#realistically i know my brothers just napping but what if he’s just dead up there too | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tsarisfanfiction · 3 years ago

Note

Colour Prompt :)

#22 - purple: bruise, pain, mystery

For Scott & John (& Gordon?)

A Little Ruthlessness

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Teen Genre: Hurt/Comfort/Family Characters: Gordon, John, Scott

First thing I've written in a good week and a half, and the longest thing I've written in... a while (thank you, rl, for hitting me hard enough to wreck my muses when I was planning on celebrating finishing my dissertation by writing lots). Also highly self-indulgent because why not.

So we have some Scott&Gordon&John, which is a highly entertaining combination and I loved writing this. I think I actually hit all three of those prompts with this...

Colour Symbol Prompts

“He’s late,” Gordon huffed, fog erupting from his mouth as he rubbed his arms to stave off the winter chill. “What’s taking him so long?”

Leaning against a nearby wall nonchalantly, bundled up in so many layers Gordon had laughed when he’d first seen him and poking at his tablet, John shrugged. If Gordon didn’t know his brother as well as he did, he’d think the ginger wasn’t worried at all.

There was an urgency to the way he was poking at the screen, though. John didn’t do big, flashy, displays of emotion, but when you knew what to look for, the deliberate placement of each digit as he manipulated whatever was on the screen screamed unease, and even a little bit of frustration.

Their brother was supposed to have met up with them an hour ago, as soon as he escaped the social gathering he’d been coerced into by what Gordon could only assume was an old flame from high school. For all that Scott was naturally charismatic and popular, it was an open secret in their family that he hadn’t managed to keep any of his old high school friendships. Teenagers were fickle things, and he’d been too busy raising four younger brothers to fill the social quota they’d expected of him at the time, let alone after they lost Dad as well.

Still, the high school reunion had called, and for some reason, Scott had answered.

He wasn’t supposed to stay there so long, though. Gordon and John had both determined that there was a high chance Scott would be leaving the reunion reminded of all the reasons why he hadn’t been able to keep those friendships and decided to make their own arrangements for the evening. Nothing outlandish – not when John was involved – but a trio of brothers hanging out without the stress of their otherwise busy lives hanging over them.

Not the usual trio of brothers that might be expected to hang out, but as much as Virgil would always jump to help Scott, where they had planned really wasn’t for their softer brother – and Alan was underage anyway.

Beating casinos at their own money-laundering game required just a touch of ruthlessness, and that was very much John’s area of expertise. Gordon found it fun, and Scott always enjoyed taking selfish rich snobs a peg or several. It also required enough strategic thinking and brainpower to cut off any unwelcome dwelling their big brother might otherwise land himself in.

That meant nothing if Scott wasn’t even showing up in the first place.

“Have you called him?” Gordon shot over at John, who was still poking away deliberately at his tablet.

“No answer,” the ginger replied, breath fogging in front of his own face. He didn’t even seem to notice – then again, all those ridiculous layers were probably doing their job to keep him warm. Gordon’s had failed him about half an hour ago. In his defence, he hadn’t exactly planned to be hanging around in the cold this long. “He’s not read any messages, either.”

If they’d gone to all this trouble to plan a pick-me-up for Scott after an expected downer of an evening, their big brother had better not have managed to find some entertainment and forgotten to let them know.

But that wasn’t like Scott at all – even if he had initially forgotten, a call or message from John would have reminded him instantly.

Gordon shivered again. Something didn’t seem right.

“So now what?” he asked instead, not because he didn’t have any ideas – crashing the reunion was an obvious one that sprung to mind – but because John was probably already enacting a plan or several of his own already.

“His phone’s location transmitter’s off,” John said by way of answer. “Actually, his phone seems to be dead in general.” The same phone John and Scott had both checked was fully charged on the way here so he didn’t lose contact with them?

Gordon’s eyes narrowed.

“So what have you got?” There was no way John hadn’t got something by now.

“His watch isn’t transmitting, either,” his brother reported. “But…” He trailed off, staring intently at something Gordon couldn’t see on the screen.

The temptation was there to prod him – verbally or literally – but unlike when John was a mere hologram that may or may not be transmitting, this time Gordon could see that he was mid-thought, still working, still doing something to figure out why their big brother had gone dark, and held back.

It didn’t take John long to finish whatever he was doing.

“I’ve got a location.” The astronaut kicked off from the wall he was leaning against and started striding forwards, long legs uncaring that Gordon’s were much shorter. It took a second or two to jog to catch up.

“What have you got?” he repeated.

A map of the area flashed up above the tablet; orange and yellow highlighted their own position, moving quickly down the street, while a flickering blue icon blinked in and out of existence unsteadily down a side alley four blocks away.

“You said it wasn’t transmitting?”

“It’s not,” John said shortly. “I triangulated all the signals within the appropriate parameters until I picked up traces of its electronic residue.”

Residue didn’t sound promising. Gordon resumed his jog, knowing that John was fully capable of keeping up with him, and mentally mapped out the shortest route to the weakly flickering blue dot. It was staying in the exact same location, not even a slight waver in position, and that, Gordon really didn’t like.

Scott wasn’t one for staying still.

Unconsciously, his pace hastened further. By the time the alley loomed ahead, visible in person and not just lines on a hologram, he was all but sprinting. John was a little way behind him, but that was fine.

Gordon’s instincts screamed for him to keep going, to charge straight into the alley and find out what was going on, but he reined them in, forcing his legs to slow to a walk, and then a stop at the entrance to the alley.

They had no idea what they were walking into, and despite all the signs pointing to not, Gordon really didn’t want to interrupt if Scott had simply found entertainment and forgotten about them. More realistically, he also didn’t want to charge into a hostile situation unaware.

There were no sounds coming from the alley. Nothing to tell him what was going on, but also enough to tell him what wasn’t. With one glance back to see how far behind John was – not far, only seconds out – Gordon slipped around the corner.

Alleys were always somehow gloomier than the surrounding streets. Lighting never seemed to work quite so well; John could no doubt explain it, but an explanation wasn’t important right then.

What was important was that, in the resultant gloom, something was slumped over on the ground. Something that Gordon approached carefully, glancing around to make sure nothing else was laying in wait with a nasty surprise.

Nothing appeared, even as he took the last few steps, and his rigid restraint snapped.

“Scott!” His knee protested as it hit the street sharply but that was insignificant in the face of the ragdoll impersonation his eldest brother was doing spectacularly well. “Hey, Scott?”

His cold fingers found his brother’s throat, pressing up against the pulse point. Scott’s skin was almost as cold as his own, but the steady thrum of his heartbeat beat reassuringly against his fingertips.

Hurried footsteps behind him announced John’s arrival.

“Give me some light,” Gordon ordered, not looking up at him. A blink later and a pale, holographic blue washed over the pair of them. Tablets didn’t have the best torches in the world, but it did the job.

Scott’s eyes were closed, although the lack of response had already implied their brother was out cold. One had a spectacular ring of colour around it, matching the blotches that covered every visible section of skin. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth in a way that had Gordon fearfully inspecting his lip in the hopes that it was just a cut.

The light quivered a little as John knelt down on Scott’s other side.

“His watch is smashed,” the ginger reported. It made sense, considering how difficult it had been to track, but their watches were IR standard. They didn’t smash easily. “Broken wrist, too. How’s his head?”

“Bruised, like the rest of him,” Gordon replied. “Looks like he cut his lip on his tooth, and he’s going to have a fantastic shiner.” He gingerly felt around. “Splitting headache, too. His head’s not bleeding but it’s taken a hard knock.”

“Try and get a response while I deal with his wrist,” John ordered. The tablet light moved away from Scott’s face, leaving it shadowed by alley-gloom, but Gordon could still see well enough to lightly tap a less-colourful portion of his cheek.

“Hey, Scott,” he coaxed. “This isn’t a great place for a nap, you know, bro.” Rustling indicated that John was deploying something medical. Gordon wasn’t even surprised he had something on him, although it was probably brought along just in case gravity got the better of him, and not because he was expecting to patch up their brother when they’d left home earlier. “C’mon, Scotty.”

The faint groan he got was music to his ears.

“That’s right,” he encouraged. “Really not a good place to nap.”

In the gloom, he couldn’t make out the exact moment familiar blue eyes edged open, but he heard the second, louder, groan, followed almost immediately by a sharp inhale that could only be pain.

“G’don?”

“Right here,” he confirmed, resting his hands lightly on Scott’s shoulders in case his idiot of a brother thought attempting to sit up was a good idea. “John’s here, too.”

He got a pain-smothered grunt in response. Muscles twitched under his palms, and then he was predictably forced to keep Scott still.

“Nope,” he chirped. “No moving for you just yet. How’s his wrist, John?”

“Strapped up,” the ginger answered. “How aware is he?”

“’nuff,” Scott rasped weakly before Gordon could reply. “W’ah-ow.”

“Hospital or home?” Gordon looked away from Scott to glance at where John was once again poking at his tablet, somewhat awkwardly as he was also holding Scott’s arm still with one hand.

“’ome,” Scott interjected.

“We’re closer to Thunderbird One than the hospital,” John agreed. “Once we reach her we can run a scan.”

And if the scan showed up something they couldn’t handle at home, Thunderbird One could get Scott to a hospital faster than an ambulance. Gordon nodded.

“Sounds like a plan,” he agreed, looking back down at Scott. “I’ll need a hand picking him up.”

“Ic’n-”

“Nope.” He overrode Scott’s protest. “I doubt you can even see straight right now. You’re not walking.”

The wordless noise he got in response told him he was right, and that Scott didn’t want to admit it.

John’s tablet vanished somewhere in amongst the multitude of layers he was wearing as the ginger left Scott’s wrist to kneel opposite Gordon instead. “How do you want to do this?”

Gordon considered his options, quickly realising that the one that would hurt Scott the least was also the one his brother would hate the most. With no idea what damage he’d taken to the ribs, putting any substantial pressure on his abdomen could spell disaster.

He drew Scott’s unbroken wrist up, to renewed protest, and looped it around the back of his own neck. “It’s not far,” he said. “Bridal’s safest.” Not the easiest, but Gordon was always up for a challenge.

“No,” Scott huffed, but John nodded, like he’d come to the same conclusion. He probably had.

Between them it took no time at all to get Scott loosely in position, broken wrist cradled limply on his stomach as Gordon and John slipped their arms beneath him and prepared to shift.

“Whenever you’re ready,” John said, and Gordon’s mouth twisted into a wry grin.

“On three. One, two, three.”

Scott wasn’t light by any means, but despite his protests he didn’t resist as between the two of them they got him into the air, suspended between them for a moment before John carefully shifted his grip until the battered body of their big brother slipped neatly into Gordon’s arms.

His shoulders protested at the weight, but Gordon ignored them in favour of immediately starting to move. He wasn’t Virgil; he couldn’t carry Scott around as though he weighed nothing, and there was a definite, short, time limit before his muscles gave out.

Scott gave a pained huff, the air brushing past Gordon’s jaw. “Ic’n walk,” he muttered again. Gordon appreciated that he wasn’t trying to prove it, because if Scott actually tried, he’d almost certainly end up dropping him and probably injure them both in the process. At least Scott was mentally aware enough to recognise that.

“Not until we know how badly injured you are,” John told him firmly. “One’s not far from here.” Gordon let him lead the way, trusting him to pick out the shortest route to where the Thunderbird was secured. They left the gloom of the alley for the better-lit streets, and Gordon almost wished they hadn’t. The bruising had been bad enough in the half-light conjured by the tablet; under the powerful street lighting, Scott looked even worse.

When Gordon found out who did this to his brother, they were going to regret it.

Blue eyes, one barely able to open, were regarding him worriedly, as though Gordon was the one that needed fretting over. The hand slung over his shoulder squeezed shakily when something made him stumble, and Gordon grinned down at him thinly once he regained his footing.

“Nearly there,” he promised, both his brother and his protesting muscles. In front of him, John had reproduced his tablet from the volume of clothing he was wearing and was tapping away even as he led Gordon around another corner.

Thunderbird One glittered in the darkness of the park, tucked away mostly out of sight. The stealth coating Scott rarely bothered to use since the Zero-X had done its job at preventing gawkers gathering around, although now John had turned it off it was only a matter of time before late night crowds gathered.

Gordon stumbled again as he approached, muscles burning, and Scott let out an almost silent hiss. A hum of a hover stretcher murmured its way into earshot, guided by John, and Gordon gratefully let it take Scott’s weight, slipping his screaming arms out from underneath him and ducking away from the arm slung around his shoulder.

True to form, Scott immediately started to sit up, but John was there with a gentle but firm touch. In his other hand, the medscanner flickered yellow.

Rubbing at his protesting shoulders, Gordon was reluctantly relieved to hand over responsibility to his older brother as John somehow managed to keep Scott laying down long enough to get the stretcher inside Thunderbird One. Gordon followed, just in time to hear John sigh.

“-broken foot, so no, you couldn’t walk, Scott.”

“So,” he interrupted before Scott found a reason why that wouldn’t stop him. “What’s the verdict, Johnny?”

“Don’t call me that,” John snapped back automatically. “Nothing’s flagging up as beyond our facilities, but I’ve sent the results to Grandma for final verdict.”

Grandma, Virgil, and their arsenal of medical equipment could handle a lot, so that by itself wasn’t completely reassuring, but it went a little way towards it.

“Do we know what happened?” he asked, rather than dwell on that for long. “Scott?”

“N’dea,” his brother mumbled. “D’n r’mber ‘thing ‘fter th’arty.” He sounded put-out enough for it to be the truth.

Gordon caught John’s eye and the ginger’s lips thinned. They’d find out who did it, one way or another. No-one messed with their family and got away with it, no matter how much that contradicted with International Rescue’s philosophies.

Sometimes, a little ruthlessness was necessary.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds are go fanfiction #tsari writes fanfiction #scott tracy #gordon tracy #john tracy #thunderwhump #drabbles #purfectpurple #a little ruthlessness

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moonprlsm · 4 years ago

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like waves, you pulled me in.

also on ao3

"Eat up, lovely."

This had to be a dream. With how her head was throbbing or the way every corner of the room looked a tad bit blurry, there was a huge probability that Lumine was either dreaming or completely losing it. Yes, perhaps it was just the latter, which was why she was having hallucinations of Childe, eleventh harbinger of the fatui, wearing an apron in her room.

She blinked at him twice.

"Still sleepy, huh? Should I give you a kiss to wake you up?"

Great. The Childe in her hallucination was as punchable as the real one.

Her eyes dropped to the bowl of Adeptus Temptation he placed on her bed, the savory aroma of fresh seafood and spices hitting her nose, making her mouth water. It looked as if it belonged to Xiangling's best dishes and if Lumine's mind wasn't such in a haze, she would've gulped the whole thing in one go.

There was just no way the man sitting in front of her, firstly, was really here and secondly, was the one who made the appetizing stew just as he claimed.

She gave her legs under the blanket a pinch.

The sting made her bite her lip.

Archons, this was real. She wasn't sure if that was to her liking or not.

"If you stare at that for too long it might get shy and run off."

"What exactly are you doing here, Childe?" She almost didn't recognize her own voice from how dry it sounded.

"Way to treat your awesome nurse for today, lovely." He said teasingly as he moved to the near table to pour some water. "Here."

She took the glass in his hand. Ignoring the beat her heart skipped as her hands brushed with his warm ones, she finished the whole glass in a couple of gulps. Lukewarm water slid through her throat with ease. Never in her life had she thought of missing the non existent taste of water.

"Good?" He sat by her again, closer this time.

"Yes, thank you. But you didn't answer my question."

He let out a chuckle, grabbing back the glass in her hands. "I'm here to take care of you, obviously."

"What do you mean? I'm perfectly fine." A throb in her head went a little harder than normal, almost making her wince.

"Oh? So why did you pass out near a waypoint earlier then?"

"I–"

So that was what happened. Just moments ago, she woke up to the warmth of her bed in the Inn she was staying at in Liyue. She was supposed to meet Childe for their weekly sparring sessions after her long... mission. Lumine couldn't really remember traveling to said Inn.

The last thing she could call to mind was an image of blue eyes filled with worry, accompanied by an alarmed voice calling out her name and the feeling of strong, lean arms lifting her from the ground with ease.

Lucky for her she was already burning up or else he would've noticed the tint of pink growing on her cheeks.

"Don't worry, lovely–" The nickname didn't help her either. "I called a doctor to check on you earlier, said you just have a common cold. The fainting was probably caused by stress or lack of sleep– Hey, what are you doing?"

Lumine tried to move the bed table so she could free her feet from the blanket. "Going to do my mission." She shivered once a leg was out. It was peak noon.

The bastard cleared his throat after accidentally letting out a snort. "You're not going anywhere in that condition. Paimon's already talking to Katheryne, she'll cover your commissions for today." His hand went to put the covers back on her.

"I'm not talking about Adventurers' Guild."

"Hmm? Then which mission is it?"

Curious eyes landed on her tired ones. She hesitated. It wasn't like she didn't trust Childe, she'd let him hold his hydro sword by her neck for all she cared. He was a friend first and foremost before a harbinger. Putting more of her baggage on him was the last thing she wanted to do. He had accompanied her in a lot of commissions, thrown enough mora, beat up enough hilichurls for her. It was about time for her to stop relying on him for she didn't really need most of his help in the first place.

Although, having him around was refreshing in a way. She didn't mind his company. Not one bit.

"It's... Nothing important."

"Then it could wait until you're better, yeah?"

A defeated sigh. "Right. Why do you have to be my pseudo nurse, though? Don't you have work?"

"I got nothing to do today, lovely. I'm all yours. Besides, Paimon asked me to stay with you specifically. She was really excited about it too for some reason."

Lumine suddenly had the urge to put the little guide in a burning pot. She knew she should've kept the strange feelings Childe was giving her to herself until she exploded. One moment he was the most annoying person to ever exist, the next he was giving her stomach fluttering sensations she hadn't experienced before. Asking Paimon of all people about what these feelings could possibly mean was her first mistake.

"Paimon thinks you have a crush!" She squealed.

"I have a what now?"

Childe's voice interrupted the Paimon recipe she was planning in her head. "All you have to do today is rest, alright? I think your fever has gone down a little bit after your nap but–"

The spaces between them were already so small, it would be easy for his hands to reach her forehead, which she assumed what he was about to do. Until he moved closer and closer. He cupped her cheeks gently and she stiffened.

It was softer than she thought, his hand. She almost indulged to his touch. Childe leaned forward, their faces were then close enough to the point where she could feel his breath on her lips.

She could only hope he couldn't hear how hard her heart was beating right then.

Were his eyelashes always this long? Were his eyes always this blue? At that moment, she wanted nothing more but to explore those ocean eyes of his, wanting to know what the world was like in his point of view.

Archons, help her. The strange feeling in her stomach was back.

His forehead rested on hers and she shut her eyes. He let out a knowing hum. "You're still burning up, a little warmer than earlier too." The man finally pulled away. She wasn't sure why disappointment weighed in her chest at the lost of his touch. "This fever of yours is intense."

Oh, it was definitely not the fever.

"I'll go get your medicine. Have some spoonful of this stew first. I didn't put poison in that, I promise." He gave her a reassuring smile before getting to his feet. She watched him walk out of the room as her heart continued to thump on her chest loudly as if it was about to break out.

It was rare for Paimon to be right.

Lumine was convinced this was one of those occasions.

Her brother was walking away.

"Aether!" She tried calling him, but the sound might've got lost in the pitch black void they were in for his feet didn't stop moving.

She was running then yet she still couldn't seem to catch up to him. No matter how fast or slow she moved, he remained out of reach. The distance just kept getting bigger and bigger and bigger.

No, please. Don't leave.

"Aether, come back!" Her voice trembled, tears stinging her eyes.

Aether's voice echoed in the void. "You've come too late, Lumine."

The moonlight by the window welcomed Lumine's eyes fluttering open. She blinked away the tears blurring her vision, giving her a clear sight of the ceiling and the rest of the room.

A dream. A realistic, horrendous dream that was.

She took a second to take a couple of deep breaths, steadying herself. She was fine, everything was fine. Her brother was still out there, he was alive, she still hadn't found him but there was already a lead.

A lead that took her nowhere even after searching non stop for more clues these past few weeks.

Her chest tightened. A sob came out of her as tears started flooding her eyes again.

"Lumine?" She was so lost in her own world that she didn't even notice the person lifting his head up from the edge of the bed. The moment he saw her in that state, Childe was immediately by her side. "What's wrong? Are you hurting somewhere?"

The genuine concern in his voice would've made her heart feel warm if it weren't being torn to pieces by her own thoughts.

"N- No." She managed to say while sitting up. He guided her back, worried her trembling arms couldn't support herself. A damp towel fell from her forehead and he caught it before it even landed on the bed.

Memories of someone wiping her neck and face with said towel while she was sleeping, relieving the heat her body was radiating suddenly flashed through her mind.

"Then what's the matter?" The warmth of his hand enveloped hers, rubbing his thumb against her knuckles delicately. "Tell me. Please."

There were bags under his eyes. They've always been there, but tonight they seemed more prominent than usual. What time was it? She couldn't tell, but Lumine had been seeing herself in the mirror for the past few weeks, she knew what someone who haven't had a blink of sleep looked like.

She probably interrupted him from his nap just moments ago too. Being a pseudo nurse shouldn't be taken seriously, but she should've expected nothing less from someone who committed to the act of being a regular toy seller just so he wouldn't ruin his brother's innocence.

Putting others, especially his family, before himself. Perhaps they weren't too different.

With that, she found her voice again. "I had a nightmare. My brother, he– I couldn't catch up to him. He told me I've come too late." She said in between sobs.

Holding her cheeks gently, Childe wiped the tears running down her face. "It's okay, lovely. A dream doesn't reflect what's happening in reality."

"But what if it does? Paimon and I received information that could help our search just a few weeks ago. I've been traveling to all these different places, just looking and looking for more leads but I've been met with nothing but dead ends. What if it's because Aether's not here anymore? What if he's–"

She was pulled into a tight embrace before she could even finish the horrifying implication.

