#my older sister eventually moved to the open basement space | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thefanficmonster · 3 years ago

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Just thought about this as a story or headcanons, maybe the lords in re8 have a child, which is the reader and they are somewhere around 7 in the beginning. You can do them all separately, like first part would be Heisenberg, then Dimitrescu, Beneviento, and then Moreau, so the reader would accidentally do something and they are scared that the lord that is their parent would be super mad and they run away and the lords reactions to their child being gone and maybe the reader goes back to the village older, maybe 14 or 15 and the lords are emotional when they finally reunite with the reader. Maybe at first they don't recognize the reader at first, thinking they are just an outsider until they see something that they gave the reader as a birthday present and they recognize them. And it's just full fluff in the end? This has also been bugging my mind for a while 🤣 sorry if this ask was complicated to read

Heyy ~ lovely idea as always hun! I changed it up a bit, hope you don't mind and still enjoy reading it nonetheless 💗

Alcina Dimitrescu

- Being the youngest Dimitrescu, you were expected to be a bit of a spoiled brat since our mother and sisters looked after you like the most precious and rarest gem in this world - Surprisingly though, you were a very well behaved child - A shy, quiet, well-mannered kid that followed their mother's rules like they were the law - But even you weren't immune to that childish curiosity that every kid possesses - So you had to go on and break a rule or two eventually - However, the biggest one you broke, the one that had you sweating nervously, was sneaking down into the basement where the wine your mother and sisters were so proud of was kept - With trembling hands you picked up one of the bottles, the one with the most interesting pattern on the bottle, and began to expect it - That’s when a noise suddenly echoed throughout the basement, causing you to drop the bottle which broke as soon as it the ground, sending the red liquid splashing everywhere - You were mortified - You were only six at the time, you couldn’t think of a strategy to fix the mess you had made - So instead, you chose to run and hide, convinced you’d get in A LOT of trouble when your mother would find out - The place you chose to hide in was a run down part of the courtyard where you were least likely to be spotted by anyone or anything - Your plan started backfiring only about an hour after you settled in your hiding spot - The cold was starting to be painful on your skin but you refused to go back in - Before you knew it you had passed out, deleting any memory of what was to happen afterwards - Upon waking up, you found yourself in your room, changed in a new set of clothes and void of the chill you were suffering from before you lost consciousness - It didn’t take you long to notice your mother sitting in a chair next to the bed, struggling not to drift of to sleep, her face looking like she had aged about ten years in the span of a few hours out of worry - “Mom?” You spoke up weakly, startling the woman who was on her feet and crouching down closer to you within a second - “Y/N, darling, why’d you do that? You had me worried sick.” Alcina said, her hand gently caressing your hair, none of that sternness she was known for left in her - “I’m sorry, mama. For scaring you and for the wine bottle. I didn’t mean to...” You tried saying but got choked up by your tears - “The wine be damned. Nothing is as important to me as you are sweetie.” She said, planting a soft kiss on your forehead before climbing in bed with you and wrapping her arms around you, her embrace so warm and comforting - You never doubted your mother’s love for you, but that moment only made you more sure in it and made you love her triple the amount you already loved her

Donna Beneviento

- Donna had always been generous with the amount of dolls she allowed you to have and play with - Although, the ones she gave you were not infected with her Cadou and couldn’t move or speak on their own as to not scare you - However, you were still allowed to play and talk with Angie who you were raised to see as a sister - And just like sisters, you and Angie also fought every now and then - But, this one time, she really angered you and with all the strength of a six year old that you possessed you threw her across the room - She hit a wall hard enough to loosen one of her arms and it fell off - That’s when you knew you were practically dead in trouble and ran to hide under your bed - As you were climbing up the stairs though, you could still hear Angie’s screaming and crying from downstairs and Donna could no doubt hear it as well - So as to avoid running into her, instead of hiding upstairs, you went into the basement - Where you had never been in, by the way - Meaning you had no idea what horrors awaited you there - Mannequins, doll parts, terrifying dolls which moved on their own - In your eyes it was a pure nightmare - Seeing the dolls turning their heads to follow your movement, some even raising an arm as if to greet you almost made you scream several times but you didn’t want to give away your hiding spot - And that’s when the laid out mannequin on the table, one you were already terrified of, turned it’s head to look at you, opened its eyes and mouth - The radio on the other table turned on simultaneously, all of it being too much of a scare for you to be able to suppress the scream you let out - That’s when you felt a hand on your shoulder and screamed even louder, even beginning to cry - The hand turned you around and you were suddenly facing your mom who looked scared and concerned, a little paler than usual too - You took no notice of that though, seeing as how you ran right into her, hiding your face in her hip - “I’m sorry mommy! I didn’t mean to hurt Angie! Just please don’t let them scare me anymore!” You cried, your tiny hands balled up in fists, clutching to Donna’s dress as if for dear life - The woman was relieved to see you were safe although still a little confused as to why you had even run down to the basement in the first place - And then she thought a bit more about what you had said - “Oh dear, you thought you were in trouble? Angie’s perfectly fine, Y/N. Her limbs come off loosely all the time. You didn’t even actually hurt her.“ - Seeing that your distress was showing no sign of decreasing, Donna picked you up and proceeded to carry you up to where Angie was so she could apologize for making you feel guilty in the first place

Salvatore Moreau

- Being a young kid, the Reservoir was a rather dangerous place for you to wander around in unsupervised - Usually you’d stick to the safest area, aka the one furthest away from the water, and would only be allowed to see the rest of your dad’s property with him by your side, holding your hand to make sure you wouldn’t fall - But one day, as you were sitting in at the entrance of the Reservoir, in the small body of water by your feet you saw a golden fish - Mesmerized, you foolishly ducked down to try and touch it but it, of course, swam away - Oh but you were far from prepared to let it go - So you chased after it, watching its glimmering skin rush under the surface of the water, going further into the dangerous parts of the property - You were mindless to the fact you were entering a territory that was originally forbidden to you - That is until a wooden board on the dock broke under you, causing you to fall in the water - And being only barely six years old, you didn’t know how to swim so before the panic had even worn off completely, you started screaming for help, praying your father would hear you - And boy were you in luck - A giant fish emerged from the water from underneath you, carrying you on its back to the dock you had fallen from - You scrambled to get to the safe half of it and sat on the ledge - By the time you were able to look around with clear vision instead of the blurred with tears one you had been struggling with seconds prior, the monster fish was gone - And your dad was standing on the dock next to you - “You see no why you aren’t allowed here, child?” - You nod, sniffling and running to hug him, relieved to be in your dad’s safe embrace - Despite the efforts to be stern, Moreau crumbles back to his usual loving and caring self, being the best father in the world in your eyes - He carried you, piggy-back style back to the safe space of the Reservoir

Karl Heisenberg

- It goes without say that, growing up in a factory as dangerous as Heisenberg’s, there’s certain amount of rules you have to respect for yours and your father’s safety as well as the successfulness of his experiments - But there was no force that was able to keep you away from this one machine that looked far too interesting for you to overlook - You couldn’t help but go up to it every now and then to look at the blinking lights and the tempting colorful buttons - And then there was one day when just looking didn’t satisfy you - So you went on to press a few buttons, in the order of your favorite colors - It didn’t take long for you to realize how poor that decision was - When sparks started flying from the machine was when you finally decided to back away and that satisfying your curiosity wasn’t worth it - But it was already too late - The whole process had stopped, the conveyer belt of murder machines pausing mid-movement suggesting the whole operation was hindered - “Y/N? What on Earth are you doing?” - Your dad’s voice had never terrified you so much - All excuses and apologies you wanted to say died down in your throat at the sight of your mildly agitated father standing behind you with an unimpressed look on his face - He wasn’t angry by any means but your vision was too blurred by tears for you to be able to see that - “Dad, I’m so sorry!” You cried, running to hug him, back turned to the malfunctioning machine you believed you damaged beyond repair - Wrapping his arms around you, he gave you a quick hug before stepping around you and approaching the machine, fixing it with the press of a few buttons - “Hope that teaches you a valuable lesson not to break the rules kid.” He said with a crooked smile, ruffling your hair while you still stared at machine in disbelief

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highlifeboat · 3 years ago

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Daniela could smell it the moment she entered her bedroom. The metallic stench of pennies and flesh, muffled by whatever space it was hiding in. It made her nose wrinkle, and she let out a small sigh as she started to scour her bedroom for the source. She looked under her bed, in the drawers of her vanity, behind her bookshelves, she even took some of her things off to see if it was tucked in behind her books and nicknacks. Eventually she opened her closet, and the smell hit her full force. Daniela pursed her lips, digging around until she eventually found what she was looking for. A medium sized jar, full of what seemed to be organs and flesh bits, still smeared with blood on the outside.

“Again…?” She muttered, shutting her closet door and heading to go put it in the freezer so it wouldn’t rot.

She’d been finding a lot of these jars in her bedroom lately, and she knew exactly who it was doing it. Her older sisters had a bad habit of trying to hide food around their own bedrooms, inside similar sized jars. Not for snacking, or late night meals, but just… to hoard. Daniela didn’t understand it herself. Most of the time she saw them dumping the flesh into the basement once it inevitably rotted, only to repeat the process. The odd thing was they didn’t seem to understand it, either. They simply claimed it was a nagging in the back of their minds, perhaps some primal urge they had.

But then why didn’t Daniela feel the need to do the same? The redhead let out a thoughtful hum as she stared at the jar. She supposed it was nice they were trying to look out for her at least, though it did make her feel a little bad for them.

Her thoughts were interrupted when she, quite literally, bumped into her mother, nearly dropping the jar.

“Ah, hello little one.” She hummed, and Daniela offered a smile. “What do you have there?”

She looked at the container of flesh. “It’s a… jar of meat.” She admitted, holding it up as her mother moved to get a better look. “One of my sisters left it in my bedroom. I was going to put it in the proper storage.”

Alcina plucked the jar from her youngest’s hands, examining it. “How… Odd.” She mused. “Why on Earth would they do that?”

Daniela shrugged. “I’m not sure. But they’ve been doing it a lot…” She wrapped her arms around herself. “It’s… very strange.”

“Do they hide them in other places?”

The redhead hesitated for a moment, debating with herself. “I don’t know.” She lied. Telling her mother the truth would feel as if she was betraying her sister’s trust. “Maybe.” She messed with the longer part of her hair. “If you do find more, please don’t be upset with them. I think it makes them feel more… secure?” Alcina raised an eyebrow at her. “I don’t really know. I don’t think they even know why they do it.”

“I see….” The countess turned the jar in her hands again, taking a moment to glance between it and Daniela. “I'll put this away for you, little bug. Why don’t you go find your sisters? Tell them dinner will be ready soon.” Daniela gave a nod. “And, if you find more of these jars, do let me know. Preferably before they rot.”

“Of course, Mama.” The redhead gave a second nod, before buzzing off in a swarm to find her sisters.

Alcina eyed the jar for a third time, turning on her heel and walking the opposite direction her daughter had gone. She carried the jar through the castle, pushing past maids trying to clean the massive estate without breaking anything, until she reached her private quarters. Alcina set the jar on the dresser, and took a seat at the vanity as she picked up the phone and dialed.

It took a moment for the person on the other end to pick up. “Hello?”

“Mother Miranda….” Alcina started. “I hate to be a bother but, my daughters, do you have… any information on their previous lives?”

Miranda seemed to scoff at the question. “Why are you asking?”

“Bela and Cassandra seemed to have developed an odd… hoarding habit.” She tapped her nails on the vanity. “I was just hoping you might have something that may explain it.”

“I found the youngest one hanging from a tree, the second was given to me by her parents after she died, and the eldest was a boy I found starved to death in the woods. What more do you need to know?”

Alcina pursed her lips. “Nothing, Mother Miranda. I’m sorry to have bothered you.” She let out a frustrated sigh after hanging up. She wasn’t sure what she had expected.

No matter, she had to get that jar to the freezer before it began to fester.

#hey look i made ~+~content~+~#drabbles

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natexarnoult · 3 years ago

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hey all!! my name is mads and i’m 23, use she/her pronouns, and live in mst! i’m so excited for y’all to meet nathan - he’s a char i’ve had in mind for a while and i’m stoked to finally bring him to life! i’ve included some main points about him under the cut, along with his bio and a couple extras for him - please message me if you’d like to plot :D

Nathan comes from a single-mother household... at least, until he was in high school.

Nate knows who his father is and is trying to build a relationship w/ the man but is still hurt from his mother hiding his father’s identity & not hiding the truth.

He is very much a ‘trust-fund’ kid but is working hard to distant himself from his parents’ wealth and build a name that isn’t connected to his parents.

Nathan truly is a sweetheart but has a hard time expressing this to those he cares about - he grew up in a home that wasn’t welcoming to affection and is still trying to break this habit.

He’s been in Heartsdale for several years and I’m so open to creating some pre-existing connections with him! Friends, ex friends, exes, enemies - anything! Please just message me so we can chat :)

He graduated from UCLA with an art history degree but is more interested in actually making art than learning about it - he travels a lot as he likes to make his show room diverse and brings in pieces from all around the country.

Nathan lives above his gallery but spends most of his time outside of both his gallery and his apartment - it’s either a midlife crisis and he regrets his choices or he’s just trying to meet new friends, who knows?

His pinterest is here and is constantly being update; please follow me if you feel so inclined!

Annnnnd: bio here as well:

Nate’s parents met while his father was on a school trip. A senior studying art history at Harvard, he’d taken the trip as an excuse to ‘see the world’ - if that world meant England, sure. His mother was the manager at a museum they visited on the trip & his father found himself returning to her canvas filled institute daily. They spent hours talking, sharing their love of paintings and critiquing some of the pieces her museum had chosen to display. Neither of them wanted to admit that their time together would be coming to a close - his trip was only for 3 weeks over the winter holidays - but on his last day in the country, Nathan’s father left a note within her bedside drawer, his address and phone number scrawled sloppily across a spare receipt & he snuck out before the sun was up. Saying goodbye would be too hard.

He returned to the States. He graduated. He got a job. He went years without hearing from the woman he’d met. One day, when his father was leaving The Met - he’d become a director of programs - his eye landed on a woman who looked so familiar, her hand clutched by a child, no older than 10. That moment was Nate’s first memory of his dad.

He remembers sitting in his dad’s house, a wide and bright space that was 20 minutes from where they’d met on those huge steps. This man had given them a ride and was now setting tea in front of his mother, but Nate was playing with his dog. He remembers snippets of the conversation - his mom was apologizing a lot. Apparently she hadn’t wanted to see him. They were in the States to visit her sister, Nate’s aunt. He remembers that this man kept looking between his mom and him & he looked so confused. Finally, he remembers a silence falling over the room and the man asked a question. Nate couldn’t make it out but his mother’s response was clear, definite; “Yes. He’s yours.”

