#setting aside their differences one night a month to dye each other's hair | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

junicai · 3 years

Text

infinite.

| summary | When Aria's with her boys, it feels like the sky's the limit.

| word count | 2.3k

| warnings | none

| era | circa. June 2021, filming for Hello, Future music video

The grass in the empty stadium had been liberally covered in fake flower petals - the healthy green of regularly watered grass slowly becoming overshadowed by the light pink and yellow that settled lightly atop it.

The white corduroy overalls that Aria donned were splashed with colour in fake paint splotches to compliment the petals - yellows and greens and pinks mixed with blues and oranges in a jumble of streaks that were stark against the otherwise plain material. The Doc Martens that all eight of the members had been fitted for were all padded at the toe and the heel - lest the hard rubber break away skin and cause them to bleed during filming.

Aria crunched several petals underfoot in the heavy boots as she wandered over to the other boys who had been released from hair and makeup a handful of minutes before her.

The sun was just reaching it��s highest point in the sky, the heat bearing down onto her exposed midriff and almost entirely cancelling out the cool breeze that threatened to rise goosebumps on her stomach. The floaty, bell-sleeved crop top was, in Aria’s opinion, absolutely gorgeous. She had already planned out the best way to corner Heejin unnie - one of the stylists that had an especially soft spot for Aria and her pout, when used effectively.

Shaking her freshly dyed blue hair out of her eyes, Aria broke out into a light jog to catch up to Renjun, swinging an arm around the boy’s shoulders.

“Hi!” She smiled brightly.

Renjun wrinkled his nose at her playfully. “Hey. You done in makeup?”

Nodding, Aria replied, “Yeah. They wanted to touch up the colour in my hair and stick a couple more tattoos around.” She pointed to the new daisy sitting underneath her eye, and the Make Peace, Not War written in differing fonts along her left forearm.

He aah’d exaggeratedly, patting his own upside-down HELLO on his arm absent-mindedly, before frowning lightly. “Is your colour coming out already? I thought they only dyed it a couple days ago.” Lifting up a hand, Renjun brushed away the strands in Aria’s fringe that were falling into her eyes, cringing lightly when they came away covered in blue residue.

Aria pulled away from his fingers, shaking her fringe back into place. “They didn’t have any dye left, so it’s hair chalk.” She explained.

Renjun made another noise of understanding, looking at his smurf coloured fingertips thoughtfully. When his eyes flickered up to meet Aria’s, they had a mischievous glint in them, and she barely had the chance to turn on her heel and break out into a run before Renjun was giving chase hot on her heels.

“No!”

“Yes!”

Her boots were beginning to rub the skin around her ankle raw, still not broken in enough to stand the test of a sprint through a football field, but Renjun was behind her - holding up his hand threateningly - and that was enough to keep her powering through the burn.

“Stop it!” Aria panted, laughter beginning to soil her already failing lung capacity. Her pace was lagging, but much to her relief; so was Renjun’s. With a final burst of energy at seeing the ground she’d gained on him, Aria made her escape attempt-

Only to be captured by Jeno, strong arms wrapping around her waist and swinging her around in a circle to be plopped right back down in front of a now jogging Renjun, an evil smile on his face.

“Lee Jeno!” Aria protested, wriggling against the arms that had yet to release her. “Let me goo!”

He deigned not to respond, but Aria could see the matching glint in his eye, and she resigned herself to her fate. He shared a nod of understanding with Renjun who was advancing slowly now that his victim was immobile.

“Renjun.”

A small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

“Renjun, I’m sorry.”

His smurf-hand raised threateningly again.

“I’ll do your dishes for a week.”

With a final step, Renjun was now within a half-arms distance from Aria.

“Jenooo-” Aria cut herself off with a squeak, as Renjun dragged his fingers over the bridge of her nose, leaving behind a trail of the blue hair chalk. Aria flailed in Jeno’s grip, but he held her fast, even going so far as to tug her down into his lap on the ground to hold her steady.

Now entirely stuck, Aria resorted to flailing her limbs as much as she could, which really wasn’t a lot when Jeno tucked her legs beneath his knees, trapping her with all four of his limbs as Renjun rubbed the rest of the hair chalk off of his fingertips and onto Aria’s nose and cheeks.

Revenge enacted, her attacker eventually settled back onto his heels, fingers now chalk free - having spread most of it over Aria’s face as a replacement for blush.

Aria let out a small sneeze when the loose dust tickled her nose, blinking harshly in surprise.

With her eyes closed, she couldn’t see the hand Renjun held to his heart, or the pout that Jeno’s lips formed at the cute sound. The two men peered up at each other, silently agreeing that: Yes, it was unfair that she looked so tiny and cute with blue blush. Sometimes, life wasn’t fair, and it was coming for Renjun and Jeno’s heart in the form of a very tiny girl with a blueberry nose.

With a pat on the arm from Renjun, Jeno released Aria from his grip who promptly turned around and rained a series of light smacks onto his chest, only stopping when her rings snagged in the necklace he wore. He made no effort to help her, asides from holding her up when he accidentally leaned back and nearly took her down with him.

“Traitor!” She declared once she had untangled the jewelry. For her own revenge, she ran a finger through her hair to collect the chalk and smudged the colour onto Jeno’s cheek in a bright smear.

The shocked look in his wide eyes was enough to have Renjun coughing out a laugh, the other two soon following. The patch of grass they had settled onto was far enough away from the filming location that there were no petals to hinder Aria’s plans of laying down onto her back, hands splayed over her stomach as she laughed along with the boys.

“Guys!” It was Mark’s call that drew their attention away from the coloured chalk - although Renjun did let out another snicker at the light blue cloud that Aria’s hair left on the grass where she had been laying - and together the trio made their way back over to the other five members.

When Jeno and Renjun got distracted in comparing the temporary tattoos they had both been decorated with, Aria slowed her pace enough to let the two wander ahead without her.

She slid her focus away from the duo and towards the group that had settled in between the flower-covered goalposts, some standing, some sitting.

The bright colours of this concept was a nice change, Aria thought. She loved doing sexier concepts - don’t get her wrong, she loved the empowerment that came with it, and the twitter reactions were always fun to scroll through - but she’d missed this kind of bubble pop. Songs that made something uncurl up in your chest, complemented and encouraged by all the bright colours and messages.

When Aria had read through the lyrics the first time, she’d never felt like she’d loved a song more without hearing it. They meant something, especially to her.

Hello, Future; and all that.

And the costuming was always so fun. Short skirts were never the most ideal things to dance in, and the heeled shoes were the bane of her existence (no matter how good she looked in them) so the sturdy boots and durable overalls was a welcome switch-out.

Her boys looked happy with it as well.

With Hot Sauce, there was an infinite amount pressure to get it right. It was the first full album that NCT Dream was going to release, and it was 8DREAM. They had Mark back. They were all adults at that point. There were expectations to meet. They couldn’t pass things off as being children anymore; they had millions of eyes watching them, and it was like having someone breathing down your neck.

The pressure just kept mounting and mounting until it loomed over them all like dark clouds that you could just know held heavy rain. It was like they were debuting all over again. Re-debuting as eight again. Aria doesn’t think she remembers a single thing from the set at all. The whole thing is just a blur in her memory.

Hello, Future, this time around, is different. The members had gathered in the living room around Donghyuck’s laptop when the Hot Sauce music video aired, watching as the views racked up and positive comment after positive comment poured in. They’d read through each and every one, Mark and Aria translating the English ones that the others couldn’t read.

If Aria cried, one arm wrapped tightly around Jaemin, with the other held Mark’s right hand in his lap, then no one commented on it. It could be, because they had tears of their own in their eyes - but no one can say for sure.

They ended up sleeping on the floor that night, laptop discarded on the couch that was stripped bare of pillows and throw blankets. Curled around each other - this time with her head on Renjun’s chest and her stomach monopolized by both Chenle and Jisung lying horizontal from each other, Aria felt the tension and the fear that had been teeming underneath her shoulders for the last two months abate.

The terror that if the album had flopped, then they’d be facing disbandment like so many kneitzens wanted.

Or worse: Dream would keep going, but they’d lose Mark again.

Even the thought made something horrible curl up in the pit of Aria’s stomach.

No.

Never again.

The odd sleeping arrangements were not something that were uncommon in the Dreamies dorm (Honestly, Aria can’t remember the last time she had slept alone in a room, let alone a bed. They had a system worked out for when someone genuinely needed time alone, but otherwise, most bedroom doors remained open all night.)

This time, Mark was forcibly settled into the middle, everyone clamoring that he’d missed out on nearly three years of them - and he wasn’t getting ride of them that easily again.

To his credit, Mark went without much argument, although that probably falls down due to the fact that god, he had missed them too.

Over the weeks of practicing together, re-working the choreography for the songs that had been released when Dream was seven members only, they found their rhythm again. The one that they had lost in 2019, the one that Mark had taken with him when he’d graduated from the group.

Finding it again felt easier than breathing.

Aria thought she’d never get to see her boys smile so brightly as they did together again, giving the colourful flowers lining the grass a run for their money.

From her position a ways away from the group, she watched as Chenle immediately launched himself at Jeno as soon as he was close enough, tackling the older boy onto the ground where they both landed with a thud, Chenle’s head whipping backwards with the force.

She watched as Jeno - ever careful - had tucked a hand behind Chenle’s head to catch him even before they started to fall, his hand taking all the impact as they came into contact with the ground.

Jisung was quick to clamber up, eager to pull Renjun over to Jaemin and show him what they had been doing. She watched as Jaemin held up a small crown made of the fake petals, held together loosely by the short strands of confetti that were scattered around the goalposts.

Mark was leaning his back against the post, head tilted down onto Donghyuck’s shoulder. Donghyuck was watching Jeno and Chenle wrestle with each other - cheering for one or the other, depending on who was winning at that exact moment.

Aria watched as Donghyuck slowly slipped into silence, tilting his head down to look at Mark’s peaceful expression as the eldest seemed to almost doze off on his shoulder.

And, she watched as Donghyuck lifted his eyes, flickering from each of the members. His eyebrows furrowed, scanning the group again before he craned his neck towards the rest of the field.

When his eyes locked onto Aria’s, he raised an eyebrow, but deigned to stay quiet - choosing against startling Mark with a yell. His expression was enough, though.

Donghyuck understood Aria on a certain level that she thought not a lot of people could. She had a unique bond with each member of Dream, but Donghyuck sometimes knew what was going on in her head before she even did.

Which is why, instead of teasing her for being an introvert, or running away; when Aria strolled up to join the group he just extended the arm that wasn’t wrapped around Mark’s waist, beckoning to her.

After being firmly tucked into his other side, Aria curled into his chest with a sigh, shivering lightly when the sun slid behind a cloud for a brief second and the air felt cooler than it had all day.

Feeling her shudder, Donghyuck tilted his head down to look at her the same way he’d looked at Mark a moment ago, before pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“You okay?”

Aria nodded. “M’okay.”

(Donghyuck didn’t realize that his lips were blue from the chalk until Jisung pointed it out, some thirty minutes later.)

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novelconcepts · 3 years

Note

I love your filling in of the moonflower scene. Just the tenderness of it all 🥺

Do you think you might write a short piece about Dani finding the first grey in Jamie‘s hair in the future? Every time I see the gifsets of Jamie‘s (very sexy) grey strands I have to think about Dani‘s possible reaction

Jamie doesn’t tend to notice these things--little changes in her own appearance, little alterations made by the simple passage of time. Her attention, she scoffs when Dani laughs over her failing to pick up on a burr caught in her hair after a trip to the park, is better suited to other things. “World’s big,” she says, tilting her head to allow Dani to comb the remnants of whatever tree she’d walked beneath from her curls. “Why should I go wasting time starin’ at my own damn face?”

“Because it’s a good face,” Dani tells her. She doesn’t add that Jamie’s face, like everything about her, makes more sense than the rest of the world. That nothing about Jamie seems to come out of nowhere--every scrape and scar is accounted for with a story, every wrinkle turned out from the edge of her lips or around her eyes sparked by the familiarity of her frown, the inevitability of her smile. Everything about Jamie can be traced back to the honesty of time spent in the sun, or injuries incurred at work, or letting another year stroke its fingers across her skin.

She notices the first gray hair maybe five years in. They’re on a camping trip, small tent pitched just upshore of a gently lapping brook; Jamie, crouched beside the water to inspect a turtle, looks up with a grin, and Dani notes a flash of silver at the crown of her head.

She doesn’t point it out. It’s too easy to anticipate Jamie’s amused drawl: “Got a gorgeous beast right here, and you’re worried about my hair?” She tucks the knowledge safely away, entertained by the idea that Jamie is carrying a secret upon her own head and has no idea.

She says nothing, but her fingers seek out the unexpected silver the next time Jamie comes close enough. She trails her hand through rumpled hair, watching the familiar warmth of brown cascade across her skin, pleased to find several more bursts of light wound in among the dark.

“What?” Jamie asks, smile crooking the way it always does when she senses Dani is about to poke fun. “Bein’ a weirdo again.”

“Am not,” Dani replies, and kisses her.

It becomes a bit of a private game, an amusing turn of events: Jamie, the most naturally-observant human being in the world, has absolutely no idea she’s shot through with unexpected arcs of silver. No idea at all. At first, Dani thinks she’s intentionally ignoring the color leaching out of her hair; a flash of memory spirals back, Judy plucking what she called my little secret out by the strand and holding a finger to her lips as she reached for a box of red dye. Heavy maintenance is very much not Jamie’s speed, but maybe turning her cheek and feigning ignorance achieves the same goal.

A month goes by. A year. They’re turning up on their own time, these pops of colorless strands standing stark against dark waves, and Dani takes it upon herself to brush her fingers across each one she finds. She likes very much the depth they bring to Jamie’s hair, the way the sun catches a little differently when she turns her head. Likes the knowledge that each strand is a stamp of memory--proof of time spent.

Likes, most of all, that Jamie legitimately seems to have no idea. Jamie, who tugs a black elastic band off her wrist with her teeth, raking the messy tumble out of her eyes, perpetually annoyed with the curls that always seem to evade her hands. Jamie, who spends hours with a book in one hand and Dani’s hair sifting through her fingers, and still has absolutely no clue what’s happening on her own head.

“You’ve never cared, have you?” Dani asks one afternoon, watching Jamie sort through their spectacular collection of cassette tapes, little plastic cases clicking comfortably to break up the quiet. Jamie, cross-legged on the living room rug with Survivor’s Vital Signs in one hand and REO Speedwagon’s Hi Infidelity in the other, raises her eyebrows.

“Seemed silly to go alphabetical while they were multiplying like fuckin’ bunnies, but now we’ve slowed down a little--”

“About looks,” Dani corrects. She’s hanging half off the couch, the tips of her fingers brushing Jamie’s knee. Life has been getting less predictable lately, messier around the edges; she looks into mirrors with breath held tight in her lungs, uncertain of what will look back. Touching Jamie has become less about habit and more a matter of lifeline. “You’ve never cared about how you look. Maybe the only woman I’ve ever known to say that.”

“I care,” Jamie says, with very little defensiveness. It is astonishing sometimes, looking back at the woman she’d met in that manor kitchen, how little defense Jamie seems to have for her these days. Questions are met in good faith, answered in kind, like Jamie knows there’s nothing Dani could ask that would intentionally bear teeth. “Care when I need to.”

“Like when?”

“At the shop,” Jamie says, tossing aside a Paul Simon cassette with a wrinkle of her nose. She finds Pat Benatar instead, sets it in the pile between The Beatles and Blondie. “Always look professional, don’t I?”

“But you don’t like--think about it? What you’ll look like in twenty years? Or fifty?”

“Fifty, Christ.” Jamie rolls back her head, grinning. “Be a hell of a thing, stacking fifty more years on. What d’you think you’ll look like in fifty years, mm?”

Dani doesn’t answer. It’s too early to tell what the smudged face in the mirror might mean--too early to panic--but the idea of fifty years more with Jamie seems terrifyingly unlikely.

“Anyway.” Seeming to sense her unease, Jamie rocks up onto her knees, awkwardly shifting across the rug to lean against the couch. She braces a hand behind Dani’s head, her eyebrow arched. “You tryin’ to say I don’t pay enough attention to my looks? I don’t scrub up enough for you, is that it?”

Her fingers brush Dani’s ribs, digging in just hard enough to tickle. Dani squirms, laughter burbling out against Jamie’s neck.

She doesn’t bring it up again, preferring the secret of Jamie’s slowly graying hair held within her own heart. The threads are becoming more insistent as the years drift by, joining tiny lines etched into Jamie’s skin. Her hands, put through so much work, are comfortably worn at knuckle and fingertip. Her smile pulls the skin around her eyes a little tighter as they celebrate eight years--nine--ten.

She looks good with the extra age, Dani thinks. She wears it all so well, without pausing to prod at herself in the bathroom mirror; if she’s the least bit unnerved by the passage of time, she never lets it show. If Dani didn’t know better, she’d think Jamie never really looks at herself in the mirror at all.

Too busy looking at me, she thinks, and tries not to ache at the idea that Jamie has forgotten herself beneath the need to keep her attention on what she considers more important things. Like watching for one of Dani’s moods to spike up in public. Like waiting for Dani’s shoulders to hunch against ghosts only she can see.

Dani doesn’t look into mirrors herself much these days, either--though, every once in a while, a glimpse will sneak up. Just the barest flash of her own face in the passenger mirror of the car, or the idling bathwater. Sometimes--less and less often--the face waiting is even her own.

It is so her own, those days, that Dani finds herself embracing a new concern. Something odd, something she’s only started to really see in recent memory.

Jamie is starting to show her age, little by little. Not all at once, not in any way that is strange for a woman creeping into her forties--but the years are there, certainly, stamped gently into her skin. The years are threaded through her hair, these silver pops around which Dani’s hands seem to take on a mind of their own. There’s something wonderful, lively, even sexy about the way time is impacting Jamie--grounding her a little more every year, the natural wearing of all those hours hung like medals around her shoulders.

Dani, catching sight of herself in the bathtub, can’t help but notice: no one could say the same for her. Not that time is beating away at her, not that time is turning her to stone before she’s ready--but that time appears to be doing nothing at all. Her eyes bear no extra marks, though she has spent just as much time as Jamie laughing, frowning, holding her breath as the world spins beneath her. Her hands look just the same as they had in 1987.

Her hair is still stubbornly gold.

“Do you think it’s strange?” she whispers one night--not entirely sure if Jamie is even awake, not sure she can even bear the answer Jamie might give.

“What is?”

She swallows hard, fingers carding gently through Jamie’s hair. The gray seems to gleam in the glow of the streetlamp through their window.

“That I’m not...that I don’t look...”

Jamie pushes onto one elbow, peering at her in the dark. “You look like you,” she says, when Dani is unable to press on. “You look like Dani.”

She’s trying to answer the other question, Dani understands, the one being asked with greater frequency: am I here? am I me? what if I’m her, deep down, and have been all along? She shakes her head.

