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artificialqueens · 1 year ago

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🏳️‍🌈 The Miracle of Living Pt.2 - Lita

In this world we're just beginning To understand the miracle of living

Lmao I had you in the first half, this is not just a cutesy slice of life family AU and actually gets fucking awful and tragic from here on out, you have been warned. This was originally meant to be a single story but I decided to chunk it into two halves just so it's not unreadably long, which means ALL the suffering gets to be consigned into whatever this is. Anyway, see other part for author notes and shit, apologies in advance xo

Summary: Adore is an adult now, and life is simpler for Bianca. Until an unexpected tragedy shatters her world, and her relationship with her daughter.

TW: Major character deaths, parental loss, accidental overdose, suicidal thoughts

[1] NEW MESSAGE Ben Putnam ✨🏳️‍🌈 12/9/46 19:08 jinkx is about to call you freaking tf out - don’t listen to them, im basically fine. got into an accident driving home, i look kinda banged up and i think my shoulders dislocated but nothing serious. pls call adore and tell her - if she says shes gonna ditch her concert or anything like that dont let her, she doesnt need to worry. if ur not busy and feel like coming to see me id like that (and i think jinkx could use some moral support lol, theyre taking this harder than i am) but don’t let j convince u that im on my deathbed. love ya, bitch! b xoxo

*****

November 12th, 2046

“Bea…”

Jinkx stands up as Bianca enters the waiting room. Their voice is cloying - too sickly. Too sympathetic.

Of all of Ben’s various partners since the divorce, Jinkx was definitely Bianca’s favorite. Bianca had been Ben’s maid of honor (or ‘cunt of dishonor’ as he’d affectionately christened her) at their wedding last spring. Jinkx is kind, sensitive - their eccentricities line up perfectly with Ben’s, they’re a good step-parent to Adore, as resistant as she’d been to having a step-parent. However, Jinkx under pressure is prone to amateur dramatics - Ben’s text prediction regarding the nature of their impending phone call had been totally spot-on.

So Bianca is surprised to see that they look drained - not sad. Not scared. Just tired - their shock of red hair disheveled, eyes puffy and face moist with half-dried tears. Bianca grips the strap of her purse a little tighter. She hadn’t expected this. They had been all catastrophe and hysterics on the phone - sobbing like their life depended on it. Why are they so calm?

Per Ben’s instructions, Bianca hadn’t dropped everything to go to him. She’d been working late, supervising a bunch of bored, annoyed teenagers doing stocktake - she hadn’t exactly bided her time, heading straight for the hospital as soon as she’d clocked out, but she also hadn’t exactly rushed.

Two lanes of the freeway were closed because of a car wreck. She figured it wouldn’t be the same one - it couldn’t have been that bad if Ben was awake, coherent, and texting her. As the backed-up traffic crawled past the remains of the scene at five miles an hour, she’d tried not to look. She knew she shouldn’t have looked. But she looked anyway - she’d caught sight of the remnants of Ben’s car at the front of a pile-up, crushed from behind by a smoldering pickup truck, and felt the sting of vomit rising up at the back of her throat. The driver’s side door looked intact. That was something. Ben was fine. Ben had told her himself that he was fine. So Ben was fucking fine.

On the drive to the ER, Bianca called Adore - anxiety twisting below her ribcage, visions of shattering glass and crumpling metal scorching into her eyelids every time she blinked, desperate for a distraction. The phone had been picked up by her weirdo manager, Winona or Wilma or whatever her name was, who’d decided that a call from her mom, regardless of the matter at hand, wasn’t important enough to bother Adore with before a gig, and had hung up.

And now she’s been taken into a side room that feels like a fucking morgue, and Jinkx is acting so calm and kind that it’s nauseating. This feels weird. There’s a bible on the table in the middle of the room. What the fuck is happening?

Jinkx reaches out, and pulls Bianca into an oppressively tight hug. Bianca squirms, determined to extricate herself from the stifling embrace and start asking questions. She’s never known Jinkx to act anything but weird, but this was bizarre even by their standards. When they break away, Jinkx takes Bianca’s hand. It sets her teeth on edge.

“Jinkx, what’s going on?” Bianca’s voice comes out sterner than she would have liked.

“Did you call Adore?”

What kind of fucking response is that?

“I tried. Her manager picked up - she’s at a gig, I’ll talk to her tomorrow.”

“I really think you should try and talk to her now.”

Bianca really doesn’t like Jinkx’s tone. She also doesn’t know what to do with herself. She figured she was here as emotional support for Jinkx, who seems fine if a bit off-kilter and cryptic - or as a proxy for Adore, who was performing and/or wasted in Austin, enjoying the sudden and somewhat random success of her previously struggling music career.

“Jinkx, where’s Ben? What happened?”

Jinkx grimaces. They try to convince her to sit down - urging her towards a ugly upholstered chair with their lips pursed. Bianca doesn’t move.

“Jinkx.” Bianca repeats herself more insistently, folding her arms. Jinkx sits down, clenching their jaw and breathing shakily. “Where the fuck is Ben? I need to see him."

“…he died, Bea.”

Bianca’s blood turns to ice in her veins. She takes a sharp breath in.

“What do you mean he died?” Bianca’s voice is thin. Jinkx doesn’t say anything. “He texted me - he was fine like, an hour ago.” Jinkx stays silent. Bianca feels like she’s going to throw up. Why won’t they say anything? “He’s- Jinkx, what do you mean he fucking died?”

“They thought he was fine,” Jinkx sniffs. “There were other people from the wreck who were hurt worse than he was - he kept saying he was okay so the doctors would focus on them, and then he coded out of nowhere. I think they said he was bleeding in his abdomen or something - nobody realized until it was too late. He was sitting up and talking to me, then he…” Jinkx stops, swallowing hard. Their eyes have welled up.

“Why didn’t you call me? I would have tried to get here faster.” Bianca’s knees are shaking. She can’t move - can’t admit to the failure of her emotions. Frightening and all-consuming as they are. She’s still wearing her work lanyard, and it feels utterly stupid. Why hadn’t she just fucking left? Why had locking up a goddamn store she could burn to the ground without losing sleep been more important than this? Than Ben?

“I didn’t know how to.” Jinkx won't make eye contact with her. “I couldn’t tell you over the phone - it didn’t feel right.”

Bianca sits down before she collapses. Her hands are shaking. Her throat hurts like she needs to cry, but there are no tears. She isn’t crying, and she won’t - not until it’s essential.

“But you were- you shouldn’t have waited all this time on your own. I would have been here sooner.” Bianca is barely able to talk. “I’m sorry.”

She doesn’t even know what she’s talking for - trying to fill the awful, empty air with some sort of noise, even if it is wilted platitudes. She’s horribly aware of her own breathing; how hard it is, how much effort it’s taking, how it feels like she’s choking. It’s like she’s drowning in the air and the silence - like a goldfish dropped out of the bowl.

Jinkx puts an arm around her shoulders. There are tears rolling down their cheeks.

“I really think you should call Adore again.”

Adore. Adore didn’t get to say goodbye - Adore didn’t fucking know. That was her fucking dad, and she loved him, and she’d never-

Bianca stops. Something in her brain ticks. A somber conversation at the kitchen table.

“His, uh- his advanced directive. San Juni-whatever - Cookie heaven-“ Bianca blurts out, ejecting the words as soon as they appear in her head. The comfort feels cold, but it’s comfort nevertheless.

She looks at Jinkx. Their face has crumpled. They’re shaking their head. No.

“They tried - it all happened too quickly, it didn’t work. He was gone before they could…” Jinkx bites their lip. “I’m sorry - I know how much it means- meant to him, I know he wanted…”

Bianca shakes her head, trying to get Jinkx to stop talking. It isn’t fair - they’ve just lost their husband, and yet it’s them trying to comfort her?

“It’s okay.”

It’s not. But Jinkx rests their head on Bianca’s shoulder anyway, and Bianca takes their hand, even though she feels like she’s only making everything worse. What warmth is she capable of? Her presence isn’t doing anything besides forcing Jinkx to stir up their own raw emotions, and reminding them both of the cavernous space between them that Ben’s daughter should be filling.

Bianca fumbles her phone out of her purse with her shaking hands as Jinkx cries a wet patch into her collar. She needs to call Adore.

*****

November 24th, 2046

The silence in the kitchen is uncomfortable. Neither Adore nor Bianca knows how to fill it. Ben’s funeral was yesterday morning. Bianca doesn’t know if Adore is okay, but she doesn’t know what to say to her either. She hasn’t seen her cry yet.

She’s exhausted. The last couple of weeks have been a terrible, sleepless headfuck. All of the funeral planning and formality had fallen into Bianca’s lap - Jinkx had been too distraught to try and think about it, and she couldn’t ask Adore. It was the only real help she’d been able to offer; if there’s one thing that Bianca knows for a fucking fact, it’s that she’s awful at providing comfort. But as usual, she’d taken too much on, and she hadn’t had time to process what had happened - time to grieve, or even just to fucking take a breath and figure out where her own head was at.

Bianca feels hollow. And Adore won’t speak to her. She’s sitting at the dinner table, with her bright blue hair piled on top of her head in a sloppy ponytail, wearing some tattered band shirt that doesn’t really fit her, and she seems…fine. She’s been home since Ben died, but they’ve been floating around the empty house on two completely different planets; barely making eye contact with each other, let alone talking. There’s a mug of coffee turning cold in Bianca’s hand, and her daughter won’t meet her gaze.

Adore fidgets with the hair-tie around her wrist. She looks nervous.

“Listen, Mom-”

“Are you okay?” Bianca blurts out, and then cringes - Adore looks at her with frustration in her glazed-over eyes.

“I need to tell you something.”

“What’s up?” Bianca tries to inject some warmth into her voice.

“I know I said I’d stay for a little longer, but I’m…”

Oh god. Bianca already doesn’t like where this is going. She clenches her teeth, trying to contain the stupid, defeated little whimper she can feel rising into the back of her throat.

“I got a call from my manager this morning. My new single drops in a week, and there’s- this big-deal band wants me to open for them on their tour. It’s two months on the road, and I know that I shouldn’t- I mean, it’s a huge opportunity, and the money is really fucking good, and I’m…” Adore’s words are stilted and awkward.

Bianca takes a second to compose herself.

“When would you be leaving?” Bianca eventually says. It’s the most neutral question she can think of, and her words come out flat and unbothered. She can’t say what she really wants to - can’t beg her to stay, can’t argue back. Can’t take this from her.

“Day after tomorrow,” Adore says to the floor, still wringing her hands awkwardly.

“And why do you sound like you’re asking for permission to go?"

“Because- I don’t know.” Adore says, equally lacking in emotion. It’s felt for the last couple of weeks like she and Bianca have just been going through the motions of their relationship without any feeling. “I mean- fuck, you’re my mom. And everything is just- I can’t leave you right now. If you said no, then I can’t...”

“Why do I have to say no?” Bianca tilts her head. Her neck is stiff from the sleepless nights.

“Because I don’t want to.”

That answer frustrates Bianca, and she can tell from Adore’s body language that she knows it. Adore picks at a loose thread on her shirt - she’s never been able to sit still. Bianca pinches the bridge of her nose.

“I’m not gonna be the bad guy, Dorey - even if you want me to. We’re talking about your career here - not doing it would be fucking stupid,” Bianca says, toneless and insincere again. She pauses. “Do they know that your dad just died?”

“…No,” Adore grimaces. The first small twinge of emotion flashes across her face for a second, and then it’s gone. “They might give it to someone else. They’ll think I’m gonna be unstable or unreliable or something.”

“Are you?”

“Maybe,” Adore purses her lips. “It’s kinda still not real. Maybe it’ll stay like that if I’m distracted.”

“And maybe it’ll get real when you’re on the road - you need to think about yourself.”

Adore murmurs something unintelligible by way of response, shakily trying to affirm that she can do it. Bianca stares into her coffee cup. They seem to have reached some level of nonverbal understanding that they’re not gonna talk about this any more. Adore is leaving tomorrow, and Bianca better make peace with that.

“You’re not mad about me leaving you by yourself, are you?” Adore’s meek voice cuts through the icy reticence.

“What? No - I’m a big girl, I’ll survive,” Bianca shrugs her shoulders. Why does Adore default to the assumption that she’s always mad? Why does she have to be the villain all the goddamn time? Can’t she just be upset?

“But like…do you have friends?"

“Yes, I have fucking friends, Adore.”

And then she thinks about it. Her family doesn’t give a shit, and Raja had broken things off with her a couple of weeks before Ben dropped dead out of fucking nowhere - and yeah, maybe she’s close enough with a couple of people from work that she’d be able to talk to them, but the thought makes her squirm.

She’d not so much asked Adore to stick around for a couple of weeks after the funeral as she had begged her to. The loneliness is choking her, and her daughter is the only person she can face - because they never really talked about their feelings, and even this wasn’t enough to make them start. She just needed someone to be quietly sad alongside. The more that she thinks about it, the more she realizes that the only person she wants to talk to about the pain inflicted by Ben’s death is Ben himself.

Which she should be able to do. She’s grown more attached to the San Junipero concept than she ever wanted to be. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, she’d gotten comfortable with the two of them never having to live without each other. Except that didn't work, and now he’s gone. Forever.

Bianca had friends. A friend. She’d never needed anyone else, and so she’d never bothered trying to find them. She hadn’t planned for an eventuality in which he’d be dead by forty-six.

Bianca is crying. Horrible, huge, ugly floods of tears. Adore looks nervous - like she doesn’t know what to do with herself. This isn’t fair. She can’t make Adore deal with her like this. But she can’t stop. Twelve days of awful emotional blockage are clearing themselves all at once, and Bianca’s face is soaking wet and there’s snot running down her chin, and she feels about as disgusting as she probably looks. Adore’s chair scrapes the tiled floor, and she’s standing behind Bianca - wrapping her arms around her, resting her sharp chin on Bianca’s shoulder.

Adore’s body is starting to heave against hers, and as Bianca tries to blink through some of the blur to her vision and catch her trembling breath, she realizes Adore is crying too. Is this progress?

“You don’t have to go if you don’t want to, baby.” Bianca takes one of Adore’s hands in hers, running a thumb across her tattooed knuckles. “It’s okay - it’s okay to be sad.”

“I’m not sad.” Adore’s voice is thin. “And I have to go. I don’t want to be here. I can’t be here without him.”

Adore mutters the admission like it’s blasphemy, and Bianca doesn’t like it, but she knows. Ben’s ghost lingers in every brick and board and fiber of this house. It hurts - that she isn’t capable of being what Adore needs right now. But she understands.

*****

June 7th, 2047

“Don’t fucking put that on me - don’t screw up my childhood and then keep making me miserable as a fucking adult, it’s not fair-"

“Ob, cry me a fucking river - you had a great childhood!”

“Did I? Getting dragged up by some fucking idiot who didn’t know what she was doing-"

“I was a fucking kid, Adore - I was trying my fucking best-”

It’s dark outside. Bianca feels like shit. She wishes Adore hadn’t left.

She hasn’t been able to sleep without sedatives since Ben died, and she hates it. She also doesn’t know why - she wasn’t there. It didn’t happen to her. It’s not her tragedy. She fishes the blister pack of xanax out of her purse and swallows one with the tail end of her glass of wine. Sleep. She needs sleep. She needs this shitty, awful, horrible day to be over. Maybe when she wakes up, Adore will be over her tantrum.

She drops the pills on the kitchen counter. The last dregs of the wine are eyeing her up through the bottle. Bianca hesitates for a moment, refills her glass, and swiftly empties it down her throat.

She walks through the empty living room, put off by the silence. It’s too quiet in this house. She wishes she hadn’t kept it. Ben deserved it more - he had a partner, and a good life, and hope for the future. Not the pathetic remains of half a dozen short-lived, shitty relationships, and a dead-end job. Adore loved him - she clearly can’t fucking stand Bianca. There would still be life in these walls if he’d taken it, and Bianca had hiked all her stupid clothes and coffee table books and vanity and venom to a crappy bachelor apartment.

