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atlabeth · 4 years ago

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transferred part twelve - atla smau

masterlist | part eleven | part thirteen

this takes place about 2 weeks after the last chapter

summary: trying to run from your past is hard, but falling for your brother’s roommate is even harder. little do you know that he’s falling for you as well.

wc: 3.6k

a/n: i’ve been writing bits and pieces of this since the start of this series so. enjoy. that’s all im gonna say lmao

warning(s): cursing, mentions of familial death, mentions of abuse, some angst but also some fluff. this is kind of a heavy chapter because both zuko and y/n talk about their past, but there is fluff at the end.

~~~~~~~~

You pushed your hair out of your face and tried to blink the sleep out of your eyes, catching a glimpse of the time on the corner of your laptop.

3:23 AM.

You should’ve been asleep a long time ago, but all of your professors had decided to schedule tests in the same week so it was one of many, many late nights you had had lately. You thought that they would cool down because midterms were coming up, but BSSU professors kept proving you wrong. Late nights like these were becoming a regular occasion, and right now you just needed a break.

The tea dates with Zuko were the only things keeping you sane. But could you even call them dates?

It was the two of you, together, sitting and talking over tea for hours, and they were happening multiple times a week. In fact, you and him had gotten tea together exactly 9 times in the past two weeks — and that wasn’t even counting all the talking during your shared shifts.

Katara, Suki, and Toph told you that they were dates, you wanted them to be dates, but there was a part of you that was so incredibly scared that you were wrong — that moving past that bridge would ruin the friendship that you cherished so much with Zuko — that you kept things solely platonic. No matter how much you wanted to kiss him every time he gave you that smile.

But thinking about the complicated relationship you had found yourself entangled in with Zuko wasn’t a break, no matter how many times you had pondered over it before falling asleep in the wee hours of the night.

You closed your laptop and grabbed your jacket that had been carelessly tossed on a stool at the kitchen island, making sure to sneak out of the apartment as quietly as you could. You opted to work in the living room, choosing to camp out on the sofa whenever you had to stay up as late as this, just so you wouldn’t wake up Sokka. Your brother had no idea how much you did for him.

The cool breeze hitting your face and the shining stars in the sky were a welcome change of scenery from the lifelessness that was your apartment at night and your computer screen that you were sure was going to cause you eye issues later in life with how bright it was.

You took a deep breath, inhaling and exhaling the crisp night air, and started to walk. You were sure you looked like a mess. You were wearing some flannel pajama pants, a BSSU tank top, tennis shoes, and Zuko’s jacket. He had never asked for it back after that night at the party, and when you had showed up to one of your hangouts wearing it, he told you that you could keep it — “it looks better on you anyways” — so you did.

There was something calming about the atmosphere. You knew that a lot of women were anxious about going out at night, especially alone, but that was why you had taken self defense classes. Being friends with Suki was a self defense class in its own, and it was very much appreciated. You allowed yourself to get lost in your thoughts, trying to give yourself the break that you deserved, when the hairs on the back of your neck stood up.

“You know, it’s not safe to be out alone at this hour.”

You let out a scream at the unexpected voice and whirled around, your fists already up to defend yourself. When you saw who it was, you laughed, completely shocked, and hit your hands against your legs, trying to calm your rapidly beating heart.

“Holy shit, Zuko, you can’t just sneak up on someone like that!” you wheezed. You had no doubt that he only had good intentions, but for a second you thought someone was going to try and kill you. You had to admit, the scare was worth it to see the mix of horror and embarrassment on Zuko’s face.

“I’m so sorry!” His hands were held up placatingly in front of him and he let out a nervous laugh as well, but it did nothing to cover up the wide eyes he stared at you with. “I am so sorry, I didn’t even think about that. I- I was just up studying too, and I heard you leaving so I thought you could use some company- I swear, I wasn’t trying to scare you or anything!”

You shook your head but couldn’t stop the smile on your lips, gesturing for him to come closer while you caught your breath. “It’s fine. Come on, walk with me.”

He fell into step beside you and the two of you walked in silence for a while, the only disruptions being the occasional car that drove by. It was eerily quiet, but with Zuko, it was nice.

“So-”

Both of you laughed when you each interrupted the other, and when you motioned for Zuko to go first he shook his head. You paused for a moment, the question on the tip of your tongue, before you decided to take the plunge.

“I’ve been wondering since I got here; how did you end up as friends with—” You gestured around with your hands. “—this whole crew? It’s kind of a weird combination of people, so I guess I just wanna know how you became a part of it.”

Zuko sighed and ran a hand through his hair, causing your eyes to widen a little bit as a stammered apology came out. “You don’t have to answer it if you don’t want to-” He gave you a tight smile and shook his head.

“No, it’s fine. You should know about my life if— if we’re going to keep living together.” He knew the moment he met you, the moment he agreed to let you live with all of them, that he would have to explain his past to you. Hell, your siblings might have already told you some of it — he could only hope you’d still want to be his friend after he was done.

“”I.. I wasn’t the best person in the past. I was a horrible person actually, and I consider myself extremely lucky that I was given so many chances to change. I hurt people. Bullied people. Got into fights just because I could. I was just- horrible is the only way to describe it. But your siblings, Toph, Aang? They were all people that decided to give me one of those chances, and they’re a huge reason that I am who I am today.” Zuko spoke slowly, and you could tell that this was something he didn’t open up to many people about. You smiled softly at him and nodded, letting him know that he could go on.

“I don’t know how much you know about my father, but he’s the CEO of our family company. He’s been this huge presence in the business world for as long as I can remember, and he’s responsible for all the wealth and fame that our family has today. And when I was younger, I idolized him. I thought he was the greatest man in the world, that he could do no wrong, and I just followed him blindly. He was the most important person in my life, but.. I was nothing to him.”

“He didn’t care about his friends, or- or his family, he only cared about power. My mother left when I was young, we haven’t heard a word from her since, and- and I don’t even know if he cared. My father would do whatever it took to become as powerful as he could, and that meant—” Zuko’s voice was getting louder and he cleared his throat, trying to keep his cool. There was a certain hollowness behind his eyes, and it tore you to pieces. “That meant hurting anyone that went against him. Including his children.”

“I have a sister, Azula. She’s a prodigy in every sense of the word, and my father used it, used her. She was clearly his favorite, and it drove me insane. I mean, I did everything for his approval, but he only cared about Azula. We had a good relationship when we were younger, but my father molded her into the kind of person he wanted her to be, and— and I was jealous of her. He used that against us, purposefully staked the fire of our competition, one that I thought I could somehow win. But we had both already lost the second we started fighting against each other.”

“It took me a long time to realize that.. that he was abusing us. I mean, he gave me this scar all because I spoke out of turn, and— and I still thought that I could earn his favor, that he deserved to earn my favor! He threw me out of the house when I was thirteen, and I went to live with my uncle. It took an even longer time, but with his help, and the support of your siblings and their friends, I was able to break the cycle. I was horrible to them at first, all of them, and I hated my father for what he did, but it was probably the thing that saved me.” “And Azula.. leaving her will always be my biggest regret. My biggest mistake. I should’ve forced her to come with me when I was kicked out, I should’ve done something sooner, because maybe she wouldn’t have turned out the way she did.” He swallowed hard, his voice strained. “I came back for her once I was stable, and I helped her get out. I helped her get a therapist. It’s been a long process, but she’s getting better every day. But not a day goes by where I don’t think about what I could’ve done to help her more.”

You instinctively reached out for Zuko’s hand, and to your surprise, he took it without question. You gave his hand a small squeeze and led him over to a nearby bench — without realizing it, the two of you had entered a public park that was near the complex. When you sat down together, you moved so that one of your legs was crossed in front of you and the other was hanging down so you could face him.

“Zuko.. I am so, so sorry. I don’t think any amount of apologies will be able to get how I feel across, but.. you didn’t deserve to go through that. No one deserves to go through that.” You took both of his hands, thankful for the warmth they provided. “Listen to me. Are you listening to me?”

He gave a pained smile and nodded. “Yes, Y/N. I’m listening to you.”

“You are not who you were in middle school. You are not who you were in high school. Okay? Your father is a horrible man, and you wouldn’t have done any of those things if it wasn’t for him. What you did when you were younger wasn’t okay, but the fact that you have so much remorse for it today proves that you’re a good person. Zuko, you are a good person, one of the best men that I’ve ever met in my life, and I’ve only known you for a few months.”

You were subconsciously rubbing calming circles into the back of his hands — hands that were still holding yours — while you talked, but it was all Zuko could think about. “I know you feel guilty about leaving your sister, but you did what you had to do to get out. You came back for her, and you’ve helped her get better. She’s grateful for it, Zuko, I know that much.”

“Everyone else has forgiven you,” you murmured, staring deep into the fire he held in his eyes. “You deserve to forgive yourself.”

The silence that passed while you gazed into each other’s eyes felt like it lasted an eternity, when really it was only about a minute. Zuko was the first to break it, clearing his throat and looking everywhere but at you as his words tumbled out. “I’m sorry- I didn’t mean to dump all of this on you at once.”

“It’s okay, Zuko, really. I understand; sometimes you just need to talk to somebody. You don’t know how much it means to me that you trusted me with all of that. And.. if we’re still baring our souls to each other, then I guess I have some things that you should know as well.”

You bit the inside of your cheek; were you really about to tell Zuko about what happened? Most people knew that your mother was dead — killed in a drunk driving accident when you were ten — but you had never told anyone, not even your father or your siblings, about the full effect it had on you. But his eyes told you more than he ever could, and in that moment you knew it would be okay. You could trust him with something you had never trusted anyone else with.

“I’m sure you know that my mother died when I was young.” He nodded and you swallowed, trying to get rid of the sudden dryness in your throat. “It was.. hard. Really hard, on all of us. It was just so unexpected that we didn’t know what to do. We didn’t really have any money to spare, so my dad had to keep working, and I had to take care of Sokka and Katara. I was only eleven, but I basically had to take over the ‘mom’ role. Our grandmother came down to take care of us so we wouldn’t just be a bunch of kids living on our own, but even with her and Katara’s help, it was still hard. Sokka and Katara had to grow up much faster than they should’ve, even though I tried to shield them as much as I could.”

“It was.. a lot. I won’t lie to you, it was a lot. Maybe too much.” A mirthless laugh hung in the air and you had to blink back the tears threatening to spring. “My mother was.. amazing. She was the only one who truly got me, you know? She was just this— this beautiful spirit in the world, and she brought light wherever she went. And when she died, it left this.. huge, gaping hole in my heart, one that I’m still trying to fill. I- I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to fill it. I thought as I got older it would be easier, but i-it’s not. The three of us joke around by calling Katara mom because of how she is, and they sometimes do it to me, and I know that’s all they are, jokes, but some part of it still hurts.”

You were rambling now, spilling your soul to Zuko, going into the most mundane details that you had never told anyone. You had taken away the dam that had been holding back the waters of your emotions for so long, and now Zuko was going to drown in them. But you couldn’t stop.

“It’s the reason why I didn’t drive for so long. I didn’t want to, I was terrified of it because of what happened to my mother, but someone needed to be able to take Sokka and Katara around. And- and as I got older, and I started going to parties and people started drinking, I never did. I couldn’t, I was always the designated driver, because I couldn’t leave that in someone else’s hands. I had to be in control, because if I let someone go, then it was like I was killing my mother all over again, and it’s the reason why I always have to be the one driving—”

You paused to take a deep breath, and as you looked down at your hands, you realized they were shaking. Not just your hands, but your entire body. What the hell were you doing? You let out a tearful laugh, covering your mouth with one hand and shaking your head. “God, I am so sorry, I— I don’t know what got into me.”

Zuko’s eyes never left yours, his own glassy, and he shook his head. “You don’t have to apologize. Like you said, it helps to tell someone. A-and— I know how you feel, what it’s like feeling like you have to give up the world for your siblings. But you have to take care of yourself too. You’re not just what you can give to other people. You are your own person.”

He was thankful that you trusted him enough to tell you something like this about yourself, something that your own blood didn’t even know, but it also made him realize that you had always trusted him.

Your point about driving. You liked to be in control so that if something did go wrong, there wouldn’t be any thoughts of what you could’ve done. If something happened, it was because of you and only you. And on your first day of classes, and many trips since, you had let him drive. It was something so small, so insignificant to anyone, but to you it was a sign of trust.

You trusted him.

“You’re shivering.” Your voice snapped Zuko back to reality and he shrugged, the smallest smile playing on his lips.

“I wouldn’t be if someone had given me my jacket back,” he joked. You elbowed him in the chest and stood up, holding out your hand for him to take to help him up as well. Zuko took it and you ignored the butterflies that erupted, setting a steady pace as the two of you walked.

“We should get back to the apartment. It’s late, and you need to sleep,” you chided.

“You have bags the size of baseballs under your eyes. I think you need sleep just as much as I do.”

“I’m special,” you shot back with a grin.

Yeah, you are, Zuko thought.

The walk back to the apartment was shrouded in comfortable silence and intertwined hands, something that neither of you made any move to change.

~~~~~~~~

Soon enough you had gotten back to your rooms — such a small apartment meant that they were right next to each other — and as you turned on your heel to face him, a shy smile played on your lips. “Thank you. For, uh- coming after me. For listening to me.”

“Of course,” he nodded. The two of you stood in silence for a while, and then Zuko reached out his hand. Your breath caught in your throat as he brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear, and the close proximity combined with the surprisingly intimate act caused your cheeks to heat up once more. It was like you were caught in a trance.

Your gaze flickered from his eyes to his lips for just a moment, and you could’ve sworn that he did the same. The air between the two of you was crackling with unseen electricity, and before you could question yourself you were leaning forward.

You felt him lean in as well as your eyes fluttered shut, and his lips ghosted over yours. Your eyes snapped open and you stared at him, your lips slightly parted in disbelief — he just kissed you. Zuko just kissed you. It was like time had stopped �� and then it all came crashing down. His lips came back to yours with an intense fervor, cupping your face in his hands to get as close to you as possible.

It was bliss in the purest sense. You reciprocated immediately, tangling a hand in his dark hair, letting out a soft gasp as your back hit the wall. Despite how many times you had imagined this moment, nothing could compare to the real thing. It was passionate but gentle all the same, and the warmth that spread through your whole body was familiar — it was Zuko.

Your mind was a jumbled mess. It was split a million different ways; one part suddenly very worried about how your hair looked, one hoping that Sokka and Aang couldn’t hear you, another that didn’t care, but most of them were just screaming about how oh my god you were kissing Zuko.

You knew your whole face was flushed when you finally pulled away, and the warmth of his lips lingered as the two of you stared at each other, breathing slightly labored. You tentatively reached out your hand and softly, carefully traced your finger over a part of his scar. He flinched at the contact instinctively, but you felt him relax and even lean into your touch. It meant more than you could ever say, especially knowing what you knew now.

“You’re so beautiful,” you murmured, your touch impossibly soft against the cracked skin of his scar. “And you’re stronger than anyone knows. Than you know.”

You kissed him again, shorter and sweeter than the first but just as tender, trying to memorize the feeling of his lips against yours as he returned it. You smiled at him and pushed your door open behind you, equal parts nervous and exhilarated about what just happened. “Goodnight, Zuko,” you whispered, shining eyes never leaving his until you closed the door.

As soon as you were in your room you turned around and leaned against the door, smiling to yourself like an idiot. Your hand ghosted over your cheek, the spot where his hands had been, and you sighed dreamily. You had no idea how you were going to be able to finish studying.

