whenever a class photograph was arranged, I would be placed in the center of the back row, which would be composed mainly of boys.

I remember the first time I was made aware of being racially different from my classmates. It happened in Altus, Oklahoma, 1971. I was in the second grade then and my class was primarily made up of white kids. There were also two black boys and then there was me, with my olive complexion and kinky, curly hair. For some reason, one day my teacher, Miss Warren, who I absolutely ADORED, was in a jovial mood and started asking me which of the two black boys I wanted to kiss. The entire class started laughing. To this day, I can’t remember what led up to that question or why Miss Warren would ask that to begin with. I remember feeling embarrassed and mortified. I was only 7 years old at the time and to me, ALL boys were icky regardless of their race. And why was I being singled out along with the black kids? Looking back, I don’t know what upset me more - the public humiliation or feeling betrayed by a teacher that I had loved.

After we landed in Florida, other than one of my aunt’s friends once referring to us kids as “pickaninnies”, I don’t recall encountering any other bigotry during our two month stay in Altamonte Springs. But the moment we moved into our permanent home in Casselberry, the racist floodgates burst open.

It started as soon as we moved into that four bedroom/two bath, mustard colored house in a predominantly white neighborhood. I was standing in the driveway one afternoon, not long after we moved in. Two girls my age, one of whom lived across the street from me, were walking by. They looked over at me, put their heads together, whispered something and exploded into giggles as they once again looked back at me.

About half a block down from our house was a family who was well-known in the neighborhood. In fact, they delivered the daily newspaper. And one of the sons was a safety patrol at the elementary school we were about to start attending. Every time my siblings and I would walk by that house, the kids there would always make sure to loudly shout, “N*****s!” It was the first time I recall hearing that word used toward us.

What made things worse was that even I didn’t know what I was. My mother and father were both of Puerto Rican descent. However, they never brought us up speaking Spanish. As far as I was concerned, we were just an average white family, even though our skin tone was just a tad darker and our hair a bit kinkier.

“Why don’t you ever wear your hair down?” girls at school would ask me. I never had an answer for that one. My hair was too coarse and thick to wear loose so my mother always pulled it back into a low pony tail on my neck and twisted the hair into long banana curls. She called it “The George Washington” or “The George”, for short. No matter what name it was given, I absolutely loathed that hairstyle by the time I was ten. I thought it looked matronly on me as compared to the loose, lovely hairstyles I was seeing on the girls at school and the women on television.

In 1974, the Civil Rights Act had only passed ten years prior and a lot of the older generation was still not totally on board with racial equality. So walking around the neighborhood often involved being called every racial epithet known to mankind and occasionally having stuff thrown at me. Once, while walking to the store with some cousins, an old woman came out of her house and told us to stay off the sidewalk because it was for Americans only.

And if our neighborhood wasn’t enough of a racist cesspool, our new elementary school was even worse.

I continued my 5th grade year at Casselberry Elementary. I still remember going down there with my parents and my siblings to register. That's when we met the principal, a middle-aged man with thinning hair and a booming voice named Mr. Harp. (His signature often included a tiny drawing of a harp.) Mr. Harp was a jovial sort and, during our initial visit, he proved this by sitting on top of a file cabinet, holding a plunger and singing a chorus of “King of the Road.”

I was assigned to Mrs. Blair’s class. Mrs. Blair was a kindly, older, heavy set black woman who was probably near retirement by then. Unfortunately, she was lumbered with a classroom full of loud, unruly pupils led by a short, mean-tempered little bigot by the name of Mark Owens. With a face full of freckles and his red hair styled into the ubiquitous bowl cut that was in fashion among boys of that time, Mark was the personification of an angry, little red rooster looking for someone to pick on - often our teacher. One day, Mark found a huge branch out on the school playground and was planning on bringing it inside. He called it his “n****r knocker” and was going to use it on Mrs. Blair.

Mrs. Blair, to her credit, always handled Mark and the other class bullies with dignity. And when one of them started to spew racist drivel her way, I remember her standing tall and saying “I am proud to be a black woman!”

Mark’s nickname for me was “Big, Bad and Ugly.” Once he tried to challenge me to a fight. “Come on, let’s go, Big, Bad and Ugly!” I have no idea why he wanted to fight me as I never did or said anything to him. But I refused to give into his bullying and eventually he left me alone.

Later on, a new Latino girl named Lissette was assigned to our classroom. She spoke only Spanish. Mark’s nickname for her was “Chinaman” for some bizarre reason. I’m guessing he was a fan of the popular “Kung Fu” tv series, so any non-English speaking foreigner was a “Chinaman” to him.

As the years passed and I entered high school, the racism I encountered was not quite as intense but it would still flare up on occasion.

Once, as I was walking down the main street of our subdivision, a guy named Ricky drove by in a truck. He was a couple years ahead of me in school and I had a secret crush on him. But the crush immediately ended the moment he leaned out of the window, laughed and yelled at me. “Hey, Mexican American!!!!” What? I’m not even Mexican.

For years, I’d struggle with racial and ethnic identification. One dreaded question I was often asked (and sometimes I still hear), is “What are you?”

I wasn’t white enough for the whites, I wasn’t black enough for the African Americans and, because I didn’t speak Spanish, I wasn’t Latino enough for the Latinos. To this day, I cringe whenever I see a “race” field on a form. I honestly never know what I should identify as. Luckily, I’m seeing a “prefer not to answer” option more frequently, so that’s what I usually choose.

Ironically, I would later take an Ancestry ethnicity test which would reveal that I did INDEED have African DNA. So, I’ll be darned, all those racists were actually right! I do have black blood and I am very proud of it - just like Mrs. Blair was!

The City Beautiful

“Sometimes, all I need is the air that I breathe and to love you.” (“The Air That I Breathe” by the Hollies)

For the next half a century, I will have a love/hate relationship with Orlando and Central Florida in general as I see it grow from a fledgling metropolis to one of the world’s premier travel destinations.

When we first moved down here, there were orange groves everywhere. Now they are a rarity, having been cut down and buried underneath subdivisions, apartment buildings, strip malls, car washes, and fast food outlets. Most of the four way stop signs have long since been replaced by traffic lights. The old department stores in downtown Orlando have made way for banks and bars.

Goodings, Pantry Pride, Piggly Wiggly, Food Lion and most Winn Dixie supermarkets have fallen to the almighty Publix chain. The smaller tourist attractions like the Stars Hall of Fame and Mystery Fun House have been squashed by the mighty corporate Disney/Universal/Sea World trinity. The old local restaurants of yesteryear such as Ronnie’s and the Purple Porpoise are distant memories. Sun Bank became Sun Trust and then became Truist.

The boisterous children who used to ride bicycles all around the neighborhood have long since gone inside and now play on smart phones. And it’s no wonder because it’s hotter than ever outside.

The demographic of the area has certainly changed. I definitely see a lot more ethnicities and interracial couples now than I did when we first arrived. Many times I’ve been in stores where I was the only English speaking person. There is also more LGBTQ+ acceptance than there used to be during my childhood when it was considered normal to freely use the words “gay” and “queer” derogatorily. While there is still a lot of progress yet to be made, there are more support organizations and programs available now than there were in the seventies.

So have things changed for the better in the “City Beautiful?” Yes. But is there still room for improvement? Definitely!

In closing, I can proudly say that after half a century of living in Florida, I’ve survived countless hurricanes and have yet to be attacked by a gator or a snake. But more importantly, I’ve stopped trying to figure out WHAT I am and instead I’ve begun to appreciate WHO I am.

#1970s #florida #nostalgia

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dumbwa-sian · 2 years ago

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Open Letter to you

Dear you,

I told you how many times I loved 'Gone with the Wind' and to my surprise when I met you you knew everything I was talking about when reliving my favorite movie of all time and how deeply I lived my life trying to be like Scarlett as a strong independent woman and would settle for no one less than a man like Rhett. You knew this and although I played it cool, you snuck your way into my heart and broke down my walls, making me truly love you from the deepest parts of my heart, sharing my darkest and brightest thoughts. Through trials and tribulations you happily supported me when I didn't even know I need it. I grew to love you deeper and let my guard down to not only you but others. I truly thought you were my Rhett Buttler and that this was the happy ending the two deserved. The ultimate power couple, the couple people aspire to be, the one that makes people believe in true love again.

But obviously I was wrong.

I really and honestly thought that through more trials and tribulations we would find a way to figure everything out and make it through the storm as Scarlett and Rhett would. But somewhere along the way you let go of my hand and replaced it with a dummy, happily stringing me along, making me believe you still cared and loved me the same way I did you.

I am not one to believe in hope, in fact as you'd know I am an not an optimist but started to become one through your bright personality. So I believed in hope and put faith in the universe and us, believing everything really would be okay. Through the past year I had no lack of suitors asking for a moment of my time, in fact they came and tirelessly tried to woo me despite their futile attempts. Some may have been genuinely nice men, but my heart belonged to you and only you, every broken, cracked, scared, bruised part of it. It was yours and you accepted it. You knew how hard it was for me to do that. So why would you string me along and lead me towards a dead end?

I told myself all this time, "I swear I did everything right" and blamed myself for my short comings and yours. I won't say I sacrificed a lot for you but opportunities to fight harder for things that may have been better for me because I believed it was right were sacrificed. For this the blame falls on me and me alone.

Let me be frank, I am not blaming you for my mistakes but simply asking why you felt it appropriate to toy with my feelings for months the way you did.

At this point I realized you were not my Rhett but in fact Ashley. I even to quote Scarlett. "tell me you love me, I'll live off it for the rest of my life." I truly was willing to believe that. But after a conversation with your closest friend I realized you in fact were neither Rhett nor Ashley and I was not Scarlett. In fact you were Hamilton and I Eliza. A convenience for you.

Maybe like Hamilton, maybe you did at one point love me, or maybe you didn't. But kept me at an arms length so that you'd have someone to comfort you when you deemed it convenient for you. Regardless, like Eliza my blood and heart broke when I found this out. I want to burn the memories and times we spent together, scream in your face and make you feel a fraction of how I feel. But I know it'd do me no good. Maybe thats why I'm writing this letter that will never reach you. Instead I'm screaming into the endless void of the internet for some reason, hoping to maybe ease the pain.

I want to take the high road, don't get me wrong, but a part of my mental unstable persona is screaming at me to throw reason aside and do unspeakable things all in the name of revenge. Instead I will attempt to take as high a road as I can, but you know me. I can't and won't.

You were my safe person. I felt like whatever I troubles I had you'd be there for me and supported me 100% unconditionally. I don't even receive the same treatment from my family, how laughable. I spent the entirety of my life believing this would never happen to me, that I would never truly feel safe and accepted by another, yet you made me feel that way, despite my efforts to keep you away. Maybe you love the game rather than me.

So tell me, how do you think it felt to lose it all? To no longer live life but instead go back to struggling to survive after getting a taste of how sweet and colorful life is supposed to be. All I've ever wanted is simply to survive and not have to scour and forage for connection and acceptance.

How do you think it feels to lose the only person I ever felt safe with and go back to keeping to myself and constantly having to be suspicious and cautious around people? You say you still care, yet show no sign of doing so. After the strength it took for me to come and voice my feelings to you multiple times you yelled in my face and blamed me for my feelings.

At that moment I knew it was truly over and when I could feel the ground beneath me start to crumble. When I said I was on the edge, I didn't lie. I'm standing on the edge, watching the waves crash below me and feeling every particle of dirt slowly fall there. I don't know where else to go but to run away.

Running away may be the best decision I've ever made for myself, or be the straw on the camels back. Either way, I'm lost and searching for answers, answers you refuse to give me since you obviously only see myself and my feelings as a toy to play with when your drunk. It hurts more to know that your best friend repeatedly told you how morbid and disgusting your actions were yet chose to let those words fall on deaf ears. If you valued me as a human, much less your friend, why would you behave in such a way?

I write this with tears threatening to leave, yet my heart filled with both love and fury for you. I want to say I wish you well but I'm not that good of a person. But I am not bad enough to wish you the worst. I'm conflicted on how to say goodbye to you and our memories, the photo in my wallet that follows me around, the videos on my phone, the memories that live in my heart and my dreams. I do love you, even still I do.

Somewhere your optimism has infected me and I'm hoping this is a nightmare or some cruel joke and you'll apologize with lilies like you did on valentines day, that you'll hold me in your arms and kiss me, telling me you've been an idiot and look at me as if I'm the only thing that matters, like you used to. Somewhere I'm hoping it happens.

But it won't, wont it?

so goodbye, thanks for at least pretending with me.

-from me.

#Heartbreak #openletter

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abbyheilman · 2 years ago

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The blonde knew that watching herself while at work and outside was an easy thing to do for her own security and if it was going to prevent him from worrying or going out of his way to ensure that she didn't run into any trouble, then it was worth it. There were shady people out there and she figured that things could only get more complicated now that she was hanging out with someone so closely affiliated to the club. She'd have to watch her back that much more because there was no telling whether Nash had made enemies throughout the years that she didn't know about. Perhaps there were some crazy ex-girlfriends who were going to try to key her car. "I don't know if pepper spray is the safest thing with me. I might accidentally get myself and then I'll be in even more trouble." She'd heard stories and seen first hand what that could do. It wasn't the most pleasant thing. "A taser is more useful." Not that she was trying to encourage him to get her anything, mainly because she didn't like the idea of having to be so close to someone to tase them. They could reach out and grab her and then she'd be in another world of trouble. The last thing she wanted him was to continue to defend him choices or explain why so she was happy when he didn't do that, but rather heard what she said. Her comment wasn't about the past actions he'd taken more than it was the fear that he would go ahead and do it again. The idea that his sister and mother had remained a constant didn't string as much as it had the first time because they were his family and she understood the need to provide and care for them as much as he could. The difference between herself and them was a little complicated to wrap her head around given how serious they'd been about one another but she tried her best not to dwell on it and rather look into the future. "It wouldn't be easy," the blonde said even if she imagined that he knew that. If something were to happen and his family was under threat, there wasn't any way that she could envision herself stopping her life or hiding out in some safe house that the club got for her. The last thing she wanted was to be protected but she wondered if that would come with the territory and how difficult it would be for him to juggle. Watching him leave on his bike without knowing whether he'd come back in one piece was something she dreaded, even now, when they weren't back together or fully into each others life. They both would have to decide if they were willing and felt it was worth trying to work through those trials and tribulations to have each other in their lives. Even if the ball was in her court initially, it would be both their decisions in the end. It had to be. Busying herself with a plate, she put some food on it and took a bite of her burger. It was delicious. After she finished eating the initial bite, she told him as much before almost choking on her beer at the question. "I don't know that I've had many weird ones on dates but I've had a lot of patients come into the hospital and give some pretty good pick up lines, especially when we give them pain medicine." The blonde smiled and tried to remember one. "A lot of the typical cliches like if it hurt when I fell from heaven." That one had been used a few times. "Then there's the: feel my shirt because it's boyfriend material." A little less bu tone that came to mind immediately. "I've had some pretty interesting encounters. What about you?" The blonde asked curiously, doubting that he hadn't been on any dates since they split up. "Doesn't have to be pickup lines but what's the funniest thing that happened to you on a date?" Perhaps that felt easier for him to answer.

"Could have huh? See, I knew you were secretly the villain." Nash jested, of course not believing the words that were being spoken. But he was continued to be hit with a wave of comfort. It’s so much darker when a light goes out than it would have been if it had never shone. He had seen that darkness, without her presence in his life and even if it was still all going to be temporary - he would look back fondly on these moments with her. Most likely, back to this very moment and hold on to it tightly. Where jokes were being presented and they could be so close in one another's presence without her launching all the hurt that he had caused her back at him as an intense reminder. He found himself staring a little too obviously over at her, lost in his thoughts. Nash shook his head before he could potentially be called out on it. "Thank you." Clearly noting that she didn't have to agree, or settle his worries in any sort of way. He didn't deserve that right and Nash knew she had survived all this time without him wanting her to be cautious. So it was not difficult to set forth that recognition. "I promise to not go over your head and say anything to the guys. I still respect your job, first or second." Nash finding it within himself to repeat that logic. It was just like the whole stipulations with him not setting foot in the hospital, it was a divided space that he didn't want to interfere with. "Just one day you might find a bottle of pepper spray tucked under like a door handle of your car or something." A small smirk, he was joking but on the other end of things he kind of wasn't. Nonetheless it could be taken both ways. "Well, just know it wasn't a competition between happiness. I know what I did, the choice I made and what I sacrificed. I can't take it back. We both know this." He paused before looking at her with his undivided attention. "I am not going to stand here and make endless promises. Because actions speak louder but I can note this, My Sister and Mom are still a constant in my life. If you choose that to want to be in my life through all my past fuck ups, then I won't ever push you away again. You're more likely to make that choice then me this time around. And maybe our story is really done but I will still be here standing tall until you decide you have had enough." We are a product of the choices we make, not the circumstances that we face. But one thing was for certain, the choice he made would not return or be making it's way around a second time. It was an one and done. Never again would he make that same choice. But that couldn't be known for a fact at least not in her mind, doubting should come with this topic of conversation. He respected that all he ever could do was reassure and prove it. But Nash knew, perhaps that still wasn't enough. That now that time had passed, she had more clarity then anyone. The tables could be flipped and she could realize that with his involvement, that wasn't something she could stand by. He easily took a plate she motioned towards him with. Nash grabbed a burger for himself and a handful of fries which covered his plate nicely. "Well, if you change your mind just let me know." Nash mused before sitting back down at the table. "So, first dates - what is the corniest line you have been told on one?" It was random but he was curious. A smile though surfaced as almost teasingly as more words played out. "I promise I won't try to be Casanova over here. Not sure how anyone could ever think pick up lines are anything but cringey."

#nash — threads

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rivalsforlife · 4 years ago

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Phoenix Wright: The Truth Reborn: Oh No We’re Doing This Again

hi.

Nearly two months ago, I wrote an essay summarizing and making very wild conclusions about the second Takarazuka Musical. I did this about two and a half years after watching the first Takarazuka musical. As such I did not have the full context for many things from the musical and was relying mostly on my memory, which blocked many things from this musical for my own safety. However, just this week, I decided to rewatch it, because I enjoy tormenting myself. I said I wouldn’t write anything on it. Here I am writing something on it.

Here’s the youtube thumbnail so that you know what you’re getting yourself into. And here, of course, is the link. This is the HD version which may be slightly more pleasant to watch. Maybe.

It was not quite as cringe in a funny way as the second musical to me, and therefore this essay may be less funny, but I feel like I’m doing a disservice to people by providing a summary of the second musical while completely neglecting the first. Quite possibly doing this is even more of a disservice. I just eagerly await the day that the third musical is translated because *that* will be the day that I finally shuffle off this mortal coil. Either way, I want to write this stuff down so that I never have to watch the musical again out of curiosity.

The following essay will contain major spoilers for both the first and second Phoenix Wright Takarazuka musicals, as I will be using many points from this musical to argue my thesis of the second musical. ... like you were going to watch them anyways.

This one broke 8k. I’m dead inside.

Introducing The Director

Again another disclaimer that I don’t have anything against the actresses or the theatre troupe. I DO have something against Suzuki Kei, who I recently learned is the writer and director of all three of the Ace Attorney Takarazuka musicals, and is quite possibly my mortal nemesis.

This man is the one who brought this monstrosity into the world.

This man, allegedly, cleared the first four ace attorney games *seven times* before sitting down to write these musicals. He played these goddamn games seven times and did not take in a single word. The man clicked through them mindlessly while watching a badly written legal romance drama in the background and got them completely confused. I genuinely have no idea how this man could have played these games more times than even me and yet managed to get so many characters (MAYA!!!!) completely and utterly wrong. This haunts me every day, truly.

This man played Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney, Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney - Justice for All, Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney - Trials and Tribulations, and Apollo Justice: Ace Attorney seven times. SEVEN TIMES EACH!! and was told to create a musical based on the series. He played these games seven times each and you know what he said?? You know what he said?? “This sucks, I’m getting rid of all of Phoenix’s backstory, butchering half the characters, and writing Phoenix/Lana fanfiction, but also rewriting all of Lana’s backstory so that she was Phoenix’s childhood friend, and you know what, I’m changing her name for good measure.”

I think this man played the games seven times each and then hated it so much and was so sick of it he tried to write something that destroyed as much of the series as possible while still being vaguely recognizable. And then somehow it became a massive hit because people like me see this and go “what the actual hell” and watch it, or people who haven’t played the games see this and go “wow what a great musical!” and then he wrote TWO MORE, destroying EVEN MORE every time in his wake, until finally, finally, he stopped after making Edgeworth straight and time traveling into the past to face off against a corrupt Gregory. I guess that was the last straw.