The seaside had always been so calming. Waves creating harmonious splashes, the sand hugging her feet, and that fresh scent. Childe provided that same comfort, like an ocean wave washing all her bad thoughts away. Lumine buried her face on his chest, letting herself drown in him.

His hand soothed her hair. "So you've just been looking without a hint of rest these past few weeks?"

She gave a weak nod.

This side of Childe wasn't unfamiliar, of course. Though, she wondered if holding people when they were feeling down was a habit of his.

And if it was possible for him to hold her closer.

A chuckle. "You were really planning to face your brother all restless and sick? I don't think he'd be too happy to see you faint once you find him." He held her tighter as if hearing her wish. "And I know you will."

He said those words so sincerely, so confidently that it made the tension in her body disappear slowly.

They stayed close like that for a while. Just the hero of Teyvat and her savior for the night in comforting silence by the moonlight.

It was incredible how easy it was for her to break down her walls when it came to him, how it felt like the weight of the world wasn't on her shoulders whenever he was there, how his laugh and random stories alone could erase all her worries, how she could just be a lost girl missing her brother instead of a powerful traveler in his arms.

"You're a strange pseudo nurse." She broke the silence first. "But thank you. I'll continue my search tomorrow. Though, we could still have our sparring session, how does afternoon sound?"

Pulling away, he beamed at her hopeful smile. "I'd like that. Only if your fever is fully gone tomorrow."

"I don't think I have it anymore right now."

"I'll be the judge of that." Once again, he pressed his forehead onto hers, closing his eyes.

Moments passed and he still haven't said a word. She debated whether she should tell him or ask if she was still burning up.

Lumine just ended up getting lost in his touch, letting the waves crash against the shore, fresh water hitting her skin as it washed away the burning sand.

#chilumi #genshin impact #genshin lumine #genshin childe #childe/lumine #fanfic #character study in sickfic form #is that pining i smell

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redgillan · 5 years ago

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Under Pastel Skies - 3

Sugar daddy!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Modern!AU Bucky doesn’t need anyone, especially not a sugar baby. He isn’t that desperate… but she smiles so sweetly and she’s endearingly awkward, and he’s so lonely. She’s an artist, a painter, the type of person who always puts others before herself. Throwing caution to the wind Bucky offers her a place to live, a place where she can finally paint whatever her heart desires. He doesn’t need much in return; a friend, a muse.

Word Count: 2,587

Warnings: none

A/N: I wanted to give Reader a family and this is the easiest way to do it. Btw Peggy’s husband isn’t Steve, I have other plans for him ;) Enjoy!

Wannabe sugar daddies don’t interact, idc if you have money, eat it and leave me be.

The rest of the week went by, and you kept hoping Bucky would come back. You hadn’t seen him since he’d left 300 dollars under his napkin after visiting you at work. You had tucked the bills into your bra, knowing they would be safe there, and walked home at the end of your shift.

Now it was Thursday afternoon and you were craving a day off.

Natasha’s apartment was spacious and the oversized glass window bathed the living room in natural sunlight. The apartment was a gift from Sam. Obviously.

You dropped your purse on the sofa –your bed- and laid out the bills on the coffee table. It was made of marble and brass, another gift from Sam.

You didn’t know what to do with the money, so you took it wherever you went, to keep it safe. You wanted to return it to Bucky. It was too much and you weren’t used to random acts of kindness.

You sunk into the cushion and blew out a sigh as you stared at the money. The persistent vibration of your phone against your thigh pulled you out of your thoughts. Half expecting it to be Natasha, you answered without looking at the caller ID.

The operator told you that Scott Lang was calling from Saint Quentin State Prison, and asked if you would accept the charges. You agreed. You always agreed.

“Splotchy, I need your help.”

Closing your eyes, you let your head fall back against the cushion. “I told you to stop calling me that, Scott.”

It was a silly nickname.

As a child, your mother dubbed you splotchy because of the colourful doodles you painted on the living room walls, and your siblings, who were roughly a few years older than you, had loved using that nickname. Especially since they knew you disliked it.

Their support and endless enthusiasm played a big part in your artistic journey, nurturing that spark into a flame. What started out as a childlike fascination with colours and shapes became your whole life. No one was surprised when you decided to pursue a degree in fine arts.

After the death of her husband, Peggy Carter adopted five children; a little boy from San Francisco, a little girl from Wakanda, twins from Sokovia and a little girl whose birth parents were still in high school. You were the last one, the only one she adopted as a baby.

“Is it offensive to call an artist splotchy?”

“It’s irrelevant. I haven’t painted in months,” you replied. “And we’re not kids anymore, you can use my name.”

“I’ve been calling you Splotchy for so long, I forgot your actual name.”

“You’re so funny,” you deadpanned. “What do you need, Scott?”

Scott’s tone changed suddenly, his voice grew agitated. “I need you to call Maggie. She isn’t picking up when I call her.”

“Scott,” you sighed.

“I haven’t talked to Cassie since her birthday,” he cut you off, pleading. “Please, I just want to talk to my little girl.”

Maggie was Scott’s ex-wife. Six months after his incarceration, she had filed for divorce. Natasha thought it was a real dick move but you didn’t blame Maggie. She was alone, her husband was in jail –for basically being a dumbass although the official charge was embezzlement and destruction of property- and she had a kid to raise.

Maggie wasn’t a saint but she was a good mother, and Cassie was a smart and healthy kid. Now you knew what to do with Bucky’s money.

“I’ll call her,” you said. “Listen, I’m going to put 50 bucks on your book. Buy yourself a bar of soap, I can smell you from here.” Scott interrupted you with a monotone ‘har har’. You chuckled. “I’ll buy Cassie a Christmas gift on your behalf, all right? I think she wanted a bike.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you,” he chanted over the phone, his voice muffled as if he was holding the receiver too close to his mouth. “Are you sure you can afford it? I know it isn’t easy for you. Between living in New York and paying for mom’s nursing home, you don’t have to-”

“It’s fine,” you said, cutting off the conversation. “I’m not alone, Okoye helps.”

“And Wanda?”

“She sends postcards from time to time.”

The line went quiet for a moment. “I want to get out of here so bad,” Scott groaned. “Everything’s gone to shit since I went to jail.”

“Everything’s gone to shit since Pietro died, Scott.” You both remained silent, remembering your late brother. Just thinking about him made your eyes start to prickle with tears, so you cleared your throat and ended the call. “I’ll talk to Maggie. You’ll be out soon, just... stay out of trouble. Love you.”

You left your phone on the table and kicked off your shoes before you lay down on the sofa for a well-deserved nap. In your dreams your brothers weren’t either dead or in prison, your mother hadn’t been diagnosed with Alzheimer, and you weren’t a burden to your friend.

If you were lucky enough, you wouldn’t even dream at all.

The next day, Bucky arrived at the hotel at six thirty and you playfully glared at him from across the lounge. He wasn’t stupid, he knew why you were glaring at him. At least he had the decency to look a little sheepish.

“Just so you know, you bought yourself about 30 breakfasts,” you told him, referring to the far-too-generous tip he had left the other day.

“A man’s gotta eat,” he replied with a boyish cockiness that made him look stupidly attractive. You were too flustered to find a good comeback.

You brought him his cup of coffee and let him enjoy his breakfast while you attended to your other clients. It was an unusually busy day, the room was packed with families who were getting ready to explore Manhattan. You didn’t have time to chat with Bucky and he didn’t stay long. You saw him flinch a couple of times; the muscles in his shoulders pulled tight and his eyes darting left and right.

He left another ridiculously generous tip, along with a handwritten note. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day x.

Bucky came back the following week, and even though it was a quiet morning, you made sure to find him a table in a secluded spot. He didn’t notice when you slipped the 300 dollars into the pocket of his coat. You could be pretty sneaky, too.

“Mmmh,” he said, wiping his mouth with a napkin, “I looked at your Instagram.”

“Oh,” you glanced at your shoes, embarrassed. “Wait, you’re on Instagram? I have a hard time imagining you scrolling through your feed.”

He laughed a little. “I’ll admit I’m not as tech savvy as you youngsters, but I’m not a fossil. I use it to look at the pictures my sister post of my niblings.”

“Cute,” you grinned.

“Anyway,” he said, pushing a hand through his hair. “I love your work. It’s very unique; a cross between Impressionism and Post-impressionism. It’s realistic, and yet there’s something different...” his face scrunched up as he tried to look for the right word. “There’s something in your paintings, something that isn’t here in real life but perhaps should be. It’s hard to explain. It’s a feeling, a color, a pattern; it’s indiscernible but it’s there.” He looked up at you, his cheeks red with embarrassment. “I’m not making much sense, am I?”

You blinked, suddenly stunned that someone had such strong opinions about your work. There was nothing but sincerity in his ocean-blue eyes, and for a moment, you were at a loss for words.

“I, um-” you cleared your throat, “Thank you, I didn’t know that. I look up to Monet, obviously. His work is phenomenal, and I also have a soft spot for Van Gogh.” You ran a hand across your face. “Sorry, I’m a little emotional. The people who compliment my art are usually my siblings, and Nat.”

“And now me,” he said with a warm smile. “And soon a lot more people.”

Flustered, you bit your bottom lip. “That would be nice.”

Bucky nodded. He gathered his silverware and set them on his plate, trying to buy time. You watched him hesitate before he turned to you. “I noticed that your last post was from almost a year ago.”

“Yeah,” you said with a casual shrug. “I don’t really paint anymore. I’m too tired when I get home and supplies are expensive.”

“Of course,” he pursed his lips in thought. “Are you free this afternoon? I was wondering if we could meet for coffee.”

You tried not to show your surprise but his words made the sleeping butterflies in your stomach crack an eye open, their interest piqued.

Was he asking you out? He’d come to your workplace every week since your brief ‘date’. He always gave you more-than-generous tips, and he listened to you with a combination of close attention and warmth that made you weak at the knees.

He’d made it clear he wasn’t looking for anyone but maybe he had changed his mind. Agh, down girl! He just wanted a friend.

You looked into his beautiful eyes, seeing a myriad of expressions cross his face before he smiled at you.

“I ain’t gonna hurt you, angel.”

It was an honest lie, just hearing him call you angel felt like a punch to the stomach. The butterflies were dancing around, reborn, and chanting the word ‘date’.

“If you don’t like coffee, we can have tea, or ice cream,” he said, “anything as long as you can sit down with me.”

You snorted. “Okay.”

“Okay,” he repeated, smiling. “This is my number. Pick a place and I’ll meet you there.”

After breakfast, you closed the restaurant and started cleaning the Lounge. You brought everything back to the kitchen, stacked the dishes in the dishwasher and turned it on. Then you put away the unopened miniature jams, butter and whatnot, and gathered the remaining patisseries and fresh fruits in a basket that you would later bring to the reception.

You worked mechanically. It wasn’t exactly the most exciting job you’d ever had.

You couldn’t stop thinking about Bucky. It was easy to let your mind wander into the cosy and dangerous territory of this being a real date.

You decided to go to the Australian coffee shop near Natasha’s apartment. It was popular but not as crowded as Starbucks, which suited you fine.

After your shift, you removed your uniform and changed into the spare set of clothes you kept in your locker for emergencies. Emergencies being an impromptu date or a night out with Nat. You dug around in your purse for your lipstick; the nice one, the Carter Red as your mother called it.

You dabbed the lipstick on your lips, staining them. You only wore it on special occasions, and you weren’t sure Bucky deserved your full red pout.

You walked to the café with a little pep in your step and a confident smile on your face. The freezing temperature didn’t matter, you were too giddy to care. It was a date, it had to be, why else would he ask you to meet for coffee?

You smiled when you saw him through the coffee shop window. He was chatting with the waiter as the latter set two mugs on the table.

“Hi again!” You shrugged out of your jacket and took a seat.

“I hope you like hot chocolate. Carl, here, says it’s their best seller,” Bucky said, smiling kindly at the waiter.

“Enjoy, and if you need anything else don’t hesitate to call me.”

You carefully wrapped your cold hands around your mug while you watched Carl walk away. A moment of silence rose between you. Bucky watched you with an unreadable expression, making you fidget in your seat.

“I’m glad you came,” he finally said.

“Me too. I’m a little surprised you asked.”

He looked down at his mug and smiled; it didn’t reach his eyes. “I have something to ask you.” He paused. “The night we met, you said you agreed to see me because being in a... financial relationship felt like the only solution to your problems.”

Your smile faltered but he didn’t seem to notice. Oh. The butterflies in your stomach fell so suddenly that it felt like carrying a ball of lead. They went back into hibernation.

“If I had been a decent person and, I don’t know, bought you a drink, talked to you,” he paused, meeting your eyes. “Would you have been interested in this type of relationship? With me, I mean.”

You swallowed hard. “You want to be my sugar daddy.”

It wasn’t a question but a statement. You were slowly realizing that you had been wrong about his intentions. This wasn’t a date, it was a business afternoon tea.

He winced. “Do we really have to call it that? I was thinking mentorship. I can provide financial help, and in exchange you could be my friend.”

“I can be your friend for free,” you said, your throat tightening.

He shrugged, a small smile on his lips. “This way we’ll both get something out of it.”

You looked down at your hands, still wrapped around the mug, and pursed your lips in thought. You felt a sharp tingling sensation in your nose, a sign that you were about to cry. You closed your eyes and clenched your jaw, fighting against the flood that was coming.

You pushed all the emotion down and forced a smile to your face. “Do you mind if I use the restroom? I just took the subway, I’d like to wash my hands.”

Bucky watched you, momentarily stunned by your request. “Of course, take your time,” he quickly recovered.

“Thanks,” you croaked, pushing your chair back.

You picked up your bag and walked to the restroom, your legs feeling like cotton wool. You didn’t need to use the restroom, you had walked to the café, but you needed a moment alone to collect yourself.

A woman came out of the restroom, holding the door open for you. You picked up the pace and thanked her before closing the door behind you. You looked pretty sickly under the artificial light of the restroom. Your eyes were glassy with tears and your red lips were taunting you.

“Got your hopes up, uh?” You watched your lips move. A little humourless chuckle escaped you and you shook your head at your own idiocy.

You aggressively wiped the lipstick off your mouth with the back of your hand and sighed deeply as you looked at your reflection in the mirror. Now you felt like an idiot.

It wasn’t Bucky’s fault. He had been nothing but nice and kind, and perhaps you had mistaken his kindness for flirting. A naïve mistake. You had always been a little clueless when it came to men.

You ran your index fingers under your eyes to get rid of the makeup that had gathered there. It wasn’t the end of the world, you barely knew him anyway. It didn’t hurt any less, though.

Maybe it was time for you to do something out of character, to experience life no matter how crazy it seemed. You were dreading this conversation with Bucky, but you couldn’t hide in the restroom forever. With another sigh, you pushed yourself away from the sink and walked out of the restroom.

Part 4

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel imagines #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel imagine #bucky barns imagine #redgillan #redgillanwrites

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jess-rewatches-prodigalson · 4 years ago

Text

Sun and Fun (S2, E12)

I can’t believe FOX has cancelled this absolute masterpiece of a show. I’m devastated. I’d like to think we’ll get picked up by another network for season 3 but I’m a pessimist and I don’t want to get my hopes up. I’ll be hanging around the fandom either way though.

My time-stamped thoughts for this episode are below. As always I reference Malcolm’s mental health. A lot. So if that’s going to be a trigger for you, don’t keep reading.

SPOILERS AHEAD:

0:20 - Malcolm losing it in Martin’s cell? *chef’s kiss*. 1) excellent performance by Tom. 2) This is the Malcolm mental health content I subscribed for. This is Malcolm feeling overwhelmed, helpless, worthless, and frustrated all at the same time. This. Is. Wonderful. And. Realistic. This is what overwhelming anxiety (especially if you have an anxiety disorder) can feel like. It builds and builds until all of a sudden you’re consumed with all this nervous energy and frustration and it all turns to rage in an instant. But you’re not angry at other people. You don’t want to hurt anyone. That rage is just self hatred because you hate that you feel this broken and your stupid brain won’t function normally.

0:33 - annnnd then when the excess nervous energy is spent but that feeling of self-hatred, despair, and fear still remains - you’re physically exhausted and 7/10. times you cry. Again, crying because of how stupid you feel for your little rage outburst, for how stupid you feel for feeling this terrible all the time. Malcolm is depicting a severe anxiety episode perfectly (in my experience) and THIS is why FOX is moronic for cancelling the show. The gorgeous and accurate depictions of mental health in Prodigal Son is unprecedented, truthful, and heartbreaking. It’s like nothing else on television.

0:50 - This kind of hurts. Look at how cautiously Dani enters the room. Almost as if Malcolm is a wild animal she doesn’t want to scare. It makes sense given the state of the room she just entered and how completely openly and uncharacteristically vulnerable Malcolm is. I will say this though, despite how cautious she is, it’s obvious that she cares about Malcolm more than whatever happened before she walked into the room.

��1:03 - “So all eyes are on his head case son right?” This line is a direct quote from Malcolm’s anxiety disorder and depression. This is how you feel about yourself when in the middle of an anxiety episode when you’re also depressed. BUT OUR GIRL DANI!!! <3 This girl looks confused and concerned to hear Malcolm diss himself like that. The fact that she tries to comfort him when he’s in this state, makes her an absolutely A++ friend.

1:11 - “No one cares about that.” “I CARE. I can’t live like this.” This scene resonates with me so so so much. I can��t tell you how many times I’ve been 100% aware of how irrational my anxieties are and simultaneously 100% unable to do a damn thing about it because I’m too scared of who I’d be without the fear. Because I’ve defined myself by my anxieties for so long that it’s become the only definable element of my personality visible to me. I’m getting that vibe from Malcolm. I’m sure that’s exactly how he’s feeling right now.

1:30 - “That’s not what scares you. What scares you is living the rest of your life without your father in it.” Dani knows and I felt personally called out. THIS EMOTIONAL WHUMP IS GIVING ME LIFE. <3

1:39 - Look at our floppy haired, devastated boy. :( <3 I’m genuinely shook that he didn’t have a full mental breakdown this episode (but it’s coming....it’s inevitable at this point :) ). ALSO the look of absolute love and concern Dani is shooting towards Malcolm? Absolutely perfect. <3

1:51 - I genuinely find it so interesting that Malcolm keeps referring to “The Surgeon” as “Martin”. If you read my thoughts on 2x11 you know I think it’s because Malcolm has separated ‘Martin Whitly’ into three separate people in his head. “The Surgeon” = the serial killer who traumatized him and ruined his childhood. “Dad/Father” = the man who loved and cared for baby!Malcolm. But “Martin” = unknown. Malcolm doesn’t know who Martin is yet and it scares him.

1:58 - “For once in your life slow down and acknowledge what this is doing to you.” !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I love this line. So. So. SO. MUCH. <3 <3 This is the kind of comfort Malcolm needs. SOMEONE needs to tell him that he’s breaking, it’s not his fault, and he doesn’t deserve to suffer for Martin.

2:07 - annnnnnd Malcolm has gone full crazy-person string murder board. He’s right but he’s still acting like a manic crazy person. Like, a real one. Not his usual manic behaviour. This is straight up - this boy needs medication, a nap, therapy, and a doctor. Now.

2:34 - Ugh. This whole cop/Vivian scene made my skin crawl. So gross. So creepy. I hate Capshaw. So much. This woman is manipulative, evil, and so so creepy. The cop was also gross. But I 100% thought she was going to kill the cop because this felt like an opening scene to Criminal Minds.

4:38 - “THEY WERE HAVING SEX.” hhahahahahahaha holy shit. This is both hilarious and really upsetting (not just because Martin/Capshaw is NASTY). Malcolm is manically, yelling about his theories in a room full of people who love him. He sounds crazy. He’s acting crazy and Dani, JT, and Gil are just staring at him with a mixture of disbelief, concern, and sympathy. <3 It’s heartbreaking. Malcolm is an inch away from a mental breakdown. I’m here for it.

4:49 - “TMI bro.” <3

5:05 - Ugh. This breaks my heart. The team doesn’t think Malcolm is crazy. They just know he’s at the end of his rope. The looks they’re exchanging aren’t based in anger, contempt, or a lack of trust. They’re based in concern and I LOVE IT.

5:21 - LOOK AT OUR BABY. He’s breaking. He’s so close. :( Look at how desperate he is to find Martin.

5:35 - “That’s exactly what it means.” “Gil, please. You know how much I need this.” THIS HURTS. Gil isn’t angry here - he’s frustrated and scared for Malcolm. And Malcolm? This boy is toeing the line of a full breakdown in front of 3 of his favourite people - that’s out of character for him. Despite the shaking hand and general mania - Malcolm usually refrains from raising his voice in front of Dani and JT. He tries to stay calm-ish so he doesn’t get labelled as ‘violent’ like his serial killer father.

5:39 - “StOp. I am scared.” Dani knew exactly how to diffuse the situation. Malcolm can be manipulative and dysfunctional but he never wants to scare people (at least, not unless they’re suspects or obstructing justice).

5:46 - “I’m not ordering you this time. I’m begging you.” Papa!Gil’s seen Malcolm like this before. SO WHY IS NO ONE HUGGING MALCOLM?!?! The boy is clearly coming apart at the seams.

5:48 - Malcolm’s reaction to Gil sending him home is gorgeous. He looks sad, betrayed, and resigned. It’s as though he’s convinced himself that the team doesn’t trust him or care about him anymore. He doesn’t walk out angry. He walks out sad and determined. Head held high but eyes full of grief.

5:54 - I’d give anything to have heard the conversation between Dani, JT, and Gil after Malcolm left the room. ANYTHING.

6:02 - “He thinks I’m a liability.” No. Not exactly. He thinks Malcolm is in the throws of a mental health crisis and that he shouldn’t be responsible for catching his serial killer father. Again.

