#i want to drink it straight from the gas station faucet

[birdiepaws]

VERYTHONG IS SO FUCKING GEEEEN………..

[afterthegreatunknown]

it's like you and me are lovers

Rating: Mature

Important Notes On Rating: Past Rape/Non-Con, Racism, Period Typical Racism (1980s Period Because I Headcanon So), Racial Slurs

Additional Notes: Pre-Canon (Pre-ASOUE), Post-Canon (Post-ATWQ, Post-ASOUE), Swearing, Fantasizing, Violence, Drunkenness, Breakfast, Bonding, Guilt, Self-Blaming, Hurt/Comfort, Headcanons Gone Out of Control

[AO3 Chapter Five link is here.]

(all i want is...)

Somehow, the task of rolling over onto one’s side get out of bed proves to be rather difficult for Hector. Actually, the simple task of trying to wake up in general is proving itself to be quite daunting to Hector.

There’s a throbbing pain that has Hector suspecting he now knows what it’s like to getting hit with a hammer, or any other object that can induce the feeling of a blunt force to the noggin. Hector briefly considers the thought of pulling his own hair in order to distract himself away from the pain in his head, but doesn’t.

And that’s because there’s another sensation Hector is feeling. This sensation is more familiar to him, being one of hunger. Unfortunately, the hungry that is engulfing Hector is the craving of extremely greasy fast food. What fast food, Hector isn’t sure. Anything though, sounds appetizing. Even the disgusting cheeseburger from The Anxious Clown is appealing now.

“No wonder Gregor always tries to keep a limit to one…” mutters Hector, finally sitting upward on the bed. He rubs his eyes with his both of his hands, and licks his dry lips.

“Guess I got to drink some water.” Hector stretches his arms upward. He then removes the comforter, bedspread, and top sheet, not caring that he’s making a mess.

Hector sits sideways on the bed, rubbing the back of his neck with his right hand. He then drops his right hand, and slightly rolls his neck. As Hector smacks his dry lips, he slowly glances down at himself, and it slowly dawns to him that something isn’t right.

Last night, Hector didn’t bother to go change into his pajamas. He instead took some cash from the duffle bag, and went out on a short drive in the mini-van to the nearby gas station, buying himself a six-pack of beer. And another pack of cigarettes.

Hector can faintly recall stashing the cigarettes into one of his socks, for he didn’t want anyone to see it out in the open. The six-pack of beer he took straight to the bathroom to drink. There was no way in hell he wanted Widdershins —if he woke up— make any attempt to stop Hector from drinking. He didn’t want Widdershins’ teetotalism to interfere with his plan.

The plan? The plan is to be a stupid, fucking hypocrite after what happened. Hector wanted to feel stupid for his past actions. And what’s a better way of being stupid over the past is to get fucking plastered in a fucking motel bathroom? Hector is confident he got plastered after his third beer. He doesn’t remember anything after making the decision to drink in the whirlpool tub.

The fact that Hector is in bed, wearing his grey button-down pajama shirt and lacks the socks and shoes on his feet, is rather concerning. And Hector doesn’t hesitation to dash to the bathroom. If there are any clues to what happened after that third beer, they have to be there.

Upon entering the bathroom —the door is wide open; Widdershins must have left it open in a rush to go wherever he went— Hector sees everything is normal.

The towel that was on the toilet seat cover last night, is back hanging on the bar. The sink is clean, with the soap bottle standing next to the faucet. The ice bucket from the suite itself is sitting nicely on the sink counter. The trashcan is empty, which Hector admits is odd. Given the lack of beer bottles and carrier, Hector would have thought that Widdershins—

Hector backtracks to his thought of the ice bucket. Why is the ice bucket here of all places?

“Well,” says Hector, “it’s like what Ike always said before. Curiosity kills the cat, but satisfaction brought it back.”

Hector takes a step inside the bathroom. The tile is cold against his bare feet; Hector wishes didn’t dash without wearing socks. But Hector can survive a very short walk in the bathroom.

Upon approaching the bathroom sink counter, Hector stares at the ice bucket. It’s sitting on the counter, menacingly. Hector takes a deep breath in, and holds his breathe as he stares into it.

Inside the bucket is his shirt, soaking in water. Hector couldn’t help himself but pick it up. The shirt is of course, wet. It’s wet and squishy and smells a bit like lavender. It’s the smell of the lavender soap. “Why would Widdershins wash my shirt? What happened last night?”

“Drunken you punch me in the nose, and thought to stop the bleeding with your own shirt.”

Well shit. Hector didn’t mean to speak that out loud. And when did Widdershins came?

“...I guess drunk me forgotten the existence of toilet paper.” Hector throws his shirt back into the ice bucket, and turns swiftly around, now face-to-face with Widdershins.

Widdershins is properly dress, even wearing that new peacoat he bought himself back in Crown City. Widdershins is holding up both of his hands; his right hand is carrying a brown paper bag that has a very greasy, but very delicious smell of a hamburger and fries, while his left hand holds up a medium-size soda. Widdershins then smiles, and it puts Hector’s stomach in a twist that isn’t from hunger.

“I got you something to eat,” says Widdershins. “Aye, you’re no doubt hungry! I made sure I got you plenty of grub! You’re making up for breakfast, after all!”

“Breakfast?”

“Aye! Hector, you overslept! It’s eleven-thirty!”

“Eleven-thirty!? But we were supposed to check out at—”

“Ten! Aye! Don’t worry about that! When I woke up, I immediately told the front desk that we gave the wrong check out time! Aye! Told her that we’re actually checking out at one!” Widdershins then turns on his heels, and begins walking away and out of the bathroom. “Aye! Don’t worry! She was very understanding! Aye! And everyone is fine with the change of time!”

Hector keeps quiet as he follows Widdershins out of the bathroom, and back into the bedroom. He silently watches Widdershins carefully sets the paper bag of food and soda onto the fancy counter, before curling one end of his mustache.