At the time, Nate had no idea what that meant. He hadn’t yet been given the talk and his mother didn’t explain her relationship to this man. She introduced him - Nathan couldn’t remember his name - and said that he was an old friend from college. But soon, he found himself with this man more often. His mother invited him to join them at his aunt’s birthday party. When they flew back home to England, his mother would often be stuck on the phone with her old friend from college. One day, a year or so after their New York trip, his mother was picking him up from school, nervously pressing her thumb nail into the steering wheel. She asked if he remembered her friend from college, the one they’d seen while in New York. Nate did. She asked if he’d like to take another trip to New York to see his aunt, to see her old friend from college & maybe stay longer this time - like maybe the whole summer holidays?

They stayed the whole summer and when fall came around and it was time for Nathan and his mother to return home, he was sad - he was going to miss his aunt, he was going to miss the excitement of living Stateside. The rest of his year was almost a blur - his school year went by relatively painlessly, though he had begun to feel the hurt of being one of the only brown kids in school - and eventually spring had returned. His mom, again, sat him down and began asking questions. Eventually, and now Nate was smart enough to see where this was going from the start, she asked Nate how he would feel about moving to the States, about living with his aunt for a while. The move itself was quick and before he knew it, Nate and his mother settled in the States. He spent his days at school and his afternoons in extracurriculars - his new school had an art program that Nate was excelling in. They spent nights hanging out with his aunt or his mom’s college friend and for the first time in his young life, Nate felt comfortable. His mom’s friend had begun taking him to the museums, explaining the complexities of the canvas hanging on the walls and asking for his opinion on the work.

When Nate was about halfway through his junior year of high school, his mother and her college friend were both in the car when he was picked up from school. It wasn’t entirely all that weird - he wasn’t dumb enough to think that they weren’t dating, but Nate did always wonder why his mother never broached the subject with him. It’s not like he was a little kid anymore, for fuck’s sake - if your kid is old enough to date, they’re old enough to know who you’re dating. Nate probably couldn’t tell you the rest of what happened that day. He remembered getting home and grabbing a snack, as he always does, and he remembered getting told to sit down by his mother, that she had something important to tell him.

Nate’s life split into the before and the now - before Stephen was his father & now. While typically a rather well-mannered teenager, Nate was furious. Sure, his mom didn’t have to disclose her love life if she didn’t want to, but to know that Stephen was his That they’d known since the start and never told him? He thought back to their first visit to New York, when they ran into Stephen on the steps of the Met - he remembered his mom was surprised, thrown off her guard, but never uncomfortable, never not wanting to be around this man.

He slammed the door on his way out of the house, hopping on his bike and riding off. That night was the first night he ever acted out - Nate made it to his friend’s place out in the suburbs and snuck in their basement window. The rest of his friends, along with a couple girls he knew from his English Lit class, were circled around a small table, upon which sat a small tray & a bong. Nate welcomed the small act of rebellion, in the face of such shocking news, & spent his night testing his limits.

His parents, as he now so affectionately referred to them as, soon regretted telling Nate at such a volatile age. He soon spent all his evenings with his friends, sneaking into the house after midnight (if he’s early) and going straight up to his room. They tried not to push it and Nate was torn between appreciating being left alone and pissed that no one cared how he felt. His mom had tried to address it a couple times but Nate always shut down, refusing to give her more than a two word response.

It went on like that for 2 years, silence, short answers, tension. At 18, Nathan found himself going off to college, moving across the country to attend UCLA. He lived off his parents money, figuring the least they could do after years of absconding from the truth. And he lived lavishly - drinks on him every time his friends went to the bars, new clothes, new shoes, everything he could want.

He graduated with minimal rule infractions, an MIP here, possession of controlled substance there. But his parents always paid for a lawyer, flew out for the week and handled everything for him. After college, Nathan bounced around for a year, spent a couple months in LA, three in New York, and another 6 or so in a van his parents had financed, driving around the US.

Six months on the road proved to be exhausting, however, and Nathan found himself back in one of his first stops at the start of his trip, Heartsdale. It wasn’t long before he signed a lease on an apartment downtown and spent his days as a barista at Legal Grounds. He didn’t necessarily need the job - his parents still financed his whole life - but it was nice to have something to meet people in town. After a while, however, being a barista became boring. Nate spent his time admiring the local work they had pinned for sale on their walls, admiring the fine line work and critiquing in the way he’d spent four year training to do. On a walk, he found himself fantasizing about owning his own gallery, having his space to curate an experience. Nate’s eyes caught on every single ‘For Lease’ sign downtown, pausing and forcing himself not to take a peek inside. It wasn’t reasonable, he told himself. Irrational, at best. He had no experience managing anything, no experience building something from nothing.

And yet… he couldn’t help. One brisk morning, the sun was bright against a For Lease sign, practically screaming the numbers at him. His fingers were typing the numbers into his phone before he even realized what he was doing. It was 4:23am, the downside of an opening shift at a coffee shop, and he wasn’t expecting anyone to pick up anyway. “Morning, uh,” he paused - was he really doing this? “My name is Nate Arnoult and I’m interested in the space you’ve got on 1st and..”

Moving in was quick, it only took 6 months before Nathan settled in the space above the retail spot. He spent his first night with his friends, drinking and dancing. His friends, just as ecstatic as he, commended him - Nate had been hemming & hawing about opening a gallery space for months and to finally have a space, a place to start… Nathan was on cloud nine. And it went better than he thought it did. The art scene extended out of his small town and he was able to show pieces from all over Georgia. He even flew out to other states, offered small artists a space in his show room. The rest, he supposed, is history. He’s been living a comfortable life and still maintains contact with his parents, despite their rocky past - not friendly, but not fatal either.

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maybedefinitely404 · 4 years ago

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The Boy who Sings Next Door, Pt 1

Genre: just-out-of-college AU

Pairings: Pre-romantic/romantic Prinxiety, pre-romantic Logicality

Content: general anxiety/allusions to past panic attacks, (it’s Virgil, c’mon), food mentions, a lil yappy puppy, Hamilton songs (it’s Roman, c’mon), just the boys being super gay.

Word count: 2.6k

Comments: I’ve been in a bit of a funk (not the good kind of funk) recently, and this is the only thing I’ve been able to churn out during it. It will have a part two, don’t worry. Gotta get that good Prinxiety content.

Comments (the sequel): This took almost a week to write due to said funk, so I apologize for any inconsistency that appears. I have edited this as much as my brain let me, so it should be good.

Virgil hadn’t lived there for long. In fact, it was just nearing the one month anniversary of the day his two roommates and him had moved into the townhouse complex on the grungier side of town. They were still getting to know the house; the basement Virgil swore was haunted, the crudely attached cabinets that Patton very nearly pulled down every time the shorter man had to climb the counter to reach the top shelf, and especially the upstairs bathroom’s shower that would become scalding hot if someone flushed a toilet while it was running. Janus’ shriek was something Virgil wished he could have recorded on camera.

Meeting his new neighbours was still a fear he had to get over. Patton had already introduced himself to all of them (on the first day living there, with cookies, nonetheless), and was eagerly awaiting the day when Virgil would give the ‘okay’ to invite some of them over for dinner. He was especially excited about the man who lived to their left, a professor at the university across town that Patton claimed he had clicked with.

“A professor? How old is he?”

“He looked like he was our age!”

“A professor who’s twenty two?”

“Well… maybe he’s really smart! Or has a great skincare routine!”

Despite Patton’s obvious infatuations with the guy, Virgil was hesitant to meet him. He’d already had a less than promising accidental run in with the old man living on their right, incited by Janus parking in the wrong spot and poor Virgil being the one to open the door to the screaming neighbor. It had taken him twenty minutes to calm down from that panic attack. But after too many rounds of Patton’s puppy eyes, Virgil gave in.

“Only the one guy though, and I get to have a code word in case I need to leave.”

“Okay! What’s the code word?”

“I don’t know. You pick.”

“Tiddylicious?”

“SHUT THE HELL UP, JANUS!”

Surprisingly, Virgil didn’t have to use the code word (which was not tiddylicious). Logan was a pretty great guy, if slightly lacking in the ‘emoting’ department. Patton and him got on like fire in a library, and his roommates happy wiggles the whole night was probably what gave the anxious man the bravado to stick through it. Janus even had the decency to make some honest conversation, which was a first for him. Logan eventually mentioned the fact that he had a dog, and the conversation immediately derailed into Patton squealing over the pictures he showed him. They took this as the opportunity to sneak away from the two, giving them the space they obviously needed. Gross.

There was a line stretching across Logan’s backyard; a red cable that connected to his deck and reached to the fence on the opposite side. From this cord hung a pink leash, and to this pink leash, Logan attached his dog several times a day. Virgil didn’t know what the signal was for them, but every couple of hours, the sliding door would screech open and the dog would run to the gate closing off the porch, waiting impatiently until Logan clipped on the leash and let it run onto the lawn. The first time the small dog saw Virgil on his phone in the shade of his roof, it immediately took this as a grave act of terrorism and began to yap so loud that Virgil screamed. Logan quickly came back out, explaining that while his pup may have the intimidation factor of a stuffed animal, she thought all the grass of her yard and of the adjoining houses was hers to protect, even if the terrier was just about the size of a decent Thanksgiving turkey. A few head scratches later, and the two decently bonded, enough that she wouldn’t throw a hissy fit every time he sat on his porch.

That’s where he was now, half asleep in a lawn chair with one earbud in, when the tell tale squeak of Logan’s sliding door startled him from his rest. He reached up lazily and popped out his music, smiling slightly at the prospect of another conversation with Logan. Despite their age difference (it wasn’t all that much, but just enough that he got confused stares from the elder when he mentioned the prospect of ‘stealing someone’s kneecaps’), they were starting to become good friends. His hand froze, however, as he heard a voice that was very much not Logan’s coming from the man’s deck.

“Dear Alexander,

I am slow to anger,

But I, tow the line,

As I reckon with the offense of your,

Life on mine.”

And if Virgil said he didn’t immediately feel butterflies at the soft lilting of the deep voice, he would be lying. He shrunk back into his shirt, hoping the other wouldn’t glance over the short bush between them and see his blushing face. Even if he wasn’t infatuated with whoever was letting Logan’s dog out, it wasn’t like him to try and meet someone new.

The screen door shut with a loud whap and the dog pulled at the red cord as hard as she possibly could, trying to get free pets from Virgil. He obliged, but made sure to duck back to his side as soon as the door reopened.

“Raise a glass to freedom,

Something they can never take away,

No matter what they tell you.”

He lurched back into his own house at the sound of that gorgeous voice, slamming the sliding door and consequently scaring the hell out of Patton.

“Sorry,” he said quickly, scrubbing a hand over his face.

“What’s gotten you in such a hullabaloo?” Patton squinted from his table of crafting supplies, where it looked like he was putting together more pages for his scrapbook.

“I’m gay.”

“Ah,” The older man scrunched his eyebrows together, setting down his glue stick, “For Logan…?”

“No! Logan’s yours, don’t worry,” he ignored Patton’s indignant spluttering and blushing, satisfied that he wasn’t the only disaster gay in the room now, “Someone else is at his house.”

“Someone cute?” He was suddenly very interested in his book, trying to hide his red cheeks.

“I don’t know.”

“Then why are you in gay mode?”

“His voice.”

“His voice?”

“Quit laughing at me!” Virgil snarled non aggressively, refusing to meet Patton’s bright eyes.

“I’m not, I swear!” Patton giggled nonetheless, “It’s cute! I’ll have to hear it for myself sometime.” Virgil huffed, despite his growing smile, and went to his room, too overwhelmed to wait outside for the voice again, no matter how much his heart wanted to.

A couple days later, Patton showed up in his open doorway (it was his attempt to be less antisocial, and it made his housemates happy) grinning like a child who’d just gotten a puppy.

“I just talked to Logan-”

“Oh?” Virgil smirked, closing his laptop in favor of tea.

“Oh, shush. He just said during the summer, he has these fancy shmancy teaching seminars every weekend just out of town.”

“So?”

“Sooo…” Patton wiggled a little, sticking his tongue between his teeth, “When he’s not home, his brother watches Gremmy!”

“Gremmy?”

“How do you not know the puppy’s name? And also, you’re focusing on the wrong part of the sentence! His brother is going to be there every weekend, all summer!”

Virgil tried to digest the butterflies that exploded in his gut, failing to hide his reappearing blush. “So? We don’t even know if he’s our age, or if he’s into guys.”

Patton dropped his gaze, sucking his lips into his mouth in a vain attempt to smother his smile.

“Patton?”

“He’s our age and he’s into guys,” He squeaked.

“You asked?!”

“It came up naturally!”

“How?!”

“Not important!” He was full on beaming now, hopping on his toes. “You should totally talk to him next weekend!”

“No. Nope. Not happening.”

The following Friday, Virgil found himself sitting on his deck under the roof, scrolling aimlessly through Tumblr, and it had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that he happened to see a new car pull into Logan’s spot thirty minutes after the man left. Nothing like that at all. He sipped absentmindedly on the lemonade Patton had brought him with a cheeky look on his face, trying not to think about the fact that the angel voiced man was right next door. And his heart absolutely did not begin to pound when the tell tale screeching of the screen door sounded.

This time, music accompanied the man’s singing as he hooked the dog, Gremmy, onto her leash.

“Angelica,

Eliza,

And Peggy,

The Schuyler sisters,

Angelica (Peggy) Eliza (Work!)”

Even if Virgil had only heard his voice once, it seemed fitting that he was trying to sing every part, altering slightly to nail the voice changes of every character. He curled up a little more in his chair as the man followed Gremmy out onto the lawn, music still pumping from his phone.

“Daddy said to be home by sundown,

Daddy doesn’t need to know,

Daddy said not to go downtown,

Like I said, you’re free to go.”

Virgil couldn’t breathe, but that was the heat’s fault. It definitely wasn’t caused by the gorgeous man now dancing in small circles on the grass, dog jumping at his feet as he laughed along to the music. The sudden warmth in his face was caused by the sun, not the toned muscle of the man’s arms, or the way his much too loose muscle tee showed off his tan, or how his light brown hair flopped over his eyes when he bent down to pick up a stick from the ground. All while singing; just carelessly enjoying himself.

“Angelica, remind me what we’re looking for?

(She’s looking for me!)

Eliza, I’m looking for a mind at work (work),

I’m looking for a mind at work (work),

Woah, woah, woah, woah, work!”

The harmonies were too much, his voice flawlessly adding a fourth harmony where there wasn’t in the song. Virgil jumped like a spooked cat, fleeing into the house and drawing the curtains shut hurriedly. He knew the other man had probably heard the door slam, but that wasn’t his main concern right now.

“Gay panic?”

Virgil spun around to see Janus, all too bemused, sipping Gatorade out of a wine glass. The man’s sense of class would not be affected by the time of day. “Gay panic,” He confirmed weakly, sliding down the wall, “He’s hot.”

“Let me see.”

