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rudnitskaia · 7 months ago

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Im desperately withholding the urge to ask like 13 questions for romauncebut ive narrowed it down to 3, 6, 18 and 19

Hey-hey, Edd! ✨

Thank you for your wonderful ask again! I'm very grateful for the inspiration and the opportunity you gave me to reveal more of the RoMaunce story. 💖

I decided to write and post the ficlets for the remaining part of your ask all at once. I remember you wanted a drawing for № 18, and I will certainly do it in the end of May / beginning of June (only from Rocky's perspective and containing that bonus part of the question), but now I want to cover it at least with a short story. :3

So, here they are, the ficlets for questions № 3, № 6 and № 18 from that list in the chronological (for the characters) order.

№ 18 - Who leaves little notes in the other’s one lunch? (Bonus: what does it usually say?)

A Real Unicorn

“Oh, Rocky, what a—” Ivy stopped short when she noticed that the pieces of paper she had picked up from the floor beneath the table where Calvin and Rocky had been sitting just a moment ago weren't trash, but… notes.

A pile of small, tightly crumpled notebook sheets, all neatly handwritten in pencil. It was unlikely that anyone had ever given Rocky an assignment on paper, and Calvin also had no reason to write so often to the cousin whom he saw every day. Maybe Rocky wrote down poetry that way? Though it would have been a bit of a stretch to assume that he was that meticulous. Ivy stroked the sheets with her fingers. Were they really valuable, since Rocky kept them with him, or did he just put them in his pocket and then forget to throw them away? It wasn't that important, actually. It was better to just return the loss… but curiosity eventually got the better of Ivy.

Forgetting about the plates and cups, she began to read the lines, puzzled to find a strange list of orders from the cafeteria. Pizzas, pastas, salads, coffee… no, Ivy didn't see anything surprising in the fact that Rocky might have dined somewhere else besides Little Daisy, but why did he keep the notes that the waitresses usually made for the kitchen?

She wondered about that until she accidentally turned over one of the sheets.

What she saw was hard to comprehend. With each new word, Ivy's gaze grew more excited. Her heart beat more frequently. Her eyebrows arched in surprise.

She didn't stop until she had read them all, from beginning to end, but even then she couldn't believe it. Ivy sat back in the chair and stared at the wall.

What was more likely? That Rocky had completely lost his mind and over and over again was writing himself tender endearments and, for some reason, wishes of bon appétit, in the same thin handwriting that listed the orders on the back side of the sheets, or that he had a… no, it couldn't be. It seemed ridiculous to even try to imagine.

After all, if somewhere in the world there existed a woman who willingly writes such words to Rocky Rickaby, then somewhere in St. Louis might as well live a real unicorn.

№ 3 - Most common argument?

The Chains That Are Too Short

“Someday I'll steal you away for more than a couple hours, and then we'll get really entertained,” Rocky chuckled, helping Mau roll up the blanket. Another night under the stars in St. Louis was coming to an end.

“Really? Are you planning something for a whole three hours?” quipped Maura at him.

“I was rather hoping for something between fifty years and forever,” Rocky shrugged, picking up his violin case. “And then it is as it goes. You know, all that happily ever after, but… livelier. With a bit of sparks here and there.”

“Hmm. So, you’re going to take me, like a princess, away on a white horse to your sugar castle in the kingdom beyond the clouds, and we'll live in love and harmony, become exemplary neighbors, start paying our taxes, have a bunch of obnoxious kids and die the same day.”

“Why not?” Rocky seemed not to notice her sarcasm. “Yes, the script is old-fashioned, but it's proven by both time and folklore. It's almost a guide to action, if you know how to apply folk wisdom properly. And if we dig deeper into the poetry of feudal Europe, we can probably find a couple or three good tips even about paying taxes.”

“Maybe so, but unfortunately, happy fairytales are now left only as an exception and only on the stages of theaters. And you and I don't have enough for a single ticket even together,” Mau started to walk toward the fire escape, but Rocky caught up with her and took her by the arm. Her words, or rather what was clearly between the lines, made his heart feel totally uneasy.

“Mau… I can get some money. I…”

“It's not about money, Roark,” she sighed. “Or rather, it's not just about them. You know it well already…” she took only a step before Rocky stopped her again.

“Come with me,” he blurted out anxiously.

“Where to?”

“In general! Now! We could live together…”

“You sleep in a car. Which isn't even yours.”

“If I rearrange a few things, we both could fit in there. And I could give the cactus to Freckle…”

“Roark…”

“And… and! And I could also ask Miss M. about a job for you. Sooner or later things will get better at Lackadaisy, and… what if we could rent a room together?”

“That's the very problem. I can't be seen anywhere in criminal circles. My father and I are being chased, and rumors will definitely spread if I show up in the underground, and then… then my father and I will have to run away again, and if anyone finds out that you and I are together… Dio mio, don't you realize they'll kill you?”

Rocky quietly groaned and started pacing back and forth. He was almost shaking from nerves. Mau, meanwhile, continued, oblivious to the need to speak in a low voice:

“These thugs are not going to stop at anything to get us. It's bad enough that you're at odds with the locals, so I pray every night that you'll at least stay alive after your ventures, and I don't want to bring the New York Mafia down on you too! This is madness, Roark! I told you many times, I can't be seen with you while you're in the bootlegging business. Maybe we could rent a shabby little room somewhere if you were just a musician, but you ain't, and you ain't going to be!”

In despair, Rocky flailed his arms.

“But I can't! I can't leave Miss M.! I can't—”

“I know,” Mau interrupted him. “And I'm not asking you to. But you can't tease me with a bright future either… It's too much even for me. We're alive, and we have each other, here and now, and that's more than I could ever hope for. Please, just be with me while it's possible…”

Rocky still couldn't calm down. He was breathing erratically, heavily… when Mau stepped closer to him and gently embraced him, he pulled her against him so tightly that she involuntarily sighed. He was sickened by how right she was. His entire being was rebelling against that rightness, wanting to burn that truth to the ground and recreate his own, happy truth from the ashes, whatever risks it took. The seconds lingered… Rocky didn't unclench his hands. Anything to keep Mau in his arms now… anything to avoid going back into the night alone.

But the chains bound to them were too short to allow them to reach the morning.

Interesting fact: The question № 3 was the hardest for me to explore, because for me Rocky and Mau are not the couple that has many constant, repetitive topics to argue about. At first I thought to write about Rocky ignoring his health issues, because that definitely would've got Maura's nerves, but that topic becomes a 'constant argument' only in the distant future from the Lackadaisy current timeline. But finally, I found the topic that is definitely difficult for them both and may cause repetitive uneasy discussions. I hope it covered the question.

№ 6 - What is their favorite feature of their partner’s?

The Serenity in You

The Epigraph: When stars drown in the night and the storm fills your mind, it's important to find the safe haven to hide…

The summer heat in the car was becoming unbearable. Rocky felt as if he was drowning in the dense air, almost as much as in his own thoughts. Whenever he was able to doze off, fears and memories began to flood his mind, to crash over him in suffocating waves. Carefully, so as not to wake her, Rocky found Maura's hand, gently intertwining their fingers together. Even back then, when he hadn't had the courage to tell her about his feelings, she had taken his hand in hers so often that it had become almost a sacred act for Rocky. She didn't even seem to realize how every time they were sitting or standing in front of each other she began to stroke the back of his hand… and how much peace, serenity even, that gentle touch brought him.

Suddenly he heard a whisper:

“What are you thinking about?”

Rocky slightly shivered from tension. What he was thinking about… he wished he didn't know himself. Keeping his eyes shut, he mumbled:

“Ah, it's nothing. You know, there's a pesky streetlight out there, and its reflection in the window keeps me awake…”

Mau was silent for a while, and only turned slightly on her side, resting her head on his chest.

“I love hearing your voice, Roark. Falling asleep listening to the tune you hum and the sound of your heartbeat. It's soothing… almost like the sound of the rain outside the window, only… much warmer. Dearer. But when your heart beats like this… like how it beats now… I want to know what makes it so heavy.”

Once again, the nightmares that had haunted him became clearer in his mind. He hesitated; he was uncomfortable with these ugly thoughts himself, and the last thing he wanted to do was to make Mau sink into them, too. But when she gently, yet confidently squeezed his hand in hers again, his doubts receded. She was here, right next to him. And as long as she touched his fingers with hers, they would not drown in this boundless sea. So finally, gently leaning his cheek against the top of Maura's head, Rocky began to speak.

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to-be-a-spartan · 4 years ago

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To Be A Spartan

Chapter 1: The Myth

18:38 Hours (Shipboard Time), July 20, 2557 (Military Calendar)

Slipstream Space

UNSC Infinity, S-Deck

Sarah Palmer wasn’t quite sure how her day had taken a turn to end up like this, and she damn sure didn’t like it.

The Infinity had picked up a distress call from the Forward Unto Dawn of all things. A ship that had been MIA, presumed destroyed since Operation: BLIND FAITH back in 2552 at the end of the Human-Covenant War. Well, it was a bit more complex than that but Sarah couldn’t be bothered to review the brief she was given on the ship in her head again.

Sarah rolled her eyes as she walked towards the First Officer’s Quarters. The entire ship was practically vibrating with excitement. It was ridiculous. She didn’t understand why they were so excited. The guy was probably dead anyway, because the distress call had been Cortana, his A.I., repeating a single phrase over and over. If you’d asked her prior to 2552 if she even thought the Spartans really existed, it would’ve been a resounding no. She figured the myths of Archangels of Death wreathed in invincible emerald green armor blazing through battlefields and slaughtering the Covenant were just from Shellshocked marines imagining things as reinforcements arrived and gunned down the perpetrators like dogs. She just assumed ONI Section II decided to highly publicize those few and far between victories and craft an immensely complex web of lies and stories to perpetuate the myth of the Spartans and raise morale among the ranks.

But then 2552 rolled around.

The Halo Campaigns, the Invasion of Earth, the Great Schism. So much happened, all centered around a Spartan. Not so much a Spartan, but the Spartan.

Sierra-117. The Master Chief.

One man almost singlehandedly saved the galaxy. That was when she started believing in the Spartans. Of course, Tom had told her stories of the Chief.

About the Covenant invasion of Circinius IV and the subsequent death of nearly all of his friends. Tom always said it was the Master Chief that had rescued them. Sarah loved her friend, she really did, but prior to 2552 she had remained skeptical that he really existed.

Setting those thoughts aside as she reached a bulkhead, she knocked twice.

“Come.”

The bulkhead slid open to reveal a relatively standard UNSC officer’s quarters. About a third larger than regular quarters, there was a steel desk on the far wall next to a wooden bookshelf that was definitely not standard-issue or within regulations, filled with actual paper books. The chair of the desk stood upon a single steel pole that rested in a grove on the deck. That groove contained a small track that let the chair slide along as it was needed and not fall or anything of the sort.

In that chair was Commander Thomas James Lasky, First Officer of the UNSC Infinity, and probably one of the only men who could call Sarah Palmer more than an acquaintance, commanding officer, or one-night stand (and those were very few and far between now).

The fair-skinned man span his chair around to face the door, reaching a hand up to smooth back his hair that was a few shades short of bark brown. He cocked his left leg at the knee and rested his left ankle on his right knee. Holding a datapad in his right hand and resting it in his lap next to the hand he lowered from his hair, he smiled. “I shouldn’t be surprised you’re here, Sarah. What is it?”

Sarah crossed her arms and leaned against the wall on her right side that the door she had entered from was up against. As she looked for the right words, she glanced around the room. Tracing her eyes along the wall, she passed over the small closet allotted to officers. Then along the wall to the door to the personal bathroom all officers were allowed (she also knew Tom despised that officers were given special privileges, so rarely used it for anything other than basic hygiene). From there she looked over to the wall that ran horizontal to the threshold of the door, and the immaculately made bunk pressed against the wall.

He’s nervous.... She thought, glancing back at him. She could see the abnormalities in the rise and fall of his armored chest. It wasn’t consistent. She could easily see the way he dug the tip of his right boot into the deck slightly.

“You’re nervous.” She stated finally, amber-brown eyes meeting his own chocolate-brown ones.

Tom’s brows furrowed ever so slightly, and after a second his smile switched from welcoming to bashful. She recognized the change instantly, she’d known him long enough that she knew every one of his mannerisms like the back of her hand. He lifted a hand to rub the back of his neck, letting out a soft laugh. “You got me.”

Sarah’s lips ticked upwards in a small smile. Tom never failed to make her smile at least once a day. She pushed off the wall and and moved over to sit on the edge of his desk. “Talk to me, Tom. I may not be very good at helping, but I’ll always listen.”

Lasky turned slightly in his chair so he was still facing her. “I know, Sarah. I know.” Then he blinked.

“We don’t have much time. Let’s go.” The armored behemoth that had killed the alien stated in a deep, gravely, but unmistakably human voice.

“Over thirty years ago, that man saved my life.”

“You’re the only survivors.”

“In the school....?”

“On the planet.”

“He risked his life for a bunch of kids.”

“Get to the ‘Hog, I’ll draw their fire!”

“I’ll never understand why.”

“Don’t stop for anything. Including me.”

“I thought I’d never see him again. Twice, in fact.”

“Lasky, no!”

“Axios!”

“First on Circinius during our escape. And again after that, onboard the ship that took us away. I don’t know why I’m so nervous.” Lasky sat the datapad on his desk and uncrossed his legs, resting both feet on the ground and both elbows on his knees.

Sarah didn’t say anything, just reached out a hand and rested it on Tom’s shoulder not covered by that odd piece of armor. She squeezed gently and rolled her lips together, still not saying anything. She didn’t have too.

Tom reached up a hand to rest on Sarah’s on his shoulder, looking up slightly and giving her a grateful nod.

She returned it, sque—

“XO requested bridge. XO requested bridge. Commander Palmer requested bridge. Commander Palmer requested bridge.” Came the voice of the ship’s artificial intelligence, Roland, over the ship-comm.

The pair sighed simultaneously, both standing up and smiling at each other before exiting Lasky’s quarters.

——————

Sarah Palmer walked onto the Command Bridge of the UNSC Infinity with a purpose in her step. It was time to work.

Now clad in her MJOLNIR GEN2 Scout Variant, Sarah felt much more at home than in her skivvies. She let her eyes take in the room, the outer circle of consoles on a slightly elevated platform that had small dips in three places leading down to the second tier where the main holotable of the bridge was sat in front of the viewport with Captain Andrew Del Rio and Tom standing next to it.

Sarah walked over, taking a place opposite of Del Rio and truly working to withhold the glare that tries to work its way out every damn time she looks at the worthless piece of shit. Judging by the look Tom gives her, he’s having the same problem.

“Commander Palmer, how nice of you to finally join us.” Del Rio says in his ever-condescending voice, somehow managing to look down at her even though she towered over the old man.

She bit back a sharp retort, instead sliding into parade-rest and nodding. “Of course, Sir.”

“Now, in two hours we will be leaving Slipspace at the location of the Forward Unto Dawn’s distress call. I want boarding teams ready to deploy the moment we clear the slip. Commander Lasky, you will deploy with them. The Spartan may react better to an officer than another team of Spartans. Understood?” Del Rio spoke slowly, still in that arrogant tone. He didn’t care about finding the Master Chief. He was just looking for another promotion.

Tom looked ready to call him out on his lack of using the Chief’s title, indirectly of course, but just under the edge of the table Sarah caught his wrist and almost imperceptibly shook her head. “Sir, it’s against protocols for any UNSC vessel to not have an Executive Officer aboard at all times. Commander Lasky-“

“Commander Lasky,” Del Rio cut her off, puffing out his chest in an unconscious (as if) attempt to assert dominance. “is no stranger to breaking a few protocols.... isn’t that right?” He looked at Lasky’s chest, exactly where his dog-tags hung under his officer’s BDU.

Sarah found yet another reason for wanting to throttle the Captain. She knew exactly what he was referring to. And she also wanted to throttle him for the look that flew across Tom’s face; She knew Tom well enough to understand he wouldn’t dare say anything, but it had hurt him.

“Of. Course. Sir.” She replied through gritted teeth.

Del Rio studied her for a moment, visibly debating whether to reprimand her or not for her sharpness, but decided against it. “Very well. You’re dismissed.”

—————

Sarah felt the deck rumble beneath her feet as the Infinity lurched out of the blue-black of Slipspace.

“Holy shit-!”

Sarah heard the exclamation from one of the flight technicians fueling up the Pelican and peaked her head out of the Blood-Tray to see what he—

Woah....

Staring back at her through the atmospheric shield of the main hanger bay was a gargantuan metal planet. It had millions upon millions of lights scattered across its surface in perfect geometric patterns, and a large hole in the surface of the planet.

“Oh my God...”

Sarah glanced to her left to see Lasky standing with one foot on the rear ramp of the pelican, the other on the Infinity’s deck. He looked just as mystified as everyone else.

“Now hear this, Now hear this:” Came Roland’s voice over the ship-comm. Then, something spectacular happened: “We have picked up a UNSC IFF tag in the core of the planet. According to all known data on Forerunner constructs, the planet is hollow. All hands, brace for atmospheric entry. We’re going inside.”

And then the deck lurched, and Sarah had to grab the pelican to keep from falling. Tom looked at her, and she shrugged. “Roland!” She barked. “What the hell was that?”

“The planet caught us in a gravity well, Commander!” The A.I. replied, his avatar appearing on a nearby comm pad. “Helm can’t get us out.”

At the same time, his voice came louder iver the ship-comm. “All hands! Brace, brace!” The deck rumbled again and crates went flying as Roland’s avatar vanished.

“Hostile Covenant contacts! All Pathfinder teams are to deploy immediately, we’ll cover you!” Del Rio’s voice snapped over the ship-comm.

“You heard him Commanders!” The voice of Spartan Vixen (Sarah did a double take when she first heard her name to), a member of Gypsy Company, called from the blood tray.

Sarah patted Tom’s shoulder, nodding as they both climbed into the pelican and the engines roared to life.

This is not a good idea.... She thought, but didn’t voice it. No turning back now. Taking a seat next to Tom as the harnesses lowered to keep them in place, she rolled her shoulders.

“Commander Lasky.”

Tom rolled his eyes as Del Rio’s voice sounded over the Pelican’s comm. “Go ahead Captain.”

“I’m assigning your team to locate the origin point of the gravity well that dragged us in-“ His voice got quieter as he turned away from the mic for a moment. “Ready Archer pods Alpha 7 through Bravo 6 and fire!”

“Understood, Captain. We’ll get it done.” Tom replied, then shut off the comm as the pelican arced into a steep dive to avoid a stream of plasma fire, throwing them against the hull.

Several minutes of rapid aerobatics later, Spartan Vixen decided to break the silence. Her deep blue visor turned towards Lasky and she spoke. “First time on a combat flight, Commander?”

The rest of the cabin laughed, Lasky included. He rocked in his harness a lot more than the marines or Spartans, but he seemed fine. He looked at Vixen, smiling good-naturedly. “Quite the opposite, Spartan. I used to be a naval aviator.”

Vixen whistled, nudging another Spartan, Spartan Tetran, with her elbow. “Hear that boys? The Commander here probably gave us fire support at some point.” A holler went around the bay, and everyone knew they were just distracting themselves.

“Commander Lasky, you might want to see this.” Came the voice of their pilot from the cockpit.

Lasky glanced at Sarah, who raised an eyebrow that he shrugged in response to. He raised his harness and stood up, stepping into the cockpit. They didn’t bother to be quiet, so Sarah could easily hear them discussing the gravity well they had apparently spotted.

“Incoming!” The Co-Pilot barked, followed by a flash of gold-orange light, and suddenly they were plummeting towards the surface with fire trailing from their port side wing.

Sarah watched as Tom was thrown from the cockpit and slammed into the ceiling with a pained exclamation before being buffeted into Tetran’s helmet. She unlatched her harness without thinking and grabbed Lasky, holding him against her armored chest. She could take more hits than he could.

“Brace for—“ CRASH

The pilot was cut off as the pelican slammed into the canopy of the alien trees below, the sound of metal being obliterated like wet tissue paper filling her ears as she and Tom were thrown about the cabin. The pelican slammed into something else, causing the rear ramp to fly open and Sarah to be thrown from the bay with Tom in her arms.

She flew through the air, doing her best to ensure she landed first instead of To—

CRACK

Then everything went black.