6:15 - “I support Gil’s decision. That does not mean I want your father dead.” #coparenting but also, true. I honestly don’t think Jessica wants Martin dead. I think she wants Ainsley and Malcolm to be happy and free from Martin but not dead. She knows that Malcolm might never recover from Martin’s death with all of his unanswered questions and suppressed childhood trauma. She also knows that Ainsley would always resent being prevented from bonding with her father. I think Jessica still loves Martin - well, the man she thought she married. Jessica doesn’t care for Martin Whitly. But she loves the man he pretended to be and even though she knows he wasn’t real - she doesn’t want him to die. I think she wants him to disappear (maybe get transferred to a prison in a different state?) but she doesn’t want him dead. That would make her no better than the serial killer (in Jessica’s mind anyways).

6:25 - “You have become consumed by this Malcolm.” Check out the side eyed look Ainsley gives Malcolm. She’s jealous. Her brother is on the verge of a mental breakdown but she’s jealous of the attention he’s getting from Jessica. I get it - Jessica hasn’t been the best mom to Ainsley. BUT GIRL, gain some perspective. Don’t you care about your brother?!?! That should trump the jealousy for a few minutes at least.

6:35 - “I love you.” <3 <3 <3 I’m going to cry. This might be my favourite Jessica+Malcolm moment to date. So precious.

6:43 - THIS. “I love you. Both of you. More than I hate him.” This is why Jessica doesn’t want Martin dead.....but she also doesn’t care if he lives. I know that sounds like a contradiction but it’s a real thing and if you’ve never felt that way about someone - I pray you never have to.

7:06 - “Then she’s a victim.” .....I disagree. Capshaw had a (weird and manipulative) consensual relationship with Martin. She has as much of an agenda as Martin (although, Jessica didn’t know that here). Capshaw isn’t a victim. She’s not being compliant with Martin as a form of self-preservation or fear. She’s doing it because she’s a manipulative crazy person who is in love with a convicted serial killer.

7:45 - I’ve never felt this unsettled while watching Prodigal Son. Capshaw showing her true colours is so so so disturbing. This woman is insane (with all the stigma). The dress. The martini (Jessica’s favourite drink?). The fact that she dressed Martin up in a suit. The music. The weirdly elegant wheelchair. The lovey way she’s talking. It all makes my skin crawl.

8:33 - OMG. What’s wrong with me? Why do I feel bad for Martin Whitly?!?!?!

9:55 - JESSICA AND MALCOLM doing a rich person ambush tag-team IS AMAZING. <3

9:57- How sad is this? 23 years and Jessica still can’t walk into a room without people whispering and judging her behind her back. :( This woman keeps her head held high - despite the pain she must be in - she’s a superhero. Change my mind.

10:30 - "Malcolm Whitly? You're.." I have this headcanon that the general public assumes Malcolm is dead. He changed his last name and fell off the grid. People treat Jessica like a social pariah so she wouldn't be able to tell them otherwise. And sure, Ainsley referred to Malcolm in the present tense during her Surgeon interview but how many people actually watched it actually paid attention to that little tidbit after Martin went full blown psychopath on camera? Plus, no one really cares about the Surgeon's son enough to look him up 23 years later. At least, no one who matters.

11:25 - Like mother, like son. You can't change my mind. They have the same manipulation style. It's justice based and determined. Ainsley and Martin's style? Vindictive and self-serving.

11:30 - Oh look. ANOTHER CONTINUITY ERROR. WHO PROOFREADS THESE SCRIPTS?!? I CAN’T KEEP OVERLOOKING THESE. For God’s sake. Send copies of the script to fans who sign NDAs or something. At least we know what happened in previous episodes.

12:33 - "Gross." I'm with Ainsley on this one.

12:45 - "My assistant." "Long suffering". hahahha omg. I love this for two reasons: 1) it's hilarious 2) it's true. Malcolm literally disposed of a body for Ainsley. He's her assistant and he's suffered for it.

13:05 - Yo. This dude is whack. Like this is some serious Stockholm's syndrome going on here. Vivian is his hero?!? .........I can't.

13:55 - Why do the gifts Vivian sends Zeiger look like human bones? Damn this is twisted. This is like some sort of twisted serial killer pseudo-trophy situation?

14:52 - "I don't think Vivian is the victim here. I think our father is." Yikes. This is not going to help Malcolm's mental stability. At all. He's been trying to fully accept that his father is a serial killing monster who was literally never capable of loving him for the past 23 years. BUT NOW our boy has taken the role of 'good son' (prodigal son is you will) and has returned to his 10 year old mentality "I love dad. Dad loves me." and 'dad' is in trouble. Malcolm is trying to save his serial killer father and the emotional and mental hoops he's jumping through are terrifying, complex, and hauntingly realistic. <3 It's gorgeous.

15:04 - "I'm not used to this type of confinement." I love this line because of how deeply it rings true. Martin isn't used to confinement. Sure, he's been chained to a wall for 23 years but he's been relatively happy about it. He's been able to manipulate Malcolm and the other inmates. He's been given TV time, phone time, consultations, books, music, free food, and a massive private cell (seriously that cell is as big as the bachelor's suite I rent for $900 CAD a month). The man has been living a life of luxury (given his crimes). His only 'punishment'? He's stuck inside his cell and he's not allowed to kill anymore. THIS is Martin truly suffering. I kind of feel bad for him (which I never thought I'd say).

15:20 - Damn. Michael Sheen is incredible. He's genuinely making me feel concerned and scared for Martin.

15:32 - Something tells me a man hurt Capshaw in some way throughout her life. This has to be deeper than the whole "I didn't fit into the 'boys club' of surgery". Her issues with men are aggressive and alarming. This woman is nuts. This woman is why I hesitate to call myself a feminist (I generally think we should drop the titles of feminist/misogynist/racist/homophobe... and just treat people with respect. I think the titles and groups just further divide people.)

15:50 - "You're finally free." Yep. Capshaw is a nutcase. She actually believes that she's committed a perfect crime.

16:09 - This place has virtually no furniture but I’m expected to believe someone is paying the phone bill?!?! Nah.

17:08 - That. Smile. This woman is a devil. Like, I think I hate her as much as I hate Umbridge. But unlike Umbridge, Capshaw is downright terrifying.

17:12 - Was anyone else kind of surprised that Martin called Jessica? I mean, I guess she was a safer choice than the cops but still...

17:20 - As creepy and this whole ‘Martin is a victim’ thing is - it’s kind of nice? Like - I just keep thinking “How does it feel Martin?!?! This is how you made your victims feel. Do you like it?” and then I realize I’m a terrible person.

17:55 - Ainsley’s in on this. I swear, she’s somehow involved with either Capshaw or Martin.

18:18 - Oh look. Martin is shackled to the bed. Just like Malcolm shackles himself to bed so he can sleep every night. .....I keep oscillating between being vindictive toward Martin and feeling bad for him. That’s what makes this show incredible. The ‘villain’ is human and 3 dimensional.

18:44 - Oh God. The psychopath is jealous. This woman is UNSTABLE. How has no one locked her up yet?!?

19:43 - She’s crying. She’s actually crying. Even the rewatch of this scene is painful. I just feel so uncomfortable (which was probably the intent) and I hate both characters. They’re both actively trying to manipulate each other and it’s so creepy. Damn.

20:15 - Holy. Shit. This woman is by far the scariest villain Prodigal Son has given us.

21:17 - ..............I have nothing to say. My brain has short circuited. I can’t get past how horrifying this scene is. She’s a maniac.

21:57 - No one will make eye contact with Malcolm. :( They all think he’s losing it but they’re not scared of him. They’re scared for him.

22:10 - “A trusted member of my team has a theory I run it down.” THANK YOU GIL. SUBTLY TELL MALCOLM THAT YOU TRUST HIM. That’s what he needed to hear. He was doubting that anyone cared. :(

22:45 - “Do you HeAr yourself?!?” Ouch. Gil’s right - Malcolm sounds nuts. Unfortunately, Malcolm’s also right (more or less). Look at how sad Malcolm is - he honestly looks like he’s on the verge of a panic attack. :( Malcolm thinks Gil doesn’t trust him anymore. Malcolm thinks Gil thinks he’s crazy. It’s heartbreaking. SOMEONE HUG THIS LITTLE CINNAMON ROLL.

22:54 - JT, buddy. Not the time. You’re making this worse. :( Malcolm is two breaths away from crying.

23:40 - “Dani, you up for this? Cause he sure isn’t.” Gil is losing it. Look at him. Gil is watching the boy he considers as his son unravel and Gil can’t do anything about it.

23:45 - “Either way, he’s going there. I’ll keep an eye on him.” I love Dani for this. Brightwell or not - the fact that she’s willing to chase smoke in an attempt to keep Malcolm from having a full mental breakdown makes her a hero.

23:48 - JT, hug Gil! He needs a hug!

24:16 - Martin is screaming while shackled to a bed.....where have I seen this before?

25:39 - “I did this for you because you needed it.”....”Dani, I respect you.” Excuse me while I go sob in the corner. Malcolm just uttered the words “I respect you.” and my heart exploded.

26:11 - “You don’t care. None of you care if my father lives or dies.” No, Malcolm, you’re wrong. They care. They all care so so much. Not about the life of the Martin Whitly though. They care about how Martin Whitly will continue to torment you if he’s caught alive. They care about how badly you’ll grieve if he ends up dying. They care about how this will affect YOU. because they love you.

26:22 - “You would be free.” SAY IT LOUDER DANI! He’d be in enormous pain for a while, but Malcolm would heal.

26:56 - “Let him go, Malcolm.” <3 <3 Malcolm is listening to Dani. He’s opening up about his fears. This is good (for Malcolm’s mental health). I am happy.

27:04 - WOW BABY! That kiss was......passionate? I mean, we all knew they were going to kiss (thanks previews) but I honestly didn’t expect a kiss this long or passionate? They’ve both been clearly denying their feelings for each other for a while though so I guess it makes sense?

27:20 - We all know Dani was going to talk about how they could make a relationship work for them and/or how she loves Malcolm but thinks he should focus on his mental health before they start dating. BUT MALCOLM? That boy thinks he just ruined his friendship with Dani and I’m heartbroken. Look at his sad little face. :(

28:31 - sooooo when exactly did Malcolm’s phone call drop? I feel like Ainsley had more access to the conversation that just what she shares with Dani in a couple of minutes.

29:08 - Look at this sad, scared little boy. He genuinely thinks that saving Martin will earn Martin’s love. I’m heartbroken.

29:22 - THIS. Malcolm is so desperate for Martin’s love that he essentially consented to being kidnapped, tortured, and potentially murdered. :( This is bad.

30:06 - Malcolm took unknown drugs from a crazy person. UGH. The stress of loving this unstable man-child is going to kill me. I’m so worried for him. ALSO WHO THE HELL CHEWS PILLS?!?! That’s disgusting.

30:24 - Dani thinks Malcolm is being a typical guy - terrified of relationships/talking about his feelings. She’s hurt. The Brightwell ship has encountered another storm.

30:35 - Anyone else get major flashbacks to 1x11 when Gil shows up to the townhouse to tell Jessica that Malcolm’s been kidnapped? You know, when he walks past all the reporters?!

30:50 - Ugh. :( Poor Jessica. That call from Capshaw gave her quite the emotional dilemma. As she said earlier, she loves her children more than she hates Martin. Soooo does she tell someone about the call, save Martin, and let Martin continue to torment her children? Or does she let Capshaw kill Martin, compromise her morals, let her children grieve for a while - but ultimately heal? It’s an impossible choice.

31:13 - “I know why you’re anxious Jess.” UGH. Get yourself a man you looks at you the way Gil look at Jessica. So much love. So much concern. If Gil wasn’t fictional and I wasn’t asexual (and 24) I would marry that man.

31:23 - “He has become convinced that his father is a victim in all of this.” Gil is so upset. He’s angry - at Martin for having this much power over Malcolm so many years later. He’s angry that Malcolm is still suffering so much because of his father. He’s upset because Martin is still hurting the people Gil loves 23 years after he was initially arrested.

31:33 - “There’s no good outcome here Jess.” Thank you. Gil is a man with awareness into Malcolm’s psyche. He knows this is going to hurt Malcolm no matter what happens. He’s scared and he’s bracing himself for impact. I love him. I want more people in the world who love people this deeply.

31:50 - “It’s okay to hope for that you know.” THANK YOU GIL. THANK YOU. Someone needed to tell Jessica that she’s not a monster for wanting the reason her children continue to suffer to disappear (even if tha means he dies). It’s not a malicious, evil thought toward Martin. It’s a hope for her children’s wellbeing.

32:04 - “And in my weaker moments, I want him dead too.” <3 I’m imagining Gil praying that Martin is killed by an inmate after he comforts a teenage Malcolm from a nightmare. I’m imagining Gil praying Riker’s finally kills Martin as he watched Malcolm spiral into Martin’s grasp again last year. I’m imagining Gil crying himself to sleep because he’s so damn tired of watching Jessica and Malcolm suffer because of Martin. I love him for it. <3

32:15 - “Maybe things could be different.” .....I’m sorry. Does this mean Gillica is off again?! The flirting and dancing from 2x9 meant nothing?!? It was a hoax?!? I’m furious.

32:35 - “It’s the actions that matter.” Damn. Gil is too good for the nonsense that is the Whitly family. Doesn’t he know that life isn’t always that simple?

32:46 - Annnnnd now Jessica will convince herself that she’s a bad person because she didn’t tell anyone about Capshaw’s call. She will also convince herself that she’s not good enought for Gil. AND I will cry myself to sleep.

32:55 - That hug <3 Sooooo Gillica is still on? I’m hella confused.

33:05 - There it is. Dani is still upset with Malcolm. The Brightwell ship is taking in water my dudes.

33:52 - Wow. He looks pretty in that makeshift hospital bed. Sleeves rolled up. Shirt half unbuttoned. Glazed, disoriented look about him as he wakes from a drugged sleep. <3 I’m in heaven.

34:30 - This is why Malcolm can never let Martin go. There are moments when Martin absolutely convinces Malcolm that he loves him.

34:50 - “Because he also happens to be my father.” THIS. IS. THE. MOST. REALISTIC. PORTRAYAL. OF. ABUSIVE. DADDY. ISSUES. Take from someone who lived through an abusive Dad. You hate him. You know he’s messed up. You don’t like or respect him. But a part of you will always love him. Even though you hate that part of yourself.

35:12 - “I want all of you.” .....I’m terrified. This woman is crazy. Crazier than the Surgeon. Is that possible?

36:05 - “You want him to love you. But he can’t.” Have you said that to yourself Malcolm? You know that logically but you don’t feel that in your heart. ....and the writers don’t know that because we’ve seen that Martin loves Malcolm? Sort of? Unless the writers are playing some sort of weird long con on us.

36:50 - This is whump content I signed up for. This crazy bitch just killed Malcolm. We saw the terror in his eyes. BUT HE LIVES. So. I’m. Here. For. It.

36:58 - Martin’s devotion to Malcolm is so so interesting to me. Martin is a psychopath - he’s not supposed to be capable of love. But he clearly loves Malcolm. How? Why? It makes no sense but I love it?

37:47 - Malcolm’s little wheeze when Vivian starts mitigating the embolism. <3 So cute.

37:53 - “I can do without the mansplaining.” I’m getting PTSD. There are too many real women who are this crazy about feminism and mansplaining (this is coming from a woman). Martin isn’t trying to ‘mansplain’ he’s scared and he’s trying to save his son. That’s not mansplaining. He’s not explaining something because he thinks Vivian doesn’t know it. He’s explaining something in a desperate attempt to remind her of the severity of the situation.

38:16 - HOW THE HELL did Ainsley and Dani know where Martin, Capshaw, and Malcolm were? Either 1) Ainsley is somehow working with Capshaw, or 2) they were able to trace Malcolm’s cell (assuming Capshaw didn’t trash it), or 3) Ainsley knew her mom was lying about that phone call and they had it traced?, or 4) this is a convenient plot thing.

38:34 - This bitch is devious and I hate her.

39:30 - Martin Whitly is the hero of the episode. What alternate reality are we living in?

41:15 - Malcolm struggling for breath. <3 The whumpers are being FED.

41:17 - “Run.” This is 23 years of guilt for turning his own father into the police surfacing.

41:31 - “Where’s my family?” I honestly don’t know how I feel about this line. It bothers me but I can’t figure out why.

41:43 - This ending sequence is a work of ART. Malcolm is in physical and emotional pain. Dani (without backup) trying to save Malcolm from Martin. The epic music. The shot of Dani seeing the blood-filled syringe next to the makeshift hospital bed+restraints. Martin Whitly. Driving. A. Boat. And. Laughing - completely elated - with Malcolm passed out (and looking adorable) in the aft seating. The fact that the ONLY house you can see on the shoreline is the house the just escaped from.

THIS EPISODE WAS EXCITING, STRESSFUL, AND WONDERFUL. I’m excited for the SEASON finale and I pray we get a season 3 from a network other than FOX.

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obeymeluv · 4 years ago

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The Bros and School Headcanons

I have other stuff in mind but this is something short I can put out for now.

It’s my headcanon on the types of school/college people the bros are. I guess you can consider it college AU?

Lucifer

The Type-A asshole everyone probably hates

Doesn’t originally start out that way, doesn’t mean for people to hate him. Soon LIVES for it. Seriously, it’s like his coffee.

Prideful AF. MUST be top of the class!

His motto: “Do it right, do it once.”

Runs on an insane amount of coffee and just as insane (read: little) amount of sleep

The type to remind the teacher about assignments that were due in class if it seems like they’re going to forget about it

Asks about extra credit on day one

If people ask repeat questions that were LITERALLY just answered, he gets pissy and silently suffers

Ends up a little sad and burnt out, wondering if the grade was worth skipping out on other opportunities

Says he’s not going to do it next semester, but gets addicted to that grade high

The “friends” he makes in class are usually fellow rivals and they have a hot and cold relationship that somehow works really well

When he drops the grade-chaser stuff, he’s actually really nice to be around. He has really deep, interesting conversations that are between philosophical and educational (you just have to pull his head out of his ass first)

Mammon

Some people wonder how he got into the class, some people wonder how he’s passing it

Mammon is the dude who looks like he doesn’t know about the subject but is an absolute FOUNTAIN of knowledge

Always has sunglasses on and has some kind of drink within arm’s reach. Usually a very big coffee with lots of espresso

Constant bedhead (even if he says he fixed his hair)

Tried sitting in the front row the first week, kept getting sleepy. Now sits in the back row towards the doors.

He’s either early or late. Never on time.

The one that brings a notebook and a pen to class. Nothing extra.

Usually falls asleep or cat naps. Says he learns through osmosis

This asshole is really good at auditory learning and gets by recording the lectures

Blows through exams like they’re nothing. He’s a good BS’er and gets C’s, minimum. Usually low B’s.

This guy laughs at the Type-A stresser’s and enjoys his minimum studying

Can be suckered into group studying fairly easily but most people won’t study with him because he turns study sessions into anything BUT studying

Knows people who know people. Could probably get his hands on old tests and stuff. If he can, it’ll cost you. A lot.

Levi

This poor baby has testing anxiety hella bad when it comes to subjects he’s not super interested in or that he’s already struggling in

If he likes the subject and feels confident in it, there’s no testing anxiety.

Also brings a drink to class. It’s an energy drink.

Always comes to class early and is usually in a pair of wireless headphones, browsing on his phone

A great visual learner.

His notes are written sloppily and kind of sporadically but they’re decently organized with notes in the margin and things like that

Doesn’t like asking questions out loud. Will either email the teacher, ask after class, or make a friend that isn’t afraid to ask them for him.

If he’s having a good day, he’ll try to make jokes that only make a few people laugh. It’s usually bad timing and he’s a little sad.

MUCH BETTER AT DRAGGING PEOPLE! It’s not something he thinks about. It just slips out! Before his face can overheat, he realizes people are laughing and he kind of basks in it for a while.

Has coordinated stationary; is probably animes he’s into or colors he likes

If he has a laptop, it’s absolutely smothered in stickers

The BEST guy to have a study session with. Something about being in a library or quiet area ramps up his focus and he’s like a second-hand teacher.

Very different from his in-class persona, but is often spot on with ‘If I were the teacher, I’d put this on the exam.’

Want to be friends? Comment on his merch. He’ll start a conversation if he sees a shirt/pin/bag/pencil or anything he likes. It helps if you offer Starbucks or snacks in exchange for being tutored

Satan

Takes pride in his grades but doesn’t go out of his way to make people hate him

Will casually drop his grades when asked, but won’t own up to being the top grade. Very vague (”I did okay. Just like I expected.”)

He more or less enjoys the satisfaction of seeing a good grade come back to him after all that studying

Prone to over-thinking

Probably the first one done, but he’ll do 2 or 3 look overs to check everything before turning it in

Low-key exhausts his professors with written assignments because he gives them a fucking book. It’s all technical and correct but, really, it was only supposed to be three pages!

The one that will yell at the obnoxious people interrupting lecture. Will throw things at them if they’re in reach.

Super protective of his books and class materials. Has a hoarding/scooping reflex when messy people spread out their stuff or unwrap food. The books are not to be desecrated!

If an obnoxious eater/drinker is beside him, he thinks about strangling them to the point where it distracts him from lecture

Usually reads ahead and works ahead

If he gets points off of something, he’ll want an explanation. If he feels the points were taken away unnecessarily, there will be words

If he gets too overstimulated with noises or just hits a point of being fed up, he’ll leave lecture

Rarely brings food or drink to class but can be found at the Starbucks on campus before class. Maybe after. Some days it’s both.

Best notes around. Very technical and perfectly organized. Not colorful or anything, but definitely the envy of people.

Sells his notes/study guides each semester for money

Asmo

That guy who can slide into any friend group

Socially sharp. Can tell who the most prepared are and has an instinct for who the strongest class partners will be

Makes friends with the TA’s before the professors.

Totally convinces that TA to give him hints about the upcoming exams

People either love him or hate him. Most people love him, some people hate them because they can’t be him.

Almost always has a drink and it’s rarely the same. Usually a healthy smoothie or one of the cute juice drinks from Starbucks.

The type to bring in outside food and pick at it while he listens to lecture. Tries to listen, anyways.

Really easily distracted. Gets bored with monotonous voices and HATES teachers who just read off of a powerpoint.

