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zhowongli · 4 years ago

Text

neon lights (in a world gray)

notes: tried some msby interactions but i’m bad at writing a lot of characters so they may be a little flat. some underage drinking, fwb, & drunk texting. i’m v bad at humor but i tried. song accompaniment recommendation: million days by sabai x hoang & let’s not fall in love by big bang! also posted on ao3.

summary: sunday mornings and midnight lights turn into songs that you watch me write. AU where you share extreme feelings with your soulmate. - atsumu/oc

wc: 10.7k (v sorry)

Your body is first to know your soulmate. The way your heart beats faster in exhilaration, your muscles burn in soreness, your body demands for food and sleep even though you are not doing anything in particular, hits you on more days than others. There’s always this constant feeling before a particular day, where you feel all these things plus a sense of hunger for something, anger and frustration, and accomplishment. Sometimes, these sudden days end in a panging ache in your heart, but usually, there’s always a sense of elation after these moments.

You are often left to wonder what kind of person your soulmate is. It makes your days a little more fun from the way he feels this sense of euphoria from doing such physical activities, from the soreness of your calves and the dull ache of your hand and wrists, from the sense of successfulness after, because he always feels so passionate about it. You wonder if sharing his passion for doing whatever he’s doing, for life, feeds into your thirst for adventure.

Your life is pretty boring and at an impasse, and while you don’t particularly mind it all that much since it has served you well thus far, you always want something more. You suppose this is why you’ve always liked chasing the thrill. You like feeling the adrenaline in your blood and the accelerated thumping of your heart because it makes you feel so alive. Doing things that you aren’t supposed to be doing is a sort of fun that you like to have because there’s something just so riveting, and it keeps calling you back.

You have a bucket list of things you’d like to try before you die because you want to involve yourself in things that bring you happiness, to do something that fills the hole in your heart, however temporary that may be. There are already some small things on there that are already checked off: skipping class, getting a belly button piercing behind your parents’ backs, trying a sip of alcohol. As you keep fulfilling the little things, you end up always adding more back onto the list. You like to turn these little gratifications into memories by weaving your emotions into words, words, words on paper, and before long, you have an accumulation of untold stories written in secret.

But there’s always one thing you have at the bottom of the list that you’re not sure if you could ever check off, ever write about: falling in love and being loved in return.

.✫彡.✫彡.✫彡.

You first feel a gnawing pain in your heart at the end of your third year of high school. At first, you think it is you who is experiencing this pain, but then a sense of fury settles in. Your soulmate is angry, you think as you put a hand over your heart, and you begin taking deep breaths as you lay down on the rooftop just to feel breezy spring winds in your hair and on your skin. You know your emotions are interconnected, so you suppose you are trying to help calm his tremulant heart in your own way.

Breathing in the chilling air as it blows the ends of your hair and flutters the ruffles of your skirt, you find yourself feeling more at peace before, anger diminishing. You’re not sure if it helps, but at least it makes you feel like you’re being helpful. Then, a sense of sharp betrayal and waves of sadness hits you. Your soulmate feels betrayed and hurt, and it makes you feel a sense of unsettlement in your heart. Your initial thought is that you want to help to ease his pain, but you think if he feels so intensely about it, it isn’t your place to try to override his emotions. So, you close your eyes as you lay on the rooftop, hands clasped together as if you’re holding his hand, and hope he feels your presence alongside him as a sort of moral support as he goes through whatever is happening.

Before long, his emotions leave you, and you’re glad at least he isn’t feeling as sad and betrayed when his emotions first flare in your soul. You smile, and you decide to skip class for the rest of the day, mind never too far from wandering what your soulmate is like.

.✫彡.✫彡.✫彡.

You haven’t felt much from your soulmate since then. There are days when the exhaustion in your body hits you harder than normal, but at this point, that has become a part of your daily routine. Sometimes, you feel the occasional intense, lasting embarrassment, and you end up feeling embarrassed and heat rushes to your cheeks. You think your soulmate may be an idiot at times like these, to be honest. But you become less focused on him and more focused on you and your bucket list as time goes by because his emotions just become a part of you.