I have to issue a disclaimer here that for legal reasons this is a joke. I don’t actually hate this man and would not punch him in the face if I met him because that would be rude, and he is entitled to his wrong interpretation of the games. I don’t know what his thought process was. But allegedly he did play the games seven times according to the wiki. This whole essay here is satire and not slander and I don’t want to offend this guy if he somehow stumbles across my nonsense tumblr post. At the same time: Suzuki Kei blink twice if you need help.

Anyways half the reason that I’m making this essay is because I want to share my fake ao3 page for this musical. The other half will become apparent later.

Sorry if that’s illegible because of tumblr quality it’s not really important. All you really need to know is that it’s a fake ao3 screenshot for the musical. Also in the author’s note I said he played the games four times but it was actually seven I just remembered wrong because I didn’t want to believe it.

at this point you may be like “Grace shut up and get to the actual musical” and okay, fine, let’s start this nonsense. Also note that I may be referencing things from my essay on the second musical very frequently; I’m not going to force you to go read that though because the fact that you’re reading this is enough of a torment already.

The Musical Begins

Unlike the second musical, this one opens with some narration from Phoenix.

Transcript:

Phoenix: I’m reviewing a particular case at the moment. To me, this case... is one I’ll never forget.

Immediately I think this is important because it establishes that this whole musical takes place in a flashback that Phoenix is reflecting on. Why is this important? Because we know, by the time of the second musical which takes place three years later, Leona is dead.

Knowing that Leona is inherently doomed to die of her Sad Woman Disease paints this whole musical in a different light. It’s not Phoenix reflecting on how he got back together with his lover; it’s Phoenix dwelling on their past together, and the opportunities they had, before her life was so cruelly and inexplicably taken away. We don’t know if Phoenix’s reminiscing takes place before or after Leona’s death... but I wouldn’t be surprised if it was after.

Phoenix, still in the present, starts to sing. “A wave appears on the horizon like a mirage, it trembles, then vanishes. Your voice, carried upon the waves, fades upon the shore, erasing the splendor of the past.”

This line actually shows up in the second musical, sung by Lucia about her imprisoned fiance quite possibly. It’s kind of hard to tell what the meaning of these songs even are. They’re too abstract for me I think. But this line appears very frequently in the first musical when Phoenix is thinking about Leona.

Then we enter the flashback time.

Phoenix inexplicably yells at a newspaper saleswoman. This is not relevant to anything whatsoever. Then Larry barges in to the office, looking for Maya. Phoenix describes him as “A real trouble maker, but you just can’t hate the guy”, the latter part of which I think many people would disagree with.

Well, afterwards, Maya comes in. Phoenix describes her like this while making exaggerated “can you believe this shit” gestures.

Transcript:

Phoenix: She’s as ditzy as they come. Oh, and about the outfit... Apparently she comes from a family of spirit mediums. Try not to make fun of her, okay?

Suzuki Kei personally has it out for Maya and I can never forgive him for it. Maya in these musicals is here for pure comedic relief but it’s not even comedic because I just get so angry. How can you play the trilogy seven times and think this about her?? The girl who figured out DL-6?? The girl who told Phoenix to sacrifice her life in order to find the truth?? The girl who put on a brave smile in order to try and cheer up her younger cousin even after she saw her own mother murdered right in front of her eyes?? That Maya Fey?? Ditzy as they come??????

Ugh. Moving on.

Maya and Larry run off, leaving Phoenix to watch the American Broadcast.

Important things to note here are the Godot mug, the little line up of what I think are the messed up little ace attorney figurines beneath the screen, and the fact that while this broadcast is supposedly from and to America the screen is actually not at all showing America. Like literally almost everywhere in the world except North and South America.

The broadcast says that Leona Clyde, age 24, was arrested for murdering the senator Robert Cole! Leona Clyde -- that’s Phoenix’s ex-girlfriend! He runs off to the detention center.

She is not happy to see him.

Leona: Mr. Wright... I’m not the woman you once knew.

Let’s Play A Matching Game

Sorry for the abundance of screenshots that are going to be throughout this section. Phoenix convinces Leona to let him defend her. Some of the conversation seems... familiar.

Leona: No one would defend someone who admits to killing a senator. I’m waiting for a court-appointed attorney.

Edgeworth: Every defense attorney I’ve talked to has turned me down.

Phoenix: In that case, let me defend you.

Game Phoenix: Let me defend you.

Leona: Don’t be ridiculous!

Edgeworth: Don’t be ridiculous.

Phoenix: I’ll never accept that you’re a murderer. Let me prove your innocence!

Game Phoenix: Huh? Isn’t it obvious? I’m going to prove that Miles Edgeworth is innocent.

Leona: I’ve already confessed my guilt.

Gumshoe: He confessed that he did it! In court!

Leona: It’s foolish to think you can win this case.

Edgeworth: My case is near hopeless, Wright.

Leona: (in response to phoenix offering to defend her) No you won’t! Don’t ever come here again.

Edgeworth: Look, just go away, and leave me alone!

Phoenix: You of all people should know. Once I decide to do something, I see it through to the end.

Edgeworth: Once you start on something, you always see it through, don’t you?

Leona: I never thought that you’d be representing me.

Phoenix: Ah, who could have guessed this day would come?

Edgeworth: Not me.

Phoenix: You believed in me. You saved me. And this time, I swear... I swear I’ll save you!

Game Phoenix: Edgeworth believed in me, and I believe in him. I’m the only one who knows the real Edgeworth. I’m the only one who can help him.

I could’ve done a few more, but tumblr is already threatening to murder my laptop.

So long story short, Phoenix manages to convince his lover to let him be the defense on the case. Then immediately after swearing to save Leona, he starts singing a song, which I’m not screencapping because this is enough:

“As long as there are people in this world, there’s only one path I will follow! As long as there is love in this world, there’s only one path I will believe in!”

Edgeworth sings this in the second musical after saying that he returned to California because of Phoenix. Phoenix sings it now after swearing to defend Leona. You draw your own conclusions.

And then we finally get the opening credits. Eleven minutes in.

Just Pretend This Is Narumitsu Fanfiction

Following the credits, we see a beautiful beach. Couples (exclusively heterosexual, of course,) dance and embrace in the background for some time, before revealing Phoenix and Leona, in the Even Further Past, before the LSATs or whatever the ace attorney universe’s excuse for law school exams are.

Phoenix establishes his absolute hatred of change, an important characterization moment.

Phoenix: The view here never changes, huh?

Phoenix reminisces on when they were kids. Leona’s parents were both lawyers (they’re both lawyers) and sometimes they would be like lawyers with her when she was a kid. This inspired her to also become a lawyer after their tragic death of Sickness. They never specify what the sickness is that caused two people who must be relatively young to die while Leona was in her early twenties at the latest. It may be whatever sickness claimed Leona’s life later. Sad Woman Disease. (Sad Man Disease for her father, I guess?)

Phoenix also talks about why he’s becoming a lawyer.

Phoenix: Watching you chase your dream inspired me to become a lawyer too.

So, it’s not “my childhood friend looked sad in a newspaper” because I guess that makes no sense or is too gay or something. But this is another important piece of Phoenix characterization. His entire life so far has been focused around Leona. They’ve been friends since they were kids, and then Phoenix decided to become a lawyer solely because Leona was becoming a lawyer. Not even to try and get back into contact with her after she moved away or anything; just because he’s so obsessed with her that he wants to have the same career as her, then they can run a Mom & Pop Law Firm or something, years in the future, after years of happy marriage and a few children or like whatever the hell.

Well, there’s a few steps they’ll need to get to that. At this point Phoenix still hasn’t confessed his feelings for Leona. He does so here, on this beach.

Leona tries to protest.

Leona: But I’m pushy, selfish, and only care about my goals... You’d get fed up with me.

Phoenix: That’s what I’ve always admired about you. That’s who I’ve been chasing all these years. That’s the only person... I love.

Sooo, Phoenix, your type is pushy selfish people who only care about their goals...? In the first, older lower-quality video translation it was “only care about my work”, too. Hm. Things to think about.

They sing a little duet together. Then we go back to present-day of what’s technically still a flashback. Whatever. Murder is happening.

Back To The Murder

So some plot things to establish: Leona is the legal counsel of Governor Miller, who is running for president in the AMERICAN PRESIDENTIAL ELECTION. After the flashback so that Phoenix has some time to change clothes, they show an interview of him talking about the murder.

Governor Miller: I vow to forge a peaceful country with my own two hands, and to prepare myself for whatever may lie ahead.

Reporters: Through thick and thin, he’s a friend of the people!

The Takarazuka musicals are not very good at hiding their killers.

Phoenix: Oh yeah... It’s almost time for the presidential election, isn’t it?

NEVER FORGET, WRIGHT. THIS IS AMERICA. LAND OF THE FREE! god what even was that line.

Anyways, we meet Gumshoe, who is incompetent once again. Maya runs around the crime scene, picks up the murder weapon, puts her fingerprints all over everything, moves things around, all while Phoenix is like “lol get a load of the world’s stupidest girl” or whatever. But who cares about that.

It’s time to get to the only valid part of this musical.

Edgeworth’s Gay Little Villain Solo

You may have seen this one before.

Edgeworth arrives, but not really. It’s like Phoenix heard Edgeworth was prosecuting and immediately entered a dream-like state, where Edgeworth is heralded by the sound of trumpets in Great Revival. He’s played by a different actress than in the other two musicals, since I think she retired in between the six or so months from this musical to the second. She still plays the role well, though, or as well as can be when you’re written in an ace attorney Takarazuka musical.

Shrouded in scarlet solitude... it’s Edgeworth.

Yes, those are six Edgeworths. Yes, they pick Phoenix up and carry him around and dance with him. Yes, it was probably not meant to be at all homoerotic.

He sings a song that’s called “My rule”. I only figured this out later, but it’s loosely based on a “catchphrase” of his in the Japanese version - in game 1 he says something along the lines of “All I can do is get every defendant declared guilty! So I make that my policy.” In DD in his dramatic anime introduction before the trial, he says “I intend to question the defendant with all I have. For that is a part of my creed.” “So I make that my policy” and “For that is a part of my creed”, to my understanding, are both translated from the same line, which I think is like, “sore ga watashi no ruru”, “That is my rule.” (If I’m wrong, please correct me.) In this song he sings about how he’ll reduce all criminals to ash and such, basically talks about his game 1 prosecuting strategy as “my rule”.

It’s very fun and probably if you want to only watch one number of this musical, it can be this one. It starts about 26:10 in the video I linked.

Once the musical number is done, Phoenix and Edgeworth stare at each other, and the background fades into the courtroom, so court begins. I feel like I should note that Phoenix has not picked up any evidence or talked to any witnesses in this investigation except for Gumshoe, since Maya just moved some things around and then Phoenix had some weird fever dream about Edgeworth which presumably took up the rest of the day.

The Trial, Day 1

Edgeworth: Consider it a prelude to the poignant Greek tragedy that’s about to unfold.

Maya: The real tragedy’s your pompous attitude!

Those are the only screenshots I took of this trial day. Here’s a summary, though:

The trial starts off with Leona confessing, Phoenix says “no I think she’s innocent”, and since ace attorney doesn’t care about the defendant’s wishes he’s allowed to proceed. For some reason Leona lets him do this without complaint.

Gumshoe is the first witness, he claims to have caught Leona red-handed at the scene of the crime, standing over the corpse. Phoenix tries to claim that since Gumshoe didn’t see Leona committing the crime, he didn’t actually catch her red-handed, to which Edgeworth responds “What do you think being caught red-handed means?”

Once Gumshoe is dismissed, Lotta takes the stand. She has a photo of the actual moment of the crime, where Leona is holding a knife in the air in front of the victim.

The Takarazuka musicals like to do this thing where the image is blurry and zoomed out, but then Phoenix will go “I’VE NOTICED A CONTRADICTION” and it zooms in really far as the resolution increases drastically in order to show you the contradiction that is impossible to spot for yourself, because they don’t want people figuring out the mystery in this musical based off of a video game where you have to solve the mystery yourself. Anyways Phoenix zooms in on this photo and sees that there’s blood on Leona’s hand, presumably before she stabbed the victim. How did it get there?

Edgeworth suggests the victim was stabbed multiple times. Phoenix says the autopsy report contradicts that. Edgeworth, uncharacteristically, does not update it to suit his argument.

Phoenix concludes that this photo is not showing the moment Leona stabbed the victim, but the moment Leona removed the knife! ... Which somehow casts doubt on her having been the one to stab the victim. Because as everyone knows, anyone wanting to kill someone would never remove a knife, it’s not like they’d bleed out faster that way, or anything.

And this whole contradiction is confusing because presumably if the victim was stabbed and then the knife was removed, they’d know that happened, because then the knife would not be found stuck in the victim’s body, since the victim was only stabbed once. So this shouldn’t be news to the prosecution that someone removed the knife after stabbing. But the investigation was headed by the most incompetent version of Gumshoe ever, so. sure. I guess no one knew.

That at least manages to extend the trial another day.

This Totally Has To Be Illegal

After the trial, Phoenix goes to talk to Governor Miller, aka Mr. Totally The Real Killer. Phoenix asks him why he decided to hire Leona as his legal advisor.

Basically, it’s because her parents were both renowned lawyers. Her father was a Chief Prosecutor, and her mother was a defense attorney. ... a prosecutor and a defense attorney couple... who does that remind us of...

Phoenix points out that just because her parents were good lawyers, it doesn’t mean she’d necessarily be one. Miller says that, sure, but she is actually really talented, and her law school marks were spectacular. Phoenix says “WHY WERE YOU LOOKING AT HER LAW SCHOOL MARKS”, like it’s somehow? suspicious? for a government official hiring legal counsel to look at their law school marks?

Apparently it IS suspicious because Governor Miller freaks out and asks if this is an interrogation. Before Phoenix can press much further, he gets a phone call, and leaves Phoenix alone in a big room.

So naturally Phoenix behaves like a fully grown adult running a law firm.

If all he did was sit in the chair, lift up a desk lamp, and poke his finger on a pen, that’s one thing. But then he leans over, OPENS THE GOVERNOR’S DESK DRAWER, and finds a knife that’s just sitting there casually. It looks like a butter knife. It’s not anything major. Maybe the dude just wanted to butter his toast?

I mean I know Phoenix will dig around in stuff whenever in the games, but he has no reason to suspect Governor Miller at all, much less dig through his drawer probably full of confidential government documents to lift up a knife that he thinks is suspicious. It’s not even covered in blood or anything?

Naturally Governor Miller’s assistant comes in just then, and Phoenix puts the knife. in his breast pocket.

bud. It may look like a butter knife, but putting knives up against your chest is not a great idea. Much less stealing a knife from a governor?

Well, in his panic, he accidentally knocks over a bunch of books on the desk. The governor’s assistant helps him pick them up, and they find a photo. Look a little familiar?

The photo has the assistant, the victim Robert Cole, Governor Miller, and the victim’s brother who died in an incident two years ago. He’s the “Neil Marshall” of this musical, and he died in what was essentially the SL-9 incident. Same general premise, except it occurred in the courthouse, and the names are different.

AND FINALLY WE REACH THE END OF ACT 1. They do a musical number here which is a weird sort of mashup of the main opening credits song, Edgeworth’s Villain Solo, and the love duet between Phoenix and Leona. They are all such different songs that it sounds a little weird.

ACT 2, FINALLY

The act begins on a sour note with Maya playing with the knife and showing off her characterization, which is one of the most infuriating Maya characterizations you’ll sometimes see around the fandom by people who don’t like Maya.

Maya: Let me whip up my special spirit channeler hamburgers!

sigh.

But then we’re saved (?) by the arrival of EDGEWORTH, who is presumably just here to chat. He asks Phoenix if he’s defending Leona in hopes of winning her back, then says to keep out of it, since it’s a very important case and he can’t understand the gravity of it.

Then Phoenix says this.

Phoenix: Would you be saying that if you were the one on trial? The defendant is in a dark prison, reaching out for hope... Can you imagine the loneliness and sorrow of being ostracized?

CAN YOU IMAGINE IT, EDGEWORTH? CAN YOU IMAGINE IF YOU WERE ON TRIAL AND I WAS THE ONLY ONE WHO WOULD DEFEND YOU AND BELIEVED IN YOUR INNOCENCE??

Edgeworth responds to this by essentially rehashing his speech in Turnabout Sisters about how he needs to find all defendants guilty because he can’t guarantee their innocence and all that. Maya gets upset and leaves so that Phoenix and Edgeworth can talk about their childhood in private.

Phoenix once again complains about how people change since nine years old.

Phoenix then says that he has something Edgeworth doesn’t: the POWER TO BELIEVE! Then Maya comes in and tries to spike Edgeworth’s coffee, so he leaves.

The Class Trial

Phoenix explains a bit about Edgeworth and his backstory to Maya. Namely, the class trial. Phoenix was accused of stealing lunch money, Edgeworth stood up for him, but instead of Larry, Leona stood up for him. I guess Suzuki Kei thought “oh the class trial, if Leona stood up for him, it would be so romantic, because she’s a woman, and he’s a man”, or something like that.

Edgeworth wanted to become a Great Lawyer Like His Father! But then he turned cold as ice.

Phoenix: His father got too deeply involved in a case... and paid for it with his life. Edgeworth saw him murdered. He was never the same again. I bet he couldn’t forgive the criminal.

Yeah I bet he couldn’t ever forgive the person he thought killed his father all these years, Phoenix. I bet he really hates that person, Phoenix. I bet he has nightmares about that person killing his father or something, Phoenix.

Phoenix: He vanished, then returned without his mercy or compassion. He had become a monster. When he lost his father, he also lost the ability to believe in others.

So like... one of the most chilling things about this musical is that they never actually solve DL-6. This probably roughly takes place 15 years after DL-6, since they were about the same age when the class trial started, and at least Leona is 24 now. The next musical takes place three years from now, and in it, Edgeworth refers to von Karma as his mentor, implying he’s still around and doing things.

So, in addition to everything else going wrong with this musical, DL-6 still happens, but von Karma never frames Edgeworth for it fifteen years later. The statute of limitations runs out, and von Karma forever gets away with his crime. And Edgeworth has no idea.

What changes did they make to DL-6, though, you may ask? I’m desperate to know as well. In the third musical, which I’ve watched because I hate myself but am unable to fully understand because I don’t know much Japanese, there is a scene where Miles flashbacks to DL-6. It’s abstract, but he makes gun-throwing motions at Gregory, followed by a gunshot sound.

Therefore, in this musical’s internal canon, either Miles Edgeworth shot his father, or he believes he did for the rest of his life.

... moving on.

Phoenix: But he still has his humanity. It’s still there, deep down inside!

At least, if nothing else, Phoenix still believes in him. Even this Takarazuka Musical couldn’t touch that.

The Feenie Sweater

Right after this, Larry barges in, and Phoenix leaves him alone with Maya. The musical tries teasing Larry/Maya, but fortunately, Maya’s having none of it.

Maya: You’re barking up the wrong tree.

Props to this musical for not being as bad as it could have been.

After this, the two sit down on the couch, and Maya asks for more gossip on Phoenix and Leona. Larry launches into a story, which turns into a flashback that ends up being narrated by Phoenix halfway through. This one’s about Phoenix and Leona’s relationship.

This is an interesting line in here, “I’ll guide you to the future”, for it loosely referencing the sort of love ballad Phoenix sings with Lucia in the second musical which is about “I’ll take you to that radiant future”, and he later sings to the memory of Leona right around the time of his big spiral into despair.

I’m sorry if you haven’t read my other essay and just said “wait what” to what I just typed.

Leona was getting ready to move to New York to defend the weak “in the big city”. This is rather strange wording because it implies that California does not in fact have a big city. She says some things in her conversation with Phoenix that probably plant some of his later issues.

Leona: This is the first time we’ll be apart since we were kids.

Leona: We promised we’d always be together.

Leona: I’ll be waiting. Waiting for you to come to me.

Haha. Sure would be a shame... if something were to happen... and they wouldn’t be able to be together anymore...

So some dancers wearing black come in and take off their outer jackets, to symbolize the passage of time. They circle around Phoenix and Leona. In this, you can just barely see, Phoenix is wearing a pink sweater beneath his jacket.

“Oh,” I think to myself, “Is that the Feenie sweater? Are they including it here as a reference to the games?”

Then the dancers keep moving.

THAT IS NOT THE FEENIE SWEATER. That is a pink sweater with a sexily drawn woman on it.

This is the other half of the reason why I decided to go through with making this essay.

