#i had to keep him alive the only chubby characters so far have died

[djzbasement]

I’ve made a whole KG.. Not really got a name for it yet, but I have the characters and majority of the lore set out.

Here are a few things I’ve drawn about a few certain characters :3

Yori Shiomura, ultimate SHSL movie star, the first blackened.

Keiko Hayashi, the ultimate SHSL Snake trainer. Second to be murdered.

Kyran Kadokawa, Ultimate SHSL Craftsman, second blackened.

Dimitrios Bouras, Ultimate SHSL polar explorer, survivor.

Will this turn into anything big? Probably not. But it’s fun to draw and I really like talking about my AU. So wahoo! :3

[labarch]

Attempt at a Witch Hat Atelier timeline

We are still missing a lot of backstory for our main cast, but I thought I’d try and write a timeline based on what we know so far, and explore where their storylines might intersect.

I am pulling these numbers out of my hat for convenience sake, but here are some approximate ages for the characters: at the start of the manga, let’s say Coco, Tetia and Agott are all 12, Riche is 11, and Qifrey and Olruggio are 28.

20-23 years ago: Olruggio leaves his birth town Godley and moves to the Great Hall, maybe as young as 5 years old.

While many witches are born in the Great Hall, Olruggio comes from a town called Godley in the North. Yet he doesn’t remember Utowin, who came from the same place. We know that young witches usually start their training between the age of 7 and 10, but since witch society is awfully elitist, Olruggio would have been sent there as soon as his talent for magic became apparent.

Being ripped from his home at an extremely young age could explain his fear of being unwanted and left behind: he overworks himself as a way to feel useful and validated, is defensive about his own feelings, and he gets agitated and sometimes aggressive whenever Qifrey hides things from him.

20 years ago: arrival of Qifrey at the Great Hall at age 8. Olruggio befriends him soon afterwards. The both of them start sneaking out at night to chase Brimhats.

8 year old Qifrey was one fierce little thing, you have to give him that. His abuse at the hands of the Brimhats was brutal enough to break a grown man, but he picks himself up and goes right after them like “Alright jerks, you’ve got some explaining to do and I want my eyeball back!”.

Also it cracks me up that Olruggio was carrying this massive book in their flashback. Gotta love that his reaction to Qifrey’s “Let’s go chase some terrorists!” was “Sure, let me just pack my homework =>”.

Finally, there might be a slightly more selfish motivation for Olruggio’s fast friendship and devotion to Qifrey. Olruggio’s self-esteem lies in his ability to help people, so he would naturally be drawn to someone helpless. It’s unclear how much of Qifrey’s memory was missing: apparently he didn’t know about birthdays. How many other basic concepts was he missing? Did he know how to read? Between that, his lack of knowledge about magic and his injury, he was probably completely dependent on Olruggio at the beginning. Given Olruggio’s wish that they go back to “the good old times” when they were always together, I am wondering whether some hidden part of him misses being essential to someone. It’s well-intentioned, but not entirely healthy, especially if he is using Qifrey as a coping mechanism for his own insecurities.

14 years ago: Olruggio and Qifrey make a pledge of (betrothal) friendship, exchange tassels and attempt the Librarian test at age 14. It is their last adventure together, but Qifrey will continue his investigations on his own, to Olruggio’s disappointment and betrayal. Qifrey starts wearing his half-tinted glasses.

In the pledge flashback, they are wearing their old tassels, but they have swapped them by the time they undertake the third test. Also, when he remembers that pledge, Olruggio says that Qifrey’s investigation “should have ended at the Tower of Books”. The tower is the last likely place where Qifrey could have found answers about his past and a non-forbidden way of getting his eye back. Olruggio probably made him promise that he would stop his search afterwards.

Beldaruit says that he thought Qifrey had given up on his search after the third test, but Olruggio tells a slightly different story. Apparently he thought Qifrey “finally stopped causing trouble” after taking in apprentices, which means he was still behaving suspiciously right up until he became a teacher. Alaira also comments on Qifrey’s interest in the Brimhats in the first volume, so clearly his investigations were common knowledge among his friends, even as an adult.

Olruggio’s anger whenever the Brimhats are mentioned would then be caused not just by his own fear of forbidden magic, but by the reminder that Qifrey broke his promise to him, and refused to leave his past behind. Naturally, Olruggio doesn’t know about Qifrey’s change in circumstances: he is no longer looking to retrieve what he lost, but trying to stop an impending threat.

Qifrey’s discoveries in the Tower of Books also seem to have renewed his disgust towards his own scar: he starts wearing glasses shortly afterwards, even though his eyesight hasn’t yet started deteriorating.

14-5 years ago: in that interval, Coco’s father dies of illness. Olruggio becomes more and more famous for his magical items, and is given the title “Shining Torch” / “Master of Lights”. His glowstone paths become widely popular, and are installed around the castle near Coco’s mom. Both Qifrey and Olruggio pass the fourth test and complete their training.

At this stage, I really doubt that Qifrey intended to become a teacher. Whatever information he found at the Tower of Books convinced him he had to stop the Brimhats’ plan. He was probably planning to complete his training and then go straight on to his quest, not really expecting to return alive.

There are also hints that this was a strained period for Qifrey and Olruggio: Olruggio mentions that he would like them to confide in each other “just like old times”, which implies that they grew more distant after the Librarian test. I’m suspecting that Qifrey was trying to slowly remove himself from Olruggio’s life, hoping Olruggio would be so famous and beloved by the time they graduated that he would forget about Qifrey and barely notice his disappearance. Qifrey’s self-esteem isn’t the best y’all.

5 years ago: Coco receives the magic picture book from Iguin at age 7 at the Silver Night Festival. The Brimhats stop showing signs of activity. Qifrey takes on his first apprentice (probably Tetia, age 7). He interrupts his investigation of the Brimhats and creates the atelier. Olruggio becomes his Watchful Eye.

We don’t know exactly how old Coco was when she got her book, but her tiny chubby face makes me think she was 6-7. Alaira also tells us in the first volume that the incident with Coco’s mother is the first sign of Brimhat activity in five years. I am thinking that after Iguin gave away the book, he instructed the other Brimhats to keep a low profile until his scheme could hatch.

I also wonder whether Coco getting her book might coincide with Qifrey becoming a teacher and creating his atelier. Given that Qifrey is probably tied to Iguin’s schemes, how coincidental is it that Qifrey wandered into Coco’s village and set her fate in motion? Perhaps Iguin contrived for them to live in the same area so that they would meet eventually. Either he somehow influenced Qifrey’s choice of location for his atelier, or he selected Coco as his “child of hope” because of her relative proximity as well as her love for magic.    

7 years old is when we could expect Tetia to have passed the first test. For now we know little about her backstory, but we can guess a few things: she is enthusiastic and ambitious, but gets easily side-tracked by pet projects and struggles to stick to the curriculum. She craves positive feedback and is worried her spells and interests will be condemned as frivolous. It makes me think that she passed her first test early, but was then mistreated by her first teachers for being too childish.

We’ve seen that Qifrey has a compulsive tendency to adopt children in distress. It would fit his character if he became a teacher on impulse. Maybe he had to pass the fifth test in a rush to be allowed to keep Tetia by his side. This also brought Olruggio back into his life, as he was the only one willing to follow him away from the atelier as Watchful Eye.

The complicity between Tetia and Qifrey, and Tetia taking on the role of a big sister for both Riche and Coco, also make me think she was Qifrey’s first apprentice. Tetia is often shown teasing Qifrey, quoting both Qifrey and Olruggio, and imitating Qifrey’s teaching style: I can totally see them as a little family of three at some point in the past.  

4 years ago: Riche starts training under her brother’s master, a creepy asshole, at age 7.

We actually have a clear timestamp for that one in chapter 25, woohoo! Riche’s old teacher can eat a brick.

3-2 years ago: Qifrey and Olruggio learn about Riche’s mistreatment in her old atelier and promptly adopt her. Beldaruit takes on Ririfin as an apprentice. Qifrey’s eyesight starts deteriorating. He adds the light protection glyph to his glasses.

Before that time, Qifrey might have intended to put his quest on hold until after Tetia’s graduation, but now his impending blindness puts him on a time limit. He can’t do a lot about it however, since the Brimhats have been keeping a low profile for years and are not leaving him any clue.

It’s unclear how long Riche stayed at her old atelier, and whether she joined Qifrey before or after Agott. I’m hoping she made it out as soon as possible.

2 years ago: Agott passes the first test at age 10. She gets accused of stealing someone else’s spell, is rejected from her prestigious family’s apprenticeship, and joins Qifrey’s atelier.

Agott has been treated harshly by her family for not being enough of a genius. She mentions passing the first test at 10, the upper end of the normal age range. She was probably given a hard time for starting her apprenticeship so “late”, which explains why she is now adamant about passing the other tests as quickly as possible.

I wonder whether she felt ambivalent about joining Qifrey’s atelier at first. On the one hand, Qifrey was taught by the Sage of Education himself and is clearly very powerful. On the other hand, he has only a couple students and lives in a weird little school in the middle of nowhere, a big fall from grace compared to her prestigious upbringing. I wonder whether Qifrey went to find her after he heard she was the object of nasty rumours (he knows a thing or two about those), and Agott didn’t feel like she had other options.

0 year ago: Coco and Qifrey meet. Iguin goes “F***ing finally, I thought I’d have to watch that humdrum one-eyed twink bake potatoes for another five years. It’s dragon-slaying time now baby!!!”  

[harper-emory-writes]

The heart strings (chapter 1 )

Pairing: Aragorn x original female character (devon) 

Words: 2270

Summary: to be summarised later 

Warnings: violence, smut in later chapters, trigger warnings of abuse and flashbacks 

DON’T LIKE IT , DON’T READ IT!

authors notes: @my-marvel-musings​ my lazy arse has done it their have it i will regret it later but ah welll, i will go die in my hole of embrassement whilst leaving this in here 

Devon POV 

Devon’s hair was a light dusty brown blonde in colour as she wiped down the wooden surfaces of the tables in the prancing pony. The warm light of the roaring fire extruded heat as she watched all the locals come and go. There was far near the back of the tavern. The cloak that covered him only showed a pipe that was being smoked. Her eyes shifted onto him a few times as she carried on her cleaning of the tavern.

The locals were quieter than expected, she noticed as the Bree people were staring at the darkened cloaked figure. The groups of people’s whispers to whom she served drinks earlier that evening were all speaking in hushed voices. “That’s one of those ranger folk. I hear they’re dangerous.” The time slowly ticked past as the locals dissipated out of the tavern. The playing of music made its way out of the pub. She looked out at the bards playing in the rain. A drizzle had just started as she said goodbye to the last customers. 

The cloaked man was still at the back of the tavern. She kept an eye on him but did not think that unless he needed help, she was much for worrying on customers if they had a room in the tavern she was only here as a job to be a barkeep. Her mind drifted as she went to get her cloak, to cover her outfit as she walked home. Her dark coloured trousers were tight but gave her a slight show off to her curves. She never felt part of the family. 

Her sisters were tall and thin, whereas she was shorter than both her mother and sisters. She was always more of an ugly duckling. Her family life was not simple, nor was it going to be easy. Her boots were dragging from the mud that the track she took most days, the path was quiet, the rain was getting heavy as Devon wrapped her cloak around her body tighter as she curled into the tree line heavier. Her mind was flashing back to her childhood. 

“Hahahaha, come on, ugly, you will never catch me,” Ferne shouted as devon tripped back over in the mud. Her checkered dress made it hard to run in as she was barefoot, her shoes were stolen away from her by her sisters. Devon never liked dresses as a young girl. Her sisters often teased her about the dislike them. Her skin was covered in mud as her brown eyes squinted at two shapes in front of her. Their voices high pitched as they shrieked at her. “Haha, devon is chubby, and she can’t get up.” Ferne and Cecilia started running again as devon picked her self up off the floor. “I will get you one day,” she whispered as her eyes fluttered close. 

Devon looked up at the sky as she kept going down the track. Her hazel eyes brimmed with tears from the memory as she tucked her cloak over herself, wiping at her eyes before carrying on with her journey. Her body was slightly cold as her body got farther away from the Bree. Her eyes fluttered shut as she kept moving. Her clothing soaked through from the rain, her body started to shiver, the mud being too slippery for her footing to hold any longer.

The woods were more sheltered as devon slipped between the trees. Her hair was matted from her cloak being soaked as she walked amongst the large pine trees. The forest soon fell from her as she lay on the forest floor. Her legs curling up into a foetal position on the forest floor.

Aragorn pov 

The sound of brego’s hooves squelching in the mud as he pulled on the bay horse. The large pine trees over his head did give him little shelter as the rain lashed against his cloak. The female he followed quietly, staying behind her quite a bit of the way as he whispered in elvish to brego. Quiet mutterings as the footfall stopped. The woods opened up into a slight clearing as he dismounted, looping the reins over bregos head as he walked into the woods. 

The roots were slippery as he picked his way over them. His eyes settling on a body from the looks of it in the centre. The rain was getting heavier as he tied his beloved steed to a tree before creeping closer to the body. It was a female, her skin deathly pale from the cold as her clothes were soaked through to her skin. 

His first reaction was to pick her up, but he was not entirely sure how without startling the lady. His clothes were slightly wet as he picked the female up, unknown where she was from or going as he watched the woods. The leaf canopy swayed as he gripped at the unknown stranger, his face watching hers, seeing her relaxed features as he mutters to himself. “Nin mel.”

His eyes wandered over the strangers' facial features as he quietly walked brego following him as he grabbed the reins that he attached to a tree earlier. The body was still slightly breathing, letting him know that she was alive but only barely before hypothermia would get her. 

His eyes wandered over the features of her face. Her nose was slightly wonky, and her lips were large and easily kissable as he kept walking; the slow, steady pace made it easy to carry as he just watched his footing. The woods soon opened up to a clearing, the fire recently burned down, and his sleeping gear easily locatable as he placed her on a thick blanket just to give her some warmth as he placed another blanket on the top of her, usually did not have two blankets. Still, there was supposed to be a cold snap in the air as he watched the storm clouds clear on the horizon, as he made up a small fire of wood which he had rummaged around for earlier whilst setting up camp. 

The fire burned nicely as it provided a heat source for him, and this complete stranger he found in the woods. It was noticeable that she was either going home to the woods as he placed the mouthpiece for his pipe into his lips. His eyes watching as she slept, hoping the warmth of the fire would get her so much less pale than she looked when he found her. 

The rain started again as the smoke cloud from his pipe, his eyes continually watching the female as the rain poured down in the woodland clearing he had set as a camp. The fire kept up as the rain dampened it down slightly. 

Devon pov 

Her eyelashes fluttered open, the rain sheeting down as she propped herself up on her elbows, feeling dazed from only just waking up, her body marginally warmer as she watched the fire burn on the wet ground. Her body was somewhat warmer as she sat up, her hazel eyes scanning the silhouettes of a horse and a man—complete strangers as she watched him from a reasonably good vantage point. 

Her hair was messy as she tugged her fingers through her hair, the dirt cloaking her ends as it splayed over her back. The blanket on the ground damp as devon soon got up, her footsteps trying to sneakily move past as she looked for an exact opening in the trees for her escape. 

Devon’s clothes were still slightly wet as she got up onto her two legs, her body somewhat wobbly as she started walking towards a clear opening in the trees. A voice soon caught her attention as it spoke to her in a gruff tone. “What do you think you're doing leaving when you could have died, and there is no saying you still can’t die from the storm.” Her head soon turned around as she snarkily replied, “well, unlike some others, I still have to go home and get jobs done.” A light chuckle came out from the stranger’s voice. “If it is on my watch, I would not let you go home at all.” Devon looked straight at him, her voice not breaking at all as she monotony of her voice dropping slightly as she kept her eye on him. “Hmmmmm, and what does this mean you will do to me, stranger?” a deep chuckle came out of him as he got up from the tree stump that he was previously sat on before he spoke again, this time his tone rougher as his footsteps took steps towards her. “Anything I would do to keep you.” her voice hardened on the surface yet again as she toyed slightly with the cloaked stranger. “I challenge you to a game of riddles then, hope your brain is enough to match your brawn.” her face contorted into one that was not easily readable. She waited for his reply patience was never her strong point. As she was waiting for a reply from the stranger, her mind drifted back again. 

The smell of blood was noticeable as the house was a pigsty. The leftovers from last nights chaos were every time that devons mother and sisters decided to have a party. Devon's hair was loosely tied in a bun as she sighed at the mess. Devon was an okay child by any means; her outfit was ripped and not cared for as she heard the shrill voice of her mother. “Wretch, why is this not clean yet.” devon winced as her upper arm was still sore from the fall she had just yesterday. Her lack of healing knowledge tried to heal it the best she could as the blood dried on her skin. It was the same as it usually was. She was the unwanted child, her sister and parents ruled her choices, and maybe one day it would break her to do the worse, but that was not the day. 

Her stomach was open that night, the night where she did not know if she would live to see her day. 