You are about to start university when you first meet your roommate at a party some upperclassman invites you to. She is a mess, you think, as she stumbles in the bathroom, tears stain on her face and alcohol in her breath. You’re probably not in much better shape. Your head is a little dazed, and you feel a little extra empty on the inside right now because you feel like you have nothing. She wails loudly when she sees you, and you open your arms to hold her.

“I hate him!” she sobs and whimpers into your shoulder. “Why do I love him? Why doesn’t he love me?”

You can only rub small circles on her back and press soft kisses in her hair. “I’m sorry, honey. I don’t have how it feels because I don’t know how to love.”

You think you don’t want to love after seeing this poor girl.

“But what’s the point of love if it doesn’t consume you?” she breathes out in between sobs, the scent of alcohol hitting your nose with each breath.

You hmm in agreement because you think you’d like to lose yourself in something so passionate, so intense that it fills your soul, but you don’t say anything more.

Somehow, in between drunken conversations, you two end up becoming roommates. The two of you are more similar than you initially thought: both of you are empty on the inside, for different reasons of course, but that makes you two get along so well.

Her words still echo sometimes in your head as you two go on in your daily lives: you with your volunteering at the animal shelter to distract yourself from reality and her with her morning runs to run away from her problems.

What is the point of love if it doesn’t consume you?

.✫彡.✫彡.✫彡.

Your roommate has a bad habit of going out and home with someone whenever she feels extra hung up on her soulmate. You know this because although the two of you don’t say it outright, your habits rub off on each other. Of course, this means you two have fakes and often end up hitting up parties and clubs dressing a little extra provocative to fill up the hole inside your hearts. She just wants someone to want her, to hold her like she’s not broken, like that’s her soulmate holding her; you just want someone to bring some fun and thrill in your life.

You’re not sure how you ended up here. You remember the dim lights and the loud music; you remember dancing with your roommate and wanting someone to go home with after she leaves with some blond guy. You suppose your brain is a little buzzed from the alcohol, but you still vaguely remember feeling someone grinding against your body as you continue to dance. You turn to the stranger who moves so in tune with your stumbling beat, and you find yourself looking at blond hair and black undercut, darkened hooded eyes, and a small drunken smirk on his face.

You vaguely remember staring at his lips and slurring some flirtatious words, and before you know it, you two are out of the club, hands on each other, and lips barely apart. The soft, loving voice of your mother briefly echoes in your head - “Don’t be with someone who doesn’t love you.” But her voice drowns out the moment your desirous eyes and eager lips meet his, and you don’t think you’ll ever regret this. You love the feeling of his lips roughly on yours, like he’s hungry for something, for more. His roaming hands leave a trail of fire with each touch, and you cannot tell if your heart is beating in exhilaration because of you or your soulmate. Whatever, you think to yourself, you don’t care right now because all you can think about is how good it feels to be held by him.

Your back is pushed against the cold wall of the alleyway beside the club, and this coldness strikingly contrasts with the heated kisses and fiery touches of his hands and momentarily clears your mind.

“My apartment is close by,” you mutter in between kisses.

He nods, and you only remember the way back in glimpses between frantic kisses with your hands in his hair and his hands slipping under your short dress, hot breaths between your lips as you continuously find your way back to his, as if you need him, as if he is air.

You don’t even make it to your room before he hoists you up and your legs reactively wrap around his waist. Your hands are back in his hair before you begin raking your nails softly against his back. His hands are slightly colder from being outside but each touch sends a lingering, blazing shiver down your spine. Before you know it, your clothes are thrown off along the hallway to your room.

With half-lidded eyes, you see the blinking starlight through your window blinds, almost as if it’s twinkling in disappointment. But you don’t have the heart to care when he’s leaving trails of fire along your body and your nails are digging lines of raw pink all over his back.

You hope your soulmate somewhere out there also feels the thrills, the excitement, the passion you are feeling right now.

You feel so alive.

When you wake up the next morning, he is gone. If it isn’t for your scattered clothes along the hallway and marks all over your body, it would have been like he was never here in the first place. You are not surprised, but you are not sure if the disappointment you feel in your heart is from you or your soulmate.

.✫彡.✫彡.✫彡.

Funnily enough, you see him again at the next club party you go to. You are just dancing the night away, a little drunk on alcohol and high on emotions, when your body meets his again.