This is so incredibly funny to me. Suzuki Kei Who Has Played The Games Seven Times has seen the hand-knit bright pink sweater with a giant red heart on it seven times. The sweater Iris, Phoenix’s girlfriend, lovingly knit for him that he wears all the time even though it is one of the tackiest, cheesiest items of clothing to ever exist. And so, when the costume designers were designing the clothes for College Phoenix Wright, they asked themselves: “Should we include the Feenie sweater?”

and “NO,” someone must have shouted, “NO, we can NOT include the Feenie sweater, it is PINK and it has a HEART on it and it’s TOO GIRLY. Phoenix Wright is a MANLY MAN. He would not EVER wear something PINK with a HEART on it.”

“BUT,” someone else said, “it’s a REFERENCE to the original games, where he DID wear a pink sweater with a heart on it! We MUST include it to pander to the fans!”

“WAIT,” a third person interjected. “I have a BRILLIANT IDEA. We can keep the pink... But to make it VERY CLEAR he is a heterosexual, masculine male... we put a sexy woman on it.”

And Person Three Got A Raise.

Thank god we’re finally halfway done this musical.

We Just Have To Go On With Our Lives Now

There’s plot or something happening. Leona breaks up with Phoenix inexplicably over the phone. Probably because of that freaking sweater. Imagine wearing that. God.

Eventually we go back to Phoenix talking to Leona, and he asks about the Jack Lyon case, which is the rip-off version of the Joe Darke case. Leona is pretty cagey about it, but Phoenix proves that she was there in the gallery that day. Leona refuses to answer, claims again that she killed the victim in her case, and leaves.

This makes Phoenix sad, so he starts singing.

Phoenix: I want to bring you back! I believe in you.

If this sounds familiar, it’s the part where I started absolutely losing my mind in the second musical because this line had never shown up before then, I’d forgotten it was in this musical, and Phoenix was screaming it alone in a red room, so I thought he was like desperately resorting to a necromancy ritual in hopes of bringing Leona back to life.

Instead, this line actually has CONTEXT, though it does just end up enforcing my theory. This is Phoenix mourning what he used to have with Leona, wanting to bring the “old her” back, because he’s devastated that people sometimes change. There are several flashbacks of their college days where he’s wearing his Sexy Woman Sweater. He does succeed in winning her back at the end of this musical. Before she dies, of course.

Phoenix in musical 2 still believes that he can bring back what he used to have with Leona... even beyond death. That’s something affirmed by this musical. I’m very grateful to it for somehow managing to enforce my nonsensical theory.

Doctor Ema

After this, Phoenix returns to his office, and meets with someone new.

That’s right! Only now, halfway through the musical, do we actually get to meet the Ema-equivalent to Leona’s Lana-equivalent. Her name is Monica Clyde. She has little rainbow heart stickers on her briefcase, which is the closest thing this musical has to acknowledging that gay people exist.

But what does this little briefcase contain, you may ask? Scientific investigation tools? No.

A full surgical toolset. Because you never know when someone’ll get sick, or when someone will need an entire operation in front of you. I guess.

So yes, Monica Clyde is not a forensic scientist in training, but a doctor! She decided to become a doctor because of her parents, who passed away of The Sickness, and so became a doctor in order to save lives like theirs.

Once more this has much darker and deeper implications than the musical is even aware of, because Monica is so anxious about treating sick people that she carries a full surgical toolset around with her at all times, scared to lose someone like she lost her parents... and then sometime in the next three years, Leona, her big sister, is going to die.

Of what? The strange Sickness that claimed her parents? A car accident? A botched spur-of-the-moment surgery? Whatever it is, Monica was unable to save her, even when she’d been training her entire life for it.

Monica is not mentioned at all throughout the second musical. It’s as if she does not exist.

Because unlike Ema of Rise From The Ashes, Monica is not at the heart of this story. She is, primarily, a plot device here to make Leona not trust Phoenix so that he can angst about their relationship.

What a mess this world is.

The Trial, Part 2

Rather than try to prove Leona’s innocence, Phoenix wants to link the current case to not-SL-9, the Jack Lyon case. He does this by showing this picture.

Senator Cole, the victim, is in this picture. His younger brother whose name I’ve forgotten, the victim of not-SL-9, is also in this picture. They are brothers. It is apparently novel that they are in the same picture, and somehow makes their cases linked.

As well, Governor Miller is in the picture. I guess you could say like... Governor Miller’s legal counsel is the defendant, so that’s another link? Even though the Governor would presumably know a Senator, so this isn’t an unusual group. Right now Phoenix has absolutely nothing to prove that these two cases are linked other than “hey, these two victims are brothers”, but apparently it works. So they spend a lot of time talking about not-SL-9, since Leona has confessed to the murder on day 1 and there is absolutely nothing indicating that she can’t be immediately declared guilty.

They hid the fact that Monica was a hostage in this not-SL-9, meaning that some of the case records were forged. Here’s Edgeworth’s reaction when this comes out.

Edgeworth: This is an outrage! I’m the most influential prosecutor in America! There’s nothing I don’t know!

In RFTA, when Edgeworth learns he’d been using forged evidence to give a man the death penalty, he is devastated, his entire worldview is shaken, he sees himself as a monster who could end up becoming horribly corrupt if he isn’t stopped.

Musical Edgeworth goes “I DIDN’T KNOW SOMETHING???”

It’s certainly strange characterization, but I guess Edgeworth is further behind in his character arc than in RFTA, so... ugh. Fine.

Phoenix calls Monica out as a witness to prove she was involved in the case. This causes Leona to panic, and try to dismiss Phoenix as her attorney, like Lana in RFTA, but Edgeworth interjects to call Monica in anyways. He and Phoenix have a little moment.

Edgeworth: You said to believe in others. I suppose I’ll try believing in you. Try to keep up.

Phoenix: Edgeworth!

So Monica comes to the stand to testify. We get to see this picture of Monica being held hostage, and not-Joe-Darke’s incredible eyeliner.

Lots of it is very similar to the actual RFTA, except instead of the victim being stabbed on the knight with the giant knife, he’s instead stabbed with a regular old knife. Leona still refuses to admit to what really happened, until Edgeworth convinces her to believe in Phoenix.

Edgeworth: Your attorney is a runaway train with a one-track mind. Yet he placed all of his faith in you. Believe in him. You owe him that much.

Leona testifies, and says that when she found the victim, he was stabbed with a scalpel.

Here is where things get weird.

Scalpels Can’t Kill People

So basically earlier in this trial, they talk about how Leona knew that the knife that stabbed the victim was double-edged despite being buried in his chest. The judge questions if this means Leona killed him, but Phoenix is quick to say no, she was searched when she entered the courthouse and couldn’t have concealed a knife.

Yet, Monica was able to bring in her surgical toolkit which contains several sharp knives, scalpels, scissors, etc.

This is the first major contradiction.

Leona continues to say that when she found Monica, and the scalpel stabbed in the victim, she also ran into Governor Miller, who if you haven’t been able to tell yet is the Gant-equivalent of this musical. He offered to help her with the cover-up, etc.

The next bit goes a lot like RFTA. Phoenix accuses Governor Miller, who barges in, says Phoenix has the decisive evidence in his pocket. This is the “butter knife” that Phoenix took from his office when he dug around in confidential documents and stole it for no particular reason. It has Monica’s fingerprints on it! ... And Phoenix’s and Maya’s too probably because they were handling it without gloves, but they don’t mention that part.

Leona cries about how she shouldn’t have trusted Phoenix because he was apparently now blaming Monica, Monica looks terrified, she and Leona have some good sister moments but it’s not as good as it could be if the story was actually about Leona and Monica like how RFTA was about Lana and Ema. But Phoenix has the decisive piece of evidence that can turn this around.

It is this:

Phoenix: Scalpels are made for medical incisions, not stabbings. So how did it stab the victim?

...

... What?

So like. Yes, scalpels are made for medical incisions. Medical incisions often involve cutting through flesh, very easily. As a result, they are sharp. Extremely sharp. As in: their purpose is literally to stab people, very specifically.

Yes, they’re easier to control, so that surgeons don’t regularly stab people how they’re not supposed to be stabbed, but it’s not like, impossible to stab someone in a killing way with a scalpel? Admittedly, I have never tried to kill someone using a scalpel. And I do not have experience using a scalpel for surgeries because I am not a surgeon. But I’m pretty sure, if you take a sharp scalpel, and you stab someone in the chest with it with a reasonable amount of force... they die.

Like, is this a particular kind of scalpel that is not very sharp? Is the problem that the blade doesn’t match up with the initial wound? But even then, we don’t have the original unforged autopsy report or even a picture, so how would Phoenix know what the original wound looked like to say it didn’t match up? And even then why wouldn’t Phoenix say that instead of SCALPELS CAN’T STAB PEOPLE???

This is his decisive contradiction and it makes ABSOLUTELY NO SENSE TO ME!!!

Well Darn I Guess Scalpels Can’t Kill People

This is such a decisive piece of evidence, that scalpels can’t kill people, coming from the man who thought “caught red-handed” does not involve being caught standing over a corpse with blood on your hands, that it causes Governor Miller to confess.

Unlike Gant, who created the murder with Neil Marshall both to ensure that there was decisive evidence to convict Joe Darke, a serial killer who had not left any decisive evidence behind, and gain control over the prosecutor’s office in order to pull similar stunts to get criminals convicted using false evidence, Governor Miller does not have that as his motive. After all, he’s not a police officer. Instead, he ended up accidentally killing not-Joe-Darke, and then set up the incident in order to get Leona on his side. As her parents were both influential lawyers and very respectable, having her and her parents’ reputation on his side could help him become President of America Where This Takes Place.

So, let’s just take a moment to run over some of the things that made the original Rise From The Ashes great, in my opinion. Just for fun.

1 - The heart of the story between the Skye sisters. Lana closing off to protect Ema, Ema wanting to get through to her sister and get back to the way things used to be. Phoenix, in this story, is more of a bystander to this plotline rather than in the heart of it himself.

2 - Edgeworth’s Character Development. Basically RFTA creates an interesting transition between Turnabout Goodbyes and JFA. It causes Edgeworth to re-evaluate everything he knows about being a prosecutor. So quickly on the heels of Turnabout Goodbyes, it crushes the last bit of hope in him. It compares him to Gant, who also hates criminals, and forces him to wonder if his hatred of crime will one day lead to him being a criminal himself. He’s already convicted one person on forged evidence; how many others could there be?

3 - The Ends Justify The Means. ... wait come back, don’t leave. What I found neat about this case was also Gant’s motive. At one point he was presumably an honest person who hated crime and wanted to stop criminals. But over time in the police force, he became corrupted. He wanted to have all criminals convicted. So what do you do when you don’t have the evidence to convict them? Joe Darke was a serial killer who has killed several people and may have killed more if he’d gone free. The only way to stop and convict him was by using forged evidence. Other criminals could hide evidence to get away with their crimes, so people like Gant would make it up to catch them; but then when do you stop? What happens if there’s no evidence because someone is truly innocent? When does the line between “this person is a criminal and I want to stop them” and “I just want to convict everyone I’m dealing with” become blurred? This is also something he shares with Edgeworth and helps to advance his character.

All three of these things are either lessened or outright ignored in this musical. Leona and Monica’s story takes a backseat to Phoenix and Leona’s Love Story, with Monica only showing up halfway through, and mainly as an excuse as to why Leona is withdrawn. Edgeworth doesn’t seem to blame himself for the forged evidence he used, and doesn’t have a crisis questioning his morality over it. And Governor Miller’s motive is purely power. Unlike Gant, who would have become Chief of Police whether he solved SL-9 or not, Miller needed Leona to win the presidency. And instead of asking her to help him with his campaign like a normal person, he just blackmailed her instead.

... How do you play the games seven times and miss this much?

The Case Finally Ends

god. we’re almost there.

The case ends, Leona is declared not guilty but will still face trial for covering up murders and such. Probably less of a sentence than Lana because she was not involved in ongoing police corruption? Either way she’s dead in three years, so she’s got something a bit more concerning coming up.

She’s led away. Phoenix sings a bit about Leona before being interrupted by Edgeworth... who has something important to tell him.

Edgeworth: You awakened within me those once-cherished emotions I had discarded. I see visions of a distant, nostalgic past.

So basically this is the unnecessary feelings of the musical. Something along the lines of “seeing you again and fighting for my former ideals is making me question many things about myself.”

How does Phoenix respond?

Phoenix: Edgeworth... Try talking normally for a chance.

Sure, we were all thinking it, but that’s a little cold, Phoenix.

Edgeworth tries a smooth recovery.

Edgeworth: I don’t do... idle chit-chat.

This doesn’t accomplish much. So he leaves to allow Leona to visit with Phoenix alone. He’s got to go change for something more important coming up.

Leona and Phoenix decide that they’re going to get back together once Leona is done her sentence! They make a promise that is very funny if you know she’ll be dead in three years.

Phoenix: I’ll be waiting. For you.

There are a lot of hugs here, I’m not screencapping them all. There are also several moments where their faces get very close together and like, their nose brushes the other’s cheek or something, but they never actually kiss. Is it because the actresses weren’t comfortable with it (valid), or they thought kissing would be too much for the musical (sure, whatever), or since both characters are played by women the show staff did not want two women kissing on stage (probably the real answer)? I don’t like watching kisses, but I kept bracing myself for one and then it never happened, so.

Phoenix ends the main part of the musical with one last musical number starring my personal favourite piece:

Phoenix: I want to bring you back! I believe in you.

I like to think that at this point, this is present-day Phoenix, after finishing his reminiscing, still desperately wishing he could bring Leona back from death.

But alas, he cannot. And so, after one last daydream of them dancing together on the beaches of California, singing about their love, the musical ends.

Dance Time!

This starts at exactly the two hour mark, if you’re interested in watching what is, once again, one of the only fun parts of this musical.

Seriously, Edgeworth’s actress kills it here, when I first saw this I went “oh, this is why I saw so many people being gay for her on twitter.”

Edgeworth’s song is an encore of “My Rule”, so it’s lots of fun. Afterwards Phoenix gets another fun piece.

Then we get to the love ballad part, which I can probably overanalyze, I feel like I haven’t done enough ridiculous over-analyzing in this essay in comparison to the other.

Uhhh so the fog represents how Phoenix feels lost in this world without Leona. You can see it in the second screenshot separating the two of them, representing the barrier of death between the two of them. Idk it’s midnight I’m getting worn out from having to think about this musical for so long.

But his mourning over Leona’s death becomes even more apparent in the credits, where Phoenix sings that one line again:

Phoenix: I want to bring you back! I believe in you.

I’m not fixing that screenshot, I think it’s oddly fitting, in a way. That’s me right now.

Then at the very end, he sings this song.

Phoenix: I’ll spend... this eternal life... soaring through... the heavens!

Technically, this refers to his name Phoenix, but let’s dig a little deeper. He spends the rest of his life soaring through the heavens... the heavens that Leona went to after her untimely death, perhaps?

Overall, the musical becomes much more interesting when you just see it as a prequel to the second musical. This musical establishes many core concepts of Phoenix’s character: his refusal to believe in the concept of things changing, for one, and also his extreme dependency on Leona who he was never separated from since they were kids and where he based his entire life around her dreams and ideals. All he can think about is her. And in the end, he promises to wait for her in California.

Yet, to paraphrase Miles Edgeworth, all that is waiting for him is her death. Their dream of opening up a Mom & Pop Law Firm will never come true.

Thanks again for bearing with me even though this wasn’t as funny!

#ace attorney #phoenix wright the truth reborn #idk maybe someone wanted to know what the first musical was like without actually watching it?#my essays #my posts #i'm TIRED i'm going to BED goodNIGHT #this is less funny jokes and more actually criticizing the musical #because so much of this is like. wow. you really thought that was a good idea huh #just skip to the feenie sweater part honestly that's the funniest part of this musical

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youarejesting · 4 years ago

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Sly like a... ? Part 2

[Master list] [Sly Master List] Beta: n/a (at the moment) Rating: All Pairing: Hybrid!BTS x FailedHybrid!Reader Genre: Hybrid au, fluff, action, adventure, angst, drama, slice of life. Some marked chapters will contain mature/smut scenes, BUT they will not have plot in those scenes and are 100% skippable without losing your place in the story. Words: 2.1k

Summary: Human’s strive to be better, faster and stronger looking to animal DNA. Thus Hybrids are born. As the rise for designer and Pedigree Hybrids increase, so do the failed attempts. There is one species scientists are unsuccessful in creating, but, folklore says they have been here all along, hiding and blending in with the humans for many millennia. How clever they are.

[First] [Next]

It was your dream to convert a large warehouse on the outskirts of town into a home and education center for Hybrids. Somewhere they could learn to be self-sufficient. You would have professors and volunteers, teaching and fundraising, all for the day you could buy another warehouse on the other side of town. You wanted it to become the norm that these Hybrid facilities would build and grow in every city. Allowing the Hybrids to become an independent race no longer looked down upon by society.

You were on the last day of your heat and craving something savory. As it was late your best option was the convenience store that was always open late.

Things were falling into place as you received an email earlier that day confirming that all the items you had requested were acquired. That meant school books, equipment, and more. You were also granted the first loan for the Hybrids, a loan you would receive every term. The board wanted no less than five and no more than ten participants for an adequate examination of results.

You assumed for the program to be officially approved, you would have to show successful results from Hybrids with different backgrounds during this trial. That meant different ages and different upbringings. Wondering if it was worth visiting the adoption agency or perhaps a Hybrid store, it wouldn’t hurt for more variables.

Shaken from your thoughts by a shadowed figure rustling through the garbage, in a dark alley between the antiques and postal office. Your ears picked up the sound easily, feet scuffing to a halt on the pavement catching the Hybrid’s attention. Their eyes searched the dark for any sign of threat before falling upon you, a deep growl resonating on the wind. It was best to not get involved with stray Hybrids, they tended to be more violent. This is what you were doing the program for, to stop Hybrids from ending up homeless and on the streets. To prove that they aren’t dangerous and are capable of learning.

Struck by an idea, if you could get a Hybrid from the street to join the trial program, you could prove they weren’t violent and show that given the opportunity they could all learn and grow into members of society.

“Can I buy you dinner?” You called out, voice cracking from the cold. Your breath puffed out like smoke visible between you both. The night brought you more energy, it made you feel alive.

Cars passed, their headlights illuminating the entire alleyway and reflecting in his eyes a blood-red. He stalked forward, his body moving gracefully but you could see he was hurt, his shirt ripped and there was a strong scent of blood in the breeze. That was a downside to having heightened senses. You tried to control the disgusted look on your face, “I will pay and there is nothing else to it, just sit and have dinner with me, so I don’t look like a woman in her mid to late twenties eating alone at a convenience store”

He looked you up and down, it was then you noticed his features, he was a feline, not a common house cat. No, he was a big predator.

“Do I look like some charity case? Some pathetic creature who needs help from a human?” His words rumbled from his chest in a growl. You wanted to correct him that you weren’t exactly human yourself but decided against it. Stuck somewhere between Hybrid and human you didn’t fit in either category.

“What’s it to you? My reason is my reason, just take the free meal. Hell! Exploit me for a free meal, anything you want, go crazy.” You shrugged, trying desperately to charm him. He seemed to contemplate his choices for a moment before turning to walk away. You scrambled for your wallet and grabbed out twenty dollars, holding it out to him.

“Wait! At least take this; if you don’t want to eat with me, get something warm, and here is my card if ever you need help.”

He eyed the money but didn’t move to take it. Hoping he wouldn’t rip your arm off, you grabbed his hand. You knew it was risky. His fingers were cold, but you didn’t want to linger and make him mad, quickly placing the money on his palm with your business card.

“Have a good night, mister,” He nodded confused about the whole encounter, before shoving his hands in his pockets and leaving. It seemed even if you tried your best, it wouldn’t be enough to persuade him. He was too defensive, the best you could hope for was that he would stay safe in the cold.

What trials and tribulations must you go through to have these Hybrids trust and confide in you? Hopefully, it wouldn’t be this hard to get through to the group of Hybrids you were soon to obtain.

This was going to be a rather difficult experiment and you weren’t sure if it was going to go well but you hoped with every fiber of your being that you would see this through for the sake of the Hybrids.

That night you dreamed about the group of participants being hostile and unresponsive to the program, it did little to soothe your nerves the next morning. When you received an email about the new house. Jimin would have the key and would meet you outside later that day with the other Hybrids. No matter who they were, you were going to make sure they were achieving the best result they could.

The government had registered two Hybrids in your name, their files attached to the confirmation email. The two participants were so contrasting, Hoseok was a deer Hybrid, from a small farming family. The other was a Lion Hybrid by the name of Namjoon. He was from New Zealand and had participated in another government program regarding genius Hybrids.

Altogether, there were four: Namjoon the genius, Hoseok the country bumpkin, Taehyung, and Jimin. You decided to look for possible participants within the Hybrid store, and rehoming center. That would give you a wide variety of variables for the experiment; each would have a different background and would require different tools to help them.