Devon's eyes were glossed over slightly; her hand went down to the large wound, which had only just healed up 2 weeks ago. Her ears heard the strangers reply as he spoke back to her. “Deal, but you look like you have seen a ghost.” devons eyebrows knitted together as she said again. “I have seen nothing, but what do I expect for a stranger to know.” his voice was a calming influence slightly as he spoke again. “You go first, then little one.” devon stood, her eyes still knitted tightly together as she told her tine of voice unwavering as she challenged him. “At night, they come without being fetched. By day they are lost without being stolen. What are they?” he stayed quiet for a bit before answering her. “The stars” devon scowled slightly as she looked at him to give her a riddle. “It lies behind rocks and rills, and under mountains and hills. It cannot be seen or felt, nor even heard or smelt. What is it?” devon quirked her eyebrow before speaking again, this time slightly cocky as she opened her mouth. “The dark.” her face smiled somewhat as she watched the stranger. 

Aragorn POV 

The female made him curious, he wanted to steal her. The game of riddles was a curiosity he had been normal, but she was covering something up. He would soon find out that the girl challenging him underneath, she was obviously not a damsel in distress but his curiosity was telling him that she was being hurt in a certain way. He asked the girl. “Now little one what would you do if the wolf knew he could keep you forever.” the scoff that came out her mouth before he walked forward, his strides predatory as she stepped back. “I would run.” his chuckle that came out of his mouth was gruff almost rough and brooding as he spoke again. “Then I must catch you my little one.” he was soon wrong when she made a break for it, his legs much more able to catch up as he loped through the trees like a wolf was when their prey was fleeing. Her hair easy enough to follow as the predator and prey game soon would be stopped as the girl tripped over a tree root. He was one to take advantage as he watched her before pinning her so she could not get up. 

His body was above hers as she squirmed and wriggled around on the dirt. Her mouth hurling insults at him. “You bastard all I need to do is get home.” he soon chuckled as he watched her looking at him in disdain. His voice spoke again. “And you did not think I would not chase you down little one.” he was greeted with her fist hitting him in his chest. His eyes watching hers as he moved his face closer, his voice quiet and soothing as he watched her. “I am not here to hurt you please just let me help.” the female had a spirit like that of a wild horse not wanting to be tamed. “Just leave me alone please.” her eyes were glassy the tears in them not shed as he lowered his lips to kiss her, the woodland birds were singing their song as he lifted his lips off her. “Now why did we need to fight and why do you have to get home Dilthen er ?” 

[melonlthawne]

Cookie Jar

Pairing: Meloni Thawne x Don Allen

Characters: Meloni Thawne, Don Allen, Bart Allen

Universe: AU

She just needed 15 minutes to rest. A little slither of time to refresh her constantly depleting energy. Taking care of a toddler was a lot of work. Taking care of a superpowered one was even harder. Impossible, even. She grossly underestimated her son’s ability to cause trouble and now she had a problem in her hands. 

Find it on Archive Of Our Own

---

Bart had kept both Don and Meloni up all night. He adamantly 

to go to bed at 8:00 pm, having to be chased down by Don and practically wrestled up the stairs to even get him ready for sleep. Luckily, Meloni was able to spoil Bart into staying still enough to change into pajamas, only with the help of a chocolate chip cookie. She knew using food as bait was something she’d kick herself for in the future, not wanting to incite bad habits in the kid, but right now, she was battling exhaustion and a hefty headache, so it’d do. Still, it worked, and after a few minutes of fussing and shushing the child, he was pulled into sleep. Meloni and Don both sighed in relief; the couple trudged off to bed themselves. And in a heap, both parents collapsed on the king-sized bed. Meloni first, having no super-speed or extra stamina to keep herself together. Don fixed her position, lifting up the covers and getting her into a more comfortable spot, before he too crawled into bed. He wrapped his arm around her, fixing her hair out of her face, before he pecked her on the cheek, and went off to sleep.

Or so it seemed. 

Throughout the night, Bart had night terrors. It was something that came with being a part of the Flash family and being exposed to the horrors of the World. Don was shocked awake 15 minutes later when he heard Bart wailing at the top of his lungs, screaming bloody murder. He bolted over, afraid there was some sort of attack, only to find his son hunched over in bed, face wet with tears and sweat, still battling visions from his nightmare. 

Getting the little one to calm down was not easy, and Don knew that. His sister and himself had dealt with similar things before, back when Barry was still alive. Nightmares almost every week, over whether or not his dad would return home or survive the next adventure. If a villain would find out a secret identity. Something of the sort. He wished it didn’t plague his own son’s life. But it seemed like it was too late for that. 

Regardless, Don sat with him and tried to soothe the boy, in any way he knew how. After 10 minutes or so, he could get Bart back to laying down, staying close by his side, holding the kid’s tiny hand in his own. How tightly Bart gripped his hand...it made him frown. A bit longer, and Bart was back asleep. Don wiped off more sweat from the kid’s forehead, giving him one more squeeze with his hand before he got up and went back to his room.

But this repeated at least 8  times in one night. Almost every hour and a half, Meloni or Don was awoken by a shrill scream, and they’d have to take turns calming Bart down and lulling him back to sleep. So at the end of it all, neither of them got a good night’s rest, on top of already being exhausted. It was horrible. It was one thing to have a restless night. It was another to have to witness your own child relive the same torture every 45 minutes, knowing there was nothing you could do to actually help him except calm him down. 

--

The morning came, and surprisingly, Bart seemed well-rested, not too shaken by his bouts of nightmares. He seemed chipper after being awoken, even though there were still dried tear-tracks on his chubby cheeks. Don and Meloni weren’t as lucky. Both showed obvious signs of being tired but they had to put it aside for their son’s sake. Meloni helped Bart out of bed and went to start the day, Don sleeping in a little to try and rest it off. 

Meloni sat in the living room, staring down at her cup of coffee. It was untouched. She didn’t even have an appetite, really, too distracted by her exhaustion. But she knew if she didn’t take any measures to stay awake, she’d end up falling asleep and risk Bart being unattended. Bart was in her lap, muttering something, occasionally gazing up at his mother’s pale face and tilting his head, only to refocus on something abstract or nonsensical. Meloni was grateful Bart was easily enamored by toys or other distractions. It made her life a little easier at times, especially now, when she could barely focus on staying awake. She thought if she waited it out a little more, she’d be okay. Maybe the long haul would be best. But slowly, she got lost in her thoughts, and then her eyelids drooped, and within a matter of a minute, she was asleep. 

The drawl of sleep lured her in. And it felt so relieving. She would’ve probably slept the entire day if she was left alone. But after 15 minutes, she was shaken awake by a loud shattering sound. She sat upright in her seat, whipping her head in every direction to try and figure out where the noise had come from. She had no clue, and it wasn’t until she looked down and found Bart was no longer in her lap that it hit her. He probably was messing around and something ended up breaking. Oh god. The image of the broken glass and a possibly injured toddler enveloped her, and she bit the inside of her cheek so hard she could feel blood pooling. But the metallic taste also drew her out of her thoughts and she heard another loud sound from the kitchen. It sounded like someone struggling to open some sort of container. She got up and headed towards the noise, and to her relief, it wasn’t as macabre as she pictured. 

Bart, SOMEHOW, managed to get on top of the counter, knocking a glass container over the edge, and it was left in pieces all over the floor. She wasn’t sure how he accomplished that, considering how tiny he was, but she supposed with enough effort, anything was possible. He was sitting cross legged with a jar in his arms, hugged close to his chest. One arm kept the jar wedged in place. The other was busy trying to pry the lid off. His tongue was stuck out and his eyes all focused in determination, but he just didn’t have the strength to pull it apart. And, evidently, the jar had a very clear label Bart had grown to recognize: Cookies. 

“Bartholomew!” Meloni yelped, voice desperate. She was so exasperated by it all, really, and even though this could’ve been way worse, it was still upsetting. They were so lucky he didn’t end up getting hurt. 

Bart’s eyes widened as he came to terms with the fact he was caught. Damnit! He was so close to eating the entire collection of baked goods inside. Bart’s face paled, and the toddler turned his head to look at his mother, almost terrified but more so guilty. Still, he didn’t speak; Meloni could hear his troubled breathing. She approached, making sure to step over the broken container, and carefully pried the cookie jar out of his hands. 

“No!” Bart yelped, trying to regain control of the jar, only to fail miserably and look up to his mother with a huge pout and adorably angry eyes. Face beet red, too. He was not happy to get caught, and for his masterpiece of a plan to be foiled so easily!

“Bart, what did I say about climbing on the counter?” Meloni exclaimed, hands on her hips; the cookie jar still in her hold. 

Bart peered down, and unconfidently replied. “Not to?”

“Exactly.” Meloni placed the jar down on another counter top, far enough to where Bart couldn’t scurry past and grab it. 

“I was hungry.” He pitifully argued, kicking a socked-foot in no particular direction, just to express his disappointment. 

“You could’ve gotten hurt. Look at the mess you made!” Meloni pointed to the ceramic pieces all over the floor, to which Bart had seemingly glossed over. Bart panned down and whined, looking away in protest. 

Before Meloni could get another reprimand in, her husband came bolting in, a little too late. Apparently awoken by her screaming and not the commotion of Bart climbing up and causing the chaos. 

“What’s going on?” Don asked in a huff. But after reviewing his wife’s displeased expression and the scene around him, he came to a conclusion and muttered a brief “Oh.” 

“I fell asleep.” Meloni told him, locking eyes with her husband. She was rubbing her opposite arm, feeling like a lousy parent. “If i had been asleep for any longer, he might’ve gotten hurt. Or stepped in those pieces. Or, I don’t know, died of a cookie overdose?” 

“Relax.” Don told her, taking her hands in his own and rubbing them in a soothing manner. “We were up all night. It’s not your fault you got tired.”

“I should've been paying attention, Donny.” Meloni still hung her head, face paling, eyes settled on the floor. Bart stayed silent as he watched this exchange between his parents, unsure how to react. But he felt it necessary to stay out of it. 

“It’s okay, babe.” The eldest speedster pulled his wife in for an embrace. And for a brief moment, Meloni forgot all her stresses and was lured into it, sighing as she pressed her head against her husband’s chest. They stayed there hugging for what felt like an hour, only for it to actually be a minute or so. When Meloni seemed collected enough, they released each other, and both parents turned their attention back to Bart, who was apparently planning on trying to escape. However, he couldn’t do this without making noise, and as he tried to travel down the side of the cupboards, a small foot missed, and he yelped, only to be caught and hoisted into his Dad’s arms. 

“Where do you think you’re going, little man?” Don brought his son up to his height, holding him securely so the little tyke couldn’t squirm away. 

“I wuh-wasn’t going anywhere.” Bart tried, and Don grinned, making his son somewhat nervous. Meloni shook her head, but smiled too, feeling too tired to be harsh about this. 

“Don’t do that again, okay?” Meloni told her son, reaching out and cupping his cheek with her soft hand. Bart leaned into the touch, still frowning and feeling a little crappy from the stunt he pulled. 

“I promise.” The little speedster managed, relaxing a little. 

“See?” Don eyed Meloni, who rolled her eyes. Regardless, a smile was still on his face. “He’s alright. I can clean that up and it’ll be like it never even happened.” 

Don transferred Bart over to Meloni, who took him in earnest, lifting her son in a better position on her hip. The kid leaned against his mother’s chest, peering at the two, wondering what was going on. 

“And when it’s all cleaned up, I think we both deserve a nice 

.” Don called over, purposefully enunciating the last word. 

“Nooo! I’m not tired! No more sleep! Sleep is stupid!” Bart countered, practically rioting in his mom’s arms. Meloni smiled deeply and winked at her husband, before responding, “That sounds like a good idea.” 

[hieludoboi]

A List of Things I’d Like to do With You (Pt 4/9)

A/n- hahahahahah this got deleted but I had it saved on my grammarly and prowritingaid accounts so we’re gucci. Just gotta proofread now 

A/n- this is just me indulging my Bokuroo fantasies tbh 

Links- Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 5

Summary- Cute little carnival/amusement park date

Pairing- Daichi/Fem!Reader

Word Count- 6,000+

Trigger Warnings- Sick reader, terminal illness, vomit, blood, pretty sad, crying

________________________________________________________________

Daichi’s mother sighed as she sat on the park bench, a watchful eye over her three-year-old son. Daichi was running as best as he could through the sand, finding joy in kicking it up as he ran. The park was empty, filled only by Daichi’s occasional giggles and the creaking of the swings gently swaying in the evening breeze. 

Daichi wasn’t always the most social of children, being too shy and scared to play with the other children, and his mother desperately hoped that bringing him to the park would help him open up. It was rare that Daichi would want to play with the other children, preferring to observe them instead. But then she had shown up to the park.

A younger woman with a chubby little girl who couldn’t stop laughing or smiling. From the moment she had wobbled into the park, it seemed to grow brighter. Daichi was instantly drawn to her, his eyes following her all over the park while she ran around with different groups of children. 

Though, Mrs. Sawamura had to admit that the little girl had quite the character. It seemed like an eternity before Daichi stopped staring and finally walked towards her. The little girl was running around with a group of kids, giggling and laughing while they played tag. Daichi’s mother watched her son, smiling as he slowly started walking towards her, a shy smile on his face. 

And then he stopped in his tracks, eyes wide as she ran blindly towards him, head turned to the side to look at her mother with a wide smile. In two seconds they had knocked into each other, falling into a heap of limbs onto the sand. The little girl cried, face scrunched up while one hand covered the bruise on her shin. Mrs. Sawamura ran towards the children, looking up in time to see an apologetic and sweet-faced woman rushing towards the children. 

Before either of them could get to the children, Daichi had leaned forward, his forehead bumping against the girls with a soft ‘knock’. Both women stood in shock behind their children, watching as they looked up and giggled, wide grins and closed-eyed smiles as they bumped heads again. In the amount of time it took them to realize what had happened, Daichi had stood, helping up the little girl before she pulled him off to her group of friends. 

“Oh. Well, that went better than I thought.” Mrs. Sawamura giggled at the stunned look on the woman’s face. 

----------------------------

“All together, we have...... around 580 yen.” Daichi sighed, leaning back on his palms. It was cool outside, the spring breeze wafting between the trees and grass while Daichi and Y/n sat on Y/n’s porch. The convenience store wasn’t too far away, and their parents wouldn’t be home for another hour or so. As two fourteen-year-olds, they didn’t have too many options. It was either wait and starve or walk to the convenience store down the street and bicker over what they would share. 

“That’s enough for some onigiri and drinks!” Y/n determined, placing her fist in her hand, a grin on her face. Daichi groaned, shaking his head. He was not in the mood for onigiri. 

“It’s enough for some meat buns and drinks.” Daichi corrected a satisfied smile on his face. Daichi could practically feel Y/n’s entire face scrunch from beside him. 

“Onigiri.” Y/n grumbled, glaring at the side of Daichi’s face. Daichi scowled, turning to look at Y/n, a dark look on his face. Y/n’s eyes widened, her body trembling. Daichi’s ‘serious’ face was scary, but she would not waver. 

“Why don’t we just do one meat bun and one onigiri, problem solved,” Daichi suggested. Y/n groaned, dragging her palms down her face.

“We discussed this already! Onigiri is like 100 yen each, which leaves 280 yen for drinks and maybe chips! Meat buns are 200 each, that leaves only 180 for drinks and snacks! Onigiri are cheaper and yummier!“ Y/n argued, huffing when Daichi rolled his eyes.  

“You two are ridiculous. Just get one meat bun, one onigiri, and you’ll have enough for drinks.” Y/n and Daichi looked up, momentarily breaking their staring contest to see Suga shaking his head above them. 

“Suga, one onigiri will not be enough to pull me through the day!” Y/n explained, an exasperated look on her face. Daichi nodded, agreeing with her for once that day. 

“Yeah, one meat bun will not be enough!” Daichi echoed, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“I think you’ll survive. Besides, your guys’ parents will be home soon to make dinner.” Suga reasoned. Y/n hummed, deep in thought. Daichi narrowed his eyes, seeming to contemplate Suga’s words.

“You may have a point.” Y/n mumbled. Suga smiled, reaching down to help Daichi and Y/n up from the porch.

“Let’s go then, yeah? My friend’s grandma runs the convenience store down the street and said they’re having a special on onigiri, so let’s go!” Suga whined. Y/n giggled, standing up and sticking her tongue out at Daichi. 

“Told you Onigiri are more cost-efficient!”

“Those were not your exact words!” Daichi grumbled, standing up to trail behind Suga and Y/n. 

-------------------------

It was one of those rare Saturday afternoons that Ukai had given them off. With nationals inching closer and closer, their free time seemed to be growing thinner. Practices took up most, if not all of his time. Yet still, he made time to go visit her. With the winter fast approaching, and the snow threatening to fall, Daichi found himself bringing her fresh flowers as often as he could.

Walking into the cemetery no longer had the effect it once did. The smell of chrysanthemums still stung his nose, but his rage was becoming less and less. He had taken Suga’s and Asahi’s advice, keeping her alive through his memories. It was a nice sentiment, and maybe it wasn’t how he wanted to spend his life with her, but it was much better than acting as if nothing had happened. Yet still, he was running out of things to talk about with her, the only things left being her list and her death. And while Daichi was happy to laugh and talk about their air balloon ride and their night under the stars, he was still not ready to remember how she died in his arms, face scrunched in agony, eyes glassed over as she realized her death was inching nearer. He didn’t want to think about the way she screamed, squeezing his hand purple while she begged the doctors to make it stop. Daichi sighed, pinching his temples and shaking his head. Not yet. He still had good things to talk about. 

