#jury's still out on the socks but i might get it to just complete the set | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

y2ksnowglobe · 1 month ago

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People of the jury, I do not consider myself a Glenn apologist by any means, but today I present the following argument. "Glenn didn't teach Nick to smoke, provide him directly with weed, or particularly approve of Nick smoking." Snowglobe, you say...that's a bold stance, and to that I say fair, it is, but Glenn has always been a slippery bastard when it comes to pinning him down in canon, and while I don't think this is the only way to read Glenn, it is a canon-compliant way to interpret Glenn.

So now that you've clicked on the Read More to hear me out, you might be saying "Snowglobe, this is too easy. In Episode 51 Glenn admits to showing Nick how to smoke."

Or maybe you don't say that because you don't have an encyclopedic knowledge of this show, which in that case, good for you! I'm not proud of this accomplishment!

But, back to the evidence at hand. The canonicity of any of the "Freddie being contrarian to Jodie" Dad Facts I think is up for debate. From a Doyleist perspective, we as the audience can interpret these facts to be more about the sibling dynamic between Freddie and Jimmy, and less about being true to Glenn as a character.

However, I'm not completely satisfied with just a Doyleist argument, we're getting into the Watsonian as well.

So firstly we have the implication that Glenn actually doesn't smoke cigarettes, which is interesting and a bit unexpected to be honest. However, the main point I'd argue that after raising Nick with healthy skepticism for authority, Glenn telling Nick straight up not to smoke is not going to work.

"But Snowglobe," you say, "That's still teaching Nick to smoke, right?"

"Perhaps," I might admit, "If we didn't have canon evidence of Glenn teaching the Oak twins how to smoke.

That's right! Glenn purposefully instructed the twins on the incorrect form! So, people of the court, I argue, might Glenn have not done the same thing with Nick? And furthermore, when comparing the stories of Jodie and Glenn illustrating smoking to Nick, Jodie is the one who is specified to have taken a drag and nearly hacked up a lung.

Now being a weed smoker, Glenn would likely have been able to tolerate inhaling cigarette smoke without reacting as violently as Jodie, but it could also be that Glenn didn't end up choking because he wasn't inhaling.

"But what about his point that it was so Nick would look cool?" You may ask.

You know what isn't going to make Nick look cool? Hacking up a lung while trying to smoke for the first time in front of people he wants to impress.

I feel that what Glenn underestimates is just how perceptive and observant Nick is (possibly because Glenn himself is not the most perceptive and observant) so he doesn't quite make the jump that Nick is going to figure out how smoking works just from watching Glenn, leading to...

"Oh Snowglobe, how are you going to get around Nick saying he got the weed from Glenn," because you are unaware I am constructing this argument and wouldn't have brought this up without having already considered it.

FIrstly, this is a fairly clear reference to an old drug PSA

youtube

But that's again a Doyleist explanation.

However, with how much this weed knocks Glenn's socks of with dankness, we can put together that Nick isn't literally saying he got this weed from Glenn, if he had, Glenn would not be surprised by it. So yes, Anthony was making a reference, but it's also possible that Nick was making a reference as well, indicating that he picked up smoking weed from watching Glenn, rather than saying Glenn is the reason he has the specific weed he's smoking, or alternatively, Nick took some weed from a stash Glenn hadn't gotten into yet, and is just being very upfront and honest about getting it from Glenn as opposed to buying it illegally from somewhere or someone else.

Additionally, Nick states that he thought he'd try smoking because it's something that seems to make Glenn happy and appear cool. This feels like something that would be very odd for Nick to say if Glenn had been the one teaching/encouraging him to smoke weed, and also odd if Glenn had been aware of Nick smoking weed before this.

Taking a detour back to the "Glenn taught Nick how to smoke wrong" theory, it's commented on that despite being a Nat 20 dank level weed, Nick seems to be handling it much better than Glenn, which could suggest that maybe Nick isn't properly inhaling. This one is a little bit of a stretch but after all Glenn taught Nick to smoke so he would "look cool" and here Nick is trying to "look cool" so it is a possible interpretation, though I feel not the strongest point to be made here, and future evidence is going to make it a little more dicey of a call.

Now I don't want to get into it too much in this post (because I have this post that covers it instead) but Glenn can, and does push back on Nick's behavior but also is pretty conflict averse and is violently allergic to vulnerability.

So, is Glenn going to have a full discussion, in front of Darryl and Grant who are waiting on them to get in the car, about how even though Glenn smokes weed, Nick shouldn't? No, obviously. So what does he do instead? Sure Freddie phrases it as Glenn "persuading [Nick] to let [him] take a hit" but from the practical perspective he is getting the weed away from Nick. He frames it as being because of Darryl that they have to leave it behind, but given that at this point Glenn isn't willing to admit he's a DJ to Nick, it's a lot to expect him to own wanting Nick to leave the weed behind because Glenn doesn't want him to have it, and while it is pure speculation due to being such different from the path of the actual narrative, if they hadn't all been pulled into the realms, I don't think it's too far fetched to consider Glenn having a talk with Nick about it after they got home from the game. As mentioned in the linked post in the previous paragraph, Glenn addresses Nick's swearing and Nick is fairly receptive and corrects his behavior in response to it.

"But Snowglobe," you are unable to stop yourself from saying because the second person narration compels you to continue to engage with this discussion. "Swearing is one thing, Glenn talking to Nick about smoking is different."

Well, what if I told you that, because I'm controlling your dialogue, you have fallen into my clever trap! Because I was talking about Glenn discussing weed with Nick, we don't have to consider whether or not he would talk about smoking with Nick, because there's evidence he already has!

So if you didn't catch it, it's because I argue the transcript got this one wrong. I'm of the opinion that it is Glenn and not Freddie who says, "They said everyone vapes." Who is they in this sentence? I submit that it was Nick who told Glenn this when Glenn tried to broach the topic of vaping with him and Glenn was either fooled by Nick's bluff (kid has a record for being able to pull those off, made up a lie about a wizard cursing him so his head would fall off if he left the Watermice and got everyone to believe him) or wasn't willing to keep pushing when Nick put up the resistance of that excuse.

"Okay, Snowglobe, this has all been very clever, but the trial..."

Yes, yes, the trial. There are two segments of note here and we'll tackle the easiest one first, and that's from Nick's testimony.

Nick claims he would smoke weed if Glenn asked him to because it would make him a cool guy. This is different from saying he has done that. Now this might bring into question why Nick would have potentially lied to Glenn about everyone vaping, and for that it really comes down to a simple equation. [Glenn asking him to]+[Makes him a cool guy]=[Nick is gonna do the thing]. However, considering Nick likes Minions despite Glenn claiming to not like them and Nick not liking Disneyland, we can see that at this point in his life, Nick is starting to get a sense that Glenn asking him to do something does not by definition make it cool. So I don't think this counts as an admission of Glenn being one to actively pressure Nick into smoking.

Now onto Glenn's testimony.

Right off the bat we have Glenn denying he every purchased weed for Nick. Anthony doesn't make him roll deception and no one attempts to accuse him of perjury, so we kind of have to take him at his word there.

When asked how Nick learned how to smoke weed, Glenn doesn't take credit, and given how he's willing to credit his own dad for teaching him, there's room to believe that Glenn possibly would just straight up admit to teaching Nick, even in a court of law. Also worth noting is that Glenn pivots the topic from smoking weed to vaping, which since we can surmise he's had a conversation with Nick about that, we get a sense that it's also the behavior he's more familiar with Nick doing (also emphasized by how Nick talked about smoking weed with Nick in episode one).

And no, I didn't skip over Glenn proudly admitting that Nick knows how to smoke weed, and to be fair, this is possibly one of the biggest counterpoints to my thesis, but I think when we look at who Glenn is as a character, we can see him making the choice to answer this question the way he does without it contradicting my previous points.

Glenn has a carefully constructed identity he presents to the world that he will cling to, even to his own detriment.

Some notable examples of this behavior include:

When he admits he got kicked out of the band, he claims it was because of his tour antics, however, in the episode right before this, Glenn's Dad Fact is this:

While we may not know exactly why Glenn was asked to leave the trio, we can be pretty sure it's not because of his tour antics, but he has to keep up that facade. (I'm of the belief that Glenn was missing to many rehearsals to pick up DJ gigs to help support Nick, but that's just my own headcanon)

When dared to lose his ability to play guitar and instead become a Linkin Park cover DJ, Glenn could have admitted to having already been a DJ and that pointlessly giving up one of his two marketable skills was a bad deal, but instead he trashes the very concept of being a DJ (despite being one) and makes it seem like his choice is solely based on a sense of guitar supremacy.

Argues with Nick about Minions during the trial, even though, according to the Dadturday Night Live bonus episode, Glenn secretly also likes the minions.

So could Glenn act less proud of Nick being able to smoke weed? Yes of course he could, as established, there's a possible reading where Glenn is not thrilled about Nick trying this, but is he going to break and show that while on trial? The same trial where the previously mentioned Minions incident happens? Also, in front of his dad? The dad who likely instilled all these maladaptive coping strategies in him? Of course he's not going to act like this is a thing he doesn't approve of or is ashamed of in these circumstances!

Now of course, none of this completely absolves Glenn of being, as Henry puts it, a mediocre father. There are still a whole ton of issues to unpack with the Glenn and Nick dynamic, but Glenn is a character who is left with so much room for nuance and differing interpretation, that it seems a waste not to explore the slightly less shitty possibilities, where it's clear he's trying, but his issues keep getting in the way because he's afraid that any introspection will lead to having to confront his own grief about Morgan. In a Talking Dad episode, Freddie talks about how the ending he pictured for Glenn was to have him go with Nick to Morgan's grave, with the indication that he'd been avoiding visiting it, and I think reading Glenn in the way presented in this argument is a solid base to get us to that ending, sure the dice may have gotten in the way, but I think it still shines some insight onto how Freddie was crafting the character.

#dungeons and daddies #dndads #dndads glenn close #nick close #yes I'm aware I'm not normal about this show at all #Did I spend way longer writing this and hunting down screenshots than I'd like to admit? Also yes #Youtube

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imperfectcourt · 4 years ago

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Andreil Prompt:

Neil is an Assassin. Some day something goes very, very wrong. So the first time Andrew meets Neil, Neil has to explain to him that he accidentally poisened him and Andrew has to go to the hospital to get the antidote.

So I was really unsure about this but when I got going I got really excited about it! But I also COMPLETELY MISSED the line where it said "the first time" so this is very much not the first time they meet ;__; sorry! I hope you like it though!

Neil had never panicked on a job before. He’d never made a mistake or killed the wrong person or not killed the right person. He could kill whoever he was told to kill, he could kill however he was told to kill, and he could be whoever he was told to be in order to do it.

Killing Andrew Minyard was the worst and last mistake Neil would ever make.

Worming his way into A. Minyard’s life hadn’t been easy but it had been natural- the most honest work of his filthy, bloody life.

It had to be this way. It couldn’t look like a typical mob hit, anything abrupt and easy would look suspicious. The call had to come from inside the house, or so they say.

Neil tipped the vial into the remnants of the whiskey bottle and poured two modest glasses. It wouldn’t be pleasant for him but he’d built up enough of a tolerance to survive. Odorless, collarless, no paper trail. He’d suffer some hallucinations and maybe some minor liver damage but he’d live and after tonight he’d be free. No more Moriyama’s. No more contracts. No more death.

No more Andrew.

Neil brought one glass up to swirl, smell, sniff, and sip. A perfectly normal glass of whiskey. He brought out onto the small balcony and put them on the rickety table between two lawn chairs. Andrew picked his up and didn’t make the small cheers motion he always did as a silent thanks, didn’t drink. He’d been staring at his closed phone for the last half hour. Neil knew he would say what was wrong in time (if there was time).

“There’s something I need to tell you,” he said after several long minutes, punctuating the statement with a sip. Guess there was time, after all. Neil sat sideways on his chair so he could watch Andrew light a cigarette.

“That sounds ominous. You’re not a murderer are you?”

Andrew’s top lip curled in a small, vicious smile. “That’s a truth for a different day.”

No, it wasn’t, and Neil found himself reaching for another mouthful of whiskey. Andrew raised a brow at this, having caught on a while ago that Neil liked to draw the drink out as long as possible if it meant he didn’t have to go home yet.

“It’s nothing to form a drinking habit over, calm down.” Andrew took up his drink again and every sip he took felt like friendly fire. “You’re going to see something on the news tomorrow and I’d rather tell you myself than get pissy with me for not bringing it up sooner.”

“Secrets secrets are no fun,” Neil parroted. Andrew kicked out his socked foot to hit Neil’s heel and didn’t pull it back.

“A story will be dropping about my brother’s involvement in a gang bust tonight. Just got word that everything went well but his services had been needed on sight.” With the hand that held the cigarette, he gave his cellphone a little shake.

“You have a brother?” That hadn’t been in the assignment, but family matters were often left out for jobs like this. He couldn’t go in knowing too much and risk exposing himself.

“My twin.”

“You have a twin?”

Andrew threw back the rest of his drink and waved it at Neil’s face. “The only reason I’m telling you is because you’re going to see him parading around on t.v. with my face. We’re not that close.”

A gang bust. Big enough for national news. That couldn’t- that would mean-

“What’s his name?”

“Aaron.”

“A. Minyard. Doctor Aaron Minyard.”

Andrew froze. Looked at Neil so expressionless he might as well have been stone. “I never said he was a doctor.”

He didn’t have to. Dr. A Minyard. Fox affiliated attached to a photograph. Andrew had his PhD and his connection to Kevin Day was easy enough to find if you knew where to look. The Foxes were an elusive bunch of vigilantes but everyone had heard of Kevin Day, son of the founders of the Foxes.

Neil had never made a mistake before and killing Andrew Minyard was the biggest mistake of his life. He knocked the glass from Andrew’s hand only because Andrew let him.

“Now, right now,” he changed, grabbing Andrew by the sleeve and tugging him back inside. It only worked because Andrew let him. Andrew was always letting Neil, trusting Neil. And for what? For this?

Neil let go when he was sure Andrew would follow him and rushed to the tiny kitchen. He took the water glass by the sink and upended the entire salt shaker into it.

“Drink this right now,” he ordered Andrew.

Andrew did not take it.

“Andrew, trust me just one last time. Just this one last time trust me and drink this. Just this once. Just this one last time.” There was time. There was barely time. It had been less than a minute, there had to be time.

Neil didn’t know what he would do if Andrew didn’t drink, if Neil killed him for nothing. No matter what the outcome, no matter Andrew's decision, Neil would die either way.

Andrew took the salt water, drank the whole thing, and promptly threw up in the sink.

Neil watched, hands in his hair and tears clouding his eyes as Andrew righted himself, wiping at his mouth with the back of his wrist.

“That’ll give you time to get to the hospital. You have to go now, you’ve got time.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Andrew put his hand slowly, calmly, over Neil’s throat, “until you explain.”

He pressed him into the wall.

Neil let him.

“You were supposed to be my last one and my contract would be fulfilled,” he said.

“Explain better than that. What does this have to do with Aaron?”

“There’s no time-”

“Then make it quick.” He pressed against Neil’s throat and Neil’s hands came up instinctively to grab his arm. He stopped before making contact.

“I was born into a debt that the Moriyama’s own. I was one of their hit men. A. Minyard. Fox associate. And a picture. That was my last assignment and I could finally… I could…”

Words were getting harder. He had begun ingesting the poison before Andrew and hadn’t gotten any of it out of his system.

“You’re the only one I never…”

“Never what? Never shot like a coward? Never succeeded in killing?”

“Never wanted to.” His hands came down onto Andrew’s forearm even though he didn’t have permission. His vision was swimming around the edges and he couldn’t tell if it was because of the drug or the pressure on his trachea. “I didn’t want to kill you. H-hospital. You still need the hospital. You have time.”

“Why should I believe a single thing you say?”

“I’ve never lied to you.” It was so important for him to say that somehow the words came out with conviction. “Never lied. Andrew, you’re amazing and I love you but you need to leave right now.”

His knees gave out and for the briefest moment all of his weight was being held by the hand on his throat. Andrew lowered them both to the ground.

“What did- You idiot.” Ah, yes. He must have caught on. “You did all this to live only to fucking kill yourself? Neil. Neil… Neil!”

Neil had never panicked on a job, but he’d also never woken up in a hospital bed before. He was aware of the spike in noise before he was aware of his surroundings.

“The worst assassin in history.”

Neil groaned but didn’t yet open his eyes. His memory was just solid enough to know what he’d taken and experience told him he wasn’t ready to face the spinning world.

“Can’t say he was wrong, technically,” the same voice said.

“What kind of assassin not only chooses the wrong target but falls in love with their dumb ass?”

“This dumb ass has the same level of education as your dumb ass.”

“My dumb ass has a doctorate of medicine, not in books.”

“Literature.”

“Still dumb.”

“Sssh,” Neil breathed out, testing the waters of control and strength. He had very little of either.

“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, the dumbest of asses.”

“Give him another hour and he might even be able to respond.”

“Now who would want that.”

The second time Neil woke up in a hospital, it was enough for him to look around and realize this was not a hospital but rather a medically furnished bedroom.

“I hate you.”

He turned his head to see Andrew slouching back in an overstuffed, wingback chair. The look on his ever-passive face was angry and Neil would take angry over dead any day.

“You made it,” he slurred. His mouth felt like cotton. “You made it,” he said again because it was right and good. “You made it.”

“Shut up.”

“I’m fine. Got a tolerance”

“Is that something they teach you in the bright sunny world of the Nest?”

Neil made a finger gun at Andrew (why?) and slowly, slowly tilted himself onto his side to see him better. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew there were things he needed to worry about, but for now he just wanted to look.

“I’m happy you’re alive.”

“I don’t care.” And he sounded like he didn’t, but that was how he always sounded. Still Andrew. Still him. Still alive. For a long, quiet while they stared at each other.

“I have to go before the Moriyama’s come looking to do clean up. This won’t be tolerated.”

“No. It won’t be. But not by the Moriyama’s.”

Andrew stood in a motion that made him look much older than he was, tired. As he came to stand over the bed, Neil couldn’t help but stare because not killing Andrew Minyard was the only right thing he had ever done.

“The Foxes completed their take down of the Moriyama’s. It’s been all over the news, which you would have seen if you hadn’t poisoned yourself.”

The… the what? Something must have shown on Neil’s face because Andrew pressed him down into the bed a split second before he’d tried to sit up. As consciousness cleared his fog, his brain began catching up enough to understand that he wasn’t understanding. The synapses were there but they weren’t connecting.

“I don’t understand,” he whispered. Andrew’s mask twitched.

“Of course you don’t, you’ve been too deep cover to keep up with what was right under your nose. The Foxes won, there are no more Ravens, and you, Nathaniel, are a free man.”

The sound of that name, his name, sent a flinch so hard through his body that it made something cramp in his stomach. Andrew watched, bored, as he curled in on himself. If he knew that name, if his cover was blown so spectacularly, then there must be an ounce of truth to it.

“I’m just… Neil. I just want to be Neil.”

“Well, Neil.” Andrew slid his hand into Neil’s hair and squeezed, not hard but enough to tilt his head back. “If you ever do something that stupid again I will kill you myself.” Something in his eyes, however passive he tried to pull off, told Neil that Andrew was not referring to his own attempted murder.

“Were you… worried about me?” That couldn’t be right.

“I don’t know, Neil.” He kept saying his name like that and Neil didn’t know what to feel about it. “My whatever of a good stretch of time nearly killed himself. How should I be feeling?”

“I nearly killed you. I only poisoned myself a little.”

“Why?”

Why? The easy answer was forensics. Two glasses. Two drinkers. One lucky to survive the ordeal. But that wasn’t all of it. As Neil stared up up at Andrew, here at the other side of it all, he could admit to himself that he was glad for the punishment.

“Because… because I was going to kill you to save my own life and I had never hated myself for anything more than that.”

“I hate you,” Andrew spat.

“As long as you’re alive to hate me it’s fine.”

“Shut up.”

“Tell me more about the take down.”

“No.”

“Is your brother a Fox? Do I have to be killed for knowing that?”

“You have to be killed because you won’t shut your mouth.”

A good stretch of time. That’s how long Neil had been worming his way to be Andrew’s whatever. And in all that time he’d never felt safer. He lifted a shaky hand and waited. It took nearly a minute before Andrew released his hair and took the hand up in his own.

He didn’t apologize for trying to kill him. He didn’t apologize for coming into his life under false pretenses. If Andrew was there now, he trusted Neil enough to understand. They could talk about it later.

“Go back to sleep,” Andrew ordered quietly.

“So I’ll shut up?” Neil whispered back. His eyes were already drifting closed.

“Sure.”

#aftg #andreil #neil josten #andrew minyard #all for the game #my writing

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snakeboistan · 4 years ago

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Just Out Of Reach

My exams are finally over so have some touch-starved!Nagisa

Pairing: Nagisa x 3-E

AO3 LINK

Shiota Nagisa was a loner. He always had been for as long as he could remember.

When he was in elementary school, he was the weird kid - the strange girl-boy that hardly talked and no one could understand. His male classmates thought that he was too girly to take part in their games or join their conversations and whilst his female classmates didn’t mind his appearance that much, they knew better than to associate with him lest they too fall victim to the taunts and sneers that followed him everywhere, or the relentless bullying that inconvenienced him every breaktime. However, he didn’t mind - friends were a luxury he couldn’t afford anyway (his mother didn’t approve of him spending time out of the apartment, away from her). He would have his own fun by sitting himself down in his school’s library and bury his head in a book, getting lost in worlds that weren’t mean, or cold, or judgemental. Or he’d sit on a bench in the school playground, homemade lunch in hand, and observe his peers hug and high five and laugh together, whilst ignoring the strange pang of something that would curl in his stomach, wanting more than ever for something he could never have.

Even during his first year of Junior High, when he met the red haired genius of a delinquent called Karma, he didn’t let himself indulge in what normal friends would do. Sure, he felt comfortable around the first friend he’d ever had (though the unnatural comfort was often overshadowed by the awe and admiration that he was allowed in the company of someone as brilliant as Akabane Karma) but Karma had his own walls, his own issues and lack of trust, so there was always that unspoken distance between them, that slight tenseness that lingered between every (very) rare arm that was slung over his shoulder. Though they walked side by side, it was never hand in hand. Though they spent every free minute together there were never any fist bumps or high fives or hugs (Nagisa wondered if Karma even knew what hugs were). Karma kept to himself and so did he - they both had boundaries that the other respected.

Until, Karma left. And he was alone again.

And as much as he said that he didn’t mind it - as much as he told himself that he was used to it ever since he woke up that one day and his father was nowhere to be found, the shouts and screams of his parents having their nth argument ringing in his ears even though his house was pitch quiet for once - it hurt. So when he was sent to E-Class with his head hung low and the voices of his former classes whispering their disgust trailing after him, he looked at the grenade in his hand and knew that he had nothing left to lose.

(So why did Koro-Sensei save him? And why did it feel so good? )

(And why did that mucus-like membrane shrouding him make his chest heat up with a feeling he’s never felt before?)

It was during their lunch break when it happened.

Nagisa was sitting by cross-legged at the base of a tree, reading an article about an upcoming superhero flick, whilst a group of his classmates were throwing, hitting and bouncing a ball in a game that Yada had called ‘don’t let the ball touch the ground’ but Kimura dubbed ‘the floor is lava for the ball and not us’ (he’ll let the jury decide which title was better) when he heard some rustling above him followed by groans.

“Okajima,” Maehara whined, “you hit it too high.”

“I’m sorry okay,” Okajima said, “I didn’t mean to get it stuck in some branch.”

“Don’t worry,” Yada smiled at him, “I’m sure that we can get it down if we stand on each others shoulders or something.”

“I don’t know,” Kataoka frowned. She looked up, making sure to cover her eyes from the sun, at the cursed branch, “it’s pretty high up. It’s safer for us to go and get a ladder.”

“No need,” Nagisa said. Unbeknownst to them, the moment Nagisa had gotten whiff of what had happened, he jumped up and, as silent as a serpent, leaped nimbly from branch to branch until he reached the one with the ball. He carefully plucked it from where it was nestled in a groove before making his way back down again, all just before Kataoka spoke. He threw it into her hands.

“What the- how the hell did you even do that?” Maehara’s jaw was dropped, frantically looking between the ball and the branch it was (he swore) a second ago.

“How did no one even see him?” Okajima whispered.

“Thank you, Nagisa,” Kurahashi beamed with the intensity of a thousand suns and threw her arms around him in one of her famous bear hugs, laughing in that usual bubbly way she always does. Nagisa freezes mid-flinch, almost petrified at the sudden contact. An unfamiliar warmth starts to spread across his chest. It was nice and almost comforting, drowning him with bright yellows and gentle goldens - making him feel like he was special. It took everything in him to not melt into it, a keening noise stuck at the base of his throat.

When his mother touches him, he feels the sharp talons of her nails digging into his skin. When she pecks his cheek or forehead, he has to stop himself from wincing at the way cyanide seems to burn him where her lips leave. In all honesty, he’d rather the sharp slaps and objects flying at him, at least those forms of pain where only physical and didn’t leave a confusing sense of dichotomy where his emotions that craved for the positive contact to linger battled where his fight-or-flight survival instincts screamed at him to scrub every single atom of her off of him. Touch was something he could neither afford nor understand.

If he wanted warmth, he’d wrap himself up in scarves and throw on soft jumpers; if he wanted to feel safe, he’d make sure to do everything he can to not trigger his mother into another eruption; if he wanted contact then he’d find his old plushies buried deep in the confines of his closet and embrace them in hopes that it would be enough. For him, the closest he’s ever gotten to feeling that void in his chest was when words of affirmation would wash over him (it’s no secret to anyone that compliments can render him unable to function)(but can you blame him when compliments to him are as rare as painite?).

When Kurahashi let go of him to go regale Yada with stories from a nature documentary she watched the night prior, he’s still stock still, dumbstruck, from that momentary embrace. He wanted her to come back so that he could feel it again. He wanted to feel her arms around his body like a safe little cocoon. He wanted to submit to that sunshine-like comfort and never get out of it. He craved that warmth so much it hurt him - why did it hurt so much?

It made him feel so wanted . And lov-

Is this why people hold hands all the time?

Later that night, he crushed one of his stuffed animals against his chest as he wrapped his arms around his body. He wondered why his pillowcase had wet stains on it when he woke up the next day.

(He ignored the answer that gnawed him at the back of his mind)

The second time he felt it was during a ‘completely necessary class bonding sleepover extravaganza’ (as Fuwa had put it) at the Nakamura household. With the blonde’s parents out of the country to visit her older brother, she had her entire house to herself - a house that was miraculously large enough to house twenty-seven teenage assassins in training (as well the phones that contained ‘Mobile Ritsu’).

“I still don’t understand why we can’t watch anime,” Fuwa pouted from her position on the kitchen island, her One-Piece-themed-socks-clad feet kicking up and down as she took another spoonful from the bowl of snickerdoodle cookie dough she had nicked from Hara and swallowed it, “it’s practically a staple for every good sleepover.”

“Because, Fuwa,” Nakamura drawled in reply, her own hands busy pouring popcorn into bowls, “none of us want to see you go full otaku during our relaxing evening.”

“It’s nothing against you Fuwa,” Nagisa had cut in quickly, having had made eye-contact with Isogai and Hara as the three of them were washing and drying the baking equipment they were using (“‘You know we have a dishwasher right?” Nakamura had called in amusement) and their combined parental instincts had deemed it necessary to extinguish anything that could potentially start something (and knowing this class, mountains can be made out of molehills as quickly as Koro-Sensei can fly from continent to continent), “it’s just that we think it might be a good idea to have more variety tonight. Next time we have a class movie night, you can choose anything you want.”

“I’m holding you to that, Shiota,” Fuwa pointed her spoon at him with narrowed eyes before sliding herself off the table and sauntering off towards the living room.

“She’s not going to get sick, eating all of that raw cookie dough, is she?” Nakamura asked, staring at the doorway.

Hara smiled at her, “don’t worry, we made the dough edible.” She gave Nagisa a head pat with a slightly soapy hand, “you can finish with that bowl you’re drying and help me bring these trays to the living room, ‘kay Nagisa?”