It was Ben’s fucking house - it was his career that had paid for it. Bianca felt sick enough with guilt and frustration that he’d insisted she stayed and he left, and then kept ‘forgetting’ to cancel the mortgage auto-payments when he was still alive - just like he kept ‘forgetting’ to stop making her car payments, or kept sending her cheques from some ‘investment account’ they’d apparently set up years ago that she had no memory of. She’d stolen a better quality of life than she was owed from a guy that she was tethered to based on one night of bad decisions when they were in their twenties. It would have been easier on her conscience if Ben had resented her for it. But he didn’t. He’d looked out for her and loved her right up until the ugly end and she didn’t deserve any of it.

If Ben had stayed here, he would have had to drive a different route to work. That’s why they bought the house - it was close to his job. Maybe he’d still be alive. Maybe it would have been her that died after a rush hour car wreck, of an internal hemorrhage that every medical professional in the vicinity was too busy and too stupid to notice. Maybe things would be better that way.

The house is too quiet, and there’s too much space - Bianca traipses up the stairs, her fingers brushing over the lingering texture of Adore’s childhood crayon-on-wall scribbles, long since painted over.

The wine is making her feel worse. She’s angry - hurt, frustrated, upset. But not with Adore. With herself for making her this way.

Ben was warm, Ben was supportive. Ben could never see a single fault in her - not like Bianca. Bianca was the Bad Cop; the enforcer, the prison warden. Bianca nagged Adore about her homework and her curfew and her room being a mess - Bianca questioned her judgment, Bianca shat on her fashion choices. Bianca tried her best to make sure the kid didn’t turn out like she had. And she’d done it - Adore was successful, she was living a life she could look back on and be proud of. So, no fucking wonder Adore’s ideal future was one that didn’t have Bianca in it.

“Bull-fucking-shit. You weren’t a kid, you were in your twenties-“

“I was two years younger than you are, you think you’d be great at raising a child now? Forget about finding out you’re pregnant when you were twenty-one and having to give up everything you’ve ever wanted in life for-“

“Nobody asked you to do that.”

“No, they didn’t - but I had to do what was fucking best for you. Fuck my dreams, fuck what I wanted. You think anybody is working in a goddamn Urban Outfitters age forty-fucking-seven because they want to be?”

“I’ve been out of your house for five years, you’ve had time. Go live your dreams, since I’m not a fucking burden on you any more-“

“You’re not fucking getting it - the ‘living my dreams’ ship has sailed, since I had to drop out of fucking college for you. I had to put my life on hold indefinitely for you, and so did your father, so stop being such an ungrateful little shit-“

Bianca keeps replaying the fight in her head. Tonight had started well. Adore was back in town between tour dates and album sessions - not for Bianca. To see friends, and to meet with some record execs that Bianca was too uncool to know the names of. But when Bianca had asked if she had a free night, Adore had humored her. They’d ordered pizza, bought a couple bottles of wine, and for a moment, things felt the way they used to. Bianca was happy, for a fleeting second.

Adore had been her best friend until she was thirteen. Then some awful melting pot of Adore’s pubescent bitch tendencies and Bianca’s stubbornness and short fuse had kicked off a bizarre ongoing war between the two of them that only seemed to mellow out once Adore left home and they weren’t constantly in each other’s way. It was normal teenager shit - Bianca remembered things being the same way between herself and her mother when she was in junior high. Her mother that she doesn’t fucking speak to any more.

Bianca loves Adore so much that it’s physically painful, and she felt like a monster the entire time they were at odds. But she didn’t know how to stop it - she didn’t know how to be whatever Adore seemed to need from her.

Not that there hadn’t been good moments. Adore’s first concert. The family vacation to Cancun. The weekend shopping sprees. Every so often, Bianca caught a glimpse of the fully-formed human being that Adore was starting to become, and she…well, adored her. But sooner or later, the shit would start again; Bianca could feel herself failing her daughter in real time.

Just like when Adore was a teenager, things had fallen apart tonight just as Bianca was starting to enjoy the good.

It was her fault. Like usual. Bianca had too much to drink too quickly, and she got emotional. She’d phrased some stuff poorly. She’d upset Adore. It was always her fault - it was always her that made the first wrong step. Adore just reacted to her shitty parenting.

She’d made an off-handed comment about Adore ‘abandoning’ her. Which, in her crappier moments, she often felt but resolved never to say to her. Adore was an adult with her own life and her own burgeoning fame to deal with, and she’d lost her dad less than a year ago. Bianca’s feelings didn’t matter; she should be seeking her emotional support from someone her own age. So fucking what if Adore had better things to deal with than her mom’s grief and loneliness?

But she’d said it anyway, and then she’d doubled down. Just like she always did. Adore started crying. Bianca got frustrated. God, she misses Ben. He wouldn’t have let this happen.

“Leave Daddy the fuck out of this, he’s the only person I never doubted cared about me and I-"

“Yeah, he did. He really, really fucking cared about you - enough to spend nearly his entire adult life closeted because he wanted to give you some semblance of a normal childhood, enough that the night he fucking died he didn’t want me to call you because he didn’t want to worry you-“

“That’s not a good thing! I wish I’d been there! I wish I knew, instead of coming offstage to find out that my dad had fucking died and my stupid, selfish, uptight bitch of a mother didn’t think it was worth her time to tell me that he was in that accident-“

“I told Willam - she said it wasn’t important enough to get you on the goddamn phone! Blame her!”

“You should have tried harder!”

“I didn’t think I had to. Your dad didn’t know how bad it was, he didn’t know what was going to happen - none of us knew, obviously if we did I would have put you on a flight as soon as I-“

Bianca has been trying to write that stupid fucking San Junipero bullshit out of her will for months now. If Ben wanted it and didn’t get it, she’s sure as shit not doing it now. However, the process is a fucking nightmare - eight hundred stupid phone calls to eight hundred useless morons who need to refer her to the next person, to try and sell her on an upgrade or ask her if this is because she wants the payout for the unused credit on her plan. It’s demoralizing and exhausting - the evil spiritual stepsister of canceling fucking cable, but a hundred times harder and with constant reminders of her fucking dead ex-husband and the last request he never got.

Everything is depressing and shit, and she’s tired. She wants it to end - she wants to return to a normal that she can never get back.

Bianca lingers at the open door of Adore’s teenage bedroom. It’s a shitshow. She hadn’t tidied up after herself when she left after Ben’s funeral - if anything she’d made more mess, rummaging around in her things and packing and unpacking for that fucking tour she had to go on. Which had done good things for her. In the last six months, her opening spots had turned into festival headliners and talk show appearances; she had an album in the works, and was watching her teenage dream blossom in real time to heights she’d never imagined it would reach. Bianca is glad that she went. Even if she hates her for it a little bit.

Bianca doesn’t want to touch anything. She treads carefully across the messy floor, trying not to disrupt anything; trying to preserve her daughter’s chaos, learn to live in it and love it as she did. Adore’s bed is unmade. The sheets smell like her.

There’s a framed picture by her bed - a print of a blurry selfie taken at Ben’s niece’s bat mitzvah. She remembers that night. Adore had just turned twenty-one and her hair was purple. They’d gotten irresponsibly drunk on kosher wine, and Adore had climbed into Bianca’s lap to take the picture, pressing her gloss-sticky lips to Bianca’s cheek and telling her she loved her. They’re both smiling like maniacs.

Adore had just turned twenty-one. That picture hadn’t been there when Adore last occupied that room - she’d moved into her college dorm a few days before her nineteenth birthday. She’d brought that here. And left it here. Bianca feels queasy. She picks it up gently, like it’s a precious artifact. The frame is bright red hard plastic, shaped like a heart - painted on one side, in Adore’s endearingly shitty handwriting: LOVE YOU MOMMY XO

Bianca’s eyes well up. It was a fucking gift that Adore never gave to her. Probably because she’d ruined Adore’s last visit home. Just like she ruined tonight. Just like she ruined her. Bianca drops the frame like it burns to touch, and she hears the glass shatter against the hardwood floor.

She closes the door as she leaves, hearing it slam and her own breath becoming frantic. She feels that familiar ache, a sob building up in the depths of her chest.

She’s pressed against Adore’s wall and staring directly into Ben’s old room. She’d transformed it into a pitiful sewing workspace that she’d barely used when he moved out - a weird attempt to kick some sense of purpose back into her life when Adore had flown the nest and Ben was out living his own life, picking up an old hobby that had dominated her teens and fuelled her plans for the future. Plans that had died a death in the bathroom of her old apartment downtown. The mannequin torso sits gathering dust, half-finished sketches litter the table. A waste - like everything else.

She can’t do this. She doesn’t want to be here. She wants Adore back. Wants to hold her in her arms, breathe in her scent and her warmth, and tell her she forgives her for every horrible thing that had come out of her mouth tonight.

No, she wants to tell her that she’s sorry. For everything.

Sleep. She needs to sleep.

“You just don’t want to admit that you screwed me out of a chance to say goodbye! You feel like I’ve abandoned you? Fuck you! You didn’t love him!”

“I did-"

“He was your friend - he was my fucking dad. Don’t try and pretend that what you’re feeling right now is anything like what I’m feeling, because it’s not.”

“It doesn’t have to be - Dorey, we can deal with this together. I want to be there for you. I want to help you. And I miss you, is that such a fucking crime?”

“You miss being a bitch to me - you miss telling me that I’ve wasted my life. You miss having someone else to boss around, because that’s all you wanna do.”

“Adore, I tried my fucking best for you. I didn’t have it in me to be a perfect mother - I didn’t have one, I wasn’t set up to be good at this. I tried my best, and if you feel like I’ve failed then I’m really fucking sorry. But I love you, and-“

Why the fuck are her pills on the kitchen counter? Bianca pops one out and swallows it dry, desperate for her mind to shut the fuck up. She’s drunk and confused and alone and fucking sad, and she wants to sleep.

Should she call Adore? No, that feels desperate. She needs to leave her alone; let her get over this at her own pace, let her come back on her own. If she wants to come back. She’ll come back.

Bianca didn’t come back. Bianca didn’t forgive her mom for the sin of setting her expectations too high, so why the hell would Adore do the same? Maybe her mom feels the same way about her - maybe she feels deprived of a presence in the life she created, and maybe she loses sleep and paces around the house at night like a madwoman and cries over her too. That feels vindicating - so why does it hurt so much that Adore is probably gonna commit her to the same fate?

Bianca collapses into the couch. Her body feels heavy. The clock on the wall says it’s just after midnight. There’s an empty pizza box on the coffee table. Adore’s lipstick is stained onto the rim of her glass.

“God, can you not go five minutes without trying to make me feel like shit? I know. I know you tried, I’m sorry I didn’t turn out the way you wanted me to-“

“Do you think this is what your dad would have fucking wanted?”

“Don’t talk about what he would have wanted - what he would have wanted doesn’t matter. He’s dead, mom. He’s fucking gone. He’s gone, and I’m never gonna get him back, and now I’m stuck with you.”

“The fuck do you mean ‘stuck with’ me?”

“You know exactly what I fucking mean.”

“What, you wish it was me? You wish I was the one that had fucking died? If that’s what you mean, say it.”

“If I have to choose one of you then yeah. Yeah, I wish it was him that was still here.”

The couch is soft and warm and Bianca is falling asleep. She’s comfortable - but she feels wrong. Her head is swimming.

It’s getting dark outside. Bianca watches for headlights in the driveway. Maybe Adore will come home and forgive her. Bianca is tired, and her head is heavy, and she wants to go to sleep. Sleep and forget. Maybe Adore will love her again when she wakes up.

*****

[1] MISSED CALL Adore DR 💕😻👩‍👧 00:21

[3] NEW MESSAGES Adore DR 💕😻👩‍👧 00:23 mom im rlly sorry. i love you. can we talk <33 mom are you okay? talk to me

[3] MISSED CALLS Adore DR 💕😻👩‍👧 00:29

[4] NEW MESSAGES Adore DR 00:34 mom PLEASE answer ur phone im sorry talk to me please im coming over

[5] MISSED CALLS Adore DR 💕😻👩‍👧 00:58

[3] NEW MESSAGES Adore DR 💕😻👩‍👧 01:01 im outside answer the door mommy i know ur mad at me but i want to talk to u, im rlly sorry i love u so much pls answer the door mom MOM

[8] MISSED CALLS Adore DR 💕😻👩‍👧 01:07

[2] NEW MESSAGES Adore DR 💕😻👩‍👧 01:11 mommy please im sorry. i love you.

****

Pride Challenge Points: 6662

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foxtriestobiteandmaimandkilland · 1 year ago

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So sleepy tired so snoozy honk shoo time but thinking of ppl whos lives r forever gonna b entangled in mine even tho we barely even make eye contact when we see each other anymore, or if we havent heard from the other in years, or if we can only ever have about 4 message long "catch up" text conversations every 6 months or so, or if we make plans weeks in advance that we both end up forgetting, and slowly drift apart. But like. Still these r ppl that r just fuckin parts of me now. The person i sat with at the local park after both recently figuring out gender and picking out names for each other, and how we havent spoken in like 2 years but their name is still the same one i suggested, and how i do use a different name now that they knew me by, but i still walk by the bridge going over the train tracks and think of them, and think of them everytime i walk into a corner store with a whole aisle of energy drinks, or think of them everytime i pass the laundromat, or think of them everytime i go up the street that shared their name or go the street they lived on that shared mine. And like. Or like, the person i fuckin grew up alongside, to only drift apart after about a decade of being joint at the hip, but still waving when we see each other in the park, asking how each others pets are, and making general small talk. And how i see her in every friend i make, just in small ways, because she was my first friend and its almost like i just find people who remind me of her. Or how theres an entire kind of flower that just always makes me smile because its her name, even if she never liked them all too much. Or the ppl who r constantly coming in and out of my life, and who we both know can never be what we were before, because everything was seemingly so perfect and now we can barely stay friends instead of acquaintances for more than a month, but summer golden hour always feels like them, even if i was the only one who loved it. And just. Idk man. People who r like. Definitely gone now. But also r just. Not. If i was more poetic, i could write smth abt this. But instead i can just say like. Shit man. Nostalgias a bitch but also its like. Its who We are bc like w/o nostalgia who tf am i. I miss the past bc its a part of me but id never go back because then id be someone else and i like being me even if i suck sometimes. If i didnt suck those ppl may not have been as impactful n shit. Ok. Rlly gotta sleep. Bc im seeing a friend tmrw if she pulls thru w plans. I doubt they will tho bc they r the least reliable in that way butttt. Whatever. Either way tmrw im gonnaaaaa fuckingggg chill dudeee. Gnight

#night thoughts

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causenessus · 3 months ago

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hi loveliness! (i’m calling you that now because it suits you) HOW ARE U?? good evening afternoon or morning! i hope you’ve been well and i hope you’ve eaten! tomorrow i’m driving back home and it’ll take like two days so my next checkup might be really early or really late (SORRY IN ADVANCE !!) but today i’m going to a concert so ill probably be back home really late and be tired asf LOL but im so excited for it !! i can’t wait to tell you about it tomorrow

IM SO PROUD OF YOU FOR EATING !! it makes me feel happy that i actually have an impact on your life ! ik some days get busy and long but it’s always good to eat and take care of yourself, heal the body and mind!! BAGELS ARE GOOD BUT MAKE SURE YOURE EATING ACTUAL MEALS! which i’m kind of a hypocrite because last night i had instant noodles for “dinner” kind of BUT BUT I HAD LIKE A BIG LATE LUNCH WITH MY FAMILY SO IT DOESNT COUNT !! i would consider that a snack even LOL but youuu! you! (points) make sure you eat actual meals love !! sorry this just reminds me of a story but i remember like one time i was late for school so i skipped breakfast but during class my stomach was like RUMBLING AND I WAS SO EMBARRASSED BECAUSE LIKE the teacher would be yap yap yapping and then suddenly you hear the most preposterous god awful sound (my stomach) and i had to pretend i didn’t wanna die right then and there LOL so definitely definitely eat or you’ll suffer the same fate as me </3(threateningly)(with love)(always with love)

