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doctorstethoscope · 3 years

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The Right Chapter 27 || Aaron Hotchner x Fem Reader

Hello my loves! Just a reminder that this chapter is posting from the queue as I am on vacation--- I will be checking in periodically but less active than usual and not updating the tag list! Hope y’all enjoy this one :)

Read previous chapters of this fic here!

contains: food mention, hangover mention, discussion of parenting, canon-typical mentions of violence

wordcount: 2k

When you woke up the next morning, you’re somewhere between completely refreshed and wickedly hungover. You need a bacon egg and cheese on an everything bagel and a big cup of coffee stat if you are going to get anything at all done today. Aaron, of course, must have gotten up hours ago, and has long past left the bedroom by the time you rise at nearly 11. When you roll to get out of bed, you notice that he’s left you advil, water, and a sleeve of saltines just in case you were feeling nauseous. You smiled, sitting up gingerly to sip at the water and take the pills. Once you were sure your stomach was fine, you slid out of bed and found Jack and Aaron in the kitchen, cooking up bacon and frying eggs while The Beatles played in the background. The boys hadn’t noticed you yet, and you decided not to call attention to yourself-- taking the moment to commit this mental image to memory, of Jack on his father’s hip, Aaron rocking back and forth as he pushed scrambled eggs around a frying pan, smiling and giggling and not thinking about work or serial killers or the next time he’d be pulled away.

When the song fades out, Aaron looks up, seeing you leaning against the doorway to the hall.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty. How are you feeling?” He asks, looking you up and down for signs of a hangover.

“I’m okay. I’ll be better after breakfast,” you tell him. “And a big hug from my favorite Hotchner!” You add, crossing the kitchen and taking Jack from his father, shooting Aaron a knowing glance that said “I’m pretty sure physical therapy didn’t clear you for that. Especially not after last night.”

“I cracked the eggs. There’s no shells in them, Mom.” Jack says, and the world stops. He doesn’t even seem to notice that he’s slipped up, but Aaron and you both freeze, whipping your heads to look at each other with equally bewildered glances.

“I’m sure you did a great job, buddy!” You tell Jack, after a moment that feels like hours, not wanting to ignore him but not quite sure how to address what had happened, and Aaron wasn’t being much help.

“Breakfast is ready,” Aaron says, handing you exactly what you needed-- a bacon and egg sandwich, along with a hashbrown, some fruit, and a big cup of coffee.

“You might be the perfect man.” You tell him gratefully, and he smirks at you as the three of you sit down at the table and eat.

You and Aaron make casual conversation for a little while before Jack poses a question. “Dad, can we take my kite out today?” Jack asks as he spears a sausage link on his fork.

“It’s not really windy enough to fly a kite today, buddy, but we can go for a bike ride or play some soccer if you want,” Aaron responds before taking a sip of coffee.

“And we’ll all go?” Jack asks, looking across the table at you.

“Of course,” you tell him. “We’ll all go to the park with you.”

“Okay. Can I be excused?” He asks, and Aaron nods.

“Go ahead, just make sure you wash your hands and your face. You’ve got syrup everywhere,” He chuckles, and Jack scoots out his chair and leaves the table.

As soon as Jack is out of eyesight, you speak up. “So, are we gonna talk about that, or what?” You say in a hushed tone, not wanting Jack to overhear.

“I didn’t tell him to do that,” Aaron says.

“Neither did I,” you assure him.

“Are you upset?” Aaron asks, a furrow in his brow that just about broke your heart. Silly, silly man.

“No, of course not. Not if you aren’t.” You assure him.

“I just… he can’t forget Haley. He’s all that is left of her.” Aaron says with a deep sigh, and your eyes well up in tears.

“No, Aaron, he hasn’t and he won’t. We won’t let him.” You say, reaching across the table to squeeze his hand. “And if you don’t want him to call me Mom, I understand.”

“That’s not it. It’s just… bringing a lot up for me, is all.” He says.

“That’s normal, honey. You should think about it for a while, maybe talk about it just with him. No matter what you decide, you’re not going to disappoint me or him. But it’s okay to need some time with this.” You say, standing up to wrap your arms around his shoulders from behind, pressing a kiss to the junction of his shoulder and his neck.

“Thank you, for understanding me and for respecting her.” he tells you, raising one hand to cover yours where they met over his heart, craning his neck to leave a kiss on your wrist.

“Baby, have you seen my phone?” You asked, realizing that you haven’t checked it all morning.

“It’s charging next to mine on the bedside table. You were having a little trouble with the charger when we got in last night,” he chuckles at the memory of your drunken antics from the night before.

You go into the other room to grab your phones, noticing that you have two missed calls from Penelope--- you only just missed her. You dial her back as you head back towards the kitchen to help Aaron clean up.

“Where are you right now?” Garcia asks you as soon as the line connects, and your face twists up in confusion as you put your plate in the dishwasher.

“I’m at Aaron’s place, where are you?” You ask, not understanding her line of questioning.

“Is Jack in the room with you?”

“Garcia, what’s going on?” You ask, starting to get nervous. Aaron turns to face you, sensing your anxiety and you place a hand on his forearm for support.

“Last night, when we were all at the bar, a girl was kidnapped, who based on the description, looks a hell of a lot like you. A neighbor saw the guy, and based on the he neighbor’s description--

“It looks like Josh,” you finished Garcia’s sentence, and you felt Aaron tense under your fingers. He puts his palm out, silently asking for your phone, and you pass it to him without even telling Garcia that you were putting him on.

You were scared, terrified even, but you knew that the best thing you could do right then was be a profiler. You left Aaron to settle the details, and went into his bedroom to find something work-appropriate to wear. By the time you came back out, Aaron was off the phone.

“I called the rest of the team in, they’re going to meet us at the office. We’re going to get this loser, and we’re going to get him today,” Aaron lets out, and you nod.

“I’ll take Jack over to Jess’s,” you say, turning back towards Jack’s room, and he stopped you.

“No. You stay with me. Jess is on her way,” Aaron says, and she knocks at the door at the next moment. “I just told her that we got called in,” he tells you as he answers the door.

“Morning, guys,” she says as she steps in, entirely too chipper for the terror that’s rolling through your stomach in waves. “Duty calls, right?” She smiles at you, and you use all the power you have to muster a smile back.

“Yeah, even at the worst times,” you’re impressed that you strung that many words together.

“Any idea when you’ll be back?” She asks, and you shake your head.

“We’ve really got to go,” Aaron says, coming back into the room with Jack, who gives you and his father both hugs before you have to leave. You squeeze him extra tight before Aaron ushers you out of the apartment and towards the car.

“I am not going to let anything happen to you.” Aaron tells you after a few moments of tense, silent driving.

“I know,” you say noncommittally, and it’s back to silence.

“You can’t go in the field.” You both say after a moment.

“Darling, you have to understand--”

“No, Aaron, it’s not even up for debate. You’re out because of your leg, and JJ is pregnant. The team needs me, and I can’t sit this one out because either one of us is emotional about it,” You argue, and Aaron heaves a sigh.

“I wish Elle were here. Josh wouldn’t even still be a problem.” Aaron grumbles out, and despite yourself, you burst out laughing. Aaron’s shocked at first by your reaction, but after a moment, he lets out a laugh, too.

“Aaron, that’s awful. You were upset with Elle for months, even after she left. You’re better than that.” You say, still smiling even though it really wasn’t funny at all.

“Yeah, well, when you hobbled out to my car with a black eye, I think I began to understand Elle a little bit better than I did at the time.” Aaron tells you.

You think of the girl Josh has taken now-- being punished only for the sin of resembling you. No doubt she had her own black eye to match yours, plus god only knows what else at this point, nearly twelve hours after being taken. You swallowed thickly. After a moment, you speak up again.

“You knew that this was going to happen, didn’t you?” You ask quietly-- it’s a genuine question, not an accusation, but it still breaks Aaron’s heart. “That’s why you weren’t excited or relieved like I was when he got arrested.”

“I knew it was a possibility,” he confirms. “I didn’t want to say anything to you, because there was no way to know-- and I didn’t want you to have to keep living in fear,” he explains.

“I’m gonna get this son of a bitch,” you whispered, more to yourself than to Aaron.

The team is already waiting for the two of you in the roundtable room while you arrive, although there’s really no need to brief, so you all launch into a profile while Garcia digs for more information.

“What do we know about the unsub?” Aaron asks the team.

“He’s a power-seeker. He uses physical force as a method of coercion.” Morgan says, and Reid scribbles his statement onto a whiteboard.

“He doesn’t react well when challenged--- his demeanor completely changed when he came here and Hotch went after him.” Emily adds.

“True, but he had no problem going toe-to-toe with Morgan.” JJ contradicts.

“Based on the message he left with the flowers, he’s displaying early indicators of stalking behavior. If that’s escalated far enough, it’s possible that Josh might really believe that the woman that he’s taken is Y/N.” Spencer says, and you nod. For her sake, you hoped not. He had a hell of a lot of pent up anger towards you, and you didn’t want this poor girl to take the brunt of it.

“What’s her name?” You asked, quietly, and with everyone talking over you, you almost think no one hears you, until Aaron leans in a little closer.

“What’s that, darling?” He asks.

“What’s her name?” You say again, and his brow furrows in confusion.

“Who’s name?”

“The girl who’s taking the beating with my name on it right now,” you spit out, and the rest of the team stops talking over you. “The least I can do is learn her name and go talk to her parents.” You say, packing your stuff up.

“Her name is Anna Reardon. We’ll send the address to your phone,” Emily tells you, and you turn on your heel and walk out.

tagging: @romanogersendgame @wanniiieeee @zheezs14 @greeneyedblondie44 @angelic-kisses13 @baumarvel @ssamorganhotchner @ijustwannaread2k19 @rexit-mo @shmaptainhotchnersmain @qtip-blog @averyhotchner @the-modernmary @itsmytimetoodream @choppa-style @hotforhotchner11 @infinite-tides @isthatme-thatsme @g-l-pierce @bakugouswh0r3 @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @rousethemouse

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner x you #hotch x reader #hotch x y/n #hotch x you #criminal minds #criminal minds fic

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itsclydebitches · 3 years

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YYH Recaps: Episode 1, Surprised to be Dead

Hello, all you hypothetical readers! It's a beautiful spring day and I have a free afternoon ahead of me, so what better time to start another massive project while I guilty stuff my other WIPs deep into the depths of my hard drive? Yeah. Iffy life choices aside, someone mentioned a few weeks back that they'd love for me to recap a show I have more positive things to say about than negative (RIP RWBY) and ever since Netflix announced that their live-action adaptation of Yu Yu Hakusho is in the works, I've been itching for a re-watch of the anime. With the RWBY hiatus underway, it seemed like the perfect time to fulfill both desires.

Before we begin though, I'd like to touch on a few things that are going to influence this project.

First, YYH is near and dear to my heart. Written by Yoshihiro Togashi in the early 1990s and later adapted for an American audience by Funimation, I had the pleasure of experiencing this story five different ways: as a serialized tale in Shonen Jump, a binge read when I had the money to buy the manga, tiny snippets of the anime on Adult Swim late at night — don't tell my parents ;) — as an after-school treat on Toonami, and then years later as a re-watch when I introduced it to a friend (who, in turn, blessed me by having us watch Fullmetal Alchemist next). I used to keep a Hiei bookmark in everything I was reading, the spirit gun made it into our witch-wolf-space adventures on the playground (middle school was wild), and there was a long period of my life where I tried very hard to teach myself to stand with my hands behind my back, precisely as Genkai does. Spoiler alert: I failed. So to say I love the series is... a little bit of an understatement. I bring this up simply as a way of demonstrating that there's more than a bit of nostalgia attached to YYH for me and that will inevitably cloud my reading of it. How can it not? So that's just something to keep in mind as I work through a series that, like any having hit its 30th birthday, has its outdated, flawed, and other questionable aspects.

Second, but very much connected to the first point, is that these are pretty casual recaps. I summarize and extrapolate, focusing primarily on plot and dialogue (but with the occasional cinematography aspect tossed in). I'm not conducting research on the cultural history here — something that will come up at least once in this episode — I'm not arguing an overarching thesis, and I've never been someone who focuses on the author/production/trivia of a series. I'm here for the story as the story is presented to the viewer. If you've read my RWBY Recaps, this will function precisely the same way, with the only difference being I'm engaging with a finished text as opposed to an ongoing one, so there’s a lot less, “Maybe ___ will happen” theorizing going on.

Third, I obviously recommend that you watch the show yourself (you can find it on YouTube!), but you don't have to know the series to follow along. As these massive paragraphs attest, I tend to be both detailed and verbose, so we'll be covering every major plot point — and most of the smaller ones too.

Finally, I'm working from the dub. I know, I know, the horror. But it's what I grew up on and, honestly, I think it's superior to the sub. YYH's dubbing is in a class all its own and to this day there are very few shows that compare to it. Trust me, it's a good call.

That's enough of the boring chit-chat though. Let's get started!

Our very first episode "Surprised to be Dead" opens on a crowded street. We see lots of traffic, people going about their business, and a pedestrian crossing sign that, crucially, turns red. This is our normality and, like in every genre story, you need to break that normality at some point so that the protagonists can go on their fantastical/supernatural/science fiction journey. YYH eases us into things by first breaking the normality of an everyday afternoon: there's a screech of tires, quick shots of a man pushing a child out of the way of an oncoming car, and then his back is hitting the windshield. We begin this story with a horrible — but otherwise mundane — car crash.

Now, these flashes alone have a fair bit to unpack. Despite later getting a brief shot of the man's scared face right before he's hit, the moment's focus is really on the child. He's the one foregrounded in the initial, slow-mo shot. He's the one who appears in color while the man is kept in shadow. This isn't just a hit, it's a rescue. The camera is also careful to follow the soccer ball this kid was playing with (more on that later in the episode), with it flying through the air as the man is hit and bouncing to a stop in the street, acting as the dramatic finish. It's childhood! It's innocence! It's play on a sunny afternoon! And it's all gone wrong.

This moment is chaotic and even a bit confusing. Not in the sense of what's happening — that is quite obviously a guy being hit by a car — but who the victims are, how precisely this came about, or even why we're meant to care about this beyond a generic capacity to feel for other human (fictional) beings... that's all removed. And it works. As the crash takes place, the camera pans across the stunned crowd and we, the viewer, become a part of that crowd. They don't know what precisely is going on either. We're all just horrified onlookers as a sudden tragedy takes place. We're all watching the same show.

So everyone realizes this guy has been hit. People are staring in shock and someone calls for an ambulance. We see the driver fall to his knees in the street, distraught, shakily saying, "I didn't mean to..." It's a very serious and emotional scene that —

— is immediately tempered by this guy waking up, complete with a cute 'pop!' sound effect when he opens his eyes.

This is YYH's brand, this Very Serious Circumstances skillfully interwoven with casual indifference/comedy. It's admittedly far from a unique brand, but it's an excellent choice given that this is the same attitude that will drive 99% of our protagonist's interaction with the world.

Speaking of said protagonist, our guy wakes up, opens his eyes, and realizes that he's floating. There's a great, disorientating shot from his perspective where everything is upside down, causing him to nearly fall out of the air. Well would you look at that, he's as confused as we are. It's our audience surrogate!

A narrator says, "And so it all begins. This boy's name is Yusuke, he's fourteen years old, and he's supposed to be the hero of this story. But oddly enough, he's dead."

Game of Thrones might have made it popular, but YYH did it better.

(Yeah, yeah, I know one death kick-starts the journey and the other is a shocking twist. Just let me have this.)

Now, it's a weird introduction, right? At least at the end. The announcement that change has occurred, a name, an age... that all checks out. But "supposed to be the hero"? What the hell is that “supposed to” mean? Our narrator gives us the easy, surface answer: "But oddly enough, he's dead." We're capitalizing here on the audience's expectation that death ends a character's journey and though they may have been a hero previously, they can no longer be one moving forward. That function within the story has passed. So it's this intriguing question of, "What kind of hero do you have when that hero is dead from the start?" but as we'll see soon, there's an additional meaning here of, "How can Yusuke be the hero?" As this premiere sets up, Yusuke doesn't act like the hero is “supposed to” act.

Until he saved this kid.

But right now he's just confused: "Okay, this is weird. Stupid weird."

Two EMTs arrive on the scene and are hilariously useless. You know how in any medical drama a doctor will stop CPR after a couple of seconds because obviously you're not going to spend half the episode on realism? Well, that's this only a thousand times worse. One guy just looks at the kid and announces he's fine except for some bumps and bruises. Meanwhile, the kid is sobbing.

"Well, at least one of them is," replies the other EMT, because I guess he can tell Yusuke is beyond hope without taking a pulse or anything? "I hate cleanup," he complains as they load his body onto a stretcher because that's? An empathetic response to have??

Honestly this scene is wild.

Yusuke is understandably upset that he's, you know, dead and all. He starts hounding the EMTs who, unable to hear him, just go about their business of taking the kid and his body to the hospital. "You think you can just do whatever you want because you have that stupid uniform on? You can't just write me off. Listen to me!" and Yusuke tries to punch one of the EMTs in the head, resulting in him floating right through.

What a great way to introduce your protagonist's personality. We see here that when things go wrong Yusuke's default emotion is anger and it starts creeping in even before he thinks the others are ignoring him: "Stupid weird." He has problems with authority — "You think you can just do whatever you want because you have that stupid uniform on?" — is used to others listening when he gets angry — "You can't just write me off!" — and is poised to use violence at the slightest provocation. Yusuke is a guy who, right now at least, is ready to punch first and ask questions later.

As Yusuke floats back up into the air and the ambulance drives away, he finally cools down enough to try and think his way out of this. "It's not like this is the first time you've been in a jam,” he thinks. Yusuke recalls that yeah, something was different about today...

...he actually went to school.

Catch me laughing that this idiot boy equates the weirdness of him dying with going to school. Good lord.

Anyway, this jumpstarts our flashback. We open on a generic, anime middle school (that always feels like a high school to me) where the principal is calling for Yusuke through the loud speaker. Oooo someone’s in trouble! We follow a young girl up to the rooftop and she gets a classic hair-blowing-in-the-wind moment to establish that she's our love interest. Meet Keiko Yukimura.

Keiko finds Yusuke hanging out and immediately starts lecturing him for trying to chew gum and refusing to wear the boys' uniform. "Oh, give me a break, Keiko. I look better in green." Note that it's here we learn her name and it's an easy, casual way to introduce it. I bring this up because Yusuke's introduction via our narrator is very much... not that. It's an on your nose statement about his name, age, and importance to the story, and if you're just starting the show in 2021, it might come across as a rather armature move. Like something out of a kid's show, perhaps. Yet here we see that this was a deliberate choice, considering that YYH is capable of introducing character information naturally when it wants to.

This moment also tells us that Yusuke cares a great deal about his image. More on that in a bit. Because Keiko isn't finished her list of grievances yet, going on to say that his attendance record has hurt their entire class, hurt her as class representative, and if he keeps going down this path he won't even graduate middle school. "Sometimes I think you don't care about anyone but yourself and then you don't even do that right!"

They're legit complaints. Too bad Yusuke is busy looking up Keiko's skirt.

Yeeeeah. Sadly, this is common for anime, particularly a 90s anime like YYH. Even presumably more progressive series like My Hero Academia feature characters like Mineta, whose entire personality is being a pervert, and the creation of abilities that "require" kids/young women to be scantily clad. See: Yaoyorozu. YYH is no different in this regard, with various forms of sexual harassment functioning as a shorthand for how much Yusuke secretly likes Keiko. "Boys will be boys," right? Obviously not.

Like so many others series, the creators get away with it because they’re framing it as a bad thing. It's totally fine because look, Keiko slaps him! This is teaching the viewer how wrong this behavior is. Never mind that this is clearly an established habit between them, that Yusuke laughs off Keiko's discomfort, and that the whole scene is meant to be funny for the viewer. That's the real purpose here; it’s not a PSA on harassment.

That, and to establish the long-suffering love Keiko has for Yusuke in turn, largely stemming from a life-long friendship. "Dumb boy! He hasn't grown up a bit since he was four years old." We see that Keiko's early interactions with Yusuke have given her insight that others lack. As she heads down from the roof she runs into two girls hiding around the corner, too scared to come out lest "the great Urameshi" set his sights on them. Isn't Keiko terrified of what he might do to her? "Or worse, what others might say of it?" Like any classic high school middle school setting, one's reputation is king. Yusuke cares about how others see him — maintaining that tough boy attitude — and the girls care more about what the rest of the school might think of Keiko's interactions with him than the presumed harm Yusuke could do to her. They heard he can summon 2,000 men with just a whistle and that he "kills for fun!" But that means nothing in the face of people talking about you. Despite being one of the most popular girls in school, Keiko is the outsider here via her disinterest in what other people think.

The animation changes here, giving us a good look at how the girls picture Yusuke: tough, scowling, surrounded by shadows, and backed by an entire army.

In contrast, we've already seen what Yusuke is really like.

Keiko laughs the image off too. Yusuke is more like a "lamb" than a killer and besides, he couldn't order around two people, let alone two hundred. "He doesn't have many friends."

"That's not what I heard," says one of the girls.

"Yeah," goes the other. "I think we would know."

Again, rumors rule here, with whispers in the hall considered more reliable than someone who interacts with Yusuke on a daily basis. Keiko doesn’t have a hope of changing their minds.

Oh, as a side note, I love that they gave Keiko Miyazaki-esque hair. It's very emotive.

Yusuke escapes outside where the principal is still calling for him to report to his office. He overhears a conversation around the corner and we cut to two boys, one of which is showing a wallet off to the other. He explains that some bully tried to rough him up, but he said he was Urameshi's cousin and the bully took off, dropping his wallet in the process. The guy's friend is impressed, but what is he going to do if Yusuke ever finds out he lied? Not to worry, he says, that "blockhead" would probably think it's true even if he did somehow hear.

Yusuke, obviously, does hear about this and he, also obviously, does not believe this guy is his cousin. He looms ominously and they scurry up against a wall, terrified and offering him the wallet as an apology.

"You think I want your money?" Yusuke yells.

YYH is, in many respects, a rather simple story, but I appreciate the hints of complexity in these otherwise straightforward interactions. It's not that this guy used Yusuke's name to steal a wallet, he used it as a form of protection against another bully — a far more sympathetic motivation. It's not that Yusuke's fearsome reputation has resulted in any genuine respect because once people think they're safe they reveal how little they think of his intelligence — he's a "blockhead." And Yusuke, though intimidating and violent, is not your average, schoolyard bully. He doesn't care about money, only the insult and the damage this guy using his name might have done to his reputation. There's a little more nuance here than you might otherwise expect.

Also, note how dark the boys' standard uniforms are and how much they blend into the rest of the world. Yusuke, as our protagonist, stands out in his bright clothing. He was right, he does look better in green!

So he's ready to clobber this kid when one of the teachers arrive: Mr. Iwamoto.

Iwamoto demands to know what's going on, but the boys are too terrified to rat Yusuke out. Noticing the wallet on the ground, he assumes that Yusuke was after their money, something that greatly offends him: "Whatever!" Iwamoto goes on to say that, "No good weeds like you should have been plucked a long time ago," making it clear that he considers Yusuke a hopeless case. The positive aspects that Keiko sees, as well as the complexity the viewer sees — to say nothing of his introduction of saving a kid — aren’t considered here.

Notably, Iwamoto exists in part to show us what Yusuke could become. Not a teacher (he's obviously not attending school enough for that!), but a cynical man who is cruel for cruelty's sake. Yusuke is already barreling down that path, ignoring Keiko's advice, terrorizing other students, trying to punch EMTs, etc. If his life (or afterlife...) hadn't changed through that accident, this is the kind of person Yusuke might have grown up to be, and we can see that clearly in the visual parallels between them. Dark haired men dressed in green who scowl with ease and toss out cutting insults. Yusuke is staring his future in the face.

For now he walks off with a final shot, "You shouldn't talk. It makes you sound stupid." This time Yusuke makes it to the school's entrance and tries to enjoy his second attempt at chewing gum, but someone hits him in the back of the head.

"Okay, somebody's DEAD — ah. Sorry, old man."

"That's Mr. Takenaka to you."

Our principal has finally left the office and hunted down Yusuke for himself! Putting this interaction immediately after the one with Iwamoto allows the viewer to compare them. Yusuke might be irreverent towards his principal, but it's clear there's still some kind of respect between them. Yusuke only starts threatening because he doesn’t realize who hit him and once he does realize it's Takenaka, he immediately apologizes. That "old man" comes across as a teasing insult and Yusuke allows himself to be briefly dragged back towards school, rather than throwing a now classic punch. In turn, Takenaka cares enough about Yusuke to try and keep him on the straight and narrow. He utilizes Yusuke's preferred language — violence — but in a casual way, nonthreatening way: slight hit to the back of his head, noogie, pulling him along by the ear.

It's the sort of physicality we're used to seeing in media between a parent and child who are outwardly antagonistic, but actually share a deep bond. Takenaka is also careful to frame their return to his office as a "discussion," not a punishment, and offers Yusuke tea along with the conversation. Whereas Iwamoto considers Yusuke to be a "weed" that should have been plucked from their school long ago, Takenaka is determined to help Yusuke bloom.

If we're continuing the flower metaphor :D

Yusuke isn't in the mood to play along though. He gets away by using a fake ear, startling Takenaka when it unexpectedly pulls free. Yusuke escapes the school grounds and Takenaka, suffering a back twinge from his fall, can't chase after him. Poor guy. I understand that pain lol.