Hector couldn’t help but take a sharp breath in. The twist in his stomach gets tighter. On one hand, Widdershins could be using food as a way to ease into the topic of last night. On the other hand, this is Widdershins who Hector is dealing with. Hector really hopes it’s the former.

“You know, I just realize there are no stools in here. Yet there’s a counter.”

No. There’s no way.

“Eating while standing up is fine and all, but no doubt tiring.”

Widdershins isn’t doing what Hector thinks he’s doing, is he?

“Asking for a stool would be embarrassing though! Aye! But I suppose you can eat on the bed itself! Oh, but there is the possibility it’ll get dirty!”

He is.

“We might get into trouble! Maybe I should—”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” interrupts Hector, his voice sounding harsher than he likes.

“Pardon?” Widdershins’ mouth is in a frown, and his eyes are showing absolute confusion.

“Why did you buy me food? Why did you elected to wash my shirt?” Hector couldn’t help but narrows his eyes at Widdershins. “Why are you being so…nice to me?”

“Am I not permitted to be nice? Especially to someone with a hangover?”

“Not if the hungover person—after what happened last between us last night—”

“Our argument? No argument is going to stop me from buying you food! Besides, you didn’t do anything to me, bloody nose aside! No bruises and scratches and broken bones on me, aye!”

“I didn’t do anything? Widdershins, I’m certain what I did triggered you into a flashback!”

“Triggered me into a flashback? Hector, what are you talking about? You didn’t you anything—”

“Your birthday!” blurts out Hector. “I’m talking about your eighteenth birthday!”

Widdershins stares intensely with his dark eyes in silence. The confusion in his eyes is gone.

“So…if I’m understanding you right,” says Widdershins slowly, taking another step closer, “you think I shouldn’t be nice to you because of our fight. Because in our fight you threw me on the bed in a compromising position. Because of what happened to me on my eighteenth birthday.”

Hector without hesitation, takes several steps back. He quickly averts his gaze from Widdershins to the ground. Hector closes his hands into tight balls as he sees the other man’s shoes in his line of sight. Hector wishes Widdershins wasn’t so close.

“Hector, could you look at me?”

Hector continues to avert his eyes away. He can’t look at Widdershins. He just can’t.

“Hector, please.”

The pleading in Widdershins’ voice has Hector slowly turning his attention back to him. As Hector stares directly upward at Widdershins, he feels skittish all over again. He is the cowardly handyman back in Village of Fowl Devotee, unwilling to share his thoughts and feelings.

“You shouldn’t feel guilty over your actions last night,” says Widdershins, softly. His gaze is worrying, and his voice is soft and sincere. And Hector hates it.

“Why shouldn’t I?” asks Hector quietly. “My ignorance shouldn’t excuse my actions. Just because I didn’t know about it, it doesn’t mean I shouldn’t have hurt you. If I had recognized what happened to you sooner—hell, had I recognized what happened years ago and wasn’t such a dumb teenager—”

“Don’t blame yourself over your ignorance either,” interrupts Widdershins. “Blaming yourself on something you didn’t know is different from doing something you have knowledge of. Besides, what happened to me last night is my fault in its entirely.”

“…Your fault?”

Widdershins gives a small nod. “Remember the letter I got? It was from someone who greatly disliked me. Don’t ask who it is. That person is dead now. Anyway, that person wrote a two-page apology for their actions towards me. Aye, I even remember how it opened up. The letter referred to me as Almond-Eyes, and not my last name.”

“Widdershins—” Hector couldn’t believe what he’s hearing.

“Having never been call that before and being call worser demeaning words —particularly a certain D word— it never occurred to me that the letter wasn’t genuine.  I thought the person truly person changed.” Widdershins removes his hands off from Hector, and stares upward. “What I did back then is something I deserve, aye. I deserve that attack, and I don’t want anyone to feel guilty for my actions.”

Hector can’t believe this is how Widdershins viewed that night.

“Widdershins, you don’t deserve to feel guilty for your actions,” says Hector; a small sense of anger is rising within himself. “What happened to you shouldn’t had happened at all.”

“I wasn’t a kid, Hector.” Widdershins finally stares back at him. “I became of age.”

“So? Child or adult, that doesn’t change anything. That person took advantage of your belief them changing for the better to hurt you.”

“But—"

“But nothing!” Hector pulls Widdershins down so their heads are at the same height. He then places their foreheads together. Hector narrows his eyes at Widdershins, and keeps his hand on the back of Widdershins’ head. Widdershins stares wide-eyes at Hector, and stands still.

“You’re guilty of many things,” says Hector, “and I know it better than almost anyone. But the night of your eighteenth birthday isn’t one of them. It’s the fault of one person, and it’s not you. Promise me you will never blame what happened that night on yourself again. Do you promise?”

“I…,” begins Widdershins, hesitantly. “I can promise to try, aye. I can’t undo something I been thinking for years so easily. It’ll take time.”

“Trying to undo such thinking over time is better than to continue thinking it.” Hector let’s go of his head, and gives a small smile to Widdershins. Hector then grabs the greasy paper bag off the counter, and finds an open spot on the floor to sit down.

“Don’t bother with a chair,” says Hector, digging inside the bag. “I’m fine eating on the ground.”

Widdershins doesn’t say anything. All what Widdershins does is takes a seat in front of Hector, and twiddles his thumbs around. Hector couldn’t help but smile at the sight of it.