#To Be A Spartan #Chapter 1 #2.3 K words #Sarah Palmer #Thomas Lasky #Roland #Andrew Del Rio #Gypsy Company Spartan OCs #Marine OCs #Prometheans #John-117/Sarah Palmer

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herstoryherlegacy · 3 years ago

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Expect the unexpected

(Trigger warning - lots of throw ups)

This has never really been my motto. Most things in my life have been expected or I’ve had signs pointed out to me that gives me a hint of what lies ahead. I was not expecting to be in the ER tonight. Actually I was just about to put my makeup on and do a lovely couples photoshoot with my husband when I got the call to come to the ER for possible blood clot in my lungs. Let me back up..

I had been healing from my port placement 3 days ago. Yesterday I was texting Juan updates on how I was feeling. I’m extremely thankful he was so diligent on checking in on me. My main concern was the tightness in my chest, pressure where the port is. I couldn’t take a deep breath. I felt better resting. I had even been doing light housework to stay up and active. Today he checked in again. The chest pressure was better. I could actually take a deep breath with little to no problem. Fast forward to this afternoon. I had went down to my best friend Sam’s salon to get my hair styled for my photoshoot. She’s on the 2nd floor and we took the stairs. My favorite part. I hadn’t exercised since my diagnosis and it’s been killing me. I was so active. Upon reaching the 2nd floor which was not far, I was winded. I text Juan letting him know, and he didn’t respond right away. I sat down, caught my breath, and got my hair done. As soon as I parked at home Juan called. He was consulting his doctor and advised I go in ASAP to an urgent care to be seen. I needed an x-ray, EKG, oxygen levels checked to rule out a possible blood clot in the lungs. Fuck me..

Disappointed to say the least. I walked into my home filled with laughter from my girls and their cousins, everyone gathered at the table for a meal, my in laws were visiting. All I could say was, we have to go to urgent care. I didn’t even kiss my babies goodbye 😕 I said goodbye to them but not thinking I wouldn’t be back tonight didn’t cross my mind. Now I wish I had. I arrived at a local urgent care before closing and the first thing I noticed in the lobby were vases of fake sunflowers. By pure coincidence, I use a sunflower background when I update my stories about my disease. I immediately knew this was God’s way of telling me he was with me and that I would be okay. I went into a room to be evaluated, and guess what kind of shoes the nurse was wearing? I’d never seen these before, but white vans with yellow sunflowers all over. There are no coincidences! However I wasn’t helped and was told to go to the ER.

No one likes to be in the ER, especially not right now. I had labs drawn, and an x-ray which showed proper placement of the port. Luckily Juan was here working and able to be there for my x-ray. He came to see me once more before he left to tell me he was going to communicate with the doctor about my CT and insulin complications. I had mentioned I was waiting for my husband to bring my charger because I was basically on E, and he graciously went to retrieve his charger to give to me. So extremely thankful for that gesture because alone, with no connection to my family in this place, is NOT the business. A charged phone is a precious lifeline so please always keep yours charged! So now..I wait for the CT.

I had been moved all over that ER. First I came to a bed and talked with a nurse. Then another nurse came in demanding she needed the bed. Once I was done I was booted off that bed so fast and into a chair in a hallway. The place was littered with sick people inside and outside rooms. It was so sad and crowded. I do believe I was mixed with both normal sick people and possible covid patients. To say I was nervous is an understatement. Back and forth I went between rooms, chairs, main waiting room, and scans. The longest wait was waiting to have my CT scan. I was in a room with chemo type reclining chairs. This poor girl in front of me was dealing with pain, bad. I felt so sorry for her. She was doing a good job being quiet but her face and body language looked like she was in active labor, though she was not. After watching I assumed she was suffering some sort of abdominal pain. When it was just us two, I didn’t want to make her talk, but I told her that I didn’t know what she was going through but that I was going to cover her in prayer. Her eyes lit up. She said thank you a bunch and I just assured her that I had her taken care of. I prayed with healing words. No matter what situation I’m in, I would never turn down the opportunity to put myself aside and pray for someone else who needed it more. I have failed this test before many times being too shy to pray, but you never know how those simple words of offering someone prayer may help them feel better. I wanted to cry, yeah I was in here for a possible life threatening issue, but I was nowhere as bad off as these people.

So I prayed for her, and eventually it was my turn to go to my CT. I had an IV put in, flushed, and had 3 medications to help me with my scan. One was Benadryl. I was actually glad to have it because I’ll be receiving it in my Pre-chemo cocktail and I wasn’t sure how I would feel on it. Yes it made me woozy immediately, but it was tolerable. Almost enjoyable in the correct setting. Waiting again, and was wheeled over by this super nice guy who eased the stress with good conversation. If you’ve ever done an MRI with contrast..it’s a fucking insane feeling. I laid down, the nurse flushed my IV and added the contrast. She loaded me in and waited a few minutes for it to kick in. I was in the machine for another few minutes and immediately when I was done I felt the warm rush. I’ve previously been warned it makes you feel really warm and almost like you’ve pee’d yourself. Thank god they reminded me because the warm sensation is explosive. It simultaneously felt like hot water was exploding from both my chest outward and my crotch 😂 indeed I clenched my body in case I did pee, but that’s exactly how it felt!!! So odd. Off to wait again for the results. This is where it for torturous. I am SO thankful for my AirPods and this charger. I have a very sensitive trigger to throwing up. Myself, other people, I can’t handle it. I actually did a good job this last week because both my girls got a virus, and I wasn’t second hand nauseous at all, that’s a victory. But in this ER literally 90% of the patients were vomiting 😑 I cranked those air pods to the max to drown out the sound. Closed my eyes. I don’t want what they got. So I’m in the big chair room again, my poor friend comes back in. Still in pain desperate for relief. Then another person, and another until the whole room was filled with us 5 people. 3/5 with vomiting 😕. Poor baby I prayed for got sick first, she was telling a nurse she was getting sick from the pain itself. Then the girl directly next to me. As she was getting her IV meds she started to get sick. It was a constant rush of nurses trying to get those sick bags in time..bless their quickness. I winced and turned to my left as to avoid being there. There wasn’t anywhere I could go where I wasn’t in the direct line of someone getting sick. I was miserable. Benadryl still kicking, I tried to nap, but had to keep my eyes open waiting for my name to be called. Eventually the time came, I was put in a draw chair outside the big chair room and my doctor read me the good news! I had my IV’s taken out and asked if they wanted me to go back into the big chair room (I don’t want to hog the draw chair in case someone needed it) and he said sure, just as I stood up the first poor girl started wrenching and I said “you know what I’ll stay here” and with a laugh the nurse walked back to their station and printed my discharge papers. I was R E L I E V E D. I was as calm in this situation as I needed to be, panicking and stressing weren’t going to help me. Easier said than done, to just not stress, but knowing how much trauma your body goes through WHEN you stress, it just wasn’t going to work in my favor. I came home famished, ate my dinner at 11:30pm, followed by a bag of popcorn, followed by a small serving of ice cream. Then my blood sugars sky rocketed all night 🙃 eh, not a good thing but I will hopefully have that very taken care of soon. Praise God nothing came out of this, each day has its own surprises, not all good, but also not all bad. The day started well with me sharing that my CT showed no cancer anywhere else in my body. This is EXTREMELY good news, and ended with me in the ER. You just never know how things will play out. So hug your kids, tell them you love them, do something fun. Enjoy the day given, because in a flash it could all be taken away ✌🏻

#cancer #emergency room #sunflowers #godisgood

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seagullsausage · 4 years ago

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recap of my thrilling day

i was rly tired DESPITE getting a full 8 hours. sleep is a scam man

got a venti java chip frap at starbucks which i NEVER get and let me tell u. that was the tastiest drink ive ever drunk

one of my managers was like ‘hey do u wanna be a lead’ and i was like......sure??? and she was like ‘cool’ so ig im the head of the toddler and baby department of old navy now

found two packs of socks at the bottom of the return bin at work,,,,,,,one was a halloween pack and the other had strawberries on them,,,,,,,,,,,cost me 5 bucks for both of them and im SO excited cause i put them on hold my entire shift and theyre so CUTE

bought an absurd amount of instant ramen bowls at the grocery store next to the mall cause they’re like 70 cents each and i eat them for lunch at work. i looked insane at the self checkout with my 20 packs of ramen but ya know what its worth it

bought a nice lap desk for like 14 bucks! i sit in bed a lot so hopefully it motivates me to do more work when im just laying around

also bought a really neat shelf to hang over my new desk area (but i might return it cause it was kinda pricey,,,,,,)

i want to make little handmade thank-you cards for my orders, so i got a bunch of small cardstock papers to fold in half and some fun stamps and stickers :) i think itll be more personal and fun than just writing a thank u note on my usual seagull paper (it might take more time but we’ll see how it goes)

i have so many orders to pack. i have a new studio vlog to film. i have crafts to do. things to draw. and yet i took an hour nap when i got home and probably will go to bed right now cause i got up at like 3 am this morning and i don’t feel like being awake anymore

just had a nuttella and banana slice combination on toast and let me tell u. tastiest shit ive ever eaten

thats it that was my day

#exciting #was definitely treating myself with that drink and also the lap desk but ya know what #i DESERVE IT #how was yalls day?? hope it was good #or at the very least not too bad

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graveyarddirtseries · 4 years ago

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Graveyard Dirt & Salt

Chapter 6

Not wanting to touch her without permission, knowing how his mother was with men and how big he was and how scary he could be, the Lieutenant sat beside her awkwardly for a moment, before settling his hand on his knee, palm open, facing the vaulted ceiling above their heads. It was an offering for her if she needed it and she took it after a moment, squeezing with a small, strong hand.

The backroom of the Catholic church was lit only by the flickering light of a couple small candles.

In the glow the Lieutenant watched as Benny preened in front of a full length mirror, he felt like his face was drawn in a grim, tight mask, but in the reflection seen over his shoulder, all he saw was a tired, middle aged marine who could use a good shower and a shave.

The shadows cast by the light hooded his eyes in darkness, making him appear like a spectre, some boogin from out of a Gothic novel.

The thing about mirrors he never cared for, was how honest they were. They held no dogs in the fight when it came to showing a man everything. You'd see time and life on your own face, wrinkles and worries and everything the sun kissed in a mirror. And from his own experience, after his mama died, the Lieutenant knew that the mirror also reflected emotion.

It was before a mirror that his Mamere had told him that his mama was gone. Thirteen years old, holding his toothbrush in his hand, staring at the old woman over his shoulder. He thought time would heal his mama, that everything bad that had happened to her would fade with time.

In his youth, being as foolish as all children were, Lafayette Vancoughnett IV, named after his Papere and not the man who had raped him into his mama's womb, thought that his mama would come back someday. That they would be together.

As he aged in the mirror, any reflection he looked into, the face he saw was of a man who came to realize that he didn't look much like his mama. The face that looked back at him, he theorized, must have been the same face that had taken his mama into those dark woods, held her down, and forced reality on her.

As time became lines etched on his face, Lafayette came understand that this face of his was why his mama could never really look at him. That if he had maybe stopped forcing his Papere to bring him to the hospital where his mama was, that maybe she wouldn't have to relive that night in the woods over and over and over again.

The mirrors and reflections of his face had always brought back into his mind how utterly he loathed himself, because he loathed the man who had driven his mama into a grave at the age of only twenty-nine.

His face wasn't his own, because his face belonged to a monster.

And maybe if he hadn't lived, if maybe sweet Louise, his mama, would still be alive. And she'd be married, with a whole bunch of children who didn't haunt her the way this only son of hers did.

If Lafayette had known then, what he knew now, he would have run off, left Louise to her happy home, to the parents who did their best to love her and the bastard offspring of the crime committed against her.

He would have done everything to make it right.

But he was a boy and he never knew entirely why his mama couldn't look at him, why she was in a hospital.

In those days girls like her, girls like his mama, they didn't stay home on medication to balance the serotonin in them. In those days the best you could do for a girl who tried three times to kill herself, to end the misery she was in, was to put her away. Surround her with padded rooms and locked doors and nurses.

He would have burned his face off, if only to spare Louise the terror he had unknowingly brought upon her every time he visited her. All he wanted in his greedy youth was a hug or a smile or for her to even notice him. He would bring her report cards and drawings and little things he found that he wanted to share with his mother, and the only thing he ever brought her that lingered with Louise were bad memories of a broken night, leaves in her hair, bruising and dried tears on her face.

No silly turkey's made of the cut out outline of his hand could ever smooth over what that man did to a fifteen year old girl.

So, no, he kept clear of mirrors when he could, because he didn't care for the reminder. The face of the monster he wore it haunted him as much as it haunted his mama.

“You still with me, Cajun?”

Snapped from his thoughts, the marine whipped his head up to meet Benny's gaze in the reflection. “Yeah.”

Benny narrowed his sharp eyes at him, but thankfully kept quiet, instead, turning around with his arms out.

“How do I look?”

“You look good,” he finally managed to say. Hoping the words might break the spell of the haunted figure in the mirror. “Like a real priest.”

“Think priests look good, Cajun?” Benny teased, pulling a little at the dog collar at his throat.

Opening his mouth to give the fancy man a smart assed response, the Lieutenant was distracted by Benny suddenly whipping his head to the right to peer at the open doorway where Mena stood like a pocket-sized ghost, her face haunted in the flickering of the candles.

She stood in her pink pyjamas with the pretty little white polka dots and her short, almost black hair ruffled from sleep, or rather perhaps, sleeplessness.

“What's the meaning of this?” She asked in a tremulous tone, bleating like a lost sheep on the open plains.

Benny spoke first, slowly and unsure, halfway between teasing and mocking, “fashion show?”

“Lieutenant?” She asked, turning to him.

“Paon thinks he's gonna try lighting out on his own.” He said helpfully. “Thinks it's best if he heads out alone to try to find these men. And I think he's right. You all need me here and that kid isn't ready to get into a fight.”

“Very well,” she said, holding up a hand, fingers spread, gesturing vaguely at Benny, “but why the blasphemy?” That tiny hand then went to touch her chest, just at the base of her throat.

“Devil worship,” Benny retorted quickly, grinning wickedly. “At an orgy.”

“Benny,” the Lieutenant said firmly, it was both to begin his sentence and a warning, “thinks it might make the men less inclined to just kill him if he hides behind the cloth.”

“And Annie?”

“I'll be back for her,” Benny said, suddenly serious.

“And here I thought you were beginning to like us, Mr. Malone,” Mena teased a little.

Reaching out, Benny tugged at the lapel on Mena's pyjama top, before his hand danced up and he tweaked her chin. “If you're going to miss me that much, at least be waiting with a kiss when I get back, huh?” He teased.

Mena slapped his hand away with a quick as a snake swat, before saying, “your flirtations have never and will never work on me, Mr. Malone. Now, if you're going to be parading around like a fool in a dog collar, at least do it right. You want to lose the vestments and wear something simple. A full length cassock might be best for a long distance recognition, but we can layer it and once you're in, you can take it off for better movement.” She said, moving towards the closet.

“What are you doing up so late, anyways?” The Lieutenant asked.

“I came to light a candle for Sister Mary Patrick, I couldn't sleep and thought I'd say another prayer for her.” Mena replied curtly. The subject of the nun off limits in just her tone. As she pulled out a few things from the closet, she said, “I really wish you two wouldn't leave me out of things like this.”

“Well, it's...not a sexist thing,” Benny said. “It’s a nun kind of ruins the party thing.”

“You make the fancy man uncomfortable,” the Lieutenant said with a smirk.

“Being in the presence of raw sexuality can do that to a man, I'm told,” Mena sighed.

There was a beat where the Lieutenant thought he hadn't really heard what he'd heard, where even Benny cast a furrowed, confused look at the Cajun.

Setting the black garments down on the table with a frustrated sigh, Mena said, “I...I haven't been sleeping and that was...a slip of the tongue.”

“No,” Benny argued lightly. “You said what you said and you can't unsay it. Abbess,” he exclaimed, “do you have a dirty sense of humour?”

“I'm exhausted and you boys drive me a little...batty.”

Gasping, Benny gripped his chest in much the same place Mena had clutched her own breast earlier. “Language, Abbess!”

Mena gave him a stern, displeased look and said, “here, put these on. They'll be cooler in the Georgian heat and better to blend in later.”

Sitting in the front pew of the church, waiting for Benny to dress, the Lieutenant watched as Mena finished up her prayer for Sister Mary Patrick, before moving to sit in the pew beside him. The light she had lit for the poor nun flickering in the dark like a lightning bug all a glow.

“La misère semble toujours vous suivre.” He murmured sadly.

“Beg your pardon?” Mena asked.

The Lieutenant shook his head a little. “Just something my mama used to say to me.”

“What does it mean?”

Almost hypnotized by the flickering candle, the Lieutenant was quiet for a moment, contemplating getting up and pacing. He didn't do well with just sitting, not when there was so much that needed doing.

“Lieutenant?” Mena asked.

“Misery seems to always follow you. La misère semble toujours vous suivre, Lafayette, she'd say.” He replied, still watching the flame.

“That's hardly a kind thing to say to a boy,” Mena argued gently.

“Mais, she wasn't wrong,” he returned, easing back in the pew to settle in more comfortably. Seems whichever way he wriggled his ass, the hard wood wasn't going to offer comfort. It seemed a perfect metaphor to how he felt about religion in general, he supposed.

Beside him Mena was quiet, prim and pretty as she always was, sitting like a queen on the pew, not a wriggle or a squirm to her posture on the hard wood under her derriere.

“The first person I saw torn apart by the uggies was from above. We were being sent in to a hospital towards the end, when things got out of hand and as the 'copter set down, I watched a young nurse run out towards us in the parking lot and they set upon her like a pack of wolves. They don't eat them, the dead, they just...have this abnormal anger to them, this hatred of the living. Or maybe they aren't dead and just hate those who aren't infected, aren't claimed by whatever it is that's got a hold on them.” He glanced over at the nun, her face stoic, eyes on the flickering light. “Lord, I never saw anything like that. I was startled, afraid, I don't feel fear like normal people, I never have. Things that should scare me only drive me to wonder, to curiosity. But I was scared then. I was helpless for the first time in my life, I felt like my own body wouldn't move, wouldn't act. You get to used to it. To them. You wander around outside these walls long enough and you see them as an annoyance, another bump in the road. But they were people, they are people, I suppose. Something preyed on them and they fell.”

“You said infection,” Mena asked.

He nodded.

“Do you...are they not dead then?”

“I don't know. Everyone who knows what this is is buried underground in their bunkers, holed up until this all blows over. I'm just a marine, Missy, I'm not a scientist or a politician. I'm muscle and metal.”

Glancing over, he spied a sort of furrow to her brow and knew immediately what it was.

“Don't worry,” he said, trying to soothe her, “you haven't been killing anyone who would object. If they aren't dead, they aren't ever going to come back to us the way they were. It's either you're killing abominations or mercy killing the dying.”

“Still not much of a consolation.”

“Hey,” he said firmly. “You saw how they took to Sister Mary Patrick. They would do that to any of us. Killing them is just like clearing your world of misery.”

“That could be said by either side of this fight, Lieutenant.”

“Sure,” he agreed. “But only one of these sides can talk and rationalize.”

Emerging from the sacristy, Benny stepped up to the pulpit. He looked like a priest and that was at least a little comforting to the Lieutenant. Maybe his plan wasn't so bad.

“Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” Benny said from behind the pulpit.

“Did you really study the bible this afternoon, Mr. Malone?” Mena asked. “I'm rather impressed.” Standing up, she approached him. “When I saw you with the bible in the shadows of the church, I thought maybe you were just being mocking.”

Benny grinned. “Maybe I was. Or maybe I was pulling shit out of my ass and flinging it to see what stuck. Hey, check this out,” he went on, running a hand through his hair, settling it back into less of a loose finger brushing and more into a tamped down, alter-boy style. “Huh? Priestly.”

“Are you sure about this, paon?” The Lieutenant asked one last time, feeling like he needed to ask it.

Benny nodded. “Yeah. Jesus, don't start crying or I'm going to start crying. Fuck.”

“Language in the church, please?” Mena asked, sounded like she was hanging by a string on patience with the man.

For a brief moment, in the dark of the night, lit only by the flickering candle of Sister Mary Patrick's memory, the three of them milled about, Benny rubbing the bottom of his expensive ankle boot over the red carpeting by the pulpit, Mena sitting perched like a pretty sparrow on the pew beside the Lieutenant who was gazing at the candle.

“Welp,” Benny finally said. “I'm going head off.”

Mena stood up suddenly, almost panicked. “I don't like this. No. You're not going. We can think of something else, something better.”

“It's really cute that you're already in love with me,” Benny said with a grin. “But, babe, I can take care of myself. I promise.”