Yusuke heads home where we're introduced to his mother, Atsuko. Most notable in her first shot is the soft lighting that highlights her looks. We're not told how old she is here, but I believe she's around 28 — and she looks it, if not younger. Given that Yusuke is 14, that means Atsuko was a mom at his age. This is a quick and subtle way to tell us about Yusuke's home life. There are more overt details in this scene — it's at least lunchtime and Atsuko hasn't left her bed yet, she demands that Yusuke make her coffee instead of greeting him, it's all meant to imply (before we actually see) that she's an alcoholic — but her age is another way to highlight the broken household here. There's no partner in sight and she clearly had Yusuke as a teenager. He hasn't had a strong parental figure to take care of him. If anything, Yusuke is taking care of Atsuko here.

"Oh great, mother of the year!" basically sums things up.

Atsuko wants to know why Yusuke isn't in school and he says that everyone is pissing him off today, particularly with their preaching. "Dear, if you hate preaching so much you should live on your own... but you can't do that, can you?" Alongside a rough upbringing, Yusuke is suffering from the common problem of being trapped in a dead-end life. He hates his school, his town, and coming home to find his mom hungover. Yusuke has no prospects and, outside of one principal, no one who is actively working to help him find some. Even the little things he hates, like being preached to, are unavoidable because if you want to live on your own, that requires money. Good luck pulling that off as a middle schooler whose only skill is street fighting!

Yusuke walks off in a huff, literally shouting in a street about what a bad day he's having (and hilariously scaring off pedestrians in the process). His shout brings trouble though. A couple guys appear to ambush him, their boss close behind. The music increases the tension, Yusuke's expression is serious, and we even get a Dutch angle thrown into the mix.

For any who don't know, the Dutch angle is a popular film technique to establish that something is wrong. There's tension in the scene, something uneasy is at play, and the world is now literally off center. It's perhaps most famously used in Do The Right Thing to establish the friction between an Italian-American pizzeria and the predominantly African American neighborhood it's based in.

But it's also used a great deal in horror as a way to say: yup, shit just got real. Scary real.

This Dutch angle introduces a character you may not appreciate at first, but absolutely should: Kazuma Kuwabara.

He's initially the comic relief and that's clear in his introduction. Within seconds we move from that intimidating arrival to, well, seeing him. To be clear, I've got nothing against redheads with big chins, but compared to Yusuke's design, Kuwabara is meant to be the funny looking one. His threat level plummets the moment we get a look at his face, especially in a series that will occasionally use looks as a (supposed) measure of intelligence.

Also, Kuwabara is dressed in light blue so, like Yusuke, we know he's important!

Any assumptions that his appearance isn’t meant to imply a goofy, embarrassing personality are put to rest when Kuwabara starts rambling about how they last time they fought Yusuke just got a cheap shot in and he'll definitely win this time. Yeah, he won't. Yusuke is thrilled by this diversion though and we get a shot of him looking almost as creepy as Keiko's friends think he is. Whatever else might be said about Yusuke, he is absolutely a monster in a fight.

Which we see here. If anyone picked up the series without knowing this was a fighting anime, they'll realize it now. Yusuke's choreography is stylized to show off his skill: he disappears with a 'whoosh' and dark lines to suggest inhuman speed,

attacking Kuwabara with a knee to the face, utilizes flying kicks, lands perfect, precision punches, and ends it all with the toe-tip landing we've come to expect of all powerful fighters. Kuwabara never even got a hit in.

Happy as a clam now, Yusuke wanders off whistling and Kuwabara's friends are left to pick up the pieces. AKA, his likely broken bones. I love that they're legit friends though and not just nameless goons for the sake of giving Kuwabara a small gang (though their names won't come up until later). "That makes 0 wins an 156 loses!" one of them cries, trying to get Kuwabara to stop ending up in the hospital, probably. We establish that Kuwabara is The Most Dramatic Ever when he pulls his broken body into a seated position, shouting, "No! I almost had him that time!"

Then he passes out.

Kuwabara, honey, you obviously did not almost have him, but god bless you for the outlook. The most optimistic thing on this Earth is a well-loved Golden Retriever, but Kuwabara comes in at a very close second.

With his dream to one day beat Yusuke in combat established, we cut to Yusuke wandering the street where the episode opened. "Okay, I'm remembering" he says in a voiceover. "After that I met the kid."

The soccer ball reappears as it rolls to a stop at Yusuke's feet. He grabs it and immediately starts yelling at the kid. Horrible protagonist, right? Well, Yusuke is trying to instill in him the danger of using this street as a playground, a worry the viewer already knows is 100% justified. “Listen, kid, that’s dangerous! There are cars going by that will splatter you into the pavement!” It's one of those quick moments where we get to enjoy Yusuke's duality: he's someone who is nearly making a toddler cry, but for rather understandable reasons. He's got the right idea, but needs to go about it in a more mature manner.

Which is precisely what he attempts to do. Sort of. Yusuke changes gears, though whether it's a more "mature" route is certainly up for debate lol. He tries entertaining the kid instead, raising and lowering the soccer ball to reveal goofy faces.

When these fail to impress, Yusuke goes full out by stuffing the ball into his pants, pushing his nose up with a pair of chopsticks he got from god knows where, and generally just putting on a display.

So Yusuke cares very deeply about his reputation... but only when it comes to those who are an established part of his life. Keiko, Mr. Takenaka, and the other kids at school all need to maintain a particular image of Yusuke, one that he's carefully cultivated. But random pedestrians on the street? Who cares about them? Let them talk.

This shows us that Yusuke does indeed have priorities over his own, selfish goals. Namely, the happiness of some kid is more important to him than looking "cool" for a bunch of strangers. Lots of characters with Yusuke's surface attitude would sneer at the idea of degrading themselves for — their words — some brat. But Yusuke, as we constantly see, actually does have that heart of gold. “Well, if all else fails I can still make kids happy.”

Although... I'm not sure what to make of his display itself. I have the distinct sense that there's something prejudiced here that I'm not able to fully articulate, what with the chopsticks, slanted eyes, bald head, and the like, though to be entirely frank I don't have enough knowledge of Japan's history to say precisely what it might be. Or, really, whether it exists at all. Just something to chew on.

What I am sure about though is the importance of having the child label Yusuke as monster — "Yeah, monster! — but in a delighted manner. Yusuke is indeed some kind a monster, someone who disappoints adults and terrifies his classmates, a demon fighter on the streets too, but here that identity is reworked into something positive.

Having successful secured a laugh, Yusuke tells the kid — calmly this time — to go play elsewhere. The toddler stares up at him with the blank expression only kids can manage.

Well, kids and whatever headspace I'm in after writing these metas.

To absolutely no one's surprise except Yusuke's, the kid does not go elsewhere. Instead, he continues kicking the ball down the street, causing Yusuke to exclaim, “Dammit, what’s the use? The kid can get smashed by a car for all I care!” Liar, liar.

The picture becomes desaturated as the kid kicks the ball and it flies into the street, time slowing down to show it landing precisely in the middle of the road. Yusuke again yells for him to stay put, but when has a toddler ever listened? He begins to walk into the road as our driver arrives, speeding, swerving, and paying more attention to the girl at his side than what's in front of him.

This time, we see the accident from the front with both Yusuke and the kid presented equally.

There's a cut to black and when we return we're in the present, Yusuke floating above the policemen now investigating the scene. “So that’s it? I’m roadkill?” As Yusuke realizes he's dead, specifically that he's a ghost, a voice goes,

"Bingo! Bingo! You win the prize!"

A woman has appeared who is quite obviously othered by the standards of the episode so far. Unlike the greens, blues, and browns of the series' modern clothes, she's dressed in hot pink kimono with blue hair to match. She's also, you know, floating on an oar.

“I didn’t expect you to figure it out so quickly," she says, referring to Yusuke's revelation that he's dead. Apparently, those who meet unexpected and/or violent ends tend to take some time coming to terms with their demise. It's a nice acknowledgment of Yusuke's intelligence in an interaction that's otherwise... not great for his self-esteem.

Meaning, this woman is about to drag him lol.

She introduces herself as Botan, pilot of the River Styx and guider of souls to the afterlife. You might also know her as the Grim Reaper.

(Hey, RWBY fans: I originally wrote that as Grimm Reaper 🤦‍♀️)

It's an claim Yusuke takes issue with because 1. Botan is too pretty to be the Grim Reaper and 2. If she was really some god of death she'd be taking this much more seriously, not laughing and saying, "Bingo!" For the audience this does two things. First, it acknowledges our own expectations and validates them. Yusuke's world isn't so far removed from our own that he takes Botan's looks and personality at face value, he also expected a skeleton with a scythe. So don't worry, all the weird stuff in this series is weird to our protagonist too. They'll be explanations. Or, even if there’s not, you’re not wrong for being surprised.

Second, it sets up the very common theme in YYH of undermining those common assumptions again and again and again. We've already seen it with Yusuke, wherein characters who look and act a certain way are, supposedly, destined to be that person and nothing more. Yusuke is meant to be just a "weed," a dumb, violent, angry loser who goes nowhere in life... but we already know he's more than that. Botan is supposed to be scary and serious, but she says nah, I want to be cute and bubbly instead. No character in YYH embodies who they're "supposed" to be when you look past those surface characterizations. They play the part of archetypes — and do keep certain parts of their expected personalities — but they're also far more well-rounded than that. Which yeah, is something most people expect from any story nowadays, but YYH is particularly adept at making you think you're watching Simple Show A only to turn around and surprise you with More Complex Show B.

It's great, trust me.

So Yusuke is pissed that Botan isn't adhering to those expectations, in the same way that he works hard to validate others expectations of him. He doesn't know how to deal with someone challenging his world view yet. Rather than angering Botan though, she just nods and says that this response makes sense for him. “Rather than being scared, or surprised, you yell a lot and tell me I don’t know what I’m talking about." Taking out a notebook, she quickly summarizes everything we learned in the flashback — minus Yusuke's complexities: he's fourteen, in middle school, is ill-tempered, violent, hates authority, and is a horrible student.

Typically, Yusuke responds by getting angry and trying to snatch the booklet out of her hands, only for Botan to pull it out of his reach, laughing. The tables have turned! Rather than being surrounded by people who cower at Yusuke's imposed authority, he now finds himself faced with someone who laughs at his transparent attempts to take control of the situation.

Calming down, Yusuke wants to know if the kid he saved is really alright and Botan offers to let him see for himself. That offer produces Yusuke's first, genuine smile.

They fly to the hospital where a doctor is in the process of giving the kid a clean bill of health, his mother crying with relief.

That's enough for Yusuke. “Alright, Botan, I’ve got no regrets, so you can take me to hell or wherever it is I’m going.”

That tells you all you need to know about Yusuke's self-worth, despite his bad boy attitude. His life is a dead-end as far as he can see and most of those around him haven't done anything to dissuade him of that idea. He says he doesn't care if the kid lives or dies, but then instinctively saves him. Post his death, Yusuke doesn't have anything he considers a regret, or anything he'd like to do before he leaves, like saying goodbye to a loved one. Oh, he's also pretty sure he's going to hell and has resigned himself to that without a fight.

Uplifting!

Botan just laughs though, saying that she's actually here to offer Yusuke an "ordeal" that could bring him back to life. See, he wasn't supposed to die today — let alone die saving a kid — and frankly they don't know what to do with him. It's another neat summary of what we've already learned: Yusuke is a far more complicated case than the afterlife assumed and now, when push comes to shove, deciding whether he belongs in heaven or hell is... muddled.

There's a fantastic story there about the problems with an afterlife that reduces a person's entire life to a few surface characteristics recorded in a book, refusing to acknowledge the context of their situation, or their capacity for change. “Run someone with your credentials a thousand times and they never would have saved a kid like that." Except, of course, Yusuke did save him, so those "credentials" are suspect, to say the least. However, YYH is not a story that explores these issues. Instead, I recommend you watch this!

Rather than being upset at the afterlife's low opinion of him (because let's be real, Yusuke shares it), he latches onto a little detail Botan let slip. If he wasn't supposed to die today... then was the kid?

Mmm... no. Actually, without the chaos of Yusuke jumping into the road, the driver would have swerved at the last second and the kid would have not only lived, but actually come out with one less scrape.

So Yusuke is obviously upset by this news! I would be too!! Holy shit, hang onto the "it's the thought that counts" message with everything you've got.

Also, don't think too much about the fact that the afterlife apparently knows exactly what will happen to people, down to how many cuts they accumulate in an accident. Also, don't think too much about where the afterlife foreseeing the crash begins and the unexpectedness of Yusuke interfering ends. That way lies madness. This will never come up again, so just let it go.

Sorry, 2013 me hijacked the post for a second.

As said, Yusuke is understandably upset by this revelation and as he fumes I'm reminded that this series likes to pull some amazing expressions.

Botan reiterates that it's all fine because Yusuke can come back to life. Weren't you listening? He should feel honored, in fact, considering that an offer like this only arrives every 100 years or so. Well, that explains why all of humanity isn't grappling with people coming back to life on the daily. One person every generation isn't going to cause much of a stir.

However, instead of jumping at the chance Yusuke announces that Botan is just like the teachers at school: she doesn't know what she's talking about. “You said yourself my life was kind of pathetic, right?” he says, going on to explain that everyone will be happier now that he's dead. His school won't have to deal with his behavior, Keiko won't have to nag him, and his mom will be able to party whenever she wants. It's a win-win for everyone involved.

Hmm, this feels familiar.

Don't worry, Yusuke doesn't need to experience a whole alternate reality to get the message.

“I’m sorry you feel that way at such an early age," Botan says and she is sorry, because despite her teasing nature that's a legitimately horrifying thing to believe. Yusuke won't budge though and after a little back-and-forth Botan leaves, telling Yusuke he should think it over while visiting his wake. She'll come back once he decides what to do.

“Do you have worms in your ears, lady? I did decide!” but Botan is long gone.

We cut to that night where Yusuke has indeed decided to attend his own wake. Maybe because of Botan's advice, maybe because he's just morbidly curious. We’re not given insight into the decision.

Atsuko is a mess, to put it mildly, not dressed for the occasion and sitting slumped against the way, staring vacantly as the guests offer their condolences. Yusuke is surprised by the fact that his entire class is here, but quickly writes them off when he sees two of the boys laughing. I'm on the fence about this detail, which I'll unpack in just a second.

First though, Yusuke sees Keiko exiting the house, inconsolable in her grief. She collapses on the ground with her two friends trying to offer comfort, despite the fact that they had nothing good to say about Yusuke himself. Good on them.

Before he can think too long on this though, Yusuke is distracted by Kuwabara's arrival. Unlike Keiko's crying, he expresses his grief through yelling. Specifically, yelling at Yusuke. For dying. For daring to "run away." His own friends are physically holding him back as he charges into the wake, screaming, “Who am I gonna fight now, huh? Who am I gonna fight?" It's not really about the fighting, of course. At least, not the fighting alone. "You’re supposed to be here for me," Kuwabara finishes, the punch he's thrown at Yusuke's photo going limp and catching his first tear.

You know, for all the goofy expressions, this show really is gorgeous. Just wait until we get to the fight animations.

Kuwabara's reaction is why I hesitate to write off the classmates like Yusuke has. Granted, we have no reason to believe that they care for him as Kuwabara does — they're nameless background characters defined only by their terror of "the great Urameshi" — but it's still a split second taken out of context. We don't know what they were laughing at, or if laughing is a part of their grief. God knows I personally laugh at the most inappropriate moments. If you tell me someone has just died there is a very good chance I will laugh awkwardly as I try to process that. It’s just a reflex. All of which I bring up not because these side characters are important, but because Yusuke's perception of his own worth is. The point of each of these moments is to show that those around him have always cared for him, even if Yusuke didn't notice. It's nice to think that extends to his classmates too. The variety likewise exists to show us how people grieve differently, with Kuwabara's friends not understanding that this is how he's working through the trauma: “This place is for mourning!” He is mourning, even if his way of mourning isn't as socially acceptable as Keiko's. So if screaming and throwing punches is valid, crying is valid, staring stoically in a drunk stupor is valid... why not laughter too?

Not likely, perhaps, but possible.

As an additional possibility to chew on, watching this premier again, it struck me how more emotional Kuwabara's scene is compared to Keiko's. Don't get me wrong, crying and calling Yusuke’s name gets the point across, but it's two seconds of generic grief compared to a much longer scene rife with intensity. When Kuwabara arrives the music swells and everyone is forced to pay attention to him. His grief is loud, violent, and given symbolism with his fist and the photo. There's more effort put into his reaction, frankly, so it wouldn't surprise me if fans started shipping them after this. That grief combined with an "enemies to lovers" possibility is a pretty potent mix. To be clear, Yusuke/Keiko is the (oh so obvious) canonical endgame and in the fandom Yusuke/Kuwabara can't compare to another slash ship that will turn up later, but this is a good example of how writers can craft some Very Gay Scenes without realizing it. When you have the girl crying prettily for a second and the guy absolutely losing his mind over Yusuke's death, questioning his purpose now, his support network, and then collapsing in grief... don't be surprised if your audience goes, "Oh hey, maybe they'd be a good couple instead."

But I digress.

The only people who are unquestioningly happy about Yusuke's passing are Mr. Iwamoto and his co-conspirator, Mr. Akashi. You know Akashi is another bad guy because he has bucked teeth and "ugliness" is an easy way to code for evilness. YYH is not immune to those mistakes :/

These two are really something else though, standing in the middle of a wake and claiming it's “too bad that car wasn’t big enough for them too," referring to Kuwabara and his friends. Wow! What stellar members of the academic community. Iwamoto goes on to say that Yusuke dying at least accomplished something good. Not, mind you, saving the life of a child, but rather looking good for their school's reputation. Akashi agrees, but says it's likely Yusuke only accidentally saved him while trying to steal the kid's lunch money. Remember, that accusation of theft is the one thing Yusuke has said outright that he does not do.

He's pissed listening to all this — wouldn't you be? — but knows by now he can't do anything about it. In another fantastic shot, Yusuke hovers his hand over Iwamoto's shoulder, desperate to grab him, when Takenaka's arrives there instead.

“What do you suppose is more disgraceful? That boy showing his misery, or your insensitive and idiotic words!”

HELL YEAH. You tell 'em, Mr. Takenaka.

Yusuke gets his third shock of the night at this passionate defense. Takenaka leaves the teachers to go pay his respects, but admits to Yusuke's picture that he just can't speak well of him. He was surprised to hear that Yusuke gave up his life for another and it's a fact that he acted selfishly. Though he doesn't say it in as many words, Takenaka explains that he's not grieving because Yusuke was a good person, but because it's so clear to him that he might have been. “Why didn’t you stay? You could have made something great out of yourself.”

Normally, "Why didn't you stay?" is just something for the living to grapple with, as the dead obviously don't have any say in what happens to them. But Yusuke does. It's here that the lighting grows soft again and Yusuke considers Takenaka's words. Keiko and Kuwabara grieve for who he was, but Takenaka grieves for who Yusuke could have been — someone that might still exist if Yusuke decides to undergo this ordeal.

Atsuko adds fuel to the emotional fire, breaking down and hiding her face in her knees.

Finally, the kid Yusuke saved arrives with his mother. Because yes, Yusuke saved him in every way that matters, considering no one else knows — or will know — that he'd have lived anyway. I like that the show doesn't allow that knowledge to undermine the emotion of their arrival, or what Yusuke’s act meant to them.

The mom tells her son to pay his respects and the kid thanks Yusuke for saving him, and for "making faces." He clearly doesn't get what's going on here. This is confirmed as the two leave and he asks his mom if he can play with Yusuke again tomorrow. “I know some people sounded angry at him, but he’s really nice!"

They're probably just crying because they want to play with him too, he thinks, which just makes his mom join in. Everyone is crying in this club tonight.

Those words are the cincher for Yusuke and with a brief montage of all the grief he's witnessed, he makes his decision.

We cut to later that night where Yusuke floats above the city, admiring the moon. Botan reappears and he asks, “Have you ever not known about something that seemed obvious to everyone else?” Yes, everyone has experienced that at one point or another. She asks if he's made his decision and Yusuke agrees to try and come back to life.

Emotional revelations out of the way, we're allowed another tone shift as Botan yells with joy, speeding off and causing Yusuke to grab hold of the end of her oar, lest he be left behind. Cranky as always, he demands to know where they're going. "To the spirit world, of course!" They're off to see someone who can explain the ordeal and give Yusuke the tool needed to complete it. Just hang on and enjoy the ride.

Thus ends our very first episode! Ah, the nostalgia. This is part one of a four arc series, with the anime cutting out a lot of the filler stories found at the start of the manga — a smart decision, I think. They primarily do the work of teaching Yusuke what he learned at the wake, so if you can accomplish that as quickly as the adaptation did, all the better. Especially since Yusuke needs to grow a great deal beyond the basic understanding that people might, sort of care for him, and that work will occur primarily through a job he's going to take on. The series isn't really about his death and it's not about an attempt to come back either — it's about what happens once you get that second chance. So this is the setup, but it's important setup all the same.

No need to skip ahead though. I've blathered enough for one recap. I hope you enjoyed and I'll see you when the writing gods next bless me with energy! 💜

#YYH #Yu Yu Hakusho #YYH recaps #mymetas

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atmostories · 4 years

Text

Greg Tolan x Reader

What is this bullshit you may ask? I don’t fucking know, I’ve managed to reign it in as just a one shot and thought you might enjoy reading it? Rest assured Chapter Six of Matter is coming. My heart needed a little break cos it’s hurting me lol. Speaking of hurting. . . Tags: Rape/Non Con, Gender Neutral, Sadism, Masochism, Injury, Dom/sub Undertones, BDSM Elements, Explicit Inspired by this video from @winksasleeplesseye and the lovely @kingkarate x - - - You tried not to tense when you spotted Greg coming down the corridor with his buddies in tow. Grabbing another textbook from your locker, you kept your head down, hoping that he wouldn't notice you. But of course. . .you weren't that lucky. “How's the little tulip doing today, hmm?” He asked sarcastically before snatching the textbook from your hand. He was leaning up against the lockers, making a show of flicking through the pages. You swallowed nervously, your eyes flicking down his body before you could stop yourself. At least his buddies weren't with him anymore to see you checking him out. Fuck that would have been bad.