Nagisa nodded bashfully, trying to hide the redness that blossomed over his cheeks in reaction to Hara’s hand making contact with his scalp.

"What do you mean 'we should watch a horror movie'?" Isogai asked his friend.

"Exactly that class prez," Maehara grinned at the brunette, "you can't have a sleepover without a few screams."

"Nor can you have one without anime but here we are," Fuwa grumbled to herself.

"But what if people get scared?" Isogai asked, as always being the Ikeman he is and thinking about others. Bless him.

"That's the point," Nakamura chirped, "it's the perfect bonding exercise. Nothing can bring together a group of rag-tag misfits like fear."

"But-"

"Don't worry," Nakamura said, "we have Karma and Hazama with us. I can assure that whatever we see on the television will be nowhere nearly as scary as them."

"True that," the class sighed as the two students in question gave eerie, self-satisfied smirks.

"Not to mention that we're all assassins in training," Okano said, "no evil spirit or crazy murderer would stand a chance against us."

"And if they do, we can just sacrifice Terasaka to them," Hazama piped up, not even looking up from her book.

"HEY! WHAT THE HELL?!"

"Yeah, Hazama," Karma smirked, "as if they would even want him."

"OI AKABANE, WHAT'S YOUR DEAL?!"

"Hey, Nagisa," Kayano turned to her friend as Karma stuck his tongue out at Terasaka, "what kind of horror movies do you like?"

“I don’t know,” Nagisa replied, idly tracing the outlines of the cartoon sushi pieces that patterned his pyjama bottoms, “I’ve never watched any horror movies so I wouldn’t know what is good.”

Maehara grinned at them from under the hood of his Pikachu onesie, “Then have no fear, Nagisa. As a movie connoisseur-”

“I thought that title was reserved for me?” Mimura raised his hand with an arched eyebrow.

“-I would be more than happy to educate you, my young padawan-”

“-I’m pretty sure he’s older than you,” Okano pointed out.

“On the art of Horror Movie Binge-athons,” Maehara declared, ignoring the interruptions and pointing at the blunette in a very Fuwa-esque way.

So that was how Nagisa found himself on one of the couches, two scream-fests later, sandwiched between Karma and Sugino, watching the end credits of The Ring. From his perch, he watched in interest at the horror-struck faces of his classmates below.

“Dude,” Kimura breathed out in fear when the screen turned black, a shaky hand attempting to comfort a very visibly distressed Okajima, who had the athlete in a bone-crushing hug from behind as he hid behind him, “I am never going to answer a phone again.”

After a full ten seconds of silence, the smartphone that was lying in front of him lit up, and the Sonic theme song ‘Gotta Go Fast’ cut through the air like a knife. Kimura jumped about a foot in the air, screaming, whilst the others around him did the same. Muramatsu and Yoshida, clung tighter onto Hazama, yelling about how they were too young to die whilst Okajima and Okano began praying to the gods.

“Karma, stop it,” Nagisa sighed without even looking at the redhead next to him. When Karma smirked and ended the call on his phone, thus terminating the ringing, he turned and raised an unamused eyebrow at a snickering Nakamura who was filming the entire scene on her own phone. The blonde winked at him and raised a peace sign.

“I know what we should watch next,” Yoshida said after a while and took the remote. He began to scroll through the movie suggestions on the screen, “Coraline.”

“Isn’t ‘Coraline’ a kids’ movie?” Kataoka furrowed her eyebrows as she eyed the cartoonish movie poster on the television.

Coraline was not a kids’ movie. It was a horrific abomination of nightmare fuel dolled up with pretty colours and a talking cat. At least with the other films they had watched that night, he was able to stand - jump scares don’t really work on someone that’s constantly on edge and no CGI generated creature of the supernatural could terrify him as the very real harpy that he shares a roof with. At most he stiffens up or just trains his eyes onto the kernels of popcorn that get sent flying whenever Okajima gets particularly frightened. He usually just tries to deconstruct the story from a logical standpoint, making sure to point out to himself the plot-holes to enhance the fact that it’s nothing more than fiction (instead of making these comments out loud like Sugaya and end up having a brigade of throw pillows assaulted onto him). However watching The Other Mother, who spoke with a honey-sweet tone but had that distinct aura of ‘threat threat threat’ made him feel more chills than watching the disfigured Samara Morgan crawl out of a television and murder people and whilst the revelation of her true colours weren’t completely unpredictable, it didn’t and the fear and acid crawling up his stomach.

‘You may come out... when you've learned to be a loving daughter!’

‘How dare you disobey your mother!’

It was after watching that vile woman drag Coraline into that dark chamber and locking her inside it when he couldn’t take it. His frozen facade and almost petrified posture just broke. He lurched, fumbling for the blanket draped over his legs and pulled it up so that he could cover his head and buried himself under it. With his knees drawn up under the covers, he focused on controlling his breathing and trying to steady his shaking hands and starting-to-blur eyes in an attempt to push away the unpleasant flashbacks hissing around in his head like a viper. Suddenly out of nowhere, he felt a hand gently circle his wrist. He tensed, heart rate speeding up in a panic, before his skin registered the familiar feel of polyester - the material of Sugino’s red sweatbands (wait, does he even wear them to sleep? ). When he had physically relaxed, the- Sugino’s hand slowly and carefully - giving him ample time to pull away - moved his own and away from his legs and then interlocked his fingers between his. The skin on skin contact at the base of his fingers had caused the same warmth he had felt with Kurahashi spreading across his entire arm, stopping at his chest and swirling around like a mixture of comfort and elation, like he had just drank a cup of steaming milk tea. He steadily curled his own fingers downwards, letting the tips press down against the baseball-lover’s knuckles. The only response he got was a tight squeeze in return - not hard enough to sting but still grounding in a sense.

Okay.

He was okay, he can do this.

It was during the climax of the film, when Coraline confronts that button-for-eyes-wearing she-devil, when Nagisa abandoned all inhibitions and pulled on the hand intertwined with his own, simultaneously pulling Sugino down and bringing himself up so that he could wrap his arms around the black-haired boy. His uncharacteristic actions even shocked himself but all of his usual anxiety’s of forcing his problems on others were pushed back by the voice in his head saying ‘safe safe safe get closer closer ’. With his eyes squeezed shut so tight they almost hurt, he felt something wet roll down his cheek and so he tightened the hold he had on his best friend. Sugino reciprocated, one of his own hands gently cupping the back of his head, fingers burying past silken blue hair, so that he could very lightly bring the other’s face closer and tuck it underneath his chin. Now normally, Nagisa would have combusted with embarrassment at being so close to another student, especially in such a public setting like this, but right now he felt like nothing more than some primal urge begging him to soak in as much of that embrace as possible. To be selfish for once and just stay as close as he can even if it means he dies there. To let himself be vulnerable for a change. The movie, those memories they all washed away and he felt nothing but safe….

The next morning he woke up with his head on someone’s shoulder, a fluffy blanket raised upto his chin. He blinked the haziness out of his eyes to find himself in front of inky locks.

“You alright there, Nagisa?” Sugino looked at him with a smile. Oh he was already up. That’s new.

Nagisa’s eyes widened, his face erupting with redness as the events of the previous night replayed in his inner-theatre like those epic fail compilations Karma likes to laugh at. He jumped back to the other end of the couch, as far away from Sugino as possible.

“Oh god, Sugino, I am so sorry,” Nagisa whispered as loudly as he could without waking up his still snoozing classmates, “what happened last night was so weird and I put you in such an awkward position and I’m super sorry I swear that will never happen again and you must’ve been so embarrassed honestly you should've just pushed me off when I fell asleep I really wouldn’t have minded this was so weird and-”

“Nagisa, chill,” Sugino moved closer and placed a hand on the rambling boy’s shoulder, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards with slight amusement, “it’s cool. It’s normal for people to get scared during horror movies - it’s kind of the reason why they were made, you know. Besides if you looked really distressed and if I couldn’t do anything to help you then why are we even friends.”

“Yeah but-”

“No buts,” Sugino cut in, “you’re always ready to help others so don’t be surprised to find otu that others want to help you.”

Nagisa sighed. He looked up at the other boy with a slight blush, “well, um, thank you. For that. It was really nice of you.”

Sugino’s hand squeezed on his shoulder and he felt that familiar thrill shoot down his arm as the taller smiled, “no problem, Nagisa.”

(“Next time we decide to do a bonding activity,” Fuwa says during breakfast as she’s munching through a honey dripping pancake, “we should all go camping.”

Collectively the class shuddered, their minds being filled with visions of Fuwa holding up a chainsaw on full speed and running around like a mad woman, of fire enveloping a forest and demolishing a once peaceful campsite and dark grey mushroom clouds puffing out like an ashy eruption, “no thank you.”)

For some reason he finds himself in these sort of situations more and more. Like when he feels himself clinging closer to Okano when she bridal carries him up the mountain after he had injured his leg during a training exercise (which is interesting because normally being in such an unmasculine position would make his insecurities flare up like crazy); or when his arms tighten around Karma so much that it feels like their bodies are going to fuse together when the red head piggy-back carries him during a race; or when he just sighs in contentment when Maehara slings him over his shoulder instead of flailing around like he usually would when the brown-eyed boy declared that he was studying too hard and ‘offered’ to take him karaoke singing with everyone else.

In the back of his mind, he feels like the amount of affectionate touches he receives have almost quadrupled in size - there hasn’t been a day where he hasn’t gotten either a head pat, friendly noogie or side hug. There was even a tickling incident that led to his male classmates dogpiling him (because in 3-E the A in PDA can also mean aggression).

No one comments on it though.

It’s almost like Irina-Sensei’s comment about the students of 3-E having ‘some creepy hive mind’ is actually true.

(That comment actually lead to the class planning via group chat to speak in monotonic unison in front of her for an entire half an hour just to mess with her. It worked.)

“I still don’t understand why you people like drinking this leaf juice,” Fuwa scrunched her nose at the ceramic cup in her hand. Due to the pleasant weather, Kanzaki, Kayano and Okuda decided to have a tea party and Nagisa being the tea lover that he was was more than happy to accept their invitation.

“Hey,” Kayano glared at her, making a shooing gesture with one of her hands, “Group four only.”

“Kayano,” Nagisa said firmly, “she can stay if she wants.”

“But she’s disrespecting the tea.”

Nagisa shook his head and sighed whilst Kanzaki giggled into her cup.

“Listen Fuwa,” Kayano rounded on the female otaku, “whilst I stand by the statement that pudding is the closest thing to perfection humanity has ever created and I would sell this entire class for a lifetime supply of pudding cups without a second thought (“Say what now?” Nagisa backtracked), a cup of nice warm tea can truly heal your soul. It’s science.”

“That is true,” Okuda piped up, gently pushing her glasses up, “a cup of hot anything in your hands mimics human warmth which is said to have calming properties. So it basically means that warm drinks can mimic the need for human care and touch.”

‘ Well ,’ Nagisa blinked, thinking back to the mountain of tea bags that reside in his bedroom’s dustbin, ‘ that explains a lot. ’

“So if you guys ever feel too single,” Fuwa laughed and gave them double finger guns, “you know what to do.”

Whilst the rest of his company gave responding giggles, Nagisa felt a tug on his elbow and let it go limp to allow the greenette sitting next to him to tug it downwards. When he felt her link her pinky with his he turned to look at her to see a sunny beam directed straight at him.

And he smiles back.

Because he’s not alone anymore.

#assassination classroom #My writing

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ahtohallan-calling · 5 years ago

Text

a week of snow days // a fluffy kristanna fic set in my plane au verse for one shot wednesday!

The first real snow of the year is always an important occasion in the Bjorgman household.

(I recommend reading the previous fics in this verse first!)

one.

“Hey, Anna,” he says, that still-shy smile unfurling on his face even though they’re only talking over the phone and it’s been four months and he told her he loved her weeks ago and she said it right back.

“Kris! Thank goodness I caught you in time!”

“In time? Is something wrong?”

“No, no, it’s just that the weather channel says the first snow will be tomorrow instead of this weekend, and I’m about to have to go into this huge meeting, and I don’t know if I’ll be able to get to the store in time!”

He’s confused; he thought in Colorado, people knew how to drive in the snow. “I don’t think it’ll be bad enough that you won’t be able to go tomorrow.”

“No, no, that’s not the point! It’s the first real snow of the year. I have to have the supplies.”

“What supplies, skatten min? I can bring some rock salt over if--”

“No, I need hot chocolate! The kind with marshmallows. And cookie dough and pretzels and--”

“Anna, start over.”

She heaves out a sigh, and his smile grows. “My family and me, we’ve always celebrated the first big snow like it’s a holiday. We always go out and play in it together, and then come in and have hot chocolate and watch a movie or something. And it’s important to me, and-- and--”

She sounds hesitant, unusual for her; he doesn’t interrupt the silence. Finally, he hears her take a deep breath.

“And you’re important to me, too. So if you have time--”

“Of course I have time. I’ll pick up the hot chocolate and drop it off on my way home.”

“Oh-- thank you, but, um. I also meant...it would be really nice to do my first snow day stuff with you. If you want to, I mean.”

His smile is now a full-blown, ear-to-ear, sun-bright grin. “I’d love to.”

two.

“You remembered?”

He blinks down at her. She is still curled up on her side in bed, her hair somehow all over her face and her pillow and his pillow all at once. There are shadows under her eyes because she had to meet a deadline last night, and she is wearing his oldest, most worn t-shirt.

She is so beautiful he wonders how the whole world doesn’t stop and stare.

He sits on the edge of the bed, puts his mug of hot chocolate on the nightstand and passes her hers when she sits up. “‘Course I remembered. I want to do this every first snow day for the rest of my life.”

The smile on her face is so warm it could have saved the Titanic a whole lot of trouble. And she doesn’t even know about the ring hidden in the back of his sock drawer.

three.

He pulls in to the already-icy driveway so fast for a moment she is frightened until she remembers he put the snow chains on last week.

“Come on, my love,” Anna says, picking up her infant daughter from her nap, “let’s get you dressed.”

As if the little girl wasn’t already adorable enough with her mussed blonde curls-- the reason Kristoff keeps calling her his little duckling, even though he was the one who suggested calling her Sofie in the first place-- she gives her mother a sweet smile, the one she is already learning gets her whatever she wants.

Kristoff bursts through the door then, his cheeks red from the cold. “You didn’t take her out yet, did you?”

“Of course not,” Anna reassures him, leaning up on her toes to give him a kiss on the cheek he leans down to receive. “Besides, I’ll need your help getting that snowsuit on.”

His job is mostly to distract Sofie as Anna slides her little kicking legs into the pink, puffy snowsuit, the one they picked because “it has excellent reviews about the quality of insulation” and “the cute little bear ears on top!”

(He did agree once he saw it in person that the bear ears were, as Anna put it, “the cutest thing in the history of the world”, except for of course his daughter. “And you,” he had added, earning himself an extra kiss.)

She lets him carry Sofie outside, knowing that it pulls at him that he cannot stay at home most days like she does. By the way he looks down so solemnly at the infant, she knows there is more on his mind than just this annual tradition.

As she watches, a single snowflake falls on the tip of Sofie’s tiny, perfect nose; for a moment, she is startled by this new sensation, but then she laughs, for the very first time, and suddenly there are tears in Anna’s eyes.

She thinks there might be some in Kristoff’s, too. “Dette er din første snø, skatten min,” he says softly. “Du vil ikke huske det, men det vil jeg alltid.”

Anna hasn’t picked up enough Norwegian yet to know exactly what he’s saying, but she gets the meaning, all the same, and she tucks her hand under his arm and leans her head against his shoulder, grateful that he will always be there to keep both of his girls warm.

four.

“Are you sure it’s alright?”

“Kris, honey, do you know why I’m so short?”

“Because you didn’t take your vitamins?”

“Because I fell so many times on my head as a baby that it squished me permanently.”

He sighs and leans down to set Sofie on top of a drift of hard-packed snow, though he still holds tight to each of her tiny hands. “That’s not true, Anna.”

“It could be. No one’s ever tested it. But anyway, I ended up fine, didn’t I?”

“Jury’s still out.”

She tries and fails not to giggle at his teasing. Sofie laughs, too, as if somehow she understands. She understands enough, at least: that her parents are happy, and that’s enough to make her happy, too.

“Anyway, honey,” Anna says, moving to stand a few feet in front of the pair of them, “this is better for her to practice than indoors. Out here, all the snow is basically padding.”

“But it’s so cold…”

“Which is why we’ll be here to pick her up and brush the snow off.”

He sighs and slowly lets go of both of the toddler’s hands. She wavers for a moment, and his hands shoot forward to catch her, but then she takes a wobbly step towards her mother.

“That’s it, Ducky!” Anna cheers, “come to Mommy!”

For the first time making this little journey, Sofie doesn’t fall. “You can tell she’s half-Norwegian,” Anna says in between the proud kisses she’s showering on her daughter’s face. “She’s a natural.”

five.

“Hi, Pappa! It's the first snow! Where are you?"

"Hello, my Sofie. And hello Mommy, too. I'm still in New York, remember?"

"But it's the snow, Pappa, it's important."

Anna bites her lip and takes the phone back out of the chubby toddler's hand before she can drop it. "I know," Kristoff says, disappointment in his voice, too. "I was hoping the snow would wait until tomorrow. I'll be home then."

"But it's here today."

She is two and not quite half, and so she does not understand things like dissertations and conferences and the rising costs of air travel.

"I know. But you can drink my cup of hot chocolate for me, okay? From the big cup."

She is, however, old enough to understand that this peace offering is a Very Big Deal.

"Okay!"

Later that night, after she has been put in her favorite pajamas and tucked in with the special blanket and has heard two stories, she remarks to her mother that she would have rather had her father than the special hot chocolate.

Anna calls Kristoff again that night when she has tucked herself in, too. She tells him what Sofie said, and his entire face lights up.

"Now it's only you I have to worry about," he teases.

"What do you mean?"

"That you might love hot chocolate more than me."

Normally she would tease him and say she does, but she wishes he had been here today, too, and so instead she just smiles and says, "You never have to worry about that, skatten min."

six.

“Pappa! Wait!”

He turns, surprised, to see Sofie trailing across the snow towards him, waddling more than usual behind him thanks to her puffy snowsuit and the already-high snowdrifts.

“Ducky, hva gjør du?” he asks, already turning back to meet her.

“Don’t go to work!” she wails. “There’s snow!”

Before he can reach her, she slips on a slick patch and falls face first into a pile of snow. He breaks into a run, but all of a sudden a massive lump of auburn and white fur is there, using his nose to help push her back upright.

By the time Kristoff reaches her, she’s standing, using the St. Bernard’s back as support; she looks like she’s still torn on whether she should laugh or cry, and so her scoops her up as quick as he can and brushes the snow from her cheeks.

“Tell Olaf thank you,” he says, kissing her forehead to help warm it back up.

“Thank you,” she chirps, and the dog gives a happy no problem woof.

“And anyway, Sofie,” he adds, shifting her to his hip so he can get back to getting the box of Swiss Miss he accidentally left overnight from the trunk of his car, “it’s a Saturday.”

seven.

“Oh, what’s that big one for?” Anna asks, coming out in the backyard to watch as Sofie struggles mightily to roll a ball of snow that’s almost as tall as she is.

Kristoff’s eyes sparkle with mirth as soon as she asks. Sofie completes another roll and answers cheerfully, “For your tummy.”

She lets out a burst of surprised laughter. “Is it really that big?”

“Yeah, Mommy, it’s ginormous.”

Kristoff tries to hide a snort of laughter by pretending it’s a cough as he comes over to stand with her. “To be fair,” Anna says drily, “I’m seven months pregnant. What’s your excuse?”

She nods at the other snowman Sofie had already built, one that has an even bigger base. “Who do you think that one is?”

Sofie overhears them and calls out, “That’s Pappa!” as if they needed clarification.

Now it’s Anna’s turn to try and hide a laugh. “Perhaps four-year-olds aren’t the best judge,” she says, leaning up to kiss her husband’s cheek. “But just so you know, even if you were that round I’d still think you were the handsomest man alive.”

“You flatter me too much, kjære,” he says, leaning down to give her a proper kiss when Sofie isn’t looking.

“Believe me, I know,” she says, patting the swell of her stomach. “How d’you think I ended up in this situation?”

“Mmm...I thought it had something to do with love at first sight and being married five years to my favorite person and--”

She kisses him again even though Sofie’s watching and will inevitably let out a squeal of disgust. “Well...that too, I suppose.”

“Jeg elsker deg, my Anna.”

She slips her mittened hand into his gloved one. “Love you, too.”

#gabi is posting more art later in this verse too so you can see what baby sofie looks like :')#love my lil duckling #my fics #oneshotwed #liaa #pregnancy cw

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riderdrauggrim · 4 years ago

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Day Unknown. Sat, Sep 26, 2020.

Nervous about randomly hiding in 4G Motorsports parking lot, I'm awake a few short hours later around 6:30. I have the tent packed by 8:30, and huddle beside the bike, waiting for staff.

9:00 rolls around and I approach the doors, making my way back to the Parts/Service desk. A young woman who's family shifts her between Alberta and Toronto seems thrilled to meet someone else from Ontario. We check if they have a replacement battery in stock. They do not. And their mechanics are not in on the weekends.

But!

There's a MAGNACHARGE Battery megaemporium RIGHT across the street!

Heartened my luck might be improving, I trot over.

Nope.

They're closed on weekends.

I trot back to 4G, on the way calling Riverside Honda in St. Albert, the blokes who'd changed my tires. They sold their last YTZ14S on Friday. BUT they'd ordered more and they should arrive at the start of this coming week.

I run over my problems with their parts guy. He suggests I remove the battery and try starting the bike with another random battery attached; That might be able to isolate if it is my battery or my starter system/charging stator/rectifier/words.

Sounds good.

Back at 4G I ask if they have a charger or a booster. The parts girl knows where a tender is, but not how to use it. It's okay, I do. They graciously let me push the bike inside their service bay so I can tinker on it, good thing too as it starts to drizzle outside.

So! My battery: Out and Charging.

My bike: New battery hooked up to test the ignition.

My key: In the ignition, turning to activate the bike-*Crack*.

One of the few flaws I've found with the NC750 design is the key is needed in a secondary lock. Turn one way to unlock the frunk (front trunk) where the gas tank USUALLY sits on a motorcycle. Turn the other way to unlock the latch securing the passenger seat, this allowing you to lift it up to reveal the gas cap to fill the tank, which sits under the rider. The problem with this lock is the key does not fully insert. It's about 3/4 depth to the ignition proper.

Over time, this has created something of a weak point on the key itself, occasionally twisting ever so slightly if too much pressure is applied, if the latches are sticky, or the frunk is overfull and a bit jammed. This was usually corrected by sticking the key in and turning it the other way, straightening the blade out again. For this trip, due to the tail luggage making lifting the passenger seat incredibly difficult at best, I had opted to outright remove the pillion cover, leaving the gas cap exposed for easy access. All I needed the secondary lock for was to get in and out of the frunk, which I was doing several times a day to fetch out Goose and Hat, or store drinks, or change power banks.

Perhaps it was this excess of one direction twisting that finally did the blade in.

Perhaps it was just six years of use and wear.

Perhaps life just wanted to take the difficulty level up a notch.

In any event.

I was left holding the top quarter of my key. The remainder still inside the ignition. Even if I can get a new battery, I can now no longer turn on the bike.

My coworker who helped fund this adventure texts me to see how things are going. I tell him my key just snapped in half. He says if I didn't have bad luck, I'd have no luck at all. We discuss options. I'm 3,505 km from home. I'm 427 km from the nearest Honda dealership. I just want to Abandon Quest and Hearthstone out of here, but that's not an option. So I work through various plans.

I call Riverside back and get the Service department. Nick remembers me. I fill him in on the last twelve hours. "Wow." Indeed. He puts me on hold and consults his coworkers. If I can get it there, they'll try and squeeze me in and get this sorted. Some people have good luck using super glue to get broken keys out and then jury rigged back together. With my luck, I'll make a mess and fuse the tumblers and need an entirely new ignition system. The key is also a newer blade style, not a normal tooth house lock key. It's supposed to be stronger, amusingly enough. But it's not the sort of thing local locksmiths should be able to replicate, it needs a Dealership. So even if I got a Fort McMurray locksmith to fish the main part out, if he can't make a new one, I still can't Go.

AND there's the pressing matter of the battery.

During all this my battery on the tender has completed charging. I restore it into the bike, or try to, as the damn nut in the contact for the red lead slips out of the holder and falls precisely through the ONE (1) hole at the bottom of the compartment and somewhere onto the engine block. I don't hear it hit the belly pan, and wedging my fingers into every nook, curve and cranny yields nothing but grimy hands.

I call CAA anew. I get the same woman as the night before, so that helped since she already knew the first part of this story. I now have Multiple Problems that can not be fixed locally. St. Albert is outside the Alberta tow range of 350km. But my membership is from Niagara, and I'm covered for 500km. She calls them to approve it. They say 'of course'. One hurdle down.

She contacts the tow company. New hurdle.

Due to the nine hour round-trip commute, they don't run every single broken vehicle south to Edmonton every time someone breaks down. They wait for multiple items, load them all on a long truck, and do a couple runs a week. So. Yes, they can get my bike to St. Albert. Eventuallllyyyyy.

I get it; from a logistics and efficiency and financial perspective it makes perfect sense.

From a "but... my bike..." and waiting for a nebulous amount of time in a hotel somewhere just for it to get TO the mechanics, nevermind the unknown timeframe of the shop having time to look at it, figure out what's wrong, order new parts if needed, and install them.... Hrrrggggnnnnn.

So EMI came with the short bed and picked up the bike from 4G. The logic being, now it's in their secure compound, ready to go, and when they have a load ready, they'll shove it on and take it south for me. Solid.

How do -I- get back to Edmonton.

Well, there's several buses that run the corridor, presumably for the mine workers to get up and back around their shift days. Awesome!

Oh but they don't run again until Monday. Less awesome!

But what can you do.

My bike won't leave until monday at the /earliest/ anyway, so me being there any sooner really makes no difference.

I book a ticket - cheap at 65$! For a nearly five hour trip? I paid 85$ plus tip for the 20 minute taxi ride from Supertest Hill to Fort McMurray the night prior.

Leaving Monday at 8:30am, arrive near downtown Edmonton. Found a hotel for 80$ within a block of Riverside Honda, not as cheap as my beloved Whitemud, but Whitemud Inn being at the south center of the Edmonton bubble, I'd be paying more than the 15$ a night difference in a cab to get up to St. Albert region. So I'll be right nearby the bike if we can get it going, or I need something from my bags.

In the meantime.

I found an RV campsite literally next door to the bus stop. I called the owner and explained my experiances, and my need for somewhere to simply hide in a tent until Monday morning. Sure, I could try and hide -anywhere-, but for my own safety, and nerves, if I can do this cheap and legal, the better for it. She says she can help me out. She offers a site for a price considerably cheaper than the nearby hotels, which I of course agree to. It's a twenty minute walk from 4G, made longer by hauling two drybags of tent/sleeping bag and essentials, and a third partial of food. Plus wearing my gear. And being somewhat small and scrawny. I take several rests. I drink my Gatorades. I make it. She has the sweetest tabby cat with white socks, no tail, and the SOFTEST fur. Name 'Trouble'. Awwww.

Transaction complete, I set up my tent, kindly serenaded by a curious magpie.

I hear a nearby RV owner pull up, truck doors closing, and then I see a giant white monster making a beeline straight for me. My best guess would be Lab/Samoyed. The head was very much the rectangle block and jowls of a lab, but the pelt was definitely a living cloud. It gives an very quick sniff at my tent, and promptly accepts me petting it. I realize I've been pet-starved during my journey. All my stress is put on pause as I scruffle the heck out of this random dog's sides. In fact, twice I tried to move one hand to teach for my phone for a photo, and he turned in annoyance to see why I'd partially stopped. I hear a woman calling, and ask if he needs to go. He makes no move. In fact he tries to push backwards closer. On a whim, I drop to my rear and make a bowl with my legs. He promptly fills said bowl with his rump. Me on my butt and him on his haunches, I came up to his shoulders.