This was definitely more than a small crush.

~~~~~~~~~~

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also i am so sorry i suck at writing kiss scenes dont roast me please

#avatar #avatar the last airbender #atla #zuko #atla smau #social media au #zuko smau #zuko x reader #smau #atla fic #zuko fic #zuko x you #zuko x y/n #avatar fic #avatar the last airbender fic

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soukokuwu · 4 years ago

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➤ genre: angst, fluff

➤ pairing: chuuya x reader

➤ synopsis: breaking up with the love of your life is never easy.

➤ word count: 1.6k

➤ a/n: inspiration? “Lose” by NIKI. i just couldn’t get the song out of my head and decided to just vibe with this. ^.^

We only meet at the intersect

You were eighteen when Chuuya’s azure orbs caught your eye.

He was rough around the edges, always the fiery, hot-headed brute in any room, with the crimson hair to match. Exceptionally violent when his temper takes over, like asteroids slamming into a planet, and like a star exploding when he’s forced to use corruption.

Yet his fingers were able to dance across your skin as gentle as a soft summer breeze, and the hot temper gave way to subtle, fleeting signals of affection. The way his usually loud, boisterous voice cascaded into soft hushed tones when he spoke to you. Chuuya was a workaholic, all of his hours usually went into slaving away for the Port Mafia. But even that yielded to making time to find you, even if it was for no particular reason at all. Luckily he wasn’t one to nitpick about the details — because he never could for the life of him figure out what made you so entirely different from anyone else.

But you were.

You were nineteen when Chuuya took the leap of faith, showing you the gravity of his love.

He kept mum about his work, until he couldn’t anymore. Every instant he had to shy away from talking about what he did, every instant he denied you access into his real life, his mind — it felt like he was pushing you away, like he was allowing other people a chance to swoop in once you were pushed far enough.

And once you find out, your reaction was understandable. Horrified, confused and without any words uttered, you left him behind in the restaurant, alone with the doubts of whether he should have come clean at all. Was it worth losing what little of your friendship there was? Was it better to have made a clean breast of it and lose what was dear to him or would it have been smarter to keep you in the dark, keep you close?

But a ray of light came a month later in the form of liquid courage.

Chuuya wasn’t the one who came forth, no. He had considered himself burned from being honest, he thought you hated him. No, if anyone needed to do or say anything it would have to be you. He knew that nothing could make up for what he’s done or what he’s going to do as a Port Mafia executive. It was his family. And he would never give that up. A hard thing it was, for civilians to accept. The murders, the frauds, the sacrifices.

Which is why he didn’t know what possessed you to knock on his door at 2am in the morning, an open bottle of Romanee-Conti in one hand and his heart in the other.

You were twenty-one when you two started cohabitating.

It was a step in the right direction — you two barely met due to his busy schedule. You used to always have your phone on hand, desperate to know whether your boyfriend was safe after a long day’s work. To which he oftentimes forgot to account for; he was too tired. That, and he wasn’t used to being responsible for someone else’s feelings.

But this alleviated your insecurities, and it satisfied his wishes to spend more time with you.

The mornings were sunlight streaming through the cracks in satin curtains, cups of black coffee with occasional breakfasts of toast and eggs and fleeting kisses goodbye. The afternoons were distances, unavoidable work calls, meetings and ‘I miss you’ texts. The nights were hugs welcoming each other home, spills of crimson locks over his bare shoulders, bodies melding into one and ‘I love you’s by midnight.

Closets were full, black coats and grey waistcoats sharing vacancies with flowery dresses and black poly skirts. The pantry was more filled than ever before, now that Chuuya had someone living with him to eat with, to enjoy with. Bathrooms now had two sets of everything, toothbrushes, towels, cups. Walls were now occupied, the dull white paint masked by colourful memories framed in gold and black.

The collection grew and grew.

You were twenty two when you spotted the embers fading.

When sunlight cracked through the curtains and there was nobody in bed next to you. Either one of you always woke up earlier than the other. Time was not made during the busy of the afternoon, with either of you choosing to take a siesta during unoccupied minutes. The eventides of passion turned into nights of sex. You found yourself wishing he’d touch you like he did in the beginning. And he found himself wishing he was as into it as he used to be.

And one night, in the dead silence, as you two stared up at the ceiling in bed — it was the first time in a long time that you two shared the same thought.

Chuuya remembered when you taught him how to love, how you filled the void in his heart, helped him get over his insecurities, healed the numbness he felt about his humanity. The subtle efforts he had put forth because he deemed you worth it — and he still did. But that didn’t change facts: this wasn’t working out anymore.

He broke your heart each time he had to go away on long missions. He broke your heart each time he came back with bruises and a hardened expression. He broke your heart each time he had to keep a secret from you in the name of work. He broke your heart whenever you had to mask your true feelings to take care of his. And he hated hurting you.

You remembered when Chuuya taught you the importance of accepting someone for who they are, how he always tried his best to put you before himself in each decision he made, how he put aside his temper and his ego in every argument you had, how the two of you would always work them out. The two of you were made for each other, but it was painfully obvious: the end was awfully near.

You broke his heart each time he saw through the fake smiles. You broke his heart each time you didn’t bear to check in on him because you didn’t want to hear tomorrow’s headlines early. You broke his heart by giving him everything he wanted, but never could convince himself he deserved. And you hated disappointing him.

Neither of you wanted to do this. But it was a ticking time bomb. Both of you had been dragging this on for far too long — to decide to escape from this only to find yourselves running back to familiarity. It was a too-small house. Either one of you left, or you both stayed cramped in there until neither of you could take it anymore. Two options, but only one outcome.

This time, in the dead of the night, enveloped in the darkness, you took the first step.

“This isn’t working out.” A slight crack in your voice, but a very apparent ache in your heart.

“I know.” Quivering lips and the same gaping hole he had before he met you.

“I still love you.” Your confession.

“I will never stop loving you.” And his.

Chuuya is twenty-four when he finally lets himself consume an off day.

Life has been empty again since the day you moved out. He still remembers hugging you to sleep for the last time that night. And can still remember the overwhelming desire to pull you back in his arms as you walked out the door the next morning, to tell you that you didn’t have to go, that the both of you could work it out — but you both know he’d be lying. Some things you can never come back from. When something dies, they should remain that way. At least his memories of you remain sweet, and only because you left before things could take a turn for the worse.

This is a fire that he doesn’t see could possibly rekindle.

It’s life.

It’s been two years.

Waking up in an empty bed still sucks. Chuuya eyes your toothbrush by the sink. He can’t bear to remove it. It raked confusion in his one night stands. Not that he cares. They never mattered. They weren’t you. And there is still two of everything in the bathroom, but he never lets anyone use the other set. Doesn’t even know why, he just keeps it this way.

But the walls are empty again, all the memories tucked away in a box in the corner of his now emptier closet. He’s never opened them once. He’s afraid of the emotions if he ever does.

In the kitchen he eyes the barrenness. Since you left he hasn’t bought much of anything for himself. Takeouts are his best friend. Besides, he can’t cook as well as you. Something bugs him to make a grocery run though. He listens to it.

Chuuya scoffs looking in his basket, something tugging a subtle smile on his lips. You’ve even managed to keep your influence on him — everything inside is food you’d like. Your favourites, in fact. Love is weird.

And so is life. It has a way of disrupting your journey; it can pull two people together only to force them apart, leaving their hearts in a silent call for each other. But it’s also weird in the sense that it can bring the two people so close to each other yet again, but at the same time offer no further assistance.

Because in the opposite aisle, there you are, shopping for food that happened to remind you of him.

tags: @yokelish @gogolparadise @fyowyn-writes

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pines-troz · 4 years ago

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Weekend With The Warners Chapter Two - Animaniacs & Pinky and The Brain

Summary: When the CEO tasks Pinky and The Brain with the important assignment of watching over the Warners for the weekend, Brain is prepared for any antics that the children have in store. What he didn’t take into account was forming a familial bond with the kids.

Word Count: 3,017

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27849962/chapters/68388166

The mice continued on their way through the studio lot, holding hands as they went. As they found themselves alone near the lot entrance, Brain decided to discuss his latest plan with his partner.

“Listen close, Pinky, for I have devised a surefire plan to take over the world. Your ingenious decision of choosing The Iron Giant as our date night movie the other evening has greatly inspired me, Pinky. We will build a giant robot to assert our dominance over humanity!” Brain eagerly declared, choosing to ignore the pacifist message of the beloved animated movie. “I’ve already made calculations for our finances, and we would need exactly five million dollars to buy the necessary parts. Fortunately, I’ve come up with a brilliant way to acquire the funds.”

Brain pulled Pinky closer as he explained. “We will start a family-friendly crafts tutorial channel on YouTube, teaching children how to make slime among other wholesome DIY-projects. After we grow a substantial following, we’ll shamelessly peddle overpriced merchandise! Once we make a fortune from selling our wares, we will then purchase the necessary materials to construct our mech which we will use to intimidate the Canadian Prime Minister and ascend to power!”

The Brain began to chuckle evilly, and Pinky joined in with his eager giggling.

“But first, we must purchase filming equipment from the electronics store and return to the lab!” Brain commanded.

“Say Brain, how do you spell DIY?” Pinky asked, taking out a pen and notebook.

Brain blushed furiously upon hearing his boyfriend’s moronic question. “Pinky, you are without a doubt the most imbecilic mouse I’ve ever met. But, by Ptolomey, I am madly in love with you.”

“Aw Brain!” Pinky cooed, moving his tail into the shape of a heart.

As the lab mice were about to exit the movie lot, they were stopped by Ralph the security guard.

“Uh, hold it right there.” The bumbling guard ordered. “The CEO wants me to bring you two to her office by cone, duh-I mean drone!”

The mice were immediately swooped into a net and carried above by the drone. Ralph had some difficulty controlling the drone, but he managed to fly the rodent actors over to the main office building in the middle of the studio lot.

“This is utterly mortifying.” Brain commented as he tried to prop himself into a more comfortable position.

“Oh cheer up, Brain,” Pinky consoled. “Think of it like we’re on a magic carpet ride!” The taller mouse wrapped his arm around Brain, pulling him close as he began to sing. “I can show you the worl-”

But Brain clapped his hand over Pinky’s mouth while wearing an indignant frown. “Don’t.” The smaller mouse spat.

As the drone flew through an open window in the office building, the mice were immediately greeted by the company CEO, Nora Rita Norita. The businesswoman brought out a pair of scissors, cutting through the net. Upon liberation, the mice fell down onto one of the leather chairs facing the front of her desk.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen. Thank you for taking the time to meet with me.” Ms. Norita addressed.

“Frankly I would have preferred some prior notification about this emergency meeting, such as an email or a text message, as opposed to being captured in a drone and flown over against my will, but here we are.” Brain soured.

“Are we in trouble?” Pinky asked worriedly. The taller mouse paced back and forth on the chair as he started to panic. “I swear I didn’t do anything wrong! I’m innocent, I tell you! Innocent! You can’t make me go back to the big house!”

“No, I can assure you that you’re not in any serious trouble.” The CEO told the buck-toothed mouse.

Pinky was immediately relieved by the news. “Oh thank goodness.” He sighed. “Sorry if I got a little carried away there.”

“A little?” Brain snapped sardonically.

“Gentlemen,” Ms. Norita curtly alerted the mice, who gave her their undivided attention. “I’ve called you here because I have an important task for you to complete over the weekend. I have a very important business conference with some very important people in the Warner Brother’s office and I don’t want the Warner children to cause any problems. And since I became aware of your friendly rapport with the Warners, I have decided to give you two the important task of watching over the Warners starting tomorrow afternoon, where you will take care of them outside of the movie studio until Sunday evening.”

Pinky stood up and cheered. “Oh, we’re going to have so much fun with the little angels over the weekend!”

Brain, on the other hand, was shocked that the CEO would disrupt his regular routine and plans for world domination, one of the few things he had complete control over.

The CEO confidently smiled, happy that at least one of them was on board. “And to sweeten the offer, I already booked a nearby hotel with five-star accommodations and you can use the company credit card for any additional payments over the weekend that aren’t related to world domination.” She said, showcasing the golden credit card. Pinky’s eyes glistened as he gazed at the card, clearly enamored by how shiny it was. Brain, however, let out a defeated groan since he couldn’t use the card for his own selfish purposes.

Ms. Norita continued to speak. “I sent you all the information in an email, and-”

“Why are you assigning us to complete this task?” Brain interrupted.

“Because I noticed how well you and your partner get along with the Warners.” The CEO answered with feigned enthusiasm. “And who can do a better job at watching those troublesome kids than people who could put up with their antics.”

Brain cringed when she referred to the energetic kids as mere troublemakers. He genuinely enjoyed being around the Warners ever since the original run of Animaniacs. He recalled the days where he and Pinky spared some of their free time to check in on the Warners. From sharing the same table during lunch hour to visiting them in their home in the water tower before sunset, when the mice had to leave for Acme Labs. Even though the kids had a knack for craziness, the Warners were genuinely good kids who craved validation and attention.

But despite being on good terms with the children, Brain was far too upset that his usual schedule had been suddenly modified by a force outside of his control. He didn’t want another chance to take over the world to skip off into the sunset.

“But Pinky and I already have plans for the weekend!” Brain argued. “And besides, shouldn’t you recruit a more qualified candidate like Bugs Bunny?”

“He’s busy filming for the Looney Tunes Cartoons and the new Space Jam movie.” Ms. Norita explained. “And what, may I ask, did you have planned for the weekend that’s so important to you?” She asked dryly.

“We were going to take over the world by making a crafts YouTube channel for the little kiddies!” Pinky answered.

“I think you can put your little pet project on hold,” Ms. Norita explained to the smaller mouse. “So I suggest you accept the task like the grown-up that you are or I’ll fire you, inform the press it was a matter of ‘creative differences’ and have Edgwin on board as your replacement.”

The two mice exchanged shocked and horrified glances at the sheer audacity the CEO had for even considering the idea of messing with their brilliant chemistry.

“Why would you do something so cruel!?” Pinky remarked, but Brain gently took the taller mouse’s hands into his own.

“Please, ignore my partner’s outburst, for I’m more than happy to cancel my weekend plans!” Brain exclaimed with a nervous chuckle. “After all, we do have the previous child-rearing experience, making us more than qualified for the job!”

“That’s what I like to hear.” The CEO got up from her desk and walked over to the door, opening it up and gesturing the two mice to make their leave. “Have a fun weekend.”

Brain grabbed Pinky by the hand and they made their jump from the chair onto the floor. The pudgy mouse tugged his lanky partner as they exited her office.

Once the mice were gone, Nora Rita Nortita retrieved her cell phone, scrolled through her contacts until she found the name she was looking for.

Inside the water tower, Wakko and Dot were watching a competitive baking show on Netflix while Yakko was snug in his ball pit bed, watching a shounen anime that Wakko constantly infodumped on his tablet while eating a bag of potato chips. While he initially watched the show so he could better connect with his sibling, the eldest Warner became emotionally invested in the story. As the big fight scene was about to start, he felt his smartphone vibrate in his pocket. The eldest Warner fished out his phone, saw Nora Rita Nortita’s picture on the home screen. He pressed pause on his tablet and quickly answered the call.

“Yello, Warner residence! Totally responsible young adult Yakko Warner speaking!” He answered, trying to sound as mature as possible.

“Hi, this is Nora Rita Norita.” The CEO answered. “And I have some rather exciting news to deliver.”

“Oh?” Yakko replied in a casual tone.

“As you may know, I will be holding an incredibly important conference this weekend, so I assigned Pinky and The Brain to watch over you and your siblings at a five-star hotel this weekend.”

“Really!?” Yakko asked with child-like enthusiasm. “Pinky and The Brain are taking us to a fancy hotel this weekend! Oh man, that’s fantastic news!”

Wakko and Dot paused their show and immediately rushed over to their brother’s bedside upon hearing the words ‘Pinky’, ‘The Brain’ and ‘fancy hotel’.

“The mice will pick you up tomorrow in front of the water tower at noon, and you better not come back to the studio lot at any point before Sunday evening.” The CEO informed him.

“You kidding? We rarely get to hang out with those guys, considering how busy they are trying to take over the world. So we intend to cherish every waking second with those two!” Yakko answered.

“Great,” Norita drawled. “I’m sure the five of you will have a grand old time this weekend. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a power-meeting to attend.”

Yakko heard the phone click on the other end, but he was too excited by the news to care about the CEO’s rude behavior. “Hey sibs! We’re spending the weekend with Pinky and the Brain!” The eldest Warner proclaimed. Wakko and Dot cheered uproariously, bouncing up and down with excitement.

“Say, do you two remember during the original run of Animaniacs when those two would usually hang out with us on the studio lot whenever we weren’t filming for the show?” Yakko asked his siblings, feeling rather nostalgic.

“Like how we’d sit at the same table at the commissary during lunchtime and they’d swing by the water tower?” Wakko reminisced. “Or how Pinky would make us bowls of macaroni and cheese, and Brain would read me my favorite picture books!” He reached into their hat and took out The Very Hungry Caterpillar and If You Give a Mouse a Cookie.

“Or the times I’d give Pinky makeovers, and how we would pester Brain into taking us to McDonald’s!” Dot added as she eagerly clapped her hands.

“Ah, those were the days!” Wakko blissfully sighed.

“And not only do we get to relive those days again, but we’ll be staying at a luxury hotel! It’ll be like having a weekend-long sleepover!” Dot exclaimed.

“Well sibs, I think it’s best if we start packing!” Yakko declared. The three siblings immediately took out their suitcases and began to pack away their essentials for their weekend vacation.

Yakko put in a dozen pairs of brown slacks into his brown suitcase. Wakko took the refrigerator and stuffed it into their blue suitcase. Dot placed her finest attire into her purple suitcase.

As the Warners continued to pack, they fondly remembered the good times during the original run of Animaniacs. While Yakko, Wakko, and Dot were mostly on their own, there were a handful of adults who spent quality time with them. Bugs Bunny, Slappy Squirrel, and Pinky and The Brain were their usual suspects. Bugs and Slappy usually entertained the kids with stories from the golden age of their careers and gave them helpful advice on thriving in the industry. Pinky and The Brain, however, proved to be a rare exception, since they’re genetically-altered lab mice and not technically toons. Regardless of their status, the mice would usually check in on the kids, make friendly conversation and share gossip, and indulge in their interests. But the mice always made sure to leave before the twilight, since they had to return to the lab and develop their schemes for world domination. And, like Bugs and Slappy, the mice never talked down to them and always treated them with kindness and respect.

The Warners were eager to spend quality time with the mice once again.

- - - - -

By the time evening rolled around, the mice returned to Acme Labs. When they arrived in their humble abode in the green cage, Brain decided to take some time to cope with the drastic change in his routine schedule by engaging in his deep breathing exercise. During his moments of self-reflection, Pinky looked on at his partner with loving eyes, proud that he was applying the techniques he learned from therapy through his own volition. The lanky mouse then put on his frilly green apron and scurried outside the cage to make his world-famous no-bake cheesecake for his roommate.

Once Brain completed his mindful exercise, he came to the realization that he can make the most out of the weekend. He would receive some fulfillment from seeing Pinky happy. Additionally, spending time with the Warners would guarantee to bring some excitement to his nearly absent social life, and there was also the possibility that some of their antics could be a source of inspiration for potential plans for world domination. Everybody would win in this situation!

The mouse immediately went over to his tablet and began to conduct his research on the hotel and potential activities to do over the weekend. Finally accepting his role as weekend guardian, he was not going to do a sloppy job with the task he was assigned.

“What common activities do most American families engage in during the weekend?” Brain pondered aloud. “Oh, I know, a trip to the library or an afternoon at the local park,” He muttered as he jotted down his thoughts on notebook paper. Then there were activities that required monetary exchange. Knowing that he would have full access to the company credit card, he was definitely going to have a field day with treating everyone to expensive spending sprees. Trips to the mall if the kids wanted anything in particular. Even splurging on the finest toy clothes that Pinky and himself would love to add to their wardrobes. Brain was also wildly determined to have at least one fancy fine-dining experience over the weekend!

Just as Brain neared completion in devising his plans and contingency plans for the weekend, Pinky arrived, carrying a big plate of cheesecake over to the wooden spool.

“Oh Brain, I made you your favorite!” Pinky called out whilst flirtatiously fluttering his eyes.

The pudgy mouse placed his work aside and eagerly rushed over to the makeshift table, where Pinky finished setting two additional plates and silverware. The lanky mouse gave his roommate a generous slice of cheesecake before taking a smaller portion for himself. Taking a fork, Brain scooped a piece of his cheesecake and ate it. The mouse was in a state of euphoria, savoring the scrumptious dessert. After allowing the cheesecake to melt into his mouth, he swallowed the pastry and let out a contented hum.

“Pinky, your pastries are simply divine!” Brain complimented.

Pinky blushed at the praise he received. “Aw Brain, I’m just happy that you like my cooking. Zort!”

Brain took a napkin and wiped away the crumbs from the sides of his mouth. He decided to engage in some amiable small talk. “So Pinky, are you looking forward to our mini-vacation tomorrow?”

“Oh yes! I’m going to have a fun-fun, silly-willy time watching over the kids!” The lanky mouse cheered. But his grin slowly faded into a worrisome frown. “But Brain, while I was preparing the cheesecake, Jerry the Gerbil dropped by and he told me that the scientists were planning a big, month-long separation experiment starting Saturday!”

“A month-long separation experiment?” Brain repeated with great concern.

Pinky nodded. “He said that the scientists would take some of the rodents that roomed together and place them in different parts of the lab, where they would write about our emotions and stuff!”

“That’s terrible news.” Brain remarked. “And what serendipitous timing…”

“What do you mean, Brain?” Pinky inquired. He was surprised to see his roommate take his hands into his own.

“Since we’ve been tasked to supervise the Warners over the weekend, we needn’t worry about the experiment.” Brain consoled his roommate as he caressed Pinky’s hands. “We would be outside of the lab during the beginning phase of the experiment and by the time we return, the scientists would have already selected the other poor souls residing in the lab as their test subjects, and we would avoid any emotional trauma that would come from participating in the cruel test in its entirety.”

“Oh, that’s a relief!” Pinky sighed.

“So there’s no need to dwell on such things, Pinky.” Brain soothed. “Try to divert all of your energy and attention on preparing for our little trip.”

“Right-o!” Pinky concurred with renewed enthusiasm. The mouse released himself from Brain’s hold and retrieved his floral printed suitcase.

“Now make sure to pack all your essentials,” Brain commanded. “I have a feeling that we are about to have an unforgettable weekend.”

AN: Another quick chapter that’s essentially build-up for what’s to come. When it came to writing Brain’s initial refusal to take the job, I felt like having him freak out over not having control over his regular routine is more in-character to him, plus with the added stakes of the CEO threatening to fire him. So he just swallows his pride and tries to make the most out of the situation.

I also included one of my other headcanons where The Warners had a handful of toon guardians who checked in on them on a regular basis (Pinky and the Brain, Slappy Squirrel, Bugs Bunny) because they’re well aware of how poorly the industry treats people like them and they want to make sure that the kids are okay.

Jerry the Gerbil was actually a reference to the Pinky and The Brain episode ‘The Family That Poits Together, Narfs Together’. We don’t see him at all, but Brain and Pinky reference him. Plus it seemed like the most logical choice to have Pinky get the news of the experiment from another rodent in the lab. And yes, this plot point will come back into play later in the story.

And I also wanted to have a scene where Pinky makes cheesecake for Brain, as a nice little nod to Future Brain (which is easily my favorite segment from the reboot) and I love the idea of Pinky baking food for Brain, and it gave me a great excuse to write some domestic bliss between the two!

And I want to give a special thanks to @themurphyzone for beta reading this chapter!

The next chapter will be considerably longer, so it may take a bit to post it up, but it’s full of fluff and fun bonding scenarios.

Thanks for reading!

#animaniacs #pinky and the brain #fanfiction #brain #pinky #yakko warner #wakko warner #dot warner

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clevercatchphrase · 4 years ago

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2020 Year Review~

2020. Pretty unique year, don’t you think? It’s the first year since 2002 to have only two different digits in it. After 2022, this won’t happen again until 2111. Yep. Absolutely nothing more interesting than that.

Anyway! It’s time I reflect on my 2020, look back on my yearly goals and rant about things that happened to me this year. I made a post like this last year, where I went over my 2019 goals and talked about what I accomplished and what I didn’t, and it’s only fitting I do the same again this year. Read more under the cut for a random stream of consciousness ramble!

So, first things first, let’s look at my 2019 goals;

Finish paying off that last student loan

Put more stuff on my redbubble

Illustrate my own fan fics

Sew at least one stuffed animal

Make an enamel pin

Read one new book a month

Write one page a day/Complete at least one new fan fic

Learn Python or C# for the game I want to make

Finish fully scripting Ghost Switch

Boost my patreon

Paying Off My Last Student Loan: Going down the list, I am proud to say that I FINALLY paid off all my student loans! (and not a moment too soon. The last payment I made was literally days before the first quarantine rolled out). It took me roughly 4 years on my part-time paycheck to pay off all my loans, and once I finished, I had no money to my name (literally; I had less than 1k as emergency money in case of car troubles or health issues). Heck, I’m STILL living at home as a save up for a place of my own. Finally paying off all my student loans DID activate my secret 2020 new year’s resolution, which was to adopt a cat! I did this too, literally a week later! She is the best thing that’s happened to me this entire year and I love her so much and she is the snuggliest cuddle bug I’ve ever met. I’m so happy she’s in my life now~

Put More Stuff On My Redbubble: ah ha ha ha… I thought I did this, but then I went and checked, and it turns out-! I did not. I made art I intended to go on my redbubble, but haven’t put there yet. They are all drawings of some OCs from a game I want to make, but because I haven’t progressed on making the game this year, I never got around to putting more stuff related to it on my redbubble. At the time of writing, there are 7 days left in December, so I guess I could go and put it up on my redbubble right now, but without context on where the characters are from, there wouldn’t be much point, now would there?

Illustrate My Own Fan Fics: Another goal that I was so stoked to actually do… and then just didn’t. Gee, I wonder why I couldn’t find the energy or motivation to do it this year? Truly a conundrum. (Hey, you know what? If Ghost Switch counts as a fan fiction in a visual form, then I am doing GREAT on this goal. 2.5 years in, 1 of ~4 arcs done, and still going steady~)

Sew At Least One Stuffed Animal: Okay, I have a valid excuse for not doing this one. I even knew which stuffed animal I wanted to make, and had the pattern drawn out and everything, but I had no money for materials because I had just paid off my student loans. And then, by the time I did have enough money again, quarantine was in full effect and I couldn’t go out to the fabric store. I’m still trying my best to stay out of public places even if the rules are laxer now, because I don’t want to catch the plague even if everyone in my goddamn city thinks and acts like the problem is over already. Even if they’re all wearing masks, even if they’re staying 6 feet apart, I still don’t want to risk it. I will stay inside until health experts give the all clear, and when that day comes, then I will buy some fleece and make a plush.

Make An Enamel Pin: I ACTUALLY DID THIS ONE. TWICE! Halfway through quarantine, I was feeling anxious and depressed about my job and how they were planning to have me work with the public despite climbing infection rates and positive covid cases. I didn’t quit then, but in a desperate move to try and become self-sufficient, I went to madebycooper and made two enamel pins based on some butterfly dragons I drew last year. They’re on my etsy store now! I even went out of my way to open a P.O. box just to start a small business! I haven’t sold a single pin yet, and I’m actually really nervous to sell my first because I don’t trust the efficiency of the postal system thanks to the actions of the GOP that really screwed them over this year! (If you would like to see my enamel pins, click here!)

Read One Book A Month: I did this! With dragon books I bought a couple years back! In fact, I read FOURTEEN dragon books, and still have more books for next year to read! The 14 books I read this year were:

The Hive Queen

The Poison Jungle

Wings Of Fire Legends: Dragonslayer

Dealing With Dragons

Searching For Dragons

Calling on Dragons

Talking to Dragons

The Bronze Dragon Codex

The Brass Dragon Codex

The Black Dragon Codex

The Red Dragon Codex

The Silver Dragon Codex

Dragon Strike, and

Hatching Magic

To be honest, I had read The Red Dragon Codex years ago when it first came out, but completely forgotten what it was about. I remembered liking it, and I knew the reading level was on the lower side, but the whole dragon codex series was pretty good! So far, the Silver dragon codex was my favorite, and black dragon codex was probably the worst! Hatching Magic was also really slow and bad and had plot points that went nowhere, but the book was written in the 80s, so I don’t know what I expected. The Dealing with Dragons series was very charming and great for the most part, save for one line in the last book that really rubbed me the wrong way, and all the Wings of Fire Books go above and beyond in this third arc. The second legends book could be a little tighter, though (sky and wren are the best duo and I want a book solely about them, but I honest to god do not care about leaf and ivy’s stories.)

Write one Page of any story every day/ complete at least one fic: I… did this? Okay, I kinda cheated near the end of the year. I was keeping up the one page a day thing for the first four months, but then the world went to shit and my schedule and habits got disrupted and I fell off my good track record. I completed 7 out of roughly 12 one-shots I had planned for this year (my goal WAS supposed to be one short a month, but… you know how it happens) I kept trying to catch up on this goal all year, but the days kept piling up…. Until November hit. I managed to write over 250 pages for Nanowrimo, and I consider this goal a win. 365 pages of fiction in total, which averages out to about one a day~. SHUT UP IT COUNTS.

Learn Python or C# for the game I want to make: Another goal I didn’t have the mental energy to commit to this year. Truly a mystery to where all our willpower went in 2020.

Fully Finish Scripting Ghost Switch: still haven’t done this one yet! The Snowdin arc is completely planned, but I just haven’t gotten around to getting the other areas. I’m not worried, though. I know all the major plot points I gotta hit, it’s just weaving them together in a way that flows nice is the final task. I’m not too worried though. I don’t expect to finish the Snowdin arc for another year and a half, at the bare minimum.

And my last goal of 2020, Boost My Patreon. I did this at the beginning of the year, but then very intentionally stopped about a third of the way through. It didn’t sit right with me to tell you guys to donate to me when suddenly EVERYONE was financially strained from layoffs or being furloughed. I told my patrons the same, and if you ever need to stop donating to me to take care of yourself first, then by all means, please do. I would feel much better knowing you’re using your money to see yourself fed and housed instead of given to me (where it is pretty much only used to buy gas for my car, honestly)

Welp! That was all my goals for 2020! I achieved 4 out of 10 goals plus 1 secret goal! Pretty much the same ratio as last year, but now this time I can blame all my failures on the pandemic! I don’t feel so bad about myself anymore~

ON TO 2021!

I have 11 goals for the new year, again some rolled over from this list, and some from even older years. They are, in no particular order;

Read 12 new books (roughly 1 book a month)

Finish the first draft of 2019’s Nanowrimo project and rewrite it

Script TDV

Finish Scripting Ghost Switch

Build A Comic Buffer

Sew 1 Stuffed Animal

Finish 1 Song Comic

Make another Enamel Pin

Finish 2 short original comics (this one counts as 2 goals)

Finish the 5 remaining one-shot fics