PLS MY EARLY SHIFTS AND WEIRD DOUBLE SHIFTS ARE SO TERRIBLY FUNNY LOL but omg what do you do for work if you don’t mind me asking like do you build frames because THATS SO COOL women in stem moment LOL but omg i hope your finger is okay?? WHY IS SOMETHING HECTIC ALWAYS HAPPENING AT YOUR JOB this is like a total sitcom office type job scenarios right here but but omg omg mango anon on a plane?? flying over to ness?? mango anon and ness meetup?? (I WISH I COULD INSERT PHOTOS BUT WE WOULD BE LIKE THAT ONE MEME THATS LIKE the vibes me and gang bring to the function) no but literally i would definitely just trail around you at work like a dog like i would 100% have no idea what’s going on but i would just smile and nod and be happy just to be there LOL

YOU KNOW WHAT TECH DAYS IS REAL LIKE I WAS ALSO PART OF TECH LOL but i wasn’t like THAT type of tech in the crew i was the sounds person so id be more more background but omg soulmates? twin flames? tech crew gang??? i kinda miss tech days even though it was kind of toxic LOL like i remember my teacher was like ok practice with the cast goes until 6:30 but she kept us until like 8 like IS THAG EVEN LEGAL?? who knows though my high school was definitely not… not it (if you know what i mean)

THE LORE DROP IS CRAZY?? i get what you mean by the attachment issue thing because I GET IT I GET IT but like you’re such a likeable person like IDK YOURE JUST SO SWEET AND GENUINE ITS HARD NOT TO LIKE YOU(sorry if that sounds weird but to me it’s like)(i expect a LOT of people to like you because you radiate good energy and you’re always so sweet) BUT I GET IT AND PLS THE ICK FROM THE ATTACHMENT ISSUES?? i 100% get it because when i notice myself being too attached to someone im like okayyyyy okay mango anon back it up here back it uppp LOL because like i don’t wanna be so reliant on someone else so i always have to remind myself to chill a bit, BUT ID LOVE TO HEAR MORE ABOUT YOUR WORK AND DRAMATIC LOVE LIFE LIKE I LIVE FOR THE ROMCOMS!!

i hope tonight is a better night for you !! i hope it isn’t sucky again because you deserve the best :( I LOVE YOU TOO NESS SORRY I DIDNT KNOW WHERE TO PUT THIS PART BUT I <3 NESS thank u for always taking the time to answer these long long asks LOL but i really enjoy talking to you !! make sure you eat and take care of yourself and have a good day!! xoxoxo

AAAAAA PLEASE I AM CRYING OVER THE NAME /POS THANK YOU SO MUCH <3 i am okay!!! very brain dead and just peroifbbjk but it's okay!! and aa definitely do not worry about missing a few check ins but thank you for telling me so i don't get too sad and miss u without knowing what's going on </33 be safe driving back AND I HOPE YOUR CONCERT GOES WELL AND YOU HAVE LOTS OF FUN!!

BUT AAA thank you thank you </3 unfortunately i literally survived on almond butter bagels today but it was NOT my fault. like today was just not good lmaoaoao i ate breakfast and then drove home to eat lunch (first almond butter bagel) between classes and then had to go to work (i bought a random california roll or something on the way there that ig counts as well!!) but i literally got home at 10 pm and just could not be bothered to cook 😭😭😭 i've just been working this entire week and i work this weekend too so i'm just trying to get by!!!! i will take care of myself though BUT PLEASE THE WAY YOU DESCRIBED YOUR TEACHER YAPPING AND THEN THE PREPOSTEROUS SOUND 😭😭😭 I LAUGHED SO HARD it reminds me of this one time i was forced (idk how else to explain this but just trust me i had to??? LMAO) to eat carrots in my french class....BUT CARROTS ARE SO LOUD BRO I LITERALLY WANTED TO KMS EVERYTIME I BIT INTO THE CARROT LIKE I'M NOT GOING TO SAY ANYTHING ELSE BUT OMG BRO IT WAS A SILENT CLASSROOM AND THEN THERE'S ME CRYING EATING CARROTS LIKE A LITERAL RABBIT

but anway. AAA YES!! WOMEN IN STEM!! yes i build frames sometimes or we get them sent to my work and then i will actually frame things and cut glass and just put that all together it's very fun!! i've framed things like a real cool pixies poster, cool art, confiscated prison shanks, someone tried to get us to frame black coral (which it is highly illegal to be in possession of) so yk!!! maybe it's just a curse at my workplace!! i have NO idea wtf is wrong with my workplace but we could DEFINITELY BE A SITCOM SHOW LMAOO AND AAA OMG YES NESS AND MANGO ANON MEETUP!!! I WOULD LITERALLY CRY /POS AND JUMP WITH JOY PLEASE AND LITERALLY OMG YOU DID TECH TOO??????? AND YOU WERE SODIFIUHWLJBEKJRFLEPRIO;GWENK (you were sound except i keyboard smashed halfway through)

MANGO ANON. WE WERE MEANT TO BE. LITERAL SOULMATES I TELL YOU!!!! BC I MEAN IG IDK HOW OTHER DEPARTMENTS ARE BUT LIKE I FEEL LIKE YOU ALWAYS HAVE A LIGHT KID - SOUND KID DUO YK?????? AND THAT'S YOU AND ME AAAA THAT'S LITERALLY SO COOL THOUGH I ADMIRE SOUND PEOPLE SO MUCH BECAUSE IT'S JUST TOO MANY CABLES AND THINGS FOR ME TO KEEP TRACK OF I NEVER UNDERSTOOD IT 😭😭 but yes it is also such a toxic and dramatic environment like ALL the time okay another lore drop my junior year i was literally fighting for my life because basically i had just been passed the torch down from our goddess light board op senior (so i was now in charge of everything regarding lights and basically the light board op) BUT this sophomore with a superiority complex also wanted the job and would literally fight me for it like he DEMANDED to be head of lights once for this student directed play and he had been asked to do the show before me so he got first pick and i was like "i mean okay chill idrc" but the bad thing is he just did not know what he was doing 😭 and i tried to be nice and be like "hey. we can split the job. if you want to be board op for the play and musical that's chill. i'll do it for the other play." AND IDK WHY I WAS TRYING TO BE NICE THE ENTIRE DEPARTMENT HATED HIM AND LIKE I TOLD MY TECH DIRECTOR THE PLAN AND HE WAS LIKE "HELL NO I AM NOT LETTING THAT KID OPERATE THE BOARD YOU'RE DOING THAT" so i ended up being board op...the entire year which i don't feel bad about!! but that was like the biggest drama moment of my life and i'm still not over it i am typing in passionate rage rn can u tell /hj

BUT AAAA THANK YOU SO MUCH 😭😭😭 I REALLY REALLY APPRECIATE IT YOU'RE SO SWEET!! i always attract weird men unfortunately...i will spill this all to u mango anon do not worry your pretty head <3 maybe we'll start with skater boy tm (imagine i subscripted that i'm too lazy rn) or the boy who thought i liked him and asked me to homecoming....BUT YOU'RE LITERALLY SO SWEET AND CARING TOO I KNOW THAT YOU ARE LOVED BY SO MANY AS WELL!!! and honestly lots of people suck </3 so if they DON'T love you?? well that's an easy fix i'll just beat the life out of them <3 (said with love. for u. not those people. i promise i'm nice!!!)

AND THANK YOU FOR ALWAYS SENDING THESE LONG ASKS!! AND READING MY EVEN LONGER ANSWERS <3 tonight was okay!!! i hope you had a good day <3 and talking to you has DEFINITELY made it better so thank you and i love you so much as always mango anon <3 PLEASE TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF!! AND EAT AND DRINK LOTS OF WATER AND I HOPE YOU DON'T FEEL TOO SICK AS YOU DRIVE BACK HOME!!

#answers <3 #mango anon <3 #AAA I LOVE YOU SO MUCH MANGO ANON!! MY LITERAL SOULMATE #CANNOT BELIEVE YOU DID SOUND HOW DID YOU NEVER TELL ME THIS BEFORE WE ARE LITERALLY MEANT TO BE !!!

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dumbassphysict · 1 year ago

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Rant

I'm starting 9th grade in a few days and I'm just trying to mentally prepare myself. I'm in the more advanced classes like APUSH, pre ap English and honors geometry (sad there's no ap geometry.) But last year I took strings rather than a language and now IM STUCK WITH THE FUCKING 8TH GRADERS. because in 8th grade you cant take strings and a language. And those 8th graders fuckers are feral. my grade is filled with entitled fucks who act like idiots constantly, but they know not to shout racist and homophobic comments any chance they get. And im a trans autistic kid, im fucked. so for context, at the end of the year this central/south american band comes and plays for all the grades. a group of these kids thought it was funny to shout obsine and racist comments throught their preformence. And one of those kids came up to me durring the haloween parade and was holding up his cross and shouting "the power of christ compels you" at me????? And when we went to get icecream after he was there and was standing uncomfortably close to me when I was paying. same kid also poked a hole in one of the kids blow up amung us costume. I got lucky enough for none of the kids in my grade to outright bully me for being trans but if those kids find out im trans there going to harass me any chance they get.

And im in gym. last year I almost lost high honors because that fucking class. I have NO stamina in the first place and im out of shape because all I did all summer was quit my job because my back hurt so fucking much, build a prototype robot, read and watch dnd podcasts. Im not very athletic, my back hurts all the time and every time I try to do something athletic, some place in my body goes 'haha fuck you' and hurts like hell. last year i fucked up my knee and now every time I run I get worried ill hyper-extend it. most of this is probably because im out of shape tho. and I have no intention of geting in shape because im not doing any sports or anything. I just hope my gym teacher isnt a dick to me like last year and lets me sit out if im not feeling good. I know my gym teacher last year was a good teacher but when I asked to sit out because my knee/back hurt a ton or I was insanely tired (I had some pretty bad chronic fateuge last year, on better meds now tho) she would tell me 'oh well im tired too/ well my back hurts too but im still able to participate.' Honistly it got to a point where I think she thought I was faking just to get out of class(I wasent doing that, I hate gym but if I could partipate I would beause I wasent about to fail a class.) I guess it did seem real convenient that almost every class I was too tired/in pain to participate. not to mention all the try hards would make a point of not letting me participate in a game. I would try to get them to pass the ball to me or something and they just wouldent. to be fair I had no clue what was happining most of the time and I am not good at sports so Id just fuck up every time I got the chance to do some thing. and that did not help my case.

Im not trying to be like ' oh woe is me, my life sucks' or anything. I just had to get this out there because every time I try to talk to someone about it they tell me to suck it up. which is fair because these things aren't important. had to write it all down to get it out of my head. :p

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petrichormeraki · 4 years ago

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i saw senpai @shadeswift99 do this so now im inspired:

Hermits Ranked On How Much I Could Fight Them And Win:

Welsknight: this bitch doesn’t even need to touch me. he would obliterate me just by rap roasting me so hard i would instantly disintegrate. 0/10 i would have no chance

Grian: if i didn’t know any better i would take him. unfortunately i do know better and i know he’s stronger than all the other hermits that met irl at a convention and he absolutely destroyed a strength arcade game. 4/10 only because he has hollow bones but he would just evade me until i got tired and then punch my lights out

TFC: tfc would take me the fuck out with his one arm and leg, but i really feel like he just wouldnt bother. -10/10 bc i would never lay a fucking finger on my minecraft grandpa, he’s been through too much already. even if i did square up he is probably jacked as shit from mining for miles on end. no way

Bdubs: bdubs would absolutely beat me on sheer strength, but he suffers from Little Guy Syndrome just like i do so id be able to take him out by insulting his height and distracting him since i know from experience that is what tics little guys off the most. however he also completely feral and is barely keeping a lid on it so he would stab me without any prompting. 3/10

Scar: nope. man is fucking giant and he’s too sweet to even consider a fight. i dont like using that cop out but i mean it in this instance. plus jellie would absolutely tear me apart if i even came near her boy with malicious intent and thats not how i want to die. 1/10 because i would win but at what cost.

Cub: man looks old as shit and is a government enforcer. i would not hesitate to fight him. 6/10 only because he has vex friends that would destroy me if i touched him

Cleo: she would break my legs and i wouldnt even be mad. i mentally could never throw a punch at her because zombies scare the living fuck out of me. i would instantly lose 0/10

False: i would die. -100/10

Stress: she was a drum player which means she has a lot of pent up aggression in there somewhere and i cannot compete with that. she also carries around flowers and that would take me out via allergy attack if i even got close. 4/10 because i think i could do it on principal but i also know i wouldnt be able to realistically

xB: mans has literally murdered in cold blood in season six, i fear him. he seems docile but thats all a facade and i know it. 2/10 only because fear would make me stronger but not strong enough

Tango: he would physically be very tough because of wrangling ravagers but he is also an idiot. thats not much advantage to me because so am i. 5/10 i think it would be an even split on who would win

Zedaph: in straight hand to hand i would obliterate him. however he unironically makes deadly traps just for people that visit his base so uh. 7/10 because i would drop him but he’s also too much of a violent introvert to even let me get close

Mumbo: he’s tall and buff but he’s too self conscious to use his physical attributes to his full potential. all i need to do is aim for the middle and he’d fall like a timbered tree. 8/10 only because i cant reach his face (and even if i could i wouldnt go for it bc of the beautiful mustache)

Hypno: i know nothing about him and that scares me. ???/10

Keralis: he’s very sweet but he’s also rich. sorry keralis. 10/10

Xisuma: i would give it my best shot but honestly i wouldnt even be able to touch him. he’s the fucking doomguy!!! what am i supposed to do!! 0/10

Iskall: he’s an assassin and built like a brick shit house. he’s also too friendly, i would unconsciously pull my punches because i don’t feel right about fighting such a nice guy. 0/10 he would actually take my life

Impulse: also a drummer. he is unsure if he’s actually human or not and that fact alone means he would be able to take me the fuck out. 2/10 he’s also a government enforcer and i want to fight him but i wouldnt last long

Doc: he fought a god and only lost an arm. -10/10

Jevin: i could probably take him but the fact that he consists entirely of the substance that makes my bones want to escape my body means i would not fucking touch him if you paid me. 0/10

Beef: he seems like a genuinely cool and fun guy but he wears a blood covered apron all the time so god knows what he’d do to me. he’s also smart enough to make advancements in technology that the human race has only dreamed of achieving. 0/10 because he looks like my dad and i would never fight him

Etho: he terrifies me. he canadian so that’d make me let my guard down slightly but then he’d sic an army of endermites on me. he’s an OG and i would not survive. 0/10

Ren: he’s puppy. i would never dream of punching a dog in the face. even if i did, ren is so casually horny that i would whiff every shot out of sheer embarrassment. 5/10 because we would stalemate.

#this is the strangest thing ive ever made #these are not in order obviously #meraki post #hermitcraft #too many characters to tag

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heyitsyn · 4 years ago

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Manager!Seijoh Part 2

a/n: lmao this is kinda weird for me but i think this was an interesting request so lets try it!

for more seijoh content, check this masterlist out!

lowkey kyotani kentaro typa beat but you gotta squint (??)

also warning! angst!

anon request: Hii! I just read the seijoh manager headcannon you wrote, it made me cry so much, i love those seijoh boys so much, and you are such an amazing writer! I dont know if requests are open or not but i was wondering what would happen if the boys ever find out what happened to reader cha? If requests aren’t open or if you just don’t want to write about it, I completely understand! Thank you for your wonderful writing again! Stay safe!

the stageplay was *chefs kiss* like MY MANS IWA WAS SERVING LOOKSSSS

soooooo

this might get really angsty idk so just a warning in advance

anyways

i mentioned in the earlier part that no one really knew what happened to you

so this one is when they DO find out what happened and what theyre gonna do about it

so first off, kyoken was basically the only one who saw you that day and saw how badly you looked

the thing is, at that current moment, he didnt really know the reason why and what happened

he had theories that you got jumped or you just got into an accident

but he was prettttttyyyy sure you got beat up

so you went home and rushed to yanno, take a shower and get your wound treated and cleaned so that it would heal bc you really cannot afford to let the boys see that

they would think of the worst at the smallest sight of blood on you and you really didnt want to deal w that chaos at the moment

you cant let them get suspended from school since they were going to interhigh soon and you cant let oikawa and the boys ruin their reputations just for you

a first year girl theyve just met

it was kinda hard to rinse all of the milk from your hair but you were able to at least get the smell out and clean up your mess

then you looked in the mirror and saw faint handprints around your throat from that girl miyo and you cringed as you touched it

‘jesus christ, seriously what does she eat? bricks?’

after your clothes were in the wash, you went to bed to get homework done and also looking up how to use the concealer to hide your bruises

you didnt really own any makeup but your mom has some so you could just use that

during dinner, you wore a turtleneck to prevent any suspicion from happening but you couldnt really hide the big gash on your face

‘y/n, what happened!’