Daichi took in a deep breath, relishing in the way the crisp December air stung his nostrils and chilled his chest. Lately, there had been no one to greet him at her grave, only flowers left by the other boys who would come on their free time, even some things from Bokuto and Kuroo who had been friends with her when her family moved to Tokyo for a few years before coming back, their friendship being rekindled at the training camp. 

He had recently become friends with the owners of a small flower shop. They were quite the pair, the old lady being very brash and opinionated, keeping the old man laughing and on his toes. The old man was serious, her exact opposite. He seemed to keep her grounded, stable, and unwavering. In some ways, Daichi could see Y/n in the woman, and himself in the old man, and it made his heart ache. He wondered if they would have led a life like that. Old and wrinkled, yet still full of life, a little shop all their own crawling with grandchildren every Saturday, their children coming in every Monday to help carry heavy vases.

This time, Daichi held a bouquet of yellow tsubakis in his hand. He grunted, settling in the cold and stiff grass, placing the bouquet next to the purple bell flowers that he could only assume one of the boys had brought her. 

“Sometimes I feel stupid for coming to talk to you. You’re dead, donezo as you would say... Sometimes I come and see Suga sitting here just talking the day away, telling you about everything and I feel stupid. I just- I don’t know why everyone’s okay with it and I’m not. You’re not suffering or anything anymore, but-” Daichi could feel his jaw clench, his eyes snapping shut to prevent any tears, but they fell. They spilled as if fleeing from a broken damn, dripping down his face onto his pants and shirt. He felt stupid. 

It had been so long, and he thought he was getting over it. Just last week he had sat with Asahi and talked to him with a smile on his face. He attended practices and acted as a good captain should. He felt fine, so why was he crying? Why did things suddenly become hard? How come all his progress seemed to get washed away by tsunamis of sorrow?

“Kou, she doesn’t like bell flowers!”

“Tetsu- yes she does! Which one of us did she go to school with, hmm?”

“Ugh, you, but-”

“Exactly! I know her better than you do!”

Daichi looked up, his vision blurred by his tears, his body trembling and weak. Hurriedly, Daichi wiped at his eyes, hoping to wipe away any traces of his pain.

“Huh, Daichi? Are you okay?” Bokuto’s voice was soft, full of worry and sympathy. His eyes were rounded and soft, a small frown tugging at his lips. Daichi nodded, sniffing, and turning to look at the trees behind him. He was fine. It had been months, he had to be fine at this point.

Daichi could hear both captains huff before plopping down beside him, the bottom halves of their faces covered by scarves. Bokuto turned to look at him, his smile hidden behind his scarf but present in his warm eyes. Kuroo offered Daichi a smile, reaching over to place the purple bell flowers beside Daichi’s bouquet. 

They sat there in silence for a moment, Bokuto twiddling his thumbs while Kuroo stared off into the distance, eyes focused on nothing in particular. Daichi could hear Bokuto fiddling beside him, humming while he played with his scarf. Who knew encounters outside of the court could be so awkward.

“Hey, uhm, not to be rude, but are you feeling okay?” Bokuto asked, his bottom lip caught between his teeth in worry. Daichi looked up in surprise, his eyes locking with Bokuto’s. 

“Uh, yeah. I’m pretty okay, I guess. It’s just hard...” Daichi mumbled, his hand holding onto the back of his neck, cheeks dusted over with a soft blush. 

“Well, at least two of us are doing okay. Bokuto seems to bawl his eyes out every other day just by thinking about her. You’d think they were soul mates with the way he cries.” Kuroo scoffed, leaning back on his palms, gazing at the clouds in the cold and gray sky. 

“We weren’t! We were just good friends, and it hurts to lose someone you cared about! I may not have been as close to her as Daichi, but she was still my friend and I miss her. A lot, okay!? And at least I process my feelings instead of being a jerk like you!” Bokuto retorted, tears pooling in his eyes, his hand reaching up to pull down his scarf so he could yell at Kuroo. “Maybe if you had an Akaashi, you would know how to process your emotions in a healthy way!” Bokuto added, turning his entire body, his lips in a pout while he sniffled. Daichi’s eyes widened as he looked between both males. What happened? 

Kuroo’s eyes seemed to soften, a soft sigh escaping his lips. Daichi chuckled when Kuroo gave him an apologetic smile before crawling towards Bokuto to sit next to him, his arms wrapping around Bokuto. 

“Kou, I’m sorry, bro. I know it’s hard, and you’re doing a great job. I’m proud of you, bro, so forgive me?” Bokuto wrapped his arms around Kuroo, nodding his head before pulling away to wipe his tears away. 

Daichi couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face and the laugh that left his lips. Their bickering reminded him of the way Y/n used to pick fights with him when she was bored. It made his chest fizzle with warmth, his cheeks feeling warm and pink with joy. He understood why she adored those two as much as she did.

“What’s so funny?” Bokuto huffed, his mitten clad hands still wiping at his eyes. Daichi shook his head, the grin still on his face.

“It just reminds me of the way Y/n and I used to argue.” Daichi chuckled, staring at the silver bracelet on his wrist with fondness. 

“Tetsu! What if we’re soulmates!” Bokuto gasped, his hands gripping Kuroo’s shoulders, shaking him. Kuroo groaned, but couldn’t stop the grin that spread across his face.

“You’re my world, bro!” Kuroo declared, laughing at Bokuto’s antics. Daichi felt his smile drop a bit. They thought Y/n was his soulmate? Was she? Daichi stared at the flowers, deep in thought. Perhaps they were soulmates. 

“Oh! That reminds me! Y/n promised to tell me about the carnival! But, you know...” Bokuto mumbled, his eyes focused on his crossed knees. Daichi looked up, his eyes seeming to twinkle a bit at the mention of the memory. 

“Oh! Yeah, for sure, She got a spike to the face that day...” Daichi admitted, a bashful smile on his face.

---------------------------

Garbage. That’s the only way she could describe the way she felt. Her face clung onto a sickly pale and yellow undertone. The meat that used to reside on her bones had become a snack for the reaper that loomed above her head. Her eyes were like grainy and murky pearls resting in the deep and hollow pits of clamshells, and her cheekbones spiked through her skin like mountain peaks. Okay, so maybe she didn’t look that horrendous. In reality, she had shed maybe ten pounds? But she felt disgusting, her body wasting away into nothing. At her doctor’s appointments, she was told that she was surprisingly healthy, told she was fine, and maybe it was because they weren’t living with death that they didn’t see what she saw. 

Yet, even with the constant threat of death, she found something to keep her happy. At the moment, it was her relationship with Daichi. As promised, they tried. It wasn’t all kissing and cuddles; it wasn’t just romantic, but Y/n liked it. She liked the warmth that spread across her body whenever Daichi held her hand. She lived for the way he gazed at her. She adored the massages to her scalp, the kisses to her knuckles as they laid in his bed. The study dates, each celebratory hug after each game that was won, the little bits of intimacy that suddenly were sprinkled all throughout their interactions. It was subtle, nothing to hoot and holler about, but it made her happy. 

As per Daichi’s request, the events on her list were now planned, having a time and date. Though she lived for the spontaneous moments in life, she also liked knowing when things were happening. Even a person as chaotic as she could enjoy stability from time to time.

Y/n hummed to herself as she rolled in the five-gallon cooler filled with water. Kiyoko trailed behind her, checking things off of her clipboard and occasionally shooting Y/n a question or two. 

“Y/n-San!” Y/n looked up in time to see Noya and Tanaka running at her, hands outstretched to try to catch the volleyball that Asahi had accidentally sent flying her way. She couldn’t move, her feet practically glued to the ground. Before she knew it she was stumbling and tripping over her feet, her body falling onto the hard gym floor. Y/n groaned, holding the side of her head, her vision out of focus and her temples throbbing. Everything was spinning, and the familiar burn at the base of her throat began to bubble. Before Daichi or anyone could react, Kiyoko quickly helped her up, rushing Y/n to the bathroom. 

Y/n cried as she hunched over the toilet, Kiyoko rubbing her back to comfort her. It hurt, it hurt so bad, and all Y/n could do was sob and heave as the sick and blood flew from her lips. She hated that Kiyoko had to see it, hated that someone knew. No one was supposed to know. 

“Y/n...” Y/n looked up at Kiyoko to see her hand covering her mouth, tears welling in her eyes. “W-we need to call an ambulance, or-or take you to the doctor-” Kiyoko stuttered, her hand shaking as she reached for her phone.

“No! N-” Y/n heaved, gagging and wincing as nothing came up. “Please, no. I’m okay. I-” Y/n shuttered as she wiped the blood from her lips, looking down at the back of her hand to stare at the blood. “Sit.” Y/n patted the floor next to her. The bathroom floor was filthy, but she couldn’t find the strength she needed to stand. She still felt so light-headed, her vision going in and out of focus. Kiyoko nodded, sitting down beside Y/n, her hand still gripping her cell phone. 

“Please. Don’t tell anyone, I- I don’t want anyone to get upset.” Y/n stuttered, wincing as she hiccuped, the taste of sick and metallic blood coating her mouth and tongue. Kiyoko stared at Y/n, her eyes soft and sad. Though her hand was still trembling, she reached out, gently taking Y/n’s hand into her own. 

“I have terminal stomach cancer.” Y/n whispered, her hand gripping onto Kiyoko’s with a vice-like grip. It was the first time she had admitted to anybody that she was sick. It was the first time she had acknowledged she was sick. Y/n looked away, covering her mouth with her free hand to muffle the soft sobs that spilled from her lips. She was sick. Dying, she was dying and there was nothing that could cure or save her. No amount of treatment in the world could kill the cancer that was already spreading through her body, tearing it apart like a rabid and hungry animal. She was dying.

Y/n shook her head, her body trembling violently, the sobs spilling from her lips growing in volume. Oh god, she was sick. Kiyoko sniffled, pulling her into a hug on the filthy bathroom floor, holding her tightly against her body as she sobbed into her shoulder. Y/n was heaving, crying and practically screaming into Kiyoko’s shoulder, the hurt reverberating through her chest, filling the bathroom with a solemn haze. Soon, there was nothing left of her voice, her mouth meekly hanging open in a silent scream, her erratic breathing rocking her body to the core. 

It’s not like Kiyoko hadn’t seen it. In fact, most of the other boys had probably seen it too. Her eyes, though still bright, were now dull. Her body seemed to be subtly wasting away, the fullness of her face subduing. She wasn’t gaunt; she wasn’t terrible, but anyone who knew her well enough could notice it. 

----------------------

Daichi sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose while Asahi, Noya, and Suga bickered in the background. Noya had been teasing Asahi for the past fifteen minutes about how his spike knocked Y/n to the ground. Suga had kept telling Noya to leave Asahi, but Noya was relentless in his attacks, leaving poor Asahi sulking and damn near close to tears.

“Short stack! Leave Man Bun alone or you’ll be running laps!” Ukai screamed, his eyebrows furrowed with anger. Daichi laughed, shaking his head as Noya instantly stopped, practically trudging back to the court to work on his receives. While they were poking fun at Asahi, Daichi couldn’t help but wonder how Y/n was doing. She had taken a spike to the face, and was struggling to get up, her face going pale while she stumbled over her feet. 

Speak of the devil, Daichi thought to himself, breathing a sigh of relief as Y/n walked back into the gym, Kiyoko right by her side. Daichi stared at her as she walked by, his eyes raking over every detail of her face. She seemed a bit dizzy, her eyes glassed over and her skin a little ashen, but nothing seemed too out of the ordinary. He hummed to himself, his eyes focusing on the redness of her eyes and the swelling of her cheeks. Had she been crying? Daichi turned around, eyes meeting Ukai's, silently asking for permission. Ukai gave him a curt nod and Daichi silently thanked him before jogging towards Y/n who was sat next to Kiyoko on the stage.

"You okay?" Daichi asked, taking her hands in his, his thumbs brushing lightly over her knuckles. Y/n sniffled, leaning forward and letting herself be caught against Daichi's chest. Daichi grunted, chuckling as she buried her face into his chest.

"Did it hurt that much?" Daichi teased, bringing a hand up to gently massage the back of her head. Y/n huffed, pulling back to butt her head against Daichi's. 

"Jerk. If you caught one of Asahi's spikes with your face you'd be crying too!" Y/n retorted, sharply turning her head so Daichi could only see her cheek. 

"Wow. So that's how it is!" Daichi huffed, leaning forward to nudge his nose against her cheek. He laughed as Y/n gasped, eyes going wide with embarrassment. He loved seeing her get all flustered. She obviously wasn't doing too bad, but Daichi still couldn't shake the feeling that something was off.

"It is! Now hurry so we can go on another escapade! You take way too much time in the shower to be idling by!" Y/n said, pushing Daichi away from in between her legs so he could join the others.

----------------------

"Okay, can you tell me where we're going?" Daichi asked, leaning slightly to the left to lean his head against Y/n's shoulder as she drove. Y/n huffed, shrugging his head off of her shoulder before pulling into a relatively empty parking lot. "Is this- are we at an amusement park?" Daichi stared at Y/n with disbelief. An amusement park? 

"Yes, sir!" Y/n chirped happily, unbuckling her seatbelt to practically jump out of the car. Daichi sighed, dragging himself out of the car. It's not that didn't want to be there, but the smell of hotdogs and grease, fried foods, and the occasional pile of vomit were not the least bit appealing to him. But the smile on her face was all he needed to look at to go along with her plan. 

She called them escapades, little adventures they took based on her bucket list. She always seemed to be teeming with glee whenever they completed one. Her eyes regained their usual glint, her smile was no longer restrained, and the color even began to seep back into her skin. It was the only reason Daichi let himself be dragged along. 

"So... Games or rides?" Y/n questioned, taking his hand in hers as they walked into the park. Daichi hummed, looking around the park and contemplating his options. 

"Games first. I wanna be corny and win you a huge stuffed animal." Daichi said, nodding his head with determination and placing his fist on his palm. Y/n laughed, shaking her head in amusement. She was relaxed, leaning into Daichi's side and playing with his hand as they looked for their first game. 

"Bet you I can win you a stuffed animal before you can!" Y/n teased, pulling away from Daichi, a sly grin on her face. Daichi tutted, staring at her in surprise. Her competitive streak hadn't shown itself in a while.

"Oh? How much do you wanna bet?" Daichi questioned, leaning close to her face, a smirk on his face. 

"If you lose, which you will, we go get onigiri!" Y/n grinned, leaning forward, almost closing the gap between them.

"Fine. If I win, which I definitely will, we go get meat buns." Daichi declared, closing the gap between them to capture her lips in a playful kiss. Y/n pulled away, casting her gaze off to the side while her fingers played with the bottom of her shirt. As flustered as she was, she would not lose!

-------------------------

It took a while before they finally settled on ring tossing. It took a lot of bickering and convincing, but there they were, glaring at each other as they practically ripped the rings out of the poor worker's hands. 

"I'm gonna beat you, Sawamura." Y/n threatened, her gaze still locked onto Daichi's. 

"That's rich coming from you, L/n." Daichi's voice was cold with a playful lilt, the same smirk still plastered onto his face. Y/n tutted, breaking the staring contest to instead focus on the game. Not because Daichi's smirk made her flustered, totally not because of that, not at all...

Daichi laughed, practically throwing his head back at the scowl that adorned Y/n's face. Y/n could feel her face scrunch, but she paid no attention to Daichi or his antics. She took a breath before throwing her first ring, groaning as it clung to the rim of the bottle before slipping off.

"What'd you say, L/n?" She could hear the stupid smirk in his voice. God, she wanted to punch him in his stupidly handsome face sometimes. Daichi gave her a smug look, tossing one of his rings and waiting for it to land. Only it didn't, not even close. It flew short, falling before it could reach it. Y/n could feel the laughter burst from her chest like water flowing from a broken dam. 

"Dude! Oh my god! You should see the look on your face right now!" Y/n was cackling, doubling over and holding onto her sides, wheezing while tears pooled in the corners of her eyes. Daichi was hunched over, eyes locked on the fallen ring on the dirt floor. He? Missed? Daichi watched as Y/n stood back up, her cheeks glistening with tears of laughter. He had four rings left, he still had a good shot of getting all three bottles. 

"Doesn't count," Daichi grumbled, scowling when Y/n continued to tease him.

"Daichi! Watch this!" Y/n called, easily tossing a ring onto the rim of the bottle. Daichi stood straight, eyes locked onto the rims. He was going to win. He wasn't the most pride obsessed person on the planet, but he'd be damned if their dinner wasn't some tasty, big, and juicy meat buns. Y/n straightened after leaning over to throw her third ring, visibly deflating when it missed. She had two more rings, and only two bottles left. Daichi still had a chance.

Daichi cleared his throat, standing tall when Y/n turned to look at him with confused eyes. He made sure to make a grand display, picking up the ring with exaggerated gesture and leaning over with his butt sticking out before daintily throwing the ring, watching with a smile as it spun around the rim before falling in place around the neck. Y/n groaned, turning away instead to focus on her bottles. She was a prideful person, and losing a bet she made did not sit well with her at all. 