His notes are very colorful and aesthetic but may not be the most informative

Does his best to stay on top of assignments but usually has 2 or 3 big screw ups a semester

Somehow always gets his ass saved. Boy has good karma in stock

This is the guy that things ALWAYS seem to work out for, and they fall in his lap

Proposes cute/semi-extravagant study dates. They are rare and exclusive. Extended to a few choice people (no, it’s not to sucker anyone into giving him class notes.)

Aim’s for C’s because anything more is just a bonus. D’s and F’s are unacceptable.

Will drag a bad partner in a heartbeat. If they didn’t help in the group project, their name isn’t going on it.

Beel

Also one of the types that doesn’t look like he belongs, but he does

Is a fountain of random knowledge

Very strong memory, but not perfect. The type that needs a little push before the absolute WALL of information comes out.

Really strong test taker

Brings tons of snacks to class

Once brought a whole-ass meal to class. He ate it one-handed and took notes with the other.

The guy that somehow gets roped into favors by other people. It’s usually quick stuff and he’s good about setting boundaries to make time for himself and his studies

Want him to study with you? Mention about splitting a pizza or something.

Your hype man. Good guy to reassure you before tests if you get test anxiety

Sick and skip class? He’ll check in on you AND send copies of his notes

Doesn’t always get assignments in on time. Only late once or twice a semester. Either eats the point difference or convinces the teacher to give him an extension.

Will take you out for post-test fun errands

Belphie

Does he exist? You won’t find out until it’s time to take an exam.

Belphie does a lot of research before he signs up for a class. Would like to go 100% online but knows that isn’t realistic, so he combs teacher reviews to get nice, easygoing professors

Has a photographic memory, so all he really needs are the powerpoints and to check out reference copies of the textbooks from the libraries

Tries to take the same classes as his brothers so he can swipe the textbook for a bit

If his only option is a morning class, he DEFINITELY picks the same one as one of his bros to make sure he gets up and goes

More of a night owl

The one that’s addicted to caffeine, stays up all night, and somehow gets 7 assignments done. Has periods of intense focus then it’s back to not knowing what day it is. He just wants sleep.

Usually seen with Beel or Satan. Tends to show up at events with free food.

Loves finals week when they bring in dogs and pets.

Has wireless earbuds and is always listening to a podcast, Tedtalk, or something soothing

Catnaps through class. Even if he’s woken up from a dead sleep, he can answer whatever snarky question someone asked

Takes advantage of the meditation classes and alternative therapy walk-ins promoted by the Mental Health Clinic. He really likes guided meditation with singing bowls.

#Obey me!#Obey me! x Reader #Lucifer x Reader #Mammon x Reader #Leviathan x Reader #Satan x Reader #Beelzebub x Reader #Belphegor x Reader

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vanosslirious · 4 years ago

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BBS Dialogue Prompts #95

BBS Dialogue Prompts & Sentence Starter: [7]

VANOSSGAMING

Hello! Can you hear me?

It's okay, we're fine.

This is a hazard.

Why is everyone screaming?

Get the book, it's on the table.

Get ready to go in the room.

It's like waking up from a nap on the floor. Scary.

Pick up, you stupid bitch.

You getting scared is scaring me.

Why did you tell him?

Let's learn something in school.

Can you grade my essay?

Why that one, why the one so far?

That's why we're all crazy.

Don't touch me, bitch.

That's a nice leather coat she's wearing.

Everything okay?

It's just a walkie-talkie.

Damn dude, look at that.

What, is that what it says?

WILDCAT

He doesn't have to stay neutral in fifteen minutes.

How do I leave?

Get the fuck away from here, alright.

You have any milk?

They see us, get the fuck out of here.

We might need to get the fuck out of here.

Sounds like you both made five hundred bucks.

Get me that fucking eye!

Get your gun out of my face, I can't see!

I'll take one for the team.

DAITHI DE NOGLA

Sounds like you're doing good.

I definitely have it this time.

I swear I saw that son of a bitch jump out of the plane.

You're getting me shot.

This is his cry for help.

Let me tell you my side of the story.

Who did it?

You guys are the stupidest motherfuckers I ever met.

We should definitely push him.

You're going to feel tension, possibly sexual tension in the court house.

BASICALLYIDOWRK

I mean, I wouldn't know.

You're not sitting on the roof while all your team is dying below you.

No man left behind.

There's two on the roof.

Where the fuck did he go?

Guard the base.

Are you guys ready to go out there?

I see you fucker!

I'm going up, fuck these kids, they're about to fucking die.

Are you guys ready?

FOURZER0SEVEN

That's what I said last time!

That was terrifying.

This mod is amazing.

Should I go kill him?

Wait, what the fuck?

This is so dumb.

You cheating little rat bitch!

This is fucking ridiculous.

I gained two levels from just standing here.

There you go, smoke him out.

TERRORISER

I think I'm more realistic.

They respected it too much.

Follow me, brothers.

Dude, what happened?

I found something, friends.

I'm sorry, man.

Get the money!

I'm with you, you fuck.

You can't hit me.

They're not looking.

SMII7Y

Now I think we're dead.

I'll say, it's pretty impressive.

Like Shakespeare, that doesn't make any sense.

I can continue my work.

I don't write the rules.

If it was me, then who are you?

Thank you for giving me your location, idiot.

Can we name our teams?

That sounds like a type of ice-cream.

I need to go back to my job.

#banana bus squad #bbs #banana bus squad dialogue prompts #vanossgaming #wildcat #i am wildcat #daithi de nogla #basicallyidowrk #fourzer0seven #the terroriser #smii7y #text #words #prompts #writing prompts

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therainbowwillow · 4 years ago

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Previous part: https://therainbowwillow.tumblr.com/post/640627005428318208/therainbowwillow

Part 9!

Premise/last time on this Hadestown AU: Challenged by the Fates, Hermes scrambles onto the train out of Hadestown just in time. Eurydice and Apollo treat Orpheus’s wounds. Hyacinthus takes a nap. Persephone considers filing for divorce. Achilles and Patroclus silently brood over the fact that they’re sharing a train car with Apollo, who indirectly (okay, not that indirectly) murdered them during the Trojan war. Dionysus encourages his mother to please divorce his homicidal father already. Thanatos and Hypnos flee Hadestown on foot. Hades hides to avoid the riots (that he totally caused by trying to kill Orpheus, this is his fault.)

(can you tell writing a synopsis is sometimes my favorite part of this process? I’m a first time fanfic writer, okay? Let me have this!)

—————————————

Hades slides the last lock into place and begins to barricade his bedroom doors. Being walled up in his living quarters, he thinks, does not look good for his image. Then again... what image does he have left to preserve?

He tries not to remember the pain and terror in Orpheus’s eyes. He was helpless. He hadn’t struggled, only given a desperate plea for his life.

Hades knew Orpheus had escaped. He’d watched Hermes from his tower, as he’d wrapped the wounded poet in his coat and carried the boy away from his confinement.

Hades had been given a choice when the boy arrived: appease the workers by letting Orpheus flee or kill the boy and appear strong. He’d taken the middle route. His shades had no respect for him any longer. Now, they pounded at his bedroom door, chanting Orpheus’s name.

Thanatos had been right, of course. He was weak. Foolish. Everything was far out of Hades’s reach now. Persephone would find her mother. As much alcohol as it might take, she was strong; she’d fight the bindings of the food of the dead. She would not return to him now. Orpheus would survive. Counterintuitively, Hades finds himself hoping the boy had made it out safely. Half of him prays that Orpheus will recover and sing the world back into tune. He’ll never get to see it, Hades realizes. Orpheus’s springtime will be lost on the underworld. Nothing will change. Hadestown will never again see flowers bloom. Eventually, the boy’s song will be forgotten by the dead as the Lethe again took its hold. Orpheus and Eurydice’s persistence may well earn them a seat among the gods. They’d never again return to his halls. All Hades has is his kingdom. And he must keep his grip. He will keep his grip. He always has.

The ground trembles. Another mine collapsed or production line blown sky high, he knows. Hades shuffles through his wife’s dresser, preparing to add it to the barricade. He finds a bottle of wine in the bottom drawer with a note attatched. ‘For when I see you again, Seph!’ it reads, ‘Much love, Dionysus.’ Hades slams the bottleneck against the dresser. It shatters to bits. He pours the wine into his mouth and swallows. It reminds him of the few sweet springtimes he’d spent up above. He finishes the bottle.

—————————————

“Strong enough?” Hermes asks, handing Apollo a bottle of morphine.

“Should be. I’ll give him a dose. It’ll knock him out long enough for me to stabilize his condition. Eurydice, distract him for a second.”

“Hey, Orpheus,” she says. “When we get married-”

“We’re getting married?”

She smiles. “Oh, yes. Anyway, when we get married, you get to help me make the bouquet. And, I was thinking, we could write a nice little poem on the wedding invitations.”

“What would it say?” He asks.

“That’s your job!” She laughs.

“What would you write?”

“I dunno! ‘Roses are red, our love is true, we’re getting married to prove it to you!’”

He grins. “That’s terrible.”

“I told you! I’m not a poet.”

“Okay, so I’ll write the invitations,” he says.

“Let’s hold the ceremony outside. Maybe during cherry blossom?”

“Heads up, Eurydice, he’ll be out of it soon,” Apollo warns her.

Eurydice nods and continues, “Who should we invite?”

“Hermes and Persephone.”

“How about me?” Apollo asks.

“Oh yeah. And Hyacinthus too. Everyone we know can come! We’ll have wine for Seph and I’ll drink grape juice!”

Eurydice laughs. “Do you have any idea how much I love you?”

“A lot,” he says. “A lot a lot.”

“More.”

“All the way to the stars?” He guesses.

“Past the stars and all the way back,” Eurydice corrects him.

His breathing steadies a little. “Can I sleep now?” He asks.

“Yes,” Apollo responds.

“When you wake up,” Eurydice says, “I’ll be right here. We’ll get married during cherry blossom once you’re feeling better and then you’ll teach me how to play the lyre.”

“Tch. Will you actually listen this time?” His words are slurred slightly by the medicine.

“I promise I will.”

“And you won’t try to throw my lyre into the fireplace?”

“I didn’t- okay. No, I won’t.”

“Good. Eurydice, I love you.”

“I love you too. Now get some sleep.”

He closes his eyes and his breathing steadies. Eurydice sinks back in her chair. “He’ll be alright?” she asks.

“Should be.” Apollo winces. “Give me a dose of that morphine or get this arrow out of my ankle, would you?”

“I’ll get Patroclus,” Hermes replies.

He returns a moment later with Achilles and Patroclus in tow. “Well,” Achilles remarks, “looks like karma caught up to you.”

Apollo rolls his eyes. “I saved the kid, now do me a favor and shut it.”

“Fine. Lay down.”

“What, on the floor? I don’t get a bed?”

“Yes, on the floor,” Patroclus snaps. “I’m not dragging you around.”

“Okay, okay.” Apollo puts his hands up in defeat and lowers himself to the ground.

“Listen, your lover boy’s asleep. So how do you want to do this?”

“Quietly,” Apollo says through gritted teeth.

“Alright.” Patroclus stuffs a scrap of cloth into Apollo’s mouth. “Bite this.”

He does. Patroclus snaps the arrow shaft. Apollo clenches his fists.

“Sorry,” Patroclus mutters, unapologetically.

“Mmmph.” Apollo attempts to reply through the cloth.

He yanks the arrow out. Apollo gives a muffled cry of pain. “Alright, there you go. A bandage and you should be fine.”

He spits out the rag. “You’re not even going to bandage it yourself?”

“No. Apollo, you guided a spear through my stomach and an arrow through Achilles’s foot. You let us bleed to death surrounded by the bodies of our fallen friends. Deal with it yourself or find a doctor whose life you didn’t end.”

Apollo stares up at the ceiling. “Take care of Hyacinthus, would you?”

“That I will,” Patroclus replies, honestly. “He’s doing well. He’ll want to see you when the pain meds wear off. So here.” He tosses Apollo a roll of bandages. “I’ll get you when he wakes.”

Hermes kneels at Apollo’s side. “You want a hand?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, breathless. “That’d be nice.”

“Thank you. For helping with Orpheus. I know you would’ve liked to see Hyacinthus,” Hermes says.

Apollo half-smiles. “Orpheus is my son too. He’s a good kid, Hermes. You raised him well.”

“He admired you, Apollo. He cherished your visits.”

“I should’ve come more often,” he mutters.

“You were grieving,” Hermes reminds him. “Orpheus knows how it is. He never blamed you.”

“I’ll come by more often once this is all over. I’d like to promise him that.”

“He’d appreciate it, Apollo,” Hermes tells him.

——————————————

“Persephone?” The door opens. She turns in her seat.

“Dionysus. Come sit.” He takes a seat beside her. “What now?” she asks softly.

“You stay with me, Persephone. Demeter and I will take care of you.”

She shakes her head. “I’m bound to that place.”

“You know Demeter would find a way around it. She’d bribe Zeus. Whatever it takes, mama.”

“Remind me this, son. What did I see in that man?” She asks in a low tone.

“He was kind. Reliable. He always treated me well as a boy. Gave me a normal life. As normal as the underworld gets, that is,” Dionysus reminisces.

“What changed? What broke inside of him for him to put a knife through Orpheus? Send shades to hunt us? I cannot say that he is not the man I know, though. I’ve seen this for years.”

“I...” he pauses. “I don’t know.”

“I feared for you, Dionysus. I sent you away to keep you out of his grasp. I stayed longer winters to distract him. It wears on me, even now.”

“Mother, I can handle myself.”

“Not against Hades. I will not have you put yourself on the line for me, son,” she tells him, sharply.

“I don’t want you going back there, Persephone!” he pleads.

She shakes her head. “Hades will contact his brother. Zeus has no pity for a woman’s whining. Hades will keep his kingdom, and he will keep his wife.”

“Mother-”

She cuts him off. “Be realistic. We must work out a reasonable agreement. We need to protect Orpheus, first and foremost. If he is not protected by my contract, then I will not take it. I will plead for shorter months stuck down there, but I would hope for very little. You will swear to me that you will follow the rules laid out for us, regardless of how harsh they may be.”

“I will not,” he says.

“This isn’t up for debate. Hades owns me. He owns everything that touches his foresaken realm. I am his queen; I am his prisoner.”

“I’m not letting him have you!”

“I’m not giving you a choice, Dionysus. I bound myself to him. I cannot change the past. All we can do is try, my son.”

#hadestown au #hadestown fanfic #hadestown #therainbowwrites

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wintaejk · 5 years ago

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Jungkook’s FIC REC | OS 2

I had too many links on the other post. Here is the second part of my Jungkook’s fic rec but with others themes.

Again, all those fictions belong to the amazing authors who wrote them, not me. I want to thank them once more.

(f) = fluff

(a) = angst

(m) = mature

magical au

— Trick or Treat: Howling for You (F) (M) — by @fortunexkookie

The way your Little Red Riding Hood costume lured over a fuckboy in a half-assed werewolf costume was a little cliche, but god damn was he beautiful. He promised he had plenty of big things to show you, and you took him up on the offer, not realizing that you might’ve bitten off more than you could chew.

werewolf au | established relationship | +14k

— rottenfolk (M) — by @junqkook

a look was as hazardous as chemicals, a kiss as perilous as poison; his eyes and lips felt akin to a cure, but he was purely venom.

faerie au | royalty au | +13k

Commentary - If there’s only one one-shot I could recommend you to read of all tumblr, it would probably be this one. For me, it is rare to acheive such a level of mastery in fantasy fictions. Writing is already complicated, but when you have to place the readers in an unknown universe, it is even harder. However, the real brilliance of this story is the end. Because the end is supposed to satiate the reader in a way or another, it is supposed to offer what all the reader craved: a sort of closure. But here we all are, waiting for a sequel, because this story will make you want a next episode. And that is the brilliance, because you will surely never forget a story with that kind of power. So those are some of the reasons why this fiction is for me a mix of art, smartness and excellence ; and also why you would be missing something huge by not reading it.

— overdrive (M) — by @junqkook

you thought meeting jungkook was just a coincidence, but the universe didn’t deal in coincidences.

vampire au | soulmate au | enemies to lovers | +13k

— Crescent Bound - Jungkook (F) (M) — by @parkhabits

A pact bound by the moon. A secret kept only amongst themselves. Each of them experiencing their own cycles of heat.

werewolf au | friends to lovers | +12k

— Room 109 (M) — by @lavishedinjimin

Having Jungkook as your apartment buddy was a lot to get used to. But with one early day, your heat comes up much stronger than usual, and you were desperate for an alpha’s touch.

werewolf au | roommate au | alpha!jungkook | +6k

— after dark (M) — by @seokoloqy

Jungkook has served the royal family for generations, seen them live and die countless times. When it comes to you, he can’t watch you wither away too, but your lust for one another makes it harder and harder to stay apart.

vampire au | royalty au | knight!jungkook | +8k

— Life’s Blood (F) (A) (M) — by @littlenoona

You produce blood cells at an increased rate when blood is lost, effectively, you cannot bleed out. This ability has served you well so far, even gaining you a rare friend, and you’ve made it your source of income, but it also has its downsides, one of which you’ve managed to avoid successfully, until now.

vampire au | +13k

— you come in waves (A) (M) — by @angelguk

if jeongguk had a choice, he would destroy the sun. it’s not like he needed it for warmth due to his werewolf abilities making him a scorching radiator. it would also help his heart. because you look delectable in that stupid bikini.

werewolf au | friends to lovers au | 4k

— tell me your secrets (i’m all ears) (F) — by @jinpire

You’re not afraid of Jeon Jeongguk. Even if he’s probably some kind of bear or giant cat shifter, and just a hint of his irritation had your instincts vibrating beneath your skin like a live wire. Your thumb brushed over the plastic dome of mini-Levi’s head, taking comfort in the cartoon scowl and dead eyes, the tiny grey sticks of his 3DM gear. Small could be pretty fucking powerful too.

shifter au | college au | bunny!kook | +6k

drabbles: nooks and naps - foxie moxie (don’t pull my tail) - look before you leap - fluffles and kerfuffles

— Pomegranate Seeds (M) — by @taetaebaepsae

Jungkook thinks he’s found the perfect new roommate, but little doesn’t he know you’re just aching to corrupt him.

demon au | roommate au | virgin!jungkook | +4k

other themes

— Every Kind of Way (F) (M) — by @taehyungforreal

{Three little vignettes, three completely different experiences, same perfectly wonderful boyfriend JK.}

strangers to lovers | established relationship | +14k

Commentary - I remember when this fiction was posted. I read the teaser a few days before, and I was waiting for it. I remember the exact date of the release of this story, and let me tell you it never happens to me. But this is how much I liked this story. This masterpiece. This fiction is 95% made of smut. This is a warning if you don’t like that. However, what I like about Ashley’s works is that smut is not only smut (okay, sometimes it’s just pure filth but whatever). It’s not the first time I’ve read a piece of work of her and that I’ve been so thankful of reading her. Because the stories she writes are realistic. Sex is not always perfect. Sex is not always like in porn. Sex can be embarrassing. And this is why I love what Ashley writes, because she always have that realistic point of view on life. And sometimes it’s also nice to not turn everything into porn. What is very likeable - I said likeable? I meant loveable, sorry - about that story is also the three different stages of the relation of Jk and reader. This is also something I like about her writings. Life evolves, relationships evolve, and so does sex. So in this story, you will experience three different Jungkook. And it’s three reasons why you should read this fiction, three reasons why you will probably love it. One thing is sure, this chef-d’oeuvre will leave you wondering if your eyes have been burnt by the smuttiness or blessed by all the talent of this writer.