[tomato-tomahto-potato-potahto]

What do you dislike about the house you live in? Just the fact that I live alone, because although I do enjoy my alone time, sometimes it can get too lonely. Do you prefer iced tea or hot tea? Iced tea - sweetened, not unsweetened. Is there a gas station near your house? When was the last time you went? There’s one that’s like, less than a mile away from my house. How do you feel right now? What do you think has contributed to that? I’m itchy, because I magically woke up with 4 bug bites this morning. >:[ Do you watch a movie at least once a week? Yes, usually one after dinner but before bed. Depending on what I’m doing over the weekend, some of those days are double-features. What's your favorite movie genre? Romantic comedies, or sad movies, especially if I want to have a good cry. Have you ever been clubbing? Did you have fun? I don’t go clubbing.  What were you doing in the year 2013? Listen, I couldn’t even tell you what I was doing at this time last week. :-P What's the weather been like lately? It’s been sunny and hot. Or cloudy and hot. But always hot. Do you check the weather forecast regularly? I can just check on my phone if I really need to. But it’s summer, so I pretty much know the forecast, and just need to know if it’s going to be rainy or not. Do you live in a city of at least one million people? No, it’s definitely not that big. What's your favorite color? Black like my soul. Muahahaha. Do you own any clothes in your favorite color? I do own a lot of black shirts, actually. Would you say faucet or tap? I would say that I’m drinking tap water from the faucet. Do you watch any sports? Yes, when they’re on. Have you ever eaten carob? I don’t even know what that is. I just Googled it, and I don’t think we have that here. Are there any plants around your house, inside or outside? I have some landscaping outside the front of the house. There are fake ones inside of the house in certain areas. Which bugs do you truly hate the most? Mosquitoes and I will never be friends. What's your favorite kind of puzzle? Word puzzles, jigsaw puzzles, sudoku puzzles, etc. If you were going on a daytime date tomorrow, where would you go? I’d have to work up the courage to ask her out first, so there’s that. Where are you right at this moment? Sitting on the couch in my living room. Describe the room or place you're in. I mean, I pretty much just gave it away in my answer above. ^^ Is your nose blocked right now? No, I’m not currently congested. Do you live on a main road? I live on a side street. Have you ever volunteered? Yes, but it was years ago. What colors are you wearing today? Blue, white, and black. How old were you when you graduated high school? 18. Describe your favorite pair of socks. I don’t have a favorite pair of socks. What holidays do you celebrate? US national holidays. If you could dye your hair any color for one month, what would you do? In high school, my brown hair had blonde highlights in it. Art or science? Depends on the field of science or the type of art. Do you own a pair of sunglasses? How often do you wear them? I do own a pair, and I wear them as needed. What's your go-to order at McDonald's? I don’t order anything from McDondalds. Do you know anyone who was born in the Caribbean? Not personally, no. What brand is your fridge? I honestly couldn’t tell you - just that it’s stainless steel colored. Speaking of fridges, what drinks do you have in there right now? Mountain Dew, apple juice, the smallest container of milk (since I use it to cook, not actually drink straight) flavored water... Are there any special rules about selling alcohol & tobacco in your country? I’m pretty sure you have to be 18 for cigarettes here and 21 for alcohol.  Do you live in the northern or southern hemisphere? The northern hemisphere. What's your dream car? I don’t have one in particular that I would prefer to own over another. Do you have a best friend? How long have you known them? Katie - we’ve known each other since we were babies - or before we were even born, if you want to get technical about it. Her mother and my mother went to the same Lamaze classes. It was all very Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants-esque. Except she and I would never actually fit into the same pair of pants because I’m roughly 4′9″ and she’s like 5′4″. How often do you take selfies? I don’t take selfies. Are you hungry at the moment? What are you craving? I’m not hungry right now. What do you think your life will look like in 3 years from now? I can’t see into the future, can you? When was the last time you received a card? What was it for? I received a thank-you-note for attending a graduation party and giving a gift. Do you like yes or no questions, or questions that make you think? Somewhere in between. I don’t want to use up too much brain power, but yes/no questions can also be too simplistic or boring.

[velmalav]

bubbles {roger taylor}

warnings: lightly implied nudity, swearing.

synopsis: roger and reader share a bubble bath after a party. 

word count: 2k+

***

  It had been another long, seemingly unbearable shift at work. As soon as the rickety back door of the factory shut and the cool air encircled me, I sighed in relief. Saturday evening shifts were the absolute worst, but at least I always had somewhere to be afterwards. This particular night, my close friend Freddie had invited me to one of his unhinged, bombastic parties.

  I’d initially met Fred right before he’d become lead singer of Smile. We were always running into each other at the bus stop, sharing gas station snacks and chatting about our future plans. He was so ambitious and had this otherworldly vibe to him, and I guess he felt the same about me, because ever since, he’d treated me like family.

  The bus ride over gave me to time to slide my ponytail out of my hair and cover my hideous factory outfit with a black leather jacket and some heels. The black work pants would just have to do for tonight, but after the shift I’d had, it was the least of my worries.

  Fred’s house was a couple of blocks from the stop I got off at, but I could hear the music as soon as I stepped onto the street. A steady rainfall had picked up during the ride over, so by the time I reached his front door, I was soaked head to toe – save for the small portion of my head covered by a magazine that I’d found on the bus.

  I walked straight in, as I usually do, and immediately spotted Brian, Roger, and John sitting around one of Fred’s many fireplaces, drinks in hand. It was already nearly one in the morning, so I expected them – if not most people in the place – to be piss drunk.

  Taking a glass of wine from a random table, I slid into the spot beside Brian. He raised his eyebrows at me, “Do you even know who’s that is?”

  Shaking my head with a smile, I downed it. A server came by with a sparse tray, presumably to start clean up, but I intercepted another full glass no one had bothered to grab. Downing that one just as fast as the first, I was met with three skeptical stares.

  “Someone must’ve had a night,” Roger commented, crossing an ankle over his knee.

  “The usual bullshit. Wish I could’ve gotten here before it got…” meeting his eyes, I grimaced. “sad.”

  “Fred passed out ages ago, so you’re definitely right on that one,” Brian replied.

  “What are you guys doing sitting around so late? And sober at that.”