“That’s not...I’m not...”

Jamie waits, brow knit the way it always has when she’s listening. Even when her expression smooths out into sleep, that small divot will remain, etched into her skin like a tattoo memorializing all these late-night conversations. Dani reaches up, presses her thumb gently to it now, her breath hitching when Jamie turns to kiss her palm.

“It’s nothing,” she says. There’s no way to explain it without making Jamie worry more, worry again, lose yet more sleep watching for signs Dani is slipping away.

Jamie nods slowly, not quite believing, not quite daring to call out the lie. “All right,” she says, and the silver in her hair seems to burn, and Dani loves her enough to close her eyes and pretend everything is okay.

When morning comes, she wards off the thoughts. It’s easier, in daylight. Easier to turn her head, fix her eyes on Jamie, allow the familiarity of Jamie’s hands, smile, kiss sweep the fear back under the bed. The nights are long, the dark heavier than it has any right to be, but in sunlight, Jamie shines. The chain around her neck--the colors in her eyes--the silver shot through her hair. In sunshine, Jamie is the most alive any person can be.

And if she is, so must Dani be--because there is so much love in the way Jamie tips into her arms, so much affection in the sweep of her kiss, in the way she leads them around the kitchen in an impromptu waltz. Jamie, as always, burning away the shadows.

Jamie, who dips her backward, drinking in her laughter with the biggest grin in the world. Who cuts her eyes to the right. Who tightens her mouth in surprise.

“Hang on,” she says, her hands still braced at Dani’s back and hip. “What the fuck is this?”

Dani’s heart gives a giant leap, her hands clutching at Jamie’s shirt for balance. This is it, she thinks. She can see her now. She can see her, not me, and it’s over, it’s all over, it’s--

“Dani.” Jamie is frowning, easing her back to her feet. She crouches down, gazing into the window of the oven. One hand rises to her head, her brow furrowed.

She sees her, Dani thinks, backing toward the sink. She sees her, and--

“Jesus, how long has my hair looked like that?”

She blinks, shaking the panic away. “What?”

Jamie is looking at her, almost awestruck, her face clean and younger than usual with the last vestiges of sleep clinging to her eyes. “All that gray. Knew there were one or two, but--”

Dani is laughing. Leaning back against the counter, the mirth spilling out of her, she laughs. Jamie, straightening up with a low groan--her knees pop audibly, her head shaking--looks bewildered.

“Suppose you thought you’d just wait,” she says dryly, “and see if I ever noticed?”

Dani nods, cackling too hard to answer. It’s become so normal, counting the bright bursts amid Jaime’s natural hair color; she’s honestly forgotten Jamie ever didn’t have these silver sparks. Every inch of her, from the crow’s feet etched near her eyes to the tiny scars on her hands, is quite simply home.

Jamie is plainly trying to look grumpy now, her hand tangling her hair. With Dani giggling like this, unable to catch her breath, she isn’t doing a very good job.

“Been this way a while?”

“Years,” Dani giggles. “Since I proposed. Before.”

Jamie rolls her eyes, slouching the two steps it takes to reach the counter and Dani’s shaking frame. “You,” she says in a mock-irritated tone, “are supposed to help with these things.”

“With what?” Dani brushes the hair back from her eyes. “You’re beautiful. And more than that, you’re...stately.”

“Stately,” Jamie repeats with a snort. “Haven’t heard that one. That’s a Hannah word, if ever there was one.”

They sober, just a little, the appropriate affection offered to memory. Jamie’s head bows against her own, her nose brushing Dani’s lightly.

“I like it,” Dani says, her voice soft. “I like watching it happen. Like growing old...”

She trails off. She isn’t growing old, is the thing. Isn’t changing. Is as incontrovertible as a lake set into ancient grounds. She is not growing old at all.

Jamie’s fingers curl around her chin, tipping her head back. “Growing old together,” she says, firmly. Not denial, exactly--just certainty. Jamie, imposing her will on a world that tries so hard to have its own way with them both.

“Growing old together,” Dani repeats, and even if it isn’t true in the strictest sense--even if it doesn’t look like it should--she knows Jamie believes it. Knows Jamie will fight tooth and nail to make the universe bend around her love.

There are things, Jamie believes, that are natural. Organic. Exactly as they should be. There are things that can’t be changed by dreams, whims, magic spells.

They will grow old together. That is, Jamie believes, the way the world works. The way it has always been and will always be. Jamie’s hair grows silver. Jamie’s skin etches with lines. Jamie’s hands are solid in her own, though she sometimes bends her fingers with a grimace, rubs her wrists when the weather angles toward snow.

They will grow old together. For Jamie, there is simply no other consideration to be made.

“I like it,” Dani repeats, fingering the nearest strand of gray. “It’s distinguished.”

Jamie, shaking her head, is grinning as she leans in for a kiss.

#fanfiction #ficlet #the haunting of bly manor #the haunting of bly manor spoilers #dani x jamie #damie #I either post nothing for six days or multiple things at once #no middle ground we write erratically like kings #anyway: Jamie's silver hair is peak!Jamie I will hear no arguments

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comfy-whumpee · 4 years

Text

Marissa

@ashintheairlikesnow thank you for the fic starter that ran away with the spoon. This is very first-draft but it exists and is canon.

TW: drugging, romantic whumper overtones.

Taglist: @lonesome--hunter, @iaminamoodymoodtoday, @wildfaewhump, @ishouldblogmore, @lektricwhump, @that-one-thespian, @raigash, @paingineering, @whumpywhumper

It takes all their courage to come back. No matter how many times they’re welcomed, no matter how many times they’re invited, they always have to brave it. They walk up the little paved stone path to the cottage, hands folded against their chest, debating. It can’t be a good idea to do this. It can’t be. She’ll be angry. She’ll turn them away.

Northlight is a breeze blowing through normal people’s lives. They’re there for a lovely moment, and then they’re gone. They’re a shooting star, ephemeral, unattainable...irrevocable and yet inconstant.

The plants on the windowsills inside cover most of the window panes, but the door is cleared and the frosted glass inset amongst the wood shows a tall figure with a peering face. Then the door opens.

“North,” she says, her smile broad and soft like butter spread on toast. “It’s been so long. Come in, my love.”

Northlight smiles nervously, stepping past the hanging rugs on the hallway walls. They follow to the kitchen, where she puts on a kettle to boil.

She’s older. She used to be so strong, able to lift them without effort, carry them to bed, hold them tightly through their bitter nights of tears and terror. She used to show them how to exercise and build their strength until their body was something they controlled even when their chronology was not. She gave them skills and she gave them love, and she had so many of her own stories. Stories about the sky, their precious star-sailor.

She makes their tea how they have always liked it, two sugars and a sandwich on the side. She sits opposite them, and smiles, and reaches for their hand.

They let her take it. She is still the same beautiful Marissa that they fell for years earlier.

“I waited for you,” she says.

The revelation makes their eyes widen. Something fragile and terrifying comes to rest on their chest. “Waited?”

“Twenty years from the day you slipped away to this day now, when you’re here again. I should never have wasted a single moment I had with you. I missed you every day, North. Every day.”

Every day? Nobody could care that much about Northlight. They’re just a breeze, light, momentary, gone, forgettable.

“I worried, sometimes, that I’d hurt you. That I hadn’t been enough. You needed something stable, something to call home. I wanted to be that for you.”

A home with her, forever? How long had they spent together the first time? They can’t remember.

“I knew you’d come back.”

Less than a month. It had definitely been less than a month.

“Marissa, I...”

They try to stand. The world turns sharply in one direction and the other, simultaneous, like a combination lock. They need to run, they have to - but their feet are glued to the ground, knowing against Northlight’s wishes that a single step will tip them over the edge into darkness.

“It’s alright, North,” Marissa says, reaching out to tug them back down into the armchair. “I know you didn’t mean to leave me. I forgive you. I know you’ll never make that mistake again.”

No, no, this was meant to be a visit, a brief reunion before she was gone. They’re not supposed to - she wasn’t - they’re in trouble. They drank the tea.

Marissa stokes the fireplace, raking the embers together with a practised sweep. They watch, head tipped, world tilted. “Just relax. You’re home.”

They don’t have a home. They never had a home.

“Just relax.”

But they can’t move anymore.

Whatever it is, it holds them down like their skin is sodden. Pinned to the bed they’d once shared, they lie staring at the ceiling, head back on the pillows, unable to lift it. It’s all they can do to swallow, breathe and blink.

The room hasn’t changed. It’s painted lilac, one of their favourite colours. The furnishings are white with silver highlights, accents picked out along the edges of the bookshelves on the far wall, and in the decor like the flower vase on the sill. They stare absently at the clouds moving over that sky, and think about teleporting.

Teleport once into the sky, once back to the ground a distance away. Fall, and repeat. Get away without the ability to move.

Except it isn’t that simple. They can’t always teleport without momentum; it takes effort. If they end up with their face in the ground, they won’t be able to move it again. They’ll be trapped. If they can’t teleport fast enough, dizzy or confused, they’ll land hard, too.

They look away from the clouds. Turning their eyes is manageable, thankfully. They look at the dotted ceiling and make shapes from the pattern.

She comes in. She sits at the edge of the bed, worried but unrepentant. She holds their red scarf in her hands. They turn their eyes away, back to the clouds.

“Who is this from, North?”

They can’t answer. She must know it. The tone of her voice makes it sound like she’s worked it out, and she’s not happy. The scarf is simple wool and dye, hand-made, but into the end, a felt heart in matching red is sewn to the tip with white thread. She looked closely at that to see it.

All their other treasures she has left in their pockets, not jealous enough to take even those away. But the scarf, she took.

“It’s from someone who loved you, isn’t it? Someone from after we met. You didn’t have this scarf last time.”

It’s been twenty years even for you. Don’t act so surprised.

“I’m surprised. I thought you were different.”

I never claimed to be different to anyone else. I’m just being me.

“I thought we had something special, North. I told you everything. You asked for stories and I gave you them.”

Don’t believe you’re above and beyond a millennia of people. Don’t believe you’re not just as special as any of the other people I loved. You had as much love as I had to give, and that should have been enough.

“But it’s alright. You slipped away. You couldn’t help it. You can just stay here now, stay with me, and then you won’t need other people, will you?” She sits down on a chair opposite, folding her hands in her lap and tossing her hair. Her smile is star-bright and painful to look at. “I’m here.”

Not how it works. They don’t have the energy to reply. They can barely move still. It’ll happen eventually. I’ll hit a barrier, a time I’ve been in before, and I’ll be gone.

“So, North, tell me. What have you been up to while you were away. It’s been so long for me... Was it long for you?”

Ugh. They force jaw and lips and tongue into coordinated motion. “Y-Yes.”

“Oh...” For a moment, she seems thrown, and upset by the bluntness of their answer. Shouldn’t have drugged them. “How long?”

“Dun-no.”

“Oh.” She pauses, then smiles lightly. “Well that’s fine. You still came back.”

And it was a mistake.

“You have to drink, North.”

“C-Curse you.”

“I’m just trying to help.”

“Keep y’r poison.”

Marissa sighs, shoulders dropping, and sets aside the water. Northlight keeps their eyes averted from it, knowing any hint of moisture will make their throat burn worse. It’s been nearly a full day with nothing to drink, and they know it’s the only reason they can move enough to talk right now.

“Please, North,” she tries again after a minute. “You’ll get sick.”

“Not as sick as-s you.”

They don’t have to think about the rebuttals. They come easy and feel light, like tossing burdens from their shoulders. Marissa looks more pale and upset with each one, but that serves her right.

They’re trying to sway, just a little, now that they can more again. They shift to the left with a careful push, and then flop back, allowing the momentum to carry them the other way. They bob like the tideline on a beach, and in each lean, then feel time begin to open, the gaps between eras, the cracks Northlight will slip through. Just a little more.

Marissa grabs their shoulder and pain stabs through them life a stake. Northlight howls, a breathless sound, pathetically quiet, but still heavy with the shock of being hurt so badly out of nowhere. They even open their eyes, gracing her with the barest minimum of attention as she tries to hold them still. They breathe in gasps as her hand pulls away, and the sigil gradually burns down to a smoulder.

“What’s wrong?” she asks, stupidly.

She can’t know about the marks. She can’t know what they do. “Y-You poisoned me! Get your d-damned hands off me!”

“There’s no need to scream!”

“There is.” They catch their breath, and when she doesn’t immediately reply, start swaying again. Slowly, deliberately they build up their momentum.

“Stop it,” she mutters.

They’ve always done this. They need it, the security of being able to move, the freedom offered by the open pages of time, the control over their own body - not swaying when they want to is the same as holding into a hot plate when your instincts tell you to drop it before it burns.

Marissa glowers at them petulantly, but she doesn’t grab them again. Instead, she gets up. “I’m making you more tea,” she says, blatant in her intentions.

Northlight has been drugged plenty of times before. It’s one of the few ways to hold them down. They keep swaying, focused on the expand and contract of their time-slipping power. Expand and contract, open and close, blossom and wither with each move towards and away.

This is dangerous. If they drop somewhere inhospitable, if could be hours before they get the energy to move and sway and jump again. But it’s better than being captive here until she dies, fawned over like a living treasure she can’t bear to lose. So they sway, and teeter on the edge of a new era, and fall back again steady in this time. Like a pendulum, they swing back, and forth, and on the last strike, as though they were marking the hour, they pass the amount of momentum needed to break through the eggshell of this era, and burst the bubble into the great flow of time.

The instant later, they are in a forest, and they’re toppling to the ground as their legs can’t hold them. Their legs crumple, a knee hits their chin, and they roll unwillingly onto their side. Their head lands on their arm, level with a wild strawberry plant that’s just sprouted fruit, a little green gem dangling from its stem. They catch their breath as best they can, and try to ignore the desert sand cloying in their throat. They’re outdoors, they’re free, and she’s not going to hold them down again.

Amelie and Matt, Rishi, Marissa, why do they keep trusting that the people they love will stay the same? They always turn on their Northlight, one way or another.

Better to keep moving.

Once they can move at all.

#whump #romantic whumper #drugged whumpee #possessive whumper #betrayal #time traveller #angst #my fic #northlight #escape #marissa

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idontdowellunderpressure · 4 years

Text

Hisoillu Week - Day 4: Love Languages

Title: Thinking of You

Illumi was feeling guilt for the first time in his life.

At least he was fairly certain it was guilt. All the books he’d read regarding the emotion seemed to match up with his symptoms. The stomach pains that felt lighter but more tangled than sorrow. The intrusive thoughts that seemed to loop back and feed themselves until it was all he could think about. The entire process seemed to be related to anxiety, he feeling he was more familiar with due to the rare failure to meet family expectations in his youth.

And the cause of it, it seemed to be, was Hisoka.

That bastard.

And it seemed to happen every time the man made him happy, which contrasted the guilt so sharply that it compounded the negative emotion exponentially. Illumi found himself unable to smile when Hisoka complimented his outfit of the day. He no longer relaxed when Hisoka braided his hair. And sex was just a little less pleasurable when his mind was clouded by anything other than ecstasy when Hisoka whispered praises into his ear.

The same books that helped him to identify his problem offered some solutions. Apologizing for the mistake that caused the guilt seemed to be the most common, though Illumi was at an utter loss as to what that could mean. He didn’t make mistakes.

Another common suggestion was to talk to someone about the guilt, usually a third party. Illumi might have been tempted if he had any other associates in his life. But other than his family, whom he had no intention of involving in this, there was no one but Hisoka.

Illumi was considering whether a random person off the streets would be able to help when Hisoka breezed into the living room. He pecked a quick kiss on Illumi’s forehead before settling down on the other side of the couch. He threw his feet across Illumi’s lap before picking up the remote to begin the ruse of channel surfing for something interesting before settling on Judge Jackie, his guilty pleasure every weekday at noon.

Meanwhile a soft ‘ah’ fell from Illumi’s lips as he reached a conclusion. He saw Hisoka tilt his eyes over to him, one eyebrow raising in concern. Illumi shook his head, indicating that his sound was nothing important, and watched Hisoka turn back to the tv.

It was lack of reciprocity.

It was impossible to keep track of all the compliments Hisoka had thrown at him, considering he’d been doing so long before they entered into a partnership. And the amount of small physical gestures was near in number as well. But Illumi could clearly remember each instance in which he had done the same to Hisoka. There was little point in telling Hisoka how beautiful or intelligent or charming or funny he was. He had to have already known, as confident as he was. The physical touches though. Perhaps Illumi could start doing that more?

He lifted Hisoka’s feet of his lap and shuffled up the couch so Hisoka’s calves were resting on him. Hisoka didn’t look away from the tv though until Illumi intertwined his left hand with his right. His eyebrows were raised a bit, but no smile, which was strange. Hisoka liked holding hands, he did it often enough when walking down the street and while having sex for Illumi to be certain of this. Maybe that was the problem. Illumi had yet to ever initiate it.

Illumi smiled, reassuring Hisoka there was no trick or impending attack despite what the strange behavior might have suggested. He looked over to the tv as Judge Jackie called both the defendant and prosecutor idiots for bringing their squabble to her courtroom. Illumi forced his shoulders to relax and tried to paint the outward picture of contentment, hoping Hisoka would catch on and settle as well.

The small smile he caught out of the corner of his eye signaled success and made his guilt disappear.

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

But Illumi simply couldn’t keep up. There weren’t enough opportunities to display physical affection for him to remain equal to Hisoka. Every time he would identify an opening, the damned magician would exploit it before him! A kiss on cheek at breakfast. An arm over his shoulder on the couch. A caress against the small of his back in the shower. A nuzzle into his neck in bed.

A blatant repetition of the affection wouldn’t be enough, it was far too passive to indicate anything beyond politeness. And so Illumi found himself downtown, strolling down the streets in search of a gift to offer Hisoka.

The idea had come to him after sending Milluki his birthday present a week ago. Milluki wasn’t the only sibling he sent gifts to, though he was by far the simplest to remain in contact with now, and most often the knowledge that he’d made his siblings happy with an object made Illumi happy in turn. He expected the same with Hisoka and was determined to find something to suit the man’s tastes.

However, Illumi didn’t realize how complicated such a task would be until he’d reached the shops. Hisoka was surprisingly difficult to shop for as the man wasn’t particularly interested in things. Hisoka’s allotted shelves in their apartment had a constantly rotating selection of books, movies, and knick-knacks. A book he claimed to love would be tossed aside because “I already know how it ends”. A Rubik’s cubic he’d fiddled with all winter would be given away to the first child he met on the street who showed interest in the puzzle.

The only thing he seemed remotely attached to were clothes, but Illumi didn’t feel confident enough to try and assume to know Hisoka’s eclectic tastes. Two pairs of heels that looked the exact same sat in Hisoka’s closest because they were –apparently— so obviously suited to different occasions. Illumi proceeded to ignore every clothing store he passed.