Good dog.

A woman shouts again, more insistent. I give him a bump with my leg. He resigns himself to getting up and heading home. I realize the owner can't see us, so I pop up and apologize for stealing her dog. She realizes he hadn't just ran off for no reason, and laughs, saying he loves people. Yes, I had learned this.

I needed that.

There's a valley beside the camp ground.

The trees are spent matchsticks, grey and charred and empty against the sky. New growth slowly fills in around the dead wood. I don't know if this is a remainder of the BIG fire of 2016, or another more recent event. It's a staggering amount of devastation, and only a small fragment of the damage done.

The clouds out here... I love skyscapes.

Beautiful.

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sunbird-tells-stories · 5 years ago

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= T I M B E R W I L D E =

(Full color refs courtesy of @fbschin and @the-trinket-witch, please support the artists)

FULL NAME: Tapeesa ‘Timber’ Wilde

APPEARANCE: 6’2, and by virtue of her height is the second tallest Xiaolin Dragon (second only to Clay, and even then it’s pretty close).

Floofy blonde hair. It is usually worn long but it is currently cut short with parts of it dyed forget-me-not blue. Tan skin. Brown almond-shaped eyes. Often wears a black toque/beanie, and has a taste for punk, grungy, and “woodsy” type fashions like leather jackets, plaid, distressed denim, etc.

Current outfit is as follows: Long sleeve black shirt with Canadian maple leaf design. Plaid overshirt. Ripped jeans, black socks and black boots. Fingerless black gloves. Single piercing on her nose, multiple piercings in her ears, and a forest green jacket with brown fur lining on the hood. Jacket is designed to make the wearer look like a wolf. This is Timber’s trademark jacket and her most recognizable article of clothing.

GENDER/SEXUALITY: Female. Pansexual. Polyamorous and proud.

PRONOUNS: She/Her/Hers

ETHNICITY: Mixed race - her mother is an Inuk woman from Labrador, and her father was an Irish-Canadian man from Newfoundland.

BIRTHPLACE/BIRTHDATE: Born and raised in the province of Newfoundland, Canada on November 2nd, 2003. Scorpio. 16 going on 17.

GUILTY PLEASURES: Cigarettes. Food. Weed. Food. Sneaking into places she shouldn’t. Food. Saucy reading materials. Food. Pretty girls. Food. Feisty boys. Food. Abusing her powers to be lazy, get what she wants and take shortcuts. Food. Loud music. Food. Singing. Food. Sneaking out at night. Food. Petty vandalism. Food. Street hockey. Food. Regular hockey. Food. Skateboarding. Food. Tagging property with her own unique brand of art. Food. Cute dogs. Food. Taking lots and lots of selfies and candid photos, as photography is her biggest passion and addiction ALSO FOOD DID I MENTION FOOD YET BECAUSE THAT’S A BIG ONE SHE IS ALWAYS HUNGRY

QUIRKS: Constantly takes photos. Constantly gets distracted. Constantly wanders off. Bites her lip when she is anxious or about to lie. Takes great pride in her hair and prior to her forced haircut took good care of it and grew it out long, thick and messy. Her wild hair is a trademark of hers and she doesn’t like people touching it or doing anything to it.

Is well known for having a nervous tic in the form of shaking hands. She claims it’s due to bad medication - and may even in fact believe her own lie - but in reality, it’s completely psychological in nature, due to her undiagnosed PTSD and trauma from a formative life event when she was 8 years old. It is always present, worsens under stress, and at times affects her motor skills so intensely that she cannot tie her shoes or pick up a spoon. It is a great insecurity of hers and she does her best to hide it.

TRIGGERS: Mentions of her family, being called “crazy” and being near the ocean or on water.

FUN FACTS:

When visiting a new place, Timber will build or draw an inukshuk and take a photo of it to commemorate the occasion. She has been doing this since she was small, and she continues this ritual in honor of the loved one who taught her how to do this.

Her real name Tapeesa means “arctic flower” in the Inuktituk language, but most people know her as Timber. Earned the nickname ‘Timber’ from her father when she made a tree fall as a young girl due to her Wood elemental powers revealing themselves. Answers only to the name ‘Timber’ in his memory.

Really loves blueberries. She likes all food and eats like a starving animal but she gravitates to blueberries and blueberry flavored things. Her trademark favorite food though is blueberry pancakes with blueberry jam, as per her father’s recipe.

COLORS: Blue and Green

ANIMAL SYMBOLISM: Moths 🦋

PHOBIAS: Several, actually.

Going home.

Losing the one “friend” she has.

Being alone for the rest of her life.

Being an outcast for the rest of her life.

Not being able to fulfill her deal to Sun and complete the one mission that has kept her going for YEARS.

Being open and honest and vulnerable with other people.

Trusting other people.

Other people.

But the one thing she fears more than anything else is the ocean. Deep water in general makes her very uncomfortable and she slowly loses it when in close proximity to beaches, docks, and boats. She. HATES. Being on water.

And she has every reason to hate it.

WHAT SHE WOULD BE FAMOUS FOR: Timber Wilde is the first Dragon of Wood in centuries, a “Wilde” card that even Wuya herself was not aware of before she made herself known. And due to the complicated history of the Xiaolin Dragons and the Dragons of Wood, that alone is more than enough to have everyone from the Xiaolin to the Heylin hunting her down. Inexperienced in actual combat, but with enough raw power and natural talent that exceeds even Raimundo and Omi’s Shoku-level abilities, Timber Wilde is cunning, powerful, creative, and above all, unpredictable.

Timber Wilde is also currently the owner of the Crown of the Monkey King, the most dangerous Shen Gong Wu in existence. What’s more, she is also the faithful and long-suffering servant, student and sometimes host of the evil that resides in it.

Along with her traveling companions, Jack Spicer, the reluctant Dragon of Metal, and Jermaine Thompson, the kung-fu prodigy that was trained by Chase Young himself, Timber Wilde currently travels the world in an ongoing journey, keeping her secrets close, her “enemies” closer, and searching for a way to free her master in exchange for her one and only chance to rectify the greatest failure of her life.

She will do whatever it takes to reach this goal. Even if she has to burn down the whole world to do it. After all...a deal’s a deal, right?

WHAT THEY WOULD GET ARRESTED FOR:

Theft. Arson. Disturbing the peace. Possession and underage usage of tobacco products and marijuana. General teenage mayhem. Destruction of property. Aggravated assault. Vandalism and trespassing.

...Treason.

WHO DO YOU SHIP THEM WITH: Timber is polyamorous and has a lot of romantic potential with a few different characters. I feel like she’d be happiest in a polyamorous triad with Jack Spicer as one of her lifelong partners due to how well they connect and compliment each other, but jury’s still out on who would best complete their OT3.

She’s 100 percent into nerds tho. Nerds and angry types and red hair and blue eyes. All she wants is to be topped by someone smarter than her. She just needs a feisty bookworm who can put her in her place and teach her things.

CHARACTER MOST LIKELY TO KILL THEM: Everyone is out to get Timber but sadly her worst enemy is in her own head. Literally. He’s in her HEAD.

FAVORITE BOOK/MOVIE GENRE: Historical/documtary type stuff because she’s hungry for knowledge of the world outside her small seaside town, but she also has a secret soft spot for shojo mangas and saucy romance books.

LEAST FAVORITE MOVIE/BOOK CLICHE: Sad endings, or stories where the dog dies.

TALENTS/POWERS: As the Dragon Of Wood, Timber Wilde has power over every form of plant life, and once again she’s nearly above Shoku level with her abilities. In addition to manipulating and accelerating plant growth, she can also....

Gift plants with sentience and speech,

Use pollen and scents to confuse, manipulate, charm or take out foes,

Create bioluminescent plants and fungi

Create armor for herself from plants

Use plants for camouflage, disguise, defense or offense

Create her own food source

And much more.

But the most important skill as Dragon of Wood she has is, above all, her healing abilities.

With the power to use the medicinal properties in her plants to heal almost any wound or illness, Timber Wilde’s healing powers make her invaluable in battle.

She also has learned one more technique from Sun, one that allows her to “borrow” another person’s power for her own.

But we can discuss that later.

WHY SOMEONE MIGHT LOVE THEM: Despite her many flaws, Timber Wilde isn’t that bad of a person. Deep down underneath her tough, nihilistic, cold exterior, she’s just a sweet, silly, mischief making teenager who just needs and wants a friend. She is a dreamer. She is an artist. Though she has long since lost faith in people she still has an eye for beauty and finds it everywhere in the world around her. She thirsts for adventure and wants to live life to the fullest and experience everything the unknown has to offer.

At her best, Timber Wilde is a lively, incredible, inspiring soul who is passionately devoted to everything and everyone she loves. She will go to the ends of the earth for anything and anyone she cares about, even if it costs her her own life.

WHY SOMEONE MIGHT HATE THEM: Timber Wilde is a deeply complicated person who has a lot of inner pain and fears. And like a certain other redhead, these feelings cause her to lash out at the world around her in less than ideal ways.

Timber lies. Timber keeps secrets. Timber can get very defensive when you poke past the casual front she tries to keep up and start asking her real questions. She has a loose sense of morals, and a survivalist mindset. She doesn’t reach out to other people. She doesn’t trust other people. In fact, the only person she puts her faith in is an evil entity trapped within the Shen Gong Wu she wears on her head. And because of his influence, her view of reality is severely warped.

She genuinely believes she has no real place in this world amongst other people. She genuinely believes everyone is out to get her and that everyone disappoints each other eventually and to make yourself vulnerable or to have faith in others is to invite hurt and heartbreak. And despite the fact that she holds her own needs and desires above everyone else’s, she thinks very, very lowly of herself.

She cannot forgive herself for past mistakes. She cannot let go of what’s already gone. She blames herself for the fate of her family and the untimely demise of the most important person in her life and this has taken a severe emotional and mental toll on her. And due to this loss, she has ONE goal in life that she chases after with all her heart and soul, and the way she tunnel visions in on her mission often means she leaves others to the wayside, though not always without guilt or regret.

Timber is....complicated. Like a wildfire, she burns and burns and burns, and each and every day she burns a little more out of control than before.

But fires don’t burn because they want to hurt people. Fires burn because they don’t know how else to keep from going out.

Timber Wilde knows her actions have consequences. But seeing no better options, she forces herself not to care. She lies to everyone, including herself.

HOW THEY CHANGE: Spoilers.

But I think a certain someone, or two certain someones, can help her change.

Power of friendship, baby.

Why You Love Them: Because she fulfills several of my wishes for what I wanted to see in Xiaolin Showdown.

A) She’s a female character

B) She’s a female XIAOLIN character

C) She is or will be a true blue ally and supportive friend to Jack Spicer, a boy who desperately needs friends

D) She’s a Dragon Of Wood and

E) She is a girl with grit who gets swept up into a magical life changing adventure

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maddiesmt-morphina · 5 years ago

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7 minutes to heaven - FINAL CHAPTER!

Note: I hope you guys like our last trip together into this wonderful culinary world of Shokugeki no Soma. Please read the final notes.

6 months later

Erina felt drops of sweat fall down her chin. The ragged breath doesn't take the smile off her lips. She might say that adrenaline had become costumary, but it would be too pretentious to associate her outbursts and desires to him. But really...Who she is kidding? Erina Nakiri, queen of the whole gastronomic world, became a total vassal of her own heart. And it beat faster every time certain golden eyes gawked her body for too long. The heiress shivered as she noted the way he gawk her from her golden hair til her end of her high socks. They seemed to record every detail of her, lost in her, their slave. She wonders if this stare battles and the half smiles will always going to leave her breathless. But at the end of the day she doesn't want anything else ... is better to live breathless than to live without him. She was interrupted by a high, cheerful voice. Yuki, the judge of the time, announces the end of another chapter between the powerful couple of the famous Totsuki school.

“ Time is up! You may serve the dishes!”

Erina tried to focus more on her dish than on the glittering golden eyes that seem to have no other source of attention than absorb the minute details of her body movement.

“I present to you my dessert: hot guava soup with spices” - the blonde finished her presentation with a perfect french, wishing to jurors to enjoy the meal. From the corner of her eye, she noticed her boyfriend approching with that mischievous grin of his, he was tring to get a better look at the dessert she had made.

"I hope you saved me a little, Nakiri."

"You know very well the answer to that, Yukihira! Wasn't that the deal?"

"I can't wait to tasty it, but first I think I need to defeat you, Am I right?"

"In your dreams Yukihira!"

They were both interrupted by the jury's groans of satisfaction. On one side Joichiro seemed to almost cry with each spoonful, on the other Sezaemon Nakiri had already undressed, exposing his shirtless chest while savoring dessert.

"I think you can give up before you go through another public humiliation, Yukihira "

The boy just smiled, put his lips close to the girl's ear and whispered.

"You know very well that you drive me crazy when you get this worked up, don't you?"

Erina felt her cheeks flush, his breath tickling her neck. She could feel his mischievous smile forming, the one he always gave when he could pull a shy expression from her. Soma looked into her eyes again, the tension between them dense, almost solid. And he chose not to come any closer. The chef wasn't sure if he would be able to get out of the situation alive if he let himself be carried away by the desire to kiss her. He was sure she wouldn't like being kissed in public at all. He simply chose to slide his fingers under her left cheek as he realized the jurors were no longer eating but paying attention to the couple. Soma felt his face flush and spoke calmly to his girlfriend again.

"I think it's my turn. And this time I guarantee it. You will say 'delicious' Erina."

The young woman felt the seriousness in his words and swallowed hard when he called her by her first name. Something they just do in the privacy of their room.

"Gentlemen, I present to you my dessert: 'Mascarpone ice cream with nutmeg'. Enjoy!"

What followed was a demonstration of pure gastronomic pleasure. Joichiro rolled his eyes as Sezaemon tore the clothes he had stripped before. Despite the great commotion, the result was not the expected by the couple.

"So Gramps, Pops ... who won this shokugeki?"

"I think you drew again, young Soma."

"A TIE?" the young chefs exclaimed in surprise.

"I can't believe you put me in the same level as him again, Grandpa."

"Pops you can't be serious? A tie? But I was sure that this time I had improved my technique"

"Now calm down, you two. I think I have an answer to that - Joichiro spoke while exchanging complicit glances with the old director - If the old man here allow me, I can explain a little something or another about harmonization.

The older Nakiri just nodded allowing the old student to continue. Joichiro got up and placed both dishes on the kitchen counter. He narrowed his eyes and realized that a young audience was watching him intently. He smiled at the seriousness before his own eyes. What was missing here was lightness.

"Of course you must have read the story of the two lovers of Verona. Romeo, the witty, dreamy, happy, brave and loyal boy. Juliet, for her part, was a spoiled, obedient, strong, determined, romantic girl. The great tragedy of the Capulets and Montecchios came from a single sentiment. Love. The only one capable of unit the unimaginable. Romeo's impetuosity and Juliet's sweetness. It was based on Shakespere's novel that one of the most famous and appreciated sweets of Brazilian cuisine emerged, it is called Romeo and Juliet or simply guava and cheese. That's when I learned that every Romeo" - Joichiro took a spoon of Sorbetto from his son's dish - " Would be nothing without his Juliet" - He ended up adding Sorbetto to the guava soup.

Erina couldn't disguise the flush on her cheeks at this point as Soma watched his plate blend with Erina's so that a new rosy color appeared.

Saiba offered two spoons to the couple and finished "I present to you Romeo and Juliet in Nakiri Yukihira style"

This time, it was Soma who blushed he just seemed less embarrassed compared to the almost purple coloration of his girlfriend's cheeks. He wondered if she had forgotten to breathe at some point. The young couple sank their spoons into their plates, taking equal halves of the guava soup with marscarpone sorbetto. And as the flavors mingled and complemented each other, the whole house seemed to be in the middle of an earthquake. The stronger flavor of mascarpone rediscovered sweeter guava notes. Nothing overlapped, everything was completed in a dance of incredibly delicious flavors. In the end, Erina couldn't contain herself, with trembling mouth and anesthetized body, she uttered the sentence that Soma expected to hear ...

"It's delicious"

Soma came out of the trance instantly. With wide eyes and cheeks still trembling after the gastronomic attack he suffered.

"What .... what did you just say Nakiri?"

"Hm?"

"Did you happen to say ... my food is delicious?"

"Hmpf! Of course not."

"No no. Don't lie. I heard it. Okay I was in a trance, but I did hear ... everybody listened"

Erina could very well admit that the boy's food was delicious, she had already admitted her feelings, why not admit that his food was delicious too? However, this was a battle she didn't want to finish anytime soon. After all, a competition between them was much more fun and interesting. She let a mischievously smile scape her lips and spoke again.

"That's right. I admit the food was delicious. But as I remember, this dish is not just yours. It's my guava soup that is completing the dish. And if there's something I cooked on the dish, it wouldn't be less than delicious, would it?"

Soma took a deep breath. He hated having to admit she was correct. The two watched their friends throw themselves in a battle for a piece of dish that the God's tongue blessed as delicious. Soma took advantage of this cue to approach his girlfriend from behind and whisper in her ear.

"You ... you are very ... very smart and very beautiful for your own good, Erina. Don't think that this competition is over because it isn't."

Erina smiled, pleased.

"I expected no less from you, Soma."

The blonde felt the boy's breath on her neck and his fingers trace the curve of her waist.

"You know me. Always ready for a challenge."

"Especially the impossible ones?" She let her head rest on the boy's chest.

"Especially yours."

That same night, after everyone had tasted and approved the couple's dessert, the young people were reunited in Marui's room, where an end-of-semester party was taking place.

In one corner, Erina and Soma argue over some irrelevant subject. Clearly they had more fun with discussions than for the reasons that led to it. Ryo was struggling to keep Alice still, the girl seemed unconscious to the effects her body induced in the boy every time she wiggles on his lap while trying to find a comfortable position to continue reading a school gossip magazine. The cover had it in bold letters the article "Top 10 Most Powerful Couples from Totsuki".

"I don't believe we are in second place, Ryo!"

"Miss ... please stop moving"

"How can you stay so relaxed knowing Soma and Erina are in front of us?"

Ryo made a low sound as he felt the girl fit perfectly on his hips.

"Miss ..." he gasped once more.

"We have to reverse this, Ryo!"

"Alice ...!"

"What ..." - The girl stopped in the middle of her question. There was a familiar pressure from the boy in the lower part of her back.

"Don't you realize you're driving me crazy?" He's whispered, this time in the girl's ear.

She felt strong arms encircle her waist and bring her closer. If before she doubted, now she was sure that Ryo was very… very happy to have her on his lap.

"Ryo ... this is ..."

"Don't think that just because we're in public my body won't react to yours. You don't know what you're dealing with, Alice."

She shivered and felt her body tremble againts his. Her eyes almost closed when she felt her boyfriend's warm lips on her neck. She bit her lip to avoid a pleasant moan.

"I don't think we need to prove anything to anyone. But if you want, we can start now."

Alice opened her eyes in astonishment. The bold proposition was tempting, but deep down Alice likes to maintain the family's reputation. She also knew that scandals of the sort were not beneficial at all either to her competition with her cousin or her relationship with her boyfriend.

"No..no we don't have to...not now and not here however, I think later, in my room, we can .... test your offer.

"As my lady wishes"

In another corner of the room, Hayama offers a cup to Hisako, who smiles at the scent of cinnamon in her chamomile tea.

"I see you put your own touch on my tea."

Hayama smiled, almost embarrassed to explain.

"Let's say I found the lesson from Mr. Saiba much more enlightening"

The boy intertwined his fingers with his girfriend's free hand. The girl with pink hair, in turn, couldn't avoid a flushed smile. They continued a shy conversation while the scent of tea envelops them.

"Have you asked for an autorization from Nakiri... about us spending a week together?"

"No"

"No?"

"It's not that I'm not going to talk to her ... what I mean is I'm not going to ask for an autorization. She is my friend ... I don't need her permission."

Hayama couldn't explain the feeling of pride on his chest. To see his girlfriend as confident and as free as she was right now made him the happiest man in the world. So much so that he couldn't avoid to kiss her right there. A quick but not less breathless one. The boy heard her stutter his name. They were not a couple who showed public affection like Alice and Ryo, nor were they obvious as Soma and Erina. Hisako likes to think that their relationship was so theirs that it didn't have to be anyone else's.

"Akira ?!"

"Forgive me but I couldn't help it. I am proud of you Arato."

The girl just smiled and leaned her head on his shoulder as she drank the tea that smelled like him.

Not far away from there, right on the dorm counter, Takumi takes courage to ask a question that should have been asked months ago. He had already lost count of how many times he had gone out with Megumi, He knew the names of all her family members, the full explanation behind the lucky charm, The've watched all the Disney movies together from the oldest to the last ones released in the movie theaters. Still, he felt his hand sweat and his heart skip a bit.

"Takumi, are you sure you are alright? Don't want some tea or a painkiller maybe?"

"N..No ... I mean ... don't worry Megumi I ... I'm fine just... just a little nervous"

He ran his hands along his golden threads of hair, searching for trust and to help him keep it calm. Takumi couldn't handle matters of the heart the way a boy with an entire fan club dedicated to him was expected. The charisma and charm guarantee him fans but nothing too close to the safety of romance.

"Hm..right. So ... why are we here?"

"I just ..." the boy swallowed hard..spired deeply and tried to continue " I need to ask you something, Megumi"

"Hm ok. You can ask"

Takumi approaches her, getting so close he could see her perfectly long lashes. His eyes confident and so bright that they were able to reflect the moon. Megumi no longer fought against the tide that always pulled her into the immensity of his gaze.

"Megumi, I know we are friends and that we have been going out for quite some time. You're such an amazing company and I don't even feel the time go by when we're together. I like our conversations, the way you smile when you like a movie or when you finish a new recipe, you teach me either with your words or with your look. Your words inspired me to be better every day and I finally understood that I don't need to overcome anyone but myself to be better. You make me feel at easy, you give me confidence and I think I'm repeating myself but you surround me with so many good feelings that I keep thinking how wonderful it would be to live on this magic ride with you every day and how happy I would be if I could do the same for you ... so ... if you can ... I mean... if you want ... I would very much like...hmm..."

"Takumi" the girl smiled her heart couldn' possibly stand so much apprehension.

"Okay..sorry ...well..." the young man cleared his throat and intertwined his fingers with the girl - Would you give me the honor to be my girlfriend, Megumi?"

Takumi notice the girl's cheeks flushing, and felt his own neck burning from the spreading flush. Finally he saw her smile shyly.

"I ... I do ... I do! Of course I accept!"

The boy didn't contain his happiness, hugged her tightly and they twirled.

"I thought you would never ask"

"I ... I'm sorry for keep you waiting ... I ... I wasn't sure what to do ... what to say ..."

"It doesn't matter now." She puts her forehead to his and spot his gaze traveling from her eyes to her pink lips.

"Megumi ... may I ..."

"Yes, please!"

Megumi saw him smile before feeling his hot lips. She smiled during the kiss. Happy, light and extremely in love. When facing the room, already holding hands, they were welcome by the angry voices from Alice and Erina, who is once again discussing about something irrelevant. Their boyfriends were doing nothing to appease the heirs. Ryo chose to remain inert and Soma was to entertained laughing about it.

"What's going on here?"

Alice withdrew her red eyes from the battle with her cousin's purple ones and fixed them on the new couple's clasped hands.

"Ahhh more competition! Yes..I'm happy for you two ... yes ... everyone here sure expected this to happen but NO !! I am not going to make it easy for you now that you are the new couple from school"

Takumi and Megumi feel drops of sweat fall from their forehead. Those from embarrassment rather than heat.

"What is she talking about?" Takumi decided to voice the question for both of them. And it was Hisako who provided the necessary explanation.

"Don't worry. She's been that way since the gossip magazine article put her and Ryo at second place in the school's top most powerful couples"

Hayama, who had his hand on Hisako's waist, completed.

"Alice is a very troblesome especially when it comes to competitions. I honestly don't know how Ryo can handle it"

"It must be because he really loves her And believe me a grumpy Ryo is worth a thousand cranky Alices"

The four laughed before hearing Yuki exclaim from across the room.

"Right ... Right ... We are all very happy and some of us very much in love. But there is a very large portion here that is BORED TO DEATH!"

From the girl's side, Sakaki sighed as She nodded.

"Yuki is right. What can we do to pass the time?"

Alice practically jumped with excitement as she spoke .

"I HAVE AN IDEA!"

And with the same speed she spoke she was also barred by a set of voices.

"NO, ALICE!"

"Ahh, come on guys!"

While Alice complained on one side and their friends laughed on the other, Erina and Soma looked at each other. They seemed to imagine the same thing. Who would have thought a silly game would give them a lifetime in paradise.

-THE END-

ANNNNNDDD CUT!

What a RIDE?! I can't believe it's over. It really took me a while to post the last chapter because I didn't want to say goodbye to this fic. It gave me wonderful moments ... some troblesome ones ( yeah the whole "I was plagiared thing" was a hard one) ... but the vast majority was full of emotion. And I owe it all to you. My readers! To all of you. Whether you're a ghost reader, or if you always comment, whether you're the one who just likes it and favorite it, whether you're the one who eagerly waits, the ones who resisted and has accompanied me til here. I have no words to thank you all. Each of you has given me strength, taught me, and thrilled me in its own way. I hope I managed to get a few sighs fro you guys, a few laughs and the main one, I really hope that I somehow made of your day a better day ... even if was just little bit. Writing fanfics is like an outburst… you don't expect anything… no waiting for feedback … but hearing from you has undoubtedly been the best of experiences I've ever had. To all of you ... my eternal Thank you and until next time! Love, Maddie

p.s: Sorry about the english although I think my mean gol of improve myself on the langage was achived. Thank you all for that. p.s 2: Thank you to all the amazing friends I've made with this fic! You guys will be always in my heart!

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silenthillmutual · 6 years ago

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Death Note (completed list)

all L/Light, unless specified otherwise.

Top 5:

Best Wishes From a Goddess of Death by The_Maiden_of_Autumn; M (fluff, AU, angst) Misa Amane is not stupid- oblivious and airheaded sometimes, but definitely not lacking in intelligence. She can see the way Light and L are together, the regretful, sorrowful looks L gives her whenever she speaks to Light. She knows where this is heading; she just doesn't want it to be this way. But she's made her bed, and wishes them happiness, she truly does. Slight LightxL

Cake Crumbs And Bed Sheets by Jenwryn; M (AU, fluff, romance) An inexplicable and very fluffy AU, written for Australia Day. In which L eats lamingtons and vanilla slice - and has help to fall asleep.

Kanji by sashocirrione; T (fluff, AU, hurt/comfort) Light is bringing L home to meet his sister and mother, as L is now his boyfriend. But Light can't shake off the feeling that he was somehow tricked into the situation. Fluffy and probably somewhat OOC, not my usual style. Written for Persefone88, one of the winners of my 100th review contest, (started back when I was still running that contest).

(Now And Then There’s) A Fool Such As I by Light It Up; T (AU, fluff) Knowing he couldn’t miss his first class, L took a deep breath and strode into the hallways, ignoring anyone who tried talking to him. By the time he was sitting at Biology and had his pencil twirling between his fingers, hearing the teacher explaining things he already knew and the girls to his right talking about stupidities he didn’t want to know, L just wanted to vent about how he was feeling. However, he would never do that with someone he actually knew.

you’re a wasp nest by raisuki; M (fluff, AU) But Light was already wandering off, his cane clicking rhythmically as he navigated the halls. He gave L a half-hearted wave before merging back into the flow of people. L was fairly sure he has just been tricked into buying Light Yagami dinner, and he was also pretty sure Light Yagami is the most audacious person he had ever met.

and now, for all the rest!

K/K+

Ambiguity Among Two by Fledgling [L x Light. Hugging. Handcuffed. Ficlet.] L shuddered at the memory, and briefly, he dug his fingertips into Light's back, willing bruises inside that whispered of sleepless, difficult nights.

Bedtime by Servant Gabrielle (humor, romance) Drabble. LightxL. Sometimes, being handcuffed together caused a few problems.