‘i was dumb and accidentally fell up the stairs’

your parents shared a chuckle bc theyve actually seen you do this before so it was easy to believe the lie

‘darling, do we need to get you glasses? it seems your sight has worsened’

‘haha’

you went along with the joke but you weren’t eating and just pushed your food around

‘y/n? is the food not good?’

your mother asked but you shook your head with a convincing smile

‘its good! i just had some meat buns with the team earlier and i ate a lot so im still full’

you cursed at yourself for making it sound so rehearsed but you were relieved when your mother nodded

the next morning, you were satisfied with the reduced puffing of your face and you snuck into your parents bathroom where her makeup bag would be

as you held up the concealer, you started getting anxious because this was not the same shade as your skin and it would definitely raise suspicion if you had a different color on your neck than the rest of your body

you already planned to blame your wound as acne that you accidentally scratched but what were you going to do with the handprints?

the website you read said that it would take at least a day for them to fade

so you decided youd just wear a scarf and pretend you were cold

kunimi was confused as to why you had a scarf bundled around your neck and his eyes even widened at the sight of the bandaid on your face

‘y/n! what-!’

he shot up from his seat and your eyes widened before hissing at him to sit down

‘what happened to you?!’

he worriedly asked but you waved him off with a small smile

‘acne. this was the only available bandaid in my house so i had to work with this’

kunimi might be a lazy little shit but he was observant

and he noticed the way you said that sentence

it was like a robot

like a robot programmed to say what was written on its script

but before he could press on further, you already pointed out that the teacher was coming in and to hush so you could listen

the entire time, kunimi was awake alright, but he was too busy looking at you and a bright red thing that poked from the edge of your bandaid

kindaichi went to your classroom for lunch and you had to repeat your excuse for him but he pointed at another thing

‘why are you wearing a scarf? its like burning in here’

you didnt look at him as you just opened your bento

‘being in your period causes your temperature to fluctuate and cause unexplainable chill at even the hottest places’

okay what

they both shared a look and just shrugged, blaming it on your time of the month for the way you spoke with no emotion in your tone

this had to be the longest school day of your life

the whole time the scarf remained on and kunimi cant help but notice your flinches at the smallest of sounds

finally practice arrived and you really thought you could pull this off until oikawa barreled straight towards you and hugged you tightly

‘y/n-chan! you okay?! oikawa-senpai was so worried for you!’

you cringed but nodded

‘im okay, oikawa-san’

‘senpai, y/n-chan! call me senpai!’

‘im not going to feed into your kink, oikawa-san’

*cue everyone busting a lung*

‘y/n, what’s the-’

‘acne. only bandaid available in my house’

eventually, everything was fine

you were still cracking jokes w the others and you were still laughing w them so kunimi and kindaichi were at ease

but that shattered when oikawa was being oikawa and was being all touchy and bothering you about the scarf around your neck that he ended up pulling it off and he saw the marks

he was silent, just staring at them

ofc you were freaking out and you started breathing heavily

oh god he found out and he was going to hurt them

‘o-oikawa-senpai, listen, it’s not what it-’

‘y/n’

his voice made your eyes shut in fear and the others crowded around you and they all had scandalized looks on their faces

‘is this why you werent in practice yesterday?’

his voice was sharp, a complete opposite to his normally cheerful tone

you shivered and sighed

‘senpai, please dont-’

‘who is it?’

the other third years shared a look bc they were truly shook at oiks voice

‘w-why should i tell you?! its none-’

‘i am your captain and i deserve to know who is pulling you away from your managerial duties so he could just give you these damn hickeys!’

the gym turned silent

you stopped then furrowed your eyebrows

‘hickey? what-’

‘dont act like you dont know, y/n. so just be honest and tell me who’s your boyfriend’

lmao i shouldnt laugh bc this was supposed to be sad but im cackling at how dumb oikawa really is sometimes

‘i-i,,,,’

you stuttered but you knew this was the perfect opportunity

you could just blame it on this ridiculous misunderstanding

its a difficult hole to get out of but it would be easier than the other

so you pretended to be flustered and turned around to hide your face

‘it was a one-time thing, oikawa-san. i promise it wont happen again’

HELLO WHAT

the team was leaking the feeling of RAGE

how dare someone take their manager!

she was theirs!

and it doesnt help that every player might have a little thing for you

is this really turning into a harem

oikawa kept demanding answers but iwa hit him enough to quit and they finally went back to practicing but they were still distracted

every time they looked at you, they would grow flustered and red and end up missing a block or a serve

they just cant see their baby manager like that

you noticed it quickly and irritably got on them

‘stop staring at my neck and get back to practice!’

they flinched and saluted at you

lmao this little first year girl is able to control nearly a dozen <5′10 men who are all older than her

but you were glad that they finally stopped asking about it

this was going to go by smoothly and you were going to be okay

however,,,

several days later,,,

this is an angst fanfiction so i will bring thy angst

you were taking out your class garbage since it was your group’s turn in cleaning the classroom when you were grabbed by the arm on your way back

it was still outside and after school so it wouldve been an unlikely situation that someone would help you

it was that biatch miyo again and her 2 minions behind her

then you recognized one girl from the track team who was actually a year older than you but you saw her dropping off some files in the office

if you tried to run, she could easily grab you w her fast legs

great

you were stuck

you let out a tired sigh and crossed your arms on your chest

‘what is it you want from me, again?’

she smirked

‘you really dont know how to listen, do you? i told you to stay away from oikawa but youre still flaunting around with him!’

is she serious?

this girl was borderline stalker/yandere type of girl

you gave her an incredulous look and frowned

‘girl, do you hear yourself? you damn crazy and im leaving’

but she grabbed you back and shoved you against the wall

but this time, you kicked her on the chest to make her fall on her flat booty

surprise was written on their faces and you stretched your arms in front of you to symbolize distance

‘one more step and ill beat tf out of you. i just got my nails off so id watch it if i were you’

miyo huffed and stood up, brushing herself, glaring at one of the girls who tried to help her

then she remembered what you told her

‘hmm? if you hit me, you could be kicked off of the team since you hurt another student. so, go ahead, little kouhai’

she was right

even if it was self-defense, the school’s disciplinary section sucked and just suspended or kicked off people left and right even though they didnt do anything wrong

you were stumped

you were here on a scholarship, not on tuition

your mom would KILL you if she found out you got into a fight and got a record

but you didnt show that and kept your tough facade

‘dont challenge me. i could be a crazy bitch and i dont think youd like your little face being all messed up. so watch your mouth and leave me alone’

you turned to leave but she grabbed your hair and tugged it back

lmao flashbacks to the other part

she twisted your hair into a ponytail and had a firm grip while a girl kicked you behind your knees so you would fall to the ground

oh no you were done w this

you elbowed miyo on the stomach the hardest you could and she groaned which loosened her hold and you kicked her again to the ground

some other girl hit your side and you winced before slapping her straight across the face bc you didnt want to punch her and hurt your knuckles

but they were really testing you

the last girl still had your hair but you twisted around to face her and just did the last you could think of that would hurt

hit her right between her legs

you finally escaped their hold and miyo lunged after you

‘oh my god leave me alone!’

you yelled before holding up your arms to protect your face but she scratched your arms

obviously you were losing this bc it was just you but you were going to fight as much as you can

‘bad kouhais need to be punished! your senpais need to teach you a lesson!’

miyo screeched and you grabbed her arm before punching her straight at the boob

sorry rebecca

however, one girl was smart and did the same thing you did to her knees and made you fall to a kneeling position and eventually made you curl into a fetal position

gurl we actually fighting so hard considering we’ve never been in a fight

they continuously kicked you before miyo pulled up your head so you could sit up and kneel in front of her

ofc you tried to grab at her and punch at her

but these other girls were able to catch you and trap your arms in their hold and had their feet on your legs so you couldnt kick

great, another bathroom scene

your arms were bleeding from miyo’s scratches and your sides were hurting after their kicks

you lost and you were already bleeding in places you didnt think you would

this would be the last attempt and if he doesnt come, you’re done for

‘IIIIIIWWWWWAAAAAAAA-SAAAAAANNNNNNNN!!!!!!!!!!!’

your scream echoed throughout the entire are

possibly could be heard in new york

and your voice became hoarse

ofc the girls were surprised and caught off guard but when there was silence and clear that no one was coming, they started laughing

‘oh, so cute! iwa-san? is that supposed to be iwaizumi-san? heh, you whoring around w him too? thats so cute-’

‘LET. GO. OF. HER. NOW.’

I GOT CHILLS

the girls holding you shrieked and dropped their hold on you before scrambling back causing you to drop to the ground

miyo’s eyes were wide and there was horror all over her face at the voice of that infamous boy

kyotani kentarou

‘WHAT THE FK ARE YOU DOING?!’

he yelled and miyo turned around to be met with his piercing eyes before screaming and running away with her minions in tow

‘YEA RUN AWAY! FKING COWARDS!’

ltr the cursing is so awkward for me to do but this is his character and im just so awkward so sorry!!

you coughed and winced at the pain on your side which caught his attention

again, he noticed you as the manager of their team and you’ve been hanging out w him, well, just him staring at you, at the alley while you feed the animals

you were actually nice and caring and definitely didnt deserve this

‘oi, y-you okay?’

you didnt look up, just closing your eyes in pain and biting your lips to not let out the crying

his eyes softened at you and he noticed you were trying to act tough and brave even though you just got beat up

normally, he wouldnt even help anyone but it seems you just did something to him

he sighed before gently picking you up, you not even bothering to stop him, and he held you tightlyin his arms as he carried you to the nurses office

he had a feeling you didnt want to be seen like this and hes been in the nurse enough to know she actually leaves the moment school ends

you let out a shaky breath as he set you down on the cot and you opened your eyes to reach your hold for him when he went away

‘n-no, don’t leave-’

but he grunted softly before holding your wrist

‘im just getting your damn medicine. chill out’

lowkey getting bakugou vibes

you nodded and went to close your eyes again

kyo returned w some pain relief medicine from his bag that he carries

babie actually gets into fights often and he needs it sometimes

and he had alcohol medicine kind istg and bandaids for your arms

it was silent as you drank the pills and he sat down next to you so he could treat the wounds

but he let his curiosity take over him

‘why the fk did you let them do this to you’

he grunted and you scoffed with a smile

‘let? more like overpower me and grip me as they just hit me’

‘cant you fight them back?’

you glared at him

‘bruh i literally kneed some girl in their cooch but they just some superhuman typa girls that cant be hurt’

he sighed

‘maybe you just werent strong enough’

okay listen here you lil shit

you didnt want to listen to him scold you anymore so you just went back to closing your eyes

but kyo is actually lowkey nosy so he kept asking questions

‘the first time we met. was it her too?’

you flinched in surprise

‘you remembered that?’

‘ofc i did. you looked like shit. not as bad as this but still like shit’

‘gee thanks, stranger-kun’

‘kyotani,,, kentarou’

you smiled

‘nice to meet you, kyotani kentarou. im l/n y/n’

‘i know’

he mumbled but you didnt catch it

‘thanks for hearing me and coming to help’

he hummed

he wasnt going to tell you that he actually heard the scream for his idol and thought hed be there so he ran to go see him but instead saw you

kyo just respects and looks up to iwa-chan so much it warms my heart uwu-

once you were all patched up, you were finally able to stand but you still staggered

he grabbed your arm softly and sat you back down

‘what the hell are you going to tell the team?’

you paused then sighed

‘i dont know. ill figure something out’

but he knew how observant the players would be and they would catch on

after all, he was there watching at the top bleachers as oikawa yelled at you for the ‘hickey’

‘if they didnt hit your face, you could get away with it. but you have wounds all over you and theyd find out. im guessing youre doing this bc you dont want to trouble them or burden them? bc they would do something about it?’

you just stared at this guy

‘how-’

‘just a guess’

he also wasnt going to tell you that he was actually part of the team but the constant fighting got him in suspension

and the fact that his parents were donors for the school, he only got a tap on the wrist

‘so what do i do, then?’

‘tell them-’

‘no i cant do that! another plan, kyo-kun!’

‘oi, im a second year, idiot. treat me with respect’

the irony bc he totally treats oikawa like trash

‘i just,,,, oikawa-san is seen as this prince/gentleman type and i know how protective he is towards me so the slightest problem could cause him to be ballistic. miyo is popular enough to circulate rumors about him and hes already in his third year and she is too so i just have to endure one year until theyre gone’

kyo was disgusted

all this for that stupid idiot captain?

‘youre dumber than i thought’

you weakly hit him at the arm

‘so mean, kyo-san’

‘i dont think its right youre suffering for someone who isnt even worth it’

you glared and linked your fingers together

‘im the manager. i knew this would happen the moment i signed up but i didnt care. as manager, i have to keep up the team’s image and their popularity for support so i cant let all that be ruined just bc a little first year girl couldnt fight for herself’

‘just tell them, kid. less problems’

then he stood up to leave

‘kid?! im only a year younger than you! what you mean!’

but you were panicking

someone knew about you being hurt and they could easily tell the team

and it only increased when he entered the gym and later introduced himself as a player

you were so surprised that you stopped breathing

‘kyo-san,,,’

you muttered and he glared at you

well, more like look at you but i have a theory that kyo actually has problems w his sight so it looks like he’s glaring at you constantly but hes just actually trying to see clearly

‘yo’

oikawa was surprised at this interaction

‘eh? you know kyoken-chan?’

you nodded, still looking at the blonde

‘i-uh’

‘its none of your business’

kyotani grunted and you sighed in relief

maybe your secret would be safe

you were still uneasy about him accidentally revealing it, especially since he practically worships iwaizumi-san, but he kept his mouth shut

your caring personality at first was overbearing on him but he appreciated your efforts like volunteering on helping him with his eyeliner or asking him if he needed help with his medical tape

ngl, he also thought you were there just bc it was a team full of guys and you thought you could have that weird girl fantasy of having a harem

but you cared for them like practically a mother and continuously made it clear to oikawa that you were NOT interested in going on a date with him

you werent annoying, you were nice, and you weren’t pushy so he actually showed you respect and took a liking to you

this created a soft of protectiveness around you

sometimes, he would see you around school and he would practically glare at the girls he knew hated you

and when he wasnt there to protect you, you would call him to the nurses office where he would mumble apologies of not being there while patching you up before he would go over and threaten them to touch you again and he would bite their fingers off

aww hes so cute

ofc he still kept your secret bc it wasnt his business to tell

until that one day

it was normal practice with you helping the boys toss the balls so they could spike it

iwaizumi spiked it really hard making you flinch and he apologized profusely after you almost fell off the chair you were standing on in surprise

‘im just angry that that damn shittykawa is the captain and is late to his own damn practice’

oikawa? late?

that was unheard of

you were about to get off the chair and look for him when the devil himself entered the gym with the devil’s mistress on his arm

miyo was holding on to his arm as he laughed at something she said and ruffled her hair

you dropped the ball and kyotani quickly moved to you so he could stand in front of you protectively

‘oi! shittykawa! youre late!’

oikawa just smiled and pointed at the girl

‘miyo-chan made us cookies, iwa-chan!’

at the mention of food, the boys ran forward but you and kyotani remained at the side at the infamous name

you got off the chair and hurriedly placed an arm in front of him

‘don’t, kyo-san’

‘the bitch-’