“No offence, Mr. Malone, but by the looks of your suit and your shoes and that fifty dollar grin, I'd say you have-”

“JSOC,” Benny said suddenly. He said it so simply that for a moment the Lieutenant didn't register his words, before the marine was suddenly intrigued.

“What?” He asked asked.

Benny scowled. “Fuck it, society's fucked anyways. I was...tasked with doing things for the military.”

“What things?” Mena demanded.

“Intel,” the Lieutenant supplied for him. “He was with Delta Force, JSOC.”

“No,” Benny said. “It wasn't just intel you dumb fucking marine. It's...I can handle my fucking self, alright? Both of you need to just...calm your asses down. I promise you that I will be just fine.”

“You're a man of a many hats,” the Lieutenant said.

“I look good in them,” Benny replied. “Just keep that fucking kid alive, alright? I'll be back in contact with both of you. And don't pray for me,” he pointed firmly at Mena, “that's a defeatist fucking attitude.”

“I didn't say I was going to,” she returned archly.

“Rough, that's rough,” Benny returned. “Alright, I'm out of here. Don't get anymore nuns killed, marine.”

The Lieutenant winced like he'd been slapped. “Just don't get yourself killed. We need the intel you're getting us.”

“Aw, want a kiss goodbye, angel face?” Benny asked him.

The Lieutenant scoffed. “You get us some good fucking dirt on these men and I'll kiss you right on the mouth when you come back.”

“I'm holding you to that,” Benny returned, walking backwards down the aisle towards the font and the door. “Abbess? You and me,” he made a suggestive gesture as he continued to walk backwards in the near dark. “Huh? It's gonna happen. We'll have a threeway in the fucking bell tower. Think about it!”

“Don't think I haven't already,” Mena replied with a small, almost wicked gleam in her eyes.

Tripping a little by the font, Benny chuckled, catching himself, before turning and leaving.

In the silence of Benny's absence, the Lieutenant grinned a little at the nun beside him.

“What?” She demanded demurely as she turned back to face the front of the church.

“Nothing,”he replied.

“That man should get as good as he gives,” she said, shrugging her shoulders like a hen ruffling her feathers.

“You have a real dirty streak to you, Abbess,” he murmured, staring straight ahead.

It only took a moment, before a small, sad grin appeared on her face. “I used to,” she admitted. “I'm beginning to think the two of you bring out the worst in me.”

“Or maybe the best?” He suggested.

“Hmm.”

“Can I ask you something, Missy?” The Lieutenant asked.

“Hmm?”

“Can you really fight or do I need to force you to take lessons with the others tomorrow?” He asked. “I need to know everyone will be able to defend themselves the next time we get trouble.”

“I can handle myself,” Mena said. “I don't like the idea of fighting, but if it comes to it, I can handle myself just fine.”

“I don't mean to pry,” he went on. “But I'm going to need some credentials to back that claim up. I just...I don't want you to be the conscientious objector here and now.”

Mena was quiet for a minute, before gathering herself with a soft inhale. “When I was thirteen I ran away from home and lived on the streets of Atlanta for five years before the church took me in.”

Regretting asking, but a little more comforted by the information, the Lieutenant nodded. “Alright.”

“You're not going to ask any follow up questions?” Mena inquired with a small smirk.

“It's none of my business.”

“I'm not ashamed of it,” Mena replied. “We all do what we need to in order to survive.”

“I get it.”

“Anyways, I was freelance, if you could call it that. So if a man refused to pay, you'd better have a strong grip and get a good tip,” she went on. “Because there wasn't any pimp to come along and convince them to pay up.”

“Fair enough.” After a moment, he added. “I'm sorry you had to run away from home.”

“There are people out there worse off than me. I was lucky in that I used to go to the convent shelter in Atlanta, not this convent, it was another that would feed the homeless there and give them clothing and whatever they needed. I wasn't addicted to any drugs, I barely drank, though I did more than I should because...well, what else do you do when you're in that situation. But they recommended I join the church as a novitiate, it was Sister Mary Patrick who gave me my first instructions. She came here to this convent when I did and we have always been close.”

The Lieutenant didn't know what to say, so he remained silent. It wasn't his place to say anything.

“So, yes, Lieutenant, I can fight.”

He nodded.

“And no one will judge me, but God,” she added firmly.

“I won't judge you,” he said.

“If that day ever comes for us.” She added grimly.

“Go ahead, if you need,” he said. “I'm secular, so I won't judge.”

Mena opened her mouth as though to say something, but stopped suddenly, inhaling, almost as though she was stubbornly refusing to cry.

Wrapping his long fingers around her hand, he held it gently, warmly.

“I'm sorry,” she said again.

“You don't have to apologize,” he replied. “I imagine it would shake anyone to the core to have to be in this sort of situation. Civilians aren’t used to facing very real and dangerous threats, they aren’t prepared mentally for all the ugly parts that come with a disaster like this.”

She nodded. “It certainly makes you rethink a lot of things.”

“I'm not religious by any means, not really, but...well, how is your...you know? Your faith?” He winced as though faith was a dirty word.

“Honestly? I don’t know. I suppose I’m waiting for a sign.”

“A sign?” He asked.

“From God. What do we do now? I just don’t know.”

“Ooh,” he teased. “maybe his sign is the dead rising?”

Inhaling once more, Mena calmed herself, her hand still in his. “I am grateful for you, Lieutenant.” She said. “If you weren't here, if Mr. Malone wasn't here, I think it could have been worse for us last night. I have a hard time showing gratitude, and it's my weakness, I will work on it.”

“You don't have to be grateful,” the Lieutenant said. “You just trust me a little, yeah? I want this convent to flourish and be safe.”

“I think a lot of things need to change, don't they?” She asked.

He nodded.

“Maybe we'll turn completely secular,” she teased.

“You're joking, but...it'd make my job easier.”

“Your job?”

“Getting some nuns to kill some bad men.”

Mena laughed. “I don't know about that. But maybe we can make some room in the cloister for you and the others.”

“I don't know,” he teased, “that close to nuns, might make a man wish for the cold embrace of the Georgian backwoods.”

She clucked her tongue at him with a small grin.

In the dim church they sat for a good long while in silence, before the Lieutenant glanced at the woman beside him.

“You ever hear of 'telling the bees'?”

“Not that I'm aware of, what is it?”

“Used to be when someone in a house died, you'd go outside and down to the beehive and you'd tell the bees that they died. It was a sign of respect to the hardest workers on the farm.”

“What happened if you didn't tell the bees?”

The Lieutenant shrugged. “I dunno. They'd fly off, I guess? Or die? Or stop giving honey?”

“That sounds absolutely Pagan,” Mena replied finally.

He grinned. “Now I'm not proposing we dance around naked at the equinox or anything.”

“No reason to ruin a good time on my account,” Mena teased.

Chuckling, the Lieutenant squirmed again in the pew.

“Are you uncomfortable, Lieutenant?”

“No,” he lied.

She smiled. “They're not the friendliest seats, are they?”

“Ah, it's...churches make me a little nervous and I have to say this Catholic church is a little intimidating.”

“Is it the icons or the crucifix?”

“Well, Jesus dying on that cross doesn't give this place a...warm welcoming feel.”

“It's a stark reminder, but...I never cared much for him on the cross like that. I always thought we should remember Jesus as the man who fed the poor, healed the lepers, tolerated the downtrodden with grace and kindness. But then again, I'm just one nun with progressive ideas.”

“Is that why you're here? I recall you saying that this is where the diocese sent the troublemakers.”

Mena smiled. “I never thought of it like that, but perhaps. I know in my younger years I was very vocal about moving beyond the old ways of doing things in the church and mostly in the convent. I thought nuns were far, far removed from everything. I wanted us to get out into the world and be there for people who needed us. Homeless shelters, soup kitchens, they're wonderful, but we could be doing more. Building homes for the impoverished, protesting for civil liberties. Supporting a woman's body and woman's right to choose, it would prevent so much heartache and hardship, but...I'm not supposed to believe in things like abortion or birth control. The Catholic church doesn't believe in any of that, but...I mean a few years ago we didn't support homosexuality, but things were beginning to change and I thought we could push change. But...too many old men set in their ways in charge of too much, with too little desire to listen or even care.”

“I didn't know I was among Catholic rebels here,” the Lieutenant teased.

Mena smiled. “I suppose I was too worldly and I've seen too much to feel the way the church wanted me to. It was easier to shove me away, cloister me, cloister most of these nuns, here at a convent with little to no contact with the outside world, only going out to the farmer's market to sell goods to keep our lights on.”

“Mais,” the Lieutenant exhaled. “The world's gone to seed now, good time as any to forge a new one the way you want.”

“Do you want to know the most controversial idea I had before they sent me here?”

“What was it?”

“I thought priests and nuns should be allowed to marry.”

The Lieutenant faked a gasp. “Blasphemy!”

“As it was, I think – though they would never say it – I think priests and nuns believed that in order to be closer to God they had to rise above the people, but...isn't it logical to think that being closer to God is being among His creation? Experiencing it? All of it? Love and heartache and loss and birth?”

“I wouldn't know, I sort of gave up on God a while back. I think people should do what makes them happy as long as it doesn't hurt anyone else.”

“You're not what I'd imagine a military man would be. Especially a Lieutenant.”

He shrugged. “If you know what a military man looks like, I'd like to know. Wouldn't want to let people down at first sight.”

She laughed softly. “I guess...I was thinking the short, boxy haircut and maybe a ramrod straight spine.”

Reminded subtly to straighten his spine, the Lieutenant sat up in the pew and grinned. “Well, it's a start,” he replied at her look. “I suppose we're both bucking societal expectations of our roles. The progressive nun and the slouchy marine.”

“Hmm, I think I might say a quick prayer for Mr. Malone, then head to bed.”

“I thought he didn’t want you to,” the Lieutenant asked with a grin.

“I know,” she said firmly, the devil dancing in her eyes.

He nodded, releasing her hand. “I'll let you do that in peace then. I'm gonna hop on the wall before bed.”

“Do you think,” she stopped him at the aisle with her soft voice. “Do you think Mr. Malone will be okay out there alone?”

“The man survived this long in a fancy suit with a handgun and a small child, I think he knows what he's doing.”

She nodded. “That's good. I quite like him.”

The Lieutenant smirked. “Me too.”

“Goodnight, Lieutenant.”

“Goodnight, Missy.”

#novel #graveyard dirt & salt series #support a freelance small time author #go to my blog and donate if you can to my ko-fi #chapter 6

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appalachianwiine · 4 years ago

Text

Swim - Chapter 5 - A Light In the Darkness

I need light in the dark as I search for the resolution

-"The Resolution" by Jacks Mannequin

“Well we’re not going to be starting Chemo tonight after all.” Dr. Rhee says as she walks in shortly after lunch.

“We’re not?” Daryl frowns.

“No her post op lab results show just a little bit of an increase in white blood cells.” Dr. Rhee explains. “I’m going to give her some antibiotics and retest tomorrow morning. But the good news is that means she can go down to the playroom for a bit.”

“Can she have visitors?” Daryl asks. Lydia had been asking about seeing Carl since the child life specialist, Beth, had left.

“Yeah she can, but visiting hours for non family end at 8pm” Dr. Rhee informs him.

“Want me t’ call ‘em baby girl?” Daryl asks.

“Can you?” Lydia pleads.

“Yeah.” Daryl picks up his phone and dials Lori.

“Daryl?!” Her voice is a little strained. “We’ve been calling all day. Is everything okay?”

Its with a rush of guilt he realizes he’s hardly looked at his phone since she called him yesterday. “Shit sorry Lori.” He gives her the short version of it all, about the leukemia, the lumbar puncture, the results they were waiting on.

“I can’t believe you didn’t call earlier.” Lori scolds. “Daryl, we should’ve been there. I can’t believe you had to do all this alone.”

Daryl grimaces. “Sorry, I uh - I actually had a meetin’ this mornin’. With a nice woman who runs the support group here fer parents. She was a single parent when she went through this with her daughter.”

“Oh.” Lori says. “Is - is there a lot of that? Single parents I mean.”

Daryl glances over at Lydia, who’s drawn back into the television. “I ain’ even the only adoptive parent righ�� now. There’s a guy across the hall, Ezekiel, an’ his kid.”

“Shit.” Lori mutters. “Well um - do you - do you want us to come by? Can she have visitors?”

“Yeah she can. She’s been askin’ t’ see Carl. Real disappointed in not getting t’ see him yesterday.” Daryl says.

“I’ll give Rick a call and we’ll be by.” Lori says. “You need anything from home?”

“No we’re alright.” Daryl says. “Thanks Lori.”

“Of course.” Lori says. “We’ll see you around 3?”

“See you then.” He hangs up, turning back to Lydia, who’s watching him with hopeful eyes. “They’ll be here around three.”

“Yay!” Lydia grins, bouncing up and down.

“Ya know,” Dr. Rhee says. “Maybe Miss Lydia would like to check out the playroom. She’ll have to wear a mask and stay connected to the infusion pump, but they’ve got a lot of good stuff in there.”

“Can we daddy?” Lydia asks.

“Sure.” Daryl agrees, he’ll do anything to keep her in good spirits right now. She seems to be feeling good and he’d like to keep it that way. “You know there’s a little boy yer age across the hall?”

“There is?” Lydia asks. “Can I see him?”

“Sure, lets go over and see if he wants to come with us.” Daryl helps Lydia out of bed and sets her carefully on the floor. “Hang on let me get the pole.” He reaches for the infusion pole, fumbling with the latch that attaches it to the bed for a moment. It releases and he pulls it towards him, it’s surprisingly heavy. “Alright lets go kiddo.”

They have to pause twice for Daryl to gather up the tubing that comes out of Lydia’s arm and up to the bag of antibiotics. As he loops them around his hand it strikes him that this isn’t unlike Dog’s long line, wrapped around his hands and unraveling as they move. Lydia looks back at Daryl as they reach the door of 323.

“You knock daddy.” Lydia mutters, reaching out to grab his hand. The wariness returns to her as they stand in front of the door.

“Okay.” He says, squeezing her hand and reaching out to knock.

“A moment!” Ezekiel’s voice comes from beyond the door. There’s some scrambling and then the door pulls open. “Daryl!”

The booming voice makes Lydia flinch and draw closer to Daryl. Daryl reassures her with a hand on her head, stroking her hair back. “Uh, Ezekiel. This is Lydia.” He smiles. “She was wondering if - if Henry might want to come to the playroom.”

Ezekiel kneels in front of them, and it’s then that Daryl sees he’s wearing a paper crown colored in yellow and pink. “Hello Lydia.” His voice drops. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Ezekiel.” He holds out a hand.

Lydia’s brown eyes look back up at Daryl, and then, slowly, she reaches out to shake Ezekiel’s hand. “Hi.”

“Would you like to come in and meet Henry?” Ezekiel asks. Lydia nods silently, and Ezekiel stands, offering a smile and stepping back from the door. “Come in, he’s over there with Carol.”

Daryl pushes the IV pole into the room, it’s a mirror image of their own, except this one is decorated. Behind the bed is one of those banners you get from the party store spelling out ‘Henry’ in bold green letters, and a bunch of printer sheet sized papers with colorful backsplash and lettering taped around the room. As he walks past one Daryl sees it’s a bible verse, the others appear to be too. Over by the window the bald little boy is sitting on Carol’s lap and holding plastic dinosaurs.

“Henry.” Ezekiel calls. “Someone is here to see you.”

The boy’s head turns and Daryl is struck by how in the light of day his skin appears almost translucent but his eyes are bright and alert. “Hi.” He says, climbing off of Carol’s lap and trotting across the floor, his own infusion tube trailing after him. “I’m Henry.”

“Lydia.” She mumbles, hiding her face against Daryl’s leg.

“Go on.” Daryl mutters, nudging her forward. “Ask him.”

“Do you um… want to go to the… to the playroom?” She mutters, half into Daryl’s leg.

“Sure.” A smile stretches across Henry’s face. “Can we daddy?”

“Sure Henry.” Ezekiel says, already fumbling with the latch on the infusion pole.

“Hi Daryl.” Carol says. “She doing okay?”

“Yeah I think so.” Daryl nods. “Better now that she ate, and uh her friend is coming to visit soon.”

“Are you coming with us?” Henry asks Carol as he drops a few plastic dinosaurs into a tub.

“If your daddy doesn’t mind.” Carol smiles.

“Never do.” Ezekiel smiles, sliding Henry’s own infusion pole over to them. “Ready?”

The playroom is at the other end of the floor, it’s empty and clean, even here everything smells sterile and controlled. There’s a sign telling the kids to wear masks before they go in, and two boxes, one with princesses and the other with trucks. A bit gendered but it’s an option. Henry reaches confidently for the princess one and puts it on, Lydia on the other hand looks warily at them.

“I don’t want those.” Lydia murmurs.

“I know.” Daryl sighs. “But those are the rules, if you don’t follow them you have to go back to the room.”

“Fine.” Lydia scowls, grabbing one of the pink princess ones and putting it on. “Can we go play now?”

“Go on.” Daryl says, pushing her infusion pole over to one of the small tables and watching her drag out the barbies.

“They seem to be hitting it off.” Carol comes to stand next to him, Ezekiel is helping the kids pull the toys out, still wearing the paper crown.

“Yeah.” Daryl mutters. “What’s uh - what’s with the crown?”

“Oh,” Carol chuckles. “Henry was making us play something he calls ‘’Kingdom” It changes but the theme is usually he’s a prince and Ezekiel is the King and they have to fight monsters.”

“Ah.” Daryl chuckles. “A fun kid?”

“Oh tons of fun.” Carol nods. “When he feels good anyway, he’ll probably take a hit after this round of Chemo.” Her smile fades a little bit.

“Oh.” Dary mutters.

“Sorry.” Carol apologizes. “It’s just - it’s always a little hard being here.”

“I can’t even imagine.” Daryl sighs. “Losing her it’s -”

“Don’t.” Carol cuts him off. “I’m sorry just - the words don’t… they don’t help and you don’t need to go there right now.”

“Right.” He’s quiet for a while, an awkward silence stretching out in front of them.

“What do you do?” Carol says after a moment.

“Cop. Special Victims, domestic violence and child abuse mostly” He nods. “‘S how I met Lydia. You?”

“High School English teacher.” Carol says. Daryl chuckles. “What?”

“I don’ know I didn’t picture that.” He shrugs.

“Oh really?” Carol raises her eyebrows. “What did you picture Mr. Cop?”

“I don’t know. I just can’t picture you as a strict highschool English teacher.” He scratches his chin. “You uh make the kids write a million drafts?”

“If I don't, no one will.” She chuckles. “I wanted to teach Elementary though, but after Sophia… highschool was easier.”

“Ah.” Daryl nods. “And uh, you an’ Ezekiel, how long has that been a thing? Just since he moved down here? Or did you know him before?”

“Me and Ezekiel?” She raises her eyebrows. “Oh we’re not - no, just friends. Trust me the last thing either of us has the time or energy for is dating. He got in contact with me a lot like you did actually, referral through Maggie.”

“Oh.” Daryl says. “I uh, sorry I just assumed, I mean Henry seems to adore you and I just assumed.”

“It’s fine.” Carol promises. “So what’s her plan?”

“Lydias?” Daryl asks, Carol nods. “Oh um, well apparently the lab is closed on Sundays, but we should have results by Thursday, but I think she’s supposed to start Chemo tomorrow. What uh… what can I expect? I mean Dr. Rhee told me but it’s kind of overwhelming.”

“Daryl.” Carol sighs. “Are you sure you can handle this right now?”

“I’m fine.” He insists. “The hallway was just -”

“It’s okay.” Carol reaches over and squeezes his arm. “You don’t have to explain, I promise we’ve all had breakdowns in the hallway.”

“Right.” Daryl rubs his hands on his jeans.

“So um,” Carol says. “So they’ll probably give about four hours of fluids first, chemo does a lot of damage to the kidneys so they’ll want her to flush it as quickly as possible. So expect a lot of potty breaks, then she’ll get her chemo, then another four hours of fluids. She’ll feel pretty tired, nauseous, she might get constipated, and her blood counts will plummet.”

“What does that mean?” Daryl asks. “Like what do I - what will she look like.”

“Um, pale, they’ll watch her for a certain kind of bruising, she’ll have a higher chance of infection. It’s not too bad when they’re checking her all the time, but it’s nerve wracking when you’re at home.” Carol sighs, chewing her lip.

“Her hair.” He says quietly. “How long… um will that take to…”

“To fall out?” Carol says slowly, he can still sense some reluctance on her part. “Sophia's took about 2 weeks to really start coming out and then we shaved it after the third week, it was starting to upset her. But Henry kept all of his until it was gone and that was about a month.”