  Roger glanced over his shoulder to a red head standing at the bottom of the staircase. “Definitely not sober, love. But had my eyes on somethin’.”

  “Good luck with that, Rog,” I quipped, chuckling as I reached for another discarded wine glass that wasn’t completely empty. Again, Brian judged me for it.

  With my blessing, Roger got up and shimmied his way over the staircase. I continued my search for scraps while chatting lightly with Brian and John, but there was really nothing new happening, and the party died down even quicker than it had before.

  By the time the last few guests cleared out, and John and Brian had bid their farewells, I was tipsy and stumbling around Fred’s messy foyer. For some reason, I found myself reorganizing his shoe closet while wearing one of his robes – sheer and floral, just how I liked them.

  He had a lot of wild options – none suitable for the outdoors, but they were fun to look at. I swear I splashed a few drops of wine into some of his boots, and had stained his one pair of white clogs. Brian would definitely comment on that sooner rather than later.

  But even cleaning got boring, believe it or not. My drunk self was finding it harder and harder to see straight, but I was determined to make the rest of this night a dream… even if it was nearly four in the morning. So I ran myself a bath.

  Fred’s bubble bath options were pathetic to say the least, but I made sure to use a fair amount (if you call a whole bottle a fair amount). My toes swirled around the water to test the temperature before fully submerging a leg in, and soon my whole body. The bubbles began to tower over me, so much so that I had to swish them away periodically. But for the first time that night, I finally felt like I was having fun. My eyes drifted shut, head lolling back against the tub.

  “You planning on flooding the whole bloody bathroom?” a voice spoke.

  Eyes flying open, I quickly found Roger standing at the door with his arms crossed. His eyes seemed to be burning a hole through my face, looking at me in a way I’d only seen him look at his nightly hookups. It didn’t even hit me that I was naked until I remembered where I was, and saw that water was steadily running down the sides of the bath.

  Shrieking a little, I flew up to grab the faucet, but my feet slipped and I fell right back into the bubbles. Roger chuckled as he walked over, turning off the water himself.

  “Still piss drunk I see,” he smirked, before chuckling again at my red face. It was the only thing visible at this point, as every step closer he took, the further I sunk down into the bubbles.

  “Hardly,” I mumbled, bubbles popping at my mouth movement. Peering up at him, I smiled. “You know what? I very much am actually. But I’m having a great time.”

  Roger rolled his eyes with another belly laugh. His face settled again; however, as he ran his fingers along the water. “Still warm,” he muttered. His eyes were now playful as they met my sheepish ones. “Can I join?”

  Even in the state I was in, it was still strange for him to ask me that. He’d never shown any interest in me; it was always small talk and light-hearted jokes with him. But tonight, he must’ve been feeling rather desperate, or still maybe even a little drunk.

  I hesitated. “Um, if you want,” my voice just barely a whisper as I played with the bubbles around my mouth.

  The next time I looked up, Roger had already discarded his shirt and was in the process of unbuttoning his pants. I couldn’t help but watch, heart jumping up and down inside of my chest. He must’ve felt me staring, because he took a quick glance over his shoulder to raise his eyebrows at me.

  “You like what you see?” he joked, tossing one of his socks at me.

  I squealed and volleyed it away. “You’ve got some nerve considering I’m sharing my bath with you, Rog.”

  Right as he went to pull down his underwear, I sat up and rested my elbows against the side of the tub, slicking my hair back. “Excuse me, boy, but I hope you don’t plan on coming in here without your swim trunks.”

  Roger fully turned around now, eyeing me suspiciously.

  I bat my eyelashes sarcastically. “I’m sure Fred’s got some in his closet.”

  At this point, he knew it was a joke, but made a point to press it along further. “Well in my defense, I didn’t know Fred’s bathrooms followed community pool rules.”

  “I mean, this tub is pretty big,” I explained with a shrug, earning another laugh from Roger.

  Before I could even react, he was beside me, the tips of his blonde hair darkening from the water. Without meeting his eyes, I went back to staring out from the edge of the tub, head falling to lay on my arms. I didn’t feel so tipsy anymore – thank God.

  “So what happened with the red head from earlier?” I wondered out loud.

  I could feel Roger’s eyes on me. “Wasn’t nearly as fun as I’d imagined.”

  I finally took the liberty of facing him, my back now against the tub. “I’m sure this is much more fun then.”

  He smiled at that, moving closer so that he was directly in front of me. This tub suddenly felt so small. I tucked my legs under me in hopes that I could separate myself a bit.

  “You are one of Fred’s more interesting friends, I must say,” Roger said.

  I cocked my head, eyebrows raising. “Thanks?”

  “Not many would invite me into their bubble baths, for one.”

  He slid close, close enough for our knees to touch.

  “I’m pretty sure you invited yourself.”

  Closer again. Now only a thin layer of bubbles separated us. I was sure Roger could feel my heart considering how forceful and rapidly it was beating. His eyes were hooded, signaling that he was still a bit hazy from the alcohol.

  Maybe he could feel my unease, or maybe he couldn’t, but Roger had always known how to lighten the mood. Picking up a handful of bubbles, he blew them straight into my face. I huffed them back off me, coughing as I had inhaled a bit before we both began to laugh.

  “How much did you even use? A whole gallon?” Roger asked.

  Without so much as a response, I grabbed my own handful and returned the favor until his entire face was covered in bubbles.

   “I should’ve seen that coming, I suppose,” he chuckled.

  I found myself sliding closer to him, so when he wiped the soap from his face, our noses were almost touching. His smile immediately faltered. I reached up and stacked some of the bubbles on top of his head, small giggles falling from my lips as the excess toppled down onto his shoulders and down the back of his neck.

  We stayed like that for a while, both trying to bury the other in the seemingly endless bubbles. It got pretty competitive, chock full of trash talk.