When he turned his attention back to your direction, you lowered your head. Sometimes looking him in the eye seemed to antagonise him, other times- “Look at me,” he ordered softly. You stilled at the quiet authority in his voice and immediately obeyed him. A smirk twitched up his lips. He then purposefully dropped the textbook onto the ground. Greg crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows, expectant of you picking it up. Your cheeks flushed with heat and his smile only widened. As you crouched down and were about to pick up the textbook, he spoke again. “Oh and tie my shoelaces while you're down there.” Blood rushed to your ears. For a few moments you couldn't move, was he really asking you to do this? In front of everyone walking past? “I'm not going to tell you again.” The threat was clear, if you looked up from the floor he would probably be clenching his fists. With shaky hands you reached for one of his sneakers which was untied. You made the first knot, ensuring that it wasn't too tight or too loose. Then you carefully tied together the two loops you'd made before tying the loops again to make it extra secure. Your face was hot as you took to your feet, nerves swirling in your gut. You hoped you'd done a good enough job. “Forgetting something?” The amusement was evident in his words. You looked down, checking to see if his other sneaker was tied when you noticed the textbook was still on the floor, you hadn't picked it up. You quickly bent down and grabbed it, trying to ignore the growing embarrassment. As you stood up, your head bashed into the locker door and you grunted in pain. Your eyes were watering from how much it hurt. His expression changed into something more serious, the amusement had completely gone from his face but it wasn't replaced by pity. It wasn't that at all. For a brief second his lips parted open and you could have sworn he looked down at your mouth. “Good thing I needed this,” he mumbled, taking the textbook from your hand. He brushed past you without another word and you watched him stalk off down the corridor, somehow disappointed that he had left. - - - Over the next few days, you only saw Greg in passing, once in the cafeteria, another time on the soccer field during gym class. It felt. . .strange for him not to come find you like he always did. You didn't know what the fuck was wrong with you. It should have been something to celebrate and here you were, still wondering where he was. That must have been the self-preservation, it wasn't like you actually missed him. It couldn't have been that. For third period biology class, you got your usual seat at the back. This was the only class you had with Greg and the anticipation of seeing him again had you on edge. You shared the desk with Nick and when he sat down next to you, he mumbled a greeting and you said hi back. There was less than a minute to go before class officially started and Greg still hadn't turned up. You looked back and forth between the clock and the door. Was he sick or something? Maybe he was skipping class for once or- Your heart twinged as he strolled into the classroom. He was wearing jeans, a bright blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up and those stupid fingerless gloves. Staring at his sneakers, you were glad to see both his shoelaces were tied. Why were his feet still getting closer? He was second row from the front, he was. . .he was glaring at Nick, gesturing for him to get lost. Nick immediately shot up from his chair and found an empty seat elsewhere. Fuck, fuck, why was he sitting down next to you? He flashed you his teeth in a wide grin as he sat down beside you. “Miss me?” He teased. You slipped a hand down to your chair, about to shift as far from him as possible, but he stuck out a leg, his foot wrapping around one of the chair legs to prevent you from moving. “Don't be rude,” he chided softly. Before he could say anything else, your teacher started the class and began to talk about next week's pop quiz. Suddenly your chair was yanked in his direction and you had to grab onto the desk before you lost your balance. He had just dragged you even closer to him. You focused on the blackboard behind the teacher even though you could feel his eyes trying to burn a hole into you. In the corner of your eye, you watched him slowly peel off his gloves and tried not to think about how big his hands were. When your teacher rolled out the television and turned on a documentary about photosynthesis, you were relieved that you wouldn't actually have to talk to him. With the blinds closed and lights turned off, the documentary started playing at an uncomfortably loud volume. It wasn't like you could ignore how close he was, but maybe you could relax a little. After only a couple of minutes, your luck ran out yet again. You froze in sheer panic when he grabbed onto your wrist and placed your arm on his thigh. His grip only tightened as you tried to break free. Using his other hand, he slowly pulled up the sleeve of your sweater until it was bunched up above your elbow. You attempted to wrench away your arm for the second time but he held you steady. He was completely unfazed by your desperate movements. The strength he had never felt so acute, you've never felt so weak. His fingers traced down the soft flesh of your forearm, and for a brief moment you registered pleasure. He then pinched at your skin and twisted. Somehow you managed to hold back a cry of pain. You gritted your teeth as he twisted even harder and you clenched your eyes shut. Fuck it hurt. An unsteady breath escaped you when he finally stopped. The reprieve lasted only a couple of seconds before he moved further down your arm and pinched you again. Without thinking, you reached over and grabbed his hand to try and stop him. He responded by pulling back one of your fingers, threatening to break it. “Put your arm on the desk,” he murmured in your ear. He spoke the words so softly you almost shuddered. The contrast between the comforting sound of his voice and the pain he was inflicting made you feel confused. An ache in your heart seemed to dissipate outwards before moving down to your gut, and in between your legs. When you didn't immediately comply, he wrenched your finger back a little more. You did as he asked and laid out your arm on the desk. There was nothing you could do. If you called out to the teacher, he'd just make it worse for you later. He was in complete control and you didn't understand why part of you felt gratified by it. “That's good,” he whispered, shifting his grip on your wrist. Arousal coiled in your gut and your eyes widened at the sensation. What the fuck was wrong with you? Why were you- He pinched and twisted the skin above the crux of your elbow so hard that you had to bring your hand to your mouth and bite down on your knuckle. You were able to muffle the cry that escaped you. If the TV wasn't so loud, someone would have heard. But no one did. No one knew what he was doing to you, and even if they did, they wouldn't do a damn thing. The pressure of sinking your teeth around your knuckle was almost balancing out the pain in your arm. “What did I say?” He reminded you. Turning towards him, you could still make out his face even with the blinds closed. “Please,” you begged, shaking your head at him. “Please.” He raised his eyebrows like he was waiting for the correct response. It made you think of the other day, when he said that he wasn't going to tell you again. You laid your arm out flat on the desk, splaying your fingers wide. “Don't look away from me,” he ordered. You stared helplessly at his dark eyes. He immediately resumed, he pulled and twisted your skin, continuously finding undamaged flesh to inflict more agony. A constant stream of soft grunts and whines kept bubbling up your throat and there was no way for you to hold them back. You couldn't take in a proper breath, he didn't stop. He didn't stop at all. Your eyes were watering, the tears spilt freely down your cheeks. His mouth was parted open like he was enjoying you suffer. Your toes were curled, your feet started to drag back and forth across the floor trying find purchase. He hooked his leg around both of yours to pin them against the chair and stop you from moving. Any relief you tried to seek, he tore it away. You were shaking. His fingers kept finding the most sensitive parts of your arm. It hurt so much, it hurt so fucking much. He never looked away from you. Your lips were trembling. You were light headed. You couldn't take in enough air. It was like he was tearing you apart. It was like he- A gasp escaped you when his hand reached in between your legs and he squeezed. An intense shot of pleasure ripped through you and your thighs clenched against him. Your body shook. Oh fuck, oh fuck you just came. He rubbed against you for a few moments before he pulled away. You watched him in horror, not understanding what happened, barely able to think past the throb in between your legs. He smiled at you softly. “My little tulip hmm, I knew you liked it too.”

#greg tolan #greg tolan x reader #just one of the guys #william zabka #atmo-x #watch that video #the way he says. . .sit down #fucking hell #this is the second crisis that fucking film has given me #crisis 1 was the shower scene #which i have to relive every time i see kingkarate post

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surveys-at-your-service · 3 years

Text

Survey #427

“don’t pray for me when you’re the one enslaved”

Your ex taps you on the shoulder and says, “I still love you.” You say? I wouldn't say anything, I'm pretty sure I'd just break down. Do you play video games? Not really anymore. :/ I probably would, though, if I had the appropriate consoles for games I want. You can only replay PS2 games but so many times before you're tired of them. Do you spend a lot of time with family? No, honestly. Is your house more than two stories tall? It only has one floor. Have you ever hit your significant other? Has he/she ever hit you? I'm not in a relationship, but I have most certainly never hit an s/o, and they've never hit me. I wouldn't tolerate that shit. What makes you an attractive person? (Talk about your personality too!) I'm not. What color is your hairbrush/comb? White. What snacks do you have available in your household atm? Hm. Just some fruity grain and oats bars, as well as cashew ones. We try to keep sweets out of the house. Has anyone recently told you that they like you, or find you attractive? No. Are you attracted to the last person you Facebook messaged? Holy fuck yes, she's drop-dead gorgeous. Do you care about anyone that doesn’t care about you? Ha, I'm sure. Was your last Facebook friend requests from a male or female? Some random middle-aged man, like who are you sir. Which one of your relatives is most likely to embarrass you? My dad. He can be so rude to people sometimes. When was the last time you ate a bar of chocolate? Not sure. It's been quite a while. Do you play any games on Facebook? No. What would you like to get a degree in? It'd be nice to get a degree in Arts, but yeah... I'm never going back to school. Do you wake up a lot in the middle of the night? Pretty much every night. Would you prefer to read a book, watch a movie or TV show, or play a video game? Play a video game. Do you usually get popcorn or soda at the movie theater? Almost without fail. You've got to, it's part of the experience. What genre of films do you like the best? Horror. How many bank accounts do you have? None, actually. Have you ever had the flu? No, thankfully. What is your goal for the next few months? To start getting in shape/losing weight. I seriously hope this gym routine works out. Have you ever had some kind of sleep-disorder? How did it affect your life? I have seveeeere sleep apnea. It's shocking, I never would've guessed it, though, so the diagnosis (I had a sleep study, so yes, it's legit) was an extreme surprise. I don't snore at all, nor do I like pass out in the middle of something, but I stop breathing A LOT. For a year or two (no, that is not an exaggeration), it caused consistent, horrible, and violent nightmares/terrors. It made sleep frightening to me, and I was never getting a truly restful sleep. Now, I have an APAP mask (like a less extreme version of a CPAP mask) that helps me greatly. I only very rarely am surprised by a more subtle nightmare now. Have you ever had food poisoning before? Describe the experience. No, thankfully. What are two things that you have no problem paying full price for? Quality tattoos, for one. And maybe uhhh... idk. We're the kind of family that buys off-brand foods and drinks all the time because it's cheaper, so I can't say that. Maybe health care? Like I wouldn't want service from a sketchy dentist or something. Funny, charming, cute, romantic, smart - choose only 2 for the opposite sex. Charming and romantic. Have you ever let somebody use you? Why did you do it? No. You can go back in time & change something in your mom’s past - what is it? That's hard for me to say. She doesn't seem to like talking about her past very much, because I know it's turbulent with her mother. I would say her being disowned, but I don't know how that *actually* affected her. Maybe it was for the better she wasn't under her mom's authority anymore. Do you know anybody who is around the exact same size as you? Who? I guess my mom, but she's actually smaller than me now. She's lost a lot of weight and is still going at it. Ever been to a haunted house? How scared were you? Not a house, but rather hay rides and those places you just walk through and experience different stuff. They don't scare me at all; I love 'em. Been on any websites today you wouldn’t want your parents to see? No. Which is worse: dusting or mopping? Ugh, mopping. I don't mind dusting. Would you marry somebody who was intensely religious? No. Did you pull a senior prank? No. That shit is so dumb. Did you graduate? High school, yes. Have you ever been unfaithful in a serious relationship? No, and I never would. What was the last song you listened to? I'm listening to Lauren Babic and Halocene's cover of "Bleed It Out" by Linkin Park right now. It's great. Are you one of those lucky people with 20/20 vision? Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeell no. Is fashion one of your interests? No. Do you think you’ll eventually find that special someone? Hell if I know. Do you care what people think? Way, way more than I should. Is acting something you enjoy? NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. I feel so stupid. What was the last thing you broke/sprained? I tore a ligament badly in my foot maybe a year and a half ago. I was SO sure it was broken. My mom had to help me walk everywhere, and even when she did, I'd be whimpering and seething. Have you ever fought with a friend because of their boyfriend/girlfriend? Because of yours? No. Has a stranger ever yelled at you for your language? No. Whose house, other than yours and your families', are you most comfortable at? If we're excluding all family, I suppose Sara's? Has any of your friends’ family ever yelled at you? Probably at some point as a kid. Did you ever play a sport as a little kid? Did you enjoy it? I played a lot. The only two I really didn't like were soccer and cheerleading. Did you ever watch the show Full House? Hell yeah, I loved it as a kid. Is there a celebrity you are just DETERMINED to marry? Ha ha y'all know I joke about it, but no, not legitimately. It's not like I know him personally at all, and I'm not chasing him to California either. Just let me dream still lmao. Have you ever burned someone’s picture? No, but I've actually heard it's truly therapeutic and not just for dramatic effect, so I wouldn't be opposed to doing so if you handed me a picture of him and a lighter. What’s the longest hike you’ve ever been on? I've never hiked before. Would you ever get a lip tattoo? Uh, no. Who is the first person of the opposite sex that pops into your head? Jason. Do your parents smoke cigarettes? My dad smokes like a chimney and is 100% going to end up with cancer because of it. You should hear his cough. Mom smoked for a very, very brief period before I was born. What does one of your T-shirts have written on it? "Equal in our bones" is on my favorite shirt. Name a pet you definitely wouldn’t want. Certain inverts people are wild enough to get, like giant African centipedes in particular. Would you prefer your partner smaller or taller? Can't say I care. do you enjoy going through old pictures? Sometimes. Other times, it's too painful. It also depends on the era of the pictures. Do you believe people when they say they don’t judge people? Ha, no. We all have natural first impressions and things like that that just... happen. What did you love the most about the town you grew up in? Nothing, really... besides just childhood memories that inevitably came. My hometown was dangerous. What’s a movie that you laughed the hardest during? I'm not sure. What’s a movie you cried the hardest during? I want to say Old Yeller, but I'm not sure. What’s your favorite restaurant? Olive Garden and The Cheesecake Factory. Is there a dessert you don’t like? Yeah; I don't like pie, strawberry shortcake, and I know there're others. Favorite album? Ozzy's Black Rain. It was my introduction to metal, so there's nostalgic value there, but I also just LOVE every single song. What’s a book that you read because everyone else was reading it? None. I don't read books for that reason. Underwater or outer space? Both kinda frighten me to a degree, but I find outer space to be way cooler. So many colorrrrrrs. Dogs or cats? Cats. Kittens or puppies? Ugh, both are so cute, but I gotta hand it to kittens. Bird watching or whale watching? Whale watching would blow me away. Whales are such magnificent, awe-inspiring animals. What is your spirit animal? Probably a deer. Skittish, shy, and quiet. What was your best subject in school? English. What was your worst subject in school? Math. What is one thing you wish you knew in high school? You and Jason aren't going to last, hunty. Who is your fashion icon? I don't have one. I wear what I want/what's comfortable. Diamonds or pearls? I think diamonds are a lot prettier. What color dress did you wear to prom? First one was maroon, last one was black. What’s your favorite plot-twist? Silent Hill: Shattered Memories. My jaw actually dropped. Honestly, are you jealous of someone right now? Yes. Honestly, what’s the worst thing you’ve done when you were mad? Said things I shouldn't. Honestly, ever made anyone cry when you were mad? Yes. Honestly, when was the last time you REALLY cried your heart out? Two weeks ago or something like that. Ever pop someone else’s pimple? OH MY GOD NO alskdfa;wekrwer; Do you need to return anyone’s phone call? No. Who are you closest to? My mom. Have you ever had a bad concert experience? No. Are you currently sad about anything? A number of things. Have you had any form of exercise today? No, but tomorrow is day #2 at the gym! Can you handle blood? Yeah, np. Has any place hired you underage for a job? No. Have you ever carried a concealed weapon? No sir=ee. Are you currently searching for a job? Not anymore, at least not actively. I was going to after TMS, but I'm just... still not ready. Right now, I'm focusing on the gym and getting healthy again, but if the seemingly perfect job comes along, I'm not opposed to taking it up. Does eating breakfast make you sick? No, I've got to have breakfast or else THEN I feel awful.

#survey #surveys #random questions #lyrics: ''thoughts & prayers" by motionless in white

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idiot-detectives · 4 years

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Pandora’s Trick - Ch 1: Shrunken Thief?

Finally getting around to archiving my fic here on tumblr! I will be updating AO3 first however, and if this first chapter intrigues you, I have eight chapters up as of writing this!

Ao3 Link!

Description: Kaito had finally done it, His mission was almost over. Pandora was just within his grasp until he woke up that morning. It turns out Pandora has a little more up its sleeve than immortality, and Kaito found out the hard way. Unexpectedly mind-swapped with a shrunken Kudo Shinichi, The unlikely duo of a thief and detective have to work together without killing each other as well as ruining each other's lives. Kuroba finds that the small detective's life isn't actually as put together as he makes it seem...

Word count: 4423

Warnings: Mind swap, Body Swap, extremely brief mentions to drugs.

That morning when Kuroba Kaito woke up, little did he know it would be the strangest period of his life. He woke up that morning on the floor, on top of an unfamiliar futon in an unfamiliar room.

‘That’s weird… How did I end up here?’

His head felt heavy and full of fog, he couldn’t remember anything from the previous day. He… had a heist, he thought, but that’s all he could recall. It hurt to think about it, a dull ache ended up pulsing through his forehead when he tried to recall the day.

‘Was I drugged somehow? Just what exactly happened?’

He groaned as he threw the covers off of him, but what he saw was not his legs, nor his own pajamas. He noticed two things right away. One, It was a kid’s body, and he was fairly certain he wasn’t physically a kid anymore, despite being called one at his night job. Second, The groan wasn’t his own, it was a different voice than his own. The voice sounded familiar, however.

He jumped up as fast as he could, stumbling slightly on his smaller legs. In a panic, He scanned the room for anything that could work as a mirror - anything reflective. He couldn’t see much from his lower viewpoint, however. He eventually managed to find his way into the nearby bathroom, and with a little difficulty, got up on the nearby step stool. As he stood on the tips of his toes to even be remotely able to see his face in the mirror, he found it wasn’t his face that was staring back but rather the face of his youngest critic Conan Edogawa... No, rather Kudou Shinichi.

“What… The hell…” Kaito whispered.

Sure enough, what he heard was not his voice, It was the smaller detective’s.

‘This can’t be real...!’ Kaito’s thoughts raced as he tried to keep his emotions under control.

He kept poking at various spots on his face as if the illusion would wear off and his face would suddenly appear. He’s worn masks before as KID but this felt different. While he could feel under the mask the pressure when someone would touch his face, but never the actual skin from someone’s finger, much less his own. It was becoming increasingly clear that this wasn’t a dream unless he was lucid dreaming or something like that. Still… It was worrying. Why did this happen?

He hissed as his head began to dully ache again. Looks like remembering is still a no-go.

Damn, if only he could remember what happened during the gap in his memory then maybe he could figure out why the hell he was like this or even how it happened. He knew real magic existed (Thanks to Koizumi and Pandora supposedly existing), but was this something that magic could do? He didn’t have enough information right now to figure this out.

Kaito slowly stepped off the step stool, taking cautious steps out to the bedroom. Now was not the time to panic, despite panic being the only thing he felt. He just had to take things slow for now, everything would be fine… Right?

He took a deep breath, attempting to calm his nerves.

“Poker face…” Kaito muttered.

At this point, the phrase has become akin to an affirmation, something he can say to himself when he’s experiencing an unexpected situation - and this definitely qualified for an unexpected situation. It also helped as a way to remain close to his father, the one who taught him this in the first place.

‘Wait... If I’m in Tantei-kun’s body then… is he in mine?’ He wondered.

‘If that's so then… Ahah... I'm in trouble.’

The magician wanted to laugh. He hoped that the smaller detective didn’t realize his identity, but sooner or later he knew that he was going to get curious and find his KID lair. This was definitely not how he anticipated his identity being revealed.

“Conan-kun?” A voice called from a nearby room.

Kaito recognized it as the girl that Conan was always with, Ran was her name, right? Damn, He didn’t need this right now. Looks like he’d need to keep his rival’s cover maintained for now, As it just now became his cover. At least it would give him leverage if Conan decided to reveal his identity as KID.

A realization struck him: He’d never had a chance to impersonate Conan, only ever his real self. A child-like smile slowly crept onto Kaito’s face. Maybe he could attempt to have a little fun with this, he always did with trying new disguises.

“Ah... Ran-Neechan? What is it?” He called out.

He was glad all he had to do was imitate the tone and not do the extra work to match Conan's voice.

“It’s almost Noon, are you doing okay?” The door slowly swung open as Ran walked in. “Come on, You’re not even dressed?”

“S-Sorry! I was up late!”

“Well… Hurry up and get dressed, Your friends are waiting outside.”

Kaito nodded, telling Ran that he would be out soon. She gave a warm smile and began to leave.

“Make sure you eat something before you leave since you missed breakfast.” She said from the doorway, turning to look at the small magician.

“Right, Thank you for reminding me.” The magician nodded.

The door closed with a soft click, which immediately activated Kaito’s nerves. There would be no way in hell he’d be able to fool Tantei-kun’s friends, especially that brown-haired girl he hung around. He didn’t know them that well, despite them being at a few heists. However, There was a big difference between seeing them around and knowing them personally.

“Damn it…” He groaned.

What was he going to do?

“I guess… The first step is to get dressed. Then I can figure out what to do about those guys…”

The first problem he ran into was actually finding where his rival actually stored his clothes. He debated on bringing the gadgets that caused him so much grief, eventually deciding that it would be useful despite the lack of knowledge of how to use them. He managed to go out thirty minutes later than he figured he was supposed to, He had to skip eating of course. He figured he could just get something out later and then figure out a way to pay Shinichi back. What he didn’t anticipate was the lecture he had to get out of when Ran caught him, skipping what was supposed to be an extremely late breakfast. He yelled a quick apology as he ran out the door, every inch of his body screaming at him that this was a bad idea.

“Conan!” The larger kid - Genta, He remembered- yelled at him. “You’re late!”

“Sorry, Sorry, I’m just having a weird day, that’s all!” Kaito laughed nervously, glancing over at the brown-haired girl.

She was already giving him a weird look, then again it could just be her resting face. Her name was… Haibara, he believed. The three other kids had stopped giving him glares and were back to the mischievous smiles Kaito had seen at his heists. The next thing he knew, He was being pulled by the three children as they cheerfully talked about who was going to win the soccer game they had planned. At some point down the road, they let go and ran ahead, excitedly trying to snatch the black and white ball from each other’s hands.

“Geez, so much energy.” Kaito laughed wearily.

There was no way he could keep up with them, He underestimated Kudou’s ability to deal with these children.

“I wonder where they get it, Huh?” Haibara said, walking at his side.

“Hm? Yeah…” Kaito trailed.

“So?”

“...So?”

“You said you had something to tell me about the heist last night.”

The magician’s mind froze for a moment. Tantei-kun contacted her?

“Ah.. I-I forget, Sorry. It was a long night.” Kaito tried to laugh it away.

“Hm… is that so? Sounded pretty important on the phone last night.I doubt you would have forgotten right away. You’re… doing okay right?”

Kaito laughed nervously. It probably would be valuable to get this girl on his side, after all from everything he’s collected about her it sounds like she and Kudou are more or less in the same situation. But would anyone really believe him if he said that he and Kudou somehow switched bodies? And that’s still just a theory, he still has no clue if Kudou is even in his body. He would have to think it over for a little longer.

She sighed. “Well. Can’t be helped I suppose. We can talk about it later. Come on, The kids are getting out of sight.”

“Right…”

A few minutes later the five found themselves at a lone field set for a soccer match. The three children who had run ahead were already getting ready, and it seemed like they were going to have a 2 versus 3 match.

“Geez! You guys are slow!” Kaito believed the one who spoke was named Mitsuhiko.

“Conan-kun! You’re on my team!” The younger girl - Ayumi, right? - waved her arms as she shouted.

“Sorry, Edogawa-kun and I are going to sit out for a few.” Haibara spoke out all of a sudden, causing the three to groan in disappointment.

“Come on Haibara-san!”

“No fair, You just want Conan for your team!”

“Ai-chan…”

“Just for a little, okay? We’ll come in when we can.” Haibara assured, receiving disappointed affirmations from the three children.

She began to lead Kaito over to the side, Far enough that the children wouldn’t be able to hear. Just what did she want? The two watched the children play for a few minutes, Kaito anxiously looking back over to Haibara on occasion.

“You aren’t Edogawa-kun are you?” She finally spoke, her voice low.

Kaito didn’t really know how to respond. Sure, he was planning on somehow telling her, but not at this exact moment.

“What gave it away?”

“Last night. At the heist, the phone call I told you about. It sounded like he was in pain almost.”

This piqued Kaito’s interest.

‘He was… in pain?’

“His voice was far away like he wasn’t there mentally. He was mumbling something about something called ‘Pandora’ as well, I wasn’t quite sure. His voice was way too low. Now, in the morning you wake up late and forget about meeting us for soccer, one of his favorite pastimes. Your voice also pitched up slightly, when you weren’t imitating Edogawa-kun, as if that’s how you’re used to speaking. Something happened last night, At the heist.”

“Pandora…?” Kaito’s voice was reduced to barely a whisper at the mention of Pandora. He was sure his poker face dropped for a split second, judging by Haibara’s surprised reaction.

“So you do know what he meant by ‘Pandora’? Care to share?”

Kaito laughed quietly, sipping from the confidence he carried with him as KID.

“Sorry. That would put everyone here in danger, I can’t do that to a young lady such as yourself.”

Haibara’s eyes narrowed, her posture shifted to become a little more defensive.

“Just who are you?”

“Well… I planned on telling you anyways… But...hm. Kudou is... probably sitting there on my bed, surprised at my true identity. I’ve been told we look alike.”

“... Kaitou KID?”

“Bingo.”

“But how - “

Haibara stuttered for a second, trying to wrap her mind around what Kaito just said. He panicked slightly as the young girl’s expression shifted.

“Hey hey hey, Calm down, don’t think about it so hard, I’ll explain later in a safe place.” The thief turned to the brown-haired girl, attempting to calm her in some way.

She took a deep breath, her eyes still casting suspicion over at the thief.

“Fine. Later then…”

‘Well… I doubt she’ll accept it as the reason… But if Pandora was involved… Then did it do this? Damn, I wish I could remember more of that night! Looks like there might be more to Pandora than immortality…’

“Oi!! Conan! Get over here!!” The three children had stopped playing and Genta was now shouting at him.

“Wait, they want me to play?” Kaito looked to Haibara with a nervous expression.

“Go on, Great Thief. Show them your amazing soccer moves.”

“H-hey…”

Kaito had no choice but to play a few rounds with the kids. While he could easily keep up with the kids in terms of endurance, he had no way of maintaining the level they expected from Conan. He had to admit that the detective had skills, otherwise how else would he be able to nail him night after night with that hellish soccer ball?

“Conan-kun, Maybe you should take a break….” Ayumi suggested, kneeling to approach Kaito, who had fallen to the ground in feign exhaustion.

“Y-yeah maybe I should…”

“Hey, then why don’t we talk about KID’s heist last night!” Mitsuhiko excitedly blurted, running up to join the other four children.

“Oh right!! I can’t believe I forgot!”

“Man wasn’t it cool how he just appeared out of nowhere like that??”

“I know, I know, But I really liked it when…”

Kaito found himself more and more confused as he listened to the children excitedly list off the things that he supposedly did that night. He looked over to Haibara for confirmation, if he really did everything they were talking about. She sighed and moved closer, kneeling down to be able to whisper in his ear.

“What’s that look for? Don't tell me you really don’t remember this.”

“I don’t. Honestly.”

Haibara looked genuinely shocked before her expression melted back to her sour look.

“Geez, This gets more problematic by the second.”

“Tell me about it…”

“Ah Conan, That’s right! You fought KID that night!”

Kaito looked up, gazing at the three who had stars in their eyes. They all were looking at him, big smiles on their faces.

“How did you win??”

“Was he tough to beat??”

“How did you guys escape??”

“One at a time!!” Kaito couldn’t help but blurt.

He couldn’t keep up with the children’s overlapping questions. How does Kudou do it? He took a deep breath, calming his exhausted mind.

“Wasn’t it on TV? There were news ‘copters around the site right?”

“Mh. But, the signal was lost when the gem you two were fighting over flashed red. There was a split second, I could see it.” Mitsuhiko answered.

‘A red flash…? Was it really..?’

“C’mon Conan! Just tell us!!” Genta insisted.

Kaito found himself making up multiple lies in order to just get the kids to stop asking questions. He seems to have satisfied them - for now at least. Looks like there would be more he needs to ask Haibara once they get somewhere safe.

A few exhausting hours later, The two parted ways from the rest of the detective boys and Kaito found himself in front of a rather uniquely shaped house, at least for the neighborhood. Haibara had led him here and was insisting he go inside. She claimed the person who lived there was a friend. And so, Kaito had no choice but to trust her. Haibara entered first, announcing her arrival with a guest.