“Janus, no, what are you doing?!”

The taller man pulled the curtain aside, humming under his breath. “Oh yeah, he is hot.”

“Jan, stop!” He hissed, trying to tug Janus’ arm down from the curtain without being seen.

“Oh, he’s waving at me.”

“WHAT?!”

“Can I wave back?”

“NO!”

Janus waved back, kicking Virgil lightly out of sight. “Let go of my sleeve, fucker.”

Virgil did, booking it upstairs as soon as Janus dropped the curtain. He flopped onto his bed with a groan that was almost loud enough to be a shriek, swearing to himself to not go outside for the rest of the weekend. And to kill Janus later. He did leave his window open though, but not because he wanted to keep hearing the snippets of song that floated up to his room every time the sliding glass next door opened. Not at all.

Virgil hated that he ended up counting down the days until Friday, and that he couldn’t tear himself away from the window until he arrived. Responding to his housemates giggles and stares with a quick flip of the bird, he took his usual spot on the deck. Because the weather was nice, and he needs a tan. No other reason. Not that he would say out loud, anyways.

He didn’t have to wait long until the door scratched open and a calm, almost haunting melody reached his ears. He’s singing along to a track again, mixing in harmonies that send shivers up Virgil’s spine.

“I saved every letter you wrote me,

From the moment I read them I knew you were mine,

You said you were mine,

I thought you were- Shit, Gremmy, no, get back here!”

Virgil jolted upright as twenty pounds of fluff landed in his chest, paws digging into his sternum. The dog looked up at him with, dare he say, smug eyes? He ran a hand through the fur on her back, holding her collar with one hand in case she decided to bolt again.

“I am so sorry! She wormed out of the gate before I got the leash on her!”

He looked up from the dog and holy hell oh my god he’s way hotter up close. Never before in his life had he wished for Patton’s bubbliness or Janus’ general aloofness, but now he would rather have any personality trait besides anxious because oh god the hottest guy he’d ever met is staring at him and he has no idea what to say.

“Well, good thing she likes me, or you’d be down a dog.” What the hell was that?

Surprisingly, the other man laughed, folding his arms across his chest. “What, you don’t think I’d be able to catch her?”

“In all honesty, probably not.”

“How dare you!” He gasped, holding a hand to his chest dramatically, “I’ll have you know Gremmy loves me!”

“I’m sure that’s why she booked it as soon as she had the chance.” He extended the dog almost comically, her too short legs waving frantically in his grip. The man took her with a murmur of thanks, giving her a stern look that made Virgil snicker. A part of him was slightly shocked that someone related to Logan could be so… relaxed. The older man seemed held together purely by stress and logic, never without a collared shirt and tie, and he would definitely never be seen in the plain white v-neck this guy was wearing really well.

“So, you’re Logan’s brother?” Where the hell was this courage coming from?!

“Yup. You know him?”

“About as well as I know any of my neighbors. So, barely. But he’s close with my roommate.”

The man’s expression turned to glee as he shifted the dog in his arms. She seemed unhappy being held when there were birds to be chased, but her struggle was lazy. “Patton, right? I’ve heard a lot about him.”

“Oh?”

He hummed happily, fiddling with Gremmy’s collar. “It’s about time Logan found someone who makes him happy. We never really understood each other when it comes to interacting with other people. He’s more secluded nerd, and I’m more…” He trailed off, waving his fingers under the dog cluelessly.

“More theatre nerd?” Virgil guessed, pleased with the way the man’s eyebrows flew up.

“How’d you guess that?”

“You’ve been singing a different Hamilton song every time you’ve taken the dog out.”

Instead of looking embarrassed or upset like Virgil would definitely be in his situation, he seemed to puff up more, almost delighted.

“Ah, I thought I had an audience! That was you?”

Virgil could feel his face turning beet red, much to his chagrin. This was it, this was the moment he died. Let the earth open up and swallow him whole, his little pride had been too wounded to continue. The man took his silence as answer enough, seemingly pleased with the reaction.

“I’m Roman,” The man grinned, holding out his hand. He took it hesitantly, the touch sending a shock up his spine that he was barely able to suppress.

“Virgil.”

“It’s very nice to meet you, Virgil.”

He couldn’t help the authentic smile that tugged on his lips as they shook hands, Gremmy dangling from Roman’s other arm like a football.

“You too, Roman.”

#lywrites #sanderssides #sanders sides #virgil sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #janus sanders #hamilton #sanderssidesfanfiction

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teatoohottohandle · 4 years ago

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Friendships!

Thinking about how friendships are so much better than any romantic relationship I've ever had.

I just finished reading Samantha Irby's Meaty and this part on frenemies resonated with me because... who hasn't had a boyfriend (or toxic partner) who made them insecure about their relationship and did nothing to course-correct the insecurity infecting the the relationships wellbeing (and I don't mean to personify a relationship, but I think it's important to)?

I know a handful of motherfuckers throwing shade at MY ASS while scrolling through their boyfriends' text messages in the middle of the night trying to figure out whether those dudes are seeing someone else. [...] You know what I don't have to do? Wonder where my boyfriend is all day. Wonder why my boyfriend didn't answer his cell phone. Wonder why my boyfriend's Facebook is private. Wonder who my boyfriend is texting during dinner. All of this free time to read books and go to shows and cultivate personal interests can really get to a person.

And if that isn't the most gorgeous and truthful paragraph ever on insecurity in romantic relationships? I understand that maybe Irby is also implying you yourself have work to do if you're scrolling through your partner's text messages, and asking all of these questions that border paranoia, but it's very true. I felt very seen by Irby's words.

Being single and having a group of really great, thoughtful friends who question romance, the patriarchy, and capitalism and how they all work together to incite violent and toxic relationships make me feel like... I could die without a romantic partner and be surrounded by such great friends and still feel fulfilled and abundant.

This past therapy session, I spoke with my therapist about romance and what love looked like growing up (more like she helped tie some loose strings together that was eye-opening and like whoa). My parents argued often. My three older sisters fought and argued as well. They never spoke to one another. My parents never spoke unless they were fighting about money. Eventually we had some uncles and aunts and my naughty fucking cousin who won't be named, but folks who know him know how he's naughty -- move into our basement from Vietnam and that was hard on the family having so many people live in fear, anger, and loneliness. And that for me was what love looked like -- a lot of fear, anger, and unsolicited caretaking.

Out of fear, my mother never spoke up against my dad until she couldn't take it anymore and lashed out and then became slowly independent. Anger started arguments and fights and no one ever explicitly apologized so I never understood how to effectively apologize or if apologies were even necessary to heal what was hurt. My aunts and uncles relied so heavily on my mother that it drained her until she got incredibly sick, but even when they didn't need her, she showed up and gave unsolicited help/advice/guidance. She acted as a caretaker even when she couldn't handle it. Even when others don't ask and in fact, ask her to leave.

My therapist asked me if I saw fear, anger, and unsolicited caretaking in how I treated my romantic relationships. I said, yes. Absolutely.

Through TKJ, he had told me that he was the caretaker, but I resented him for that. I resented him and tried to one-up him all the time. And I was fearful of losing him that it made me angry whenever he made a new friend who was a woman. He was just making friends, but I couldn't admit that it was about my fear, I made it about how he was a player.

Beloved CDL had just lost his grandmother. Instead of giving him space to process and take care of his needs, I latched on harder and he pushed me back even harder. He broke up with me when I was drunk in the Tattered Cover parking lot on Colfax Ave citing "he was going through a lot". True, but still an asshole move.

And countless other dating / weird no-label, but only explicitly seeing each other situationships where it was so hard for me to voice my needs because I felt like I had to take care of them first. Note: I'm removing friends with benefits from this list because I don't count them as romantic endeavors. Rather, they're friends I'm intimate with?

Noticing and recognizing all of that made me feel so unbearable. I hate it when others take care of me or attempt to, even if I'm whimpering with my tail between my legs. I decline help and on purpose so I feel like I save the day. And all of this is really only with romantic relationships. Not with friendships.

My friends respect my boundaries and I, theirs. I never fear that I'll lose them to another friend, instead, I feel like they'd tell me when I'm being a bad friend and how to be a better friend. And I'll do what they ask of me. Our relationship is more malleable and full of love and abundance. If we're angry at each other, we'll ask and resolve it. Not just for the sake of returning to neutrality, but to truly and deeply understand one another. Yet I feel like I'm treading on thin ice in romantic relationships because I'm dancing with unresolved demons.

I'm not sure how to bridge the healthy behaviors and attitudes I have with platonic relationships and practice them in romantic relationships while healing intergenerational trauma. I suppose the first step is to identify it, acknowledge it, and the rest is going to be extremely difficult. Changing is hard and scary. But I really want to dedicate energy towards loving myself as it's clear that I won't find a wholesome and satisfying romantic relationship until that happens. Otherwise, I'll be falling into those booby traps of fear, anger, and unsolicited caretaking.

#relationship #friendship #anarchy #romance #patriarchy

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mywalkintofreedom · 4 years ago

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Life at West Main Street - part 2

In my last story, I really just painted a picture of what life was like. I didn’t go into a whole lot of detail about how God came through, though. God really came through for us in many ways, especially through the body of Christ.

Before we moved into our apartment we lived at a friends house for a month. During that month I had a dream that I really believed was from God. We had a lot of things to sort through together and figure out. In my dream I was with my mom and we were walking in the ocean and I had to follow her. I kept looking behind me and was afraid, and every time I looked behind I would start to sink and I would have a hard time seeing where she was going. My mom turned around and said “don’t look to the right or to the left, keep your eyes on me”. After I woke up I had an incredible sense of peace and I knew it had been God. Any time after that when I would start to lose focus, I would think of that dream and God would remind me “don’t look to the right or to the left”. Also in other words, “stop looking at your circumstances”. So much stuff hadn’t been figured out yet, but I had to choose to trust God.

I shared how we had a $20 food budget, which we did, and later in our journey it slowly increased. We also had dear friends that fed us dinner once a week to cut down the cost of food, it was a huge help. We had another church member that dropped off bread almost weekly. We had more church members that gave us food boxes regularly. The body of Christ really upheld us. Without them, I don’t know how we would have done it. We had friends teach us how to coupon and counsel us. When we had a need, we prayed, and God would provide in one way or an other. Sometimes I had a small desire, like I would be craving Nutella, and someone would randomly give me a jar of Nutella at church because they said they were thinking of me.

I shared about having two suitcases and a desk chair when we moved in. Within a matter of probably two weeks, we were donated a couch, a bed, a table and chairs, a stove (which took some months to be able to hook it up, because of funky wiring in the apartment, but we had it), a mini fridge, a toaster oven, a waffle maker, a washer and eventually a dryer. One friend was sending us boxes anonymously with brand new pillows, bedding, blankets, some maternity clothes, towels, kitchen towels, plates, bowls, pots and pans, utensils. Pretty much any essential item was send in anonymous boxes that would arrive, even toilet paper and cleaning supplies. It was very humbling and overwhelming, I mean we even had a can opener! Just imagine packages arrive from an anonymous person with all the things you need, when you haven’t told anyone what you need. It was amazing.

Someone took me to Walmart and told me to pick out curtains and other things we needed for our apartment. It was also someone else from our church that gave us money to turn on the water and power to our apartment. We never asked any of these generous people to do this for us, we never told them our need. We prayed together and stuff would happen. It was life changing.

Micah and I were never good at asking for help, which is why it was hard to take out a loan when we needed to, but people showed up and supported us even if we didn’t ask.

And even in the midst of being supported, it was only us that could walk that journey. We had a lot of support, but I struggled greatly any time I was by myself in those first months. Mostly, because I wasn’t used to being by myself. I had just finished a year of college studying social work before we got married, and was around people every day and had a very fast pace busy life. I also came from a big family where there were always people around me. One of my love languages is quality time, so being by myself was new. Going from that life, to being alone every day was a shock for me, and I don’t mind admitting that. BUT through it all I learned the most valuable lesson I could’ve ever learned: I learned to be content. I learned to be okay with my own company, and most of all, I learned how to entertain myself and to be thankful for every little thing in life. Sounds pathetic, but in today’s society, entertainment mostly comes from technology. I had to really face myself and even find out hobbies that I would enjoy to keep my spirit lifted, because being a millennial, the only way I really entertained myself was by watching shows or scrolling on my phone and hanging out with family and friends.

A few weeks after we moved into our apartment Micah was offered a full time job at a car dealership, where he had been doing odd jobs. This was a huge milestone for us, because it meant that we had some stability and a consistent income. I have to say though, even before he had a permanent job, we had one financial miracle after an other. Somehow there always was an odd job for him to make just the right amount of money. The way we were living really made my faith in God become so real. He truly was the One providing for us.

The apartment continued to be an interesting living space. As clean as we tried to keep it, we regularly dealt with cockroaches. We eventually came to the conclusion that perhaps the other people in the building weren’t keeping their spaces clean. We were given a space heater that would show us the temperature in the apartment. It would get as low as 48 Fahrenheit in the coldest months at night, but when it would go over 55 or so it would feel comfortable. We dressed warm in several layers and I would usually sit right in front of the space heater, which made it not so bad. Pregnancy also helped, because it keeps you warmer as well. Anytime we’d go to someone else’s house, or go to church, my cheeks would get flushed and I would be so hot! I had gotten used to colder temperatures. I couldn’t believe I had taken central heat for granted.

The house next to our apartment that we saw from our window, had a basement in which an entire family was living. A mom and dad, a little, maybe 4 year old boy and a baby. I often felt for them and often wanted to help them. The kids were usually only wearing onesies, even in winter. Upstairs, in the regular part of the house lived the grandparents, I think. I think they bred dogs, they had about 5 tied to trees in the yard. These dogs never stopped barking and often kept me up at night. As much as I wanted to help this family, I also thought about calling the police on them for having these dogs! I might have threatened I would untie all of them in the middle of the night in my hysterical mood. I did eventually get used to the dogs and stopped hearing them, and I think they sold some because they eventually only had 1 or 2.

Our upstairs neighbors, were a couple, probably in their late 50s. It was this lady that actually had hollered from across the street telling us there was an apartment available below them. They were sweet people, and also very troubled people. I would often hear them fight, but it’s not like we never had arguments, so who was I to judge them? I also overheard the lady, what I thought was, dealing drugs one time outside our window. We found out it was her birthday from her husband one time. We put together a little basket for her with a few items we had and went up to give it to her. Her reaction was priceless, as if she had never received a gift before. Anytime we had too much food that we couldn’t store in our mini fridge we would give it to them, and they were always so grateful. I really felt for them and we tried to share the gospel with them whenever we felt there was an open door. I also believed the lady had some kind of disease, because about once a month I would hear her vomit all night and then she would disappear for several days in a row and look different every time she returned. She also was picked up with an ambulance several times. We prayed for them and did care about them. We borrowed things from each other. We often borrowed their plunger and they often borrowed things from us. One time they would not stop fighting and were cursing at each other loudly, so Micah told them if they didn’t cut it out he would call the police. That night the guy came to our door and asked for all of his things back that we had borrowed, which was a giant old tv that we sometimes would watch dvds on from the library, and his plunger. This put an end to borrowing things, but we did still give them food. I still see them at the apartment sometimes when I drive by, and often think about asking how they are doing.