“Wanta get outta here?” he asks over the loud music as his hands are on your waist and yours are around his neck.

“Okay,” you nod and pull him out of the club, stumbling upon the same steps to your apartment, and remembering it happening in the exact same way as last time.

And exactly like last time, he is long gone by the time you wake up, leaving you to feel the same disappointment in your heart.

.✫彡.✫彡.✫彡.

It’s always a good time with him. He is fun, passionate, and it is a little thrilling that he is just some random stranger. But you’re not sure if you can still call him a stranger when this happens for the third time.

“If you just wanted to see me, you could have just called,” you laugh in his ear, hands playing with the hem of his shirt as his ghosts over your thighs.

He looks a little dumbfounded before he joins your laughter and gives you a roguish smirk. “Sorry, my phone’s broken. It didn’t have your number in it.”

You could only stare at him blankly. His sly smile falls off under your unmoving eyes, and he begins to chuckle nervously in embarrassment. You’re not sure if you’re embarrassed because that is lowkey cringe or if your soulmate out there is in another bout of doing something embarrassing, but you laugh softly.

“That was bad,” you admit in between laughs and holds your hand out for his phone, “But here. Let me fix that.”

You see the relief on his face, and the embarrassment you feel in your heart feels subside. He’s interesting, you think, because he wears his heart on his sleeve.

Whatever mood there was before is gone, but you still end up leaving with him after a quick kiss becomes two, three, numberless because it feels like you can’t ever get enough of him. The two of you make your way back to your apartment once again, much like your previous encounters.

However, when you wake up in the morning, you are surprised to find him still next to you. His eyes are closed, but you can tell he’s awake through his twitching eyelids and uneven breathing. He probably missed his chance to leave, you think, and you debated on whether you should spare him the awkwardness and pretend to continue sleeping or to wake up and continue from last night because you’re not quite ready to go back to feeling empty again. You’re a little selfish because you decide that your escape from reality is a little more important to you than his awkwardness.

“Hey,” you sit up slowly to not irritate your pounding head, blanket pooling around your legs, “Wanna join me in the shower?”

You don’t even have to look back as you hear the ruffles of the blanket and feel his arms around your waist.

You are drying your hair with a towel when your eyes trail to his form. His blond hair is still a little flat from being damp and there are still droplets of water on his body when he begins putting on his discarded clothes, and you have to remind yourself to breathe because he knocks the air out of your lungs. He is attractive, and you’re not easily impressed, but there’s just something about him that makes your heart flutter and squeeze excitingly.

But it’s also a little unsettling when you see him in your room in the daylight. Your room is a collection of books, papers and ink, and coffee mugs, and seeing him here with his blond hair, broad shoulders, and smile that’s brighter than the sun is startling because he contrasts so much from your monochrome room. This is the first time you’ve seen him when you’re both completely sober, without the haze of alcohol and the darkness of the night. It’s almost like you’re exposing a part of your life that’s previously only set to nights only. It suddenly hits you that you still don’t even know his name even though you know his body as well as your own by now.

Almost as if he feels your unsettling heart, he turns to question you, “Ya good?”

You nod only because you’re not about to open up to the guy you’ve slept with three times but still don’t know the name of. “I’m fine.”

He looks at you pointedly, but he ruffles his blond hair and doesn’t push it. “Okay, I’ll see ya later?”

You hmm in agreement and laugh, “I’m sure I’ll see you soon.”

.✫彡.✫彡.✫彡.

Contrary to your statement, you don’t see him soon. He’s not at any of the parties you subsequently go to. He never texted you after you put your number in his phone, so you figured he was just here for a good time, not a long time. Knowing this doesn’t help the tightness in your chest when you think about him.

Somehow, you think you finally understand why your roommate only has eyes for guys with long, bleached blond hair because you find that you are naturally attracted to guys who resemble him. You almost end up going home once with a different blond guy when you don’t see him, but you don’t feel the same excitement from his touch so you just left.

You begin to wonder since when did your eyes always look for signs for a tall blond with a lazy smile and addictive kisses. You wonder since when did your body only react so intensely when it comes to his touch. You wonder since when did your soul only feel so vibrant when you are with him.