Now to go into depth on each one, more for my own sake, really. I want to know exactly what I have planned for each goal this year, and sometimes just looking at a short list doesn’t capture all the smaller details.

1)Read 12 new books. Same as last year! I The only difference is I might not be able to make it all dragon-related books. (I try my hardest not to buy from amazon anymore, but half-price-books doesn’t always have the obscure stuff I’m looking for)

2)Finish 2019’s nanowrimo project. If you read my 2019 year reflection, you’ll notice I said I wanted to do some original writing. And I did! The story I wrote for nanowrimo back then was a story I’ve been toying with since 2017, but it was only last year I finally got pen to paper. Now, you may find it odd that the keyword says “finish”. You may think, “but isn’t that what you’re supposed to do for nanowrimo?” and to that I say, WRONG! I wrote 50k words for nanowrimo, but the draft was only about halfway complete. I was kinda discouraged about what I had written last year, because I didn’t like how it was coming out, but I did manage to get it half done. Now it’s time for me to bite the bullet and just finish the thing so I can finally revise it and make it into something I DO like. (It’s still gonna be hella long, tho. That’s what I get for trying to write an epic fantasy, I guess.)

3)Script TDV. TDV is the abbreviation of the game I want to make. I… still need to do so much for this project OTL… In addition to getting the story solidified, I still need to draw art and game assets, and learn how to code for it, both of which are no small task. I keep having some sort of new year’s goal related to this on my list, and every year I just don’t hit this one. Will 2021 be different?

4)Finish Scripting Ghost Switch. (Or at the very least, get the waterfall arc completely written out). I have a plan to break this down into simpler steps, by focusing on just one arc for a month or two. Every major arc has 2 to 3 parts, broken up by flashbacks, and if I can just finish one section a month, then I should have the entire thing scripted by the end of the year. It’s not a difficult pace, but seeing if I stick with it will be the real challenge, as it is will all my goals it seems.

5)Build a Comic Buffer: I’m actually working on this one right now! Since I paid off my last loan and got a new job this year, my current Patreon goals are kind of out of date. They had all been centered around me paying off that last loan, and working towards full-time employment, but those are both completed now! So instead, I would love to get to a place where my patrons could read pages at least a week ahead, and to do that, I need to build a buffer. And since I’m working 5 full days a week now, I can’t afford to fall behind. But you can’t fall behind if you constantly stay ahead! I would like to have… a 10 to 12 page buffer. That’s roughly 3 months’ worth of pages to always have on hand in case I get swamped with work, or something. Right now I currently have a buffer of 3, which will cover me for half a January, which is better than not having anything at all, but still not the best. (ultimately, I would love to have a buffer so big, I could queue them up for the whole year. Wouldn’t that be something?)

6) Sew one stuffed animal: same as last year. ASSUMING the plague gets under control in 2021, I don’t expect to get to this goal until the summer at the earliest.

7)Finish 1 song comic: I have 7 song comics planned. One is a gift, one possibly for wandersong, one is a collab that’s currently in the works, but I’m waiting on a friend to do their part before I can continue mine, 2 are UT related, and 2 (well, technically 3, but one is the collab) are KH related. It’s one of the UT ones that will probably get finished, if I’m being honest. It’s completely story boarded, and now I just need to ink and color it. I would like to get it done for UT’s 6th birthday, since I made a song comic on the fly for the anniversary this year, and it was fun, and I’d like to do it again! So, look forward to that next september~

8) Make another enamel pin: I have a dolphin design I’d like to make because dolphins are cute, if not little murder machines. (need to save up some expendable income first, tho. THESE THINGS AIN’T CHEAP TO MAKE.)

9 and 10) start and finish 2 original short comics: I’ve got some comic ideas I want to do, but I need to get them written out first. I don’t think either would be too long. Each maybe a couple “episode’s” length, if envisioned on a website like webtoons or tapas. They’d both be heavy in allegory, but not overly drawn out (hopefully)

11)And lastly, Finish the 5 remaining one-shots I had planned for this year but never got around to. I’m going to try to write one every other month. Pure self-indulgent shipping fluff. If I finish these 5, then maybe I’ll ask other people for more prompts and ideas, which I’ve never done before. We’ll see how it goes~

Also, Like last year, I’d like to look at everything that’s happened to me this year, though to be honest, I’m not sure how much I remember/how accurate it’ll be. God, I don’t even remember what January was like. Who was I back then? Who were we all back then? I guess I’ll start my yearly retrospective in march because, heh, god we ALL know what started happening in march.

Firstly, I paid off my last student loan! Then a week later on March 18th, I drove half an hour out of my city to adopt a cat and I love her and it was the best day of this year for me. Spring break is just beginning this weekend, but the attendance at the zoo is shockingly low this year. Apparently, a lot of people watch the news, and they’re all taking precautions about social distancing. I wasn’t too disappointed. Fewer people at the zoo, the easier my job is for me. I was looking forward to getting some free overtime on spring break, since I’m broke after paying off that loan, and I’m a cat parent now and have a furry child to feed. Monday rolls around. My manager calls me and tells me that the zoo is going into lockdown until further notice. I worry for the birds I take care of, but understand it’s for everyone’s safety.

For two months I sleep in and watch way too much YouTube. I join a couple writing discords. I have nightmares about my birds escaping their enclosure and I dreamed one of the security guards I really like at the zoo gets covid and has to go to the ER. I woke up really upset.

I started and finished BBS for the first time. I also replayed and finished KH2 final mix for the first time. It had been about 5 years since I last played KH2 before my PS2 died, and it was like coming home~ I also finished tearaway, and played and beat Ryme for a second time (which I can’t remember if I did that last year, but it was a fun experience regardless)

Mid-June, and I’m allowed to start going back to work, be it on reduced hours. The zoo is still closed to the public, but I’m loving it! I get to work with full-time keepers and do full-time keeper things. It’s so much fun not having to deal with the public. August starts to creep up and there’s a rumor that the zoo will be opening to the public again, which I’m not stoked about. I don’t want to go back to standing in one exhibit all day, talking to guests who don’t listen to the rules or to me. 2 of my younger coworkers (who had both only been there a couple of months) get chosen for full-time positions, while I get passed up which really pisses me off. My other 2 coworkers quit when they think we might be reopening because they cannot risk catching the virus due to at-risk family. I am now the last keeper in the interactive bird exhibit.

I keep working, the zoo slowly opens, but with me as the only interpreter in our interactive bird exhibit, we can’t open because I can’t run the entire exhibit by myself. So my exhibit stays closed. September comes and goes, and then October starts. Now there is more serious talk of opening my exhibit before the end of the year because the zoo expects to bring in larger crowds for the Christmas lights event in November/December. I ask if I get hazard pay or health insurance since I’m doing full-time hours until they hire more staff. They say no.

I immediately start searching for a new job feeling incredibly indignant/hurt/slighted/insulted/used/abused/ALL the negative feelings at my job. I had been there for 4 years, but never got a chance to work full time, while the two newest hires who had only been there 2 months both got moved up. I can’t help but feel they were holding one mistake I made two years ago against me and never wanted to give me a chance. (that, or they knew I was reliable when it came to showing up for work in such a volatile position that sees a lot of new faces, and they didn’t want to bother going through the process of hiring someone new) I don’t want to risk my life working around guests who don’t wash their hands and don’t properly distance. I don’t want to gamble with my health when they won’t offer me health insurance because I’m part time.

Mid October, I get an interview for a full time job and get hired on the spot. I peace out at the zoo 2 weeks later, literally 3 days before they planned to open my exhibit to the public. It was a close call for me to escape before they opened to the public (and pettiness was only partially the reason I dipped out so close to opening). Sorry new hires who are now in charge of the bird feeding exhibit. I taught you the best I could in the short time I had. If the managers are struggling with what to do with one less person, I can’t say I feel bad. I can only hope they delayed opening/closed you down again for your own safety. You are not lightbulbs. I really hope the higher ups stop considering you as replaceable as one. Will I go back to the zoo to visit? Probably. But not for a year at least.

I started my new job the very next day after I quit the zoo, and have been there ever since, (which isn’t that long yet, tbh. Christmas day was my 2 month anniversary). It’s full time, but it’s also a small business, and everyone’s hours this year have been on the short side due to the plague. I understand, though. They don’t want us to work if they can’t afford to pay us. Everyone is nice enough, though some people smoke and it’s hard to avoid them with how frequently we have to go in and out, and I really don’t want to get lung cancer, sorry not sorry, please and thank you. Also, with such a small team, gossip is certainly harder to go undetected, so it’s a relief knowing people don’t talk behind one another’s backs.

I participated and beat my 4th nanowrimo in a row, I made TWO apple crisps on thanksgiving, and made baklava on Christmas and both of these recipes were my first time making them, and they both came out adequately! I voted the first day of early voting, and I did an art trade/collab with two of my friends for my birthday! (normally we would have done monthly “art days” where we get together and do art projects for fun because we’re adults and we can spend our time together however we want, but the plague said otherwise this year) We drew pokemon and it was fun! (hopefully I can show you all the results soon. At the time of writing, I’m still waiting for the last two colored parts to get back to me)

I reached 100 pages on my undertale comic, and finish the first arc out of…! (im not sure. It’s either going to be 4 or 5, I haven’t decided yet)

Over all, I managed to stay healthy as far as I know. I wasn’t as productive as I wanted to be this year, but then again, who was? (don’t answer that. I don’t need that kind of comparison in my life right now)

Will 2021be any better? Honestly? I don’t think so. Not right away, at least. Just because a new year is about to start does not mean the slate is completely wiped clean. The change of the calendar year doesn’t magically make all our current problems disappear. Covid will still be here and cases will still climb when January starts. Small business will still be strained when the month rolls over, police will still go on murdering innocent civilians and getting away scot free, amazon and disney will still be monopolizing all consumer goods and media, and I can’t help but feel like there’s an impending shit show about to go down on inauguration day. I do hope things will get better, though. It’ll be arduous and unpleasant, but I do hope things will improve, because sometimes hoping is all you can do.

Good night.

#long post #new year's resolutions #year review #year retrospective

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m00nlitknight · 5 years ago

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bonfire pt. 2: acquaint

fandom: IT (2017) pairing: patrick hockstetter / reader word count: 2.4k+ warnings: smoking, mentions of underage drinking, cigarette burns, possessive/patrick behaviors extra: part two of bonfire. part one here.

archive of our own link.

The deep-woods bonfires thrown by Henry typically went down as legendary for most of the student body, yet his impulsive and sporadic timing left a lot to be desired. Come Wednesday morning and nearly half of the upper class men who attended were wiped out from the chance of even going to school. There were the strong few whose parents all but forced them out the door. They would likely drag through the day with a near-ghoulish aura, disturbed only when they found it within themselves to whine of the self-medicated headaches or migraines. Occasionally, they’d mutter some regret-induced reverie of ‘never drinking again,’ despite being one of the first to jump at the boozing until loosing.

Then, there were the select few who showed little to no physical signs of the night’s previous activities. Whether it be a graced, humane level of sleep granted to them, or purely divine intervention; they earned their day’s nickname as “The Elite.” Thankfully, you were one of them, though falling into the former category yourself.

The fortunate reality was that you’d managed to fall asleep in your lawn chair after gazing at the fire for what was practically an eternity. Miraculously, you awoke to the sun peaking over the horizon, and no signs of possessions being taken from you or any obscene drawings donning your features. Oh, perhaps if you’d the time you could’ve poured one out for your skill of packing light and flying under the radar of those who tended to fool around with the vulnerable.

The unfortunate reality came as you stepped through the doors. It wasn’t that you were particularly a loner to any extreme capacity, really. Just that many of the student body didn’t catch your eye in terms of friendship. Whether it be your nearly always-present resting bitch face, the fact that nearly everyone went with the same flow, or that your addition to the town was so quiet nobody was actually able to pin-point your exact time frame of appearance; you weren’t really sure. The few friends you made were evidence of how you typically kept people at arm’s length, what with how you only really hung out with them during school hours or the odd sleepover, along with how you tended to keep almost every thought to yourself. Sure, teacher’s appreciated the silence, but your couldn’t help but feel left out from the typical rowdiness some of the students got to indulge in.

This morning, you found that your typical ‘ride or die’ for the day, Celine since she had the same schedule as you, didn’t have the will to drag herself from bed. A relatable struggle, since you had wanted nothing more than to cuddle into your bed and sleep the day away when you’d managed to get yourself ready from the aftereffects of the party. The mascara and makeup of yesterday was wiped off in the form of a much needed 10-minute shower, relishing in the direct heat and nearly falling asleep in its clutches. How you managed to take yourself from it and into the surrounding cold air was nothing short of an extremely strong sense of will for a high schooler, you assessed yourself.

Tiptoeing through the house was a familiar feat, your parents having come home to an empty home and falling into bed just hours before your own arrival. The rift between you was noticeable, not that you really cared. It often felt like they forgot about you, leaving the door locked even when you said when you’d be getting home - only to need to crawl through an unlocked window after knocking the screen out. Surprisingly, from their own lack of attention or some angel unlocking the door for you, you’d managed to sneak in through the front door completely undetected.

Regardless of the carelessness of your parents in the recent past, your independence from them was becoming greater and greater. A license at a reasonable age, a car you’d bought and insured by yourself, and a job lined up for the near future; you could say you were doing pretty well, at least currently. Many of your accomplishments were your own, born of blood, sweat, and tears.

School was something you never found yourself really struggling with, taking a natural interest in science and history and having a natural capability when it came to math and language. Physical education was the bane of your existence, but you’d managed to get the two credits required out of the way your freshman year. Despite these feats and having done them by yourself, the nights spent lonely and draining your energy over math, having to work through problems, both academic and real-world, bore into you a bit. Loneliness ebbed away at you, yearning for something more was becoming harder and harder to ignore and push off, affection was a commodity in your mind.

Was that why Celine’s absence was a bit harder hitting then it usually should’ve been? Suddenly you worried a bit more about how you would be perceived standing alone by your locker, marinating in the awkwardness of lone teenagerdom.

In spite of the flurry of vulnerability, you cast them aside for the typical, cooler and unfeeling side of yourself. Looking busy was an art form, and you, the artist. Today would be spent in the depths of your mind, pondering the most important subjects you crossed, and staring out the classroom windows and into the soul of mother nature herself. Maybe you could even catch a nap.

The first two classes, math and history, managed to pass in what you could only assess as a blur, a mess of lectures, worksheets, and book work, and you left to fend for yourself in the hallways. Eyes passed over you like you were a translucent apparition, something easily brushed off and forgettable. As used to you as it was, the sensation of eyes upon you - an unfamiliar, and from the feeling of it, beastly gaze - was unsettling. For the short time in the hallway, spent crouching down to your locker, exchanging and retrieving the correct books and work, it was easily ignored. However, the trek to class was an uneasy one, since the stare seemed to follow as you sat down in your seat. Carefully, you scanned the area, through uninterested lashes and a stony face. You found all eyes you looked upon to be drawn anywhere else, whether it be to their friends or into a separate astral plane.

That is, until looking into the dead - green stare of Patrick Hockstetter himself. Your seemingly dazed gaze fell into his, sharpened and widened a fraction, causing a wolfish grin to appear on his features. Had he not been sitting two rows away, and the teacher’s demand of attention, you could’ve done more than a cowardly head - turn back to the front.

The confinements of the room seemed to be too little, even though you were so comfortable with the two empty desks around you only a short moment prior. Time, which had been breezing by with the ease of water, suddenly felt like it was freezing. Despite this, your mind sped up, beginning to race with momentarily panicked thoughts. An unruly beast, you found emotions to be, just when you thought them to be tame they’d break free from their chains once again. It took a moment of tense shoulders, closed eyes, and a deep breath to realign yourself back to a cold demeanor.

Patrick observed, witness to the small tells such as the shift of your foot backward, lean forward onto your elbows, arms crossed on the desk and shoulders going rigid. The leg bouncing had him snickering to himself, a sound quiet enough it didn’t seem to rouse you from your thoughts. Had it been a more appropriate setting, he would’ve found himself outright cackling at the image of dispelling your momentary panic, if only to watch your reaction. Though, shock factor was reserved for any time but class time. He’d learned earlier that to fly under the radar of teachers, he’d need to stay quiet and not disrupt class. Unfortunate for his friends, two of which weren’t even present for the day, they hadn’t really figured that out. Well, except Vic, but Vic was different.

He stared at you for practically the rest of the period, much to your own disdain, smirking in amusement as he watched you practically race out of the room and into the hallway. Homeroom was next, then lunch, both of which he didn’t have the faintest idea where you went. Your presence in the school seemed to disappear almost completely, not that he had really been paying attention before this instance. Now, though, you were a target of interest. The lax defiance shown the night before had him intrigued, excited to break you; physically or mentally, he didn’t really care. So often was he faced with the typical submissive individuals in Derry, even adults had a tendency to break eye contact.

Instead of sitting with Belch for mid-day detention, he ventured out of his designated location for homeroom to instead snoop around. The repercussions would likely be ‘disastrous’ by his mother’s standards, but to be frank, when did he ever give a fuck about what other people had to say?

His legs carried him down empty hallways, knowing full well you wouldn’t be in any of the occupied classrooms, around the school’s courtyard and into the football field. Few students were littered around its premises, most of which couples who’d managed to sneak out and get handsy on the bleachers. From the looks of it, it’d either be most likely that you were here, even though his search hadn’t been the faintest bit thorough.

Under the bleachers you stand, staring emotionless into the distance. In your hand is a cigarette, a forgotten pack worth nothing to them and the world to you. The brand didn’t matter so long as you hand your hands on it, you weren’t raised a picky child. It wiped the slate clean of the emotions you were feeling, numbed the stress that caused skull-splitting, chest-tightening fits of self-hatred and school. From the outside eye, you appeared deep in thought, a modern-day Socrates in her own right. In reality, you weren’t truly thinking about anything. A blank mind and a dazed head taking the shape of a tired kid.

Originally, you’d spent homeroom and lunch in the library, soaking in texts that were available until one of your ‘friends,’ Angel, began poking fun at you for being a bookworm. After that you would nap, but the librarian eventually had enough of you “sleeping your precious school-time away” and forced you to go somewhere else. Eventually, you began sneaking out to the football field, finding mostly peace and quiet. Most of the time you stayed outside for lunch, managing to sneak back in and blend in with the rest of the student body as they went to their next class.

“My, oh, my, it seems I’m not the only voyeur around,” to be so abruptly pulled from your thoughts was not only startling, but also rude. A shriek nearly fell from your mouth, caught in your throat and instead a sharp intake of air being its replacement, as you looked to who so rudely interrupted your thoughts, eyes wide and stance tensing once more. His words seemed to evade you completely, left in a dumbfounded shock instead staying plastered on your face for a long moment afterward. Composure came slowly, and yet you still found an edge in your voice.

“It’s like they say, first come first serve. I didn’t come out here to watch them fuck, they came out to watch me think and smoke,” somehow, your voice managed its typical flat, emotionless tone.

“Or did you come out to hide and smoke?” the evident grin in his voice is enough to make your head snap in his direction with a sneer on your face.

“What do you want?”

“A smoke,” he shrugged innocently, making an attempt to give you puppy dog eyes. Unbeknownst to you, he was about to tell a bold-faced lie. “I ran out this morning.”

You take a second to give him a look-over. The two of you hadn’t really crossed paths, aside from being placed near each other in seating charts once or twice during freshmen and sophomore year. Those didn’t ever last, though, and honestly the first time he’d approached you was at the bonfire the night before. Needless to say, his body language and actions were a complete and total mystery to you, all you really knew was that he was a creep, and what your friends said in huddled whispers from time to time.

You give him the one in your hand, finally, watching him take a drag from it. Your hand is held out expectantly, and he gives another toothy grin. “C’mon, can’t a guy get more than a taste?”

“No, I don’t get these often, anyway.”

“It’s supposed to be puff-puff-pass, princess,” the nickname rolls off his tongue like velvet, and suddenly the charm of him clicks. It doesn’t leave you interested in any capacity, more annoyed than anything. “Besides, I can get you these whenever you want if you’ll be mine.”

Another action to catch you off-guard? This guy was like the worst kind of surprise. “I’m not fuckin’ property, Hockstetter.”

Taking another drag from the cigarette, his hand shot out to grab your wrist. His speed was that of lightning as he plucked the cigarette from his lips. Tugging your wrist away proved futile immediately, and panic arose in your chest when he chuckled darkly at your meek expression. “You could be.”

The cigarette burned as it touched your skin, digging into you oh-so-tenderly. A gasp tore from your throat, followed by a grunt and more forceful jerking to release his grip. “Careful, now, I’d like a clean mark more than a messy one.” He felt internal glee when he felt you submit.

He held it there for what seemed to be an eternity and an instant, only taking it from your skin to relight it by his own flame. The grip didn’t release until he was finished admiring his work, a dark glint overtaking his eyes as he watched you bring your wrist to your chest.

He inhaled deeply, taking the cigarette from his lips once again and stepping closer to you. Had you not been leaning on a pole, you would’ve stepped back in fear. “See’ya around.” And with that, he turned and left.

#patrick hockstetter #patrick hockstetter x reader #patrick hockstetter imagine #it 2017 fanfiction #reader insert #it 2017 #writing.txt #work: bonfire #bowers gang fanfiction #bowers gang

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batskulldrag · 5 years ago

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Phoenix by Fallout Boy

Chapter Ten: Ready Aim Fire by Imagine Dragons

once more I will state that I have no OC’. s everyone is either a youtuber or a character from 2017′s dream daddy. I will ask that you check out Jenna Marbles’ video ‘making corn on the cob but instead of the corn bone it’s a hotdog’ it’s not nessarry, but it is funny.

Patton squeezed Logan’s hand as he looked around the room. It was nice, it looked like every kid’s dream room. But the idea of being evaluated was crushing the air out of his lungs. Granted, E. S. had suggested a psych evaluation for them to boost their chances in court, and he did want some parenting advice. So, there they were in Picani’s office, waiting.

He stole a glance at Logan. His husband’s once stoic expression now a thin veil to mask resentment. Patton could almost see every memory of every doctor he was dragged to so his parents could cure him. Logan squeezed the arm rest until his knuckles were white and the bones threatened to pop out.

“It’s ok.” Patton rubbed his shoulder gently. “This time is going to be different. No one wants to cure you. We’re just gonna talk to him. There’s nothing wrong with you. Remember that.”

Logan silently slid his arm around Patton and held him close. Patton rested his head on Logan’s shoulder and listened to his heartbeat. It was slowing down and his own heart started mimicking the calmer rhythm.

The door opened and a cheerful man with curly blond hair and a tan cardigan danced in vocalizing the Loony Toon’s theme song. Ok, so Picani was definitely not a stuffed shirt. This would be nice.

“So, you’re Patton and Logan.” Emile smiled. “We met a few times before.”

“Virgil’s doing a lot better.” Patton chirped. “They’re taking the bandages off soon.”

“That’s good. Has he adjusted any since last week?”

“A little. He’s not as skittish.” Patton smiled. “I’ve been taking him to work with me since I had to go back to the library.”

“That should be a good way to keep his mind off things.” Emile pondered. “Maybe they’ll let him volunteer there. It’s good to keep busy.”

“Today, he read to the kids.” Logan added. “I think some interaction with people closer to his peer group is doing him good.”

“That is awesome news.” Emile smiled and put his hands together. “But now I think it’s time to talk about you two. ‘Sup?’”

“Our lawyer said that it would help us if we had psychological evaluations.” Logan responded. “We all suspect that Payton might try to use certain things against us.”

“Such as…” Emile led.

“For starters I have Asperger’s syndrome. One might argue that it would make me unfit to raise a child.”

“The usual ‘they can’t feel empathy’ song and dance?”

“No, there hasn’t been any singing.”

“It’s a metaphor sweetie.” Patton rubbed his hand.

“Oh.” Logan looked away. “Right.”

“So, where on the spectrum are you?” Emile asked. “You seem really high functioning.”

“I am high functioning. Mainly, I can’t read emotions, I don’t understand metaphors or sarcasm, flashing lights give me migraines, I have a noise sensitivity and I get intensely nervous around people. And I don’t like most sweet foods. They hurt my mouth.”

“How about routines?” Emile continued.

“I have routines, but I don’t impose them on other people. I like to stick to a schedule; to do things in a certain order. But I don’t have an episode if the schedule is disrupted.”

“What normally triggers one?”

“Usually things build up. My most recent episode was a two weeks ago when Roman and I were trying to build a futon without instructions.”

“Why without instructions?”

“They were lost long ago. It was maddening.”

“That.” Emile pointed at them. “Would drive anyone crazy. So, I don’t really see any reason why you can’t adopt Virgil with Patton. Asperger’s isn’t exactly the life ruining hinderance that everyone thinks it is.”

Patton nuzzled up to Logan.

“See. It’s fine.”

Emile smiled at them.

“It’s nice to see a happy couple in here.” He sighed. “I do a lot of couple’s therapy.”

“Logan and I are happy.” Patton confirmed. “We’re almost to out ten-year anniversary.”

“That’s quite the milestone. How’d you two meet?” he leaned forward.

“I had to go to him for tutoring, and we just clicked. Logan proposed while we were in college and we’ve been inseparable ever since.”

“We were more or less inseparable before that.” Logan interjected. “I just decided to make it official.”

“You’re a Garnet.” Emile clasped his hands to his heart.

“Like from Steven Universe?” Patton asked excitedly.

“Exactly, you two have found your balance and have a solid relationship.”

“That is fair.” Logan looked up. “Most of our arguments did consist of the fact that I can be stoic, and Patton can be over passionate. Exactly like Ruby and Sapphire.”

“That is awesome.” Emile smiled. “And having a stable marriage is usually important if you want to adopt.”

Patton squeezed Logan’s hand and beamed up at him from his shoulder. Logan returned a smile.

“So, what other things are on your minds?” Emile pointed his folded hands at them. “We’re in the judgement free zone here.”

“Well,” Patton rubbed his arm and looked at Logan. “I was on antidepressants for a while after my mom died. And I kind of still am on the medication. I was really out of it.”

“How old were you when she passed away?”

“I had to be about nineteen or twenty.”

“What happened to her?” He asked gently.

“She had ALS.” Patton looked at the floor to hide his tears, why was he still crying after all these years? “She lasted eight months.”

Eight months? That was it? He could have sworn that it was longer.

“I’m so sorry to hear that.” He handed them a box of tissues.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know I still did this.” Patton dabbed his eyes. “It’s been twelve years.”

“If they put you on antidepressants that means that it must have hit you pretty hard. Watching family die, especially from something that awful can really take its toll. There’s nothing wrong with how you feel, or how long you feel it. And moms are important, losing one is a blow no matter how old they are.”

“It hit me really hard.” Patton pressed himself into Logan, who started petting his hair. “I was sleepwalking, one night I woke up in the parking lot of the hospital because I thought I was taking mom to the doctor. I used to do the dishes in my sleep.”

“Was it just you, taking care of her?” Emile squinted. “What about your brother?”

“Payton was in college too. He didn’t want anything to do with it.” Logan answered, still petting Patton.

“I told you I get why he didn’t want to be there.”

“Don’t make excuses for him, you know that’s not why he avoided the house.”

“Hey, don’t unfuse over this.” Emile offered hesitantly.

“Logan and Roman helped a lot during all that. With Mom and Virgil.”

“Virgil was with you?”

“He was just a baby. Mom was diagnosed a few months before his first birthday.”

“And Payton left him with you? Just like that? Just like Pink leaving Spinel in the garden?”

“If Payton was a good father, we wouldn’t be here.” Patton pulled out another tissue. “I don’t wanna talk about my brother.”

“Alright, we’ll just zap those thoughts with the memory eraser.” Emile pretended to zap himself with a ray gun. “Go on with your story.”

“Well, I still walked in my sleep even after mom died. And I lost my appetite and I lost interest in my job and all my classes. It was like I was dead. I went numb.”

“Do you know why?”

“I…” Patton clenched his fists against his knees. “I was relieved when she died, and I couldn’t handle feeling like that. Am I a terrible person?”

“That’s a normal reaction.” Emile said plainly. He said it as if it were a fact that he just knew. Like there was no doubt about its validity.

“What?” Patton looked up at him reeling from the whiplash that comment gave him.

“Your mother, someone you loved died in front of you. And you already said that it took a long time. Anyone would be relieved for that to be over. Like when they bubbled the cluster, they were relieved that the shards weren’t suffering anymore. And that’s normal. That, and the stress it was putting on you was over, and I know you think that sounds awful but it’s natural to be relieved. It doesn’t make you a bad person.”

“No?”

“No.”

Patton nestled closer to Logan. Logan hid it well, but Patton knew that he had just been vindicated and was thrilled. Patton accepted defeat contentedly and with guilt free relief.

“Logan was there the whole time.” Patton sighed. “All through it. He even got me to go to therapy.”

“Was Logan living with you at the time?” Emile asked. “There’s nothing wrong with that, Ruby and Sapphire were fused for a few thousand years before they got married. I was just wondering if he moved in to help with your mom.”

“My parents threw me out of the house after they found out I was gay.” Logan said blankly, but he was squeezing the couch arm again. His bones turned back up to say hello. “After they.” He sighed. “After they beat me severely.”

“Oh.” Emile said sadly. “I’m so sorry. Were they always like that?”

“The statistics of autistic children who are abused by their parents would break you.” Logan looked up at the ceiling.

“Yes then?”

“Yes.”

“Did you ever get help after you left your parents?”

“Yes, I’ve worked through my issues with them. And I don’t plan on letting them back into my life any time soon.”

“That’s fair.” Emile nodded. “They sound like a toxic influence.”

“I will consider forgiving them if they apologize.” Logan still looked at the ceiling. “And on no other conditions do I hold them any loyalty.”

“Well, last thing you need is your own abusive parents showing up when you’re trying to adopt.” Emile agreed. “And you shouldn’t forgive people who are going to continue to be a bad influence on your life.”

“I thought there was going to be more, I don’t know,” Logan looked back down. “More appeals for us to change our ways. Some form of judgement or a quote unquote cure.”

“Nah, you guys are good.” Emile smiled. “You can keep up therapy if you just wanna talk, but I don’t really have anything new to tell you.”

“This is it?” Logan gestured vaguely at the room.

“You’ve been on that couch before, haven’t you?”

“My parents wanted a cure. I’ve seen psychologists, psychiatrists, doctors, holistic physicians, herb peddlers, and a neurosurgeon.”

“Wow,” Emile nodded. “That is one expensive wild goose chase. How do you feel about your Asperger’s now?”

“It’s a part of who I am. It took me a long time to realize it wasn’t a horrible disease. And my parents dragging me to a new doctor every week didn’t help. They didn’t help.”

Patton put his arms around him and just hung there silently.

“Is any of this going to keep us from getting custody of Virgil?” Logan sighed.

“Well, your parents being abusive could bring up a ‘cycle of abuse’ argument, but I don’t think it’ll go anywhere. Aside from that, Asperger’s and situational depression shouldn’t stop you. Neither of you are violent or incapable of taking care of yourselves or a child. And you’ve already done a great job with Virgil so far. You’re made of love, and it’s stronger than him.”