“A guest? Who- Oh! Shinichi!” The voice belonged to an older man, Kaito recognized him for the few times he saw him.

Agasa, He recalled, was his name.

“Wrong.” Haibara cut him off quickly, startling the older man.

“W-what do you mean?”

“I mean. I think I deserve an explanation, Magician under the moonlight-san.” Haibara turned to glare in Kaito’s direction.

“Wait... Wait a second.” Agasa’s eyebrows knit together in confusion. “This can’t be KID, He’s too small, He could never imitate Shinichi as of now.”

“Exactly. That’s what I’m trying to figure out. You said earlier that Kudou-kun is sitting on your bed, Shocked about your identity right? You do realize what you’re implying.”

Another disguised laugh from Kaito, this was where it all could go wrong if he wasn’t careful.

“It’s exactly what I’m implying. That my mind and his were swapped.”

“Hey…” Agasa laughed nervously. “That’s not possible. It would have to be magic, right?”

“Magic doesn’t exist, beyond petty party tricks.” Haibara retorted.

Kaito scoffed. “Magic does in fact exist, It’s just known as sorcery.”

“Sorcery?”

“There’s many different types, y’know. I believe what happened to me and Tantei-kun happens to fall under the realm of sorcery.”

The room was filled with a heavy silence as the inhabitants took in the words the small thief said. Haibara broke the silence with a scoff.

“You don’t believe me?”

“Sorry. I don’t believe fairy tales and supposed flashy thieves. There’s probably a different reason for whatever’s going on. One that isn’t in the realm of fantasy.”

“It’s the only one we have, however.”

“Then why don’t we go find Shinichi? If you’re right then he should be wherever you were last night.” Agasa suggested.

Kaito’s eyes widened in realization. His hand hit his forehead as he silently cursed. Why the hell didn’t he think of contacting his own home first? Why hasn’t Shinichi contacted him at all?

“Don’t tell me you didn’t think of that, Oh Great Thief.” Haibara remarked.

“In my defense, I’ve been rather disoriented…” Kaito admitted quietly.

“Well, Where were you last night? If you can remember that much.”

“I was…”

Kaito fell silent as he tried to recall where he was. If anything, he should have been in his house, but it’s possible he fell asleep at Jii’s again. It happens once or twice after an intense heist, from how it sounded from the kid’s recollection of it. Either way, His house would be the best bet. He really didn’t want to explain to Jii why his rival is calling his bar asking for Kaito Kuroba. This was something he’d rather explain in person.

“...Probably at home. I had planned on resting after the Heist, after all, it’s Sunday. I’ll give my cell a call, If anything he should pick up if he has it on him.”

‘I just hope Aoko didn’t drag him out anywhere. He can act, but…’

“Please do. If you could, Put it on speaker?” Agasa requested.

Kaito nodded, reaching into the pocket of the coat he wore, pulling out one of the two phones he had picked up from the kid’s room. He hesitated for a moment with the phone in his hand before pulling out the second one.

“.... Which do I use?” He turned to Haibara, nervous.

She sighed. “Either one. He’ll recognize the number.”

“R...right.”

Kaito ended up using the one that belonged to Shinichi, He figured it would be useful to have the number for later if they both got out of this mess. Of course, even if the number was deleted later, Kaito was sure to commit both to memory, just in case. He took a deep breath and began to put in his cell phone number, being cautious not to mess it up. Within seconds of placing the call, the phone was picked up by someone. Kaito hesitantly pressed the speaker button and spoke.

“Hello-”

“Kuroba, What the HELL did you do?!” His own voice screamed back at him.

“Ah… So you figured it out… Eheheh…”

Well, there went that trail of hope. Kaito looked to the other occupants of the room, who both were staring blankly at the phone in the small thief’s hands.

“Sh-Shinichi… is that you?” Agasa came closer, slowly at first.

“Professor? You’re at the professor’s right now?”

“Yeah, The brown-haired girl is smart, Saw through me when I was trying to figure out what was going on. Anyways, Please don’t tell me you went out.”

“Relax, I’m not stupid. Your neighbor though is definitely something. Does she always wake you for breakfast?”

“Y-yeah... That’s Aoko…” Kaito couldn’t help but pitifully laugh.

Great, Guess today was ‘tell all the details of your personal life to your rival’ day. He’d figure it out soon enough, However. It was probably better for Kaito to tell him rather than have Tantei-kun sneak around and find out.

“Anyways!” Haibara snatched the phone out of Kaito’s hands. “Where are you right now?”

“Where am I? I guess this is KID’s home…”

“You called him Kuroba earlier.” She gave a sideways glance to Kaito, who was sure looked very pitiful right now. “I’m guessing that’s KID’s real name? He didn’t give it to us earlier.”

“Yeah, His ID is right here, Name’s Kuroba Kaito. At least I have a name to a face. It was hell this morning.”

“Can you stop giving all my personal details? I’d like to have some stuff I can keep to myself.” Kaito groused.

“Anyways, I can’t really tell where the town is. Most of his apps are locked with different passwords, including GPS. Geez, You really have to lock up everything huh?”

“Ekoda. That’s where you’re at.” Kaito begrudgingly informed. “I use a different phone for heists, that’s the one you probably found. There was two right?”

“Yeah. One was on the desk and the other was in a drawer. I answered the one on the desk, so this must be your personal one. I couldn’t figure out the code to this one, but the other was unlocked minus every single app. Might as well have been locked.”

“It ruins the fun, besides I can access them quickly enough when I need to.”

“Anyways, I’m coming over to where you’re at. If you’re at the professor’s there shouldn’t be a problem.”

“You can’t! I’ve - Wait no, You’ve got school.”

“Actually, According to your neighbor, Aoko, There is no school on Monday. So yes, I think I will be coming to where you’re at, and we’re going to have a long talk. On the other hand, YOU do in fact have school at Teitan elementary.”

He could hear his own voice hiding snickers of delight. It felt very strange to Kaito, even though he was used to not hearing his own voice coming from his mouth, his own voice coming from the other side of the phone was just unusual.

“You don’t have to be so enthused you know.”

“Sorry, Sorry, But I guess your name fits now, Huh KID? KID going to elementary school. It’s just a wild thought.”

“Oh shut up.”

“Anyways. Haibara, Keep an eye on him. Make sure the others don’t figure him out and he doesn’t give me away. Although I guess someone switching minds is just as unbelievable as someone shrinking, if not more.”

“Yes, Yes, Will do.” Haibara replied in her bemused tone.

“Keep Ran safe for me, Kaito.”

“... Only if you do the same for Aoko.”

“Of course. But I mean it, if she’s hurt in any way I’ll-”

“Yes, Yes I getcha. Just get over here tomorrow. It’ll be fine.”

“Oi, Wait-!”

With the dexterity of a thief, Kaito took back the phone and ended the call in one swift motion.

“Geez, Revealing a guy’s identity like that, Who does he think he is?” Kaito grumbled.

“Well. You should probably stay here in the meantime. It would be the safest thing to do.” Haibara suggested.

“You mean stay... here with you guys?”

“Who else? It would help also keep this from the girl at the detective agency too.”

“Fine, Just until we can sort this out.”

“Then, I suppose I should start on dinner huh?” Agasa asked, looking out to the window.

The sun was already rapidly setting, Kaito didn’t realize he had been out so long already.

“You should probably call Ran-kun and let her know that you’re staying over here tonight.”

“Yeah, I’ll do that…”

Kaito quickly called up the detective agency using the number saved in Conan’s phone, shifting his mindset back to that of Conan’s. He made something up about the professor having a sleepover at the professor’s house. Ran objected, on the reasons of school, but Kaito quickly answered by saying he’ll swing by to grab his school stuff when he leaves with Haibara. Ran was angry but begrudgingly let him stay, as it was already late. He hung up the phone, bidding his farewells. He was going to regret that later, he was sure.

“Kuroba-san, You’re lucky that you’re here tonight. I picked up a good deal at the market today.” Agasa said from the kitchen.

“A good deal?”

He barely had time to react as Agasa held up a massive fish that he had on the cutting board. His heart dropped as he barely had time to prepare himself. He stopped moving, stunned as he looked at that slimy, scaly terror in the professor’s hands.

“They had this amazing snapper half off! Ai-kun, can you help me out?”

He was lucky that the professor had turned away, Kaito’s poker face was beginning to slip. The fish kept staring at him, those beady eyes taunting him. He began to hyperventilate, the fish just kept staring at him, why did it keep looking at him???

“Why the hell did you pick fish?” He whispered rather loudly, venom dripping from his voice.

“Oh? Kuroba-san do you not like fish?” Haibara teased.

“I-it’s not my favorite, no.”

He maintained deep breaths, attempting not to look at the monstrosity being cut up on the counter. He had to leave after a few minutes, as his anxiety grew too much for him to control with his repeated affirmation. He was not going to let his phobia of fish be found out by his enemies, the last thing he needed was fish at his heists making everything harder than it needed to be.

He found himself on the roof after roaming the house for a while, watching the sunset behind the houses surrounding the neighborhood. Everything felt so serene, it was strange. It felt… almost normal. But he couldn’t help but pull out his phone, setting it to the front-facing camera. Kaito’s face was still the same, Tantei-kun stared back on the phone. He pinched himself on the cheek, feeling the sharp pain. He watched the spot slowly grow red, proving that this wasn’t a dream nor a mask. With a defeated sigh, he turned off the phone. He decided to stay up there for a little longer before he went back down, letting the cold night air revive him. He’d have to figure out a way to get out of eating the snapper eventually...

This was going to be a very interesting time, Kaito could tell.

#DCMK #detective conan #meitantei conan #case closed #magic kaito #magic kaito 1412 #shonen tantei dan #kuroba kaito #kaitou kid #kudou shinichi #haibara ai #agasa hiroshi #professor agasa #agasa hakase #detective conan fanfic #please let me know if I need to tag any other warnings!

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crackedoutgiraffe · 4 years

Text

To the Moon and Back

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

A/N: Chapter 4

As you landed in Iowa, Reid helped you grab my bag and you headed to the hotel to get checked in. Luckily you all had our own rooms so you wouldn’t be caught in awkward situations. Given you had just met the team today, you’d figured that it was best if you didn’t have to stay in a room with anyone. You were kind of upset though because that meant you couldn’t share a room with a certain someone.

Reid and I walked out of the hotel to one of the black SUVs. “Do you want to drive?” he asked.

“Sure,” you said, cheerfully. He tossed you the keys and you hopped in the car. “Buckle up,” You were a good driver. You had never been pulled over or been in an accident. We arrived at the Principal’s house promptly. Living in Chicago you had seen plenty of violence and blood, but this was different. His blood was all over the walls and parts of his body were scattered about the room. There was broken glass and dust all over the floor.

“So the unsub has to be tied to the school somehow, right?” you noted. “Current student, alumni, a family member who lost someone?”

“It could be Slade groupie celebrating his hero,” Reid stated, looking around the room for more evidence. He was really cute when he was all technical like that,“He taped nails to the exterior of the bomb, specifically to rip open flesh. That's a sadistic detail of Slade's the unsub copied.”

“Except he tricked Givens into blowing himself up. A groupie probably wouldn't show that much self-control.”

“But someone with an ax to grind against the principal would. Maybe he's a surrogate for the tormentors in high school he can't punish. Who were yours?”

“I don't even remember.”

“You don't even remember?” Reid repeated back to me. “Wait, were you one of the mean girls?”

Was that all he thought of me? “No.,” you said, with a little laugh.

“What were you like in high school?”

“Um, I was the valedictorian, played tennis and was captain of the soccer team. And I graduated at 16” you replied.

“And you were still a size zero?” Reid said, with conviction. “I think you might have been one of the mean girls.”

“I was one of the nice girls, even to guys like you.”

“What do you mean guys like me?” he asked with a smile on his face. “I’ll have you know my social standing increased when I started playing basketball.”

“Oh yeah, you played basketball?”

“I didn’t play, I coached,” a sly smile crept across his face. “I broke down the other team’s shooting strategy.”

We heard a voice calling from outside, “Agent.”

“It’s Doctor,” you and Reid said in unison without even looking up from our work.

“They just found the body of Chelsea Grant in her hotel room,” the detective sighed.

Reid looked at me with a puzzled look on his face, “That was one of the survivors, right?”

“We should head over there,” you urged.

“I can text you the address,” the detective hissed, looking you up and down. “I just need your number, sweetheart.” Men are pigs.

You walked over to him, put a hand on his arm and dug your nails into his skin, “Or you could just tell me.”

“The Hilton Hotel, on Main Street,” he spat, you let go and walked out the door with Reid at your heels. “Fucking slut.”

You turned around, ready to beat a bitch up, “he isn’t worth it, Y/N,” Reid cautioned, putting himself between you and the detective.

“Today is your lucky day, Detective,” you threatened before walking out the door and getting in the car. “Men are pigs, Reid.”

“I know, Y/N,” he said in the most calming voice imaginable. Your driving from then on was a tad erratic. As you pulled into the hotel you noticed a large police presence and a bomb squad. You and Reid walked up the stairs to Chelsea’s room in complete silence.

“I'm going to call Hotch,” you announced, Reid just nodded.

“You’re on speaker, Y/N,” Hotch’s voice came through the phone.

“So we might have another one,” you said into the phone while scanning the room.

“Might?”

“One of the North Valley alumni was killed in her motel room,” you responded. “No bomb or gun this time. Looks like he used his bare hands.”

“Do we have a name?”

Reid was across the room looking for anything that could give us a better idea of what was happening, “Chelsea Grant.”

“She’s on the list,” you could hear Prentiss say over the phone.

“Alright stay there you two,” Hotch said. “I’ll be over in a minute.” And with that Hotch hang-up. You and Reid waited for about twenty minutes before Hotch entered Chelsea’s hotel room.

“The unsub crushed Chelsea's throat so she couldn't scream,” Reid told Hotch, walking over to where you were standing “then he pulverized her ribs, sending fragments of bone into her heart.”

You were all on edge now. The unsub deviated from what you thought his plan was, “Principal Givens was high-profile, Chelsea wasn’t.”

“Right now the only thing connecting them is that they’re on that list,” Hotch added

“A list that Brandon kept secret for 10 years.” you pointed out.

Reid looked at you as you spoke and looked like he was in a trance “But he was in custody when this happened. The question is how did the unsub get his hands the exact same list.”

“We ruled out a partner, but not conclusively,” Hotch looked puzzled, there was definitely something bothering him.

“Slade made every part of his plan public,” you added. “It doesn't make sense that he would hide a partner.”

“He didn't want to share the credit,” Hotch finished, “And this weekend is the partner's best chance to claim it. Let’s head back to the station to deliver the profile.” And with that, you three shuffled out of the room. As you left, Reid held the police tape up for you, and you gave him a smile.

Hotch took his own SUV while you and Reid took yours, “Are you sure you don’t want to drive,” you asked.

“One hundred percent,” Reid said. “You’re doing a pretty good job.”

“Whatever you say, pretty boy,” you teased him a bit, and he looked away. When he turned back he was blushing a little bit. You promptly pulled into the police department parking lot. You walked in and Reid held the door for you. He’s just being nice.

“We’re re going to give the profile now,” Hotch said, knocking on the door of the conference room.

“Ok, I’ll be out in a minute,” you were organizing some papers to get ready for later. You head out to the main room when you were done.

“Partners of dominant psychopaths are usually submissive, but that doesn't mean that they can't be intelligent or that they're physically weak,” Hotch started.

“This unsub laid low after the bombing,” you continued, “and successfully evaded police and FBI.”

Reid took the next turn to speak, “That took cunning and patience, which he's exhibiting now

with his current murders.”

“We think he fits the loner profile Slade debunked,” Morgan added.

“He grew up in an abusive home,” JJ stepped forward and spoke, “which kept him from forming the normal social bonds in high school.”

One of the police officers raised their hand and spoke, “We interviewed all the outcasts from back then. How did this guy slip through?”

“Even outcasts eventually form friendships. But this unsub was the outcast the outcasts rejected,” Reid spoke up, answering his question. “He won't stand out in any capacity, and as a matter of fact, most of his fellow students probably won't even remember graduating with him.” He talked with his hands a lot. It was kinda cute.

“And that invisibility is what made him attractive to Slade,” Morgan continued. “This partner wouldn't steal the spotlight.”

Slade turned to the cafeteria because most of the names on his list ate there together during fifth period,” Rossi added. “So his hatred festered when the names on the list emerged from the cafeteria as media heroes.”

You continued to add what you could to the profile briefing, “And now he wants to finish

the job that Randy started. Emotionally, this weekend is more a high school reunion to him than a memorial.”

“We go to reunions to show who we grew up to be,” Reid spoke again. “Often that means changing everything about who we were.”

“Consciously or not, Randy Slade revealed clues as to his partner's identity when he detonated his bomb,” Hotch finished. “Agent Prentiss will be conducting cognitive interviews to see what the survivors might remember. That’s all, thank you” The cops all stood up and walked their respective ways. Hotch started to walk to the conference room and you all followed, excluding Rossi and Morgan, they stayed behind to talk to a few cops who had questions. Reid called Garcia and you four sat down at the table.

“So, as you can see from your board there, this kill list is weirdly similar to high school,” Garcia babbled through the phone. “Group one is like the popular kids--prom court, football team, Dean's list. The Heathers, if you will.”

“Kids in Slade's social circle.” Hotch interrupted

“What about number two?” you asked.

“Uh, mm-hmm, that would be the kids from the other side of the tracks,” Garcia continued. “180-degree difference, kids this close to getting kicked out--stoners, burnouts, mental cases. Chelsea Grant is on this list.

“Maybe Slade targeted them because they disgusted him?” JJ spoke up

Hotch helped to answer her question, “But they didn't threaten Slade's sense of superiority. He wouldn't have even cared about them.”

“All right, well, maybe the partner put them on the list,” you noted. “They'd be closer to his social status than Slade's.”

“Why would the--” Reid said as he reached into his back pocket for his ringing cell-phone. “I'm so sorry,” he hung up the call. “Why would the unsub list kids that he fit in with?”

“Apparently that's how this clique worked. The kids in it were meaner to each other than kids on the outside,” Hotch answered. “Garcia, separate out all the kids who got into trouble regularly. Then eliminate the names that the partner put on the list. Now, who's left that came to the memorial?”

“Right. Whoever made the list wouldn't put their name on it,” Garcia said.Uh… Sir, I think--

I think I've got him, I can track his cell phone.”

“I need a name Garcia,” Hotch pushed.

“Lewis Ramsey, he’s at the local bar, 712 main street,” Garcia reported.

“Ok, I’ll call Morgan and get him there with some officers,” Hotch said getting up to leave.

“You buy it?” you asked after Hotch and Morgan had interviewed Ramsey. It was just you, Reid, and Hotch in the conference room for now.

“He fits the profile, and the evidence points to him, but he seems sincere,” Hotch said.

“He's not the unsub,” Reid added. “He was the partner, but look at how Slade added

‘all the LoSeRs in this Godforsaken school.’ This capitalization isn't an accident. Look. L-S-R--

Lewis Stuart Ramsey.”

“So Slade named his own partner,” you asked.

“Ironically, Lewis' marijuana conviction saved his life,” Reid added.

“Well, that puts us back to our original problem,” you continued “If the unsub isn't the partner, how did he get his hands on a list that Slade and Lewis kept to themselves?”

“The only answer is that part of the profile is wrong,” Hotch said. “The unsub's vendetta has nothing to do with the list. Alright, you two can be done for the night. Take an SUV to the hotel.” You did as Hotch said and walked outside to the SUV.

You got to drive again. You still could not actually figure out what was going on inside the impressive Dr. Reid’s mind. You pulled into the parking lot for your hotel and both went your separate ways. You got to your room, scanned your key, and plopped onto your bed, letting out a heavy sigh. You chose to take a shower and once you were done you had an idea. You got dressed in your pajamas, a tank top and shorts, and put your hair up. You walked down the hall and knocked on room number 413.

Dr. Reid opened the door and looked at you puzzled, “What are you doing here?” he asked, he was still dressed in his work clothes.

“Well, are you going to let me in.” He stepped out of your way and you walked in. His room ad the exact same layout as yours did. You walked to the bed and sat down smoothing out the sheets.

“Are you going to tell me why you’re here?”

“What type of doctor are you?”

He looked at you completely confused, but came and sat next to you on the bed, “I have three PhDs in math, chemistry, and engineering. I have an IQ of 187, an eidetic memory, and I can read 20,000 words per minute.”

“Wow, now you’re making me look stupid,” you pointed out and he laughed. Then your phone rang, “It’s Hotch.” Reid motioned for you to answer, “Hey Hotch. You’re on speaker.”

“Y/N, we found another one of the survivors dead,” Hotch said over the phone. “Can you get Reid and come to the high school,”

“Hey Hotch,” Reid spoke up into the phone.

“You both read the fraternization policy, right?” Hotch asked.

“Yes sir, we’re not fraternizing, just talking,” you added.

“Alright, can you two come to the high school?”

“On our way,” Reid said. You hung up the phone and sighed. “Do you want to change really quick?” he asked.

You looked down at your clothes, “Yeah I guess, I’ll meet you at the car.” You left his room and walked back to your room only two doors down. You quickly changed back into your pants suit and left your room. As you turned the corner to head to the elevator, you saw Dr. Reid standing right by your door.

“I figured you wouldn’t take long,” he commented. You nodded and headed to the elevator walking a bit past him so he did a little jog to catch up to you. You walked into the elevator and hit the first button.

Reid turned to talk to you, "Did you know that the earliest known reference to an elevator is in the works of the Roman architect Vitruvius, who reported that Archimedes built his first elevator probably in 236 BC. Some sources from later historical periods mention elevators as cabs on a hemp rope powered by hand or by animals. In 1000, the Book of Secrets by al-Muradi in Islamic Spain described the use of an elevator-like lifting device, in order to raise a large battering ram to destroy a fortress. In the 17th century, the prototypes of elevators were located in the palace buildings of England and France. Louis XV of France had a so-called 'flying chair' built for one of his mistresses at the Chateau de Versailles in 1743. Ancient and medieval elevators used drive systems based on hoists or windlasses. The invention of a system based on the screw drive was perhaps the most important step in elevator technology since ancient times, leading to the creation of modern passenger elevators. The first screw drive elevator was built by Ivan Kulibin and installed in the Winter Palace in 1793, although there may have been an earlier design by Leonardo da Vinci. Years later another of Kulibin's elevators was installed in the Arkhangelskoye near Moscow."

"What are some of your hobbies, Dr. Reid?"

"I read a lot, I know how to knit, and I like to practice magic."

"Can you show me a magic trick?"

"I don't have my cards on me," He said, smiling, "but ask me again later and I may have them." The door to the elevator opened and you both exited. Hopping in the car, you looked at Reid and smiled. You started the car and drove off. The drive to the high school was about 20 minutes, but you sometimes drive a little over the speed limit so it only took 15. You got out of the car and walked into the school, the same detective that catcalled you was waiting outside to escort you to the crime scene, "Well, it's good to see you again," he hissed.

"I wish I could say the same for you," you quipped.

"Come on, pretty mama," he pleaded. "Just let me love you the way you deserve, better than this dweeb could treat you."

Reid looked at you offended, "he treats me very well, for your information." You put your arm around his waist and pulled him closer to you.

The detective scoffed and opened the door for the two of you. As you walked through the hallways, following the creep, you looked at Spencer and shrugged when he tried to ask you what that was. Finally, the crime scene came into view.

"I'll see you later baby," the detective said and slapped your ass. You turned around to hit him but Spencer, Hotch, and Morgan stepped between you and the detective, Spencer escorted you away.

#spencer #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #Criminal Minds #criminal minds fic

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grell-writes-stuff · 4 years

Text

A Self Indulgent First Chapter

Enjoy...something

Words: 2,549

Genre: Young Adult / Paranormal

---------------------------------------------

Slam!

Gasp!

And then the apathetic yell of “Walk it off, Willow!” from Coach Martin. No stopping the game or running over to make sure I’m not deprived of air or dying or something. Just “Walk it off, Willow!”

I suffer for a second with the wind knocked out of my body. My inhaler finds its way from my pocket to my hand, and while I hold the one breath I force myself into and wait for my crap lungs to jump-start again, I contemplate the most-likely-illegal play that landed me flat on my back in the middle of the field. Quarterback Tom Styles’ outstretched elbow connecting with my neck at full speed in his chase for the checkered ball and high school sports glory, clearly confusing his claim-to-fame varsity moves with a pickup game of soccer since I doubt he has the brain cells to remember the rules to two sports at once. And probably a little bit on purpose. Because he’s a dick.

My chest wheezes a little, but at least it’s something, and the weak inhales finally start to catch as a sun-freckled face appears above me and blocks out the light. Ivy offers me her hand.

“Did th-that look a-as bad as it f-felt?” I sputter.

Ivy tilts her head from side-to-side like it’s the scale measuring how uncool I am. “Worse. Very pathetic. You will die alone.” She yanks me to my feet and acts like a support in spite of the height difference.

“P-Please stop making m-me take gym with y-you.”

“Nah. It’s too funny.” She ignores my scowl. “Come on. Let’s get you some water and wait for those shitty lungs to work again.”

She escorts me – hobbling like some eighty-year-old man with spine problems and not just what will soon be a terrible, ugly bruise – toward the bleachers, empty except for the water bottles of our classmates. I’m happy enough to sit on the sidelines, not just while recovering from having all of the air robbed from my chest, but for the rest of gym class, and also forever. Ivy is equally as happy, but only because it prompts the girls’ teacher, Coach Caruthers, to scream in her booming voice:

“Hammond! Back on the field!”