Candy by Eriko Myoujin (romance) L wants to know if Raito enjoys candy. Supposed to take place during the time Raito has forfeited his memories of the Death Note. A silly little thing written for an LJ community. [LxRaito]

Candy is Dandy by firedraygon (humor) During a latenight investigation, L is craving some chocolate. LxRaito

Duplicity’s a Matter of Fact by lefcadio Light x L. A thunderstorm, an unexpected conversation, and cake.

I’m Glad I Found You by bri-notthecheese (+Misa/Matsuda; romance, friendship) No one would have expected a relationship to blossom between Investigator Touta Matsuda and Model Misa Amane. However, if a friendship developed between them while she was under suspicion and then she eventually decided to let Light go, Matsuda would be the perfect prince waiting for her when she decided that he was who she truly wanted and needed. Matsuisa ftw.

Observations by Asidian L does some unconventional observations. Too bad he can't convince himself it's for the good of the investigation. Light x L.

Out of Focus by Chiba.Kun (romance) [LightxL] Written from Light's POV. Oneshot. Not much to it. When the two are handcuffed together, innocent desires surface. I apologize for the crappy summary.

Sleepy Chains by WellspringIsSuperLame (romance) In which a tired Raito becomes rather suspicious of Ryuuzaki. Random little one-shot, LxRaito fun.

Starlight by subdivided (drama, romance) AU manga ending, LLight, one shot. The Kira case is declared solved before Light can regain his memory. He and L leave the party early, for a garden under the stars.

Sweeter Than Sugar by Manwyn (romance) LxRaito. L offer Raito one of his treats... AN: Sorry i'm not very good with summarys.

What I Lay Down by mleeph (romance, drama) Love comes in percentages, but sacrifice is a matter of absolutes. Thus, L comes to a realization at 1:19 in the morning. [Raito x L ]

3:19 Am by Tierfal (romance, drama) This is really not the time of day at which Light prefers to discuss their respective revelations.

Bad Habits by domo (humor) Light hates it when Ryuuzaki bites his nails, Ryuu just wants to know if Light is gay or not.

Bananas by Tierfal (humor, romance) Best. Idea. EVER.

Cake by Desmenn

Confused "No thanks. I'm fine like this- confused."

Counting the Coffee Drip by NOT_TOWA_WAKASA (fluff) Light is a blind man who loves to count. L finds him curious, and wades through the holiday season to visit him wherever he may appear.

Dance With Me by dotti55 Light wants talks L into trying a new experience.

Easily Entertained by Tierfal (humor, romance) It's an important distinction.

First & Final by overdose I watched the most emotional Death Note scene in Death Note history. (I've only made it to L's death) So, I decided to do something with it. Kinds sucky and rushed.

The First Noel by OctaviaPeverell (romance) Because L loves Christmas desserts and Light can't get enough of handcuffs!

Four Minutes of Solitude by Tierfal (humor, romance) L tries to take a break, the operative word being "tries."

Heaven-Sent Hypocrisy by Tierfal (romance, fluff) Somebody up there was looking out for him.

mellifera by alharper He sleeps beside you, spare hand curled around the chain, six feet of arrogant beauty and ruthless intelligence softened and hidden.

Oh So Smart by Zanganito (+Misa/Light; fluff, angst, humor, hurt/comfort) Misa decides to have movie night! During the film, Light makes a few unwelcome realizations and is moved to tears. L takes advantage of the opportunity to mock him relentlessly. Set just after the conclusion of the Yotsuba arc.

On A Boat by Tierfal (humor, angst, romance, hurt/comfort, AU) Light is considering throwing himself over the side and trying to drown.

Perilous by Tierfal (humor, romance) It's just another evening… until it's not.

Perverted by Tierfal (humor, romance) It's all about the contingency plans.

Provocation by Jenwryn (humor) "I would not provoke Watari-san if I were you, Light-kun."

Resolved Tension by norestforthewckd (fluff) Light Yagami does not like Ryuzaki. Light Yagami is a very big liar with a bit of a soft spot for a certain man.

Sub Finem by RatatoskMode "...I still can’t believe that this is the end. No, it’s more like I don’t want to believe it. The only person I deemed worthy of taking my life was L himself, but to go this way is pathetic." Light Yagami is dying, and he's visited by a familiar ghost of his past.

The Taste by Tierfal (romance, AU) It makes perfect sense.

Will You Be My Valentine? by TabbyCat33098 (AU, fluff) L has been getting mysterious presents all day long, presents of a...how do you say? Romantic persuasion. What is going on? Who's sending these?

Word Play by CuteCat213 (AU, fluff) Remarkable: worthy of attention; striking. L bit his thumb and watched Light. His boyfriend certainly was striking. And he was sure Light wouldn't mind; there had to be at least six other things more creepy than watching his boyfriend sleep and tying to think of words to describe it.

Antioxidant Properties by remarks Rivals getting hot and bothered (mismatched socks and a kiwifruit).

Are you Lonesome Tonight? by Light It Up Their time apart had scarred the both of them. There were days someone would mention that High School relationships didn’t last long, or that when two people started dating at a too young age, they always ended up drifting apart. Those days were when L was the most vulnerable, and Light made sure to spend the night with him, whether at the Yagami house or at L and Watari’s.

The Boy’s Too Refined by sabriel75 (AU) The notorious detective, Sherlock Holmes, takes too keen of interest in Light and L's affairs. He suffers a concussed head for it. Light loses his innocence. Both were bound to happen sometime though as far as John Watson and L were concerned.

Caveat Emptor by Tierfal (humor, drama) In which there are shopping trips, sarcasm, backhanded compliments, dark rooms, big guns, bubble baths, trauma of every sort, and detailed fantasies involving cake - lots of those. Let the buyer beware indeed. L/Light.

Cherade by lefcadio Light x L. When you're handcuffed to someone, insomnia takes its toll in one way or another.

A Different Decision by phoenixjustice Maybe a world free of criminals and ran by Kira would truly be a better place.

Fevered by Ivydoll (Mello/Near; romance, drama) MelloNear. When Near's illness jars the boys' comfort zones, they lose some of their control and experience a slight tilt towards one another.

Fidgeting by Tierfal (romance, fluff, AU) "Don't squirm."

From the (Very Private) Notebook Of... by Shayheyred (humor, crack) Probability that L is a dork: 100%

The Ghost Inside You by slightowl In which Light must learn to cope with an undead roommate. (An LxLight ghost story.)

Giving And Taking by Jenwryn (AU, romance) AU. The Kira case is closed, and L had promised himself he'd make a move on his partner-in-crime-solving but... there's too much to risk losing.

grow old or something by youremyqueen The afterlife is a bit like normal life, in that it's completely dull.

Lay Your Hands On Me by Light It Up (AU, fluff) Of course, though, it was only seldom that Light remembered that. He couldn’t care less about when he’d leave this small, crappy apartment, not when every now and then he could catch scenes and sounds so enticing from the man he’d been in love with for about a year and a half.

Love Tonight by Light It Up (AU, fluff) Light looks at him with tears in his eyes, blinking a few times to force them back. Almost shyly, he nods, so L reaches up to brush away a stray tear from his cheek. “It’s your birthday, you idiot,” Light explains then, hugging his knees as close to him as he can.

Never Forgotten by metal goat (angst) Raito can never seem to forget L, no matter how hard he tries... LRaito, some RaitoMisa. Spoilers for Ch.58. Shounenai. Oneshot

The Plan by strange_isle (drama, AU) Light's scheme was both devious and elegant. Too bad it's gone awry. Now in the aftermath, L demands answers, but Light's not exactly in the most amenable of moods.

A Pocketful of Posey by Edmondia Dantes Redux (drama) Ashes, ashes, we all fall down. Light/L.

Sour Candy by Edmondia_Dantes On the taste of apples and sugar.

Special Quality by Tasogare Nagisa (crack) We are all defined by that one special quality; if only we knew what that quality was...

Sweet Things by Light it Up (AU, fluff) Their relationship had started just before the Kira case was closed. Light confessed to the detective that he was the assassin, and when he thought L was going to handcuff him and send him to prison, where he would wait for the jury to decide when his death sentence would take place, L had instead kissed him. Although he could never be completely sure of it, Light guessed that the fact that he was crying when he confessed was the factor that made L’s mind up.

Sweetest Decay by Fantastical Queen Ebony Black (Mello/Near; angst) Letting you get the better of me. MelloNear [Spoilers for chapters in the 90's]

Taste by Hikaru R Kudou (humor) Shounen ai, Raito and L. A conversation between the two over breakfast. Raito: "I happen to like them that way. Is my taste bothering you?"

Unreliable as the Mind by Ramasi Losing and regaining his memories doesn't make Light's already complicated feelings for his opponent any simpler; and L might have even less scruples about killing someone he loves.

What you’ve always known by Devilinthebox (hurt/comfort, angst) Light comforts L about his body image. L tries to put distance but needs the comfort. He lets some defenses down (Request)

White Sepulcher by World’sOnlyConsultingTimeLady (angst, romance) L's rationality falls on an ordinary, dull night. L/Light one shot

Winter Wonderland by Light it Up (fluff, AU) What Light didn’t mention, was that he was extremely sensitive to the cold. He had never gone out during the Christmas holidays because when he was very little, he had come down with pneumonia after staying out on a windy day, so his parents never allowed him out again.

World is Mine by Light it Up (fluff, AU) Given that information, it’s quite obvious that Light lost, and the idea L had was certainly the most embarrassing thing Light has ever heard in his life. His cheeks are read in the mirror, and he turns a few times to look at himself from every angle, his heart pounding against his chest. This is so not a good idea, and he’s sure L just wants to see him like that to laugh at him, but God, Light has to admit that he likes what he’s seeing.

Almost Oblivion by Serria L knows that Light doesn't close his eyes at night for fear of waking up as Kira. L, on the contrary, won't rest until that transition is complete.

An Apple a Day by hyperRme (romance, crime) ...but if the doctor is cute forget the fruit. L turns this into his motto when he is forced to see doctor Raito because of his sugar only diet. As he pursues the doctor, L learns that the murderer he is trying to catch is pursuing Raito’s life.

At Night by Vehuel (PWP) Things that happen at night should stay between the two of them. Secret, and covered in darkness.

Chance of Circumstances by wordbombs (romance, humor) Sometimes all happiness takes is a change of circumstances. L/Light, fluffly lemon meringue AU one-shot. Answers- What if Light was a Wammy?

Choose by reaperlight (AU, fluff, angst, humor) Light isn't too fond of Valentine's Day. As it turns out neither is L...

Control by mmmdraco From the 3 Sentence Ficathon: Death Note, L/Light, control

Daylight The Light Does Bring by Jenwryn (romance, fluff, AU) The detective rolls onto his side, displacing Light's trailing thumb, and stares up at the younger man.

Guilty until proven Innocent by Callicanios (mystery, romance) Kira has emerged, the great detective L sets out to stop him. Only thing, Light is not Kira. Due to the explicitly of the chapters beyond chapter 14 the rating will be changed to M. LxLight

Softly Now by Jenwryn (romance, AU) The apartment is laced with the smell of fresh paint, and L has flecks of blue upon his cheeks.

Somnambulism by reaperlight (crack, humor) Light does not appreciate L’s sense of humor.

Submission by lichenglie “I think you forget, Light Yagami, that I am just as childish as Kira is,” he says, “and I hate to lose.”

Water, water, water by Devilinthebox In the bath, they forget they’re a detective and a suspect; they remove these identities along with their clothes, layer by layer until there are only the handcuffs left. And them; facing the other in the eerie calmness of their bathroom. At least, it’s how Light sees it.

Anger Before Bliss by mannysue (angst) L was depressed. Depressed that his deduction was wrong. Light is very much not pleased by this change in L's demeanor. He decides to take action.

Bang! by youremyqueen Written for the second death note kink meme, prompt was: in bed with a fully loaded gun.

by night we go naked, by day we go blind by youremyqueen Written for the second death note kink meme, prompt was: sensory deprivation.

Can’t I Even Dream? by Light It Up (fluff, smut) They didn’t kiss; it was more like breathing each other’s air, being as close as physics allowed them to. Sometimes Light wished they could just freeze the world and stay in a moment forever, just enjoying their own company and that instant when their bodies were in perfect synchrony, hips meeting at every precise thrust.

Clean by FayJay Set during the period when Light had given up the Death Note, and didn't know he was Kira.

Dirty by FayJay Set during the period when Light had given up the Death Note, and did not know he was Kira. (Sequel to 'Clean', but can be read as a standalone.)

Interested in Learning More by Shadow_Of_Quill Light isn't asexual. He just has... unusual interests. And Ryuuzaki is very observant.

Intermission by Shiraume What happened right after the infamous fight in Vol 5.

Just Before Sunset by Evilchuckles (romance) Perhaps they don't want to remember. Perhaps it's enough to be happy.

Linked by Shayheyred The chain is not what connects them

Low of Solipsism by Light It Up (AU, fluff) Even after six months of them dating, Light still wondered what it was about L that drove him so wild. Before him he used to be a quiet lover, rarely making any sounds more than a moan here and there. That being said, it’s easy to understand that Light was surprised when they first started touching each other and he instantly became vocal.

Playing the Part by Vector L was alone in his intent stare at the monitors.

Roundabout Truth by Ramasi Light is furious when he's kept in chains after he regains his memories; he has no choice but to try and figure out L further.

See Me by Shadow_of_Quill (AU) Light sometimes thinks he'd give anything to have someone see him for who he really is.

Something to Think About by dotti55 Having moved to The Wammy's House together, L and Light share their first Valentine's Day together, and make some discoveries about their relationship and their future together.

That Night by sashocirrione L and Light have a hotel-room encounter that is not at all accidental. Complete but open-ended.

Time Out by epkitty (fluff) They were handcuffed together for how long???

#lawlight #death note #ok to rb #long post #fic recs #nori talks #hopefully there's nothing gross in here i don't actually remember what like 90% of these are about #this is just everything i have bookmarked

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johnnymundano · 5 years ago

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Sleepwalkers (1992)

Directed by Mick Garris

Screenplay by Stephen King

Music by Nicholas Pike

Country: United States

Running time: 91 minutes

CAST

Brian Krause as Charles Brady

Alice Krige as Mary Brady

Mädchen Amick as Tanya Robertson

Sparks the cat as Clovis

Lyman Ward as Donald Robertson

Cindy Pickett as Helen Robertson

Ron Perlman as Captain Soames

Jim Haynie as Sheriff Ira Stevens

Dan Martin as Deputy Andy Simpson

Lucy Boryer as Jeanette

Glenn Shadix as Mr. Fallows

Stephen King as Cemetery Caretaker

John Landis as Lab Technician

Joe Dante as Lab Assistant

Clive Barker as Forensic Tech

Tobe Hooper as Forensic Tech

Mark Hamill as Sheriff Jenkins

I have no beef with Stephen King, let’s get that out upfront. I’m not one of those “Yeah, but it’s not proper books is it?” chancers who churlishly resent his Medal for Distinguished Contribution (lifetime) to American Letters. Nope, not me. But Sleepwalkers is a real honker. It’s stoopid, hyuk-hyuk, pick your nose in church, comic book bullshit. And purposely so. Crap like this doesn’t happen by accident. And King is totally responsible for this. There’s no “Wah! Someone took my script and made a shitshow of it” excuse here. Sleepwalkers is often called (as it is onscreen) Stephen King’s Sleepwalkers; the guy’s all over this one. It’s even an original script (maybe, I hear, based on an unpublished story; I didn’t check but I’m pretty sure the only things remaining unpublished by Stephen King in 2019 are his notes to the milkman. And they are due out next year from Subterranean Press, in a limited edition that costs more than a week’s shopping for a small family.) The script is his and so is the director; King personally pushed for Mick Garris, and King got Mick Garris. Even the songs on the soundtrack are pure Stephen King too; old timey R’n’R like at the sock hop where Cindy Lou showed you her woo-woo, mixed with that special kind of shitty heavy rock liked by confused men who think having hair like a girl in a shampoo advert is a signifier of raw masculinity. Other than composing and playing the instrumental score on a home-made kazoo personally, could Sleepwalkers be any more Stephen King? No.

For some unhappy reason whenever he gets any substantial control over a movie King’s IQ plummets to room temperature and all his worst impulses leap to the fore like randy cats. (I submit to the jury Maximum Overdrive (Dir: Stephen King, 1986), m’lud; the prosecution rests.) I think (maybe) King, bless his cotton socks, is trying to recreate the cinema of his youth; stuff like The Blob (1958), Them! (1954), Invaders From Mars (1953) and I Married A Monster From Outer Space (1958). The pulp fun cinema of a dead age. Unfortunately for King, those people back then were trying to make the best movie they could; the pop culture magic which ensured their success and longevity was purely unintentional and completely impervious to intelligent creation. King’s forays into movies seem to be trying to reverse engineer serendipity; a fools’ errand that results in foolish movies. Movies like Sleepwalkers.

The impulse to gravitate to camp seems ingrained in Cinematic King. Even when he just does one of his almost ubiquitous cameos, he often fails to resist the temptation to goof about like some brain damaged hayseed on a 1960s sit-com. If someone, Criterion maybe, went back and dubbed a pant-ripping fart over all Alfred Hitchcock’s onscreen cameos we’d be approaching the same ballpark of screen disruption as a Stephen King cameo. Of course he has a cameo in Sleepwalkers. A talking cameo at that as a “cemetery caretaker”, and King confounds expectations by playing it like some brain damaged hayseed on a 1960s sit-com. Even better, his unnecessary cameo bounces off unnecessary cameos by Tobe Hooper and Clive Barker; it’s like the business of the movie pauses for a couple of minutes purely so King can piss about with his mates. This is swiftly followed by cameos from John Landis and Joe Dante who, er, say some “lab” stuff I missed because Joe Dante’s hair is so…fascinating. I don’t mind cameos as long as they are unobtrusive but these might as well be announced by dancing girls and a marching band. At least all the characters aren’t called stuff like “Officer Hooper” or “Mayor Corman”; that shit gets old real quick.

As anyone who has ever cleaned out a litter box can tell you, another kind of shit that gets old quick is cat shit. There are a lot of cats in Sleepwalkers, the hero even turns out to be a cat, Clovis by name. In fact Sparks the cat, as Clovis, gives the third best performance in the movie, behind Mädchen Amick and Alice Krige. Mädchen Amick is undeniably great here. She’s totally pleasant and nicer than nice without making you want to choke on your own fist. There’s an exuberant scene of her dancing to a song Stephen King obviously likes, in the lobby of a cinema, which is a very lovely scene and she continues to be a refreshing presence throughout the movie. Alice Krige is also good value, striking a nice balance between vile and vulnerable; she acts like her no doubt soon-to-be-fired agent told her she’s in a serious movie. Everyone else seems to have received a script with “Camp It The Fuck Up, Daddio! Love, Steve-o” scrawled across it, probably in crayon. Were that the case, then everyone performs superlatively. The usually fine actor and generally welcome screen presence Ron Perlman, particularly, thunders through every scene he’s in like subtlety is a crime.

Maybe in the world of Sleepwalkers subtlety is a crime. Because the world of Sleepwalkers is a funny world, one where werecat son and werecat mom Charles and Mary Brady (Brian Krause and Alice Krige) wander about feeding off the psychic energy of virgins, enthusiastically incesting and driving fast muscle cars. For some reason they also feel it necessary for Charles to attend school which, you might think, would create a lot of complications for a nomadic couple who need to keep off the authorities’ radar. If you did think that, you would have put more thought into this set up than Stephen King. These werecat people can make themselves invisible; okay. They can also make their car invisible; um. And they can make their car change into another car; er, no; sometimes it will turn back into the old car if they don’t concentrate; so, wait, the car is real but also an illusion? But how can they drive an illusion? So it must be a real car, but…oh God, make it stop. And mom werecat has to stay at home while son werecat goes out and gets the virgin energy to feed to her. If the mom werecat can only be fed by her offspring, how did she survive long enough to have offspring? Or is it just that mom werecats are all agoraphobic? Also, the werecat people look like humans unless they are reflected in a mirror (but only when the script remembers) and they, uh, still leave mirrors up in their house so visitors can narrowly miss seeing their true nature. Oh, yeah, obviously, normal cats are the werecats’ natural enemy and in the world of Sleepwalkers police officers can have their cat in the car with them, which is lucky because the proximity of a normal cat also causes the werecat to reveal its true nature. Unfortunately, once revealed, their true nature of a werecat is remarkably similar to someone with jaundice who has lost an enormous amount of weight very rapidly, all topped by a big bald cat head. In summary: ancient Egyptians liked cats, cats are magic but werecats are nasty and really bad and not very good at keeping their existence a secret, but they do their homework and drive cars Stephen King would doubtless describe as “bitchin’”.

I should probably say that Mick Garris’ direction is fine, and sometimes very good indeed and I did enjoy his use of ‘80s horror movie lighting techniques. But I really want to point out that Mick Garris has written some very good horror fiction himself; well worth seeking out. As is Sleepwalkers; but you need to know what you are getting: entertaining nonsense, a kind of retro-crap honestly proffered in the spirit of drive-in goofballery. Essentially though, you can never shake off the feeling that Sleepwalkers exists purely because Stephen King came up with the scene where someone is killed by a corn on the cob and then built a ramshackle movie around that. Unfortunately it’s not a very good movie. But it is entertaining. M-O-O-N, that spells entertaining. Laws, yes!

#Sleepwalkers #Stephen King #Mick Garris #Movies #Horror #Alice Krige #Ron Perlman #Sparks the cat #Mädchen Amick #United States #The 1990s #1992

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vagrantblvrd · 6 years ago

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Leave the Lights On (1/1)

Summary: Michael’s had his share of bad luck but his crappy little car dying on him in the middle of the night with a storm about to hit is a new low.

Notes: IDK, romcom shenanigans with possible vampires???¯\_(ツ)_/¯

(Read on AO3)

Michael’s had his share of bad luck but his crappy little car dying on him in the middle of the night with a storm about to hit is a new low.

To make matters better his phone died an hour ago thanks to a faulty charging cable he hadn’t replaced yet. Thought he could get a few more hours of it, long enough to get home and jury-rig something until he could, but then his boss had thrown extra orders at him and it had slipped his mind.

His car’s been limping along on its spare tire for over a week now while he pulled extra shifts to afford a replacement, and everything is terrible.

Goddamned miserable, because on top of everything else he’s starving and his car still smells like the pizzas he delivered earlier. Shitty job he took to pay the bills until he finds something better in this shitty town and -

There’s a sudden flash of lightning tearing through the night sky followed by a bone-rattling roll of thunder somewhere ahead of him. Storm rolling in like the meteorologists forecast and goddamn does he not want to be here for it.

“Fucking hell.”

He should just stick the oncoming storm out in his car, not risk getting lost in the dark and cold like a moron, but.

There’s a creek about a hundred yards away and the news was all over flooding concerns in the area with the storm coming in. Absolutely could not shut up about it, and as much fun as being swept away in the dark sounds, Michael would like not to add that to his list of life experiences, thanks.

And...he isn’t in the boonies out here, okay. There are houses around, even if they’re a little spread out.

Big sprawling things, old money and all that. Some have fallen into disrepair and neglect over the years, but the whole reason he’s out this way is one of the pizza shop’s regulars.

Odd guy who always has Michael leave his order at the door, but he tips well enough that Michael stopped thinking about it a while back. (God knows he’d hate to see his ugly mug in the middle of the night just to get his food.)

Well.

Alright, sort of.

Look, the guy lives way out here in a house – mansion – that looks like it should be in an old Gothic noir film. And as often as Michael delivers pizzas to his house he’s never seen his face.

When Michael first started working at the pizza shop his coworkers loved to spin their little theories and share stories about whoever lived out here being fucking vampires or some other horror movie monsters. Well, that or some reclusive serial killers because why not try to freak out the new guy?

Another flash of lightning and angry rumble of thunder have Michael making what’s sure to be another terrible decision in a long line of them. Gathering what he doesn’t want to leave behind in case his car gets swept away or someone comes along and thinks it looks like a tempting target.

His phone, though fat lot of good it’ll do him. The empty delivery bags because his boss will take it out of his paycheck if he loses them. Random shit he should have taken up to his apartment a long time ago but just didn’t get around to because procrastination.

Michael locks his car up and pulls the hood of his hoodie up and starts on the half mile (give or take) walk back to his regular’s house. If he’s lucky he’ll get there before the storm hits.

========

Michael’s luck is shit.

The sky opens up when he’s long past the point of no return. No other choice but to push on until he hits the house or find a comfortable ditch to die in like the idiot he is, so he pushes on.

Soaked through in minutes and there’s no way his phone will work after this, so might as well add that to his list of reasons why being an adult sucks ass.

But hey, he’s probably going to die out here and get eaten by fucking coyotes or something, so there’s that.

========

By the time he reaches the guy’s house, Michael’s freezing.

Can barely feel his fingers and his feet went the same way a while back. Heavy and clumsy and he’s an even bigger idiot than Gavin which is saying something.

Maybe not on the edge of getting frostbite or whatever, but he’s not doing great either. Cold and wet and miserable and hating every moment. The sight of the house (mansion) looming out of the dark like something in a Gothic movie is welcoming rather than borderline unsettling.

So.

Michael's probably fried the last of his functioning brain cells in his trek of stupidity. (Frozen them? Something.)

He takes far too long to ring the fucking doorbell, with his hands being uncooperative as shit and he misses a few times.

And then it’s a waiting game. Michael eyeing the doorbell and wondering if he should follow Gavin’s example and spam the fucking thing because God knows most people are asleep by now, but -

The door is wrenched open and Michael blinks up at an annoyed looking guy.

Tall. Broad shoulders. Floppy hair – look, Michael’s brain is frozen and the guy's hair does this...thing.

Incredibly blue eyes and these lips, okay. These lips that are...moving?

Because talking, and it takes Michael a few moments to realize it through the cold and numb and the pounding rain. (Also, Michael’s dumb, dumb brain.)

“Shit, fuck,” he says, tries to wave his hands in apology because Michael's a goddamn mess. “Uh, sorry to bother you but my car died and I didn't want to drown.”

The lips stop moving, and the guy goes from being annoyed to alarmed to concerned in moments, almost too fast for Michael’s muddled mind to keep track of.

But that’s fine, because the guy’s attention drops to the delivery bags Michael shoved down the front of his hoodie when he almost dropped them some time back. Fingers too cold and stiff to hold on to them any longer.

Michael tries to explain he’s the worst kind of idiot, but the guy hisses in sudden realization – Michael must look worse off than he thought – and reaches out to drag Michael inside.

========

The guy’s got a nice voice, all rich and deep and Michael’s never thought of himself as someone who had a thing for voices, so there’s that to deal with now too.

Could be lingering effects of frozen brain syndrome, or maybe Michael’s just real dumb, whichever.

The guy bundles Michael off to this ridiculously huge bathroom, shoves a change of clothes at him -

“They’re clean, I promise, just please don’t freeze to death on me, the lawyers would have a fit.”

- and leaves him to shower and change in peace.

Tells him where the laundry room is so he can put his clothes in to wash while they wait out the storm before he fucks off to make coffee or whatever he’s babbling about.

Michael doesn’t know what the thing with the lawyers is about, but hey. Problem to puzzle out later, if he doesn’t get himself horribly murdered first.

And, okay.

The guy probably isn’t some creature of the night or serial killer, based on how awkward he is, about Michael barging in on him like this. All fluttery hands and oh shit and what do I do to not have this idiot die on me and what is going on???

The clothes he handed Michael aren’t from one of those old movies Michael’s been subjected to thanks to family members and various other assholes in his life. No unbearable amounts of lace and other finery to fit the setting. Just a pair of sweats, soft and warm and these amazing socks that make his toes super happy, but whatever.

Michael takes a long shower, lets the hot water thaw him out as much as it can, chase the chill that seems to have sunk into his bones away and leaving him feeling more like a real human boy again.

There are huge, fluffy towels set out for him and he hums a little as he dries off, taking care to get as much water out of his hair as he can.

He’s sure to get a cold out of this mess. Can feel the back of his throat acting up, body feeling tired and sluggish and just overall shittier than usual, but he’s got his mom’s lectures about that shit in the back of his head and it can’t hurt, right?