“A month.” He mutters. “That’s uh - that’s not very long.”

“No.” Carol shakes her head. “But you’re gonna get through this Daryl. It’s like Ezekiel said, you’re not alone in this. You can call me any time, seriously.”

“Yeah.” He nods. “I uh - I will.”

“I know that look.” Carol says. “Which means I’m going to be calling you to check in.”

“What d’ ya mean?” He gowns.

“That look means you’re not going to reach out first and you’re going to be stubborn about it.” Carol nudges him.

He blushes, that had been what he was thinking. “Fine. FIne. I’ll call.”

“Before you’re discharged. You’ll need help with that. There’s a lot that needs to be done for her to come home.” Carol insists.

“Yeah alright. Before she’s discharged.” Daryl promises.

They linger in the playroom for another half an hour, after which Henry starts complaining that he’s tired. Ezekiel takes Henry back to their room and Daryl helps Lydia put away some of the toys.

“Come on kiddo, Carl will be here soon.” Daryl says, putting a few barbies in the bin.

“Alright.” Lydia pouts putting a couple more barbies away. “Is she coming with us?”

Daryl looks over at Carol who’s putting away a few plastic animals. “Um, I don’t think so. Why?”

“I thought she’s Henry’s mom.” Lydia shrugs. “But he says she’s not.”

“Yeah.” Daryl nods.

“You two want some help getting back to the room?” Carol offers.

“Nah.” Daryl shakes his head, sliding the bin of barbies back into the cupboard and starting to gather up Lydia’s infusion line. “I think we got it. Don’t we Lydia?”

“We got it.” Lydia nods.

“Alright.” Carol smiles. “I’ll get going then okay?”

“Yeah.” Daryl nods. “And uh… thanks for everything.”

“Of course.” Carol says, holding the door open so he can push the heavy infusion pole through it. “And I mean it, I’ll be calling you. I want to see you in our meeting on Tuesday okay?”

Daryl’s about to answer but he’s cut off by a sharp yelp, Lydia has rushed forward to the end of her line and tugged it. “Lydia!” He mutters, hurrying over to her and kneeling in front of her, it doesn’t appear to have come out. “What are you-”

“Lydia!” And in a blur another eight year old has rushed up beside him, hugging her tightly.

“Carl!” Lydia grins, barely noticing the worry she’d caused Daryl. “Move Daddy!”

“I - “ He looks over at Carol, she’s covered her mouth trying to suppress a giggle.

“It’s cute.” She says apologetically. “Tuesday?”

“Yeah.” His shoulders relax. “Tuesday.” Carol walks past him towards the elevator and Daryl pulls the infusion pump closer to them. “Carl where’s your mom?”

“I don’t know.” Caryl shrugs, sticking his thumbs in his belt looks. “Somewhere.”

“Carl Grimes!” Lori’s harsh voice says, coming up rapidly behind them, baby Judith on her hip. “Don’t you ever run off like that again you understand?”

“Sorry. I saw Lydia.” Carl shrugs.

“I can see that.” Lori sighs. “Daryl, sorry about him he knows better.”

“It’s fine Lori.” Daryl assures. “We’re just heading back to the room.”

“Who was the woman?” Carl asks, holding Lydia’s hand as Daryl gathers up the cords again and loops them around his arm.

“Oh that’s Carol. She’s not Henry’s mom.” Lydia shrugs.

“Then who is she?” Carl frowns.

“I don’t know. Daddy's friend I guess.” Lydia doesn’t seem phased by it and the two start off down the hall, leaving Daryl and Lori to hurry after them.

“Woman?” Lori raises her eyebrows.

“Carol.” Daryl says. “She’s from the single parents support group. She uh - saw that whole fiasco.”

“Ah.” Lori chuckles. “She's pretty?”

“Yeah I guess. Why?” Daryl narrows his eyes.

“No reason.” Lori smirks.

“Oh no no no.” Daryl says. “My kid has cancer, you're not playing matchmaker.”

“You’re no fun.” Lori pouts.

“Where’s Lori and Michonne?” He’s eager to change the subject.

“Already in the room probably, they didn’t have a baby to hold them up.” Lori chuckles. “Or a little boy who likes to play the world tour of bathrooms every time we’re somewhere new. They brought some decorations for Lydia.”

“Daddy look!” Lydia grins from the doorway. “Look what aunt Michonne and Uncle Rick brought!”

Sure enough, when he gets to the door the entire room has been done up like a Little Mermaid party. Balloons, streamers, and a big ‘get well soon lydia’ sign hanging above the bed.’. He grins sheepishly at rick. “Y’all didn’t have t’ do this.”

“Of course we did.” Michonne grins. “Now come on Lydia we brought you some presents.”

#the walking dead #the walking dead fanfic #caryl #caryl fanfic #carol peletier #daryl dixon #fic; swim #lydia twd #henry twd #king ezekiel

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radramblog · 4 years ago

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Let’s Brew a Commander Deck

I’ve been reading a fair few articles recently about brewing up EDH decks, and I’ve got a game night on tonight, so I figure I can hit up a random commander, build up a deck, and get my juices flowing. I’ve also burned through an assignment that I thought I’d still be working on tomorrow, so I’m kinda treating myself a little.

So let’s go ahead and hit the Random button on everyone’s favourite (?) aggregator, EDHREC, and see what pops up…

…oh goddamnit.

Welp, this is what we’re working with. Patron of the Nezumi has three things I like in a commander- Mono-Black, obscure Tribal, and Kamigawa. Unfortunately, it doesn’t have much else going for it, especially since the other two potential Rat commanders are much better for a tribal deck- Marrow-Gnawer is brutally efficient at getting Rats on the table and through for damage, and Ink-Eyes is just more generically powerful.

With that said, Patron of the Nezumi doesn’t actually care about Rats all that much- though a 7CMC commander in non-green makes not using that Offering ability pretty bad. So let’s look at the second ability, and… it doesn’t look great either. Especially considering that Kothophed, a cheaper commander with a better benefit on basically the same trigger in the same colour, exists. And even less people are running it than Patron of the Nezumi, which is really confusing.

So what does Patron of the Nezumi do? It punishes people for having things die, which is nice since it stops a lot of infinite combos, and it’s a big idiot you can make cheaper and flash in by sacrificing a Rat. Where do we go with this?

I’m going to be honest: I don’t know. This commander beat me. There might be something there with some sort of Rat-themed control deck? I had a go at Flash matters, but Mono-Black doesn’t have enough there yet to make that work. I love me some meme-manders, but this one…I haven’t got a clue. Let’s try this shit again. RNGsus don’t fuck me again?

Yeah, sure, I can work with this. Lena looks at you and your pile of nontoken creatures- notably nontoken! And says cool here’s a bunch of idiots. She can protect them, too. 6 mana isn’t ideal for Mono-White, but we can make it work.

Whenever I have a commander that cares about creatures, the first thing I do is look for Creatures that can do things the deck wants to do anyway. Dudes that draw or ramp in this case. So the first thing I did for this deck was add mana dorks. But Rad, you may cry, White doesn’t get mana producing creatures! That’s a Green thing! And you’d be right, but the Myr exist along with a few other artifact things, so we’ll get those bad boys in there. They aren’t great, but they’ll serve our purposes.

(Archideckt is a great site btw)

In the deck I’m looking at building, we kinda just want a pile of creatures even if they aren’t actually very good. So I’m gonna put in a smallish pile of cantripping creatures, as well as White’s effects that draw for small creatures. I’m also trialling Losheel out in this slot, since so many of our ramp cards are Artifact Creatures they might actually end up good. I’d love to get Inspiring Commander in here, but apparently WOTC has decided that card should only exist on MTG arena, so.

In doing this search, I saw Solemn Simulacrum and realised I forgot to add land-based creature ramp to the deck. This also gets some land draw I missed, like Oreskos Explorer. For all these searches, I’m using Scryfall, by the by- easily the best MTG card database as far as searching is concerned.

This is a lot, but we’re going to make cuts later.

Hey look, you know what else works with small creatures? All the White effects that reanimate little dudes. Considering one of the vulnerabilities of this deck is going to be getting wrathed while Lena isn’t on the board, it seems like a good idea to throw some of these in. Also Scarecrone, because she’s fun and underrated and good here. Also Karmic Guide, like, we’re getting Reveillark in so might as well. Shit now we need some sac outlets…

(No Phyrexian Altar, what are we, made of money? Also oops Ashnod’s doesn’t go in the Draw section does it.)

Next up: Wincons. We’re going to make a bunch of dudes, so we’re probably winning through combat- Anthems are where it’s at here. While I don’t like running Cathar’s Crusade in paper, I’m never building this in paper, so I’m throwing it in here. Sometimes having a nice “kill you ded” button is good too, and in this case, we’re going for the spiciest one I’ve seen in a while: Charge Across the Araba. Unlike most cards with downsides like this, this one doesn’t fuck you over if it gets countered, which is always nice.

Two more things before we add the essentials and get to cutting. Backup Lenas- creatures that enter the battlefield with a small army- and flicker effects to get them back. There’s a fair few of each, with varying effectiveness. Some of the Flicker effects can also be used to save our boys’ asses as well. Found a couple extra things for our other sections on the way…

Now, the last bit is your standard interaction package. White gets some bomb-ass removal, and bomb-ass wraths, but in this deck, we get to run some fun ones of the latter. Our small-creature focus lets us run a pile of wraths that basically don’t affect our own guys, meaning we are able to be a creature-focussed deck that doesn’t ruin itself to answer opponent’s boards. We don’t need that many, though.

Last thing I do, before I start making cuts and adding lands, is to check the EDHREC page for my commander of choice to see if I missed anything obvious. And for Lena…there really isn’t much I’m interested in. Like, really, this has gotta be one of the most underpowered recommended sections ive ever seen. It doesn’t help that half of people appear to be either making ultra budget decks or bad Soldier Tribal lists.

So, how many cards are we up to?

Okay, so like, 15 or so cuts, not bad. Keep in mind I consider Sol Ring a land for the purposes of that calculation. I’m gonna make those offscreen real quick.

Yeah, good, ok.

Last thing is lands, and again offscreen because no one needs to see that. The final decklist can be found here. Looking back, this list could use some serious refining- and probably needs to cut a lane or two, but I’m proud of what I’ve created considering I did it in like an hour and a half. It’s always a fun experiment to try this sorta thing, to keep your mind churning.

I’m not building this in paper, though. Imagine building a monocolour deck that isn’t mono-Black (ignore my Zada and Callaphe decks please).

#ramble #mtg #edh #commander #deckbuilding

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robinskey · 5 years ago

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Miracle (Billy Hargrove x Reader)

A/N: This idea randomly came to me, and I spent most of my day working on it. I don’t write for Billy much, but I 100% feel his character deserved better, so...here’s my attempt at rewriting the canon.

Warnings: Season 3 spoilers, mention of blood, a bit of angst and swearing

Billy should have died last night.

As you sit in the little folding chair next to his hospital bed, you can’t stop that thought from crossing your mind. By all means, Billy Hargrove should not have survived the injuries he sustained from the Mind Flayer. You’d watched as the monster’s tentacles had punctured holes through Billy’s abdomen, like a pencil stabbed through a piece of notebook paper. By the time you and Max had gotten to him, the bleeding wounds had stained his once-white tank top bright crimson.

You’d uttered a string of expletives before screaming at someone to call an ambulance. You tried tying your jacket around his midsection, unsuccessfully attempting to stop the bleeding. Like most high school students, you didn’t know much about first aid. The only thing you knew was that you would not let this boy bleed out in your arms.

Across from you, Max gazed at her stepbrother will tear-filled eyes. He stared back.

“I’m sorry, Max. I wish-I wish I could have been a better brother,” he said, his voice soft and strained, barely audible over the police sirens blaring outside the mall. Billy’s arm hung limp at his side, and Max placed her small, freckled hand over his. Then, he turned to you. “Thank you-for everything.”

“Don’t talk like you’re dying, Billy, because you’re not,” you’d said through clenched teeth. “Hold on. Help will be here soon.” You tugged at the sleeves of your jacket with shaking fingers, tightening its hold on Billy’s stomach.

“Y/N,” he said with as much force as he could muster.

It came out as a grunt, but it was enough to draw your attention. He watched you with unblinking baby blues-the same color as the ocean that he loved so dearly-the one you knew he wanted to see again. The one he would see again.

“Let me go.”

Your voice was hoarse, strained by the tears you were trying to repress. “You know I can’t do that.”

And you didn’t. You kept pressure on Billy’s wounds until the EMTs arrived, and you held his hand until they loaded him onto the ambulance.

“He’s going to live, right?” you frantically asked one man in scrubs.

The man hesitated before answering, “I can’t tell you that, miss. It’s a miracle he’s survived this long.”

A miracle.

Those words echoed in your mind as you jumped into your station wagon, stomped on the gas, and chased the ambulance all the way to the hospital. They permeated your thoughts as you paced the waiting room, uttering words of encouragement to Max and small prayers to the universe, to God-whoever would listen. (You’d never been a particularly religious person, but you figured Billy could use whatever help he could possibly get.)

A kind nurse asked if there was anyone she could contact for you. Surprisingly, despite how recently the family had moved to Hawkins, she managed to find “Hargrove” in the phonebook. She handed the phone to you, and you dialed the number. It rang several times before a husky voice answered.

“Whatever you’re selling, we don’t want any,” the man on the other end of the line slurred. Then, he slammed the phone down on the receiver.

After several excruciating hours of surgery, a doctor emerged from behind a set of metal double doors. She wore a white lab coat and an unreadable expression. Her eyes scanned over the paper on her clipboard.

“William Hargrove?”

You stood still for the first time in hours. Max, who had slumped over in the armchair, perked up. You wanted to make your way over to her, take her hand in yours-but you couldn’t move. Your feet felt like they’d been covered in cement.

“Is he...” You couldn’t bring yourself to verbalize the awful thought.

“In recovery,” the doctor said. “The surgery went well. We managed to close his wounds relatively quickly, but he’d already lost a lot of blood, so we had to do a transfusion. You’ll be able to visit him in a few minutes.”

A melting pot of emotions bubbled to the surface, all fighting for control of your mind. You couldn’t think, let alone speak. Fortunately, Max managed to choke out a sentence:

“Billy’s going to be okay?”

A soft smile tugged at the woman’s bare lips as she offered a small nod.

“He’ll need to stay here for a few days, just so we can monitor his vitals and make sure none of the wounds reopen,” she said, eyes returning to scan the information on her clipboard. “Mr. Hargrove got really lucky, though. Despite how many punctures his attacker dealt, they managed to miss every one of his vital organs.”

She paused then to glance up at you.

“It’s truly a miracle,” she said before ducking back into the surgery room.

***

Less than fifteen minutes later, the doctor had returned. She brought you and Max to a tiny hospital room that stunk of bleach. A cot sat in the middle of the room, surrounded by a bunch of beeping machines. The doctor fiddled with the settings on one of them as you approached the bed.

A blonde-haired boy laid under a white sheet. His infamous jean jacket was nowhere to be seen; instead, a light blue hospital gown covered his broad chest. Under the thin material, you could make out the lines of thick bandages that wrapped around his abdomen.

Billy’s eyelids were closed, but his lips were just barely parted. With every rise and fall of his chest, a small puff of air escaped his mouth. You never thought you could be so happy to see someone breathing.

“It may take a while for the sedatives to get out of his system, so he probably won’t wake up for a while,” she had said. “Make yourselves comfortable, girls. Let me know if you need anything.”

The doctor walked into the hall, leaving you alone with an unconscious Billy Hargrove and his exhausted stepsister. The two of you collapsed onto the tattered loveseat next to the bed. You wrapped your arm tightly around Max’s dainty shoulders, and she leaned into you, falling asleep almost instantaneously.

You, of course, didn’t dare to close your eyes. Sure, the doctor claimed the sedatives would last a long time, but you knew Billy. You knew how he could down an entire bottle of vodka before he even got tipsy, how his body could overcome a hangover in a matter of hours. You were sure the anesthetics would be out of his system in no time, and you wanted to be there for him when he awoke.

Thus, you slept even less than the doctors that night. You watched as the nurses came in to check Billy’s heart rate and change his IV bag. Still, you stayed. Max’s mother eventually came to retrieve her from the hospital, but Billy’s father never showed. Still, you stayed.

Behind the curtains, the sky lightened as the sun rose above the horizon. A beam of light shone on Billy’s face, illuminating the black and blue bruises all over it. His thick, dark eyelashes fluttered ever so slightly; the rosy flush had returned to his cheeks. Despite the scratches and bruises, Billy looked more at peace than you had ever seen him, and the words you’d forgotten emerged among your thoughts once more:

A miracle.

You suddenly remembered the mumbled prayers you’d sent to the heavens last night. And, after the events of last night, the idea of a supernatural force looking over you no longer seemed unimaginable. You’d asked, and you’d received-and you were thankful. So, unsure of what else to do, you closed your eyes, folded your hands, and leaned your forehead against the edge of Billy’s mattress. You didn’t know what to say-or even who you were saying it to. You just knew you needed to express your gratitude for your miracle.

Besides, it was really nice to rest your heavy eyelids, even if it was just for a moment...

***

When Billy finally came to, he was in a compact room with white walls. Immediately, he recognized it as a hospital room-as an accident-prone kid with an affinity for daring activities, he had spent a lot of his childhood receiving medical care. He only had to wonder what had brought him here for a second before the events of the previous night flooded his memories.

The last distinct thing he could remember was her face hovering over his. To be more specific, it was the deep frown that creased her beautiful features. Then, there was a slamming of a door, and everything had gone black. Billy attempted to sit up, only to wince in pain as he pulled on the stitches in his side. He opted to remain laying down as he surveyed his surroundings.

Natural light filtered through one of the windows, offering a welcome alternative to the florescent lighting of the hospital. Billy squinted in the bright luminescence. He cupped one hand, raised it to his forehead, and used it as a visor. That’s when he noticed that he wasn’t alone.

There was a folding chair next to his bed. You half-sat in it, your body leaning over the mattress. Your arms were crossed on the bed, and you rested your head on top of them. As the light glistened on your h/c hair, Billy could have sworn a halo appeared.

Billy didn’t want to wake you, but he couldn’t stop himself from reaching out and gingerly brushing your hair out of your face. He silently cursed himself as your eyes fluttered open.

“Hey,” you murmured sleepily.

“Hey,” Billy echoed, his voice slightly strained from lack of use.

“I’m sorry. I was trying to stay awake until you were...but I laid my head down, and I guess-I guess I must have just fallen asleep? I’m really sorry,” you stammered, propping yourself up and rubbing at your eyes with a balled fist.

“Don’t beat yourself up about it, kid. I’m pretty sure you saved my ass last night, so I think you’ve earned a nap.”

You smiled, and for the first time in a long time, a little bit of warmth flooded into that icy heart of his. He loved to see you happy. When the two of you first met, for half a second, he’d fantasized about becoming the reason you were happy. He wanted to ask you out the day he bumped into you in the halls of Hawkins High, but he couldn’t. You were too sweet, too innocent-too good for him. He could never make you happy.

“How are you feeling?”

It took a moment for Billy to register that you were talking to him.

“I’m...okay. A little sore, but, I mean, that’s probably to be expected, when you get impaled multiple times by a huge flesh-eating monster.”

You chuckled this time, and he savored the twinkling sound. The two of you hadn’t talked in a really long time. Though he’d never admit it, he had desperately missed your voice. But every time he’d considered calling you up, he remembered that there was a reason he avoided you.

“I’m really glad to hear that,” you said. “You took so long in surgery. I was worried that you wouldn’t make it...that I hadn’t done enough to save your life.”

An emotion all-too-familiar for Billy flickered over your features. His father had looked at him with that same expression too many times to count. After he failed to protect his mother, even his reflection was forever tainted with it. The feeling was a killer of men, a breaker of hearts: shame.

If anything, the only thing you had to be ashamed of was the fact that you’d prevented Billy from being put out of his misery.

“Why did you want to help me? I’ve always been a douche to you,” Billy said. It was true, he thought. He had always treated you terribly; yet, you had never shown him anything but kindness.

“Not always. You’ve always tried to be a douche to me,” you said, leaning towards him, “but there’s good in you still, Billy Hargrove. I’ve glimpsed it before, and I saw it last night, in all of its glory, when you sacrificed yourself for your sister and her friends.”

By the time you’d finished speaking, your face was mere inches from Billy’s. He inhaled the sweet scent of your perfume. It was almost as intoxicating as the mere proximity of you.