  Once our childlike games had finished, I leaned to the side to wet my hair again, unknowingly revealing my chest as the bubbles floated away from my body. When I glanced back over, Roger was obviously staring. Before I could cover myself back up, he snaked his arms around my waist, tugging me into him. His hands glided down to my lower back and back up to the center, fingers digging in just slightly. It was soothing.

  “Can I ask you something?” I breathed, resting both hands on his shoulders.

  “Mmm,” Roger hummed. As he awaited my question, one of his hands reached up to brush away some soap residue from my forehead.

  “What are we doing?”

  “Having a bath, love,” he chuckled, the hand that was previously on my forehead now trailing to rest along my jaw. “Still got a lot of soap on you.”

  His touch was hypnotizing, enough to pull my eyelids closed. “Mind getting it off then?”

  “Already on it,” Roger whispered.

  When I reopened my eyes, his hands weren’t moving anymore, and he was gazing over at me. I could feel my face heating up and broke eye contact, looking to where our chests met. Almost on cue, he began to pour little handfuls of warm water down the sides of my face. I could see the soap pooling around us, white residue beginning to stick to our bodies.

  “Not sure we’re being proactive here-“ I started, but was quickly cut off by Roger’s hand cupping my cheek, the other gripping my side, causing me to yelp.

  “Something else about you, what sets you apart from Fred’s other friends…” he murmured so quietly. “You’re so gorgeous. Funny, too.”

  In any other scenario, the words wouldn’t have penetrated and would’ve been met with complete spite. But tonight, wine drunk in a bubble bath in the early hours of the morning, I let them melt me.

  “Really boosting my ego, Taylor,” I purred.

  Roger bit his lip to hold back the smile from my comment. “Even in that dreadful uniform, when your hair is pulled back and you can see sweat forming at your hairline. You’ve always caught my eye.”

  Now this, this didn’t feel like a regular compliment. His words were sincere, as if he wanted me to know that despite what I’ve I already known him to be, he meant them.

  “Well,” I mustered out, voice trembling. I glanced down at my hand as it trailed up into his hair before latching itself onto a handful. Meeting his stare, I leaned into him. “I’d be lying if I said I never… thought of you.”

  Roger’s eyes lit up. With that confirmation, I leaned up and slowly connected our lips. The kiss was sweet and sultry. He bent closer to me so he could completely envelope me in his touch. I don’t think we could’ve gotten any closer in that moment.

  When we pulled apart, both of us were panting. Roger ran a hand gently up and down my throat, fingers light as they slid along. I finally let go of his hair, earning disappointed hum from him.

  We stayed in the tub until the water got cold, the bubbles dissolved, and the curtains surrounding the windows began to change from their regular blue to a light orange, signaling the morning light.

  And at nearly seven in the morning, both huddled into the corner of the tub, arms wrapped around each other, with soft smiles on both of our faces, I couldn’t deny the butterflies in my stomach.

***

masterlist 

[certainempatheticturkeymuffin]

I'm one of the fortunate ones in this whole situation. My mom had a friend that had power when ours went out. We lived in Kentucky for a few years so my mom knew to keep the faucets dripping. When the friend's water went out, our power came back on. My mom stocks up on water bottles religiously because she doesn't like the taste of the tap water here. She gave the friend some water and we went back home. Our pipes are fine, our car is fine, and now all we have to deal with is the Boil Order and our water coming on and going off again.

The first day (Sunday) wasn't too bad. My mom had planned ahead and all was good. She saw the forecast and refused to let me outside to touch the snow. She figured we'd be snowed in for a while and bought a bunch of food so we wouldn't have to leave. The car was completely iced over and it was so cool. I hadn't seen so much snow since I lived in Kentucky, and I was about four or five at the time. My mom had wanted to do some last minute errands to get some more water and an ice scraper. We broke ice off the windows and mirrors, and we got to play in the snow. I found great joy in punching the ice to see it crack, though it was super cool when it just slid off in a large sheet. The doors were completely frozen shut, so we had to let the car heat up a bit. Then we did all except the left back window (because no one sits there) and left. We bought a glass tile remover and used that because they don't sell ice scrapers here, and we went back home, car mostly free of ice. That night, the power flickered, but we figured it would be fine in the morning.

It wasn't.

The next day (Monday) was pretty bad. The power didn't come on, and it was freezing. We all ate a freezing bowl of cereal and took a look at the situation. We had two flashlights, and my mom knew she wouldn't be able to handle the darkness. The only problem was....our fireplace is wood burning. So, she had us bundle up and break the ice off the car (again) and use a dust pan (from a broom) to shovel a path to the car so we wouldn't track any in the house. The snow was about half an inch deeper than it was on Sunday. It was much colder on Monday than it was on Sunday too. My fingers couldn't handle the cold, and my sister and I rotating to shovel the path was horribly inefficient, so we only got about half way before my mom told us to stop because we were going too slow. Initially, I had wanted to scrape ice on the windows, but, since we don't have gloves, my hands were having a hard time gripping the scraper, eventually I begged to switch places with my mom because I hadn't even managed to pluck a single piece of ice off after a minute or so of fumbling. It didn't help. My hands were red and freezing and I'd spent only five minutes outside. I couldn't handle the dust pan very well either, and I wanted to break down and cry in frustration. I rotated with my sister, running hot water over my hands so I could feel them every time we did so. My mom saw how slow I was going and asked if I wanted to freeze, my response was "I'm going this slow because I am freezing." She had finished surprisingly quickly and we all got into the car, giving up on making a path. The roads were more dangerous than they were on Sunday, simply because there was more snow. Eventually, we managed to make it to Walmart. They had no logs. No cold food. No flashlights. So my mom bought about twelve candles. Walmart's gas station was closed, so we went to the Sam's gas station and got stuck. We struggled for about five minutes before a family came over and helped push us out of the snow. My mom was irritated that they wouldn't let her pump gas at the pump she was already at, ignoring the fact that the snow was too deep in that area to even move, and I was the only one that said thank you, but at least we were out. When we got home, my mom placed two candles in each bathroom and placed the rest around the living room/kitchen/dining room area (yes they are all one single room). We used the flames to warm our hands, and I passed out for a good four and a half hours, only waking up because I was overheating in my hoodie. I woke up at about six and my mom asked me to start the car so we could have somewhere warm to sit and eat. Thirty-ish minutes later we were in the car, warm, munching on chips and lunch meat. We were having issues with the internet, so entertainment was hard to come by and it was extremely boring, but at least we were warm. We stayed in the car from seven to eleven and went to sleep cold. The internet was very choppy, so all i have are these tweets, all made on the same day, even if two of them didn't post until the next day. I don't have tweets from any other days, except today, sorry.