“I wanna introduce you to our roommate sometime.” Patton said happily. “I think you’d be friends.”

# # #

The day of the barbeque rolled around and Patton, Logan and Roman were eagerly getting ready.

“Let’s see him one-up this.” Roman said sternly, holding up a watermelon sculpture.

The rind had been picked clean and gently sculpted into a frog with melon balls filling up his body and coming out of his mouth. Impressive was an understatement.

“Right.” Logan sighed. “Remember what I said about competing with Brian. Leave Virgil out of it. He’s had enough pressure in his life as it is.”

“I would never do anything to hurt our emo nightmare.” Roman was dead serious. “From now on Brian has to step to me. And anyone who wants our emo has to step to me as well.”

“And me.” Patton clenched his fist.

“We’re doing Lord of The Rings now?” Logan was not amused. “And me.”

With that said a loud thud came from upstairs. All three of them had the same thought and ran upstairs. Reaching the door first, Logan knocked. But Patton had different ideas and burst into the room like a firefighter. Virgil was pulling himself off the floor with his jeans tangled up around his ankles and his cast shoved through one of the holes in the knee. The shock of Patton and Co’s sudden arrival knocked him back down.

“Can I help you?” Virgil asked flatly, pulling his t-shirt down over his boxers.

“Sorry,” Patton backed out of the room quickly. “We heard you fall and wanted to make sure you were ok.”

“I’m ok. My stupid cast got stuck is all.”

“Do you need help?”

“Nope, I’m good.”

“Ok, we’re ready as soon as you are.”

“Cool, just let me get my pants on.”

“Ok.” Patton closed the door and turned to the other two. “Am I a helicopter parent?”

“No, I don’t think so.” Logan squinted as he thought. “Just be sure of boundaries. Don’t make a habit of bursting into his room. That is his space, and we want him to know we won’t violate it.”

“And I want you to know that it isn’t soundproof.” Virgil opened the door and walked out, smiling at his own joke.

# # #

Patton had his arm around Virgil the entire walk over. Admittedly, Virgil was happy both for the attention and the extra help walking. He wasn’t quite used to this walking cast, and he was still upset that he couldn’t keep the painted one. Sure, it smelled like an old band aid that crawled out of a sewer full of dead possums, but it was still cool on the outside. Maybe they could paint this one.

Patton led him over to the food table and gingerly set down a tray of peanut blossoms. He pulled two off the plate with a flourish, handed one to Virgil and kept the other.

“Clinkies.” He beamed, holding his cookie to Virgil’s.

“Clinkies.” Virgil agreed, tapping the cookies together and shoving his entire cookie in his mouth.

Roman set his melon frog down on the table and whispered to it.

“Ok melon frog, this is what you trained for. This is your time. You don’t be scared. I trained you better than that. I love you, melon frog.”

“You two need a moment alone?” Virgil smiled.

“No.” Roman turned quickly, holding his forearm to his forehead. “it’s better this way. Long goodbyes would only make me weep.”

“Dude, extra is a word they made up just so they could describe you.”

“It is.” Roman ruffled his hair. Were they all just going to do that from now on?

“Jenna!” Patton yipped, holding out his arms.

A short woman with blond hair that showed dark brown at the roots ran over and hugged him. Two Italian grey hounds were at her heels keeping up surprisingly well. Virgil lost all interest in people and sat down to play with the dogs. They immediately started licking him and climbing him for food.

“Where were you, beech?” Jenna asked. “I haven’t seen you in forever.”

“Family stuff.” Patton smiled and tiled his head towards Virgil. He turned his attention. “Virgil, this is our friend Jenna.”

“Hi, I love your dogs.” Virgil chirped, strangely comforted by the mini dogs who were stomping the hell out of his every lower extremity.

In response the grey dog started whining as if he were being tortured.

“I didn’t do anything!” Virgil panicked.

“Kermit, shut up.” Jenna scolded her dog, “He just does that.” She dismissed.

Patton looked around with a look of concerned horror.

“No Marble?” He said fearfully.

“What? Beech am I mourning?” Jenna pointed to herself. “No, Marble is inside. He didn’t want to come out and mingle.”

“What’s this one’s name?” Virgil asked, giving the tan doggo vigorous scratches as she wagged her tail at a mile a minute.

“That one’s Peach-y girl.” Jenna baby talked at the dog, who somehow wagged her tail faster.

Peach bolted off his lap, ran in a wide, happy circle and trampled back onto him.

“So, how do you like the neighborhood so far?” Jenna asked.

“It’s nice.” Virgil moved his head to keep Peach from licking the inside of his mouth. “I haven’t met too many people though.”

“Well.” She gestured at the crowded yard. “That’s gonna change.”

Jenna darted off to greet more guests and the dogs followed her. Darn. Virgil looked around tensely. There were a lot of people. Did they know? Were they going to bring it up? Were they going to ask? Were they going to take sides? Whose side would they be on?

Slowly it became reality that he couldn’t just sit here until someone needed a prop and then just go back to his seat. What was he supposed to do? How did people act at things like this? He’d never been to anything so casual. Was he supposed to play with the other kids? Talk to the adults? Eat? Was he supposed to eat? Was it time to eat? Where were the dogs? Where was Patton? Where was he?

“Ok kiddo,” Patton, it was really Patton, he was back. “Jenna and Julian are vegans, so there’s a lot of vegetables. But they’re good. Both of them are awesome cooks.”

Patton set a paper plate full of food on his lap and sat down next to him.

“She didn’t say she was a vegan while I was talking to her.” Virgil looked for Jenna in the crowd.

“They’re not preachy about it.”

“Cool.”

“And plenty of other people brought meat.”

Virgil took a bite of what he thought was pulled pork and spit it out immediately.

“Is this?” He rubbed the seasoning off and saw that it was yellow. “This is a banana peel!”

“What?” Patton took a taste and grimaced. “That is! Barbra must have brought it.”

“Is she a raccoon?”

“Wait here.” Patton stood up and walked over to the ‘pulled pork’ dish.

He looked around and quickly set the dish on the grass. He made a few beckoning gestures and a mastiff ran at him and started inhaling the banana abomination. He pet the bear sized creature contentedly and strolled back to their spot.

Having run out of food, Bear Dog lumbered over to them. Virgil tried to react in time but before he could, Bear Dog had his entire plate in its mouth. Plate and all, it ate everything.

“Countess, no.” Patton ordered. “That wasn’t for you!”

Countess smacked her lips and started licking Virgil’s face. He silently accepted that he would die by dog smothering and decided that was indeed how he wanted to go.

“No.” Logan showed up out of nowhere and tried to nervously shoo the dog away. “No, shoo. Get away from him.”

“I’m ok Uncle Logan.” Virgil wrapped his arms around the dog’s neck.

Logan stared anxiously. His every muscle was tensed at the dog’s presence.

So, Uncle Logan is afraid of dogs. I wonder why.

“OK friend.” Virgil ruffled the dog’s fur. “Go play with someone else! Go play!”

Countess zoomed away, no doubt measuring on the Richter scale. She would cause tidal waves in her wake. Tidal waves of drool.

“I’ll get you a new plate.” Patton pushed himself off the ground. He paused and suddenly lit up. “Dodie!” He waved happily in someone’s direction. “Come meet the baby!”

“Does he mean me?” Virgil looked to Logan for help.

“I believe you’re about to experience an equivalent to women passing a newborn around for everyone to hold.” Logan raised an eyebrow. “Patton is very excited.”

Patton scampered over with the tiniest morsel of a woman. This girl, who Virgil assumed was an adult had long brown hair and a young face. She could probably fit in a backpack.

“This is Virgil.” Patton gestured eagerly. “Virgil, this is our friend, Dodie.”

“Hello.” She chirped with an equally tiny voice nestled in an English accent.

“Hi.” Virgil looked between the three adults.

“I trust you’re adjusting to all the Patton hugs?” Dodie smiled. “It’s sometimes hard if you don’t like cuddles.”

“I’m getting used to it.” Virgil smiled back. There was no way she’d hurt him, right?

“Who doesn’t like cuddles?” Patton asked in surprise. “Cuddles are the best!”

Dodie and Logan both laughed.

“Virgil, they’re laughing at me.” Patton protested. “They’re making fun of my Patton-ted hugs.”

“Did you just make a pun with your name?” Logan sighed.

“Yeppers. You deserve a Patton the back for guessing that one.”

“This is what my life has become.” Logan rubbed his temples.

“Your name is a pun, Logan.” Patton put a hand on his shoulder.

“Falsehood.” Logan snapped quickly.

“It’s true honey, your name is Logan Berry. Like loganberries.”

“I may scream.”

“But can’t.” Patton added. “Your volume is too low-gun.”

“You’re dead to me.”

“I love you.” Patton wrapped his arms around him.

Logan sighed and grabbed one of Patton’s hands.

“Why are you like this?” Logan looked back at him.

“God owed me a favor.” Patton pressed his cheek to Logan’s.

Virgil couldn’t help but laugh at that. The sheer amount of confidence in that phrase was a power move for the ages. No one could top that.

“You call yourself a catholic.” Logan said harshly.

“No, I call myself Patton.”

“That one’s on me.”

“Uncle Patton never said he was catholic.” Virgil looked up at them.

Could this be it? The explanation. Could a stern religious upbringing have warped his father into a cruel person? And could that same life have also turned Patton into a soft puppy dog of a person?

“Yeah, we were raised catholic.” Patton shrugged. “But mom was never too strict with it. She even ended up getting divorced, so, I guess we weren’t that religious. We didn’t even eat fish that often.”

Virgil deflated. The explanation that he wanted, that he needed. The explanation that he deserved! Once again, it had slipped through his fingers. He saw red for a second. What made a monster? What made his father? Had a loving, supportive home really churned out that bastard? What the hell happened? It didn’t fit!

He looked up at his uncles. Logan had come from the sort of home that Payton described to his voters, and he was a stand-up guy. Happily married despite his homophobic parents and willing to pull some strange kid off the streets and let him live in his house. And all in all, Logan would be a great dad. Were Logan and Payton just products of their environments in a different way? Did each of them just choose to defy their own upbringing? What made Payton decide to turn the other way? Hell, for that matter what made Logan?

“Virgil, we can get you a chair if you don’t want to sit on the grass.” Logan shattered his concentration.

“I’m good.” Virgil answered once the shock wore off.

This! This is exactly what I am talking about!

“Here you go.” Patton put another paper plate in his hands and kissed him on the forehead. “And this is for you, not the puppers.”

“I tried to keep it away from her.” Virgil took the plate. “She was just too fast.”

“I know.” Patton ruffled his hair. “Once you’ve eaten why don’t you go introduce yourself to the other kiddos? Maybe you can make some friends.”

“Sure.” Virgil shoved an entire brownie in his mouth. For some ungodly reason it was spicy.

Now beginning to think that no one in this cul-de-sac could cook, and not wanting to look rude Virgil swallowed the brownie. His eyes watered and his mouth tasted like a used napkin from an Italian restaurant. He ran his tongue across his teeth and found what was left of dried leaves stuck to his gums. He spat them out on the grass.

Virgil glanced up at Patton, who also had a brownie. Maybe it was just him, maybe he just didn’t like sweets. He observed Patton intensely. Patton took a bite out of his pastry and a look of confused disappointment swept over his face. He reluctantly swallowed and set the remaining brownie on the grass.

“I think someone put oregano in those.” Patton coughed.

“Barbra again?” Logan questioned.

“No, she doesn’t use sugar.” Patton rubbed his chin. “Let’s search out the culprit.”

“Sure, why not?” Logan shrugged.

“Ok, Virgil, if you need us, we’ll be nearby.” Patton patted him on the head.

“I didn’t think you were gonna abandon me.”

“Ok, just yell for us or Roman if you need us.”

“Cool.” Virgil chanced a corncob. Surely plain vegetables couldn’t surprise him.

There was a hotdog in it.

As soon as his uncles were out of sight Virgil set his plate on the ground. The dogs could have it. Desperately confused, he lay down on his side and thought. The pork was a banana peel, the brownies were made with oregano and the corn, which he couldn’t for the life of him figure out how, had a hotdog in the center instead of a corn cob.

“If this is weird, I swear to god…” Virgil picked up one of Roman’s watermelon balls.

Sweet rapture, it was just watermelon. He all but wept tears of relief. And had his foot not been in a cast he would have danced.

“So,” A disinterested voice interrupted him. “You’re the new kid.”

Virgil looked up and saw the single coolest person in the known universe. There before him was a man of about thirteen clad in baggy jeans that were held up by one belt and adorned with two more. A chain hung from one belt that trailed down into his pocket. He wore a legion of black rubber and leather bracelets that accented his MSI t-shirt. His judgmental look was emphasized by two eyebrow piercings and three small hoop earrings in his ear cartilage. He tilted his head to show off the half-shaved half long look his dyed grey hair had been styled in. It was notably uneven, he must have done it himself. What a legend.

“Maybe.” Virgil tried to play it cool as he wiped watermelon juice off his chin. “I’m new here, but in other places I’ve live many lifetimes.”

“Cool.” The legend accepted him. This was a glorious day. “My dad wanted me to introduce myself to you.”

Man, doesn’t that just figure? I should’ve known that this icon wouldn’t just talk to me for the hell of it.

“Cool, I’m Virgil.” He tried to sound like he wasn’t drooling over this guy’s look. “I’m named after hell’s tour guide.”

“I’m Lucian.” He bested him with a way cooler name. “So, you’re living with Patton and Logan?”

Wait, I can just call adults by their first names?

“Yeah, they’re cool.”

I think.

Lucian scoffed. Evidently Patton and Logan weren’t cool. Virgil looked around a single idea was creeping up on him. And that was the idea that this dude may be here to torture him. He looked around for Patton, maybe he was within earshot. But if he yelled for Patton he’d be ‘that kid’ and so far, that was one of the few things he hadn’t been yet.

No, mostly he was just that idiot who still wet the bed, and wasn’t that so fucking funny? He had also had a few panic attacks, one on stage. There weren’t many people in his corner.

“Anyway…” Virgil said awkwardly, still trying to gauge if this guy wanted to attack him or not. “Are there any other cool guys here or is it just you?”

“I’m pretty much the only cool guy in the neighborhood. And, like the only other dude.”

At that Virgil looked around the yard. Lucian was right, most of the people had daughters. From the looks of things, they were they only guys there. Another observation was that a lot of the parents seemed to be single. That or they were all in gay relationships like his uncles were. Was this a gay community? A gay-borhood?

“Wanna see my scars?” Virgil offered blankly.

“Sure.” Lucian seemed taken aback.

Virgil’s hands weren’t in as bad shape as before. But they were still messed up. The skin had stiffened up, making it difficult to open and close his hands still. And his palms currently looked like melted plastic with massive blisters jutting up out of them. He had band aids on both thumbs and his left index finger to cover up the missing nails. And finally, there was a very faint ribbing pattern in the center of his palms. Left over from the desk lamp he had tried to bust his window with.

Lucian stared at his hands with a dismayed look of revolution and terror.

“Geeze dude.” He gagged. “How long were you trapped in there?”

“I don’t know. I left my stopwatch behind.” Virgil shrugged.

Lucian gave a respectful scoff at the joke.

“So, do a lot of people know about the…” Virgil struggled to do air quotes. “Fire?”

“Yeah, my dad told me. Then he told me not to bring it up. I mean, like, why tell me if I have to act like I don’t know?”

Virgil chewed on one of his bandages, he was debating running away from this conversation. The god of coolness knew that he used to be his dad’s punching bag and that wasn’t exactly ideal. He’d prefer for that not to have happened. Fight or flight was kicking in, but he couldn’t exactly fight a topic.

“Whatever.” He tried to play it off. “So, do you go to school nearby?”

“Yeah.”

Ok, let’s try something that will get me a better answer.

“Did you eat any of the food yet?”

“No.”

“Ok, because it’s all not what it’s supposed to be.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Lucian squinted.

“It means I ate corn of the cob and found a hotdog in it.” Virgil held up the offending vegetable as proof. “Exhibit A.”

“What the fuck?” Lucian snatched it away and looked at it closely. “What the hell? There’s a hot dog in here! How? Why? The fuck?”

“I know right? And there was pulled pork that turned out to be a banana peel, and someone made brownies with oregano in them.”

“Geeze, these cookouts get weirder every time.” Lucian sneered.

“Do you have a lot of these around here?”

“Sure, Jenna and Julian love to do weird things like this. And Brain is always ready to show off. And my dad likes to throw dinner parties.” He made a face and did air quotes. “Like the Victorians.”

“Well, I guess I have to socialize now.” Virgil sighed.

Speaking of that particular hell, Roman emerged out of nowhere with a tall, dark woman in tow. Roman’s friend had waist length hair that flowed down her back like liquid ebony and walked with an air of confidence that almost rivaled him.

“Hi Virgil.” Roman greeted happily. “I see you’ve met Lucian.”

“I have.” Virgil nodded. In his past life this would be the point where he was forbidden to talk to this guy under whatever pretext.

“That’s nice. We all figured you two would get along.” Roman beamed and gestured towards his guest. “This is our friend Lily.”

“What’s up?” Lily asked excitedly.

“Uhh… we were talking about food?” Virgil looked at the grass, intimidated by this massive presence.

“You shouldn’t talk about the food behind its back like that.” Lily answered. “You have to insult it to its face.”

Virgil looked at Roman for help. Roman just smiled at him. But Lily saw him and laughed.

“I’m just teasing.” She waved a hand dismissively. “I’m just here to observe how deep Patton and Logan’s betrayal runs.”

“What?” Virgil sunk into himself.

“Now that they’re adopting, every single person and childless couple is gonna get twice the flack about…” She did a higher voice. “Settling down and starting a family.” She returned to her normal voice. “When ya girl wants to do that, she will. And it is none of your business. I’m a brown woman, so I already get nagged about that by my family. I don’t need my neighbors to start.”

“Yes mam.” Virgil uttered in awestruck terror.

“Anyway.” She ruffled his hair, like Patton had done hundreds of times already. “It was nice meeting you. I won’t cramp your style anymore.”

With that she left, and Virgil was convinced he had just met the god of yore or some other deity.

“She’s fun, isn’t she?” Roman smiled.

“Yeah.”

“Well, I came over to make sure Barbra doesn’t get a chance to talk to you.” He continued. “She probably wishes you were dead as well.”

“I’ll keep Karen away from him.” Lucian said disinterestedly.

“Good. Don’t even let her look over here.” Roman said backing away.

Roman tripped over a sprinkler but recovered himself with surprising grace and walked away. As he left a new figure emerged. A dude roughly the same age as them wearing an orange hoodie with the hood up. The hood half concealed dark curly hair and cast a shadow on his sort of mustache that he was trying to grow. You know the kind, it’s like six hairs and they’re all different lengths.

“My dad told me to introduce myself to you.” Hood man sneered at him.

I wonder if anyone can talk to me without being told first. But I’m two for two in pity friends.

“Cool.” Virgil said blankly. “I’m Virgil.”

“I’m Ernest.” Hood man returned.

Virgil tried to think of anything he would have in common with people his own age. And unless these two were chess club members, which they obviously weren’t because they weren’t losers, he was going to come up short. His dad was in prison and he was still screwing him over. He really was all powerful.

“Did either of you eat any of the brownies?” Ernest asked in a hushed voice.

“Yeah, there was oregano in them for some ungodly reason.” Virgil answered.

“What?” Ernest looked confused. “They’re pot brownies, they’re not made with Italian spices.”

“I don’t feel high.” Virgil shrugged. “You sure you didn’t get ripped off?”

“Lucian.” Ernest glared daggers at their third member. “What did you sell me?”

“Oregano leaves.” Lucian scoffed. “And apparently that’s a good thing, because you were planning on drugging the entire neighborhood!”

“You scammed me! I want my ten bucks back!”

“No way! You paid me ten bucks to learn a valuable lesson.”

Virgil pulled the draw strings on his hoodie and started chewing on them.

“What lesson?!”

“Not to be an idiot! What would have happened if one of the little kids ate your roofied crap?”

“Weed is less unhealthy than chocolate!”

“Not if you don’t know you’re getting high! What if someone gave River a brownie?! You would have drugged a baby!”

“So, you just threw whole ass leaves in some brownie mix?” Virgil interrupted. “And what, hoped that no one would notice?”

“What?” Lucian walked over to the table and came back with a brownie. “You idiot! You’re supposed to make it into butter first!”

“How the hell was I supposed to know that!” Ernest threw his hands up. “I can’t just google how to make pot brownies!”

Virgil limped over to the table and came back with a lemonade. He drank it contentedly as the scene unfolded.

“What if someone ate one of them and went in the pool you jackass?!”

“You can’t swim after eating! No one would have!”

“Ok, but they were whole leaves.” Virgil said probably to himself. “Even if it was real drugs anyone would have just spat them out after one bite.”

“You can’t just drug people! You’re describing the thought process of a rapist!” Lucian crescendo-ed.

“Ok. I’m calling my dog over, so your head explodes.” Ernest said sternly.

“Careful not to drug her!”

Virgil left and came back with a plate of chips. The argument was going great. Clearly Lucian was winning, but Ernest whistled, and bear dog came bounding over. Bear dog gave Lucian a quick lick on the hand before he could react and then she went for Virgil’s chips.

“This isn’t over you dick.” Lucian said before storming off.

Ernest stood victorious. Bear dog ate Virgil’s entire plate, plate and all.

“The brownie thing was stupid though.” Virgil commented, petting the massive dog. “Like, that was poorly planned at best.”

“I know that now.” Ernest rolled his eyes. “But it’ll be a cold day in hell before I admit that to Lucian.”

“I admire your resolve.”

Virgil counted that event as a success. No one died, nothing caught on fire and no one got arrested. He even made a couple of friends. Granted they were pity friends, but he would take what he could get. And they made hamburgers towards the end that didn’t have any weird stuff in them. Great success.

#sanders sides #sanders sides human au #logicallity #parental moxiety #parental anological #platonic lamp #pattonsanders #logansanders #romansanders #virgilsanders #famILY

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miracleboiz · 5 years ago

Text

Making a Home Ch. 2

Kita Shinsuke had experienced a lot in life. He had been raised with his grandmother, a loving foster parent and for some time he followed in her foot steps before finding his own path. He thought his foster care license had expired before getting a call at three am with two small boys thrust into his arms. Miya Osamu and Atsumu, from broken homes but still fighting. Thirty days before his license expires. Thirty days to make a choice, keep the boys or let them be separated into different homes. Thirty days to fall in love with them.

Words: 4k

Relationships: Gen

Warnings: Mention of past child abuse, non-graphic abuse

Not from Kita, but it is mentioned. I will post any warnings before any panic attacks or vague descriptions of abuse.

Read below or on AO3

Getting the boys out of the car and into the house was easy enough. The exhaustion and stress of the day had turned both of them into pliable putty that flopped even as Akagi and Shinsuke carried them into the house. Shinsuke didn’t bother to put them in separate beds, the last thing they needed to do was wake up with no idea where they were and without each other.

The clock on the alarm clock was blinking out a steady 4:58 so Shinsuke threw out any idea of getting to lay down himself. If he slept in then he would throw off his schedule even more than having the boys would do. He was usually up at 5 and ready to work by six.

Now, however, he would have to shift all of that. He wasn’t sure what time the boys would sleep till and considering the night before he didn’t want to wake them up after so much stress and so little sleep. He could always call in Sugawara earlier, he wouldn’t mind especially if he explained the reason. If he did all his cleaning early, then the rest of the day would stay on schedule, atleast until he managed to fit his routine around the boys as well.

Akagi flitted around the living room while Shinsuke started some rice, watching him bound through the drawers and coo about new kitchen ware. He only lasted twenty minutes before getting too bored and declaring he was going back to Oomimi’s house. Shinsuke didn’t bother to ask for his pants back.

Instead he started on his daily routine. He’d need to move a little faster to make sure he wouldn’t get too behind, but as long as he didn’t focus on the time it wouldn’t cause too much disruption. Perhaps Akagi was right, he did need a little excitement. His grandmother always said whenever Shinsuke got too attached to a routine he wasn’t able to break it even for emergencies. Highschool memories were enough to prove that true, so a little variance wouldn’t hurt.

He started on the dishes before making his way through the rest of the house, cleaning as he went. Diving through his cupboards took longer than he thought, but he managed to put everything Osamu was allergic too in one cabinet, above the fridge where the boys couldn’t reach. It would be annoying but Shinsuke wasn’t going to risk anything with them. He did manage to write out an easy grocery list though, with the knowledge of just what was in his fridge and pantry.

By the time he’d finished cleaning and a shower 6:49 was on the clock and he barely remembered he was supposed to call in Koushi to open the store for him. He dialed the number with a yawn.

Instantly someone picked up, someone most definitely not Sugawara.

“H-hewwo?”

“Oikawa-san. Is Sugawara-san there?”

“Why are you the only one who doesn’t think I’m Tobio?” Oikawa sighed, a long aggravated groan that did nothing to answer Shinsuke’s question.

“Because Tobio-kun does not answer the phone with ‘hewo’ he speaks properly.”

“I don’t want to hear that from you mister country boy.”

“We’re both from the country Oikawa-san.”

“.... Angel-kun! Your boyfriends on the phone!” Oikawa’s voice grew dim as he shouted, probably up the stairs. The Matsukawa’s must have been watching the boys for the night, Shinsuke knew Oikawa was reckless but not enough to risk waking up Tadashi and Tobio and incurring Sugawara’s wrath.

“Then get off the phone babe.” Sugawara’s voice laughed as he picked up the phone.

“Guys stop doing that, someones going to believe you one day and I am not dealing with it.” Sawamura’s voice drifted from the background, drowned out by the mutual snickering of both Oikawa and Sugawara.

“Hello?” Sugawara hummed.

“Hello Sugawara-san, I was going to ask for a favor but if you’re busy I won’t bother you.”

“Huh? No, Tooru-kun and Hajime-kun just came over last night, I don’t have any plans. Is everything alright? I don’t think you’ve ever called me this early. Did Mrs. Saru come in to yell about flowers again? I keep saying we need to drop her as a customer.”

“No no, nothing like that-”

“Can I be a customer?” Oikawa’s voice came from the back, only to be followed by a shout as Shinsuke assumed he was smacked by his boyfriend.

“Seriously, are you alright Kita?”

“I am fine, however I was wondering if you would be able to open the store yourself today and run it for a while.”

“.... Kita are you dying?” Sugawara’s voice was instantly filled with concern and Kita could hear the rustle of keys as if Sugawara was ready to fly out the front door at that moment.

“No, Sugawara-san please calm yourself. I was called this morning to be an emergency foster parent, I don’t want to wake the boys or call a babysitter on their first day. Akagi is back in town so I can call him if you need any assistance.”

“You had a baby ?”

Sometimes Shinsuke wondered how he was friends with these people. He ignored the niggling feeling of absolute fondness that curled in his chest at the shouts in the background of the phone. Oikawa was probably trying to steal the phone while Sawamura and Iwaizumi were dying in the background. Sugawara definitely knew how to draw a crowd.

“Technically… I had two.”

“Kita Shinsuke, are you fucking me right now?”

Shinsuke had to take a moment and debate responding to that, that would probably end up causing Oikawa to react. The best course of action would be to wait for him to calm down.

“Sorry, I meant fucking with me, sorry… Seriously Kita? I thought your license expired.”

“It didn’t. According to the paperwork it doesn’t expire until next month. But I may have to renew unless I decide to adopt these two, but I don’t know them well enough for that decision just yet.”

“Kita, you’re like… a worse mother than Oikawa.” Sugawara sighed, ignoring his best friend's squawking. “I mean that in the most loving way possible. Seriously, you have this innate need to nurture and grow people, and harass them into taking care of themselves or you’ll do it for them. It’s admirable, but you need to face the facts, you’re already in love with those two aren’t you?”

“I haven’t met the other brother, he was asleep.” Shinsuke said, carefully boxing up the memory of Atsumu’s daring personality despite his situation and grey eyes that challenged the world. He was not attached, you couldn’t get attached after two hours of knowing someone you didn’t really know them. Sugawara was just being weird again,

“Uh Huh. Okay. Well, I don’t mind, though I’m sure Daichi is upset about-”

“If you even make a sex joke I am breaking up with you.” Sawamura’s voice yelled, punctuated with Sugawara’s laughter.

“I was going to say picking up the boys from Hiro and Issei alone, but okay my love. Anyways, don’t worry about a thing, take care of your boys hon, and call if you need anything. Tooru doesn’t have work today and he might get fat if he’s just sitting at home all day eating Daichi’s cooking.”

“Angel-chan! You take that back!”

Shinsuke didn’t even bother to say his goodbyes when Sugawara started teasing back. Sugawara was reliable, he would get everything done just like he said he would.

Exhaustion pulled at Shinsuke’s eyes, making them droop slightly as he laid back on his couch. He’d been awake longer than he was used too and got more done than usual, but his brain was still firing off ready for a new day at the shop.

The buzzing of the heater started up after a moment, making Shinsuke glance outside long enough to see the white snow starting to fall. In a distant, more awake part of his mind he wondered if Akagi had known the snow was going to fall and that’s why he’d come home. It was an Inarizaki tradition. Hot pot on the first snowfall.

He didn’t even realize he’d fallen asleep until he heard a crash on the floor and a scared shout.

He leaped from the couch, eyes wide as he hurried into the kitchen. Both boys were crouched down and staring at him, a bowl of spilled milk and Akagi’s over sugared cereal on the ground. The bowl was shattered and leaking across the floor even as the two twins realized they’d been caught in the mess.

Atsumu didn’t hesitate to grab his brother, yanking him through the shards until he was safely behind him. They clung to each other, Osamu’s eyes filled with fear and anxiety and Atsumu just as terrified but refusing to break down.

Shinsuke grabbed the rag off of the oven, crouching down so he could stem the flow of milk before it seeped under the fridge.

“Are you two alright?” He asked softly, not wanting to stare them down but not wanting to risk an infected wound either. Osamu’s hands tightened on his brother’s shoulders and he pinched his mouth shut so Shinsuke turned to Atsumu.

“Atsumu, can you check your brothers feet and make sure he didn’t get cut? You can wipe his feet off with this.” A job to do would help distract them atleast, Shinsuke thought as he offered Atsumu a different cloth. Atsumu watched Shinsuke for a moment before gingerly taking the cloth like it might bite him. He didn’t turn all the way around, but knelt to wipe his brothers feet off.

Osamu didn’t make a single sound, fingers fisted in his shirt now that he couldn’t hold onto his brother. He pulled it up, almost making it to his mouth before his eyes shot over to Shinsuke and he dropped the shirt with reddening cheeks.

Shinsuke mopped up the milk, trying to think of the best way to approach the situation. He didn’t want to startle them but he wasn’t really sure what they’d been doing in the first place that had caused the bowl to fall. It was probably climbing on the counters and that was definitely dangerous but harsh words and punishment would only be detrimental in the long run.

“Atsumu, Osamu, are you two hungry?” He asked as he managed to get most of the milk up. He grabbed another cloth and finished the rest, carefully dumping the cereal in the trash with the bowl. Normally he might have tried to save the bowl, super glue it back together or offer it to Akagi to fix as one of his many projects but with two children it seemed more dangerous than it was worth.

“Aren’t you going to yell at us, K… Kita-San?” Atsumu asked, tongue stuttering over the name.

“No, I think the scare from it hitting the floor is more than enough to discourage you from climbing on the counters again.” Shinsuke said smoothly, Atsumu’s cheeks turning red as he glanced down. So Shinsuke was right, he had been on the counter.

“If you don’t feel comfortable waking me up to eat, please put your bowl on the other counter so you don’t accidentally break another one. I also have a small ladder in the pantry, I will show you later.” Shinsuke stood, pointing to the table in the other room.

“If you two are still hungry you can sit in there while I make breakfast. If you’re not then you can sit on the couch while I eat breakfast and we can talk afterwards.”

“What’s… for… for breakfast.” Osamu’s voice was so soft Shinsuke thought he’d imagined it until his head moved around his brother’s to look up at him with wide trusting eyes. Osamu didn’t seem to have the same type of ferocity as his brother, perhaps he just hadn’t had need of it or maybe it’d been beaten out of him. Even still, he could just be quieter than his brother and the protective nature would make itself known later. There were many variables Shinsuke was going to have to keep track of.

“Well… how hungry are you?”

“.....” The twins glanced at each other, silently communicating and Shinsuke didn’t have much choice but to wait patiently until Atsumu turned around and said.

“Really hungry.”

“Okay.” He straightened more and pointed to the tatami table in the other room. “Go ahead and go take a seat, cushions are in the cupboard beside the window, bottom shelf.”

He grabbed two bowls as he heard the pattering of their feet and the cushions being dragged across the floor. He could hear them whispering as he filled the bowls with rice, it would keep them distracted while he made the rest of the meal.

“He seems nice.” Osamu mumbled, his voice pitched just a little deeper than his brother and breathier like he struggled to get enough air for his words.

“Everyone seems nice at first,” Atsumu countered, the same harshness Shinsuke had noticed rising up again.

“Yeah but you said he was nice to you last night. He said he wouldn’t make you leave me.”

“Remember Yoshimoto-san? He said the same thing and then he tried to take you away…. Don’t worry about anything. I’ll take care of you okay?”

Atsumu closed his mouth as Shinsuke stepped into the room and put the bowls in front of them. They were both on the same side of the table but Shinsuke could see they’d pulled a mat out for him as well. Osamu was pouting over at his brother but brightened at the food being put in front of him.

“Go ahead and eat, I’m going to finish cooking the rest of the meal and I’ll bring it over when I’m done.” Shinsuke said softly, laying chopsticks down for both of them. They called out their thanks, clasping their hands together before grabbing their chopsticks and starting to eat.

Shinsuke watched them for a moment before making his way back to the kitchen and starting the miso soup and salmon.