Five hours later and all Illumi had to show for his efforts when he returned to the apartment were some grocery bags. And he would have had less than that if he hadn’t remembered how empty their fridge had been last night. He was in the middle of organizing the pantry when Hisoka sauntered into the kitchen and began rummaging directly through the bags.

“Oh~” he heard Hisoka croon behind him. Illumi glanced over his shoulder to see Hisoka holding a small box of strawberries that he’d picked up in the farmer’s market on his way back. It was the only thing he hadn’t gotten at the grocery store because he knew the strawberries from the market were better. At least that’s what Hisoka claimed.

“Thank you for getting me these.” Hisoka chirped, smiling around his savage bite of the bloody red fruit.

“You’re welcome,” Illumi replied automatically, smiling himself when he saw the way Hisoka’s grin curled in contentment. He hummed absently as he sat on the kitchen counter, munching on strawberries as he watched Illumi bustle about the kitchen.

A few days later, having gone shopping for more meat and vegetables, Illumi perused the framer’s market until he saw a strange fruit that he didn’t recognize the name of. Virscia were the size of his fist and purple on the outside but pale green on the inside. The vendor said the closest thing he could compare the fruit to was a cross between wine and pineapples. Illumi bought four, as well as some durian and one watermelon. He arrived home with his purchases and sat the kitchen table, watching Hisoka enjoy his gifts over the course of the week.

Three weeks later he bought some of Hisoka’s favorite hair gel after noticing he was running low. While at the store, he found some face masks that were said to be good for moisturizing. Hisoka had mentioned before that his makeup could dry out his skin if he kept it on too long, so he added the masks to the cart. Hisoka was delighted by the masks and insisted they both wear them that night while watching a movie. The gel tingled nicely against his skin, but Illumi was more pleased about the comforting warmth radiating throughout his body.

A month later he risked the purchase of a pack of cards. Two packs, technically. One was a hand painted set of intricate vines and sweeping waves for the pip cards with delicately featured people for the court cards. The red was a deep, rich color reminiscent of fresh blood. The black was a dark, consuming tone that made the white shine in contrast.

The other was a cheap, gag deck that depicted the current Zodiacs in various poses and states of dress. Illumi was disappointed, but not surprised, when Hisoka seemed to like that one more. But the next time Illumi had brought Hisoka along on an assignment, he noticed how Hisoka placed a careful kiss to his expensive cards before dragging them through an opponent’s jugular.

But was it enough?

Three months later, lying in bed without a hint of sleep to come, Illumi was counting and tallying his gifts. Fruit and makeup and cards and hair dye and earrings and candy. Was it all enough? Was he doing enough? It was all so small, so paltry that Illumi couldn’t be certain if Hisoka understood just how much-

“I love you,” the words slipped out of his mouth and he heard Hisoka move beside him. The mattress didn’t make a sound, but the bed dipped as Hisoka straddled Illumi and kissed him, deep and slow and yearning.

“I know.” He said, his breath ghosting across his lips before he closed the distance again.

“No, Hisoka,” Illumi placed his hands on Hisoka’s face, pulling Hisoka far back enough for them to look each other in the eye, to try and communicate what went beyond words. “I love you.”

“I know,” Hisoka grinned, his eyes becoming mere slits to make room on his face for his smile. “You show me with every gift you give.” Hisoka pushed against his hands, leaning down to place a kiss on his nose.

“All those things you give me. You know me so well. You pay attention to me. You think of me. You love me. I know. I know because you show me.” He placed another kiss, this time of Illumi’s lips, and Illumi slid his hands up and into Hisoka’s hair.

“Thank you,” Hisoka murmured, this time keeping his mouth close enough for Illumi to feel his lips brush against his own. “Thank you, for thinking of me.”

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

Link to story on ao3

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26078929

Credit to the creator/curator of hisoillu week

@illumiszoldycks

(apologies for the spamming, but I found this prompt list today and was just really excited to contribute what I could to the fandom)

#hisoillu #hisoillu week #hisoka #hisoka morrow #illumi #illumi zoldyck #love languages #acts of service #physical touch #words of affirmation #quality time #gift giving #illumi does feel things #he just has trouble expressing it #I am a fan of Illumi clinically analyzing his feelings

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frozen-hearts-club · 4 years

Text

The Blue Moon 3

This story has graphic murder scenes

Another slow and painful month passed Conyers by. No one ever come to claim the new victim either. David didn't understand how two young women can go missing and their family not even notice. The girls was healthy enough before their tragedy happened. No drugs was in their system They were well taken care of, their weight was healthy. David could not see how No one could not miss them.

The townspeople always talked in a whisper when David would stop and get his coffee or dinner late at night at the same Chinese restaurant. He could tell they wanted to ask him about the case but he was not the most friendliest person out there. He always have them cold stares.

David spent most his time looking at the two young women's photos in a special conference room set aside just for that case alone. He read their medical reports He looked at their dead and broken bodies on the pictures over and over again. Nothing about the bit marks stood out to him or to the medical officers. David had always figured out his cases. No matter how long it took. No matter if it had a happy ending or a terrible one. David always got the job done. But this was starting to wear him down mentally and physically.

Of course officers did patrol the lake area quite a bit. They were always so scared they would run into the monster responsible for these disgustingly horrible murders. Conyers Police department even had two of their best cops quit their jobs over this case. David knew it was out of fear. They had young daughters the same age as the girls that were killed. The case was just too much for the officers to handle. But David never did mind death. He always welcomed it. He just hated it when innocent people got hurt.

David looked up into the big blue full moon. The forest was casting shadows over his face. David was busy digging another grave. He had ran into trouble earlier that week. The man he was digging the grave for, was a short light skinned man. He had a bad drug problem always breaking and Entering people's home. His brother had worked at the police station and always got him out of trouble. Sweeping all of his dirty deeds under the rug.

David had enough after the third offense and nothing still happened. David knew for sure he was going to make it happen.

A single gun shot to the man's head and he gone.

David never worried about the other officers catching up to him. He felt none of them had the smarts or the guts to actually accuse him of the murders he committed.

Plus being first to the scene usually helped him out in the long run.

:::::BUT YOU GUSSED IT::::

***Ding***

David's phone went off about 7am. This was supposed to be his day off. David rolled over in bed to answer the loud annoying phone.

""David get down to the lake""

David snapped his phone closed quickly. He didn't even need to respond.

David shortly arrived at the at lake. Again the sounds of the rushing waters and officers talking filled his ears.

David quickly walked over to the young woman's body. She was definitely a lot younger than the first two girls. David gussed she was 17 at the most. She was also twisted up beat up with a broken neck. But this one was different. She had a lot more cuts and bite marks. Half of her face had been crushed. A single muddy boot print left the side of her face dented in. She had soft green eyes, long red hair. But something was just so different about this girl. She had a strong smell of ammonia on her. David checked her hand and the number 3 burned into it.

David wondered how long this could go on for.

David finished up his usual work at the crime scene. And quickly made his way back to the office. He was ready to talk to the medical officers in the morgue. They told David the boot print was a size 10. Nothing special about the boot imprint itself. No logos no nothing. Probably half of the hunters who hunted that land had the same brand of boot. The medical officers told him that The killer had to have dyed her hair. They had guessed that the young girl's hair was originally blonde. But the killer obviously likes red heads. A sick obsession. It was the same DNA on the body as the other two girls.

David walked out of the morgue feeling a little more hopeful. He now had a boot size and hopefully one of the drug stores around here sold the red hair dye.

David spent the rest of the day and half the night going from store to store. And nothing no one has sold any red hair dye in the past year. Red was not a very popular hair color in the town. Most stores didn't even sell the red hair dye at all.

David was then at a low lost breaking point.

Who could be killing all these young girls? How could he not notice a killer?He himself was a killer. You would think that he would know one because he is one. But nope. David had went back to the station and went over evidence after evidence, picture after picture. Still nothing.

The next morning plenty of news reporters, worried parents was at the police station. Yelling and demanding that something has to be done. David had never went home that night. He fell asleep in the evidence room at the large table. With the crime scene photos surrounding him. David woke up to hearing stomping boots on the floor.

His boss was talking to a short red haired loud lady. She had a bright gold badge on her hip and issued gun. She didn't wear normal work clothes. She had a simple white T-shirt on and jeans and dark boots. If she didn't have The badge or the gun He would not have known she was a detective.

David thought to his self, REALLY? They are going to send a redhead women into this town? He started blinking deeply at this thought.

David's boss waved him to come over. """This is detective Violet Hopper. She is from Florida. The supposedly Sunshine State. She just transferred in since we are low on officers at the moment. She is going to be your new partner"""

David gave a large frown. He never once had a partner. Why did he have to put up with her? David looked at the young girl. How long has she even been a detective? Was this her first case?

David rolled his eyes hard. He didn't like the idea of this at all. He would have to share his car. He would have to share his space. All for what? It's not like they had anything new to go on anyways.

Davis shot Violet a cold stare. It was obvious that he did not want her there.

Violet was definitely no dummy. She could feel the air thicken around them. She looked up at David and rolled her eyes hard at him as well . He was not going to run her off so easily.

Any other time she would have considered David her type. He had short/ medium black hair that he kept slicked back. Tattoos on both hands. A werid star tattoo on his neck. His eyes was a beautiful light blue, he had light dark circles under his eyes. She could tell he has not been getting much sleep.

But that was still no reason to be rude.

David showed Violet the room set aside with all the evidence. He watched he go through each picture each medical report. She come up with the same thing everyone else did nothing.

David could tell that all the pictures was starting to get to the young new detective. He watched her wipe a few tears away. This definitely should not have been her 1st case to work.

David watched his new partner for the rest of day. She made her way around the office interacting with everyone else in he never could. David didn't like half the people he worked with. Everyone felt to fake, never willing to

reveal their true colors. David didn't like fake smiles and friendships.

Soon it was time to clock out. David found his way over to his partner. She was finishing up some older paper work on this the missing girls. David wanted to start a small conversation with her.

""You figure someone would miss our youngest victim""

Violet looked lost in thought she didn't respond right away. Her fingers slightly ghosting over the keyboard.

""Maybe he gets them from different towns and feels more comfortable killing them here""

David had consider that multiple times. But why Conyers tho? There had to be connection that he missing.

#detective david loki #david loki #prisoners 2013 #jake gyllenhaal #dark fic #prisoners

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heraldofzaun · 4 years

Text

Childhood

Viktor Grigoryevich Pahlen is four years old when his father pulls him aside one evening. He will be starting school, soon - it is the summer, all low-hanging smog and trapped heat, and fall is coming sooner rather than later.

“Viktor,” Grigoriy says softly, looking at how his son is curled up on the chair opposite to him, “Viktor, look at me.”

Viktor’s face pops into view, no longer smushed against his shoulder in a position that both Grigoriy and Yekaterina find profoundly uncomfortable to look at. His hair sticks up at many angles: a testament to his tendency to squirm whenever Yekaterina tries to make him presentable. He’s pouting - but he is looking at Grigoriy. That’s progress.

“Your mother and I wanted to talk to you, before you start school in a few months,” and then it had been simply his job, but he is more well-suited to this than her, “about you.”

“But I’m me.”

“You are, yes, but…” and where to begin, “when you go with your mother to the store, or out in public, do you see that people are different than you?”

“Mh-hm. They’re bigger, because they’re adults.”

No. That’s not… it’s irrational, yes, but Grigoriy often wishes Viktor would simply grow up faster. He can explain surgeries while his gloves are deep within another living, breathing person but not genetic mutations to his own son because the language isn’t there. He has to repackage the medical journals and studies he’s read since the day Viktor was born into something that a child who has barely learned to write his letters correctly can understand.

Grigoriy tries again. “What about your hand, Viktor? Isn’t that different?”

Viktor shifts and stares at his left hand, all four pudgy fingers of it. If he were older, Grigoriy would explain that he is missing the fifth metacarpal and its associated phalanges… medical terms are so clear in a way this is not. But his son is young, and his words have to match.

“I guess,” and Viktor’s curled back in on himself again, voice muffled. “But I saw a man on the train who had no hand!”

“He probably lost it in an accident,” damn, that tone’s too sharp. “I mean to say… you’ve always had it.”

“Mh-hm!”

“And you know how your hair is different than others’, too.”

“Mom says that it’s thicker than the Kumungu.”

“…I’m sure she does,” probably while trying to corral Viktor into letting a brush so much as touch his head, much less a set of scissors. “But I meant the white streak. The white part.”

“Oh. But people have pink hair, I saw a woman-“

Grigoriy sighs. “It’s not natural, Viktor. Not like yours. And… you know how you sometimes get sick, yes?”

His son is practically a ball now, with his head tucked somewhere between his chest and knees. Do other children of this era do that? His coworkers have children in the workforce, now, and so the time to ask his peers is long-gone. Perhaps there are medical journals he can request, although the gods only know what keywords he could use.

“I don’t like that.”

“Neither do your mother and I. But it’s all the same, your hand and your hair and your stomach.”

“No it’s not.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“It is all from the same source, Viktor!” and that is the sound of Yekaterina dropping a pan into the sink - he shouldn’t have raised his voice. “It’s fine, dear,” Grigoriy calls to the other room.

Viktor has pulled himself out of the ball enough to focus his gaze on his father’s knee, or perhaps the hand resting on it. “…Sorry I made you mad.”

Oh… “It’s not you, Viktor. I’m…” just tired, just old, just out of my depth, “fine now. What I meant to say is that all of those are caused by the same thing. There’s…”

He has to explain genetics to a five-year-old, doesn’t he. That’s how this conversation ends. Maybe…

“I’ll be back.”

---

Yekaterina is still in the kitchen, putting the last of the night’s dishes on the drying rack. She’s tired, too - the hours Grigoriy spends at the hospital, in surgeries and consults and teaching, she spends with Viktor and her work. Her research laboratory wants her back soon. They’d been generous with letting her have time off after Viktor’s birth, and then let her work from home as he aged… but he’ll be enrolled in school soon enough and then she can return to the lab for six hours on every weekday.

The two of them had mutually decided that her work would be the one to take a back-seat to Viktor, although Grigoriy sometimes wonders if raising a child would be less stressful than his long hours. Probably not.

“Did you explain it to him?” she asks quietly, drying off her hands.

“…I’m trying. I thought some diagrams could help.”

That gets a small laugh from her. “Maybe they will. I can tell you realized you can’t just treat him like one of the visiting students. You can’t yell at him, for one.”

She probably didn’t intend for her comment to hurt. “He kept talking about the kinds of people he sees when you take him out. Drawing the wrong comparisons.”

“He’s five, dear, what else is he supposed to do? It’s our job to make sure he makes the right ones.”

Another heavy sigh, and he presses a kiss to her cheek. “You’re right. It’s just been a long day.”

“I tend to be,” and she kisses him in return, “now go get those diagrams.”

---

Grigoriy returns to the living room, holding a textbook as if it’s the key to immortality. It’s one from his undergraduate years, so it’s probably incredibly outdated in more than a few aspects - but he just wants it for the illustrations. He sits down across from Viktor, who’s currently splayed out in his chair like a ragdoll. Grigoriy notes the hypermobility of his son’s shoulders and elbows. That, too, is most likely tied to this topic of discussion.

“Viktor?” he asks, flipping through the book in search of the right page. “Can you come over here?”

Viktor rolls off of the chair with a thud but bounces to his feet only a moment after. He peers at the book with great interest. “What’s that?”

“It’s…” Grigoriy inhales, willing the words into place. “Your body is made up of a lot of little things called cells. They make up your skin, your hair, your brain… they make up you! In each-”

“But I’m me!” Viktor sounds indignant, as if the concept of cells is an affront to him.

“Ah… think of it like how… your arm is your arm, but it’s not all of you. You are more than just what makes you up. So, in-”

“Oh, okay.”

“So, in each of these cells is a lot of these,” he points to the illustration, a basic model of DNA. “This is DNA, and it tells your cells what to do. It makes sure that each cell is doing the right thing, so that eye cells are eye cells and… er, skin is skin… so on.”

This isn’t as easy as he thought it would be. Grigoriy looks over to his son, who is… utterly terrified. Oh dear.

“If it messes up, could I grow hair out of my eyes?” Oh no. He’s crying. “I don’t wanna have hair in my eyes!”

Yekaterina chooses that moment to poke her head through the doorway. “Vityusha, you won’t grow hair out of your eyes.”

Grigoriy shoots her a look. She returns it, greying eyebrow raised high, as she fully enters the room.

“Dad said I would!”

“Your dad didn’t say anything like that,” she replies, crouching down and embracing Viktor. “You won’t grow hair out of your eyes. I promise.”

A muffled “Okay...” comes from the general area of Yekaterina’s shoulder. Viktor worms away from the hug and wipes his eyes.

Grigoriy, by contrast, feels completely lost at sea. His wife gives him another meaningful look, kisses him on the cheek once more (to the disgusted groans of Viktor), and leaves. Where was he? Cells, DNA, right…

“So the DNA tells your cells what to do. It tells them how to look, which is why people have different colors of hair, skin, and eyes. Your DNA comes from your parents, which is why you look like your mom and I…”

“But I don’t! My hair!”

“Sometimes the DNA doesn’t… do its job,” Grigoriy adds, pointing to the diagram. “These pairs tell your DNA what to do. Sometimes they get… mixed up or damaged. Then you have a mutation. Sometimes these mutations are good, sometimes they are bad… ah, and so you have some mutations.”

“Are mine bad?”

Grigoriy squeezes his eyes shut. How is he supposed to answer this? Yes, Viktor, they’re bad. You’re missing a finger and we had to have surgery done to give you a good quality-of-life. And even that didn’t fix everything. That would just make his son convinced that he was somehow defective. No, Viktor, they’re good. Some people dye their hair to look like what you have. That was just a lie. Maybe some did, but fashionable hair wasn’t worth these costs…

“They… they’re just mutations. They don’t make you bad. They make you… unique. Special.”

“Oh!”

“And…” here is where the real point of this comes through, “sometimes, people may say rude things about your mutations. Like when you go to school in a few months.”

“Because I’m special and they’re not?”

That is certainly one way to look at it. Should he dissuade Viktor from that line of reasoning? Tell him the truth: that children are cruel because their parents are, and that they will take any sign of weakness as a signal to attack? That Grigoriy and Yekaterina can’t be there for him at school, can’t defend him from unkind words and rumors? That he will carry these signs throughout his life, signs that Zaun’s atmosphere is toxic… signs that his parents, perhaps, were too old. That some would say that Viktor should not have been brought into this world.

How could Grigoriy ever package such harsh truths into something a child could understand? Maybe in a few years, maybe when Viktor is a teenager… maybe then he could be told these facts without them destroying him. He needs to be nurtured now, the flame of his curiosity tended to so it can grow into a fire. If this misbelief can guard him against those who would snuff his flame out, then there’s only one answer Grigoriy can give. He shuts the textbook with a thud.

“Yes, exactly that. So don’t listen to anyone who tells you that you’re anything else.”