‘i know. but please, dont’

you begged and he huffed before aggresively wrapping an arm around your shoulder

aggressively cares for you

‘if she does something or even talks shit, i will-’

‘kyoken-chan! y/n-chan! come here!’

oikawa called but kyotani snarled at him

you smile wobbled when miyo’s eyes narrowed at you and she smirked

‘oh? your manager is so cute, oikawa-kun!’

the rest of the team was just blinking at this weird tension

kyo had his arm tightly around you and hatingly glaring at this girl, who was icily smirking at you, and you tightly holding kyo’s shirt with a worried glint in your eyes

‘you were late to your own damn practice, oikawa. stop wasting time eating this shit and go back to playing’

tbh it still shocks you at how rudely kyo talks to oikawa but you were too pre-occupied on making sure this kid wasnt going to lunge at this girl

‘a-ah, right. oikawa-san, we have to return to practice. if you excuse us, miyo-san-’

you were about to gently grab oikawa’s arm to bring him back when she grabbed your wrist and secretly gripped it

‘oh, dont be so uptight, y/n-chan! i worked so hard-’

but kyo immediately snatched her hand away from you and squeezed it as tight as he could, making her wince

oikawa noticed the pain in miyo’s face and he was angry that kyotani was hurting a girl

‘oi! kyotani!’

he shouted and pushed him away, making the team, even iwa, worriedly look at kyo and brace themselves for the beating

iwa jumped into action and held the second year back while you jumped in front of oikawa

‘kyo-san, calm-’

‘you! be quiet’

he shouted, finger pointing at you

‘and you!’

before pointing to oikawa

‘you are a shitty captain’

‘kyotani!’

iwa was just straight out confused and hes really questioning life decisions right now

mom is stressed and confused, i repeat, MOM IS STRESSED AND CONFUSED

oikawa’s eyes narrowed but he just calmly talked

‘we’ll talk about this later’

‘miyo-san, we really need to practice so if you could see yourself out’

iwa gently smiled to the girl, who was about to protest, but makki and mattsun has already pointed to the door

she huffed then turned to leave and once she was gone, iwa let go of kyotani

‘kyotani, what the hell was that’

oikawa lowly asked and you were about to put your arms out to separate them but yahaba and watari grabbed you so you wouldnt be caught in the middle

then kyo turned to you, fire in his eyes

‘either you tell him or i will’

can we just talk about how protective kyo is?

you trembled and you roughly left yahaba and watari’s grip so you could gently place your hands on his chest

‘please, kyo. just leave it, okay? remember, it’s my busi-’

‘if i see that bitch enter this gym again, i dont give a flying fuck if shes a girl. ill beat the living daylights out of her’

‘kyotani kentarou, what-!’

oikawa shouted but your glare shut him up

‘y/n-chan, what is going on’

‘n-nothing. kyo-san is just, yknow, being him. you know? okay. now lets get back to practice, everyone!’

coach irihata and the other guy sharing that look

to say the least, miyo was pissed

and when she was pissed at you, she always did what she normally does

she corners you wherever its deserted and beat you with the help of her minions who holds you down while she slaps, hits, or kicks you

girlie you needs to tell the boys youre literally getting hit and abused and im just-!!!!!!!!!

and thats exactly what she did

only this time, she wore hard-tipped shoes

‘see, y/n-chan? i saved up and got these shoes just for you!’

the minions were just sharing looks of fear and genuine sympathy for you

they were only there bc she blackmailed them with pictures doing questionable things and if they dont help, they would be released

as usual, you didnt cry, biting your lip as you winced from the pain of her kick at your side

‘youre so pathetic. how could you do this to a person? and all this for your oikawa-san? for a boy?’

you wheezed at her causing her eyes to flare

‘HAH?! SAY THAT AGAIN!’

‘i said-’

but you were cut off when she slapped the soul out of you

her ring cut you at the lip and you cringed at the taste of blood from your lip

‘what else? we gotta hurry this up, miyo, because practice started like 5 minutes ago and im going to get yel-’

‘SHUT UP!’

kyotani entered the gym after his talk with his teacher and immediately looked around for you

his honey brown eyes scanned the area and they widened as your figure wasn’t in sight

‘oi, yahaba, wheres the manager’

the boy shrugged from the side

‘i dont know. shes late though’

oh god

‘kindaichi! kunimi! youre in the same grade right? did you see where she went after class?’

kunimi paused to remember before answering

‘she stayed after to talk to obe-sensei for the homework, that’s all i know’

that meant she stayed behind and was probably somewhere

‘SHIT!’

he shouted before bolting out the door

ofc the boys were all worried of his outburst and started yelling after him

‘kyotani!’

‘kyoken-chan?!’

they followed him, who was running as fast as he can

the girls would probably do it outside to avoid having to clean up their mess and he almost wrenched the door open in a hurry to take a lap around the school building

it was certainly a sight to see: a boy with dyed blonde hair and two brown lines followed after an entire volleyball team who were screaming after him

‘YOU-!’

he heard that bitch voice and bolted towards the back, where the dumpster was, and found you at the same position like the first time he saw you

blood was dripping on the floor from your busted lip and a cut on your cheek while your eyes were wide at the sight of kyotani’s panting form

‘kyo-!’

‘kyotani!’

your eyes watered at the sight of the entire volleyball team behind him, also eviqualiently surprised yet fuming angry

the girls who held you dropped your arms and ran for the hills so they wouldnt get caught

kyo pushed miyo aside as he grabbed you from the floor and held you

oikawa gave miyo a look that cannot even be described in words

all it was: incredibly, super, ridiculously, heatedly, furiously, angry

now multiply that by the entire team

‘hm, my father, who is the chieftain of the police, mentioned about there being jail time for even minors who commit serious acts like assault or bullying’

mattsun seethed

‘really? i think he’d like the video as evidence against kenta miyo for assault and battery, including bullying, so how many years would that add up to? nearly a decade?’

the girl miyo squeaked as oikawa and iwaizumi roughly grabbed each wrist

‘how long’

miyo trembled at the increased pressure on her wrist

‘IM ASKING YOU A FUCKING QUESTION! HOW LONG!’

iwaizumi has never shouted at a girl before and hopefully, it would be the last

‘s-s-since l-last month’

you burrowed your head in kyotani’s shirt

‘please dont’

‘shut the fk up, y/n-chan, we’re not talking to you right now’

oikawa coldly reprimanded

‘everyone, take y/n away. iwaizumi and i can take care of this. but mattsun, makki, track down those 3 girls and find others who have even touched our manager’

‘got it, boss’

if it was in a different situation, you wouldve applauded oikawa at his ability to be a leader but you were currently in pain from the bruises and the cuts all over you

your fellow first-years were angrily punching things in the nurse’s office

rip nurse in the morning when she finds holes all over her walls

the irony is, the most agressive one, kyotani kentarou, was the calmest as he quietly cleaned your wounds and placed ointment on the bruises

‘i told you so’

he mumbled and you scoffed

‘howd you find me anyways?’

‘dumb bitch yaps really loud’

he answered

no one was yelling at you and no one was saying a word

eventually, oikawa and iwaizumi entered followed by the rest of the third years

‘why. why didnt you tell us, y/n?’

oikawa asked as he sat down on the chair beside the bed

you looked down and fiddled with your fingers

‘if i did, you wouldve hurt her. and she wouldve spread rumors about you and ruin the image and reputation of the grand king and the volleyball team. i didnt want to do that to you and thought i could just endure it one year since youre graduating anyways’

iwaizumi sucked in a harsh breath

‘you wouldn’t have known what we were going to do. you are no oracle and you dont know how we are going to handle this situation. so you were really stupid for keeping these things to yourself, y/n. you may be our manager and our caretaker but let us take care of you too’

you nodded but your tears fell

‘sorry. im really sorry. i didnt meant to trouble you’

‘stop apologizing, y/n’

‘sorry’

‘y/n!’

you bowed your head low and bit your lip in guilt

‘i shouldve told you but i didnt and now everyone is troubled-’

‘we’re a team, y/n. youre not a lone wolf anymore. you have a pack standing right beside you’

watari mumbled and he sat down to give you his favorite hug: the one arm hug

‘im super angry right now and it might seem like im snappy but i really want you to know, y/n, that i really love you and i am just hurt that you didnt trust us enough to tell us you were suffering when i trust you with my entire being. so next time youre hurting or in pain, dont you dare keep it to yourself. tell us, okay? tell your senpais and friends about it so we can share that burden’

oikawa babie you are so mature like what-

what started out as a hug from watari turned into a team hug around the tiny bed, even kyo joined, and you were so happy you found a good team that appreciated you and everything youve done and accepted you as one of their own

‘oikawa-san, what did you do to miyo?’

‘again, im mad y/n-chan, so please dont talk about her right now’

‘iwa-san?’

‘dont use those puppy eyes on me! dont you dare-- okay, we’re pressing charges’

silence

‘WHAT?!’

‘and iwa-chan slapped her!’

‘WHAT?!’

‘shut up shittykawa you did too!’

‘WHAT?!’

a/n: this hurted a bit and im sorry if this was lowkey awkward and all over the place but i didnt exactly know how to portray this situation since ive never experienced this, just bullying in general, before but for those who have, please tell someone so that you dont have to carry that burden by yourself. it doesnt have to be a your parents, but talk to a trusted adult so that this type of stuff doesnt happen to you bc you truly dont deserve that type of treatment and deserve to be happy and feel safe in an environment like school or anywhere in general

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lnane · 2 years ago

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yknow a thing bout sweden that im actually kinda tired of cuz its a detail that sounds nice in theory and is constantly mentioned and used against me about life n that shit.

and its the fact that gymnasium, what is equivalent to highschool (ages 16-19 basically), is legally optional.

Like once you get out of högstadiet you gotta make the active choice to keep studying and what to study. And this looks great cuz you get the freedom of choice of what to study and you can even choose to not study at all! isnt that great, letting the kids pick.

although, there isnt actually much of a choice at all. Like, if you were to make the choice to not study, what the fuck are you gonna do? Youre not gonna have the qualifications to do any more advanced studies until you basically do the gymnasie education, which is WAY harder to get into the ordinary way if you dont go for it immediatley, and while yes there are adult courses thatre meant to compensate for not having that education theyre not available until youre in your 20s. You also dont have the qualifications for any job. Like, at best you can get a part time position somewhere that pays you way too little for anything (fun fact semi-related to this: sweden has no set minimum wage), since youre a kid with no education to make you more appealing for hire.

and this is not even mentioning how the social aspect of itll affect you, even if you soley focus on the familial side of it. Like, my parents are constantly nagging about "oh but gymnasiet is optional thus by choosing to go you make a free will commitment to commit to every apsect of it, and you chose to stop going to some classes. What kinda idiot chooses to do something of their free will and then skips the parts that bore them? That just shows poor work etiquette", and i still went to school. If i didnt id be surprised if id be allowed to stay at home at all, and since i lack any qualifications how am i gonna find any way to survive without the support of my legal guardians? Let alone keep myself healthy on top of all that?

like. it keeps getting waved around to kids that "hey, gymnasiet is OPTIONAL guys, so you HAVE TO fully commit to every aspect of it NOW. Otherwise your life is mostly fucked." and idk. im not sure if id prefer the alternative of it not being optional but just the fact that the illusion of choice gets used against you like that. Doesnt feel good.

#and tbh who can blame anyone for skipping class and falling behind studies at that point in their life?#like more than half of your life has been dedicated to school #total of 12 years of non-stop studies #how is it not a commonly known fact that everyone is at least a bit study exhausted at that point

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theravencawsatmidnight · 4 years ago

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Pink Chains (cont.)

Kyotani owns a grunge /punk apparel shop after leaving the Sendai Frogs after a incident with the Black Jackals. He designs his own clothes and hires Oikawa & Iwaizumi as his employees. Everything goes smoothly for awhile, till you walk in; pink dress, big smile , and bubbly personality. His whole life stops in that moment.

Punk! Kyotani x Bubbly F! reader. Aka my favorite cliche trope. It lives in my head every second of the day.

Brief Violence

The rest of the first half and all ive got so far ! / first half at the bottom !!

Your home was a cheap studio apartment not far from the college; a small studio with a cute bed by the window , a table with a bunch of markers with a big sketchbook sitting in the middle . You had the basic needs and a little couch in the corner but no tv , but there was a little pink cat bed next to the couch.

Kyo stuffed his hands in his pockets looking around the studio , it was weird being in a small studio for him since he has a home . Everything seemed shoved into one or two spots. He sat down on the couch and you were looking a little embarrassed, fussing with your dress .

“I know its not much but ! Its my little space heh, Mocha is probably in her little house sleeping. She will wake up soon though now that im home !!!” You picked up some clothes out of a basket. “Ill be right back , make yourself at home!”

“Okay sweetie.” He leaned forward dipping his head down to look in the cat hut . He could see a tiny kitten sleeping in it and smirked leaning back into the couch getting comfortable, well as much as he could in tight jeans. Kyo peeled his jacket off and pulled his phone out to check it .

Group Chat

Mattsun/ picture

Oikawa/ OOOOOO

Iwaizumi/ i knew pink was your color

Kyotonai/ guess where i am

Iwaizumi/well i dont see you so not at home

Oikawa/ are you at her house ?!?

Kyotani/yep, invited me to stay the night

Mattsun/ oh my , how adult

Kyotani/ shut up Mattsun

Oikawa/ hope you brought condoms

Iwaizumi/ be gentle with her

Kyotani/we aint gonna fuck i just didint want to leave yet

Oikawa/ 😙😙😙😗😙😙😙

Mattsun/ 😳😳😳😳😳

Iwaizumi/ 😒

Kyotani / i hate all of you

Iwa,Kawa, Mattsun/ 💕💞♥️

Kyo put his phone on the table when he saw you come out of the restroom, you were wearing a red panda shirt and matching shorts . Mocha emerged from her home too and meowed for attention . Kyo could not stop looking at you, so cute, so , so cute..

“Mocha! “ you bent down and picked up the brown kitten taking a seat next to Kyo to show him. “Shes a rescue ! I saw her all alone and i just had to help her.”

Kyo took the kitten from you and set it on his lap to pet her. “Shes cute” he leaned back tugging at his jeans trying to relax.

“Whats wrong?” You asked, Kyos lap to pet the happy kitten.

“Had these jeans on all day, i dont want to.. make you uncomfortable.”

Mocha nuzzled into Kyos stomach getting comfy and looked like she was not movin for any reason.

“I dont mine but.. you better do it fast because Mocha is not gonna care that you wanna take em off.”

Gently he lifted to kitten to fuss with his belt , you giggled getting up and grabbing your sketchbook. “Can i show you.. heh my drawings.”

“Of course sweetie, you draw?” He asked , pulling his jeans down with one hand and Mocha in the other. Kyo had on black and pink boxers . “Ugn finally..” he set Mocha back on his lap and placed the jeans on his jacket feeling a little unsure if he should have taken em off.

You hid behind your sketchbook when you saw him on the couch in his boxers. Kyo had tone legs from volleyball and a few tattoos on his legs along with some bruises and knicks.

Kyo looked down at Mocha feeling a little embarrassed. Why were skinny jeans so damn uncomfortable after a while? He asked as he pet the little kitten.

You sat down with him criss cross with the sketchbook on your lap. “Yep! I'm in college for art and design. I want to one day get picked up by a clothing store and have my drawings on shirts”

Kyo leaned towards you looking over the sketches with wide eyes. They might have been all cute things; like kittens, red pandas, hearts, patterns and space but they were so damn good. “You have a real talent these are awesome.”

“Really?!?”

“Yes sweetie. Id put these on my shirts. Oh that reminds me..”

“Oh my gosh!! Kyo that would be so cool!” Gently you placed the sketchbook on the table and looked at Kyo, he was a looking a little unsure of himself. “Whats wrong..?”

“Why exactly did you come into my store ? Ive never seen you in it before”

“ uhm Kyo.. you have a shirt in the window with kittens on it.. so.. “

He laughed wrapping his arm around you making you laugh too. “My ‘Sad Day’ shirt? With all the grumpy cats?”

“Its so cute, how could I not!!!” You hit his chest lightly not liking his tone.