He shook his head slightly, trying to clear his mind. This couldn’t happen. You were the softest, sweetest person he’d ever met; he saw so much of his mother in you.

And there was far too much of his father in him.

“I’m a bad person, Y/N. Even if there’s good in me...there’s not enough. Not enough for you. You’re an angel, and I’m-“

“A miracle. Your life is a miracle, Billy,” you whispered. One of your hands reached up to cup Billy’s cheek. “And I’m tired of you trying to shut me out of it.”

Even if he had been able to move, Billy wouldn’t have stopped you from pressing your lips to his. They were smooth and tasted of cherry lip balm, and when you pulled away, his mouth tingled. It felt like a butterfly had just landed on his skin for a split second, then fluttered away. He’d never had such a gentle kiss.

“You really are an angel,” Billy muttered, ocean eyes fixed on you.

“I’m not an angel,” you said, running your fingers through Billy’s golden curls, “but I’ll gladly be yours.”

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heronwritingx · 4 years ago

Text

chapter 3

I am really enjoying writing this and well here is chapter 3 because it’s all ive been doing. heathney is such a cute couple and I adore them and I want to write more of them all the time. pls enjoy.

Heather took a deep breath and curled her fingers into a fist, forcing herself to knock on the door of Courtney’s home. Courtney had insisted they went there as her family was away for the weekend and she had the equipment to make posters and buttons and god knows what else. Courtney was over the top and she was going to do anything to win, her posters were always professional and incredible looking but Heather thought it was too much. She really didn’t want to be there; she had been dreading the day from the moment it was planned.

A part of her was nervous too, she had not yet come to understand why her heart felt that way in the cafe. Courtney had always caught her attention, Heather wouldn’t deny that, but that was because of their rivalry. This moment in particular was different though and Heather knew it. It was something she’d never experienced, and she didn’t know how to react to it. So, for now, she was just going to ignore it and hope it didn’t happen again.

“Ugh, finally! Took you long enough!” Courtney whined as she opened the door.

“It’s five past ten.” Heather retorted bluntly, “I’m literally five minutes late.”

“I said ten, not ten o’ five!” Courtney snapped, folding her arms.

“I’ll leave then.” Heather went to turn around, but Courtney quickly grabbed her wrist, not letting her leave.

Courtney had to give in, she couldn’t lose Heather. Heather was her key to winning, she was her key to becoming president. Courtney hated it, she hated that she needed her.

“Sorry, sorry, come in.” Courtney grumbled, tugging on Heather’s arm to enter the doorway.

Heather followed her through her home, it was cold and empty and Heather didn’t like that it didn’t feel too different from her own home. The house felt hollow and lacked any sort of personality. She followed Courtney upstairs and into her bedroom, Courtney leading her in and shutting the door behind her. On the desk and floor was everything Heather expected: Piles of art papers, markers, highlighters and black liners, blank buttons and a machine to make them, EVERYTHING. It was ridiculous. Heather wanted to leave even more, she did not want to be in that room making campaign posters and buttons and knowing Courtney, baked goods.

“Let’s get this over with.” Heather muttered, taking a seat in Courtney’s desk chair.

“Can you sound a little more excited? You want to take down Noah just as much as I do.” Courtney said, huffing.

Heather stopped herself from rolling her eyes and prompted Courtney to begin, she just had to hold her tongue for a few hours and she could leave. Courtney moved to her bed and grabbed three posters that she’d already designed, along with two button designs.

“I know your favourite colour is red, so I thought that would go well with gold and white,” Courtney explained, holding up the first poster that she had made.

“How did you know that?” Heather interjected, her eyes widening in surprise.

“Everything you own is red, your car, nails, pens, you make it obvious.” Courtney waved off her comment and turned back to the poster.

Heather was still surprised Courtney had noticed that about her but when she thought about it, Heather did make it obvious red was her favourite colour. She quickly refocused and turned her attention back to the posters Courtney had made.

“What we need to do is we need to put a picture of both of us, as well as a good slogan, which we need to come up with.” Courtney said.

“A slogan? I didn’t need a slogan to get ahead of you.” Heather frowned, “I think we’ll be fine without one.”

Courtney glared at her for a moment but continued, this time showing a badge with the same colour scheme along with “VOTE FOR COURTNEY + HEATHER”. Courtney had clearly put a lot of effort into the badges and posters, Heather was almost impressed. She was winning without much effort before Noah came along. She had always noticed Courtney’s posters and badges, she always saw it as sort of desperate and pathetic but now Heather could see her drive, her passion towards wanting to win. It was fascinating, Heather was competitive, and she wanted to win but Courtney was on another level when it came to this presidency. Heather ran her cheer team like a sergeant, there was a reason her squad so winning – Courtney reminded her of that drive.

“I like the colour scheme,” Heather said, standing up. “but it’s boring. Your posters are boring, they’re so serious and don’t catch people’s eyes.”

Courtney didn’t react for a moment as Heather took the poster and laid it on the bed, taking hold of a pencil and eraser. She began drawing over what she didn’t like and Courtney watched, interested to see what Heather was thinking.

“It’s just stripes, that’s so boring. We’re winners, we’re going to win, so we need to use something that not only catches the eye but depicts us as winners.” Heather told her, reaching into her page to pull out a pack of sparkly glitters pens, “Personally, I think we should use stars.”

“Stars could work, we could put them on the badges too.” Courtney nodded, her eyes lighting up, “We could even bake—”

“Slow down, slow down! I’m not baking and putting my damn face on it. I have an idea that’s going to work better anyway.” Heather snapped, cutting her off.

Courtney interested was peaked but Heather shushed her and let her know it was a secret, Heather and Courtney both wanted this to be spectacular and they wanted to take Noah by surprise. Heather had just the plan.

The girls sat together on Courtney’s bedroom floor and Heather was surprised she didn’t hate it as much as she thought she would. They discussed ideas back and forth and sure, Heather held her tongue sometimes and she also had to keep Courtney from going too overboard. The girl had too many ideas and wanted all of them – Heather had to ground her sometimes.

“So, are you happy with this design?” Courtney asked.

She placed the laptop on Heather’s legs and leaned in closer to her, their shoulders touching and Heather’s eyes widening. Courtney finger gingerly touched the screen as she explained the design choices, and Heather had to shake her head to focus, she had never been this close to Courtney before. She had never noticed that Courtney’s shoulders were small, and her arms were thin, or how much shorter than Heather the girl was. Her hair smelled of lavender with a hint of citrus, and Heather lost complete focus when Courtney moved to sit on her knees so she could be as close to the laptop as possible without sitting on top of Heather. Her face flushed red and Heather was just thankful Courtney was more interested on the laptop than her.

“I-It’s fine…” Heather’s voice got caught and she DID NOT know how to gain her composure for a second, she didn’t have a clue in the world why she was reacting or feeling this way and it almost took the air out of her.

“I think if it would look even better if we lined the stars and the wording with gold, that’ll really make it pop.” Courtney said, “I want to do the same to the badges but that would be too hard.”

“Yeah, that will be fine.” Heather nodded, leaning away from the girl to get some distance.

“Heather?” Courtney blinked.

“it’s fine, it’s fine, I like it…” Heather turned her head away for a moment.

Heather placed the laptop back on Courtney and quickly stood up, her heart was racing she felt so confused! She needed to get out of the room, she needed to get a grip! Her hands were shaking, and her face was red, she couldn’t even look at Courtney!

“Bathroom! I need the bathroom!” Heather blurted out.

“Oh, it’s down the hall and to the left.” Courtney instructed her.

Heather quickly left the room and ran down the hall, shutting the bathroom door and leaning against it once it was locked. What the hell was that!? Heather felt so embarrassed, so uncool…she’d never been like that ever in her life. No one had ever made her react that way! She was so embarrassed! Why did her body, her heart, her brain react that way? To Courtney of all people! Why is it pounding so much!?

“What is wrong with me?” Heather mumbled.

She couldn’t stay in there long; she didn’t want Courtney to think anything even after her weird behaviour. She just needed to calm down and get her thoughts straight. This was worse than the heart pang though, this was worse than thinking Courtney’s behaviour was cute. Heather thought Courtney was cute.

She made her way back into Courtney’s room and Courtney was sitting, still working on the posters and badges.

“Are we almost done? I’m over being here.” Heather grumbled.

“We still need to—”

“I need a bunch of badges for Monday morning, I’ll make sure we get the attention of everyone. The designs are better, I’m going home.” Heather grabbed her bag and her keys, not letting anything Courtney said stop her from leaving.

Courtney led her to the front door and Heather grumbled a goodbye, Courtney passing off her strange behaviour as Heather just…being Heather. Being left to finish the badges on her own frustrated Courtney but she wasn’t going to start an argument, Heather would have left no matter what.

Heather dropped onto her bed and placed her head into her hands, letting out a loud groan. She was still so embarrassed! What was wrong with her!? Her face flushed pink once more and her heart started to race again as Courtney lingered in her thoughts. Courtney was so close; Heather could almost count the freckles she had sprinkled over her nose and cheeks. She could see how long Courtney’s lashes were and the girl’s smile was utterly adorable and full of pride of the designs they created together.

“Stop it!” Heather shouted at herself.

She fell back onto her bed and grabbed a pillow, slamming her face into it and curling her body around it. She forced her eyes shut and she laid her alone in her thoughts, unsure of what to do. She forced herself to think of anything, anyone else until her brain shut off and she fell asleep. She woke up and it was dark, her brain fuzzy and she wasn’t sure what time or day it was. She reached for her phone and noticed a message from none other than the haunting of her thoughts herself, Courtney.

Look at how cute the badges turned out! See you on Monday. x

Heather glanced down at the picture Courtney sent and she huffed, Courtney was posing with the one of the badges with their faces and names in a star.

“So cute…” Heather mumbled, pushing her face back into the pillows.

#heathney #total drama #td heather #td courtney #heather x courtney #tdi #tdwt #tda #pls...tell me what you think

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leviathiane · 5 years ago

Note

SHOW US YOUR WROR RAW UNPROCESSED WHOLE GRAIN ORGANIC NOTES

this is going to be a long-ass post i am so sorry to Everyone! i take a lot of notes.

So, as You specifically know (as well as all of my lovely Soggers) I take a LOT of notes. Obsessively. I write fucking everything bc i have very little memory and very much paranoia. This results in literal Piles of notes. Raw planning, on paper, on my phone– doodles of scenes im brainstorming, bulletpoints, entire SCRIPTS– it’s all there but scattered (I’ve got scenes planned in the margins of my goddamn anthropology notes and deciphering it was a NIGHTMARE)

I won’t even upload all the photos of my writing notebook, because itd be like 50 pages of illegible nonesense. but heres a couple of planning phase pages. (may be hard to read, I dropped this notebook both into some tidepools, into a creek on campus, and accidentally leaked my waterbottle onto it in my backpack :/)

if you can’t tell already, yes they all look exactly like this. Some are even more illegible, because I wrote them with the notebook half under my actual class notes. Because i wrote most of them in class. During lectures. And pretending very badly that i was not doing exactly that. (pay attention in class please i got away with this bc i was filling up elective units)

I’m also flat out MISSING a large portion of my notes bc some of it? isnt even in the damn notebook. its on a sheet of binder paper, or on the empty back of an assignment. I’ve now lost most of those notes, but the ones i do still have are just as (even more, actually) indecipherable chicken scratch:

Wow, how clean and tidy and easy to follow! i am in hell.

and this doesnt mention the PAGES and PAGES of outlines that are on my laptop, and the pages of outlined scenes that are on the notes app of my phone. if i put them all, you would have entire chapter spoilers up to the very end of the story so i cant post a lot of them– and also theres just a goddamn lot of them. currently i have 16 pages of outlining. There are no spacing breaks. It is a solid 16 page block of text. Looking at it gives me a migraine.

some assorted notes which i have dredged up from the deleted parts of the main draft google doc go all the way back to when i started Wror in June and they are Barely more readable than my handwriting on sheer account of: articulation is not my strength. These include:

“Ch 8 plan: sabo gets trained specially, awakens his armament haki, beats ace in a bunch of spars and proves himself to be anything but vulnerable. The boys are like “we fucking recognize that technique ryu taught you before us!!” and goad ryu into finally starting them both on basic haki training, just to awaken it, since sabo already has. Also this is the chapter that ace finally confronts ryu for his devil fruit after ryu confirms that some devil fruit users can’t be hurt without haki and ace immediately catches onto that and tries to slam his pipe through ryus head. It doesn’t work, ryu catches the weapon with a haki covered hand, to avoid turning to flame with hit and ace just gets frustrated and accuses ryu of hiding his devil fruit, because he remembers what he saw in grey terminal and that now that he has seen haki he can distinguish it from what he saw and he’s sure no one could do what ryu did. He calls ryu a hypocrite for coddling them even after telling them to stop coddling sabo and ryu has to sit them down and explain that yes he does have powers and he has been hdiing it and explains his reasoning. However instead of understanding th eboys just get fired up and say they don’t wnt to be scared of fire, especially not when it means ryu isn’t taking them seriously in a spar. Ryu finally agrees to start them on desensitization training for fire trauma. Fire desensitization training happens on the beach, so that they have water nearby in case things get out of hand. At some point ace gives ryu a considering look and is just like “if you have a devil fruit that means you can’t swim either right?” and ryu is basically just like “lmao yeah” and then ace immediately attempts to drown him. Lots of murder attempts in ace’s department toget his older brother to be less of an idiot with little success lol(extra: ace tried to attack ryu earlier both to confirm that ryu has a devil fruit that would force him to use haki to hide it, and because he now knows that he CAN’T hurt ryu without haki and as thus can’t beat him and make him admit he’s awake without being good at haki.)” [chapter 8]

“Small sabo lost his hat and goggles in the incident and while he doesn’t remember having them future sabo notices he looks uncomfortable and keeps touching his hair and head. Ace yells at him for it thinking he bandaging are bothering him and that he can’t touch them but little sabo just comments that something about it feels wrong. Luffy blurts our that he had a hat, like luffy does, But he doesn’t now ace begrudgingly mentions that they can’t get a new one in town. Future sabo doesn’t even hesitate and just plops his own hat onto his younger selves head. It clearly too big for him, and almost falls over his eyes but he grins up at future sabo and is like “wow!! Thank you! I’ll take care of it till I have one of my own” and creates a paradox like Luffys own hat. The footsteps younger sabo has yet to fill. This HAS to happen AFTER the talk where they explain that future and past sabo are both the same person, to give little sabo that pressure.” [chapter 9]

“(Right after this older sabo takes them down to the ocean so that they can play a little and desensitize themselves and immediately fucks himself over when he goes weak in the water bc he somehow fucking forgot his own devil fruit again and now even younger sabo is on his case about not letting him near the fucking ocean that little goddamn HYPOCRITE—) )” [for chapter 9]

“Ch 9 plan: they finally leave dawn island. Starts with the boys getting a haircut after training and luffy mentions how long it’s been since they’ve last needed a haircut, giving sabo and ace time to point out that it’s been 2 months now since ryu joined them, and that sabo was completely healed by now. The boys are now aware of the basics of haki, and while luffy hasnt awakened either yet ace and sabo both have a little bit of weak armament haki. (sabo won’t awaken observational haki until he gets his memories back) ryu tries to sneak off into the city to steal a boat but his brothers refuse to leave him behind and keep sneaking out after him, not wanting him to go alone and saying that since he’s been training them they’re clearly stronger and he needs to let them do this. Ryu eventually just lets it go because why the fuck not it’s a dream and they make him feel better. They get the boat out on open ocean and finally fucking sail out, cheering loudly, ryu struggling to make them all calm down but also not really trying. He’s happy as shit, and they’re all so excited and happy and sabo dips a hand into the waves and then smiles so fucking wide and tackles ryu so violently they both nearly tip into the water and it’s just very very good. “ [also for ch 9]

** I flat out dont Have any outlining from before chapter 6, because i only started actually outling chapters after that. i tend to just sit down and Write up until i hit a plot point or writers block and then am forced to actually think it through and plan rather than letting it come naturally. thats also why the quality and editing is better in later chapters despite everything being written within the same time frame.

besides entire chapter outlines, there are the scene specific phone notes like:

“(ADDED) Right after they leave dawn, when sabo is sure they’ve gotten enough of a head start, he calls Garp. He doesn’t say who he is, but that all of the boys are safe and happy with him and has them all talk into the phone to assure him that they’re fine. Garp is honestly just pissed off he doesn’t know who’s calling and when he asks sabo just laughs and says a disobedient brat before hanging up. “

“(ADDED) TO EXPAND ON CH 3: sabo gets offered the chance to go with dragon, and he hesitates on the offer to go through with his previous life with the family he’s made in the revolutionary again. He almost agrees, because the bought of losing them in this lifetime is near excruciating but reminds himself swiftly that it’s no place for his brothers and not what they’d really want, and he wants selfishly to be with them as long as he Can until he “inevitably” wakes up. The boys are visibly relieved by this, especially ace. (Sabo gets asked who he is by dragon, who wants to know more about the stranger with his son, but dragon has always been quicker to make connections no one guessed and he just smiled knowingly at sabo and tells him he’s sure the other will have no trouble finding them if he’s in need. Sabo in turn warns him to keep Kuma close, and to look for a slave girl named koala.)”

I have…. many of these. I have Many of Everything.

finally, i have scene doodles. if i hit a bad writers block it usually helps me to sketch scenes or the character designs to regain my grip on what the hell is happening in the plot– Breach of Intention has character design sketches, pakcbond has MANY scene sketches, even some of my nsfw has some sketches. my wror skecthes arent Good of course, I am an art teacher for children and that means i am more often explaining the color wheel and brush techniques over drawing perfect human replicas– and i just dont really make a lot of fanart? ive never drawn sabo before but i sure have a bunch now. i wont include close ups because they genuinely suck but heres an example pic

So… yeah thats about everything. this is a VERY long post and yet i only included like maybe ¼ or 1/5 of all the notes i have dbskhjgfkjadns lmk if anyone wants more (or notes for my Other stories, which contain NO WHERE the same absurd amount of shit that wror does.)

#depths' ask #response #idk what to even tag this honestly?? this post is such a mess abhdsjfgdkjn #thanks mido love u dear 💕🎉 im gonna want some damn notes on second chances heads up #wror #wror stockpile #touchmycoat #i started this response at goddamn 3:52am and its now 4:40am #it took me. almost an HOUR #oh my god

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jinjojess · 5 years ago

Text

DR Kirigiri Vol. 5 Summary Part IV

Back to our regularly-scheduled shenanigans.

< LAST PART | NEXT PART >

Chapter 1 The Mania of Existence: Libra Girls’ Academy - Samidare Yui

Now that we’ve checked in with everyone who didn’t get much screen time last book, let’s get back to seeing what Samidare is up to.

Turns out she, Tsukiyo, and Nazuna have been in the small circular room for...well, Samidare isn’t actually sure how long, since there aren’t any clocks around. It’s felt like hours, but it might have only been tens of minutes.

“I’m hungry... I’m thirsty...” Tsukiyo had been crouched in the corner of the room for some time now, deliriously mumbling about what she wanted. “I need to go to the bathroom... the bathroom...”

“If worst comes to worst, you can just go over there. We’ll forgive you,” I called in response.

“No way! If it came to that I’d kill you and myself! Who do you think you are, looking down on me like this? You think you’re better than me because you’re a little better at holding it in? I don’t take orders from you!”

“That’s not what I meant...”

Feeling exhaustion on a spiritual level, I decided to ignore Tsukiyo’s angry outburst. Trying to engage her right now would just wear us both out.

Instead, Samidare sits down at the desk and uses a pencil and sheet of paper she found inside to draw a map. She’s going to figure out the mystery behind Libra Girls’ Academy, dammit.

Nazuna watches over her shoulder as she jots down everything they know so far and occasionally offers some input. Her observations are so astute and point out so many things that Samidare hasn’t even considered that she begins to worry that Nazuna is actually better suited to being a detective than her.

They discuss what transpired right when Samidare came to, going once again over how she woke up, found Takezaki’s body, and saw the caped suspect. Nazuna asks what the caped figure was doing, and Samidare reports that they were just kind of...standing there...menacingly...and holding a steel pipe (the murder weapon according to the challenge card). When Nazuna asks, she explains that the suspect didn’t attack her, but that makes sense since Samidare is the detective assigned to the case and cannot be harmed. She’s apparently filled in the other two girls about how Duel Noir work, and while they didn’t believe her at first, as they’ve all been sitting in this room together, both of them have come around.