He sat across from the boys when he finished, laying the new dishes in front of them and watching with amusement as they dug in. He started eating at a much more reasonable pace but still managed to finish as Osamu ate the last of the fish.

“Help me carry these in?” Shinsuke asked, watching them leap up and try and grab as many bowls as possible. “Ah, Atsumu if you can’t carry them all it’s alright.”

“I got it- I don’t got it.” Atsumu amended when his plate slid right back onto the table.

Shinsuke lifted it up with a gentle huff of air, amusement filling him at the look of determination on both of the boys’ faces. They marched their way into the kitchen, appearing far more serious than the situation needed. Shinsuke scooped up the rest of the dishes and followed, placing the items one by one into the sink.

He glanced over at the pattering of feet, watching Osamu rush back into the other room to try and stuff the mats back in the cupboard. Atsumu went after him a moment later, giggling softly as his brother was knocked back down as they slid free. Together they managed to strong arm the soft cushions into the closet and shut the door.

“Okay boys,” Shinsuke called, not wanting to ruin their fun and brotherly teasing. “I want to give you a quick tour of the house. If that’s alright?”

Both boys nodded, curiosity overriding their brains. They hurried over to him, eyes wide and curious as he led through the house.

“I’m sure Atsumu already told you, Osamu, but my name is Kita Shinsuke. You can call me Kita or Shinsuke-san. You’re both going to be staying here with me awhile.” Shinsuke explained as they walked. “I don’t know how long but you’ll be safe here. If you have any questions you can ask them, for now you two are in the same room. I thought you might be more comfortable like that but if you want separate bedrooms I have another room for you.”

It wasn’t the largest house, considering it was attached to his shop but it was well designed. The kitchen was in the middle of the house, the living room sat on it’s right and the dining room on it’s left. Through the living room was the hallway, one bedroom on either side and a bathroom at the end of the hall. The hallway turned, leading to a seperate one that revealed an office and another bedroom that Shinsuke pointed out as his own.

“If you need anything, please feel free to come and get me. I don’t mind if it’s about nightmares or food or anything else, I won’t be upset with you.” He said softly, the doubt in their eyes clear. He would have to prove himself, but that was fine. He didn’t mind taking the extra time to gain their trust and show them it was okay.

He led them through the hall, to the last door at the back of the house. He opened it, stepping back to let the boys look curiously at the small yard. It wasn’t large in the least, to the right a garden was dead as winter’s snow covered it and the rest was grass. On all sides the other businesses rose up around them, caging them but also providing an impassable protection from anyone sneaking in.

“It snowed!” Osamu cheered, bending down to smack his hands on the white powder. He giggled, smacking it again and turning to wipe it on his brother. Atsumu immediately yelled, grabbing a handful and dropping it on his brother. Quick as a flash Osamu returned the favor. They both squealed as the snow started to melt and seep into their hair and drip onto the floor. They turned to sneak back inside, freezing when they remembered Shinsuke.

“Come back in now, to the bathroom, I have towels.” Shinsuke said, trying to look less harsh at the twin’s fearful looks his way. “Dry yourselves off, we don’t want colds.”

Atsumu and Osamu waited until he handed the towels to them before they relaxed, scrubbing at their wet hair. They stopped halfway through and turned to each other, seeming to communicate in a way only twins could. Then they grabbed each other's towels and tried to rub the towels into each other’s heads to the best of their ability.

Shinsuke watched them torture each other, reminded of the games Akagi used to play on Ojiro-

He tossed that memory out, gently knocking on the door as the two were left breathless by their squabble. They didn’t look at him with wariness, more curiosity now. It wasn’t a quick fix, Shinsuke knew that. He knew he’d be helping them heal for the foreseeable future but still, even just a moment as small as it would be in the long run. That small glint in their eyes of cheeriness and curiosity that took over the pain and fear, it reminded Shinsuke why he had first gotten involved with foster care. Why he’d decided to follow his grandmother’s way in life all those years ago.

“We have a couple more things to go over so I want to know what you want to do.” Shinsuke started, moving to sit on his heels and look at them. He motioned for them to brush their hair back down but they just scrubbed at them harder with the towel. A soft laugh escaped him as he waved them over, Atsumu moving first.

“Do you mind if I touch your hair?” Shinsuke asked softly, jolting when Atsumu bowed his back easily to put his head in front of Shinsuke’s hand. Deftly, he brushed the hair down into a more reasonable style before turning and doing the same to Osamu. Osamu wiggled and giggled, reaching up to pat and stroke his own hair with wonder when Shinsuke finished. It made him wonder if they’d ever had someone pet their hair.

“Okay. Atsumu, Osamu.” He waited until he had both of their attention. “I have three things I want to get done today. One, I need to go grocery shopping and I’m sure you two have favorite snacks you would prefer instead of mine. Two, you two need some more clothes and pajamas and toys. I don’t have a lot in my house because I prefer working or reading over playing video games, but I don’t mind buying you something to entertain yourselves with if you do not want to join me or play games with me. Three, I would like to stop by my job before the end of the day to make sure everything is okay. I would like you to come with me so you can see what I do and so you feel comfortable with me.”

The two boys looked at each other, fingers playing with the towels in their hands. They perked up at the sound of toys, looking excited but when Shinsuke had mentioned work something had brightened in Osamu’s eyes. It was different but Shinsuke had long learned that some children were fascinated by the strangest things.

“Can we see where you work?” Osamu finally asked, ignoring Atsumu’s grumpy sigh.

“I wanted to get snacks.” Atsumu huffed but turned his head away when Shinsuke looked at him. He didn’t say anything else so Shinsuke focused on the positive, Osamu was curious and asking questions.

“Of course. If you’re not too tired after that, then we can go grocery shopping next?” Shinsuke offered, watching Osamu’s and Atsumu’s heads both tilt to the left with a question. He took the towels back from them and hung them up to dry before continuing.

“Why would we be tired? Is your work really far away Kita-san?”

“No, it’s actually really close by. But sometimes you can get people tired.”

“People tired.” Atsumu tested out the word, lips twisted in a confused scowl. “People… tired…”

“Like… When you are around people and they’re very loud and you don’t want to be around more people. Or when you’ve met a bunch of new people and you just want to be by yourself for a bit.”

“Oh!” Osamu grabbed his brother and shook him. “Atsumu gets people-tired! Sometimes when people are really loud and he’s trying to concentrate it makes him really grumpy and he says it hurts. Then he doesn’t want to leave his room for hours.”

“Osamu!” Atsumu whined, cheeks red as he slapped his brother’s arm. His brother recoiled, rubbing the spot but he didn’t complain despite the red mark.

“Atsumu, don’t hit your brother.” Shinsuke said, keeping his voice level. “It’s not necessary to resort to violence when you have your words. You wouldn’t want him to hit you, so don’t start it, okay?”

“... Yes Kita-san.”

“Thank you. Now. Why don’t we go see where I work, and if you both feel up to it, we can do the next item on the list okay?” Shinsuke asked, waiting for them to nod, Atsumu’s a little more forced, then moved to his feet and offered a hand. Atsumu grabbed it and then his brother’s.

Shinsuke moved down the hall, pausing at their bedroom when Atsumu stopped moving. He turned to see Osamu was hesitating in front of the open door, hand extended out to stay clasped with Atsumu’s. Shinsuke glanced in the room, noting the foxes Akagi had left were both on Osamu’s bed, tucked under the blanket.

“Would you like to take one with you?” Shinsuke asked softly, noting Osamu’s jump and nervous dance before he nodded and let go of his brother to grab one. He pulled the larger one out, light yellow with oversized ears, and tucked it under his arm before hurrying back to Shinsuke and taking his brother’s hand.

Shinsuke led the way back into the living room, making his way to the door almost hidden by a potted plant. He moved it out of the way carefully and opened the door, revealing a medium office.

The twins made noises of confusion, taking in the pictures taped around the wall and paperwork piled next to the work computer. Ribbons and fake flowers covered the desk along with a pack of different cards with different writing styles. Fabric was laid over the chair, four different types with a hand written note laying over it.

“This is my office, technically, though you’ll find Ennoshita in here a lot. I’ll introduce you later. The other one in the house is really just a place for Akagi to play in when he visits.” Shinsuke explained, nodding when Atsumu let go of his hand to poke a flower curiously and look up at him. Atsumu snagged the gardenia before laying it on the fox’s head. Both twins snickered at the way it was wedged between the ears.

“You work in your home?” Atsumu said, snooping around the desk without touching anything else.

“Yes, but not just in here.” Shinsuke explained, stepping around the desk to the door opposite the one they entered. “This is where my shop is.”

He opened the door, taking a step around a mannequin and letting the two boys step out and stare at the bright shop.

“Atsumu, Osamu. This is a wedding boutique, it’s where I work.”

#HQ #Haikyu!!#Miya Osamu #Miya Atsumu #Kita Shinsuke #Making a home AU

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addcests · 5 years ago

Text

shared lunches

title shared lunches [ao3]

pairing LPMM

words 2049

summary It was just routine at this point, these dates Mastermind and Psyker shared. So routine, Mastermind wanted a change.

for @rainsonata for fic exchange !!! _(:3」∠)∟ enjoy,,,

Psyker’s smile was always a little brighter when they had these lunches—just him and Mastermind. He thought it a trick of the eye, or that merely something else was the reason for Psyker’s wonderful mood, laughter vibrating with cheer, spilling from his lips. After careful, and controlled observation, Mastermind realized that it was not a trick of the eye—he was always so happy.

That wasn’t to say Mastermind wasn’t either, though. These dinners and lunches and breakfasts that he could grab with Psyker whenever they could squeeze the date into their schedules were, honestly, the highlight of Mastermind’s day.

But could there be something—some insight he was overlooking… ?

“—Mastermind.”

The sharp call of his name easily disrupted him, jolting in response as it roused Mastermind from so deep in his thoughts. He then straightened himself, offering a smile as he questioningly called back, “Psyker?”

“I dunno you seemed spacey.” He turned his attention to the inside of the café, motioning as if to flag down a waitress for service. “Need another mug of coffee already?”

Mastermind reached for Psyker’s arm to stop him, one hand on his forearm, the other on his hand as he gently guided and lowered his hand back to the table. “That won’t be necessary,” he said quickly while shaking his head. “I’m fine, I’m awake—I promise.” At that little quip, he shot Psyker a teasing smile.

But Psyker was the one who didn’t seem fine, eyes widening in mere seconds and a flushed set of cheeks accompanying them. “Well,” and he grumbled under his breath, “if you say so.” It seemed begrudging, but Mastermind knew better, even as Psyker tore his gaze from him while biting down on his lip. It was only for few moments he averted his gaze, before catching Mastermind watching him out of the corner of his eye. Facing him again, Psyker exhaled a soft little puff of air, then his grumpy look—was he pouting?—gave way to an exuding smile of his own, practically beaming Mastermind’s way.

Just another typical day for the two, Mastermind had thought.

Sometimes, typical and routine was great, but sometimes, just sometimes, even Mastermind thought a change of pace may be nice now and then.

Usually, in the case of their routine outings, it was always mostly Psyker doing the inviting. Not that Mastermind didn’t want to, it was just that Psyker would always beat him to it. And he wanted to change that.

“Go out with me tomorrow?”

Psyker flushed down to his neck, surely past his collar if it weren’t buttoned up as it were. “Y-you never ask. What’s the occasion?”

“I do too ask!” Mastermind gritted out, annoyed that not only did he have to hear it from his conscious, but now from Psyker face to face. “Nothing at all—I just wanted to be the one to ask this time, was all.”

And once the surprise faded way there was that ever-genuine smile of Psyker’s again, the one that seem especially bright, that sometimes, did things to Mastermind’s heart; tugged at it, pulled ever so wildly at his heartstrings. He wondered, idly, if Psyker was aware of the affect he had on him, as Mastermind could hardly make heads or tails of the affect it had on himself.

“Oh? Busy, are you?” Another teasing smile. “So, is that a no then… ?”

“What, no—of course I’m going out with you tomorrow—just shut up and eat yer cake!”

The cake wasn’t even his, it was Psyker’s and Psyker seemed intent on Mastermind having his share. And as much as Mastermind wanted to devour his half, he had appearances to keep up. “I already—”

“What, do I have to feed it to you too?”

It was Mastermind’s turn to flush all the way up to the tips of his ears, he felt his skin burn like someone set fire to them. The feeling on his skin, tingling, wasn’t unpleasant but he brought up a conscious hand to press against the skin there, as if to will away the red from his skin. It threw Mastermind for such a loop he almost forgot to reply. “Psyker—!” Or hiss out, in this case. “You can’t just… just…” Mastermind fumbled for words, eyes darting and landing everywhere but on the satisfied looking Psyker.

So satisfied was he, that he rested his chin on the back of his hand, and with is other, held out a piece of soft spongy goodness on the end of a fork towards Mastermind’s trembling lips. “Can’t do this?”

Mastermind wanted to scream how no; he couldn’t just do this! What were they, some lovesick couple feeding one another?

“Gods—”

Even the sheer existence of that thought alone was enough for Mastermind to go into overload. He couldn’t help but duck his face into a hand and turn the other way. “Psyker, when did you get to be this—this embarrassing… !” Really, Mastermind wasn’t upset with Psyker in the slightest, but he had to cover up his embarrassment and red face somehow! But, no matter how much he tried to hide, the lovesick couple idea… being like this with Psyker, it was enough to make the color stain his skin near permanently.

The smile too—the godforsaken smile. Psyker was still just beaming at him so much.

There was only so much Mastermind’s heart could take.

It would be all too easy to refute that he hadn’t thought of Psyker in that way. But at this point, face on fire, gaze bashful and averted, refusing to meet Psyker’s, felt all too much like a dead giveaway—

--he didn’t just like the shared dinners and lunches and breakfasts, and meals in between, and snacks, and desserts made in the comfort of either’s home or shared out in a cozy cafe.

Didn’t just like being able to share a moment with Psyker, just the two of them.

Didn’t just like their bicker and teasing one another.

“Mastermind?”

He liked Psyker.

“I’ll feed myself… !”

He liked Psyker and he just asked him out tomorrow

Really, that should pose as no problem, one would think. It was easily two birds with one stone, as one might say.

But it left Mastermind fraught, fraught with too many ideas and worries because how did one properly confess? It wasn’t that simple, usually? Should he bring a gift, to express his feelings and to show his appreciation towards Psyker—or was the shared outing enough? Maybe if he covered his lunch, like Psyker tended to do most of the time… ? And then—and then what? How did he tell him?

“Sweet El, how do I tell him?’

Mastermind hated to say that he was woefully unprepared, for a single night was nowhere enough to prepare for whatever today might bring. His last resort was arriving so early to the café, that he could at least gather his thoughts and perhaps think of some sort of way to properly express his feelings. But time was ticking, and he was quickly running out of ideas.

“What do I say?”

“Say what to who?”

And so, fate would curse him that of all days, never could be bothered to leave the house on time Psyker wanted to arrive early too?

“Y-you’re here already… ?”

Psyker made a face, almost unreadable, mostly questionable, with a raised brow, “I could leave?”

“N-no! Please, don’t. Stay! I mean—” Mastermind, defeated already, hung his head and murmured a quiet, “I just was not expecting you so early.” He ran a nervous hand through his hair, fingers twirling long strands aimlessly. “What prompted this?”

Psyker pulled out his seat, and hunched over close, as if observing Mastermind. His eyes travelled the length of his features from head to his shoulders. “Promise you won’t yell at me for it? I was—really happy and excited, if we’re gonna be honest.” And the unreadable look melted from Psyker’s face, giving way to a softer look of thought before he turned his eyes towards Mastermind, the beginning of a smile on his face. “I mean,” and Psyker reached for one of Mastermind’s hands and took it into his, fingers squeezing gently. “It’s only been a couple weeks since, but I’m glad my boyfriend took some initiative.”

Oh.

There was a lot in that sentence—a lot to unpack, and firstly Mastermind’s attention snapped to the timeframe he mentioned, fervently digging in his memories for what may have happened then, but he didn’t need to because the next words that followed after gave the answer to his query. And shortly after, Mastermind’s short circuited.

Oh.

“—oh…”

“… Mastermind?”

“Did you just… boyfriend… !?” Mastermind squeaked. “I thought—I was going to ask you out!”

“Ask me—” Psyker’s face had a rush of emotions but after going through several of them, he finally settled on confusion. “I thought…” Confusion giving way to, perhaps, mortification “I thought we were already dating—oh El…” He brought a gloved hand up to cover his mouth. “For weeks now… !”

They were both profusely embarrassed, unable to face each other, both turned opposite ways from one another, faces singed red, thoughts racing. Or, at least, Mastermind’s thoughts were racing; racing faster than he could keep up. For weeks he had said. Two weeks, even! For weeks now, Psyker thought he was his—oh El. El, that’s why Psyker would smile ever so much at him, and why he had seemed to have flushed at the soft touch they shared a few days prior when Mastermind had held his hand down—and any such similar touches they’d shared! Mastermind was sure the tips of his ears were burning again, and he fought everything in his power to not reach up to cover them.

“… well do ya?”

And were it not for Psyker’s suddenly calm voice reaching out to him, the static of his thoughts would have threatened to take over, but they didn’t. Mastermind was then able to bashfully glance his way. “What… ?” he asked, voice so hushed.

“Do you?” But Psyker’s focus was centered directly on him, unwavering and determined. “Be my boyfriend, Mastermind.” He even leaned over the table some, hand reaching out but not yet quite touching Mastermind’s. And when there was hesitance still, or mayhap just embarrassment, from Mastermind’s, regardless, Psyker’s hand veering off to the long locks of hair at Mastermind’s cheek and curling the tips of it between his fingers, leaning over to lay his lips against them for the softest of pecks. “Mastermind… ?”

“—over.”

Psyker, blinked out of stupor, failing to understand what Mastermind had said, especially when his reply hadn’t sounded like affirmation. “What—”

“Start over… !”

“What do you—”

Mastermind exhaled a soft puff of air, along with a shake of his shoulders, seemingly to shake off his nerves before his lips curled into a smile at Psyker. He cupped the hand still tenderly holding those strands of hair ever so delicately, took Psyker’s one hand into both of his cupped ones and beamed at him, “Will you be my boyfriend, Psyker?”

“A-are you really trying to just one up me here, I can’t believe—”

“I wanted to be the one to ask you out!” And Mastermind was definitely not pouting.

“Well then, I accept!”

“You—what—"

“I will be your boyfriend, Mastermind.” And to wipe the pout off of Mastermind’s face, Psyker took one of Mastermind’s hands into his and pressed a butterfly kiss to the back of each knuckle, eyes closed as his lips dragged sensually across each one. “I’ll go out with you.”

He wasn’t sure if his ears would ever stop burning at this point, but, being boyfriends with Psyker, he figured it would have to be another routine, like the lunches they shared, that he would just have to get used to. Brows knitted, as he glared Psyker’s way, with not an ounce of bite to them gradually softened to a look of affection.

“Okay, then be mine Psyker.”

He was sure it would just be one more routine, shared between them both, that he would get used to loving as much as he did Psyker.

#my fanfiction #HEY ITS THE OG OTP !!!#prompt was LP and MM: who confesses to who first !#HAVE FUN GUESSING !

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nhlarchived · 5 years ago

Text

NYC ~ Mathew Barzal

Chapter Three

Ch. One ~ Ch. Two ~ Ch. Three ~ Ch. Four ~ Ch. Five

Word Count: 2,573

Warnings: Mature Language

Wattpad

As if going to school wasn’t boring enough on its own, Mother Nature decided to give us a rainstorm today. Thankfully the MTA station was not only directly in front of my apartment building, but also outside of where my class was being held for the day. Allowing me to avoid being completely drenched from the torrential downpour.

I didn’t mind the forecast too bad, I actually love storms. However, I enjoy them the most while I’m at home watching from the comfort of my own bed, using it as white noise to take a nap. Yet here I sit in my uncomfortable plastic seat watching droplets race each other down the glass window while a professor fifty feet away speaks gibberish into a microphone.

My class this morning was of course, one of my least favorites. Not that I hated it due to being difficult, only because I knew practically everything already and I could teach the class better than the professor himself. So, for entertainment before I passed out from pure boredom, I decided to occupy myself by texting Mathew after his morning practice had ended.

Similar to how he is in person, he was great with holding a conversation. In fact, I almost forgot I was even in class. He decided to explain more in depth on his life back home in Vancouver, telling me about his parents, sister and even about their dogs that he’s apparently terrified of. I was so invested in the stories he was telling that as he was confessing some embarrassing ones, I accidentally let out a giggle that I had to quickly cover with a fake cough to not disrupt the class. Although I couldn’t trick the people closely surrounding me as I had a permanent smile plastered on my face that my hand couldn’t even hide.

As much as I could through text, I made my potential feelings towards him obvious as he did the same for I, but after last night I couldn’t help but worry if this would work out or not. The money from nannying was the only thing covering my student loans and necessities. I was living on my own in one of the most expensive cities as a full time student. I’m fortunate enough that my distant family owned my current apartment and allowed me to reside there as long as I maintained at the very least a 3.8 GPA. However the cost of my loans, food, transportation, miscellaneous bills and school supplies were a lot to handle and nannying was the only thing flexible enough for my schedule.

Class finally released and I made my way back to the subway with only getting slightly wet from the rain. It was torturous underground as the fahrenheit was roughly around 50° and the humidity still found a way to crawl under my skin. Once on the train I took a corner seat next to the exit while a business man in a suit relaxed on my right.

My phone vibrated which I had assumed was Mathew, but to my surprise Rebecca’s name had appeared at the top of the screen accompanied by a glowing ‘slide to answer’ bar across the bottom. My heart started pounding through my chest wondering if Dennis had mentioned the event from last night. My mind imagining the worst case scenario of her telling me I can’t talk to him anymore or even worse, having them fire me.

“Hello?” I spoke nervously into the line after subconsciously sliding the white call circle with my thumb.

“Cassie! I️ hope you’re doing well!” She responded excitedly. I released an agonizing breath once hearing the positive tone she was using. She’s not the type to be passive, she’s one of those people where if she was upset or disappointed, she would let it be known.

“I’m pretty good, how are you?” I answered sweetly, now beginning to question why she would be calling mid-day like this.

“I’m wonderful, and I️ would be even better if you could do me a huuuge favor.” She suggested. Nine times out of ten this meant she needed me to babysit with short notice. However, the unusual part was she normally texts me instead of calling.

“Yeah of course, anything for you guys!” I replied joyfully. I could definitely use the extra money with the holidays slowly creeping in. Plus, I couldn’t help but still be curious if Dennis had spilled the beans yet or not, and the only way to find out was to see them face to face.

“Can you sit the kids tonight? Dennis and I️ want to have a little date night before the season starts. Mat said he’s going out with a friend but I trust you more anyway. I’m sure you probably have plans tonight but I️ figured it was worth a shot.” She explained.

‘Mat said he’s going out with a friend.’

Immediately I knew that I was ‘the friend’ since we had planned for him to come check out my lonely apartment tonight. I was bummed that I would have to cancel, but my job and income will always come first. I’m sure Mathew would understand, and if he didn’t then that would be enough verification for me to end whatever relationship we have anyway.

“No problem at all, I’ll be there!” I confirmed enthusiastically, now exiting the train that was at my stop. I covered my vacant ear with my index finger to better my hearing as I have now joined the exorbitant amount of people on the staircase back to ground level.

“Oh my gosh you are literally the best. Be here by six?” She requested. I looked down at my watch and the hands sat on the twelve and two. This gave me plenty of time to get ready before catching the LIRR in time to make it there.

“I’ll see you then.” I confirmed before we said our goodbyes and hung up the phone.

Once returning to the comfort of my warm and dry apartment, I opened a text message to send to Mathew explaining the cancellation of our plans for the night.

Cassandra: “I’m sincerely sorry I️ have to cancel tonight. Rebecca needs me to watch the kids so they can go on a date. I️ figured it’s the least I️ could do after upsetting Dennis last night.”

I pressed the send button and a little pit in my stomach started to grow. I was disappointed. I was highly anticipating hanging with him and getting to know him on a more personable level. But maybe being alone at my apartment was too quick at the moment anyway. I guess having a simple restaurant date first wouldn’t hurt.

It wasn’t long before I felt a vibration from the device in my hand. His name playing across the screen directly underneath the time. I wasted no time before entering my passcode and revealing the message.

Mathew: “Don’t worry about it I️ understand. Besides, now that I’m not going anywhere tonight, that means we get to watch the kids together ;)”

As if Dennis wasn’t skeptical enough, there was no way he was going to be enthusiastic about the two of us alone with the kids. Although, this could be the perfect opportunity to prove to him that I can maintain self control. Let’s just hope it’s the second one.

It was now a quarter till six and of course, it was still raining. I quickly sprinted to the porch where I could be protected from the precipitation. I rang the bell and it was only a matter of seconds before Rebecca opened the door, completely taking my breath away with her appearance. Wherever Dennis was planning on taking her tonight was clearly going to be elegant.

Once entering into the foyer the three kids, already dressed in their pajamas, ran up and attached to my legs. Giggles echoing through the large house as I tried to keep my balance. It warms my heart every time they do this. It doesn’t matter how much time we spend together or the short amount of time from when I last saw them. I was basically just an older sibling to them. Even the parents watched in awe as they saw the genuine joy pour out of their children.

“Alright, alright. We know you’re excited but try not to break her legs.” Rebecca recommended causing them to ease off my legs that way I could stand normal again. Dennis then appeared from the hallway handing Rebecca her purse. Nervous, I felt my body begin to sweat as I was still unsure of where we stood.

“Since it’s raining, no going outside. Also, there may be no school tomorrow, but you still have to be in bed by eight. Deal?” Dennis acknowledged the kids. They all nodded their heads before running off to the game room down the hall, instructing me to follow them. Before I went with them I turned to Rebecca as she usually has some sort of instructions to give me for the night.

“They’ve already eaten so no need to feed them tonight. If they start asking for ice cream, no problem, just make sure it’s before seven. You pretty much know the deal.” She explained while grabbing her umbrella and walking into the garage, entering their car. I nodded my head in agreement.

“Cassandra” I heard Dennis say walking up from behind me, and suddenly I wanted nothing more than to melt through the floor and disappear. “Just to let you know, Mat isn’t going out tonight anymore so he’ll be home. I️ instructed him to stay downstairs so he shouldn’t bother you guys.” He continued.

I could feel my whole body freeze when he spoke Mat’s name. I was waiting for him to say something along the lines of “If I see you with him again, we’re firing you.”, but luckily that didn’t happen.

“We should be home by midnight. If it gets too late leave Mat here with the kids and you can go home. No need to stay overnight.” He finished before entering the driver’s side of the car. I shined them a smile and waved goodbye as they left and finally I could now relax knowing Dennis is going to let this slide.

I played board games with the kids for what felt like hours but was only forty-five minutes. I allowed them to win every time because, well they’re kids, but it made this quite boring for me. However, right before seven o’clock rolled by, they began begging for ice cream just like Rebecca had foreseen.

I grabbed each of them a bowl, filling it with their desired flavors before they took off to eat in the living room while watching television. I remained in the kitchen, keeping an eye on them over the half wall, and began to rinse off the ice cream scoop before placing it in the dishwasher.

I grabbed a paper towel to dry my hands off when I felt the presence of fingertips wrapping around my waist. I quickly turned around in panic not sure of who it could be, but then I was met with a smirk that I’ve grown very fond of. A long sigh of relief escaped my mouth after seeing Mathew. My muscles relaxed and my hands that were up in surrender fell onto his chest. I could feel him giggling underneath my fingertips.

“Oh I’m sorry, did I scare you?” He teased, with his arms still around my waist as he pulled me closer to him. Between his toned muscles under my palms and the way his features crinkled in laugher, I was lost in a daze. I never thought I would see the day where I would be this attracted to someone. Especially someone I had just met.

Suddenly, a loud noise from the television reminded me of the kids in the next room. I quickly pushed him off of me looking towards the children to make sure they didn’t see anything that had just happened.

“You can’t do this around the kids.” I whispered anxiously to Mat.

“I️ can’t hug you? Come on it’s not like we’re sticking our tongues down each other’s throats.” He instigated. I rolled my eyes and ignored his comment. Moving out of his touch and beginning to tidy up the kitchen once again.

It wasn’t long before his hands found their way around my waist once again. This time feeling his entire body against my back, and his breath near my ear. My heart stopped.

“But I mean, we totally could if you wanted to.” He whispered in my ear erupting goosebumps down my arms. Of course I wanted to. I wanted nothing more at the moment, but this was not the time and place. It took everything out of my to pull from his touch. I lightly tapped my elbow onto his torso behind me before stepping out of his arms. I didn’t want to make an actual impact, just enough that he got the point. I turned around and sent him a dismayed glare.

“I️ was joking! Partially.” He continued as I tried my hardest to fight back a smile.

“Dennis made it clear he didn’t want you around us tonight. The last thing I️ need is the kids telling him we were hugging in the kitchen.” I explained, turning Mathew around and playfully pushing his back towards the stairs that lead to the basement.

“Oh no, not hugging. Only married people do that.” Mat snidely joked. I scuffed behind him as I struggled with my attempt to push him towards the door. I got him halfway there before he decided to bend his knees and lay all of his weight onto my arms, his head falling to my shoulder.

“Oh no, my knees gave out. Looks like you’re going to have to carry me.” Mathew played as I used all my strength to keep both him and I from falling over. All while trying to keep my laughing to a minimum so he couldn’t hear.

“I️ came here to babysit them, not you!” I teased finally getting him to the basement door. Yet, he didn’t let off any of his weight.

“I’ll go down on one condition.” He then added, turning his head that was still on my shoulder towards my face, where his nose now tickled my cheek.

“You have to join me down there once the kids go to sleep.” He whispered so low to the point I almost didn’t hear it.

This sent me into a whirlwind of thoughts. I wouldn’t have to worry about the kids seeing, since they’re the best sleepers ever and never come out of their rooms. Plus, it's always quiet and lonely after they’re asleep. I normally just sit on the couch and watch TV anyway. Dennis told me to head home after they were all in bed, but staying another couple of minutes couldn’t hurt right? Especially since they were expected to come home late. It sounded almost foolproof.

“Ugh my legs!” Mat said, clearly becoming impatient for my answer, as he leaned even more weight onto me.

“Okay okay okay! I’ll see you down there at 8:30.” I answered almost toppling over onto the floor. “Can’t wait.” He stated while finally standing up straight, freeing my muscles as he quickly and happily descended down the stairs.

#mat barzal #mathew barzal #New York Islanders #nhl #hockey #fan fic #fan fiction #imagine #series

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i-writeandread-blog · 6 years ago

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Wonderland - Chapter 10

Authors Note- sorry it took so long to get this chapter up. It’s most likely not that great either, but I’m writing and I’m happy about that. If you want to be tagged let me know, thanks!

Staying at Jared's house isn't that bad. Everyday he wakes me up with breakfast in bed, every night he kisses my forehead before closing his eyes. He thinks I'm asleep when he crawls into bed usually sometime after midnight, but I am not. I don't let him think otherwise because I like this nightly routine. It shows me his respect for me. He hasn't pressured me once for sex in the two weeks I have been here.

Jared had hired a home nurse to come in and basically keep me company. I could do everything on my own. It only took three or so days to gain enough strength to start walking around. Once I did I really didn't need anyone to help me. I was fine to go home the other day, but Jared hadn't really been around for me to explain to him my intentions. After everything he has done, I didn't want to just disappear on him.

He has been so busy with the album and then he had some engagements come up that he had agreed to prior to meeting me, that he couldn't get out of. Not to mention they released the dates for a European tour in the spring to coincide with the album release. It was no doubt a very busy time for him and the band. He didn't bring up his work with me and I didn't ask questions. We hardly ever saw each other so there really hadn't been any conversations.