“Okay okay.” Lightly he grabbed one of your hands holding it close. “Happy you did, really.” His eyes drifted off you and around the room.

“Kyo?” You inched closer, picking Mocha up leaning down to place her in her hut.

Kyo picked you up and sat you down on his lap facing him, placing his hands at your hips. He leaned back spreading his legs. “Yes? Sweetie..?” You could feel he was a little hard, it was really hot between your legs..

“Im happy i did too.. i really like you.”

His heart thumped a few times. “First girl to say that to me…” he rested his elbow on the arm of the couch to support his head. “I wasn't the nicest guy in highschool, i'll never forget the day Yahaba slammed me into that wall and told me to get my shit together.”

You looked a little sad at his words, Kyo only mentioned his aggression one other time but even then he sounded upset and full of regret.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You asked him , cupping his cheeks so he would look at you. His eyes told you ‘yes, yes please.’ But.. “No, i just want to hold you if that's okay.”

“Okay. If we fall asleep my alarm is going to go off at 8 so sorry in advance.” You got comfortable on his lap and Kyo tipped your chin up so you were looking at him.

“Would you be more comfortable on the bed?”

“Yes i think so. I dont think i can sleep like this. Hehe.”

Kyo gripped your hips picking you up, he stepped over Mochas hut and brought you to the bed to lay down with you, his face a little red. You latched onto his sleeve closing your eyes and drifting off. “Night Kyo..”

“G’night sweetie..”

Fuck what was he doing ? Talking about it will help.. right? Kyo had to wait a bit before you were fully asleep to get up and grab his phone.

Kyotani/ Iwaizumi

Iwaizumi/ Yes

Kytotani/ keep this between us

Iwaizumi/ you didn't hit it and ditch did you?

Kyotani/ what? No.

Iwaizumi/ are you scared to make it official Kyo

Kyo stared at the text for a few minutes reading it over and over .

Iwaizumi/ is it the anger issues

He squeezed his phone and sat down on the couch dialing his phone.

“Im scared ill lash out or something”

“Mm.. when was the last time that happened again?”

“The Tourney against the Black Jackals.”

“Ah yes, think Kei had to pry you off Bokuto or something right?”

“Yes… Iwaizumi i can't lash out at her. I just can't, i mentioned Yahaba and that day and she asked if i wanted to talk about it”

“You said ’no’, didn't you” Sigh “Kyotani she's not a threat, she's not an enemy . She's literally just a girl who likes you. Open up to her”

“How.”

“Uuhhmmmm, tell her you want to talk about it. I'm going to bed. You can do this Kyotani”

He hung up .

Kyo rubbed his face for a minute and glanced at you for a minute then back to his phone opening up Messages.

Kyotani/ Mattsun i know your asleep but invite Yahaba to the beach volleyball.

He set his phone down and very slowly made his way back to you. He wrapped his arms around your sleeping body and shut his eyes tight trying to sleep.

In the morning Kyo was awake early browsing on his phone, he stared at the screen for a minute before pressing Play on the video.

-flash back-

‘Another score for the Black Jackals!!! It is Match Point !!! ‘

The Sendai frogs were tired, sweaty and losing this Tournament. The Black Jackals were still full of energy and ready to go . It was a very hard game for both sides and Bokuto kept testing Kyotani, this was the first time he met the loud grey haired boy and he just did not like him. He knew Hinata but he did not like him too much.

Kyotani was doing better at keeping his temper under control and his team figured out how to hype him up without making him angry. Kei was not too fond of him but then again he did not really need to be, they just needed to be on the same page on the court.

That owl boy though, he was loud, annoying , and just testing him. Kyotani knew it, every serve, block, and spike was for him to clear or get rid of . Kyotani got hit with the ball a couple times and thats when he lost it.

‘Kyotani has taken another hit from the ball!!!’ Yelled the annoucer .

“Hey hey hey?!! Eye on the ball yea!??”

“Dont let it get to you” Kei told him .

“.........”

“..Kyot-“

He was on the other side of the net ontop of Bokuto punching him .The whole building was dead silent.

The last thing Kyotani remembered was hearing the announcer describe what was happening and Kei pulling him off of Bokuto.

He quit the Sendai Frogs that day, took his last check and left not looking back. He opened an apparel shop he called The Dog House and got in touch with his old highschool teammates starting over.

-end flashback-

You woke up to see Kyos hand on your head , you were not fully awake so you just laid there enjoying the nice feeling on your head. Mocha had also joined you in bed and was between you both sleeping. Kyo smelled like leather… an old leather that was renewed, it made your nose crinkle a bit. Looking up you saw he had a collar tattoo with spikes on it on his wrist . It was kinda silly but kinda cute too , although you wondered what it meant.

A minute later your alarm went off and you whimpered letting Kyo know you were awake. He let go of your head to slam your alarm clock off. He looked upset or angry in the face, and he was still staring at his phone.

Slowly you got up and gently placed Mocha on your pillow so you could scoot closer to him. “Kyo? Did you get any sleep?”

“I have to show you something.” He said as he turned his phone to you pressing Play again.

You were holding the phone now, it was alot heavier than yours . You had watched the video a couple times and everytime Kyo punched Bokuto you flinched. After the second time you placed the phone down to sit facing him.

“Kyo..”

He looked the other way running his hand through his hair.

“Kyo?”

He wanted to run away so bad. Start over again. Someplace without people like -

“Kyo.”

You were between his legs now , he had his knees up and was resting his elbows on them and still did not look at you. Dammit Mad Dog just say something to her, she's right there, dont shut her out.. dont shut..

You grabbed his face turning his head, kissing him, catching him very off guard. Kyo fell back taking you with him . You had no intention of stopping and just kissed him more and more even though he cursed between breaths. Kyo grabbed you lifting you up off his face and chest. You frowned at him and sat down on his lap once he let you go, cheeks flushed and very embarrassed.

“S..swee..sweetie”

“You aren't like that anymore!” You told him while you rubbed your eyes.

“Sweetie no don't cry please..” he sat up taking you in his arms rubbing your back in circles. “Sshh..”

“Please.. talk to me..” You sniffled into his neck squeezing him tight.

Kyo was shaking .. you were shaking . He laid his head on your neck starting from the beginning.. the very beginning. Every few minutes he would stop to check if you were still crying. He would cup your face and wipe under your eyes and ask ‘Are you Afraid of Me’ and you shook your head saying ‘No’ every single time. You were both tearing up by the end of it, Kyotani told you about Yahaba, Highschool after Iwa & Kawa graduated , how he became a Pro and Bokuto. The look on his face just made you so sad and seeing you sad was something he never wanted to see.

“Sweetie.. how , how can.”

“I like you Kyo, a lot. I'm not scared, never will be.”

“I'm so scared ill lash out at you sweetie.”

You grabbed his hand holding it and running a hand up and down his sleeve while you talked. “Kyo.. you let me touch your wolves. When we first met in your shop i noticed you were rubbing it a lot , like you were worried or you thought id just out right touch it”

“I..”

You kissed him again and wiped your eyes free of stray tears. “I want to be with you Kyo, i wanna.. see red pandas with you”

He laughed at that and so did you.

“I already said i'd take you didint i?” He asked cupping your face .

“Just making sure you know i really wanna go heh..”

“I know sweetie, believe me i know.” Kyo kissed you and you blushed wrapping your arms around him.

The alarm went off again too.

••

@zoppzoop @mocha-babes @haikyuu-but-low-iq @milkbreadcat @kozushiki

••

#PinkChains #kyotani x reader #kyotani kentaro #kentarou x reader #kyotani 💕

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letstalksymphogear · 5 years ago

Text

Symphogear, EP.7 (Cont.)

“i have not now, nor ever, liked this creepy ass church elevator.”

“kanade please get out of my head, just because im hungry doesnt mean you have to tell me every time i am”

Hibiki finishes getting a full body X-ray. She’s fine.

“that anime protagonist immunity is really kicking in well!”

“by the way, your wife is here! and she’s looking mighty miffed., as opposed to me, mighty milfed.”

“you dont strike me as a mother figure but ill play along for now”

“i just hope miku’s okay...”

“oh, she’ll be fine! see, i’ve seen these kinds of plots before. big secret revealed, another lover is shown, the victim watches as they’re thoroughly cheated on, and they get to lik-”

“please stop breathing”

Genjuro’s wasting away again in Margaritaville. Looking for some daughter to adopt. SOME PEOPLE SAY THAT THERE’S A, WOOOOMAAAAAN TO BLAAAAAAAAAAME, BUT HE KNOWS

XYLOPHONE RIFF

THAT’S IT’S ALL HIS FAULT

XYLOPHONE RIFF

“i hate it when he gets like this. jimmy buffets not a good look for him.”

“for once you and i agree. seeing the commander sulk like this like a middle aged perma-tourist is genuinely miserable”

“hey homies! im back and i brought some bitches! oh, jesus, why does this place smell like mistakes in miami?”

“its me. im sorry. every time i feel like i failed as a dad, my anti-dad energies manifest. imagine every midlife crisis rolled up into a single ball, smacked into the face for eternity. thats the depth of my pain for failing this girl.”

In a moment of positivity, the friendship between Tsubasa and Hibiki is cemented.

> Tsubasa has joined the party.

“FRIENDSHIP!”

“fweindship.”

“uuuuhhhhh... dadship? yeah thats close enough.”

“WE’RE ALL GOOD FRIENDS!”

“ya tiddies are ringing again, better go get it”

Ryoko also points out that Hibiki’s relic is fusing with herself at an alarming rate. This is important to keep in mind.

Meanwhile, at night.

Miku is posing in the motherly “you done fucked up, where have you been young lady” position. A cold scolding is coming.

“.........................hey miku......”

“you can come in. are you worried im gonna bite? you suplexed a car. that shouldn’t be an issue anymore.”

“miku, i.... i wanted to tell you.... but.... the plot wouldn’t let me, miku....”

“should’ve told the plot to fuck off anyway. now you’re gonna live with that. you’re sleeping... on the bottom bunk.”

“b.... b..... b...... b.... b...... bottom bunk...?”

They slept separately that night. God, this is so stupid. All of this is so goddamned stupid. “I’m so mad at you even though you saved my life.” This is just so. AUGH. THIS IS DUMB. KANEKO WRITE BETTER ANGST THAT MAKES SENSE THAT ISN’T THIS.

Meanwhile, far away from this garbage...

Chris, having been evicted from Fine’s McMansion, wanders the streets of mumblemumble aimlessly. Don’t be fooled by her new fancy dress. Basically, she’s a combat-competent hobo.

“no food. no home. no victories. this sucks. whyd you do it, fine? we coulda been great together. but no. ya fired me. now i look like im prancing the red light district with a highly advanced superweapon around my neck.”

“no... hibiki’s to blame. ever since that genderbent little mac showed up to fight me, it’s been all downhill. fine thought me a laughstock because i couldnt take out her oversized boxing gloves, and now she beat me while i had nehushtan. god... i wish i never met that damn hamster faced chubby cheeked nerd.”

“wait, whats that crying”

Chris spies two kids talking to each other, one of them crying. Chris immediately makes an assumption, believing the big bro is bullying his sis.

“hey! stop nicking her lunch money, twerp”

Chris currently is a firm believer of corporeal punishment.

But the sister deflects the blow. Chris can’t even defeat children right now. Truly, this is a record low for her. You know you blew it when even kids are schooling you on basic morality. She then tells the little girl to stop crying, ironically mirroring her brother.

The infamous double T-Pose maneuver. Chris, you might as well get a shovel and start digging your own grave.

“i keep doing bad things badly, and now im doing good things badly... when fine said i was bad... did she just mean im not talented?”

Chris, finally, does a good thing and helps these kids find their parents.

“yeah. hibiki saved a kid when she got her gear. guess what? bam! im saving two! that’s fifty percent more kid per kid saved. take that, weirdo.”

The kids call her out on Chris singing unconsciously, and Chris gets flustered over it. Dawwwwww.

Chris manages to get them to safety to their Dad...

...while brutally lying about it, making Chris look like a predator. There’s a very crushing irony at play here, given who Chris used to serve.

“ugggggggggggggggghhhhhh hes not even gonna payyyyy meeeeeee why the fuck did i dooooo thiiiiiiissssss”

“hey, you know. you kids have a really nice relationship with one another. care to give me tips on how to be an empathetic human being capable of making friends?”

“maybe we’re born with it”

“maybe its maybeline”

“maybeline...”

Meanwhile...

A cold wind blows through Lydian Apartment 69-L. (I don’t actually know if that’s their room number, I just made it up.)

“jesus take the wheel, because i’m jumping out the passenger seat to save this current wreck of a relationship”

“miku please i saved your life, doesnt that count for anything”

“you already killed me the moment you lied. also im taking the bottom bunk so i dont have to see your face coming down the ladder.”

“miku you cant hide in this depression den forever. i know i hurt you and im sorry for it, but please understand i literally couldnt do it. you saw there were punches and violence and stuff... i didnt want you tied to that...”

“what was that? i cant hear your apologies over my incredibly loud snoring. SNOOOOOOORE. SNOOOOOOOORE. SNOOO- fuck, i just swallowed my spit, fuck”

“i hope this cocoon of displeasure you’ve made for yourself lets you erupt into a butterfly of acceptance so i can fly with you again.”

“......thats not fair. you cant say those beautiful metaphors and get away with it. let me be mad... sniff... let me be mad...”

Sadness wafts in the den of lies Hibiki has been forced into.

No music plays. There is only heartbreak, and woe.

In the midst of this pain...

Ryoko loredumps about how the Symphogears work and are immune to the noise on her blog, ‘hornyonmainforscience.org’, her hybrid science journal slash kink zone. It’s mostly a recap with some pretty good soft techno beats in it.

“i made a custom brew of red bull, five hour energy drink, coffee, and cream. i call it gamer girl piss.”

“damn. that’s some good piss.”

She muses about how Hibiki has managed to break the limitations of her Symphogear, making her a totally unique specimen. Wait, where have we heard this before...?

Hey... Ryoko... let’s just... cool it a bit with the Hibiki pictures... come on...

Ryoko touches upon the Custodians and the Curse of Babel. We ain’t touching that shit until later, because that’s another shitfuck box of crazy just ready to jump us in a dark alleyway to rob us of our wits.

Back to Lydian:

“miku whats the answer to the first three multiple choice questions”

“B. A. D.”

“oh, thanks. huh, BAD.”

“yeah. you are.”

“mmm. taste likes dissapointment. just like my life.”

“hey table for two haha get it cause there’s two chairs and miku for the love of god, please, forgive me”

“ive surgically removed my eyes and drew eyelashes over them with sharpie so i dont have to see your bird bangs.”

“thats very rude to both me and my hair. also, wig.”

Even Hibiki’s meal is judging her. Mainly for not eating it. Fucking look at this. God, that looks amazing. Fuck, why did I write this while I was hungry.

“miku you cant do this forever. i might die and youll end up crying on my tombstone going ‘oh god, why, oh god’, and really, i cant live with myself if that happens. mainly because id already be dead by then”

The Anime Janai crew show up to break some icebergs with a goddamn sledgehammer. As the self-aware Gods of this realm, they got very tired of this poor display of angst, and have decided to directly intervene.

Nevermind. They came for her kneecaps, and they most certainly got them.

PLEASE. I’M BEGGING YOU. END THIS GARBAGE PLOT THREAD.

“look. imma lay down the facts. yall are gay. yall are in love. yall are angry for the wrong reasons. its nobody’s fault here but the writer. so please kiss and make up. pretty please.”

“kaneko... you fool... we all know what the original sin is. its your hack writing making this stupidity in the first place. let the pencil go, asshole!”

They bring up the fact that Hibiki isn’t doing her work and wonder if she has a job on the side, which isn’t allowed by the school. Miku gets annoyed and bails, with Hibiki running after her. Unfortunately, Miku runs faster...

“oh god miku not the rooftop whatever you’re thinking just dont do it! please!”

��no. i came here to angst, since this is the Maximum Angst Zone.”