There aren’t any mirrors in the bathroom, which is a little odd but not alarmingly so. Some people just don’t like having the damn things around, nothing all that strange when it comes down to it. Michael runs his fingers through his hair and leaves it at that because fuck if it ever does what he wants anyway.

When he feels he’s somewhat presentable and mostly thawed, Michael ventures out of the bathroom and gets his first real look at the place.

Definitely perfect for some old timey movie. All antique furniture and shit, but there are modern day touches tossed in here and there. Security system of some sort, which makes sense because everything here looks expensive as shit.

No decorative mirrors or reflective surfaces he can see aside from the windows he passes, and okay, this whole vampire theory his coworkers fed him feels a bit more believable. (The tiniest shred, because vampires aren’t real and his coworkers are asshole, but yeah.)

Michael keeps his hands to himself as he follows the faint sound of noise coming from the floor below. Takes the stairs slow because it would suck to fall and break his neck after everything else that’s happened, and finds himself in the kitchen.

Big spacious thing that’s meant for a whole staff toiling away to cook meals and the like. Modern appliances here and there to take their place and a scuffed up table and a couple of chairs at one end by the pantry that doesn’t fit in with the rest of the furniture Michael’s seen.

The guy is muttering to himself as he fusses with a coffeemaker on the counter, other appliances scattered around and looking frazzled.

Michael doesn’t blame him, because complete stranger showing up in the middle of the night like Michael had and just.

Yeah.

“Hey,” Michael says, and winces when he startles the poor bastard. “Sorry to barge in on you like this.”

The guy turns around to stare at Michael.

“What?”

Michael shrugs, plucking at his borrowed clothes.

“I mean,” he says. “In hindsight I should have stuck it out in my car, but it died next to the creek down the road and I was worried about flooding, so you know. Sorry for bothering you.”

He doesn’t know if the guy is just not keen on people or what, but having the pizza guy show up like an idiot like this can’t be a fun experience for him.

“Uh,” the guy says again. “Jesus, no. The damn creek floods every time it rains. With a storm like this it would have been, uh. Bad. Real bad for you if you'd stayed with your car.”

Huh. Okay, so maybe Michael did make a good choice there.

They stare at each other for a moment longer before Michael remembers his manners, and sticks his hand out. Still cold as shit even after the hot shower, but in working order again and everything.

“I’m Michael by the way,” he says, feeling like an even bigger idiot. “Nice to meet you?”

He’s not sure about the protocol here, but figures introducing himself can’t hurt.

The guy tips his head to the side, slight frown on his face giving way to his bemused little smile as he shakes Michael's hand.

“Ryan,” he says, chuckling a little at how awkward this whole situation is. “I’m Ryan.”

========

Ryan sits Michael down with a cup of hot coffee and containers of creamer and sugar and rattles around what sounds like it’s going to be soup going from his muttering.

The nice part is that he checks with Michael first to make sure he doesn’t have any allergies or other diet restrictions before he does. Means no surprise dairy to worry about and Michael sips his coffee as he watches.

Ryan’s real comfortable with the knives and other pointy kitchen tools and gadgets he’s using. He’s more intent on killing the hell out of vegetables and a rotisserie chickens he pulls out of the fridge rather than Michael, so that’s one less thing to worry about. (For now.)

Interestingly he puts garlic in with the onions, which is another point for him not being a vampire, or maybe the myths and legends surrounding vampires are wrong on that front.

Every so often he’ll remember he’s not alone and shoot Michael these sheepish little looks like he’s aware he looks like a lunatic, but it’s not like Michael can judge, so.

“How did you get stuck out here anyway?” Ryan asks, dropping herbs of some sort into the pot on the stove.

Michael shrugs, because the reasons are many.

“Bad luck,” he says simply. “A fuck-ton of it.”

Ryan turns to look at him, corner of his mouth pulled up into this little smile that says he knows the feeling, has had his share of it too.

“Fair enough,” he says. “The landlines are out due to the storm, but you can use my cell if you need to make calls.”

Simple little offer and Michael’s grateful for it, but Ryan’s delivery was the last one of his shift and the pizza shop has to be closed up by now. Anyone he knows in the city are long asleep and there’s no point in waking them up to remind them how dumb he is. Definitely no point in calling a tow service now, so.

“It can wait,” he says, and grins at the dubious look Ryan sends him.

Ryan’s a little odd, sure. Quirky, eccentric, but he doesn’t feel dangerous and Michael likes to think he’s a good judge of character. (Gavin’s an anomaly, outlier like that Spiders George asshole.)

“Okay,” Ryan says, just that simple

It goes on like that, the coffee Ryan gave him warming him up and helping to shake out lingering fuzziness from his mind. Kitchen warm and cozy and Ryan’s occasional muttering to the soup he’s making like a lunatic more amusing than alarming. (Quirky, even.)

Michael learns Ryan’s new to the area too. Moved out here a few years ago when a relative died and left the place to him, has a whole pack of said relative’s lawyers sorting out the rest and nitpicking everything he chooses to be for whatever reason.

“What?”

Ryan shrugs, another sheepish grin as he sets a steaming bowl of soup in front of Michael before serving himself.

“I’m the last surviving benefactor in the Will, and I guess I don’t measure up to their standards?” he shrugs like it’s not a big deal, but there’s this hard line to his mouth, tension in his shoulders that seems like it shouldn't be there.

He's got the lawyers breathing down his neck, micromanaging him and the way he lives his life because there are clauses in the Will or some shit Ryan has to adhere to before the place and the rest of his inheritance is his free of strings.

Sounds exhausting as fuck and not worth the hassle, but what the hell does Michael know?

Michael snorts, because this house – mansion – reeks of money, and he can only imagine the kind of asshole who’d looks around them at all of it and think, ah, yes, perfect without a shred of irony.

He might be wrong on this one, but Ryan doesn’t strike him as being one of them.

“Yeah, well,” Michael shrugs, and tries the soup Ryan made. Tasty as fuck and the guy made it from scratch for the little idiot who showed up at his door without warning, so it’s pretty incredible. “Holy shit, this is good.”

Ryan laughs, all stupid shy about it as he ducks his head and mumbles a thank you and Michael, alright, Michael isn’t in love, but he’s definitely something.

========

After they clear the dishes away and clean up the kitchen – Michael insisted on helping because he’s intruding on Ryan’s life enough – Michael goes through the stuff he brought with him.

Sets the delivery bags up to dry with Ryan’s help and tosses his poor abused phone on the kitchen table.

“Mind if I take a look?” Ryan asks, as Michael scowls at it and tries to find something he can cut from his budget to put towards a replacement for it.

“What?”

Ryan rolls his eyes and makes grabby hands for the glorified brick on his table, and Michael hands it over because fuck if he has a good reason no to.

It’s deader than dead, and only a miracle worker could salvage anything from it, but Ryan still tries.

Takes the battery out and grabs a can of compressed air or something to get as much of the water out of it as he can before shoving the rest in a bowl of uncooked rice.

“If we’re lucky it’ll still work after this,” he says when he looks back at Michael, like he didn’t just go into crisis mode over Michael's damn phone.

“Uh, yeah Thanks?” Michael says, and laughs at himself because what the actual hell. “You seemed to know what you were doing.”

Another awkward little shrug.

“I work in IT,” he says which explains some of the stuff Michael's seen that doesn’t fit the décor. “So, you know.”

Michael doesn’t, but he just nods along.

Ryan nods too, because awkward. Drums his fingers on the kitchen table now there's nothing for him to fiddle with and the comfortable silence between them stretches thin.

“...I can show you to one of the spare bedrooms if you��re tired?” Ryan offers, with a shrug, deprecating smile, as he goes on. “Or I could give you the grand tour of the place?”

Michael considers it for a moment.

He is tired, but the combination of a shitty night and the coffee Ryan gave him have him keyed up. Not quite jittery, but sleep is going to be long in coming.

A glance at Ryan shows the guy might be a night owl (one more tick in the vampire category) and he seems…

Lonely?

He seems lonely.

Lives in this big, sprawling mansion on his own and hasn’t mentioned any friends or coworkers. And even thought Michael’s been delivering pizzas out here for about a year, this is the first time they’ve met. (Although being in IT, it’s possible Ryan works from home and has a plethora of friends he keeps in contact with online.)

Who knows.

“I mean,” Michael says. “Who in their right mind would turn down a tour of Wayne Manor?”

That gets a startled laugh out of Ryan, this big dopey grin because of course he’s that kind of nerd.

========

The place is massive, but enough there are wings to it. Ryan chatters on about this room or that, and most of it seems to be untouched.

“It’s a little big for my tastes,” Ryan says, uncomfortable about it as they leave behind yet another library full of stuffy old books and antique furniture. “I only need a few rooms to myself, but one of the terms of my inheritance is I can’t sell it, so.”

He shrugs, like he knows its not the worst thing in the world but there’s something a lot like regret there too.

Michael gets it, though.

The place is...it’s dark and gloomy and whoever lived here before seems like the kind of asshole who looked down on the little guy. Expensive everything and Michael feels wildly out of place here and he’s just the pizza guy.

Ryan in his old faded jeans and t-shirt with some kind of nerdy computer joke and awkward smile lives here.

Maybe more luxurious than the cramped apartment he mentioned living in before this, but Michael doesn’t think it was a step up for the poor guy with all the bullshit he has to deal with.

Ryan points out the gardens and courtyards, although with the storm it’s hard to make anything out. He’ll take Ryan’s word for it they’re a sight to behold and all that, maybe steal a glance at them in the morning if the weather’s cleared by then.

There’s hesitation on Ryan’s part, like he’s not sure Michael will give a shit, but they end up in a huge garage.

Huge.

Might have been a hose stable or whatever the fuck back in the day that's been converted into a modern-ish garage at some point.

And there are a lot of cars.

Old classics that belonged to the previous owner. Pretty little sports cars a handful of less obscenely expensive cars here and there and a few limos.

As in more than one, because you can never have too many?

One that looks like it’s only a few years old and more going back decades, the kind you’d see in old movies or black and white photos.

“Jesus,” Michael says, too afraid of scathing the sleek black paint job to touch the one that looks like it’s from prohibition era.

Ryan makes a noise of agreement, hands stuffed into his pockets as he gestures to a modest little sedan parked towards the garage doors.

“I stick to driving mine,” he says, crooked smile on his face. “Less to worry about with the insurance that way.”

No shit.

Wreck that and it’ll be a pain, sure, try the same with any of the others cars here and it’d be a goddamned crime.

Ryan gives Michael that crooked grin again and they head back into the mansion through the kitchen.

Michael grabs another cup of coffee because he’s smart like that, and follows Ryan into a room he’s turning into his.

Obvious from the moment they set foot inside, and Michael smiles as he looks around.

The antique furniture has been moved somewhere else to be replaced with what must be Ryan’s own furniture. A few pieces are battered and well-used but look comfy as hell, and there’s a huge flat screen television mounted on a wall.

Computer setup and other shiny gadgets and tech scattered about that give the room a lived feel to it, like this is where Ryan spends a substantial amount of his time.

There’s a set of doors leading to a deck overlooking a garden, and it must get a decent amount of sunlight in the day. Not as gloomy or dark ad the rest of the place and he can see why Ryan likes it here.

Michael breaks into a grin when when he spots the gaming system Ryan has hooked up to the television, or rather gaming systems.

“Oh, dude, sweet,” he says, looking over the games on a nearby shelf. “You play video games?”

Ryan laughs, this delighted little smile on his face when Michael looks back at him.

“Uh, yeah,” he says. “A little.”

That’s complete bullshit because there are a shit-ton of games on the shelf and a little stack of them beside one of the consoles, but sure, sure.

Ryan opens and closes his mouth a few ties before he visibly decides fuck it.

“Do you, uh. Want to play something?”

========

“Oh, bullshit!” Michael yells, throwing his hand up as Ryan snipes his character in the head yet again from whatever hidey spot he’s in now. “Fucking, come out and fight me like a man, dipshit!”

Ryan’s side of the ouch is shaking as the man himself fucking loses it, goddamn giggles.

He's got this weird little laugh most of the time, kind of croaky and adorable as shit. But then he comes out with that damn giggle of his and Michael forgets he’s supposed to be angry at the sneaky fuck who’s one of the best video game snipers Michael’s played against.

Ray’s infuriating as fuck, sure, but goddamned Ryan is so fucking smug about it.

Breaks out of that awkward shell of his to taunt Michael, comes across as some menacing creep and laughs like a lunatic when he pops Michael’s character in the head with some impossible shot.

A far cry from the awkward bumbling guy Michael met only a few hours ago and it’s kind of amazing.

“I hate you,” Michael says with no heat behind it as he waits for his character to respawn. “So much, you don’t even know.”

Ryan’s still too busy laughing to care.

========

Michael's crazy, zany adventures catch up to him and he can’t put off his exhaustion any longer.

Ryan catches him in the middle of a jaw-cracking yawn and laughs, this little huff of breath.

“I think it’s time we called it quits,” he says, eyebrow quirking when Michael tries to reassure him no, Michael's good to keep playing and another yawn catches him off guard.

“Okay, okay,” Michael agrees, cheeks heating. “You might have a point there.”

Another quiet little laugh and Michael is kind of gone on this idiot, just the tiniest bit.

Real easy on the eyes and easier to get along with, even if he is a sneaky son of a bitch when it comes to video games. Fucking loves his loopholes and goddamned smug about how good a player he is when he’s winning.

Ryan grins at him, and waits for Michael to untangle himself from the blankets and everything else before leading him to one of the spare bedrooms.

There’s an awkward moment as they stare at one another before Ryan clears his throat and scurries away wishing Michael a good night.

Michael snorts, because talk about smooth. (Probably for the best anyway though.)

The spare room is the same ridiculous level of extravagant as the rest of the place, and Michael’s a little worried about sullying the place up with his commoner cooties, but he’s fucking tired.

Tired and sore and fuck it all anyway, because as stuffy as the room is the bed is comfortable as shit and he’s asleep before too long.

========

Morning comes too soon, Michael woken up by the literal quiet after the storm.

No rain coming down in torrents, wind battering at the mansion like a live thing. The only sounds he can hear are songbirds venturing out after the storm looking for food, and it’s weird as hell.

He’s used to the sounds of the city, always something going on. Someone making noise. Loud and obnoxious and comforting in its own way because it’s all he’s known.

This...weird as hell, sure, but not awful.

Michael stays in bed as he remembers how the hell he got here and why. Common sense comes along way too fucking late and wow.

Because all the ways he could have died horribly somehow not happening. Ryan turning out to be an awkward dork with a goofy smile and ridiculous laugh, and Michael's quick to shut down any further thoughts about Ryan because it’s smarter that way. (Safer, too.)

Michael gets up, taking the time to be a good guest and make his bed before he goes to the laundry room to collect his clothes. Takes a quick shower in the bathroom before he changes into them, and then he goes...it’s not exploring, just.

Venturing.

Ryan doesn’t seem to be up yet, or maybe he’s just in another part of the mansion, and Michael ends up in the “living room” Ryan’s cobbled together.

It's another library that’s been repurposed. Tall bookshelves lining the walls and a long table on one end close by the glass doors that open up into one of thee courtyards. Ryan’s made it fit his needs instead of the other way around.

While taking a better look at Ryan’s video game collection Michael comes across a framed photo. Ryan and another guy, both dressed like people in the Victorian era. Michael stares at it for a long, long moment, not sure what to make of it.

A formal portrait kind of thing, both of them elegantly dressed with solemn expressions on their faces and what the actual fuck?

“Oh, uh,” Ryan says appearing from nowhere. “That’s my younger brother.”

Michael turns around to see Ryan standing beside him, and look okay, look.

Michael knows vampires aren’t real, but Ryan’s odd, eccentric. Thinking back on what he told Michael the night before, a lot of it doesn’t add up.

Ryan flips between formal turns of phrase to more modern ones, and he’s just.

Strange.

Woefully out of touch when it comes to certain things. The guy fumbles slang and shit like that, which fine. He’s also a major dork so that could be explanation enough, but.

It’s nice and bright in here now, sunlight spilling in through the windows and glass doors that lead out to what looks like a beautiful garden. And Ryan, okay. Not bursting into flames or whatever the hell it is vampires are supposed to do in this situation.

“Halloween?” Michael asks, smiling as he does because that would make the most sense, wouldn’t it? Couple of dapper assholes out for a night of Halloween fun somewhere.

There’s not that much of a family resemblance between the two of them. Ryan the broader of the two, light hair and eye color, but that doesn’t mean anything in the grander scheme and all that.

Ryan shakes his head, fond little smile on his face as he reaches past Michael to pick the frame up.

“No,” he says, and doesn’t explain why the hell he has a photo like that. “It’s one of the last ones I have of us together though.”

“Uh - “

Ryan sighs, brushing his fingers over the glass like a character in an old movie.

“There was a fire,” he says, “part of the reason I moved here.”

Michael wants to ask, he really does, but he’s not sure if it would be the right choice at the moment.

The way Ryan talks could mean there’s a horrible family tragedy in his past involving his little brother, or it’s something less devastating like a simple falling out that he’d rather not dwell on. Maybe it’s just the way life goes sometimes, people falling out of contact only to reconnect at a later date.

Whichever one it is, it doesn’t feel right for Michael to go sticking his nose into things, so.

Yeah.

“Anyway,” Ryan says, setting the frame down gently and gives Michael a bright smile. “Breakfast?”

========

Ryan cooks them some omelets and brews a pot of coffee and Michael – tired and confused and getting a little irritated over it, shoves the vampire/not vampire debate away for later, because fucking really.

They talk about the weather, seeing as it’s a significant factor in this situation and Ryan tells him the landlines are working again. (As expected, Michael’s phone is dead as shit even with Ryan’s heroic efforts.)

Once they clear the dishes away – Michael has to insist on helping with that again, fuck’s sake – he makes a few calls.

Tells his boss he won’t be in for the day because reasons, and Ryan offers to drive him out to see if his car is still there before he calls a tow service.

“Oh, fuck. Good idea, yeah.”

Ryan doesn’t laugh at him because it’s not funny, but he totally does.

The drive out to the spot Michael’s car died on him is quiet, both of them lost in their own thoughts.

Michael’s car is where he left it, but the creek did indeed flood. There’s water reaching almost to the car windows and no hope of getting a jump from Ryan and driving himself home now.

“Well, shit.”

No way to tell if it’s a lost cause from the insurance company’s view, but it’s not looking great for Michael, which is awesome.

Not like he relies on the damn thing for work or anything.

========

Michael doesn’t expect to hear from Ryan again after that, figures it was a nice - if weird - thing that happened to him thanks to his luck and life in general.

He had to quit his job at the pizza shop because his car was deemed a total loss by the insurance company and what they gave him was nowhere near enough for a decent replacement. (A pizza delivery driver without a working car is worse than useless.)

Michael's working the night shift at a distribution center for a big box store. Hard, thankless work loading trucks up all night long and shitty pay, but hey, bills to pay and all that.

And then a few weeks after he ended up at Ryan’s freaking mansion, he gets a knock on his door and this kid in an ill-fitting suit beaming up at him.

“Michael Jones?” he asks, even though it’s clear he knows who Michael is. Pushes past Michael into his crappy apartment and glances around before turning back to him to pop open the briefcase he’s carrying. “I’ve got an offer for you on behalf of my client.”

Michael stares at this idiot kid with his idiot smile and this look in his eyes that says he’s not walking out of Michael’s apartment until Michael hears him out.

“I’m sorry, what?” Michael asks, utterly bewildered. “Who the hell are you?”

========

Fucking Ryan.

========

“Jesus Christ,” Jeremy breathes, looking up at the fucking Gothic mansion Ryan calls home these days. “How the fuck didn’t I know about this place before?”

Michael doesn’t know, and he doesn’t care.

Too annoyed at Ryan and his...Ryan-ness to give much of a shit as he limbs out of Jeremy’s car. Manages not to slam the door because Jeremy is doing him a favor driving Michael out here on little notice like this.

The lawyer’s sensible hybrid car is parked under the covered awning near the garage, and Michael -

“Michael?”

Michael reins his temper in and leans in through the passenger side window to meet Jeremy’s worried gaze.

“Magic,” he spits, because for all he knows it is, and then feels guilty at the look Jeremy gives him. All woeful sad puppy dog eyes and Michael, please, because Jeremy’s a shit. “I don’t know, Jeremy. It’s not like people come out this way that often, you know?”

Jeremy cocks his head like he’s thinking about it, and okay, now is not the time.

“Thanks for driving me out here, I’ll pay you back for it later,” he promises, because they’re a long way out of town and gas is expensive these days.

Jeremy snorts, waving it off as he gestures to the mansion. “You want me to come with you?”

In case Ryan is a serial killer or something worse, and honestly, Jeremy’s a good guy. (A fucking idiot, sure, but still a good guy.)

Michael glances at the mansion. Takes in the way it’s pretty fucking intimidating against a steel gray sky, more storm clouds in the distance because the weather is miserable this time of year.

“Nah,” he says. “Thanks for the offer, but I’m good.”

Jeremy’s eyebrows shoot up, because yeah, no, this whole situation is sketchy as hell.

“Really.”

Michael shrugs. It’s hard to explain, but he’s just here to yell at Ryan. Shake some sense into him if he can, but mostly it’s the yelling thing.

Jeremy’s got work later and the lawyer can drive Michael home, no need to hang around for his ass.

“Yep,” he says, and pushes off Jeremy’s car to head inside, ignoring Jeremy as he yells after him.

========

“Michael,” Ryan says, fidgeting with the book he’s holding. Science fiction author Ryan seems to like, filling the bookshelves in the library he’s taken over. “I didn't expect to see you here again.”

Michael narrows his eyes at that, gaze flitting toward the lawyer who’s off in a corner on his phone. Big hand gestures and this note to his voice like his life is a disaster and hahaha, no, really, I need you to do this One Thing, for the love of God.

“No?” Michael asks, and holds up the folder of paperwork Ryan’s lawyer dropped off with him. “Weird.”

Ryan...winces, rubs a hand over his face.

“Ah,” he says. “That.”

Yes, Michael thinks. ’That’ indeed.

Like Ryan’s lawyer said, it’s an offer.

A job offer. Personal assistant to the human disaster that is Ryan Haywood and various perks and benefits that would go along with said job offer.

Such as ridiculous amounts of money as payment, his own room(s) at the mansion, pick of the cars in the garage – excluding Ryan’s personal one- and a whole slew of things that most people would have to sell their souls to get.

And here Ryan is offering all of that plus some to Michael after knowing him for less than a day.

It’s suspicious as hell and while part of Michael is screeching at him at to swallow his pride and agree, the rest is...annoyed.

Because Ryan – vampire or just a run of the mill serial killer – is real fucking stupid.

For all he knows Michael could be a goddamned serial killer, and here the idiot it inviting him into his home like it’s no big deal. A place in the middle of nowhere where no one would discover the body for quite some time and what the actual fuck is wrong with this idiot?

“I thought Kerry explained it to you?” Ryan says, backing up a step when Michael scowls at him. “We went over the contract several times, and while I admit he is young, he’s very thorough.”

Oh, Kerry was very clear on the terms and conditions of the contract. Bright and cheerful as he went over it in excruciating detail, yes. Answered all of Michael's questions with confidence and only faltered when Michael told him he’d need time to think it over before he’d kicked Kerry out of his apartment and stewed.

Read the damn thing over and over, going through what fine print there was with a fine-toothed comb just in case and realizing for all the legal babble there was, it was a straightforward offer.

No strings attached, and Michael was free to stay in his apartment in the city instead if he felt more comfortable with that. And he'd still have his pick of the cars and everything else. Could negotiate any terms and conditions until all parties were satisfied and honestly he shouldn’t be annoyed at how accommodating Ryan is trying to be with this, but he is.

Part of it has to do with Michael’s own stupid pride, he’s not a fucking charity case okay. More than capable of looking after himself even if it lands him in the trouble every once in a while. The rest is just.

Baffled at how stupid Ryan is.

“You don’t even know me,” Michael says, because it’s true, isn’t it? They’re virtual strangers and yet here Ryan is ready to let him into his odd little home for no reason. “Why go to so much trouble for me?”

Michael knows all about Ryan’s woes with his dead relative’s lawyers, knows Kerry works for the same legal firm. That Ryan chose him to handle his own personal legal matters and apparently that includes helping draft a job offer for Michael or whatever the hell.

Ryan fidgets, looking every which way but at Michael and otherwise stalls until he can’t any longer.

Looks awkward as hell, sheepish and worst of all, guilty.

“...I like you,” he says after a long, painful moment. “And believe it or not, I don’t get a lot of company out here.”

Well, yeah.

Creepy mansion in the middle of nowhere? No shit he doesn’t get visitors out here. Michael bets he doesn’t even get the goddamned Girl Scouts breathing down his neck when cookie season rolls around.

Ryan sighs, glancing at Kerry who is still on his phone and oblivious to the two of them.

“I know what it’s like to be in a bad place in life,” he says, makes this vague hand gesture meant to encompass that spot in his own life. “And since I have the means to help you out – or try to – I did.”

He winces again before looking up at Michael.

“I didn't think it through at the time,” he admits. “I realize it seems...sketchy.”

Among other things, yeah.

Michael sighs, because he gets it, he does.

Ryan’s a sweet guy, if a bit misguided.

“Look,” Michael says, not sure what to say next because what the hell does he say next? “I’m not mad about it - “

Ryan snorts, corners of his mouth quirking.

“Shut up, I’m not,” Michael insists. “Annoyed, sure, because you’re an idiot, but I’m not mad.”

He really isn’t.

And...that sense of wounded pride is quiet now that Ryan’s explained himself. Awkward and fumbling, but his offer seems to have come from a good place.

Michael would be a fool to turn Ryan’s offer down, let his pride get the better of him. He’s not the smartest guy out there by a long shot, might not get a better opportunity than this in his life, and -

He’s lonely too, even with people like Gavin and Jeremy and the other assholes he met since moving out here.

Ryan’s out here by himself, living somewhere he doesn’t seem all that happy to be, and here he is trying to do a good thing for some asshole he barely knows.

Michael looks at Ryan, the tired little smile on his face that looks stiff and painful, and feels guilty for being the sort of asshole he is.

The truth of the matter is Michael doesn’t want to kill himself for minimum wage working in a warehouse or whatever other shitty job he’ll land at some point.

He’s tired of barely scraping by and while Ryan’s offer was way over the top, he can work with it. Whittle it down to something more manageable, easier to live with and not feel like he’s taking advantage of Ryan’s generosity.

Ryan must realize it, because he cocks his head as Michael starts talking.

========

Kerry left hours ago and took the amended contract with him.

There are still sections that need to be gone over, finalized before anyone sets pen to paper but overall Michael's feeling more comfortable about it.

He had to argue Ryan down on a few points because goddamn the man’s an idiot, but with Kerry on his side he got his point across. (Ryan still thinks Michael’s being the dumb one here, but honestly it’s still Ryan.)

“You’re incredibly dumb,” Michael says, listing to the storm closing in on the mansion outside, one that's bound to be another doozy. “Like. So much, it’s hard to believe anyone could be that dumb.”

Ryan sends him an annoyed look, and on that huge flat screen television of his, Michael's character goes down in a spray of blood and choked off cry.

Another goddamned headshot from fucking nowhere.

“Oh?” Ryan says, smile full of teeth. “Is that so?”

Michael snorts because yeah, yeah. The guy’s a pro with the fucking sniper rifle but the moment Michael gets in close enough to make the damn thing irrelevant, he’s pretty fucking easy to deal with.

“Yeah,” Michael answers, flashing him a grin. “It is.”

========

Look, Michael has no clue what’s going on in his life anymore, alright?

He’s got a better job lined up for himself than anything he’s had before even if he’s not sure he’s qualified for it. An idiot of a boss who may or may not be a vampire or just a run of the mill serial killer, and somehow all of this is okay with him because Michael is also an idiot.

Michael doesn’t know what he’s doing, but Ryan’s laughing at some dumb joke he just told and the storm outside seems small and inconsequential.