~~~~~~~

It is day 16 at Jared's house. I am feeling way too cooped up. I want to get out of this house, I want to take a drive. As luck would have it, and I mean bad luck... the excuse to get up and go comes in the form of a phone call.

"Hello?" I answer.

"Yes I am sitting." The person on the other end is my old friend Darlene.

"Yes, Dar, I swear I am sitting. What is going on?" I ask thinking this is a joke.

"You have got to be kidding me?"

"No, no, you're lying. Shut the fuck up. You're fucking lying." I scream at the top of my lungs.

Jared runs in and finds me doubled over the bed half screaming and half crying.

"Ali, what's wrong? What hurts?"

"He's... uhh... gone. He... is... dead." I say through sobs.

"Who Alice? Who is dead?"

"Nicky"

"I don't understand. Who is Nicky?"

"Nicky, my best friend's boyfriend. My friend. He is gone. I've got to go. I need to go home. They airlifted Gemma to Duke, she may not make it."

"I'm coming with you!" Jared says without hesitation.

"No, you have too much going on. I can do this alone. I appreciate all you've done."

"Ali, I want to be with you. Just let me clear my schedule and we will fly out first thing tomorrow morning."

"No, Jared. I have got to go now. If Gemma doesn't make it, I'd never forgive myself for not being there."

Jared left the room without saying anything and I can't tell if it is because I refuse to let him rearrange his life for me. I start grabbing the few odds and ends I have lying around his room so I can leave LA as soon as humanly possible.

Jared walks back in quietly and comes up behind me, wrapping his arms around my shoulders. This startles me.

"Shhh shhh, it's just me. Everything is going to be okay. I've went ahead and booked a flight for you. It leaves in 3 hours. It was the only one available this short notice."

"Jared, you didn't have..."

"I wanted to. I'm gonna fly out tomorrow, I promise. I'm gonna be with you every step of the way, and that's final."

"Thank you."

"It's my pleasure. Ali, you've wormed your way in to this ice cold heart of mine. Don't you know you have me wrapped around your finger?"

"Yeah whatever Leto." I roll my eyes.

"Did you just roll your eyes at me?"

"Maybe." I say coyly.

Jared pulls me backwards and we both tumble onto the bed. He rolls over facing me, leaning in so that his lips find mine. This kiss was sweet and gentle, yet had anger and desperation in it. I got lost in it. My hands fisting his hair. His beard scratching my face. I needed air. He tends to take my breath away even in the small glances he occasionally gives me. He thinks he is wrapped around my finger but it really is the other way around.

As soon as I break the kiss, reality sets in. For one small iota of a moment I had forgotten what was going on. He is a distraction and I wouldn't normally mind, but I have a flight to catch.

"Jared, I gotta get to the airport."

"We have time."

"No, I can't get sidetracked right now. Please don't be mad. I'll make it up to you."

I stand up, walk to the door, turn around and blow him a kiss. He smiles as I leave him for the first time in what feels like a long time. I tell myself that this is actually a good thing. The heart grows fonder when you're apart.

The drive to the airport from Jared's seems longer than it should and I am sure it is because I don't know what kind of hell awaits me in North Carolina. I cringe at the thought just as I am pulling into the long term parking at LAX. I don't know how long I will be gone but the shorter the stay the better. I'll be there as long as Gemma needs me. She'd do the same for me, if ever I was in her shoes.

I am grateful that the doctor had prescribed pain medication when I left the hospital. Up until now I hadn't used any, but the only way I am getting any sleep on this plane tonight is if I am medicated.

———————————

It feels odd that Ali isn't in my bed tonight. I am already packed and I was able to get any meetings or engagements put on the back burner with the help of Emma and Shayla. Everything is working out in one way or another, but I can't seem to fall asleep.

Every part of me says I should be here working and not getting too involved with a woman right now. I have so much going on and this has really complicated things. I don't have many people I can count as friends in my life, but I know I can always call on Shannon. There isn't anything we wouldn't do for each other. I call his number and he answers within two rings.

"... Shan, I just don't know what to do here. I was thinking about how crazy I'd be if anything ever happened to you. So I get it, this is her best friend. If she loves Gemma as much as I love you, then I would need someone good and pure to help me through the tough shit."

"Yeah but Jay, you aren't good and pure."

"You know what I mean. I know I shouldn't get too attached, but..."

"Okay, so my advice to you is to consider all angles here. So far, you've managed to keep working even while she was getting better at the house. As much of a distraction that she is, she really hasn't been that disruptive."

"True."

"But, Jay, we all function on our drugs of choice. Me, it's always been alcohol and drugs. You on the other hand, it's been work and chicks. Can you sacrifice either of those things?"

"You quit using."

"Yeah, but you saw how hard that fight was..."

Shannon was right. I was managing fine with work, and I hadn't had any of my previous temptations show up unannounced. But what if work suffered because of Ali? What if I keep falling for her and I can't be faithful? I don't want to hurt her.

Ali and I haven't made any agreements about being exclusive, but I respect her and she deserves someone who can only be with her. I know I want to give her that but I am not sure I can be trusted. I need to put myself in the line of fire, I need to be tested.

As soon as I think about that, I remember how reluctant Alice was to be with me after my little white lie. She had made reference to being hurt before. If you think about it, we all have, but something tells me her hurt is more than just the run of the mill break up. There was a pain in her eyes when she opened up and told me she couldn't trust me. I'd have to find out sooner or later what exactly had happened.

"Okay Shannon, I'll weigh the pros and cons, but if I'm being honest here, I at least want to try. You said mom wants us to be better men. I do want to be a better man. I've been thinking a lot about settling down. Maybe Ali came right at the perfect time... anyway I'm gonna try to get some sleep." We say our goodbyes and disconnect the call.

I lay in bed tossing and turning, wondering how I could prove to myself that I could be faithful. How I could put myself in the line of fire being around hundreds of girls all throwing themselves at me and turning each and every one of them down. This would be hard for me as it's been over fifteen years since I was in a committed relationship and that relationship ended because of infidelity.