You started at the nearest Hybrid shop. There were several rooms each with an observation window, a photo card, and a brief description of the Hybrid sitting, reading or playing video games inside. It was such a small space, how could they live in these tiny rooms every day until someone adopted them. Reading their descriptions by the windows you analyzed each of them, your attention caught by one playing video games. He had dark ears that stuck out from his dark hair. He seemed fun and you thought it would be easy to connect with him.

Hello, My name is Jungkook, I am twenty-three and I am a fully vaccinated Melanistic Jaguar.

You didn’t bother reading the rest, thinking you would like to learn about him properly, “Sir, I would like to adopt this Hybrid,” You declared, whilst walking towards the counter to begin the paperwork. Once everything was signed the young Jaguar boy was led from his small room. He looked nervous holding a small store backpack filled with all his essential items.

On the drive to the next location, you were the one doing most of the talking, receiving quiet one-word answers and small fidgets. He seemed excited when you finally parked the car, you guessed he was eager to see his new home.

However, as you walked towards the menacing rehoming center, he grew quieter and quieter, slowing to a stop before the entrance. Looking at his feet crying profusely, you realized how this must look. He must have thought he had done something wrong, how could he think you would buy him and rehome him on the same day.

“Jungkook, I am not abandoning you, I am picking up a brother for you to play with.” It took a few moments to console the young man. Wiping his tears and giving him a few pats on the head careful of his ears.

Deciding anyone younger than Jungkook would be too much to handle. “You have to help me find a big brother, someone you think will be really nice and that you like to play with, what do you think? Can you do that for me?”

Jungkook nodded, sniffing and wiping his eyes on his sleeve. “Okay, I can do that,”

The inside of the rehoming center smelt like disinfectant, you explained you were looking for another Hybrid and were led to a large room. There were Hybrids of all ages all playing and entertaining themselves with different activities.

It was overwhelming even for you, so you grasped Jungkook’s hand and encouraged him to look around, “Hey, what about ping pong?” You grinned at Jungkook who smiled playing a few rounds with you, the two of you giggling.

“Have I told you I am the ping pong master,” an older Hybrid grinned, he had a striped tail. You handed over the paddle and stood near Jungkook. “Do you want to play a game?”

Jungkook nodded, was this boy unable to say no. Either way, the two were getting along quickly, the older Hybrid was very playful and funny, even as he lost you were holding your sides from the laughter and Jungkook seemed to grow really comfortable with him.

Talking to one of the volunteers she explained that Seokjin was a raccoon hybrid and the oldest in the center. She explained that he often took the younger hybrids under his wing. It was an easy decision to adopt him. While you were filling out the paperwork, Jungkook was telling you all about his match with Seokjin.

“And I got the winning shot,” He grinned, swinging his arm like he was hitting an invisible ping pong ball.

“He seems really fun, would he make a good big brother?” It was cute how he nodded wholeheartedly. “Jungkook why don’t you go tell him that he is coming home with us?”

He grew embarrassed again, his dark ears twitching but followed the volunteer nonetheless. You were quick to finish up the last of the paperwork before the two came back laughing volunteer in tow.

“Unbelie-Bubble” Seokjin said before squeaking in laughter. He had all of his things and like Jungkook was nervous, but he showed it through talking.

You felt good with your selection, there was a Hybrid for every walk of life and socio-economic background. This would be perfect for the trial. They all seemed like lovely young Hybrids and you could already see them forming friendships.

It was on your way out that you saw a familiar face struggling against Hybrid control. “This is your last time, you know what happens to strays.”

“Wait!” You shouted, everyone in the lobby froze turning to look at you, the cold room felt quite warm with all of the attention “He is mine”

They froze looking between you and the hybrid before letting him go curiously. The injured Hybrid staggered over to you, knowing this was his best chance at survival, “why didn’t you tell them my name?” you asked him curiously but he kept his head down.

“This white tiger Hybrid is yours?” The handler spoke in disbelief, practically accusing you of lying. “why is he not microchipped, or registered in our system?”

“I was supposed to register him last week when I got him but I had been busy with work, I would like to properly register him under my name today,” You didn’t break under this man's pressure, you could notice the more he held eye contact the more he seemed to falter himself. “so that you will stop taking him in when he is harmlessly walking the streets”

The man opened his mouth to argue but you blinked up at him, watching him lower his hand.

“I am so sorry miss, we didn't mean to cause you trouble?” It wasn’t exactly odd behavior, you often found your arguments nullifying this way. You liked to think that your self-confident stare was what made people give in.

“Miss we have just noticed some suspicious activity in your account it says you have adopted four Hybrids today,” The woman behind the desk said, “We are legally required to ask your intentions or we can detain the Hybrids from you”

Almost questioning her, you remembered the government was placing two Hybrids in your name; they would be arriving today as well. With a smile you removed a folder from your bag, “I have a grant from the government.” You said brandishing the signed document, “I will be placing these Hybrids in my care”

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ivyaugustetc · 4 years ago

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the dead poets on ice: another headcanon from hell

hey guys!! sooo @pretentious-strikes helped me come up with this idea so big big shoutout to faye ily bestie

uh yeah i had some trials and tribulations over this but it's here :)

also, when i say the poets, i'm including chet and ginny and chris in that. i need to give them a name though. i thought sapphic trio or sumn???

neil: i love this boy but he cannot skate </3 he's got so many talents and yet this is not one of them. he spends the entire time clinging to todd (who also isn't entirely sure he can skate well) and the other half quoting dramatic shakespeare scene and faking his death on the ice HAHAHAHA. can you imagine him pretending to stab himself with a dagger while quoting the end of romeo and juliet? and then he just. fake stabs himself and pretends to die on the ice while todd is like "GET UP I NEED HELP"

todd: the literal definition of "i think i'm doing it right???????" like he kinda knows what he's doing because he skated once two years ago but at the same time it's still a new feelings and he's disoriented?? the fact that neil is hanging onto him for dear life kinda makes him feel like he should know what he's doing, so he fakes it til he makes it because he doesn't have the heart to tell neil he is no safer in his hands than in the jaws of a shark. he leaves better than he was at the beginning, of course, but boy were those first ten minutes absolute hell for him (except for the neil holding onto him part. that was nice.)

meeks: not horrible, not fantastic, but secure in the knowledge that he can skate wherever he pleases without have to worry about falling over. he's just freaking zen the entire time, more of a spectator than a player in whatever chaos is occurring. he makes the occasional sarcastic comment, but spends the majority of the time focusing on his own craft (a.k.a. skating in circles around the edge of the lake). he'll help if anyone gets injured, but otherwise he's perfectly content with his own thoughts and we love it for him :)

cameron: who is a perfectionist? richard. who's good at everything on almost the first try? rich. who's fucking incredible at ice skating? CAM THE MAN RICHARDSON THAT'S WHO. when I say this man has the technique, the style, i mean he has it. he's told approximately no one and yet exactly everyone is in awe of this man's skills. and while he's not showing everyone up, he helps the others that can't seem to go two seconds without falling on their asses. moral of the story: get urself a man who can do both, aka richard cameron.

pitts: he is as tall as a tree and just as uncoordinated as one :) he's the type of person to laugh at how much he sucks rather than get frustrated about it? so every once in a while you'll hear a yell from pitts, followed by a thud, followed by the loudest, most infectious laughter you've ever heard. Like he makes everyone else nearly fall from laughing so hard. He just raises the morale like crazy but is probably also prepared with first aid training if anyone were to fall and break an ankle or something.

charlie: does not know what he's doing, but he's doing it very loudly and badly. he has a baseline skill set that includes standing upright and skating slowly on the ice, but it soon progresses into ZOOM ZOOM GOTTA KNOCK EVERYONE ON THEIR ASSES dalton. he's just zip zoppin through everyone, cackling his head off and trying to push a select few to the ground. he never once succeeds to push cameron down even though that's his main target because cameron has the balance of a flamingo and even though charlie's laughing he's internally thinking "WHY WON'T YOU JUST FALL AND VALIDATE MY CHAOS????" he leaves without having knocked over cameron, but it's fine. he knocked knox over more times than he can count.

knox: um...he's the worst out of all of them. like he is...abominable. he knocks himself and everyone around him off balance whenever he falls because he's the flailing, Not Going Down Without A Fight type of faller. he's definitely frustrated by his lack of skill, especially when Chris skates by and does a little twirl right in front of him. But he's determined to leave that place not totally helpless, but does he? no. charlie made sure he didn't. moral of the story: it could've been better if it weren't for charlie.

chris: I feel like Mrs. Noel would've been the kind of parent to put Chris in gymnastics or something when she was a kid and therefore Chris has great balance and would be a GOD at ice skating. Like, she probably do a few of the little twists and turns that lower-level figure skaters can do. She ends up getting really focused on trying to learn how to do a spin and goes off in her own little world for a bit before she realized she forgot where she was and goes back to hang out with Ginny.

chet: this man is a football player, okay? ice skating is not his thing. First of all it took a hot second to find ice skates that actually fit him, and then when he finally got on the ice he was caught completely off guard by how SLIPPERY IT IS????? so he hangs onto chris like she's a life preserver for a while until she gives him some motivational pep talk that convinces him to let go. he does the weird preschooler slide-walk thing for a while, you know where he's making the movements of walking but his feet are just sliding back and forth on the ice and he isn't getting anywhere because the coefficient of friction is basically in the negatives? but he ends up figuring it out and leaves with one-half of a new skill!!

ginny: queen has never done this before but she does NOT need anyone's help. She is so dead set on doing it all by herself and not allowing a single soul to give her help. When she falls, she dismisses all the hands held out to her and figures out how to get up by herself. Once she gets the hang of it, she allows herself to be dragged around by speed-demon Chris Noel for a bit and once or twice they fall down in a heap because Chris is skating backwards in order to hang onto ginny's hands and therefore cannot see where she's going and furthermore hits every poet like they're bowling pins. But they laugh every time they fall because it's lowkey hilarious and also they're in love <3

#dead poets society #dead poets society headcanon #neil perry #todd anderson #stephen meeks #steven meeks #gerard pitts #charlie dalton #nuwanda #richard cameron #chris noel #ginny danburry #chet danburry #knox overstreet

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moonlightdreamzz · 4 years ago

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empathetic — woozi

all you want, is for jihoon to care.

you always knew your boyfriend was more of an onion, and not a sunflower. what you mean by that, is that he had many layers to him, and he could not be pulled easily. if you wanted to peel the different pieces off of him, you had to work for it, but quite frankly you think you deserved a lot more than he had given you in the past couple of days.

you considered your body to be strong, but weak at the same time. you caught disease quite quickly such as colds, flu’s, and infections, but you also whooped its ass everytime. oddly enough, one of the things you looked forward to when you finally met your match was having someone to coo over your warm temperatures. a man who would surprise you with warm soups and extra blankets, who would also lay in bed with you no matter what was going on and give you kisses.

lee jihoon was not that man, which you knew, but you had no idea it would be this bad.

you were a mess - definitely not the prettiest sight you could conjure of yourself. you don’t remember the last time you saw your thick hair, which was never tamable on a good day, but especially for this past week had you just not been feeling any of your usual trials and tribulations of trying to figure out what to do with yourself. your bonnet had found itself halfway off your head from your tossing and turning through the night.

if you had the energy, you would crochet your hair. quick and easy timing, but also a cute look. jihoon also appreciated it on you, and you unfortunately lived to please him.

you weren’t dying at the moment, but you did have some concerning symptoms - a cough. so, symptom. of course your boyfriend did not bat an eye whatsoever for the past week as he scrambled through your home silently like the cute little mouse he was.

today is no different, but still your patience has completely ran thin. the penthouse you two shared was large enough so that whenever he wanted to hide from you, he could, and you knew that’s exactly what he was doing at this current moment.

when he finally walks into your shared bedroom ever so quietly, you can tell he was praying you were asleep.

“why are you hiding from me?” you question immediately. you don’t have much on, as you always got hot so easily. no shirt covered your body, just panties, but you and jihoon had been together so long that he was immune to your bare flesh. now that you think about it, you can’t remember the last time the two of you made any kind of love. luckily you didn’t need sex all the time in order to be satisfied, but jihoon wasn’t giving you anything at all.

“huh?” he responds quickly - proof you were right. you hated how cute he was, especially when he had what you referred to as his “morning puff”. he always had a chunky, sweet little face, but when he woke up from long nights in the studio, it was extra squishy and normally you would enjoy kissing all over his adorable face, but not today. you were upset.

“have you not heard me coughing for the past week?”

he turns to face you now. you’re sure he had a flashback to the many arguments where you begged him to look at you in your eyes. at least he cared about something you’ve said to him in the past.

“i have.” is all he says. that’s really all he has to say?

“and you haven’t done shit about it?”

“why are you cursing at me?”

“because I’m tired of the non-chalant attitude.”

he sighs out loud. that was his way of telling you he had better things to do. even so, he crawls on top of the bed and presses a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“relax, baby.” he encourages. “what do you want? i’ll order your favorite.”

this is what you referred to as the attempt. a very poor one, but an attempt never the less.

would it be wrong of you to ask for something home made? would that make you selfish? all of the other girlfriends gagged about whenever any minor issues went on with them, how the boys would cater to their every need like they were the queen of the entire world or something. why didn’t jihoon treat you that way? was he too comfortable?

“y/n?” he speaks, knowing you completely ignored his question in exchange for what if’s.

“nevermind.” you mutter, laying back on your California king.

“don’t do that.” he sighs. he’s irritated with you for sure, but what do you care?

“do you even care?” you question. “like seriously?”

“if I didn’t care I wouldn’t be sitting in this house with you. and I just told you I would buy you whatever you want. i don’t know what more you want me to do.”

“i want you to act like my boyfriend of a million years. i want you to coddle me and give me kisses and offer to wash my hair.”

“in what world is anybody allowed to touch your hair?” he questions seriously as his eyebrows scrunch together in completely confusion and irritation.

“does it matter if I would say no?”

he chuckles, but not in a way where he thinks you’re cute. you’re only making the situation worse in his eyes. “do you want the food or not?”

“do you remember when we first started dating?” you stand up promptly, your thighs rubbing together as you get closer to him.

“y/n, why do you expect me to be the exact same way I was when I first met you?”

“why do people have this weird belief that once you start dating for a certain amount of years that love has to slow down?”

“so you’re saying I don’t love you?”

“i’m saying i have been clearly sick for the past week and all you’ve been is cooped up in your studio like a damn crack addict. what I’m saying is, we are in a relationship but you don’t even care to ask me am I okay. i’m not dating you to still feel like I’m alone!”

“you do realize the only person who pays bills in this nice little house is me right? how else can I do that if not ‘cooped up in my studio like a crack addict’” he quotes directly from you.

“do you realize that you’re the one who told me I didn’t have to pay a bill in this house?”

“whatever.”

he tries to walk away, but you know it’s only because he hates to argue, especially recently. it was something about it that really pained him.

“baby.” you lower your tone from all the unnecessary yelling. you touch his hand, but he snatches it away so hard that you flinch and fall to the ground. “baby...” you whisper faintly, hoping that he’ll care. for once in a long time will he just care. but he doesn’t. with his pajamas still on does he snatch his keys and walk straight out of your - well, his apartment. he slams the door too.

you honestly couldn’t recall how much time had passed since he departed from your home. usually when the two of you fought, you could easily find ways to distract yourself while also ignoring your mild heartbreak from his actions. but for some reason, this time, you couldn’t stop thinking this may have been the end.

that was usually the case when you felt like someone was falling out of love with you when you did absolutely nothing to deserve it.

you tried to listen to music. you tried to cook, but you sucked terribly at cooking Korean food and that’s all you had in your possession. you tried to sleep, but with everything running through your mind, that was impossible. so here you were, stuck with your thoughts.

you also still had the terribly annoying cough.

you didn’t have many friends here. the only people who checked on you were vernon, coups, and mingyu. you were expecting to get a call from one of them any second now.

like clock work, your phone is ringing. quite frankly you weren’t prepared to see Vernon’s name pop up on your phone simply because he was the one who called the least, but you didn’t mind. he always got you turnt whenever you were down, and even when you were fighting with woozi he didn’t suddenly treat you like you didn’t exist. he was always a neutral party.

“hello?” you say softly - your voice hoarse from the constant coughing you were doing.

“hey.” his voice speaks softly, “you alright?”

“yeah I’m fine, just not feeling my best. i have this annoying ass cough and it’s not going away and I’m also alone so, just fine.” you chuckle while burying yourself deeper into the bed if that was even possible.

“damn, you been smoking that good?”

“unlike you, I only smoke on special occasions vernon.”

“yeah whatever. how’s woozi? haven’t been able to get ahold of him.”

“he’s fine...I think. he’s been trying to hide from me but that’s been the norm lately if I’m being honest.”

“wait, you said you were alone.” vernon remembers, “we’ve been off all week where is your boyfriend?”

“you know...being himself.” you and vernon may have not spoke as much, but when you did talk to him, everything flowed out. every secret. it should be like this with woozi, but. “maybe it’s my fault.” you sigh, scratching your scalp from outside your bonnet, “i kind of...asked for a lot I guess.”

“like?”

“well, I’m not feeling well. i just felt upset because it seemed like he was purposely trying to avoid me so I wouldn’t have the chance to ask him to do anything for me. and the thing is, I wasn’t going to ask for anything but a lousy fucking hug - a cuddle. the bare minimum. i would have even taken a no but to be avoided? it hurt my feelings and we fought and—ugh. he stormed out the house and I have no idea where he is and I want to call him but truthfully what did I do wrong vernon? lately I’ve been feeling like I’m in a relationship with myself and I know we can be better than this. woozi used to be the sweetest little baby. he may have been hard to others, but he opened up for me. i feel shut out.”

you feel so much better getting all of that out, even though you know your boyfriend may have not appreciated the sentiment.

you know vernon listened to every single word and and would come back with some heartfelt advice.

“just give it time y/n. i can’t speak on jihoon like I am him, but if there’s one thing I know? it’s that you are the only person he truly loves that doesn’t share his bloodline. of course he loves us, but you - he opens up to you. he’s allowed you to see him. maybe there’s something going on. or maybe he just didn’t know what to do. just let him come back to you and see what happens.”

“thank you vernon. forreal.” you don’t know why his words affected you so much and made you feel such a heavy weight of guilt in the part where you held your boyfriend so deeply - your heart, but you did.

more hours had passed, and still no sign of woozi. you even tossed your pride away and called him, only to be sent straight to voicemail. you must have really irritated him, but you still didn’t feel sorry. you didn’t move your pride aside that much.

you did feel somber though, considering how much you loved him even through how he had been acting lately. and without him in your life, there was no reason for you to be here - in Korea. you didn’t want to end things. you just wanted to feel loved.

you still haven’t gotten out the bed except when you needed to pee. YouTube and funny clips had been keeping your company. maybe it was because of boredom, but things began to get darker and darker in your home. you were fading into a bitter sweet slumber. regardless, it’s what you needed. maybe your cough would subdue.

jihoon is quiet as a mouse as always when he walks inside, hands full of multiple things. all day had your words rang through his mind that was already full of so many things. had he really been making you feel so worthless? like you weren’t the most important person for his soul other than his family? actually, you were his family. there was never a day where he felt like he deserved you, but the minute the two of you kissed for the first time did he know that he would do whatever he had to, to keep you forever.

so when did he stop? he kind of knew he hadn’t been his best, but he didn’t know why. it was as if he was doing it on purpose, but not because of something you did. lately, it had just been so hard to keep up with everything in his life. all of the schedules seventeen had. and in between, as he was one of the frequent producers for the group, there were so many deadlines he had to meet he just felt so overwhelmed.

but he heard you coughing, and he was so worried. even so, he didn’t ask you what was wrong. why didn’t he ask you - his baby - what’s wrong? especially after it was day three and the cough was not improving? any other man who would practically rip his limbs off to be with you, would have been catering to your every need. they would have gave you all the kisses you needed, would have given you a full body massage, and offered to wash your hair even knowing that the answer was going to be no.

but he didn’t.

when he left, he was so angry. but not at you, at himself. vernon was the first person he called as he knew that while the two of you didn’t talk often, that he was the one who knew how to get your exact feelings. he hated how much of a wimp he sounded like when he had to bargain a song in exchange for vernon to call you. vernon declined and called you anyway.

to hear you on the phone, telling vernon that you felt as if you weren’t loved. feeling like you were in a relationship with yourself? that broke him. so, he called another one of his members who he knew would guide him into the right direction - mingyu.