— tattooed two (ft. kth) (F) (M) — by @httpjeon

your boyfriend’s best friend joins you for a night you’ll never forget.

tattoo artist au | established relationship | poly au | +8k

— Inkling (A) (M) — by @gguksgalaxy

Jungkook is your brother’s boyfriend’s co-worker, they own a tattoo and piercing parlour. In other words, he’s tall, gorgeous, has his passion literally etched into his skin, looks incredibly good in a man-bun, and is semi-unattainable for you. Why? Well…you’re not entirely sure but him ditching right after a very heated make-out session sure isn’t a good sign. His extremely poor mood the next week sure isn’t either, but the only way to fix it is to face the beast head-on. Right?

tattoo artist au | +17k

— Freak-quency (M) — by @taehyungforreal

His eyes sparkle and he fights back a smile when he asks you why. “Is it because I didn’t give you something else to swallow like I said I would,” he questions, halfway through a much less subtle adjustment of his growing erection. Yoongi was right, he wants to be in trouble.

rockstar au | established relationship | +8k

— Boots (M) —

3000+ words of Ashley kinking on Jungkook’s boot. That’s it.

rockstar au | established relationship | part of Freak-quency | +3k

— Heartbreaker with a Heart of Gold (A) (M) — by @filmflowersbangtan

It was around this time almost three years ago when Jungkook moved to LA after his band got signed to a famous record label. He told you that he’d keep in contact with you. That he’d visit as much as he could. That he loved you. But about a month after leaving, he stopped texting and calling as much. And then a mere week after the band’s first EP dropped, Burning Rabbit was a sensation.

rocksatr au | ex lovers | +3k

— Brother’s best friend (M) — by @lavishedinjimin

In which Y/n owns a smut blog dedicated to her crush and brother’s best friend, jungkook. it was all fun and games until he finds out about it and acts it out with you.

brother’s best friend!jungkook | +5k

— Sugarplum Elegy (F) (A) (M) — by @bymoonchild

You know no bounds nor depth with Jungkook. While your fuck buddy loves sleeping in your bed and doing laundry for you with his favourite fabric softener, you are in love with a mysterious honeyed, velvety voice on Soundcloud. All’s fine, until you find out that the voice that metaphors your heart to a sweet sugarplum melody actually belongs to the boy who has been taking up a special spot in your bed and in your heart, strumming at your heartstrings all this while.

friends with benefits | college au | idiots to lovers | +17k

— The Kids Aren’t Alright (F) (A) (M) — by @sketchguk

Sneaking around with Jeongguk during your Christian retreat is complicated when you’re both dedicated to your jobs as co-youth group counselors at your father’s ministry.

friends with benefits | pastor’s kid!reader | +10k

— Gym (F) (M) — by @hobiwonder

Jungkook has a crush on you and has been watching you work out at his gym. One day you finally confront his obvious crush.

business woman!reader | fratboy!jungkook | older reader | +8k

— Gravity Check (M) — by @gimmesumsuga

The one where Jungkook is your oh-so-handsome climbing instructor.

climbing instructors!jungkook | strangers to lovers | 14k

— The Monogamy Monologues (F) (M) — by @kpopfanfictrash

The year? Some point after college. The occasion? Namjoon is getting married and the Rich Man’s Crochet Club has convened once again. Somewhere between the drinks and the laughter, everyone has the same realization: Jungkook has never been in a serious relationship. In the name of all that is holy (Overwatch and booze), the club’s mission is revived. Now though, their goal is much more perilous. Now, they aim to find Jeon Jungkook a girlfriend. (Part of The Rich Man’s Crochet Club series)

fuckboy!jungkook | wedding planner!reader | strangers to lovers | +42k

— The Virgin Volume (F) (A) (M) —

This fic exists in the RMCC universe. It takes place before RMCC and is the story of how Jungkook lost his virginity. To quote Seokjin/Namjoon: “What Jungkook doesn’t know won’t hurt him and – let’s be honest – his story is hilarious. One pump,” Seokjin laughs, sounding like a hyena. “One pump and he’s done.” // Ducking his head, Namjoon tries not to smile. “It was a rookie mistake,” he protests, defending their friend. “Jungkook was overexcited and couldn’t control himself. He got better.”

college au | friends to lovers | prequel to TMM | +6k

— everlasting (A — by @kimvvantae

being able to love the same person forever is a blessing given from the heavens. to you, however, eternity has become a curse.

reincarnation au | 18k

— Performances (M) — by @littlenoona

The same handsome guy has been appearing at your performances and you become more and more interested in who he is - now you’re dancing only for him, despite a hall full of people.

strangers to lovers | professional dancer!reader | +6k

— Matching Hearts (F) (A) — by @gukwluv

a drunk call to your ex boyfriend leads to a night of fun adventures that make you wonder why you even split in the first place.

exes au | +3k

— locker room talk (M) — by @minnpd

You end up having a rather heated talk with Jeon Jungkook in the locker room when he announces he has been chosen for the audition you both participated to.

dancer au | enemies to lovers | fuckboy!jungkook | +5k

— not quite lovers (M) — by @junqkook

hiring jeon jungkook as your personal assistant happens to have more than one perk.

workplace au | friends with benefits | ceo!reader | +15k

— By Its Cover (M) — by @gimmesumsuga

The one where Jungkook makes a very bad first impression.

workplace au | enemies to lovers | 21k

— Mind in the Gutter (F) (M) — by @kpopfanfictrash

Starting over is never fun. Especially not when you decide to take the phrase fully to heart; new job, new city, new coworkers and new relationships. When you are dragged to a happy hour by your new co-worker, Taehyung, you end up sitting beside a (very) cute, (very) shy IT worker named Jungkook. Several drinks later, he mentions he is in a professional bowling league with his friends and you rather enthusiastically invite yourself along. As time passes and you begin to grow closer, you still find it impossible to read Jungkook. Working in the same company and seeing each other so often, it is only so long before one of you snaps. But who?

workplace au | bowling au | strangers to friends to lovers | +18k

#fic rec #jungkook fic rec #bts fic rec #jeon jungkook

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dollsted · 5 years ago

Text

Chains

Chapter one: The Sting

Source: A03 --- F0rce0fnatur3

NSFW Warning: 18+

Pairing: SasuSaku | SakuIta

Plot: Sakura was just going about her daily life when her world shatters after being taken by two men who were sent to do their jobs and help fill the bank account of the third party they work for. When the job gets botched due to Sakura's intrusion her fate suddenly becomes tied in the hands of the brothers. What do they do with an extra witness? And should they tell their employer about this slip up?

I drag my fingers through my silky pale rose colored hair, green eyes fixed on the cross walk sign waiting for the light to change and the slush of people I’m mobbed into moves. I can feel the slack in my tie holding my bun up threatening to come lose, so I crane my neck so that it is straight and proper without too much motion. A few shorter layers that frame my cheeks have come free already and a bad habit of mine is to twine my hair around my finger while strangers press uncomfortably behind me crowding the corner. I’m urged forward as we move like a swarm of fish across the road to the other side. I can feel someone who’s too inappropriately pressed behind me breathing hot breath on the naked nape of my neck. I can feel him jut against me when I try to gain distance like a pair of flats that is a size too big and the extra space slaps at my heels each step. Finally I surge forward yearning for freedom and to break free from the blobby monster and break through the congestion making my way toward Macy’s.

Everyone steals these moments by emerging from their homes after being cooped up for the hopelessly long winter. Colors finally begin to paint against the sky above the skylines and warm rays of light dips its fingers through the spines of the buildings. Spring is in the air. We all mimic the flowers that are still hidden beneath the flat and muddy colors of the city, we angle our faces to the sun which has been hidden behind a veil of gray like a face behind a paper fan. We want to soak up as much vitamin C as we can and I feel the light burn against my exposed skin. Yesterday when I passed this way the store was still in muted colors reflecting the sludge outside but today it is bursting with pink. I stare in awe at the window display. Flamingo’s the size of the entire span of the window towers on each side of the entrance to the door all adorned and anatomy made up of pink roses! If these are fake, whoever fabricated the material made it look as realistic as possible. Hanging above their crowns are real flowers that dangle in tight tangles and it renews the stores vigor. I imagine the workers tirelessly staying through all hours of the night to prepare the store for spring.

I brush the left strand behind my ear and begin my shameless hunting. It’s been awhile since I binged for myself and after yesterday’s messy blood and stitches night at the hospital I felt I needed to wipe the memory clean with something material. I thumb through the sales rack, I look at the new lines on the outer edges of the store, I even gravitate towards the jewelry. Black pearl earrings. Ino told me once that my complexion was fair, so soft pastels of pinks and whites would best accent me. But I found emeralds didn’t contrast against the hue of my eye color, and soft yellows also seemed to flatter me. What did she know? She was always wearing crop tops that cut off just under the lines that silhouetted her breasts and shorts that clung too tightly to her ass. I assess a bright red sweater that would free my shoulders from its grip and add it to my basket. I swipe my right stray strand behind my ear and inspect a rose gold ring that appeals to my depth of symmetry. The gold is like filigree that curves gracefully in sharp patterns and arches that eventually build up to its center which dawns a black pearl that gleams a soft shade of gray when it hits the light and bleeds to deep black like the depths of a sea. A smatter of diamonds adorn random patterns like stars. Five on the left side of the pearl, three on the right. This will match my earrings.

With a single bag slung around my arm I wander to my usual spot which has become my favorite place to frequent for coffee. I sit at the high table crossing my legs over one another arresting the fabric of my skirt to keep it from coming loose. I pull out the book from my purse and jot down little notes. What no one tells you in medical school is that although yes you are saving lives there are more bad days that outweigh the good one does. It’s getting harder and harder to find the slips of those good moments and the more gore filled ones blot out that and remain in your head like scars. I’ve woken up numerous times in a sheen of sweat and nightmares of the faces I couldn’t save laid there on the table like a cold dead slab of meat as if they’re waiting for me to stitch up the pieces of their broken body. One of my coworkers suggested I start writing down the good. It’s a sparse entry but a little girl came in with a flesh eating virus after she went into lake water with a small open wound no more the size of my pinky’s tip. The bacteria entered that small entry point and within hours she got severely sick and in no more than eight hours later her leg began to blacken. We were able to extract the bacteria and eradicate any other threats. Had she been another hour later, she would have lost her entire leg up to her calf.

The hospital is always filled with patients. Like the cars that pack together outside like flakes of snow, so too are the halls of the hospital. I work endlessly. I’m afraid to admit that I now lean heavily on the assistance of caffeine. Like the officers that are allowed leave after a bad case to get their sanity back together, so too have I put in for two weeks’ vacation. Tsunade insisted I take more but if I don’t do something I only drown in my own thoughts and vanish into naps. She suggested I actually go on a vacation and get out of the city but it felt so odd to picture myself somewhere tropical and warm. Like residents in hotter climates who never get snow for Christmas.

Hinata shoots me a text. I extract the phone from my jacket pocket looking at the small rectangular screen and thumb away all the notifications clogging my feed until finally I get to the message board. She wants me to meet her at her apartment. She’s not too far from where I am, it isn’t a big enough strain to have to hail a cab. With four blocks I’m there buzzing at the front gate. I ride the elevator eleven floors up and walk halfway down the hall before knocking on her door. Quietly and quickly she opens it, her face is flushed, and she has tears rimming in her eyes like diamonds against her black lashes. Her pearl white eyes plead to mine and her brows are knit together. I’m startled. She’s truly upset. Usually she smiles and pretends there’s nothing wrong but after Ino and I finally staged an intervention to get her out of her abusive relationship she had been struggling. She motions me in. Her family has money but after Hinata left our small town and migrated here with Ino and I she had opted for a small apartment in a more down trodden part of the city.

“Sakura, I’m so glad you’re here. Something terrible has happened.” I look at her, my own brow arched in confusion and she’s moved like a ghost effortlessly into the other room. I go to follow but she’s already floated back and produces a note tightly gripped in the confines of her shaking hand. I gently pull the letter from the feed of her palm and look over the document. The note is hand typed and not signed. The content of the letter sends a shiver through my body.

“Someone sent you a threatening letter?”

“D-do you th-think it could be h-him?” Her whole body convulses now and her hands find one another gripping until her knuckles are as pale as the color of her pearl eyes.

“No. Your ex is a jackass but he’s a coward at heart and wouldn’t send something like this.” I take a seat suddenly feeling a dreadful weight in my body threatening to pull me down. “It seems to me the person whose contacting you wants a piece of your fortune.”

“Should I tell father? Oh…he’ll be cross. He’ll want to send the police force and private investigators.” Her voice is a feather against the drumming in my ears. She hasn’t been able to look at me since she retrieved the letter. Gingerly I put my hand against her quaking shoulder offering warmth and softening my voice.

“Hinata, I think you should let your father know about this. It could become serious…”

“No one even knows I’m out here…who…who could…?”

“It’s easy for a woman to be stalked. I hate to admit this to you too and scare you even more but if one wanted to type in your full name the internet isn’t shy about revealing articles about your fathers charity work and that you and your sister are heiresses.”

I watched her shrink into herself. I looked back to the letter.

“I don’t want my family to get hurt.”

“All the more reason to warn them that you and them may be targeted.”

I spent the rest of my visit cooing soft words of encouragement and making her several pots of herbal tea to calm her jittery nerves. When I suggested she speak to detective Naruto about all this she was all too eager to change the subject or dismiss it. I loved Hinata as the dear friend she was to me but, sometimes it was like speaking to a child who was afraid of her own shadow. Children could be difficult and stubborn and no matter what I pitched to her she shot down. Finally I had to threaten to tell my own sources about the letter and that seemed to sap any of her protests. She didn’t want me to get involved and made a promise that first thing in the morning before work she would go to the authorities with her proof and ask for help. It was enough to sate me. The letter gave her a two weeks’ notice to produce the money or transfer it to a secure private fund so I felt a little at ease that perhaps they wouldn’t come to collect her in exchange for that promise.

I lay awake all night feeling guilty about Hinata. It became too hard to leave her alone and when I shot her a text to come back to my place for the time being she politely declined still feigning that she didn’t want me to get hurt in any of this exchange so I fled my apartment taking a cab as if precious moments were slipping from my fingers. Her building was alight and it helped douse a little of my fears but when I reached her front door it was then I noticed there was a splinter in the wood at the hinge. My heart was in my throat as my fingers lightly touched upon the wood of the door and it yawned open. Her apartment was dark and I could hear muffled talking. Maybe Hinata was retiring for the night and speaking to her father but then why would her door be affected by such a thing?

I dared two steps into her room when the creak in the floor threatened to tattle on me if I moved further. I craned my neck trying to peer around the corner to the kitchen. The only light was the clock on her microwave and stove. I inched against the frame of the wall getting closer to the rush of voices. Now I heard the distinction of a male. I strained for a minute to hear Hinata’s reply but nothing came. A shadow moved across the wall in the living room. I went to strain my eyes to look into the stretch of darkness but felt a large hand press my locked lips against my teeth restraining my cries and screams of help. There was a wall of muscle at my back. My arms were pinned at my sides as the other arm snaked around me. My only free limbs were my legs which were easily lead in a dragging motion as the assailant directed us by holding my weight up and guiding us into the bedroom. My eyes widened. Hinata was slung over the shoulder of another male that seemed only a figment in the room. I could hear the venom in the elder male’s words as he hissed to the one man handling me.

“Who the fuck is that?”

“Don’t know. She was lurking at the door. What should we do?” I felt the pinprick of fear radiate up my spine and I began fighting. With little avail he easily coiled his arm flexing his muscles tighter against me. It was hard to take in air. I could see black blotting the corners of my vision.

“She’s seen too much. Get rid of her.”

“This might be the one she was texting.” I felt his hand move from my mouth and I took a sharp breath of air into my lungs but felt the scream vanish inside my throat when the clicking sound and cold round press of steel touched under my jaw. It came out as a startled gasp.

“Don’t you even fucking dare.” My entire body began shaking. His voice was as deep and vicious as the steel under my chin. His arm uncoiled, he transferred the gun to his other hand and the free one plunged into my pockets. I let out a small yelp of surprise trying to shrink myself to get away from his invasive hands but moments later he plucked my phone from my back pocket. I glared blindly at him in the dark and shut my eyes when the shock of the bright screen flashed over my retinas. I blinked back burning tears watching him thumb through the phone then stopped.

“That the one?” The other male ground out through tightly gritted teeth.

“Yep.” Said my assailant with a careless sigh. He slipped the phone somewhere behind me in one of his pockets and then he resumed the hold he had before. The guns position changed to my temple.

“Your call.” The casual exchange made me think these two criminals knew one another on a personal level. Maybe even related? I couldn’t think about that right now. Right now I needed to pine for my survival. I spent my years trying to save lives and to think of becoming just a stain within my legacy and a good front page article that would be looked over by tomorrow’s new stories made my stomach churn.

“I know you two were the ones that sent the letter. I---I’ve already contacted the police about it.” There was a long stretch of silence that curdled the bile in my stomach even more painfully sour. The elder spoke.

“We’re wasting time here. Bag her too. We’ll figure it out once we’re in the clear.” The one behind me didn’t respond. He only moved awkwardly behind me slipping one sleeve of a jacket to him and forcing the other sleeve to my arm. His free hand was hidden between the shared garment and the barrel was now tightly pressed at my back. I swallowed a wet gulp feeling the block roughly glide down my throat.

“Here’s the deal. You scream. You say anything. I shoot you first. Then I shoot all the people you call out too. I don’t care if it’s a kid either. Got me?” I gave a curt nod. “Say it!”

“Yes I understand!” I held the front of my sweater with my free hand trying to steady my nerves.

Given the time of night there was no body that inhabited the entry ways or hallways. The elder had moved Hinata so it looked as though with her arm slung around the back of his neck and him holding her by her waist he looked like a gallant gentleman escorting his drunk girlfriend into a cab. But in the cabs stead was a black Lincoln. She was put in the trunk however…and I was forced to duck into the cabin of the back row of seats that faced one another. The elder took to the wheel. The black divider hid him completely and I was face to face with my captor who freed himself from the jacket. I was too terrified to shrug the rest of it off me. We were moving and I looked to the tinted windows walled around me. I felt small. I felt hopeless. My life was out of my hands. I knew in this moment how my patients felt…

The younger captor was tall, not as tall as the other one but still larger than my short stature. He had long elegant legs that were cloaked in black jeans with faint tan stitching at the seams. He had heavy steel toed boots that somehow he controlled to keep his footfalls as silent as a cats. I saw the gray outlines in his shirt that made up the peaks and mountains of his midsection to his chest. His biceps were bulging from the clad shirts tight hold. The same arms that almost crushed me in two like a toothpick. He slung his forearm on the back of his seat showing the deadly muscle beneath his flesh. I looked away before his eyes could catch hold of mine. Charcoal black and bottomless like a shark’s. He had a long aristocratic nose and his lips were thin but were perfectly shaped so if he smirked they tips of them would be like little arrows that would point to his long cheekbones. His hair was a mop of thick locks and like babies he was cursed with terrible cowlicks that swirled and curved upwards but yet---it made him look distinguished and just fit to his angelic appearance. I crushed my thoughts digging bloody moons into my palms.

Why had he put Hinata in the trunk? It wasn’t like he couldn’t overpower us if she awoke. Perhaps he didn’t want us speaking to each other. I felt my body temperature rise, the arm that was buried in the jacket suddenly burning setting wildfire throughout my other limbs. I shirked it off pulling my feet to the wide expanse of the seat tucking my knees to my chest. He was busying himself with my phone going through it and erasing the contents. I just wanted to sleep. My eyes burned with need but my body was wide awake. All my nerves were firing away with adrenaline. But as the hours went by and my mindless gaze watched the landscape scrape by in blurs I was fading. I hadn’t noticed when I stopped holding my head up and came to attention when my forehead was pressed against the cold glass. I jerked awake but couldn’t fight sleep any longer. Maybe I should just take a minuscule one---it might be my last chance for sleep. My thoughts grew heavier and became scrambled and finally I gave in to the darkness.

#sasusaku #sasusakufanfic #sasusakufanfic2020 #sakusasufanfic #sakuita #sakuitafanfic #itasakufanfic #a03 #archiveofourown #archive of our own #my works #if you want to keep up on the chapters go to my a03

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ancientbooshartifacts · 5 years ago

Text

Pantomime

Author: BeansidheBaby

Year: 2008

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Howince

It was easy to forget that Vince had been raised in the forest these days. He never stopped to speak to animals any more, or told stories about Bryan Ferry and his childhood adventures. He had lost the slightly naïve wonder he used to regard the whole world with. Now he smirked and swaggered (well, minced really) with an arrogant grace, that was completely divorced from the awkwardly gangly teenager Howard had lured away from the vacuum that was state education with promises of adventure and millet rotas. Howard was shocked then, to discover that Vince had never heard of Cinderella. Later he realised that there was no logical way that he would have known. Leopards are not known for their knowledge of the collected works of the Grimm's Brothers and Bryan was more the lullaby than the bed time story type. “Howard,” Vince bounded up excitedly “What?” Howard muttered barely looking up from his copy of Global Explorer “Can we see this?” he held up a poster, “It looks well trendy. It's about a girl who gets made a princess because she had great shoes. Imagine that!” Howard looked more carefully at the poster. “Vince, this is for the panto. It's for kids,” he said flatly, “Besides you already know what happens in the end, so what's the point paying twenty quid to see some sad collection out of work soap actors and and has-been pop stars torture us with two hours of double entendres and dodgy slapstick?” “Why, what happens? Does she win X-factor?” Vince asked with sincerity shining from his eyes. Howard eyed him suspiciously. “Are you trying to say that you never heard the story of Cinderella?” he asked incredulously, “You know the words to every Gary Numan song ever written and you don't know what happens at the end of Cinderella?” “Yeah,” said Vince churlishly, “So are we going or what?” “I'll book the tickets,” Howard sighed. He had forgotten how loud it was. Even as a child he had found it all very unnecessary and tedious. It was worth it though, to see Vince staring at the play wide-eyed, whooping for the good guys and hissing at the bad guys. Howard had been ready to tackle any and all questions about girls playing boys and middle aged men playing old women, with historical background notes on the theatre prepared in bullet points, but Vince had taken it all in his stride. Typical. At the moment he was admiring the actress who played Button's tight knee length trousers. “Those are genius! Do you think that the Victorian butler look could be coming back?” he asked in Howard's general direction. Howard chose to see this as a rhetorical question, as Vince would hardly ask him his opinion on fashion trends in dead earnest. During the interval, Vince bought a bag of liquorish all sorts “to share” (translation: he ate them and picked out the plain black ones for Howard) “Thanks for taking me Howard,” he said with his cheeks full of sweets, looking more childlike than he had in years. His free hand rested on Howard's armrest, his long fingers plucking at the worn nap of the velvet. The lights dimmed and the curtains reopened. The second act was beginning. Vince impulsively grabbed Howard's hand and rested his head on his friend's shoulder. Ooh that's low, thought Howard, wait until I can't make a fuss. It didn't actually bother him very much really. But it did worry him that it didn't. He nervously reached out an arm and placed it self consciously around Vince.