I believe in the idea of soulmates. I like the sound of it. And it's true Ali is me in female form. We laugh at the same things, we do the same silly things when we think no one is looking. We both like attention, me more than her. We both are creative. There's so many similarities and very few things that make us different. She probably is my soulmate. I smile at the thought of that.

~~~~~~

I wake up and blink my eyes a few times. Sometime in the night I must have fallen asleep. I'm grateful because I have a long flight ahead of me and I won't be able to sleep on the plane. I take a quick shower and eat a banana for breakfast. The lab became alive sometime around my last gulp of juice. I wash my glass and step into the office to bid everyone a farewell.

Everyone looks at me incredulously as I've got very neutral clothing on topped off with a black hoodie and sunglasses. It's imperative that I am as incognito as possible. I am in no mood to deal with any paparazzi today.

I make it to the airport with minutes to spare and board the flight. As soon as I can, I take my laptop out and work on more lyrics.

"Started a stranger, a love endangered

The edge of a night

The face of an angel, the heart of a ghost

Was it a dream?"

I had started the song as a love letter to America, but I can't help but feel it's also a love letter to Alice too. The lyrics I just wrote are definitely to her. I can't wait to sing it to her the first chance I get. I write as much down as I can and close the computer when the flight crew tells us we are approaching our descent.

Before I know it the plane has landed and I'm headed to the hospital in a hired car. Once there I send a text to Ali asking if she's at the hospital. She confirms that she is in the operating room waiting area and that she hasn't been able to see Gemma yet.

I walk in to the waiting room where there are a few people sitting around talking. I take notice of Ali looking at her phone, no doubt waiting for my reply. I clear my throat and all eyes are on me. The only ones that matter are her bright blue ones. She stands up and runs into my waiting arms.

@branded-with-a-j @burritoverload @llfd1977 @nikkitasevoli @msroxyblog @lolainblue @snewsome756 @lady-grinning-soul-k @letojokerownsme

#jared leto #thirty seconds to mars #30 seconds to mars #jaredandali #jared leto fic #jared leto fan fiction #jared leto fiction #jared leto fanfics #jared leto fanfic #wonderland chapter 10

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jarienn972 · 6 years ago

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Uninvited Company - Part One

This is my second contribution to the @ouatwinterwhump event and it is a story that takes place approximately 6 months after the Final Battle at the end of S6. Here, Emma and Killian are trying to enjoy some time alone to celebrate their 6 month anniversary, but they quickly find themselves in danger.

This story will feature three parts updating weekly. Special thanks go out to the organizers of this whump-filled event and to @the-whumpy-fangirl who served both as beta-reader and confidence booster again. ��

Story can also be found on FF.net and AO3.

All they’d wanted was a little time to themselves - just a few hours to relax and enjoy each other’s company. Couple time was one of those little luxuries that as Sheriff, Emma Swan-Jones found increasingly difficult to fit into her busy schedule. Even with the Black Fairy defeated and Rumplestiltskin gone off to some distant realm to raise his son with Belle, Storybrooke was still anything but calm. There always seemed to be some sort of skirmish going on that kept both her and her Deputy husband occupied.

Today, they’d been married for six months and despite their opposing schedules, they’d wanted to do something special to celebrate the anniversary but they weren’t certain they’d be able to fit something in. Even a brief interlude at Granny’s seemed out of the question after a Viking uprising against the Harbormaster caused disruption at the docks and a trio of former Lost Boys were wanted for vandalizing half of the town as well as for breaking into several homes and local businesses. While they hadn’t really stolen much, they were causing thousands of dollars in damages and Storybrooke residents wanted them caught and prosecuted. For a small town, this place definitely had no shortage of criminal activity to keep their law enforcement hopping.

This morning, she’d learned that the now-adult Lost Boys had broken into the elementary school by shattering a window of a third grade classroom, spending approximately five minutes trashing desks, chairs and even a couple of laptops before the janitor chased them off. Their juvenile destruction might have been minor compared to other crimes in Storybrooke history but it added to her already hefty caseload. Emma was getting ready to head over to the school to speak to that same janitor to get descriptions of the hooligans and survey the damages when her father surprised her, entering through the station’s rear door off of the alley. She nearly leapt out of her chair when she caught sight of David Nolan out of the corner of her eye.

“Dad?!” she exclaimed, pushing back from the desk. “What are you doing here? You scared the crap out of me!”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to frighten you,” he replied in a slightly sheepish, embarrassed tone. “Anyway, I’m here to take over.”

Emma glared up at him quizzically, eyebrows knitted in suspicion at his choice of words. “What do you mean take over?”

“I’m giving you the day off. It’s your six-month anniversary so you and Hook should spend the day together, not chasing after a bunch of wayward overgrown adolescents.”

“You remembered that it was our six-month anniversary?”

“Well, not me technically,” David confessed. “Your mother was actually the one who reminded me and suggested that I take on duties as Sheriff today so that the two of you can have the day off.”

“You’re going to work Killian’s shift this afternoon too?”

“Don’t worry. I’ve got it covered,” he assured her. “Go home. Go get your husband and go enjoy the day together. It’s not often that we get weather this nice in November so maybe take advantage of that?”

Emma wasn’t about to hesitate on accepting his offer, hopping up from her chair and giving her father a huge hug of gratitude before grabbing her jacket that had been hanging on the doorknob and dashing gleefully towards the door.

**********

So, that was how her day had started. Emma hurried home in search of her husband but didn’t find him at the house. A quick check of the GPS locator on his cell phone revealed that he was down at the harbor, likely tending to something on the Jolly Roger since she doubted he’d seen the report about the Viking incident yet. He was also probably unaware that his father-in-law had given him the afternoon off. With their schedules now free, they spent a few minutes deciding how they would spend their time. Killian was quick to suggest sailing out into the harbor but Emma wanted to take advantage of this beautiful, late fall day to find an isolated place out in the woods where they could be alone - and as far from Storybrooke as they could realistically get. She painted a vivid picture for him of the two of them sharing a picnic lunch beneath a canopy of pine trees, perhaps seeing if their alone time might develop into even more enjoyable activities.

It took only a few minutes to throw together a decent picnic lunch, to which Emma added a bottle of her favorite Pinot Grigio and a pair of stemless wine goblets. Killian rounded up an old, red and black plaid blanket that he rolled tightly to fit into the bottom of Emma’s beat up canvas backpack before she packed the food, water bottles and utensils on top of it. Emma shook her head when he attempted to tuck his trusty rum flask into the pack as well. She wanted to keep him sober for this little unplanned getaway and besides, they could save the rum for later…

So they drove out past the toll (or was it troll?) bridge to the furthest reaches of Storybrooke’s borders to a spot Emma remembered from her many adventures traipsing through these same woods in search of the villain of the week. It was a picturesque evergreen thicket located approximately a hundred yards from the dirt road that led to the mountains north of town. The ground here was blanketed in a thick carpet of pine needles and fallen leaves that crunched beneath their boots as they strolled arm in arm towards the hidden refuge they sought.

But that was about as idyllic as their day would get. As they ventured away from the road, an uneasiness began to prickle the hair on the back of her neck, the forest growing denser and more claustrophobic with every step she took. What had earlier seemed such a wonderful idea now had her cursing herself as she unconsciously clung tighter to Killian’s arm.

“You alright there, Love?” he asked, pausing on the trail until she would meet his questioning gaze.

“I’m just having some second thoughts about whether this was actually a good idea or not…” she replied, gaining a skeptically arched eyebrow from her husband in return.

“Second thoughts about spending our afternoon together?”

“No, definitely not that! I wouldn’t give up spending alone time with you for anything, but I’m thinking that maybe coming out here wasn’t such a great idea. These woods are a little more imposing than I remembered…”

“If you’d rather turn back and go elsewhere, I’m certain we could come up with numerous enjoyable activities in which to divulge our time…” Emma shook her head at the innuendo laden smirk crossing his lips, but she couldn’t deny that he was right. There were plenty of other things they could do besides a November picnic in the forest.

“You’re not disappointed? I mean, I turned down sailing on the Jolly Roger for this…”

“I could never be disappointed in time spent with you, Swan.”

“Then let’s get out of here. We can go camp out in the back yard or the living room instead.”

“As you wish,” he smiled as they turned back towards the dirt road where she’d parked the Bug, Emma wrapping her fingers around his hook and playfully tugging it, but they’d barely made it a few steps before Emma froze. Something off to their right had captured her attention. “Emma? What’s wrong, Love?”

“Over there…,” she replied in a whisper. “Looks like a campsite. Who would be camping way out here?”

“Campsite? Where?” He either wasn’t looking in the right place or was simply not seeing what she had spotted.

“Off to the right, beyond that row of bushes…” Once she pointed him in the right direction, Killian now spied what had garnered her attention - a glimpse of a bright blue plastic sheet apparently hanging from the distant trees to form a makeshift shelter and almost entirely obscured by the heavy undergrowth. He also discerned a few curls of smoke rising from a still-smoldering fire which, together with the fabricated tent, indicated they weren’t alone in this dense patch of forest.

“Looks as though someone’s been here recently,” he added in the same hushed tone. “See the tendrils of smoke rising from their fire? Perhaps someone else has chosen to take advantage of this temperate weather as we are?”

“I don’t know, Killian. I’m not getting a good vibe about this… Who do we know who’d want to set up camp this far out of town? Are any of Robin Hood’s gang still around?”

“Not that I’m aware. I believe they all returned to the Enchanted Forest.”

“What about Lost Boys?”

“The few that came back with us have a compound south of town. They tend to keep together, the distrustful little sods.”

“Then who could it be? Most Storybrooke residents are still afraid of getting this close to the town line intentionally, even if there isn’t a curse attached to it any longer. Pretty hard habit to break…”

“I’ve no better an idea than you, Love,” he responded with a shrug, although his curiosity was certainly piqued.

“Maybe we should get a closer look?” she suggested, her instincts kicking in. “If this isn’t anyone we know, we might have a bigger problem.”

“Alright, but I suggest we make this a brief investigation. The person might not appreciate the interruption and of course, we do have other plans…” Killian flashed his cheekiest grin at his wife, but it was quickly wiped from his visage as a gunshot rang out and the accompanying bullet ricocheted off a tree mere inches to his left. A second shot followed almost instantly, striking the ground at Emma’s feet. “Doesn’t appear that our mystery camper wishes to be identified, Swan! Let’s go!” He reached out and grasped ahold of her wrist, urgently tugging her away from the mysterious campsite as a third and fourth shot whizzed past them.

Emma hesitated for a moment, trying to determine who was shooting at them but all she could definitively discern was that the bullets were coming from the direction of the road, which meant little to no chance of escaping to the Bug. All they would be able to do was sprint deeper into the darkening forest so, as soon as she came to her senses, that was precisely what they did. If she’d been able to figure out the shooter’s position, she might have been able to freeze them with magic, but without that information, her brain insisted that flight was their best option. She’d probably second guess that decision later but they’d ran - ran until they believed they’d distanced themselves enough from their unexpected guest.

Minutes later, panting and exhausted, they dropped to the earth, sheltering behind a moss-covered outcrop of granite boulders.

“Think we lost them?” Emma wondered, using her sleeve to wipe the sweat from her forehead and neck.

“Well, whomever we encountered has stopped shooting at us, but unless our unknown assailant makes a return appearance, we won’t know for certain.” Killian slumped his body against the rocks, breathing heavily as his body felt starved for oxygen. He really must have been allowing himself to go soft since he’d made Storybrooke home because he was feeling every bit of his 300 years of age right now.

Beside him, Emma had dug her cell phone from her pocket but her face was marred by a deep frown as she saw there was no signal. “We really need to work on improving the cell service around here,” she grumbled. “There’s no signal so I can’t call out for help.”

“At least you have magic should we encounter this person again,” he reminded her as a pained groan escaped him when he attempted to shift positions.

“All the good that did us when our mystery gunman started shooting. No idea where exactly they were shooting from. I mean, I suppose I could have blasted everything between us and the road, but it might not have done us any good.”

“Perhaps I should have insisted that you poof us out of there instead of running,” he lamented, sucking in another deep breath as his lungs continued to ache. “I’m getting too old for this…”

“Beginning to feel your age, Captain?” she taunted in attempt to lighten the mood.

“Aye - every bloody year…” he sighed, tipping his head back, staring up at the pine boughs stretched out well above their heads as he clutched tightly at his chest.

“Are you having that much trouble catching your breath?” Emma asked, the light-hearted teasing now giving way to genuine concern that he wasn’t recovering as easily as he should have from their dash through the woods. He might be centuries old, but his physical body was that of a man in his late 30s and he was definitely in good shape. This just wasn’t like him.

“Aye,” he replied as she tucked her phone away and crawled closer to him. “It’s really hard to breathe…”

“Let me unbutton that vest so your chest isn’t so constricted,” she offered, pushing his arm out of her way. “I remember those damned Enchanted Forest corsets and that thing looks almost as bad…” Her nimble fingers made quick work of the tiny mother-of-pearl buttons on his black leather waistcoat, but as she brushed the leather to the side to release some of the pressure on his rib cage, a disturbing sight caught her eye - a deep stain on his navy blue shirt. Her fingertips probed it gently, finding it damp, but not with sweat. And her fear was confirmed as she withdrew her fingers to find her skin tinted with crimson. “Killian - you’re bleeding!”

“Am I?” he allowed his gaze to drift downward at the apparent injury, yet somehow, even presented with the evidence, he wasn’t feeling anything more than merely short of breath.

“One of those bullets must have hit you,” she continued, carefully pulling his tucked shirttail from the waistband of his jeans then cautiously lifted the fabric, peeling it away from his tender flesh to uncover the oozing wound on his left side, located just below his bottom rib. “Can you lean forward a bit?” she queried, suspecting from the wound’s appearance that this was an exit wound. He nodded, pushing away from the boulder and nearly falling against his wife’s shoulder.

Her suspicion was confirmed seconds later as she located the matching hole in the back of his leather jacket. She didn’t need to find the actual hole in his skin to know it was there, but at least it meant she wouldn’t have to attempt to dig a slug out of him.

“Okay, looks like the bullet went clean through, but I don’t know if it hit anything vital. I mean, you were still able to run after being struck and you’re still talking now, so chances are good that it didn’t hit anything major. Let me heal this and we’ll get the hell out of here.”

She hovered her right hand above his abdomen, awaiting the familiar magic to flow through her and heal his injuries, but this time, nothing happened. “Damnit!” she hissed, her exclamation exiting in a too-loud whisper.

“What’s wrong, Love?”

“We must have crossed over the town line somewhere. Magic isn’t working.” She let out a heavy sigh as her brain tried to come to terms with their precarious situation. They were lost in the woods somewhere north of town with no magic, no weapons, no cell phones and an unknown person possibly pursuing them. Killian was wounded, potentially seriously, and she couldn’t heal him. She didn’t even have a first aid kit with her as it was back in the trunk of the Bug. So much for enjoying their anniversary… “Okay - think you will be able to walk? We aren’t going to be able to stay here.”

“Not sure…”

“We might not have a choice, but first, let’s see if we have something we can use in here,” she rambled as she shrugged the backpack off of her shoulders and unceremoniously tossed it to the ground at her feet. After unzipping the main compartment, she dumped the contents out, recognizing the importance of lightening their load as she rifled through the varied items. The blanket Killian had so meticulously rolled earlier hadn’t fallen out of the backpack so she left it inside, immediately placing the bottled water and sandwiches alongside it as they’d likely need those later. The bottle of wine wasn’t really worth carrying but Emma placed it off to the side as she might be able to use it as a disinfectant since it did contain alcohol. Killian’s rum would have been much more useful for that purpose since it was higher proof and now she could kick herself for making him leave the flask behind.

The majority of the remaining items would be abandoned - the wine glasses, the container of fruit salad and the buttery pound cake that her mother had dropped off that morning (which should have been a hint that her parents were plotting something).

“Think we could use the wine to clean out that wound?” she asked, hoping the alcohol content was sufficient.

“I’d rather just drink it,” he scoffed.

“That’s not happening. You don’t need to be getting buzzed right now. You’ll probably start going into shock soon if we can’t get you medical attention.” She located the corkscrew amongst the discarded items and twisted it into the top of the bottle to release the cork. It probably wasn’t the best thing to use but her options were limited and it seemed better than nothing. Tugging the cork free, she flicked it aside and poured a decent amount of the golden liquid onto a wad of paper towels she’d brought along to use as napkins. Clenching her teeth, she pressed the soaked towels against the bullet wound as Killian flinched and hissed at the pain. He was definitely feeling the injury now, especially as she applied more pressure to try to slow the bleeding.

“Damn, that smarts…” Killian said as his face contorted into a grimace. He knew that what she was doing was necessary, but it didn’t make it hurt any less.

“Sorry...Hold this in place for a moment while I get this stuff together. We need to get moving…”

“Help me up first,” he insisted as she pushed herself to her feet before taking hold of his outstretched and now bloodstained hand, helping him stand up then releasing her grip and passing the wine-drenched paper towels to him as his fingers slid back beneath his jacket to cover the wound. “Now - which way should we venture?”

“We need to find a way back across the town line. That way, I can poof us out of here and we can return with backup to capture the shooter.”

“And which way do you suppose that line lies?” Killian asked, realizing that he’d become slightly disoriented by the advancing effects of blood loss and their rapid retreat from the gunman earlier. He wasn’t even certain from which direction they’d come and little looked familiar. “This pirate can navigate by the stars, but I’m not as adept at navigating by trees.”

“We’ll have to head south - toward the lake.”

“And which way is south?”

“That way, I think,” she said as she pointed to her left. “I can see the ridge of mountains over there to the right, so that has to be north.”

“Is that the same direction from whence we came?” he questioned, his weary mind assessing the likelihood of danger ahead. “The direction we’re apt to encounter the gunman once again?”

She nodded silently before following her affirmation with an explanation. “Hopefully, they won’t be expecting us to head back the way we came. Either way, we don’t have a choice. It’s the only direction that I know right now will lead us back to the town line.”

#ouatwinterwhump #cs ff #cs fanfic #ouat ff #uninvited company

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beteoriginale-a · 6 years ago

Text

1925

Seven years prior to this day the Quarter felt the wrath of the demons it harbored. The devil came, he saw, and decimated the foundation the pillars of the city built upon. The underworld was dealt a great blow in the ordeal, for their leaders either ran or were cut down in the aftermath. Organized crime broke off into splinter cells of thieves and two-bit gangsters starving for the greater power their fallen leaders had attained and peace between uneasy alliances became a husk of its former self. New and refurbished local businesses refused association with the supernatural gangs and those that were criminally inclined. NOPD were able to easily find and thwart the uprisings, in addition to petty crime in the wake of the 1919 Opera house massacre. The fall of the Mikaelsons Family was both a blessing and a curse in disguise.

And none knew this better than the two leaders of the respective vampire and werewolf factions that were cordially eating dinner with each other in the old Mikaelson courtyard. In a town that were renowned for its legendary crime syndicates the Guerrera and Gerard crime families ranked near the top of the most ruthless regimes that has taken root in recent years. Under the venomous guide of Marlo Guerrera, the werewolves sunk their fangs titanic-deep into the soil of political ranks and pockets of the law enforcement. Gaining tributes from a plethora of local businessmen through sheer force was first nature to the apex predators. Oppositions and those that refused to lend their services in their journey to the position of power became maggot food, their bones play things for the omegas.

The Original Family left a great gap in their premature fall, but thanks to the Prohibition Era, like Capone, Luciano, and other prospering gangsters around the States the Guerrera pack took advantage of the new law's good intent and thrived. Speakeasies, prostitution, gambling, and bootlegging ensured the Guerrera mob a consistent flow of income. But they owed a great debt to the moon, albeit the bane of their existence, it is what fiercely solidified their hold over their territories. Their use of intimidation and bloodthirsty tactics saw to it that their tenure as kings of the New Orleans underworld would be a term of werewolf supremacy.

But that is what also earned them a pesky, but great enemy in the outlaw Marcel Gerard. The Guerrera mob had their private connections to local authorities, their assassins, poisoners, honorable hunters armed with dreadful technology the times permitted. In that area they exceeded the might of their ragtag rivals; that was why Marcel had systematically secured a place in the hearts of the people and attacked the fearsome organization in the art of guerrilla warfare. He ruled his own kind and his supporters by the power of his charisma and intelligence.

Invitation; a well known weakness of the vampires was made into their greatest advantage. When necessary, their native allies would provide asylum for a modicum of Marcel's band, whilst their greater opposition's patrols searched religiously for them. That tidbit of influence made the nocturnal bandits practically ghosts in the streets. This frustrated the Guerrera mob immensely to the point they started flexing their muscle through their 'friends.' If they couldn't eat, then their allies couldn't eat. So, their pocket police harassed, sometimes aggressively, the residents for the whereabouts on the lead vampire and anyone that associates with them. Gangs of hoodlums under the Guerrera pay were sent to terrorize business owners for information. The Guerrera themselves would often hold public executions and threaten that nobody is immune to their wrath.

At first, the plan was to disrupt the cash flow by persuading Guerrera partner's to do business with the vampires and or setting loyal rackets on fire, but it became personal. Some of his close human friends and their families found themselves slain, and as a war hero Marcel understood the concept of casualties of war, but he well in tuned with the craft of revenge more. Marcel response in painting the streets red in Guerrera blood engineered a dangerous vortex of one of the most bloodiest supernatural vendettas. Classic vampire versus werewolf.

With all of the carnage that has taken place, neither side profited. thus bringing about the demand for the meeting. Pastor Joel, head of the Human Faction, arranged for the two warring factions to maintain a healthy truce for the evening. Two neutral emissaries were sent out to the two parties and instructed them to bring only four delegates from their armies to meet at the old Mikaelson compound. Considering it once housed a famous family of crime lords, it seemed like a appropriate spot for the city's latest ones. The Gerard and Guerrera crime families were reluctant about it, but ultimately agreed for the betterment of business.

"Pastor, you gathered us here on the day of my nephew birthday. Must I remind you that I'm only here off of the respect I have for you and Mr. Gerard's late predecessors. But even that had its limitations. Our patience wear staggeringly thin. Say what you must now, otherwise this little meeting is concluded and we'll start back up where we left off." Don Guerrera sighed tempestuously, dipped a morsel of lobster tail in the butter dish and downed it without reserve.

"My dear Don Guerrera," Gerard smiled sheepishly, "with all due respect to you and your nephew, lest we teeter-totter with the issue at hand, let's lay out our real grievances on the table and discuss solutions and not use faux reasoning to us being here today." the lead Vampire bandit sliced into a bakery fresh cheesecake and and delicately held it in front of a young Creole courtesan that saddled his lap. The vampiress gaily took a bite and flashed her sire a look. His pinky mopped the blood crumb daintily off the side of her cherry-washed lips and whispered something inaudibly in her ear. She giggled like a school girl and popped her big bum up off his lap, and sauntered her well-proportioned figure through the compound's courtyard. As she disappeared from plain sight, she left Marcel and the three other vampires, fresh recruits, alone with the five Guerrera brothers.

"Firstly, I find it awfully funny that you want the broach the subject on respect with me when this is suppose to be a congregation of bosses, but I'm here I am—in the company of a joker. While I haven't the pleasure of personally seeing the man, I see his grace has a taste for tricks. You don't think I know who you really are, Carmine Orejuela?" Marcel seethed, his jaws bound tighter than that of a Nile crocodile's. Surprised by this revelation, or rather the young vampire's keenness the Pastor was about to open his lips to say something, but Marcel interjected and said, "Joel, don't be rude now. I haven't finish making a statement. Our body double here, senor Orejuela needs to understand that contrary to popular belief of the simpleminded, this negro can read and he does his homework. Also, lest it's not obvious, he's sitting in the humble abode of a Gerard, not a Mikaelson. Or at least it will be, once I run out all the mangy bitches littering about around here." A small grin pulled across his face, much to his enemies chagrin.

"But I'll forgive his many slights for two reasons and two reason only: the first is that I wouldn't want to ruin what could be a good family photo on the day of his nephew's "birthday" and the second is to send a message back to your true don, since seeing little ol' me wasn't fixed on his schedule. My message is a simple one, one you should be able to relay without difficulties." He took a deep sigh as he mouthed the next words slowly, as if the gentlemen before him were hard at hearing. "Marlo Guerrera is not a god. He can be touched. He is facing a major lost he has with the vampires, if he continues going about his business like the way he is now. I like to say I'm a civil guy, so I can honestly say that I find it to be in his best interest to step down now while he can, lest he can still run with wolves under the full moon, let alone still have the heart to turn than. . . With all due respect of course," Marcel said, with a promise that sounded severely threatening to his opponents.

The four Guerrera brothers rose from their respective seats, palms punching into the insides of their two-piece smokey grey wool suit jackets, at the ready to riddle the bandits with wood, but their cousin, their fake Guerrera don had rose his hand to halt them in their actions. Marcel's three newest recruits, apprehensive as they were, remained seated in silence. If they wanted to, the five werewolves would find themselves without the luxury of a head in the blink of a eye.

"You guys hear the balls rolling of this putero de mierda tongue?" Pudgy fingers lifted the dark shades off of his face and folded them over the collar of his grey button up, ensuring that the grimness on his face wasn't missed. Crows feet peaked predominately around his cold coal grey eyes, as his paper-thin lips wedges a crack of a half grin across his aged toasted brown features. "Kid, you barely managed to assert yourself on the booster seat to this little thing of ours. You don't have the privilege, no real rights to sit down with real power players and if you continue on with the belief that leading a bunch of witless hoodlums and causing mischief will pit you anywhere near that circle, then you have a long way to go son. You're well on your way to falling on your sword."

"Gentleman, please. The purpose of this get together. " Pastor Joel started to say, trepidation discernibly in his tone but was broken off by Orejuela's slamming his hand on the table.

"Was lost the damn moment this darkie struck up the audacity to throw his weight around our city, steal the food from our table and spit on our laws!" Orejuela voice boomed, his piercing glare burning holes in the pastor. "The problem as I see it is like all young upstarts, you're too willful and sure of the crumb of power you managed to scrape up out of the gutters for yourself. The Faction treated the vampires with too much deference. Diplomacy is a concept suited for those of a greater standing in our society, characters with a magnitude of influence and I'm afraid Mr. Gerard, as troubling as he has been for us, just doesn't meet our scales. Once he learns respect and tact, then maybe the guy got a shot at shining our shoes. He should be grateful enough that the Guerrera Family are even entertaining this Roberitco Capucha wanna-be and that his carcass isn't floating out in bayou somewhere, waiting to be devoured and become gator shit."

You could cut the tension in the air with a butter knife. It took a great ounce of willpower for Marcel not to break character and throw diplomacy out the window. To be spoken to as a underling is the formula that compelled his thinking into the relentless desire to want more for himself. There were plenty of men like the fake don and his family; individuals whose egos rivaled Rome itself, so Orejuela's attitude came as to no surprise, but it still got drove his nerves wild. Turning his attention to the pastor, Marcel shot him a wicked grin then reverted a dark glare back to match Orejuela. "And here I thought the Guerrera Family were a pack of sophisticated and reasonable people. I blame my naivety on that." Marcel chucked a low chuckle and snort, whilst leaning with interlocked digits coming down on the table.

"Old friend, your passion speaks out to me. I can see now that I undoubtedly overstepped my bounds with your family. And for that, I deeply apologize for not realizing sooner," the vampire head released a soft grin and spoke his next choice of words in a sterner tone, "we're not meant to co-exist. We can't. You are right about the vampires not being able to work out in a system that our predecessors laid out for the later generations to continue to follow. But, I've been walking this earth long enough for you to be many of my great-grandsons. Rome wasn't built in a day, but neither did it take a day for its fall. And my people have taken our place in society from the moment we got off that boat and damn sure from the moment we started building Louisiana. We're magic-made, sweetheart, anything can happen. You fellas have a good day." Marcel removed himself from the table and started walking towards the compound's entrance, with his men in tow.

As they stepped out into the cool night sky, Pastor Joel caught up with them and opened his mouth, perhaps to offer apologies but Marcel spoke before he did. "Pastor, it's been a pleasure. I'm sorry this couldn't have worked out as you'd like, but when it comes to the lay of our land there can be no pacts between a pride of lions and a pack of wolves That much was made clear here this evening. Next we meet, I'll be in my best suit for the funeral. You're not the only one that can look nice in black, Pastor." Marcel winked at him, and with that he and his crew left the Pastor standing there alone.

Later on, Marcel and his small army would make an inconspicuous appearance at one of their favorite jazz club spots to see King Oliver and his Creole Jazz Band perform. Marcel needed something to swell his soul, purify it, for what he had planned for his adversaries would surely taint it.

@accursedmaneater

#long post tw #long rp tw #slurs tw #( You dont gotta reply back in this length - you know that )#( thanks for taking this sl on !)#accursedmaneater #racism tw

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reekierevelator · 4 years ago

Text

A Visitor

A short story by Brian Bourner in times of covid

We had been in the grip of the covid-19 pandemic for well over a year but the new vaccines finally had it on the run. The country was opening up again. We were at last officially allowed to mingle freely. But the world had changed.