You wonder if your soulmate out there feels the same too because you’re not getting such vivid liveliness from him these days. You still feel the adrenaline in your blood, the dull aches of your arms and hands, and the usual exhilaration after certain days. However, there’s a sense of lingering mundaneness too. It’s a little funny if you think about it because it’s almost like your soulmate is here with you, feeling the exact same feelings as you.

He’s the one who approaches you first when you see him again months later. It’s the same old story: you’re at the club with your roommate, though she’s coming with you less and less, and you’re just having fun on the dance floor when he appears. When his hand touches you again for the first time, you feel that same electricity, the same intensity that only he draws out.

“Hey,” he smirks, “Ya look good, as always.”

“Hey yourself,” you smile flirtatiously back at him, “You look alright too, I guess.”

His mouth drops and his eyebrows furrowed together like he’s offended at your comment, but you don’t feel that bad since his expression is rather hilarious.

“I missed ya,” he continues, ignoring your previous comment like it doesn’t hurt his ego.

“And I missed you too,” you smile a little more genuinely now.

It doesn’t take long before the two of you are touching, kissing, and leaving together again. It’s always more fun when he’s around, you think to yourself before you lose yourself in him.

For the first time, you two are talking in your bed, still naked, instead of sleeping after being too spent for another round. He’s a little closed off, you think, regarding his personal life, and he’s somewhat reserved and awkward at first. When the topic of careers comes up, his eyes light up under the dim lights and he tells you he’s a volleyball player in Osaka and he’s only in Tokyo for random occasions.

Ah, this explains the long absence.

You listen to him as he passionately talks about the sport, his Kansai accent slipping out more and more as he talks. You can just hear how much he loves it and the silent message of how little room he has in his life for anything else.

You tell him you don’t have anything you’re passionate about. He is confused by your statement like he’s surprised that there’s someone with no passions in life, like he’s almost offended that you have no passion in life. You only shrug and continue to tell him you volunteer at the animal shelter, and you write occasionally sometimes because it is your major.

“Really? Ya seem to be someone with a lot of passion for life just from the way ya kiss,” he comments offhandedly as he rolls to his side towards you and props his body up on his elbows, eyes looking into yours.

It takes you by surprise because no one has ever told you anything like that. “You think so?” you ask as your eyes meet his. You tug softly on his arm to pull him towards you, and when he lays back down and wraps an arm around you, you absentmindedly play with the ends of his hair.

He hums in agreement as he relaxes into your touch. There’s a sense of domesticity in this situation that makes you feel both scared and comfortable. You haven’t experienced this sort of intimacy with anyone else, where you are just talking about life still naked after fucking, and it’s scary because it’s so unknown. But there’s just something about being with him that feels so at home, like he’s supposed to be relaxing in your touch as you play with his hair, like he’s supposed to believe in you and inspire you to chase your passions, like he’s supposed to be here with you. Your heart flutters as the conversations continue through the night. You try not to think about it because maybe your soulmate has suspiciously crazy good timing and is the one with the pulsing heart.

The two of you fall asleep only when dawn comes and the first rays of the sunlight hit peek through the blinds. Unlike the stars that seemingly twinkle in disappointment, the soft lights look gentle, hopeful, positive, in a way you haven’t thought of in years. When you see his sleeping face, his mouth is slightly gaped open and his limbs are taking up all the bed space, you find that it’s a little endearing.

Your heart flutters again, and this time, you don’t fight the fact that you know it’s you and your dumb heart, not your soulmate’s, that’s animatedly beating like this.

.✫彡.✫彡.✫彡.

“I said sign me the fuck up, not assign me the fuck up,” you groan into your hands. The forming headache from earlier exacerbates into throbbing pains of a migraine.

Your roommate just pitifully pats your head before she just says, “Unlucky. How’s he even a fuck up? Isn’t he like, on his way to becoming a professional volleyball player?”

“Well, okay, he’s not really like a fuck up. But yeah, basically, he only cares about, like, one thing and one thing only: volleyball,” you continue to whine as you bury your face in your arms. “God, I knew blond guys with poor dye jobs were a bad idea.”

“No,” your roommate rebuttals, probably because her now not-boyfriend-but-basically-boyfriend’s black roots are showing and he definitely needs a retouch on that blond soon, “Being friends with benefits was. You’ll always end up catching feels, babe.”