“ill order everything, hyung. all you have to do is pick everything up. what you need to do right now, is practice your apology. oh, and pick up some cough medicine for her.”

so he did. his little body struggled to get everything inside, but he figured you would be asleep at this time. when you were bored, you had a tendency to doze off.

his instructions were to set everything up real nice on a table and serve it to you as if you were on a date, but woozi knew you better than that. he knew all you wanted to do was eat in bed and go right back to sleep. and talk.

he walks through the slim hallway that leads into your shared bedroom, and he was right. you were sleeping. the tv shined on your beautiful skin that he loved to place his cheek on whenever he felt any negative or positive emotion. he wasn’t sure what was on the tv. you probably weren’t either. you both loved to put on random movies and shows and talk about how much they sucked.

he approaches you gently - afraid that any little noise would startle you. he places everything on the fluffy sheets; the roses, your meal, your medicine, and the usb with the song he had been saving for you all lined up in orderly fashion. your bonnet is falling off your head as always, so he adjusts it. you had a pet peeve about that.

you were so beautiful. the most beautiful person he had ever met in his entire life. and you loved him. you - the brightest star in the galaxy and the sweetest soul chose him out of all of the people you had attempting to steal your heart. he couldn’t let another second go by without fixing this.

“baby.” he whispers. his thumb caresses your ear gently. he always wanted to be this guy. the hopeless romantic, always knew what to do guy, but girls never wanted him. he was always too short, too boring, all of the bad things. you never felt that way though. you always told him he was the perfect size for you. that he wasn’t boring, it was just that people never wanted to take the time to get to know him.

you moved slightly, but he knew he had just only scraped whatever dream you were currently in. he had to try a little harder to return you back to the world. his lips find themselves on your sweet face, just as you do to him every morning. little by little is he painting his love on you until you finally begin to stir.

“are you a murderer?” are the first words you speak.

you were always so hilarious, even without trying. he knew that was a genuine question no matter how funny the delivery was.

“no. i hope not.” he responds.

he can see you recognize his voice from the way you release the breathe he didn’t even know you were holding. woozi expected you to push him off you the minute you realized it was him, but you didn’t.

“hi baby.” you whisper, pulling him into you.

“hi baby.” he repeats, inhaling your sweet scent. it always made him feel like he was in heaven.

you pull back, cuffing his chubby face into his hands. if there was one thing about your fights with jihoon, it was that it wasn’t hard to make up. a simple look in each others eyes was enough to make up for everything. it was such a toxic trait, but it worked out.

“wait.” you breathe out as you notice everything behind your boyfriend. “ji...”

“it’s nothing, y/n.” he sighs, moving back so he can have a full view of you. “it’s what I should be giving you every fucking day. you are my queen. you are the only thing that is keeping me sane with this lifestyle.”

“everyday would drive even me crazy, ji.” you giggle, “you know that’s not what this is about. it’s just, I know how we used to be and I know how we are now. i don’t want us to get so comfortable with each other that we forget why we are together. you know that happened to my parents and I want to be with you forever.”

“i know.” all of sudden he feels it - the feeling he’s been feeling for the past couple of weeks whenever something bad happens. his whole body feels sick. he hasn’t told you about it because he thought it would go away, but it hasn’t. it seems as if this is going to be the worse one as it does involve the love of his life.

“hey.” you sit up, throwing one of his shirts that laid free on the bed. “what’s wrong babe? i’m here. i’m right here.”

you had never seen him like this before. you knew there was no such thing as a person who didn’t have internal issues, but this seemed like something that had been wanting to boil over for a while. you knew what severe anxiety looked like as you suffered from it. this was it.

“i don’t know, y/n.” he breathes out shakily. “this has been...happing lately.”

“why didn’t you tell me? hm?”

“i don’t know. i don’t know anything other than that I love you. and that I’m sorry.” he seems to be calming down from your touch. had he known this was all he needed, all the pain he suffered would have never taken place. he should have known though. you were his angel after all.

“we tell each other everything, baby.” you remind him as you begin to place gentle kisses onto his neck. “never forget that. there is nothing we can’t get through together.”

“i know.” is all he can say - your lips were too much of a distraction for him especially when he hasnt felt them in so long. he always craved you, but the two of you always took a lot of breaks. your relationship was much deeper than your love making no matter how addicted the two of you were to eachother.

you want to get right into it. you want to throw him on the bed, and ride every ounce of anxiety your boyfriend has right off, and then you want to eat your food, take your medicine, and drift into what you know will be the best sleep you’ve gotten in a while. but you two had to talk. everything needed to be squashed.

“ji, what can I do to fix this? i don’t like the way I’ve been feeling. and I know you don’t either.”

“you are perfect. you always have been. it’s me, but I promise I’ll do better. i’ll get everything under control.”

“you mean we will get everything under control. honestly baby, let’s not even use that terminology. we will learn to overcome this. anxiety is completely normal. you just can’t let it control you okay? and we have to communicate. don’t be afraid to show me any parts of you especially when you’ve seen my literal insides.” you joke, just to see his smile. he does, and it’s so bright. your foreheads lean into eachother immediately - natural just like your love.

“i love you.” he whispers.

“i love you.” you repeat. the two of you tried your best to not add too, to that sentence, as it meant in exchange for the other ones love and that’s not what was going on here. no matter what, the two of you loved each other. even if one stopped.

woozi goes back to buisness immediately, knowing you two were better now. his hands remove the covers that covered your body, and his tounge finds itself on your neck - his favorite place that’s not inside you.

“you feeling better?” he questions, still attacking you.

“i think this will distract me for a bit.” you giggle

“i’ll make it it all go away. you know I will.” are his final words before he lays on top of you, sliding his shirt off of your body with ease.

you were in for a long night. and the two of you still were in need of a conversation about what he was going through, but you knew what the both of you needed in this moment. you needed to feel each other again.

#seventeen #kpop black reader #kpop ambw #kpop poc #poc kpop #ambw kpop #woozi imagine #seventeen imagine #seventeen x poc reader #woozi angst #woozi fluff

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eclecticstarlightconnoisseur · 4 years ago

Text

VISIONS IN THE SNOW

Good Evening All! I have a new one-shot that was inspired by the horrific weather that recently swept across the U.S. It caused so much grief, suffering to so many people. I hope this would bring a smile to some faces. This was written with one particular person in mind (and you know who you are) and I’m glad you like it.

Thanks as always to @scubalass for the read through. Your suggestions were, as always, spot on. It made the final story so much better.

Status of Edinburgh to Boston: There is progress but it is painfully slow. There are two characters that are essential to this chapter whose voice I do not hear as well as I do Jamie and Claire. I write something, then I delete it and I do the same thing over and over. We will come to an understanding at some point so dinna fash. There will be A/N at the end to explain words or terms.

Without further delay I give you Visions in the Snow.

Here goes nothing:

VISIONS IN THE SNOW

February 1968 - Boston

The responsibility for hosting this week’s poker game fell to Joe Abernathy. He took his duties in this regard very seriously. It was the way the surgeons decompressed after a week of stressful surgical procedures and this week was no exception.

“It must have been a full moon,” he thought. Motor vehicle accidents, stabbings, gunshot wounds, volvulus, a ruptured esophagus, the works. It was during these times that he dearly missed his friend. Claire. He cast his glance over to the card table set with one extra place, Claire’s place. On the seat was her green visor that she wore when she played poker with the boys. It sat in repose like a memorial to a fallen comrade.

Silly thing! She believed wearing it masked her glass face. Nothing could be further from the truth, but none of her colleagues had the heart to tell her. They all knew what Claire Randall was thinking. So much so, they often let her win which caused her to think she was good at playing poker.

He glanced around the room and saw that everything was in readiness for the evening. The sideboard groaned beneath the bounty of food, snacks, and brews.

Outside, the wind blew fiercely rattling the windows drawing his attention. Joe looked out the window watching the two front trees bowing to the brute force of nature. Their skeletal fingers scraped at the roof almost as if trying to gain entry. It had been snowing for the last six hours with no sign of it letting up. He had considered canceling the game but a majority of his colleagues soundly vetoed that idea. Only Callahan and Peterson dissented. Callahan’s wife would kill him if he left her alone to deal with their six small ones while he went to play poker. Peterson lived thirty miles away. The remaining players all lived a short walking distance from his home, on Doctors Row. It was so-called because many of the physicians who worked at the hospital lived on the same street. These surgeons were gambling men betting they had enough time for some comradery, hands, and beers before the brunt of the storm arrived.

For a Boston snowstorm, it hadn’t accumulated very much. Yet. Regardless, it would not hamper these hardened surgeons accustomed to driving through Boston’s worst to get to the hospital. Without warning, the storm picked up intensity driving the snow hard enough to erase the landscape before him. Amid the squall, a hazy light glowed like the high beams of headlights in the snow. A wraithlike figure emerged from its center. Joe wasn’t able to make out any of its features. Man? Woman? He wasn’t sure. But one thing was for sure, it was headed directly toward his house.

Joe leaned closer trying to see if the person was in distress as they were caught out in the snow. Maybe they had abandoned their car and were seeking help. His warm breath met the cold pane fogging it, wholly obscuring his view. Using his shirt sleeve, he wiped away the condensation hoping to improve his ability to see. As the person drew closer, it became apparent that it was a young woman and her attire was totally inappropriate for the weather. She wore a long dress whose hem floated across the snow. It looked like a green and black plaid and a white scarf crossed her neck to cover her bosom. Her hair was dark, curly, piled high on her head, and tendrils framing her face. She looked a lot like… It couldn’t be, could it? She came closer. So close that he could see her eyes. Eyes the color of a fine whisky. Claire? Claire! How? She had left for Scotland, disappearing into the past, to find her true love.

Anxiety flowed through him. He needed to speak with the woman. He needed to know if it truly was Claire. Joe tried to open the window, but it wouldn’t budge. The frame had swollen from the moisture, he thought. He rapped on the window calling her name, but she paid no heed.

Claire was running and laughing bright and merry. Stopping suddenly, she turned and extended a hand into the haze. A man appeared laughing and chased after her. He was a big son of a bitch standing at least six feet four inches and as big as a brick…Well, he was big. He had a mop of red hair, but to simply say red would deny the richness of the color. It was a curly thick mosaic of cinnamon, auburn, gold, and cinnabar. And his eyes were the deepest blue Joe had ever seen. The man was kitted out in traditional highland garb right down to the sword strapped to his side. Reaching her, the young man made a courtly bow. He straightened, then took her hand to bestow a kiss. A moment later, he lifted and spun her around. She tossed her head back and peals of joyous laughter rang through the air. He set her down gently settling his hands on the swell of her hips. His eyes danced with love as he lowered his head to kiss her most thoroughly. Joe felt his cheeks burn as he watched such intimacy.

Time advanced in front of him. He became witness to a lifetime, to a marriage, to the bonds of love that could not be broken. The vision changed from the blush of first love through to a life fully lived. He wept at their trials, tribulations, and heartbreak. And he reveled in their accomplishments, triumphs, and joys. But through all their hardships, and there were many, their love for each other never wavered, never changed.

The final event showed the couple had aged. The woman, Claire, had streaks of grey in her hair while the man’s hair had lightened. They stood atop a ridge overlooking some land. The man had his arm securely around her waist pulling her protectively close to him. Claire stood on her tiptoes wrapping her arms around his neck and pulled him down for a fiery kiss. She nodded her head and started to pull him toward a cabin. He scooped her up and carried her across the threshold kicking the door shut.

As the vision faded back into the vapor as a voice called out, “I am happy Joe. I found my Jamie.”

Resting his head against the cold pane of glass provided a sense of comfort to his unsettled mind and spirit. Uncertainty gripped him as he grappled to understand what happened. Had this been a dream? Or a hallucination? Or had the fabric of time somehow been rent apart? He shook himself, much like a dog dispelling the rain from its coat, hoping to lift his state of bewilderment.

Psssst, pssst, ssssssss! The homely sound of the radiator hissing brought him back to himself and away from his ruminations.

Mercilessly, the wind blew about the house ferociously shaking the windowpanes in their frames then suddenly died away. Out of curiosity, Joe tried to open the window. This time it slid open with ease. The blinding snow stopped returning to light flurries. As he turned to walk away from the window, he noticed the clock on the mantel. It was one minute later than when he last looked at it. “Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ,” he muttered.

Joe walked over to Claire’s chair and picked up the visor cradling it to his chest, “Wherever you are Claire, I’m glad you’re happy and you found your Jamie. Jamie, if you can hear me, take good care of our girl.”

With that, the doorbell rang and Joe went to greet his guests.

*************

Claire woke with a start bringing Jamie to instant alertness. He grabbed the pistol he kept by his bedside in preparation for any threat. Seeing none, he turned to look at Claire. She looked like she had seen a ghost.

“Sassenach, what’s amiss? Are ye alright?”

“I dreamt...I dreamt I was back in Boston going to play poker with the other surgeons. It was our regular night to play. The game was at Joe’s house and there was this blizzard.”

“Poker? What kind of game do ye play with a poker?” he was afraid to ask. Claire had told him so many peculiar stories about her time that he thought this would be another one. The only poker he knew about was the kind used in a fireplace.

“It’s a card game. I was rather good at it too. Someday I’ll have to teach you.” Claire snuggled up against Jamie seeking his heat, his comfort. She yawned greatly, “Except I will miss my green visor.”

“A vi-zor?” All he could envision was a knight’s helmet with a visor covering the eyes and face.

“It’s a sort of hat with a green brim. It shades your eyes and some of your face. People use it to hide their facial expressions when they bluff at cards.”

Jamie looked at her as if she were a bit daft. He knew nothing could hide her thoughts on that glass face. He tucked her head under his chin, “Come, Sassenach, rest yer head, aye? I think ye had a bit of the nightmare. I’ll keep ye warm and safe.” He lowered his head placing a kiss on the top of her head.

Jamie closed his eyes and thought about the black man he had seen in his dreams too. “Aye, dinna fash, Joe. I’ll care for her with my life,” he whispered just before lapsing into sleep.

A/N:

VOLVULUS: A volvulus occurs when part of the colon or intestine twists. The twisting causes bowel obstructions that may cut off the blood supply to areas of the bowels. This can cause the bowel to die or left untreated the person can die.

RENT: This involves a story. When I was in catechism class the teacher was telling the story of Christ’s trial before the Pharisees. When Jesus was condemned one of the Pharisees was said to have rent his garment. You say that to a bunch of kids and they start to giggle. They wanted to know who he rented his clothes to and for how much. So the teacher explained that to rent something meant to tear it apart violently. I fell in love with the word’s usage and I never thought I would get to use it in this way. But I did!

And poor Jamie, Claire’s stories always leave his surprised, confused, shocked among other feelings.

The truth behind this story was that it was supposed to be smutty. Instead, it evolved into this. It was supposed to happen that the Ridge was also snowed-in. Claire was bored with playing chess with Jamie and wanted to play something else. She wanted to teach him strip poker. So I left myself an opening if I chose to do a second chapter. But I have to finish E2B first.

I hope you liked this and it brought a smile to your face.

You can find me on AO3. There I am LadyJane518.

Thanks for reading!

#visions in the snow #ol fanfic #winter #snowstorm #poker #jamie and claire #joe abernathy #visor #tearing the fabric of time #My writing #my story #scubalass #gotham-ruaidh

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bsidethetrees · 4 years ago

Text

Nervous

"Are you nervous?"

"No."

"You sure?"

Mira tilted her head to the side though her eyes betrayed the cute, quirky questioning vibe she was going for as they, instead, seemed rather disbelieving. It was easy for Laxus to note it these days, having fallen like most other in the hall for her typical chaste trickiness and innocuous pretenses over the years, but after being far more than just a guild member to her now for a good number of them as well, he'd begun to pick up on the little things.

Like how she seemed forever trapped in a guilelessness that didn't quite entrap her as well as she thought it did.

But this was fine, the ease at which he disarmed her now, as Mira was able to pick apart the man's own fallacies and walls.

"Yeah," he grumbled to the woman's question, but she only grinned at him, as if victorious, as she picked apart his lies with ease.

"Then why are you biting at your nails?" she asked with round eyes. "You only do that when you're nervous."

And now she'd managed to annoy him.

"Mira-"

"I'm only curious," she insisted with a little shake of her head. "Dragon."

He huffed some, his chest deflating as he finally gave her his full attention. They were in the bar, as they typically were, but Mirajane had actually found a moment to take a break. Rest. S-Class trials were, at that very moment, going on and those who hadn't been chosen were sulking away from the guild for the time being while a decent sized group was off being put through the rigorous trials and tribulations that were associated with being designated part of the elite group of mages that were Fairy Tail S-Class wizards.

Laxus had no reason to be nervous.

He'd claimed his spot many years before and, at times, wondered if he even had eventually surpassed the old geezer all together. He'd be a wizard saint, someday, he knew, or at least told himself so, and that meant that he had far more concerns than something as silly as a guild distinction.

Not when may one day have the distinction among the entire continent.

S-Class trials had nothing to do with him and, if anything, he was mostly just glad to find that bar emptied out some that day.

"It's okay," Mira assured him then though and when she reached across the table, it was to grab his hand, pulling it down so that she could caress it as she looked deeply into the slayer's eyes. "I am too."

"You are what too?" he asked dumbly, confused equally by her words as he was calmed by her gesture.

"Nervous," she insisted.

"About what?"

"The same thing as you."

"I'm not," he told her, "nervous."

"Laxus-"

"What do I have to be nervous about, huh?" Then, frowning, he questioned, "What do you?"

"Well, actually, I'm nervous about a lot of things," she said, releasing his hand, but only so she could bring her own up to her cheek and rest her head there then, as she thought. "I have a shipment of meat that hasn't come in yet and I know, this weekend, if I don't get it, that I'll have to serve meals without any meat portion and the guys will be pretty upset about that, which will affect my tips, and I've been trying to save up money for my wedding. Which brings me to my next point, I've been saving for a wedding that can't yet happen because my boyfriend is dragging his feet with proposing to me even though we've talked about it a thousand times-"

"Mira," he warned, but she only shrugged.

"The dog I look after was sick last night, too," she finished. "I'm nervous about that."

Laxus, with a slight breath, questioned, "What's wrong with him?"

"He has the shits."

And he blinked. Then narrowed his eyes while the woman only gazed right back with hers earnest and honest.

Shrugging some then, Laxus said, "If you need help wrangling him down to a vet, I could-"

"Oh!" Mira sat up then. "And I'm super nervous because my baby brother is off on the S-Class trials and I want him to preform well." Shrugging, she added, "But I'm torn, because I also want all of my friends to do well. Including your best friend. Freed."

Laxus' face fell then as he realized he'd been duped (possibly; her street dog did have a hefty amount of ailments from time to time) and only looked off once more as he remarked, "Sounds like your problem. Not mine."

"Oh, it's not a problem. Laxus. To be nervous about such things." Sighing, she said, "It means that you care. About them. To be nervous for someone else. I want them all to come back, knowing that even though they can't all be the winner, at least invigorated and ready to start right back at training and trying their hardest to, eventually, be that winner. It's an honor to be nervous on someone's behalf. I'd gladly take all of Elf's nerves if it meant he could put all his focus into the trials right now."

Laxus snorted. "Yeah, well, bully for you. Freed can take care of his damn self. I don't need to worry about him, like you and your loser brother."

"Behave."

Snorting, the man looked off before saying, "I'm not worried. Over Freed. Or anything."

"Fine. Not worried then." Mira had lost some of her jolliness at the slight her boyfriend had sent towards her absent brother. "But you are thinking about it. Aren't you? Even just a little? He's your best friend. I would at least think-"

"I'm," he insisted to her with a finality in his tone he usually reserved for literally anyone who wasn't his demon, "not nervous about the S-Class trials. Or worried. Or concerned. Alright?"

Sighing, she looked off for a moment, considering the slight surge of people that had come in in the last ten minutes or so and weighing in her mind whether or not her break was officially over. Not quite ready to let it go though, when her eyes drifted back to her boyfriend, it was with another set of words on her tongue.

"If you're not nervous about the trials," she began in that tone and it was enough, just on its own, to make him regret coming into the hall that day, "then that must mean that you're nervous about something else, so what is it? Huh? Is it that you've been seeing someone else?"

"Mira, what?"

"Some other woman, is it, then? Who is she, Laxus? Huh? Don't think that I wont' make a scene here, right now, in front of everyone, because-"

"What are you-"

"-if you don't tell me what it is that you're so nervous about, then I have no choice but to assume that you're cheating on-"

"I'm nervous for my friend, alright?" And he usually wouldn't take such a tone with her, but he did then, snapping some, out of aggravation and, maybe it was a trick of the lights, but the woman could have sworn she even saw a flick of his fangs as the vein on the side of his head bulged and his eyes darkened. "I want him to be S-Class with me and I'm worried that your stupid brother or one of those other idiots will get it over him. Or that...that… He'll fuck it up himself. Is that what you want to hear? Huh?"

No.

The other people around the guildhall did not.