"And we have a winner!" Y/n looked up in surprise, mouth hanging open as Daichi smugly stood with his hands on his hips. 

"Take your pick, Y/n." Daichi's smile was wide, spreading across his face and leaking into his eyes and the red tips of his ears. Though her pride had been badly bruised by the loss, she couldn't help but feel giddy as she pointed to the massive frog that sat atop the rest of the plushies. Daichi thanked the man running the stall as he gave him the frog, turning to place the stuffed frog in Y/n's open and waiting arms. 

"Thank you." Y/n murmured, leaning forward to place a chaste kiss to Daichi's cheek. She could feel the warmth rush into his face the moment she pulled away, his mouth hanging slightly open.

"It was nothing,” Daichi admitted, rubbing the back of his neck while he looked around the rest of the park. 

"More games? Or do you wanna go on rides?" Y/n asked, her chin resting on the top of her frog plush. Daichi tapped his chin in thought. They had many options here. They could waste their money on more games and probably not win prizes because let's face it, these games are rigged. They could use their bracelets to their advantage and ride every ride they had to offer, which probably wasn't a good idea as both of them had really bad motion sickness. Or they could gorge on all the greasy and fried foods until they were stuffed sick.

Daichi loved food, adored it, but he knew he wouldn't be ab;e to enjoy the soggy grease smothered fried food on sticks without Ukai yelling at him. The games, though fun, would only cause an argument. For as much as he loved her, sometimes he just wanted to shove her into a pit. Daichi was a bit of a sore loser, and Y/n an even bigger one. Some rides weren't too bad, not all of them were roller coasters that would make them throw everything back up. 

"What if we ride the carousel?" Daichi suggested, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her into his side. 

"We'd look like idiots." Y/n deadpanned, looking up at Daichi with a serious expression. Daichi rolled his eyes, sighing through his nose.

"Since when have you cared about looking like an idiot?" Daichi shot back. Y/n scoffed, turning her nose upwards. 

"Excuse you, but I am a very dignified person!" Y/n retorted. She watched as Daichi laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners, his head tilting back. Did he really think of her that way? She knew he was joking, but she couldn't help but bite the inside of her cheek with worry. Did he think she was an idiot?

-----------------

Y/n laughed wholeheartedly as she hoisted herself onto the metal horse, watching as Daichi situated himself on the horse next to her, sitting straight and tall, mimicking some fake posh pose. 

"Madam," Daichi said seriously, pretending to tip his 'hat'. Y/n stifled her laughter, trying her best to curtsy on the horse.

"Good sir," Y/n replied, the grin creeping back up onto her face. 

-------------------------

Daichi hummed to himself happily as Y/n pulled him around the park, going from game to ride to food to game. She was buzzing with energy, pretty e/c eyes glimmering in the red, blue, green, and orange light of the park. At this point, they had gone on almost every ride, save for the rollercoasters. The only ride left was the Ferris wheel.

"C'mon!" Y/n tugged at Daichi's hand, pulling him closer to the giant and lit up wheel. They were some of the last people left at the park, and the lines for everything were now a lot shorter. In a matter of minutes, Daichi was sat next to Y/n, the giant frog on the ground next to the operator. Y/n looked up at Daichi, a grin on her face as she leaned into his side. 

She felt happy, warm, and safe. She felt it all the time, bubbling in her chest and fluttering in her stomach like butterflies. But she was tired, drained, and depleted. It took everything in her to not fall asleep on Daichi; it took all her energy to smile and giggle. She felt joy; she felt as if she were basking in a clear pool of nostalgia and warmth, but the irritation seemed to find a way into the pool to taint it. She felt nice, so why did she want to scream? Why did she want to cry and curse the world and everyone in it? 

You're so stupid, you're going to die, idiot, Y/n thought to herself, sinking further into Daichi's side, her gaze focused on the moon that began to rise. Was it really that late? The ride came to a halt, the carriage that Y/n and Daichi sat in stopping at the very top. Y/n looked over the side, gasping as she surveyed the park, eyes skimming over various stands and lights. 

Pretty. It was one of the few ways Daichi could describe the sight. The various colors of lights that bathed the park in shades on blue, green, red, and orange shone like a soft glow off of Y/n's s/c skin, reflecting on her cheeks like little ponds of light. Her eyes were open and round, mouth slightly agape. Pretty.

Y/n turned to look at Daichi, a wonder-filled grin on her face. Daichi smiled, his eyes tender. He leaned forward, one hand cupping her face, his thumb gently stroking the skin beneath it. Y/n relaxed under the touch, leaning into it. They stayed like that for a moment, Daichi stroking her cheek while she sat relaxed and still with closed eyes. And then Daichi was leaning in, pressing a warm and slow kiss to her lips. Y/n could feel the fire prickle underneath her skin, crawling to the tips of her toes and fingers. She could feel a buzz prance on her face, she could hear her blood rushing and heart beating. Daichi's hand dropped to her neck, giving it the lightest squeeze, his palms feeling like silk draped against her neck. 

Y/n pulled away, pupils blown and lips parted. She could feel Daichi's eyes studying her entire face, taking in every dip and angle, memorizing every beauty mark like they were constellations in the sky. Before she could steady her breathing, Daichi was dipping his head, pressing his lips to hers once again, gently nipping at her bottom lip before pulling away.

"Is this okay?" Daichi whispered, his eyes closed, lips closer to her jaw now than they were before. Y/n gulped, her gaze flitting down to Daichi before nodding. Daichi stayed still for a minute, relishing in the heat of her skin. Then before he could think, he was peppering kisses along her jaw, gently working his way down to her neck. Y/n gasped, body jolting when Daichi's lips brushed against her neck. Daichi chuckled, brushing the area with the tip of his nose, a smile sneaking onto his lips when he heard a giggle slip past Y/n's lips. 

Tenderly, he pressed a kiss to her neck. Nothing more, nothing less. He stayed still, the silent question hanging in the air. May I? He could feel the way her breaths became just the slightest bit sporadic, he could feel every jolt, hear every gasp and giggle. Could he? And then Y/n was holding his hand, giving it a soft squeeze. Daichi pressed one more kiss to the area before giving it a swift nip, quickly pressing his lips to it to soothe the soft nip of pain. Y/n giggled at the sensation, her laughter quickly being drowned by soft gasps as Daichi began to bruise the skin with his lips and teeth. Daichi pulled back, pressing one final kiss to the patch of skin before lifting his head to give Y/n a soft smile. 

---------------------------

Daichi had been scrolling through his phone, waiting for Y/n in the truck while she made a quick trip into the convenience store to pick up the meat buns they had bet on. She had insisted on going into the convenience store with her giant plushie, stating that it was because she was in love with it, and not because she wanted to show a friend of hers who just so worked there. It had been well over fifteen minutes before Y/n stepped into the car again, a sour look on her face and the bag with the meat buns in her hand. Daichi didn't even have to ask her what was wrong. As soon as she sat down she was going off about some lady in the store.

"She called me childish! Said I was probably irresponsible and then lectured me! Stupid lady, ruining my night." Y/n grumbled, giving Daichi his meat buns and leaving hers in the bag so she could drive. "You don't think I'm childish and irresponsible, right?" Y/n asked, her eyes focused on the road. Daichi stilled, his face shoved into the savory pork bun. He did not want to answer that. "Daichi?" As much as he loved her, even Daichi could admit she was a bit of a handful sometimes. She managed to get in trouble wherever she went, and there wasn't a day that went by where Daichi wasn't dragging her out of that mess. But Daichi adored it. Even if it meant getting in trouble with the neighbors and his parents. She was his constant reminder that life was meant to be lived. 

"I think you can be all those things and more, but it's charming," Daichi responded truthfully, chuckling when Y/n perked up in her seat. 

"Thanks, Dai," Y/n murmured, keeping her eyes on the road as to not make eye contact with Daichi.

"Meat bun?" Daichi offered, pulling one of the buns from the plastic bag, unwrapping it, and holding it to her lips.

"I prefer onigiri." Y/n teased, leaning forward to take a quick bite from the bun.

------------------------------------------

Bokuto leaned back on his palms, a soft smile on his face. Daichi sighed, his eyes focused on the hem of his coat. He wondered, what happened to her frog? 

"It's comforting to know she was happy those last few months," Kuroo admitted, his hands on his knees. Daichi looked up to see Bokuto and Kuroo gazing out at the sky, eyes focusing on the different clouds that billowed across the cold, grey skies. 

"It is, huh..." Daichi agreed, allowing himself to relax and smile. It was nice to think she had been happy. At least for a little bit.

[sweetwritertanya]

Dormant Heart

Author’s Note: Hi! So, this is the story I asked you guys if it was okay to write an original character. Since no one opposed, I decided to keep it like this. As always, it’s from a chubby reader’s perspective and it will probably be like a 3 or 5 part series. Hope you like it.

Summary: It’s been two years since the zombie apocalypse happened. You and your older brother were in a safe city, readjusting to how life was now. When a newly infected male is transferred into the cells that you are in charge of surveilling, something unexpected happens. Something that will change everything.

Warnings: just a bit of swearing. It’s mostly exposition and fluff.

Word Count: 3303

You were making your way to your room after a late lunch when you heard the heavy rusty gate being open, meaning a team was arriving from the outside. You stopped apprehensively, your eyes scanning in hopes of seeing the familiar face you worried about. A smile took over your features as you saw your older brother at the head of the group.

Running up to him, you noticed the rest of the team pulling in a big chest with three locks surrounding it, something heavy inside it.

“John, you made it!” you exclaimed happily, still keeping an eye on the chest as you stopped in front of your brother. “What’s that?”

“Well, nice to see you too, Y/N. And no, I wasn’t heavily injured while I was away, thank you for your concern” he teased. You rolled your eyes at him but inspected his form to make sure he wasn’t lying. “And that’s a Dormant. We found it stuck underneath the bridge that fell last week.”

“Oh, that’s rare. Not a lot of Dormants left” you recalled.

“Never mind that, how is the job I got you at the kitchens?” he asked you, putting an arm around your shoulders and walking with you to the rooms, probably wanting to go and rest in his room too. You bitt your lip in guilt and he noticed. An angry sigh escaped him and his arm fell from your figure. “You’re fucking kidding.”

“It’s not my fault” you started to defend yourself, but he wasn’t having it.

“When is it ever your fault, Y/N? You can’t be in the lab because you’re not a scientist. You can’t be a vigilante because you have bad eye-sight. You failed at the exercise tests so you couldn’t be a scavenger. Now you’re telling me you couldn’t even farm and cook in the kitchens?”

“I was doing just fine, but they kicked me out for giving food to the children” you explained, trying to appeal to his heart.

“As they should! You know we have a very limited food supply, we need to preserve the most amount of food possible. They would have eaten when it was time to, like everyone else.”

“They were hungry, John” you persisted.

“But they are alive, Y/N.” He looked disappointed at you. “I don’t know if you’re too naïve or too dumb to understand this is no longer the world we grew up in.”

With that he reached his room and entered, leaving you behind, looking hurt as he closed the door on you.

The infection outburst happened two years ago. Like the virus that it was, it spread way too fast and way to aggressively for people to be able to fight back. What started with a few people worldwide becoming bizarrely numb, they soon became super strong flesh-eating monsters that no one would ever dare to call human again.

The chaos that ensued was tragic. A single bite from those horrific monsters turned people into one of them, if they didn’t take the time to eat your brains out after tasting you. It was estimated that about half of the world’s population was contaminated, about a third had died already, eaten by the zombie-like creatures, and the remaining were secluded in safe built cites, like the one you were in. Well, those were the estimations when communication was still available. That had ended about a year after.

You never really gave much thought to what would happen to you if a zombie apocalypse happened. Mostly because you didn’t believe one would ever occur, you were sure it was just something made up for movies and books. All made believe and scientifically impossible. Which is why, when your small town was attacked, you would have been dead if it wasn’t for your brother. He was the one who protected you, and later the one who tried to teach you how to fight. You learned self-defense against monsters, but you were not a fighter. Your plump body was not made for running around attacking and smashing the zombies as you went.

You were in your room, a book on your lap that you avidly read. People found them useless nowadays, but you treasured them ten times more than you did before. They were now your only source of diversion, taking you away from the awful world you were now living in. A knock on your door called you attention and the door was opened before you even responded.

“Y/N, get off your ass. I got you a job” your brother informed you. “You can bring that stupid book, you’ll probably need it.”

You were frowning heavily, but were also intrigued by what job could possibly require a book. You followed John out the building, through the city and gasped when you realized where he was taking you, on the most outskirts of the town, underground.

“The cells?” You questioned.

“Yes. Mike, the guard here, wants to become a scavenger. He grew bored of being here all day. So, there’s an opening for you.”

Holding the book tightly against your tummy, you scrunched up your nose when your brother opened the underground metallic gate, locking it again behind you both and leading you through the hallway. It was musky and dirty smelling from this point on.

John introduced you to Ralph, the other guard you would be rotating shifts with guarding the cells down here. It was 12 hours each time, but at least you had peace and quiet. No one reprimanding you, no one controlling you and you had more than time to read all your favorite books.

“Just keep an eye on them and feed them. You can do this, right, Y/N?” John looked at you with big expecting eyes, his voice filled with concern. “I’m running out of options here. I don’t know what else to find you if you don’t make it here.”

“I can do it” you assured him, feeling guilty about how much of a bother you were to him sometimes.

You were handed a gun and some spare bullets, just in case. You knew how to shoot it, but truly hoped you never would have to. John and Ralph left you then, the latter promising to be back twelve hour later. Someone would bring you food not only for yourself but the prisoners in the cells as well.

Getting acquainted with the space, you started to slowly walk the corridors with the cells on each side. Your heart was beating strongly in your chest, your body highly aware of the gun resting against your hip.

There were quite a few Dormants in the cells. They had gotten that name from the state they always seemed to be in – dormant, numb, latent. They were infected people that had not yet tasted human flesh. Scientists had discovered that the virus, once in its victim’s system, would lay low until the first bite of human meat. Only then would it take over every system in the human body, shutting down almost all internal organs and ceasing all the brain activity except for what kept them moving with desperate for another taste.

Dormant zombies had not yet reached the second phase of the disease. They didn’t have the super strength or unnatural hunger the other zombies had. Mostly, they just stayed put in a spot, moving occasionally because they still had humanly body needs and needed to eat, drink and such. But they were not really humans anymore, their heartbeats slowing down to an almost complete stop and their brainwaves being just short of a vegetative state. They weren’t completely harmless either. If a non-infected human stood to close, the virus would press them to attack, beginning the second phase.

Scientist were trying to find a cure without success ever since the beginning. These Dormants were essential for their research, being the only way they could test their antidotes. Although the full-infected zombies were believed incurable, the Dormants may still be savable. And could help in the discovery of some kind of preventive vaccine against the virus.

So far, no Dormant had survived the solutions the scientists had come up with.

At the end of the corridor, away from the other Dormants, was the new one your brother and his team had brought the day before. You noticed it was a man, with dark hair and light skin. He was wearing a red sweater and some dirty denim pants, no shoes. You couldn’t, however, see much more of him since he was crunched down in a ball, hugging his knees up to his chest, turned to the wall rather than to the metal bars that kept him encaged.

There was a chair against the wall opposite his cell for you to sit. The new Dormants were always more heavily surveilled than the other ones. Sitting down, you found the chair a bit small for you voluptuous booty, but leaned back until you found a comfortable position and opened your book where you had last left it.

Soon you were completely sucked in the story you were reading, gasping at any twist you didn’t see coming and laughing at the funny dialogue between the characters. During a particular funny scene, you laughed a bit louder than usual and it echoed against the walls, making you look up to remember where you were.

Immediately you froze, something catching your eyes. The Dormant had moved. Still hugging his long legs against his chest, he was now turned in your direction, making it possible to see his facial features. He looked to be in his mid to late twenty’s. You took in the strong square jaw line, the full small lips, a straight nose bridge, the dark brown hair grown past his ears with a long side fringe almost covering his big hazel colored eyes. Glazed over eyes, due to the virus.

You shifted uncomfortably in the chair, but tried to ignore it. He probably wasn’t even really looking at you, but rather just in your direction, absent minded like Dormants were. You tried to focus back in the words of the page you were reading, but it wasn’t really working. You glanced back up and you could have sworn he was looking straight into your eyes, but that would be completely abnormal behavior.

“I must be losing my mind” you mumbled lowly, sighing heavily.

You decided to move from the chair to the ground, where you could sit more comfortably against the wall, bringing your chunky legs up so you could rest your book against your thighs as you read. Just to be sure, as you still felt uneasy, you looked up again and there it was. Hazel eyes looking right at you, even when you moved down from your chair.

A sudden knock on the gate at the end of the corridor made you jump in surprise. Realizing it was probably just someone bringing you food, you got up and unlocked it, thanking the woman who brought the cart with all the trays of food.

Making your way through the cells, each one had a small rectangular hole you could open up at the end of the door so you could slide the food inside. You had a metal stick you could use to shove the trays in, for safety, but none of the prisoners moved at your actions, so you didn’t have to use it.