The next day (Tuesday) was bad. We were freezing, and my mom had booked us a hotel, knowing that we couldn't stay without heat for too long, especially considering the fact that we didn't have wood and candles could only supply so much heat. We packed up immediately after waking up, leaving around noon to go to the hotel, even though check in wasn't until three. My dad was nagging us, trying to get us to make the two hour drive to San Antonio to stay with him, which was definitely a "No" considering the state of the roads. We told him we were staying at a hotel, I told him which one, and he called them for us. They were overbooked. My mom was not pleased, and, after double checking, tried to find a solution that wouldn't force her to drive two hours to my dad's apartment. All the hotels in the nearest cities were booked. So my mom called her friends and luckily one of them had power and water, and two extra rooms, and she lived five minutes away from the hotel parking lot (though the actual trip was about double that because of the snow). We all decided to stay in one room, because it kept that one room warmer and we didn't want to impose. We went back to the apartment to get a cot, because Miss Sabina had an air mattress, and we got all settled in. The room had carpets, but the pets weren't allowed in, so we were fine. I have a severe allergy to most animals that aren't reptiles or amphibians, fur and feathers are real bad, and Miss Sabina had two cats and a dog. It was fine though. Maybe half an hour after settling in, my mom got a call, the hotel had a booking canceled and offered us the room. We didn't want to go through the trouble of getting everything back in the car, so we declined it. My mom set up her computer to do school work (even though she works from home, the set up is so convoluted that she'd rather use her PTO than have to try taking it apart and setting it up again), and we were all set. The cage thing we put the cot on was really uncomfortable, so I ended up putting the thin cot on the floor, because even though my hips jutting into the ground was uncomfortable, being able to feel all the metal supports of the other thing was way worse. We went to sleep, warm.

The next day (Wednesday), my mom got an email that the apartment complex had shut off the water, but all was fine in Miss Sabina's house. I did learn that we only own one salt truck and only the bridges were salted. We don't own any plows, and the people on the budget committee(i think that's what it's called) don't want to allocate any money to plows or salt trucks because this storm was apparently just a fluke. Miss Sabina works with the city btw.

The next day (Thursday), Miss Sabina's power started flickering, but it was fine. I was apparently on my period, I didn't realize it because I always get a brownish discharge after it ends and theoughout most of the year, even though it's usually in lesser amounts and usually doesn't have drops of red. I definitely noticed when my pants and underwear were stained a dark red the morning of Thursday. It was inconvenient. That would've put me on my period for a straight eleven days. It was annoying.

The next day (Friday), the water was shut off in Miss Sabina's house. We checked our apartment, because finally the roads weren't completely covered in snow, and the water was still off, but the power was back. Twelfth day on my period.

Today (Saturday), we packed up and left Miss Sabina's house. Our water comes and goes, but my mom managed to buy a pack of bottled water that'll last us a while if I control how much water I drink (I usually drink a lot). I took advantage of the water being back and managed to finally take a poo, because one does not poop in another persons house, not when you're me, anyway. My stomach feels better now, and maybe I'll actually manage to eat something more than half a serving. I'm glad the heat's back, even if the boil order is going to be annoying, and the lack of water, but we're doing fine compared to many other people. My dad's fine, my brother and grandparents haven't called, and my best friend lives in Nevada and is unaffected. Thirteenth day on my period.

I'm so happy I was this lucky, but I'm definitely not getting caught dead in this situation again. When I graduate, I don't care if the northern states are better prepared for this, I'm going to hoard everything to make sure I'm not blindsided by this again. And maybe I'll invest in mittens.

I would like to say "fuck you" to both Ted Cruz and my period, because I was so happy to have a lighter period than usual, and it went and fucked up by extending to two weeks (at least) instead of lasting the normal miserably heavy four days.

[laidbackmarco]

The Day

I arrived in Matsumoto was a holiday, the misfortune continues I thought as I was out another sixty dollars for lodging. Kita-Matsumoto (North Matsumoto), while not as small as the stations I had passed, was much smaller than I had anticipated. The relatively new building kept me warm as the ominous gray sky continued to loom overhead. With no data using a screenshot like an old map was a fun challenge. Traveling blind was more fun than following breadcrumbs.

Smartphones, for all the amazing things they do, suck the fun out of life. Similar to the way open world RPGs were simplified to walking towards waypoints on a map, gone are the days of getting lost in your own adventure. Was my generation being stripped of random interactions with strangers, listening to the sounds around us, or even observing the beauty of the moment? People from my generation go about looking at replications of the real world on tiny five inch screens. Even worse we try to contain the large world inside of them. . . but neither pictures nor words will tell the entire story.

Or perhaps that just makes the random interactions we do have all the more memorable?

  I Had Picked

the Tabi Shiro because it was a traditional style Japanese inn, but the lights were off and it didn’t look open quite yet. I rang on the doorway anyway and a man sporting framed glasses made his way to the door. “We’re not open yet” said the man, “but you can leave your stuff here” motioning towards a small room I laid my heavy backpack down. Being able to leave my heavy backpack behind lifted my spirits and I had my first Japanglish conversation in my new town. We talked about where I was from, why I had come to japan, and the things I could do around town. Handing me a custom map we laid out things I could do until the in was officially open.