But they had, quite clearly, heard nearly every word of his little outburst and, feeling all those eyes on him now only made the man growl louder. He was primed for a retreat, storming off and staying away from the hall for a few days, until he could stomach a return without smashing in the face of the first person who questioned him.

Mirajane, however, wasn't going to let this happen.

Because, yes, she had been very happy with the explosion of information that had just fallen out of the slayer's mouth. She'd only been prodding at him her entire break. For it to result in such a satisfying revelation meant it hadn't all been for not.

"Awe," Mirajane giggled, clapping her hands at the slayer's misery. "You guys are just such good friends, huh, dragon? You feel a lot better, don't you? Getting that off your chest?"

"No," he told her with the same candor that he'd just exposed himself and his nerves to the entire guildhall. "I feel worse."

"Well," Mira hummed as, job complete, she got to her feet once more, she offered, "I feel better. Isn't that all that matters?"

"Demon." The moniker was more of a proclamation than an endearing term. "You're evil."

"I love you," was her purest of explanations and she meant it too, he could tell, as her deep blues flashed a bit of hurt. "Helping you admit your feelings for your friends is how I show that."

"Yeah, well," he muttered under his breath, "then you need to find new ways."

Laxus took off that night, before her shift was finished, but that was fine with the woman as she'd more than begun staying most nights at his apartment.

When she arrived, he was flicking through an old atlas, comparing it to a current map. Something for a job, was all he grumbled to her when she lightly questioned, and Mira let his tone go because, well, she had been rather insistent before, at the bar, and all things considered, he hadn't outright acted a fool.

Just mostly.

"If Elfman doesn't make S-Class," she did whisper, eventually, over dinner that night and she saw the man roll his eyes, thinking she was trying to goad him back into a conversation, "I'll cry."

Grunting, he only continued to stab at the steamed vegetables at his plate, never rightly bringing them up to his mouth, but not quite ready to admit, when he insisted in a huff that he be the one to make them, that this was a bad idea.

"Of course," she hummed again, "if he makes it, I'll probably cry then, too."

"Mira?"

"Yes?"

"I already told you what you wanted to hear," he told her plainly. "What else do you want from me?"

"I'd like you to make a big emotional plea again," she replied back with the same amount of flatness that it almost made the slayer recoil. At the sight of it though, she broke some as, with a giggle, she admitted, "I'm just talking, dragon. About my baby brother. Who wants this so badly-"

"If he wanted it badly, he'll come back S-Class," Laxus told her as, with a shake of his head, he went back to stabbing at his vegetables. "If he doesn't, then that means he didn't want it badly enough."

"Well, I'm not saying that to him, if he comes back not S-Class."

"Yeah, I figured."

"And I'm not saying that to Freed either."

"That's fine," Laxus told her. "I will. He knows where to go to hear the truth."

"A little kindness will get you a lot in life, Lax," she replied, but he only shrugged some.

"Won't get you S-Class," he retorted and, well, the next morning would finally put the entire conversation to rest.

Cana had never looked prouder than herself and, that night, never gotten drunker, than when she was finally, after wanting it for so long, so much, to find herself on the same Fairy Tail tier as her father.

He was there, Gildarts was, having been hanging around for a few days, prepared for this, and she seemed rather annoyed by all of his attention, shoving at the man's face any time he tried to hug her, but betraying her annoyance by the glistening in her eyes, every single time he, also drunkenly, announced to those amassed how proud he was of the guild's newest S-Class member.

His daughter.

Mirajane was caught as she always was, between dismayed at the heartbreak evident on the faces of those who weren't victorious and the one who was. As she comforted both Elfman and Natsu over their losses, she did take note, across the bar, of where Freed was very stoic and graceful in his defeat, but still being comforted in their own ways, by his two friends.

"Who wants to be S-Class anyways?" Bickslow questioned. "When you can be part of the most elite team in all the lands?"

"I would," Ever admitted under her breath though, still, she patted at Freed's shoulders sympathetically.

It was as they stood though that all three felt it. It had been looming, after all, the entire time. The presence of their most highly viewed mentor, Laxus, who came out of hiding, down in the game room. He'd been down there transferring his nerves into some rounds of pool, but Cana and Gildarts very loud commotion had finally caught his attention and he found himself not welcomed to the celebrations of the member he'd most desired.

At his approach, both Bickslow and Ever took a step back. They too had disappointed the man in the past, but never quite in such a grand fashion. Freed was primed to take the gold this time around, only to lose out to the guild drunk and Evergreen couldn't help but to glare over at the other woman, hating her more, even, than Titania, just for that day only.

Laxus came to a stop before the trio, eyes on Freed, and the rune mage forced himself to meet the gaze of the other man. It was just as he was beginning to open his mouth though that he caught sight of Mira, over at the bar, staring very pointedly his way and he took in a breath, instead of speaking, reconsidering his words before he was unable to take the back.

His gaze didn't soften, not exactly, but Freed was almost surprised when, instead of being reprimanded, he was welcomed with a pat at the shoulder from the man, as well as a slight grin.

"You kicked Elfman's ass, at least, right?" the slayer asked to which the other mage bowed his head a bit.

"Well, we did find ourselves across from one another and I found myself moving on while he did not, but-"

"All that matters."

"L-Laxus-"

"You'll want it more, next time," he told the other man simply. "After getting so close."

"Yes." And he balled up his fists then, Freed did, nodding his head at the man as he insisted, "I will!"

It was a celebration that night, not a pity party, as Cana was far from someone that anyone could look down upon (especially not with her father there, intent on making certain this didn't happen) and it was a good night.

For everyone.

The night peaked though, for Laxus, when towards the end of it, as he sat up at the bar drinking with the still far too giddy Gildarts, listening to the man go on about all of where he'd been (with some praise for his little girl sprinkled in there), Mirajane appeared at his side. The slayer originally thought it was to refill his mug, which he held up to help her with this, but instead of leaning down to fulfill this request, the woman instead pressed a kiss to his cheek, lingering long enough for Gildarts to giggle at the man.

"Mira," Laxus questioned with a bit of a rosiness to his cheeks as the woman rightened and did, finally, begin to fill his mug with golden ale once more. Such public displays were hardly their style and the man raised his head then to question, "What was that for?"

"I just like it when you're nice, dragon." She even giggled. "I like it a lot."

But the night was busy and she was being called off again, across the bar, which left the still somewhat blushing Laxus and grinning Gildarts.

"You caught a good one, Laxus. Proud of ya."

"Shuddup."

"No, seriously." And Gildarts glanced over his shoulder then, to the table where his daughter was plying herself with barrel after barrel while her guild members, all so thrilled by her accomplishment, sat nearby, happily congratulating her. "I fucked up. You know. Once. With the only one that mattered. Sometimes you don't get second-chances, man." His serious tone faded though as his face contorted in a smile that didn't seem to stretch right across it as he said, "Unless you're like my Cana! No need for second-chances; she's all S-Class!"

"Yeah," Laxus snorted, "she just needed fourth and fifth and sixth-chances."

"What did you say? Eh? Laxus?"

And when Gildarts turned his head then, his face had contorted into something far darker and Laxus found it best to just sip his beer in silence for awhile.

They left together that night, Laxus and Mira did, the man a bit drunk and the woman, who'd worked the entire night away, stone cold sober, but it was fine, as she seemed high on something else.

"I'm so happy," she insisted to the man. "For Cana. It almost washes away how badly If eel for Elf."

Almost.

She was twirling and skipping that night, slightly before her boyfriend, and he only watched her for a few moments then before speaking.

"Maybe," he offered with a bit of a shrug, "he could come out with me. Elfman could. And we could train some times. To get him ready for next year."

And she stopped dancing then, Mira did, to look over her boyfriend as she instead flel into step with him. Slipping her arm into the crook of his, she snuggled up close to the man who, even drunk, only rolled his eyes.

"You're so sweet, Lax," she assured him as the man only groaned. "When you wanna be."

Even though his reaction seemed the exact opposite, slowly, Laxus was learning that, maybe, he always wanted to be.

#Miraxus #Mirajane Strauss #Laxus Dreyar #Cana Alberona #Gildarts #Freed Justine #Fairy Tail #Fanfiction

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roman-writing · 4 years ago

Text

bring home a haunting (1/12)

Fandom: The Haunting of Bly Manor

Pairing: Dani Clayton/Jamie Taylor

Rating: M

Wordcount: 11,511

Summary: Dani almost has her life together, when a familiar face arrives back in town after ten years. A childhood friends AU written with @youngbloodbuzz

read it below or read it on AO3 here

“The sweetest thing in all my life has been the longing — to reach the Mountain, to find the place where all the beauty came from — my country, the place where I ought to have been born. Do you think it all meant nothing, all the longing? The longing for home? For indeed it now feels not like going, but like going back.” - CS Lewis, Till We Have Faces

—

I: 1987

—

The sound of water sloshing through the pipes was a constant drone in the air. Dani stared at herself in the mirror. Her hand rested on the tap, holding it open. Steam crept in along the edges of the mirror as hot water continued to stream into the white porcelain bathroom sink, pale tendrils framing her face like smudged fingerprints against the glass. She was still dressed in pajamas, her hair a rumpled mess. There were dark shadows beneath her eyes. Her face felt puffy and her stomach heavy, but above all else she just appeared tired.

There was movement behind her. The bathroom door opened and her head jerked up in surprise as the door frame squared around Eddie's tall silhouette. In the misted mirror, his glasses seemed to reflect all light, obscuring half his face in a gleam like the sun glancing across the surface of a windscreen.

His reflection smiled. "You still getting ready?" he asked. "We need to go in ten, if I'm giving you a ride to work."

Abruptly, Dani twisted the tap, cutting off the flow of water. She cleared her throat. "Sorry. No. I'll — I'll drive myself."

"You sure? I don't know if your poor little car will make it."

"No. It'll be fine," she assured him, trying to sound far more confident than she felt. Never mind that the local mechanic had given her a list of incomprehensible ills that plagued her car the last time she had taken it into the shop after it had broken down again. "Thanks, though."

"All right," he said, but still he did not turn to leave. "You know, I was thinking. We should probably sell it."

"Hmm?"

Dani had opened the mirror door to reveal a jumble of bottles and toothpaste and toothbrushes, only some of which were hers. She scouted around for what she was looking for. Even after a few weeks, everything still felt so displaced. She struggled to find the smallest item these days, be it her favorite sauce pan or a bottle of — oh, there it was.

"Your car," Eddie was saying behind her. "Don't you think we should sell it? We don't really need two. Not now that we're living together."

Dani froze with her hands cupped in the water of the sink. She could see her own reflection weaving and waving from the disturbance until her face looked disjointed. Like some sort of Picasso. An eye here. A jaw there. Scattered into separate chambers.

Without answering, she leaned down and splashed her face, rubbing at her cheeks until a foam lathered, eyes squeezed shut.

"Well?" Eddie asked.

She bought herself a moment by rinsing the suds from her face and reaching blindly for a towel that she had perched on a nearby rail for just that very purpose. When she spoke, her voice was muffled through the cloth, "I don't know. I just think —" She lowered the towel and wiped at her neck. "Wouldn't it be inconvenient? You having to drive me around everywhere?"

In the mirror, his outline shrugged. "I don't mind. More time spent with you, right?"

She offered him a weak smile, drying her hands and folding the towel neatly back on its rack. “You’re sweet,” she said. “But really. I mean — What if I need to pick up groceries on the way back from the school? Or what if I want to visit your mother? Or —?”

“All right. All right. You win,” he laughed, softly. He came up behind her, hands settling on her waist, gentle but heavy all the same. “Just think about it. Okay?”

The steam at the edges of the mirror had begun to fade, and Eddie’s features came into sharp relief. Looking at their reflection was like looking at the picture in their living room where they were posed for prom. Eddie’s hands clasped at her waist, and Dani still with that deer in the headlights smile. It was almost perfect. It was almost enough. Being a fresh-faced fiancée. Wearing rumpled pink pajamas. Living together. Watching a life unfold before her as though it belonged to someone else.

She shrank away from him in order to turn around. “I should finish getting ready,” she said.

He let her go but leaned down for a kiss. Instead, his glasses bumped the side of her face. Laughing, she pushed the glasses up his nose as he retreated with a wince.

“Sorry,” he said. “I’ll see you tonight.”

Her hand was still lingering on the side of his face — scratch of stubble beneath her fingertips — and Eddie pressed a brief kiss to her palm before striding from the bathroom. Dani stood there, clutching her hand back to her chest, listening to his retreating footsteps down the hall. Something curdled in her stomach, though she hadn’t eaten anything yet this morning. She passed it off as hunger instead of guilt.

Eyes squeezing shut, hand clenching into a fist at her sternum, Dani inhaled a deep steadying breath. Then, opening her eyes once more, she turned back towards the mirror and reached for a hairbrush.

—

The coffee in the teacher’s lounge was always dark as sin and tasted of battery acid. Dani pulled on the tap, filling up her styrofoam cup until her hand burned and she had to hold it gingerly from the top with her fingertips. Enough creamer followed so that the coffee resembled milk more than the original brew. She tested it with a sip, crinkled her nose, and added sugar until it was barely palatable. It would still strip paint in a pinch, but it would also keep her going throughout the day.

With a resigned sigh, she carried the coffee over to the round table in the back corner of the lounge, where her piles of notes and textbooks waited. The binders sported multi-colored tongues, every section marked with a tab and her broad loopy handwriting, and there was a satchel of pens and markers in every hue under the sky. Taking a sip of her cup of paint thinner, Dani pulled out a plain black pen. She trailed her thumb down the tabs until she reached the desired section, and flipped open to the correct page. There, she began to record her meticulous notes. She would pause every so often to flip through a textbook and double-check some figure or another that she had convinced herself she had forgotten.

The lounge was mostly empty but for her. It was still an early hour, even for her colleagues. Here, she felt like she could actually work. Back home she would inevitably feel like she had gotten in the way. Not of Eddie. Not usually. Though sometimes he would wander over to the table while she was trying to arrange a lesson plan and distract her with talk of banalities that always made her hand slip, that always made her lose her place on the page. Other times he would complain about how her work sprawled and took over the whole dining room.

Mostly it was the house itself. Still so fresh and new and clean, walls pressing in like a stomach lining. Spreading all her work notes out felt like she was intruding upon the space of the napkins and cutlery. As though all of the items people had bought them for their engagement were more at home there than she was. A house of cardboard boxes. Of clothes. Of china. Stuff. Things. Their things.

Dani’s writing had slowed. She shook her head briskly and straightened in her seat. Another sip of fortifying turpentine, and she was scribbling away again.

“Enjoy the summer holiday?”

Dani glanced up at the sound of that familiar voice. Hannah Grose, seamlessly elegant in a wine-dark skirt suit, stood with her hand on the back of one of the chairs around the little table.

A smile broke across Dani’s face, and she said, “Yeah! And you?” She gestured towards the chair with her pen, adding, “Please.”

“Not much to report on the western front.” Hannah sat, delicately leaning her elbow upon the table so as not to disturb the sprawl of Dani’s notes. “But I hear that’s not the case in your camp. Congratulations are in order.”

Dani could feel her cheeks strain with the effort of keeping her smile in place. “Thanks!”

“Well?” Hannah asked, her eyes agleam with warm curiosity. “Go on then. How did he propose?”

“Which time?” Dani joked half-heartedly. When Hannah gave a little huff of laughter, Dani said, “No, seriously. He’s been asking me to marry him since we were kids.”

“Well, congratulations,” Hannah said. “Do you have a date planned? Or is that still in the works?”

Dani fiddled with the pen between her fingers, repeatedly removing the cap and sticking it back on with a nervous jab. The plastic clacked dully against the unfamiliar band of gold around her finger. “Oh, no. Not yet. We — uh — we’re going to wait a bit. Eddie just started his new job, and I’ve — well. You’re the one who asked me to teach sixth grade this year. And I’m excited, but also I feel so unprepared for a whole classroom of twelve year olds.”

“Don’t be nervous, dear,” Hannah said, and though her tone was soothing her small smile was teasing. “They can smell fear.”

Dani’s laugh was slightly too breathy and too short to be heartfelt. “Oh, I know. It’s just —” She made a flighty gesture with one hand, “— getting a new batch in. It’s always a little nerve wracking. There are so many names to memorize in the first week. And sorting out the dynamics of them all, how they interact, and — well, you know.”

“No, I don’t. Not really, anyway,” Hannah said. “I came up the ranks through an administrative route. Never had any classroom time to speak of.”

“Oh, that’s a shame,” Dani said.

Hannah gave Dani’s notes a nudge with her elbow. “What was it you were just telling me about the trials and tribulations of homeroom?”

This time when Dani laughed, it was far more relaxed. “The kids are the best part. Really. That’s why you do it.”

Hannah gave her a knowing look. “Yes. And that’s why I hired you.”

“Have I thanked you for that, yet?”

“Only once a year for three years.”

“My next gift basket is in the mail tomorrow, then,” Dani joked.

“Hang the basket and bring me a slice from the cafe instead.”

“With coffee?” Dani asked, grinning when Hannah wrinkled her nose at the idea. “You got it, boss.”

“Tea,” said Hannah primly, “is perfectly serviceable. Thank you. It’s eight thirty, by the way.”

Dani’s eyes widened and she checked her watch to find that Hannah was, in fact, correct. “Oh, shoot!” Hastily, she scraped together the loose papers, shuffling them back into their notebook. Tucking it beneath one arm, she snatched up her styrofoam cup and made a dash for the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Mrs. Grose.”

“Don’t forget to bring back a receipt for the slice!” Hannah called after her. “You must let me pay you back this time!”

“Put it on my next remuneration review!”

—

The kids were all filing into class, and Dani was hesitating at the blackboard. She held the tip of a piece of chalk against the dark grain. Her hand had frozen on the final downward stroke of the 'M' when she thought — should it still be 'Miss'? 'Ms.'? What were the rules?

The sounds of children jabbering away behind her, chairs scraping, things being thrown, urged her into action, and Dani wrote the name she had always written before turning around.

"All right, let's settle down, please." She waited until twenty-five faces were turned towards her in relative silence — as good as she could hope for given the circumstances — before smiling. Then, she set aside the chalk and picked up a clipboard full of names. "Hi, everyone. I'm Miss Clayton. Welcome to homeroom. Let's go through names. Make sure everyone's here."

It was the same, she told herself even as she meticulously took roll. How different could a bunch of twelve year olds be to her usual ten year olds? She even recognized one or two names from when she had taught a previous class. One of her former students waved at her from the back of a row of desks, and Dani smiled in return.

She skimmed right over the roll call and into the first introductions to the year. It happened so fast, that she hardly even registered a familiar looking name on the list. The boy in question merely raised his hand upon his name being called out, and Dani forged on to the next. With so many new faces to memorize, she did not even pause to mull over the presence of a Michael Taylor in her class. There were too many of them. Always too many. She never could keep track. Always remembering faces, but never names. Maybe if there were fewer of them, she thought. Maybe if they were younger.

They never were.

—

Even after two weeks back in the classroom, the bell ringing never failed to make Dani jump slightly. She nearly dropped her chalk from where she was drawing on the blackboard. Already behind her she could hear the scrape of chairs and the excited babble at the arrival of the weekend.

Setting down the chalk, Dani turned around and began wiping her hands against her skirt. She had to lift her voice to be heard. “All right everyone, don’t forget your permission slips for a trip to the community library! If you don’t bring back a signed form, you won’t be able to go, and you’ll have to stay here! And, Michael? Can you stay behind for a minute, please? I want to talk to you.”

Michael’s head whipped around at the sound of his name. A few other students shot him odd glances and his shoulders crept up around his ears. He shoved his books and notes into his bag — a dark blue canvas with silver stars that looked like they’d been painstakingly drawn on — then slouched at his desk until the others had all left.

Sitting behind her own desk, Dani brushed at the chalk handprints on her skirt — she was always a mess by the end of a school week; chalk everywhere — and gestured for Michael to come closer. He hesitated before pushing himself upright and walking forward until he stood in front of her desk. His brow was furrowed but his head was bowed, looking contrite, as though waiting for some sort of reprimand.

Dani gentled her voice. “Michael, I just wanted to -"

"Mikey."

She blinked, faltering. "I'm sorry?"

"My name," he said very firmly for someone who stood with such a stoop. "It’s Mikey. I don’t like Michael."

With a smile, Dani said, "Of course. Mikey. You’re not in trouble. I promise.” With a light tap of her palms against the surface of the desk, she pulled out a piece of paper from atop one of the stacks and slid it towards him across her desk. “This is your homework from Monday. Do you remember this problem here? Number eleven?”

Shrugging at the weight of his backpack, he nodded.

“Well, I kind of messed up,” she said, lowering her voice and leaning forward as though revealing a secret. “And I copied this problem from the wrong section of the book. The back section of the book, I mean. Most of the others didn’t even try to answer it, and those that did got it wrong. Except —” Dani tapped a finger against the edge of the page, “— for you.”