Nazuna confirms once again with Samidare that Takezaki was actually dead, and Samidare says that yes, she’s sure. She didn’t just check her pulse using her wrist, she actually checked her neck, and there’s no drug to mask that pulse as far as she’s aware. Besides, Takezaki’s body was already cold, so there was no way she was still alive.

Nazuna tells her to hold up for a second, did she just say that the body was already cold? So in other words, she wasn’t freshly killed just before Samidare woke up?

Yeah, Samidare admits, that makes sense.

In that case, Nazuna continues, the suspect’s actions make even less sense. The killer standing over the body when Samidare woke up would make sense if Takezaki had just been murdered, but the actual killing must have taken place at least an hour beforehand for the body to already be cold. So what the hell was the culprit doing during all that time?

Samidare supposes that perhaps they were setting up the trick? If she woke up too early, they might not be able to prepare everything, so they’d have to hurry.

However, Nazuna points out that it would be silly to try and run around doing that while carrying an iron pipe, and even more importantly, to not try and impede Samidare in any fashion. If Nazuna were the caped culprit (which I’m not entirely sure she isn’t at this point), she’d have tired Samidare up, or blindfolded her, or something to reduce the risk of her seeing something she shouldn’t lest she wake up before the expected moment.

Yeah, sure, Samidare admits, she guesses that tracks.

Still on a roll, Nazuna posits the question of why the culprit wouldn’t restrain Samidare if they had such ample opportunity. Her hypothesis is that it’s because they didn’t need to. And under what circumstances would they not need to? If the trick had already been prepared. So then, the logical path to follow would be to assume that by the time Samidare even ended up in the room, the trick was already in place.

Nazuna’s just out here laying down the logic, and it’s very much hurting Samidare right in the ego.

She just keeps going, too, concluding that if the trick was already set up by the time Samidare even got there, then that wouldn’t explain why the culprit was hanging around for an hour or more at the scene of the crime. Samidare asks what they were doing then, but smarty-pants Nazuna hasn’t figured that out yet. She’s sure it’s an important clue, though.

Begrudgingly, Samidare puts on her thinking cap and reviews what happened when she woke up. That’s when it hits her: the first thing she remembers is the caped culprit staring at her!

...Though what that means exactly she isn’t sure, so she tells Nazuna to see if she has any ideas. Naz begins walking around the desk, looking at Samidare, suggesting that maybe the culprit had done something to her? She doesn’t see anything out of the ordinary...

“My glasses!” Samidare cries, and explains that when she first woke up, she had a short Velma episode where she couldn’t make out much while she fumbled around for her glasses. Nazuna asks where her glasses ultimately were, and Samidare answers that they were nearby on the floor. They agree it’s possible that the culprit may have removed them, but that doesn’t answer why they were staring at Samidare. It’s not like they would have needed to check to make sure her glasses were off.

“Maybe it’s because your face just looks that awful when you’re asleep?” Tsukiyo cuts in from the Peanut Gallery.

She was still crouching in the corner, with a nasty smirk on her face.

“True, I don’t have a lot of confidence in how I look when asleep, but that has nothing to do with this!”

I suddenly remembered that back in junior high, one of my classmates had secretly taken a photo of me sleeping while we were on a field trip. She’d showed it to me later, but I’d been shocked at my open jaw and fully exposed stomach...

“Or maybe they were wondering when your stupid face would wake up, hehe.”

“Ah!”

In a moment, all the puzzle pieces fall into place in Samidare’s head. Tsukiyo yells at her for yelling, but Samidare just tells her that she’s exactly right.

“You’re admitting you’re a stupid face?”

“No, not that. Why the culprit was staring at me. They were waiting for me to wake up!”

She goes on to explain that if they follow Naz-chan’s line of thinking, the trick was already set up before she arrived. However, it probably needed to be triggered, and Samidare herself was likely the catalyst. Nazuna seems a bit confused, so Samidare explains in more concrete terms: for the trick to activate, the culprit probably needed her to chase them. When she began to pursue, it was likely going all according to keikaku--Samidare wasn’t really chasing the caped culprit, she was being led.

That explained the part that she couldn’t figure out earlier too, about why all the doors were left open as the culprit was running away. It also means that the culprit vanishing into the thin air and the corpse disappearing were also intended to be seen, since the culprit would want Samidare to witness the elements of the trick.

Not to mention it explains what Black Cape was doing in the room originally: they were waiting for Samidare to wake up.

She briefly wonders why the culprit would wait rather than tap her on the shoulder or something to wake her up sooner, but maybe it was to increase the chances that Samidare would give chase. If the culprit had roused her, she probably would have noticed and been a bit more skeptical of the scene.

“I unwittingly fell directly into the culprit’s trap,” Samidare concludes, to which Tsukiyo yells that yeah, they been knew! Who else but some weird pervert would trap a bunch of high school girls for their own pleasure?

Well, Junko for one... Actually, no. Checks out still.

Tsukiyo is less concerned with this nonsense and more focused on finding a way out. She’s progressed now to hugging her knees.

Samidare admits that they’re still not quite at that point yet, but Tsukiyo’s already busy having another breakdown. As far as she’s concerned, they’ve made zero progress. She cannot be in here a second longer, so she needs to know how to get out NOW. If she misses one day of violin practice, it might as well be three days’ worth of work down the drain. Does Samidare even understand that? Get her out of here!

“It’s okay, Tsukiyo-san.” Nazuna sat beside her, gently wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “I’m sure we’ll get out soon, okay?”

“Sniff... Naz... I’m scared... Do that thing you always do... please...”

Tsukiyo put her head between her knees and began to shake.

Nazuna reached up as if to pat Tsukiyo on the head, and began to comb through her hair with her fingers, parting the strands for her over and over. After a few minutes of it, Tsukiyo calmed down, and her trembling stopped.

me, reading this and putting a hand over my gay little heart: Oh...?

Samidare admits mentally that if they’re stuck here without food and water for nearly a week, they’ll definitely die. That might actually be what Black Cape is trying to do, intending to win the Duel Noir by letting the clock run down.

She’s got to think.

If they want to survive, she needs to get her little gray cells in gear.

If Kirigiri-chan were in this situation, she’d just keep pressing forward. That’s the greatest weapon a detective has--her tenacity.

Of course, if Kirigiri-chan were here, she’d probably have already figured out what was going on.

“If I tell you this much, you should get it, right Yui-oneesama?”

It’s just like she always said. If I thought over the evidence hard enough, I’d find some kind of clue.

Let’s review it again.

Samidare mentally tallies the facts: they aren’t trapped here by accident, they’re here because it’s where the culprit wants them. That means that the culprit had to know they were going to come into the room.

...You know, I’m just saying, I remember Nazuna insisting that we all come see Takezaki’s body.

Sadly, Samidare forgets about that. She does remember that they came back to investigate the body though, only to find it had vanished into thin air. Why did it disappear? And how? If they can figure that out, they should also stumble upon a way to escape.

The body vanished from this room, so there’s got to be some kind of clue here.

Isn’t that right, Kirigiri-chan?

Reaching further back, Samidare confirms that Takezaki Hana was indeed dead in this very room. She remembers the blood pouring out of her head staining the rug. Yet right now, there’s no sign of a corpse anywhere. And moving it out of the room would take a not-insignificant amount of time and effort. Samidare considers the wheeled trolley she used to escort the Virgin Mary statue--that’d be a way to easily move the body. You could cart it out and hide it somewhere in about ten minutes or so.

The other, more pressing issue, is the lack of any bloodstains. Cleaning a rug is not a quick fix, and how could you clean it so well that there was absolutely no evidence left behind?

Samidare gets up to examine the rug, noting that she’s not finding any wet spots or discoloration. Though it’s a red rug, it’s not blood red, so you should be able to see if there’s any bloodstains on it. (Kitayama-sensei, are you making DanRon blood color jokes again?)

Confused, Samidare muses to herself out loud about her hypothesis so far: you’d need a lot of time, water, and detergent to clean up that much blood, but there’s no evidence of cleaning having even happened.

“If you had specialized tools, you could clean everything perfectly within about an hour,” Nazuna said, running her fingers through Tsukiyo’s hair.

“An hour, huh...”

However, Samidare rules this out, since she’s pretty sure finding Nazuna and Tsukiyo and setting them free didn’t take an hour. Next they consider the possibility that the Committee could have provided a special cleaning machine that could have taken care of the bloodstains faster than they’d expect, but Nazuna points out that in that case the culprit would have to ensure that Samidare wouldn’t come back to the room in the meantime. (Also I’m pretty sure something like that would be listed on the Duel Noir Challenge Card?)

She’s got a point, Samidare admits. It’s pretty unlikely that the culprit would spend more than five minutes moving the body and ten minutes cleaning, max. Was that even realistically possible?

Nazuna, appropriately given that Celes has been indirectly mentioned in this book, suggests that maybe the culprit rolled up the rug with the body in it, moved it, and then laid out a new rug. Samidare is ready to go along with that until Nazuna herself points out that the trick likely would be something that wouldn’t be affected by whether or not the victim bled everywhere. They both agree that cleaning up a bloody corpse is not something that can be done in a matter of minutes.

Next Samidare muses that perhaps the trick is on a grander scale than they might have anticipated--what if the entire floor of this room could be flipped over like a coin? Something similar to how Norman’s Hotel was on a giant lazy susan? Then you could dump the body and have a nice clean floor for Samidare and the others to find.

Nazuna’s not so sure about this, asking about the other furniture in the room. If the desk and chair aren’t attached to the floor--which they aren’t--then that suggests that the floor didn’t just flip over. Samidare counters that you could wait outside with a different desk and chair to set up within a few minutes after the flip, which Nazuna agrees is possible.

Riding the high of having a working theory, Samidare goes to examine where the floor and walls meet to look for gaps. Those will give away that the floor can be flipped over!

Yay, Samidare!

...There aren’t any gaps.

There isn’t even any evidence of gaps that have been since filled.

Samidare’s pretty bummed that her idea didn’t work out, but she figures that it makes sense that the Committee wouldn’t recycle tricks she’s already seen. *cough*unlikeKodaka*cough*

Nazuna tries to console her by saying that she at least feels like they’ve made some progress. Now they have a better idea of what kinds of tricks to consider being in play. Samidare says that yeah, the Committee is pretty extra when it comes to their murder tricks, and she sits back down with a sigh.

She may not know what the trick is exactly, but there’s got to be some kind of clue hidden in what’s happened so far at Libra Girls’ Academy.

Samidare reviews the things she’s thought were weird since she woke up:

Black Cape was standing over her when she woke up. Solved: They were waiting for Samidare to wake up and witness the trick.

She wasn’t wearing her glasses when she woke up. Solved?: To slow her down and buy Black Cape some time to get a head start?

All of the doors were left open. Solved?: To make them easier to chase?

After Black Cape went into the coffin room, the door wouldn’t open when Samidare pulled on it. It did open after some time passed.

Black Cape disappeared from the coffin room.

Nazuna and Tsukiyo were tied up inside the coffins.

The key to unlock Nazuna and Tsukiyo’s restraints was around the neck of a Virgin Mary statue in the chapel.

When the three of them went back to the room to check on the corpse, it was gone.

They got locked into the room that used to have the body in it.

According to Samidare, the most relevant issue is probably #4. How did Black Cape manage to keep the door locked despite there being no lock? They couldn’t have been holding it closed since they were gone the second Samidare stepped into the room. That really was a mystery.

Maybe there was a set up in the room that made it so that the door couldn’t be opened while it was doing its thing?

For example, like how elevator doors can’t be opened when the elevator is in motion...

Hold on a tic, Samidare thinks, getting up to go examine the door.

Sure enough, it’s a sliding door on a track. It’s set up to close on its own unless you pull it all the way to the end of the track, in which case it will stay open. There’s no handle, only a divot to put your fingers in so you can pull the door. No sign of a lock or a keyhole.

So how the heck is the door being kept shut?

Since the track isn’t on the inside of the room, the logical assumption to make is that it’s out in the hallway. Black Cape could trap them inside if they put a pole or something in to stop the door from being able to slide on the track, but is that really what’s going on? The door to the coffin room was locked just like this one, and there was no evidence of anything blocking the door.

Is the track for this door even out in the hallway? The coffin room door didn’t have it on the hallway side, so it must have been in the room. If this room and the coffin room are identical in all other ways, why are the door tracks on opposite sides? And why bother to do that?

Is it possible that the door track isn’t in the hallway OR inside the room for both of them?

Where did the door go when it was opened?

Thinking about it like an elevator makes it pretty obvious: the doors go into the wall, or more accurately, into a space in the wall specifically for the doors.

And if that’s the case...

“Are you okay, Samidare-san?”

“I feel like I just realized something important. But it’s usually not me who’s doing this sort of thing, so I’m a little light-headed to be honest...”

“Get it together! You’re a detective, aren’t you?” Tsukiyo said, looking up. “We’re counting on you...”

“S-Sure.”

I stepped away from the door and began to circle the room. I’d found a clue, but how to proceed from there? If I were Kirigiri-chan, I’d put it all together immediately. I felt a pang of frustration at my own stupidity. The nerve of some talent-less hack like me, pretending to be a detective...

I suddenly remembered what Kirigiri had said to me when we last saw each other.

“Mind the Scales.”

Neither Nazuna nor Tsukiyo had the Scales as their zodiac sign, so I could probably rule them out as suspects. So where was the culprit who had that sign then?

The Scales...

Wait.

No way...

“Hey, do either of you know about horoscopes?”

“Huh? Do you mean like zodiac signs?” Nazuna asked.

“Yeah. The ones they put on the news in the morning and stuff.”

“What girl doesn’t like horoscopes?” Tsukiyo said. “Why, do you want to know your fortune?”

“No, not that. What’s the name of the Scales sign in English? Do you know?”

“Sure. It’s Libra.”

“Ah!”

“I knew it!”

Nazuna and I cried out at the same time.

“Right...that’s it! I get it! The secret of Libra Girls’ Academy. And the reason why both Black Cape and the body disappeared, and the reason we’re stuck in here!”

Sometimes, you translate a thing, and then more gets added later that paints you into a corner, but such is life, I suppose. Anyway, see you very soon for the next update!

P.S. Did you find my foreshadowing pun in this update? うぷぷぷ…

< LAST PART | NEXT PART >

#DR Kirigiri #DRK5 summary #DRK5 #translation #long post

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franeridart · 7 years ago

Note

Hi! Idk if you read fanfic, but would you happen to have any kiribaku fic recs? Or any bnha fic rec?

I’m pretty sure there’s stuff tagged as fic recs on this blog, yes! Nothing particularly new tho, I haven’t had the time to put down a new rec-list in a while ;-;

Anon said:How long does it take you to finish a drawing with and without color?

That honestly depends on a lot of factors - which tools I’m using, how many characters there are in the drawing/if it’s full body or not, how used to drawing the character I am, how big is the canvas, if I already have a clear idea of what I mean to draw or not, how precise I want to be with lines and stuff.

That Yuuto sketch I posted yesterday took me about 40 minutes I think, and over half of it was spent trying to figure out how I was supposed to draw him since it was the first time I drew him - the tools I used are the ones I use when I want to be fast and don’t care about being sloppy. A small random Kirishima bust properly lined and colored could take me five minutes to sketch and line and as many to color on a good day, cause I’ve drawn him so many times by now I don’t even have to think to draw him. Deku, on the other hand, can take me an hour even just to sketch, I can’t seem to grasp how I’m supposed to draw him at all.

Sorry, it really depends on a lot of things, I can’t give a proper answer to this :(

Anon said:Ive been tryin to find ur art of sero carrying baku for like 20 minutes n i cant find it :(

Are you talking about this one? Or this one? There’s also this one I guess...? And maybe this one lol

Anon said:yoooo, hey man, that cat kiribaku thing ya got going on is some 👌👌👌👌👌

HECK THANK YOU!!!!!!!!!!!

Anon said:Has anyone ever considered Hadmie. Hadou x Camie before?? It just seems like it'd be a cute ship to sail with, tbh. That just might be me tho.

I dunno if anyone has before you, but I can’t say I have, sorry! If I gotta ship Nejire with someone after all it’s gonna be Yuyu haha

Anon said:Hey do you do commissions? I really love your art and I'd love to get a commission from you!! (and also I just wanna know if there's yet another thing that I have to save up for XD)

Not right now, sorry! Maybe after I’m done with the zine things!!

Anon said:*runs around like an excited puppy* DAVEDAVEDAVEDAVEDAVEDAVEDAVE!!!!!!! :D

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! :D

Anon said:AHHH i love your ocs so much also Nico looks so cute and i love learning new things about them

AAAHHHHH THANK YOU SO MUCH OH MY G O D!!!!!!!!!!!!

Anon said:KIRI + PINEAPPLE PONYTAIL = THE BEST THING EVER

I’M GLAD WE AGREE ON THAT

Anon said:your oc's literally kill me!! i already love nico, and i think i speak for everyone when i say that we definitely want more of him and luca!! i don't know if it's just me, but I love when the angry, swearing types fall for someone.

SOB thank you so so much for the kind words about my kids ;^;

Anon said:OH MY GOD LUCA IS BACK!!!! YESSSSSSSS FUCKING KILL ME THIS IS A BLESSED DAY I LOVE HIM SO MUCH. MORE OF YOUR OC'S!!! (only when you want to share of course, I'm just trying to convey my enthusiasm here. not demanding at all ^^)

I think that might happen soon enough, actually!!!! Thank you so much for the interest in them!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Anon said:Are josh and chris still not dating?

Sadly until I’ll sit down to write their story that specific part of it won’t go anywhere :( Chris gotta deal with a bunch of things before he’ll be ready to put a name to what’s between him and Josh 3 one day I’ll let him work through it !!!

Anon said:I'm so paranoid I'm going to repost one of your post by accident but the thing is is I never even repost anything at all but just because I know you don't want them to be I'm so scared that by accident I'm going to have something screenshotted and forget it's yours and like Ugh😂

Well, my name’s written on all my drawing so I doubt you’ll forget it’s my stuff lol to make sure you’re not reposting anything the author doesn’t want reposted you can always just ask before reposting it, tho~

Anon said:I was just scrolling through your OC stuff and I just. Love them so much. Thank you for the babies ❤

GOD THANK YOU ;O;

Anon said:Okay I've never seen your oc's before and Dave is the cutest green boy I love him

AAAAHHHHHH I’M GLAD!!!!!

Anon said:kamijirou getting together? :3 also if there were ever a scenario where jirou would confess first, what do you think she would be thinking?

I actually have half a thing planned for that :0 gimme a while to get around to drawing it!

Anon said:How do you feel imagine kiri’s parents???

Actually since I’m still hoping one day Hori will give us the official versions I try not to think too much about it! I don’t wanna grow attached just to have to give them up once I’ll have the canon versions haha

Anon said:hey quick innocent question ive been following for a long time and saw a lot of your art do you have a thing for feet

Are you asking because I draw a lot of people barefoot? Feet are just easier and faster to draw than shoes, anon

Anon said:I love how you answer asks all at once. It’s nice to see that you’re getting in bulk appreciation

THANKS I honestly just don’t want my blog to be more asks than art, so I let them pile up before answering - it does mean I make people wait a lot for answers tho orz sorry

Anon said:I LOVE YOUR ART

THANK YOU!!!!

Anon said:You've open a sea of possibilities with red pineapple kirishima. You're a legend :prayeremoji:

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I wouldn’t call myself that but I’m glad you appreciate him too hahaha

Anon said:i cant help but notice nothings been added to your sero tag in 4 months

That might be because I rarely use single characters tags! Try looking under #bakusquad and #seromina :D

Anon said:Hahaaa hi this is probably really really awkward but I just wanted you to let you know that you're super awesome!! And the fact that your art is something that I can look forward to is absolutely amazing (no pressure tho)!!! So yea, thank you for being cool and creating beautiful art~~ :D ✧✧✧

SOB it’s not awkward at all!!!! thank you SO MUCH!!!!!!!!!

Anon said:Would you mind adding some more Tokoyami art to your shop? More specifically the pieces where hes hanging out with Kiri, and the Tokoshoji piece :D Im desperate to bury my notebooks in stickers from your shop rn and the bird boy needs more love ❤

AHW I’m sorry anon, but those are definitely too small to be of any use on the shop ;-; if you’re okay with it I could add the last one I posted? I should seriously draw more of him..................

Anon said:That jacket that Kirishima has on...I NEED!