“i..... okay! okay, that’s fair! rooftops are the perfect place to look sad while getting proper air ventilation, thats fine”

It really would have been better played if it was played off that she felt hurt not because of the lie, but because she felt like she could have helped her better having known the truth, and it being a self-loathing sort of scenario for not being there better for her and not fully understanding the risk at play.

But no, instead, we get this.

youtube

Absolutely obliterated. A heart ripped, shredded, and sent to the Shadow Realm.

The episode ends on that note, but has a post credit scene.

Naked. On an old timey telephone. On a computer. Wearing stockings and long gloves.

The main antagonist of the series, everybody.

She’s talking the best English possible to some random-ass American when suddenly bursting through the scene is none other than:

“I WANT WORKERS COMPENSATION YOU BITCH, BEFORE I UNIONIZE YOUR NAKED ASS”

“AND I WANT A GOOD REFERNECE FOR MY FUTURE EMPLOYER, AND ALSO A SEVERANCE PACKAGE SINCE I’M FUCKING HOMELESS”

“i paint my eyelashes with mascara made from the tar of freshly carbonated corpses manufactured through noise, what on gods green earth compels you to think id give a rats ass about you?”

“so you never cared, huh! you’re just a nasty naked hedonist trying to- trying to- what the fuck are you even trying to do?!”

“i want to live the dream every spicy little fossil like me yearns for.”

“I WANNA FUCK GOD!”

“how- what? what? how do you even- what? are you- do you want to be the pope? is that it? does the pope get to fuck god? are you- is this a larping thing? you’ve really been into larping lately! i don’t like this!”

“youve never read the old testament, have you. ass out, pussy bare, hips up and barefoot. that’s how god’s always liked it.”

“now get lost, punk. you tipped off my hand to genjuro and now you being here is going to ruin everything. if you still feel any semblance of devotion, eat one of your own bullets and call it a day.”

“it’s 2012 bitch, if the mayans dont get you, I WILL”

“what god gives, He takes away, and so do i. i built you from the ground up. your relic, which was good for jack shit on you. the nehushtan, which you failed to do anything with except zap a couple hundred people. stop wars? you’re a walking war, waged by me, for me. and your cartridge has just run out of bullets.”

“uh oh! hand’s acting up again! better bail before i send you back to smacktown where all the bitter little shittalkers like you strut around spending their lives being useless as hell.”

“ah fuck, im not dealing with no manos: the hands of fate bullshit again”

“and guess what else i got on motherfucker”

“i see the union efforts have officially been busted. understandable, have a nice day ma’am”

“LEAVE.”

“I’M GOING, I’M GOING”

#symphogear #symphogear season 1 #anime #recap #comedy

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exyjunkies · 6 years ago

Note

80 for pynch?

god. i haven’t written anything trc in months i must be a bad person

anyway i’ll keep this as short as possible

fic meme 1-100: pynch + 80. “How can you think I’m anything but hopelessly in love with you?”

send me a pairing (preferably from aftg/trc) and a number and i’ll write you a drabble (1-50) (51-100)

Ever since the day they met, Ronan has always looked at Adam like he was… like he was everything. It was a passionate, all-consuming, never-ending feeling that overcame him every time he looked at Adam, from his soft, brown hair, to the light sweep of freckles across his face, to his now filled-out-but-still-lean build.

The perpetual grip on Ronan’s heart whenever he saw Adam. It was probably almost enough to make him lose his breath.

Now, though. Now, he was losing his mind. And for a completely different reason.

“Jesus, Parrish, I know you know you’re not fucking stupid,” Ronan gritted, the words leaving his mouth only contributing even more to the hypothetical fire of the fight. Leaning back against their armchair, he put two fingers to the upper bridge of his nose and closed his eyes.

Even so, he could sense Adam still in the room, pacing back and forth, coming up with yet another argument to throw back at him.

At least he hasn’t left Ronan in the room.

“Well, how am I supposed to not react when I’m miles away on the regular, only to find out about What’s-His-Name coming by the Barns every so often?” Adam shot back, enunciating his words with his right hand and keeping his left on his hip. “And from Opal, my god. I had to hold back my actual reaction for the kid.”

“It’s Kian. And for the umpteenth time, he only comes by when I need to talk farm stuff with someone. He gives me advice. Don’t you get it?”

“Wow, so you socialize now? Is that part of your routine?”

“Who the hell else knows shit about running a farm? You tell me, Adam. Go on ahead and refer me.”

“Oh, that is just so typical of you, Ronan.”

At the rate they were going, this was never going to end. It was a fuse that was set off by something out of Ronan’s control. He crossed his arms and sighed.

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to know what the real problem is. I swear, if it’s how you don’t trust me–”

“It’s not you I don’t trust,” Adam cut in, voice clear as steel. “It’s him. Christ. I thought it was obvious.”

“Thought what was obvious?”

“Um, the way he looks at you?”

Ronan stared back at Adam, dumbfounded. Adam’s eyes were wild, as if he was seriously put off by how Ronan was right now. Ronan felt like if this were anybody but Adam, he would be strangling him right now.

“Ronan. Come on. His eyes practically sparkle when you so much as acknowledge something he says. He’d follow you around like a puppy if you fucking asked.”

“I mean, okay, not like I would give a shit, dickhead. So what if he has the hots for this?” Gesturing to himself, Ronan gave Adam a wolfish grin, one that died down as soon as Adam raised an eyebrow in a Really? gesture.

“Oh, for fuck’s sak– get it together, Parrish! I will never, ever entertain any of his stupid advances. If they even exist. I don’t even notice how he looks at me!”

Adam stopped in front of him and nodded. “Yes, they exist. And. Fuck. Have you seen him? How he looks? He’s–”

“NOTHING LIKE YOU!”

As Ronan yelled, he stood up so suddenly that his knee hit the coffee table. “Ow, fucker.”

When Ronan saw Adam was at a loss for words, he went around the coffee table and planted himself in front of Adam.

“For the life of me, I would never get tired of fucking reminding you, but,” Ronan said slowly, choosing his words carefully. He put both his hands on Adam’s shoulders and looked him in the eyes.

“You know you’re my one, right?”

Adam huffed. “Yeah. But–”

“Then how,” Ronan continued, more quietly this time, closing his eyes and placing his forehead against Adam’s, “in the absolute fuck can you think I’m anything but hopelessly in love with you?”

After a beat, Ronan opened his eyes, and saw that Adam was looking down at the floor.

“I– Ronan–”

Not waiting for Adam to finish, Ronan closed the distance between them and kissed him, wrapping his arms around him.

It was a kiss deep enough for Ronan to let Adam understand. Or so he hoped.

When they pulled apart, Adam looked up at Ronan, then at the floor again, and murmured, “I’m sorry I’m like this.”

Ronan shook his head and tilted Adam’s chin up. “You know what?”

“What?”

“I wouldn’t trade you for the damn world.”

#the raven cycle #pynch #ronan lynch #adam parrish #trc fic #trc #anonymous #answered #ficmeme100 #im rereading trc now and oh my g o d #am still halfway through trb but it'S STILL SO GOOD I LOVE IT

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0bfvscate · 6 years ago

Text

Halloway’s Night Out

Fanfiction for @nothwell‘s sequel to Mr. Warren’s Profession, Throw His Heart Over.

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: Alcohol use, mild sexual content, references to violence and drug use

Summary: John Halloway celebrates selling his most recent, and most controversial painting, The Fall of Icarus, with dinner and wine, but true to form, neither Halloway nor his dear friend Cyril Graves manage to do anything in a quiet or orderly way.

The reception to the painting was mixed. Some called it a masterful use of technique, others an aesthetic triumph. Others called it a debasement of ancient myth, a clear excuse to indulge in homosexual tendencies, and an affront to good taste. Halloway heard people call him both a genius and a monster for displaying the vaunted Icarus as a scarred and beaten man, and felt a bit thrilled to invoke such strong reaction.

Until he saw Warren in the crowd. Warren was a quiet man with quiet habits who preferred his privacy. Warren’s eyes darted around the room as he squeezed through the crowd toward the painting, trying to reach it without making any sign that he was there. Halloway came to the sudden realization he’d brought a very private friend to an event celebrating his naked, painted form. Halloway could see him struggling to be invisible, squirming in his suit when he bumped in to someone, apologized, and saw their eyes flicker over his scars.

Halloway jumped through the crowd. “Warren!”

His voice did not have its intended effect. Instead of being a life raft thrown into open water, it seemed to act like a bullet at a hart.

“Come here,” Halloway called, struggling with the tools at his disposal for some anchor to ground his model. “Let me shake your hand—find you a glass—no? Very well, as you wish—but do allow me to introduce you to my friend—Mr Talbot—the proprietor of this fine establishment.”

—and reached behind himself to extract one Mr. Edward Talbot, art patron, critic and former tailor. He’d inherited a strong business sense, an eye for color, and a tailor’s shop from his father, which he then liquidated and converted into a gallery for the sake of art.

“How do you do.” said Mr Talbot.

Aubrey replied in kind, but with mounting meekness as Talbot’s eyes widened with recognition. Talbots’ customary congratulations to the model froze on his lips and a yawning silence stretched in its place.

“Mr Warren,” said Halloway, clapping his free hand upon Aubrey’s shoulder, “is the celebrated model.”

“Indeed,” said Mr Talbot. “I thank you, sir, for making such a splendid work possible. Your visage is a most inspiring one. Forgive me for abandoning you so soon, but I’m afraid business calls me elsewhere. Good evening, Mr Warren. It was a pleasure meeting you. I hope to see you again soon.”

He gave them each a nod and vanished into the crowd as easily as a ghost, where his absence was filled with Halloway’s annoyance. Talbot failed to offer Warren any comfort, and left him still and fragile and unsteady as a newborn fawn. If only Warren drank, Halloway would have given him some liquid courage.

“Talbot thinks we might have an offer on the painting this very night,” Halloway blurted out.

“That’s good,” Aubrey replied, though his uncertainty turned the remark into a question.

“It’s very good,” Halloway confirmed. “Better than I’d hoped—though no less than I feel it deserves, if I may be honest at the risk of being arrogant. Have you seen it yet?”

When Aubrey admitted he’d not yet glimpsed the painting hanging in the gallery, Halloway bid him follow, and carved a path through the crowd to the wall. Every wall in the gallery bore artworks from floor to ceiling, but Icarus Fallen seemed to have a glow all its own. Or did Halloway imagine it? Did it draw his eye for the piece of himself he recognized within it, or was there something universal in its composition? Did it have that unmistakable spark of beauty that every artist chased, or was it just a nice painting that he was proud of?

Aubrey craned his neck upward towards the painting, and for a moment, he seemed at peace.

“What do you think?” Halloway asked.

“It’s… impressive,” Aubrey said at last.

Halloway smiled, but before he could say more, a hand clapped him on the shoulder.

“Halloway,” the man said. “Tell me more about this recent painting. Tell me where you found the nerve.”

And with that, the crowd drew him back in, where he was in his element.

By ten the gallery was shut up, the champagne was gone, and Richard Talbot was using Halloway’s coat and hat as a lion tamer used a chair.

“You ought to apologize to my friend Warren,” Halloway said. Graves had his fingers in the back of his jacket and was trying to pull him toward the exit. “He’s a very handsome man, you know. Very kind, very gentle. He’s sort of like a deer.”

“For God’s sake, John,” Graves grumbled. “The event is over and we’re starving. If we stay here any longer the party will end.”

“I know, I’m coming. And I’m not upset with you, I’m just a bit protective of the poor chap. He’s like a deer.”

“I understand completely.” Mr. Talbot said, advancing on him with the coat and hat.

“He saved an entire factory. That’s why he’s got those scars. Have I told you that?”

“Yes.” Talbot said.

“You’re drunk.” Graves said.

“You’re drunk.”

“I think you’d both do well to have a hot dinner and a nice cup of coffee.” Mr. Talbot said, taking another step forward with the hat and coat.

“Oh, yes. Splendid.” Graves answered.

“I just want you to know—“

“I know, John,” Mr. Talbot said, finally saddling Halloway with his own coat and hat and giving him a gentle pat. “I know.”

And then they were out in the street, unsteadily climbing into the hansom. They collapsed on top of one another and awoke some twenty minutes later feeling like watersodden logs, but after food, coffee, and yet more liquor, they both felt as fresh as spring rain.

“To Icarus!” Graves cried. “To a man who died a noble death, in the pursuit of absolute, ideal beauty. A man who stretched out his hand to touch the sun and felt its fire burning. Here’s to a man who flew out of prison and fell to the sea.”

“Now I’m not arguing against the technical skill,” said Hainsley, the editor and founder of his own magazine. “It is clearly a beautifully painted piece. What I am arguing against is the choice to mutilate Icarus.”

“He fell out of the sky and smashed on the rocky earth,” Halloway argued. “If I wanted to mutilate him, I would have done much worse then a bruising.”

“Exactly. That’s my point. You can’t argue for realism, since true realism would reduce the painting to an unrecognizable, pornographic mess. If Icarus Fallen were pure veritism it would hardly be a painting at all. Your choices were weighed accordingly, which is every artist’s right, but I respectfully disagree with your decisions.”

“Well, sir, I respectfully disagree with yours. Icarus has been portrayed in art for thousands of years, and I for one am tired of seeing unending galleries full of heroes in unblemished death throes.”

“God, are we going to sit at this table forever?” Asked Forsyth from the other end. “I’ve been stuffed in this jacket all day.”

Next they went to the Catullus club, descending on it like a flock of bats if bats waddled on foot after too much food and wine. The club was a relatively sedate place at that time of night, except for a few private parties bursting with exclamations and loud thuds from behind locked doors. They took the main room and filled it with noise and smoke as the company and the alcohol brought them all a new burst of energy. The staff, noticing the celebratory nature of their party, circled them like moths.

Halloway had a very pretty toff sitting on the arm of his chair while Graves proudly recounted his triumphs. The toff was a bit too pretty for Halloway, incessantly barring eyelashes he’d enhanced with kohl and cheeks darkened with rouge. Hainsley was sitting on the other side of the chair and salivating up at the pretty toff. Halloway, eventually, retrieved his arm from the toff and used it to wrap around Graves.

“Couldn’t we move the pronouncements to a private room?” He asked.

Graves, frozen in the act of giving a speech, took his time to arrive at John’s point. “I’m not averse, if you don’t mind leaving you adoring entourage.”

“I’d prefer it.” He admitted quietly.

Graves raised his eyebrows, but got out of his chair without comment. “Very well. Excuse us, gentlemen.”

The orderly at the welcome desk gave them a key to a room on the second floor. By the time they arrived, towels, lubricant and a clean water basin were laid out for them by the bed.

“Didn’t that pretty young gentlemen interest you at all?” Graves asked, pulling off his shoes.

“God, no,” Halloway answered. “Although if you’ve a fancy—“

“Hmm. Do I? Well, I’d certainly give it a try. But why not? He seemed very partial to you.”

“Shame I’m not much for willowy boys.” Halloway grumbled.

Graves laughed. “So it’s another question for aesthetics! Tell me, John, what disinterests you so in beauty?”

“‘Beauty’ isn’t a predetermined factor,” Halloway declared, giving up on untying his tie and just pulling it apart. “If it were, the Asthetes wouldn’t have anything to talk about.”

“Isn’t it? A truth doesn’t become less true for having facets, nor are gems less expensive for them. If beauty were in the eye of the holder, a painting could not be celebrated. As an artist, you must admit that beauty is generally agreed upon.”

“As an artist, I can tell you now that beauty is a trend that comes and goes,” he struggled to pull off his socks and eventually let himself fall forward, onto the bed. “No one today would paint a Rueben.”

“But there is still something enduring about their beauty.” Graves mused. He was stretched out in his chair, waistcoat unbuttoned and only one sock off. He seemed to have forgotten he was unbuttoning his pants.

Halloway jumped up on the bed and flipped over to work on his pants. “Alright, let’s you and I discuss the female form.”

“My, you are in a rare mood.” Graves mumbled.

“Exactly— Exactly!” Halloway cried, triumphant, standing on the bed in his johns and shirt. “We’d never deny a woman her beauty, but would you take one to bed?”