#writing | journals stored away #//enjoy a kid viktor and his parents!#//forgot to post this here after i threw it at ao3 lol :/

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stephhannes · 4 years

Text

two years

nathan has been dead for as long as we were together.

every person that i’ve talked to, every book that i’ve read, every sign that i’ve seen has pointed to “the second year after losing a partner is the hardest.”

this year wasn’t easy- but at least it made sense (for a little bit). in all honesty, i didn’t think i’d see the second year. the first year was so draining. i was so directionless. at least this year, i dug my heels in somewhere and gave it my best shot. i moved out of my mom’s house, i got three jobs, i lost fifty pounds, i took some genuine steps forward.

it didn’t always feel like progress, though.

it hasn’t felt like progress until now, when i’m sitting down trying to collect all my thoughts from the year. this year has felt rocky. every step forward came with two steps backward- i moved out of my mom’s house, and then a couple of weeks later accidentally ran over a dog and had to deal with not having a car for a little over a month. i started consistently going to the gym, and then i majorly sprained my ankle when i fell down a flight of stairs at work, which left me unable to work out for a couple of months, (and then when i started going back, i re-sprained the ankle while literally just walking down a sidewalk). i was depressed, stressed, but surprisingly well-dressed (aka i got my first professional haircut in 6 years and discovered the joy of a wide-legged pant).

and then, of course a pandemic hit and i gained ten pounds back, moved back into my mom’s house and started making more money on unemployment than i could have ever even dreamed of from physically working my three jobs.

there are some days where i’m proud of myself for doing what i’ve done this year- but every time i find myself positive for an extended amount of time, the voice in the back of my head is there, ready to make me feel like it’s all for nothing. i’ve said it a million times- i’ve got my whole life ahead of me, and i don’t want it. not without nathan. it all feels empty.

i’m trying though, and as someone said one time- “it’s the thought that counts.”

+++

i wanted to keep those last couple of paragraphs in, because they’re also how i feel- but the other day i had a moment of clarity. i was reflecting on what august 3rd, 2018 looked like. and i remembered how proud nathan was of me for doing so many things that seem like the bare minimum to me now. i did all of my errands in one day without taking a week to accomplish a few tasks, i read a book, i cooked dinner, i showered. he was proud of me, because at that time, accomplishing those things was a major feat for me.

the version of myself i am now, in august 2020 has no issue doing those things. i find it very easy to set out on a list of action items and get them done within a day. i consistently cook dinner for myself, and actually really enjoy it now. i still maybe don’t shower as often as i should, but that’s just who i am at the core of my being, honestly. i’ve read 23 books so far this year, literally before writing this blog i sat down and read an entire novel. it’s hard to imagine that the period of time between moving to philly and nathan’s death was probably my rock bottom, but it really was. even on my worst days, in the middle of the worst weeks in the last two years, i haven’t been as dangerously depressed as i was back then.

+++

i keep accidentally telling people that i’m 23 years old when they ask my age. i think it’s because these last two years haven’t felt real. it’s weird, because the two years that nathan and i were together flew by so quickly. when he first moved to new york, we were dreading having to spend 9 months long-distance. we thought it would go by painfully slow, but it flew by.

and then our year in new york flew by.

we accomplished so much in those two years- three degrees between the two of us, living in three different states, undoing years of trauma, the usual.

time has seemed to stand still since he died. i laid in bed for a year, and then upgraded to laying in bed for only 16 hours a day for the second year.

i still haven’t figured out what i want to do, where i want to be, who i’m trying to become- and i think that’s contributing to the stagnation i’ve been feeling.

for years, being able to take care of nathan was a huge percentage of what i felt was my purpose. when we were in high school, my life revolved around dropping everything that was going on with me to be able to be there for him when he was struggling, on occasion he’d return the gesture.

when we were in college, and weren’t actively in each others’ lives, i grew up a lot. i discovered self-esteem, and learned how to be emotionally self-sufficient. as a child, i grew up lonely, and had always been pretty independent- in high school i let a little bit of that guard down to let nathan in, but in college i cemented my inability to accept help from other people. when nathan and i first started seriously talking again, i remember him trying to tiptoe around my feelings, and i was like “dude, i’m really not as sensitive as i was back in high school, you don’t have to treat me like a china doll, i can handle whatever you’re trying to say,” and i remember him responding with “you’re right. you’ve come a long way from that girl i met ten years ago.”

when we started dating, i resigned aspects of my personality. i tried to be more vulnerable. i tried to be less combative and defensive. when we got together, i changed my entire life for our relationship. i already had a job lined up for after graduation, but when we got together, i immediately gave it up to commit to move to new york after i graduated- to be with nathan and support him through grad school. i remember the day he told me that he wouldn’t do the same thing for me. and it hurt. realistically, i know that it made sense for us to base our life around his career- obviously, i could have found a job anywhere, and no matter where it was, i wouldn’t have made any money. obviously, it made sense for both of us to invest in his success over mine- but it was hard to recognize that i so easily gave up everything to support his goals, when he wouldn’t have done the same thing for me, and he was so easily able to say that to me. this came up a lot when we were talking about our plans for the future. when we moved to philly, i got an opportunity to interview for a dream job, and while i was so excited about it- nathan discouraged me from pursuing it- because it was in theatre, which meant working nights and weekends, which meant that our schedules would become incompatible and we would never see each other.

it was a valid point, so we compromised. i’d go into the second interview for the job, but negotiate different hours and if that didn’t pan out, i wouldn’t take the job. nathan died a couple of days before the interview so i guess that problem resolved itself.

it would be unfair for me to sit here and paint a picture of him never doing anything for me though, that’s not the truth. i remember being shocked when he decided to not move forward with pursuing a phd. it was partially because that was the way the cookie crumbled, but a huge part of that decision was because he wanted to be able to spend time with me, and he wouldn’t have been able to if he was in a phd program.

i don’t regret setting my goals aside for him, it made sense. but more importantly, that’s what i wanted to do. i wanted to do whatever i could to make sure he had everything he wanted. he deserved it.

but it’s been weird to recognize all the things i subconsciously stopped doing throughout our relationship. i used to dye my hair once a week- but i didn’t dye my hair the entire time we were in nyc. additionally, my hair was the longest it’d ever been since like 2007 while we were together. i used to have a quirky sense of style, but my outfits in nyc were pretty boring, even more boring once we moved to philly. i think part of that was influenced by the fact that when i moved to nyc i was only able to take one suitcase of clothes, and focused on basics that would be easily multipurposed, and i couldn’t afford to upkeep haircut/color myself anymore, but i think part of it was influenced by this inherent desire to not be unattractive to nathan. a few months ago, i got my nose pierced, which was something that was definitely not on the table when nathan and i were together- and now i think my only personality trait is having a pierced nose, i can’t imagine my face without it. a few weeks ago i straight up shaved off half of my hair. and like, yeah it looks stupid, but it’s so freeing to be able to look stupid without worrying about what anyone else has to say about it. i’ve never cared what people think about my style, which is obvious in the way that i wore cat sweaters to school every day senior year of high school, and literally just everything i did between the years of 2005 and 2009- but i did always care about what nathan thought.

it’s been strange re-discovering these things. it’s felt weird to rebuild my personality, my interests, my goals without nathan in the picture.

+++

i’m not saying that i’m a person that believes that ‘everything happens for a reason’ (mostly because i think that’s a cop-out. it’s easy to justify anything as ‘happening for a reason’ when there’s enough distance between the event and the outcomes) but hypothetically, if i were, it would make a lot of our relationship make sense.

i’ve always been thankful that we never dated in high school- we would have straight up destroyed each others’ lives. we were both super toxic, and immature, and it wouldn’t have ended well. of course, when i was 16 and things weren’t working out, i thought it was the end of the world- but in retrospect, the people that we were in high school weren’t romantically compatible. i think it’s really special that we were able to have a successful relationship after the 10 years of drama. i think that it’s really special that when we were apart, we grew up into two markedly different puzzle pieces that ended up fitting together perfectly. i think it’s really special that no matter what happened, no matter what city we were in, we always came back to each other periodically. no matter what.

when we got together, the timing wasn’t ideal- but it was the right time. we both knew that we would end up together at some point- i don’t think either of us would have been able to rest until it happened, and i think it’s really special that when we decided to take that chance, we didn’t know if things would work out, necessarily- but they did.

if i were to hypothetically believe that everything happens for a reason, i think it was a gift to me to be with someone that had already lost a partner. i learned a lot about differentiating between aspects of his personality that were genuinely who he was, and what was learned as a coping mechanism. i learned a lot about giving him space to grieve, how to be gentle with certain feelings and emotions. i learned a lot about how to push him to overcome trauma, but not push too far. all of that has given me a framework for what to expect and need from a partner in the future when i start seriously dating again.

if i thought that everything happened for a reason, the reason for our relationship was to teach me something. the difference between nathan and i was that he was a serial monogamist, constantly in a long-term relationship, and i was the exact opposite. by the time we got together, he’d been through the motions of dealing with someone for an extended period of time. and for me, our relationship was like a crash course in monogamy. moved in together as soon as we could, engaged on our 2nd anniversary. with the way that things panned out, i’m glad that we never took a break, that we moved quickly. i learned a lot about the importance of consistency and commitment.

but more importantly, i think our relationship was for him. it is infinitely heartbreaking to recognize that there are so many things that he will never get the chance to accomplish, so many things he’ll never see- but on the other hand of that, i watched him have a full character arc. it’s sad that he didn’t get to exist in this reality of being genuinely happy for longer, but i’m so grateful that he was able to rest there for a little while, at least. i’ll never forget all of the moments where he was so touched by me showing him what i thought of as just the bare minimum of human decency. there was one night that i stayed on the phone with him for 6 hours because he was having a bad night, and the next day he was so emotional because that was “the most loving thing” anyone’s ever done for him, but to me it was a no-brainer, of course i’m going to stay on the phone with you when you’re having a bad night, that’s what i’m here for. at the beginning of our relationship, he was nervous to be vulnerable around me, and every time he was scared to talk about something i’d have to remind him, “you’ve known me for 11 years, i’ve seen a lot, you’ve told me a lot, have i ever shamed you for anything you’d told me?” and he’d remember that, no, i’ve always been level-headed and understanding- and eventually we were able to work through things in a much more productive way.

i think a lot about all the things he was scared to talk to me about, and the thing i think about the most is that he was scared because someone in the past had given him reason to feel ashamed. i hate that for years, he felt like he had to compartmentalize himself.

and i remember after years of showing him this grace, of giving him all the space in the world to be exactly who he was- the day when i finally started seeing him sharing these parts of himself with people that weren’t me. i eventually started to see the walls he had built coming down, a brick at the time, but coming down nonetheless. and i was so proud.

it’s hard for me to let go of our relationship. i miss nathan every day- but i also have to keep reminding myself that i served my purpose. i did what i was supposed to do. i was a good, consistent partner. i loved him, and supported him, and gave him everything i could. the point of marriage is to stand by someone’s side until they die, and that’s exactly what i did. there’s nothing else i can do. our relationship was good, and it was short, but it was full of excitement and love and growth. it was everything that i dreamt of when i was 15 years old and had no idea what a relationship should look like. it was everything that i dreamt of when nathan and i were hesitant about trying to pursue a relationship.

it was everything.

+++

at a work training last year, we did an icebreaker where we paired up and randomly selected one question from a stack of prompts to answer and talk about with your partner. the question i got was “what’s the bravest thing you’ve ever done?”

prior to nathan’s death, i don’t think i’ve ever been brave. i’ve always been timid, bravery was never an outward expression for me- maybe there were moments where i was quietly brave, but i would have never described anything i’d done as brave.

my answer to the question was “oh, i guess probably when i had to give nathan cpr”

here’s the thing, honestly when i think about that day, and the subsequent weeks, i’m in shock at how capable i was. for the first time in my life, in the midst of a literal crisis, i was calm, and solution-oriented. that’s not who i am, i love to catastrophize about the tiniest things.

i wouldn’t have been able to do it without nathan. without his endless patience. without his ability to be both firm with me when i was letting my anxiety get ahold of me, yet gentle enough to not hurt my feelings. without the years of him believing in me, even when i didn’t believe in myself. we set each other up for success.

+++

i feel like there’s been a lot of negativity in this blog, which isn’t the impression i’m trying to leave. i’m gonna be honest with y’all- with all this free time in quarantine, i’ve found myself out here revisiting stages of grief that i left behind months ago just for funsies. except nothing about it is what i would describe as funsies. it’s been a lot of anger, and i think that’s why there’s this underlying bitterness in what i’ve been saying.

it’s easier to get angry, to try to distance myself from the relationship, to make it seem like things weren’t great because it’s infinitely harder to remember how much i loved nathan and how much love i have left within me to give to him.

i’ve found myself awake in the middle of the night, revisiting old arguments, thinking of all the things i wish i’d said, revisiting moments where i’d wished i’d shown a little more backbone, revisiting moments where i wish i’d been gentler, or quicker to apologize. the problem is that i’m a lot more emotionally intelligent now- but obviously it’s easy to be a genius when you have two years to reflect on things, to dive in, to unpack everything and analyze it.

when i spend time thinking about these shortcomings, obviously they find their way into my writing. that’s just the reality of trying to be a reliable narrator. not every character is perfect.

the only way i know how to keep nathan close to me, to keep him around is writing about the time we spent together. and the reality of it is, that time was tumultuous for a solid 7 years. it’s been weird trying to navigate the line of “what are things that i want to keep just for us, and what are things i’m ok with sharing publicly?” i have an enormous online footprint. i’ve been a public figure online for like 10 years. i’ve always been on social media. i’m fine with that for myself- but my relationship with nathan was private, especially once we actually started dating. when it came to our relationship, neither of us publicly shared much. for awhile after he died, part of me wanted to keep everything for myself- not let anyone in. but then i remembered this sentiment that nathan shared with me time and time again- “i just want everyone to know that i’m yours.”

the other day i was looking through old instagram posts, and the one i made for our engagement literally just said “y’all ever uhhhh...get engaged?” and that was it. and that felt completely appropriate. i’ve always been skeeved out when couples post overly romantic garbage on social media. what are you trying to prove? why is it so important to you for people who barely know you to read a post and know how ~madly in love~ you are? performativity in relationships makes me so uncomfortable, and i’m really thankful that neither nathan nor i were interested in that at all- people that didn’t know us didn’t get to make conclusions about our relationship, and the people that did know us were able to make their own conclusions based on how they saw us interacting with each other, or how we’d talk about each other to our friends when we weren’t in the same room together. all of that time that others spend on taking a good picture for instagram, or writing a perfect caption, or whatever was time that nathan and i got to have just for ourselves. we spent as much time together as we could.

my disdain of performativity runs even deeper than that, though. i’m even a little uncomfortable when a couples’ public wedding vows are too intimate. i always had two sets. there was the one that i read at nathan’s funeral- that was what i had planned on saying publicly at our wedding, but there was also another much more extensive letter that i was going to give to him privately.

i feel like when i made that engagement post on instagram and facebook, a lot of people were like “wow that seems sudden!” but everyone that really knew us was like “oh hell yeah, i’m surprised it took this long” my coworkers literally predicted my engagement before i had even considered that it was going to happen. when i left work early for our anniversary someone straight up was like “if you don’t come back on tuesday with a ring on your finger i’m sending you back home.” because they’d heard the way i talked about nathan, they’d seen us interact with each other. it made sense.

we made it a point to not actively talk shit about each other to anyone else. which i think was really helpful for me specifically, a person who loves to hold a grudge- every time he did something that mildly annoyed me, i wouldn’t just pop off and vent to whoever, i’d just talk to him about it and the issue would resolve itself. on bigger issues, i would talk to my close friends about it but never in a “my boyfriend sucks” kind of way, just in a “this is an issue i’ve been having and idk the best way to resolve it, what are your thoughts?” kind of way.

for some reason, it’s always surprised me when i realized that nathan actually talked about me when i wasn’t in the room. like, obviously he would, but it was always surprising to me. when i first met his friends, a couple of people were like “oh!!! we’ve heard so much about you.” and i was just like wow i didn’t think that you’d even know that i existed. sometimes when i’d show up to a party someone would be like “so i heard that (celebrity) showed up at your work the other day, how was that?” and i would be like how do you know these things about me, and then i’d remember that nathan was talking about me and it was always super heartwarming.

after nathan died, a few people mentioned some particularly nice things he’d said about me when i wasn’t in the room, and every time someone would mention something, i’d be like “wow! i can’t believe this man that obviously loves me also loves me when i’m not around!” it’s like i’m a baby that still hasn’t learned about object permanence.

+++

i feel bad for not writing more this year. excluding this blog, i’ve only posted twice since last august. a big reason for that is every time i sit down to try to write something, whether it be a facebook post on a significant anniversary, or a full-length blog, i get discouraged because for right now, i feel like i’ve said everything i can say. i feel like the first year after nathan died, i was great at being poignant and sharing these little insights and as more time passes, as these anniversaries come again, i don’t have a better way to say what i’ve already said.

the core of every post is the same- i miss nathan. i love nathan. and for as long as i can find ways to say it, i will.

most days, missing nathan feels the same. it’s a dull ache that’s always there, but that i’ve grown accustomed to, that i’ve grown to live with. on occasion, it’s a more acute pain. the other night, i cried because i had the thought, “i wonder if my cats miss nathan,” i think they do, but for some reason, that thought made missing him hurt a little more that day.

i still mostly only sleep on my side of the bed, but the other day i got upset because i realized that my full-sized mattress seemed small. it’s never felt like that before.

the first year of our relationship, we shared twin sized beds, and it never seemed too small, not even with the two of us. when we upgraded to a full, it felt huge, it seemed like there was so much space between us when we were on our respective sides- by the morning we always ended up on the same side, literally attached to each other. the other night i found myself not understanding how i’d lived with a twin sized mattress my entire life, i felt claustrophobic with just myself and my laptop in the bed. it was just another physical reminder of how different things are, how different my perspective is now that nathan is gone.

the world feels a lot smaller without nathan in it.

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from-the-ashes-au · 5 years

Text

Chapter One

Months had gone by since the twins had seen their doppelganger on the news, and the two had made little progress on locating the man known as “jacksepticeye.” Every time it felt like they’d made some progress, something would send them back to square one. At one point, Marvin was fully prepared to teleport them to the Youtuber’s house, but on the day they had prepared to go, Jack had gone to America for some convention, and the magician didn’t trust himself to get them that far. The next time they were ready, Marv’s spell backfired, nearly sending him into a catatonic state. He had used so much of his energy just to keep himself conscious, when the next opportunity to find Jack arose, the brothers had decided to do it the old fashioned way.

“Marvin!” Jackie yelled up to the apartment from the street below. “Bro, let’s go! We’re gonna miss our train!”