Without missing a beat, Ivy responds, “In the event of moderate injury, students are allowed to have a friend or fellow student for mental, emotional, or physical support. It’s in the code of conduct.”

I don’t know if that’s actually something in our school’s rule book, but Ivy has read the whole thing cover-to-cover for the sole purpose of seeing how many provisions she can disregard without getting into trouble through malicious acts of over-compliance or sheer dumb luck. So, she’s either following the rules to the letter or lying about them. As I sit, I see that Caruthers does not look impressed when Ivy plops onto the bench next to me. The whole reason our gender-segregated phys. ed classes collaborate so often is because they’re full of athletes – and me, the outlier – so more often than not, it’s just an extra practice for the varsity players. Even though Ivy was born with the “good at physical stuff” gene, and talented enough to be a forward on our girls’ soccer team, she prefers to rely on the natural part of her ability and not the practice part to the vexation of literally everyone.

“Hammond!” Caruthers screams. “On the field, or off the team!”

Ivy squirts a stream of water into her mouth and quickly swallows before passing the bottle on to me. “Cool. Who’s replacing me?” she retorts.

I focus on downing some water and breathing evenly again and not on the vein beginning to pop out of Caruthers’ angry-red neck. She can’t say anything back because, well, Kinross High School isn’t huge. Pretty much everyone who can play sports is already playing sports, and as far as Ivy’s tendency to disrespect anyone of authority can go, she’s also crucial to securing victory over visiting teams. Caruthers just grits her teeth and returns to refereeing the game where Tom Styles has once again stolen the ball that got away from him, this time without incapacitating anybody since the one guy with asthma has left the field. (Asshole.) I watch as Abby Jefferson starts to gain on him, and Tom makes the choice to skillfully send the ball flying across the grass to the next open player, Drew Young, the only person in our gym class who does even less than I do.

That’s not for lack of talent either. I’ve seen Drew actually try on the rare occasion, and he could absolutely score a spot on a boys’ sports team. But most games, like today, he receives the pass and kicks the ball along to the next open player – it’s intercepted by one of the girls – and continues pacing the field leisurely. Coach Martin yells at him to get his head in the game, but Drew doesn’t bother. If the activity doesn’t involve selling the pens that he stole from the cheerleaders to the football team, the little weasel has no interest.

The game continues on.

Ivy reclines until her shoulders are touching the bench behind us, tilting her head back and staring at the sky. I have to wonder how comfortable it is.

“My dear Sid,” she theatrically addresses me. She likes to be dramatic sometimes. She thinks it’s funny. “I have a proposal for you.”

“I told you I’m not training a messenger pigeon with you. We only live three houses apart.”

“I’ll wear you down eventually, but no, that’s not what I wanted to talk about.” She looks over at me without breaking her questionable position. “I know what we’re doing tonight. I’ve concocted a perfect plan, you see, for this most All-Hallowed of Eves.”

“You can say ‘Halloween’ like a normal person. It’s okay.”

“Let me bring you back in time,” she continues, ignoring me, “to the Kinross of yore. Just decades after its founding, the Salem Witch Trials came about and our town was no exception to the noose–”

“Salem is two hours away, Ivy,” I interrupt with the fact.

“Shut up. The Salem Witch Trials swept across the state of Massachusetts, migrated into Kinross, and thus the most famous trial of Kinross history was set in motion when one Ann Kelly was accused of being a creature of the occult!”

“Can I get the abridged version of this plan please?” I ask her. “Like, the part that takes place in this century?”

Finally fed up with my interjections, Ivy sighs exaggeratedly and rolls her eyes at me. “Blah, blah, blah, she was hanged, she’s buried in the historical section of Riverview, and we’re going there tonight during the witching hour to see” – she switches to her best spooky voice with elongated, trembling vowels – “her haunted grave.”

“Hard pass.”

That makes her sit upright again with a slouch to her posture. She’s wearing a fabricated pout. “Sid,” she whines.

“Ivy, I’m not sneaking out with you at three in the morning on Halloween to go see a ‘haunted grave.’” She opens her mouth, but I follow up with, “Our parents would kill us. Besides, what’s-her-name probably just angered a bunch of Puritans and got executed because of religious prejudice. That doesn’t mean she was a witch.”

“Well, of course. I think angering Puritans was a mandatory activity back then. But come on, Sid! The legend says she’s a witch, and it’s the perfect Halloween thing! I think we are obligated – if not encouraged by the spirit of Halloween herself – to go see a ghost witch.”

“Does the spirit of Halloween have a gender?”

Ivy pushes past that and waits to catch my eye dead-on. “Bet you a hundred bucks we actually see Ann Kelly’s phantom.”

My lips part to say no just a split second before I register the number. “Wait – a hundred?”

Something cocky has taken up her face, and she recites with inflated confidence, “Ten A-Hams. A Franklin. A thousand Roosevelts.”

“You know what? Fine. I’ll take your money,” I tell her. “You’re on.”

Her grin is smug as we fist-bump on it and close the deal, but I decide that I don’t care so much with the promise of an easy hundred dollars coming my way. Ivy ingests another stream of water, and swallows while her eyes quickly scan the grass to catch up with the game again. Suddenly, a yell flies from her mouth:

“Box him out, Julia! Come on!”

Then she’s up off the bleachers and jogging back out onto the field. As unwilling as Ivy is to make an effort and practice, she’s also equally as competitive, even if this is just a gym class where victory doesn’t really matter. I, on the other hand, take my time on the bench. Struggling to breathe isn’t my idea of fun. I need to stop letting Ivy manipulate me into taking phys. ed. If she keeps it up, she might kill me.

***

I can nearly be qualified as a mess by the time Ivy and I reach our lockers after final period, and she’s humming like she’s got live wires for veins despite just spending an hour burning off energy. Meanwhile, I’m still recovering from my last bout of airlessness after I returned to the field and ran for maybe ten minutes. And I feel gross. The benefit of having P.E. last period is that I don’t have to shower here and can wait until I get home or to Ivy’s. The con is the window of time in between. I usually try to keep the gap as short as possible, and therefore, my time at my locker brief. I think Ivy and I took enough time getting changed after gym to avoid most people – at least the non-athletes.

“Hi, Sidney! Hi, Ivy!”

A mixture of feelings suddenly rockets through me and don’t add up in the end. While my chest is beginning to slowly overclock, and the hallway seems a few degrees warmer and rising steadily, I’m ready to play dead as Naomi Park opens the locker right next to mine on the opposite side of Ivy’s. Her shoulder is a fraction of an inch from touching my arm which is probably too close when I’m still drenched in gym sweat. Ivy greets her politely with ease while my brain is trying to catch up with the mundane situation and not think about how she smells like some kind of flowery perfume and I smell like crap.

“Hey, Naomi,” leaves my mouth and sounds too drawn-out and weirdly cheesy, so I just try to smile to make up for it. That feels awkward too, but she thankfully doesn’t seem to react to that, and her glossy pink lips tilt up without much effort into a perfect grin.

She puts some books on the shelf in her locker. “Any exciting Halloween plans?”

“Nope,” Ivy says immediately, likely because our actual idea involves a wager and might not be entirely legal – it’s a misdemeanor at the least. I just take the hint and don’t add anything to refute her answer.

“You? Any plans? For tonight – Halloween?” I wish that had come out differently. It could have at least sounded coherent.

“Nothing tonight,” Naomi responds. “But Heather’s having a ‘Belated Halloween Bash’ on Saturday while her parents are out of town so I’m ‘required’ to be there.”

“Oh, cool. That’s…cool.”

“I guess so. Heather’s parties get a little boring after a while though. I bet your plans for Saturday are much more fun.”

“Yep. Pints of ice cream, horror movies, and making bets on how long it takes Sid to hurl when the blood starts gushing,” Ivy interjects.

“Ivy.” I mutter the snap of her name so it doesn’t sound as harsh as I want it to. The temperature in the hallway rises astronomically.

Naomi giggles, which hurts. Well, it would if her laugh wasn’t so musical and twinkly. It’s like a damn harp quartet. “Sounds like a good time,” she comments. Her locker door shuts. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

“Yeah, totally – tomorrow. See ya’, Naomi!” She’s nearly out of earshot down the hall, and I wait until I know she definitely can’t hear anything before I say to Ivy without daring a look at her, with the heat of embarrassment and shame boiling me alive from the inside, “Please say nothing.”

I can hear the grin on her face when she speaks. “You realize she’s just another human being, right?”

“Are you kidding? She’s at the right hand of Heather Loch. She’s popular. I’m shocked she still knows my name.”

Ivy shuts her own locker with a characteristic slam. “Dude, you’re ridiculous. She likes you back. If you just talked to her, and told her that you like her, you would have a girlfriend.”

“Ivy, she thinks I’m a loser.”

“I think you’re a loser and I still like you sometimes.”

I roll my eyes and can’t say anything to that. I don’t care if Ivy thinks I’m lame. It’s not the same. We’ve been together for as long as I can remember, so at this point, she’s locked into this friendship, no matter how easy it would be for her to hang out with the people at Kinross High who are actually popular and liked.

I close my locker and we start walking to the main exit of the building and eventually across the school’s student parking lot. Some groups linger, but most people seem to be dispersing and heading home for the day. Ivy and I walk straight through the lot as always, avoiding the cars pulling out.

I want to avoid the Styles’ Ford Everest – which is so bright red that it’s an assault on the eyes – but we have to walk past it and the clump of popular kids loitering next to it: blonde, perfect, popular Heather Loch, Asshole Quarterback Tom and his not-as-terrible twin, Ed, and my locker neighbour and secret crush, Naomi. The girls are under the guys’ arms like they belong there, popular with popular. There’s usually not much interaction between our pair and their group because I’m pretty sure most of the popular kids either don’t know who I am or just hate me for no reason, but today Tom decides to rub in his full-contact plays on the soccer field.

“Nice moves out there, Pussy Willow!” he shouts clear across the lot. It makes me feel the bruise on my back, still fresh, but I’m past the point of being mad about it. Really, Tom’s just an annoying jerk, and that’s all he’ll ever be.

I try to tap into Ivy-like sarcasm and passiveness. “I get it. Because my last name is Willow, and you’re insulting me. That’s really funny. It’s original.”

He yells something back that includes one of Ivy’s favourite swear words, but we disregard it and turn out of the parking lot in the direction of our houses. Ivy states that we’re going to my place because, in her mind, it’s easier to sneak out of a single-parent household. I don’t try to refute it because arguing with Ivy when she has her mind made up is like talking to a brick wall.

#writing #wip #untitled #my writing #my ocs #ya #young adult #writeblr

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liskantope · 4 years

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Some not-so-brief reactions to major Disney films 1968-1988

A little while ago I wrote another collection of quick commentaries on major Disney films (which I’m watching one by one through Disney+) from their inception with Snow White in 1937 to The Jungle Book in 1967. I was planning to round off my next collection at another 30-year mark, but the little mini-reviews I’ve been writing are beginning to look so long-winded in aggregate that tonight I decided maybe I should stop at this point. Also, last time, without fully being aware of it, I stopped at the end of what is considered Disney’s Silver Age (coming after Disney’s Golden Age, also included in the last set of commentaries), and apparently 1968 to 1988 is considered Disney’s (Bronze and/or) Dark Age (the Disney Renaissance kicking off with The Little Mermaid in 1989), so there’s another reason it makes sense to cut it off here.

I’ll keep watching the major Disney features, one a day, through the 90′s works, but whether I’ll find time to keep writing about my impressions of each film I watch, I can’t guarantee anything.

The Aristocats, 1970

This is a beloved favorite of mine. I got the video in later childhood, having previously admired the main number “Everybody Wants To Be a Cat” (still the highlight of the movie, from my adult point of view) and having read the story in a Disney book. After seeing it many times in childhood, I rewatched it only a few years ago when it showed up on Netflix. Around that time (or maybe just afterwards), I noticed that my favorite cartoon/Disney reviewer YouTuber Phantom Strider occasionally mentions that he dislikes The Aristocats -- he doesn’t put it on his top 10 worst Disney movie list or anything, but he’s made some disparaging remarks without going into detail. Watching it once again this month on Disney+, my verdict is that, yeah, it’s subpar in quite a few ways, but my more critical adult sensibilities will never override the fond feelings I have for this movie.

Since this is the next movie on the list after The Jungle Book, I couldn’t help constantly comparing the two, and I did see some parallels. In both cases, the story is pretty weak: this time, a family of cats gets kidnapped and stranded far from home by the greedy butler villain and have to pass through several adventures to get back to their owner. In both cases, the plot is a very linear one involving small adventures and minor characters having little bearing on the overall arc (this is perhaps slightly less the case with The Aristocats, where the new acquaintance Thomas O’Malley stays with them the whole time, and at least Scat Cat’s gang makes a return at the end -- minus the unfortunate and entirely unnecessary character of the Chinese cat -- to fight for the protagonists). In both cases, the voice acting is great and includes Phil Harris and Sterling Holloway. In both cases, the villain’s motives are rather flimsily stated -- the butler villain is more comical and slightly more rounded out, and the fact that his motive doesn’t make a lot of sense is perhaps meant to be part of the comedy. The Aristocats has far more filler material, including a useless but somewhat amusing and ultra-cartoonish sideplot about our butler villain losing his hat and umbrella and having to return to the countryside to get them (it’s more amusing than it sounds, trust me).

The Aristocats is simply weaker in almost every way than The Jungle Book. Although I like all the music, including “Scales and Arpeggios” which I only just learned was written by the Sherman Brothers and I appreciated a lot as a kid who practiced the piano every day, the only truly memorable song was “Everybody Wants To Be a Cat” (not written by the Sherman Brothers), whereas in The Jungle Book there are multiple numbers of that caliber written by the Sherman Brothers at nearly the top of their form. This film can also be compared to One Hundred and One Dalmatians and again comes out looking worse -- Dalmations sort of perfected the whole “animals coordinating a rescue” type plot, and The Aristocats only seems to make a feeble attempt at it.

One interesting thing about the pacing of the film that as an adult I’m a bit taken aback by is how quickly the ending of the movie runs. I was shocked when I rewatched this for the first time as an adult on Netflix, got to the ending of “Everybody Wants To Be a Cat”, and saw that there were only 15 minutes of running time left: that includes the late-night discussion between the romantic leads, the arrival at their home, Edgar re-kidnapping them, Roquefort going for help and nearly getting himself killed by Scat Cat’s gang, the whole action sequence of the actual rescue, a final scene with Madame welcoming O’Malley and rewriting the will, and the final song. We don’t even get to see Madame’s reaction at seeing her beloved cats alive and well, which is one of the ways this movie compares unfavorably with Dalmatians. There is some real artistry in The Aristocats, but the amount of effort put in is clearly not up to the standard of Disney’s finest.

Bedknobs and Broomsticks, 1971

I mainly knew this movie through the song “Beautiful Briny Sea” growing up. Eventually I did watch the film one time; I also read the book it was based on (I can’t remember which came first). I remembered very little outside of that one song, the fact that the characters travel in a bed, and David Tomlinson (who I knew well as Mr. Banks) being in it as an jarringly un-Banks-like character. I had entirely forgotten the fact that the story takes place during World War II and that this is crucial to the plot. I knew this as the Disney movie that tried to be Mary Poppins and failed to be anywhere near as exciting or resonant. However, I was still very curious to rediscover, two decades later, what the movie was really all about.

The story is really quite good on a level that appeals to grownups as well as children -- not as deeply as Mary Poppins, mind you, but distinctive and captivating. (I think this has something to do with the story being as much to do with the adult characters as with the children.) The acting is also solid. It only increased my respect for David Tomlinson’s versatility as an actor, in fact, and it was fun to see the likeness of the dignified and proper George Banks display so much awkward vulnerability and eventually get himself into so many slapstick situations. Unfortunately, the only memorable song is “Beautiful Briny Sea” -- I mean that quite literally, as sitting down to write this a couple of weeks after watching, I’m finding it hard to remember much about any of the other songs.

Also unfortunately, the song “Beautiful Briny Sea” is sort of a beacon in a murky area as, halfway through the film when we switch to the animated portion, the movie suddenly gets... quite bad. The live-animation hybrid is consistently done to weak effect, first of all. For some reason, only Mary Poppins made this effect believable, ahead of its time. Secondly, I understand that we have to suspend our disbelief to enjoy a children’s fantasy film, but having the group plunged into water without themselves or their book appearing wet or having any issue breathing is pushing this a bit far. Thirdly, the writing gets rather silly. As soon as they come across an animated codfish who welcomes them to the area, the oldest kid Charles (always the skeptic) says, “Now I’m hearing things! Fish don’t talk.” Nor do fish “walk” along the bottom of the sea with a cane while fully clothed and smoking a cigar, Charlie, so what was your first clue that you’re in a story where things you thought impossible are happening?

The whole crew later gets up onto the animated island of Naboombu, where Mr. Banks Professor Browne is forced to referee a soccer game between teams of anthropomorphic animals as part of his efforts (somehow) to get his hands on the lanyard of the island’s arrogant monarch (who rather resembles Prince John from the next film on this list) which winds up evaporating as soon as they get back to their own world anyway. The ensuing soccer match is by far the most bizarre part of the film, or of any of these films really -- it feels much more like some wacky Saturday morning cartoon than Disney animation. Browne the referee winds up getting (literally) dragged into the game; the live/animation hybrid is done especially poorly here. Once the characters get back to the “real” world, however, the movie becomes good again, with a fantastic climactic conclusion that left me smiling at the overall effect of the film despite its weaknesses.

Robin Hood, 1973

This was a Disney classic that we owned from the time I was fairly small, and that I watched more times than almost any other one, with Alice in Wonderland being the only possible rival I can think of. I went what was probably close to a twenty-year period without seeing it or missing it until a couple of years ago, on a transatlantic flight when it was one of the movie options on the plane. I was taken aback on that rewatching by the fact that... Robin Hood just isn’t that good. When I later saw my parents (I think this was on the way to visiting them), I told them of this revelation, and they told me, “We never thought it was that good either, but you seemed to like it.” I guess I can see some of the appeal to my much younger self, but less easily than I can see the appeal of the some of the other so-so films like The Aristocats -- there is something about Robin Hood that is eye-catching on the superficial level but ultimately shallow. At the same time, I’ll always have to feel a bit sentimental about this one because of the role it played in an early period of my life, introducing me to words like outlaw and in-law and taxes (I vividly remember thinking in early watchings that Taxes was just the name of the unpleasant wolf character), helping to develop my understanding of what poverty looks like, and also introducing me to the concept of political satire (under an anti-free-speech monarchy no less. The scene shown in the video just linked is my favorite scene of the movie, by the way.)

I think my main criticism of Disney’s Robin Hood could be summarized by saying it oversimplifies what could have been a nuanced story, way more than it needs to. This shows most starkly in its clearly-marked division between good characters and evil characters. Naive Good-vs.-Evil plots are very much part of the Disney brand, but I can’t think of any of their other films which takes that aspect to this much of an extreme in developing the characters, so that the entire cast is very openly divided between the white caps and the black caps and (this is the most important part) to the detriment of individuation between the characters. The personalities of all the characters on the Good Side seem pretty much interchangeable throughout the film. Oh sure, Robin Hood has Plucky Hero stamped on him with Designated Sidekick Little John, and Maid Marian has Love Interest stamped on her, and so on. They get into different situations because they all play different roles in the community. But there are no deeper differences between them. Friar Tuck, for instance, is the local religious leader, and you think he might present a more thoughtful, pacifistic, and spiritual point of view to his comrades and enemies. But no, he shouts at the Sheriff and chest-bumps him out of the church and engages him in physical combat just like all the other characters do. All of the people on the Good Side are in complete lockstep throughout, and this makes their part of the story deeply uninteresting.

King Richard is never developed as a character; he is a faraway abstract entity throughout the film, which makes his sudden appearance at the end (which is what really saves Nottingham and finishes the story) very ineffective. (Let’s not get into the fact that he’s described as heroic for going off to participate in the Crusades -- “While bonny good King Richard leads the great crusade he’s on” -- talk about sugarcoating history!) This is part of what I mean about oversimplifying: they could have injected some complexity into the political story beyond “usurper taxes all the money out of the people because of his personal greed until the real king returns and makes everything lovely again”. I strongly believe it is possible to present real issues in a way that is both mature and engaging to children and that it has been done even in other Disney features. Disney didn’t try very hard to do it here.

I’ll give the writers credit in that the three main bad guys, Prince John, Sir Hiss, and the Sheriff of Nottingham, are somewhat individuated, partly I think out of necessity because the Bad Side of any story has to consist of people who quarrel amongst themselves. Prince John is actually well enough developed as an insecure, petulant child with no idea what it means to lead a country that I enjoy watching him even as an adult. The parallels between him and President Trump are unmistakable, and I’m surprised that I haven’t seen more memes about this. Still, by the end of the film, even he was starting to wear on me.

Another aspect of the movie that bypassed my attention as a child but bothers me as an adult is its blatant American-ness in retelling a very old, extremely British story. As in One Hundred and One Dalmatians, all of the accents, except for those of two of the main bad guys, are American. The rooster narrator of the story sounds particularly American and plays folk music throughout of a style that strikes me as the epitome of American.

The way the script and animation deal with bodies and obesity is particularly interesting in this one. Four of the characters I can think of are portrayed as fat, including one of the main bad guys (the Sheriff “Old Bushel-Britches” of Nottingham) but also three of the good guys. Minor quips are made about this by some of the characters, but overall it could arguably be considered a rather positive, good-natured treatment of this issue for its time. It is the source of some physical humor, and some of the body-related physical humor in general slightly raises my eyebrows as an adult -- there is a boob grab, for instance (well, fake boobs as part of a disguise, but still).

The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh, 1977

I had avoided watching any Disney rendition of Pooh for a long time before watching this one last week. I got to see a lot of Pooh in earlier childhood because of videos given as gifts by other kids’ parents, which my mom (who loves the original books by Milne and hates Disney’s interpretation of them) let me watch only with great reluctance. I soured to the Disney Pooh franchise as I got older and remember in high school getting sick of how many things were decorated with animated Pooh characters, and how few people knew the original books.

Starting to watch this film, I had no idea which of the Pooh stories would be included or whether I would remember seeing them before. As it turned out, I remembered almost none of it: I knew the theme song well and was slightly familiar with the early song about Pooh climbing the honey tree (it must have been on one of the Disney Sing-Along videos) but didn’t remember anything else until vaguely recalling some of the later Tigger stuff (I remembered, before it happened, that Tigger escapes from the tree by sliding down a paragraph of text in the book, one of many instances of extreme fourth-wall-breaking that runs as a theme throughout). As it happens, although The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh seems to go along pretty smoothly given that it makes no pretense of having a unified story arc -- something I give it credit for -- it is actually composed of four short films produced throughout the decade beforehand. This explains why I only remembered the Tigger stuff near the end: we must have had the quarter-length film Winnie the Pooh and Tigger Too at my house for a while, but not the other three. (What I actually watched the most, I think, was a video of TV episodes called “Newfound Friends”, which I’ll look up on Disney+ out of curiosity but probably won’t include in this list.)

I remain anti-Pooh[Disney_version], but this anthology film wasn’t as bad as I had thought it might be. The first story about Pooh and the honey tree was actually pretty good. I am not opposed to Sterling Hollaway’s portrayal of the title character. Eeyore’s voice is way too flat, but otherwise most of the characters are portrayed okay. I distinctly remember reading Rabbit as a female character as a kid, and on hearing his voice again I suppose I can understand why. Tigger is the most offensively adapted: he is one-dimensional in a very obnoxious, not-so-amusing slapstick way. His portrayal would have come off better if they had given him more of a child’s voice, which is more appropriate to the book version of his character anyway. The gopher character is pretty annoying as well; he’s rather useless and unnecessary given that he’s not in the books (he even has a fourth-wall-breaking line about not being in the book). Some of the stories from the book are meshed together in a way that does a disservice to each of them, and the movie might have been better if it had committed to adapting fewer of Milne’s chapters. The story about Pooh getting stuck in Rabbit’s front door is done in a distasteful way, with Rabbit turning the back half of his body into part of the upholstery (an idea that Walt Disney had himself when he first read the book!). The songs weren’t great, and I wish that some of Pooh’s poetry from the books had been adapted to song instead.

Leaving those details aside, this is an earnest attempt at turning Pooh into an animated feature which turned out to be not too terrible given my low expectations.

The Rescuers, 1977

I remember watching this once as a kid and almost nothing sticking with me apart from the fact that the main villain (who I remembered nothing about, not even really the gender) had two pet crocodiles. I watched it a second time on Netflix a few years ago, I think within the same week of watching The Aristocats on Netflix.

I have one word for this Disney animated classic: weak. The story is not all that interesting. Having watched Dalmatians and The Aristocats in the few weeks before hand, coordinated animal rescue plots were starting to wear on me. There is no music except for a few forgettable songs not sung by the characters. Eva Gabor makes Ms. Bianca a beguiling character, but the rest of the characters are completely forgettable. The main male character, Bernard, has the blandest voice ever. Even the little girl being rescued, while sympathetic, is not very unique or interesting. (There is something subtly heavy and haunting about having her teddy bear as her best friend through most of the film, though.) At the time of writing, I’ve already halfway forgotten what the villain’s sidekick was like. There are a bunch of other animals who are fun to watch in animation but don’t stick in my mind, apart from Pat Buttram’s drunken rat character (because it wouldn’t be a Disney film of the 40′s-80′s without some alcoholism in it).