I drew it and that’s still a mood t b h

Anon said:I went so far back in your blog that it kicked me back to the beginning ;-; I was just getting to the D. Greyman stuff too

AW ;-; (..........it’s good tho, the further you go the least worth it my stuff is l m a o)

Anon said:Do you ever draw kiribaku or something else in paper or some kind of sketch book if you do i would love to see them❤(sorry if my english is bad)

I do have some doodles on paper posted on here somewhere? But tbh I rarely draw traditionally anymore unless it’s just random doodles :(

Anon said:Aahhh!!! I really love your kiribaku shit its so cute!!and you draw so goood too literally when i found this ship i instantly found you and you are so perfect in my eyes and your art!!!!! I looooooovvvvvvveeeeee yoooouuuuuu thank you for being here and showing us this stuff!!❤❤❤❤

HECK thank you!!!!!!!!!!!

Anon said:i adore your art so much and your bakushima comics make me smile a lot! :) you’re one of my favorite artists now dldksjshskdk

tHANK YOU OH MY G OD ;^;

Anon said:Consider this: fantasy Kirishima meeting normal bakugou, thinking that's his Katsuki 😂😂

.........................you literally got no clue how long I’ve been thinkin about drawing this............ he ck

Anon said:Your drawings give me life 😍❤️

sob thank you so so so much ;-;

#fran answers #in other news ive drawn more seros carrying bakugous than i expected #HM #anonymous

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hot-topic-for-vikings · 7 years ago

Text

Session 3 Recap

The story resumes where it left off. Heskan is headed off to the library, Tuile is on her way to the bakery and Shadowdancer and Corva are still in Frida’s office, investigating. Belloth’s player was absent in this session.

Corva and Shadowdancer begin to look around the room. Corva reminds them of their one current lead - the black market. Shadowdancer reveals that she might know someone who they could talk to, but is more interested in a note she just found while searching through some documents.

Neither Shadowdancer nor Corva could read it, but they recognised the symbol of the Raven’s Eye in the corner. They decided to keep investigating the room before leaving to find someone who can read the note. Corva took a look at the window, discovering that the hasps were missing, and Shadowdancer found cut all over the neck and face of the body. Noticing that there was glass on the ground outside of the building, they came to the conclusion that the assassin had their head smashed into the window, which was why it was broken and covered with blood. They were now certain that Frida wasn’t being entirely honest with them.

They began to theorize on what was really going on.

Corva: "So you reckon this person isn't a real assassin?"

Shadowdancer: "I reckon yes. The Raven's Eye don't usually use magic. And hiding someone's face is a pretty convenient way of making sure we mistake them for a guild member."

Corva: "True, but what's the motivation then? What are they trying to get out of this?"

Shadowdancer: "Maybe they want us to antagonize the Raven's Eye for whatever reason?"

Shadowdancer: "Supposedly there was a big, bloody fight, but there are only two footprints?"

Corva: "And so much blood... something really isn't right here.”

Shadowdancer lowers her voice way down and gets real close to Corva.

Shadowdancer: "I think there's a reason Lady Frida's reputation is so squeaky clean."

Corva nods, grimacing

Shadowdancer: "No wonder they weren't very worried about the wolf."

Shadowdancer: "Could just be a ploy to get us to act heroic, then hire us to pick a fight with a guild she wants gone."

Shadowdancer: "If we destroy the guild, she wins. If we die, she'll have a reason for destroying them. She wins again."

Shadowdancer: "She hired us after only seeing two of us fight. I knew something was up."

Corva: "I think you could be right."

Corva then decided to call Mari, the guard who first took them to the room, to ask her some questions. A heavy interrogation ensued. The information they got from her includes:

There had been three attacks so far.

There had been talk in the barracks about guilds being behind them.

The salary for guards at the noble house is survivable, though they are not given very comfortable living quarters.

There are around 60 people in Frida’s employ.

Mari does not know Frida well.

Frida started at the noble house 2 months ago.

Some new guards drop out, but most who make it to 3 months try to stay for as long as they can.

Markus is Frida’s personal guard, always by her side. He gives a lot of orders and is very strict.

When asked if she was happy in her job, she wasn’t sure. She said that she manages, but it is hard. If she could change anything she’d have a better bed.

Mari then asked if she could know what was going on. Shadowdancer told her they weren’t sure, but if they got any new leads they’d let her know, which seemed to make her happier.

Through a bit more searching, they found glass stuck in the assassin’s shoes and prints that didn’t match their shoes. Shadowdancer remembered the note, and took the chance to ask Mari if she could read it, but she couldn’t. They then found some more bloody footprints leading away from the body to where Frida had been sitting that looked like the person had been dragging their feet. Then, Eff said something that would change everything.

Eff Off: anyway it's kinda hard to investigate more stuff when there's no map and idk what's in the room so

The truth was realised at this moment.

Hamster Master (GM): cant you see it?

Hamster Master (GM): the room?

Camilla S.: what no

Eff Off: ... no?

Camilla S.: it's all black

Eff Off: yeah

Camilla S.: it's always been black, last session too

Eff Off: yes

Hamster Master (GM): WTF

Turns out we just spent several hours playing without realising there was supposed to be a map there. This is what our group is like.

Hamster Master (GM): OMFGE

Cravin Raisins: THERES A BUNCH OF STUFF

Hamster Master (GM): IVE BEEN SO CONFUSED

Eff Off: THERE'S STUFF!!!

Cravin Raisins: smh

Hamster Master (GM): well

Camilla S.: ok minor hiccup let's just continue

Hamster Master (GM): yeh

Cravin Raisins: welp okay

Hamster Master (GM): i cant believe

Hamster Master (GM): all this time

Camilla S.: I KNOW

Eff Off: we were just using out imaginations like idiots

Hamster Master (GM): that explains all ur questions

Eff Off: yeah dude

Hamster Master (GM): like....i was like THE WINDOWS R RIGHT THERE

Now we could finally see the room, but it had now been like two hours of us in that room so it was time to move on. We swapped over to Heskan in the library, searching through books to find out about the spell covering the assassin’s face. After a few minutes of looking, he finally found a book containing the information he needed. He then headed back to office, joined by Tuile (who, sadly, never made it to the bakery).

Back in the office, the group get Mari to leave before they start talking. Corva describes to them everything they found. Neither Heskan nor Tuile were able to read the note when it was shown to them, and no member of the party was even able to recognise the language it was written in.

Corva then cast Detect Magic, discovering the glowing circle around the assassin’s neck. This spell-casting caused Heskan to realise he had Comprehend Languages, and used it to read the note. It said:

“We do not belong in the dark.”

Shadowdancer then approached the body and found the source of the magic that Corva had seen - a collar around his neck. Removing it removed the spell, and they were able to see the man’s face clearly.

“The face is no longer blurry, revealing light skin with smudges of blood running from the head. It got pointy features, straight nose, full lips, sharp chin. Their eyes are open and misty, a light grey colour. It's framed by short dark brown hair.”

Tuile tried to draw his face but rolled terribly and ended up with a stick figure. Shadowdancer tried instead.

Dancer rolls her eyes and takes the paper from Tuile, turning it over to the other side. She begins sketching, eyebrows pulled together in concentration. After a couple of minutes she shows the rest of the group her work, a weirdly realistic portrait of the dead person, every detailed added... plus a small dick in the corner of the paper.

They call Mari in again for a few more questions. Tuile gets her to walk to check whether she drags her feet and finds that she doesn’t. They persuade her to tell them about some trouble happening in the town.

Heskan: "What kind of trouble?"

Mari: Well...trouble as in....glares and such. Just...weird people not seeming very happy about it all. It's weirding some of the guards out. It's a bit confusing?and well...uh

She looks away again.

Tuile: "Has this happened with previous renovations? Please, Mari."

Mari shakes her head and sighs.

Corva: Mari

Mari: No it's not important I shouldn't...

Shadowdancer: "You're wrong. This is very important, Mari. We need to know what people say, so we can help prevent more assassination attempts."

Mari: I just don't want to cause trouble for anyone...but...ok..

Shadowdancer: "Trust me, you won't get any trouble from us."

Shadowdancer gives her the best smile.

Mari: The guards have...well...they say that most glares come from...O-orcish looking people.I don't know how true that is though.

Shadowdancer: "Orcish?"

Shadowdancer looks at the others in confusion.

Shadowdancer: "Any of this sound familiar?”

Tuile: "Not really."

Corva shakes her head.

Mari kicks at the floor a bit, looking more anxious than before.

Tuile: "Any buildings in particular?"

Heskan: "Mari, do you have any idea why they wouldn't be happy with the renovations?"

Mari: No just....in g-general I...Well, I'm not sure? I'm not an orc... But I think most of the town's orcs live in the more run-down parts? Where these renovations are happening.

Shadowdancer: "Aha. Displaced orcs."

Corva: "Thank you, Mari."

Tuile: "Has Frida interacted with these orcs?"

Mari smile shyly.

Mari: I don't know. I don't see her often

Tuile: "I see."

Tuile smiles at Mari.

Tuile: "We're very sorry for these questions. We want to help Frida as much as you."

Mari: oh it's okay. It's your job after all. I'm happy I can help!

Her smile wavers a bit.

Mari: That all?

Heskan: "I believe that's all. Thank you so much for your help, Mari."

The session ended there. It was decided that Eff would do a private session with the GM in the coming week for Shadowdancer to go find her black market contact, and next session the rest of the group would head into the town to visit the bakery and begin the search for the Larry, and perhaps get some morning tea too. It was very late at night for some players, so we all began to log off.

Eff Off: i want the sock keeper to keep my socks if you know what i'm saying

Hamster Master (GM): NIGHT

Eff Off: DM IS ASLEEP TIME TO FUCK

Camilla S.: NO. NO FUCKING

I really hope we don’t ever make it to anywhere near Loki.

-- camilla

#session 3 #session 3 recap #campaign 1

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zoemurph · 7 years ago

Text

to have a friend, chapter six: $136

on ao3 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

i was gonna hold back on posting this but im impatient. if you thought this was going to be subtle in any way you should know ive never been subtle a day in my life. please read the end notes chill thank you

warnings: depression, suicidal thoughts, small mention of blood (in the past)

enjoy!!

Connor has made a lot of mistakes in his life. Sure, everyone does, but most people aren’t as giant fuck ups as Connor is.

Right now, at the very top of his ‘what the fuck were you thinking’ list, is letting Evan Hansen fall asleep on him.

He wouldn’t have pushed Evan off of him or anything like that, he’s not a monster, but god. He regrets letting Evan stay like that for almost three hours. Curled up against him and breathing gently and looking all calm and at peace while he slept. His hair had been ridiculously soft and he smelt like pine and—

Connor covers his face with his hands.

Evan fell asleep on his shoulder almost two weeks ago and it’s literally occupied so many of Connor’s thoughts that he’s going to scream.

The universe is really fucking cruel. Of course he’d develop a painful crush on the guy that he’s paying to pretend to be his friend. Hilarious.

He’s been trying to keep it subtle. Under wraps. Don’t smile too much at Evan. Don’t laugh too much. Don’t touch him. At all. No physical contact at all whatsoever unless Evan initiates it first.

There has been a few times where Evan has looked up at Connor with a smile and Connor has actually thought he was about to combust. And then he had to go to AP Literature and pretend his heart wasn’t about to explode.

Alana Beck had given him a weird look when he walked into the room. He’d sat down and buried his face in his arms and pretended he was tired.

So yeah. Connor might have a minor crush on his fake best friend. No big deal. Shouldn’t be a big deal. He’s had crushes before and handled them fine. This shouldn’t be any different.

Except it is.

It’s different in every way. He starts every day at Evan’s locker. He eats lunch with Evan if they have the same lunch hour. He smiles at Evan in the hallway and Evan waves at him with a grin that Connor pretends isn’t fake because it hurts less. He ends his day at Evan’s locker. On Wednesdays, they go to the computer lab and print out Evan’s letter for his therapist. They plan their hang outs softly in the hallways, because Larry could still be checking Connor’s messages, even though Connor changes his password every two weeks. Connor texts Evan about anything. Random things. Random facts he finds online that Evan replies to with his own random facts.

The difference is Evan.

Evan is so many things. It’s a never ending list that Connor keeps adding to mentally because he loves to torture himself. And it hurts, because he’s so many things that Connor will never actually have in his life. He’s not sure how long he can actually keep up this fake friends thing. Purely because of the money. He’s starting to run out of his own money and has been slipping money from his mom’s purse or Larry’s wallet whenever he gets the chance, but it’s still risky.

Not that Connor won’t risk it for another few hours with Evan.

It’s kind of pathetic. It’s definitely pathetic.

But has Connor ever been anything other than pathetic?

Connor stares at the ceiling. He couldn’t sleep. And now he’s awake. At four in the morning on a Monday. He’s awake at four in the morning thinking about a boy with a heart stopping smile and a dusting of freckles across the bridge of his nose.

Connor doesn’t actually know if he’s ever been gayer than he is in this exact moment in time.

Eventually he just gets out of bed because what’s the fucking point of lying around. A tiny part of his mind thinks ‘hey you could do homework right now’. Connor laughs at that part of his brain and grabs a sketchbook off his desk.

He actually managed to clean up some of his room. Some of his clothes are now in drawers instead of covering his floor. But he has succeeded in finding a bunch of empty sketchbooks, from back when he thought he was going to be drawing a lot more then he ended up doing.

He might have run out of purple in his watercolor palette, but at least he has about six empty sketchbooks that he can fill with garbage.

Connor puts in his headphones and sits on the floor, leaning against the edge of his bed, and draws mindlessly. He sort of lets the music inspire him, but he also just draws whatever comes to mind. He vaguely remembers someone once saying that he should draw interactions between people in his sketchbook, so he makes an attempt to not just draw a bunch of busts facing three quarters to the left.

He finds a random highlighter under his desk. He stares at it for a second before uncapping it and randomly adding neon yellow wherever he feels like it. Because it’s his sketchbook and he can do whatever the fuck he wants.

He’s still drawing when Zoe appears in his doorway.

Connor pulls out an earbud and looks up at her. “What?”

“Was just going to wake you up,” she says flatly. “Guess I don’t have to. Get your ass down to breakfast. We have to leave early today. Band.”

Connor rolls his eyes and closes his sketchbook. He tosses it on his bed. Whatever.

—«·»—

“You okay?” Evan asks when he joins Connor at the locker.

Connor shrugs. “Tired.”

“Is that all?” Evan furrows his eyebrows and there’s a crease in his forehead and Connor looks away.

“Yeah.” He is tired. He can feel his sleep schedule falling out of place, and it’s not just Evan. That’s not a good sign because then he has to reset it and that’s fucking annoying. “Here,” he says, holding out a ten. “My half for the pizza.”

There’s a second before Evan takes it. “You know I can’t eat all that pizza by myself anyway.” Connor thinks he might be trying for a light tone, but it seems forced.

Of course it’s forced. They aren’t actually friends, Evan just puts up with Connor.

Connor clenches his jaw.

Maybe the first thing on his list of mistakes should be asking Evan Hansen to be his fake friend.

—«·»—

Connor leans against Evan’s locker as he waits. Weird how much of his life revolves around Evan now. He’ll decide if that’s healthy or not later.

“Sup, dude,” Jared says, walking up to Connor.

Connor nods to him. He’s too tired to deal with Jared, but he’ll do his best. But only for Evan.

“Seen the acorn?” Jared asks.

Connor tries not to grimace. “Not since lunch.”

“Hello.” Alana joins them by the locker. The small hallway is getting crowded. “Are you waiting for Evan?”

Jared and Connor exchange a glance.

“Yeah,” Jared says. “How’d you guess?”

“This is Evan’s locker,” Alana says.

“Oh.”

“Why are we waiting for Evan?” Zoe asks.

Connor rolls his eyes. Where did she come from? “There was no ‘we’ here. It was just me.” He shoots a glare to Jared.

Jared scoffs. “You can’t hog my best friend.”

Connor raises his eyebrow. “Best friend?”

“Am I not bringing you home then?” Zoe asks, crossing her arms. “Because I don’t have rehearsal and I’m not waiting.”

“I’m good,” Connor says. “I’ll figure something out.”

Zoe makes a face. “Okay. Have fun.”

Alana turns and watches Zoe vanish into the crowd of students. “Zoe does a lot.”

“So do you,” Connor points out. “Did you need Evan?” For some reason, he doesn’t want Alana or Jared here. He wants Evan by himself. Because he’s a selfish asshole.

Alan shifts uncomfortably. “Not necessarily. I just wanted to say hi.”

“Hi,” Evan says.

Connor turns to see Evan behind him. Alana lifts a hand to wave.

“S-sorry for making you wait,” Evan apologizes.

Connor steps aside to let Evan into his locker. “It’s fine,” he promises.

Evan glances to Jared. “Wh-what’s up?”

“Just checking in on my…bud.” Jared awkwardly punches Evan in the shoulder.

Evan stares at him. “I’ll tell my mom,” he says after a moment.

“Cool cool cool chill.” Jared runs a hand over his hair. “Nice.”

Connor squints at Jared. “Are you having a stroke?”

Jared flips him off.

“How— how are you?” Evan asks Alana. “We haven’t, um, really—”

“Talked?” Alana interrupts. She shrugs. “I’m alright. Yourself?”

Evan glances to Connor. “Okay. Did you— were you just saying hi?”

Alana rocks back on her heals. “I actually had a question about student council? Or two. Either way it should only be a minute of your time!”

Evan blinks. “S-student council?”

She nods. “If you don’t mind! I actually have to run to make a poster but if you want to talk tomorrow—”

“Talk now,” Jared says, butting in. “I’ve got you, girl, I’m a master at illegal photoshop.” He points his thumb at himself. “Tell me what you need and I can get it to you in like fifteen.”

Alana eyes Jared suspiciously. “Are you sure?”

Jared scoffs. “Am I sure? Do you even know me?”

“Yes.”

Evan bites his lower lip to hold back a smile and Connor has to look away before it makes him smile.

Jared scowls. “Seriously, I’ve got you. It’s not hard, it’s some fucking text and a clipart picture. I’m not busting out inDesign or anything. Chill, talk to Evan, meet me in the computer lab when you’re done.”

Alana looks at him for a long moment before she says, “Okay. I’m trusting you.” She pulls out a notebook and quickly writes down instructions. Connor watches her write in fascination. He doesn’t pay enough attention in literature to know her handwriting and it’s a lot less neat than he thought it’d be. There’s a dramatic tilt to it and the letters loop and blur together.

Alana tears the page from her notebook and hands it to Jared. “Do what you can while I talk to Evan,” she says seriously. “Don’t send anything to print until I okay it, besides, we need the vice principal’s signature before we can start hanging these up. Don’t make this harder for me.”

Jared rolls his eyes and folds up the paper. “I get it I get it. I’m not five. See you losers. And Alana. See you in a bit.” He shoots them finger guns before turning and walking down the hallway toward the computer lab.

Alana looks at Connor.

Connor looks back.

Evan looks at Connor.

Connor gets the message.

“See you later, Ev,” Connor says.

Evan gives him a small smile. “I’ll text you.”

Connor hums as he walks away, doing a little salute to Alana as he turns.

Now what the fuck to do? He doesn’t want to go home yet and he doesn’t have a heavy enough jacket to go to the playground. It’s the last week of October and Mother Nature decided a bit of ice was needed before Halloween. The temperature keeps dipping below freezing and it’s some bullshit.

He glances back over his shoulder to see Evan and Alana at the end of the hallway. Alana is gesturing as Evan nods along. Connor’s stomach twists and bitter thoughts start to cloud his mind, but he shoves them away and focuses on the boringly beige color of the lockers. One after another. Exactly the same.

He finds his feet bringing him toward the computer lab. Even though it’s Monday, not Wednesday. Even though Jared is there. For some reason, the computer lab is the most comforting place in this dump.

That’s fucking depressing.

Connor shoulders the door open. Maybe if he sticks around in here Evan will show up with Alana. Or something.

So much of his day should not be devoted to thinking about Evan Hansen, but here he is.

Jared is sitting at one of the computers, bag on the floor and feet up on the table. He has a browser and about thirty tabs open. He chews on a pen as he types.

Jared glances up at Connor. He lowers the pen. “The fuck do you want?”

“Bored.” Connor kicks one of the chairs that’s not pushed in. “Why do you care?”

“Bored without Evan to harass?” Jared mutters.

Connor furrows his eyebrows. “What the fuck did you just say?”

“What do you think you heard?” Jared asks. “Cause it’s probably exactly that.”

Connor scoffs. “Okay. Nice one, douchebag.”

“Oh, shit, name calling!” Jared spins away from the computer and glares at Connor. “Are we name calling now? Is that what we’re doing?”