At the last cell, you saw the man was still on the opposite wall, but again his eyes seemed to follow you. You pushed the food inside and went to get your own tray, feeling starved already. You sat again on the ground, the tray on your big thighs with your legs stretched. The man had not moved.

“You should eat” you found yourself saying. “You were beneath that bridge for at least a few days, you need to eat or you’ll end up just dying.”

To anyone else it would seem like a waste of time, talking to a Dormant. They wouldn’t hear or acknowledge you, much less respond to your words. Still, the fact that they looked so very human even after being infected made you pity them. They were stuck between human and monster, but everyone already treated them as the latter.

“Aren’t I silly? Talking to a Dormant? Might as well talk to the wall…” you mused to yourself, biting a piece of cabbage from your plate. “Maybe I should try and make some friends, apparently I’m lonelier than I thought.”

Not that you haven’t tried, making friends here. But everyone seemed to look at you with disparagement, no matter what you did. Most people looked at your chubby body and labeled you as a gluttonous supply eater, when you honestly tried to eat just as little as the other people, even if it made you hungry just a short time after.

“Then again, with this job, I won’t have time for friends” you concluded, still looking at your plate as you spoke. “I’ll be here the whole day, just going out to sleep. Should I just make friends with you, then?” You chuckled sarcastically.  

A noise caught your attention and you raised your head in time to see the Dormant nod, taking a piece of bread into his mouth, his eyes once again set on yours. He was now next to the cell’s metal bars, having moved from the wall without making a sound you could notice.

You gasped, your fork falling on your tray as you stared open mouthed at him.

“D-Did… Did you just nod?” you asked in a whisper, completely taken back.

The man didn’t answer or made any movement at your words, just kept chewing his bread and looking at you. Anyone else would have just thought it was all in their mind, that there was no way this infected person responded to your words. But you had nothing but time to kill, and persistence was your middle name.

“You… You are looking at me, aren’t you?”

As if to prove it to yourself, you set your now empty tray on top of the chair and moved around in the room, amazed as the glassy eyes followed your figure.

“Why are you different?” You wondered, crossing your arms and keeping a safe distance from the boy in the red sweater. “Is it because you were bitten recently? Are all newly infected like this? Gosh, I really wish I was a scientist right now, or at least knew enough about this disease to have some answers.”

He grabbed another bite of the bread, slowly munched on it, keeping his eyes on you.

“Maybe I should ask my brother when my shift is done” you pondered. But thoughts of him calling you naïve and dumb came across your mind, yelling at you for not knowing something as simple as this. “No, no. It’s probably normal. Yeah, I’m sure in just a week or so you’ll be like the others in here” you convinced yourself.

But he didn’t. Every time you came to do your shift, the man’s eyes would set on you and, without you noticing due to how silent he was, he moved closer to the cell bars. You ended up having to use the metal stick to move his food to him, since he was so close.

You decided to talk to him. Such an act had two main objectives to you: prove to yourself that he was, in fact, still a Dormant, for he never talked back or recognized your words, and to entertain yourself in the long hours of this job. Although you still brought a book with you every time, after a few hours your eyes would start to hurt and the light would dim outside. Talking with him - or, more precisely, at him – was strangely soothing. You were able to recall the time before the zombies showed up, the friends you had, your parents…

John never liked to talk about them or how life was before. It hurt him too much. Even though it hurt you too, it hurt more the fear of forgetting them. So, finding someone to talk to about them was liberating.

You talked with him about school, college, fears and dreams you had before the apocalypse. You shared your fears and dark thoughts, knowing you wouldn’t have to worry about someone else finding out about them. Around the sixth day of talking to him for hours at a time, something unexpected happened.

“Yeah, so John talked to Ralph and got me this job instead. Now here I am. Oh, Ralph is the other guy who comes here, by the way. Not sure you know.”

You were laying in the middle of the floor, looking at the dark ceiling, as the mute man ate and gazed at you. You had now gotten used to it. A random thought made you sit up straight, turning your head towards the Dormant.

“Speaking of names… I haven’t even told you my name, have I? Not that it matters anyway, but I told you so much about myself that it feels weird that I never told you my name. I’m Y/N.”

You laid back down, sighing at how meaningless these interactions were, if you could even call them that.

“I wonder what your name was. And where you came from. I mean, you must be from another safe city, you were only bitten about two weeks ago. What were you doing in the bridge anyway?”

“… Y/N.”

You gasped. Jumping back at the unfamiliar sound and moving as quickly away from the cell as possible. You looked wide-eyed and panting at the boy across the bars, unbelieving of what just happened. Your right hand hovered above your gun, bringing you some sense of safety.

“W-What? D-Did you… Did you just talk?” The thought sounded ridiculous based on all the information gathered on the virus the last two years. And yet…

“Y/N” he repeated, and this time you saw his lips move as the breathy voice echoed in the room.

He moved to stand up as well, making you push yourself further into the wall behind you, panic thoughts making your hands shake. Was he no longer Dormant? Had he eaten human flesh somehow? Was he able to break through the cell? Was he about to kill you now?

Instead, the boy just stood up, glassed eyes taking your fearful state. And you could have sworn you saw him frown with worry.

“No fear… Y/N.”

“Oh my fucking God” you exhaled, falling to your knees and bringing your face to your hands. “You can talk. You can actually talk. D-Did you always… Do you talk with Ralph too?”

What you thought would forever remain in the confidence of this room, believing the man could not repeat, or even hear, the things you told him, was now something you worried about.

“No. Y/N… only Y/N” he assured, voice still breathy and raspy as if he hadn’t used it in a long time.

“Why? And since when ha-” your questions where stopped when a loud knock was heard. You looked scared at the metal gate. “Fuck. It’s Ralph, for his shift.” Looking back at the glassy hazel eyes that always followed you, you realized there was nothing you could do now than hope he kept your confessions to himself. “P-Please, don’t tell him anything of what I told you, okay?”

He shook his head.

“Only Y/N” he repeated.

You nodded and, with a racing heart, made your way to the gate and opened it for Ralph. You tried to act normal, handing him the keys and gun before leaving until your next shift.

You were absolutely certain you would not rest at all after what just happened.

[complicatedandstained]

The Other Day at Hot Topic: Do No Harm

It feels a little bit like the role of Vanitas has been recast halfway through their shift. 

The guy has started doing his work like a regular human being, going as far as offering to help Roxas finish restocking the piercing display and then not giving him shit about it. 

Although, to be fair, this could be because Vanitas was losing patience. Roxas, admittedly, has absolutely and entirely no idea what he is doing. Aqua had assumed Roxas knew a lot more about which metal stabs through which piece of skin than he does. 

Actually, Vanitas has taken to not talking to Roxas at all. He has his headphones back on and, if his volume is any indication, is doing his damnedest to broadcast his music throughout the entire store. Roxas has to refrain from singing along when Fall Out Boy comes on. 

But either way Roxas slices it, it’s a definite improvement. 

And then this super old man comes in, chugging along on a walker with balloons tied to his wrist. Orbiting him is a chattering, hyperactive, wholesomely chubby child, the kind of child you kind of want to hug. 

The old man has a scowl etched onto his face like it’s been there a while. He almost immediately begins to grumble about the low lighting and the loud music and the tight spaces between the aisles that make navigation with a walker near impossible. 

The child is wearing an extremely yellow Wilderness Explorer uniform, and explore he does—every square inch of the store seemingly all at once. He bumps off of display cases and walls like a human pinball, poking at the cheeks of stuffed animals and brushing his hands through the fabrics.

The old man continues his complaining from the front as he eyes the display cases, muttering about the dark colors and the flimsy material and the skimpy cuts. 

Vanitas keeps glancing between the two of them from his station near Anime where he’s restocking the Hello Kitty plush. Roxas imagines he’s examining camera angles, trying to decide who would be easier to take out first. Another glare the old man’s direction, and Roxas decides to step in, before his coworker does.

“Hey there! After anything in particular today?” Roxas asks. He’s halfway through adding new buttons to the magnetic boards of the display case by the register, and he holds out a handful with a smile. “Button?”

The old man looks taken aback. “Thanks, but,” the old man offers a quiet smile in return, tugging at the lapel of a worn suit jacket, where he has a round, pop bottle cap of his own pinned, “I have the only button I need.” 

Roxas feels a strange tingling in his chest at the sudden softness in the gruff man’s tone. Someone special must have given it to him. For a split second Roxas pictures Axel, hands splayed, eyes bright, telling him about stained glass windows.  

The conversation shatters as a childlike someone shouts, “I found it! I found it!” followed immediately by the sound of several hundred small boxes crashing down, and then a delayed, much quieter, “Uh-oh.”

“Russell…” the old man groans, shutting his eyes. 

The old man has stopped near the entrance, as he cannot easily navigate the tight passages between Hot Topic’s displays, so Roxas nods to him. “I’ll make sure he’s alright.”  

Roxas power walks through the aisles, until he gets to the wall-length Funko Pop display. Half a shelf is on the floor between Vanitas and the chubby, adorable scout, who has a single box clutched to his chest.

“This is the one!” The child beams and waves the box close enough to Vanitas face that Roxas is concerned the kid will lose a finger. “The Snipe! I found it!” 

Roxas freezes as Vanitas’ face twitches. With rigid movements the guy yanks down his headphones, says flatly, “Congratulations.”

Compared to all the potential curse words Roxas feared would leave his mouth, Roxas considers this reply basically praiseworthy. 

Vanitas eyes flit down to the mess again, his arms crossing, and the kid notices. 

“I am sorry about the mess,” Russell says, his bright voice painstakingly articulate, like maybe English isn’t his first language. Russell frowns, his dark eyebrows dipping low, troubled, dimples appearing in his round cheeks. “I will help you clean it up though!”  

Roxas takes a step forward, fully prepared to bodily restrain Vanitas if need be. 

“Psh.” Vanitas swats his hand toward the pile dismissively. “I’ve seen worse.”

Roxas is ready to give Vanitas a promotion at this point.

“Why don’t you go show Gramps your weird-as—weird-butt...bird thing.” 

“Okay!” Russell nods purposefully and then frowns, laughs. “Mr. Fredrickson is not my Grandpa though.” Vanitas’ face scrunches in mild confusion. “Oh?”

“Mr. Fredrickson is my best friend.” 

This is perhaps the single sweetest and saddest thing Roxas has ever heard.

With another radiant smile missing a couple key teeth, the child hugs his find to his chest once more and toddles off to the front of the store, chattering to the box, “I think I’ll call you ‘Kevin.’”

And for just a second, before Vanitas slips his headphones back on, with a slightly miffed shake of his head, Roxas thinks he sees Vanitas smile. 

*

Vanitas’ headphones have been off for a half hour now. Once Roxas had checked out Russell and Mr. Fredrickson, the Hot Topic workers set to doing serious damage control on the Pop Funkos. This entailed extensive sorting by platform, movie, and sale price, and some minor bickering about characters belong where, which made it abundantly clear that Roxas is the bigger nerd of the two and that Vanitas knows a weird amount about Star Wars.  

“God.” Vanitas passes Roxas the last couple obscure collectibles and whines, “Ordinarily, I’d just shove them all back on the shelf, and be done with it. Fucking kid. Fucking Axel. Fucking…” He leans forward to fix the one box threatening to fall back over. 

Roxas had thought Vanitas wanted to get fired, and now suddenly he’s vying for employee of the month. He shakes his head, sliding a hand in his pocket and looking out across the empty store.  “I don’t get you.”  

Vanitas lifts an angry-looking Hello Kitty penguin plush from the ground beside him and stares into its eyes like he sees some wisdom there. “You think I should just shut up and do my job, right?”

For a second Roxas wonders what the chances are that Vanitas hadn’t heard him and is simply talking to the penguin, but he decides those chances are fairly low. “It’d be easier…” Roxas mutters, fishing a few furry Chococat eye masks out of a cardboard box on the floor to help Vanitas with the display. 

“Wrong. You want to know why I wanted to get fired? This ‘job’ is a waste of my fucking time. I should be studying, interning. Literally scratching my eyeballs out would be more productive than this.” He lifts a Hello Kitty plush dressed as a cheeseburger up and shoves it in Roxas’ face like he’s trying to suffocate him and the plushie both.

Roxas rolls his eyes, and pushes Cheeseburger Kitty away. “Yeah, I’m sure the eyeball scratching pay is great…” I’ll ask Xion’s cat and get back to you.

“Ugh.” Vanitas adjusts a stack of Hello Kitty notebooks (regrettably not burger-themed) and accepts a handful of cat head topped gel pens from Roxas to add to the display cup beside it. This done he glowers at Roxas impatiently. “I forgot you don’t know shit. Look. I didn’t work my ass off getting a full ride to med school to wind up slaving away next to a bunch of sexually frustrated, punk wannabes.”

Roxas should be more offended about the last bit, but his brain gets stuck elsewhere. “You’re in med school?” A smile hits him in spite of himself. “Did they not warn you about the Hippocratic Oath?” 

Vanitas rams his shoulder into Roxas’ not hard enough to hurt, not light enough to be friendly. “Shut the fuck up.” Roxas considers Vanitas’ situation again, wondering why Vanitas is opening up to him now. “So, if you got a full ride, why work here?”

Vanitas sighs and shifts a few Sanrio nail polish sets over, then checks his own glossy white paint. “How much do you know about Xemnas?” Roxas glances up from his digging through the box. “The sexiest man alive?” Vanitas cringes, his fists balling up. “I fucking hate this place.”

“You…” Roxas hands him a couple more boxes of the polish sets, “disagree?” 

“He’s my uncle,” Vanitas says with venom. “He recently collected the family inheritance. He’s only in his thirties, and now he’s rich. Like, the filthy kind.” 

“Oh.” Roxas feels an uncomfortable pang his chest. Basically, Vanitas is telling him someone in his family recently died. So, either Vanitas is actually upset about that, or Vanitas didn’t know them that well and is just pissed he got the short end of the stick. But wouldn’t Vanitas’ parents have been next in line? Maybe they’d all been skipped?  “I’m sorry.” 

Vanitas doesn’t seem to hear him, pushes on, “Dear Uncle Xemnas is supposed to be helping me pay my rent and my bills, but he’s gotten it into his head that I need to learn to ‘be responsible’ and ‘make friends’ and all that elementary school bullshit. So now I’m working this stupid fucking minimum wage job. And if I don’t, I’m on my own.” 

Vanitas isn’t even looking at him anymore, he’s gripping the metal shelf of the display so hard his knuckles have gone bloodless. The sleeve of his blazer has slipped down, and Roxas can see tattoos running up from his wrist, red and blue veins, like his skin’s been flipped inside out. Med school, huh? Inheritance, suspension, friends… 

Roxas wonders if maybe Vanitas was just in desperate need of someone to dump this to. But why me? And how misanthropic do you have to be for your sexy uncle to blackmail you into having coworkers?

Then again, he did try to punch me in the face.  

“I mean…” Roxas considers patting Vanitas on the back with the Hello Kitty in his hand, but stops himself because he doesn’t want either to be ripped to shreds. “That doesn’t sound so bad.”

Vanitas whirls on him, face contorting. Roxas congratulates himself on the instinct not to give the guy a soothing pat. 

“You would say that. It’s fucking ridiculous. So what if I almost got suspended? I didn’t. So what if I don’t have any friends? I don’t need them.” Vanitas has gotten up in Roxas’ space again, the words harsh and direct, straight in his face. Roxas can feel a little spit fly. Roxas takes a long look at him, taking in what he’s heard, and maybe it’s just because Vanitas reminds him so much of a young Sora throwing a temper tantrum, or maybe it’s the two fights they’ve had earlier, but Roxas can’t bring himself to be angry with the guy any more. In fact, he’s starting to pity him a little bit. Roxas stares levelly, offers calmly, “Maybe friends would help.” 

Vanitas sneers, seizes Roxas’ shirt in his fists. Roxas lets him. 

“Wake up, sunshine. You’re not in elementary school anymore. Friendship isn’t magic. People always let you down. They let you down or they leave. Axel’s going to let you down. It’s better not to get attached.” Vanitas shoves Roxas’ chest and stalks off a few steps, but Roxas, being a black belt, catches himself easily, which seems to piss Vanitas off further when he glances back to see him still standing there. 

“You’re right,” Roxas says. 

“Huh?”

“Nobody’s perfect.” One of Roxas’ hands leave his pockets, lifts in a shrug. “Sometimes my best friends screw up. Sometimes they screw up a lot.” He almost laughs, thinking of Hayner, how many times he’s had to climb out of bed to pick him up, stumbling drunk. “But so do I.” I mean I dated Seifer, for Pete’s sake. He hadn’t thought anyone would forgive him for that, but, somehow, they had. “And at the end of the day, isn’t it enough that they care about me and that they tried?”

Roxas shifts his other hand out of its pocket, bringing a pack of Pop Rocks with it. “I don’t know what’s going to happen with Axel. Maybe he is going to hurt me, but maybe our friendship is going to be amazing. I’m not going to let maybe stop me from trying. And neither should you.” 

“Ugh.” Vanitas runs his fingers down his face like he’s trying to scrub it clean. But when he drops them his tone seems more level, “Forget the advice, you’re a hopeless sap.”  