Our neighbor next to us, was an older lady. She was quiet and sweet as could be. She told us she never heard us, and I thought she must have impaired hearing, especially after we had the baby. She always greeted us, but she rarely got out of her apartment.

The other apartment had different people moving in and out. At one point a guy was living there that would never stop playing music. It was music with a loud base and bad words, and I couldn’t stand it. I prayed, and thank God, he moved out pretty soon.

We got to host my sister a few weeks after we had moved in. She had just gotten back from missionary work, so in my mind I had thought, “Surely our apartment will be better than where she’s been living.” But while she was with us the toilet kept clogging up. One morning she was using the bathroom and I had heard her trying to flush several times and after awhile she stuck her head out the door and said “uhh guys, my poop is coming up in the bathtub”. We all busted out laughing, it was hysterical. I had the best time with her. She stayed for three weeks, and I had never appreciated her company more than I did when she came. She helped me make our apartment homey, and we hung up pictures together. It’s some of the most valuable memories I have with her now.

Our landlord, Miss Charlotte, was also the sweetest lady. We experienced a lot of issues with the apartment, and would call her about it, every time she would immediately send someone to come fix it. We eventually got a new toilet, because the repair guy determined that it was too old and therefore clogging so much. We also had trouble with the electricity. Whenever we’d plug something in, the lights in the living space would dim really low. If we plugged more than one appliance in, the power in the entire apartment would go out. We became friends with the electrician named Terry, because he had to come over so often in the beginning😂 Someone gave us a huge microwave at one point, we never really used microwaves but we did use it for popcorn. Well one time when we plugged this beast in and turned it on there was a loud noise and half the apartment was without power and wouldn’t come back on. Terry had to come over again, but it took a few days before he could, so we lived in the dark for awhile until he fixed it. We decided not to use the microwave anymore, we didn’t really have room for it anyways. It was at this point that Micah got concerned about fire safety and collected all of our important documents in case there would be a fire😂, this was dramatic, but felt real at the time. Terry pretty much fixed most issues and we just didn’t use too many appliances at once.

As the months went by my due date was getting closer. Our baby was due on May 3rd of 2015. We were seeing our midwife regularly now, I loved our trips up to Atlanta. It was so fun to spend that time together. Paying for gas stretched our budget quite a bit, but I loved the drive.

What I thought was impossible became reality, our apartment truly became home. I started to feel safe and remember one time coming home after going grocery shopping saying to Micah “you know this really is home”, and he said “I was thinking the same thing”. I was nesting, I stopped volunteering at our church’ school when I was nearing the end of my pregnancy, and actually enjoying the isolation towards the end, and painted just about any piece of furniture that could be painted with cheap crafts paint. Most has held up amazingly well after all these years.

We lived close to the library. All I had to do was walk up a steep hill and there it was. It took me about 7-10 minutes. It was a great motivator to get exersice! I walked up that hill every day to connect my old phone to WiFi and I would contact Micah asking him what time he could come home for lunch. I also got to know the ladies that worked there as I saw them often. The library had a huge selection of Shirley Temple movies, so every day at 4 in the afternoon during my last week or 2 of my pregnancy I watched one of the movies and actually really enjoyed it.

At one point much earlier in the journey I temporarily had Micah’s phone, which had regular service. We thought it would be best for me to have his phone so I could contact him by texting the business’ cellphone. Well, one time his boss called Micah’s phone and I picked up. He said “is Micah there?” I told him no, then his boss said “ he just drove away in a customer’s car and I can’t reach him!” Just a few minutes later Micah arrived at the apartment and he came in and said “get dressed honey, we’re going to pick up some keys in Colombus!” (Sometimes if Micah had to take a trip somewhere his boss allowed me to come along with him). So I told Micah, “I just got off the phone with John (Micah’s boss), that’s not the business’ car, you took a customers car!” Micah’s eyes got big and he got back in the car and drove back to work. He had indeed accidentally mistaken a customer’s car, who had left the keys in their car, as one of the business’ car. He then from then on had to have his phone on him at all times so they could always contact him.

During these weeks, before our first child came into the world, I had a lot of victory in a lot of areas in my life. I got to a really good place actually before our child was born. I had no idea how my life was about to change, I also had no idea what kind of birth experience I was about to have. I will share more about this in part 3.

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aaronbleyaert · 5 years ago

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You’re handsome and funny. The ideal man! How come you’re single?!?!? 😩✌️

Thanks, I’m trying to not be so single, actually! I’ve got a lot of girl friends, but no girlfriends, you know? For instance, on Saturday, I went out with my friend Tiffany and we went to this awesome Mexican restaurant. And there was this really cute waitress who I thought might have been flirting with me - but stupidly, I didn’t ask for her number or anything. But I feel like she WAS kind of flirting? And Tiffany thought so, too. So right now, as I’m writing this, I’m trying to figure out what to do. Do I go back? Do I ask her out? What do I say? Is it creepy? It’s creepy, right? I shouldn’t say anything. Actually, I shouldn’t go back in the first place, right? That’s weird. Hard cringe. But she introduced herself and told me when the times she works and said I should come back for brunch! Because she works brunch! But then, that’s what waitresses do, right? They want people to come back into their restaurant so that it’ll stay open, so that they can keep working, so that they can keeping making money, so that they can keep paying their rent or pay for their car, or buy something really special that means a lot to them - maybe even save up for that trip they’ve always wanted: to visit the fabled ancient Peruvian wonder Machu Picchu because this waitress once saw pictures of it when she was a kid and it held a special meaning to her and was the one thing that took her out of her sad daily routine of her parents fighting about who was to blame for her older sister running away and it didn’t matter what was said or how long the fights between her parents would go on, there was always one absolute certain truth, a truth that only the waitress knew: her sister didn’t run away at all.

Her sister never existed.

Or, at least, never existed as a real human person - her “older sister” was just a ghost or a spirit or a collection of raw psychic energies that just happened to accumulate for whatever reason over the span of hundreds of years in the swamps of the deep bayou that were eventually drained and filled in and paved over and became the site of the Lakeforest subdivision that the waitress grew up in and somehow those energies became trapped in the back wall down inside the crawlspace under her basement stairs, the wall that would wail so loudly each night with its inhuman, low buzzing voice like a million fat flies feasting on the boated corpse of a rotten baby lamb that would keep the waitress up all night until one night she crept downstairs and removed the panel on the stairwell and crawled inside the space and put her forehead to the wall, listening to the low inhuman voice as it tried to form words with its mealy alien tongue: “MEEEEEEAT” it buzzed in her brain so she started small, feeding the wall in the crawlspace underneath the stairs what she could easily find and trap: bugs. But soon, that wasn’t enough. The wall demanded more. “I can’t give you any more” she would weep, her forehead pressed against the cool rough concrete of the wall in the crawlspace under the stairs, night after night, while her parents slept. “MORRRRRRRE” it would buzz, the alien voice pressing so violently on the inside her head that it threatened to split her open like a rotten cantaloupe. So she began trapping larger things; frogs, mice, anything else she could find outside in the woods behind her school. But soon that wasn’t enough, either. The wall’s hunger grew. She managed to trap a few pets; a few cats, a small dog here or there - and fed them all to the wall.

That’s when her sister appeared.

It all happened so casually one Thursday morning; when she came down to breakfast, her parents and some older girl with straight white hair she had never seen before were all sitting around the kitchen table, eating and laughing like it was the most natural thing in the world. “Oh! Look who’s finally awake!” her mother said, laughter in her voice. In one graceful move, her mother filled a bowl with cereal and poured in just the right amount of milk. “Here you are, my little angel.” Her new older sister moved over so she could sit down. “Angela was just saying how excited she was to get you something for your birthday next week” her dad said, leaning forward, far over his morning paper and smiling with too many teeth. Her new older sister, Angela, smirked and gave her a little wink when her parents weren’t looking. Her birthday wasn’t for another six months.

She could hear a soft low buzz coming from somewhere in Angela’s chest.

The more she fed The Wall In The Crawlspace Down Under The Stairs week after week, the happier her parents seemed to get - and the more Angela seemed to glow. There was almost a sheen about her; something shiny just underneath her skin that made you want to keep looking at her. Angela quickly became the most popular girl at school, among both the boys and the girls. The teachers would even stop the girl in the hallway to ask about her sister. Once, the girl forgot something in her locker and ran to get it during class. As she walked by Angela’s classroom, she saw Angela standing on a desk, the entire class surrounding her with their heads bowed, breathing in unison. Angela held her face up towards the ceiling, the florescent light spilling over her glowing skin, as if she was feeding. The teacher stood motionless with his forehead against the dry erase board, arms at his sides. He had pissed himself.

Angela was never mean to the girl, even at home - she was always offering to help her younger sister with her homework, or boys, or anything else. The girl always declined, but Angela persisted. Every night, Angela would come right to the girl’s bedroom door, but would never enter. She would always linger outside, in the hallway, that low buzz softly rising and falling in her chest, like a thick out of tune orchestra all playing at once. “Don��t you want help with your homework?” she would ask, her eyes wide, her mouth in a perfect “O” shape, the sound of the words appearing in the girl’s mind. “NO.” the girl would reply from the safety of her bed. “GO AWAY.” Then Angela would smile with too many teeth, her shiny translucent skin stretched over the bony frame of a young girl, her straight white hair floating out in the darkness of the hallway. “DO NOT FORRRRRGET. WE ARE HUNNNNNGRY” she would reply, her black pupils pinpricks in those wide white eyes, her mouth a dark black circle. Then she would would turn and softly pad down the stairs on all fours, down to the basement.

The girl thought about running away; the weather was turning cold and animals for The Wall were getting harder and harder to find - and The Wall’s appetite seemed to be increasing. Breakfast was also getting out of control; one morning, her mother made 40 slices of toast, all buttered perfectly. Another morning, her father spent the entire breakfast laughing so hard at the news on the radio that he began coughing up blood. The radio was nothing but static.

One day after school in the woods, the girl came across the bloody insides of some larger game animal - a big dog, maybe. Or a deer. It looked like some large beast had spit up the organs of a recent kill. The girl took one look and knew this was her chance. She took everything out of her backpack - books, binders, a practice test for science class - and stuffed in as much of the animal’s guts as she could. She left all of her school supplies in the woods. She wouldn’t need them any more.

When she got home, the house was empty. The girl hauled her backpack into the kitchen and onto the counter. The blood was beginning to soak through. She looked at the clock; Angela and her parents would be home at any minute. The girl looked around under the sink, in the back, until she found the poison. She opened her backpack and stuffed it all inside, just as her parents car pulled into the driveway. She zipped up the backpack and headed for the door to the basement. It would have to be enough.

Over the previous months, the basement had been transformed into a living mass of black rotting flesh. Her parents spent almost all of their time down there, tending to the writhing mass of pulsating coils and strips of grotesque quivering tissue that lined the walls and hung from the ceiling. There were occasional teeth that had sprouted from where the walls met the floor; the girl thought that all of the animals that she had fed The Wall In The Crawlspace Down Under The Stairs had been somehow digested and transformed into this perverse living nightmare that her parents’ basement had become; a nexus of evil, right under her feet. At the very least, it was sure to bring the property value down.

The girl hadn’t entered the basement in months - she usually just opened the basement door and threw the sacrifices down the stairs, either to be absorbed by the floor or eaten by the thing that everyone called her older sister - but the girl knew that this time would have to be different. She would have to go down to the source. She opened the basement door, a putrid warm breeze greeting her. The girl heard the car doors slam out in the driveway. Her parents and Angela would be inside any moment. The girl took a deep breath, clutched her backpack, and descended into the basement.

Stepping carefully between the clusters of quivering fleshpods and over the slimy black masses of writhing tentacles, the girl came to the small door to the crawlspace. The low buzzing was so loud that she could barely see straight. She opened her backpack, and could feel the buzzing grow hungrily. It was all she could do to pour the poisoned gelatinous guts of whatever poor lonely animal had died up there on the dirty ground in the dark backwoods behind the school onto the concrete wall in her basement. The buzzing grew thick with feeding. The girl felt something wet start to trickle from her ears and nose. She wiped her face and it came away bloody. She slowly backed out, just as the thick buzzing started to falter and skip, like a bicycle chain trying to catch a gear.

“WHAAAAAT ARE YOU DOINNNNNNNG” The girl spun around to see Angela on all fours, her eyes wide, and mouth in the silent neverending scream of an O. “Nothing!” the girl said, her head pounding, the buzz filling everything, blood beginning to trickle from her eyes like tears. She noticed that Angela was naked except for the writhing black tentacles that were furiously sliding up her legs and over her stomach, as if preparing for something. “IT IS NOTTTTT RIIIIIIIIIGHT” the Angela thing buzzed in the girl’s mind. She hissed and took a step forward, her limbs seeming to stretch and elongate. “What’s going on down there?” the girl’s mother called from upstairs. “You girls play nice, you hear?” The Angela thing took another step forward and smiled with too many teeth. “NOW WE SEEEEE YOU ON THE INSIDEEEEEEAAAAAIAIAIIIAIIAI100101001!” The Angela thing screamed and fell to the ground. The buzzing in the girl’s head began to skip, like a radio stuck between stations. The girl ran for the stairs and scrambled up, slipping on the slick thick flesh that carpeted every surface.

The girl burst out into the kitchen and sprawled on the floor. The buzzing stopped. Everything was quiet. The girl sat up and wiped the blood out of her eyes. She looked around. Her Dad was asleep in his easy chair, paper on his chest. Her Mom was watching TV. The TV was on.

From then on, her parents were convinced that her sister had run away, and they wouldn’t hear any other explanation. The girl tried to convince them that she never had a sister; that Angela never existed, that it was all in their minds. But then that would lead to The Wall. And that would lead to the crawlspace in the basement. And that would always lead to the thing that scared the girl the most: Her parents reply, “Honey, we don’t have a basement.”

And they were right.

The house had no basement. In their kitchen, the wall where the door to the basement had been was now just a plain wall - if there had ever been a door there to begin with. The girl walked around the house in disbelief; there was no sign that their house had ever had a basement. The girl was so adamant she was right that one Sunday, while her parents were out at the farmer’s market, she took a baseball bat to the wall. Behind it was nothing but insulation.

Since the girl poisoned The Wall, her parents argue daily about whether they should have done more to try to find her older sister. It became their obsession; all they could think about, all they could talk about. The girl stopped going to school, but no one really noticed. She would read books about all sorts of fantastic places in the world. It was after reading about one of these places, Machu Picchu, when she was looking at pictures on some travel site, that she came across a picture that stopped her cold. It was Angela.