Vince was quieter during the second act, not heckling the dumber heckers any more or throwing all-sorts at the people in the stacks. He just sat slumped against Howard's shoulder and fiddling with a loose thread on his sleeve. Howard sat as stiff as a board with his arm mechanically around his friend's waist, trying so hard to be nonchalant. Vince shifted and his cheek came into contact with Howard's neck. Howard flinched slightly, but tightened his grip on Vince. He spent the rest of the performance focusing solely on Vince's hot breath against his throat. When the curtain finally fell after three curtain calls (three too many, thought Howard) they rose to their feet awkwardly. Howard shifted away from Vince and looked steadfastly at the ground but, made no move to take his arm away. They walked towards the exit holding on to each other loosely but closely, bumping hips and legs together occasionally. I missed this, Howard realised abruptly. Doing stupid things with Vince that neither of them would ever normally do. Vince touching him. He told Vince not to touch him so man times that apparently he'd stopped trying. “What I don't understand is,” Vince said tiredly, “why did Cinderella marry the prince?” “Fitted the shoe. If the shoe fits, wear it,” Howard replied “No, I mean why did she want to marry him not how did she manage it. And I'm not even going to go into how unlikely it is that one person would have a different shoe size to everyone else in the country and still be able to find fab shoes” “Why wouldn't she marry him? He's the prince. That's how stories go” “But what about Buttons?” Vince insisted. How did bloody chocolate come into it? “Buttons loved her and she liked him better than anyone else she knew. Why does she drop him?” Oh that Buttons. “Button's being in love with Cinderella is supposed to be a joke. She didn't see him like that even as a possibility,” Honestly a footman who was a very ineffectively disguised girl over the heir to the thrown? “That's bullshit,” said Vince vehemently, “No one falls in love with people they hook up with at parties. You wake up, you find your clothes, you go home and never call them and they never call you. Those are the rules!” “You're absolutely right Vince. We should write a letter to Disney immediately and tell them that they're perpetuating a falsehood about the 'rules' as regards classic fairy tales,” Howard said with a sarcastic wave of his hand “Don't get shirty with me. I'd rather marry my best mate who loved me rather than some pouf that fancied me for my shoes!” Vince snapped back “Stories aren't supposed to be realistic, Vince. It's supposed to be an escape,” Howard said quietly “Haven't they seen 'When Harry Met Sally'?” Vince was patently sulking now. Howard sighed and pulled him closer and ruffled his hair. “Here don't get upset, little man. It's only a story, yeah?” “Yeah,” Vince muttered against Howard's coat. It was only forty five minutes later, when they were home and Howard was folding his clothes for the next day onto the end of his bed, that he remembered exactly what Vince had said. I'd marry my best mate who loved me rather than some pouf who fancied me for my shoes He put his shirt down carefully and sat down on the bed. Had Vince meant that literally or was he talking about some hypothetical best mate that he'd marry. Who he'd marry?! Howard decided suddenly that he didn't care if he looked like a fool and Vince teased him about this for a year. He walked towards the door quickly, gaining speed as he made his way to Vince's room. He burst into the room and just as suddenly realised exactly how embarrassing this would be if he'd gotten it wrong. And how stupid it looks to burst into a room sheepishly. Vince was semi undressed and sitting on his bed. “Took you long enough. I thought you were supposed to be the clever one?” he said casually but with a delicate tremor in his voice that was only just noticeable. “So what now?” he asked plucking at his shirt in a way that was equal parts sultry and nervous fiddling. “Vince I-” Howard coughed and blushed before looking up, “I think traditionally I would produce a white charger from somewhere and we'd ride off into the sunset” “Nah, that's princes you're thinking of,” smiled Vince, “you're my narky little butler who adores me from afar and then gives me up the second a jazzy village wench walks by” “So what now?” Howard echoed Vince's earlier question, feeling slightly hurt by the reference to his birthday party. Vince sashayed across the room until he was a foot away from Howard. He then shuffled closer until they were nose to nose (nose to chin to be completely accurate). He stood up onto his tippy toes and looked into his friend's eyes before pressing a gentle kiss against the corner of his mouth. “Vince-” Vince shushed him and laced their fingers together before resting their foreheads together. “Do you know what friends with benefits are Howard?” Oh shit, thought Howard. Vince continued without asking for an answer. “We've been sort of married without benefits for ten years now.” Hang on, what? “I want to be with you. Just you. And really with you. You know?” Was Vince actually nervous? Howard wrapped his arms around Vince and kissed him firmly. “Why me?” he asked incredulously. “Because you love me and I love you. That's usually a good reason,” Vince smirked cheekily. “I'm not. I've never,” Howard stammered, becoming increasingly aware of his friends erection pressing into his thigh. “Don't worry, I'll fix that.”

Howard shuffled anxiously while Vince's cocky grin flickered. “We don't have to do anything you don't like,” he said quietly, all traces of his earlier confidence gone. “I do want to have done it. It's just doing it makes me feel a bit funny,” Howard admitted. How did it work anyway? He knew only the theoretical aspects of how to do it with a girl, was it different with men? Obviously it was different but, how different? Did Vince want to bum him? He had somewhat mixed feelings about that and he had been sure that his feelings on being bummed had been clear and to the point yesterday. Not that he thought of it much. Hardly ever. It was scarcely his fault that Vince insisted on wearing those tight trousers that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. Which unfortunately only made his imagination competitive. It was impossible to look at him and not wonder what being fucked by him would be like. It would be like going to a race track and ignoring the cars. Vince's face froze slightly. Howard realised his mistake. “Just take it slow. I'm new to all this,” he said sheepishly. This made Vince smile again, though more affectionately condescending than arrogantly this time. “Nice and slow,” he agreed and pulled Howard into a gut wrenchingly slow, sensuous kiss. Their lips slid across each other in a lazy fight for dominance. Howard captured Vince's tongue in his mouth and gave it an experimental suck. Vince groaned and muttered, “Oh Howard” into his mouth. Not with the intonation that those words usually received either, like he was a puppy that had shamed itself in the middle of the kitchen floor. No, this “Oh Howard” was a creature far removed from the “Oh Howard” of old. This “Oh Howard” was doing something very, very right. Emboldened by this success he nipped at his friend's lower lip and teased it between his teeth. That went down quite well, with Vince making a small noise in the back of his throat and pressing himself closer to Howard's body and pulling their hips together suddenly. They were both hard and straining against their flies. Howard yelped girlishly and jumped at the pressure causing Vince to break away and look up worriedly, “Too fast?” he asked nervously “No, no just right,” Howard said breathlessly. Vince flashed an impish grin before cupping the bulge in the taller man's trousers and squeezing. “Too much!” Howard squeaked. “Seriously?” Vince asked, “Sorry. Maybe we should lie down for a bit” “Ho ho, Vince. I'm not that bad,” snapped Howard. Vince waved his hands hurriedly “No, no. Look like this,” he said, grabbing Howard's hands and lay back on the bed, pulling Howard on top of him. He spread his legs and settled Howard between them before grinding upwards with his hips. He guided Howard's hand above their heads before wrapping his arms around his neck. “That good?” he asked sounding a bit winded. “Aren't I too heavy?” Howard asked concerned “Naw, I'm not made of glass. If Naboo can support a fully grown primate, I think you n' me'll manage.” Howard looked as though he was going to ask for an elaboration on what Vince had just said but, he soon forgot everything about tiny shamen and what they got up to on business trips with their familiars, when he felt Vince's sharp incisors against his jugular vein. It felt very nice and then very painful. For about ten seconds he was sure Vince actually was the vampire of Shoreditch and had seduced him so he could drink of his virgin's blood. Or something like that. And then he got used to the pain and wet suction and it was very, very nice again. Vince might be mistaken for a women with startling frequency, but from this position there was no denying that he was a man. His stubbly cheek was scraping the delicate skin on Howard's neck, there was a taut if spare manly musculature writhing underneath his body and if any doubt could still remain on the topic, the hard cock digging into his groin put it firmly to rest. Abandoning the neck, the thinner man kissed up the whiskery jaw and nibbled at a fleshy ear lobe. “We're going to have to lose the clothes, Howard. That bloody corduroy monstrosity is a mood killer if I ever saw one,” Vince muttered a wet explosion into the shell of Howard's ear. Without asking permission he instantly got to work on the practical belt buckle that was responsible for the restraint of said corduroys. “And the less said about the shirt the better,” he went on, his voice was shaking slightly from the effort of unfastening the buckle. Rather than throw a strop, Howard decided to concede this sartorial victory to Vince and started to unbutton his shirt, blunt fingers fumbling with the tiny buttons. Two warm little white hands batted his away impatiently and wrenched the garment off, sending the buttons flying in every direction. “I've wanted to do that for years,” Vince said with a voice husky with lust. Howard toyed with the idea of asking him if he meant destroy his shirt or ravage him but decided neither answer would be totally satisfying. It was better to retain some degree of mystery in a relationship. Vince wiggled out from underneath him and started undressing. There was no question of helping him. True love or not, no one manhandled Vince's wardrobe. Suddenly Vince was completely naked and Howard was down to his socks and underpants. Vince smiled at him ironically and went down on one knee taking one of Howard's feet in his hands. He hooked his fingers around the elastic and eased the sock down the foot , pausing to kiss the Achilles heel, the instep, the ankle. When the sock fell to the ground he gently sucked each of Howard's toes in turn like tiny fat phalluses. Howard was thinking in a small part of his mind that he was glad that he'd washed and cut his toenails recently. The rest of him was not thinking much at all. When Vince released the big toe with an audible pop, he kissed his way back up Howard's leg, rubbing his cheek against his inner thighs like a pet cat and licking and nipping gently upwards. Howard held onto his shoulders, more to ground himself than to try to control Vince, and whimpered. Vince's face was in the hallow where his thighs met and his breath was coming in warm gusts that Howard felt through his pants. There was a slim hand on his stomach with a dexterous thumb stroking above the top of his undergarments. No matter how he tried to angle hips, that thumb stayed where it was. “Please, Vince,” Howard begged pitifully “Please what?” asked Vince with faux innocence, “Tell me what you want” “Want you,” Howard gasped “I'm right here. Tell me what to do,” Vince stroked, stroked, stroked. Please there! “I don't know but do it soon, please!” Please, please, please. “Howard-” “Please touch me!” Oh god, that was embarrassing. Howard tried to look away, but couldn't escape Vince's smiling eyes. “As you wish,” he said and pulled off the underpants in one smooth motion, pausing only for Howard to raise his hips. He moved fluidly, taking the head of Howard's purpling cock in his mouth, pumping the shaft with one hand and cupping his testicles with the other. Howard watched the dark head bob between his legs with astonished fascination. Then, Vince looked up and the sight of his engorged penis slipping in and out of that familiar mouth was almost too much. “Stop, too much,” he gasped. Vince stopped and looked up. “Are you freaking out up there?” he asked, “Do you need to stop, stop?” “No, not that. I just don't want to, you know, not yet,” he looked away blushing. You would think that it would get easier to say these things to someone who had been moments ago sucking you off. Apparently not. “Alright,” said Vince hoisting himself up and slithering up Howard's torso like a snake or a professional slitherer. “Can I still kiss you, or is that weird after what I just did,” he asked two inches from Howard's face. Howard grabbed him by the back of his neck and tasted his own precome on those sweet lips. Salty, but not as bad as he thought it would taste. Vince smiled against his lips and opened his mouth hungrily. He began to rock and grind against Howard, who tentatively bucked back. They found a rhythm and ground against each other, erections digging into hips, lips on necks, ears, noses. Howard reached between their heaving bodies and grabbed their cocks together in his large hand. “Wank me off, Howard,” Vince whispered in his ear urgently. Cock against cock, they both fucked Howard's tight fist desperately. Howard felt a tell tale tingle in his lower belly spreading downwards rapidly. He let go of the cocks and gripped his friend's shoulders. “Vince, I'm going to- I'm, I'm,” overcome with sensation and modesty he hid his face in the crook of Vince's shoulder and bit down on the tendon. “I'm going to too,” Vince said and screwed up his face before they came moments apart. The electro boy collapsed bonelessly on top of his jazz maverick. “That was really good,” he said into the pillow. “Really? I mean I thought it was but you've had more-” Howard spluttered slightly hysterically “Howard,” Vince turned his face off of the pillow, “You were the best” “Don't mock me,” Howard scowled. “I mean it. And now I know you've been holding out on me, I'm never ever letting you go,” Vince snuggled closer limpet-like, hooking his legs around Howard's. “Do you really mean that? You're not toying with me?” “Well it was a bit of a lie,” Vince said thoughtfully, “I'd still never let you go even if you were rubbish and I had to teach you everything. Go to sleep.” “I would but I've got a disenfranchised princess on me,” Howard said and tickled Vince playfully. “Gerroff you northern idiot.” Vince squealed and rolled off and to the side of Howard, where he latched onto him again and hummed contentedly. They lay twined together sticky and naked until the next morning when a surprisingly nonchalant Naboo casually informed them that shops didn't open themselves and would they mind terribly to take a moment out of their busy schedule to do their bloody job before they were out on their ears. “Yes stepmother,” groaned Vince reluctantly detaching himself from his new lover.

#the mighty boosh #mighty boosh #boosh #howince #howard moon #vince noir #vince noir/howard moon #howard moon/vince noir #vince/howard #cinderella

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wordsturnintostories · 5 years ago

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show me your rosettes, baby (g)

summary: The world tour is over and the Bangtan Boys finally get their well-deserved break. When Namjoon suddenly can’t find Jimin anywhere, things take an unexpected and pretty unbelievable turn. “Kim Namjoon!” “Hyung. How common is it for people to turn into cats?” word count: 2k note: yay! Surprise! hope you like this. let me know. ✨

masterlist | moodboard masterlist

When his door closes, Namjoon stills. He is looking at an empty apartment, quiet now where laughter had been a few seconds ago. He still feels it in his body, the joy that always stays behind when Jackson leaves.

Namjoon smiles, thinking about what to do next when he receives a text from Min Suga.

> I’ll bring takeout for lunch. I’m taking a break.

“Okay,” he texts back.

What was I doing before Jackson came? Oh right, I fed Jimin. And had breakfast. That’s still not cleaned up. Namjoon sighs once, thinking about the messy kitchen, then sighs a second time, because he knows there’s no one else to clean it up other than himself, and a third time just because he’s feeling dramatic. When he looks down, Jimin is looking at him with something like mirth in his eyes, seeming almost - mischievous. Namjoon realizes that everything would look a lot cleaner if Jimin was a person instead of a cat right now. Heck.

“Don’t do that,” Namjoon warns, half-amused, and puts the cat down on the sofa so that the little one can nap or do whatever he wants to do. But Jimin mewls as soon as Namjoon’s big fingers let go of him and no matter what the cat magazines Namjoon has read explain in great detail, about not letting the cat control him, Namjoon wants to accommodate Jimin as best as he can. He supposes the cat magazines don’t know much about cats that are actually your little brother. Jimin is an exception. (God knows how many exceptions the world grants Park Jimin. Namjoon smiles. Jimin has always been special that way.)

“What is it? You wanna help clean up the mess you made?”

Jimin stands upon the billowy sofa cushions and saunters closer to his hyung before jumping on his leg with a squeak, pulling himself up by the sheer strength of his hind legs (which is not much but enough) and thanks to the steady grip of his claws in the jeans material (that’s more like it).

“Shit, Jiminie,” Namjoon curses when the claws prick his thigh, almost like sharp toothpicks against his sensitive skin. As a way of freeing himself, he lifts the cat up by its scruff. Jimin’s body goes lax in the careful hold and that’s decidedly better. It’s a little stupid (impractical) that he can’t talk, that he is dependent on Namjoon’s probably horrible interpretation of the little mewls and meows he makes. However, as bad as Namjoon thinks he is at cat language, he thinks he kind of understands when Jimin wriggles and meows when they walk past the terrace doors that lead outside and straight into the backyard.

“You wanna run a little?”

Jimin is desperate to jump out of the firm grip as soon as Namjoon touches the door handle. All the excitement almost makes him fall past the safe space of Namjoon’s hands and when Namjoon grabs the petite body, he feels like he’s probably crushing Jimin. But when they are outside, Jimin just jumps, not in any way as grateful as any cat in the magnitude of cat food commercials Namjoon has seen in his lifetime. It’s just a jump, a fall, and a rough landing. Jimin rolls off into the grass. And then, he rushes off.

Crap, has he seen a mouse? When Namjoon follows Jimin into the low shrubs and the soft undergrowth, he hears a little growl. To be honest, Jimin is tiny, tinier even than some of the flowers Tae, Seokjin and Namjoon himself have planted here and while it’s their own backyard that isn’t accessible from the outside and where Jimin can’t realistically disappear, Namjoon still worries about losing Jimin. It’s irrational. He knows it. Maybe Jackson was right. They are my kids. And surely at least one of those films with shrunken characters fighting their way through carpet-jungles and backyard-arenas must be at least a little true, right? Surely the world looks different to Jimin now and surely Namjoon is the big soft giant that should protect the cat well. A thought crosses his mind - what if Jimin doesn’t need a protector and would rather be on his own? What if his escape outside was to get away from the human who certainly isn’t a leopard to learn from? Isn’t the baby stage of cats all about learning from the mother? What if the cub wants to be in the wilderness, and learn to fit in there, like he naturally would? What if- ?

Namjoon hears some thudding and when he sticks his head closer to where he thinks Jimin is, he sees earth flying around. Is he digging? Is he hunting? When he notices that some of the earth seems darker than the rest, almost like it’s wet, Namjoon suddenly draws back. Oh. Oh. Okay.

His cheeks go red as he goes a few steps back, just sitting on the grass. He lies down, trying to swallow down his embarrassment about the realization that he had just followed his desperate little dongsaeng who had just needed to relieve himself, and had even bothered him like a creep. Wow, Namjoon, way to go. You’re the best hyung for sure.

When he doesn’t know what to do, he just stares at the clouds. Maybe Jimin won’t talk to him for a little while, as usual when he’s annoyed, maybe Jimin would- A snout presses into his cheek and there’s a small lick following. It feels like a reassurance. When he turns his face, Jimin stands right in front of him, dirt sticking to his fur in clumpy little bits as if he’d rolled around in it. Looking at him like this, Namjoon feels like this is a precious moment. The embarrassment fades away and a rush of light joy swells in Namjoon’s chest. It feels like Jimin can finally just play in the backyard. Like the child he couldn’t be for too long, subdued in dance studios and classrooms.

“Go play,” he says softly and takes the headbutt that follows as a thank you. Or something similar. Maybe he should stop being so sentimental and dramatic. Maybe he shouldn’t interpret so much into what Jimin does because obviously, Jimin doesn’t even listen to his own name when he’s a cat. Maybe- when new sounds travel through the backyard, something other than the regular chirping of the birds that Taehyung and Hoseok love so much and the whispering of the trees that Namjoon admires, Namjoon sits up.

A few feet from him, Jimin is chasing something through the high grass. Every time he jumps, he lets out an excited squeal that actually sounds a little like human Jimin’s squeals when Jungkook or Hoseok tickle him. Namjoon watches the little leopard play with whatever he’s chasing and he giggles, phone on video mode when Jimin sticks his butt in the air to catch the little thing that had jumped away. Inadvertently, his thoughts go back to that little ladybug that had visited them during breakfast.

When Jimin finally trots towards Namjoon, carrying his prey in his snout like a trophy, Namjoon films him. The video will be titled “Jimin’s First Catch In The Backyard” and definitely go into the leather-bound Bangtan family album, where all their most beautiful moments together were being collected.

“What is it, Jimin-ah?”

The little animal plops into his open hand with a wet little plop. It’s a small frog, green and chewed. Ew. Namjoon wants to be proud, really, but he can’t keep the disgust out of his face even if Jimin looks at him expectantly, tail flicking. If it had been a rodent, fine. A bird. Maybe fine. But this frog? No.

“Poor little frog,” Namjoon whispers, more to himself than to Jimin. He jumps when suddenly, someone starts clapping behind him. Jimin’s ears react immediately and turn toward the sound. His little spotted body stiffens, then he lunges, snatching the frog out of Namjoon’s hands and runs towards the new person.

“Good job, baby,” Yoongi’s deep voice praises Jimin and Namjoon sees the younger rubbing himself against Yoongi’s hand. “You caught a frog! Wow, you must have run so fast.”

Jimin preens under the praise and that’s just more proof for how this creature is the same person, cat or not. Attention and praise are Jimin’s love languages and if you add physical affection to the mix, he’ll explode with love. Yoongi easily swoops the cat up in his arms, cradling him against his chest. Namjoon watches how the elder doesn’t even blink at Jimin still holding his frog between his jaws. Will he let him take it inside? Namjoon hopes Yoongi won’t. He sighs. He might have to use the leader card today.

“How long have you been there, hyung?”

“Just a few minutes. Let’s eat.”

Namjoon clears his throat when Yoongi turns to walk toward the house, gently rubbing Jimin’s ears.

“The frog stays outside.”

Yoongi turns with a frown that’s actually right on the edge between confused and indignant.

“What do you mean? Jiminie caught it. It’s his.”

“It stays outside. He can play with it later, but it won’t come into the house.”

“Namjoon, let him have it. I’m your hyung, listen to me.”

“I’m your leader.”

They stare at each other, ignoring Jimin who chews loudly, ears twitching and paws holding his catch, somehow ignorant of the moment.

“If he takes it into the house right now, he’ll always bring dead prey into the house. I don’t want that.”

“I’ll clean it up.”

“No.”

Yoongi shrugs, probably coming to the conclusion that it’s not worth spending so much energy on this argument when his break isn’t that long and the food is getting cold.

“Okay. Then hold him. I’ll be back in a sec.”

Namjoon takes Jimin and watches his hyung walk into the house. The temptation to take that yucky frog away from his dongsaeng is great. Jimin has been busy chewing the poor little animal apart - one of its legs hangs dangling from what looks like sinew and the another is simply not recognizable anymore. From Namjoon’s perspective, he can’t see the underside, but he does feel the (cold and slimy) entrails sticking out of a hole in the frog’s side and touching his index finger. If he could, Namjoon would get rid of it as soon as possible. On the other hand, Namjoon doesn’t want to touch it. He wonders what Yoongi will do. Maybe he’ll bring paper tissues to pick it up. Instead, Yoongi returns with a bite-sized cut piece of chicken.

“Is that raw?”

“You wanna feed him cooked chicken? Ever seen a leopard in the wild with a personal chef? It’s natural to eat it like this.”

There’s no denying that the trade doesn’t work even if Jimin seems hesitant to let go of his prized kill at first. He growls a little when Yoongi grabs the frog (without fussing, as Namjoon knows he himself would have) but Jimin’s growl sounds like a chirp almost. Once again, Namjoon is reminded of how young the leopard cub seems to be, however the magic makes that work in combination with Jimin. After the first couple sniffs, their dongsaeng gives in, whiskers shaking when he sniffs the rosy meat. Yoongi puts the frog somewhere on the grass (by the side, where no one will accidentally step on it, thank God) and scratches Jimin’s neck when he starts chewing the chicken as if he’s never even cared about his prey. Namjoon hopes, really hopes that his memory isn’t that short. Or that it will expand with time, at least. If they want to train Jimin (and they will have to to get him potty-trained), they will need him to not only listen to his name, but follow commands. Or actually understand us.

“All good now?”

Namjoon nods.

“All good.”

“Okay, then let’s eat. I’ve got news to tell you.”

“Mhm. I’ve got news too.”

They enter the house, and Yoongi walks into the kitchen.