The Millenial Drug

was the smartphone itself. Research had shown that social media notifications affected the same parts of the brain, I was craving that fix. What stood between me and the cravings of information consumption was a thirty minute walk. Much easier said than done as the cold outside air agitated my skin, my legs were sore but I kept on walking. The excitement of exploring and learning again rushed through my bloodstream like caffeine and sugar from a monster energy. Like being born again it was like I was experiencing having five senses again. It is possible to read about Japan and its culture in books. . . but experiencing it is the only form of true learning. Being here caused the black and white landscape of home to be colored again. When I had first arrived in Browns Point from a small quiet city called Milton the sound of the planes caused me to look up the sky and wonder. The cool crisp air coming off of the sound carried with it the taste of salt. The puget sound was a fitting name as the soft sound of waves caressing the shore ever subtly made their way up the hill. The cries of seagulls, eagles, and the bark of seals were melodies to the constant beat of the sea. Loud horns of boats echoed through the fog filled mornings, and the city lights reflected on the water merging the twinkling stars of the night sky with humanity who lived in their warm light.

Humans are made of elements that are only formed when stars explode, I was feeling like a fallen star that wanted to shine once more

Telephone

is a game that young kids play allowing you to discover the fun of having a message passed from one person to another. In reality it’s a game that we all play, yet we have forgotten the lesson that the game has taught us. Whether you’re gossiping in school, listening to the news, or trying to get a smartphone in Japan it was a game that always went on. Having a three way was supposed to be more sexy than passing a phone back and forward, but thanks to Docomo’s English speaking support I could now abuse technology to get my dopamine rush. As I began my journey back to the now open inn, a snowflake carried by the cold harsh wind struck my cheek. Not believing what I was seeing, my eyes scanned the sky for more snow, which fell at an ever increasing pace. Snow in March. . . I can only imagine what winter is like, the journey back to the inn seemed longer that ever with the already unfamiliar streets now covered in white dust.

I Was Soggy Down to My Soul

as I entered the small area designated for taking of your shoes, which was now illuminated by a warm glow as the rest of the world grew darker around us. Inside of the ryokan were people resting from their day of travels. Doing various things like reading or cooking, the atmosphere gave off a real homie vibe. The owner sat behind the bar doing various tasks, after seeing I’d returned he greeted me with a warm smile and asked if there was anything I needed. The last time I’d been to Japan, the only thing I didn’t get to cross off my list was going to an onsen(natural hot spring). “Is there an onsen around here?” “No I’m sorry to say that they’re all pretty far, but there is a sento(public bath house) about a fifteen minute walk from here” Despite despising the snow I stepped outside and began trudging through the now multiple inches that had accumulated. By the time I made it to the bath house, it was completely dark. I was glad they made you take your shoes off, I took the opportunity to take my soggy socks off, because having soggy socks was one of my least favorite things. Being confused with the way the coin locks worked I stood there staring until the person behind the counter ended up just coming over and showing me how it worked. After paying a fee for entry and towel rental I entered the side that had the big kanji for guys on it.

Nudity

is something that society, especially western society seems to hush up and sweep under the rug. The only person who was supposed to see my naked body was me. . . and it’s not like I took the time to carefully observe it either. Stripping down in order to enter the bath shouldn’t be something to be feared, but in the west we seem to be ashamed of our own bodies. I came all the way here, you’re in japan, and most importantly I already paid. . .  I hate wasting money. Getting it over as fast as possible I quickly stripped off my clothes. It’s not like there were people looking at me, but it felt weird and awkward for about two seconds. . . then I was like ah I’m naked. . . it’s kind of freeing in a way. After using the showers I was free to enter the baths. The last time I had a bath was only a couple weeks ago at the training session. . . but damn did it feel good to dissolve into some hot water. It wasn’t only my body that was free. . . I let my mind wander as I tried to meditate in the relaxing atmosphere of the bath. In western society we never had time for baths. . . it’s always a quick shower to hurrying about the day. What were we in a hurry for? I contemplated the importance of not having to think about anything important for that small time in the bath. The only thing I desired was not to desire anything,  but the state of a completely empty mind is impossible. . . instead to be in the present it was important to just let the mind run like a faucet.

My Mind

wasn’t the only thing I let run that night, as I wanted to make it back to the ryokan and out of the snow as fast as possible. The cool hues of night were offset by the orange tinge of the Tabi Shiro. An old-fashioned fireplace stove gave off toasty heat as people were reading, chatting, or drinking at the bar. Resisting the urge to go straight to my room and spend the rest of the night alone I nervously took out my sketchbook and began sketching. The background noise was nice to have, but my nerves shook even drawing in front of others. A younger couple was now just checking in, after they made their way over to the table and struck up a conversation with me.

In nervous japanese I was able to tell them that I was from America, I came to matsumoto to teach english, and my big dream was to go to an animation school in Kyoto. Making a sketch of one of them, I showed them and they were surprised and amazed. Although I never thought anything I drew was suprising or amazing it was nice to see that they were happy about it. The owner of the inn walked over and tended to the fire placing another log onto the fire. After finishing my conversation I situated myself in one of the chairs right in front of the fire and continued my practice. The fire reminded me of home, the warm memories, and the actual gas fireplaces my family had in lieu of electronic central heating. My dad wanted fireplaces because it was cheaper than running electric heating to warm us during cold months.