He was met with silence, but he assumed his brother was already on his way down. Jackie lingered at the doorstep a minute longer, waiting for Marv to swing the door open, before starting down the street towards the station. With each footfall, he heard the distinct crunch of fallen leaves, and with each snap he grew more and more aware that he was alone. Marvin, as usual, had fallen behind, and Jackie was eager to start their journey. He made it as far as the corner, when he heard a crackle from behind him. Instinctively, he turned and swung out his leg. He felt the tip of his sneaker graze something, before it caught in someone’s hand.

Marvin let out a sharp breath. With his free hand, he brushed the edge of his nose, wiping away the muck that Jackie’s shoe had left behind.

“Your reflexes are great, but you’ve gotta work on your intuition, bud.”

Jackie pulled his foot free from his brother’s grip, causing him to stumble backwards. “I knew it was you,” he pouted, his eyes narrowed. “I was just testing your reflexes.”

The two started to bicker, and Marvin raised his hand, ready to strike. The hero easily dodged his brother’s fist, chuckling at the attempt. The smaller brother huffed, turning his chin up in defeat. A breeze blew past them, carrying with it a familiar sound Marvin could barely recognize. He shuddered, and tried to shake the feeling it had brought. Above them, the sky opened up, unleashing a torrent of rain. With nothing to keep them dry, the pair started to jog toward the train station. By the time they arrived, the rain had lessened, and their train had begun to board. They managed to slip between the doors just before they shut, and the train let out a sharp whistle. Their journey was off to a strange start, and unbeknownst to them, it would be far from a simple one.

Lights off, camera off, game saved.

Jack leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms towards the ceiling. His day had been ordinary, the majority of it spent recording videos for his channel. As usual, he had forgotten to eat since breakfast. His stomach growled knowingly as he took out his phone, placing an order for his typical late-night craving.

Turning his attention back to his computer, Jack decided it was time to check his social media accounts. Tumblr was his first stop, full of the usual kind hearted posts and talented artwork, and then on to Twitter. His timeline was cluttered with various news outlets and fans responding to his most recent announcement: “YouTube Sensation Jacksepticeye Denies Rumors He Is London’s Masked Hero.”

A few months ago, a man in a red hood had been spotted in London, leaving petty criminals beaten and tied up in alleys. Onlookers had managed to occasionally capture grainy photos and video of the vigilante, who the internet thought bore a resemblance to Jack. The Youtuber had realized quickly that he had to make a statement, disavowing the rumors and clearing the air. He couldn’t afford to have any more negative associations with his brand, so he addressed it the only way he knew how: with a video.

It had been generally well received, with most of the comments positive. Fans had flocked to his support, claiming that they knew Jack would never hurt anyone. Plus, as some so eagerly pointed out, Jack was in Brighton, a good enough distance away from London that he couldn’t be popping back and forth too quickly. A few statements stuck out at him, the kind of hateful comments that would usually put him in a bad mood, but this time was different. He knew he wasn’t secretly patrolling the streets of London, so he couldn’t be bothered by those who claimed he was lying. His mind started to drift, wondering how someone who looked so similar to him could be so nearby, when his thoughts were interrupted by the doorbell.

“That was quick,” he thought. Jack grabbed his wallet off the desk, and made his way to the door. Excitedly, he swung it open, ready to stuff his face with hot, gooey, greasy pizza. Unfortunately, waiting on the other side was not his cheesy delight. He felt the smile slip from his face, quickly replaced by a look of bewilderment. Standing in front of him were two identical young men. Identical to each other, and identical to him.

The longer Jack stood there, the more differences he started to pick out. The one on the right was taller than the other, with coffee-colored hair cropped short on the sides, and the tips peeked out from underneath a grey beanie. His eyes were almost an electric blue, hidden behind a pair of rectangular glasses. He had a fresh cut over his eyebrow, the crimson color a stark contrast to his warm ivory skin. Aside from his height, nothing about him really stood out.

On his left was the shorter of the two, whose hair was dyed a dyed a brilliant green. The roots of his hair were the color of chocolate, either untouched by the dye or had simply faded with time. It had been pulled into a loose bun, with strands that escaped falling just above his shoulders. His eyes were similar to Jack’s, a cold greyish-blue that seemingly sparkled in the dark. His figure was distinctly opposite to his partner’s, a much slimmer, willowy shape that suited his posture. His long coat hung awkwardly off his shoulders, and the collar was turned up to block the wind.

Jack could’ve stayed there all night deciding what made each of the three of them unique, but there was the one fact that none of them could ignore: looking at each other was like looking in a mirror. The silence continued for what felt like hours, waiting for one of them to speak up,

“You’re not pizza.” Jack had finally regained his composure.

The shorter of the two let out a breath. “And you’re not us, and yet you have our face,” he replied, pushing his way into the house.

Jack turned on his heel, grabbing the intruder by his shoulder. “H-hey hold on a minute! You can’t just come in here uninvited!” He reached out to pull him back, but his body felt like it had been frozen in place. The man turned to face him, his eyes now glowing a bright emerald color. Jack could’ve sworn they’d been blue before. From behind, the taller one sighed, then lifted Jack by his shoulders like he was weightless. He heard the door click shut behind them. He could feel his heart pounding in his ears as the tall stranger carried him into the living room, setting him down gently onto the couch. Slowly, his arms started to loosen, and he noticed that the shorter one of the pair had sprawled out across his favorite armchair. The other was perched awkwardly on the edge of the couch, watching Jack with an intense fascination.

“Who are you?” Jack demanded once his mouth could move again.

“I’m Jackie, and that’s my brother Marvin,” the taller one spoke quickly. “This was all his idea. He wanted to barge in here so you couldn’t turn us away I just wanted to talk to you like normal people but no, this drama queen had to do it the illegal way!”

The shorter one, Marvin, sat up and pointed an accusatory finger at his brother. “If we had done it your way,” he hissed, “we’d still be standing at the door like two idiots! Who in their right mind would just let two strangers into their house?!”

They started to argue, their voices slowly growing in volume, before Jack stood up, interrupting their bickering.

“Both of you, shut up! You still haven’t really answered my question: who are you? Why are you in my house?”

“Oh right, yeah,” Jackie laughed awkwardly, scratching at his head. “Marv saw you on the news and thought you were me! Which is weird, since we don’t have any other family, and you look like us.”

Marvin rose to his feet, brushing his hands off on his tattered jeans. “Yeah, that’s about it. Now we’re here to get answers.”

“Answers to what?”

Marvin started to pace the room, his feet barely making a sound as they hit the ground. “Oh, just some simple questions. Like, where were you born, what’s your real name, are you under the influence of any demons, who are your parents?”

“Wait, what was that middle one?”

“Demons. Do you know any?”

Both Jack and Jackie turned to look at Marvin, the same expression of confusion on their faces.

“Marv, why the hell are you asking him about demons?!” Jackie exclaimed, giving his brother a puzzled look.

Marvin ignored the hero’s inquiry, and took a step closer to Jack. His duplicate flinched as he approached, watching as Marv’s hands started to spark. His eyes shone in the darkness, and Jack sat motionless, watching as his copy circled. He blinked, and suddenly, Marvin was inches away from his face.

“I will ask you again: do you know any demons?”

Jack swallowed, struggling to find his voice. “N-no, what the hell?” He finally managed.

The answer he had produced did not satisfy the magician’s curiosity. In the blink of an eye, a flame leapt up in Marvin’s hand. Jack could feel the heat on his face, beads of sweat starting to roll down his forehead. Marvin cleared his throat.

“Jack, I don’t know how else to ask you. Where is the demon?!” His eyes, this time the color of murky water, radiating an emotion Jack couldn’t quite identify.

“There is no demon! What the hell! Demons don’t exist!” Jack had had enough of the interrogation, though his voice was torn between fear and outrage.

Apparently, his response had finally been correct. The fire in Marvin’s hand dissipated as quickly as it had appeared. He held it out to Jack in surrender.

“Sorry, we had to be sure.”

Jack’s face was blank, still perplexed by the events that had quickly spiraled out of his control. “You had fire. In your hand.”

Marvin nodded.

“And...he picked me up like I was made of air...!”

Jackie nodded.

“So, can I ask a question now?”

The twins nodded.

Jack cleared his throat. “I guess what I want to know is, what are you?”

The pair exchanged a glance, deciding how to explain themselves. Before Marvin could stop him, Jackie pulled his mask out of his pocket and set it on the table.

“I’m Jackieboy Man.”

“And I一” Marvin flicked his wrist, as a cat-shaped mask started to cover his face一 “am Marvin. Just Marvin. I’m not fancy like Jackie-boy here.

Jack’s eyes flicked back and forth between the two, before he doubled over with laughter. His eyes began to water, and he wiped the tears away with the back of his hand.

“We share....a face...” He managed between fits of laughter. “But we clearly don’t share creativity. What kind of name is ‘Jackieboy Man’?”

“I thought it was cool,” Jackie mumbled, crossing his arms defensively.

“Sure, it’s cool if you don’t give a shit about having a secret identity! You need a better name, like based on what you can do or something. What can you do?”

Jackie shrugged. “I’m fast and strong, and sometimes lightning shoots out of me. Marv’s really the cool one, if you ask me.”

“No one did ask you,” Marvin grumbled from the corner. He opened his mouth to say something sassy, when Jack interrupted his thoughts.

“How old are you guys?” He asked.

“We’re 25.”

“So you’re four years younger than me...” Jack scratched absentmindedly at his beard.

“...and?” Marvin prompted, annoyance in his voice.

“Your age lines up with Chase’s story, and with mine.”

“Who?”

From around the corner, a familiar face poked out.

“Yo, what’s up guys?” He grinned, tipping his hat in a mock salute. “Name’s Chase. Pleased to meet ya, bros!”

#from the ashes #from the ashes au #fta main story #from the ashes chapter one #fta chapter one #book one: strike the spark #from the ashes book one #jacksepticeye #jse egos #marvin the magnificent #jackieboy man #chase brody #septic writing

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prorevenge · 5 years

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A Story of a 15 Year Old Badass

WARNING: this is really long, but it’s worth the read!

When I was 14, I started high school, like most 14 year olds are scheduled to do, but I really didn’t feel ready.

Even though I was in an extremely dark place, I was really hopeful that high school would be the opportunity I needed to get my life back. On the first day of school, I was boy crazy because I was hanging out with other girls who were and I figured that it could be a fix for my depression. My mother is a pastor, so other than getting prayed for and praying, there was nothing being done to treat my depression and the only thing my mother could think of was to spank me and punish me whenever I self-harmed or isolated myself. I spent the entirety of my first day, ogling boys and envying girls I compared myself to. At the end of the school day, I was walking to my bus and saying bye to my friends and bumped into a white boy, with long, very curly hair and coke bottle glasses. He had a bandanna wrapped across his head, rainbow tie-dye shirt, and a faux cow suede vest with fringes. He was holding his skateboard in one hand and smoking a cigarette with the other. When we looked at each other, all I could say was “my bad, dude...i respect your vibe” and I walked away, occasionally looking back at him and saw that he was still looking at me and I waved before getting on my bus and he waved back.

The next day, I asked everyone if they knew “a hippy looking boy with coke bottle glasses” and finally someone said, they knew Tony. They continued to inform me that he was a junior, he was a huge pot head, and he didn’t “believe in relationships, so, aside from his ex, no girl can tie him down”. They said they saw always him in the Drama hallway, with all of the theater kids. I made a plan with my best friend, Keke, to go to the Drama hallway and pretend to sign up for the play after school. As soon as we went, we were greeted with a round of applause and hugs from the older thespians, who were thrilled to see fresh meat show an interesting in their pride and joy. We introduced ourselves and, after announcing my name out loud so all thirty-sum people could hear me, one person immediately said “Iris*...a girl named Iris...nice to meet you”, and as you suspect, it was Tony.

(my name is a dead giveaway of my identity because it’s a boy’s name and there aren’t a lot of girls who share my name)

To speed things along, I ended up joining the Drama club, primarily because I felt like it was the perfect niche for me but also because Tony was in it. I signed up to do hair and makeup for the fall play and tony was a part of stage crew, where they stay after school every day and assist the contractor in building a custom design set for each production. I asked him if there were any girls in stage crew, and aside for one older girl who graduated already, it was mainly a small group of guys. As you can guess, I joined and so did Keke because we were adamant about having each other’s backs. I was partially interested in woodwork and building at the time (I was 14 and I managed to mount my TV to my wall by myself) so I was looking forward to learning how to use a nail gun, a saw machine, stain wood, design something, take precise measurements, and have everything come together into something beautiful. After week two of high school, Keke and I were staying after school every day to work on the set for the play and I was able to get to know Tony, without looking too desperate. He asked me to be his girlfriend on the last Friday of September. I told him that it felt like the last true day of summer, and I also told him I never had a boyfriend or kissed a guy before. We had an established routine of going to the lake, parallel to my high school, and eating lunch before stage crew started (we had from 2:15-3:30, to be exact). He kissed me after I asked him if I could try his cigarette and started cough after one pull. We walked back to campus holding hand and it felt like we were making our debut as a couple because almost everyone looked at us. It was like in those high school movies, where everyone’s attention is on the focal point and it’s really dramatic. I felt accomplished because I, a freshman, was the one who tied down Tony Bologna, one of the ten most longed for boys in my high school. Little did I know, he was the biggest can of worms in the tristate area and my dumbass opened the fucking can, y’all. My brother, who was also a junior, told me I was dumb and advised me to end things with him, but I assumed he was just being protective of me.

As we dated, he taught me everything I was willing to learn about. I learned how to skateboard, how to smoke cigarettes without coughing, how to buy them without looking like I wasn’t old enough and which type of cigarettes to smoke. I learned the different levels and intensities of kissing. I learned how to navigate the hallways of high school without looking like a lost duckling and I smelled weed, for the first time intentionally. A girl, who was senior in the drama club and I worshipped on a semi-regular basis, came up to me and told me that heard a rumor that I was dating Tony and wanted to let me know. I told her that it wasn’t a rumor and her entire tone shifted. She asked me if I was sure we were officially together because he has a reputation to go for vulnerable freshman just to manipulate them and have sex, and I told her that we’d already been serious for about a month and I was a virgin but he respected the fact that I wasn’t ready. As soon as I said I was a virgin, her eyebrows went up and she laughed in my face. She apologized for laughing, and said “I’m not laughing at you being a virgin, I just didn’t realize Tony wasn’t addicted to sex anymore...when we were together, all he wanted to do was have sex with me so I broke up with him. I didn’t realize he’s a new person now, and I never really fell out of love with him...thank you for letting me know!”

I should have paid more attention to what she said about the sex thing, but I was so jealous. She was THE ex, and she was a senior, and she was such a confident badass. I told him about the conversation during our daily lunch at the lake and he said that “even though 30% of me would still date Sam*, and 80% of me would definitely still fuck her, I’m crazy about you and I don’t want to lose you”, and I thought that was the most romantic thing ever. In an effort to compete with her, I started adjusting my style and wore more black. I wasn’t willing to give up my virginity to compete with her, but I knew that they both smoked weed and drank. I heard rumors about him being a drug dealer and selling weed, acid, molly, coke, shrooms, and etc., but I didn’t believe it to be true for a second. In October, he told me about a halloween/birthday party his friend was throwing and ask if I could come. I meticulously planned it out: I asked my mom if I could spend the night at a friend’s house nearby and she happily agreed, thinking that my mental health was finally improving. I went to CVS and used my lunch money to buy liquid eyeliner and dark red lipstick. After school, we went to his house and I met his very sweet and liberal parents. We stayed in the movie area of the basement and watched Benchwarmers and made out the whole time. He directed my hand to where he wanted it (y’all know what I’m saying) and showed me the specific motion. I didn’t feel confident enough to continue so I straddled him and attempted to grind in skinny jeans. After ten minutes of that nonsense, I felt like a new woman and he was definitely proud of me. We went upstairs to eat dinner shortly after and being in the presence of a functional family that loved and respected each other made me feel so uncomfortable, so I was pretty silence. After we all ate dessert and watched “Adventure Time” in the living room, he drove me to my friend’s house and we planned to meet up at the party. I wore black shorts, with fishnets underneath, combat boots, and a grey cropped sweater with skulls on it. My friend did my make up and we walked 10 blocks, in late October weather without coats at 10:30PM, to the party. When we got there, we saw grown ass adults, between 18-30 years old, and we thought we were at the wrong place. I saw his ex, Sam, and realized I was exactly where I needed to be. A 26 year old man greeted me, saying he was Tony’s best friend, and gave me a vodka bottle, filled with what I thought was just orange juice. I never tasted alcohol so I didn’t realize that it was the weird taste I noticed in the orange juice and I drank the entire thing without really pausing, on an empty stomach. As soon as Tony came, several guys rushed greet him and I stood up and tried to walk towards him...and that vodka HIT me like a goddamn truck. I threw my body on him and he immediately knew I was drunk. He started asking me how I got drunk and what I had to drink and why I drank so much and repeatedly asked if I was okay. He sat down in my chair and placed me on his lap and fed me water, without making it obvious to people that I was really drunk. Drunk me appreciated the care and attention he gave me in that moment and, in combination with my first dry hump experience earlier, I was feeling really confident and in love. I whispered in his ear that I loved him and he whispered it back, then I started whispering about doing a bunch of sexual things with him and to him and rubbing my butt against him, without realizing that we were sitting in a circle of people passing around three blunts. I felt Sam looking at us a few times and I decided to look her dead in the eye after passionately kissing Tony. I felt like such a badass, so when Tony was hitting one of the blunts, I took it from his hands and took a good hit to celebrate my victories, and coughed my lungs out. When Tony was ready to leave, he drove my friend and I back to her house and, after I changed and wiped my make up off, her older sister dropped me off at my house. That was where things took off for me.

I managed to do a variation of this routine for the entire school year. My parents were convinced that I wasn’t depressed anymore, but being around his stable family so often made me resentful of mine and I always picked a fight with them, by criticizing the way they always dismissed me and ignored how badly my mental health was. Tony and his friends taught me how to roll a blunt and a joint and how to handle my liquor. I found solace in my pot head boyfriend and his unemployed adult friends, and I clung to him as my feelings got stronger. He suggested ecstasy as a remedy for my depression and, after taking it, I decided to stop self harming completely and I grew even more infatuated with him. In March, he was arrested for having an ounce of weed, a ziplock back with molly, and an entire sheet of acid wrapped in aluminum foil, in his locker. He wasn’t allowed to return to school until the next year and he had to take drug classes and attend meetings every day. After a month, he was allowed to take night classes so he wouldn’t fall behind on school. For some reason, I thought that WE were going through this tough time and I kept insisting that we were going to “get through this together”. It annoyed the shit out of him and he became really distant for the rest of the school year but I didn’t want to push him away even more, so I gave him space when he wanted it and I continued to hang out with his friends, do stage crew and hair and make up, and I even got casted in the spring musical. Over the summer, we periodically hung out, but it felt like we weren’t even dating. Whenever people asked about him, I would make up some lie about how he was doing better and I regularly saw him, as if our relationship wasn’t in limbo. I turned 15 and, towards the end of the summer, we started talking and seeing each other more and our relationship felt brand new. He wasn’t selling drugs anymore or smoking cigarettes, but he still smoked weed and such. My best friend, Keke, told me to break up with him after he got arrested, but I told her that she couldn’t possibly understand what I was going through. I told her that on our one year anniversary, I was going to have sex with him. She told me that I was an idiot for sticking with him and that letting him take my virginity was the dumbest thing I could do. Mind you, Keke lost her virginity before we even started high school, and she regularly smoked weed with her 35 year old mom, so I didn’t know why she had such an issue with me doing the same things.