“Was Jackson here?”

“Uh, yeah. I made the mess, though.”

“Oh, I had no doubt about that. It looks like a grenade exploded here. I just wanted to give him something. Guess I’ll have to send it then.”

“I’m sure we’ll see him again soon.”

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tags: @xmagicxshopx, @taeshuworld, @justanemptydream, @hoodmeup, @gingerpeachtae

#park jimin #shifter!jimin #leopard!jimin #bts #bts fanfic #nov21 #wordsturnintostories #yay #show me your rosettes baby (g)#smyrbg #part 5

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surveys-at-your-service · 5 years ago

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Survey #216

“cocaine in a crucifix, say your prayers, take your licks.”

How much money is in your wallet right now? Not a lot. Maybe like $10. What’s the last thing you purchased from the store? Me myself? No idea. Have you ever seen the movie Mean Girls? If so, did you think it was funny? Yeah, it's a nice movie. What do you usually get on your sub at Subway? Ham, American cheese, bacon, banana peppers, pickles, and Chipotle sauce. I think that's it. Is your bed made right now? Do you usually make your bed, or does someone make it for you? I'm in my bed. I always am. Have you ever had a crush of one of your friends’ brothers/sisters? No. Do you take naps often? I take one most days. Are you an only child? If not, do you get annoyed by your siblings a lot? No, and they don't annoy me, but then again, I live with none of them. What’s your favorite Disney movie? The Lion King. Does it take you a while to fall asleep? Ugh. Too long. Do you watch TV before you go to sleep? No. Do you listen to music every day? It's very rare I don't. If you could have ANYTHING in the world right now, what would it be? To be satisfied with where I am in life. Do you still watch Spongebob Squarepants? No. I don't not enjoy it, you know I just don't watch television. What kind of bottled water do you drink? Mom buys big jugs of some Great Value-esque or whatever brand. Do you collect stuff someone else would consider junk? If so, then what? No. What's the most your electricity bill has ever reached? Idk, I don't pay it. How much was your tax refund this year or did you pay? N/A How are the kids doing? I don't have any. Do you see a bright light at the end of your tunnel? Just being realistic, not deliberately depressing or anything, I don't know. I could have a very dull and unsuccessful life or a thriving and happy one. What's the most you’ve ever lost gambling? Don't gamble. Have you ever waited in line overnight for something? No. How many concerts have you attended? One. Do you think having an expensive phone is a good investment? To a certain high price, no. So long you can call and text easily and reliably, I don't find it necessary to buy a $500 or whatever phone. Any tattoos? How many do you need or want to cover up? I have six. I'm getting my "ohana" one covered at some point, and I'm going to have "perfectly flawed" tatted over as well; I just want to move it elsewhere, considering I want something else where it already is. How many funerals have you attended? One or two. Have you lost anyone your age to death? No one that I was especially close to, thankfully. Have you ever witnessed a birth in person? Not a human one, thank Christ. I've seen cats give birth many times, and maybe other animals, but I'm not sure. What gender do you identify with? Female. What’s your opinion on astrology? It's total, ridiculous bullshit. Are you more of a science or math person? I'm clueless in math, while science makes sense to me and is far more interesting. What religion/spirituality do you identify with, if any? Theism. I think something made the universe, but I don't pretend to know jackshit about him/her/them/it. What is your opinion on peanut butter & banana sandwiches? I like them every now and again. What is your favorite book that was turned into a movie? The Outsiders, probably. Do you like the movie or the book better? This was so long ago that I honestly don't remember either well... so I really dunno. If you identify as a girl, would you ever consider getting a pixie cut? Yeah. If you identify as a boy, would you ever consider growing your hair out? N/A Are you a metalhead? I guess I mostly fit the definition, but I don't like labeling myself as such considering honestly, the metalhead community tends to have such a "that's not heavy enough" attitude and ridicule anything less than their interests and treat those that like softer metal as outcasts and/or posers. Not even trying to stereotype; befriend or observe people in this category and you'll see what I mean. Do you even listen to metal? Hell yes. Do you watch porn? No. If you don’t, do you have a moral reasoning behind that decision? I just find it... very strange. I don't see the appeal of watching. That's just something I want between me and my partner, you know? Like if you watch it, good for you, so long your s/o (if applicable) is aware and fine with it, but it ain't for me. Do you know anybody who is a Wiccan or Pagan? Yesssss, she's cool as fuck. I need to reconnect with her more. Do/did you ever attend church regularly? I did as a kid. Do you have a godmother/godfather/both? I have no clue. Do you listen to Supertramp? I have no clue who that is. Do you watch Supernatural? Not anymore. I think I stopped at the end of Season 6. What’s your favorite character in your favorite TV show? That '70s Show, probably Hyde. I love and relate to Eric, though. Honestly I love every single character; they're very unique to each other and recognizable with strong personalities. Both Fullmetal Alchemist iterations, most likely Edward. Or possibly one of the Sins, but I don't remember them all well... Oh. I know I loved Envy, for one. Are you wearing any rings right now? Yeah, my Supernatural friendship ring w/ Sara. Calling each other "bitch"/"jerk" between Sam and Dean is a thing in the show, so I have one that says "bitch" on the interior, and Sara has "jerk." Bracelets? Yes, also the one Sara gave me. Necklaces? No. Anklets? No. Chokers/collars? No. Do you go to a firework show every 4th of July? No. Are you diabetic? No. I'm forever proud of that considering it runs heavily in my family, yet even at my worst weight, I didn't develop it. But more importantly, a recent blood test I had for my thyroid or something showed I don't have any indicators of even coming close/being at any risk at this point in time. Are you allergic to gluten? No. Are you lactose intolerant? No. What is your favorite fruit? Strawberries, yum. Your favorite vegetable? Broccoli. Do you live with your parents? I live with my mom. Have you written a formal essay lately? Not in years. How much experience do you have written down on your resume, approximately? I don't have a resume currently, but if I did, it'd only have two months as a sales associate as my other two jobs were so short-lived it'd be stupid to add, especially when you consider the obvious fact that would make me look awful. How long have you had the shirt you’re wearing? A year. What happened last time you got drunk? N/A When’s the last time you straightened your hair? I have zero clue. Do you bite your toe nails? Wtf no. Last time you laughed your head off? Idr. Do you find piercings attractive? Yeah. Did you accept or reject your last friend request? I rejected it. Had no clue who it was, even though we had quite a handful of mutuals. How many cigarettes have you smoked today? N/A Do you have a hard time admitting you’re wrong? It depends on what the subject of the matter is. Do you like potato chips? Is there a human that doesn't???? Do you give out second chances way too easily? Yes. Ever stayed up all night on the phone? Not all night, no. There was one night Jason and I were up a long time talking, but it wasn't all night. What are you excited for? SCHOOL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Have you ever shoplifted? No. If you have shoplifted, are you afraid of getting in trouble? And are you afraid to go back in that store? N/A Have you ever gotten caught shoplifting? If yes, what happened? N/A Have you ever plotted revenge against someone? No. Are you mad at someone right now? Nah. Have you ever egged someone’s house? Fuck no, because I'm not a dick. If not, have you ever WANTED to egg someone’s house? No. Have you ever wanted to kill someone? I was fucking psychotic when I found out Jason was in a new relationship after we broke up. For a long time I wanted her dead. Are you glad you don’t own a gun, because of what you might do with it? Quite honestly, yes. I'm impulsive on bad days, and I don't entirely cross out the possibility of me shooting myself on an awful day. Do you avoid people when they’ve hurt you? Yes. Do you make the most of every opportunity? No. Are you honestly succeeding at life, or failing? Failing miserably at most things. What does your newest journal look like? I don't remember the last time I got a journal. Is there anything you currently want but can’t have? A lot of things. Do you have no one you can trust? No, thankfully. Do you like meatball subs? No, they're so messy. Are you severely sleep deprived? No. What music are you listening to? "LA Devotee" by P!ATD just came on. If you go to school (HS or college), does your school have a rival? N/A What’s your school’s mascot? N/A If you have a sib, do you call him/her “brother” or “sister” sometimes? No. Do you own a Wii? If not, do you want one? Yes. Are there any songs you could just listen to over and over and over? No. I get tired of a song after around 100 repeats. No, I'm not kidding. Before you could loop YT vids (or anyway, before I was aware), I used a website that repeated the video for you and kept track of the repeats. Do you have a favorite basketball team (NBA or college?) No. Have you been baptized in any religious tradition? Yes. If your best male friend got a mohawk, would he look good or ridiculous? Save Him. What did you have for breakfast? A PopTart. What kind of booze did you last take shots of? I've never taken a shot. Have you slept over at a member of the opposite sex’s house in their bed? Yeah, but we were dating. Who last slept in your bed besides you? Sara. If the last person you had sex with asked you to date them, would you? No. What color is your car? (Or the one you drive most often) White. How long have you been single? (Or dating your current interest) Sara and I have been together a year and ten months. Has someone of the opposite sex ever told you that you were sexy? Yeah. Do you own any books written by musicians? Yeah, Ozzy's autobiography. What is your most interesting invention? Probably some RP characters. Have you ever seen someone sleepwalk? Once. Have you ever thought about getting your tongue pierced? It is pierced. When you’re bored in class, what do you usually do? N/A yet. Do you like your phone? NO. Honestly, are things going the way you planned? Bitch hell no. Who was the last person whose phone number you added to your contacts? The woman who adopted Kaiju. I miss him, damn. Have you ever snuggled with someone you weren’t dating? No. Do you know a James? I knew one years ago. If you had to choose to have a different accent than the one you have now, what accent would you choose and why? British. It sounds sophisticated and just generally attractive to me. Have you ever or do you currently live in a Gated Community? I don't and never have. Do you know how to use a DSLR camera? Yeah. Have you ever owned an Axolotl? No, but they cute. What has been the longest amount of time you’ve spent on a plane? I actually don't know. Probably just around two hours. How often do you use Snapchat? I don't have one/never had. Have you ever adopted an animal from an animal shelter? Yes. Where do you usually find surveys from? Tumblr, and if I'm desperate, LiveJournal. Have you ever missed a flight? Yep. The airport biz took WAY longer than any of us expected. What is your favorite film from your childhood? The Lion King. I think it's always been my fave, honestly, I just never really thought about JUST HOW MUCH I love the film and its story since I was a kid. Do you know anyone who is named after a state? Uhhh I know at least one Caroline, and that's close enough? Jason's mom's name is a state, too. What was the reason for your previous doctor’s visit? I was getting a full blood panel done to check my thyroid. Have you ever been to an outdoor cinema? No. Well, my elementary school and church used to do these "movies on the lawn" type things where they used a huge projector to play a movie outside around late evening, but I don't know if that counts. Have you ever had a “bad trip”? If yes, what happened? N/A How often do you use Instagram? I usually check it once a day or two to follow certain celebs' stories 'n shit. Have you ever smoked a cigarette? If so, do you still smoke? No. Adam Sandler or Jim Carrey? Jim. Do you enjoy learning about conspiracy theories? If so, what is your favorite? Y'all know I love me some conspiracies. My favorite - as in most interesting, not that I seriously believe in it - is the one that our current reality is just a simulation from a "future" civilization for study or just play purposes. It's interesting to think about with alarming evidence. Elon Musk 100% believing in it puts more "hey this might actually be worth considering" into it, but I think I lean more towards it being false. It's not something I think about much though as I have THE most Detroit: Become Human mindset about it ever, lmao. It just doesn't matter to me. Wow, what a ramble. Do you find hand tattoos attractive on your preferred sex? I find tattoos (usually) attractive in general, so like- What is your favorite Netflix original series? I have no clue what's Netflix-exclusive. I don't watch it. Have you ever owned a Tamagotchi? Yep, or at least something similar to it. My sister especially loved those little things. Do you have a favorite “survey blog” on Tumblr? If so, who? Dunno if tagging random people in surveys is annoying, so I'll break the link, but @/thedarkeststarsurveys seems super cool and nice. Would you rather be able to control fire or water? Probably fire for self-defense purposes, and I just like fire. Water seems... overall pretty useless to control, unless you can like, manifest it. Then you could solve a world of problems. Have you ever used your phone in class or at work without anyone knowing? Actually no. Have you ever been to Canada? No. What is your favorite condiment to put on fries? Ketchup. Do any famous people follow you on Twitter or Instagram? Definitely not to my knowledge, but I highly doubt it. Do you usually take the stairs or the elevator? Elevator. Even though I'm scared of them. Stairs and my horrible knees don't mix. What salads do you usually get on your Subway order? None. Have you ever made your own cocktails at home? Not myself. My old friend did. Have you seen all the Star Wars films? I watched the first three disinterestedly with Girt once, and neither of us liked them. I didn't get the appeal at all. Do you own any shirts with funny words or pictures on them? Yeah. Are your eyes the same color they were when you were a baby? They were more blue. Do you take the pickle off your burgers? No. Who do you share your bathroom with? Anyone else in the house. What color is your bed frame? Brown. Have you ever kissed someone you met that day? No. Do you share a bed with anyone? No. Well, excluding Roman and sometimes Teddy. Name all the people you know that you’ve seen today. My mom. When a car cuts you off, is the driver a jerk or is there an explanation? "Most of the time the driver is a jerk." <<< Yep. What are your thoughts on cosmetic surgery? You do you, boo. Has a man/woman ever broke your heart? If so, have you recovered? Yes, and yes as well as a PTSD victim can; your brain is literally changed after trauma, and considering I still have dreams/nightmares about him very regularly and he suddenly crosses my mind literally every single day despite never wanting to think about him, I don't think you could consider me totally recovered. Name a few things that make you really happy. Really happy? Being with Sara, Mark doing so much as blinking, long car rides with my music blaring way too loud, finding a new song and binging it for hours, a mount dropping in WoW goddamn y'all I have over 300, being complimented on my photography (or like... anything), my niece and/or nephew saying they love me or anything along those lines without being prompted (ex. when leaving, that kinda stuff), going to Olive Garden 'cuz breadsticks and spicy shrimp fritas lol, finishing a drawing and actually liking the result, getting Venus out and she acts like a cuddlebug the whole time, uh... other stuff that isn't coming to me. What’s your favorite type of sushi? Never tried it, don't want to. Have you ever read a book about a character in a psych ward? I don't think so. Have you ever been in a mental hospital as a patient? Too many times fuck but those days done fam. Do you take birth control pills? Currently for taming the pain and symptoms of my cycle, but it's hopefully changing to a longer, better solution soon to just totally eliminate it to remove its effects on my mood entirely for mental health tracking purposes. When’s the last time you got a new outfit? I don't buy full outfits. Do you have an imaginary best friend? (i.e., someone you wish was your best friend but currently isn’t) No. Do you like soy sauce? NO. Do you have a good doctor? I haven't had her long, but she's nice and seems knowledgeable. What’s your favorite store to browse around? Whew, Hot Topic my friends. Do you ever meditate on Scripture? No. Do you like poetry? Yeah. What’s the name of the most recent baby a friend had? Dawson. Do you have expensive tastes? Definitely not. What is your dream job? Meerkat biologist or paleontologist. What is your favorite music style currently? I've been digging power metal a lot lately. I like, live off of Powerwolf. I've been wanting to find more symphonic metal I enjoy, too... Are you wearing comfortable clothes right now? Yeah. Is there a bad habit you’re trying to break right now? Yeah, rather just keep it quiet. Is it easy to find a job in your preferred field in your home town? Fuck. No. When is the last time you went to a fun fair? ~August 2015. I remember it because it happened pretty shortly before the breakup. How about an amusement park? I have zero clue. Probably not since I went to Disney World as a child. Ladies: Would you ever consider proposing? If not, why not? If I'm with a woman, yes. I don't really have a proper reason why I wouldn't if I was with a man... I have NO problem with women proposing to men, I just think I'd personally feel weird. Oh, that makes sense; the fact of how I am with men - scared and doubtful - probably says a good deal. I'd want to see "oh wow he actually wants to be with me so much he's asking himself." Gentlemen: How would you feel, if you were proposed to? N/A Have you ever played the original Mass Effect trilogy? No. If so, which Shepard and who do you like romancing the best? N/A Let’s say there’s a person in need. They need money which they can’t make. Would you be more likely to help them out, if a celebrity asked you to? "Tbh right now I’m not really in a position to help anyone out financially. But hypothetically if I had the money to do so, some celebrity’s opinion wouldn’t matter." <<< This. When you go to a restaurant, do you have a go-to dish? Pretty much always. I don't tend to try new foods. Or do you always try out something new? ^ No. Would you rather live next to a kindergarten or an old folks’ home? Holy fuck, the latter. Living next to a school, esp. elementary, might even be a deal-breaker as far as buying a house goes. I'm not dealing with the noise and traffic. What was the last game that you played? I'm "playing" World of Warcraft currently, waiting for a stupid dinosaur to spawn to be denied a mount again. :^) What do you know about Finland? Nothing. Where was the postcard from that traveled the longest way to you? I don't think I've ever gotten a postcard. Have you ever made jewelry? Besides like those bead, "friendship," and plastic bracelets that were popular in the early 2000s, no. Which app do you use the most on your phone? Uhhhh I think Facebook? I don't use apps much. Did you learn to play an instrument as a kid? If so, which one? Recorders in elementary school and then flute in middle school-junior year in high school. What is the best part of your most ordinary day? Mark uploading cries. What’s your dad’s hair color? It's almost entirely gray now, but it's naturally black. Who was the last person you heard sing? Myself, I think. Surprisingly. Do you bite your lips a lot? My bottom one, occasionally. Have you ever dated someone with tattoos? For less than a day. Did you donate to Haiti? No. I've never had a source of stable income. Are your parents rich? BITCH- What’s your mom’s job? She's a pharmacy tech. Have you ever thrown up in public? Yes. In the middle of my 1st grade class lmaaaoooo. Have you ever failed gym in school? No. Are you scared of dogs? Nope. What reality show would you like to be in? None. What TV show makes you laugh? Most consistently, That '70s Show. Doesn't matter that I've seen I think every episode multiple times, I still laugh so easily at it. Family Feud gets me good too, if it's Steve Harvey hosting it. Have you ever heard of Joe Purdy? If so, do you like his music? Never heard of 'im. What is the saddest movie you’ve ever seen? Probably Johnny Got His Gun. Would you ever wear real fur? Fuck no. Who do you envy and why? Successful people. Because I'm the polar opposite. What color is the house you live in? Khaki. Which one of your friends is most likely to be famous one day? Why? Probablyyyy... Shannen. She is phenomenal at photography and already employed in NY with a fashion company for it. I am unbelievably envious of her, too, but also very happy. She deserves it. Do you have a favorite cousin? No. I rarely ever see my cousins, and if I do, it's usually just two. What is the worst present you have ever gotten? I've never gotten a "bad" gift. I appreciate the thought behind anything. Like I've gotten things entirely unrelated to me, but I still appreciate them. Who was it from? N/A Who is your favorite author? Don't have one. Do you shave your arms? No.

#survey #quiz #questions #random #bored

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hazthediv · 6 years ago

Text

The Sun Will Shine - H.O

As announced, here comes the first part of one of the new fics! I hope you all enjoy it.

Thanks to Ana (@sweetosterfield) for this lovely moodboard, you are amazing ilysm!!

Pairing: Fuckboy!Haz x Reader (The Fault in our Stars AU)

Word Count : 5600

Summary : When you get faced with death, you have two choices: either wait for it to come or live your best life until it does. Y/N has had cancer for almost a year and if it wasn’t for her best friend, Harrison Osterfield, she would have chosen the first option. But something in the blue of his eyes made her decide to live what little she has left as best as she can.

Note : It isn’t really a TFIOS AU, the only thing in common is that Y/N has cancer but whatever

Warnings : Angsty I guess.

Additional note : This story kinda means a lot to me because I’ve lost my childhood friend to cancer but whatever

The smell of the hospital was sickening and the atmosphere hung heavy. The doctor’s eyes were apologetic. You hated those eyes. They were the messengers of bad news.

You watched his lips moving but you couldn’t hear a thing. There was a deadly silence in your head, until the echoes of what the doctor had said reached you.

“I apologize to have to tell you this, miss Y/L/N. I know cancer is scary, but we’ll be with you through everything.”

Even today the world still echoed in your mind, like some song on repeat that you could never get rid of.

You sighed, shooting a look to Harrison. The boy was sitting in the chair next to your bed, probably texting with the newest girl he was seeing.

The monitor next to your bed beat repeatedly as you were waiting for the chemotherapy treatment to be over. You watched the meds dripping inside the tube that was connected to your arm.

“Thought you were supposed to entertain me for the three hours of my treatment”, you told Harrison.

The boy raised his gaze from his phone. “Yup, oops”, he apologized, his cheeks turning pink.

“Who are you talking to?” you asked, wanting anything to distract yourself from what was going on.

“Shelley”, he said. “Uh no, wait.” He glanced at the screen of his phone. “No, that’s it, Shelley.”

You sighed, shaking your head. “Are you serious?” you chuckled.

He looked at you. “Dead ass serious”, he smirked, a small laugh falling from his lips. “Met her when I went clubbing with Tom last week.”

“And you’re still talking to her?” you exclaimed. “Damn, the love must be real.”

Haz laughed but didn’t say a thing.

Your gaze rested back on the intravenous tube and on the meds dripping inside of it. It was silent, obviously, but when you watched it long enough you swore you could hear each drop falling into the tube.

“At least it’s the last treatment”, you said, out of the blue.

Haz looked at you, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I swear the moment you get out of this hellhole we’re going clubbing.”

You laughed slightly. If only you could…

You had had cancer for just a little over a year now. Pancreatic cancer. When they had told you about your cancer all those months ago, they had also said that you were lucky they had found it so soon in its development. They even thought you had a chance of recovery. A year later you weren’t quite sure if you had been lucky. Chemotherapy wasn’t easy and you felt sick half of the time. Radiations were easier, but five months ago the doctors had realized they weren’t enough. So now you did a combination of both. But this was your last chemotherapy treatment.

Hopefully. Hopefully it was going to be your last. You were going to get an MRI tomorrow to know if the cancer had finally receded completely. The doctors were really hopeful and you couldn’t help but to hope with them.