The villain, Medusa, is a particular fail here. She is basically a lame Cruella de Vil 2.0: modern, non-fairy-tale-ish, greedy and materialistic, drives like a lunatic, etc. After watching, I found out that the story writers initially thought of simply bringing Cruella back as the villain in this movie, but decided against the idea of it being in any way a sequel to Dalmatians (remember that at this point no Disney sequel had ever been done -- the 1990 sequel to this film was the very first!). I think they should have gone with that idea: bring back one of the most celebrated Disney villains, rather than come up with a new one who is a lot like her but with subtly less pizazz.

Random observation: this has to be one of the only classic Disney stories where the animals can talk to exactly one sympathetic human (the girl) but no other human. If I remember right, I don’t think even Cinderella can understand the words of her mouse friends.

Anyway. Some people say the sequel is much better than the original here. I haven’t seen The Rescuers Down Under yet, but I hope it’s true.

Pete’s Dragon, 1977

This is the first movie on this whole journey that is so obscure that I don’t think I’d even heard of before, let alone seen, and that’s despite the fact that there was a remake in 2016. (The one thing that rang a bell for me while watching was the idea of a dragon playing tic-tac-toe on its belly, an image I possibly saw in an isolated context.) I questioned whether I should watch yet another 1977 Disney film at all, when it would be mostly live-action and was obviously so obscure. In the end, I’m glad I watched this, partly because the story did grip me on some level, but mostly because this film is so very entertaining in how badly done it is.

Pete’s Dragon, in almost every way, is bad -- hilariously bad -- the sweet spot of Bad: the kind of bad that’s actually interesting to examine and yet also shallow enough to make for good Bad Movie Night watching. It’s hard to know where even to begin. The consistently terrible acting of almost everyone, especially in every single line of the boy protagonist (I hate to trash a child actor like this, and part of it was probably bad direction: for instance, someone should have taught him to go easy on the pointy finger). Almost none of the right emotional notes are hit at the right time in what is a very heartfelt story. Only Helen Reddy as the female lead and Jim Dale as the charlatan doctor strike me as good actors doing the best they can with a terrible script and bad acting around them. Then there are the cheesy, poorly-written, often poorly-sung songs. (Did I mention that in one song, each of Pete’s main abusive guardians continue to sing, each in an unperturbed, full-throated voice while being flung in the air by an invisible dragon and plunged into the water?) The awkward choreography. The weak visual effects (as with Bedknobs and Broomsticks, they really didn’t know how to pull of hybrid animation well. I’d go easier on them for this if Mary Poppins hadn’t nailed it 13 years earlier.) I could go on and on.

It made a lot of sense to me when I read afterwards that Pete’s Dragon was originally written as a stage musical, because there is something unusually stage-musical-ish about how the songs are written (for instance, having subsets of the ensemble throw out response lines in unison) and the way the choreography is done. I’ll say as someone who has been in stage musicals that these elements can feel a bit awkward even on the stage; they look to me more awkward in the medium of film; and they’re especially awkward when the songs, choreography, etc. is as poorly written as it is in this film -- someone who hates musicals wanting to teach a friend to hate them too might well choose to show their friend this movie and pretend that it’s a representative example.

Even through all this, I was able to appreciate that the story is pretty good, and I came to care for the sympathetic characters, however badly acted they were. I also enjoyed the atmosphere of a small coastal village in northeast US (called Passammaquoddy, apparently a real bay in Maine). So, by the time I was partly through watching this (fairly long) movie, I felt very committed to continuing, enjoying it as I was just as much for its entertaining badness as for anything else.

I want to end by mentioning one musical scene in the movie that took me by surprise because it was actually good, and funny and catchy and overall entertaining. It’s our introduction to the charlatan Dr. Terminus, and so it’s self-contained. If you want a taste of a part of the movie that I think is head and shoulders better than the rest while reflecting exactly what I mean by a stage-musical-style musical number (not making any claims about how good in absolute terms this scene is, though), here is a YouTube video of it (the song “Passammaquoddy”) (warning: mildly off-color taste on body type and disability stuff). I would actually enjoy leading a song like this in a musical.

The Fox and the Hound, 1981

These more obscure Disney films are getting more and more interesting. I distinctly remember knowing about this one as a kid, seeing VHS boxes of it at friends’ houses, etc., but I never had much interest in actually seeing it. I watched it for the first time on Disney+ with great curiosity, coming in knowing literally nothing about what the story would be about except “a fox and a hound are friends”. I was pleasantly taken aback by the new setting of backwoods American farmland and by unusually quiet, low-key tone.

The main thing I can say about this movie is that it’s far and away the least Disney-ish of the animated ones I’ve seen so far. If nobody had told me which company made this movie, it would never even occur to me that it was done by Disney, except for the presence of Disney icon Pat Buttram’s very recognizable twangy voice (perfect for this movie, not really appropriate for the setting of Robin Hood). It’s hard to explain just why I feel this way. Maybe it’s something to do with the pacing and the sort of quiet story. Or maybe it’s the fact that none of the animals seem to be drawn in the traditional Disney fashion (that is, we’ve seen fox and owl characters before in Disney, and for some reason their counterparts in The Fox and the Hound aren’t recognizable to me.) Or maybe it was the almost complete lack of songs. Honestly, trying to write this, I can’t quite pin down what made this a slightly offputting Disney-watching experience.

Despite feeling affection for the characters from the get-go, I actually found myself rather bored throughout the first half of the slowly-progressing movie. Then I perked up in the middle, actually thinking there might be a death, and of a rather morally ambiguous character too (this didn’t feel like a Disney film, so it might break the rules?). After that I felt enthralled to the point of breaking down and finishing it after having previously decided to leave a bit left over for the next day. I’m really not used to not having any idea how stories will end when going through Disney movies, and I guess I couldn’t handle even that small bit of suspense.

In the end, I thought the story, and how the story was rendered, was pretty good -- not stellar, but genuine. I don’t know about how overly-neatly everything was wrapped up with the main antagonist Amos Slade doing a complete 180 at the end, but after all this is Disney even if it doesn’t particularly feel like it and I shouldn’t be surprised at a happy ending.

Random side note: I wonder if Big Mama (the owl character) could be criticized as sort of an African-American stereotype and thus what Disney+ would call an “outdated cultural depiction”, or if it will be in another ten years.

The Black Cauldron, 1985

We continue with our sequence of more obscure Disney flicks. I guess this era is called the Dark Age of Disney for a reason, and one could say that this movie epitomizes such an era both in its role in the evolution of Disney and in its actual content. I don’t recall even hearing about this one as a child. I’ve heard it referred to as an adult only in the context of its successor being advertised as fun to provide a contrast with the overly-dark box office failure that had just come out, so I came in expecting a not-very-worthwhile movie that would be uncharacteristically dark and un-fun.

All I can say is, wow! The Black Cauldron, while indeed uncharacteristically dark (in ambiance at least, less so in subject matter), is genuinely, seriously good!

Within literally the first two seconds of the film, I knew that I was in a Medieval setting (not having known anything whatsoever about the story prior to watching) both from the music and from the backdrop. This remained the case throughout the movie. Everything in its style is boldly, wholeheartedly Medieval, not like some other Disney movies where the Medieval setting is watered-down and phony *cough*swordinthestone*cough*robinhood*hack. The only other movie on this list so far which comes close to succeeding at this was Sleeping Beauty, but that is such a different type of film, with such a different animation style, that comparing the two is like comparing apples to oranges. Honestly, I don’t think that the flavor is so thick even in Sleeping Beauty. The art of The Black Cauldron actually feels closer to that of Magic the Gathering than anything else I can think of from Disney. The effects of the animation are absolutely gorgeous -- in a rather dark way, mind you, not bright and colorful like what is usually associated with Disney.

The story is complex by Disney standards and I had zero familiarity with it beforehand, so for the first time I actually had to check myself to make sure I was paying attention. The characters are reasonably developed with engaging dialog (though slightly hesitant and sparse, with unusually little humor). It was a little jarring to hear “the Forbidden Forest” mentioned by one of the characters and remember that Harry Potter wouldn’t be around for over a decade. The main villain is one of the scariest ones of Disney and I would imagine may have been somewhat influenced by Ian McDiarmid’s Emperor, who had made his debut only a couple of years earlier.

I said that the last film on this list seemed distinctly un-Disney-ish, and I can say the same about this one in its own way -- maybe this was an experimental trend at Disney studios during the first half of the 80′s. The Black Cauldron has even less music in it than The Fox and the Hound and may be the only animated feature I’ve seen here with nothing resembling a song at all. One strong impression I got throughout, especially when the dungeon sequence started and the princess was introduced -- and this isn’t exactly a compliment -- is that something about the pacing, dialog, body movements, etc. seriously makes this movie feel like I’m watching a video game. (For personal context, I’ve never been a gamer, and most of my exposure to video games comes from watching college roommates play during the late 00′s.) I can’t justify exactly where I get this feeling. Also, the princess is strangely voiced and feels particularly like a non-player (video game) character somehow. I’m now curious as to whether there have ever been any games based on this movie or whether it had faded too much into oblivion by the time gaming reached the right level of progress.

Anyway, The Black Cauldron may not be especially fun or enjoyable to kids, but for an older person in the mood for some spooky Medieval fantasy animated entertainment, I recommend it as a fine movie.

(Fun trivia: I had believed that the successor on this list was the first animated feature to use computers to assist in animation, in the clock/gear sequence, but apparently this one actually was. Also, to date it was the most expensive animated film created.)

The Great Mouse Detective, 1986

Now for a classic that I had been greatly looking forward to. We didn’t have The Great Mouse Detective at my home growing up, but I know I saw it a number of times and later remembered liking it so much that on a whim in college, around the time I revisited Mary Poppins, I borrowed it from the local Blockbuster. I distinctly remembering feeling a little sheepish checking it out, but the young guy at the register actually said something like, “Yeah, that’s one of the best ones.” Years later, one of my best friends during graduate school was hanging out at my place and the conversation went to us agreeing on how excellent The Great Mouse Detective is and musing over the fact that nobody ever seems to talk about it, and we decided to watch it together as it was on Netflix at the time. We didn’t bother to log out of my roommate’s Netflix account to watch it, and he was later very irritated at me about the fact that Netflix was now constantly offering him children’s animated features. Anyway, it seems I’m far from the only one who has often viewed this one as perhaps the most underrated Disney classic of all time. (Further evidence: it comes second in WatchMojo’s list, with their winner being its predecessor!)

The Great Mouse Detective was billed as “All new! All fun!” to assure audiences that it would be a departure from the heavy seriousness of its predecessor, and in this it generously delivers all the way through. It’s based on the just-silly-enough-to-be-delightful premise that in late Victorian London there was a mouse version of Queen Victoria living in Buckingham Palace and a mouse version of Sherlock Holmes (our title character) living under the human Holmes’ flat in Baker Street. Our villain, the dastardly Ratigan, is hatching a plan to take over all of Mousedom via a plot which is incredibly silly, but the movie, which is consistent in its unpretentiousness, is able to pull this off just fine. All of the characters are nicely fleshed out (there’s a case to be made about Fidget’s character reflecting ableism but let’s leave that aside). Ratigan is the juiciest villain we’ve seen since Cruella de Vil. The plot is actually pretty complex, not at all like the predictable fairy tale / fantasy type plots we’ve often seen, yet not so complicated that it would lose the audience (or if it loses some kids, they will still be entertained by the great voicing, music, and animation). The action is, bar none, the very best I’ve seen so far on the animated movies of this list, and the movie is somehow packed with action -- every single sequence of it is superb, and the climactic scene inside of Big Ben is a revolutionary masterpiece of animation (by the standards that existed at the time). The abrupt transition to that scene, beginning in near-silence, is one of the more delightfully, deliciously chilling Disney moments for me.

This is not one of the great Disney musicals, but all three of its three musical numbers are still very enjoyable. I remember learning in college that the same person wrote “The World’s Greatest Criminal Mind” and “Goodbye So Soon”, but I only just now internalized that the composer was Henry Mancini who I love from The Pink Panther and Victor Victoria. There is a certain type of wit and humor in the lyrics of both of those songs which I don’t know how to characterize in words except to say that it’s sprinkled with phrases either containing self-contradictons (“You’re the best of the worst around”, “You’re more evil than even you”) or redundancy (“No one can doubt what we know you can do”) or just plain wordplay (“Even meaner? You mean it?”, “With time so short I’ll say so long”). None of it makes a pretense of being extremely witty or anything; it’s just mildly dry. I don’t know what to call this kind of humor and can’t think of another example of it, but it consciously (though subtly) influenced the vibe I was going for with the section headings in certain of my earlier Wordpress essays.

Perhaps Lady and the Tramp can make a case for winning the Most Underrated Disney Animated Feature prize, as it seems more mature and elegant, but I’m not ashamed to say that I find The Great Mouse Detective every bit as enjoyable and that I still have enough inner child in me that I can rewatch the movie in my early 30′s and come out of it smiling broadly.

Oliver and Company, 1988

The first major Disney feature that came out in my lifetime! As with The Fox and the Hound, I always knew about this one growing up but was never really interested enough to watch it (even despite the fact that it was somehow loosely based on Oliver Twist, whose musical adaptation I was raised on pretty heavily) -- at least, I don’t think I ever saw any of it until one day in my young adulthood cable days when I caught it on TV. By “caught it on TV”, of course I mean that I probably didn’t see all of it, and it was interrupted by commercials and I was probably doing something else at the same time and not paying much attention. Literally the only thing I could remember was the line “Don’t want to mix with the riffraff?”

It’s just as well because in the grander progression of Disney creations, Oliver and Company turns out to be pretty skipable. Now I will say that I appreciate the variety of locations and cultural backdrops in Disney films and the amount of effort the creators put into carrying them out (something that was mostly lost on me as a kid). In this case, we are transported for the first time to contemporary New York, and it’s clear that the writers, voice actors, and animators went full throttle on making everything seem as in-your-face New-York-ish as possible. I don’t fault them for doing this, but it’s all done in a slightly brash way that doesn’t at all attract me to late-80′s New York culture.

I was struck in the first few minutes by a change I don’t quite know how to describe in words, except to say that the animation and even more the music feel palpably distinctly more modern than anything I’ve visited so far. The animation is simpler and more generic (luckily I have a fondness for kittens and they do succeed in making Oliver look adorable, but otherwise the visuals left me cold), and the music is a sharp reminder of the blander forms of pop music I remember growing up hearing. “Why Should I Worry?” triggered a recognition of the song that I had long forgotten -- apparently I used to know it very well but I’m not entirely sure how. The other songs are forgettable enough that I’ve already forgotten them. Interesting to find out that the principal voices were done mainly by Billy Joel and Bette Midler, marking another step on Disney’s road towards featuring more big-time celebrities in their voice acting (culminating in Robin Williams’ role in Aladdin several years later).

The story is very watered down compared to either the book or the musical version of Oliver -- understandable, I suppose, but I didn’t find it very interesting. The characters were lackluster, and the main villain Sykes managed to be even more forgettable than What’s-her-name from The Rescuers. This movie normalizes hitting on women by making catcalling noises, as done by two of the non-evil characters -- I wonder if this was put in because it’s considered a distinctive feature of New York culture, but either way I found its presence in the film obnoxious. I will say that the character of Georgette (played by Midler) stood out as very funny, and I enjoyed all of her scenes, but I don’t have much else positively positive to say about this one.

#disney films #the aristocats #bedknobs and broomsticks #robin hood #body issues #winnie the pooh #the rescuers #the black cauldron #Harry Potter #episode vi #the great mouse detective #ableism #oliver twist #catcalling #Our Current president #alcoholism

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simpsonsnight · 4 years

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Episode #183

WHAT THIS?

The Cartridge Family Season 9 - Episode 5 | November 2, 1997 Homer gets himself a gun and joins an NRA-like organization. It might just be the NRA. I forget. But I bet they changed it for the show. Again, not sure. Don’t remember. Don’t feel like looking it up. Please don’t write me and tell me. This is getting published almost a month after I wrote it so I won’t even know what you’re talking about. This is very much a Mike Scully episode, and in fact this is the first non-Treehouse-of-Horror Scully-produced episode to air. The thing that sticks out to me the most is the lil scene where Homer is sitting on his front lawn lamenting that he has to wait to get his firearm, and while this happens a bunch of targets (a truck with the TARGET logo, some rabbits, Flanders on a riding mower) all present themselves in front of him as we fast forward through Homer’s waiting period. It’s set to "The Waiting” by Tom Petty. It takes a little context to realize that Mike Scully is an impossibly lame dadrock guy (NRBQ hasn’t shown up on the show at this point.... yet). This is the era where I first noticed that the show was indulging in a lot of uninspired musical montages, usually extremely right-brained in nature: Here we have a classic rock song called “Waiting” while Homer Waits. It’s the Simpsons simply telling you that they can afford expensive music cues. The first act is also not that great, an extended riff on Soccer being a boring sport. It’s a comedy idea that’s as fresh as... well, off the top of my head I remember the SCTV Godfather episode made a big rude soccer joke. So like, early 80s? At least? Damn. As far as season 9 goes, I guess this episode is better than most? I like scenes in this, and I remember watching it on TV and not thinking that it was particularly bad. It’s only through hindsight that I see the cracks now. So, I guess I’ll keep this one.

THE B-SODE:

youtube

A Brief History of the United States Segment from "Bowling for Columbine" | May 16, 2002 Micheal Moore movies were one of the few respites from the shitty inescapable politics of my backwater redneck town. I saw them all. They made me feel stuff. I was young. I’m not anti-Moore but he definitely has shitty stuff about him. Like, for example, this cartoon, which appears at the point in the movie after he interviews Matt Stone from South Park. But here’s how Moore did Matt dirty: this cartoon is heavily implied to be from Matt & Trey, but it’s not. They had nothing to do with this. It actually resembles their cartoon “American History”, which was a student film they made in the early 90s. I forget where, but I recall Matt & Trey being annoyed at this, and Matt in particular felt used. This kind of thing Moore does is irresponsible and shitty to do, and I don’t think he should be above criticism just because he leans the same political direction I do. In fact, I was such a Moore devotee that I had all the episodes of The Awful Truth and TV Nation, the later I had to get nth-generation tapes from eBay. But I still read up on his dishonest film-making practices and took criticism of him seriously enough that if people asked me if I liked him I’d reply “he’s a decent satirist but a shitty documentarian”. All of this lead up to the moment when “Fahrenheit 9/11″ came to Redding. I worked as an usher at the time, and I actually came in before I started work so I could watch the first showing before my shift. Air America had been on for a couple months or so, and I listened to it a TON. I read all the blogs they cited, I started reading the news paper, I was WELL-INFORMED and POLITICALLY ACTIVATED, and GODDAMN IT, I CARED ABOUT ALL THIS STUFF DEEPLY. So a particular PACKED showing of Fahrenheit 9/11 plays and I’m sitting in the theater watching the last ten minutes and my heart swells while the credits play, and the theater is emptying out and I’m just waiting till it empties most of the way out so I can start picking up other people’s garbage. An old woman walks up to me. “You see this movie yet?” “I have!” I said proudly. “What do you think of it?” she asked me. “Well...” I started thinking about how dishonest Michael Moore can be, and how his films require more scrutiny than just looking at them at face value. “The movie effected me emotional and I agree with the message, but I feel like I need to do more reading about--” she cuts me off: “start reading the newspaper. It’s all in there.” she walks away, setting her half-eaten popcorn on a chair for me to pick up for her. And THAT’s why I fucking hate democrats.

#simpsons #season 9 #bowling for columbine

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therainroguefanfiction · 4 years

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⚽ Paid; Aoyama (Sportember #020)

📑 Table of Contents | ⚾ Challenge Post

Genre: Fluff, Slice of Life, Family

Word Count: 2,035

Pairing: Reader, Aoyama

World: Clean Freak! Aoyama-kun

Prompt: “I don’t get paid enough for this.”

Sport: Soccer

Author’s Note: So, I tried looking up Aoyama’s first name but couldn’t find it anywhere. With that said, I chose the first name of Haruka! If anyone knows his canon first name, please let me know! ^~^)/

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“Y/N! Come down here, will you?”

You paused the anime you were watching on your laptop, pulling yourself off of your bed before heading downstairs where your mom was standing in the kitchen, placing the beef stew into the crock pot to cook overnight. Aoyama was sitting at the table, wearing his baby blue latex gloves as he worked on his homework. “What’s up, kaa-san?”

She smiled at you over her shoulder before turning back to her task. “Your brother has a game tomorrow but it’s a bit far. Can you take him?”

You glanced over at your younger brother, who glanced up at you with a derpy expression on his face. “I don’t have any plans tomorrow so sure thing.”

“Thank you, dear. I appreciate it!” Kaa-san gave you a one arm hug, something she was unable to do with her youngest child because of his germophobia. Haruka couldn’t stand to be touched, he hated being dirty, and he refused to touch anything without his gloves, but you were his special older sibling that he adored and the only person he could handle touching him. Though, even that had its limits.

You settled down across from him. “Who are you playing against?”

“Takada academy.”

“Takada?” You mused. ‘Why does that name sound so familiar? Hmm.’ It was just on the edge of your mind, but you couldn’t bring it to the surface. ‘Meh, whatever. It’s probably not even important.’

“You should video it!” Kaa-san stated with a proud grin, setting the video camera on the table in front of you. It was one of those super expensive ones that professionals use.

“Where the hell did you even get this?” You muttered as you picked it up to inspect it. “So heavy.”

“I was interested in being a film maker for a brief period when I was in high school,” she stated, clapping her hands together as her eyes gained a faraway look.

“Right…” you leaned back in your chair, giving her a weary look. “There’s really no need for me to film. There’s gonna be a bunch of reporters there with their cameras focused on him. You can just watch their footage.”

She huffed, putting her hands on her hips and puffing out her cheeks. “Why can’t you just do this for me?”

“Because it’s a pain,” you answered honestly, letting your head fall back as you closed your eyes. “Plus, I don’t even know how to work the damn thing.”

“Language,” Haruka mumbled softly, sending you a look.

“Yeah, yeah.”

“If they don’t get good shots, I swear,” Kaa-san huffed in annoyance as she returned to the food, making you chuckle.

“Don’t worry, they always get the best shots of him. He’s a little celebrity, after all~”

“He really is, isn’t he?” She sighed dreamily. “One of my children is a star.”

“And the other?” You prompted with a raised brow.

“The other… is very protective over their baby brother and I appreciate that!”

“Gee, thanks.”

“We all have our roles to play, you know. Just because your role isn’t as glamorous doesn’t mean it isn’t important!”

“Sure, sure. What’s your role?” You wondered. “Official stew maker?”

She glared at you. “Real funny, Y/N.”

“I know, I’m a real comedian.” You stood up, stopping to ruffle your baby brother’s hair on the way to the door. “I’m going back to my room now.”

“Don’t stay up too late!”

“Okay~” You shit the door behind you, flopping onto the bed and slipping your headphones back onto your head.

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“Y/N, wake up please.”

A groan passed your lips as you squinted at the bright light shining right into your eyes and it took several blinks before your vision cleared up enough to see who had woken you up.

Haruka was standing beside the bed, his hand suspended in mid-air, clearly unable to bring himself to shake you awake. Your room was sparkling brighter than the sun because he had taken the time to clean it before waking you up, as he did every time he entered your bedroom. Unfortunately for him, you were quite the messy person, often leaving dishes in your room and empty chip bags scattered about like leaves on a windy day. He loved you dearly but he wished you would be more cleanly.

“What time is it?” You muttered, putting your hand over your face to block the light.

“Eight o’clock.”

“And what time is your game?”

“We are supposed to be there by nine-thirty.”

“Shit,” you groaned, throwing your covers off your body so you could get ready.

“Language,” he scolded softly, his brow furrowing as he watched you. “You really should take a shower…”

“I took one last night,” you tugged open the dresser drawer, pulling out a pair of casual clothes before turning back to your brother. “Out so I can change.”

“I really think you should -”

“Haruka.”

He frowned at the stern look you gave him before slowly nodding and leaving the room. He hated upsetting you almost as much as he hated being dirty and he knew that his germophobia got on your nerves, so he tried his best to overcome it around you. This was something you had definitely taken notice of and appreciated.

When you finished getting dressed and headed downstairs, you found him buttering a piece of toast, those latex gloves protecting his hands from germs.

“You need more than toast,” you frowned at his back.

He shook his head, holding it out to you. “It’s for you. Okaa-san made me breakfast before she left.”

Your lips twitched up as you accepted the toast. “Thanks little bro. You ready?”

With a nod, he peeled the gloves from his hands before setting them in the sink to be washed. The urge to wash them then and there was strong, but he managed to refrain, but not without looking back at them more than a few times. You opened the door for him, closing it and locking it behind him before heading to your car.

He stood off to the side as you unfolded the clear plastic, draping it over the front seat for him to sit on. He had told you on more than one occasion that your car seats were disgusting and that he’d rather die than sit on them. Politely, of course.

“Thank you,” he mumbled softly as he slid onto the seat.

You hummed in response, shutting his door before walking around to settle in the driver’s seat, turning the key in the ignition. No words were spoken between the two of you, settling for a comforting silence with the radio on a low setting, but that was fine with the both of you.

“Sheesh, there’s so many people here,” you muttered to yourself as you tried to finding a parking space. “I’m gonna let you out. I’ll find a spot and be there soon, okay?”

He nodded, waiting for you to come to a stop and lean over, opening his door before he got out, using his foot to close the door behind him.

Several minutes passed before you were able to snag one, putting it in park and turning off the ignition before stepping toward the field. You could hear the large crowd before you saw them and it made you cringe. People just weren’t your thing and sports fans were even worse. You just wanted to blend into the back of the crowd and mind your own business but when the coach saw you, she waved you over with a grin.