When September came, and sophomore year started, I had a pixie cut, I developed my own style that I was confident in, and I got a new pair of glasses that looked just like Tony’s. I met him at his locker before the first class started and he was annoyed that I got glasses that looked like his. I asked him if he was still interested in stage crew and he said he wouldn’t want to do it if I planned on signing up too. I told him I was planning on auditioning for the play and I wasn’t just doing stage crew because of him. I didn’t want to give it up just because he believed I was only doing it for him, so I stuck with stage crew and I auditioned, and I got an understudy role. Keke continued to do stage crew with me also, even though she wasn’t interested in it, and I was planning to only talk to her and the others after Tony upset me, but our friendship wasn’t the same after we got into the argument where she called me an idiot. For some reason, Tony noticed that Keke and I weren’t talking and asked her why, but they were consistently having conversations and completely forgot about me. Whenever they were talking it was always at a distance where I couldn’t hear what they were saying and when I tried to enter one of their conversations, they would stop talking and look at me until I walked away. I told Tony what Keke said about breaking up with him and he told me that she was just being a good friend and, based on what she told him, I was a bitch to her. I told Keke that Tony thought I was copying him, and even though she knew I was just into stage crew and I just liked my glasses and they had nothing to do with him, she agreed that I was copying him and I told me I looked like a desperate, lost puppy and, based on what he told her, I turned him off.

The week prior to our one year anniversary, I messaged Keke and apologized for being insensitive. I begged her to help me prepare for my first time because I was really nervous and after sending her a dozen messages, she replied back, saying this:

“You have to stop. You can’t have sex with Tony and you have let it go. You weren’t being a bitch and I’m not mad at you. I just feel guilty and it’s really hard to be friends with you because of what I did. I don’t even know how to tell you this and I’m scared you’ll never talk to me again if I tell you.”

After assuring her that I wouldn’t cut her off, she confessed that her and Tony have been having sex since him and I first started dating. She admitted that she told me to break up with him because she was jealous and she called me an idiot because she couldn’t stand how much I trusted and loved her and Tony. She told Tony about my plan on our anniversary and he started pushing me away because he felt guilty too. He told her not to tell me the truth and that he was going to eventually break with me to be with her, but she couldn’t hold it in any longer.

THE REVENGE: I was in such shock, that all I could do was thank her for telling me the truth. I told her I needed space and I asked her not to tell Tony about our conversation at all. I didn’t tell her that I had a plan but I knew that virtue had no place in this situation. We proceeded to stay together and I acted like I didn’t know about him cheating on me. I gave him less attention than I normally did and he started coming to my locker instead and would text me first. It wasn’t obvious that I was mad or upset with him, but I really couldn’t stand to be around him or even pretend to. I would dodge his kissing without thinking and walking away without hugging him, so he knew something was up. I told him that I was acting weird because it bothered me that he thought I was copying him, and he felt so horrible. He spent the entire day apologizing, telling me that he loved me and that he was going to make up for it on our anniversary.

On our anniversary, I dressed up a bit and wore a black high waisted mini skirt and a black cropped Pink Floyd t-shirt and my classic high top converse. He came to my locker with a few sunflowers and was shook when he saw me. He told me that I looked as sexy as the day he met me. Our original plan was to have a picnic by the lake after school, then go to his house when his parents were out for bible study and have sex.

INSTEAD, I snuck outside during lunch to the student parked lot and keyed “CHEATER” on the hood of his car. I put on the dark purple lipstick I wore fairly often and left kisses on his side mirrors. I wrote “Fuck you, Manhoe!” on his rear window with the lipstick. I snuck back into school before lunch was over and I texted him and told him to meet me by the lake for our picnic, instead of coming to my locker. The lake is across the street from the student parking lot, so he would have to pass his car to get to the lake, which is exactly what I wanted. I told Keke to pretend to be confused if he accuses her of telling me the truth and she did exactly that. People were taking pictures of his car and sending them to me, asking me if I did it and I never admitted to being responsible. My brother sent me a picture of Tony’s car also and told me that he was proud of me. After Keke told me the truth, I asked his close friends if they knew and they were all shocked and pissed off and disappointed in him. I also asked them not to mention anything and told them I had a plan. One of his closest friends, Jerry*, who was 20 years old and practically Tony’s mentor, was the most upset. He knew how much I loved Tony and offered to listen to me if I ever wanted to talk and we ended up talking nonstop, about Tony, about personal things, about everything. He mentioned that he thought I was flawless and he was envious of Tony for finding me before him because he would have never fuck up a chance with me. I told him about my plan on Tony’s car and he loved how petty it was. Jerry offered to pick me up from school and take me out to eat to get my mind off of my one year anniversary with Tony, and after celebrating the success of my petty revenge over a meal together, he kissed me and invited me over to his house. Jerry knew I was a virgin and he asked me why I felt ready to lose my virginity to Tony. I explained to him that I was determined to have my first time with someone who I was in love with, but after Tony crushed me, I completely stopped caring about losing my virginity with someone I was in love with because doing so would set me up for heartbreak, regardless of who it’s with. After agreeing with me and telling me that I had a mature thought process, I kissed Jerry. I got on top of him and we ended up having sex. The next day, we did the same thing, and I had lunch and sex with him every day for two weeks until I found out he was engaged and blocked his number after his fiancée messaged me and threatened to end her life if I didn’t leave him alone.

After Tony saw his car on our anniversary, he took pictures of it and sent them to me. He asked me how I found out and if Keke told me about them and I pretended to be completely clueless and surprised, and so did Keke. He couldn’t figure out if I did it or if Keke did it and, when he realized we were both “confused” and upset when he accused us, he stopped trying to figure out who it was. Keke and I didn’t really get back to being friends, but I know she didn’t tell Tony that I was the one who fucked his car up because she was also heartbroken over him and she didn’t want him to think that he had a chance with her, so she let him believe that both of us were potentially responsible. She had no idea I was going to fuck his care up, but she did commend me for doing so. I broke up with him when he sent me pictures of his car and mentioned “Keke telling me about them”. He never admitted that he was sleeping with Keke, but I acted like I had no idea what he was talking about when he texted me and I kept asking him what he meant about “Keke telling me about them”, and I pretended to put two and two together, and told him that it was over if he didn’t explain himself, and he never did.

After he stopped selling drugs, a lot of people ghosted him and when he told his close friends about everything that happened, they told him that they already knew everything and that he was foolish for fucking things up with me. They also told him that Jerry and I were having sex (which is probably how Jerry’s fiancée found out). Tony eventually came clean and apologized to me for cheating on me and asked for another chance to be with me. I accepted his apology and declined his request to get back together. We haven’t talked since then and he still doesn’t know who fucked his car up. :-)

TD;LR: My first boyfriend cheated on me, with my best friend, the entire time we dated because I wasn’t ready to lose my virginity, so I fucked his car up and had sex with his best friend.

(source) story by (/u/cutebugsmallhands)

#prorevenge #by /u/cutebugsmallhands #pro revenge #revenge stories #pro revenge stories #pro #revenge #last10

292 notes · View notes

spendingmemorialday-blog · 5 years

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10 Things to Avoid the Week Before Your Wedding

With only seven days left before your wedding, we're certain that you have a mile-considerable rundown of to-dos that regardless you have to verify before you stroll down the passageway. Be that as it may, enable us to acquaint you with your rundown of don'ts. Tune in up ladies, on the grounds that there are a few things to keep away from the week prior to your wedding to guarantee that you look and feel your absolute best on the huge day. Fortunately, we're here to separate them all.

The week prior to your wedding is an ideal opportunity to deal with each one of those very late subtleties. Haul out your preferred nail clean, since you'll need to get a nail trim a day or two preceding your practice supper. Furthermore, remember to convey the last headcount to your wedding scene. Be that as it may, shouldn't something be said about the things to stay away from the week prior to your wedding?

First off, we realize you've been taking choice consideration of your skin in the months paving the way to your wedding date. Be that as it may, you won't have any desire to roll out any improvements to your reliable skincare routine in the days prior to your pre-marriage ceremony, in the event of a negative composition response. Furthermore, that pixie cut you've been thinking about? Spare the cleave for after the "I dos."

Prepared for your full rundown of pre-wedding don'ts? From unrehearsed skin medications to throughout the night film long distance races, here are 10 things to evade the week prior to your wedding no matter what.

1. New Hair Color

"Regardless of whether your colorist is the most perfectly awesome, abstain from making changes to your hair inside seven days of your wedding," says Paul Labrecque, beautician and proprietor of Paul Labrecque Salon and Spa in New York City. "No one can really tell how the shading could oxidize or how it will look with your skin tone." If you need to invigorate your tint without jeopardizing your look, request that your colorist put a reasonable gleam on your strands. "This will include a great deal of sparkle and sheen," says Labrecque. In any case, in the event that you do get stirred up with some terrible shading before the enormous day, you won't do an excess of harm to your hair by getting it recolored immediately—insofar as there weren't large amounts of dye associated with the procedure, says Labrecque.

2. Exceptional Haircuts

"Wedding preliminaries and meetings start around a quarter of a year preceding the genuine day, and you should keep a similar hairdo all through the procedure," says Labrecque. "Not exclusively will the surface and style of your hair change in the event that you get it hacked, yet remember something radical may not look directly with your dress' neck area, cloak, or wedding day adornments." Stephanie Bork, senior beautician at the Josè Eber Salon, says, "Regardless of how well you prepare there appears to consistently be something left to the latest possible time—hair ought not be one of them. The closer you get to the huge day, the more pushed and passionate you'll be. You need to make these arrangements and choices while you're as yet lucid and quiet."

3. Liquor

For something you taste, liquor conveys a huge amount of additional calories, so you might need to reduce significantly sooner than the week prior to your wedding. With respect to prompt impacts, liquor can make you look and feel puffy due its sulfur-bearing gases and different characteristics that debilitate your stomach related framework. Also, liquor expands your veins, which can prompt wedding picture-bargaining redness, says Debra Jaliman, creator of Skin Rules: Trade Secrets from a Top New York Dermatologist.

4. A New Workout

"Adhere to the standard you've been doing," says Melissa Paris, an affirmed gathering exercise educator and Lululemon represetative. "Presently isn't the ideal opportunity for new moves." Pulled muscles can take a long time to recuperate and you unquestionably would prefer not to be too sore to even think about getting down on the move floor. On the off chance that you will likely shed pounds, try to begin another work out regime a long time before your dress fittings. What's more, in case you're simply searching for a stunning method to calm pre-wedding pressure, snatch a companion for a snappy walk or keep running in the recreation center. "There is something in particular about being outside with a companion that is so useful," says Paris.

5. Splash Tan Booths

"Splash tanning in a stall might be a spending limit amicable choice for a sheltered, sunless sparkle, however there's a decent possibility the shading you get won't coordinate your skin tone just as other phony tanning choices," says Nina Patino, an aesthetician at Paul Labrecque Salon and Spa. As opposed to venturing into a case—which can bring about uneven shading on the off chance that you don't hold your body just so—it's ideal to have a pro expertly apply the tanning arrangement so it's equitably disseminated and supplements your skin shading, says Patino. Furthermore, remember to gently shed previously. "The shading will last more and you'll truly gleam as you stroll down the walkway," says Patino.

6. Switching Up Your Makeup

"Some of the time ladies alarm at last that they have excessively or too little cosmetics on," says Jodie Hazlewood, a London-based cosmetics craftsman who accomplishes in excess of 70 weddings every year and encourages proficient marriage cosmetics craftsman courses at the Jemma Kidd Makeup School in Notting Hill. "That is the reason during the preliminary—when they're in a considerably more normal perspective—I allow ladies to evaluate various looks." At the part of the bargain, trust in your cosmetics craftsman, who takes your skin type, age, haircut, wedding shading palette, and the time, area, and style of your day into thought when structuring your look. "Present day marriage cosmetics is similar to celebrity main street cosmetics," says Hazlewood. "It needs to look great on HD camcorders, proficient cameras, individual camera telephones, in splendid light and candlelight, just as keep going for a considerable length of time."

How would you ensure your skin is the ideal canvas for your big day cosmetics? "Water, water, water! Rest, rest, rest!" says Hazlewood. "Avoid sun beds and significant tanning. Also, don't stress a lot over breakouts! They can be effectively be secured by a decent cosmetics craftsman—as long as you don't contact or pick at the imperfections."

7. Juice Cleanses

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"I like to consider nourishment fuel," says Keri Gans, an enlisted dietitian and creator of The Small Change Diet. "You need calories to keep you caution and help you overcome your insane, occupied end of the week. It's not simply an opportunity to quit sustaining." Juice purges are extremely low in calories, sapping your vitality and making you fractious. What's more, washes down that incorporate for the most part natural product juices are high in sugar. "The prior week you ought to eat well-offset dinners with an attention on foods grown from the ground and drinking a lot of water—and don't skirt any suppers!" says Gans.

8. Strips and Microdermabrasion

A strip or microdermabrasion session guarantees sleek skin later on, however it's an absolute no-go the prior week you wedding. "In the wake of getting a compound strip or microdermabrasion a few people see their skin strip off over and over, which leaves dead skin superficially that can bunch together under cosmetics," says Patino. "Others see their skin get very red and disturbed." And wearing cosmetics, which is the reason you went in for a skin smoothing and purifying treatment in any case, can just anger that aggravation. "Timetable any arrangements for a strip, microdermabrasion, or different medicines like Botox, at any rate two weeks before your wedding on the off chance that there is any redness or wounding," says Jaliman.

9. New-to-You Skincare Products

"Try not to change your skincare routine in the event that you have less than about fourteen days to go before your wedding," says Jaliman. "You should transform it months ahead of time." Swapping in another item could prompt unfavorably susceptible response, dryness, sleekness, or a flock of opposite reactions that set aside some effort to address. "Make sure to see your dermatologist a couple of months early," says Rosemarie Ingleton, a board guaranteed dermatologist in New York City. "Your PCP can give you a customized pre-wedding skincare schedule, which will deliver your particular worries to ensure your skin is brilliant for the huge day. Your dermatologist ought to be up there on your daily agenda with the dress fittings and blooms."

10. Dusk 'til dawn affairs

Up throughout the night hand-emblazoning your function programs? Locate a loyal companion to fill in and get some rest! Lack of sleep can really influence your resistant framework. "You're bound to get a viral disease in the event that you haven't been getting enough rest," says Dr. Blunt Lipman, an integrative and practical medication doctor and originator of Eleven Wellness Center in New York City. Logging enough shut-eye likewise improves your composition, frees your eyes of dark circles, and—let's be honest—makes you a more joyful, more quiet lady of the hour. (Your wedding gathering will much obliged.)

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bethhxrmon · 6 years

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All I Ask of You Pt. 26

“Take a look at that town, take a look at how far I’ve come” - “I Can Do Better Than That” from The Last Five Years

Pairing: Peter Parker x Female OC

Word Count: 2,481

Summary: Everyone’s together, everyone’s happy

Warnings: None, I think I used the word fuck?

A/N: I’m super hyped for what’s coming next! All the character interactions and new ideas I’m getting are great. As always, I love hearing from you guys so please feel free to message me or send me an ask or anything at all!

The masterlist can be found in my bio so these chapters can show up in the tags!

“Okay, it’s official, there’s nothing in all of Nebraska,” Harper stated, staring out the window.

It had been hours since anyone had seen anything aside from the open road and the yellowing prairies. There wasn’t anything interesting to look at, leaving all four teenagers with nothing to do aside from find every single possible way to be the most annoying people on the planet.

Annie was trying to get through War and Peace, though she was doing better than trying. She was around two hundred pages in. Granted, that had more to do with her not sleeping than anything else. If she slept on the drive at all then she wouldn’t have been nearly as far as she was.

Harper had given up on sketching around halfway through Missouri. There were too many bumps on the interstate for them to get anything done. Not to mention that Tony had already put a cap on how many times they were allowed to cuss at the road. So naturally, they were left with nothing to do.

No one let Peter do anything except sit and sleep after he got car sick the day before, and it was for the best. Deep down, Peter had to know that, but it also meant that he couldn’t really do anything except talk about different stuff with Ned.

Meanwhile, Ned was easily having the time of his life. Sure, the drive was definitely a bore, but having everyone in that minivan was easily the best part of it. Getting the chance to go all the way across the country while seeing everything along the way was great. And he never missed a chance to point that out.

“I think if I had a dollar for everytime you said that, I’d be a trillionaire,” Tony replied, “And if it’s any consolation, we’re about to stop in Wyoming.”

Annie raised an eyebrow, “Isn’t that in Canada?”

“No, it’s above Colorado and under Montana. Definitely America,” Ned said, shaking his head.

Peter gasped, “Oh, yeah! It’s that Area 51 place that’s actually not real. Mr. Stark, are you taking us to get abducted by aliens?!”

“Are you kids being serious? First singing Wizard of Oz all the way through Kansas and now this?”

Pepper laughed, “Come on, they’re just having fun. At least, I hope so.”

“Well yeah, I might be a dumb actress, but I at least know all fifty-one states,” Annie deadpanned.

Harper smirked, “I’m telling you, Ned, we gotta dye her hair blonde!”

“Oh hell no! I might actually kill you if you do that,” she exclaimed.

Everything went oddly silent. The only thing that could be heard was the car and the faint tones of classic rock.

Annie rolled her eyes, “Come on, it’s a joke. If I don’t joke about it now then it’s gonna be a touchy subject for a really long time.”

“M-maybe it should be,” Peter said.

She shook her head, “No, because as far as the rest of the world’s concerned, I did nothing wrong. Anyways, um… what’re we getting for dinner?”

It was hard to not get worked up over the situation. Annie figured that right then was the perfect time for her to get over everything. Plus, she hadn’t thought about what she’d said. But if she could make light of it, then everyone else should have too.

They didn’t have to deal with thinking about what she’d done periodically. That by all rights, she should be getting thrown in prison or into a juvenile detention center. Or somewhere that people went when they killed someone else.

Except, what was she supposed to do if it was an accident? Wasn’t it supposed to be different since that guy was a criminal? But then she couldn’t help reminding herself that she had let him go months ago. That if she had just listened to Peter, all of that could have been figured out months ago. In a way, it really was her fault, but she didn’t know how to even begin to talk about it.