The company’s not half bad, so Michael will keep on keeping on for now and deal with whatever shit comes his way the way he always does.

#myan #ragehappy #vagrant fic #idek anymore #it started as a lol moment and grew into this???#¯\_(ツ)_/¯#leave the lights on #vampire??? au

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a-wandering-fool · 6 years ago

Link

The witness testimony completed today in the punitive damages hearing, which follows the $11.2 million compensatory verdict last Friday in the lawsuit Gibson’s Bakery v. Oberlin College. The jury could award up to double damages, meaning $22.4 million on top of the $11.2 million, bringing the potential total to $33.6 million, plus a recommendation that the judge award attorney’s fees.

I will have a complete update later, but here is the essence of Oberlin College’s defense today:

Gibson’s lawyers spent considerable time going over Oberlin College’s IRS Form 990, showing over $1 billion in assets and numerous employees earning over $100,000, They also got the Vice President and General Counsel of the college to admit to some of the content of the blast emailshe sent out soon after the compensatory verdict, including that she felt the jury disregarded the “clear evidence,” though they were not permitted to show the jury the letter itself under a prior court ruling.

The defense then argued that notwithstanding the Form 990, the college had cash flow and liquidity issues that would make a large punitive award difficult for the college. The defense compared the relatively poor financial condition of Oberlin College to other colleges and universities in Ohio. The defense argued that students would be harmed by a large verdict because the college might have to cut back on grants given to students.

Closing argument will start at 10 a.m. tomorrow, followed by jury instruction, and then the jury gets the case.

MORE TO FOLLOW LATER

(added 8:50 P.M.)

NOW FOR THE REST OF THE STORY

It was an odd day in the Ohio courtroom today. Oberlin College, which got socked with an $11.2 million verdict last week for their role in defaming a small business as racist, spent half the day saying they weren’t as bad as they seem, and the other half claiming they were much poorer than they seem.

As this Gibson Bros. v Oberlin College lawsuit hits the end of the line, with the jury deciding on whether “punitive” damages will be assessed to Oberlin College, much of the testimony today consisted of the jury hearing how much cash the school has. Or doesn’t have.

But at any time when one tries to define the monetary value of anyone – large institution or ordinary person – it usually comes down to how one might interpret what such fun terms as “revenues” and “expenses” and “deficits” actually mean. Sometimes those terms get interpreted in different ways to get the dollar number one wants.

Oberlin College was so hellbent on getting the message out that their cash liquidity was in such dire straits — as the eight-person jury was figuring out if they wish to add $22.4 million to the school’s legal verdict bill — that they brought out the school’s president, Carmen Twillie Ambar to the stand to tell that part the story.

“We’ve created deficits … and over the next ten years, if this continues, that is unsustainable and we will not exist,” Ambar told the jury. She even indicated the school’s grants — about $60 million a year from the school, and lots of students get those scholarships as only 10% of them pay the full $70,000 a year — were important to preserve as “the accessibility of education” was a key component of the school’s purpose.

For about four hours, it felt like a divorce court proceeding where one of the spouses was claiming they had no assets to divide. Even though they had a Rolls Royce car in the garage and a nice yacht at the marina.

A few things that flew by in the hearing on whether the jury wants to pile more money on to the Oberlin College bill, was the fact that defendant Meredith Raimondo was brought to the stand by the plaintiffs again. And how the plaintiffs used a little legal maneuvering to bring out an email in a vague way to jurors, sent to alums hours after the verdict that the school was “disappointed with the verdict and regret that the jury did not agree with the clear evidence our team presented.”

But more on that toward the bottom.

Rebecca Vazquez-Skillings, the Oberlin College vice president for finance and administration, was brought to the stand by the plaintiffs’ team to go over the numbers and show how the school had lots of money and how a few million more on this verdict wouldn’t hurt them.

As Gibson attorney Lee Plakas told the jury, “If you have $1,000 in your bank account and you get a $100 fine, it’s a big deal, but if you get a $100 fine with $1 million in the bank, its’s like getting a mosquito bite.”

When the plaintiffs went over the IRS Form 990 (the required non-profit filing) and the school’s annual financial reports, it seemed like the Oberlin College’s monies had measurable value and were robust. At least to someone like me who doesn’t have much money. [View Oberlin College’s 2017 Form 990 — the 2018 Form 990 is not yet publicly available]

The college has more than $1 billion in funds and net assets according to the latest IRS 990 form, an endowment fund that had grown from $440 million to $887 million in the last 20 years, and because of its non-profit status, pays no taxes on any property it owns.

It also had 18 members of their administration making more than $100,00 a year. The president and chief financial officer of the school were both making more than $500,000 a year.

But not all was so good, Vazquez-Skillings told the jury under questioning from the Oberlin College lawyer. “We are dependent on enrollment … and we have declined significantly in total enrollment.”

Significantly? Well, again, depends on how you define that. The enrollment has gone down from 2961 in 2104 to 2785 this year. That’s a decline of 176 students, or a 6% drop in enrollment. That might be a loss of $12.3 million in tuition and dorm housing revenue, but then you have to figure that’s less scholarship and grants coming out of endowment.

And that was the problem with all this back and forth over how Oberlin College is supposedly in the poor house. Yes, they admitted, they had lots of money in some buckets, but weren’t allowed to touch some of those buckets, so even though it seems like they have lots of money, they really don’t.

The jury seemed be getting tired hearing this back and forth financial interpretation.

At the end of this Accounting 101 class, I thought of it this way. They said enrollment was decreasing, but assets were increasing. Overall revenue from students was down, but investment income was up. “We have to reorganize the way we function,” Vazquez-Skillings said in one of the most obvious statements this jury heard in the last month.

As for Meredith Raimondo, she was brought to the stand for a short period in what seemed like an excuse for the plaintiffs to show the jury more emails and texts she was privy to or that originated with her. The punitive stage demands the jury find “malice,” in their deliberations, and these emails and texts tended to prove some of that.

Raimondo didn’t answer many questions. She just confirmed that she had read and received these letters and messages. Most were written by ordinary residents of the town of Oberlin within a week or so of the protests in early November of 2016, and the plaintiffs were trying to show the jury that the Oberlin College administration ignored virtually every voice that was saying they were wrong about claiming Gibson’s was racist over the shoplifting incident.

One was an email from a biracial couple (one an alum, the other not), who had known the Gibsons for many years and told the administration that their racist branding “was completely inappropriate in so many ways.” Another alum wrote “[The Gibsons] are a family of gentle and fine people” and that the racist accusations were “a few opportunistic student activists looking for a cause.”

The attorneys also brought up again that Raimondo called a news reporter who she had handed the racially accusative flyer “a liar” soon after he wrote a story that she had done so. She has testified in court previously, and again today, that she was mistaken for doing that. But she also indicated her mistake in calling him a liar was explainable, in that she “believed it was a false statement because I did not know he was the person I gave the flyer to.”

As far as the little bit of legal maneuvering, Judge John R. Miraldi had ruled yesterday that an email written by Donica Thomas Varner, Oberlin College’s Vice President and General Counsel, who has been in court since day one, was inadmissible. The email was sent to thousands of alums an hour or so after the jury came back with their $11.2 million verdict against the college, and was very much against the jury’s decision. The judge wouldn’t admit it because “this was a letter sent by the Oberlin general counsel after the verdict. We are talking about the actions of the defendants that demonstrated malice. What we will use is only what was litigated in court.”

Varner’s email said this in one part: “We are disappointed with the verdict and regret that the jury did not agree with the clear evidence our team presented.”

Plakas got around the judge’s ruling that the email was not admissible by calling Varner to the stand to discuss school policy. He referred to the email in vague terms, but was able to ask Varner a few questions without acknowledging the email itself to the jury. He even asked her about the quotation above, specifically if she still “regrets that the jury did not agree with the clear evidence our team presented.”

“Yes,” she answered, before Oberlin College attorneys objected.

At the end of the day, though, it comes down to the jury. And if they see malice as part of what Oberlin College did in their libeling of Gibson’s.

“You have spoken,” said Oberlin College attorney Rachelle Kuznicki Zidar to the jury. “You have sent a profound message. We have heard you, and believe me, colleges across the country have heard you,” She also looked at the Gibson family and said, “The college doesn’t hate you.”

But then she got back to the main theme, which was that “punitive damages would only adversely impact students who had nothing to do with the demonstrations.”

Plakas brought up the bigger national interest in the case, saying that “Defamation is where words are used as weapons … even more damaging than bullets can be from weapons. Once you are defamed there is no surgical procedure to fix it. That’s why the words are the weapons now, in our society at this time, because they cause permanent injury.”

“Why should we care about the Gibson’s? Why should the rest of the country care? What is it about this case that has generated such interest?”

“Because the Gibson family represents all of us and we are at a tipping point now,” Plakas told the jury. “This case is about fairness. It is about our youth’s education and its importance. You, as a jury, are helping your community right now, but you are also helping the national community.”

Plakas then looked over at Allyn W. Gibson, the 90-year-old who has been sitting behind the plaintiffs’ attorneys’ table since the first day in April, a walker in front of him and a brace around his neck, and the veteran attorney in his late sixties smiled and winked at “Grandpa” as he finished his opening statement.

“The school helped distribute a flyer that said, ‘A member of our community was assaulted by the owner of this establishment yesterday,’ “ Plakas said, looking directly at Mr. Gibson. “That is what the malice part of this is about.”

“Oberlin College apparently thinks Grandpa is able to assault somebody.”

The final closing arguments will be done tomorrow (Thursday) morning, and the jury should go back to their contemplation room by lunch. The punitive damage verdict should be decided by afternoon. Stay tuned to Legal Insurrection for the latest.

===========================

This pissed me off. The college is guilty of targeting this business and deliberately libeling them and trying to put them out of business.

They then attacked the jurors.

Now they are crying poor?

I hope the bakery gets the max in punitive damages.

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the-digimon-tamer · 5 years ago

Photo

Chapter 30 - The Village on the Coast is out now on FanFiction.Net and ArchiveOfOurOwn! Check them out with the links or find it after the break!

Title: The Tamer v2.0 - In HIs Name

Fandom: Digimon

Rating: T

Synopsis: In the next adventure of the Digimon Tamer, the lives of Juri, Rika, and Henry change forever when digimon begin crossing over into the human world. But it’s all just a story, right? Just a book series by an author no one has seen in a long time. Why are they here and can they save their world before something worse follows the digimon?

They rested another day at the house, part to recover from the day’s fight and part so that the information could sink in for Kazu and Kenta. The rest of them hadn’t really interacted with the real Takato before but he was Kazu and Kenta’s friend. And they’d become uncharacteristically quiet ever since learning he was dead.

The mood was hardly any better the next day when they headed off towards the lights in the horizon, and the travel was awkward the whole way. Thankfully, their journey eventually took them to a beautiful coastline that seemed to go on forever. And the sight of it seemed to raise everyone’s spirit if only slightly. Rika, however, was focused intently on Ryo who’d been quiet ever since the battle over the lake. Although she was unsure if it was due to the battle, Tamer, the truth about how his anger made Cyberdramon crazy, or something. She was sure he was still steaming about everything though and was trying his hardest to not lead it into Monodramon becoming violent again. Admittedly, the interactions between the two partners was out of sync now that Ryo knew the truth. Meanwhile, his partner Monodramon was grumbling about not being able to fly and wanting to hit everyone around him. Likely because of whatever pent up anger Ryo wasn’t dealing with.

The funny thing was, everyone except Terriermon and Calumon would just push him away whenever he tried to take a swing at them. Even that idiot Guilmon was able to keep him at arm’s length. Sometimes with his tail. Since Ryo had been hanging back, Rika slowed her pace to keep up with him, “You alright?”

“Yeah, just...taking everything in,” Ryo answered quietly, “And processing everything that’s happened. It’s...aggravating.”

“I know the feeling. Goggle head got on my nerves a lot. But the thing about Takato…I mean, wow,” Rika nodded in agreement, trying to think of some positive points to add. One look at Monodramon was all it took, “At least your partner’s a lot...easier to handle now that you’ve…mellowed out.”

As she said that, Monodramon made another attempt at fighting and charged at Leomon. And for his efforts, Leomon picked up the digimon by the scruff of his neck and held him up at arm’s length, “Please stop that. It’s getting annoying.”

“I’ll stop when I knock you down a peg!” Monodramon hissed until Leomon knocked him on the head. The little dinosaur calmed down, whimpering in pain and rubbing his sore head. Ryo sighed, burying his face in his hands, “I don’t think I did. It’s hard to not get mad every time I see Tamer. How do you guys not get annoyed by him?”

Rika shrugged, “You’re asking the wrong person. Kazu and Kenta are his friends. Were? I don’t know, you’ve gotta ask someone else. Although I’m not sure who the right person to ask is.”

“How about Juri? She seems friendly. Although the puppet is kind of weird. I’ve been meaning to ask: what’s up with that?” Ryo gestured towards her, fiddling with her sock puppet anxiously. Rika recalled their conversation in the park about how hard it was for Juri to talk to others. In a strange new world, her anxiety was probably getting the better of her. And having Ryo question her might not be the best idea. Maybe Henry was a better choice? She waved it off, “Never mind. Let’s ask Henry instead.”

...

The only other sane member of their group walked in the middle with his hands in his pockets, casually asking Terriermon about every little thing in the Digital World as they passed. Part of it was genuine curiosity, part of it was because his partner had suddenly become very talkative. Terriermon gestured ahead, “It’s kinda hard to believe your dad made all this. He must’ve had a lot of free time on his hands when he was in college.”

“It’s scary to think what he would make if he still had that free time,” Henry surmised, thinking on what would’ve happened if he hadn’t lost his project. Would he be working in his lab, trying to make improvements to the Digital World? Would he have gotten married to his mother? Terriermon laughed, “Maybe you and your sister should do more to keep him busy. That way he won’t make any more things that’ll kill us!”

“If only,” Henry laughed, “Maybe Shibumi made some more helped programs while we weren’t looking. Wouldn’t that be nice if we had some of those digignomes following us around. Speaking of which.”

He looked over at the glowing balls of light playfully flying around Calumon as he hopped along side them, amusing him with their aerial ballet. Every so often, he’d bounce on one and ride it for a little bit before falling onto the ground. Terriermon asked, “Do you think Xiaochun is ready to see him again?”

“She definitely liked having him as a playmate,” he nodded in agreement, watching Calumon get lifted into the air by the little lights who continued to carry him around.

“Hey! Henry!” Rika called out to him. He looked over his shoulder to see Rika and Ryo making their way towards him in hurry. Terriermon took the chance to joke, “I wonder if they’re coming to kick your butt.”

“Don’t put that idea in my head,” Henry frowned, worried his partner was right. It didn’t help that all he had to say in response was, “Moumantai!”

“If they kick my butt, I’m kicking you,” he warned his partner. The little digimon laughed at the empty threat and hurried off to join Calumon, who was busy being flown around by the Digignomes. Henry mentally prepared himself for whatever tai chi training he would need to defend himself when Rika stopped, “Ryo’s got a question for ya.”

“For me? What’s up?” he asked the other boy curiously. What did he have to offer a guy as experienced in the Digital World and as skilled in the card game as Ryo? He got an answer when Ryo shot Takato a sideways glare, “Tamer. How do you guys put up with him?”

Henry laughed at the oddness of the question, “It’s not hard when you have a partner like Terriermon around.”

Ryo frowned, obviously disappointed with the answer and added, “I’m not talking about his personality. I mean, how have you not gone completely crazy because of him? He drives me insane! All I can think about is how he dropped me off in this world for twenty years!”

Henry thought about that, recalling everything Ryo had said the day before and chose his words carefully, “Honestly, I’d be pretty mad if he did that to me. But the truth is, I guess I had more of a choice in the matter than you did. I could’ve walked away with Terriermon. It sounds like you didn’t have a choice. I think that would’ve been easier than getting the choice. Because the choice becomes standing by while others get hurt, or putting yourself in danger to protect others. If that makes sense.”

Ryo grumbled, “It really doesn’t. It sounds like he just hasn’t thrown you guys under the bus yet. I mean, you’re right about one thing: I didn’t have much of a choice. To be honest, I’m not sure you guys did either. After all, it’s only a matter of time before he says something like ‘all according to plan’ or something stupid like that. For all you know, he’s been pulling your strings since the beginning.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that about him,” Henry glanced at Takato once, walking in the front with his digivice out to navigate. Maybe he should stop thinking of him as Takato - the real Takato was dead. Then again, he never even knew the real Takato. So what did it matter if he called the guy Tamer or Takato? He seemed like the plain old guy who was just trying to stop all the craziness before it got out of hand, “But he doesn’t seem like the kinda guy who would.”

“He would and will,” Ryo said bitterly, before taking a deep breath to calm himself, “Sorry, I guess I’m still fuming about what happened.”

“Moumantai,” Henry patted the guy’s shoulder. He raised an eyebrow at him, “I keep hearing your partner say that. What does it mean?”

Henry laughed, “It’s Chinese and it means relax. Don’t ask me where he learned it. He says its because some Terriermon learned it from a human a long time ago..”

“Huh,” Ryo frowned, “Probably because of Tamer or something Tamer did.”

Henry frowned, noticing that Ryo still seemed to be seething a little. The fact Monodramon was still trying to jump the other digimon was a dead give away. He’d need to talk to someone else to get all that aggression out. But who else could Ryo ask that question to? After all, Rika had her own issues with Tamer and wasn’t the right person to ask. Kazu and Kenta wouldn’t be safe bets since they each knew the real Takato and Henry wasn’t sure what was going through their heads right now. It was almost unnatural how quiet things could be when they were chatting excitedly between themselves.

Juri seemed like a safe bet since she was following closest behind Tamerkato...that seemed like an odd choice of name for him but it worked. The Tamer was too weird, even a little too formal - but he couldn’t keep using Takato’s name. In either case, Juri seemed like she wanted to join the conversation but didn’t know what to say. She might be the answer, “You know what, I think I know the person you should be talking to! Juri!”

The girl jumped at the sound of her name, looking up sheepishly but still managing to smile. She had been quiet ever since the morning before the Devas showed up. Ever since Takato revealed the truth about the real Takato. Still, she seemed to be the least agitated about it. She slowed down so they could catch up, “What is it, Henry?”

“Ryo here wants to know how we’re not all being driven crazy by Takato,” Henry explained sheepishly, “And I figured you would be able to answer since you know him better. Well, know him better than either of us. You are in his class after all.”

Juri paused for a moment, her gaze moving skyward slowly as she rattled off anything that came to mind, “Well, he does drive our teacher crazy sometimes. But I guess it’s because they know each other? Although I’m glad when he interrupts the class because then I can try to catch up with notes. It was also weird, getting strung along with everything that happened-”

“That certainly sounds like him,” Ryo rolled his eyes and leered at Takato, “That guy always strings you along. It’s how he works. And you’d better believe that if it means leading you into something awful, he won’t bat an eye. So what did he do to stick you guys in this mess?”

Rika, and Juri all looked at each other - unsure how to explain their situation to him. Or rather, unsure who should go first. Juri answered first, “He didn’t drag me into anything. I signed up for this. He actually tried to talk us out of it and get us to walk away. But I’m here. And it’s been fun so far.”

“I didn’t even know Tamerkato was involved until a few days after all this started for me,” Henry offered his explanation, “Terriermon just showed up out of my computer one day. Next thing I know, all this is happening.”

“Tamerkato?” Ryo repeated expectantly. Henry shrugged, “Well, his name is Tamer but he’s running around with Takato’s face. But it feels weird to still call him Takato and Tamer is just...I dunno. Every time The Tamer comes up, he’s made to sound like something legendary. And he...well, isn’t.”

Rika was the only one who didn’t give an answer, which was bad since Ryo seemed to trust her over them. Ryo didn’t seem to notice though since he was still hung up on Tamerkato, “You’re not wrong. But wait until you see the real Tamer come out. And when he does, you’ll find out just how far you’ve been strung along.”

Henry was struck by that question and had never really stopped to consider if that was actually the case. Was Tamerkato quietly stringing them along? It sounded like what Rika had talked about in the park - the forgotten novel that described The Digimon Tamer as manipulative. But knowing how’d been acting since the truth came out about the real Takato, he wasn’t sure that was the case. Unless that was how Tamerkato was manipulating them. Then again, there was no way his attitude wasn’t genuine - he was flustered, confused, and well out of his depth.

“Whoa! Check this out!” Kazu called out aloud. They returned their attention forward to a sprawling walled village with a castle in the distance. The castle was decrepit, practically falling apart - like something from a feudal Japanese fortress that had been sacked and left to rot. Juri gasped, “It’s horrible! What is it?”

“That is ShogunGekomon’s Village,” Renamon answered, “The domain of ShogunGekomon and his people: the Gekomon and Otamamon. At least, that was its history. It was a bustling city a long time ago and is home to all sorts of digimon. They would take in anyone who needed a home, so long as they abide peacefully with others.”

“No way! That’s the thing from the show!” Kenta jumped up excitedly, “Kazu! This is the place from the show! Where Rika’s mom sang that song!”

“Man, what a dump. What do you think happened here?” Kazu frowned. Tamerkato grunted as he carried on, “We’re in the Digital World. Take a guess.”

He marched ahead with Guilmon just behind him. Leomon crossed his arms, “I don’t understand. It was not like this when I left.”

Henry was sure that Tamerkato’s statement was truer than he was comfortable admitting. And if it was, it would be dangerous to let their ticket wander off on his own, “We’d better catch up to them before they do something and get themselves hurts.”

It took them a while to finally catch up to them outside the village entrance. The village was populated by a mish-mash of digimon - the toad like Gekomon, the tadpole like Otamamon, small little orange dinosaur Agumon, little bunny eared Koromon, and more. The digimon hurriedly moved oversized barrels towards the edge of the lake, shouting amongst themselves to hurry before someone arrived.

Whatever it was that had them all so worked up, it made Guilmon growl towards the ocean and drew the attention of the nearest digimon. One of the Gekomon took a good look at the group before continuing his business. As Guilmon continued to growl, the Gekomon stopped again to look - obviously annoyed with his growing. Before he could start to yell at them, his gazed fixated on Ryo and his eyes widened. He shouted, “Is that who I think it is? The Digimon Tamer! Everyone, The Digimon Tamer is here!”

The announcement brought all the working digimon in the village to a pause, digimon everywhere stopping in their tracks to look up at them. Then a mad excited rush followed as all the digimon came together to swarm the group. It was all Ryo could do to quietly step back behind the others as they were swarmed, although it was obvious to everyone that they were interested in Ryo.

“You have to help us!”

“We’ve been working for him for years! He never lets us rest!”

“Only you can stop him!”

Everyone stepped back to get clear of the wave of digimon, watching in stunned silence as Ryo was treated like some kind of celebrity. Which should’ve infuriated both Ryo and Tamerkato for the case of mistaken identity. Instead, Tamerkato smiled from ear to ear for the first time since his grim announcement and quietly remarked, “So this is what it looks like from the outside. It’s kinda funny to see it happen to someone else.”

Overwhelmed by the sheer number of digimon and annoyed at once again being mistaken for the person he hated the most, Ryo looked back to them as if he were pleading for help. All he got was Rika joking, “Hey! Ryo! I think they’re talking about you.”

It was weird to see her crack a friendly joke like that. For all of them. And even weirder that it actually managed a small chuckle from Renamon.

“I’ll get them!” Monodramon shouted, baring his claws and charging in for the attack. He got just short of the crowd before bouncing off the backs of one of the Gekomon and landing face first into the dirt. Realizing he was on his own, the boy raised his hand to call for quiet. His lips curled into a frown as he explained, “Guys! I’m not the Digimon Tamer! Don’t call me that ever again. He’s over there!”

The excitement died down as they looked over at Tamerkato, smiling that dopey smile of his as he waved. The digimon of the village were unimpressed by what they saw and returned their attention back to Ryo, “That was funny Tamer, but this is serious! We’re in a lot of trouble!”

Tamerkato frowned and stepped back towards the rest of the group, “That was new. I don’t know if I’m offended or flattered.”

“Why don’t you show them your old digivice?” Juri asked. Tamerkato shrugged, “What good would it do? They already don’t believe me. Besides, I’m more interested in what has them all so spooked and relieved to ‘Tamer’! Let’s see what’s going on with those barrels.”

He led the way past the crowd with Guilmon towards eight large bowls of foul smelling liquid just ahead of them. Guilmon got sick and started retching as they got closer. But Juri knew what it was as soon as she smelled it - it was the smell of strong alcohol. The kind her dad liked to drink and serve at his bar. She also knew that it was incredibly strong. Tamerkato took one sniff of the booze, barely flinching at the smell and remarked, “It smells a little weak.”

It made sense. He was a lot older than he appeared - who was to say he hadn’t drunk alcohol before. She watched him approach the nearest bowl and take a strong whiff. Then he scooped out a handful and took a drink. He fetched and coughed it back up, “Oh god. It’s gone bad. Who would drink this?”

“Tamerk-!” she paused, catching herself before she finished saying the name, “Takato!”

Thankfully he didn’t notice as he mouth and try to get out of his tongue. She was about to say he was too young for that, but then remembered this wasn’t Takato. It was someone else. And she’d just called him Takato. But the real Takato was dead. It never bothered her before to call him Takato. So why now? Was it the fact that she knew the real Takato was dead? She was pulled from these thoughts by Tamerkato wiping his mouth, “Sorry! It’s just awful. Who would want this!?”

“Don’t drink that!” An Otamamon shouted, running over to shoo him away from the drink before he could have anymore. The Otamamon pushed him back with his head, “That’s not for you! That’s for Orochimon. He likes his drink like that and it takes us months just to brew enough for him. So no more for you!”

“Orochimon,” Tamerkato repeated quietly, rejoining Juri’s side. The little Otamamon hurriedly poured more of the contents of the barrel into the bowl. She didn’t know much about digimon and had no idea who Orochimon was. She did think it was odd that the digimon in a place called ShogunGekomon Village were so concerned with the whims of a digimon named Orochimon. Maybe it was connected? Unfortunately, she was distracted by the powerful smell of alcohol coming from Tamerkato now. It seemed the smell rubbed off on him because he reached into the alcohol, “You stink.”

“I do?” Tamerkato sniffed himself and frowned, “Crap, I got it on me. I’m going to jump in the ocean real quick and then we can start asking around. I want to know why ShogunGekomon’s allowing any of this.”

She was about to stop him but was unable to open her mouth without getting a face full of fumes. Instead, she watched silently as he jumped into the ocean with his clothes on - soaking himself in the smell.

...

A great roar blared in the distance and the gathered digimon returned to their panicked frenzy and started pushing the barrels out to the beach again. Of the digimon that assembled to meet them, only one Otamamon stayed to stare up at Ryo with wide eyed excitement, “Is it true? Can you really help us?”

Ryo glowered, burying his face in his hands in annoyance. Thankfully, Kazu stepped in to answer ecstatically by pointing a thumb to his chest and proudly proclaiming, “You bet we can! We’re the new team of digidestined and we’re here to help!”

“Please don't call us that,” Ryo groaned. The Otamamon turned its head in surprise, examining Kazu’s carefully before declaring his ego, “You’re a lot smaller than the stories make you sound. I expected the Digidestined to be taller.”

“I did say new,” Kazu pointed out to the unimpressed Otamamon. Kenta did his best to stifle his laughter while Guardromon had to hold Kazu back from jumping the little digimon. Rika rolled her eyes and introduced herself, “Don’t mind him. His mouth works faster than his brain. I’m Rika, this is Kazu, that’s Ryo, Henry, Kenta, Renamon, Leomon, and Guardromon. What’s going on here?”

The Otamamon gestured out towards the digimon and sheepishly explained, “Our village is preparing its weekly tribute to Orochimon, an eight headed serpent who terrorizes us if we don’t. We need to prepare a special brew of sake for each of his heads but it takes so long to make that we’re running ragged. We have to take turns working in shifts all day just to make sure there’s enough for him. And he starts eating us if we don’t have enough.”

Rika looked out upon the barrels and counted them. There were indeed eight barrels being lined up at the beach like cups. And for some reason, goggle head was swimming in the ocean while Guilmon and Juri watched. A few digimon shooed them away so that they could empty the contents of the barrels into the bowls.