A cute Girl

came over and sat in the seat right next to mine, thinking she only wanted the practical warmth of the fireplace I just continued doing me. The beating in my chest grew heavier and louder as the time passed, she was the first to speak. “Why did you come here?” (Japanese) She confidently asked “Oh I came here to become an english teacher” (Japanese) I answered in broken shaky japanese. Letting out a small laugh, I had noticed that I hadn’t looked over until now, just to find that she looked down and then peered my direction. “Why did you chose Matsumoto?” (Japanese) “I didn’t choose here. . . my company did, I said anywhere in Japan would be fine” (Japanese) “It was fate. . . “(English) I didn’t want to believe in fate, but it seemed my life was on rails.  And nothing ever good came out of my life. . . everytime I tried to do something to improve my life it either didn’t end up working or blew up faster than the two ACLs I’d gone through. hating to have the conversation about me I did the thing I always do and asked a question. It was much easier to get other people to talk about themselves. . . because most people liked themselves. I was the opposite I hated talking about me or the things I did “Why did you come to Matsumoto?” (Japanese) “I’m from a small city about an hour away. . . I got into a fight with my parents about college so I got a job and moved away.” (Japanglish) That answer left me feeling stunned. . . what a brave girl. I had wanted to chase my dreams of being either a filmmaker, YouTuber, or gamer, but ended up being coerced into going to college by my parents. Although I doubt I’d get to live in Japan if any of those dreams came true, it was still amazing to see someone out there was living life as a free adventure. “What was your name. . . I’m Marco”(Japanese) when she burst out laughing at my response . . . I was perplexed “Chibi Maruko she said with a big smile. . .I’m Mana” (Japanese)

Chibi Maruko

was a small Japanese character, and although she was a girl. . . we were plenty alike. . . at least from what I gather from the couple episodes I watched. Maruko is the younger brattier sibling, who never studies, and floats through life. . . just like in real life Parents place all their love, hope, and expectations onto the older sibling and are tiered by the time you pop out of the womb. . . the lack of baby videos and pictures was proof. And while everyone believed in and wanted to be like Cristina. . .they  were just happy to see you get B’s. . . Asian Fs. They didn’t care what you did as long as you didn’t end up in jail or dead. .  so I did what most humans do when low expectations are placed upon them. . . I slacked and ended up living up to those low expectations. After reliving my childhood, I returned to drawing. Not knowing what else to draw I peered over in Mana’s direction and started drawing her. Did the fire get hotter. . . occasionally we’d share glances and a couple words, but I think it was nice just enjoying each other’s company. I had read somewhere that japanese people had this concept of enjoying a shared silence, but foreigners have trouble staying quiet. . . I was different in that I enjoyed it when there was no speaking. Words are clumsy things anyway you can tell from observing people when they are comfortable being around you. . . or most people can. I always found it hard to read body language and facial expressions, which made it very difficult to talk to most girls who always speak about things indirectly. One of the reasons I enjoyed anime and manga so much is because in the genre’s I watched it was easy to tell if a character was nervous, happy, or sad.

I’d been Burned before

so this time I new better. Girls that were nice to me, were also nice to everyone so there was no need to get my hopes up. Nice girls were the ones who especially couldn’t be trusted. For someone with no social adjustment, and with less real friends than fingers. When girls interacted with you for an extended period of time, you start to think oh wow this girl likes me. Only when you turn around to express how you feel, the smiles come to an end and they say let’s just be friends. . . but you both know that situation is impossible and eventually the only interaction you have is a slight glance. . . it’s not this way for all guys as many of the more socially adjusted males have plenty of girls that are just friends. But for a socially inept loner, it simply makes you more wary in the future. The hopeless romantic I couldn’t kill off made another wish for the bucket list “sit by warm fire with girlfriend”. I finished my drawing and showed it to Mana, who seemed to like it and then made my way to the bar to receive my complimentary drink.

Drinking

wasn’t an activity I actually enjoyed to do very often. Although I have a couple good memories drinking, they are overpowered by the ones where I end up doing something so embarrassing I want to disappear. When I drank it was impossible to draw or think . . . it was sort of like your thoughts were immediately made into actions. The adverse health effects of drinking often wasn’t something I desired as well. What made me not drink the most is all the inspirational/advice videos I watched on YouTube, which told you to strive for every edge that you could get. I’d spent all my time trying to be a pro gamer in college and drinking wasn’t something that made you better at the game. . . but there was a group of people that drank more often than me that were way better at said game. . . no one said life was fair. My drug of choice was illegal in Japan so I sat down and asked for hot sake. “What’s your name by the way” I asked the owner in english. Not realizing my mistake, he looked over from preparing the drink.   “Name??” he said pointing to himself “Kiyo” he was shocked that I had ordered hot sake, perhaps is something only old japanese men enjoy. After the cold night in the snow something hot sounded nice and the taste of sake was crisp and sweet. The method in which the sake was heated was very interesting to me. I watched as he pulled a small metal box with some water in the bottom and placed it on top of the stove fireplace. Taking a small container of sake out as well it was placed in the box with the water and left to heat up. Another young looking guy walked over and asked for a beer, placing his ticket on the counter. Sitting in the chair next to mine, I uncharacteristically struck up a conversation. “Where are you from?” After learning he was from the U.K. he told me the stories of his travels in japan, from the east, to the north, now here(central japan), and then west the next day. He told me that it was cheap to stay at these kinds of places using the JR rail pass to get from city to city. Being a long-term resident of Japan made it impossible for me to receive one, and being as broke as I was even “cheap traveling” was expensive. Mana came over and ordered a drink which was non alcoholic due to her age, and then the young couple as well. We stayed there talking for an hour or so before people began to retire. Walking up to my room I saw the traditional futon and laid it out on the Tatami mat, it was much more comfortable than I thought it’d be and I quickly returned to the land of my dreams.

The Misfortune Continues check my latest post on my continued life in japan! A small misfortune turns into a fun adventure #japan #travel #blogging #blogger The Day I arrived in Matsumoto was a holiday, the misfortune continues I thought as I was out another sixty dollars for lodging.