She was in the background of another tourist’s photo, and even though her hair had been dyed a light pink, and she was blurry, the girl could immediately tell it was the Angela thing from her basement. It smiled with too many teeth.

That night, the girl packed a bag and got on the next bus out of town. She knew what she had to do. The bus took her as far as LA, where she got a little sublet, month to month, in an apartment above a bar. It wasn't much, but it was enough. The girl started working at a Mexican restaurant, doubling up on brunch shifts to save up enough money for a plane ticket down to the jungles of South America - to finally face her fate, one last time.

Anyway, you guys think I should ask this waitress out or what?

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crimzonvendetta · 5 years ago

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Yandere Seola X Male Reader

"Are you there?"

Seola voice came from the other side of the door, followed by what sounded by light scratching at the door. He could hear her lightly breathing on the door. The question was directed to Y/N, her younger step brother who sitting in his bed, terrified. He was sitting with his knees to his chest with his hands covering his mouth. He learned the hard way she could hear even the smallest sounds he made.

"Mom and Dad are going out of town again. They left me in charge. You know what that means."

He knew exactly what that meant. His "sister" basically owned him for the next two weeks. His breath began to quicken as the door knob slowly turned. A wave of relief washed over him once the knob locked in place.

"Oh? I thought we established that you weren't allowed to lock your door last time."

'Maybe if I just stay quiet she'll think I'm not here.'

"She would know if you left the house today."

The pessimist in himself reminded him. Suddenly, cutting through the silence a familiar tone rang out! Y/N's eyes darted to find the source of the noise. On his desk his phone was going off; it was his girlfriend, Sana.

"My baby would never leave without his phone, meaning....you're still in there."

The door handle began to turn, but more viciously. It was Seola was trying to break the knob off. It continued for minutes before it just stopped. Then the sound of a key entering a keyhole became apparent. Y/N stood and bolted to the door but just he was about to make it his body went limp. His body wasn't listen to him, the feelings was leaving him.

"Sorry, but big sis had to take precautions this time, I couldn't have you fighting back like last time."

As the darkness took him he was "gifted" with the sight of his older sister Hyung-Jung entering his safe space and giving a wave.

Y/ N awoke to the sound of his phone ringing. He moved sluggishly to the table and picked up his phone. It was from his girlfriend Sana. "What's wrong with your sister?" The text message read. Another text came in. "When I came over last night she told me I wasn't allowed to see you."

Ding!

Another text. "She punched me in the face!"

A pictured followed up of Sana, her lip was busted and she had a bruise on her cheek! Y/N felt a wave of rage wash over him. He went to go find her and confront her but just before he could leave his room he stopped. The rage that he felt turned into fear, he felt terrified. He turned and looked around his room to see there was a sticky note stuck on his desk. 'That's strange.' He thought. He went over and scanned the note. The handwriting was damn near unreadable, but he could make out the word remember? "Remember what?" Y/N thought out loud. Suddenly like like a hammer coming down upon a nail memories assaulted him.

"You're acting like you're not enjoying this, like you're not enjoying me."

"Does she make you feel good like this?"

Y/N felt the urge to vomit. But along with the disgust came clarity. It all made sense now. Why he never managed to stay up past 8, why he always felt so sluggish in the morning, why there was large amounts of time he couldn't account. His older step sister was drugging and raping him. The urge to throw up became too much and he did so right of his bedroom floor. To make matters worse he couldn't tell if it was the drugs or the thought of his sister doing such things that was causing his sickness. The door flew open and standing in the frame was the culprit herself with cleaning supplies in hand. "Looks like you're having morning sickness again." Morning sickness was a common occurrence for Y/N, but now that he knew what caused made him feel even sicker.

Y/N sat across from Seola eating his breakfast silently at the dinner table. He tried to keep his eyes down, but every once in a while he'd sneak a glance to catch her either looking at her phone or smiling at him. "Hey Y/N, my friends are coming over. Want to hang out with us?"

Y/N frowned up his face and visibly shrunk back quickly which caused his spoon to clatter oh the plate, which caught the attention of the predator sitting in front of him. Seola placed elbows of the table and rested her head on her hands. Her face held the same bright smile that had brought Y/N comfort so many times, but her eyes were so focused that it felt that she was piercing through him. Y/N brought his eyes down to his plate, "Y-yeah sure."

Y/N made sure to finish his food quickly.

Y/N wished desperately for an escape, but Seola made sure they were attached at the hip until her friends arrived. They entered quite loud and boisterously, which broke between the tension Y/N and Seola. The jokes and friendly exchanges between the group brought Y/N comfort, it almost made him forget about his situation. He was brought back to reality when Seola interlocked their fingers and squeezed his hand. All the negative feelings returned with just the simplest of engagements. Eventually he managed to convince Seola to allow him to go upstairs to his room, but instead of doing so he stood at the top of the stairs and watched them speak.

"Did you bring them?" Seola asked her friend Dayoung. The aforementioned friend Dayoung pulled a bag of pills from his purse which made a familiar feeling shoot through Y/N.

"How long are you going to keep drugging him?" Dayoung inquired.

"Today's the day I go for the big one. I used the last of what you gave me this morning in his breakfast. He should be in his room passed out about now."

'She even drugged my breakfast?!' Y/N thought, but he should have been more concerned about the feeling he was losing throughout his body. Soon he was no longer in control and he began to fall forward, by the he registered he was about to fall down the stairs he was mind was already blanked out.

He awoke to the sight of the his basement, he hated being down here, yet he was quite familiarized with its features. He went to stand up, but he couldn't. He looked down to see he was tied down with rope and chain. It didn't take him long to figure out how he ended in the position he was in. He began to try to free himself by shaking free, but it wasn't going to work. Soon enough he exhausted his already low energy reserves. Seola walked down the stairs followed by her friends. She approached Y/N and cupped his face with her hand. "It seems you found out about my-or should I say our little secret. Well it doesn't matter much anymore, because I'm going to make you mine."

She turned her attention to her friend, Eunsoo. "....what's the first step Eunsoo?"

Eunsoo looked around at her friends before pulling her phone out of her back pocket. "Uhhhh....the first step to Stockholm syndrome....ummm."

Seola sighed before throwing her hands up. "I thought I told you to have it ready..."

Y/N tried to find the words but his tongue became numb again.

"Jeez, how much did your put in his breakfast Seola?" Questioned Yeon-Jung.

Soon enough Y/N felt the clutches of the drugs grab hold of him again before it whisked him away into the darkness once more.

#wjsn #cosmic girls #yandere #male reader #seola

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glasskaleidoscopes · 5 years ago

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Chapter 8 - Thursday, November 26th, 2009

Carolyn was shaken awake by Janet, “It’s time to get up honey. The family will be here in a couple hours and I need everyone’s help this morning.” Janet was already showered and wearing dress clothes. Her hair was done up in a twist, and she looked beautiful. Carolyn groaned slightly, then sat up in bed. Janet was having a harder time waking Sam up, but eventually she was able to get the young boy up. Carolyn got up and checked the bathroom. Seeing that it was empty, she grabbed her shower stuff and headed to the bathroom. About a half hour later, Carolyn emerged from the bathroom in a towel, carrying her pajamas. Carolyn stopped in her tracks when she saw Adrian emerge from the boy’s bathroom, also wearing only a towel. He turned, saw Carolyn, then blushed.

“Good morning Carolyn. Ready for Turkey day?” Adrian asked, regaining confidence. Carolyn was unable to speak. Instead, she nodded her head emphatically, then headed to her room. She heard a soft chuckle from Adrian as she walked away.

She got dressed, then went down to the kitchen to help Janet. The rest of the morning was filled with the family following Janet’s orders so that the house could be put together before the rest of the family arrived. Since there would be about 40 people there, there was one extremely long table made of various folding tables. They snaked through the house; starting in the dining room, through the study, and into the living room. Carolyn had been asked to count the chairs, twice, and she counted 42 both times.

Everyone was dressed in their Sunday best, and they all looked dashing. Brad was even there the entire morning, being very helpful and present. It was about an hour before they expected the family when there was a knock at the front door, then the front door opened. “Hello! Is anyone home?” A deep voice rang through the house.

“John!” Exclaimed Brittany, then she and Trixie both ran to the front door to hug their eldest brother. The rest of the family met John Brudowski in the entrance, with Carolyn and Sam hanging back. Carolyn had met John only once, and very briefly. Even when he did live in the Brudowski home, he was seldom present. Vera had told Carolyn and Sallie that he spent almost every night out with his friends, and had been busted by his parents several times for drinking. John was tall, just like the rest of his brothers, had dark brown hair, and had a coarse beard. Everyone was hugging John, as it was his first time home since he started at U of I. When John eventually got to Carolyn and Sam, he stooped down and hugged Sam, introducing himself, then he hugged Carolyn. “My mom filled me in with what happened, I am so sorry.” John said to Carolyn, then quickly moved onto chatting with the rest of the family.

Soon enough, the doorbell rang again and the house started filling with relatives. Carolyn and Sam hung around Janet, as she ostensibly had to explain to each of her siblings why these kids were here at their family gathering. Carolyn shook and hugged so many strangers, she definitely couldn’t keep any of them straight. The entryway and sitting room were full of chattering family. Carolyn found herself ping-ponging from relative to relative, each of them giving her their condolences. She was definitely tired of listening to people she barely knew tell them they were sorry her father killed himself. She tried to keep a brave face, and thankfully she was pretty good at plastering on a convincing smile.

Janet spent most of the early gathering in the kitchen, getting everything ready for the meal. Her sisters, sisters-in-law, and mother were also in the kitchen helping. Although, it really seemed like Janet’s mother was berating Janet for seemingly minor things, while the other women weren’t really coming to her rescue. There were about 15 children that were Sam’s age or younger, and they were mainly in the living room bouncing around. Then there were another 10 or so teens, who were chatting with the rest of the Brudowski kids, minus Sam and Brittany. The men all had beers in hand, and were chatting easily about various topics like the day’s football match or what was going on at work.

Eventually, Brad let out a perfect dad-whistle to quiet everyone down. He explained that everyone should find their place card and sit at their spot, as dinner would be starting soon. Janet had prepared the kitchen so that the meal could be served buffet style. Countless dishes lined the counter, and the turkey had just been carved, ready to go. Everyone shuffled to their seats, then Brad explained that they should get up table-by-table so everyone isn’t waiting in line for a long time. The teens were placed in the study, between the ‘adult’ table and the table full of the younger kids. Carolyn was sitting in the middle of the table next to Vera, with Jaret on her left, and Adrian sitting directly across from her. They got up and went to the kitchen as soon as most of the adults had sat down, then they piled their plates high with delicious food. They all sat down, and Carolyn remained relatively silent throughout the meal.

The meal went smoothly, so at this point Carolyn was wondering why everyone had called Janet’s family crazy. After everyone finished eating, they remained at the tables chatting. Carolyn was listening to Vera talk to her cousin about school and how dumb it was, then she would switch and listen to Jaret talk to his cousin about video games. Every so often, she would look across the table and make eye contact with Adrian, but he mainly was chatting with other cousins about various topics.

A couple minutes later, Carolyn noticed a hush fall over the adult table. She turned her attention and saw most of the adults staring down at their empty plates. The teens soon fell quiet and were paying attention to what was going on with the adults. Then, one of Janet’s sisters spoke, “I don’t know why you’re criticizing me, mom. I’ve spent my whole life trying to please you. I married the man you wanted, had children like you wanted, stayed home like you wanted, but nothing is ever good enough, is it? Why don’t you lay some of your criticism on some of your other children, huh? Or maybe even consider giving them some love.” The woman had stood up and was shouting at the older woman. Janet’s mother’s face remained cold, seemingly unaffected by the outburst.

“Well, Diana, I wouldn’t criticize you so much if you actually followed the word of god. You are a lying whore. Everyone knows that you and your husband haven’t slept together in years because you’re having relations with another man! Mind you, a black man.” The grandmother said, seemingly not caring about airing the couple’s dirty laundry.

“Is this true, Diana?” A man, who Carolyn assumed was Diana’s husband, said as he stood up from the table as well. Diana was then in tears.

“How could you say that, mom? Of course that’s not true. Why would you lie like that?” Diana asked hysterically.

“We all know it’s true, Diana. How could you be so naive, Daniel? It is your job to know what goes on in your home.” The grandmother added coldly. The man glared across the table at his wife.

“Tell me the truth Diana.” He said through gritted teeth.

After a few beats, Diana responded, “Yes, it’s true. But you’ve been gone so much lately!” The woman was sobbing and reached out to her husband.

“You whore!” Daniel roared, then he reached across the table and slapped Diana across the face. The woman gasped, as did the rest of the table. Then Diana ran out of the room. Daniel sat back down at the table, clearly fuming.

Vera leaned over to Carolyn and whispered, “See?” Carolyn turned to Vera, who looked completely unphased.

“What the hell just happened?” Carolyn whispered back.

“And this is just two glasses of wine in. You’ll see some real shit happen after 4 glasses. Grandma is a real bitch.” Vera casually explained. Carolyn sat back in her seat, flabbergasted.

Eventually the chatter started back up again, filtering from the kids, who really never stopped talking, up through the teens, and finally the adults started talking. About 30 minutes later, Brad signalled to the Brudowski kids that they should start clearing the tables. They all got up and helped clear the innumerable dishes. Brittany lead the kid group down into the basement, as most of the adults were happy having them run around away from the rest of them. The twins helped pull down some of the tables in the living room, then brought several of the folding chairs in so there would be enough space for everyone to sit.

Carolyn was stacking the last couple of plates in the kitchen when she felt a hand grab her wrist. She turned around, but already knew whose familiar hand was grasping her wrist. “Follow me,” Adrian said, pulling Carolyn quickly from the kitchen and upstairs. He sat at the top of the staircase, and Carolyn sat next to him. Her heart pounded as she felt her side against Adrian’s side.

“What is it?” Carolyn turned and looked at Adrian’s handsome face.

“Oh, nothing. I figured you needed a breather from the lovely Nowak family.” Nowak was Janet’s maiden name. Adrian looked into Carolyn’s eyes, and this made Carolyn melt.

“Thank you.” Carolyn smiled. She rested her hands on her knees and took a deep breath. Adrian then rested his large hand on top of Carolyn’s hand, and Carolyn leaned to rest her head against Adrian’s shoulder. They sat in silence like that for the next five minutes.

Eventually Adrian went back downstairs; Carolyn went to the bathroom, then joined the rest of the family in the living room. The rest of the night alternated between people chatting pleasantly, and some drama surfacing with random people of the family screaming at each other. Carolyn sat silently for basically the whole evening, afraid to say anything in case she would offend someone. Finally around 10 p.m., the various parents would go downstairs and bring up small children, then say goodbye to the rest of the family members. The family took about an hour to leave, and the Brudowski family was clearly exhausted by the end of the day.