“Not sure, you do you kids feel about McDonald’s?” Tony asked.

Harper huffed, “I swear if we have to go to another fast food place, I’m gonna scream. You’re literally a billionaire. The least you can do is take us to a Denny’s or a diner or a burger place.”

“Harper… isn’t that a bit much?” Ned asked.

They shook their head, “Nah, he’s a billionaire, do you know how much money that is? Because I definitely do. And in case you didn't know, its kinda a lot."

"But you don't have to be a jerk about it," he muttered.

While Ned and Harper started to get into an argument, Peter and Annie began laughing. No one seemed to question Annie and Peter periodically using each other as pillows. Though Peter ended up sleeping on her more often than the other way around. And while Annie wasn’t about to say so in front of everyone else, she liked playing with his hair as he kept drifting off. Or feeling him leaning against her shoulder and kissing him on the forehead when no one was looking. At least, when she thought no one was looking.

“Seems they’re getting along great,” Annie said, smirking a bit as her eyes darted between the others and Peter.

Peter shook his head, “They’ve been doing this for the whole day.”

“Oh, that’s just Harper. If they’re not being a smartass then that’s when you should be worried,” she assured him as the minivan was cut off by a huge semi truck.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me!” Tony exclaimed.

Pepper chuckled, “Language, honey.”

“What?! I’m the adult here!” he responded incredulously.

“Look, all I’m saying is that a million seconds lasts twelve years, one billion would last for almost thirty-two years, it’s fucking wild!” Harper pointed out.

Peter laughed, “So… this isn’t too crazy to you?”

“Oh, not at all. Trust me, I’d take this over walking on eggshells with my dad for months on end. This is way better,” she told him.

While they kept watching the grass and cows pass by, Peter wrapped an arm around her. There was only so much left of the day, and the sun was just starting to set.

“Awww, look at the happy couple!” Harper cried out, seeing Peter just about to kiss Annie on the cheek.

“There better not be any funny business back there,” Tony warned.

Pepper rolled her eyes, “They’re in a minivan with you, I don’t think anything would be happening.”

Annie felt her face heating up and she buried her face in the crook of Peter’s neck. Why couldn’t she just catch a few more minutes alone with him? Just enough time to curl up to him and hold him without anyone pointing it out and making a huge deal out of it.

At the same time, it was huge. She’d been wanting to be with Peter for months. And then there was that point where it was hard to tell if she liked him or Spider-Man more. She really wished that she had just gotten over her worries and just went for it earlier. It would have saved her so much time, but she couldn’t think about what would have happened if things were different. If Peter wasn’t Spider-Man and if he wasn’t as honest with her as he was being.

Maybe it was obvious that Annie was thinking about something, or Peter was just being really affectionate, but he hugged her close. It made her lean up against him and she rested her eyes for just a little. Though, all she could really remember was Peter gently playing with her hair.

“Oh, come on, she barely slept at all last night, just let her rest for a little while,” Harper pleaded.

Tony huffed, “I’d let her sleep, but we need to get into the hotel rooms.”

“Seriously? I’ll get everything for her,” they insisted.

“No, no, I’ll get it for her, I can take it super easy,” Peter said.

It was Peter shifting slightly that had woken her up. Though she kept her eyes shut for just a bit longer before opening her eyes. The last thing she wanted was Peter feeling bad for waking her up.

She sat up and rubbed her eyes, “You know, you guys aren’t good at being quiet. Where are we anyways?”

“Some place in Wyoming. And it’s kinda late, so you know what that means? We gotta go get dinner!” Harper exclaimed.

“It’s more than just some place in Wyoming, it’s the state capitol! We should stay and tour around,” Ned said, getting out of the minivan to grab his luggage.

Pepper laughed, “You know, we need to get all the way over at a decent time. We can do more touristy stuff in Tahoe.”

“Yeah, besides, there’s not much to tour here anyways. Come on, what is there here?” Harper asked, gesturing around.

“Well, there’s a nice sky. Haven’t seen that in awhile. Seriously, Peter, you gotta see this,” Ned practically pulled his friend out of the minivan, Annie following right behind.

Once in the room, Harper couldn’t stop teasing Annie. Pointing out that they definitely noticed that she was constantly cuddling up to Peter. That they couldn’t understand why she hadn’t done anything sooner.

Annie pulled her brush from her suitcase, raking it through her wavy hair, “I’m surprised you haven’t figured it out yet.”

“Figured out what?”

“Why it took me so long… come on, you know that I can’t just ignore all the shit with Greg. I mean, I could for awhile. Like, until I moved away, but when I first started liking Peter, well, come on. I couldn’t just make the same mistake twice,” Annie said, yanking her brush through a rats nest that had formed in her hair.

Harper frowned, looking at the sketch they had been trying to do earlier, “You’re right… I didn’t really think about it. While you’re at it, you should probably tell Peter about your baggage.”

“You can’t be serious. It’s been over a year, and no. No don’t look at me like that. What happened with Greg and what he ended up doing wasn’t my fault,” Annie insisted, setting the brush on the nightstand.

Harper closed the book, “But he deserves to know anyways. How many things did he tell you about that he was scared of telling you?”

“But it means nothing now!” she exclaimed, sitting on the bed.

They shook their head, “It means a lot now. With Carnival running around New York. You know what he’s capable of and what he can do. Peter deserves to know too.”

“I know… but can’t it just wait? Things are already difficult, I just want a little more time with him. Well, more time for things to be as normal as they’re gonna be. Please, this is the best things have been in weeks, Harper. I’ll tell him at the cabin or wherever we’re going. It’ll matter there more anyways.”

“Fine. But if that ends up hurting you-”

“It won’t. Greg’s not even around anymore. You know that. Carnival is, but he isn’t, there's no reason for me to make a big deal of it. Especially when it won't make much difference."

Right then, there was a knock at the door. There wasn't supposed to be anything to worry about, but what if someone heard? She just wanted more time to keep things normal. However, if she had been overheard, then she wasn't so sure how that was going to work out.

Although, it was obvious that Harper did not hold the same worries that she did. When they opened the door, it was only Peter and Ned coming to get them for dinner. Which was supposed to be at an unspecified location.

Harper huffed, “I swear, if it’s McDonald’s, I might actually kill this guy. Enough said.”

It ended up with them going to a burger place in the downtown part of Cheyenne called Two Doors Down. Something which Harper was quick to voice their relief over.

“Oh, come on, some chicken nuggets never hurt anyone!” Ned protested.

They rolled their eyes, “So you say, but I even look at another chicken nugget, I’m gonna throw myself out of the minivan.”

Annie slipped an arm around Peter as they sat in the large booth, “See? Told you they like him.”

“Yeah, so Harper’s always like that?” Peter asked.

“Hey! I can hear you two talking shit!” Harper snapped.

“I thought I grounded you from cussing,” Tony said, taking his seat.

Harper grinned, “Well, actually, you said I was banned from cussing at the road. I’m cussing at my dear friends. They’re not the road.”

“We’re friends?!” Ned exclaimed.

“Um… yeah? You’re a chill dude, a um, hoot and a half if you will,” Harper replied, as Tony rolled his eyes.

The man sighed a little, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Okay, fine, Harper, you’re grounded from cussing for the rest of the night.”

“What?! This is a violation of my first amendment rights,” they scoffed before messing around with the napkin around their silverware.

Annie laughed, “Actually, it’s really not, but whatever you say, Harper.”

“No one asked you!” they snapped, crossing their arms.

When the waitress made it to their table, which was full of laughing and chaos mainly thanks to Harper. They were the first to order, getting a burger that was supposed to have a few slices of pineapple on it. Ned went for the spiciest burger that they had, asking for them to try and make it as spicy as possible. Peter asked for the burger that had avocado on it. And Annie, wanting to continue the trend of odd toppings went with a burger that had an egg on it. Getting to the adults, Tony got a blue cheese burger, also wanting to continue the odd pattern. However, Pepper unintentionally wrecked it by ordering a normal cheeseburger.

Tony shook his head, “I’m disappointed. I thought you were gonna get that tortilla burger and keep this trend of funky burgers.”

“Oh? That was supposed to be a thing? Well, sorry about that,” Pepper responded, giving a shrug.

It was easily the most relaxed things had been in Annie’s opinion, and she couldn’t help smiling a little bit as she felt Peter’s hand reach for hers under the table. Everything that had happened was still on her mind, but she couldn’t stop herself from feeling like things were falling into place. She had her closest friends and she was finally with Peter.

For just a little bit, she had a chance to really forget everything from earlier. No one knew aside from everyone at the table. And they weren’t holding anything against her. Annie knew that everything was going to get fixed. It had to.

Taglist: @flushings-here / @gaypanda / @parkerpuff / @gryfinpuffs / @ijustdontknowsometimes / @lionsfandomsandbearsohmy / @buzzinglee / @lcy-thot / @twilightparker / @dolphinsarecuteandstuff / @moonstruckholland

#peter parker #peter parker imagine #peter parker x you #peter parker x reader #peter parker x oc #peter parker fanfic #spider-man #spider-man x reader #spider-man x oc #marvel #mcu fanfic #mcu #fanfic #writing #original characters #all i ask of you fic

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royvdhelart · 6 years

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So...as I've been sick for the last week, I kind of needed something to cheer me up a bit and something to get the Art-passion flowing again. So, I decided to finally redo Emil's reference sheet, as I never liked the old one, after designing him a new outfit <3

This was a bunch of work but boy, I can not recall having this much fun with a drawing and I'm actually hella proud of it for once :D I hope you like it as well!

--- Just to be clear btw: This Art is NOT for free use. ---

Callname: Emil/Baltazar Full-Name: Baltazar Emil A'zam Duman Jaren Qazir Languages: Common, Dwarfish (future: draconic)

Age: 26, born on the first day of June Sex/Gender: Male Height: 1,95m/6'4 Race: Human Class: (Lore) Bard (level 9) (future: Draconic sorcerer)

Background: Entertainer/Noble Sexuality: Bi-Romantic

Favorite Instrument: Violin. Alignment/Personality: Neutral Good, optimistic, Drama Queen, charismatic, polite, group-mom, party-guy, curious, creative. Flaws: Drama Queen, has a big mouth and turns into an awkward/clumsy dork when he has a crush on someone. More about his family: https://sta.sh/014wc8gu8y2p Background: Baltazar was born on the first day of June in the city Setus. He was the 7th and youngest son of a wealthy merchant family, having 4 brothers ( (35) Amin, (33)Kareem, (30)Jarah, (27)Gabriel, and ( and 2 sisters (Farah (31) and Iris (35) above him. Baltazar had always been the "runt of the litter". Tall but lanky, Emil wasn't strong, and always out searching for trouble. This often caused him to clash with his parents, who really wished Emil would become more serious instead of going on about silly adventures and hanging around in inn's every night. Actually just fearing for his well-being.

As a proper noblemen's son Baltazar was learned etiquette from a young age, getting schooled by a wise old teacher (Nazim), who had years of experience teaching his older brothers and sisters. Emil wasn't the best student however and caused quite the frustration to his teacher. He skipped classes, pulled tricks on his teacher and rarely did the work he was expected to or find some kind of way to do his tasks with the least effort possible. Emil was much too busy learning plays out of his head, creating new songs or just dreaming about what it would be like to be actually free, to travel the lands, slay monsters, be a hero, to do such boring and repetitive tasks. It didn't matter anyway, he was the youngest, he would one day be married of to a rich woman/man and that would be it. He often worried about this future, a future, which in his opinion, could only become boring. The moments he spent on stage, telling people silly stories when he played his violin, were the moments he actually felt alive, at those moments he could feel a kind of power flowing through him, which could vaguely be described as a warmth but different. To him, it seemed that all that they wanted to do is take that from him, make him "more serious" as he would never honor his family's name as a simple entertainer. One day Emil had pushed his parents too far, he missed his teacher's lessons again and had a big fight with his father. All Emil's frustration and fear for the future came out at that point. Which ended with Emil, angerly saying that he was going to leave the city and that he would prove them that he would become worth something, he would become a great entertainer, a Hero even, his name would become known! With that, he packed his stuff and left the next morning. Quite quickly Emil found out that traveling was definitely not as easy or fun as he expected and regretted his decision quite quickly as he started to run out of gold, the city Setus was mostly surrounded by desert and small villages, where there was no way for him to make any profit. After traveling for days, he decided that he really wasn't ready to cross an entire dessert after having a nasty run-in with Goblins. He finally reached a cross point between three larger cities. He decided to travel between the cities, to try out work as an entertainer to earn some gold. For a few years, he played music at inns, took on small roles in plays and did some odd jobs to earn some extra gold. In these years he discovered the kind of power within himself again, a power which he studied and could control more and more each day as he got mentored by another bard called "Rafael". Who saw potential in him. Eventually, he learned how to control magic with his voice, movements, and music. Even though he enjoyed entertaining, with his new found powers and being able to do whatever he wanted, he realized he became somewhat stuck there, unable to grow, he was running out of ideas for songs or tales. But what was he supposed to do? He couldn't go back home and wasn't confident enough of his abilities yet to go on actual adventures alone, as he and Rafael split up after a year, his powers seemed mostly passive, supporting at most. Contemplating his options, he almost stumbled over a black panther which seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. He looked back at the table which the large black cat was laying against, sitting around it he saw what could only be described as a perfect example of a knight in shining armor drinking a large pint of... milk? and a younger somewhat odd hooded figure, bright red with a large bird emblem depicted on his back in gold. Emil was immediately intrigued by the curious figures, decided to buy them a round and started talking to them. The knight was apparently the Paladin called Adil Fahd, somewhat of a folk hero, who he actually recognized by name as he had heard it before. The hooded young man was called Yashan, a Phoenix sorcerer from far away, this apparently meant he knew a lot about setting things and himself... on fire, he was apparently on a holy mission to find a religious artifact called the Sun-Stone. He spends the rest of the evening talking with the adventurers and eventually convinced them to let them join their group. A few months later, they met their newest members to the party "Kakaah" a odd but smart Kenku Rogue and a sassy Fighter called Ustrom and with the party complete they would face many adventures, from fighting as gladiators in the area of a savage dwarf Island, to Dyeing Ogers hair to get out of trouble, surviving many of Adil's bad ideas, dangerous sea-trips, a trip to the Underdark, meeting the Evil beholder called Kazejux, retrieving priceless artifacts, fighting a Demon called Kalahai who is wanting to take over the world... and many more and many more more to come. Extra/Random Facts about Emil: - Emil is a very charismatic and likes to flirt but is absolutely terrified of sex because of a mix of bad/silly experience and anxiety. He gets nervous about the subject and panics as soon as things become too hot and heavy. - Emil has a huge weakness for smart and dorky, guys/girls <3 - He learned the tips and tricks about being a Bard from a Bard called Rafael, with whom he has a somewhat competitive-love/hate friend-relationship as their friendship got a little complicated at the end of their showbusiness-partnership. Rafael is a stereotypical bard, very charismatic, party-animal and somewhat of a nymphomaniac. - Emil used to own a tiger when he was younger, who he shared with his brother Gabriel, which is supposed to be depicted on his bracers. Gabriel, after being reunited with Emil again 3 years after Emil left home, decided to also engrave his name into the bracers, in a way, so he'd be with him on his adventures. -Emil grew up with two mothers and a father, his biological mother is called Anjah, she is smart, smoll and scary, his second mother is called Dolunay, Cool, collected and wise, and his father's name is Azam who is intimidating but too sweet for his own good. His parents are in a Poly-romantic relationship and don't appreciate the "He is rich so he has more than one wife"-talk/ habit, the relationship is shared between all of them and they all love each other equally.

- Aside from the strings, his Violin is made out of Wood, Gold, and Ivory. It's called "Yarro" and is named after the Yarrow Plant. - He was thought to shoot his crossbow by his older brother Amin, who is good at handling most weapons known to that region, and an avid collector. Currently, Baltazar owns a magic Heavy Crossbow which is able to cast the spell "Tenser's transformation". - Emil is familiar with wearing drag or being scarcely clothed on stage as he used to be a part of a show in an "Entertainers-bar" for about a year. His drag is now one of his costumes next to his dessert robes... this job wasn't one of his favorites... but it was where Rafael discovered him, which would change his life forever. (He is dangerous with a pair of heels.) - Emil recently acquired a sentient cape, called Thanatos, a cured copper dragon with a ton of attitude. He allows Baltazar to Fly, be resistant to fire and look very extra. - His feather ear-ring is supposed to resemble a phoenix feather, however, he has no clue if it's real, as he bought it on a market from a somewhat sketchy guy. - Emil lost his finger for a while after using a magic artifact to save his ass... (Future: luckily he was able to get it back!) - Emil has a birthmark on his left hip. - (When compared to the real world) Emil would have a combination of Arabic/Indian/maybe a bit of Egyptic heritage. - Emil Knows gods exist but isn't necessarily a follower of any. More Baltazar: - https://romyvdhel-art.deviantart.com/art/OC-Spectrum-Meme-DnD-Characters-724820026 - https://romyvdhel-art.deviantart.com/art/DND-Reference-Baltazar-Emil-Qazir-707607613 - https://romyvdhel-art.deviantart.com/art/DnD-Sketchdump-VIII-717548901

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wynndygoon · 6 years

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1st Anniversary!

This will be sort of a recap post encompassing all of what has happened over this first year. So get ready, this will be a long post!

I started this blog shortly after I got my drawing tablet as a means to try and get better at using the damn thing. Needless to say, I think that it has been more than a success and has also been an amazing opportunity to meet all of you amazing people who have gotten invested in Noma and what she is and who she is as a character. And, while this past year hasn’t been perfect, it has been a wondorous experience filled with laughs and new bonds that frankly, I never would have made otherwise. Same goes to me trying out new things such as streaming, downloading Discord, and just flat out putting my art out there in this world for people to see and hopefully fall in love with.

So this whole blog, and the lady we all know and love, Noma, wouldn’t have been here if it weren’t for chance. If you are new or never read the post explaining her past, the short version is: I had a Blaziken that hatched from an Egg in pokemon Black. It was a female, and I named her Noma, and it turned out that she had a bunch of good EV’s and IV’s, so I used her a lot through the game. Well when X and Y came out, I got the launch event Torchic that had better stats than Noma, so in a stupid move, I wonder Traded her away, hoping that someone else would like her just as much as I did. Fast forward a few months before I started this blog, and one of my friends traded me a bunch of pokemon since he didn’t really play much anymore. Long story short, he traded me back Noma. So while I had this idea about starting a pokemon ask blog, I never knew which pokemon i wanted to use, until Noma popped back into my life. As soon as that happened, I knew I had to make her my character.