Leomon asked, “I don’t understand. Where’s ShogunGekomon? He’s supposed to be the protector of this place? And what about the village guard?”

Otamamon’s silent expression was all the answer they needed. They weren’t around anymore either - that seemed to be a theme of present. Ryo folded his arms, “Orochimon’s going to be tough. If I remember, he’s an Ultimate and with Monodramon back to rookie, we’re in serious trouble.”

“But we have Calumon now!” Kazu pointed at the little digimon still playing with the digignomes. Otamamon stared at the little digimon and said only, “Are you sure that’s a good thing? Orochimon would probably think he’s a toy.”

That announcement caught Calumon’s attention and the little digimon stopped his excited staring to see what was going on. Terriermon patted the little guy’s head, “I wouldn’t underestimate Calumon. He’s a lot stronger than he looks.”

The Otamamon eyed him skeptically, “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Another loud roar got their attention and the digimon gasped, scurrying over to the beach to help put the alcohol into the giant tub. Once they completed their tasks, the digimon retreated back into their houses. One of the Gekomon shouted as they ran past, “What are you doing? Hide! If Orochimon sees you, he’ll eat you for bothering his drinking time! You have to hide! Now!”

Everyone followed the little Gekomon into one of the nearby houses. Rika wasn’t normally one to run and hide but the Digital World had made her more cautious. She didn’t know anything about this Orochimon and didn’t want to walk head first into a blood bath without knowing what they were up against.

“Rika!” her partner shouted out. Rika looked back at Renamon and saw her pointing to Leomon running for Juri, Tamerkato, and Guilmon. All three of them were still standing on the water’s edge as if they hadn’t heard the noise echoing out from the distance. To make matters worse, there was movement in the water. A lot of movement. The ocean looked ready to come alive as the surface shook. And they were acting like nothing was wrong. Rika groaned, “You have got to be kidding me!”

…

“JURI!” Leomon roared. Juri turned away from Tamerkato and saw her lion partner running towards her with his arms in the air. He was shouting something but it was difficult to make out over the very loud rumbling she could hear from behind her. She tried cupping her ears and shouting, “What!?”

“RUN!” he shouted at the top of his lungs. He said something else but it was drowned out by another loud roar, followed by a large shadow appearing behind her. She turned around and saw a large serpent emerging out of the water. A panicked Takato ran back to shore beside her and Guilmon, standing in front of her just as another serpent head emerged from the water. Then another. Until finally an eight headed serpent was staring them down with all sixteen of its eyes. The closest head hissed, “Who are you? Why are you interrupting my drink time?”

Guilmon growled at the digimon angrily, presenting all of its claws. Juri froze in panic, mind racing for words that seemed just out of reach. She was glad Tamerkato was here to quickly put together, “Hello! I’m Takato! This is Guilmon! That’s Juri! That guy running late is Leomon! We’re here to serve you your drinks and make sure you’re taken care of!”

Another head came in closer to get a good look at them, “We don’t need to be taken care of. Go away. I want to enjoy my drink.”

“Our drink,” another head said. The two heads turned at each other, hissing until the largest head roared at them both, “No fighting! We drink now! Leave before we take some hors d'oeuvres with our food!”

Juri wanted to run now but Tamerkato kept talking, “Oh come on, Orochimon! You don’t want to do that! Who’ll stop you from choking on your tongue while you’re passed out drunk? Or worse! What if you choke on your vomit! Admit it, you need someone to take care of you!”

The serpent stared at them with one of their eyes. The pupil moved from one person to another curiously, judging them carefully before one head finally hissed, “That might not be a bad idea. You can stay. But try anything and we will eat you!”

“Don’t worry! We’ll be here to give you pillows and all the care you need while you sleep it off!” Tamerkato gave a thumbs up. Each head took a tub in its mouth and guzzled them all down. While the serpent chugged, Juri leaned over to Tamerkato and whispered, “What are you doing?”

He whispered back, “No idea. I wasn’t expecting Orochimon to just show up. I panicked! Sorry to drag you into this. Just roll with it.”

The first tub fell back to the beach, followed by another and another. Each head let out a loud burp that filled the air with the noxious smell of alcohol and Juri covered her nose to drown out the smell. The Digimon Tamer waved the air, while Guilmon nearly passed out from the smell - staying upright only because Leomon caught him. Leomon covered his mouth to stop himself from throwing up - finally relaxing once Orochimon finished burping. The serpents turned their heads towards them, lowing four of their heads while the lead declared, “Come with us. We sleep off the drink on our island.”

Juri felt her heart sink and looked to Tamerkato to get them out of this. The boy thought quickly and responded with, “Is that a good idea? You just had a hearty drink! It’d probably be better if you stayed here. It’s a bad idea to swim after a drink! You should probably have something to ea...I mean...sleep it off here.”

“Get on or I’ll eat you now,” the serpent hissed. Tamerkato offered her an apologetic look and mouthed a sorry before climbing aboard the snake’s head first. Juri felt a lump in her throat choking her but managed to climb onto its head without passing out. She felt her head spin as Orochimon raised his head into the air and she latched on to keep herself from falling. Guilmon and Leomon followed their lead, climbing onto the head and holding on for dear life as the serpent turned back to the ocean. The lead head said, “Hold tight. I don’t swim straight after a drink.”

Juri held tighter, seeing Takato mouth another apology before they sailed off. She closed her eyes shut just as the first bob happened and she was sure she’d fall off.

...

Rika stopped just short of the water’s edge, kicking the sand in frustration as Orochimon shrank into the horizon. He was leaving and they had to catch up soon if they didn’t want to lose the others again. She groaned, “You’ve gotta be kidding me!”

Ryo folded his arms and smugly said, “See what I mean? He does that and there’s nothing we can about it. We better hope he doesn’t leave us behind. Wouldn’t be the first time, though.”

“Do you think they’ll be alright?” Renamon asked her, staring off as the serpent turned into a speck before disappearing over the horizon. It didn’t take Rika any time to think of the answer, “Nope. Leomon’s good but Juri doesn’t have much experience in fights. As for Taka...Tamer...Tamerkato! He and Guilmon are crazy. Who knows what they’re going to do next.”

“We should definitely go after him,” Henry folded his arms and looked down at his partner, “You mind carrying a handful of people?”

“Sure! I was wondering when we would try out those cards Shibumi gave us!” Terriermon said excitedly. Kazu and Kenta finally caught up, both out of breath and being carried in the arms of Guardromon. Henry produced a set of cards from his pocket and started handing them out, nudging the out of breath Kazu to get his attention. The boy asked, “The crap is this?”

Henry explained as he prepared to swipe, “One of the cards Shibumi gave me. They give our digimon a temporary energy boost that allows them to digivolve. Swipe the blue one to digivolve one level, the red ones to digivolve two levels. DigiModify! Digivolution Activate!”

There was a bright flash of light as Terriermon cried out, “Terriermon! Warp Digivolve to! Rapidmon!”

Rika looked down at the red card in her hand and realizing that she had all this power at the tip of her fingers. She readied to swipe it when she saw Ryo about to do the same, and quickly knocked it out of his hands, “Don’t!”

“What gives, Rika?” he asked like he’d been slapped in the face. She was surprised Ryo hadn’t considered what was wrong and pointed at Monodramon just a few steps behind him, “He’s still attacking everything he sees which means you’ve still got pent up anger issues! Do you really want him to digivolve to something other than rookie?”

“I’ve been on my best behavior!” the little digimon huffed, showing off big watery eyes in a bid for sympathy. All of that went away and he hissed when Rapidmon commented, “That was only because Orochimon actually scared you! That was the quietest you’ve been in a while!”

“So what do we do now?” Ryo asked, “We can’t just sit here and do nothing, and I’ll be damned before I let Tamer abandon us in another part of the Digital World!”

Rika scooped up the card before he could take it back up, “Don’t worry. I won’t let him. Besides, someone’s gotta protect Calumon over there in case more of those Devas come looking for him. Henry, Rapidmon, Renamon and I will go after them. You guys wait here. Deal?”

“What!? I don’t want to be stuck on babysitting duty!” Kazu complained loudly, prompting Kenta to smack the back of his head.

Ryo looked at her quietly for the longest time, almost like he was examining her. It creeper her out until he nodded and agreed, “Alright. I trust you.”

Hearing those words made her blood rush with excitement and she excitedly turned to her partner, red card in hand, “Ready partner? Digimodify! Digivolution Activate!”

“Renamon! Warp-Digivolve to! Taomon!” her partner shouted, appearing in her long flowing robes and holding her massive brush in her hands. She scooped Rika up and took to the air, Rapidmon following just behind with Henry. They didn’t have a moment to lose if they were going to save Juri or the others. But her focus was distracted by what Ryo said, his words echoing in her mind. But it was soon forgotten when Rapidmon added, “Hey, Rika! You’re redder than the red card!”

...

Juri leapt off the serpent’s head and watched the creature slither off into a large mound on the ground. It curled in on itself, coiling its body around its many heads to keep warm, “You are only to care for us. Try anything and we will eat you.”

“Right, rest well Orochimon! We’ll keep you from choking on your own vomit,” Takato waved, hurrying to join her, “Sorry again, Juri. I panicked but we’ll get out of this! Somehow.”

“Well you’d better think of something,” Leomon looked around nervously, “I don’t know how to swim and we’re miles from land. I don’t suppose Guilmon can fly when he digivolves?”

“His breath stinks,” the dinosaur mumbled just as Orochimon burped so loudly that she was sure he was going to break the island apart with the sheer force of it. Then the smell came and Juri covered her nose in disgust. Leomon followed suit, pushing Juri behind him to try and block some of it, “By the Guardians, that smell is horrendous. It’s like a million Numemon climbed in his gullet and died!”

“Three-hundred and twenty-eight,” one of Orochimon’s many heads answered, one of its eyes open so that it could look at them, “They thought they could poison me from the inside and make me sick. They didn’t think their plan through. Then again, they’re about as smart as they are beautiful. Can’t blame them after what I did to ShogunGekomon. Fat bastard had it coming anyway. More important, keep your mouths shut if you don’t want me to eat you.”

“Sorry,” Tamerkato put his hands together apologetically, “We’re new so we didn’t know. But what happened to ShogunGekomon?”

“I’m a snake. He’s a toad. Nature took its course,” the head answered, “Now shut up.”

It hissed that last part, preventing Tamerkato from prodding it with anymore questions. Satisfied, the eye closed and the serpent quietly returned back to dozing. They all waited in silence for the longest time, waiting for a sign to make sure the serpent actually was asleep. Ten minutes later, one of the heads was snoring and they all breathed a sigh of relief. Leomon asked at a hushed whisper, leaning in so they could hear him, “So what now?”

“Outlived another one,” Tamerkato whispered back, shaking his head and scratching his hair, “Okay. Options. We could attack. But we have two digimon and he has eight heads so you’d only manage to startle him before he eats us all. We could actually do the care taker part but he’ll probably eat us over the course of however long we’re here. There are plenty of trees which gives us plenty of hiding spots. Eight heads means he can search more so...so...”

“Tamer, do you have an idea or don’t you?” Leomon asked quietly. Juri knew he didn’t. He could tell by that look in his eye - the same look he had when he was told WarGreymon was dead. Something was eating at him - possibly ShogunGekomon. But what did outlived another one mean? She wanted to ask, but the idea of knowing another of his secrets filled her dread. Why did he keep so many? And what else was there? He’d promised that he wouldn’t keep so many. So how many more things did they not know? Before she could ask, Takato stepped away and started pacing. He examined each of the heads carefully as he walked, “Why does it have eight heads?”

She gave the rest of the serpentine digimon another closer look. All eight heads were nestled in on themselves so that it could sleep off the alcohol. But what did that have to do with the eight heads? It was funny. It made her think of the hydra myth they’d learned in classical literature. It was such an odd story to think about. Tamerkato looked at Leomon, “How quickly do you think can slice through each head?”

“What?” Juri and Leomon answered in unison. Tamerkato pointed at the serpent, “We’ll need to dispatch each head fast because as soon as the first one comes off, he’ll wake up. They’ll wake up. Whatever. Juri, use your digivice to give Leomon a speed and strength boost. As soon as she does, start going for the heads Leomon. Oh, and Juri.”

He went through his deck quickly and handed her a card, “Use this. It’ll help.”

She looked down and saw it said WarGreymon’s Brave Shield in big letters on top. She knew this card from the few times Tamerkato used it. She understood why he wanted her to use the card but not the sudden reversal on attacking Orochimon. He seemed keen to avoid a fight earlier. So why now?

“What are we doing?” she asked nervously, fearful of his answer.

“Letting nature take its course. On your mark,” he replied coldly. She nodded nervously, readying the cards she’d been given along with some cards she knew would help. Tamerkato did the same and they swiped their cards together, “DigiModify!”

“Strength Boost Activate! Speed Boost Activate! WarGreymon’s Brave Shield Activate!”

“Digivolution Activate!”

Their digimon partners glowed with light as they took strength from their digivices. Juri worried the burst of light would awake the giant serpent. It didn’t. What did was Guilmon’s cry, “Guilmon! Digivolve to! Growlmon!”

The first head looked up to examine the noise just as Leomon leapt upon it and sliced it off with a swing of his sword. The remaining seven heads jolted awake, screeching in pain and turning their attention on Leomon. The lion spun his blade in his hand so that he held it in reverse and leapt forward at the next head, cleaving it off before the others had any time to react. Now they were mad and began flying at Leomon. But he easily stayed just one step ahead, dodging through the strikes with his augmented speed. Not that he needed it. The serpent heads were still slowed from their drinking and couldn’t quite keep up with Leomon.

“Bastards! I’ll kill you!” one of the heads hissed in anger. As the fight dragged on, Juri noticed Tamerkato keeping Growlmon from jumping into the fight despite the growling noises he made. He obviously wanted to help and didn’t like being kept back. Until she considered Tamerkato’s emotional state. Growlmon didn’t want to help. He just wanted to attack. And he was only restrained because of Tamerkato.

She asked, “What are you doing?”

“Waiting,” he answered quietly. Waiting for what? As she thought about it, she noticed one of neck stumps writhing as something began convulsing out. It slid out with a sickening splat as a new head appeared. The head leered at Leomon, “You messed up, Leomon.”

“Now,” Tamerkato pointed at the head. Now Growlmon leapt in and cut the head off with his claws, causing the serpent to hiss in pain. Tamerkato called out, “Now burn the neck stump, Growlmon!”

“Pyro Blaster!” he roared, spewing out a ball of red fire at the neck stump. The serpent roared even louder and writhed in agony as its flesh burned and the open neck stump was cauterized shut. The attack was so vicious that Juri covered her mouth in shock. Sure, this was just like the myth she’d read about, she’d never once thought about how gruesome it was. Even for him, this was something else. It was...cruel. Then he called out, “Okay! Leomon! Cut off the heads! Growlmon! Burn them!”

“Juri?” Leomon looked over his shoulder at her. She looked from Tamerkato to the writhing serpent, hesitating for a moment before nodding in agreement, “Do it.”

The lion nodded hesitantly before leaping back into the fight, leaping between the heads and slicing them off when an opening presented itself. One, then another. Every time he cut a head off, Growlmon would burn the neck stump shut so that it couldn’t escape. Any time Leomon couldn’t dodge an attack, he used the brave shield to block the teeth and protect himself from being eaten. This continued back and forth with the two digimon working together until there was only one head left. The main head.

It leered at them angrily, “HOW DARE YOU! YOU ATTACK ME WHILE I SLEEP!?”

“You killed ShogunGekomon,” Tamerkato answered quietly, a glare on his face that she had never seen before. The serpent hissed, “And now I’LL KILL YOU!”

The last head leapt at him in a suicidal maneuver, completely ignoring Leomon who leapt up and sliced his head clean off. Then Growlmon jumped on it and cauterized the wound with his fire before the head could regrow. Once all the heads were off, the serpent fell still on the ground - before dispersing into data that both Growlmon and Leomon absorbed. All the while, Tamerkato stared at the remains with the coldest expression she’d ever seen - a kind of malicious look. Then it vanished, replaced with hurt. A sad and longing look that he had when they first came to the Digital World. The same one when they were at the house under the lake. She reached out to him quietly, “Tamer? Takato?”

“I’m fine,” he answered, pocketing his hands and turning away, “We should figure out how to get off this island. Maybe we could make a raft?”

“JURI!”

“GROWLMON!”

Everyone looked up to see Rapidmon and Taomon flying their way. The two digimon descended on the island, dropping off Rika and Henry who scanned the island for the serpent. Rika asked first, “Where’s Orochimon?”

“We took care of it,” Tamerkato answered matter of factly, continuing towards Taomon, “Get us out of here. I want to go back to the village.”

Miffed at being a commanded like that, Rika snapped, “Don’t boss me aro-”

“I’m not in the mood for your mood, Rika,” Tamerkato cut her off angrily, the malicious look in his eye returning in full force. For once, Rika cowed fearfully and nodded. Once Tamerkato was out of ear shot, Rika whispered, “What’s with him?”

“I don’t know,” she answered sheepishly.

#The Digimon Tamer #The Tamer v2 In His Name #Fanfiction #digimon tamers #The Tamer

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lostinthe-pines-blog · 6 years ago

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Fate Doesn’t Write My Stories pt. 10 - Epilogue

This is a multi-chapter story about MC, and Chris finding their way back together after years of being separated post graduation. Chris’s career takes him to Boston, a city he’d promised was her territory. But it’s not just Chris, fate has seemingly brought the entire Hartfeld crew back together.

NOTE: This is a fictional story based on Pixelberry’s Choices App. *Books The Freshman, The Sophomore, The Junior. I am not affiliated with Pixelberry nor do I own the rights to their original characters.

Tags @jared2612 @katurrade @annekebbphotography @emerald-bijou @jellybean-marshmellow @jollybouquetangel

Stargazing had been the most constant hobby in MC’s life. Laying on her trampoline in the backyard of her childhood home, to the roof of her college dorm. On the deck of Vasquez’s house, and the steps of her and Chris’s first apartment. She’d watched stars shine and fade almost weekly for her entire life. MC loved the idea that she was a part of something so much larger than herself or those around her. The cosmos all playing a party in her tiny little life. Looking up to the stars now they were just beginning to appear as the light of day was fading. A cold January morning on Cape Cod. A place normally for summer vacation it would now house a wedding. Her wedding. As she stands on the balcony looking out over the water freezing to Ice along the edges and the blankets of snow covering the trees. She wasn’t cold, she was warm, everything leading to these moments made her feel warm. She tuned out the sounds of chatter behind her. She lets the warmth of memories overflow as she remembers all the best moments from the last two years with Chris.

She shoves her key into the silver handle, her first time walking into what she’d call home. She knew he was waiting inside. She’d been here only a few times before. Stopping by before games or on errands while spending her days with Chris. Nothing much had changed except that he’d made room for all of her belongings. Everything had fallen back into place between them so quickly that she couldn’t even say for certain if they were using a label for their relationship before she accepted the key to the apartment.

Shutting the door behind her she wanders, her shoes clicking against the dark hardwood floors. “Chris?” she calls quickly trying to find him. As she approaches the bedroom she sees the door is closed, she can hear music playing from the other side. She may have been moving in but she was still unsure if she should knock or not? Was she allowed to enter her now bedroom without permission? Taking a deep breath pushing her daunting questions and anxieties behind she opened the door sliding inside. Her eyes scan the room her gaze catching on the bedside table once covered in his memories and papers it was now empty. He was making room for her. She looked again and saw him facing the window. Had he heard her come in? She didn’t know how to tell him she was there…

Chris sat facing away from the girl whose presence he’d yet to notice. He’d spent his long morning at the gym taking a little extra time today on his legs. Something that would always be hard on him since the accident. He knew the quickest way to heal the pain would be a hot shower. Kicking off his shoes and socks quickly he pulled his shirt off and piled them all to the side. It was in this moment he heard something, a gasp? He wasn’t alone. He turned his gaze behind him and smiled seeing the blush crossed her face.

“Sorry… I didn’t mean to intrude… I uh, we were doing lunch still right? I must be.. I’m early. The key works though!” she panics mumbling and trying to find a subject that will stick. As she continues to ramble Chris approaches her his only clothing a pair off loose gym shorts wrapped perfectly around his Adonis belt. This was an image she’d not seen for years and even though age had changed them some he was still carved from stone. MC’s rambling stops as she feels the heat of his body close to hers.

“You’re not intruding… you live here.” he answers her first question “Yes, we are doing lunch still, but you are early if you don’t mind waiting for me to get ready.” he continues answering the rest of her mindless questions. Baring his perfect white teeth through a gentle smile he pulls her eyes to his. He can feel the tension floating off of her, her eyes refusing to remain on his. He sees her uncertainty as her gaze falls to his eyes, his chest and eventually down to their feet. Chris quickly ducks to catch her eyes “You’re always welcome here.” he reassures her before brushing his lips against hers as he lifts her head up. A moment that was meant to be brief was quickly becoming something more.

Caught off guard by his kiss she is quick to melt into his embrace. Opening to his taste she feels his tongue tease her own, while his hands trail down her neck and back. She hadn’t had sex with Chris in almost 5 years. He was stronger now, different now. She felt the butterflies fill her stomach and travel lower to her core. The kisses familiar while the touch felt new. She doesn’t remember pulling away long enough to remove her sweater but it was no longer there. Her every touch against his own inspired by years of intent; she wouldn’t soon forget this…

One memory fades into another as she begins to understand more of what “for better or for worse” was going to mean. Her memories remind her that their two years reconnecting weren’t full of only good memories.

“You should consider pain medications Christopher, these spasms are serious.” The Doctor speaks. A Doctor Chris clearly knew, someone who’d watched over his physical therapy in the years MC had missed.

Living in Boston now Chris wasn’t able to visit here as much, he needed to make the most of this trip to Maine. To clear his progress with the Doctor. MC didn’t know him, but she needed to trust him. She couldn’t trust him as she listened to him suggest the same medications that sent her love off the deep end before.

“Scott..” Chris trails using the Doctor's real name, possibly gaining and losing respect from him. “I will deal with the pain… I cannot go back on those medications, I fear I wont be able to get off them if I do.”

Scott nods gently and understands Chris’s reasoning. “This injury is part of you forever Powell, and the pain will come and go forever. If you ever can’t handle it, please do not hesitate to call us.” He says exiting the room.

Chris looks to MC in the corner of the room, she’d been silent all morning. She was just as scared of the medication as he was. “Let’s get back to my moms, she’s been waiting for us.” The car ride still silent between them. Chris confused that MC might be angry, how could she be? He’d denied the medications. He did it for her and for them. As he pulled up in front his mothers very small home he felt a rush of pain jolt through his leg. “Aghh!!” he yells grabbing and trying to massage down the pulsing muscles.

“Chris you shouldn’t have said no.” MC admits as she lays a hand over his, attempting to distract him from the pain. “You’re not the same man you were back then, and you might need them.”

“I would rather deal with this pain than look at you through a faded gaze. I said no for you, and for us…” He says through his pain.

“Really?” MC pauses, she hated seeing him in pain but she loved him all the same. She knew that she now would have to be his distraction his pain medication. It wouldn’t be easy but it was far easier than watching him slowly lose his mind. She reaches her hands through his letting him grip them tight as his muscles spasm in complete discomfort.

Again she’s brought into the reality of the cold as she hears Zack come to retrieve her. “MC, it’s time.” he smiles softly. As she leaves the balcony she notices quickly that everyone had left the bridal room. Zack her “man of honor” remained as well as her parents. Her father ready to escort her down the aisle the moment she was ready. She takes a few deep breaths and taking one final glance in the mirror. Her simple lace dress still made her smile with every look at it. The neckline lower than she’d ever worn before gave her confidence. The long lace trailing only an inch or two behind created the perfect bridal silhouette. She remembers well the choice being made.

“MC, you look so beautiful!” Molly chimes softly at her friend.

“Oh that's the one for certain!” AJ whoops from the couch, the now 16 year old sister of the Groom had not been quiet about her opinions of these dresses.

“She’s right” Zack grins high-fiving the teenager. “I’m sure you’ll pick this but lets see what our at home audience has to say” he jokes snapping a picture and sending it off to Abbie, Kaitlyn, and Becca.

The answers come in quickly...

Kaitlyn: Zack! Tell her HELL YES! But make sure to ask her if she's still certain I’m not the one she’s meeting that the end of the aisl?!?!

Becca: A neckline that deep on MC? Who is she? But all things considered… It’s perfect for her.

Abbie: MC looks so lovely in all the photos you’ve sent but the girls and I all agree this is the dress.

“Jury’s out MC, wrap it up and let's go.” Zack beams proudly.

MC looks to the mirror again, her friends were right. This was her dress. A smile peeks onto her face as she stands there imaging him seeing her for the first time in it. Blushing now she turns back to the three of them. “This is my dress.” she admits proudly.

These memories comfort her as she walks leaning on her father, excitement and nerves filling her chest. As they step through the doors she sees a crowd of familiar and distant faces rise for her. But the only face she’s fixated on is his. His eyes widen and even from the end of the aisle she can see the glisten of his tears. This moment had been so many years in the making, she was certain she’d wake up from this dream any moment now.

Christopher Powell had run into her, knocking her off her feet on the quad 10 years ago. Now she’d spend every moment of her life catching him when he fell and allowing him to do that same for her. No matter who or what it was that knocked them down. As she reaches the end of the aisle her father kisses her cheek softly before Chris’s familiar hands lead her toward the Officiant. She’d easily tune out the speech being given just by examining her lover. The first she noticed was their “something old and something blue” wrapped together in one peeking out of his pocket square. She laughed silently remembering how this fashion choice came to be.

“Why do you have this?” Molly questions holding up a grayish blue plaid flannel. “It’s got a huge stain all down the front!”

MC looks up shocked. She didn’t even know she’d had this top still and how it’d made it all these years. As she was cleaning and gutting out the apartment with Molly and Chris to make room for wedding gifts, this was the last discovery she thought she’d make.

“Is that?” Chris asks with a laugh recognizing the shirt immediately.

“Yeah it is” MC says snagging it from the sweet blonde crossed from her. “This is the shirt I was wearing when I met Chris” she says quickly explaining the story of how they met, and how Becca had dumped coffee on her causing the now faded stain. How Chris desperately tried to help her clean it but had to give up. MC was about to throw it away when Molly proposed they let her re purpose it.

Re-purposed indeed, she’d made it into the the now handsome pocket square she saw laying against his chest. Her memories had distracted her she wasn’t even sure where they were at in the ceremony anymore, she caught up quickly as she watched Chris pull out a note book his hands shaking just as much as his voice.

“MC” he smiles taking one hand off the book and placing it in hers as he continues. “10 years ago you laughed it off when Becca spilled coffee down your shirt defensively. This was the first moment I knew you were special, forgiving, caring and unique. Months later you convinced me and the rest of the school that I was trustworthy enough to run the student government. To make changes no one else could have. You believed in me far more than I did, it is my only hope that for the rest of our lives you will continue to believe in me as you did in our innocent school days... As you did when everything in my life crashed around me.” he pauses his voice thick now as he squeezes her hand. “No matter what god you believe in it doesn't matter” he chuckles “Something brought us back together and I have been the luckiest to see the woman you have become. I will strive to tell you every day that I love you, I vow to listen before assuming and I will stand by you no matter how wrong you might be. Because you are my light. You are the light that pulls me out of my darkness time and time again. Please let me be lucky enough to be your partner, to make you laugh at your saddest, heal you at your weakest and to love you even when you're cheering for the wrong teams.” Chris pauses watching MC laugh tears forming in her eyes. “Let me be your husband, let me be with you for the rest of your remarkable days and for whatever may come after.”