Tag list: @the-mockingbird-of-neverland

#writeblr #original writing #WIP #young adult #fluff #new adult #writing #writblr #writers of tumblr #writeblr community #writers #glass kaleidoscopes

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captainlordauditor · 3 years ago

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My mom’s house has two floors, a main floor and a basement. The basement has a pretty basementy section, which has the laundry room and a space with woodworking and craft supplies, and a more finished section, with a library and a bedroom.

When we first moved in when I was nine, the bedroom was occupied by my older sister, and my middle sister and I had our bedrooms upstairs. Eventually my sister moved out, and the basement bedroom sat with her old things in it that she didn’t feel the need to bring with her to her apartment. For about five years. This past autumn, my sister finally got around to cleaning her things out, and I moved into the basement room.

This is Tula. She lives mostly in the basement, where the dogs don’t go as often, and has her food and litterbox and toys down here. Since I moved down here, she’s started clawing at my bedroom door to be let in. She comes in and curls up on my lap and purrs. I leave the door open for her at night and she comes in, makes biscuits on my blankets, and wakes me up with her purring. I’ve been home from work for a week and she has. not. stopped. purring.

My door is closed! She has spots in the library to curl up in! But every day she comes looking for my company. This cat loves, I just needed to take the first step of being around where I could see it.

Im sorry if this is stupid or if youve answered this before but do cats love? Or am I anthropomorphising them? Ive had cats all throughout my life and I definitely feel loved by them but I dont know. Thank you for running this blog and have a wonderful new year

The next person that says their question is dumb, stupid or silly is going to get swatted by Cheeto. No questions are dumb or stupid or silly. If you have to ask, you don't know the answer, and its not silly to want to expand your knowledge.

As for the answer, its yes! I've written more about it on this post!

#December 31st 2021 #hairy baby

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anthemverseduology · 4 years ago

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Geraldine

I was four-years-old when my mother split town for Toledo. Like most people in my life, my mother never liked me much. She'd met my father, and as legend would tell it, she fell in love with him. He was around for a while, but before or soon after I was born he disappeared, too. He left me with my name, William, and his black hair and blue eyes, then he vanished like vapor.

My mother was indifferent to me, that I can remember. She sent me to every daycare facility that she could, but the children always avoided me, leaving me to play in the corners alone. When I wasn't left to myself the teachers would sit me facing the wall, as if there was something about me that they couldn't stand to look at. Finally, one day, my mother dropped me off at her sister, Geraldine's, and then without a word of farewell, she was gone.

I cried a lot in those early days, as you would imagine a little boy missing his mother might do, but Geraldine wasn't sympathetic to my feelings at all. She was a cold and callous woman, and I knew that she didn't truly care for me, even as young as I was. Geraldine set me up in a room at the top of the stairs that I was fairly certain had once been a storage closet. There was one, tiny window that looked down onto the alleyway, but the building just behind Geraldine's blocked out most sunlight.

There was always dust in the air, and all that I was allowed to keep on the shelves in my room were two thrifted pairs of jeans, four pairs of underwear that I'd have to wash myself by hand, then hang to dry (she didn't want me using too much water or power), and two t-shirts, that were over-sized on me to start with. Eventually, I grew into them, but by that time they'd been worn threadbare.

I remember Geraldine like a dark shadow in my life. She was tall and imposing, with long, dark-brown hair that she kept drawn back, half-up in a tight knot at the crown of her skull. Her eyes were small, almost appearing black at times when she was particularly filled with brimstone. Her clothes all seemed like they were de-saturated, with the exception of two dresses; one in blue, and one in red that she would wear on her outings to meet with men that she called her 'friends'.

Geraldine had spoken many times about the ungrateful nature of my mother, saying often that she had run my father off, instead of convincing him to stay so that we would have money. As I grew older, I realized that all Geraldine cared about was being well-off, and when I reached eight years old that became more and more apparent as I finally found my first friend.

“Hey!” a kid around my age shouted, just before Steve's fist connected with my jaw again. I'd never done anything to Steve, Gary, and Dave, but they hated me all the same, and they made sure that I felt it on a daily basis. Sometimes it was my ribs that they pummeled, but that day my face had particularly offended them. “Let him go!”

Steve turned, looking to his right, pausing with his fist drawn back. “Stay outta this, MacFerrily.”

The other boy let out a loud scoff. “I don't think I will! You really wanna try me, Stephen?”

“Screw it,” Gary said as he and Dave turned my arms loose, and I fell to my hands and knees, spitting blood from where I'd bitten down on my tongue from an uppercut to my chin. “See you tomorrow, Willy.”

“It's...'Billy',” I said, coughing a little as Steve reluctantly followed Gary and Dave down the sidewalk. “Assholes.”

“What's those guys' damage?” The boy that Steve had called MacFerrily helped me to my feet, before grimacing as he looked at my face. “They do this to you a lot?”

“Every day since school started,” I said, wiping the back of my hand over my chin to get some of the blood off of my skin. “Thanks for stoppin' them.”

“You woulda done the same for me...I'm Frank,” he said, putting his hand out to shake mine before noticing the blood on my knuckles. “Get a lick in on them?”

I looked down at my own hand, shaking my head. “Took a swing at Gary and hit the wall.”

“Is it broke? You need a doctor or somethin'?” Frank asked, looking concerned.

“No, way. My aunt would kill me for goin' to a hospital,” I said, flexing my fingers, unable to help the hiss that escaped through my teeth. “Doctors cost too much.”

“Yeah, but if it helps keep you from havin' a messed up hand, don't you think she'd want you to go?” Frank asked, clearly confused. “My mom takes me to see the doc if I blink wrong.”

“I've never been to the doctor. I just know that she says it costs too much,” I said, inspecting a new rip in the collar of my shirt. “Damn...”

“What happens when you get sick?” Frank crossed his arms over his chest, seeming as though he was angry on my behalf.

“I get a can of soup and some crackers, and she leaves me in my room,” I said, shrugging. “Why?”

“Look, I don't mean to be nosy or nothin', but is your aunt poor?” Frank looked uncomfortable, but there was still concern in his eyes.

It was the first time that I'd really thought about that. Geraldine had always had nice new things, she was always out on the weekends, and she always had her meals after I went to bed. In the mornings, when I'd take out the garbage, I'd find the remnants of T-bone steaks or whole chicken meals, while I'd been sent to bed with oatmeal or broth. Something in my head and my heart clicked at that moment, but I needed the confirmation. “I have to go, Frank. Gotta see about somethin',” I said, turning to walk away. “Thanks again for the save.”

“Hey, listen, Billy,” Frank said, stopping me. “You could sit with me at lunch and recess. Those guys are cowards. I've been scrappin' with my older brother and his buddy, Rick, since I was little. I'll help keep Steve, Gary, and Dave out of your hair.”

I nodded my head once, feeling my head pounding with the ache setting in from having my face used as a punching bag. “I will,” I said, raising my left hand to wave goodbye to him as I made my way home, to Geraldine's house. Normally, I would have crept inside the front door, trying to make as little noise as possible, hoping that I wouldn't incur her wrath. That afternoon, though, I wanted to get her attention.

“Geraldine!” I called down the hall, my voice echoing off of the walls that were covered in gaudy wallpaper. “Where are you?”

Geraldine's face appeared around the kitchen doorway. “Who do you think that you're talkin' to in that tone, William Anderson?”

“I'm talkin' to you! Are you rich?” I asked, my voice coming out in an embarrassing squeak.

“What did you just ask me?” Geraldine asked, stepping into the doorway, holding a plate of chocolate cake, which I was never allowed to have.

“Are you damned rich?” I shouted, pointing at the floor.

“How dare you use that language with me, young man!” Geraldine shouted, throwing the plate she held, spattering chocolate frosting all over the wall. “Look what you made me do! Clean that up!”

“You clean it up! You're the one that made the mess. Answer the question. Are you rich?” I yelled back, even as she charged at me.

She grabbed me by the jaw, never questioning where the lacerations on my face and lip came from. “You insolent little shit. I should throw you right out on the street! See how you fend for yourself!”

“I might do better,” I growled.

“Oh, you think that you'll make it in the world alone? No one can stand the sight of you, William! You're a pustule on the face of the Earth. You shouldn't exist! You're the bastard son of a drifter and a weak-willed whore, and you're lucky that you're even alive!”

Any argument I had ready was silenced by her slapping me hard across the face. With the injuries I'd already sustained, and the pain in my head, I lost consciousness immediately. When I woke up I was in a dark space. I could see, but only just a little; enough to know that I was in the storage space underneath the basement stairs. I pushed on the door in a futile attempt to get out, then I started pounding. “Let me out! Open the door! Let me out!” I was left in the room with nothing but a Bible, a jug of water, and a loaf of bread. No one ever came to rescue me. Finally, the door creaked open, and I scrambled out, facing Geraldine in her finest red dress.

“I'm goin' out. Don't leave this house or I'll lock you right back where you belong,” she said, batting me across the face for good measure. “You'll obey or you'll go to Hell...What do you say...?”

“Yes, ma'am,” I said, resisting the urge to put my hand to the wound on my cheek that had been split open again by her strike. Blood had dried on my face, and it itched, but still I didn’t move. “When'll you be back?”

“That's not your business! Read four chapters in your demonology book,” she said, leaning towards me so that her nose was close to mine. “You need to remember your place, you little shit. You're lucky that I took you in or you'd be on the streets.”

“Being on the streets would be better than having to deal with you,” I said, feeling unusually bold.

Geraldine inhaled deeply through her nostrils, her eyes wide and glaring as if she hoped that she could kill me with a look. “You're lucky that you're lucrative.”

“There it is,” I said, feeling vindicated and still sick to my stomach. “What do you get out of keeping me? Tell the truth.”

“You want the truth?” Geraldine asked, laughing. “Your mama and papa couldn't stand you. No one can. You're an insufferable child, and you have no redeemable qualities to speak of. You, Billy, are a waste of flesh. Heaven couldn't possibly want you, so you must be bound for Hell.”

“And where do you think that you're gonna go, Auntie Geraldine?” I asked in a mocking tone.

She raised her hand as if she was going to strike me again. “No, no. If my hand is red I'll have things to explain...Get out.”

“What?” I asked, incredulously. “‘Get out’?”

“Get out of my house. I don't care where you go,” she said, crossing her arms. “You're not staying here while I'm gone.”

“I have school tomorrow!” I argued.

“Well, you should have thought of that before you decided to be so disrespectful!” Geraldine growled as I backed towards the front door.

“No! I need somewhere to sleep! You can't just leave me out here!” My back hit the front door, then like a malicious tower Geraldine was looming over me. “I'm just a kid.”

“You've never been ‘just a kid’. You're a cancer on this planet, and if I could eradicate you, I would.”

I found myself speechless. I'd felt unwanted before, but I'd never had anyone tell me so specifically how expendable I was. I moved away from the door in quick steps, letting Geraldine pass. She sneered at me as she walked out into the evening, slamming the door behind her. That was the last night that I cried for myself until many years later.

That's a whole other story.

What's important here is what happened to Geraldine.

***

It came as a surprise to me when twenty years after the afternoon that Geraldine had locked me in the closet I found myself once again in her presence. I was out on the road with some new friends, riding our motorcycles cross-country, seeing what trouble we could stir up wherever we went. Some nights, though, I got to dwelling on everything that I'd left back home, then bitterness and loneliness would settle in my chest. Those nights I allowed my three friends to do what they might, and I tried to hide myself in the darkest corner of the darkest upscale bar. My friends loved the dives, as did I normally, but they avoided any place with class. The denizens of those kinds of bars tended to have money, they would be missed, and many of them had contracts with Hell, so they were off limits, anyway.

I could go into the details of how I knew about the contracts, but this story isn't about me.

This story is about Geraldine.

That night she sat at the bar across the room from me, flirting with a man who was much older than her, but his wristwatch was expensive, and he kept ordering the most costly scotch they had on the shelf. He projected old money, and he had the distinct appearance of a man who had never done any real work in his life besides pointing a finger as he shouted.

He was perfect for her.

Unfortunately for the potential future of the couple, fate had smiled on the old fool, and my Path and Geraldine's had crossed once more. I waited until the man had gone to the bathroom for the fifth time that hour, then I tossed back the rest of my vodka, heading over to the bar. I sat my empty glass down on the counter, standing next to her as she adjusted the straps of her red dress to attempt to hide the wrinkles of her shoulders. “Hello, Geraldine,” I said, fixing my eyes on the rack of glasses above my head.

Out of the corner of my eye I could see her head snap over to look up at me, her eyes widening. “William? What are you doin' here?” she asked, looking around her quickly as the other people in the room froze right where they were. The only sound still filling the air was Geraldine's nervous breathing, and the music being piped in over the bar’s stereo system. Electronics have no respect for the way that time works. If you've ever had a song skip ahead for no reason, consider if you might have been frozen in a moment and didn't even know it. Geraldine was starting to shift away from me out of her seat, careful to snatch her purse off of the bar top as though her life depended on the object. “How are you doing this? What do you want? I gave you over to those people so that I wouldn't ever have to look at you again.”

“Ah, yeah. My family...” I bowed my head a little as I looked down into my empty glass before reaching over the bar to grab a cheap bottle of whiskey. “I'm not really welcome at home right now—not the way that I am. See, what you always said was true. I'm a curse on the Earth, and lately I've been leaning into the curve, so to speak.”

Geraldine screwed her features up into a scowl. “What does that mean?”

I turned down the corners of my mouth, closing my eyes as I shrugged slightly as the televisions mounted behind the bar that normally showed live updates on the stock market, all switched to different national news stations reporting on the same thing. “Maybe you should watch more TV, Geraldine,” I suggested, taking a swig from the whiskey in my hand.

“Multiple murders, assaults, and destruction have been reported now across the eastern United States. Authorities in all of the local areas and the FBI say that they are certain that there is a tie to a group of individuals on motorcycles. Witnesses at each scene said that these people were calling themselves 'Horsemen', though they say that one of the group is a female,” the reporter said, looking grim. “No one is certain if she's being held against her will.”

I couldn't help but let out a snort of mild annoyance. “Agata’s problem is that--against her will--nobody's holding her.”

“What is this?” Geraldine asked, holding up a hand to gesture at the televisions. “Are you sayin’ that you're one of the people doin’ this?”

“No, no, no. We're not people,” I said, shaking my head as I gripped the neck of the whiskey bottle, pointing at Geraldine. “'I looked, and behold a pale horse, and his name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him.' I'm sure that you remember the verse well. You know, I used to skim the bits about the Horsemen. I thought it was ridiculous, you know? Not scary, at all! Let me tell you, though, Geraldine, there's a lot of horsepower in a motorcycle.”