“Aoyama, over here!”

Dozens upon dozens of heads snapped toward you with stars around their heads and hearts in their eyes, expecting to see the first year that had become a soccer star but, instead, they got you, the older sibling with zero star power. The shine faded and their eyes narrowed at you, judging you to be an imposter. You could feel their piercing stares following you a you stepped through the crowd to reach the coach, who you were positive was a sadist.

“I told you to just call me Y/N,” you scowled at her, stuffing your hands into your pockets and trying to ignore the stares at your back.

“Oops, I forgot,” she grinned. “Where’s your brother?”

“Washing his hands probably.”

“Y/N, my love~!” Tsukamoto rushed toward you with his arms outstretched, lips puckered in hopes that you would kiss him.

You stepped back, sliding your foot forward so that he tripped, landing face first into the dirt. “I’m not your love, idiot.”

“How cold!”

“Y/N!” Zaizen folded his arms across his chest, giving you a stern look. “Where is your brother? He needs to be warming up!”

“Ya’ll do realize I’m not his keeper, right?” You deadpanned. “I don’t have him on a GPS system.”

“Hah? But you’re his older sibling! You should know where he’s at during all times!”

“You got a baby sister, right?”

“Yeah, so?”

“Where is she right now?” You quirked a brow, watching the different emotions crossing his face – first confusion, then embarrassment, and finally annoyance. “Yeah, I thought so.”

Ishikawa chuckled, bringing his hand to his mouth and pretending to cough when Zaizen glared at him.

Sakai took a step closer, glancing at you before quickly looking away, his cheeks dusted a bright pink. “You’re looking really pretty today, Y/N-senpai.”

“Thanks,” you offered him a soft smile and the pink darkened a few shades.

“Hey! How come you call me an idiot but you smile at him?” Tsukamoto cried, trying again to throw his arms around you but your foot to his face stopped him in his tracks.

“Because you’re an annoying idiot that doesn’t know when to quit,” you glanced the other boy, lips twitching up just a fraction. ‘Plus he’s adorable.’

“The game’s about to begin! Where the hell is Aoyama?” Zaizen huffed, angrily, eyes scanning the crowd.

“Do you mind going to look for him, Y/N-san?” Ishikawa asked you softly.

“Sure, why not.” With a shrug, you turned on your heel and headed away from the field, looking for your baby brother.

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Your eye twitched at the scene before you as you stood in the open doorway of the locker room, brain trying to process what the hell was happening but you could smell the smoke from its lack of progress.

A girl that you had never seen before was standing just inside the door without a shirt, her lacy bra on display. Gotou was standing in the middle of the room, clutching a bat lined with a bunch of bent nails and stickers of flowers. And, finally, Aoyama was scrubbing the locker room as if his life depended on it.

“I don’t get paid enough for this shit,” you sighed, bringing your hand to your face.

Aoyama didn’t look away from the locker he was scrubbing. “You’re not getting paid at all.”

“That, my dear brother, is the problem. You know your team needs you, right?”

“I’m almost done.”

“They kind of need you now, Haruka.”

He frowned, looking between you and the locker he was cleaning.

“Ah, don’t worry! I can finish this for you,” Gotou smiled brightly.

He hesitated a moment longer before slowly nodding and heading toward you. Together, the two of you headed for the baseball field.

“Do I want to know what the hell was happening back there?”

“She locked me inside so I couldn’t play. It was filthy,” his nose wrinkled in disgust.

“She what? That little – I’ll kill her!” You turned on your heel, prepared to return to the room so you could give her a piece of your mind, but Haruka’s fingers latched onto the end of your shirt.

“Don’t,” he spoke softly, tugging on it again. “She’s not worth it.”

“But -”

He pouted, making you sigh in frustration.

“Fine,” your hand came to rest between his shoulder blades, feeling his muscles tense beneath your touch. “Make sure you kick their ass, understand?”

“I will, I promise.”

With a smile, you ruffled his hair before taking the place beside the coach, feeling your heart swell as you watched your baby brother playing the sport that he loved so dearly.

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andrewuttaro · 5 years

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New Look Sabres: GM 17 - TBL - Sweden Pt. 2

5-3 Loss to the Lightning

Google says Buffalo and the surrounding area was a railroad commerce hub producing steel, auto products, and grain storage all not to mention the Great Lakes transportation. Buffalo has a proud history of being a working-class City. Now… oh boy… now I think it’s the biggest producer of Sabres gas. What’s Sabres Gas you ask? SABRES GAS IS THE GAS LIT UNDER 3 MILLION SABRES FANS ASSES EACH FALL AS WE’RE BAITED INTO BELIEVEING WE HAVE A GOOD TEAM ON OUR HANDS! Perrault, Martin, Robert, Gare, Housley, Mogilny, Lafontaine, Peca, Hasek, Miller, Briere, Vanek, Pominville all the heroes of old marched out this season for what? To remind us two generations before us also have gone through the same suffering? THE SABRES HAVEN’T BEEN GOOD FOR A DECADE! Don’t you tell me that 2009-2010 team was good. That was the first team I watched full time and let me tell you, the Sabres’ division at that time wasn’t anything like it is today! FUCK OFF WITH THAT DIVISION TITLE! THAT MINUS WELL JUST BE THE PEGULA BAIT BECAUSE BOTH THE PLAYOFFS THAT YEAR AND THE YEAR AFTER WERE NOT WORTH JACK SHIT! And what have we had since then? SHIT! AWFUL SHIT! I know some of you diehards put on your tank commander helmets and had a real exciting time from about 2013 to 2015, I did not. That was garbage and if I didn’t believe it was effective at the time I would have been smacking down anti-tanking hot takes like a Buffalo News Boomer! The only season there hasn’t been crushing disappointment with this team was Eichel’s rookie year; and the only reason that was a purely optimistic year was because he was too young for us to put him on blast! WE CAN’T EVEN AGREE ON WHY THEY SUCK! Mike Harrington and every hockey fan over 50 in this town feels the need to call out effort and grit from guys who either provide that in spades or were not drafted to punch people in the face! WHAT THE FUCK! DO YOU WANT TO HAVE FUN! And on the other side you got 20-30 something bitchy blog dudes with children in their avatar so you feel bad @ tweeting them when they drop the most pessimistic kill-me-now takes this side of Whole Foods! WHAT SHOULD I TALK ABOUT WITH THIS GAME? WHAT!?

Oh, Curtis McElhinney is the most overrated backup goalie in a generation. Hmm, that’s real compelling story telling! He won yesterday! The Sabres dominated the 5on5 shot share this second game in Sweden? You know I think we’d all dive into advanced stats a lot more if they weren’t SO OUT OF CONTEXT DEPRESSING ALL THE TIME! I understand Corsi and shooting percentage and even PDO now but all it feels like is I’ve found new ways to FEEL FUCKING DEPRESSED ABOUT THIS PERRENNIAL SHIT SHOW I’VE ATTACHED MYSELF TOO! Oh my God, imagine if I ran one of those advanced stats programs. Imagine how fucking grumpy I would be on the twitter machine if I spent the whole game cracking out numbers and charts only to be FUCKING ROASTED BY MY TEAM AGAIN WITH A FIFTH FUCKING STRAIGHT LOSS! Oh Chad you are some kind of Saint. Oh I forgot; we need to celebrate Victor Olofsson getting his first 5on5 goal! Yeah, let’s go back to that brief shining moment at the start of the third period when it seemed like we might just catch up with Tampa. Jack Eichel got the puck up to our favorite new Swede on what was hardly a breakaway. Olofsson gets the puck dragging two Lightning defenders behind him like he’s fucking Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer and manages to outmaneuver McElhinney to get Buffalo within one at 3-2 early in the third. There were two other Sabres goals in this game: Sam Reinhart continues to make us simultaneously love him and dread the cap jail he’s going put us in with the new contract next summer with his goal in the first. By the time Jack Eichel scored at the end of this game folks were already calling their Swedish Ubers to get back to their hotels and catch their flights. Oh tell me all about how they got the first goal or how they looked good in the back half of the second or how they might be able to win games without a great powerplay or how THEY ARE GETTING US BUTTERED UP FOR THE ROLL DOWN THE HILL AGAIN! FUCK! WHY DID I DECIDE I HAVE TO BE THE SABRES OPTIMIST!? FUCK THAT! I’M DONE LOOKING FOR SILVER LININGS! FUCK THIS TEAM THAT NEVER FUCKING CHANGES AND ONLY PROVIDES ME SOMETHING TO MISERABLE ABOUT WHILE I DON’T HAVE ANY DOMESTIC SOCCER TO BE MISERABLE ABOUT! FUCKITY FUCK FUCK!

Oh I hope Jason Botterill has signed a deal with Elliotte Friedman and Darren Dreger to provide us with a slow drip of Sabres rumors until the deadline passes and we just watch the whole house burn down around us again! That shit has been the only thing since before Halloween getting me excited about this team! Make a move Jason! You’re worried we’re going to roast you about it if it’s not good enough? We’re cynical sad crazy people following your team, WE’RE GOING TO DO THAT ANYWAY! What do you have to lose!? Your job? You think Terry is going pull the plug after firing sixty bazillion white bread yes men between his two pro teams since 2011? You sound smart, that’s THE ONLY REASON he hired you! FUCK PITTSBURGH, you could’ve built ten years of mediocrity in Minnesota but as long as you talked smart enough to deflect the inevitable shitstorms from him you were going to be his golden boy! He doesn’t want to fly his jet all over North America to dank arenas everywhere again! Do you think they want to do Rebuild Part III here or what? DO SOMETHING! 5 straight losses isn’t a big deal considering the last few years here but that shouldn’t be the expectation anymore. I know they played the games in Sweden; I know the officiating was horse shit, I know all these supposed disqualifiers of the recent skid being real; but I’m done giving them completely unjustified optimistic takes. When Tampa scored those two third period goals almost immediately back-to-back I was going to a movie with my wife for a fun little date night. I turned the radio off. This team is becoming a second job for some of us. The cloud of last season hangs over our head like an impending blizzard we know isn’t bad enough to get us time off a work. Most of my Sabres work is free content. I’m not getting paid for this job and if they can’t convert on chances and eek out even an overtime loss in four games then I’m not going to give them a full postgame. I’m sitting here watching the Bills more excited about a team in a sport I don’t even like! We’re only 17 games in but if this turns into another lost season I don’t know if I can keep asking for more. More suffering. More SABRES GAS!

That’s it for today. Like, share and comment if you want. That probably feels pretty difficult right now. 1-5-1 in the last seven games! Gross. Three points per seven games isn’t going to clinch a playoff spot, not even close! Is that what Jason Botterill and this organization wants this year or should I start looking at draft profiles again? At this rate we’ll find out before Thanksgiving! Have a nice day, Go Bills.

Thanks for Reading.

P.S. Tell me this garbage is more exciting then Soccer and so help me God I will stick my foot up your ass!

#buffalo sabres #hockey #blog #nhl #sweden

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izanyas · 6 years

Text

Earlier Than Never

Written for skk zine, posted as part of the Soukoku Trope Bingo 2018 (prompt: School).

Rating: G Words: 5,200 No warnings.

Earlier Than Never

Chuuya's second year of high school should have been exactly like the first.

He did well in most of his classes. He had good friends. He was part of the soccer team, which had won every game he had played, much to their coach's delight. He wasn't involved in any of the occasional sordid stories and rumors that were part of all school experiences; he stood up against bullies, was appreciated by his teachers and classmates, and was occasionally confessed to by girls he had to turn down in spite of his embarrassment—and without quite revealing why he turned them down.

He should've walked his way toward the end of the year tranquilly, and Dazai should've kept ignoring him.

"You know," said the voice of the boy in question, much deeper now than it had been before Dazai had disappeared from his life, "I really wouldn't have pegged you for the top-of-the-year kind. Aren't sports kids supposed to get abysmal grades?"

He was leaning over Chuuya's shoulder, peering down at the physics homework spread over Chuuya's desk, and his words came with soft exhales around the bare skin of Chuuya's neck. Chuuya clenched his teeth reflexively. He also clenched his hand, crumpling the page of his textbook and making his scars redden.

Don't answer him, he told himself.

"But there you are, beating me in science. You used to be terrible at math, Chuuya; what on earth happened?"

"This is self-study," came Yosano's drawling voice from the row behind them. "Not study-your-neighbor, Dazai."

Chuuya's jaw only relaxed when he felt Dazai move away to look at her. He didn't have to turn around to know the face he would be making now; slightly bemused, slightly condescending, as if to ask her, Why would I need to study?

"I don't have anything to work on right now," Dazai replied, oddly polite.

"Nakahara does."

"Surely our resident genius can handle a few questions."

"I'm not your resident genius," Chuuya said between his teeth. He regretted it immediately, for Dazai seemed to take his spite as invitation and leaned over his desk again, sideways this time, so that Chuuya couldn't avoid having him within his sight. Furious with himself, he shot Dazai a glare. "I just work hard."

Dazai gave him a slow smile. With his head tilted, with how close they were to the windows, his hair lightened to brown. Strands of it brushed softly over his forehead.

Chuuya held his breath and looked away.

"You really like physics." Chuuya didn't make a move to stop Dazai as he slid the notebook out of his loose-fingered hold, and even without direct contact, Chuuya felt his fingertips tingle. "Your handwriting's still terrible, but these are some well-kept notes. I know our teacher wants you to study it in college, too."

Had the compliment come from anyone else, Chuuya would've thanked them. He would have felt flustered, a little flattered, proud of himself. As it came from Dazai, he only spat, "What is it to you anyway?"

There was a brief silence. "It's just interesting," Dazai replied evenly. "You've changed."

If Dazai wanted to get to know Chuuya again, he could've done so any time in the last year. Chuuya ripped his notebook out of the other's hold and started shoving his things back in his bag.

"Yosano," he called, ignoring Dazai's presence entirely and looking over his shoulder. Yosano sat a desk over, looking at them with boredom. "Wanna go get lunch?"

"I suppose it's close enough to the end of the period," she answered, eyes flicking toward the wall clock. "Though, we'll get chewed if we get caught."

"We won't. Come on."

He waited just long enough for her to have bagged her own books before rising from his chair. He pushed Dazai out of his way, and Dazai moved without complaint, following the press of Chuuya's hand like water swept by the tide.

Chuuya barely listened to what Yosano was saying while they crossed the corridor leading to Higuchi's classroom. He leaned by the wall next to the door as she stuck her head inside to invite her to join them.

It was a warm spring day, blooming pink and yellow over the wide school grounds. Chuuya let the sun wash over his face and felt only shivers.

"Welcome home."

Arthur's voice must be coming from within the kitchen. Chuuya eased his shoes off one-handed and tried not to stumble in the process. His backpack was only slung over one shoulder, pulling him toward the ground. He managed not to fall by awkwardly shoving himself onto the wall; behind him, the front door closed with a click.

Arthur's head peeked out of the open entrance of the kitchen. "You alive in there?"

"Yeah," Chuuya replied, smiling despite himself. "Sorry. Just tired from practice."

"You're running late. Your coach isn't working you too hard, is he?"

"S'fine. The season starts next week."

Arthur gave a sympathetic noise and went back to what smelled like dinner. Chuuya exhaled slowly, thoroughly, until at last some of the tension in his back filtered out. His calves and thighs still ached fiercely, but that was nothing a good night's sleep wouldn't fix.

"What's for dinner?" he asked once he had put on his slippers and made his way to the kitchen itself. He let his bags fall by his chair and took a seat, glad to see that the table had already been set.

"Pasta," Arthur announced proudly. "I think I managed to cook them al dente."

"Did you tell Paul already?"

"Who do you take me for? I sent him a snap the moment I took them out of the water."

Chuuya laughed. "How unfair is it," he declared, "that the best dad and the best sibling are both on the other side of the world. I haven't seen a vegetable that wasn't sadly boiled in a month."

"You can cook," Arthur replied, falsely accusing, even as he dumped a spoonful of spaghetti into Chuuya's plate. "You're just never around to do it."

"We can't all work from home, old man."

Dinner was a pleasant affair. It always was. Even with Paul and Kouyou gone to France—one to spoon-feed Arthur's new book to its intended public, the other for college—Chuuya didn't feel off in the least. Arthur was good company, with cutting humor and kind eyes. That had been what had driven Chuuya to him in the first place, eight-year-old that he had been, feral and rude and achingly lonely.

If he had been told then that he would one day have a place to call home and people to call family, he would've laughed until he cried.

Chuuya took care of the dishes despite his aching legs and Arthur's offer to do it himself. The activity soothed his mind of the day's thoughts, too many of which had been occupied by Dazai's weird behavior of late, and the scarring on his hands was old enough now that dish soap and water didn't irritate it too much. He barely spared it a glance as he set the plates up to dry on their own.

"I've got some homework left," he called from the kitchen, wiping his hands with a clean rag. "So I'm gonna head up now."

He could see the back of Arthur's head above the armchair he was sat in, no doubt putting endless edits onto an already-perfect draft. Arthur lifted a hand in his direction and said, "Good night, kid."

Paul always had an easier time calling Chuuya son than Arthur did, but even so, Chuuya heard the word for what it was. It kept him warm through the chest during all of his Japanese lit reading.

His phone rang sometime before ten, right as he was deliberating getting started on chemistry ahead of time. He took the call, as happy with the excuse not to as he was with its sender.

"Hi." He grinned as soon as Kouyou's face sharpened over the screen.

"Hello," she replied, smiling as well. "Hard at work?"

"Procrastinating. Where's Paul?"

"At some fancy editorial luncheon, I believe, singing Arthur's praise." It was afternoon still in France, and Chuuya could see sunlight around the shape of his sister, a stone wall at the back of her head and foliage from some tree brushing in and out of the frame. "How are you?"

Generally speaking they reserved calls for weekends, because of the awkward time difference and because it was easier for all of them to be present at once, so Kouyou and he had talked only days ago. Chuuya knew he had been withdrawn, though, and so he had an idea of the reason she had chosen a time when she knew he would be alone.

He picked idly at the numb burn scars marring the back of his wrists and hands. They weren't so very swollen now and thankfully not nearly as sensitive as they had been for months after the accident, but he still only had to focus for a second to feel the echo of that ache.

"I'm fine," he replied at last.

He knew he couldn't fool her.

"Chuuya," Kouyou said, predictably, in a less agreeable tone than she had used so far. "Something's bothering you."

"It's nothing important."

"But it's something."

Sometimes, Chuuya really wished that she weren't so perceptive.

"It's nothing," he repeated, but the words came with far less ease the second time around. "It's just—you know. Dazai."

Kouyou kept silent for a moment. When she asked, "Has he done anything to you?" her voice was cold.

"No," Chuuya replied too quickly. "No, he's just decided to stop ignoring me is all."

"What do you mean?"

He hadn't realized just how tightly he had withheld his thoughts, crushed them inside his chest like paper in a closed fist, until the words came flowing out of him at the sight of Kouyou's face, the sound of her static-filled voice. Each time he said Dazai's name came a little more easily. It was a year now since the boy had reappeared into his life; yet aside from mentioning his return once on the day he had turned fifteen, Chuuya had not said any more.

Fatigue threatened to pull his eyelids down by the time he was done. He had moved from desk to bed sometime during his messy rant, and was in the middle of changing into sleepwear with his phone screen turned away.

"I don't know what to tell you," she said to him, her head now resting fully against the wall of what must be her university building. Chuuya slid into bed. "I can't fix this for you."

"I know," Chuuya mumbled sleepily.

"But…"

She paused. The mic of her own phone was not powerful enough to pick up the wind he could see swaying in her hair, but Chuuya heard it all the same. For a moment, he pictured himself sitting next to her, breathing in smells different from those of Yokohama, lacking the salt that sea brought but perhaps a bit sweeter.

"I don't think he'd be speaking to you for no reason. Maybe he wants to apologize."

"I don't want his apology."

At least not for what Dazai probably thought he should be apologizing for. Chuuya stared at the back of his hands, where his skin was pink and white and melted-looking.

"Then maybe he just misses you, Chuuya," Kouyou said softly.

Darkness was tugging at the corners of Chuuya's sight. The exertion of the day caught up with him at last and made his body languid, his mind weak against the pull of sleep.

He had almost entirely given to it when Kouyou added, "You're very easy to miss."

The first game of the season came the next Wednesday. Chuuya spent most of that week allowing himself lenience on school work to focus on training instead, spending each evening in the company of his team, carving strategy into his head as deep as he did the physical drills. He didn't see much of his father outside of breakfast because, more often than not, he and Tachihara ended up getting dinner together after practice, too tired to do much more than moan about their fate.

Coach Oda had high hopes for them this year. The winning nationals sort of hope. Just because he was nice about it didn't mean that he was letting any of them, especially Chuuya, slack off any.

Chuuya spent the night before the game catching up on what little homework he could and then forcing himself into bed at ten o'clock sharp. Until midnight he stared at the ceiling of his room and listened to the comings and goings of Arthur downstairs. Arthur always wrote the most at night.

Somehow, he ended up falling asleep; and somehow, he woke up feeling refreshed, free of the almost-constant nausea that stress had knotted into his stomach all week. He ate with relief, showered, picked up his bag and made for his school.

Luckily, the game was to be held there. He didn't think he would be quite so calm if he had to step onto foreign grounds, no matter that the team they were playing studied only a handful of streets away.

"You ready for this?" Tachihara asked when he entered the locker room.

"We'll see," Chuuya replied, grabbing his offered arm firmly.

He turned his focus to the game after that. Changing into his team colors, warming up, all of it in a blur; soon enough he was on the field, surrounded by a surprising amount of people. It seemed most of their school had turned up, as well as a good chunk of their opposing team's. A cry of his name quickly brought his attention to where Higuchi sat, next to a smirking Yosano.

Dazai was behind them. Their eyes met for a second—just long enough for Dazai's lips to flutter into a smile.

Chuuya felt the cooling heat in his face awaken once more and turned away harshly.

It was a good game. Chuuya had not expected that they would lose, though their opponents had a new and better coach this year than the last time they had played each other. A coach was only as good as their team, however, and although the woman sitting next to Oda by the field's flank looked severe and involved, Chuuya's team was still a level above what she could handle.

Their win was expected, but it didn't stop the stadium from exploding in cheers once the final whistle was blown, nor Oda from congratulating them all warmly. Sakaguchi, Chuuya's literature teacher and the person responsible for the club, smiled awkwardly by his side.

"You're a force of nature, Nakahara," said one of Chuuya's teammates once they were back in the locker room and queueing for the showers. Shirase—that was his name—wiped uselessly at the sweat running down his face. "How the hell did you score that last one?"

"Luck," Chuuya replied honestly.

"Bullshit."

"Chuuya's just that good," Tachihara interrupted, happily throwing one arm over Chuuya's shoulder, laughing at Chuuya's grunt of displeasure. "Are you jealous you could only land one?"

"Shut up, Tachihara, you didn't score anything."

"I'm in defense, shithead."

"Are you on something?" Shirase sneered, turning to Chuuya once more. "There's no way you're just doing all that fair and square."

His eyes roamed up and down Chuuya's body. He was the tallest member of the team, long-legged and very fast for it. Chuuya had no love for him, and Shirase didn't like him either, but they rarely confronted each other directly. Chuuya thought himself more mature than to let rivalry put the team at risk.

"I guess being a teacher's pet helps," Shirase continued. "Or… you've never had a girlfriend, right? Maybe you've picked up on your daddies' tastes. Do you offer special favors—"

Chuuya punched him.

It wasn't a hard punch, but Shirase still bent in two over the zone of the impact, choking on a swear and turning red in the face. Chuuya's ears were ringing, his body tensing anew. His left knee bent in preparation for a kick.

"You fucking—"

"Nakahara," came Oda's voice.

Everyone seemed to freeze in their spot. Shirase straightened up painfully. The others, who had peeked over the shower booths or around the lockers to watch the commotion, quickly went back to their business.

"Yes," Chuuya said, feeling very far from his own body.

Oda nodded to the side of the door by which he was standing. "Someone wants to talk to you, if you've got a minute."

It took a while for Chuuya to make sense of his coach's words. Probably no more than a few seconds, but to him, they felt like hours.

"Sure," he replied slowly. He clenched his teeth. Released them. Stepped away from his friend and added, "I'll be right back, Tachihara."

"Uh, all right."

He made his way to the entrance of the room and past his coach, who gave him a glance that said I know what you just did and don't think I'll let it slide more sharply than words could. Chuuya's only comfort was that Oda stared at Shirase next with even more disappointment.

How Oda managed to convey so much while looking perpetually bored was anyone's guess.

The air outside came too crisply to his damp skin, chilling it almost instantly. Spring hadn't settled enough to make the wind was bearable. Chuuya found that it did little to help soothe the anger clawing up his insides; but then he saw Dazai standing a little way from the door, shoes stained by the damp grass and lips stretched into a thin smile.

Chuuya turned around and tried to make for the lockers again.

"Wait," Dazai called, hurrying after him and grabbing him around the elbow. "I just need to ask you something."

"I've got nothing to say to you," Chuuya gritted out, pouring as much loathing as he could into the word.

Dazai hesitated. His grip on Chuuya's arm relaxed, and Chuuya could have easily freed himself, with how slick he felt all over and with Dazai's apparent reluctance to hold onto him too tightly.

The observation only made him angrier.

For a moment they stood as they were: Chuuya half-turned away and Dazai looking almost lost. Chuuya still felt as though the blood in his veins was simmering. He would hear Shirase's hateful words echo through him if only he bothered to listen.