Your roommate’s words from forever ago echo in your head - “What’s the point of love if it doesn’t consume you?”

“Ughhhhh,” you groan again, purposely dragging out the sound to express your exasperation. You hate that she’s right. You hate that you kind of had an idea this was going to happen. You hate that your stupid fuck buddy is so stupidly hot, and he makes you feel so alive .

“So what are you going to do now?” your roommate questions as she pulls your head out of your hands and into her lap, fingers softly playing with your hair and soothing the tension from your headache.

You pause for a moment as you move your arm to shield your eyes from the light before you answer truthfully, “I don’t know. It’s kinda… scary.”

She hmms in agreement. “It is. But isn’t it better to just fall? He doesn’t seem like the type to let you fall.”

“I don’t know,” you mutter weakly again, “I never know with him. He’s driven by things he’s passionate about, and he’s always either giving his 0% or 120% into whatever he loves, like volleyball. I’m just a booty call. I’m scared to be 0%.”

“Babe, I don’t think you’re 0% if he’s still hitting you up every single time he’s in Tokyo.”

.✫彡.✫彡.✫彡.

He texts you first. It comes at an unexpected moment for you because your soulmate is going through a series of accelerated palpitations and a sense of hesitance that makes even your palms sweat, and when it arrives, this nervous energy doesn’t leave you. You feel a little anxious, but you’re not sure if that’s because your soulmate is so jittery right now or if you are scared to open his text.

When you finally open it, you forget how to breathe for a moment. If you were confused about whose beating heart and jitteriness it was before, you were definitely unsure now. Your racing heart adds onto this tension right now, and you make sure to read it twice, thrice, before you exhale softly.

In hindsight, it’s not even a special message, but when you think about how this could complicate things, how this will change from being just whatever you guys are right now to being something more, your heart flutters a little more.

“wanna come to my volleyball game?”

You force yourself to take a deep breath, repeating the words inhale and exhale in your mind like a mantra before you respond with a simple “sure.”

The instant relief you feel in your heart comes quicker than a ray of light. Once again, you are unsure whether that relief is coming from your soulmate or you, but either way, you are just glad you can breathe again.

You try to not think about the giddiness in your heart and the matching smile on your face.

.✫彡.✫彡.✫彡.

“Bro, what the fuck do I wear to a volleyball game?” you cry out in frustration as all you look through all the clothes you dug out from your closet.

Your roommate walks through your door, “Dude, what the fuck?” She makes a disgusted face as she walks into your room, picking up pieces of clothing along the way, “You’re just going to a volleyball game, just wear something comfy and cute.”

You let out a strange noise before you plant your face into the small mountain of clothing you accumulated. Your roommate sighs before you hear some ruffling and feel a light tap on your head.

“Here, wear this,” she offers. “You’re thinking too hard about it. Just have fun!”

You take the clothes out of her hand and let out another noise. Your roommate only laughs at you before she pats your head, “Okay, go on. Don’t want you to be late for your date!”

A feral noise comes out of your mouth as you try to hide your embarrassment. “It’s not a date!”

She laughs again and before you can yell at her, your phone lights up. Your eyes naturally trail to the blue light of your phone, and you see a text message from him. You quickly open the text, and your face heats up a bit when you see a picture of him in his black jersey, flashing a peace sign with a lazy smirk. He is almost handsome enough to distract you from the cringe caption that comes along the picture.

“hope ur ready to see me smack that ball like i smack ur ass ;)”

You snicker because oh my god he’s so embarrassing . Your fingers automatically type a quick response.

“yikes. hope you smack it harder than you smack my ass bc it ain’t going over the net otherwise :p”

In milliseconds, you receive a short “what!!!! :(“ in return, and you burst out laughing.

All the worries of what to wear and the tension in your body dissipates as the sound of your laughter rings in the room. From the corner of your eye, you see the small journal you kept in high school with the list of things you’d like to accomplish in life. Remembering the last item of the list to check off, to fall in love and be loved in return, you scoff softly to yourself. There’s a sense of acceptance and sereneness as you admit that you can check off the first part now because you are undeniably falling in love with this idiot.