Mikey did not say anything. His gaze remained dropped, as though he were studying his shoes.

“Do you know what this ‘x’ is?” Dani asked, pointing to the math problem in question.

Mikey shook his head. “No. I thought it was like a question mark?”

“Yeah.” Dani smiled. “Yeah, that’s right.”

He glanced up at her, saw her watching him, and then hastily lowered his eyes again, shuffling his feet.

Leaning her weight on her forearms, Dani said, “I know you’re a transfer student this year, and you came from somewhere out of state. Did your other schools teach you algebra by any chance?”

Again, he shook his head.

“Okay.” She ducked her head down in an attempt to look into his eyes. “I told you: you’re not in trouble. I just wanted to know — do you like math? Because it seems to me you’re really good at it.”

“I guess,” he mumbled. His hand tightened around the strap of his backpack. “Can I go now?”

Dani toyed with the edge of the page of homework. Then with a sigh she leaned back in her seat. “Yeah, you can go. Have a good weekend.”

He murmured some pleasantry in response, but in the next moment he was gone from the room so fast she thought she must have imagined it. For a moment, Dani frowned after him. She pulled his homework towards herself, studying the page. Mikey’s handwriting was cramped and messy, but there was no mistaking the fact that he had written every answer only once. There were no eraser marks to be seen. He even showed the steps he took to reach his answers.

Her thumb traced over his name at the top right hand corner. Then, with a little shake of her head, she set the page back atop the stack of other papers and began to clean up.

Even after the kids had mostly left, there were always a few stragglers left behind. Some trotted through the halls in packs on their way to whatever extracurricular activities their parents had signed them up for. Dani kept the door to her classroom open, and the squeak of their shoes echoed down the corridor along with the sound of their fading voices. Tilting her wrist to check the time, she pulled out the latest round of homework assignments that had been handed back to her earlier that day. The set she hadn’t had a chance to mark yet.

Best to just get it done with now. Her car was clinging to the last vestiges of life and had landed itself back in the workshop earlier that week. She would be here a while until Eddie got off work.

She grabbed a red pen and pulled the first page towards her. The pen flicked officiously as she scanned through the questions, barely pausing until she circled the final grade at the top and set the page aside in favor of the next. And so on. And so forth. It was almost relaxing. As relaxing as a known constant could be. She could always rely upon the dependability of homework that needed grading. Just like she could rely upon the dependability of death and taxes.

She glanced up only rarely from her work whenever a flurry of movement flitted across the corners of her vision. A bird darting from a tree branch here. A janitor sweeping the floors there. Dani paused to push her seat back from the desk and make small talk, asking after the janitor's wife and kids until he shuffled along with a wave, pushing his long-handled broom, which looked more like a breed of shaggy dog than a cleaning implement. She had almost finished grading the stack of papers, when she glanced out the window towards the street. She looked back down at the papers, then did a double take.

That was a student sitting on the curb. She recognized that blue backpack with silver stars. Dani checked the time again. Nearly four in the afternoon now. With a hum and a frown, she returned to grading, but her gaze would wander after each finished page back towards the window.

Finally, she capped the pen and set it down atop the finished stack of papers. She would need to enter those grades into the system later, but that could wait. For now, Dani swept everything into her bag before slinging it over one shoulder. Her keys jangled from their lanyard as she locked up and made her way outside.

Mikey was still crouched on the sidewalk when she approached. Her shoes clacked dully against the pavement, and he turned to look over his shoulder at who was approaching him.

Dani smiled brightly. "Hi!" she said. "You’re still here?"

Mikey nodded, but gave no verbal reply. Some sort of magazine was hanging loosely from his fingers, half open and tucked between his legs as though he had been caught red-handed.

Setting her bag down on the ground, she sat beside him and craned her neck to get a look at the cover he was clearly trying to hide. "Wonder Woman, huh?"

His cheeks flushed in embarrassment, and he refused to look anywhere near her direction.

"You know," Dani said. "I used to wait up at night to catch all the episodes of the show as they were airing. The Lynda Carter ones? You ever watch it?"

His eyes were wide when he finally turned to look at her. He nodded. "Yeah. I love that show."

"I recorded them all," Dani confided in a whisper, as though the two of them were in on a secret. "Still have them on tape at home, though I haven't watched them in forever."

"My sister gets annoyed when I rewatch stuff too often," Mikey said. He had straightened his legs, and now the comic book was sprawled across his bony knees to reveal a few inked pages.

She nodded towards the thin paper booklet. "I never read the comics, though. Are they any fun?"

It was like opening flood gates. Suddenly, she found herself being regaled about the entire publication history of Wonder Woman, while Mikey gestured wildly with the comic so that the loose pages rustled with every motion of his hands. His face came alight when he spoke. Dani listened with amusement. She perched an elbow on her knees and propped her chin on her hand, nodding along, asking appropriate questions. Once she asked what was obviously a dumb question, for he made a face and explained her error in great detail.

The early autumnal sun was slanting through the trees by the time a boxy silver sedan rolled up to the other side of the street. Dani could see a familiar mop of dark hair and the gleam of glasses through the windows. The car puttered to a halt, engine idling, and Eddie pressed down on the steering wheel so that the horn blared briefly.

Dani waved in his direction and said to Mikey, “That’s my ride. Are you going to be okay out here?” She glanced down the street for any approaching cars. “Someone’s coming to pick you up, right?”

In answer, he held up the issue of Wonder Woman. “It’s okay, Miss Clayton. My sister will be here soon.”

“Okay, then,” said Dani. Slapping her hands on her thighs, she pushed herself to her feet, bag hanging from one shoulder. She walked towards the car with a smile and a wave back at Mikey. “I’ll see you next week!”

He did not answer. He was already nose-deep in his comic book again. Shaking her head with a small chuckle, Dani continued towards where Eddie was waiting for her, tapping at the dashboard. It wasn’t until her hand was on the chromed door handle that she finally registered what Mikey had said.

A sister. He had a sister. At first she’d thought — well, a sister who got annoyed with a brother who hogged the television set would surely be a younger sister. But a sister who drove to pick him up from school was definitely not a younger sister.

“Danielle, are you all right? You look a little pale.”

The sound of Eddie’s voice made her jerk half out of her skin. She hadn’t even realized he had rolled down the window.

“Yeah,” she said, her voice catching in her throat. “Yeah. Can you just - Can you wait a second? I’ll be —I’ll be just a second.”

Dani shoved her bag through the open window into her seat, then whirled around and marched back across the street. Her hands were clenched into fists at her side. She could feel the bite of her short nails into her palms. Something acidic boiled in her stomach, twisting it into knots, until she stood over Mikey, struggling to find her voice.

“You said you had a sister?” she asked. “An older sister? And — And your last name is Taylor?”

Looking puzzled, Mikey shrugged. “Yeah?”

This was impossible. There was no way. For a long moment, Dani stared at him, his brown hair, his brown eyes, his narrow shoulders, the almost familiar shape of his nose and face.

Dani cleared her throat and tried to sound nonchalant. “And what — uh — what’s her name?”

With a quizzical frown up at her, Mikey turned a page of his comic book to where Wonder Woman was punching stars from one of her foes. “My sister?” he asked, as if it were the most bizarre question in the world. “Jamie. Her name’s Jamie.”

“Right,” Dani breathed, feeling like she’d just received a blow to the space beneath her ribcage. “Right. Of course. Sorry. I’ll just — Bye.”

Without another word, she turned on her heel and strode back towards the waiting car. She willed her breathing to even out, even as she felt something coil around her sternum and tighten with every step. Yanking open the door, Dani slipped into the car. She pushed her bag down to her feet and pulled the door shut behind her.

“Everything good?” Eddie asked.

“Yeah,” Dani lied, her voice sounding oddly high even to her own ears. It was difficult to swallow; her throat felt too tight. A rush of blood flooded through her ears in a deafening crash. She stared fixedly at the reflection of her own clenched hands in the slanted windshield, willing them to relax even as her knuckles went whiter. “Fine. Everything’s fine.”

And Eddie didn’t question it at all. He merely shrugged, put the car into gear, and drove away.

—

It stayed with her afterwards. Like a bruise upon her skin, blue and purple, tender to the touch. That cloying sense of the air too thick. Molasses on a hot summer day, the dark shadow that clung to her heels in sunlight, haunting her every step. She couldn’t breathe with it, couldn’t escape it.

Jamie. Jamie, here. Jamie, home.

Somehow Eddie didn’t notice. It completely passed him by, the way her eyes darted around as they stopped to pick up groceries, her clenched fists held tightly to her sides, consumed with the uneasy notion that she might turn around the corner and Jamie would appear, as if summoned by the gravity of Dani’s pounding heart.

It should’ve been easy — like most things eventually — locking it away. Erasing it. She had managed now for years, days, months. Except now the very thought of Jamie being so near again, so tangible again, made her somehow indelible. As if she’d always been there. Waiting. As if she’d never gone. It felt altogether at once like being peeled and stripped away, down to an exposed nerve.

Dani wished she could say she slept easy that night. Instead, after spending much of the witching hour staring at the ceiling, she finally succumbed to the sound of Eddie’s soft snores, his arm splayed across her waist, only to wake up feeling as if she'd been cracked open and hollowed out. Somehow, in between the moments of stumbling out of bed and driving up to the blue bungalow across town with Eddie in the small rental truck behind her, Dani managed to go through the motions of call and response. Her limbs moving, her mouth speaking all of their own accord, and she could only watch it happening. She pulled on the turn signal. The click of the light like an errant drip of a tap. It was only when she was cutting the engine to stare up at the house that was once hers, that something tightened in her chest, shunting her back to earth.

Carson met them by the front steps where he sat in his studded leather jacket that he wore regardless of the weather, two takeout cups in hand.

“Took you long enough,” he grumbled, standing and offering one of the cups to Eddie who reached him first. “Thought I was gonna have to drink these myself before they got cold.”

Eddie huffed a laugh, taking the cup. “Yeah, we wouldn’t want that,” he drawled before helping himself inside the house without a backwards glance, taking a long sip from his cup.

Carson stared after him for a moment before turning to Dani with a smirk, and said, “Someone’s in a mood.”

Managing a chuckle, Dani folded her arms around herself. “Yeah, he uh, he’s just eager to get it done, you know? Realtor wants the place empty by three today.”

“Well, in that case,” he said, holding out the last cup, his smirk softening to something kinder.

“Oh, thank you,” she said, taking it. The brush of his fingers against hers was warm and welcome. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Sure, I did,” he responded with a shrug, and nudged her to take a drink, “Go on.”

At the first sip of what Dani had thought was coffee was instead a sweet and rich hot chocolate. Her eyes went wide.

Carson laughed at the expression on her face. “Thought you could use a little something sweet today.”

She smiled at him over the plastic top and took another longer sip. “Thank you,” she said, “For coming. You didn’t need to, but —”

“— You needed some extra muscle, which I’ve plenty of.” His grin seemed rueful. There lingered in Carson more of the boyish youth that Dani had seen in Eddie so many years ago. He wasn’t as gangly or as broad-shouldered as his older brothers, but he was always, without fail, a comforting presence in an otherwise rowdy O’Mara household.

“And yet none of your other brothers showed up, I see,” Dani said.

“Yeah, well,” Carson shrugged against his leather jacket, hands stuck into the pockets. “Guess, I’m just the only responsible one.”

“I knew there was a reason why I liked you best.”

He winked and lowered his voice. “Don’t let Eddie hear you say that.”

With a snort, Dani reached out and ruffled his perfectly coiffed hair so that it more resembled Eddie’s unruly curls. He ducked his head and swatted her away with a whine of complaint. She laughed when he stepped away to carefully fix his hair in the reflection of her car window.

“You leave your pomade at home again?” Dani teased. “Thought you never left without it.”

She could just make out his face in the reflection, nose scrunching up as he raked his fingers through his dark hair until it was suitably tamed. The door of the house one over opened, and a young man strode out, wearing a bathrobe and clutching a mug of coffee. Immediately Carson straightened, as though he’d been tapped with the wrong end of a cattle prod.

Dani waved. “Hi, Jason!”

Her neighbor lifted a desultory hand while he fumbled with his letterbox. “Last day?” he asked, voice raspy with sleep.

“Taking the last of it now,” she said.

Jason shut the letterbox and scooped up the newspaper that had been tossed onto his lawn earlier that morning. “Let me know if you need an extra hand.”

“I should be all right. That’s what Carson’s for.” She gestured with her hot chocolate towards Carson, who had his hands jammed back into his pockets and was now leaning against her car with an odd expression on his face.

Jason glanced over and nodded, no more than a jerk of his chin up, before walking back into his house with the newspaper tucked under one arm. The muscles in Carson’s jaw were clenched, standing out like the ropes of a sailing ship.

After the door to Jason’s house had swung shut, Dani asked, “I thought you two were friends?”

Carson grunted a wordless note. “We had a falling out a few months ago. Anyway —” He turned on his heel, grin back in place, and started making his way towards her house. “Show me the heavy stuff. Come on!”

By the time they first made their way inside, Eddie was already hauling out boxes filled with her things. The tops and sides of each cardboard box had been painstakingly labelled in Dani’s hand, the letters neat and blocky. Carson slipped by Eddie with an exaggerated pose as if squeezing through a tight space as they passed one another in the door. Eddie paused, arms laden, and turned his face to Dani while she climbed the steps leading up to the entryway. The extra step allowed her to press a chaste kiss to his cheek and, mollified, he continued on his way towards the truck. Once inside, she found that Carson was already heaving an armchair up with his hands. She moved out of the way so he could trot after his older brother, leaving her momentarily alone.

The house was bare. Most of her things had already been carted away the week before. The transition into their new shared home had been gradual, just like everything else in their relationship. Eddie settling in first and coaxing Dani along as though she were a particularly nervous show dog that had slipped the collar. Looking around now, hands on her hips, Dani felt like an intruder. Like she was an archaeologist who had wandered into someone else's burial site with a rusty torch and hammer.

It almost looked bigger now that it was so empty. Her footsteps echoed too loud on the wooden floors, the sound traveling further and longer. The bare walls once peppered with paintings and photos now like a skeleton expanding its ribs, waiting to expel her in one long sunken breath. Her thumb gradually drifted to her mouth as she took it all in, biting hard at her nail and skin, fixedly eyeing the spot where once a small reading nook used to be.

The sound of footsteps behind her was harsh and loud to her ears. “Hey, what did I tell you about that?” Eddie said from beside her suddenly, his hand gently pulling Dani’s away from her mouth.

She swallowed heavily and pulled her hand carefully back to hold into a fist by her side, and said, “Yeah, I know. Sorry. I just —”

“I don’t like you hurting yourself,” he said, frowning. She couldn’t help but let her shoulders slump at the concern in his eyes, and only managed to give him a tenuous smile and a nod. “Look, we’re almost done. Soon we’ll be out of here in no time and we can finally just focus on our home. Just let me and Carson do all the hard work.”

“I can help,” Dani said. “I want to help.”

He sighed. “Danielle -”

“I have my inhaler in the car. I won’t keel over and die,” Dani said.

“Hey, Ed, buddy, what happened to that deadline, huh?” Carson said, leaning heavily on the wall and pointing behind him to the kitchen, “You gonna help me with this thing or not?”

Eddie rolled his eyes, and briefly placed a hand on her shoulder before disappearing into the kitchen with muttered grumbling. Dani grinned after him before catching Carson’s eyes, chuckling and shaking her head as he winked at her before following Eddie.

“Gotta give her a minute to breathe, Ed.” Carson’s voice was soft, but still Dani heard it all the same and wrapped her arms tight around herself.

Clearing her throat, she strode off in the direction of her old bedroom. The bed had been taken away and put in their new spare bedroom for guests who might come to visit. The carpet still bore indentations from where the posts had once sat. Eddie had already been in here; the boxes were gone. Dani glanced around for any last remaining items that might have been forgotten. The closet door was slightly awry, and with a frown she pulled it fully open. There was a single wire coat hanger hooked on the bar that stretched across the closet. Her hand reached out to take it, when she froze.

There, tucked away into the corner beneath one of the built in shelves, was a small wooden box. She could hardly remember the last time she had seen it, let alone opened it. A layer of dust covered the top. Kneeling down, Dani pulled the box out and into her lap. She blew the dust off and had to wipe a bit more with the edge of her sleeve. It was made of plain wood with a bronze latch fastening the lid shut. Her thumb teased the corner of the latch. She worried her lower lip between her teeth before steeling herself and lifting the lid open on squeaky hinges.

Nestled inside were a series of photographs, faded with age. Something clenched in her chest as she touched the first one with trembling fingers.

She and Jamie looked so young, and they were. Barely fifteen. Jamie's arm flung around her shoulder, arm outstretched to snap the photo while she pressed a kiss to Dani's cheek even as Dani laughed and elbowed her ribs. Swallowing down the urge to be sick, she slipped the photo aside to see the next. Jamie was younger still. Her arms were outstretched as she balanced her weight on the narrow steel bar of the abandoned train tracks beyond the fields that surrounded the town. Dani could remember the day she took this with crystal clarity. The days of summer in those years had been longer somehow, stretching on into warm endless nights.

She was a furtive grave robber, flicking through picture after picture, exhuming a past that she hardly recognized herself in now. And pictures weren’t all that were stored here. There was a band shirt that had been half eaten by moths over years of neglect. An old Zippo lighter with scratched edges along the chrome plating. A necklace that was actually just a worn old half dollar coin pierced through and hung from a cheap chain. A cassette tape labelled Jamie’s Mixtape (1978) in a messy slanted scrawl, long missing its protective case. And finally, an old battered copy of Valley of the Dolls, where if she were to flick it open, she would find a pressed blue morning glory hidden among the pages.

She gently ran her hand over them, still trembling as if the living memories within the treasure trove thrummed under her skin with its own heartbeat.

In the distance, she could hear footsteps and the back and forth between Carson and Eddie in the living room as they manoeuvred a couch through the front door. When the footsteps drew closer, approaching down the hall, Dani hurriedly stuffed everything back into the box and shut the lid.

Carson leaned in the doorway. At some point he had shed his leather jacket, so that now he only wore a white undershirt that was two sizes too small, tucked into his jeans. “You good here? We’ve loaded the last of it into the truck.”

“Yeah,” Dani said. She pushed herself upright, clutching the box to her chest as though it were an heirloom. “Yeah, that's everything.”

His eyebrows rose and he nodded towards the box. “What do you got there?”

Dani’s grip tightened. She could feel the grooves of the box pressing into her skin. “Nothing important.”

—

Dani went about her routine on edge. At the supermarket, gripping the shopping cart between her hands and turning down the different aisles. At the gas station, stepping out of her beat up old car to work the pump. At the school, peering out the window at all the parents dropping off their kids in the parking lot. At the local cafe nearest the elementary school, picking up a newspaper and a slice for Hannah. Hoping for a glimpse of Jamie and dreading any encounter with her all at once.

Except Jamie never appeared. And Mikey sat at the back of the class, doodling in his notebook, not paying attention but knowing all the answers regardless whenever Dani called on him to participate. She could always see him after school sitting on the curbside and reading a new comic issue, or thumbing through a book from the paltry school library or scratching at his homework with a pencil. Not once did Dani loiter long enough to see him get picked up, and she felt a stab of irritation that he should be left alone for so long. But it wasn’t her business, and he got along well enough with the other kids during recess.

Dani was still stewing silently over the whole affair at dinner with her future in-laws. She sat at the dining table, chewing at the skin of her thumb, with Carson at one elbow and Eddie at the next. Mike, Judy’s soft-spoken stooping husband, sat at the head of the table, while Judy herself set the last of the platters down and invited everyone to tuck in.

“How’re the kids this year?” Judy asked as she spooned peas onto her plate.

Dani made a noise in the back of her throat, before lowering her hand into her lap. “Yeah, they’re great! I — uh — I actually have a transfer student.”

Judy made a sound to indicate that she was still listening even while she passed a platter across the table to Eddie.

“He’s really smart,” Dani continued. “I don’t really know what to do with him. He — well, he always looks a bit bored, to be honest.”

“Don’t they have some sort of advanced program for kids like that?” Mike asked. He had already tucked into the food even though his plate was only half full.

“I’d need to talk to the parent or guardian first,” Dani said, her stomach flipping at the thought. The peas had made their way around the table to her now, and she slowly scraped the last of them onto an available corner of her plate. Swallowing heavily, Dani concentrated hard on the steady movements of her hands, and said, “Judy, I don’t suppose you’ve heard of anyone new coming to town?”

Judy’s mouth was full. She frowned thoughtfully as she chewed, and swallowed before answering. “No, I haven’t, now that you mention it. I’ll have to ask around the ladies at the book club if they’ve seen anyone.”