"Well?" Chuuya snapped, once the silence became too hard to bear. It didn't matter that chatter filtered out of the locker room as an easy distraction. "Ask your question."

Dazai's shoulders relaxed visibly. He let go of Chuuya's arm. "You were great today," he said evenly. "Though that's less surprising than the grades."

"You had all of last year to tell me that if you wanted to."

Chuuya wanted to do more; he wanted to add, asshole, to the end of his sentence, or yell it out instead. But Dazai looked away then as if shamed by his words—as if he could ever feel shame—and his throat shivered visibly.

"Are you doing anything tomorrow evening?" he asked then.

Surprise made Chuuya tell the truth without thinking. "No."

"Great," and now Dazai was smiling again, as devastatingly handsome now as he had been when they were thirteen and thought their world would never change. "Can you meet me at nine?"

"What for?" Chuuya asked defensively, instead of doing the smart thing and refusing outright.

Dazai shook his head. His smile turned a little more bitter. "Just trust me," he said. And then, probably realizing how that sounded: "If you want to."

Chuuya should say no.

It wasn't even because the last time he had met with Dazai on his own had turned out the way it did. That was very far from his mind. He should say no because he didn't owe Dazai anything, not anymore, not after two years of silence and a year of being made to feel as if he hadn't meant anything to Dazai at all.

"Maybe he wants to apologize," Kouyou had said, but Chuuya wanted no apology.

"Maybe he misses you."

Chuuya couldn't pretend that he hadn't missed Dazai either.

"Fine," he said.

Dazai's face lit up with his grin. It always did.

The thing was, it hadn't been Dazai's fault.

He hadn't been the one to make Chuuya fall. He hadn't placed the until then-unseen puddle of car oil where it was, ready to ignite at the touch of Chuuya's lit cigarette. They had hung around the disused garage countless times before, a secret lair for two children as so many other places of the kind must be for so many others.

The thing was that Chuuya and Dazai had once been friends. Chuuya had been adopted in France, where his Japanese mother had given birth to him before leaving him behind, where Arthur and Paul had married and lived their whole lives until choosing to adopt two kids no one wanted: an eight-year-old boy who had caused nothing but trouble for every foster home he had lived in, and a twelve-year-old girl who had done much of the same. They had moved to Japan after that because Arthur and Paul wanted Chuuya and Kouyou to live in their country of origin.

Chuuya had met Dazai almost immediately. It had taken no more than a day for the both of them to get into a fight at Chuuya's brand new school—a school he could go to without the shame of having to say that he had no home, no parents to come home to, for the very first time. And Chuuya couldn't remember why he had fought with Dazai that day, or why he had allowed the other boy to follow him around after that, bruised and angry even as they sat together on a bench and contemplated the wide world around them.

He couldn't explain why Dazai followed him, and why he let Dazai follow, and why he felt as happy with the thought of a friend as he was with that of a family. Back then the two hadn't been different to him; back then everyone in his life that he cared about was as good as kin.

So Chuuya and Dazai grew, picking fights with each other as often as they did not, lying side by side on the floor of each other's bedroom, sneaking around Yokohama for every dirty corner they could find and call theirs.

Chuuya didn't remember much of the incident after he had fallen. The doctors had told him that it was for the best because he had been in so much pain; Chuuya thought it was for the worst because he couldn't know if the anguished cry of his name he had heard when his arms took fire had been real or a nightmare.

For a very long time that was the last thing he heard from Dazai at all. Chuuya, bellowed from the lungs of a gangly kid, breaking over the vowels because his voice hadn't set yet.

All he knew was that Dazai had escaped unharmed. He let the thought float through his drug-hazed mind in the weeks he spent watching the burned skin of his hands and forearms heal. He hung onto it day after day, waiting for Dazai to visit him, to text him, to do anything to prove he hadn't been a figment of Chuuya's imagination all this time.

Dazai had long been gone by the time Chuuya was released from the hospital. He stayed gone for two years. Some of their mutual friends said he had moved overseas. Others said that he had died.

When he came back at the beginning of Chuuya's first year of high school, Chuuya thought for days that he was seeing a ghost roaming the corridors.

"Oh, hello, Chuuya," Dazai said the one time they bumped into each other with no one else around.

He never said anything else.

Chuuya arrived late to his rendezvous with Dazai because Dazai himself always arrived late, and he didn't want to look like a fool waiting for someone to show up. Not when he didn't know if Dazai would even bother showing up.

Dazai was already there.

"Hi," he told Chuuya, smiling.

Chuuya didn't know how to answer. He felt like smiling back, or turning away and going home. Most of all he felt like hiding his face into the shadows, away from the glare of streetlight, so that Dazai could not read from him what he did not want to be read.

They were at the entrance of Mitsuike Park. The sun had slipped behind the mountains, and the sky was a dark blue, yet people were milling about, families and couples walking in and out of the open gates with a soft murmur of voices.

"I didn't think parks stayed open at night," Chuuya said. He had to say something.

Dazai turned his back to him and replied, "Follow me."

The walkers around them became sparser the deeper they went. Dazai soon took Chuuya away from the paths and between trees and flowering bushes, always looking over his shoulder to make sure Chuuya followed, holding branches out of his way when one was too high to step over.

"I remember you said you'd never done this before," Dazai said at one point, chasing off the quiet.

Chuuya wasn't sure where they were anymore. The canopy overhead kept them from moonlight, making Dazai's trail difficult to follow. He guided himself mostly with the sound of the other's footsteps, almost too sharp against the thick silence and occasional watery sounds. At least the lake must not be far; Chuuya would be able to navigate his way back by following the shore if Dazai tried to lose him.

"Done what?" he asked.

"Hanami. Your dads are always too busy at this time of the year, and you never got around to doing it with someone else, right?"

Don't talk about my dads, Chuuya wanted to say. Shirase's insults were too close still to the surface of his mind, only a shiver away from breaking through and awakening his rage. But Dazai's tone wasn't mocking. Dazai has never said anything uncouth toward Arthur or Paul or Chuuya himself. Not about this.

"I've seen the trees plenty of times," he replied.

"Not properly."

Dazai stumbled on a root. Chuuya grabbed the back of his jacket to keep him from falling forward. It was a thoughtless act, not something he wanted to spend time analyzing; but before he could take his hand back he found it clutched in Dazai's own.

Dazai's hand was surprisingly cold. Soft and barely even damp. When his thumb brushed over Chuuya's scar, Chuuya stopped thinking entirely.

He was pulled forward and out of the thick greenery.

There was a little wooden balcony there that Chuuya had never seen before. It looked dusty, unused, perhaps forgotten by all. The lantern sat upon its bannister looked older than any Chuuya had seen before.

Yet it wasn't the sudden light that Chuuya was staring at.

Pink petals hung from the cherry trees and swayed into the breeze. No stars could be seen now against the glow of that lantern, but it didn't matter at all; not when every flower looked like cut paper on a canvas, drawn by hand onto the black sky, falling onto the quiet lake like snow.

"Come on," Dazai murmured.

Chuuya let himself be dragged towards the steps in front of them. He climbed onto the promontory with Dazai's hand still holding his. He couldn't look anywhere but above, at the streaks of black night running ink-like between glowing flowers. The surface of the lake was dot work, pink and white strewn overwater like little drops of paint.

"It's nice, isn't it?"

Chuuya couldn't have told how long it took him to look back at Dazai. He felt for once undisturbed by the smile on his lips.

He swallowed. "It's nice," he replied. "It's… it's beautiful."

Dazai had once accused him of always being swayed by pretty things. Chuuya had not told him how much of that applied to how Dazai swayed him.

"I'm glad," Dazai said. "I wanted to give you a nice birthday gift."

Chuuya frowned. "My birthday is next week."

"Ah, but they won't be blooming anymore by then. They're already late as it is."

Chuuya tried in vain to make sense of it. Rather than ask Dazai directly, he looked at the flowers again. Dazai's fingers in his hair almost startled his heart to a stop.

He allowed the other to pull whatever it was he caught out of Chuuya's hair—a petal, it turned out, and a leaf that must have been there since they worked their way through the trees.

"Chuuya," Dazai said then. "I'm sorry."

It felt like a dream, because Chuuya had dreamed of this many more time than he could count. Dazai appearing at the door of his hospital room. Dazai walking into class one day and grinning at him foolishly. Dazai sparing more than absent glances toward him as they crossed paths in hallways.

Dazai holding his hand under a roof of luminous flowers.

"It doesn't change anything," Chuuya said lowly.

"I know."

"You fucking disappeared. For two years. And then you acted like I didn't even exist."

"I'm sorry." Dazai seemed to brace himself. "I'm so sorry. I had my reasons, but I know they're not going to just erase everything—that is, if you're willing to hear me out." There was fear on his face, for a second, that Chuuya would not be. "But not now," he finished. "Now I just want to apologize."

And Chuuya had said time and time again, to himself and his family, that he had no need for Dazai's apology; but his heart felt swollen now, pushing up his throat and making his eyes burn.

"I hate you," he let out. He wound his free arm around Dazai's shoulders and said again, "I hate you so much," before embracing him.

Dazai laughed against the top of his head. His fingers twined with Chuuya's, pressing them together to gap the spaces in which they shook, taking in the warmth cradled in Chuuya's palm as if he had only ever been cold. Chuuya shoved his face into his shoulder and willed himself not to cry.

Dazai was the one who pulled away first. Chuuya felt the absence of his hand sharply, at least until it came to rest along his arm instead, thumb stroking over Chuuya's jacket. With a settling inhale, he leaned back as well.

"Your story better be damn good," he said shakily, once he had retrieved enough of himself to be able to speak.

Dazai smiled tiredly. He didn't make a move to avoid Chuuya's hand brushing the side of his face, though his cheeks colored at the contact, echoing Chuuya's own blush.

"I don't know if it's good," he replied, "but it's interesting."

Already, Chuuya felt something heal in him that he hadn't known was still bleeding. Already he knew that whatever Dazai's story was, he would forgive him for it.

He couldn't find it in himself to regret it at all.

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #soukoku #dazai osamu #nakahara chuuya #soukoku trope bingo 2018 #fic: earlier than never #finally i never have to look at this again #featured

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ricandhaiz · 5 years

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Blindsided, Chapter 3

The day was warm and sunny with a slight wind as Nic made his way to the university’s main plaza to meet Allie. Given the burned portions of skin’s hypersensitivity to the sun, he’d opted to wear a long sleeve denim shirt and jeans with a baseball cap. While navigating through the throng of students coming and going to campus, he noticed that most of the people gathering for the men’s acapella group’s lunch time performance were women. He spotted Allie and Charlie sitting on a patch of grass underneath a large jacaranda tree not far from the arched gateway separating the upper and lower portions of the plaza. Charlie wagged his tail and barked in acknowledgment as he approached them.

“Nic, is that you?” Allie asked.

“You weren’t kidding when you told me this show was popular with the girls,” Nic replied as he sat down next to her. “I’m surprised there aren’t more men here. This place is practically swarming with women. I think I’m outnumbered three to one, which are great odds for any single guy who’s looking to pick up a girl.”

Allie smiled. “You think so?”

“Absolutely,” Nic replied as he thought about what his pre-accident self would have done in this situation. “It’s their loss, I guess. Lucky for me, I’m already sitting next to the prettiest girl on campus.”

“Wow,” Allie exclaimed, giggling. “You do have a way with words. My B.S. meter is usually pretty good at spotting a player a mile away but the way you just said that almost sounded believable.”

“You think I’m lying?” Nic replied.

Just then, a petite brunette wearing a red t-shirt and jean shorts arrived with arms laden with food and drinks. She greeted Allie with a warm hello as she bent down and handed her a can of Coke and a tuna sandwich. She turned to Nic as she sat down next to Charlie and said, “You must be the guy that Allie’s been talking my ear off about. You’re Nic, right?” Nic glanced at Allie, who was blushing. He nodded. She extended her hand to him and said, “Hi, I’m her roommate, Nicole.”

He shook Nicole’s hand and said, “I can’t imagine what she could’ve said about me. I’m really not that interesting.”

“Oh please,” Nicole replied with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Your name rang a bell as soon as she mentioned it, so being the overprotective and nosy friend that I am, I took the liberty of looking you up on the internet. You’re one of the Spanish soccer players who got into that horrific car accident in L.A. two years ago, right?” Nic nodded again, feeling decidedly uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was taking. “It was all over the news.”

His face fell as he recalled all the news clippings about the accident that his abuela had shown him when he had first returned to Spain. “Have you talked to anyone else other than Allie about me?” Nicole shook her head. Relieved, he added, “I’d appreciate it if you could keep what you’ve learned about me to yourself. It was a very painful period in my life and it took a long time for me to come to terms with what happened. I had to undergo months of physical and psychological therapy to get to where I am now. During that process, I decided that I needed a fresh start. That’s why I came here to study.”

“Of course,” Nicole replied contritely. “Mum’s the word.”

“Have many people asked you about your accident?” Allie asked as she popped the tab on her soda can.

Nic paused, then said, “It hasn’t really come up in any of the conversations I’ve had with my professors and classmates. I think they’re savvy enough to realize that it’s a sensitive issue for me and have chosen to respect my privacy in that regard.”

“Allie tells me that you’re in an MBA student,” Nicole said in a tentative voice. “Do you know where you’re going and what you want to do after you graduate?”

Nic sensed that her question had a lot to do with her concern for Allie and where a possible relationship with him might lead. In an attempt to assuage her concerns, he replied, “My family has been in the wine business for generations. Naturally, my papá would like to pass the business on to me once he retires but nothing’s set in stone. I could decide to stay here after I graduate. It’s too early yet for me to say for sure one way or the other.”

“Some of the articles I read said that your father also played professional football,” Nicole said.

“Yes, he did,” Nic replied, grateful that the focus of the conversation had at least temporarily shifted away from him. “He was one of three goalkeepers chosen to be a part of the Spanish national football team at both the 1994 and 1998 FIFA World Cups. He played for Real Madrid and Barça for years before he retired in the early 2000s.”

“Is he the reason why you decided to be a footballer too?” Allie asked.

“In part, but it was mostly because I loved playing the game too. My madre told me that I was playing with footballs even before I learned to walk.”

Allie then asked him, “Did people often compare you to your father?”

“All the time,” Nic replied as he reflected on his padre’s storied football career. “I didn’t mind. Most of the time, it just motivated me to work harder, especially since I’m two inches shorter than he is. Most goalkeepers are usually at least six feet tall.”

“Was he very involved in your sports career?” Allie asked.

Nic reflected on her question, then said, “He only gave me advice when I asked for it. He made it clear to me early on in my career that he wanted me to succeed on my own merit.”

“I bet your mom’s mighty proud of what you’ve accomplished,” Allie said. “Not many people have the skill or the talent to make it to the professional level of football like you did.”

“I’m sure she would have been,” Nic replied slowly. “She died of breast cancer when I was a teenager.”

Allie gasped in surprise and bit her lip. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“There’s no need for you to apologize,” Nic interjected. “You didn’t say or do anything wrong.”

After a brief pause in the conversation, Nicole leaned in as she placed her hand on Allie’s shoulder and said, “Well, now that Nic’s in the picture, maybe Conner will finally take a hint and go and find someone else to bother.”

“It doesn’t sound like you like him much,” Nic chimed in.

“No, I don’t,” Nicole replied matter-of-factly. “And neither does Allie but she’s just too nice to tell him to buzz off.”

“Is that true?” Nic asked.

Allie sighed. “He’s all right, but what irritates me most is his tendency to treat me like an invalid who can’t do anything for herself.”

“He’s such a tool,” Nicole said, shaking her head as she took a bite of her ham and cheese sandwich. “I know he’s a family friend and all, and that your aunt and his mom are close but that doesn’t mean you should feel obliged to put up with him like you do.”

“I know,” Allie said. “But it’s not like I haven’t tried to—”

“But nothing,” Nicole cut in. “You need to stop beating around the bush and tell him to back off, especially now that I’m not going to be there to help run interference for you.”

“You’re leaving?” Nic asked.

“My boyfriend recently got an advertising job in L.A. and asked me to go with him. I graduated this past spring and have been working as a nurse at the university hospital. I’ve already got a few interviews lined up so I don’t think I’ll have much of a problem landing a job.”

“It’s a great opportunity for both of them,” Allie said with a touch of sadness in her voice despite her obvious effort to sound upbeat. “Nicole’s been dying to move to a big city like L.A. ever since we met my freshman year here.”

Nicole nodded. “Hilton City’s alright for a college town but I can’t see myself living here long term. I need to be in a place with a faster pulse, you know what I’m saying?”

Nic glanced at Allie and said, “What does this mean for you?”

Allie shrugged and patted the top of Charlie’s head. “I can’t afford the apartment we live in on my own so I’m probably going to have to move back in with my aunt and uncle for a little while. I’d rather find another roommate but that’s tricky, especially with me being blind. Nicole’s the best. It’s probably going to be near high impossible to find someone like her on such short notice.”

“Where do you live?” Nicole asked.

“My friend, Matt, helped me find a room in a house just two blocks from the south side of campus. I live with an elderly couple whose son recently moved out. They rented out his room to me as a favor to Matt.”

Nicole’s eyes seemed to widen in apparent excitement. He wondered why. She asked, “Are you obligated to stay there for the entire school year?”

“No,” Nic replied.

She quickly followed that up with a few more questions. “Do you smoke or drink?”

“No, and a lot less than I used to.”

“Are you neat? I mean, like, do you tend clean up after yourself or are you the type that leaves his stuff lying around the house?”

“I’d like to think so.”

“Have you had roommates before?”

Nic shook his head, then swiftly added, “But that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t be a good one.”

Nicole paused, looking thoughtful as she tapped her finger to her cheek. “Would you mind having to share space, like a bathroom with someone, if you had to?”

“What’s with all the questions?” Allie cut in.

Nicole nudged her in the ribs and said, “Isn’t it obvious? I’m trying to find out if Nic would be a good replacement for me.”

“What?” Allie asked, appearing utterly confused.

“Can you just see it?” Nicole replied, clapping her hands together in delight. “Trust me. I have a sixth sense about these things.”

For a moment or two, Nicole’s suggestion rendered both Nic and Allie speechless.

“Well, say something!” Nicole said. “You know I’m right.”

“Umm…I don’t know. My aunt might not approve of me living with a guy.”

Nicole rolled her eyes and said, “Your aunt needs to bring herself into the twenty-first century. People of the opposite sex live together all the time. Isn’t that right, Nic?”

“Yes, I suppose so,” Nic replied cautiously.

“What do you think?” Allie asked.

“I don’t see why not.” Nic replied as his eyes darted back and forth between Allie and Nicole. “But I’d only do it if you’re one hundred percent okay with it.”

“Really?” Allie asked, sounding slightly off-kilter. Nic was finding it hard to gauge whether Allie agreed with Nicole’s assessment of the situation or not. But then she said, “Before you commit to anything, you ought to come by our apartment and take a look around first.”

“Are you doing anything this afternoon?” Nicole asked expectantly.

“I have an accounting class at two o’clock, but I could drop by any time after that,” Nic replied.

Nicole answered, “Why don’t you swing by at six? Allie and I will make spaghetti.” She patted Allie’s knee, adding, “Sound good?”

“Are you sure?” Allie asked, furrowing your brow as she turned her head in Nic’s direction. “We’re just getting to know each other. The last thing I want to do is make you feel like I’m pressuring you into moving in with me out of some misguided sense of obligation or pity.”

Nic placed his hand over Allie’s and gave it a squeeze. “Believe me, if I do agree to do it, feeling sorry for you definitely won’t be the reason I say yes.”

Just then, a member of The Warblers spoke up. He thanked the crowd for coming and then announced their opening song, “Bohemian Rhapsody.”

Nic was grateful for the diversion. As the very real possibility of living with Allie began to sink in, he couldn’t help but think of this unexpected turn of events as the best stroke of luck that he’d encountered in a very long time. Although there was a part of him that was wary of being exposed to possible disappointment and heartbreak, the desire to love and be loved was much stronger. And so, he decided to keep an open mind and see how things would pan out later this evening.

It was five till six when Nic looked up at the number on the white door and compared it to the piece of paper upon which Nicole had scribbled her and Allie’s apartment number and address earlier that day. It had been a pleasant and relatively short walk from the university library to their two-bedroom ground floor apartment. He’d stopped and sat on a park bench for a little while so as not to arrive too early and amused himself by watching children feed the ducks which were congregating at the edge of a small pond.

He knocked. A tall, sandy-blond haired man wearing a black t-shirt and shorts opened the door. For a second, Nic wondered if he was in the right place and was about to take a second glance at the paper in his hand when the man said, “Are you Nic? I’m Brandon, Nicole’s boyfriend. Come on in.”

Nic smiled and waved at Nicole and Allie, who were in the kitchen with Charlie, and followed Brandon to the living room. He was immediately struck by how neat and tidy the apartment looked. He glanced at an assortment of flowers in a glass vase on the coffee table and saw numerous pictures of the girls with friends and family hanging on the walls and side tables. He thought these things gave the place a decidedly homey feeling. Brandon motioned for him to take a seat on a red futon which had multicolored throw pillows on each corner. As he sat down, his eye fell on a picture of a man in a fireman’s outfit holding a little brown-haired girl in his arms.

“That’s Allie and her dad,” Brandon said, following Nic’s line of sight. “I think Nicole told me that that picture was taken just a week before he died.”

“What happened to him?”

“He was one of the hundreds of firefighters who died on 9/11 at the Twin Towers. Allie was five.”

Brandon asked Nic if he wanted a beer. He said yes. The sound of pots and pans clanking and clattering in the kitchen filled his ears as the smell of freshly baked bread and pasta wafted through the air. He glanced at the forty-inch flat screen T.V. against the wall directly opposite the futon and the bookcases on either side of it which were filled with even more pictures, textbooks, audiobooks and CDs.

After returning to the living room with a beer in each hand, Brandon handed one to Nic and plopped onto a white bean bag next to the futon. “Nicole tells me that your thinking about moving in with Allie.” Nic nodded. “She’s a sweet girl, and Charlie’s the best. The neighbors are all right and the landlord’s usually pretty responsive to the girls whenever they’ve had a problem. Personally, the only thing that I think is kind of annoying about this place is how thin the walls are.”

“I’m a pretty deep sleeper so that shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Good. I was told that dinner will be ready in a few minutes. Would you like to see Nicole’s room?”

Nic shook his head. “I can wait. I wouldn’t want to do that without her being right there with me.”

“Not a problem. She’s the one who told me to ask you.” Brandon stood up and motioned for Nic to follow. “Let’s go.”

Brandon led Nic down a short hallway and then flicked on the light to the room furthest back. He stepped aside to give Nic a chance to take a peek inside. It was small bedroom with a closet which contained a twin bed, desk and dresser. He pointed to a door opposite the closet and asked, “Where does that lead?”

“The bathroom,” Brandon replied. “Did the girls tell you that you’re going to have to share it with Allie?”

No, not exactly, he thought as he tried to recall everything that Nicole had said to him earlier that day. He replied, “We really didn’t have much time to talk particulars before The Warblers’ set began.” After a brief pause, Nic asked, “Do you think Allie will have an issue about living with a roommate of the opposite sex?”

Brandon shrugged. “I doubt she would have asked you in the first place if she did. But…”

“But what?”

“Her uncle, Big Mike, might look at you sideways and give you the stink eye at first, but I’m guessing that even he’ll come around once the dust settles and he gets to know you better.”

Wonderful, Nic thought as he leaned against the doorframe and stuck his hands in his pockets. Just then, he heard light footsteps heading in his direction. He turned and saw Nicole coming toward him. She patted him on the shoulder and said, “I’m so glad you’re here. Allie’s been beside herself ever since I opened my big mouth and suggested that you move in with her.”

Nic frowned. “Is she having second thoughts?”

“God no. Just the opposite. She’s worried that I might’ve scared you off and that you’re going to say no.”

“Nicole has that effect on people,” Brandon chimed in, grinning. “Is dinner ready?” Nicole stuck her tongue out at Brandon before answering in the affirmative. Brandon replied, “Let’s get some chow. I’m starving.”

Nic sat down next to Allie, who was already seated at a square shaped wooden dining room table. Her long, wavy brown hair was down, and she was wearing a floral summer dress with sandals. Nic reached out for Allie’s hand and said, “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you.” Allie blushed.

Brandon placed a large bowl filled with spaghetti and meat sauce in the middle of the table. Nicole came up behind him holding glasses of champagne. She placed one in front of each person, and then looked over at Nic and asked, “So, what do you think?”

Nic felt Allie’s grip on his hand immediately tighten. She leaned over to Nic and said in a low voice, “You don’t have to decide this very minute if you’re still not sure what you want to do.”

Nic smiled and said, “I think your apartment is very nice and I can’t think of a single reason why I shouldn’t say yes.”

Allie beamed. Nicole let out a cheer, then said, “Just give me a sec. I’ve gotta run back and get the champagne.”

When Nicole returned, she promptly filled every person’s glass to the brim. Brandon stood up and said, “A toast, to roommates old and new.”

Everyone clinked their glasses together. As Nic raised his glass toward his lips, he felt profoundly grateful to be in the company of these down to earth and friendly people. While the others filled their plates, he glanced at Allie and then up at the ceiling. He silently said a prayer of thanks. After more than a year of self-imposed isolation, he finally felt that now was the time to take a chance and let someone special into his life and heart.

#hailee steinfeld #ricardo gomez #romance #love story #contemporary fiction #fan fiction #soulmates #blind #guide dog #burn victim #bffs

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