A part of you wondered what you should do if the cancer hadn’t receded. You had tried all the treatments you could, a combination of chemo and radiations being the last thing you could do. If it hadn’t diminished by now, you knew it meant it was never going to. You had read about such cases on the internet so you knew damn well it was possible.

“What if I don’t?” you suddenly said.

Haz shook his head a little. “Don’t say that. You’re stronger than this, we both know it.”

“But what if I’m not? What if tomorrow the doctors say that the cancer is still there and that there’s nothing else to do?”

Haz held your gaze for a long time, searching for the words to say.

“Y/N… you’ve been my best friend ever since we were four. The little girl you were back then would have never been so pessimist.”

“Am I being pessimist or realistic?” you enquired, bitterness in your voice.

“Listen, we’ll see tomorrow”, Haz softly said. “I promise everything will be alright and I’ll be with you all along and we’ll go to the pub to celebrate.”

You smiled slightly. What would you do without those pretty blue eyes by your side…

You had met Harrison when you were four years old, when your parents had had to move to London for work. Harrison was your neighbor back then and you had grown up together.

Even though you had taken different paths in life, with you studying law and being currently sick and him being Tom’s assistant and trying to be an actor, you were still pretty close. More than a friend, Haz was the brother you had never had. And now he was also your only family…

Years ago, when you were still young and innocent and healthy, you had gotten into a huge fight with your parents. You always fought with your parents, especially with your dad, but that time had been worse. Your dad had been drunk off his ass, like he always was, and you had gotten angry at him for it and at your mom for letting it happen again and again.

The memories were still bitter and they still hurt like fresh wounds. Your father had kicked you out of the house, telling you to never come back. Again, this wasn’t unusual, he always said stuff like that when he was drunk. But this time, he had hit you. Not so hard but hard enough for you to decide you had had enough.

Your mother hadn’t even begged you to stay as she had watched you pack your bags. She had only said that if you ever needed anything, she was going to help you. Financially. The financially still stung today.

She had really helped though, depositing money in your account each months until you turned 18. At 18 the income stopped and it took almost a month for you to learn that it was because your mother had died.

The day you had learned about her death had been… weird. You hadn’t seen your parents in almost two years, living with Tom or Haz’s family. The news came from Haz’s mom, while the two boys and you were sitting in the backyard talking about everything and nothing.

At first you hadn’t even reacted. It wasn’t like you saw your mother every day. She had already been out of your life for years… but it didn’t lessen the loss. You felt bad for abandoning her with your father, even though your father never was violent towards her. She was your mother, after all, and you still remembered how she loved to tell you stories when you were still just a child. But that woman had died long ago and your grief for her was already done.

That night you had gone out to the pub with the guys and you had drunk more than you had ever did in your entire life. Haz had held your hair as you had been sick afterwards and he had never commented about that the next day, or all the ones following for that matter. He had been there for you, like he knew you would be if it was him in that situation.

A nurse walked in the hospital room, indicating to you that the treatment was done. She took the intravenous tube off of your arm and then detached you from the monitor. Haz helped you to get up and then to sit in your usual after-chemo wheelchair.

“So, miss Y/L/N”, the nurse said, “your appointment is tomorrow at 9 AM. You need to be completely sober, so no food after midnight tonight. You can go back home for the night though.”

You thanked the nurse. Haz then wheeled you out of the hospital room and to the elevator.

“What do you wanna eat for dinner?” the boy asked as you got in the elevator.

Right now the thought of eating made you feel sick, like it always did after chemo.

“Something light, you know I can’t eat full meals after my chemo treatments”, you answered.

“We could ask my mom to make you that salad you love so much”, Haz suggested.

Your eyes lit up at the thought. “Yes, that would be amazing.”

Before you got out of the hospital, Haz helped you to put your coat on. You noticed it was snowing a little outside but the snowflakes were melting long before they touched the ground.

Haz wheeled you out and then towards the car. He helped you to get in and then folded your wheelchair and put it in the trunk.

“You’re lucky you’re like a sister to me because I wouldn’t help anyone else the way I help you”, he joked as he got in.

“A fuckboy with a heart of gold”, you laughed.

“What? I’m no fuckboy”, he replied almost sounding convincingly offended.

“Shelley, is that it?” you chuckled.

He sighed, trying his best to refrain from smiling but clearly failing to do so. “Yeah, I just got confused with Shirley. You know, the redhead I met on Tinder.”

“Never heard of her”, you admitted. “You know, there are so many, I can’t keep up with you.”

Haz laughed. “Yeah, oops. I should probably slow down.”

“Mate, I don’t know what slowing down means to you but I sure as hell know you won’t be able to do it”, you joked, a tired laugh falling from your lips.

All this talk had tired you and you rested your head on the window, yawning a little.

“Do you want to nap before dinner?” Haz asked. “Mom wants us to be there around 7.”

Your eyes must have lit up at the mention of a nap because Haz chuckled and said: “Okay, we are taking a nap.”

“We?” you repeated.

“Why not? I’m exhausted too and I can’t sleep at night”, Haz explained.

“Why can’t you?” you asked.

Haz looked at you, his eyes lingering on yours for just a little too long for it to be comfortable.

“I don’t know, I have insomnia I guess”, he finally said, resting his gaze back on the road.

There in the lines around his eyes you noticed worry. He was worried about you. Of course he was. Everybody who cared just a little about you were worried lately. Chemotherapy made you look like a corpse with the energy of a bee in autumn, when it moves so slowly cause it’s falling asleep for the cold months that are to come.

You knew that under the mask Harrison wore with the world he was just a soft boy, a guy who was so scared of getting hurt that he never let anybody in. He liked to say that he didn’t care about anyone or anything. He never told you he didn’t care about you, obviously, but you remembered the countless girls that had asked you if they had a chance with Harrison, usually the morning after a one night with him. Haz had never cared about any of them, you knew. But he cared about a lot of other stuff. His family and his dog, for instance. His friends too. And since you were somewhere between friends and family, you knew he cared about you too.

It was written all over his features right now, as clear as spring water.

The rest of the ride to your shared apartment was spent in silence, with you dozing off, your head resting against the glass of the window even though it wasn’t comfortable at all. Haz woke you up gently when you arrived at your place.

“Can you walk to our flat?” he asked, as he always did.

And as you always answered you said you could. Both of you knew it probably was a lie, but it felt good to believe it.

Haz helped you to get to your flat, helping you out of your coat. He then guided you directly to your bed.

“Sleep now”, he ordered as you laid down on your bed.

You chuckled. You were already dozing off and the only reply you could mutter was: “Stay with me.”

You fell asleep before Haz sat in your bed, considering whether or not he should stay. Then he felt stupid to even consider not staying: it wasn’t the first time at all that you had napped together, why would this time be any different?

The reply came from deep within him, as he too was slowly dozing off. She is dying…

Maybe you were, maybe you weren’t. Chemotherapy did that to people. It made them look like walking corpses, but sometimes, often even, it healed them. Maybe you looked as if you were dying but were you really?

That Haz didn’t have the answer to.

You woke up first, to the sound of something buzzing. Whether it was your cellphone or Haz’s you didn’t know. The only thing you knew was that Haz’s arm was wrapped around your waist and his face was nuzzled in the crook of your neck.

His hot breath tickled your neck as he exhaled and you couldn’t help but to giggle, which woke him up.

“Uhm?” Haz hummed, not moving from his position.

“You’re tickling me, you div”, you laughed as he sighed deeply.

The boy raised his head from your neck. “Oops, sorry.” His head fell back on the mattress.

Only then did he realize the position in which you were.

He hurriedly tried to get away from you, so quickly he almost tumbled down from the bed.

You laughed heartily at the sight. “You alright?” you asked.

He nodded quickly. “Yeah, sorry about that.”

“For what?” you enquired.

Haz gestured toward the bed. “I don’t know, for invading your privacy.”

You chuckled. “Invading my privacy? Haz, we’ve known each other since we were four, I don’t mind napping with you.”

“Uh yeah, right”, he said, looking away from you.

He picked up his cellphone from his night table.

“Oh shit”, he said. “Mom’s called me three times. It’s almost 7:30, we’ve gotta go quickly.”

You laughed, propping yourself up on your elbows.

“You need to fix your hair first, Osterfield”, you laughed.

He shot a look to himself in the mirror on your wall. “Right.” His gaze rested back on yours. “Be ready in five, darling.”

He walked out of your room and you groaned as you got up from your bed. You felt a little better now but you were still weak. The evening was going to be a long one, especially when tomorrow you were going to learn if you would live or die.

You saw your reflection in the mirror. As usual you had a moment where you couldn’t recognize yourself. You had lost your hair entirely about two or three months ago, not so long after you had begun your chemotherapy treatment. That had been the hardest part of it all. Because now each time you saw yourself in a mirror you only saw a ghost of you. An empty shell.

You sighed deeply, looking away from the mirror. You chose a pair of leggings along with one of Haz’s sweaters to wear. You hesitated to put your wig on but finally decided not to. It was only dinner with Haz’s family, which pretty much was your family at this point.

You walked out of your room slowly and were glad to see that Haz was walking towards you.

“You won’t believe the text I’ve just got”, Haz laughed.

He took his cellphone to read the text directly.

“Hey Hazzy, I wanted to know if you’d like to hang again”, he said.

“Hazzy? Who the fuck called you Hazzy?” you asked.

“Shelley”, he replied.

“Poor girl”, you laughed.

“Yup”, Haz chuckled. “She should have known better than to call me Hazzy.”

Haz wrapped an arm around your waist to help you to walk to the door where you successfully put your boots on without any help.

“When we were kids I always called you like that”, you remembered.

“Yeah, you did”, Haz laughed. “But it’s different coming from you. You’re you and you’re my best friend. Shirley is just…”

“Shelley”, you interjected.

Haz sighed deeply as you walked out of your flat. “Fuck, I keep forgetting.” He laughed. “I need to change.”

You shot him a questioning look. “What, why would you suddenly want to change?”

“Sleeping around is kinda fun but you know, it gets tiring”, he admitted.

“Am I crazy or Harrison Osterfield just said he wants to settle down?” you asked.

Haz shook his head. “Nah maybe just, you know, slow down the rhythm. Spend some time with the people that matter.”

You looked at him and your eyes lingered on his frame. He didn’t look at you but you weren’t stupid, you knew what he meant.

“Aren’t we supposed to be positive?” you whispered.

“We are”, Haz stated. “It’s just… I don’t want you to think I was this asshole you know.”

“Haz, we’re in 2018”, you said. “You can sleep around if you want without that making you an asshole.” You paused. “Positive thinking. I won’t die. Tomorrow the doctors will say that the cancer has receded entirely and we’ll go to the pub.”

Haz laughed. “Yeah, we will, you’re right.”

Both of you didn’t feel quite right at the moment. But everything was going to be alright.

The evening went better than you had thought it would. Phil had made the salad you loved and you ate a bit, as much as you possibly could without feeling sick. Charlotte and you chatted together for almost an hour after the dinner, while Haz was talking with his mother and step-father outside in the yard.

You liked that: chatting with Charlotte. It made you feel normal. It made you feel healthy again. Because she never talked about your cancer, she never paid attention to what she was saying. She acted as if you were completely fine and it made you feel like you were. For a moment you forgot about the sword hanging over your head by a single thread and you were able to enjoy the moment.

Live in the moment. That’s what people told you. Live in the present, don’t think about what the future holds. It was easier to say than to do but with Charlotte it wasn’t so hard.

Although, at 11:55 PM, about an hour after you had gone back to your flat, the future came crashing down on you. Sitting on the kitchen floor, eating ice cream from the container, tears were streaming down your face at the thought that you would learn if you were going to live or to die tomorrow.

You heard Harrison getting out of the shower and you knew it was a question of time before he would walk in the kitchen to grab a snack before he’ll head to bed. You ate another scoop of ice cream before putting the container down, leaving your spoon in it. You dried your tears as best as you could as you heard the sound of Haz’s steps coming toward you.

“What are you doing here?” he said, chuckling.

Then he noticed your tear-stained cheeks and the ice cream container.

“Y/N, no”, he said, getting down on his knees in front of you. “Don’t cry, love.”

He pulled you into a hug and you hid your face in his chest, sobbing against him. He held you until you calmed down and then he helped you to get up.

“Come here, time to go to bed”, he softly said.

He offered you an arm and you wrapped your hand around his forearm. He guided you to your room.

“The ice cream is going to melt”, you stated, your voice tired.

“I don’t care, it’s time to go to bed”, he repeated.

You sat down on your bed.

“I’ll be right back”, he gently said.

As you waited for him to come back you lied down underneath your blanket, on your side, in that only position you felt comfortable enough to sleep in. A stray tear fell from the corner of your eye, climbing on the bridge of your nose before rolling down on the other side. It held all of your fears into what tomorrow would hold, all of your regrets in the life you had lived. Now, that wasn’t something you should be thinking. You weren’t dying right now and maybe, if you were lucky, tomorrow you would learn that you weren’t dying at all. Well, everybody is dying but maybe you wouldn’t die until you were old and grey and surrounded by your grandchildren.

Haz came back into your room. You noticed he had his pillow in his hands, along with a blanket.

“What are you doing?” you asked.

“I’m sleeping in your room tonight”, he replied.

“You know I have blankets and pillows in my bed”, you softly said.

“Yeah well, I’ll be sleeping on the ground so…” he started.

“What no”, you refused. “Get in, loser.” You pushed your blanket aside so he could get in and you looked at him.

“I went all the way to my room for nothing”, he pouted.

“Shut up and get in”, you said, chuckling lightly.

The chuckle got caught up in your throat and suddenly there were tears streaming down your cheeks again.

“Y/N, no.” He hurried to your bed, dropping his pillow and blanket on the ground.

“I’m scared, Haz”, you cried.

“I know, I know you are”, he whispered, wrapping both of his arms around your shaking frame. “Everything is going to be alright.”

You wanted to believe him but a part of you just couldn’t. But having his arms around you helped somehow.

“Thanks, Haz”, you breathed when your sobs died down.

“My pleasure, love”, he gently said. “I’m always there for you. Through thick and thin.”

“Through thick and thin”, you echoed.

There was laughter around you as you ran in the hallway, tears pricking at your eyes. The words Caleb had said had hurt you deeply, but the laughter was worse. You thought Caleb loved you, but apparently you were wrong.

You ran out of the school, almost bumping into someone. You didn’t recognise them through the wall of tears in your eyes but you heard the familiar voice shouting your name as you ran away.

Haz followed you, unable to stop you until you reached your houses.

“Y/N, what’s going on?” he asked.

You turned around to look at him. “Caleb’s a fucking asshole, he’s just dumped me in front of the whole school.”

Haz grabbed you by the arm and pulled you gently towards his house. “Come, we’ll sit in the yard.”

You settled down on the trampoline, as you usually did. You sat cross-legged in front of Haz.

“So, do you want to talk about it?” he asked once you were both settled down..

“He said that I was a stupid bitch to think that he ever cared about me”, you explained. “In front of the whole fucking school.”

“That guy was an asshole from the beginning”, Haz said. “I’m sorry, Y/N.”

New tears rolled down your cheeks. “My life’s a mess”, you said. “Dad’s always mad at me lately and now my boyfriend’s dumped me. What am I supposed to do?”

“Well…” Haz said. “You still have me.”

You held his gaze even though he was blurred by your tears.

“I’m just scared I’m going to end up losing everyone”, you said, covering your face with your hands as you started to sob again.

Haz moved to sit next to you and he put an arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer. You cried against him until your tears stopped.

“You’re never going to lose me, love. I’ll always be there for you”, Haz whispered as you glanced up at him. “Through thick and thin.”

You woke up early the next morning, with Haz’s arms still wrapped loosely around you. For a moment the echoes of your dream made you feel as if you were still fifteen and you were confused as to why you were in Haz’s arms. Then you remembered that seven years had come and gone since that day. And that you had cancer.

It’s strange really. How each morning when you woke up you didn’t remember it. Each morning you momentarily felt calm and peaceful, until it all came crashing back down. Today was no different, only that maybe you were going to learn that you had healed. That you were no longer sick.

If there was a God in the big white clouds up in the sky, you hoped that he could hear your prayers. As you were lying in Haz’s arms, you prayed that your cancer had finally receded and that you could finally hope to finish your degree. You hoped you would be able to live the life you wanted to live: marry someone and have children and maybe a dog or two. You wanted to visit the world too, to see all of its beauty. Actually, there were a lot of things you wanted to do before you died and most of them took time. So you prayed to be given the time you needed.

Haz woke up a couple of minutes after you, as you tried to get out of his grip to go to the toilet. His eyes fluttered opened and for a moment you got lost in the sea they held. Eighteen years. You had known the boy for eighteen years and you were still mesmerized by his eyes.

“Good morning”, he breathed.

“Morning, Haz”, you replied.

He rolled to lay on his back, freeing you from his arms at the same time.

“What time is it?” he asked.

You shot a look to the alarm clock next to your bed.

“7:45”, you replied. “Gotta get ready.”

The boy groaned a little. “Would rather stay in bed with you all day.”

“With me?” you repeated, suddenly feeling a rush of blood to your cheeks.

“Yeah, no, yeah”, Haz answered, a little bit of pink coloring his own cheeks.

You laughed. “You div, I’m your best friend, not one of the other girls you see.”

Haz opened his eyes to look at you. “Right.” Still, a smile tugged at the corner of his lips and you smiled at the sight.

Flirting. If you could call that flirting. It had been this way ever since you were old enough to actually know what flirting was. It was harmless, really, and it made you feel good. You liked that friendly flirt with Haz because it had never turned into something more than that. You had always liked Haz a lot, but it was platonic. Definitely platonic. To you, he was just like a brother. You always joked with him that Tom would have better chances with you because you weren’t as close to him as you were to Haz. Not that you wanted to have something with Tom, he wasn’t your type of guy.

Whenever Haz was in town, he was the one accompanying you to your appointments. Luckily enough for you, he had been in town for a couple of weeks now, having projects to do in London. Although, when he wasn’t, Phil accompanied you. Harry and Sam had come once too, but that was pretty much it. You didn’t blame them: hospitals were scary and you had always been closer to their big brother. But Tom never had the time to accompany you and then again you were way closer to Haz than to Tom. And usually, if Tom was in town that meant Haz was there too so unless he was tagging along with you and Haz, Tom never came with you. Not that he didn’t want to, he was just extremely busy and he didn’t want to bring the attention of the paparazzi on you, which you were extremely thankful for.

With Haz though, it was different. He wasn’t famous like Tom was and although sometimes girls recognized him, most of the time they didn’t. So you could live your peaceful life without someone in the media talking about that sick girl Tom Holland was probably dating. Because that’s what the media did with Tom: every time he was friends with a girl they said he dated her. With Harrison, that never happened.

About forty minutes later, you were on your way to the hospital. Weirdly enough, you were extremely hungry this morning, which sucked because you couldn’t eat. And a part of you hoped it was a good sign. If your appetite had come back, maybe that meant everything was going to be alright.

You didn’t chat a lot in the car, both of you dreading the moment you’d be passing your MRI. You were scared about the outcome but at the same time you couldn’t stop thinking that the world couldn’t be so cruel as to do this to you. It couldn’t be cruel enough for you to still be sick and this time without any hopes of getting better.

Maybe that’s the reason why none of you talked. You were both too scared to say the words on your mind. To voice the fear that you were going to die. And maybe you shouldn’t have thought this, maybe you should have been more hopeful. But would it have really changed the end result?

You were in a haze all along. Maybe that was your armour against the words the doctors spoke. To hide yourself in some dark corner of your mind. And it helped. Just a little. You didn’t scream, you didn’t cry, you didn’t do anything. You stared into the doctor’s eyes until it was time to go. If it hadn’t been for Harrison you probably wouldn’t have moved from your chair in front of the doctor’s desk.

You didn’t say a word at all for the next hours. You just stayed in that haze you were lost in because the harshness of the cruel world couldn’t reach you there. Harrison, on the other hand, felt completely lost. He tried to talk to you more than once, to tell you that there might be some experimental treatment and that you shouldn’t lose hope but you never reacted. You didn’t react when he shed a tear, which he never did. You didn’t react when he yelled at you to say something, to stop being emotionless. You didn’t react when he left you alone in your room, tired of not being able to get you to look at him and to see him and to open up to him.

You didn’t move until much later that day. Until a thought cut through the haze in which your mind was. You thought about all that you wanted to do in life, about all that you were never going to be able to do. The doctors had said that you luckily should have a couple of months to live still. Were a couple months enough to live your life?

You grabbed your notebook, your diary, which was hidden underneath your mattress. You took a pencil and you frantically scribbled a list. And the more you wrote the more ideas you got. The list got longer and you knew there were too many things on it. So you took what seemed less interesting out, you took what you knew you wouldn’t have the time to do out.

And although you knew by the sounds in the flat that Harrison wasn’t alone, you added another line to your list, one that you knew would probably never happen. When you were done, you sat back in your bed. You went through the list once or twice, making sure you were okay with everything that was on there. And you were.

You wondered for a moment if you should call your dad. To tell him you were going to die. You didn’t. He hadn’t told you about your mother, why would he deserve to know about you?

You also wondered if you should tell someone. With all the money in your bank account, you knew it was possible for you to leave tomorrow but with all the things on your list you knew you never would be able to come back. It got you to wonder if you wanted to die alone. Nobody wants to die alone and you weren’t any different. So you decided to wait until tomorrow to talk to Haz. Although you had other friends, none were him and if you were to die, you wanted it to be next to him.

You knew he probably wouldn’t want to come with you. He had other plans in life, why would he give up on his own life to live the rest of yours with you?

You looked through your window. You could see London in the distance and the sky was slowly turning gold as the morning sun lazily rose over the beautiful city you called home. And that’s when it all hit you: even though you were going to die, the sun would still shine, and it would continue to rise and shine for the rest of eternity. It made you feel small, really, and you felt at peace for the first time in months.

Now that you knew you were going to die, it was time to live your best life for what little time you had left.

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