Roxas smiles sadly. “Whatever you say, Vanitas.”

Vanitas eyes him, more wary than annoyed. “You’re setting yourself up for disappointment.”

Roxas shrugs. “Maybe I am. What about Aqua?”

Vanitas stiffens. Roxas feels like he��s just watched his defenses go up, an invisible shield. 

Vanitas flexes his hand against the stuffed animal he’s holding a few times. “What about her?” he says at last.

Roxas keeps his words soft, “You guys are friends, aren’t you?”

“She’s not my friend,” Vanitas counters, words quiet but forceful. His nostrils flare, staring at Roxas and then he turns sharply, like he doesn’t want to look at Roxas anymore, and goes back to shoving stuffed animals onto a shelf with unnecessary force. “She’s a hopeless sap like you. That’s why I’m standing here balls deep in Hello Kitty merch. Doing my fucking job. Tell Axel that.”

Roxas has no idea what to make of this. There’s obviously a lot of shit going down with Vanitas that he doesn’t know the first thing about. He decides it’s time to tap out. Defuse this situation before Vanitas makes with the punching again. 

Vanitas is still waiting for a reply. 

Roxas frowns a bit. “The Hello Kitty thing, or...?”

Vanitas takes a step forward, like a bull stomping its foot before the charge. 

Roxas raises his hands in surrender accordingly. “Okay, okay. I’ll tell him you were doing your damn job. Gees.”

There’s a tense moment as Vanitas considers Roxas’ sincerity and then he nods. “Thank you.” He tosses another Cheeseburger Kitty at Roxas’ face.  “Now fuck off.”

[stretchjournalemerson]

Shamaw and the Dead Girl

 By Camryn Ciancia 

When I was around eight years old, I met a woman who told me to call her “Shamaw''. I was told that her daughter had just died and she was once my father’s step mom, despite her being only seven years older than him. But I didn’t know why I needed to call her “Shamaw'' because I had just met her and I already had three grandmas and didn’t need another. Her daughter who had died had a son around my age, who was apparently my cousin. And I saw my grandfather distraught but I didn’t know why, because it was Shamaw’s daughter who died. I didn’t know that the dead girl was my aunt.

I took my seat in an old church in Canton, Texas, a small town east of Dallas, with a population of 3,000 people and nothing to do. My sister and I were wedged in between my parents, who sat on either side of us. In the other rows of the church sat my father’s broken childhood, all dressed in black. But I still wasn’t too sure of why I sat in Canton in a Baptist church that had old carpet and smelt like the cigarettes my first grandma liked to smoke. This was my first time at a church outside of my preschool education and there were pictures of Jesus and the dead girl everywhere.

The dead girl was in the open casket and my parents made me go look at her, “Cam, come look at her. She looks really pretty and it’s not scary.” There laid a very pale girl with chubby flushed cheeks and a slight smile, with blue eyeshadow on, in a sequined black dress and curled dark hair that looked like my sister’s. I knew in that moment that I would never forget what she looked like. I wasn’t sure who she was or what happened, but I was observing a real life dead person. But was it real life if she was dead? Why did she look so alive if she was dead in heaven or hell or just in the universe? Could she see me looking at her?

After watching the dead girl lay static in her casket, I could feel cold air swirling around me, that I thought was probably the ghost of Jesus and the dead girl and a lot of family members that I had never met. But I sat in this church, eight years old, excited to have gotten out of my second grade class wearing a dark grey ruffley Gap Kids dress that matched with my four year old sister. I was in a very country east Texas town that was foreign to me. People were getting up and speaking about the dead girl and how she was “so young” and “so full of light” and would be “deeply missed”. I didn’t know anything about Shamaw’s daughter and didn’t care so much.

The funeral for the twenty-eight year old dead girl ended. People were weeping and talking about Tinker Bell because the dead girl loved that character. I was told that day that when I was two years old, I went to the dead girl’s house for my cousin’s first birthday party. Someone showed me a picture of me with the dead girl and she looks happy but she looks sad, despite the Shrek ears on her head (the birthday party was Shrek themed. It was 2004).

In the church lobby, my grandpa gave me a very tight hug, and so did my first grandma (the one who smokes cigarettes). But why was my first grandma sad and why was she even there? From what I was gathering this was my grandpa’s family and my grandma divorced him in 1981 and now it was 2010.

The church held a potluck reception for the dead girl. Everyone had deep southern accents and it was hot and muggy outside and they were eating southern recipes that I (a North Texas girl) wouldn’t bother touching. I think I did eat a slice of pie, though. I was getting mosquito bites everywhere but that is just how Texas is when it is hot and muggy outside.

My family was approached by Shamaw, a very large woman, who looked and acted much older than she actually was. But then again, her daughter had apparently just died and she was probably very sad. Shamaw told me she was delighted to see me and Mackenzie and she hoped to get to know us better. I could tell this made my mom annoyed because who even is this Shamaw character anyways? Shamaw pulled my father aside. I now know that she was asking him to keep his eye out because the dead girl’s ex-boyfriend might be coming to visit his son who was my cousin. The dead girl’s ex-boyfriend had just been released from prison.

My dad stepped into his best role which was entertaining kids. He loved kids and he loved to be the fun dad that everyone called Mr. Micah (even adults). He wore the role of entertainer well and the parents loved that they could relax while he would play babysitter for a while. Mr. Micah brought me, my sister, and my cousin (who was grieving the loss of his mother) to the church recreational center and started to play basketball with us. My dad was the entertainer who was protecting his nephew from the scary inmate father. He was also hoping to protect him from what killed the dead girl.

Once it was time to leave the church and quit playing basketball and worrying about my cousin getting kidnapped, I was told we were going to a cemetery, then back to Shamaw’s house. I had never been to a cemetery before but it was around Halloween time so I was excited because it seemed like a very festive thing to do. Was the dead girl about to be buried? Is that what happens to someone who is going to hell? If heaven is supposed to be in the sky, why do we get buried?

We parked our Audi along the fence of the overgrown landscape of the cemetery in the country. Shamaw stood bawling next to the gravestone where the big coffin was going to be buried. I knew the dead girl was in there, which made me feel a little sick. There were so many flowers and flies and mosquitos swirling around us. My sister and I were keeping each other company so the rest of the details are foggy. We didn’t know how to behave.

Shamaw was married to a man everyone called Cooley who assured me and Mackenzie that we would get a cold Dr. Pepper once we got back to their house. I was excited for the dead girl to get put in the ground so I could taste the twenty-three flavors of the soda that my mom usually didn’t let me indulge in. I still didn’t know who these people were.  

We left the cemetery and drove down a one-way, one-lane road in Canton, Texas, until we arrived at this little house on a lake. It was dusk and mosquitos were everywhere and everyone was out on the porch and drinking out of Red Solo Cups. Inside the house, there were signs that hung all over with ironic phrases on them, accompanied by what I thought were very realistic looking stuffed animal heads. The house looked like the decorations all came from a flea market and it smelt like weird casseroles baking in the oven over the smell of lighted cinnamon candles and lots of flowers that people had sent to Shamaw’s house. Everyone was talking loudly in their deep accents and acting happy, and I didn’t understand any of it, because two hours ago everyone was quiet and crying.

My sister and I sat in the corner and talked to each other, because my parents were with the adults that they knew. No one knew Mackenzie and me. Shamaw approached my mom. The room fell silent. Shamaw had just lost her 28-year-old daughter and was now the legal guardian of a seven year old. Shamaw approached Mom and began yelling “Why didn’t you let me meet Mackenzie when she was born? You are an awful person. I can’t believe my son would marry such a bitch.” Mom set her cup down and just walked away. That was the only time I haven’t watched Mom put up a fight but I knew it was because Shamaw’s daughter just died.

After that, it was time to drive back to McKinney from Shamaw’s house. I said goodbye to two of my grandmas, my grandpa, Cooley, Shamaw, and some lady who told me to call her Apple. Some other people waved at us as Mr. Micah, Mom, Mackenzie, and I made it to our now dusty Audi Q7.  My sister was asleep next to me, and the roads were pitch black, but the stars were so bright because we were deep in the country. I sat in the backseat and started crying to radio music. It had been a long day. Instead of practicing my times tables at school, I had to look at a dead girl in her casket. My parents took this time to explain to me that the dead girl was technically my father’s half-sister, making her my aunt, and she died from making a very bad decision to do heroin.

“What is heroin?” I asked.

“Heroin is a drug that kills people and that killed your aunt.”

Acknowledgments

Firstly, thank you my writing class for always listening to me talk about my familial issues and Texas and for their guidance and support throughout my writing process. To my professor, Mary Kovaleski-Byrnes, thank you for always encouraging us and being so understanding. And of course, this piece couldn’t have been possible without my weird and confusing extended family. And to my mom and sister, look at how far we have come.

[thedelineator-blog]

we sat in a room alone - my mom and i - waiting for someone to come back with paperwork. the room contained a desk with a chair behind it, and two other chairs against the wall where we sat. i stared at my zebra print duffel bag on the floor, enveloped in an angry fog as my mom reassured me that everything would be alright.

we had been in one of these rooms a few weeks prior, after my therapist had recommended to my mom that i stay at a psychiatric hospital for a while, until i didn’t feel like killing myself anymore. they needed to “evaluate” me - to see if i was fucked up enough to qualify to stay in an inpatient program. i remember filling out some questionnaire that asked your run of the mill “are you depressed?” questions. in the room next door, someone who i assume was a patient there was meeting with his mother. we listened as he screamed at her and the employees, and at one point threw something against the wall. i remember laughing to myself as he demanded a coke, and then when someone brought him one he screamed that he wanted diet. my mom seemed disturbed by this and we left. she told me she couldn’t live with the thought of leaving me there alone.

but there we were. she was leaving me there alone.

the night before, my dad had walked into the kitchen as i was slicing into my left arm with a knife meant for filleting a fish. it was a half assed attempt at committing suicide and a full assed cry for help. in the weeks prior i had cut my left arm with a wide variety of objects - a key, a shard of glass, a pair of scissors, a thumbtack - and had worn long sleeves until my therapist told my parents about my cutting and i was forced to show them my arm. in my mind i was punishing myself for being sad and acting crazy. i wanted to see my own blood to prove to myself that i was alive and this was real. i had become fixated on blood - to the point where i had made a plan to lock myself in the bathroom and slit my wrists and watch the blood flow out of me until i died.

in a moment of impulse - and after finding where my parents had hidden the knives - i settled for a quick slice to the forearm while standing in the kitchen.

the lady with the paperwork came back in and we filled out all of the forms. she went through my bag which contained clothes, underwear, shampoo and conditioner, a coloring book and some crayons. she made me pull the strings out of a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt, and told me i could either cut the wire out of one of my bras or send it back home with my mom. she explained that the program i was going to be in was point based and that i would start with zero but could work my way up with good behavior and earn privileges back - some of the privileges included washing my hair with the shampoo and conditioner i brought, and using the coloring book and crayons that i brought. washing my hair seemed like a basic privilege and human right to me.

after going through all of my things and patting me down to make sure i wasn’t smuggling in anything “contraband” i said goodbye to my mom. and was lead through a door and down a hallway to the ward where i would be staying for an indefinite amount of time.

looking back now - 7 years later - i know it must have broken my mom’s heart to have to leave me there. at the time i was angry. i had never felt more alone and alienated than i had for the past 2 months. it seemed like no one understood me and quite frankly, i didn’t understand myself either. i spent days in bed doing nothing but sobbing while staring at the wall, and was met with only anger and confusion from my mom, who probably had no idea what to do or how to help me. i understand now that i didn’t go to the hospital because my family was trying to get rid of me - rather they didn’t know how else to help me and protect me from myself.

it was night time when i got to the hospital. i was led down a hall to a door where you had to get “buzzed” in, which seemed very jail-like. the hallway was lit with fluorescent lights which were mostly turned off. the lady showed me my room, which was next to a bunch of other rooms in what they called a “pod”. a “pod” had a common area with a tv, tables and chairs, a bathroom and four connected rooms, each with two twin beds. i didn’t have a roommate, which i was thankful for. she led me into another “pod” where a bunch of girls who looked a lot younger than me were watching a movie about gladiators, which i had seen with my ex boyfriend in theaters. i sat down without speaking to anyone - probably looking like an angry bitch - and colored a coloring page that was on the table.

because i was 17, i was still considered an adolescent and was kept in the adolescent ward. there were probably 9 other girls there, ranging from the ages of 11-15, with me being the oldest. there were also 2 pods for small children and 2 pods for adolescent boys. there was a really nice black male nurse sitting in the room with us as we watched the movie he saw me silently sitting alone and talked to me without asking any questions and taught me how to make a macrame friendship bracelet out of string. i appreciated this about him because i had made some sort of promise to myself in my head that i wasn’t going to talk to anyone about why i was there. during my two week stay at the hospital, making friendship bracelets was my preferred activity and something that i continued to do after leaving the hospital as a hobby.

i don’t remember names of the girls who were also staying there, but i’ll describe the ones that i remember.

probably the first girl to talk to me, and the only one that i considered a friend while i was there was skinny and 14 years old. i later learned that she was bulimic and had wanted to be my friend because she thought i had an eating disorder too. one day at lunch she talked about how she wanted to be just like me. one of the other girls told me that she meant she wanted to be my size and had assumed i was there because i was anorexic. it made me feel weird and disgusting to be idolized in that way.

the first girl that anyone gossiped to me about was chubby and probably also around 14. she had long mousy brown hair and was typically quiet, despite having short outbursts of anger, in a random and disturbing manner. when i arrived she had a cast on her arm, which someone told me she had broken after punching a mirror, and had also been the only person they had witnessed to be sedated after an outburst of anger.

another girl had short dark hair and looked like the type of girl to have a ghetto boyfriend. i think she even had a tattoo. she seemed like a bully to me and also had anger and behavioral issues. she looked like she was 15ish but i vaguely remember being shocked that she was actually younger.

there was another girl with a broken arm - a 12 year old sweet looking blonde girl who had been abused by her father and taken into custody by CPS.

another girl was waiting to be placed in foster care. she was also around 12, chubby and mexican. she was funny and was one of the only people there that could make me laugh. she had been part of a gang that her older brothers were in. i think her name was lana. the day that i left, she gave me a coloring sheet with her name and phone number on it that i think i still have somewhere.

there were other girls too, but these are the ones who stuck in my mind the most. after seven years a lot of the details have faded away, while others seem to stand out. there are some times where i wonder what happened to all of those girls, especially the ones who were waiting to go to foster homes. some of them had been there for over a month already, and had previously stayed in other hospitals in texas. they didn’t seem to have a lot of problems, but rather were stuck there as the state tried to figure out what to do with them.

my first night in the hospital i remember laying alone in my cold room and crying. i wasn’t allowed my usual nightly dose of temazepam to knock me out, because i was supposed to talk to a psychiatrist the next day who would prescribe me a brand new drug cocktail. i felt abandoned and strangely guilty for being so fucked up that my parents felt like i needed to be hospitalized. i realized that all i wanted to do was be with my family and my heart ached thinking of how i didn’t know when i would see them again.

life in the hospital revolved around schedules and routine. we woke up really early, around 7, and sat with a nurse in the pod who would take our vital signs and give us all our assigned drug cocktails. then we walked together to the cafeteria to eat breakfast, which was the only meal of the day that i looked forward to eating. in the cafeteria we were assigned to sit with certain people at certain tables. after breakfast, go back to the pod and have “quiet time” which for me mostly consisted of coloring with markers on coloring sheets that always seemed to have the same pictures. sunflowers, a mandala design, a character from a children’s show, an elephant. we weren’t allowed to make friendship bracelets, or even have the ones we had made previously, when the male black nurse who helped with them wasn’t there. he worked at night. when i asked why we weren’t allowed to keep our bracelets, someone told me it was because we might try to choke ourselves with them, which i thought was funny.

after breakfast some of the girls did school work, something i had been excluded from after “medically withdrawing” from school a month or so earlier because i was so depressed.

then lunch. there was one little boy that ate lunch with us, probably around 6 years old, who i still think about periodically. he was schizophrenic, or in some state of psychosis, which in itself was already sad enough. he was so far removed from reality. he seemed to have hallucinations that never ceased, and spent the entirety of lunch wandering around the cafeteria, following something visible only to him. he was constantly being herded around by a nurse, or by one of us during lunch, and didn’t seem to care much about interacting with other people. he sometimes would burst into tears in a moment of confusion and scream for his mom. i heard that his family came to visit him on every visiting day, but he frequently felt confused about where he was and what was going on. i hope he is okay.

after lunch - group therapy - which i absolutely despised. and then an hour of time spent outside. then dinner, more “quiet time”, the distribution of the drugs, and finally sleep.

my drug cocktail - thoughtfully and carefully chosen by a guy named “dr. parrot” - consisted of 50mg of pristiq, an antidepressant, in the morning and 25mg of seroquel at night to knock me out. i had briefly had insomnia, staying up for days at a time, and after being prescribed temazepam i would take it whenever i wanted to sleep, sometimes multiple times a day. even though i no longer had trouble sleeping, dr. parrot was happy to add another sleeping pill to my cocktail, and never questioned whether i really needed it or not.