“I always knew that if you survived you'd grow up to be a wicked, sinful, monster,” Geraldine growled through gritted teeth, leaning towards me slightly, as she used to do when I was much smaller than her. The intimidation would no longer work. She had no power at all, and I stood a whole foot taller than her. I took a step forward, looming over her as she had once done to me, seeing fire flames flash in front of my vision as Geraldine's expression changed to one of horror. “You said that I was bound for Hell, but it seems to have turned out that Hell was bound for me. I've tried to leave it behind me, but it follows me wherever I go. Do you understand?”

“I don't...What happened to you, Billy?” she whispered, tears of terror running down her face.

“Oh, ho! So, now it's 'Billy'! I thought I was a pustule?” I asked, hopping up to sit on the bar top, knocking off her martini glass. I looked down after it briefly before turning back to her. “Oops. Eh, you break a glass, you destroy a few cities—same difference in the long run. Except when it isn't. What do you know about that, though? You just tried to destroy an innocent little boy.”

“You were never innocent. Clearly, by your behavior now,” Geraldine said, her voice quaking as she tried to inch backwards away from me. I wasn't quite done talking yet, and she found herself locked in place where she stood. “Why can't I move?”

“I'm in a mood,” I said. “If you were anybody else I might have let you try to run. I'd have let you think that you were getting away, and then I would have made some great gesture of power to show you that you're just a little, tiny thing in the grand scheme of the Universe. Not even a blip on the radar, really, and that's strictly down to you.”

Geraldine reached down, jerking at her ankle, as if simply pulling her foot from her shoe would allow her to flee. “You stop this right now, or I—”

“Or, you'll what?” I growled, the vibration of my voice rattling the glass in the bar. “Throw me in a closet? Toss me out on the street without so much as a jacket, or a place to sleep? I sleep wherever I want now. I dress how I like. I drink, I smoke, I've done a few drugs, and boy is it all fun! I've killed angels and I've made the Devil laugh. You...you're still dressing up like a two-bit floosy, just trying to find her next free ride.”

Geraldine raised a hand, slapping me hard across the face, but I didn't flinch. She grasped at her hand, looking from her wrist back up to me as she broke into sobs. “What are you?”

“I'm what you'll think about every night when you're trying to sleep. 'Will this be the night he comes for me? Will it be tomorrow?'” I asked, mockingly. “You'll wait every day for that moment when I'll appear again. One day you'll start wishing that I would come. You'll wish that I'll appear to you and just get it all over with—whatever it is that I'm going to do.” I hopped down off of the bar, moving to stand just in front of the spot that she was still frozen in. “The next time you see me, Geraldine Sharp, will be at the moment of your demise, for I am Death, and Hell waits for you.”

“No, please, no! I've prayed! I've gone to church! I've done all that I was supposed to!” Geraldine pleaded, tears streaming down her face.

“You tortured and neglected a little boy in your charge. A little boy, I might add, that you probably shouldn't have been a dick to, being that I inherited some serious power,” I said, turning the whiskey bottle up to chug from it for a moment as gold lightning flashed outside the windows of the bar. “I see where your time-line ends, Auntie. You keep a watch out. You never know when I'll be coming for you. Could be in twenty years...could be tonight.”

Geraldine jerked to a stumbling run, screaming at the top of her lungs, as if she was on fire. The other patrons in the bar looked after her in disgust or confusion, watching her push past the man she'd been flirting with earlier, nearly knocking the elderly gentleman to the floor. Her shrieks could still be heard from the entrance as she ran towards the elevator bank.

“Good Heavens, boy,” the old man said, coming over to stand next to me as I feigned bewilderment. “What on Earth was that?”

“Sir, she seemed to believe that I was the Angel of Death!” I said with a smirk. “I guess it takes all kinds, am I right?”

The old man let out a choking laugh, the stage four lung cancer he wasn't telling anyone about suffocating him a little further. “I suppose that you are right!” he wheezed. “Shame, I was going to move her into my manor house, in Vale.”

“Is that right, Marvin?” I asked, the wheels in my head beginning to turn. A house would be nice, and Marvin wouldn't mind dying early.

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hotcocosharing · 7 years ago

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[ KBTBB Co-Writing Fic ] Hate At First Sight ❤ At Last Glance Part 5

Fandom: Kiss By The Baddest Bidder Rated: Drama, Mystery, Thriller, Smut Characters: Eisuke, Soryu, Ryosuke Inu ( YES Inui is featured in this series!) Me as Ryoko Inui (Kyoko Nakama) / hobo4lyfe11 as Soryu Oh

Background: A fic base on revenge- where OC- Kyoko (true identity Ryoko Inui) who’d do anything to ruin Soryu Oh Summary: Part 1 OC smut with stranger + meeting Eisuke & Soryu Part 2 Soryu’s impression of OC & Inui’s surprise reaction Part 3 OC past + 1 on 1 with baby brother Ryosuke + Threaten by bidders Part 4 RIP Baba’s fedora + Soryu’s fluff

Notes: I can never be thankful enough to have found such awesome person to rp and co write with! Pushing me forward, doing my best, exploring the story & characters together. I never know what’s next and I am loving the thrill! What will Soryu do? A kiss? Confession? Smut? WHAT NEXT?

★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★

Almost without any notice, I’m ordered to move into The Ice Dragons household immediately. Soryu shows me around while he sends Ryosuke to search my apartment which I’m not particularly concerned with since I highly doubt that my little brother would be thorough or smart enough to know where to look but his over-enthusiastic high pitch voice still startles me nevertheless.

Reminding me our old times whenever dad offered him a shoulder ride, “R-r-really? Yes!”; Whenever dad came home and my little brother would run and welcome him, “Yes!!! You’re home!!”; Or practically at every compliment, “Really? You think so? Thank-you!!!”

Ryosuke has always been an excited and eager kid about everything but his every word and single reaction is a living torment to the part of warm memories that cost nothing but sorrow to my heart. As hard as I try channeling it into my motivation for vengeance, it only kills me more to see my baby and naïve brother working for the enemy with no clue who’s responsible and what’s been done to our father. I want nothing more than yelling to his face that night at the server room, to shake him back to reality and brutal truth that Soryu Oh is far from the saint that Ryosuke looks up to.

The unexpected turn of event may not have been a complete disaster since I’ll be getting close to the target, learning everything I need to know in person. Soryu Oh’s eating habits, routines and preferences, I will get to know all that in due time and I have no problem in keeping my enemy closer though I have to be extra cautious with Ryosuke and Samejima who often eyes me like an hawk under the same roof.

I would rather be under the mobster’s surveillance than Eisuke, just the thought of being alone with the CEO feels like hell. That man is clearly too intelligent and vigilant to fully trust some stranger like me, I sure have no extra energy to deal with an untrusting billionaire along with his annoying duo.

It’s 11pm by the time Ryosuke returns and the way he avoids eye contact with me has me worried though his finding at my place indicates nothing suspicious.

“So am I allowed back to my apartment tomorrow? Saturday is my day off and I do need to gather my things.” I ask as soon as the door close behind Soryu and my mouth nearly drop at how large my bedroom is.

A bed twice, no, thrice, no possibly four times the size of any regular bed is placed at the end wall of the room, in between two wide, spacious windows. The windows arch at the top with long and rectangular edges and drape by violet curtains that slink down the wall all the way to the floor. The carpet’s vanilla cream in color, a grand chandelier above my head. The enormous room is also magnificently furnished with other items, such as a chest of drawers, four seated couches and an armchair, a few cabinets and a wooden bookshelf in the corner fill with books that I’m intrigued to see what kind of books the mobster is into. There is no computer, laptop or tablet in here so he has to send me home either way.

“I need my gear back as well.” I add, “Some inessential, cosmetics, extra clothes and stuff.” I swallow hard, hearing the questioning words leave his lips as to why I need all that. “I don’t know how long I’m imprisoned here and I just need those stuff!” The genius mobster still doesn’t get the hint and insists on staying by my side while I pack tomorrow so I cut to the chase and scare him off. “So you want to watch me pack my bra too?”

I watch in amusement at the man’s widen eyes while he steps backwards unconsciously like he’s already intruding my privacy. He struggles to come up with a response so he simply stands there and tell me to go to bed as if it’s possible. Feeling his presence and being watched by a man whom I have targeted all these years to kill turns out to be less resentful than I expect but it’s still uncomfortable. I toss and turn, stealing glances at the man in suit every now and then till I eventually give into my exhaustion and drift back to my land of dreams.

Waking up in the middle of the night is nothing new to me, I’m just glad Soryu Oh is no longer here to witness my routine of mumbling and sobbing from my nightmare.

2 am

I shiver and wipe my sweaty forehead which is again pulsing uncomfortably. Rolling over to the far side of bed, I swiftly get up and unlock the large french door on the balcony, craving for some fresh air when I hear the sound of muffled sobbing noise outside my door. With the lamp on my nightstand, I put on my disguised glasses before opening the door to see the boy with swollen puppy eyes.

“Mr….Inui?” I whisper.

“So…sorry to bother you ma'am….can…I come in… please?”

I nod hesitantly, risking to give myself away in front of Ryosuke but ten years apart has got the better of me.

“You’re the… only lady around…” He sobs, “And .. I really need to talk… to..some..one…”

I wish nothing more than to hug him and tell him that everything will be okay just like I used to, fortunately, I’m the logically one and Ryosuke is the emotional one. Heading towards the balcony, I pull out another chair and gesture him to sit while embracing the cool breeze of Tokyo night.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, wondering if my tone is right- not too friendly or distant- playing the role of stranger who’s under their radar but remain polite for the sake of it. That would be understandable, wouldn’t it?

“I’ve … been.. seeing ghost lately..”

“What?”

Ryosuke apologies again and reveals the ghost who’s been haunting him is his sister- someone he hasn’t seen since the age of twelve but constantly in his mind.

“I tried looking for her of course even with the help from boss for the sealed record but it’s been too long and with all the foster homes, change of names, it was a dead end.”

The hardest part isn’t sitting here and listen to my little brother re telling a tale which he knows less than half of it but the fact that I fail to be there for him as his sister. All these years when he bounced from one foster home to another, being looked down and bullied at school which eventually led him to a dark path of joining yakuza gangs.

“How did you meet Mr. Oh?” I have to ask, the one thing that bugs me most- how is Ryosuke going to cope once he finds out the truth?!

“I was an angry and repulsive teenager, the leader of the yakuza gang used me as the fall guy but boss rescued me and took me in ever since.”

I nod, desperately withholding myself from yelling at him. “Boss says The Drangon owes me.” It sounds like a bait but I take it anyway, tilting my head to the side with a surprised and confused look. “Boss said The Dragons was responsible for what happened to my family, he never told me the details but he didn’t want to keep me in the dark.”

With that last few words, Ryosuke stares right into my eyes, searching some kind of recognition or answer that’s not there. As if he’s telling me on purpose that he has always known the Dragons involvement with his past but his decision of staying is the right one.

“Did he say who’s responsible?” Ignoring my brother’s wishing thinking, I press further.

“The current Ice Dragons leader.” Ryosuke replies in a serious tone, somewhat prepared yet disappointed at my predictable question.

Averting my gaze quickly, I let out a long sigh and look upon the starry sky, having difficulty to comprehend the authenticity of the new piece of information Ryosuke has just told me and figuring out a suitable response which doesn’t involve giving myself out completely.

“Oneesan?” (older sister)

A familiar tone pull me back to reality as I turn to see my brother in tears, instead of ruffling his hair like I used to and tease what it is that he wants. I play dumb with my brows frown and ask the rhetorical question. “Sorry, what?”

Ryosuke shakes his head and wipes his tears with his sleeves, “Nothing, it’s late. I should get going.” Just before he finds his own way out, he bows and apologizes one last time. “Sorry, ma'am and thank you for listening to me.”

There’s only one way to clear my head and thanks to this ridiculous and multi functioned mansion, I wander to the basement and head to the indoor pool. I have no swimsuit nor goggles but who’s cares at three in the morning.

Unbuttoning my shirt, I then fold it neatly and place it on a lounge chair, my slippers and pants joining it shortly thereafter. I stand in my undergarments and stare at the water for a moment. The moonlight outside mixing with the dim light inside make the water shimmer. I take a deep breath and dive in, my muscles immediately relaxing as the cold water rush up to meet my body. Gliding along the bottom of the pool and surface few meters ahead till I break the surface with a gasp and blink the water out of my eyes. I take a few lazy laps, getting used to the temperature and space of the pool before reaching the wall at the opposite end of the pool and starts clearing my mind for real.

“Soryu Oh took him in.”

“Soryu Oh told him the Dragons was responsible.”

One lap

“Soryu Oh said it was Ryuun instead of his grandfather.”

“He did all that out of guilt.”

Two lap

“No, he’s simply keeping an enemy closer.”

“Soryu could be lying. He wouldn’t admit to Ryosuke if it was his grandfather’s doing.”

Three lap

“Is it why the old man’s retired?!”

“I need to find him and get to the bottom of this.”

Four lap

It isn’t a standard sized pool and my laps pass quickly. Kicking off the wall and breaking into freestyle, my arms falling into a familiar rhythm and my head turning every few strokes to take a breath. I could see a hazy outline watching me, following my path. I stop once I reach the wall, gasping and looking around the empty pool to find no one but myself.

I head to the stairs and climb out of the pool, dripping water all over the white tiles when I suddenly feel a presence behind me. I breathe deeply, trying to calm my erratic heartbeat and fight the urge to slap whoever’s behind me but before I’d make another move, a pair of large hands are on my shoulders and I’m spun around to face the owner of this very mansion.

“Soryu?!” I yelp and the mobster is just as shock as I am, next thing I notice is his redden cheeks. Following his gazes downwards to my now see through soaked underwear that literally covers nothing, my natural attempt of screaming is ceased by his large hand on my mouth.

Mix with all kind of emotions, I feel his warm fingers shaking as they tenderly trace from my lips to my cheek. We are now both breathing heavily with his eyes glittered dangerously as he stares into mine. Time stand still while we become lost, gazing into our reflections from each other’s eyes.

“Then we’ll see how ‘skilled’ you truly are.”

And for whatever bizarre reason, Soryu’s previous statement at the penthouse repeatedly plays in my head.

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theannoyingknowitall · 7 years ago

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New Home

This was inspired by this post. Conner and Danny are both 16 in this. And I’m working with Young Justice version of Superboy. This is sometime before the end of DP and first season of YJ. I did my best, but probably they sound kind of OOC.

Conner could only stare at the monumental construction before him. Yes, he had seen pictures and heard Danny talk about it when The Team was hanging out, but it was a lot more impressive and dangerous looking in person. The Fenton Works itself was just a two-storey house with big neon sign, but The Emergency Ops Center on the top made it look 10 times bigger. He shook his head and followed Danny to the front door.

Danny slowly unlocked the front door and stepped into the house. He was already halfway in the living room when he noticed that Conner wasn’t following him. He was still standing on the porch in his usual civilian attire and nervously gripping his duffel bag containing some clothes and personal belongings. He had a frown on his face, but Danny could see that he was anxious about their next course of action. Danny went back to Conner a smiled at him reassuringly.