So next came the design phase, and while I never was amazing at creating characters, I knew that I had to try and make her look unique to stand out from the crowd. And When I say unique, i think I went a bit too overboard with her, but at least we can still tell she is a blaziken, right? Anyways, I knew that I wanted to make her somewhat Tomboy-ish, while still having her be feminine as to not confuse people. I also knew that one easy way to accomplish this was to make her a little more fluffy and poofy, so believe it or not, I started with her hair design and went from there. I knew that if i could nail the hair, then everything would kinda fall into place. So that is why she has just SO MUCH HAIR, because form a design point, it was necessary. Also, making her wear clothes would help her stand out seeing as many poke-ask blogs leave their characters nude. Speaking of which, I am going to address something about Noma right here: SHE DOESN’T HAVE BOOBS ALRIGHT. I know it looks like she does, but since she has so many feathers and is very fluffy, wearing clothes would be difficult. So what she has to do is stuff her chest fluff into her tank tops, and purely because there is so much of it, it lumps up under the shirt. So all the people asking to see Noma’s “Chicken Breasts” ( those were some real asks BTW), sorry, no luck there.

________________________________________________________________

THIS SECTION IS ALL OF MY FAVORITE ASKS AND REDESIGNS OF NOMA

So, now that I have the character created, It’s time to draw her and make a post on here. Im not gonna lie, that first night was nerve wracking. I didn’t have the slightest clue as to what was going to happen, if anyone would see the post, or hell, if anyone would like it.

But here she is, the main attraction in her first appearance on the blog. Happy, inviting, and not nearly as fluffy as what she is now. For some of you newer followers, yes, this is how it all began. Notice that she isn’t as tall, or fluffy, or as vibrant as what you know her as, but yes, this is what everyone saw for a couple of months while I started out. This WAS her design.

So, with this outta the way, it’s time to answer some asks, but to do that, I had to think of her personality. So, I just made her personality be fun. someone who can be sassy, sarcastic, kind, loveable, and genuinely nice. It’s up to you to decide o how well that comes across though.

This ask was: “Why are you such a Boss Ass Blaziken?” and this is where I went into her story in a little more detail and made it feel more like a story rather than a simple explanation of events. It was the first question I got and I had a lot of fun working on it because at least one person took the time out of their day to send me something.

Here is Noma explaining her Favorite Region that she has been to. And this was kind of a first for the blog since we got to see what she looked like below the crop top. And yes, its just a crop top with her chest fluff stuffed into it. Take note how much shorter she was when I started this blog. Like, I never realized this before, but for a blaziken, she was a midget. Also, can we just ignore some of the glaring anatomy issues here? I was still kinda working on her design here.

And here we reach the first Big re-design of Noma. While not much besides her hair changed, this was the part of her life that she started dyeing her hair different colors to make her design more unique. She also has a bit more of a neck and her hands are also more suited to a blaziken’s with the gray part instead of all red like the first post. In this ask, she was answering what her favorite past times are. Out of all the asks that I have done so far back then, THIS was my favorite to work on, just changing up her hair style felt so refreshing and honestly makes her look so much different.

THIS. FREAKING. ASK. this was the one that started a bunch of people to harass me to essentially draw nsfw of Noma. At the time of answering this ask, I was midway through a show called Panty and Stocking, go check it out if you haven’t, it’s hilarious and really good. But the ask was: “What is your favorite hairstyle?” So I decided to have a little fun and I started out just drawing the hair to make the reference to Panty and Stocking, but I thought that nobody would actually catch the reference, so I decided to go big or go home and reference the entire character of Scanty. If only I knew what kind of hell I would have unleashed for the next few months. Despite all of the perverted asks and messages I received, this was an insanely fun ask to draw, and it was also a challenge to try and recreate Scanty, but in a Blaziken form. Also, notice how her hands reverted back to red. I never said I was consistent.

So that slightly NSFW ask was the last actual drawing i posted for quite a while because then, I started college and was so nervous and scared and focused on doing well that i just didn’t have time to draw or play video games because of all the stress. I would literally wake up, go to school, go to work, come home, and sleep. and that was it. My next few posts actually weren’t Noma related, so I won’t cover them.

This was the first ask I had for ASK MAGIC which had Noma’s type change to water for 3 asks. Each of these weren’t all that exciting, but I am including this here because it was a milestone for the blog that NO ONE HAS USED SINCE! HINT HINT.

This wasn’t an ask, just a drawing idea I had for Halloween. She is still rocking her crazy hair with 3 different colors now and frankly, I have no idea what I was thinking giving her a rooster comb AND and ponytail, but hey, it works. SO if you couldn’t tell she went as a rooster for Halloween and her hands also magically changed back to red. But she also dyed her chest fluff in the shape of a heart which was another small design change.

HERE SHE IS THE FIRST MAJOR REDESIGN THAT ACTUALLY CHANGED SOME STUFF ABOUT HER. First of all, she doesn’t have the weird red neck that she had that just made her chest fluff look glued on, her fluff is on the entirety of her neck, and her neck is now longer, giving here a taller appearance. I also changed the look of her chest fluff to look like it surrounds her from behind also, and I changed the fluff on her face here too. Sure they may not be the biggest changes, but they made her a hell of a lot easier to draw and i think made her look better overall too.

This is just a better look of her, and is also my icon. See how she looks less like a midget and more graceful? The re-design was for the greater good.

This ask was SUPER fun: “My last ask was mean, but if you could choose any other type, what would it be”. This was when i could encompass all of what made Noma, Noma. The new redesign looks flawless, and we actually got to see an almost full body drawing of Noma. Glaring anatomy issues aside, I still really think that this was one of my better works of Noma.

I had a Thanskgiving ask set aside to put here, but I am really not too proud of that one, and also because it was during the time when I lost my grandmother, so I’m just going to leave it out so I don’t get too emotional about it.

You think I would have learned my lesson about showing Noma in anything REMOTELY NSFW, but nope, here we have her in her underwear. The ask was: “I am liking this new look!” and yeah, I tried to go for a cheap visual gag, not only in the fact that she isn’t decent, but also in the name of her boxers. American Eagle in the pokemon world would more than likely be Unovan Braviary, like come on, that’s comedy silver at best.

Look at this Eye-sore. I tried to do a candy cane look wit her hair, but I think it fell flat and looks too busy. But the Ask was: “Do you have any jewelry?” While this doesn’t look as good as I hoped it would have, this was certainly a lot of fun to draw.

This was my absolute favorite non-ask post to draw because i used my actual ugly christmas sweater to design hers. I know the perspective is off here, but that is purely because of the angle I took the picture at.

THIS COMIC WAS AN ABSOLUTE BLAST TO DRAW, PLUS IT ALSO INTRODUCED NOMA’S LOVE INTEREST, EM, WHICH IS STILL A PART OF THIS BLOG SO SEND HIM SOME ASKS PLEASE. ALSO I DO NOT OWN EM, HE IS A CHARACTER OF BANANAMUTTBREAD, SO GO GIVE HIM A FOLLOW, HE IS AN AMAZING PERSON.

This was a difficult drawing to do, not because of the characters, but because of the shading and lighting, and yes, I know, its not the best, But I am still very proud of it nonetheless. But, yeah, this is a mash up of Lethal League which is an amazing game and Noma. The reason I chose Candyman to draw, was because he was simple, and because he is a pain in the ass to fight against.

By this point in the blog’s life, I had just bought my dog Bella, and started a new semester at college. With my toughest classes all piled on top of each other, i didn’t have much time to draw, so there wasn’t much to be posted then. However, I did introduce a new character, not a pokemon, but instead a bee character I came up with. Her name is Grain, and she is super cute, so go check out the art i made of her!

With me posting again halfway through last semester, the first ask I got was about Noma’s hairstyle. To be honest, I have no idea what kind of style that is, so let’s just move on.

Oh boy, my first piece i did on stream. This was another small redesign I did just to get back into the swing of redrawing Noma and making sure I could remember how to draw her. also, I tested out a new form of shading that I really like and will probably continue to use from here on out.

#asknoma

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lyssacampbell-blog · 6 years

Text

Personal Log: Laethea

I almost didn’t go. No, really. I almost didn’t go on shore leave at all. Everyone on the ship had these stories of perfect beaches and lavish meals and a kilometers long list of other indulgences that would put most other vacation destinations to shame. After the accident it all seemed too decadent, too extravagant. I looked at spas, beachfront huts, and hiking trails but nothing appealed. I just wanted simple. Wholesome. Real.

The first day I just sat in a busy cafe for a few hours. A few Laetheans stopped and chatted but for most of the afternoon and evening I watched life go by. I turned my communicator off for a while and experienced Laethea as it really is: the sights and the smells and the sounds. With the universal translator off, I heard the copious number of fricatives in their language and saw them mirrored in the soft rolls of their hands and fingers Laetheans use to punctuate their speech. I learned the rhythms of their conversation. I heard the dialects of the people raised in different parts of this world. I saw how the muscles of their neck constrict and twist to produce a low-pitched, heady sob of utter despair I initially mistook for laughter.

It was achingly familiar but also thrilling and new. I remembered that this is what I joined starfleet to do. To be in these places. To hear these sounds. To meet these people.

The next day I beamed into the smallest city we were authorized to visit. From there I walked until I reached a nearby village named Troila. An old farming community with a proud heritage that doesn’t appear on any visitor’s guide or tourist’s map, Troila is a central hub for a rural region that still feeds ¼ of the cities on the continent. I found a bench on the edge of the old market square and sat down to wait.

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that an outsider sitting alone, in a public space, in a small town, must be chatted up by an older member of the community.

Renata sat down beside me less than two hours after I arrived.

We talked amiably for about 20 minutes or so before she turned to me and said, “A member of my family has lived in Troila for 17 generations. 3 of my children live here, and 5 of my grandchildren, and one great grand-child too. This is my home, but I’m not a fool. There are far more beautiful and exciting places on Laethea to visit. Why did you come here?”

I know better than to lie to a matriarch, so I told her the truth. “A few days ago I nearly killed two of the highest ranking people on my ship in an accident. Two of my friends. I came here because I don’t want to be dazzled by a place everyone visits. I want to visit a place where people live.”

Renata appraised me for a few long moments then asked, “Your ship mates are recovering well?”

“Yes.”

“Good, good” she replied and started to get up, pulling me up beside her. “I’m glad you told me the truth. Now we can go see my granddaughters. Their teacher told them that off worlders never visit Trolia and I’m delighted to be able to prove him wrong.” We had crossed half of the market square when Renata shouted ahead to the young man who had been repairing the wall on the other side of the square. “Dejan! I need you to escort me and my new friend Lyssa to your sister’s house.”

Dejan protested, of course. He pointed out that he was currently working. That the mortar would dry if he left. That his boss could fire him if he left. None of it did him any good. Growing desperate, he made one last ditch effort to continue his work. “Why do you need me to come along Grandma? You’re as clever as they come and can spot a liar at 20 paces. I doubt she’s a trained combat specialist…”

“Well actually,” I interjected, “I have been getting some lessons in hand-to-hand combat recently. Do you fight? Maybe we could spar later?”

Dejan gaped. Renata doubled over laughing and I grinned.

From that moment on, I was family.

Renata’s granddaughters Leanna and Kierae were young - equivalent to terrans at six or eight years old - and beside themselves with glee once Renata introduced me. They asked me question after question on the way to Renata’s house. Tripping over their own tongues (and the pavement) in their haste.

When we arrived they gave me a tour of their grandmother’s house. It bordered the fields and paddies her family had cultivated for generations and was built in the traditional style of the region. It had as many open air rooms as indoor ones and everything was lush and green.

Slowly, more and more family members arrived. The girls were periodically sent on errands to give others a chance to speak and I got drawn into the dinner preparations. One son took me out into the paddy to harvest some grain. One of Dejan’s older sisters belted an apron around me and set me to work chopping greens. I held Renata’s beloved great grandson while his father boiled and stirred and ladled.

At dinner we spoke of everything and nothing. How birthdays are celebrated. Leanna’s school project. The time I tried to keep a squirrel as a secret pet. The history of Laethea. How I got brown hair.

Though I helped prepare dinner, I was strictly forbidden to help clean up afterwards. Instead Leanna and Kierae took me to their secret hideout where they asked me to tell them story after story.

They liked the ones about heros best. So I told them about Beowulf and the time Captain Janeway defeated fear itself and the Laurel crowns that Greeks and Romans gave their best generals to mark their victories.

Leanna fell asleep with her head resting on my shoulder; Kierae with her head in my lap. There was no way to move without waking them so I stopped speaking and waited. I know Dejan was eavesdropping on story time, because almost as soon as I trailed off, he peeked around the corner and, seeing my predicament, returned a few minutes later with their parents who carried them home to bed.

Once the girls were out of earshot, Dejan asked me to tell him more about the laurel crowns. He asked how big the leaves were, about their coloring. I asked him why he was so curious.

“Leanna and Kierae really liked that part of your stories,” he replied. “Leanna gets bullied a lot and I thought maybe having a crown like a victorious general would make her feel strong. I want to try and make one for each of them.”

So that’s what we did.

Renata poured us drinks when we sat down with Dejan’s clay. The drink was thick, syrupy stuff though lightly sweet and I sipped it slowly. The clay was surprisingly light but very stiff and it took a lot of kneading to make it pliant enough to shape. Gods are Dejan’s hands strong. It took him almost no time at all to knead in a deep green dye and when he handed the clay back to me so I could make the first leaf it bent easily under my touch.

Dejan’s family… well familied around us as we sculpted laurel leaves at one end of his grandmother’s kitchen table. As we finished each leaf, we attached it to one of the two wire frames, intermixing his leaves and mine. The first time a lock of my hair fell across my face, I brushed it aside without thinking and left a smudge of clay across my forehead. The second time, Dejan’s hand tucked the errant strand behind my ear, leaving a second streak of green along my cheekbone, over the shell of my ear, and into my hair.

Everyone else had gone to bed by the time we finished. I looked up as I finished what I thought was the last, tiny leaf for the very tip of a wreath to see Dejan sculpting one more.

“Making an extra?” I asked.

“No,” he replied. “This one’s for you to take with you”

We’d talked about many things while we were sculpting, but the most interesting was Dejan’s house. He’d recently bought an old, run-down, stone farmhouse on the other side of his family’s farm. It had been abandoned for years, but he was a trained mason so he bought it and poured his heart and soul and sweat into restoring it.

We set the finished wreaths by the stove to dry and then he lead me across the fields and around the paddies to his home. He showed me how the open air spaces were positioned on the east side of the house to keep the rain out and the way that the enclosed rooms were designed to retain their heat in the cooler months.

We hadn’t even finished the tour of the house before he asked me if I’d like to take a shower and get cleaned up. Confused, I insisted I only needed a sink to wash the clay off of my hands and face. Then he showed me his shower.

As it turns out Dejan was right: I did need a shower. Urgently.

Eventually, we got back to touring his house. The tour ended in his bedroom, where a wall of windows faced away from the farm and looked out over wild, uncultivated woods. A flower garden below the widows perfumed the air so strongly it seemed denser. The stream that irrigated the farm, curved around the house and babbled up at us.

The word ‘otherworldly’ fails to capture how comfortable I felt in that space and ‘heavenly’ undermines how real and tangible it felt to lie there in that space with its sounds and smells and sensations.

Hundreds of years ago, farming in this region of Laethea was dangerous work so even extended families gathered together for breakfast each morning in case one of them did not return home that night. This, Dejan explained, was the reason he woke me at an unholy hour of the morning to return to Renata’s for breakfast.

On the plus side, I got to see the joy in Leanna and Kierae’s faces when Dejan showed them their laurel wreaths. They weren’t completely dry yet, but the girls could wear them after school. I got to snuggle Renata’s great grandson one more time too. As we prepared to leave the house I tied my scarf around Renata’s neck. She opened her mouth to object, but thought better of it when she saw the look on my face.

“Thank you,” I said, “for letting me be a part of your family.”

Fittingly enough only Dejan and Renata were still with me as we approached the market square in Troila. A few meters from the square itself Renata mumbled something about needing to visit a sick friend and hating goodbyes. She pulled me into a fierce embrace and then she was gone.

Dejan and I said our goodbyes as we walked over to the wall he’d been working on when I arrived yesterday.

“Well,” he said, “I guess this is it.”

“You really think I’d leave you empty handed?”

“What else could you possibly have to give? You didn’t really bring anything with you.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s exactly why this tradition exists,” I said, handing over a lock of my hair.

“Giving away your hair is traditional?”

“Giving your hair to lovers, yes. It was that or my panties and that’s a little crass - even for me”

Dejan laughed softly, “Leaving undergarments isn’t really your style. I hate to say this, but you better go before you’re late.”

“Ah - about that, “ I replied walking right up to that solid stone wall he’d been building. “Do not tell your grandmother about this part.” I paused and thought for a moment. “Actually, do tell her about this part. She’ll probably love it. Remember last night…”

“Vividly…” Dejan interjected.

“When you asked why my knees were two different colors and I told you about how fell off the transporter pad and bruised one.” I pressed on.

“I do.”

“Well it’s the reason I’m going to make it back to Voyager on time. I have one more catchy Terran saying for you too.”

“Okay…”

“No pain. No gain.” And to accent the ‘pain’ part, I slammed my bruised knee hard into the solid stone wall Dejan built with his strong, skilled hands.

Dejan looked at me like I was nuts as I inhaled sharply and doubled over. He wrapped an arm around me and pulled me to him so I wasn’t standing on that leg. “Lyssa, what exactly..”

I held up a hand to silence him and tapped my combadge “Campbell to sickbay”

Sickbay here. What seems to be the trouble ensign?

“I hurt my knee Doctor. Banged it on a wall. I don’t think it’ll carry me back to the designated beam out site.

Very well. I’ll authorize a medical beam out, but I have to tell you ensign I’ve already put two other crewmen on report this morning for faking injuries in order to return to Voyager on time. I hope you do not join them.

“I won’t disappoint you Doctor. I fell 3 days ago while fixing the transporters and my knee hasn’t been right since. It has been bothering me all morning. I probably shouldn’t have gone out at all.”

Dejan started to mutter, “All that kneeling you did last night..,” but I clamped a hand over his mouth.

Hmm. You have your authorization Ensign. Are you ready for transport?

“Give me just a second Doc.” I removed my hand from Dejan’s mouth, and kissed him fiercely as I shifted my weight from him to the wall beside us. I murmured “Gotta go” against his lips and shoved him away from me - hard. Dejan stumbled back 2 steps, making space for a clean transport. I tapped my badge, said “Engage Doctor.” and slammed my knee against the wall one more time for good measure before the familiar tingle of transport washed over me.

My knee gave out the moment I rematerialized in sickbay and my full weight landed on it. The Doctor was suitably impressed and almost apologetic.

During the bad times, I’ve often heard one crewman on Voyager remind another that out here we are each other’s family. While I believe that’s true, it still doesn’t feel the same to me. Spending time with a real family; being adopted by them was...nourishing. Rejuvenating. Good for the soul.

Well... family and - how does that saying go? - Sometimes the only way to deal with a problem and move on is a good hard… wall.

#voyager RP #shore leave #Laethea #alien worlds #personal log #my crewmates can't read this

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