according to google, pristiq - generic name desvenlafaxine - is a serotonin reuptake inhibitor used to treat major depressive disorder. side effects include increased suicidal thoughts and behaviors, elevated blood pressure and activation of mania, to name a few.

seroquel - generic name quetiapine - is an anti-psychotic drug that is supposed to balance out the neurotransmitters in your brain. it’s typically prescribed to people with schizophrenia, bipolar disorder, major depressive disorder, and in my case - insomnia. side effects include drowsiness, headache, dizziness, and upset stomach.

i had looked forward to talking with the psychiatrist. since arriving at the hospital i had not had a moment of “therapy”, which in my mind consisted of crying while word vomiting about all of my bad feelings to someone with a degree that makes them qualified to listen to me. instead, a couple of days after i had arrived at the hospital, i was ushered into a tiny office where a balding middle aged man waited for me. he talked to me for maybe five minutes, and then prescribed to me my magical drug cocktail, which i was to start taking as soon as possible.

i thought that this was complete and utter bullshit. instead of talking about how i wanted to die, i was given some drugs that were supposed to be the magical cure to everything. i complained to a nurse about it, who told me i could talk to my “case worker”, a young 20-something really attractive guy who visited the hospital in a sporadic and seemingly unplanned manner a couple times a week.

as a part of my daily routine, i was also allowed to make one phone call a day, which i always used to call my parents. i cried to them over the phone and begged them to either come get me or bring me warmer socks when they visited. (they brought me socks). I was also allowed to shower, which i avoided for as long as possible because the showers were cold most of the time, and the shitty shampoo (no conditioner) i was given made my ass-length, super thick hair a tangled rat’s nest.

the first couple days at the hospital were nothing to write home about. i made a conscious effort to not talk to anyone, colored coloring pages and listlessly did as i was told. we were all given journals that we didn’t have to show anyone and were supposed to write about our feelings in during group therapy. the first couple of days i sat in a corner and wrote “forever” over and over and over again with a red marker in reference to the beatles’ song “i will” and the fact that at the time i was still committed to loving my ex boyfriend forever.

after i had been there a couple of days i experienced something that until that point, i had thought only happened in movies. it sounds ridiculous and made up, but i promise it really happened.

i refer to what happened next only as “the incident”.

some of the girls had grown close to each other, forming what i felt was a “fucked up psychiatric clique”. i kept my distance from them because i hate cliques, and also because i really didn’t care about making friends in a mental hospital. i would eavesdrop on their conversations, most of which were about how fucked up this place was (yeah) and how it felt like a prison (agreed) and how they were going to figure out a way to escape (not likely). i thought it was kind of hilarious that they thought they could just...escape. there was no access to doors that lead outside, and you either needed a key, or to be “buzzed in” to enter a different part of the hospital.

there was one girl who was best friends with the aforementioned dark haired girl who looked like the type to have a ghetto boyfriend. she seemed to be the mastermind of this ambitious scheme to liberate us girls from unflattering fluorescent lighting and drug cocktails. she thrived off of being a self proclaimed bad girl, and had bragged about using drugs on a couple of occasions during group therapy even though she was probably only 15. she and the dark haired girl were actively kept away from each other during meals and even some other times, i think because they always seemed to be working up some sort of elaborate scheme, or just being bitches while together in general.

one night i was sitting at a table in a pod by myself, probably coloring or watching whatever movie was playing for the thousandth time on the TV. all of the sudden there was some sort of commotion, and i looked out of the glass window of the pod towards the nurse’s station and saw a girl tackle a nurse to the ground like a deranged homeless woman on PCP. other girls from the “clique” were also running around trying to attack nurses.

people were screaming, everyone was rushing around. nurses were getting attacked. i sat in my place and watched in disbelief, i couldn’t believe these dumbasses thought this would actually work. i watched as one of the boys - whose pod was visible from where i was sitting - tried to open one of the doors that led to a hallway outside while everyone was distracted. more people came running, nurses from the adult and children’s ward i presume, and started restraining the girls and tackling them to the ground.

a nurse came into the door of my pod ad started grilling me, asking me if i was in on this. she took me to the pod next door, where the dark haired girl was having an absolute breakdown, and locked the door. i still to this day don’t understand why she locked me in there with someone who was on an angry rampage. i sat in a plastic chair in the corner and watched as the dark haired girl threw chairs around the room and screamed at me. she probably said some things along the lines of “why won’t you say anything bitch!” and “don’t you want to get out of here?!”

at this point i was truly terrified and started to cry, which she yelled at me for also. i didn’t understand why i had been locked in this room with this crazy girl and in that moment all i wanted to do was take my sweet, sweet seroquel and sleep. she contiued to tear about the room in a really manic and destructive manner while chaos continued outside the door. at one point she ripped the thermostat partly out of the wall and threw a chair in my general direction.

someone finally came in and got me out of there and led me back to my pod. they had finally gotten things under control and i watched as they restrained each girl who was involved and sedated them with a huge needle in the hallway outside of the pods. probably around five or six of the girls had been involved, and i believe some of the other girls had been released recently so there were only a couple of us who didn’t get sedated.

i remember being kind of traumatized that night, i definitely cried for a while and talked to a nurse, who seemed uncharacteristically calm about what had happened. at one point i went into the bathroom and found a circular orange pill with something stamped into it on the ground in front of the toilet. i gave it to the nurses at the nurse’s station, took my seroquel and went to sleep.

looking back now, i’m pretty sure that the pill i found on the ground was ecstasy or something similar. the girl who was the ringleader of the scheme had spent longer than normal in the bathroom before all of the craziness went down, and i vaguely remember a nurse making her come out of the bathroom after a while. i’m not sure how she would have gotten drugs into the hospital, but it’s definitely possible. it’s completely possible that it was an ecstasy fueled dream of freedom, which when carried out went terribly wrong.

after that night, the heavily sedated group of girls slept in the hallway for an entire day, and after they woke were placed on some sort of “house arrest” and not allowed to leave their pod, even for meals.

the incident made me withdraw even more into myself, and i sobbed on the phone to my mom the next day begging her to please get me out of there. i felt as if being there wasn’t helping me at all. sure, i was no longer able to hurt myself, but i felt totally alienated, forgotten about and now a bit traumatized.

i told a nurse that i wanted to leave, and i was under the impression that because i was 17, i could leave whenever i wanted. i think i had this confused with the age of consent (which is 17 in texas) and she told me that i was not allowed to leave until the psychiatrist released me. i thought - and still think - that this is complete and utter bullshit. the doctor who talks to me for a couple of minutes a day and did nothing but prescribe drugs to me is the only one who has a say in how much my mental health has improved. this made absolutely no sense to me then, nor does it now.

in the following days, i continued to follow the routine. my parents came to visit me and i told them about the incident, which they probably found hard to believe. they told me they would try to get me out, but later on the phone gave me the same news that the nurse had - it was all in the hands of the doctor.

because i had been compliant, had followed the rules and participated in group therapy and written in my journal - though if they had looked they would know that at that point, i had filled almost the entire thing with just one word - i gained enough points to use my own shampoo and conditioner. this was an absolute luxury and some of the girls expressed their jealousy to me. most refused to follow the point system and continued to use the shitty shampoo the hospital supplied for their entire stay.

while i was there, i worried a lot about what was going on in the world outside. about my friends, who i had only told i was going away for a while. about my brother, who was 11. i wondered if my parents had told him what was going on and where i was. i later learned that they gave him the same explanation i gave my friends - i just had to go away. i worried about my cat oliver and bout my ex boyfriend, who probably had no idea where i was and wouldn’t care anyways.

i thought about school and what everyone thought about me not being there. or if they even noticed that i was gone. as i had spiraled deeper into depression in the previous months, school had become impossible for me. with my depression i had also gained social anxiety, and felt increasingly alienated and misunderstood by everyone at school. the girls i sat with at lunch didn’t understand why i was suddenly so sad and angry, and for reasons that i don’t remember had asked me not to sit with them anymore. i began eating my lunch either in the bathroom or in the theatre prop closet, most of the time listening to “breathe” by telepopmusik and crying. at some point, i just stopped going to school and instead would go to a treehouse in the woods and lay there for a couple of hours before going home, taking sleeping pills and going to sleep. eventually my parents gave up and let me stop going, but i went to work with my mom every day so i didn’t have the opportunity to do anything crazy.

i began seeing a therapist after my mom seemed to become scared of me and said she felt that i needed help. i decided that i hated the therapist after our first session, when she told me that i needed to write my ex boyfriend’s name on a piece of paper and burn it, as if that was some sort of magical secret for letting go. i hated the therapist even more when she recommended inpatient treatment after i had only been seeing her for a month. though, i will admit i was quite out of it - bordering on psychosis - and remember telling her once about how i would stare at the carpet at school until i started to hallucinate.

a couple days after the incident, a new girl was admitted to the hospital and introduced to our pod. she was small and skinny, with a bleached pixie cut. she was really talkative and immediately tried to make friends with everyone. this initially made me suspicious of her, and i didn’t perceive her willingness to talk as friendly, rather it felt conniving.

my suspicions turned out to be right when she approached me one day while we were outside. she took off her shoe, produced a medium sized safety pin and handed it to me. she explained that she had given one to all of the girls so that they could cut themselves if they wanted to. she had been wearing a bracelet with all of the safety pins on it when she was admitted, and by some miracle no one had noticed.

this interaction struck me as really weird and crazy, and i later learned in group therapy that this girl was truly and utterly fucked up. she was eager to talk about why she was there, and cheerfully explained that she wanted to kill her mother and her dog, but was brought here before she could carry it out.

i told a nurse about the safety pins (yeah i’m a snitch, but it was fucked up) and she was placed on “house arrest” for a couple days.

her bad karma for handing out safety pins like candy to a bunch of mentally ill girls came back to her when, on my last day there, she broke her arm while playing red rover with everyone outside as i watched in shock.

by the time my last couple of days at the hospital rolled around, i was talking more. i would frequently stand at the nurse’s station with the girl who was bulimic as we held ice cubes in our hands until they melted. we watched a bunch of dumb movies, one of which was heavyweights, and another a documentary about 9/11. i didn’t understand why a psychiatric hospital owned a movie about 9/11, let alone why they were showing it to a bunch of adolescent girls. i remember saying “why are you making us watch this?” about 10 minutes into the movie.

they also had a wii, but the only game we could play was “just dance!” and we played the shit out of it. i especially liked it because i didn’t feel self conscious around the girls, and we all had fun being stupid and playing together. that and making the macrame bracelets are the best memories i have of my stay there.

the last day or two that i was there, i finally revealed in group therapy that i was there because i had tried to kill myself. i talked about how my boyfriend dumped me and i completely lost it, feeling depressed for the first time in my life and having no idea how to deal with it. most of them seemed surprised, as the majority of them thought i had an eating disorder, and said that i didn’t seem “that messed up”. the nurse who led the group therapy asked me questions about my boyfriend, which i found annoying. but it felt good to stop being silent and finally talk.

i don’t really remember why i got released exactly - but i finally got to leave. i remember some of the girls acted sad that i was leaving, which struck me because i didn’t think any of them cared about me that much. lana gave me a coloring page with her phone number, which made me feel sad to leave for a split second. i got to take all my bracelets home with me and still have a collection of hospital stuff - my bracelets, hospital bracelet, my numerous coloring book pages, lana’s coloring book page.

the hospital’s conclusion about me was that i had major depressive disorder with attachment issues and an intense fear of rejection. (duh)

on the ride home with my mom she asked if i felt like being there helped me and i said that i felt traumatized. i commented about how i felt like i had just gotten out of jail and everything seemed weird, even though i had only been gone for two weeks.

[fangirlshrewt97]

Conversations with Ghosts

Author(s): Fangirlshrewt97

Rating: 13+ for some cursing

Warnings: Major Character Death (by old age)

Summary: Many years after the show, Yuuri and Viktor have lived a long and happy life. Now alone after his husband has died, Yuuri visits his grave to talk to him.

[Victuuri Week 2017, Day 7: Endings, Yuuri: Memories/Moments, Viktor: Promises]

Link to A03: http://archiveofourown.org/works/9705845

The ground was covered in a fresh layer of snow, unpaved as it had only stopped snowing an hour ago. It reminded him of the first time Viktor came to Japan, that fateful day that changed the rest of his life. He trudged up the steep incline slowly, his knees protesting every step of the way. He had a wreath of blue roses in his hands, collected from his garden. The house was so quiet now, it felt haunted by ghosts of those long gone. Yuuri didn’t like being there more than he had to, though his body did not always agree.

By the time he reached the peak, he was panting, heaving himself the last few steps to the small bench there. He sat down heavily, all his bones settling in. The peak of his athletic body had long since passed, leaving behind the chubby tummy and arms and legs he had hated for so long, but now come to like. His hair had receded, leaving him with a full but thin head of hair, the same silver, Viktor’s had been for so long. His eyes were more deep set, lined with laughter lines that showed he had lived a happy life.

Managing to breathe properly again, Yuuri went to the small plot only a few meters from where had sat, leaning on the stone as he went down to his knees. He adjusted himself until he could comfortably sit on his heels, mindful to not stay there too long lest he be unable to get back up. He pushed his glasses up again before leaning forward to brush the snow off the gravestone. Viktor had insisted it be simple, nothing fancy, saying that he had been fancy enough in life.

Here lies

Viktor Nikiforov-Katsuki

Beloved Husband, Father, Grandfather, Brother and Friend

One of the best Ice Skaters the world has ever known.

December 25, 1989 - November 21, 2064

It had been a peaceful death, Viktor had passed away in his sleep, leaving Yuuri to wake up in cold arms for the first time in almost 50 years. Yuuri did not remember that first week too much, except for this hollow feeling that he knew nothing would ever fill. He had always thought that he would not be far behind Viktor when he died, and he was somewhat correct. It had been three months, and he insisted on making the climb to the top of this hill every day, no matter how much his children and grandchildren protested. He could feel his life slipping more each day, but he wasn’t scared. He had lived a full, happy life, the kind of perfect very few ever got to live. He had no regrets, and with his children all happy in their lives, there wasn’t much keeping him tied here.

Hana had tried to argue with her fathers to choose a graveyard closer to town, why did they want to be so far away. Viktor had laughed and said it wouldn’t matter much to him when he was dead. But this cemetery, when Yuuri stood up and walked a few feet below on the opposite side to where he came, you could see all of Hatsetsu. Viktor had said that this was the first town that felt like a home to him, so he wanted to be buried where he could watch over it.

“Good morning, Vitya. How are you doing? I am good. The house is so quiet now. Hana brought over Ayumi-chan and Ai-chan to visit. They are getting so big now, I can’t believe we are great-grandfathers sometimes. They stayed for dinner, so last night was nice. They had to leave today though, Hana needed to get them back to Tokyo, they are still too small to be too far away from their mother for too long.” Yuuri recounted to his husband, leaning forward slightly to shift the weight from his ankles to his knees. All those years as a top world athlete made no difference in his 70’s, his body giving him the same pains as all others his age.

Rearranging the wreath so it was more centered he continued. “Um what else? I made some katsudon yesterday. And I know, I know, the doctor said I had cholesterol and I should eat less fats and sweets. But my great-granddaughters were visiting ok, so hush. I am not going to subject our daughter to that terrible diet plan the doctor suggested when she is barely able to come anymore. Oh! Yurio called, he said that Elena had had her daughter yesterday. He sounded so happy, he sent me so many photos of the baby. It really is a beautiful baby Viktor, you would have loved her.”

Yuuri quietened, the only sound being the faint rustling of the few remaining leaves as a cool breeze whipped past him. Or more accurately though him, even with all his extra chub, it provided no insulation against that breeze. He hunched further into himself, trying to preserve that heat. He pulled out his phone, his knobbly fingers not as coordinated as they tried to tap on the holoscreen. There it was!

The photos showed a generic hospital room and bed, a young woman in the center holding a small pink bundle. To her left were Otabek and Yurio, the former’s hair a dignified gray, eyes just as serious as during his younger years but with a softness to him. Yurio’s hair was short, reaching barely past his ear, the silver making more like Viktor than he had as an up and coming ice skating prodigy. The height helped, with him towering over the two. But the years had been kind to all of them, phantoms of their youthful beauty not quite fading. He swiped to another photo, a close-up of the baby, now awake. She was smiling, her joy infectious even through the screen as her tiny fists were reaching out to whoever had taken the photo.

Through the years, Yurio had soften, not as quick to temper or react as before, and the two Yuris had finally become ‘official’ friends. Viktor had been so happy, commenting loudly to whoever would listen how his boys finally loved one another. Yurio had finally shut him up with a threat to shave what was left of his hair. Yuuri remembered the memory fondly, the twinkle in Viktor’s eyes as he retook his seat, Otabek’s small responding smile, and even Yurio’s unique begrudging and affectionate frown.