However, minutes later, your face heats up because you feel so embarrassed. It almost feels like your soul is leaving your body because you just wanted to be swallowed up by the earth. You could only hope your soulmate is okay.

.✫彡.✫彡.✫彡.

To be honest, you’ve never gone to a volleyball game before, but the rush of emotions and energy in the area fills you up. It brings you a sense of passion, intensity, and you take in this moment and capture it in your mind. You mentally make a note to incorporate this feeling into the new piece you’re writing.

The actual game goes by in a blur, partially because you don’t know what’s going on but also because the heat, the rush just draws you into the moment and you are hyper-aware of all the movements in the court. As Atsumu goes up to serve, you see his brown eyes scan the crowd, and when he spots you, he smirks and points a finger at you as if he’s saying this serve is for you.

The crowd goes wild by his gesture, and the teenage girls sitting in front of you, the middle-aged man sitting behind you, and the grandma next to you all squeal and argue half-heartedly who he is pointing to. You only laugh, hoping he is too far away to spot your heated cheeks, before you flash him a quick thumbs-up, hoping he’ll catch it before he focuses on the game again.

He puts too much power into his spike and misses his serve, and his face is comically dejected so you laugh quietly under your breath because he just missed the serve he dedicated for you. You see his teammates go up to him, the one with the black and white hair slapping his back with a hearty laugh and the one with orange hair bouncing to him to make a joke. Only then, you feel a pang of embarrassment in your heart, and you wonder if this is what Atsumu feels at the moment. You are beginning to craft up a ludicrous theory that he’s your soulmate because somehow, your soulmate always has impeccable timing attune to your emotions and what’s happening around you.

The rest of the game goes by in a swoosh. There is a combination of bam, whoosh, and wham, and there is a boing here and there. It becomes more BAM and sploosh after the player with the black and white hair keeps scoring points, and this seems to fire up the orange-colored hair player and Atsumu even more. The colored hair trio continues to score points, almost as if they are feeding off each other’s energy and trying to one-up one another. Though the latter is more like Atsumu trying not to be outshined by his teammates, you laugh to yourself.

They end up playing three sets and win the game. You are honestly amazed because you can barely keep up watching. Now, you have a newfound admiration for Atsumu. The cheers in the stadium are loud, deafening, but all that drowns out when you see Atsumu’s genuine smile. He looks so excited, happy, and your heart beats in exhilaration. Your eyes meet, and you flash him a bright smile because you cannot contain the energy in this arena, his happiness, and the exhilaration in your heart within you. For a moment, his smile drops and he only gawks at you before his two teammates from earlier slap his back again, causing him to bend over from the force. His eyes only leave yours then, but it seems like his two teammates are curious about what he is looking at. Following his gaze, you now find yourself looking at 2 additional pairs of eyes, and suddenly you feel a little shy. You give a small wave, and they wave back boisterously before they begin to exclaim something to Atsumu before you feel a new sense of embarrassment in your heart again.

The crowd thins out as Atsumu and his teammates make their way towards you. You suspect that this is more so because you’re next to the exit than anything, but they all stop to greet you with knowing smiles on their faces. You try to take it at face value and not think too much into the meaning behind their smiles. The two that introduce themselves as Tomas Adriah and Barnes Oriver leave after a wave. Shortly after a pleasant conversation, the ones named Meian Shuugo and Inunaki Shion follow suit. This leaves you with the colored hair trio, who is currently arguing and strangely reminds you of the three stooges, and a player with wavy black hair and two moles on the right side of his forehead. He’s beautiful even with his mask on if you’re honest, and his calmness feels like a breath of fresh air here.

You hold out a hand to introduce yourself, but before you can say anything, you see him squeeze some hand sanitizer into your palms. You blink twice before you mutter a soft thank you and rub your hands together. A little peculiar, but you appreciate the value of cleanliness. After your hands are clean, you try the introductions again. This time, he introduces himself as Sakusa Kiyoomi.

Your hands are still connected when Atsumu swings an arm around Sakusa, breaking off your handshake. You see the disgruntled look on Sakusa’s face as you catch Atsumu’s eyes fleetingly before he turns to talk to Sakusa loudly about something. Just then, you see orange hair bouncing to you, and within seconds, you find sparkling brown eyes staring at you.