Graves made a few noncommittal noises.

“What about the most beautiful woman at the opera? What if I were to introduce you to Miss Virginia Stendhal, who sat for my celebrated painting of Persephone?”

“Oh but that brings us back to the point, my dear, which is that people find Ms. Stendhal beautiful but pity her for the sitting!”

“No, my point is that she’s beautiful, but neither of us would fuck her.”

“You put the poor woman in an unhappy marriage,” Graves pouted. “Persephone, the goddess of spring, the personification of the bloom of youth, staring at Hades as if wishing she could put him in his own pit. What a waste!”

“But why?” Halloway cried. “Why can’t I? I haven’t done anything wrong. I love those stories just as much as anyone else, and you can’t argue that no one sees them as I do, because people have told me they do!”

Graves was laughing, shaking his chair with quiet mirth. “You see, John, this is why I admire your work. You’ll do what you like and stamp your foot when people tell you they don’t like it.”

“Oh, you’re just mocking me.” Halloway said. He wobbled, fell to his knees, then landed face down on the bed. The darkness there was warm, soft and inviting, and he was in the process of exploring deeper when Graves pulled him upright. He sat on the edge of wakefulness, judging the benefits of each side of consciousness, when Graves tipped the scale. He kissed him, cupping the back of Halloway’s head in his hands. He was so warm that Halloway let him carry him fully into wakefulness, pressing his tongue against Graves’ lips until they opened and let him explore. When they’d gotten all their clothes off he pressed his chest to Graves’ and felt his heart beating on the other side. The rasp of skin and short, dark hairs tingling over his body made him flush with heat, but when he reached between Graves’ legs he found his cock still soft.

“Give me a minute.” Graves promised, pushing John onto his back. His lips tickled his skin as he kissed down Halloway’s collarbone and into the sensitive skin between his thighs, but though desire pumped through his blood his little soldier was too drunk for a full salute.

They tried a few more times, and sometime before three Halloway was startled awake by a sudden knocking on the door.

“Halloway! Graves!” Someone shouted. Halloway waited for them to announce themselves or explain what they wanted, but there was just silence on the other side. There was shuffling, then quiet, disappointed muttering and an embarrassed retreat.

“Who was that?” Graves mumbled, lifting his head up. He made a face and scraped a hair off his tongue, then slowly lifted a bit farther off the bed and took in their surrounded. “Where are we? And, good god— what are these hideous statues?”

“I think,” Halloway said, careful not to make any concrete proclamations in light of his irrational condition. “That we have abandoned our party.”

“Nonesense. We’ve only been gone a few minutes.”

Halloway searched the room for a clock, and was relieved to find a small one on the mantle. He got up and squinted at it, but although he could see both hands, neither figure shared information with him.

“I think we’ve been gone a bit longer then that.” He said tentatively.

Now it was Graves’ turn to stop and think, churning through the butter that was once his brain for all the pieces of the night to lay out in order.

“No,” he said, but that was just a reflex, come from the certainty that Cyril Graves did not abandon a party. As it dawned on him that that was indeed what he had done, the finger resting on his chin migrated north and pushed nervously into his upper lip. “Oh.”

“I think we abandoned the party, Cyril.”

“Oh,” Graves said, then got to work collecting his clothes. “Well, let’s resolve that.”

They abandoned their futile efforts to put the room back together and stopped by the front desk to drop off their key. But when they reached the sitting room, it was empty. Nothing remained of their party except for crystal cups with rings of liquid, and one cigar still smoking in an ashtray. As they stared at the ribbon of smoke rising up, they heard a giggle behind them. Glancing over their shoulder, they saw the pretty toff from before wrapped in a curtain, trying to hide but shaking with mirth.

He explained when they approached; “When you two disappeared, the others went to look for you, and that became a game of hide and seek. Right now it’s Hainsley seeking, and he’s terrific. He gets so angry when he can’t find anyone.”

To prove it, the toff encouraged them to hide behind a large potted plant. Within minutes Hainsley came in and began to turn the sitting room over, cursing the whole time. The toff was helpless with laughter, covering his mouth with both hands to smother the hiccups and gasps that escaped. Hainsley caught the echo of a cough and lifted his head with alertness, as dogs did during hunts. Slowly he inched forward, and pounced on a couch at the edge of the sitting room. He paused, as if checking his success, then threw the pillows aside and cursed again.

The toff was helpless with laughter.

Halloway straightened up and stride towards the editor. “Hainsley!”

The man jumped. “Halloway! There you are! We’ve been looking for you for ages. Don’t tell me you lost Graves on your way back from Fairyland.”

“Of course not,”Graves said, leaning against the potted plant with an air of ennui. “But what are you doing to that poor couch?”

“The bastards all thought it’d be funny to hide after you went missing.”

“Or perhaps they are the ones whisked off the Fairyland.” Graves mused.

“Anyways, all the servants have gone to bed and I need another drink.”

“Perhaps we could use another drink.” Halloway agreed. His poor, pickled brain was trying to shut up for the night, but like a bicycle with the breaks cut he could only keep moving.

As they were making up their minds of where to go and how they could get another drink so late at night, members of their party popped one by one out of doorways and down the stairs.

“Hainsley, you spoilsport!”

“Are we getting a night-cap?”

“Do you know of a place that will still be open?”

“No,” Graves said. “Regrettably, we’ll have to go home for hospitality.”

It was no longer the blackest night, but the blackest morning. Halloway was speculating on the change in atmosphere that seperated morning from night in the wee hours. Was it the dew in the air that changed the texture of the darkness, or simply the knowledge that dawn was approaching? Or was it instead the weight of his body on his mind, dragging just a step behind his alert consciousness, like a cranky child?

“Here we are. At last,” Cyril said, banging on the front door. “Open up! Come on, we don’t have all night.”

But the door did not open. Soon the whole party took up a chorus of the demand and chanted it like a drinking song.

“Open up! We don’t have all night!”

Lights glowed behind the drawn curtains and the door was abruptly opened. The party poured into the foyer, still chanting.

“Open up! We don’t have all night!”

Someone clipped John’s nose in their clumsy effort to remove their jacket, and another fell on his back as they were trying to untie shoes.

“What in heaven’s name is going on?” Demanded a voice.

Graves was trying to reason with the sober individual. “Now, listen, would you turn away an old friend for celebrating the triumph of an artistic master? This is a triumph. Triumphant. We are triumphant!”

“For god’s sake, sit down before you fall down.” Answered the sober tyrant, and orders for bedclothes and water were answered with the drumming of feet which seemed to circle Halloway before entering his skull and stamping around the dome.

“This is not a triumph,” said a second sober voice. “This is tragedy. You look like a platoon of wounded soldiers limping home.”

“Oh, come, have a nightcap with us.” Hainsley slurred.

“You’ve finished off the night, there’s nothing to cap.”

“A toast to our host!” Shouted a different voice, and when John turned to identify it, discovered the toff from the club had come out with them.

“You need to go to bed. You’ll all feel like death in the morning.” “Oh, thank god. A piano! At last, we’ll have music!” Forsyth had made it into another room, plopped down on to the piano bench, and begun playing a waltz as slurred as his speech, alone, in the dark.

“No-- no! Absolutely not!”

“Gentlemen!” Cried a voice. John turned towards it and beheld a women on the stairs. At first, he mistook her slender, loosely-draped silhouette for Grecian garb, and the woman at her elbow as some Olympian attendant. But then the weights and pulleys in his brain settled into balance and he recognized it as a nightgown. “Welcome! And congratulations!”

The whole party gave out a cheer.

“You all look like you’ve had a fabulous night!”

Another rousing cheer.

“I propose a toast!”

Their party lost their minds. There was applause and stamping of feet.

“One last toast to the hero of tonight, Mr. John Halloway!”

She was like a priest, and they her feverish followers. John felt tears prick his eyes. A servant appeared and put a glass in his hand, with something cool and sweet. It tasted like a fruit juice, and for the life of him he could not settle on the flavor of the alcohol. It was very delicate, and mixed perfectly with the cocktail’s foundation.

“We drink to Artemis, and she brings us ambrosia!” He cried.

“Fine lady, I’d say you should sit for Halloway, but not a soul here can predict how the results will look!” Hainsley brayed, and everyone fell over themselves laughing.

She bowed graciously. “Gentlemen, my house is yours. I place my servants at your disposal. If any of you should need anything, you need only let them know. I beg you to forgive me of my absence.”

The party made a loud, collective noise, but the tone of their response was impossible to decipher. Not even Halloway could tell if he was disappointed that she was leaving them or begging her to do as she saw fit. She, her attendant, and the two masters of the house left them in the sitting room, among the pillows and blankets that were brought down when they first arrived. The toff was fast asleep, curled around a folded blanket like a child. Hainsley, after sitting down and having some of whatever substance was in his glass, was frozen in place, his mouth hanging open.

“What fine people,” Graves said. He was still upright, still smiling his knowing smile, but there was something off-balance about his posture. “What a wonderful night. Where’s Forsyth?” They discovered Forsyth asleep on the piano.

“They act like they’ve never had a drink before.” Graves muttered.

“Let’s leave them and have another drink,” Halloway said. “That cocktail she gave us was wonderful. What did you think of it?” “Something with apple.” Graves said pensively.

“She said we could ask for another. Didn’t she leave some of her people with us?”

They checked the rooms and the hallway around the sitting room, but everywhere was dark and empty.

“I can’t see a thing. Where’s a candle?”

“I can’t find any,” Graves said, slapping countertops along the wall for something to light. There was a clang and a bump and a series of heavy metal objects fell to the floor as Graves cursed. “How the devil did they get the lights on and off so fast? I can’t even smell the candle smoke.”

“Perhaps it’s electric?”

“Where are the lamps?”

Halloway tripped on a lurking ottoman and sprawled across the rug. Graves made a show of disgust as he pulled him up.

“John, please.”

“As if I chose to fall!”

Abruptly they found themselves back in the piano room with Forsyth, still peacefully asleep on the bench.

“Witchcraft!” Halloway cried. “She plans to turn us into pigs!”

Graves scoffed. “We must have gone the full circuit of the house. The staff must be asleep.”

“What do they expect us to do?” Halloway cried.

“Sleep, I’d expect,” Graves said. He put his hand between the curtains and lifted up a corner. “The sun is coming up.”

“No.”

Graves stepped back from the window to offer his view. True to his word, there were the pink clouds rising in the east, the red light of dawn coloring the pale sky. They pushed back the curtains and stood in the early dawn light as the sun rose. The air under the curtain had the same chill as the outdoors, whereas behind it, in the sitting room, was still warm and dark and full of the even sounds of sleep.

“We should get to bed.” Halloway said. They joined the rest of their party on the floor of the sitting room, sober enough to spread out the cushions and blankets to make their bed. Without their shoes, coats or shirts they had a very comfortable bed, and Halloway drifted quickly off to sleep.

Halloway woke up with a headache as fierce as if he’d been beaten. His tongue was so dry it felt swollen in his mouth. He could barely open his eyes. As consciousness overtook him, and pain overtook his body, all he could manage was a helpless groan.

“I thought you’d say as much,” said a familiar voice. “Sit up, we brought you breakfast.”

Sitting up was a tall order to fulfill. Halloway only managed to roll over, and when he did was blinded with a flash of sunlight bright enough to pierce straight through his eyelids.

“Come on.” Coaxed the voice.

Now on his back, he had both arms at his disposal to lift him up, and he managed to struggle himself into a sitting position. Warren and Althorp were standing before him, to Halloway’s relief looking more indulgent than furious. The others from their party were sitting up around him, their collars and hair askew and each looking as glassy and tired as Halloway felt. The ground seemed to be tilting beneath him.

Three trays were placed on the ground of the sitting room, in easy grabbing distance to the drunkards. On each tray was a pile of toast, peppermint tea, butter and a little cold chicken, shredded into easy bites.

“How did we get here?” Halloway asked.

“You would have to tell us.” Althorp said.

“Why did we…” Halloway began, but trailed off as his train of thought left him, evaporating like water in the sun.

“Who was the woman?” Hainsley asked. “Who are you? Where are we?”

“This is my good friend Sir Lindsey Althorp.” Graves said, leaning forward to take a dry piece of toast. “The two women were his wife and sister, Lady Emmeline Althorp and Lady Rowena Althorp.”

“Where are we?” The toff asked.

“Halloway, what happened last night? What brought you here?”

“I can’t for the life of me remember,” Halloway admitted. “We were going to have one last drink and go to bed.”

“We’re glad to help, but don’t do that again.” Warren said.

Halloway grimaced and gave them a toast with his peppermint tea.

“Wonder where my hansom is.” Graves muttered.

“London, I’d expect.” Althorp said.

“Naturally.” Graves responded bitterly.

There was an uncomfortable silence. Very carefully, Halloway put his fears into words.

“Where is London?”

“England?” Althorp answered tentatively.

“Not here,” Warren said. “You’re in Manchester.”

“What!?” Halloway cried. “How in the world did we coordinate a train ride!?”

“That’s what we wondered, as well.” Warren remarked.

“You said they had space for all of us.” Hainsley said.

“This is the beauty of the intoxicated mind,” Graves said serenely. “We are capable of so much, without our inhibitions to hold us back. Gautier wrote extensively on the visions he saw while under the influence of hashish--” “I hope you weren’t smoking that, last night.” Althorp said with all the sternness of a disapproving parent.

“I hope you don’t need to get that drunk again to find your way back.” Warren said.

“I suppose I could impose on your hospitality a bit longer for a hansom back to my lodgings.” Halloway said. He still couldn’t remember getting on a train with Graves or the others, but it was becoming easier to see why he would argue the party move to Manchester while he was at his drunkest. Despite all the travelling he did, Manchester was still home. Manchester had all the comforting amenities a drunken Halloway would crave, and a drunken Halloway could wax poetic on their benefits until an equally drunken group of men were happy to follow him across the country.

In fact, of all of them, the toff was the only one with any difficulty getting home.

“My mother will be worried.” He said.

“Tell her you were out with friends.” “I think she’ll expect that. She’ll say not to worry about her, but she does for me, and I do for her.”

As Halloway was putting himself together, smoothing down his hair with a little of Althorp’s pomade, Warren approached him.

“I’ve never seen you like that before last night,” he said quietly. “Do you drink yourself into that condition often?”

“No, not often. Last night was a celebration.”

“I didn’t like to see you that way, Halloway,” Warren admitted. “You weren’t the man I respected.”

Halloway gave him a hard look, drying up any temperance speech that might be forthcoming. “Warren, until my drunken behavior overtakes my life, I’ll thank you not to proselytize.”

“I’m not proselytizing. I’m pointing out to you that you bought a train ticket in a state of total unconsciousness. That you’re safe and sound in our house this morning is pure luck. I’m telling you, as your friend, that drinking yourself unconscious isn’t a habit to make!”

Halloway sighed. It was unfair to treat Warren like a nagging puritan in the wake of troubling behavior. Even Halloway had to admit that last night could have taken a turn for the worst at any point, and he was in Warren and Althorp’s debt for providing them with a safe place to sleep for the night. If they’d forced them to sleep in the horse stables, no one would have blamed them-- not even Halloway.

“You’re right, of course. I was a bit out of control, and I can’t dismiss my behavior just by saying that I don’t do it often. I ought to be more careful in future,” Halloway said. A smile slowly overtook his face. “But it was quite a night.”

Warren gave him a smile in return.

He walked Halloway to the front door, where Graves was waiting to drive with him into town.

“Halloway, I have a final question about art,” Warren said. “Do you ever miss your paintings after they’ve gone?”

“No.” Halloway said.

Warren seemed taken aback by his certainty. “Never?”

“I have better paintings to make.”

Warren was quiet for a moment, and then slowly a genuinely cheerful smile spread across his face.

“Naturally.”

Halloway gave him a warm handshake. “We’ll meet in town, shall we? I’ll send a card around.”

“I’d like that.”

#fanfiction #sebastian nothwell #mr warrens profession #lindsey althorp #aubrey warren #john halloway #cyril graves #historical fiction #fiction #gay fiction

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