MC breathes deep wondering how she’s supposed to follow that, she turns grabbing a small worn piece of paper Zack had pulled from his suit pocket. “I’m lost without you, eyes so blue.” she pauses “I’m lost without you, my souls gone blue. I’m lost, I’m lost.” she reads the shortest poem she has in her writing collection. The words simple, the pattern and rhyming elementary. She’d written this poem her first month in Boston miserable without him. She folds the old piece of paper again speaking now from memory. “I wrote that, when I thought I’d lost you forever. But forever was to long, some may say it was fate but I believe we chose to defy fate. To create a story together that fate didn’t want.” she smiles up at him grabbing both of his hands tightly. “Take me as your wife, and guide me whenever I’m lost, help me see what is right and what is wrong. Help me do the same for you. I will give you the support when you need it most and even when you don't. I vow to you Christopher Powell to be honest and true, to laugh with you and laugh at you all that the same time. I vow to love you no matter what challenges and pain life throws at us. To remind you everyday that you are worth the world, and that you have a heart of gold. I vow to be yours from this moment until then end of moments. I love you.” she finishes knowing her vows were weaker and shorter than his. How she was the writer in the partnership the audience would never know.

Her eyes stinging from the happiest tears she’s ever felt and her heart pounding out of her chest she listens now only for her moment to speak..

“I do” she says almost laughing out of eagerness. She doesn’t hear the officiant even finishes his next sentence before Chris’s smile is placed over hers. She deepens into what would be the most important kiss of her life as he dips her back showing off to the crowd cheering before them. When she finally pulls away she looks out to the guests young and old. First she spots Tyler near the front dancing with his twins next to a very pregnant Abbie who cheers through her cupped hands. As her gaze moves she spots Becca and her husband sharing a kiss of happiness together. Molly, Zig and Kaitlyn stand in the back of the crowd arms reaching in celebration. She spots her parents her father laughing and her mother sobbing across from Chris’s mother who matches her own mother's tears. AJ and Kyle dancing to non existent music. She looks to her right and sees Zack’s reassuring gaze smile at her before leaving her eyes and moving a crossed them to Chris’s own best man. Zack winks to Miles as he blushes in return. A new and innocent relationship forming at the bonding of their best friends. Her stare finally returns to Chris whose one gaze has been on her the entire time. His blue eyes reassure her there is no fear in her future. That he will be everything she needed him to be for her. Her perfect Chris. This was her happily ever after.

#choices #play choices #The Freshman #the sophomore #the junior #the freshman fan fiction #Chris Powell #mc x chris #chris x mc #xoempine

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ivyfics · 6 years ago

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With me - chap 4

Alright, Tetsurou is not going to lie. Things are a little weird now. If he is completely honest, it’s entirely coming from him. Kei has been normal. He’s followed all his routines, his life unchanged. It makes sense—Kei always knew he was living with a ghost. There were no surprises on his end. The problem is Tetsurou.

Read on AO3

Pairing: KuroTsuki Rating: M Chaps: 4/? (May change in the future) Additional Tags: Ghost!Kuroo, Haunted!Tsukishima, Tiniest bit of crack, Future angst

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Alright, Tetsurou is not going to lie. Things are a little weird now.

If he is completely honest, it’s entirely coming from him. Kei has been normal. He’s followed all his routines, his life unchanged. It makes sense—Kei always knew he was living with a ghost. There were no surprises on his end.

The problem is Tetsurou. He can admit when he’s out of his depth and right now it’s like he’s treading the deeper end of a bottomless pool. He’s not used to actually having to live with someone instead of just...floating around them while they live their life. Being a commentator.

Uhm, singing at three in the morning when he needs to drown out everything else? Not happening, not when he knows that Kei can listen to him and that he has a full day tomorrow. No more slamming things against the walls because what kind of roommate would Tetsurou be if he did loud random shit in the middle of the night?

Tetsurou can’t act the same now that he knows there’s an audience watching. Not when the audience would probably like some space and privacy. To not have this weird undead creep following him around his apartment. Boundaries are important in every relationship, right?

He’s trying to find where those boundaries lie and it’s proving to be a little more complicated than he expected.

Last time he was an actual roommate things were a little different. His last roommates were not the usual. He was alive and they were a family, a big, happy family where food was fair game—even if licked—and people walked into the bathroom while you were showering for no good reason other than they wanted to have a chat.

There’s also the whole _ ‘I’ve been watching you live your life and commenting on the sidelines and you could hear all of it’ _ awkwardness that makes him unsure of how _ Tetsurou _ he can get with Kei before making it weird. Or if it’s already weird.

It’s _ probably _already weird.

It’s been around a week and some change since Kei called him out for being a creep. Instead of getting his rocks off, floating about like a headless chicken doing whatever he wants and invading on Kei’s personal life, he’s taken to—dare he say it—sulking and skulking about the house like a morose cat. Slinking from corner to corner without making a sound, turning his head to Kei’s comings and goings to make up for all previous nonsense spouted. It’s somehow worse than when previous tenants couldn’t see him. Lonelier. It eats at him, a little.

Tetsurou had it pretty good with Kei before he went and messed it up.

He contemplates this, among other things, when Kei walks into the room. He does so quietly, ready for the day. He wears the most ill-fitting, vomit-colored pants accompanied by a bright red shirt. Really bright. Too bright for whatever it is that clings to Kei’s beautiful legs. It’s paired with Christmas green socks with neon blue specks, and Tetsurou feels his hypothetical stomach lurch.

Beyond the bizarre color choices, Kei’s face is stone. It gives nothing away as he gathers his things around the room at an easy pace, parading his buffoon choices to the jury. Tetsurou is about to say something kind along the lines of _those pants make your ass look miniscule _or _don’t underplay your ass-ets _before he catches himself and closes his big, fat unsolicited mouth.

Bad Tetsurou.

No more commenting on Kei’s body, no matter how incredibly awful a pair of pants is. Or how badly they clash with the shirt. And his socks. Please, not those shoes.

_ For the love of anything holy, please— _

A fully dressed Kei stands still in the middle of the room. Tetsurou doesn’t dare open his mouth, afraid of what might come out. He stares, heavily. He stares and stares and stares, unable to look away or end it all with a few choice words.

Minutes pass, and he doesn’t comment. Kei looks at him angrily, does the most graceful and discreet stomp Tetsurou has ever seen. The door slams after Kei and the outfit he’s inflicting on the world, loud in the wake of Tetsurou’s pursed-lip and all things he’s left unsaid.

Dawn slowly melts in, soaking every inch of the room a hazy gray. It won’t be long until the floorboards are shining gold, dust dancing up and down the beams of new sun. Tetsurou is unaffected by temperature. Being a ghost is permeated by a constant and permanent chill snaking up his spine. Still, he likes this time of the morning, unaware as he is to the drop in temperature before daylight warms people up enough to start their day.

Quiet reigns in this piece of time, enough for the clambering of the pipes to become a symphony and the rush of the wind against the glass a soft voice accompanying it.

It will break, soon, with Kei’s alarm. Until then, Tetsurou basks in it. Before, when he was utterly alone and unmoving in a world speeding by, this time of day was the worst. The last desperate stretch before he could listen and stare at people go about their day. Now, he can enjoy the silence of his own company with more ease. He loses himself in it, in the slow and steady gradient of light framed by the window, in the swaying branches of the tree just outside, and tries to remember.

“Good morning.”

Tetsurou forgets, for a moment, that someone talks to him now and he jumps. His form fizzes out for a second, glitching into the line that runs through the wall, before settling back. Kei is so fucking quiet for someone his size. It’s eerie, and it catches Tetsurou off guard.

“_God fucking shit damn it _ ! Could you not sneak up on me!?” Tetsurou shrieks. “Make some noise, _ I’m _ supposed to be the ghost here!”

He clutches at his chest, a reflex from an earlier life, and tries to come to terms with the fact that besides testing his theory of ghost being unable of getting heart attacks, this means Kei is winning.

“Oh,” Kei’s icy voice says, “So you _ can _talk to me.”

The tone catches Tetsurou off-guard more than anything else. Hoarse, like Kei’s voice usually is in the morning, laced with something frigid and sharp. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. I’m just surprised that I’m here and you haven’t vanished into thin air yet.” Kei nonchalantly leans against the frame of the bathroom door. “Or stared while saying absolutely nothing.”

Dread climbs Tetsurou’s back. “What.”

“You—” Kei points at him—“have been walking on eggshells around me.”

“I don’t walk anywhere,” Tetsurou points at his legs, at how he floats above the carpet, “I hover.”

Kei’s face scrunches up at Tetsurou’s lip, expression caught between a glare and a grimace. The glare wins out and Kei’s stomps to the edge of the couch. He grabs a cushion and throws it square at Tetsurou’s middle. “What is wrong with you?”

Kei throws it like he means it. Tetsurou feels all the force behind those skinny looking arms where his gut used to be. There’s the feeling of fabric, and foam and _ weird _ rippling from his middle and climbing up his body.

”Just act like you usually do. Stop being weird.”

Tetsurou opens his mouth to protest but Kei is faster, grabbing another cushion and wagging it threateningly before his alarm goes off in his hand. ”I’m going to miss my class if I don’t get ready. Stop it,” he says, promptly drops the cushion and walks his behind to the bathroom, door clicking shut softly.

Tetsurou stands there, hovering. He hovers over the same spot, eyes fixated on the door until Kei comes out after an undetermined (That’s a lie, Kei takes an average of 24 minutes to get ready. Tetsurou has counted and done the math) amount of time later. His hair is slicked back, still wet and dripping onto his bare shoulders, and there’s a towel tight around his waist.

He’s all cool and aloof when he says, “Have you stopped it?”

Just like that. Like he’s some sort of fancy lord in a period piece. Not only is it unexpected, Tetsurou feels kind of insulted. Patronized. As if he’s a child throwing a tantrum over something insignificant. “I was trying to be nice.”

There’s bite to it, and some poutyness—and he sounds exactly like a petulant toddler with advanced talking skills, great.

Kei levels eyes with him, saying nothing. It gives Tetsurou the heebie-jeebies. Kei is looking right through him, through whatever ectoplasm gives him shape. He nods, once and leaves. Tetsurou follows after Kei prompts him with a second glare.

Inside Kei’s bedroom—which Tetsurou has not hovered in once since ‘The Incident,’ might he add—there’s, as usual, clothes laid out on the bed. Kei pulls two shirts from the bed and holds them up. “Which one?”

Tetsurou doesn’t say anything, a teensy bit distracted by the way Kei’s arms look when the droplets from his shoulders run down his bicep and onto the bed.

Kei huffs, once, and rolls his eyes. “Which. One.”

It’s a peace offering. Veiled underneath horribly impaling couch cushions and aggression but there nonetheless, worry that Tetsurou is being _ weird. _Kei’s life with a ghost trailing behind him and telling him what to wear is his normal, and Tetsurou is disrupting it by being dumb.

Maybe… it’s doable.

Tetsurou can do this.

“Obviously the red one. Step up your game. What coat are you wearing over that? If you say the blue one I will screech until your ears don’t exist anymore.”

The door clicks open at his back, Tetsurou’s attention snapping at the sound. He is too engrossed in a _ How It’s Made _ marathon to feel Kei’s signature energy latch on to the web that runs through the apartment. It’s becoming familiar to him now, the outpour starting to blend in with the walls and the floor, the bed and the stove.

What’s new is that there isn’t an immediate feeling of otherness adding to the web of strings as he sets a foot inside, so Tetsurou’s head turns around to stare at Kei taking off his shoes at the door. Kei looks up and freezes, foot slowly descending to the ground.

“Hi,” Tetsurou says casually, welcoming him home.

Kei’s face pinches. He looks like he’s in so much pain, the way his face twists when there’s something is too sour on his tongue. When his face unclenches, he says, “Why are you like this?”

Tetsurou doesn’t get it until he realizes how he must look hanging from the ceiling, head rotated to a full one-eighty. He shrugs. “Uhhh, I don’t know, maybe because I’m like—dead?”

Kei stomps off with mutters of ‘_ fuck this The Exorcist bullshit.’ _ It’s less than half-an-hour before Kei is sitting below him, hypnotized by the machine that sharpens pencils before they go in the box with a bowl of strawberries between his thighs.

Before going to bed, Kei has some tea. He’s like an old man, putting leaves and little white flowers whole into cloths to boil them. He adds sweetness and—behold!— his bedtime drink. It’s kind of cute how someone as old as Kei still has a little warm drink before bed.

He prepares it carefully. It’s an event of sorts, him setting everything on the counter neatly before setting the kettle to boil. He listens to music as he does it, every night, humming along to tunes only he can hear.

It’s fascinating. “Can I ask you something?”

Kei doesn’t look away from his soon to be boiled leaf arrangement. “Is it going to be annoying?”

“No.”

“Would you still ask if it were?”

“Yes,” Kuroo answers honestly.

Kei nods and closes the cloth with the string attached to it. It seems like a drag to have to tie all of together painstakingly and then have to clean it out every single time, but Kei carries on. Tonight’s plants of choice are chamomile and mint. After he’s tied the string around the cloth several times, he agrees with a wave of his hand, “Ask away.”

“Why do you wear headphones inside the house? Like, outside I get. You don’t want people to talk to you. But in your room?”

Kei blinks at him in confusion, making Tetsurou feel dumb as fuck. “Aren't you watching your shows?”

That clears up nothing. “Yes?”

Kei is still looking at him like the answers is written on his forehead. Like Tetsurou should know this because it’s so fucking obvious and—oh!

“Yes. Yes, I am,” he bullshits, unsuccessfully.

Kei goes about his business in the kitchen, humming to himself under his breath. Completing his archaic tea-making progress is as usual, all the way until he’s pouring some honey on the steaming cup. When he’s done, he exits the room like it’s no big deal that Tetsurou is such an absolute idiot, leaving him to float in the middle of the room, unanchored.

Tetsurou watches his novelas at full volume. Kei doesn’t want to disrupt him by playing his music out loud because he’s the only one who _ can _ wear headphones in this household.

Tetsurou starts to shake a tad. Just enough for his form to rock back and forth an inch or so. Has Kei always been like this? A sweet kid underneath all that not-sweetness that mocks Tetsurou on a daily basis?

He’s so… nice.

In a quiet, unobtrusive way. Like he’s pretending he’s not, all hard edges and steel nerves that don’t get scared at all by anything, even a ghost waking him up in the middle of the night. All evidence proves otherwise.

Other than the fact that his nose scrunches at Tetsurou’s type of entertainment, he’s perfect. What if Kei never decided to live there? What if he had taken one look inside and decided no amount of reduced pricing could make him share his apartment with a ghost?

Tetsurou shudders just thinking about it.

He’s so glad Kei decided to stay.

One could say their kitchen is small.

It’s not the biggest and it’s a little cramped, but it gets the job done. The white cabinets aren’t all that brilliant white anymore and sometimes the stove has this weird whirring sound that goes on and off randomly. Kei keeps it cleaner than any other tenant that’s lived there, down to the neatly organized insides of the cabinets, piles, and stacks of similar ingredients and cans peeking out. The doors used to squeak but Kei oiled them after a couple of weeks of futilely trying to stare them down into submission.

Soft, delicate sounds accompanied by a deep bass float through the room around them, loud enough to be heard but not enough to dull the sound of Kei’s movements. He’s chopping carrots in his pajamas, hand steady. Every swing of his wrist builds a rhythm when metal meets wood. _ Thunk, thunk, thunk, _merges with the beats of the song in a steady lull.

Kei actually cooks most of his meals, not at all instant ramen and scrambled eggs, as one might assume of a young adult living alone. Tonight is curry, in quantities enough to feed maybe five or six. Tsukki divides it into 10 portions. He needs to eat more, he’s still growing.

Tetsurou hums, looking at Kei’s plate with pity. “You eat so little. Like a baby bird.”

Kei points the knife at him, “Don’t you ever say that to me again.”

They fall back into pleasant silence, Tetsurou entranced by the repetitive motions of Kei’s hands.

Kei is a pretty good cook. The shiny white rice cooker is used often, and the spice rack is supremely well stocked. This also means Kei has a shopping list on the fridge, a small magnetic dry erase board and marker. Black lines now show a wobbly apple, a clown, and a dick, courtesy of Tetsurou. They stand there is silence, Tetsuro more than content to just watch Kei’s hands move around confidently.

“So how _ did _you die?”

Tetsurou isn't expecting it and the pieces of carrot he’s making float fall ungraciously back on the cutting board. Kei’s tone is casual as if asking about the weather or what happened in the novela yesterday. The lack of build up catches Tetsurou by surprise.

He’s a deer caught in the proverbial headlights, mum and wide eyes. He shakes himself out of it but the chill that surrounds him drops enough for Kei’s arms to go prickly with goosebumps.

Tetsurou chuckles, awkwardly, and pretends he doesn’t see it. He’s not doing a very good job. “Tell you what, tell me how you can see ghosts and I’ll spill. Show you mine if you show me yours.” He ends his sentence with a wiggle of his eyebrow, not particularly wanting Kei to agree. This is a conversation he’s not dying–_ ha, ha _—to have any time soon, if ever.

Kei says nothing. He’s too focused on his hairs standing on end thanks to Tetsurou’s spike of fear, and the distorted sounds of the music behind them. The bass is choking and the voice that goes with it is a siren, slowly but surely grabbing Tetsurou’s windpipe and squeezing. _ I thought ghosts couldn’t die? _

Kei is staring into him again, in that way of his. He’s nothing but a trapped bug to be dissected and placed in glass for eternity, Kei’s hand holding the pin at the ready.

Then, it stops. Kei’s eyes stop the hunt, and the corner of his lips curl in a smile that is just as small as it is sardonic. The chopping starts again, then stops. He picks up a chunk of carrot, holds it up. Buries his gaze on Tetsurou head on.

“I’ll tell you what I told the creepy old dude in the park that said that to me last: Fuck off,” and takes a bite.

Tetsurou replays that moment in his head over and over, when the night is his.

The wind howls and the trees shake, and he sees Kei’s smile in his mind’s eye a million times over. Sadness pulls at him, something like hurt lancing through the memory. It makes him sad but brings with it the sort comfort only to be found in understanding. In a similar soul.

_ Me too, _ it said. _ I know ache, too. Keep quiet, keep your pain as your own, if you wish. _

So, he does.

Tetsurou thinks of it, and of before, and stares at the moon while Kei sleeps.

They both pretend nothing’s happened the next day. It fills Tetsurou with relief. Things go back to normal. It won’t last, but Tetsurou is going to enjoy every second of it.

Beige walls glow blue with moonlight streaming in through the open window, occasional gusts of wind howling against the glass. Kei is snoring under his covers, blankets wrapped around him here and there from his usual thrashing around. Tetsurou is on a mission. He hovers above him, careful not to touch anything but the pillow Kei’s head rests on.

Inches away from Kei’s head, he causes the pillow underneath his head to jerk violently.

“Fu—”

Tetsurou gets right down to business. "Alright. I need to know. The socks."

"Wha?"

"The socks."

Kei blinks rapidly. He’s disoriented, it shows, but Tetsurou is burning with questions after witnessing three new pairs in the laundry basket. Kei tries, looking around to the room to see any danger looming. "Do I need my glasses for this? Is something going on?"

"No, everything is fine.” Everything except Tetsurou’s burning need for knowledge. “Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why the socks!"

Kei stares a little past his face, squinting. Kei can’t see very well without his glasses and the low light probably isn’t helping. After thinking it for a bit he settles on an adorably sleepy, "My feet get cold?"

Now Tetsurou feels like a jerk. He’s such a terrible not-human. "That's not—Just go back to sleep."

"Thank fuck. Get out of my room, pervert."

There it is. The Kei he knows.

"How can you be so mean?"

"I'm not the one ranting about socks at three in the morning and waking up people who still need to sleep."

It’s pinned in place with thumbtacks, tiny points stabbing the wood. They keep the cliché looking protection circle tacked on to the door of Kei’s bedroom.

Tetsurou laughed when Kei ripped open the package to pull out something that looks like it belongs to you neighborhood alternative teenage girl going through her witch phase.

The fabric is purple, the lettering gold, and much to Tetsurou’s dismay… it’s working, disrupting the flow of energy and keeping it contained to the room, keeping Tetsurou out. The rest of the apartment is nipping at him from where the current is cut off at the door, overflow coming back in to rise the usual output and making Tetsurou jittery.

"Where would you even get something like this!?”

Kei doesn’t even bother on looking up from his book. "Etsy."

He eventually—after a lot Tetsurou’s pleading and a glitch or two caused by the energy feedback—takes it down with the promise that Tetsurou will not wake him up anymore unless there is an emergency.

“And by emergency,” Kei spells out, “I mean that if I am not awake someone is either already dying or going to die. Only.”

“What if there’s a rat?”

If there’s a rat, surely, Kei would wanna know.

“Is someone dead?”

Tetsurou’s hand waves over him.“Uhm, always?”

“Anyone who isn’t you,” Kei snaps. “Asleep.”

_ “Quien es ese hombre, que me mira y me desnuda, una fiera inquieta que me da mil vueltas y me hace temblar pero me hace sentir–” _ Tetsurou twirls, singing from deep in his fake gut. Kei stares at him, dawn rising behind him and haloing him in yellow light. His eyes are dead_. “Mujeeeeeeeer.” _

Tetsurou serenades him, belting out the song with feeling, letting his voice rise with the beginning of a new day._ “Nadie me lo quita! Siempre seré yo su— _Where are you going?”

“To google how to exorcise a ghost.”

Tetsurou can’t feel the heat of the rays hitting his body. The floor doesn’t feel as much of anything underneath him either. Still, stretching out in front of the window is one of his favorite things to do when it’s a sunny day outside.

Temperature means nothing to him, so any heat derived from the rays is null, but the sun delivers a specific type of energy. It charges the webs and strings and lines that it’s rays hit with something that makes the apartment throb with life. It’s clean and fresh, vibrant and alive.

Tetsurou sinks into it, connecting with it where it hits the floor through the open window. The point of contact is where it’s the strongest, bleeding to the rest of the apartment slowly. It’s not the only point where the rays converge with the steady pulse of the apartment; The stray light that hits the couch, the sliver of gold that reflects off the metal of the stove and is refracted into smaller, weaker spots all over the ceiling, all of them hum with that soft vibration.

It’s…. Invigorating, bringing out something in him that buzzes and pulses all over his entity. When he’s been charging for too long it’ll spill over his form and onto the web underneath him, connecting them further. He’ll be jumpy and bubbly, and sometimes it’s too much for him to handle before sunset.

Night comes and the moon fades in with peace, pushing and pulling at the currents that reside inside of everyone until there’s only soft rocking and calm.

Humans—alive humans, he means— feel it too, the water and oceans inside of them responding to the connection to the moon without knowing. The sun, too, but that one is easier for them to see in their vitamins and their color. Too much sun is much more obvious, like in the way Kei’s cheeks flush and the top of his shoulders go pink on a very sunny day.

There’s a perfect measure of them, balance in its purest form, like dipping in the essence of the universe itself. He feeds on both when he can, praying for clear skies without the barrier of clouds to muddle it. It’s why he hates overcast days, it’s neither here nor there, not enough to reach his little piece of world—tepid.

(Tetsurou wonders if vampires feel that gnawing ache inside, cast aside by the sun, an eternal life filled with too much of one and not the other; if the damned part of that existence is a forever lived in unbalance. But then again, vampires might not exist. He hopes they don’t, if that’s the case.)

Tetsurou is so immensely glad that Kei likes having natural light flowing in, that he seeks the soft rolling breeze and the way it makes everything he can’t see stir, keeping it in motion. Tetsurou had to fight to keep the drapes open enough for his liking before.

Noon has hit its peak, the sun streaming in with force, keeping Tetsurou anchored to his spot by the window. He stretches, the buzzing flaring and evening out throughout his body. “If I ever come back, I want to be a cat. Laze around in the sunlight all day, do nothing but sleep.”

“So exactly what you do now,” Kei quips, not looking away from his book.

They’re having a lazy day. Kei’s taken to be around where Tetsurou is, when the sun is high and the rain hits hard enough for Tetsurou to feel it beyond the stray drops crashing against the window panes. Maybe Kei can feel it with his powers too, the connection. He still doesn’t know how that works, but he’s not eager to push where he’s not wanted right now.

“I take offense to that. I write your shopping list,” Tetsurou huffs, unbothered. Ghosts can’t sleep, anyway. He’s buzzing, alive and full and drunk. Before he can think better of it he says, “You know what I miss? Dreams.”

Kei goes stock still, his ever swinging leg stopping abruptly.

Tetsurou continues, too full of sun to notice. “ I used to have these crazy dreams and— shit, they scared me, but I miss them.”

Silence breaks between them, odd where it wasn’t before. Tetsurou is half-inclined to believe it’s his fault, but he’s too floaty for it to really register.

“I had a weird dream last night.” Kei’s words are stilted and low. The admission is a rare one, Kei not being all that disposed to sharing information about himself without being questioned. Even then, it’s more likely he’ll ignore the question outright.

Tetsurou is all open ears. “Yeah?”

“I had to fight sheep.”

He chuckles. “That’s not_ that _ weird.”

“The sheep were lime green and had three eyes. And they wore a hat. I think one of them had a sword?”

A giggle burst out of him. That is pretty weird. “How does a sheep wield a sword?”

“How the hell am I supposed to know?”

Kei giggles too, a foreign sound to the walls around them. It spurs Tetsurou on even more until he’s tittering and snorting into the floor. “It’s _ your _subconscious!”

Kei tells him about the sword-wielding lime-green sheep with three eyes, and then about a nightmare he had two days ago that involved a giant pumpkin, and a recurrent dream he’s had since he was six that leaves him floating in pink colored jelly after he accidentally fell into a pool.

Tetsurou buzzes, whether from the sun or from Kei trying to comfort his dreamless life, he doesn’t know.

“What did you do for a living when you were, you know, alive?”

“I was a hairstylist.”

Kei’s cackle is lightning quick and harsh, tapering off into soft sniffles. “That’s funny.”

Tetsurou doesn’t understand. “Why are you laughing?

Kei sobers up quickly, looking lost. “Oh. You’re serious. But—your hair?”

Tetsurou feels himself flush, shaking from the top of his head to the tip of his toes. He doesn’t glitch anymore, he’s learned how to handle it better but there’s no way to stop the fizzing running through him.

Still, he sinks into the line to try and stop it by feeding it, popping out in the kitchen to point at Kei from across the room, indignant. “Shut up! I died while I was running, this is not my fault! Fate is a cruel mistress. I can't believe you would come after me like this after all we've been through together—”

Kei has a nice singing voice. He does it without thinking, Tetsurou guesses, matching whatever song is playing through his headphones. His voice has a smoothness to it that lulls Tetsurou into relaxing. More often than not it’ll start as a whisper, inaudible through the walls.

Kei’s leg dangles from the side of the couch. He came home from his study group to find Tetsurou in his usual corner-ceiling spot and, resigned to it, flung himself out face down on the cushions.

A questionable, albeit brave, move considering that couch came with the apartment and Tetsurou has seen… things. He napped, kitten snores filling the space between them, before he woke and started to sing. Tetsurou suspects half-asleep Kei forgot that Tetsurou was in the room entirely and is doing what he usually does when he’s on his own.

Sweet and low, Kei sings. Too mumbled and riddled with sleep to make any sort of sense. Calm washes over him. Not even the ever moving blotches and lines that riddle his vision when he closes his eyes can tear him away from this moment. They dance in front of him, floating in the afternoon sun.

It’s wonderful.

It doesn’t feel as if it should exist.

A mirage, an idea of what some sort of peace he could have in this existence. The thought petrifies him to the core. The spell is broken, and he’s left staring down at blonde hair and a slow rising chest. Any second now, he’ll disappear. Gone with the breeze, dissolving into that golden light.

Tetsurou will be alone again.

It takes seventeen million seconds for Tetsurou to say anything. “Kei?”

Kei’s chest expands with a harsh breath. His form moves and breathes, both ethereal and earthly. He raises his head a tad and pulls down the left side of his headphone. “Hmm?”

Like magic, Kei’s voice anchors him. “Nothing.”

Kei huffs and puts his face back against the cushioned fabric. “Okay, weirdo.”

It takes minutes but Kei starts to sing again, and the fear fades. He’s content. Looking down on to the living room, he can see Kei’s closed eyes and the way his mouth curves around words, entirely real.

The spell comes back, renewed.

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#with me part 4 #haikyuu!!#with me #Kuroo Tetsurou #Tsukishima Kei #im late but im here bitch #kurotsukki

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