“Hi!! I’m Hinata!!” He greets you eagerly.

Before you could reply, the taller player with black and white hair pushes Hinata down, his sparkling golden eyes that match Hinata’s in excitement, and he loudly introduces himself. “Hey hey hey!! I’m Bokuto!!”

You could only introduce yourself briefly before they start talking again.

“You must be the girl Tsumtsum talks about!! Did you know he tripped before the game started today, and he was soooo embarrassed??” Bokuto starts playfully as he leans closer. He is so tall and muscular, and you feel so small in comparison.

“Yeah!! You must be the reason why he tried so hard to look cool serving today!” Hinata merrily adds as he leans in closer too, laughing at the expense of Atsumu.

Atsumu’s “Hey!! Shut up!!” could be heard softly in the background as they continue. Your mouth only drops a little bit. You try to chalk your shock up to the fact that they still have so much energy despite just playing three sets of a difficult game, and not because they are telling you things you’re not sure if you’re supposed to know. After all, this gives you a sense of hope that you may not be 0%.

“Well, too bad he still missed those serves…” you inject teasingly.

At that, Hinata and Bokuto burst out laughing, and you join in their contagious laughter before Atsumu leaves Sakusa and whacks his teammates softly before the three of them begin bickering lightheartedly.

“You guys are both terrible and embarrassing. Goodbye,” Sakusa sighs as he makes his way out of the stadium.

You meet Sakusa’s eyes as he leaves, and you nod in agreement. He gives you a nod in return, and you think you discover a newfound sense of comradery with Sakusa.

The trio waves goodbye to Sakusa before going back to bickering. You can hardly keep up with the energy, but it’s so fun. You catch Hinata saying something about how Atsumu is failing at all his attempts to be cool and how Atsumu is furiously denying it because he’s naturally born cool. When you guys finally part ways, you pretend not to see Bokuto and Hinata’s attempt at wiggling their eyebrows and flashing conspicuous smiles at Atsumu.

“Ignore them” is the first thing he says after he flips them off and turns to you. You only hum in acknowledgment, laughter bubbling up.

“They’re fun,” you offer with a small laugh.

“They’re scrubs, but I guess they’re kind of okay sometimes,” he huffs.

“You guys are cute,” you coo teasingly, “Are you what they call… a tsundere?”

“Shut up,” he grumbles with flushed cheeks.

You pat his arm softly as you laugh. “You did great today, by the way. It was all bam and whoosh and wham!! I can see why you like volleyball so much now.”

His face scrunches up at your description of the match, but his brown eyes light up nevertheless. He begins to zealously talk about the game. While you are listening to him, all you can think about is how he outshines the twinkling stars and how beautiful he looks in his messy hair and sweaty jersey.

“Are you listening to me?” he pouts when he finds you not very responsive.

“I am,” you reply half-heartedly, still a little too taken with him.

“Then, what did I just say?” he questions dubiously, one eyebrow raised.

“How you missed your first serve and definitely did not smack that ball as hard as you smack my ass,” you poke fun at him.

His face falls almost comically, but you can’t help yourself from laughing because he’s just so fun to tease.

“I’ll show you how hard I can smack that ass alright,” he grins with a smug look on his face as he pretends that your last comment didn’t hurt.

You tug on the collar of his jacket before you pull him into a kiss. “I suppose I can indulge my winner tonight,” you mutter with a sly smile.

.✫彡.✫彡.✫彡.

Pillow talk becomes something that’s happening more and more often between the two of you, and you’re not sure what to make of it. He is the type of person who is independent, and you kind of get the idea that he is a little awkward around his feelings despite his front. It’s nice, you think, because he is opening up more and more to you. He is still relatively drawn back, but he is slowly letting you in, and it makes your heart flutter in hope.

Much like the nth times before, you two are talking about such mundane things that shouldn’t make your heart wild, but it does. He tells you about his twin brother and how they used to play volleyball together, how betrayed and hurt he felt at the end of high school when his twin decided to pursue a different career than volleyball. Your mind briefly wanders back to laying on the rooftop, feeling the wind in your hair, and holding your hand like you’re trying to hold your soulmate’s as he falls apart. He tells you about his previous teammates and how they still keep in touch and try to schedule yearly hangouts. He tells you about his dreams and how he will play for the Japanese national team one day.