Any hope Dani might have nursed of learning something new about Jamie’s presence in town flickered out like a snuffed candle. “Thanks,” she said, already feeling the conversation wander towards other topics. “Can you pass the salt, Carson?”

—

Sitting here in her Sunday best with Eddie’s warm hand in hers and a book of hymns in the other, Dani was sandwiched in the pew between her fiancé and her mother. Karen smelled sharply of cheap mall perfume, her dress pressing in tight on her ribs. The priest’s voice echoed from his place declaming near the altar, but Dani wasn’t listening. She was too preoccupied with the way her heart pounded in her chest, the clench of her stomach and the restless nerves that someone might have seen her.

She hadn’t planned on going to the movies yesterday, not at first. Not until she had seen the ad in Saturday’s morning paper, an art house theater two towns over advertising a one-time showing of Desert Hearts. It had caused such a stir in the community a few years ago that any curiosity Dani had felt toward it had died and shriveled up inside of her. Yet her Saturday afternoon had been free, and Eddie had been mercifully busy after helping her move the last of her things.

And now Dani sat in the same church she’d been going to her entire life, feeling like a marionette whose mouth was puppetted by invisible strings as she joined the others in song. The priest leading them through a hymn wasn’t the same man who baptized Dani as an infant. The bench she was sitting on wasn’t the same she sat in week after week. The woman on her right was virtually nonexistent. The man’s hand she was holding loosely in her left wasn’t the same man who she grew up with, he wasn’t the boy who asked her again and again to marry him.

This Dani, this new Dani, lied to her fiancé and drove an hour out of town the day before with a whispered prayer on her tongue for her car to just hold on for once, for just one more day to see a film that left her blushing scarlet and her stomach dropping not uncomfortably, sitting alone in the dark with a carton of untouched popcorn. This Dani would return to her car, and her first thought would turn to whether this would be the kind of movie Jamie would have picked as her choice of their weekly film showing — knowing immediately that the answer would be 'yes.’ And just as abruptly as the thought appeared, she promptly squashed the idea of even contemplating such a question.

Dani’s voice faltered, wavering over the words as a flash of guilt washed over her when the heat returned to her skin. She looked up at the cross, hanging on the back wall over the priest’s head, and glanced furtively at Eddie to see where he was in the verse, praying no one had seen her stumble. When service finally ended, and the ritualistic gossip on the front steps had been entertained, she allowed herself to be led outside. Eddie’s hand was warm and steady, completely enveloping her own, pulling her to the warm air where it finally felt like she was able to breathe again.

She felt a heady rush of relief when her mom begged off brunch, claiming to suffer from a headache as she walked to her car with a half-hearted wave. Relieved two-fold when Eddie needed to run off to the office for preliminary work for Monday, kissing her on the cheek in a goodbye that she barely registered before rushing off to his car. Until she was only left with Judy.

“So,” Judy asked, and for a brief terrifying moment Dani thought she might know, she might have finally seen her. In the end though all Judy said was: “How about that lunch?”

Judy linked their arms, pulling her in close until all Dani could do was smile and say, “Lead the way.”

The bistro Judy directed them to was relatively new, Dani had passed it multiple times over the last couple weeks but had never actually gone in, always driving by with casual curiosity and a bemused but charmed smile at the name: A Batter Place.

“You’re gonna love it,” Judy said, guiding Dani in with an arm linked in her own, “Their macaroons are to die for.”

Gamely, Dani smiled along to Judy’s enthusiasm as Judy pointed to various fixtures of the restaurant, steadily ignoring the strain building in the back of her neck. It wouldn’t be fair to say that Judy made her nervous. There were too many good intentions behind her warm eyes and her warm hugs, always with her hands full of containers of hearty food, always holding on a little longer than Dani expected, like she was afraid Dani would drift away. Judy, she knew, at least cared.

Perhaps that was why, after settling in their seats and ordering their lunch, Dani hid her hands under the table, fingers trembling as they picked at the skin of her thumb.

“So, how have you been, honey?” Judy asked over her cup of coffee, smiling that kind, good-intentioned smile. “I feel like I’ve barely seen you since school started up again.”

A small pressure valve released in Dani’s chest, and she finally allowed herself a real smile. “I’ve been keeping busy, and well — you know how it is with a new school year. This year especially is different.”

“Because of the higher grade?”

“Right. And I just — I want things to be perfect, you know?” Dani said, and chuckled ruefully, “Though twenty-five twelve year olds will certainly be a challenge.”

This she could manage. This she could at least be grateful for, the way Judy allowed the conversation to steer towards something that filled Dani with a sense of purpose, smiling proudly at her over the din of conversation around them with no mention of Eddie or long overdue wedding planning.

Judy took a pointed sip of her coffee. “Well, I know you like the challenge, but you can’t forget to take care of yourself,” she said, her lips pulling into a familiar smile. One to be used when nearing a cornered animal. Dani’s stomach sank, when Judy continued, “Now, I know you and Eddie need time to get used to living together, doing all the things couples have to learn to do alone but, you don’t have to steer clear of the house forever. I know we all recently just had dinner together but —”

Dani glanced away.

“— You could come over at any time. Like yesterday! What were you up to yesterday? I would have made lasagna for you.”

“Oh, uh —” Dani gave a nervous breathy chuckle, hoping to hide the grimace at the memory of the two women who had stared brazenly at her when she had exited the art house theater yesterday, Dani in her too bright blouse and high jeans, looking frazzled and out of place. She took a long sip of her coffee, hoping to hide the same feeling under her skin now. “You know. Busy.”

Judy waved her explanation away with that same smile. “Oh, well, never mind that. It doesn’t matter now. There’s always next weekend,” she said, and her hand reached over to clasp Dani’s before she could hide it again. “I’m just hoping I get more time to spend with my favorite future daughter-in-law before things get too crazy. Wedding planning and teaching a class of twenty-five kids is one thing, but thinking about raising a baby is another.”

A moment passed before Dani could process the words. A baby. Of course.

“Oh,” was all Dani managed to say, a polite smile frozen on her face as Judy’s grip on her hand tightened in a way that anyone else would have found comforting. The hand that Dani so wanted to pull away, to press against her chest. A pressure building inside her ribs, pulling her skin taught and straining at the edges. A ringing in her ears that sounded more and more like the whistle of a tea kettle or the whine of an over-revved engine.

She was only saved by the grace of their food arriving, the pressure abating to something manageable as Judy freed Dani’s hand to make room for their plates. It gave Dani the opportunity to down half of her coffee, hot enough to scald, and to clench a fist under the table, her nails pressing hard into the soft skin of her hand.

At the first bite of food, Judy hummed and sank back into her seat. “Now that is delicious,” she said, gesturing with her fork. “Go on, take a bite.”

Dani took advantage of the moment, letting the previous topic of conversation pass over them untouched as she pulled her own forkful of food in her mouth. She blinked in surprise.

“Wow,” she said after swallowing, sharing an incredulous chuckle with Judy. “That is really good.”

“I’m telling you, this new chef knows what he’s doing,” Judy said with a grin, as if she had known exactly how Dani would have reacted.

It should have been comforting, being so well understood. And for the most part it was. Afterall, Dani had spent much of her youth at Judy’s table, being fed day in and day out as if she were Judy’s own. Always having a safe haven. A home away from home, where she would be welcome. No questions asked. It should have been an absolute solace. Yet somehow, she couldn’t shake the feeling of being made of glass. As if she were standing there and Judy was looking right through her at someone else that didn’t exist.

The bell attached to the door rang as it swung open, and the sound drew her back to the table, almost startling her. She swallowed down an unexpected thickness in her throat, ignoring that steady pressure in her ribs, and shared another unassuming smile with Judy, taking a second bite.

“We should come here again,” Dani said, hoping to alleviate some of the pressure that was building in her lungs.

“Then it’s a date. Next Sunday.” Judy smiled wide.

It was so easy, making Judy happy, making her smile wide and bright like she’d won the lottery. It was something Dani was good at, pleasing others. The very thought of speaking up and potentially ruining the moment was enough to cause a vein of dread to thread its way through her. Yet something in that moment caused Judy’s smile to flicker, the sound of the bell ringing again as the front door swung open with a squeak of unoiled hinges. Judy’s eyes glanced over somewhere behind Dani’s shoulder and they slowly widened to an expression Dani had only seen once before — when Eddie announced their engagement during family dinner.

“Jamie Taylor?”

Dani tensed and turned around, and sure enough, there she was. Jamie Taylor herself. Dark jeans, big work boots, and a brown jacket, strolling into the bistro like she’d never left town. Like the air from Dani’s lungs hadn’t been sucked out by a gut punch releasing every single pressure valve at the very sight of her.

“Oi, Sharma! Whatever happened to you saying you could fix those hinges without my help?” Jamie’s voice rang clear across the room.

“Danielle, honey, you didn’t tell me that Jamie was back,” Judy said in a rush of breath, already out of her seat and walking toward Jamie like a woman on a mission, as if there wasn’t a hurricane forming within Dani’s chest. As if a swell of feeling wasn’t rushing through her as she sat unmoving with wide eyes attached to the lines of Jamie’s back, to the curl of her hair, unchanged, unkempt, and yet completely different.

Whatever Dani had expected to feel upon hearing that voice again, it wasn’t to feel all of it at once. She didn’t know which feeling to land on, watching Jamie turn at the sound of Judy’s voice, catching sight of the familiar lines of Jamie’s face as they twisted in surprise and fell into a charming smile as Jamie conceded to a tight hug from Judy; the fluttering of happiness, the rush of anxiety, the desperate desire to flee, the shock that belied the anger and muted resentment.

In the end, Dani just sat there, unable to move and unable to look away.

The pair pulled out of the hug, with Judy briefly and affectionately framing Jamie’s face with her hands like she used to. And Jamie rolled her eyes good naturedly with a crooked smile, burying her hands in her pockets. It was like no time at all had passed. They were teenagers again, and Judy was sending them off back home from dinner with warm hugs and piling their hands with leftovers in tupperware.

When Judy gestured over towards their table towards Dani, it was all she could do to not run and excuse herself to the washroom, to not slip out the back door. But it was too late, tension coiling in her body as Jamie’s head turned towards Dani and their eyes finally met.

It was suddenly incredibly hard to breathe. Dani blinked, and the look on Jamie’s face at the sight of her — startled, mouth agape — was gone, and all that was left was something entirely unfamiliar. A polite placid smile as Judy talked her ear off, answering Judy’s questions and gesturing across the counter towards a handsome man with a thick moustache wearing an apron. Even so, Jamie only had eyes for Dani, her gaze occasionally roving back, her expression unreadable.

Before Dani could do more than stare, Judy was guiding Jamie back to their table, a hand on her back. Dani’s stomach twisted itself into a knot at their approach. Her heart began crashing against her ribs until it was all she could hear. Jamie was looking at her with that crooked grin, and Dani didn’t know what else to do but stand from her seat, faintly dazed, a hand brushing against invisible lint and wrinkles along her sky blue dress.

“Look who I found!” Judy said as they pulled up to the table, as if Dani hadn't been on the verge of a nervous breakdown in the last minute. The last decade, if she were being honest with herself.

All Dani could do was give a trembling smile. “Jamie,” she said, almost breathless, the name feeling foreign on her tongue. “Hi.”

Jamie’s grin shifted into something like a smirk, gaze drifting over Dani so fast that she felt it on her skin like a flash fire. “Danielle,” she said, and Dani’s smile faltered. “Been a minute.”

“It has,” Dani said in between barely gritted teeth, the feeling in her stomach souring.

“I was just telling Jamie how this is the first time I’ve brought you here,” Judy interrupted, oblivious as ever. Jamie’s smirk dropped back into something softer, an eyebrow quirked and her head tilting curiously. “How today of all days, that we all walk in the same restaurant together. It must be kismet.”

“Don’t know about that, Mrs. O’Mara. Was never much one for kismet,” Jamie said with a shrug, looking so much like she’s sixteen again that a dull pressure returned to Dani’s chest. “World’s too chaotic for that.”

“And yet here you are.” Judy shuffled back into her seat and gestured to Jamie. “Come, come sit. Just for a while until your takeout is ready.”

It was only by the grace of luck and Judy’s affection for Jamie, that she gestured toward the chair next to her instead of Dani. Jamie didn’t argue, taking the seat, and Dani following after, almost a second delayed from the shock of it all. She could feel Jamie’s eyes on her as she settled in her chair, but Dani kept her attention low and focused on her food, feeling distinctly like she was in a dream.

“Danielle, truly, I can’t believe you neglected to tell me Jamie was back,” Judy admonished with a teasing grin.

She clenched her teeth. Dani had a hard time believing it herself. “Must’ve slipped my mind," she said.

“How long have you been back again, honey?”

“About two months now,” Jamie said. At the admission, Dani finally pulled her eyes away from the table to look up at Jamie, lounging back in her seat like she had all the time in the world, noticeably avoiding Dani’s gaze.

Two months. Two months, and not even a phone call. Not even a letter. Dani took another heady swallow of her now lukewarm coffee in an effort to ground herself. Some things just never changed, she guessed.

“We were so worried when you left, after — after everything, especially. We all were. I thought about you for so long afterwards. Kept you in my prayers,” Judy said, and while the words were sobering with the memories of those days, Jamie’s expression remained unchanged, detached and ambiguous, the corner of her mouth quirked.

“Then I guess I have you to thank,” Jamie said, “All that praying must’ve done something good. Mikey and I have been getting on quite nicely, if I do say so myself.”

Judy gasped, a hand clutching at her chest. “Oh, Mikey! That sweet boy, how is he? Oh, I can’t believe it’s been so long. He must be — what? Eleven now?”

“Twelve actually,” Jamie said, then chuckled. It was something new. The way her eyes turned just a bit brighter, her smile more gentle, as she reached into her pocket to dig out a beat up leather wallet, flipping it open towards Judy. Judy gasped again, holding onto the wallet with a laugh. “Twelve years old and already reaching my chin," Jamie continued. "The little gremlin’s gonna have me beat by next year at this rate, I swear.”

“He’s wonderful,” Judy said, her eyes alight with emotion, “Gosh, he looks just like you. Except for the eyes, those sweet brown eyes. He’s definitely going to be a heartbreaker.”

“Not on my bloody watch,” Jamie grumbled.

“Have you seen him yet, Danielle?” Judy held out the wallet to Dani, who had to refrain from recoiling back, as if Judy was holding out a live snake.

“I have,” Dani admitted quietly, “He’s one of my students, actually.”

“Oh, so that’s what all those questions were about the other day,” Judy said, and tapped Jamie playfully on her arm resting on the table with her wallet. “What did I tell you? Kismet.”

Jamie flipped the wallet shut and returned it to her pocket. “Mikey did mention the name once or twice. Miss Clayton this, Miss Clayton that, and I thought: what are the chances?”

Dani swallowed down a scoff and the bitterness brewing in the back of her throat. Her left hand ached from clutching it so tight in her lap, knuckles white, crescent-shaped grooves in her palm. She stretched her hand out and ran it through her hair, her fingers trembling as they smoothed down the gentle waves and curls she put in that morning.

“Ah, so he’s done it then,” Jamie said, apropos of nothing. She leaned forward on the table, staring so abruptly and intently that Dani shifted away in her own seat slightly, hoping she hadn’t noticed.

It was the first time Jamie had fully addressed her since that singular hello. Dani frowned, that ever present knot in her stomach twisting tighter. “Sorry?”

“That nice big shiny rock on your hand.” Jamie gestured down to the aforementioned rock, and sure enough, there was her engagement ring, shining bright against the afternoon light pouring through the window. “Must’ve cost a damn fortune.”

Dani had thought the same, when Eddie had dropped to his knee, proffering up the box where the ring lay, his face flickering through a wide array of emotions — adoration, anxiety, hope. At the time all Dani could think, staring down at the large square cut diamond, was that it looked heavy.

“But isn’t it gorgeous?” Judy gushed, reaching out to grasp Dani’s hand to pull it closer for Jamie to see. Dani breathed out an awkward laugh at the sudden motion but let herself be dragged along. “I went to help him pick it out, and — gosh, well, we all know how many times he’s asked over the years. Our Danielle always liked to keep him on his toes. I just about died at the news when they officially announced the engagement a few months later.”

Jamie whistled low. “I can imagine,” she drawled.

Judy continued to ramble about the announcement. She released the hand that Dani tried to surreptitiously and swiftly return under the table, hoping to hide the desire to shrink under the table as well. Meanwhile Jamie seemed to be only half-listening, watching Dani with a tilted head and a sharp glance that left Dani feeling like a strip of overexposed film. Her eyes strayed to Jamie's old scar against her will, landing on the long stretch of a pale line that started from her lower lip and descended down towards her chin. It was usually hard to see, but today it was easy to find in the light of the room.

Dani swallowed thickly and glanced away.

“So, how’d he do it?”

“Mmm?” Dani looked back up, a little dazed.

Jamie’s head tilted pointedly towards her. “Ed,” she said. “How’d he go about it this time? To be honest with you, I had my bets placed on senior prom night, like he’d always planned. Flowers in the park after the dance, and all that rubbish.”

“He told you that?” Dani frowned.

“Wouldn’t shut up about it.”

“Oh.” Dani fiddled with the ring, glancing down at it. “No, it was um — “ She smiled, a frail subdued thing, only to fold her right hand over it, covering the diamond so that it dug into her palm, “ — it was during a dinner date.”

Jamie lifted an eyebrow. “In public?”

Dani nodded. “Yeah.”

“Christ,” Jamie breathed, looking somewhat horrified.

“Language, sweetie,” Judy piped in, seemingly instinctively.

And like clockwork, Jamie ducked her head sheepishly. “Sorry,” she said, not looking sorry at all.

Judy laughed, patting Jamie’s arm. “Gosh, just look at us,” she breathed, her eyes shining as they bounced between Dani and Jamie. “I still can’t believe it. Me and my girls back together again. Who’d have thought?”

Dani breathed out a chuckle, her cheeks aching from the force of holding a smile in place, not knowing what else to say. And what could she say, really? That none of this felt familiar? That it all felt so wrong? That after years of absence, to finally be just arm’s length away from Jamie, only to feel like she was meeting a stranger wearing a familiar face?

No. No, that wasn’t right. She worried her lower lip between her teeth, but Jamie had never stopped watching her. A shared look passed between them and it was there, finally, that she found something warm and tangible. The ghost of a memory of sitting across the table from each other at Judy’s during dinner, sharing a secretive knowing smile, while Judy gushed over Dani’s help in the kitchen, or admonished Jamie for yet another skinned knee. A smile pulled at the corners of Dani’s mouth, slow and real. Jamie blinked, her gaze softening as she mirrored Dani’s smile, and for the first time in a long time, Dani felt something in her chest unspool.

A bell rang. Jamie glanced away, and the moment was gone, leaving Dani chilled in its absence as if she had stepped out from a warm building and into a storm.

“That’s my cue,” Jamie said, sounding just as she had before, as if nothing had transpired between them. “Can’t let the kid starve without some lunch.”

She moved to stand but Judy’s hand held her in place. “Don’t think you can get away again this time without at least letting me give you my number,” Judy reprimanded not unkindly. "We got a new one at the house, you'll be surprised to hear."

Grinning crookedly, Jamie said, “And I imagine you’ll be wanting mine, then?”

Judy pulled out a pen from her purse and waggled it back and forth. “You know me too well.”

Grabbing a spare napkin, Judy jotted down a series of numbers. “Now don’t you forget to give me a call, all right? I want to hear all about your time away,” she said, handing over the pen and napkin for Jamie to rip out her piece, and note down her own number. Dani’s eyes strayed down to the confident, angled numbers, just barely able to decipher them from her vantage point. “And I hope you know, you and Mikey are welcome any time over for dinner. I want to meet that young man. See if he’s anything like his older sister.”

The words were fond, but Jamie snorted all the same. “Don’t you worry, Mrs. O’Mara. He’s my better half.”

Dani rose to her feet out of politeness when Judy stood to give Jamie a parting hug. For a terrifying moment, she thought Jamie might expect one from her as well, but Jamie only lifted her eyebrows and nodded before turning towards the counter to collect her order. She didn’t glance in Dani’s direction again as she left, pushing through the glass door and striding off down the street with the breeze in her hair. Dani watched her go, jaw aching from how hard she was clenching her teeth together.

Judy sat, and Dani followed suit as though she were simply mimicking Judy’s movements. “Jamie Taylor back from the dead after ten years. Imagine that.” Judy chuckled to herself and picked up her fork. “Feels just like old times, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Dani breathed. “Just like old times.”

#thobm #the haunting of bly manor #dani clayton/jamie #bring home a haunting #dani clayton #jamie taylor #cfau #roman writes #FINALLY

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