„Relax, it would be fine. They didn’t have problem adopting Dani and they wouldn’t mind you living here either.” Conner smiled a little and entered the house.

When they stopped in the living room, Conner immediately scanned the whole place. The room looked cozy with a couch, two armchairs and even few plants in the corners. It had the homely feeling you get only in family houses. Danny motioned to the couch.

„Wait here for a bit, I’m just going to call Mom and Dad up here.”

Conner nodded and Danny went into the kitchen and leaned into the passage leading down to the lab. He steeled himself, took a deep breath and shouted.

„Mom! Dad! Can you come to the living room for a second? I need to ask you something!” The almost constant banging and whirring noises of machines stopped after few seconds and Maddie’s voice carried back.

„We’ll be right there in a minute, sweetie!”

Danny went back to living room and stood next to Conner. „Here we go, remember; if they ask you are our long forgotten cousin from dad’s side, ok?”

„Don’t worry, I remember.” Gruffly answered Conner and straightened up when he heard thunderous steps coming from the basement. Moments later both Fentons appeared in the door frame clad in their typical HAZMAT suits.

„So Danny-boy what did you want to- Oh, why didn’t you tell us you were bringing over a friend?!” Jack cheerfully exclaimed and moved into Conner’s personal space. „What’s your name young man? Do you like talking about ghosts? We’ll catch all of them sooner or later…“ Jack started mumbling to himself and Danny took it as his cue to speak. „Actually Dad, this is our distant cousin Conner and I wanted to ask if he could stay with us for a while, because….because they have serious pest infestation at their house… or something…” Danny trailed off unsurely and rubbed the back of his neck. Conner could only look at Danny from corner of his eye and raise eyebrow at the transparent lie. The older Fentons looked at each other for a minute and then turned back to them. Even Danny’s parents couldn’t possibly-

„But of course sweetie! He can stay in here however long he needs.” Then Maddie turned to Conner. „And you feel here like at home Conner.” Conner could only nod.

„And I can blabber to him about ghosts!” Jack nodded enthusiastically.

„Now Danny please show Conner to the guest room so he can unpack, dinner will be ready in 30 minutes.” Maddie ushered them to the stairs. Both boys only numbly stared at each other and silently walked on the second floor to the guest room. When they finally closed the door to Conner’s new room Danny let out a huge breath and plopped on the bed.

„Phew, I was worried for a second they won’t agree.”

„Why didn’t you just tell them the truth?”

„Ehhh… Because that would require them knowing I’m Phantom?”

Conner shot him incredulous look. „You still haven’t told them?”

Danny squeezed his eyes shut and let out a long suffering groan. „They don’t see Phantom as an evil menace anymore, but they still don’t trust him completely and if I told them now, who says they won't…“ Danny trailed off and there was a short period of uncomfortable silence before Danny suddenly smiled and spoke again. „Anyway, Dani will be back from her trip to Europe sometime this week so prepare to wake up to a 13 year old girl jumping on your bed.” Conner smiled too when he remembered the short black haired girl. She was almost like a younger sister to him. But there was a little issue with their…relationship, namely…

„Will she be staying for good now?”

„Yeah, she said she was bored of travelling and decided to stay. She would be in Jazz’s room down the hall, since she now lives in a college campus as a part of her ‘college experience’ or something.” Danny shrugged.

„That’s good… I guess.” The silence was back. Neither of the boys wanted to break the silence, but eventually Danny stood up and made his way to the door. But before he opened the door, he stopped as if he remembered something and turned back to Conner.

„I almost forgot. Welcome to the family, Conner.”

Bonus:

Superman looked on the outside stoic as ever as Team recapitulated their latest mission. But inside he was as nervous as the Man of Steel could be. And the only reason for that was Danny. Or rather Phantom at the moment. Superman wasn’t particularly fond of his ghost half for various reasons. The slow heartbeat, ethereal glow and other small details made him uneasy. He grew up as a Kansas boy, believing traditional myths about dead, but Danny shattered almost all of them. And the worst part was when his eyes became dead. Most of the time they were expressive and shone with friendliness, but lately ever time Superman looked at him; his eyes were cold and dark as if he somehow offended him beyond imagination. He didn’t know why. Did he say something that ghost thought of as an insult or a threat?

Later when he asked Bruce, the Bat only shook his head and left without a word.

#young justice #superboy #danny phantom #maddie fenton #jack fenton

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raph-fangirl · 7 years ago

Text

Of Monsters and Men (Stranger Things Fic)

Also available on Archive of Our Own and Fanfiction.net

Not for mature audiences

Sci-fi/adventure

"Stars—the primitive energy. They are all around. The universe contains them and they look down upon us; we look up to them, like a child to a parent." My own interpretation of the events and characters in "Stranger Things." My goal is to enrichen the story and answers questions the show left out, beginning with the vanishing of Will Byers.

Part One

The Vanishing of Will Byers

Stars—the primitive energy. They are all around. The universe contains them and they look down upon us; we look up to them, like a child to a parent.

November 6, 1983

Hawkins, Indiana

A shivering night descended upon Hawkins National Laboratory. Balls of light millions of miles away slightly illuminated the harsh structure, but even more so, a new, artificial energy made the building visible. Lamp.

Along the hallways, multiple energy crises erupted. Light after light shivered, flickering on and off. The corridors were damp and a siren echoed within them—a punctured wound with a heart beating through it.

And then, a new, unique sound. A door opened and a containment of energy burst out. Man. He wore a lab coat, a striped tie protruding from the white majority. His face contorted into a range of emotions as he spun around corners, breath heavy and high. His features were sharp and dark, a contrast to his attire, and his ears poked out far from his head. The lights flickered more each passing second; his balding scalp reflected each temporary brightness.

He was running from something.

Eventually, the man stopped, feet shifting across the floor. Friction. He reached a long, horizontal elevator, soon punching the button to open it. Funny how a life can depend so much on only one small, seemingly insignificant motion.

He thought he heard footsteps. Large, proud footsteps. His senses were playing tricks on him. He could not wrap his mind around what was real and what was a dream—no, a nightmare.

And then, a slithering sigh from atop the elevator alerted him. He jerked his head back, aquiline nose shriveling into a snarl. The grotesque being above him made an awful noise before hoisting him up.

The elevator closed and the lights died.

"Boom! The Demogorgon!" cried Mike as he slammed the minuscule, black figure down across the board.

All four boys groaned at once, as the ultimate playing strategy was released. Almost no counter attacks followed.

"Will, your action!" urged Mike to his smaller, less decisive friend.

"I don't know!" the young boy squealed, rubbing his head.

"Fireball him!" Lucas recommended.

Will made the excuse, "I'd have to roll a thirteen or higher," soon slumping back down into his chair.

Another boy, Dustin, chubby with curly locks, said, "Too risky. Cast a protection spell."

The three then bickered and argued over what to do before Mike announced that the Demogorgon had become angry with them, about to launch his attack. Will, frustrated, took the dice in hand and shouted, "Fireball!"

To Will's demise, the dice rolled off the table and into the floor. Reality hit the boys in the face, each getting up from their positions and searching for the lost objects. A frantic hunt began as though their lives depended on it. The basement rattled slowly to life, shifting from the medieval landscape of the game to the bleak destination of home. A deep maroon color emitted from the room, falling upon the young boys' faces. The light revealed immature, fresh physiognomies that life had been kind to thus far. Their cheeks were pouty and skin smooth and sleek.

Mike, the oldest and most confident of the group, possessed dark hair and eyes. Lucas was one of the few black boys in town, and Dustin, one of the few overweight boys, currently sat munching leftover pizza. They were the social outcasts, looked down upon by everyone else and yet the only ones looking up at the stars. Will was the smallest and frailest, and the only one with the audacity to take the dice he had rolled, look at the number, and hide his fate from everyone else.

"Oh, my God! Oh, my God!" Dustin repeatedly shrieked.

"Did you find it?!"

"No, not yet!" Will lied in the midst of the chaos.

A new light filtered in, reigning in on the mess the boys had made. Random assortments of objects and clothes claimed the basement, yet somehow it produced a feeling of home and belonging. "Mike!" the boy's mother called.

"Mike!" the boy's mother called.

Pulling himself from the intensity of the dice-search, Mike glanced toward the stairway. Light illuminated his features, revealing his true appearance. The boy's heart-shaped face appeared as though God had taken index finger and thumb and pinched his chin, for it veered in sharply around the jaw. Light freckles dotted his nose and cheeks; otherwise, he was quite pale.

"Mom, we're in the middle of a campaign," he retorted.

"You mean the end? Fifteen after," she spoke softly but firmly.

The others sighed, knowing the time had come to commence reality and leave the realm of dreams and wishes.

Mike climbed the stairs, pleading with his mother as she returned to the kitchen. "Mom, wait, just twenty more minutes!"

"It's a school night, Michael," she said, beginning to roll dough.

The boy winced at his true name, refraining from speech. He felt the unfair, ugly nature of parenthood and despised every bit of it. Turning on his heels, he was surprised to see his father in the living room, but knew he would be of no help. All adults were just the same and could not understand the complexities of boyhood. Mike left to bid farewell to his friends, noticing as Dustin began to sneak down the hall instead of following Lucas and Will out the door.

"Surely he's not going to see Nancy," Mike muttered under his breath. But he knew better, for Dustin had had a crush on Mike's older sister ever since he first laid eyes on her. The boy watched as the chubby kid approached her door. He held a box of leftover pizza in his hand, most likely offering it to the girl. Dustin's eyes lit up and his toothless smile grew as she got up and walked over to him. However, heartbreak soon spilled over his features, as she had only done so to slam the door in his face. He lowered the pizza box with anguish in his heart. Mike wished he could help his friend, but Dustin would have to figure out for himself that Nancy had wholeheartedly rejected the innocence of childhood—of games and friendship, of old pepperoni and sausage pizza.

Mike quickly tip-toed to the garage where Will and Lucas were waiting, as he did not want to get caught spying. Once outside, he noticed his friends as they prepared to leave on their bikes. Dustin soon followed, claiming, "There's something wrong with your sister."

"What?"

"She's got a stick up her butt." Mike recognized Dustin's coping mechanisms for heartbreak: bashing. "She used to be cool," he said. "Like that one time when she dressed up as an elf for our live-action campaign."

"Yeah, four years ago!" Mike retorted as Lucas and Dustin both rode off into the distance.

A few moments of silence.

"It was a seven," a weak, tiny voice arose.

"Huh?" Mike spun around, faced with the miniature frame of Will.

"The roll," he stated. "It was a seven." He sighed in defeat. "I didn't wanna say in front of them the Demigorgon got me. I really didn't think it was gonna this time."

Mike only stared in silence, not caring his friend had lied about not finding the dice.

"See you tomorrow," Will said before driving off. Once they were all gone, Mike staring off into space, the garage light flickered. The boy knew he would have to fix it tomorrow since his father stayed occupied. He turned it off to save energy, as if it would do any good, then went back inside.

It was a quiet, peaceful night—the stillness rolling down just as autumn descends into winter. The dots of light in the black sky reigned over the golden brown leaves, peering through the forest to catch a glimpse of the three friends as they rode home.

A couple walking down the street alerted Dustin, Lucas, and Will, each bringing their bike slightly more to the opposite side of the road.

"Good night, ladies," chuckled Lucas as he turned onto his own stretch.

Dustin and Will had their usual race home. Most of the time Will won, as Dustin often grew out of breath. However, this time, instead of Will slowing down, he continued his speedy trek. Dustin wondered why, panting as his friend soon became a distant memory—a small figure zooming farther and farther.

Will was angry with himself, both for losing the game and lying to his friends. Once he commenced the racy rage, he knew he could not stop. Dustin had yelled at him to slow down, but he would not this time. He passed by the gate of the U.S. Department of Energy, turning onto his road.

Suddenly, the wind grew bitterly cold, screaming. The power lines creaked and moaned against the sharp wails. Will's anger pushed him on, his surging adolescent hormones cooking and burning. He barely noticed the drop in temperature and the loneliness of his situation—the howling of the wind, the shiver in the trees.

He thought he saw something up ahead. He peddled faster to see what was blocking the road. Then his light went out. Will dropped his eyes, but soon regretted it, for the distorted arm of a man-like monster reached out and attempted to snatch him. The boy veered off the road from the frightening creature, his bike crashing down along the slope and into a ditch.

His senses began to kick in. He could not see a thing, but pursued on. The stars illuminated his path through the trees slightly, as his sight adjusted to the black of the night. He knew he could not stay. He had to move on from the figure. The boy's mind concocted the monster he had seen, how close that arm had been to him. The elongated fingers touched his brain; they did not stray or fade away. He got up from the fallen vehicle, moving on and hearing the rattling of the bike's chain in the distance, ticking slower and slower with each turn of the wheel. His heart beated with the same slowing pace; he felt his life had come to an end, as though all time had stopped.

All Will thought about during those few minutes in the forest was returning home. He sprinted with the childlike notion that a monster was after him. Whether it was real or not he did not know. He just had a few more hills and then he would be at his house, where his mother protected him from any and everything.

Soon, he reached their ranch-style home. But the lights were off, making for an awful scene, not of comfort and peace. Perhaps his mother and Jonathan had already retired to bed. Was the monster still at his back? he wondered. Will felt its presence, whatever it was. He knew it was there.

He ran inside, setting his pack down and calming his barking dog. Surely they were there somewhere. They had to be. He sprinted all down the hallways, shrouded in darkness. "Mom! Jonathan!" he called. No reply.

Was the monster truly gone? Did the deafening silence mean something? The boy climbed over to one of the house's windows, gazing outside. He saw the desolate driveway of decay, covered up in the depressed light the street lamp offered.

He had to find Jonathan and Mom. He ran to the phone and dialed 911, hoping to figure out where they were and report whatever had been following him. As the phone rang, he looked around the corner, glancing at the door. The window on the door showed the slight figure of a man. He dropped the phone suddenly, the busy signal ringing across the kitchen and living room. He heard it as he ran away, the ringing reminiscent to the pounding of his heart.

The creature somehow turned the lock on the door. But by the time it entered, Will was gone. The boy sprinted out back to his shed. The light was on, his only salvation from the penetrating darkness of the house. He rummaged through the pack of gunshells, knowing he had to protect himself, soon loading a rifle. He pointed the barrel at the door for whenever the beast decided to come in.

Unexpectedly, he heard a slithering sigh from behind and jerked around to find the creature in the opposite direction.

The lightbulb began to glow and illuminate brighter than before, as the creature harnessed energy from it.

The stars cried and shrieked for the loss of their dear friend. The rifle fell to the ground. The light shivered and went back to normal, as though nothing had happened.

Will was gone.

#stranger things #tv #tv show #netflix #fanfic #fic #fanfiction #story #novel #book #science fiction #scifi #sci-fi #romance #adventure #friendship

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