“Phichit called me yesterday night, saying that there was a documentary last night on ice skating, and how they mentioned all of us. I guess in the end we were all history makers right? You are still the most decorated ice skater, Yurio a close second. I have my three golds each from Worlds and the Grand Prix. Phichit with his gold and more importantly, his numerous ice shows over the years. He told me the most recent one is starting it’s tour in Thailand as usual but visiting 40 countries. He sounded so happy but also so jealous that he couldn’t travel with the tour. Can you imagine that? A 68 year old travelling in small cramped spaces to 40 different countries in the space of three months? Who else did he say? Oh Chris’s incredible Olympic program was played as well as talking about his following career as a judge. I talked to him too, did I tell you? My memory is starting to fade too Viktor. I searched for my glasses for two hours yesterday only to realized they had been around my neck the whole time.”

The wind that had previously been a breeze was stronger now, the chill starting to seep into Yuuri even with all the layers. The Japanese man was lost in memories of brighter days, of flashy costumes and many years left. He chuckled as he was reminded of the email he received from JJ. Although Viktor did not care for the Canadian, Yuuri empathized with him, the two forming a good friendship after that Grand Prix where he failed. JJ was actually the first from that group to retire. A too ambitious program ending in a fatal mistake during a jump that resulted in a broken kneecap and an early retirement. But he had found happiness in music, going on to produce music for many years, Isabella by his side.

He had sent all the skaters from that group a digital scrapbook(or the ones alive, even after all these years that car crash that took Georgi a dark memory. He had been so young, not even thirty, but lost in one of his daydreams, he had been hit by a drunk driver when he had gone to buy a ring for his girlfriend, so sure that he had found the love of his life. The doctors said he had died on impact, not even knowing what hit him. It brought Yuuri some small comfort, he had died thinking about his lover, happy. Not in pain). It was a collection from their various Instagrams and Fan photos mixed with videos and press photos.

Looking at those images, from Phichit’s bright smile during his short program on ‘We Shall Skate’, to Seung Gil’s ridiculous mambo shirt to even Georgi’s ripoff Elsa costume, Yuuri recalled The Year. And it was capitalized in his mind because it was the year that marked a turning point in his life. And there were the podium pictures, god Yurio had looked so miserable after making history as the youngest person to win the Grand Prix, as well as winning it during his first season in it. It changed to The Photo. The one with Viktor and Yuuri on the ice after his free program in China. Looking at it, Yuuri felt tears come to his eyes. He tried to wipe them off, but they kept coming.

“You know Viktor, you told me that year that I was so selfish when I told you I wanted to end this. But now who is the selfish one huh? I wake up every morning to an empty bed, Hana told me to get another poodle, but I said no. You know why? Because I didn’t want a poodle without you. I didn’t want a poodle who would be with me till I died than had to be a burden to someone in our family. So I wake up to an empty bed, to an empty house, to family who is a city away. Yuu-chan is gone, Mari Onee-chan is gone. Nishigori is not all there, he did not even recognize his grandson the other day. Our friends are in different countries. You told me I was selfish for trying to end our relationship before it really had a chance to go anywhere. Well what is your excuse. You stupid man, you made me fall in love with you, marry you, spend almost 50 years with you by my side. You made me make you the center of my universe and then wihtout a care you just left in the middle of the night. I want to hate you but I can’t because I love you too much.” The tears were coming stronger now, the grief that was always just below the surface these last few months boiling to the surface so easily. Yuuri’s cries were the only other sound in the empty cemetary, at six in the morning, the town was barely waking up.

“I miss you Vitya, I miss you every goddamn second. I still find myself making coffee for two when you aren’t there to drink it. When I read something funny or interesting, I turn to share it with you but you aren’t there. The house is filled with your ghost Vitya, I see you sitting in your rocking chair, squinting at the book because you had too much pride to wear your glasses.I see you in the backyard, tending to your precious roses, inviting me to come see them. I see you dancing in the living room with a baby Hana. I see you everywhere but you aren’t there. And it hurts Vitya. It hurts so much that sometimes I think I will die of heartbreak. And when I don’t I wonder why I haven’t. Hana and I celebrated Adoption Day two weeks ago, do you remember when we came to visit you? It is because it felt so fucking wrong without you there. I hate this, I hate waking up every morning without you around. I hate that it worries Hana so much and she is always checking up on me to make sure I don’t do anything stupid. Fuck!” Yuuri said as he thumped the ground, not even trying to control his tears anymore.

The skater cried for what felt like an eternity, the sun slowly rising higher in the sky, the bright day almost mocking the sadness in his heart. His phone went off, a message from Hana telling him that she was leaving the house to come pick him up. That was what finally prompted him to stop, his heart still aching as the perpetual sadness seeped back into his bones. He tried and failed at wiping away the evidence of his tears.

“I love you you stupid Russian. I love you more than anything in this world ok? You hear me? I am coming, I don’t know how much longer I can go on. So promise ok? You told me when we got married that you were going to spend the rest of your life, till death separated us together with me. Well I call bull, it’s my turn to be selfish. I want to spend eternity with you, so when I join you better be there, you hear. I am expecting you to be there when I come, waiting for you. And I know you are hearing me because you promised to never take your eyes off of me, and you never did. So what’s to say that death made that promise invalid?” The small shot of adrenaline in his system left, making him deflate. Pressing a kissing to the gravestone, he whispered a soft “See you soon,moya lyubov” before turning and heading down the hill, to where his daughter was waiting to pick him up.

moya lyubov: my love

If you liked this, please check out my other fics at: http://archiveofourown.org/users/Fangirlshrewt97/pseuds/Fangirlshrewt97

[wuxiaworld01]

Seven stars in the end-time

Chapter 5 Murder

When I entered the house, I discovered that Xiao Xiao actually took over the parents of the uncle. Several people took a slip on the sofa. All of them were elders and put on a posture to negotiate with him. If it weren’t for him to use the money urgently, I’m afraid it’s extremely May turn around and leave. After Xiaoyan closed the door, she took out the cut watermelon and didn't say anything about the house. Instead, she first started eating watermelon and talked about eating and drinking. Zhang Shuhe had not eaten watermelon for a long time. He almost forgot what it was. He ate it into his mouth and was very sweet. Before he used to eat it, he didn't feel it. Now he discovered that watermelon is really a good fruit, that is, it can quench the thirst and add sugar, and wait until he gets it. After the money, buy some of them in the air anyway. After eating melons, everyone chatted hotly, and Xiao Yan was only serious about opening the house, saying things in perfect condition. He said that it was the unpaid father who died from wages. He also spent 40,000 yuan a year to support his own life. Department stores, a few years ago also improvise, the financial crisis over the past few years, the business is getting more and more difficult to do, and then uncle is also accompany, plus that 60-year-old, gray hair, coming from the countryside The two old people also said that the money they have spent for a lifetime is not easy, and they are still a few tens of thousands of people. Zhang Shuhe just listened and had no socket. He had expected it before he arrived. Although everyone buys the same building, the price and the type of apartment must be constantly looked at, and constantly negotiating, most buyers will think that they can save a penny. It's a penny, but for him, it's not worth it. It's not worth it. It just wants to get it done quickly. So from time to time, watching the electronic clock on the wall is very impatient. He knows it. Xiao Yan is trying to buy from him at the cheapest price. If he has been bitten by 400,000, Xiao Tong will definitely buy it. Because if this building is to be demolished, the homeowner will get a compensation of around 50,000 to 600,000 yuan at least, and 400,000 houses will not be touched. The younger brother will never let go, but she has been doing business with her for many years. The character, for the sake of the price, will surely grind with himself for a long time. She can afford it, but she can't afford it. In order for the money to come to hand as soon as possible. Zhang Shuhe finally interrupted their words and took the initiative to reduce the price by 50,000. The meaning of the words was already firm. The price of 350,000 could not be less, otherwise the house would not be sold. After listening to Zhang Shuhe's speech, several people looked at each other. Xiaoxuan had a good condition at home and spent some money, but now housing prices are really the same kind of day. The speed of saving money cannot keep up with the speed of rising housing prices. So that this pondered the forty-odd pings outside, and thought about buying it with 300,000 yuan. In the future, the couple will move in and live. The house that is now inhabited will be used for fatter marriage. If Zhang Shuhe's parents are alive in this matter, it is certainly not necessary to mention it. However, both are now absent. Only a man outside his family who does not live in the building all year round naturally takes the pick. This matter was really unbelieving. The couple naturally had an empty heart, but the original hand was only 200,000. The old coffins were taken by the two old men and they barely made up 300,000 yuan. To 400,000. According to Xiaoyan’s idea, I wanted to buy 300,000 yuan, and I didn’t want to raise money with my relatives. There weren’t many wealthy relatives and friends around and I didn’t say anything. The relationship with them in the past few years was not good, but I watched three times. Fifteen thousand can't talk about it anymore. Zhang Shuhe has already left his words and talking about the relationship is freezing. In fact, they also saw that Zhang Shuhe seemed anxious to need money. He would turn around and look for someone else to sell his house after he had become stiff. It was just a piece of fat fleshing out of the population and doing a busy job for others. As a result, the widower gritted his teeth and decided on 350,000. He then looked for colleagues in the company to see if he could lift 50,000 yuan. There was no problem with the high interest rate. He first bought the house. Finally, the time had come and noon had arrived. Zhang Shuhe got up and left, but was left behind by Xiao Yan and the cowards. He was also somewhat embarrassed by his wife. He was warmly greeted. Since there is free food to eat, Zhang Shuhe naturally will not Refused to go out, intended to eat and then go back. There was no wine in the house. The widower and his dad had just gone to the supermarket downstairs to move beer. Xiaoyan and her mother-in-law were trying to get food in the kitchen. The living room left Zhang Shuhe alone. When I was fat, I didn't know when to probe from the room. Zhang Shuhe then turned his eyes and then ran out of the house and did not speak to him. He ran to the computer in the living room to play games. Zhang Shuhe glanced at the game. It was a stand-alone game. He was driving an airplane himself and playing alone. His mouth was simulating the sound of artillery. Zhang Shuhe seldom came to Xiaoxie, so he was not familiar with the fat. He used to have no time. Now, it is even more unnecessary, but I think I would like to inquire about things with fat when I think of the bloody smell that came from the door of the house before Xiaolai’s house. So he immediately changed his face to chat with chubby. He wanted to get close to the baby and he wanted to fade away from the things he was interested in. The game was among them. He started to ignore Zhang Shuhe and later saw Zhang Shuhe teach him how to play. , It seems to know how it looks, then gradually opened the voice. Zhang Shuhe then took the opportunity to ask him how he did not go to the opposite side of the house to play, fat suddenly unhappy: "My mother does not let go to his home, saying that his family has a leopard, will bite, bite but also to go for an injection." Zhang Shuhe followed him and asked: "How can a small leopard bite in a cage?" Obviously, he was also very interested in leopards. When he looked at the kitchen, he whispered to him: “His family is wild and ferocious, and the wire on the cage is cut off...” Zhang Shuhe heard a word: "It escaped?" “No.” Fatty talks, “I was caught by Xiao Xun’s dad... But...” See he was hesitant, Zhang Shuhe tentatively asked: "Sent back?" "No." The child couldn't hide. When the fat child thought about it, he whispered to him mysteriously: "The leopard can't live any longer. He didn't eat before, bite into the cage, and he broke a lot in the house. Everything, Xiao Xun cut off all four of its claws..." Zhang Shuhe could not help but wrinkle his brow. When he was about to speak, his uncle opened the door and saw the fat playing the game. Then he took the meal and drove him back home to do his homework. During noon meal, when the woodcutter repeatedly urged him to drink, Zhang Shuhe also drank a lot. After dinner, he was a little sleepy. He did not dare to make more stops. He walked out of the building in one breath and was blown by the wind. The head was a little more than he was. wide awake. Now that he knows the appearance of a living dead, he does not walk too far away when he walks. Even if there is someone who is careful about it, if he sees someone or something that is not right, he will go directly. Although it can't be considered as an eye-opener, listening to all directions, but careful not to mention, when passing through an old tree shaped garbage can in the downstairs park, suddenly a strong smell of blood poured directly into the nasal cavity, so that Zhang Shuhe now stopped In the footsteps. After sweeping around, I didn’t see any suspicious people appearing until I looked into the trash can. Most of them were food bags or toilet paper ice cream paper, and there was a black plastic bag on the right corner. Half-open, look faint and red, it seems to be blood, may have just thrown shortly, did not attract flies. Zhang Shuhe could have ignored it, but I do not know it was a little more than a drunk, or suddenly inexplicably remembered the fierce young leopard, but at the very least, he took a hand and opened a black bag. Something inside left him lying on the spot. Although he used to see bloody scenes in the last days, and he was already mentally prepared, he was still shocked. Fortunately, there were no passers-by, no women, or they screamed after seeing it. Sound, he may also have to take the road and leave. At this time, the black leopard was sitting in the bag, but it wasn't the same as the ferocious creatures I saw a few days ago. It was a corpse, and it was just lying back in his bag. His limbs were as fat as he was. Sheared, and not just a scissors cut, but cut several sections separately, and the abdomen was also cut open by scissors. The viscera oozing out of the blood, the bag was full of blood and water, even more terrible, even if it was dead, A pair of eyes still open, staring at Zhang Shuhe. Zhang Shuhe subconsciously closed the bag, avoided the terrible sight, and calmed down in an instant. The first thought was the thought of the taboo technique recorded on the silk screen that was discovered a few days ago. I do not know if it is a coincidence or astrology so, the body in front of him is actually consistent with the requirements recorded above. One must be a fierce beast, the leopard should be considered a fierce beast, and the second is a strong spirit, strong spirit can also be said to be vitality, want to be tortured more than half a month is still dead, this article should also be consistent, and the third is bound to be before death After the death of the slaughter, this grievance will not be able to cohere, and the greater the resentment, the stronger the future combat power. Just after seeing its death, Zhang Shuhe knows that this also corresponds to it. Although it is still a young leopard, it is already Will be revenge, otherwise it will not die like a man. A black panther with a strong ability to obey orders can help. In the end of the world there is no doubt that it will be more of a life. If you are in danger, you will be safer and calmer. It is only because the above records are too bloody, and I am afraid that there is backlash. The danger was eliminated. But at this time, such a murderous beast is in front of him and the time of death is absolutely no longer than four hours, so there is no need to do more with oneself. Just bring it back and refine it according to the method described above. Zhang Shuhe's mind was a little bit of a jerky move, thinking about the possibility of backsliding and hesitating, but if you give up this opportunity in the future, I am afraid it will not be there again. He is not sure whether he will regret it in the future. But I was thinking of the danger that comes one year after the end of the world. When my mind comes suddenly, even if I come from the end of the world, I may not be able to retreat in my body, and I can't afford to miss another life-saving machine. Naturally, it is not necessary to ban the law. It is inevitable that careful actions can be evaded. There are not many records on the results of the retrogression. They say that they will not necessarily die, and the worst will not be worse than being a dead person. The failure rate of taboos is very high. Even if it is high, even if it is refined, it will not necessarily succeed. This is related to many factors, and it may also be due to luck. Although he had a lot of thoughts in his mind, but the time before and after only passed half a minute or more, hesitating, suddenly turning over a group of men and women at the turning point, Zhang Shuhe, who did not want to attract attention, could only make the final choice. , raising his hand fast fasten the strap, blocking the bloody odor in the bag, and then picked it up and turned away. Auntie’s residence was not far from his residence, but his hands were like taking a hot potato, which made Zhang Shuhe feel very long. Just returning to the residence to calm down, put the bag into the utility room, and then immediately remove the silkworms from the peach kernel space to focus on it. To think of the beast, the stinking black lumps are the most important, according to the ban. The above record shows that this thing is an ancient beast essence. According to Zhang Shuhe's understanding, animal essence should be the essence of all the ancient beasts. In the description of the forbidden technique, this thing is also very rare in ancient times. Vet sperm will not stink, but because of the time it is left, some of the substances inside are alienated, so there will be odors, which require a simple refining before use. Zhang Shuhe did not have any Taoist skills. Therefore, he could only use formulary. Then he got up and fetched the cinnabar paper left by his father. According to the records on his hand, he drew a solid soul symbol and posted it on the young leopard. The body is on the outside of the bag. Spiritual character does not ask people of the painting. He was forced by his father to learn for two years. It is still possible to draw tigers and cats. Others draw characters. I am afraid that some of them will be abolished. However, Zhang Shuhe does not know why. The success rate of painting is very high. This is why the father forced him to paint and even thought that the school was a successor. Unfortunately, I was forced too hard, and I suddenly became awkward, making Zhang Shuhe extremely disgusted after reading books. I didn't touch it for a few years. Although he has a soulguard to detain his soul in a bag, he can't be certain of the effectiveness. He can only try not to waste a minute or a second and speed up. Afterwards, he took out the black lumps of beast spirits and banned the above method of refining, which required the constant drawing of several types of charms to continuously dissipate the odor in the beast essence until the odor was removed. For a long time, Zhang Shuhe did not take a pen character, and his hand was very good. Fortunately, the ordinary character had a high symbol rate and saved a lot of time. At night, he completely removed the odor in the black group. It was just a passerby who walked a lot to eat in the park and took a walk to buy something. Even the snack halls and stalls downstairs were smashed. Not only did the business lose money in the afternoon, but also I can't find where the odor came from. The passers-by walked and used their hands to sniff their noses. Several fruit sellers couldn't stand it. They feared that the fruit on the car would be stinked and smelly. Received a stall to directly push the tricycle away.