Radio and TV still talked endlessly of the problems faced by students who had missed out on education, of how domestic abuse cases had soared and mental health problems had multiplied. The light the pandemic had thrown on endemic problems of race and poverty constantly reverberated. People had reached a new appreciation of who were society’s real ‘key workers’ and knew they were undervalued and criminally underpaid. Floods, fires, and murders, still barely achieved a mention even in the local news.

Business practice had also changed radically. Companies like mine now saw no reason not to allow employees to continue to work from home. Like many other firms they were in the process of selling off their office building for conversion into much needed housing. Visual contact with other people via computer technology had become the normal mode of interaction. Lack of interpersonal social contact no longer singled you out as unusual in any way. The exotic video meetings and video phone calls of a couple of years ago had long since become boringly routine.

I had always been asthmatic and a brush with tuberculosis a few years back had hardly helped. The constant pandemic fear of infection had marked my psyche indelibly. For people like me, at high risk from the virus, shielding and self-isolating for months on end had become second nature, the new normal, and was psychologically imprinted. I lived like a medieval hermit in a cave, dependent on local villagers to bring me food. At thirty-seven I was otherwise self-sufficient, happy to live alone in isolation. The last thing I wanted was to risk infection from physical meetings with other people.

Occasionally new variations of the virus still cropped up here and there. Announcements of quarantine arrangements and local lockdowns had become mundane, barely newsworthy. Likewise, there were still deaths and hospitalisations, but not the thousands experienced at the pandemic’s height. Health was no longer top of the government’s agenda. Despite innumerable ‘long covid’ cases, and people suffering long-lasting psychological after-effects, the government’s focus had shifted inexorably back to the economy.

When the doorbell rang on Monday morning I was slaving over my laptop, just as I had been all morning, trying to complete a company report. I was still in my pyjamas. I still needed to wash and dress ahead of a video business meeting scheduled for 12.00 noon. But the doorbell was insistent. Angrily I threw open the front door expecting to find yet another box of groceries on the doorstep, or some hot food I’d forgotten I’d ordered, or even some parcel delivery man waiting for a signature.

Instead I found myself facing a woman dressed rather shabbily who was carrying a grubby old holdall. Initially shocked at the lack of face mask I remembered that things had moved on. Her mud-spattered black coat was buttoned to the top and flapped around a slender body. Though hairdressers had been open for a few weeks now she had clearly been unable to secure an appointment. Her frizzy auburn hair sprouted from her head like weeds. A long narrow face attempted a smile but her skin was lined and weather-beaten. She looked exhausted. Her dark eyes, set far back in her ruddy crumpled skin, bored into mine, pleading and watery. When she opened her mouth and said “Hello Martin” recognition slowly began to dawn.

Over the course of the pandemic I had virtually forgotten what manners and social niceties were appropriate for visitors. “Gina,” I spluttered in surprise, “how nice to see you.” I cautiously ushered her into my flat, squeezing myself against the wall in commemoration of the recently abolished two metre distancing rule.

“I’m sorry if I got you out of bed,” she said, entering the living room while I rushed to throw a dressing-gown over my pyjamas. And even before sitting down she launched into her tale of woe. “It really drove me crazy. I’ve never ever been stuck indoors for that long before. Shops, restaurants, pubs, galleries - all shut down; nothing to do and nowhere to go. Work all disrupted too; jobs furloughed or disappearing. Just watching endless murder dramas on TV, or reading books about murders, or listening to radio presenters I’d like to murder. Still, you look well. I knew I could rely on you.”

It was strange because in fact I had not seen Gina for three years, and it felt like far longer. I searched my brain for her surname and eventually came up with McLaughlan. We had met at Manifest Destiny, a large advertising and design practice. Though we were in different teams there our paths crossed occasionally. She never said much, only once or twice mentioning that she could only bear the work there because the building was almost entirely glass so that inside she almost felt she was outside.

From what I could remember she had mostly been attached to another colleague, Ruby Maguire. She seemed to trail around after Ruby a lot. And Ruby was someone else I had not seen for a three years, not since I’d left Manifest Destiny for an administrative post with Box Clever, the cardboard box manufacturer. It had proved a wise move. The firm had done great business during the pandemic. It had expanded and I had been promoted.

Gina told me she too had moved on from Manifest Destiny, not long after me. She had gone from billboard designs to helping organise and design outdoor film sets. It had entailed working freelance but sounded a lot more interesting than designing cardboard boxes. “But,” she went on quickly, “the pandemic killed it all off stone dead.” She turned towards me with an angry grimace. “And when the wok vanished the pandemic ate all my savings. No official help for the likes of me. I couldn’t even pay my rent. No more sleeping in my lovely sun room. I ended up in a cramped hostel. It was hellish.” The resentment and hatred in her tone was palpable. “It drove me demented. And when the hostels closed to prevent the virus spreading I tried sleeping on the floor of anyone who would let me. It was unbearable, often like being stuck in a cupboard. Sometimes I couldn’t find anywhere at all suitable and just lived rough, outdoors in all weathers, but at least not suffering, lost in some little, dark, unknown room.”

“Good grief Gina, that’s awful, I’m so sorry.” And having commiserated I told her that of course she was welcome to take a bath and stay the night. I rustled up a quick meal for her which she ate looking longingly out of the window. And later I dug out some spare pyjamas. When I showed her my tiny windowless spare room her face froze and she stood rooted to the spot. She looked about to turn, dismiss the offer and run away, but recovered herself in time to mutter vague words of thanks.

I showed her round the rest of the flat then raced to turn up just in time for my video conference. My hair was uncombed, I was still in my dressing gown. On screen my boss and our potential customer both wore worried frowns, obviously thinking I would have been as presentable wearing a large cardboard box.

Gina slept through the rest of the day.

After finishing the meeting, writing up notes, dressing, and grabbing a sandwich I phoned the old unit at Manifest Destiny. I hoped someone here could give me a bit of background since I barely knew anything about Gina.

“Hello, Manifest Destiny, Terry Ryland speaking.”

“Hi, it’s Martin Hislop here. I used to work at Manifest Destiny. I wonder if there’s anyone there who remembers Gina McLaughlan. She’s popped round to see me unexpectedly, obviously regards me as a friend, and might stay a day or two. I don’t want to seem a total socially inept idiot but I’m afraid I can’t remember anything about her. I don’t want to put my foot in it. Is there someone who could spare a few minutes to fill me in?”

“Well there’s me I suppose,” Terry replied noncommittally. “All the staff work from home now. It’s my turn to be the telephone exchange today. It’s a rota system. I can’t shout a question out across the office floor any more. I’d have to contact staff individually.”

“Well, do you remember Gina yourself?”

“Yes, I think so. Worked on billboards. She always kept close to Ruby. Ruby Maguire sort of looked after her. She had some kind of problem, couldn’t stand being indoors, got wound up with it. So Ruby would take her for regular breaks outside.”

“You mean she was claustrophobic?”

“Yes, that’s it, good worker but a little bit off her trolley. They called Ruby her mentor but she was more of an unofficial carer.”

I thanked Terry for talking to me and understood why my spare room had not seemed as attractive to Gina as I’d imagined. It would be much better if she stayed with someone who understood her condition, say Ruby.

It was later in the evening, just as I’d pulled out my mobile to search for Ruby Ellison’s contact details, that I heard Gina emerge from her room and rustle around in the kitchen. I was thinking that if she stayed a while I’d need to order more food and my expenses would increase when Gina slipped into the living room beside me.

“I was wondering,” I began brightly, “since my flat’s very small, why not ask Ruby Maguire if you can stay with her for a while?”

The suggestion generated no immediate response but her eyes narrowed and I caught a mean and suspicious glint.

She stared at me silently, her lips curling, and eventually muttered, “No, I’ll be happy enough here.” It came out as a sort of low growl as if she was daring me to argue.

I looked back at the phone screen. The search for Ruby Ellison had found dozens of references. But I was shocked to see they were all about Ruby’s death. Police were continuing to investigate the case of thirty-two year old office worker, Ruby Maguire, found dead in her flat. Apparently she had lain there for over a week until her manager had noticed she wasn’t bothering to log in for Zoom calls any more. The circumstances were suspicious. The police were requesting information on anyone seen entering or leaving Ruby’s flat in the week before her death. I looked up from the screen and blurted out “Heavens above, it seems Ruby has died!”

I was even more startled as Gina suddenly leaned over me, grabbed my phone and threw it at the wall. I was flabbergasted. I stared at her in shock.

“If you’re not happy about me staying on here, maybe you better leave yourself,” she said as if it was the most natural suggestion in the world, an entirely reasonable proposition. As normal as smashing mobile phones against walls. There was a manic undertone to her voice. Ignoring the question I jumped up and tried to brush past her. But she grabbed hold of the dressing gown I was still wearing and I saw the blade of my own kitchen knife flash in her hand.

Fortunately, I managed to twist myself around, allowing my dressing-gown to fall to the floor, and rushed out the living-room door as she came after me. I barely managed to reach my bedroom and slammed the door shut. The door had a lock and though I’d never used it before, I did then.

She was outside the door, fumbling with the handle and breathing quickly. ‘Ok, let’s get together,’ she panted. ‘Ruby always said you liked me. She said you only ignored me at work because relationships had to be kept on a professional footing.”

“Ruby was good to you,” I shouted. “Why did you do it?”

“Ruby tried to lock me up. All night in a tiny room. I was only allowed outdoors for one hour a day. She tried to blame the government, said it was a lock-in, a government ruling.”

“A lockdown, it was a lockdown.”

“She made me live in a room the size of a cupboard. Said it was all she had. Said I couldn’t go outside. We argued more and more. Struggled. Then she died. And I left.”

“And came here.”

“She said you were a good man, knew your address. I thought it would be different for us. We’d be good together. We could live together, sleep in the living room with the curtains open. But you want to lock me up in little room too. You’re just as bad as Ruby.”

“You’ve got it all wrong,” I yelled, and then the carving knife was thrust in through the door jamb.

The woman was delusional. God knows what had got into her. I opened my bedroom window and yelled “Help!” over and over at the top of my voice.

Fortunately, neighbours called the police. By the time they arrived Gina had escaped through the back door but the neighbours had spotted her leaving and the police soon picked her up.

I was still trembling, partly from the shock of the knife attack and partly from seeing several people occupy my flat for the first time in ages. I went over the details several times answering the police questions.

“It was unbelievable,” I kept repeating. “The woman seemed almost normal but she was clearly deranged. She came at me with a carving knife. You wouldn’t think a little thing like claustrophobia would be enough to tip you over the edge like that.”

One of the policemen commented matter-of-factly, “Oh yes, we’ve seen a lot of that kind of thing recently. Mental health problems. Old people’s dementia worsening till they’ve completely forgotten their relatives. A chap round the corner said life wasn’t worth living if he couldn’t meet his old cronies in the pub. Topped himself. The coronavirus, eh? It drives people mad.” Then to change the subject he asked “What’s your line of work?”

“Oh, at moment I’m designing cardboard boxes shaped like coffins. Natural burials. Environmentally sound. There’s been a big increase in demand recently.”

#COVID-19 #coronavirus #short story #Reekie Revelator #edinburgh #scotland

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vmfx · 4 years ago

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#1 ANSWER.

It was my first week into my new job that I meet Barney. It didn’t take long for me to realize how much of a low-art asshole he was. One thing they didn’t tell me about being hired to work in this place was to not be myself or have dissenting views.

Only a couple of weeks went by and I started to see how bullish and intrusive Barney was. Ordinary conversations became interrogations. Barney became easily fascinated when he asked me about myself, my point of view, or what my stance was on certain people or subjects. So fascinated that it got annoying real quick. For instance, my co-workers were talking about this since long-forgotten reality show The Jersey Shore. As usual, I could care less about pointless things. I was minding my own business doing my job until I was caught in his crossfire.

“So, tell me. What do you think about Snooki?”

“No thanks.”

“What?You’re kidding me. Tell me you wouldn’t want a piece of Snooki.”

“No.”

“What?! You’re serious!”

“No. I don’t care for her.”

“C’mon! You’re serious, right? Everyone thinks Snooki is hot! You don’t think Snooki is hot?”

“I don’t.”

“So…you’re saying that you don’t find Snooki hot.”

“No.”

“C’mon. What are you? A homo?”

Let’s take the time and run through this. Barney asked me a question and I gave him an answer. Simple as that. He wasn’t happy with my answer because he expected me to say what he wanted to hear. I shattered his expectations. Instead of letting it be, he kept on persisting me for re-assurance because his small implosive mind couldn’t take it. He also assumed to speak for everyone that some non-factor was hot, confusing opinion with fact. When I ultimately refused to give in, he insults me. As the old saying goes, ‘the television is always right’.

Because of this, Barney the One-Trick Pony™ constantly (and falsely) accused me of being gay. He went as far as trying to set me up with one of his lady friends. He even went further in lecturing me on why I needed to be married and why I should carry on the family name.

That was my mistake. I should’ve kept my mouth shut. I leave myself open to this and Barney turns into this Long Island ‘muthuh’ who endlessly criticizes others because they don’t live up to their standards. But he was no normal muthuh, he was a six-foot-three 350-pound 45-year old has-been who lived alone, had no girlfriend, and was very much into queer jokes, six-packs of beer, and phone sex which he openly disclosed to me while I was having lunch.

Perhaps if I criticized Barney on wearing an old, faded, crackling football jersey because they’re pathetic legendary losers who consistently fail to make the playoffs, he would be greatly offended. But I don’t do that to people. Unlike him, I have some sort of respect for others. I also can’t imagine if I called him out on his low-brow world of 1-900 numbers, bathroom stall writing, and online porn; because no one should ever put another person’s manhood in question of someone who watches sports, guns down a twelve pack, and relies on cheap obvious women. God forbid.

**********

Another Sunday, another weekend to disrupt my life and throw away beautiful blue skies, green grass, and white clouds to go to work; to deal with the curious public and an even more curious group of co-workers. When I mean curious, I mean ‘violating my privacy to the point it’s disgusting’ curious.

As usual, anything and everything about everyone working behind the counter is mined, revealed, sensationalized, and talked about for weeks if not months at a time. Whereas cameras are everywhere where I work; their plastic domes, tinted lenses sophistication, and inability to talk have absolutely no effect. But human nature is so cunning and so complex that my co-workers are an even bigger threat. They do everything they can to make other certain co-workers uneasy and destroy whatever sense of boundaries, privacy, space, or etiquette they were supposed to have all for a laugh or two. Our. God. Given. Right.

Elvis, who is best friends with Barney, is one of the most insipid, obnoxious, and mentally bankrupt individuals I have ever met. He always seems to strike up random conversations with me at the worst possible moment, which is usually when I’m working. If it’s not about something I’ve gotten over or experienced days, weeks, or months ago, it’s always the same stale repetitive boring questions. “So, how’s your dad? Is he still staying home? Still watching Maury? Does he go out? What does he eat? Do you guys go out? Where do you go? Do you have fun with your dad?”

Sometimes as I’m having lunch alone in the break room in complete silence, he would sit down with me, uninvited of course, and start asking me those rapid-fire series of pointless questions that are below me because I moved on from that game decades ago. “So what’s in today’s paper? What happened? Anything good? What’s this headline say? Hey, would you fuck Amana Bynes? You wouldn’t? Why not? Are you OK? Why are you feeling annoyed?”

This is pretty much the level of stupidity I endure every day working with Elvis. As if I don’t get enough unwanted unsolicited dumbstruck comments and unneeded questions from customers, I end up having Elvis’s display of genius come to me. It’s very hard to avoid. We’re only a few feet from each other at all times but somehow dumb is so generous where I live that there’s always more to go around and share. It wasn’t until very recently that a red card was pulled right in front of my face that made me dismiss him and write him off totally.

One Friday morning before work, I took Cath- to a salon to go get her cut for her sister Cheree’s graduation in Pennsylvania. My assistant manager Alphonso gave me a very rare Saturday off. It would have been ideal for both Cath- and I to get together for Saturday but it wasn’t possible because that was Cheree’s graduation day. Take one in the loss column. The following busy Sunday at work, Elvis once again pitches for conversation towards me.

“So, uh, how was work yesterday?”

“I didn’t work yesterday. I was off.”

“Oh, really? Off on a Saturday?! How did you end up getting off on a Saturday?”

“I don’t know. Alfonso just scheduled me off for Saturday, I guess?”

“Really?”

“…yeah.”

“So what did you do on your Saturday off?”

“Well, nothing really. I just went to the gym then stayed home for the rest of the day to relax.

“Wow, you went to the gym and that’s it?”

“Yeah, it was miserable out. Then again, all that didn’t matter as my friend was in PA for a graduation.”

“Was your friend a guy or a girl?”

“…it didn’t matter. Nothing really happened that day.”

“Was your friend a guy or a girl?”

“Why are you asking me this again? Why does it matter who I hang out with?”

“Was your friend a guy or a girl?”

I shook my head at Elvis, exhaled, and walked away from him. Next week we will play this game again, but for now I just saved myself from another round on endless embarrassment and unwanted humiliation.

That is why I can no longer talk to people anymore. It mattered so much to this fucking stumble. Elvis was looking to once again take something personal of mine and turn it into a front-page headline for the entire department to throw around, make fun of, and blow up as the workplace news story of the week. Because we’re so needy for excitement and self-gratification that we have to know every little thing that goes on in other people’s personal lives, in this case for my co-workers to use it against me.

This seriously took off on me. Our own mini-NSA-in-training Elvis was really that fascinated as to what gender my friend was. That meant so much to him. He really wanted to get off on the fact that I spent time with a female since the only things that take up real estate in his mind are getting plastered on weekends and “hot girls”, according to him. OK, so what else does he want to know? Did I sleep with her last night? What was she wearing? Was she a Ginger or an Asian? What positions did we do? How long did it last? What exact words did she scream out? Was it good? And did I kiss her goodnight, make her breakfast, or just get dressed and run out of her house? Do I get $100 for every correct answer?

How would Elvis like it if I would stop his world every five minutes to ask about his everyday mundane life of nothing? Would he appreciate it if I would distract him endlessly with pointless questions and ‘yes’ and ‘no’ answers? Would it annoy him to no end if I intruded into his personal life only to ridicule it along with all of the other co-workers around? Should I ask him about the photos his friends took when they drew cocks on his head while he was plastered drunk at a party? Or when was the last time he touched a girl or when had any female gave him eye contact? I wouldn’t think so, either.

**********

Questions. I gave up on them. I no longer have the time, care, or patience to tend or answer them anymore. I don’t deserve to stand in one place with my life being put under a microscope as undeserving people around me are dying to know a lot of things about me that will never pertain or affect them.

I mind my own business doing what I need to do for the day. I only focus on the bigger, more important things at stake. They stand there and start asking me questions about my personal life as it is so special or urgent. It’s not, really. It’s just a little different than others. What could I tell them? They feel unusual enough to stop at every answer and act like they’re so surprised. Really, what is such a big deal about the mundane things in my life that catch them off-guard? Obviously they’re un-accepting and shallow-minded, the blinders they wear have not been widened.

I had gotten tiresome of their interview sessions. I stay away and I do, but only for a while. I have been told to ignore them, to not answer them. I do take the advice but these downturns push harder. They ask and ask and ask and persist to no end until I give up and hopelessly answer because I know they will never stop if I don’t. Somehow my answers complicate things even more for them so the hits just keep on going. It’s a lose-lose situation.

The difference between me and them is that I understand and they don’t. I respect people for who they are because I understand. I have it all figured out so I don’t need to ask any further. Barney and Elvis’s child-like fascination with my life want me to “get with the program” because they don’t get it the first time. Conversations aren’t worth having with certain masturbatory people when they clutch and pull themselves over the answers they are given.

I’m not a celebrity and I never asked to be one. I never asked for them to make me special. I never asked for a circus surrounding my life and I never asked to be put on the hot seat. I don’t need them questioning every move I make in my life when there are better things during the day I need to focus on. I don’t have to answer to anyone if I don’t want to. I don’t need to pay attention to the feeble-minded and uneducated to constantly disrupt my day and waste my time. I have way more important things to worry about other than to satisfy simple minds who can’t figure it out and worry about things that have nothing to do with them. They truly don’t deserve the attention, therefore they will be forgotten about.

#VMFX #writing #personal #oops #WTF #privacy #Long Island

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nicosroom · 4 years ago

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New year, same pandemic

Hello, 2021! It’s been a while, Tumblr.

Given 2020, it seems strange to set goals for the new year ahead. Yet, here we are...

This is a work in progress organized by categories for now; I’m not sure yet if I can muster a 21 for 2021 or a 52 list as I’ve done in years past.

Fitness:

Nine months of stay at home have forced us all to get creative, it seems. I started strong with this in March, when a friend invited a group to do Yoga with Adriene’s 30 Days of Yoga series, aptly called “Home” (having released it in January, I guess Adriene couldn’t have known). I was a bit nervous. The last time I’d done Adriene’s 30 Days of Yoga (January 2016), I injured my wrist and it took about 8 weeks to heal/recover; then, for me, about a year to get back on the yoga mat; and when I did, I would only go to professionally guided classes. So this March, I started slow with an every-other-day routine. l had some trouble forming a habit, though, especially on the weekends, so I shifted to a Monday through Friday commitment; this, I found much more compelling because soon enough, the yoga sessions marked the end of my (at home) workday and the start of my evening “me time.” This yoga habit is one of the better “silver linings” that I exit 2020 with.

Other fitness activities have been hit or miss all quarantine long. I’ve had a fairly strong habit of 20-30 minute daily walks and when I was still in Colorado, I tried to get on the hiking trails each week. Still, I had to lower my daily step goals from 10,000 of the past many years of using fitness trackers, to the far more realistic 5,000. With the gym closed, living in a studio apartment, walking was all I could really manage; and being the stress chef that I am, from March through June (like many), I saw the scale going up ever so slowly. When I got to Ohio, where I’ve tried teaching remotely while living with my parents, I had much more luck thanks to the wide open spaces of their farmland, an enthusiastic walking buddy in their 10-year-old Pomeranian, and both an elliptical (mom’s never realized New Year’s resolution in 2017) and a treadmill (perhaps from the early 1990s). Yet, living with my parents has seemed to wreck my diet, both because they’re such meat eaters, my stress eating (provoked by Zoom university and them), and all the fall/winter holiday foods I can’t resist). While I haven’t been gaining as I was earlier this year, my weight has hovered at 140, about 10 more than I want.

Now, I’m packing up once more and heading to a new state and my own apartment once again. I’m excited to take control of my own grocery shopping, food prep, and space again, but I’m nervous about saying goodbye to the cardio machines and the wide open spaces. It seems, just in time, a friend has introduced me to Cassey Ho’s Blogilates channel and monthly workout calendar, a trove of at home cardio and Pilates videos that are apartment friendly and largely equipment-free. I started incorporating these into my routine in early December and enter the new year four weeks ahead of the curve on habit-formation. So, here are some fitness goals for 2021:

Daily, 10-min wake up & stretch video

January 4-25, I’m tackling the Blogilates #21DayTone

After that, my workout routine will be:

Monday thru Friday, Yoga with Adriene video

Monday thru Friday, Blogilates video(es)

By Dec. 25, 2021, I want to be able to do the splits

Buy a new yoga mat: I’ve had the same one since college (12+ years!), so it’s past due, and I feel really compelled by the product placement in Adriene and Cassey’s videos. And Target just started carrying Blogilates products. But, given how much I now am using my mat these days, it feels like an investment rather than a once-in-while accessory. And actually, I might buy two. Are there recommended folding mats for that are easy to pack when traveling? I’m traveling by car most often now, so it isn’t the worst to bring mine rolled, but when we can resume plane travel...

Work/Productivity:

My research has seriously suffered during the pandemic. There are a lot of explanations: grief and depression and a daily onslaught of bad news; my contingent status in the academy and the overall trash fire of the profession’s unpredictable financial future; and being completely unsettled in my home life while working from home. I’ll feel a lot better if I can produce some writing that I like, so after I get settled in the new place, I have some goals...

First, I’ve arranged to do a book review, which is due February 1, which I hope will be the gateway to feeling like I accomplished something.

Then, I’m aiming to draft this article I’ve been wallowing with for most of 2020. My “deadline” is June 30, which I hope is both generous and realistic, given that the new semester promises more of the same at global Zoom university.

To help me achieve these goals, I’m re-instating one of my dissertation writing techniques, which is a minimum of 40 minutes of timed writing per (non-teaching) day. Many days, those 40-minute writing intervals got repeated 4-5 times; but there are just some days where 40 minutes is all I have, whether its for scheduling reasons or for bandwidth or because it’s the weekend.

Sleeping & waking:

A constant, it seems, is to work on sleep and waking habits. Actually, my sleep habits have improved drastically over the past several years. During the pandemic, I’ve maybe even been sleeping more than ever. And as such, it’s my waking habits that have suffered, given the drastic disruption of routines and the total collapse of any separation between living space and workspace. I’m used to waking up about two hours before I need to be somewhere or do something; I take long showers and like to linger over breakfast. For months now, I find myself lingering in bed for 45 minutes to an hour after my initial alarms, not usually dozing off and repeatedly snoozing them even, but browsing social media (despite there being few updates since the previous night). Subsequently, I feel rushed as I shower, dress, and take in breakfast, hoping that I’ll hit my “home office” space by 9am.

In 2021, I’m striving to…

spend 20 minutes of non-screen activity immediately before bed, whether reading, drawing, coloring, etc.

live by a one snooze limit and get out of bed within 10 minutes of the alarm

also meaning, no social media browsing in bed in the mornings

(as noted above) start each day with a 10-minute stretch routine (even the weekends)

get back to hearty breakfasts… in my rush, I’m reaching for yogurts and various packaged breakfast biscuits or cereals. When I plan ahead and actually prep overnight oatmeal or organize some kind of breakfast bowls, where I only have to add an egg or an avocado in the mornings, I feel much better and my morning work flows more smoothly.

Spending:

Four months living with my parents rent free (down from nearly $1200 a month I was spending on rent), I expected to pad my savings accounts with quite a bit of money in the fall semester, even as I was on a part time salary. But alas, I seem to have not… Like a lot of people, retail therapy has been a favorite way to cope with the pandemic… candles, new boots, a two year supply of Korean facemasks, yet another set of Pyrex, books and more books. I purchased a few things I’ve been putting off for years, including a new laptop (mine was 10 years old) and a proper desk chair (which I’ve never had). In October, I was advised to get new tires before the winter set in ($494). And, my marketplace health insurance plan (including vision and dental), $244 per month… It added up fast.

In the new year, I’ll be on full time salary and have employer benefits, lowering my out of pocket costs on insurance. And although living on my own means my living expenses will surely rise (rent, utilities, grocery, and house supplies), I hope to calm down my discretionary spending once I get the new apartment set up––admittedly, there are some furniture purchases I want to make first (a real couch, a couple bookshelves, a baker’s rack for the kitchen).

Eating/ Recipes:

2020 was such a wreck for my eating habits, even before the pandemic as I navigated my interview schedule, travel, and stress during the tenure-track job market; and the college’s block schedule (ironically, I was teaching food literature, yet I barely had time to cook or feed myself fresh foods). Then came the pandemic, where I had all the time to cook for myself… and cooking and eating seemed to be the only thing to do. So, I occupied myself planning complicated recipes, brainstorming how to use up any out-of-the-usual ingredients I would need for them. And I also noticed myself picking up new, not healthy habits, like buying non-dairy ice creams on my bi-weekly, masked up and high stress grocery forays. And on top of that, I felt compelled to support local businesses with huge takeout orders that might last me two or three days.

Spring faded into summer, summer into fall and I was settling in for the long haul at my parents’ house. They’re eating habits are generally pretty healthy (my mom has a degree in nutrition after all), but they are also truly midwestern “meal = meat” types. Probably as part of my grad school budgeting, I’ve long adapted to eating meat sparingly, preparing it at home just a few times a month or, more typically, getting it at restaurants while eating mainly vegetarian at home. I also found in my mom’s house that it is stocked with sweets and snacks like it never was when I was a kid––potato chips, cookies, chocolates, sugary drinks. Alone, I manage my inability to resist by simply not buying many of these things, but here they were all the time.

Moving into my apartment this January, it very much feels like I’m setting myself up for success in 2021, as I take control of my grocery trips once more, re-establish my meal prep habits, and dial down meat consumption/dial up veggies.

Here are some recipes I’m excited to try this year:

Oat and banana based breakfast muffins

Crock pot butter chicken

Various waffles (I got a mini waffle maker!), especially scallion waffles; leftover Thanksgiving stuffing waffles; hash brown waffles; and zucchini fritters (I tried to make these on the frying pan last year, but I think I’ll get a better crisp in the waffle maker)

Sweet potato biscuits (for a breakfast sandwich)

Various soups, including Chicken & Hominy Stew with Greens

Hasselback Potato with Cilantro-Peanut Dressing

Cookies: coffee (winter/Christmas), pumpkin (fall)

Read/Watch:

Finish The Bluest Eye (Morrison) - I’ve been stalled on p. 130 since July 2020. Help.

Laura Kang, Traffic in Asian Women

Charles Yu, Interior Chinatown

Tommy Orange, There There

The Lunchbox

History and Memory

Minari

Taxi Driver

90 Day Fiancée (for research)

#2021 #new year #New Year's Resolution #52 list #21 for 2021 #goals

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