“I’m not harassing, Evan.” Connor crosses his arms. “Can’t say the same for you.”

Jared rolls his eyes. “I’ve known the guy for like twelve years, I know what the fuck I’m doing.”

Connor grits his teeth and digs his fingers into his jacket. “Do you? Do you really?”

“What?!” Jared snaps, standing up. “Do you have something you want to fucking say to me?”

Connor laughs sharply. “I have a few fucking things to say to you.”

“Go for it, bro,” Jared throws his arms out, “no one’s going to stop you!”

“Do you really think Evan is your best friend?” Connor is surprised that those are the first words out of his mouth. They taste sour and feel like acid. His insides are being eaten up by vicious venom and he’s drowning in bitterly cold thoughts.

“I’ve known him since we were five,” Jared says.

“And I’ve known Zoe since she was fucking born,” Connor snaps. “And she would be happier if I were dead so I wouldn’t hold us up as a great example for friendship. That’s not good enough.”

“Okay, okay! You think you’re Evan’s best friend?” Jared counters. “Because that’s bullshit. That’s bullshit and we both fucking know it. Because I know what this is and it’s not friendship.”

It isn’t and that hurts more than anything Jared could ever say to Connor. More than anything anyone could say to him. More than things Zoe has yelled at him, more than what Larry has spit.

More than things Connor has told himself when everything was dark and there was no way out.

Because it’s so fucking easy to pretend. To pretend that this is real and tangible and not— not what it is. Fake. A lie. A fabrication. Something that could be torn apart at any moment. It’s been two months, but it’s nothing more than a web that Connor and Evan have crafted. Nothing actually ties them together.

Connor is still lost. And Connor is still alone.

He almost chokes on his words and their bitterness. “You can’t get mad at me when all you’ve done for years is be a shitty friend,” he hisses.

“At least I’m not paying him and pretending!” Jared practically yells.

Connor digs his nails into the palm of his hand and he is so glad he and Jared are on opposite sides of the room. He has so many things he wants to yell or scream and just eject into the universe.

None of them can make it to his throat.

“Oh fuck you,” he snaps, spinning on his heel and storming toward the door. He throws them open and stalks down the hall, trying to breathe and stop the spiraling.

Before the doors shut, he can hear Jared shout, “Fuck you!”

—«·»—

It’s bitterly cold outside and Connor can’t feel his hands.

He goes to the playground. He sits on the top of the jungle gym and stares at the overgrown field. He remembers when they played bad games of soccer and tripped on the ditches in the grass. He looks at the parking lot. Old and forgotten. Cracked and run down.

There’s the pothole where Zoe dripped and fell on her face. She bit her bottom lip when she fell and cut up her face and was bleeding everywhere. Connor had been called down to the nurse’s office while the school called their mom because Zoe was hysterical. The blood was actually kind of cool (Zoe would think so too later when she wasn’t in pain) but Connor sat next to Zoe and held her hand while she cried and the nurse cleaned up the blood.

Connor sighs and pulls his knees up to his chest.

The more time he spends here — the more time he spends here when he isn’t high — the harder it is to not think of the memories. To not think of times when things weren’t constantly garbage.

Like the sewer grate a few feet away from where Zoe fell. Everyone used to say there was an alligator living down there. Everyone would gather around it and throw rocks inside, any rocks that would fit, to feed the alligator. Because a rock eating alligator living in the sewers made sense to a group of first graders.

Everything makes more sense when you’re a first grader. You say you’re going to marry someone because your friend wants to marry them and then you get in a fight because you can’t both marry the same person and you spill juice all over the place and learn how to add numbers together using shitty timed math tests.

When Connor was a first grader his biggest problem was usually what his mom packed him for snacks.

Now it’s a game of ‘is today the day I just fucking jump off a bridge or what?’

Unfortunately, jumping off a jungle gym built for seven year olds probably won’t even break his arm.

And now he’s back to Evan.

Connor wants to laugh. Or scream. Or tear his hair out. He is nothing to Evan and somehow Evan is almost everything to him and that is as fucking pathetic as he can get.

Instead he just bites down on his wrist. It doesn’t even hurt through his jacket, but it’s something to do. Something other than just—

Screaming on an abandoned playground.

People don’t typically give a shit but also someone would probably call the cops.

Jared wasn’t right but he also wasn’t wrong. And Connor wants to violently rip out the part of himself that likes Evan Hansen. The part of him that turns to mush when Evan smiles like that. The part of him that keeps cycling back to Evan’s hair, Evan’s eyes, Evan’s freckles, Evan’s voice, Evan’s laugh—

Connor wants to destroy the parts of himself that like Evan.

He would have to destroy all himself.

He bites down harder on his jacket and tries not to think. Thinking can only hurt more.

Evan gives Connor a worried look the next day. Connor meets him by his locker, just because it’s what they do. If it were up to him, he would be at home. Asleep. Or in the library. Asleep. Or reading. Or not…here. Not with Evan. With his polos and his smile and his hair and his eyes.

He got his cast off almost a week ago, but it’s still strange to see Evan with two bare arms. And for Evan to not have Connor’s name scribbled on him like some five year old got a hold of a Sharpie. Connor is both relieved and misses it.

It fucking sucks. But what doesn’t?

“You didn’t answer my texts last night,” Evan says slowly. “Everything okay?”

“Fine,” Connor grumbles. He lets his hair fall into his face because it means he has to see less of the world. And maybe it looks scarier or something. He wants to be left alone today. “Sorry, I fell asleep.”

He’s not lying. When his body was so cold that he thought he was going to be unable to move, he climbed down from the top of the jungle gym and walked home. The heat in the house made his skin tingle as he warmed up and his mom tried to talk to him but he just shook his head and went up to his room. He pushed everything but his comforter off his bed and went to sleep. He woke up around eleven, made a quesadilla in the microwave, ate it, watched YouTube for four hours, woke up, and stumbled into the car so Zoe could drive him to school.

It hadn’t really occurred to him to check his phone. Wasn’t like he had friends or anything.

Evan chews on his lip. “Okay,” he says softly. “Just like… Um, talk to me? If you need to?”

Connor meets Evan’s eyes and his heart leaps to his throat. Evan needs to stop…all of that. Especially the concerned look in his eyes, like he cares.

Evan is a good actor.

—«·»—

They have lunch hour together on Tuesdays. Usually Connor sits with Evan.

His head won’t stop spinning.

He hides in the back of the library and tries to do the assignment for literature. He reads the same paragraph four times before he buries his face in the pages. Hot tears prickle the corner of his eyes.

Fuck.

He should’ve skipped. He should’ve stayed home. He should’ve done anything else. Other than be here. This is bad, school is bad. The only thing worth it would be Evan, but he’s avoiding Evan because his mind is awful but his mind is right.

Alana gives him a worried look when he sits down in literature. Their class only has fourteen kids, but he still sits in the back in silence unless the teacher asks him specifically a question.

Today, Connor changes his seat.

He sits in the back corner. More isolated than usual. His head hurts, probably because he forced himself not to cry because he hates crying, and his brain keeps twisting into something darker and darker.

He looks up from his arms when a book is put down on the desk next to him.

Alana doesn’t say anything. She just puts her backpack down on the floor and spreads out her pens before she opens her notebook up.

Connor watches her write in her tilted looping letters for a moment before he puts his head back down.

—«·»—

Zoe has rehearsal. Connor walks home.

He doesn’t stop at Evan’s locker. He should. He really fucking should.

If anyone talks to him he’s going to snap. He’s going to break and yell and— he can’t.

He has a plan for when he gets home. Steal a loaf of bread from the kitchen. Maybe the butter. Go up to his room. Sit in bed and eat bread. Pass out. Wake up whenever. Eat. Go back to bed. School? Whatever.

His mom isn’t in the kitchen when he unlocks the door. Good. He grabs the least offensive loaf of bread from the cabinet and a random third of a stick of butter from the last time Cynthia baked and a butter knife from the drawer. He climbs the stairs silently and goes to his room and wishes that he had a door. He pulls out his laptop and opens a random YouTube video and lets it fade into background noise as he eats bread.

Fucking life.

He’s on his third slice when the doorbell rings. Connor looks down at his bed and accepts his fate of a lifetime of crumb filled sheets. The doorbell rings again.

“Mom?” he shouts.

There’s no response and the doorbell rings again.

“We fucking get it,” Connor mutters. He puts down the knife on his desk and climbs out of bed. He takes his time getting to the front door, hoping whoever is there will just go the fuck away. He frowns when he sees Zoe in the window. She meets his eye and flips him off.

“What did you forget your keys?” Connor asks as he opens the door.

“No, dumbass, but you forgot your friend.” Zoe jerks her thumb over her shoulder toward her car. Evan is standing by the passenger side door. “Nice going, dipshit,” she mutters shouldering him roughly as she passes him to get into the house.

Connor glances over his shoulder at her before looking back to Evan.

Evan is just staring at him. He doesn’t look like he’s going to move any time soon.

Conor sighs and runs a hand through his hair. Okay. Okay.

He pulls on his shoes and shouts to Zoe that he’s leaving the door open. She just sort of yells back at him and he figures that’s enough. Then he steps outside and walks toward Evan and, probably, death.

“What’s wrong?” Evan says as soon as Connor gets close.

“Nothing is wrong,” Connor says.

Evan scowls. “I— Come on, I know you better than that by now. We’re— We’ve…” He shakes his head. “I-I thought about it. A lot. I was worried I did something wrong. I went through everything I’ve done in the past two days— the past week. A-and I had nothing. You’ve been acting— Alana came to me asking how you were because of something that happened in lit so just…” He glares at Connor. Connor’s been trying so hard to not think about his eyes. “I told you to talk to me.”

“You aren’t my therapist, Ev,” Connor mutters. “You don’t need to hear this shit.”

“I’ll tell you if I can’t handle it,” Evan says with more confidence behind his words than Connor thinks he’s heard before. “But I told you to talk to me and you— you’re just isolating yourself. That’s not going to help.”

Connor tugs a hand through his hair. “Seriously it’s just— it happens sometimes. It’s not a big deal we don’t have to make into one.”

Evan crosses his arms. “Okay. Fine. If something is wrong, just tell me that. Tell me things are shitty. That’s all you have to say, because I get it. Tell me when you aren’t okay, don’t just be a dick.”

That’s a hell of a promise to make but… “Okay.”

Evan nods and pulls his backpack on. “I’ll see you tomorrow. I just… Figured we should talk than sooner than later.”

Connor looks from the car to Evan. “Do you…need a ride home?”

“I can walk,” Evan says. “I have sch-scholarship essays waiting at home for me. I’m not in a rush.”

“You wouldn’t be bothering Zoe,” Connor says softly. “I’ll take you.”

“I thought…” Evan trails off.

“I know where my license is. Larry isn’t as good at hiding things as he thinks.” Connor turns back to the house. “Stay here, I’ll be back in a minute.”

Connor ducks back inside the house. “Zoe I’m stealing the car!” he shouts, grabbing her keys from the bowl by the door.

“What?!”

He goes back to Larry’s office and digs through the files in the bottom desk drawer until he pulls his license from a manila folder.

Zoe stands at the front door with her arms crossed over her chest. “What are you doing?”

“I’m driving Evan home.” Connor tries to push past her, but Zoe pushes right back.

“You aren’t allowed to drive.”

Connor holds up his license. “Get fucked.”

She narrows her eyes at him. “Did you break into Dad’s office?”

“There was no breaking and I live in this house, so move and let me take Evan home.” Zoe stands her ground. “I’m not high, Zo. And I know how to fucking drive. It’ll be fifteen minutes, the world won’t end.”

Zoe closes her eyes. “I… Just pay attention. Be safe. Don’t crash or anything.”

“Yeah yeah I’ll protect the car,” Connor mutters. “Stop being Mom.”

Zoe grimaces. “Okay. Drive him home. Whatever.” She steps to the side. “Not my fault if Dad grounds you for life.”

“Who cares.” Connor closes the front door on her. Evan looks up from his phone as the door slams shut. Connor holds up the keys. “Get in.”

“When was the last time you drove?” Evan asks, climbing into the passenger seat.

“God it’s been months.” Connor opens the door. He’s going to have to adjust the seat and mirrors and that’s going to piss Zoe off big time. “It’s probably like riding a bike or something.”

Evan nods slowly. “Okay… I think that’s reassuring?”

Connor rolls his eyes as he moves back the seat. “I’m not going to crash.”

“I didn’t think you would,” Evan says honestly as Connor buckles in and starts the car. “The biggest thing I’m worried about is you hitting a curb or forgetting the turn signal.”

“Fuck turn signals.” Connor flicks the turn signal down before he turns right out of the driveway. “Shit.”

Evan laughs.

Unlike Zoe, Connor doesn’t always listen to music when he drives. He’s perfectly fine driving in silence, even though it makes her want to scream. She hated it when he drove in silence, making it a point to always have headphones on her in case he had a day where he wanted to drive without music on.

It gives Connor time to think. Sometimes that’s harder with music on.

As they sit in almost weirdly comfortable silence, Connor glances at Evan out of the corner of his eyes. Evan is playing with the hem of his shirt and staring ahead at nothing.

Connor sighs. “I’m sorry. For today. And yesterday.”

Evan glances over to him. “…thank you. It’s…okay. I just want to know if you’re okay.”

For some reason it’s hard to swallow. Connor clears his throat. “So did you bribe Zoe into giving you a ride?”

“I-I stayed after for a little bit to talk to Alana,” Evan murmurs. “And then we passed the band room and I saw Zoe, s-so I thought…” He shrugs. “She might’ve thought it was weird but she was fine with it.”

“She wasn’t too much of an ass, right?”

“What do you mean?”

Connor adjusts his grip on the steering wheel. “You know… She didn’t ask too many questions or anything?”

Evan shifts uncomfortably. “I-I mean… She was— it was fine.”

Connor decides he’ll interrogate Zoe later. “Cool. How’s Alana?”

“Very busy,” Evan says seriously. “More student council stuff.”

“She trying to recruit you?”

“Uh…not exactly.” Connor raises his eyebrows as Evan worries his bottom lip. “She had an idea for a club she wants to start next semester and uh…wants my help with it.”

“You?” Evan winces. “Shit, no, I didn’t mean it that way,” Connor backtracks. “I just…you don’t do many extracurriculars or anything so it’s a surprise. Does she want you on the board or something?”

“Yes.” Evan coughs. “She… Yeah it’s, um, I-I don’t know if I’ll do it yet but I… Helping her start it up? I can do that. That doesn’t require much so I’m…okay with that.”

Connor nods. “Cool. I hope it’s…fun.” He ignores the twisting in his gut.

“Did Alana talk to you?” Evan asks suddenly.

Connor glances to him before looking back to the road. “No? Why?”

“Oh she just…” Evan gestures with one of his hands. “At the beginning of the school year we were talking about something and she wanted to talk to you about something and she said she was going to— I mean she had a question for you and I told her that maybe it wasn’t the best idea and, well I mean, she said she was going to ask you anyway so I just wasn’t sure if she ever did or…”

“She didn’t,” Connor says slowly. “What was the question?” He remembers Alana asking him all sorts of questions when he came back to school after his attempt. He also remembers ignoring them. He’s pretty sure there were a few times when he just walked away.

Evan goes quiet. Connor stops at a stop sign and looks both ways, pausing for longer than he usually would because drivers on this road don’t give a fuck.

“She wanted you to tell the student body your story,” Evan blurts out.

Connor is really glad they’re at a stop sign. “What?!”

Evan pulls on the collar of his shirt. “She— Um, she asked if you would be, or if I might be interested in um— Because of the stigma around mental health and suicide that maybe it would— I told her no.”

Connor closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “Thank you,” he says after a moment. He opens his eyes and looks to Evan. “Seriously. I don’t… No one else needs to know that shit. My story— no one wants to hear that shit.”

“I think that was her point,” Evan says softly.

Connor meets his eyes for a second and then looks back to the road, pressing the gas. “Not my story,” he repeats. “I don’t want or need that kind of attention.”

“I know.” Evan sighs. “I was really worried that she— Alana can be, um…persistent.”

“Tell me about it,” Connor mutters. He turns into Evan’s driveway. “Here you go, Hansen.”

Evan gives him a weak smile and unbuckles his seatbelt. “Thanks. I’ll text you.”

“I’ll text you back,” Connor promises.

Evan lights up and Connor shoves his heart back into the darkness of his chest.

From: dickbag To: assface we have to talk

From: assface To: dickbag fuc k u

Connor rolls his eyes. He can’t even believe he’s trying but he is and Jared is being Jared.

From: dickbag To: assface right back at you but seriously. today

He leans against Evan’s locker, flipping his phone over in his hands as he waits for a response. He might not give a shit about Jared, but for some reason Evan does, so he’s going to try to fix this. Because that’s what a good person would do.

Connor’s lived too much of his life in the gray zone. Gray thoughts, gray clothing, gray morality— he can do one nice thing if it’ll make Evan happier.

From: assface To: dickbag y should i

From: dickbag To: assface evan

From: assface To: dickbag fuck off where??

Connor rolls his eyes.

“Hi,” Evan says, arms full of textbooks. “Band?”

Connor nods. “Yeah. Something about an audition or something? I don’t know, she wanted time in the practice rooms and I don’t have a say in anything.”

Evan gives him a crooked smile. “I don’t think being here a little early is too bad.”

Connor looks back down at his phone with a shrug.

From: dickbag To: assface computer lab evan will be there for a little bit we can talk after he leaves

From: assface To: dickbage fine but still fuk u

Connor really should’ve just blocked Jared’s number as soon as he got it.

—«·»—

“Jared!” Evan says in surprise when him and Connor walk into the computer lab. “W-what are you doing here?”

Jared looks up from the computer. “StuCo stuff for Lana. I guess this morning the council decided to change some of the info on the posters so,” he gestures to the screen, “here the fuck I am.”

“Doesn’t Alana have people for that?” Connor asks as Evan pulls out his laptop.

“Her people don’t do shit. Does this picture look bad?”

Connor squints at the screen. “It looks like bad clipart.”

“Perfect.” Jared saves the document.

“Sent,” Evan says. He shuts his laptop. “I’ll be right back.”

Connor nods to him.

Jared coughs awkwardly as Evan leaves for the printers.

When Evan comes back with his letter in his hands, he glances between Jared and Connor. “Everything…okay?”

“Super chill,” Jared confirms, clicking randomly on the poster.

“Jared is shit at choosing fonts,” Connor says.

Jared flips Connor off and Evan smiles. Win.

“I have to go,” Evan says, putting away his laptop and pulling on his backpack. “My, um, my mom is actually bringing me today so?” He gestures over his shoulder. “Yeah. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Whatever,” Jared says.

Connor glares at him before saying, “Yeah sure. I’ll text you.”

Evan bounces on his toes before he leaves the room.

Connor turns to Jared with a raised eyebrow. “Fucking smooth.”

Jared keeps his eyes on the screen. “Uh huh.”

“You’re a giant asshole, you know that, right?”

Jared pushes his glasses up his nose. “So are you.” He closes his illegal photoshop and spins to face Connor. “Here we are. Two assholes in a computer lab.”

They stare at each other for a long minute.

“You told me to be here,” Jared points out.

“Fuck, you’re right,” Connor mutters. “Okay. I’m..sorry.” Jared whistles. “Shut the fuck up. I’m not sorry I called you a dick because you are a dick. And you’re a bad friend. Like a really shitty one. But I’ll apologize for yelling.”

“That was a horrible apology,” Jared muses. “But fine. I’m sorry I said you were harassing Evan. But I still think what you’re doing is fucking…bad? I don’t know it feels bad. It’s a bad plan.”

“You told us that and still helped.”

Jared spins in the chair before standing up. “Okay, yeah. I did. But honestly I didn’t think either of you would get invested and—”

“What do you mean?” Connor interrupts.

Jared searches his face. “You know…?”

“No?”

He sighs. “I thought this shit would last like a week, okay? And now we’re getting into more long term usage instead of the eight days I had assumed.” He pauses. “You’re using him.”

“Yeah and you pretend to use him.” Connor crosses his arms. “Are we really so fucking different?”

Jared runs his hand through his hair. “Just two guys, being dicks to Evan Hansen. We should probably be better about that, huh?”

“Probably.” Connor holds out his hand to Jared. “Truce?”

Jared raises an eyebrow. “Not friends?” he asks as he shakes Connor’s hand. “Okay. Truce.”

#connor murphy #evan hansen #tree bros #convan #deh fanfic #to have a friend #my fics #ayy

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