His speech is always so animated and passionate, and you look at him with admiration in your eyes. You share bits and pieces about your life because it’s only fair he gets to know you when you know so much about him. There’s not much to say about yourself because you feel so boring, so you opt to talk about the stories inside your head.

You scrunch your eyebrows together, trying to condense the storyline to not spoil him, as you tell him about the historical fantasy piece you’re writing. You tell him about the characters, their backstories, and the worlds you’ve crafted for them, explaining each one and their feelings with wild gestures of your hands. You tell him about the short and arguably bad poems you write sometimes for a change of pace and will never show anyone because it’s so embarrassing. You tell him quietly about the unfinished story of a girl who checks things off a to-do list because she feels like she has nothing and is on a journey to find something, anything.

“How does that one end?” he asks eagerly.

When you look at him after you describe your life, your heart thumps loudly and wildly and you almost forget how to breathe because out of all the stories he takes interest in, he picks the one about you. He’s looking at you with so much curiosity and affection in his eyes. There’s something more there, but you’re scared to think it is what you think it is.

You wonder if that’s how you look at him.

“I don’t know,” you finally breathe out, “I’ll let you know one day when I know.”

He hmph softly, like a child who doesn’t get the answer he wants. “Will ya read it to me then?”

You pause because this implies that he’ll be around, he’ll be here to find out how your story unfolds. You want that so, so badly, but you settle for a quiet, “Maybe.”

He seems to be pleased enough with your answer. His hand is playing with yours, and you find that he is gradually becoming more and more touchy as time goes on. There’s a crease in his brows that makes you wonder what he’s thinking so hard about. There is an unspoken tension between the two of you, and you’re not sure if you want to break it. What you guys have right now is fragile, and you’re scared that if you say anything it will shatter. You don’t think he wants to address this either because he just doesn’t seem to have the time or will to commit to anything with you. You are okay with this, you think, because it is what you expected, but it still sends a pang to your heart.

Surprisingly, he does address this though. He always wears his emotions on his sleeve and his every reaction is always on his face, and it makes you appreciate him because he is always surprisingly honest, albeit blunt sometimes.

“I like ya, but let’s not fall in love.”

The statement comes out straightforward, and it almost catches you by surprise.

“What do you mean?” you ask softly, head tilted to the side and hand tugging slightly at his because sometimes his intentions don’t come across well with his blunt words.

He looks at you with that same something in his eyes that you’re scared to identify. His eyebrows scrunch together as if he’s trying to formulate the words to express his feelings. “The word love feels too constricting,” he eventually mutters.

“Should we stop this then?” you ask quietly, retracting your hand hesitantly.

He stares at you like he’s confused, and you find it a little difficult to look him back in the eye. Well, honesty is always the best policy, so if he’s honest with you, you might as well be honest with him.

“Because I like you,” you admit softly.

His mouth drops into a small ‘o’, and you think this is an awful moment for your soulmate to have such a rapidly beating heart because you almost think it’s your own, almost hope that it’s Atsumu and it’s his heart that’s beating like this.

“What we have now is fun, but I don’t think it’s fair if I’m the only one falling,” you add on quietly.

“I like ya,” he repeats as he grabs your hand, a glint of desperation in his eyes, “But I just can’t promise a tomorrow.”

You hum in acknowledgment before you meet his eyes again, and there are flashes of too many emotions. You pull back your hand slowly, “I understand.”

You really do because there’s something so scary about falling, about the unknown, about not knowing the ending. You know he can’t promise tomorrow because he lives for now, but when you are living in now, you can’t help but think about tomorrow. You can’t help but want him to be there for tomorrow, for the days after, for as long as you can foresee. Maybe you are also holding back to prevent yourself from falling deeper too, you think, so you just settle for leaving this in more than friends with benefits and less than lovers as it is now. Just as those words leave your mouth, his brown eyes dull in defeat and he gets up to leave.

“It was fun,” he tells you on his way out.

“It was,” you agree.

He looks back, but you’re too afraid to meet his eyes, so you settle for an awkward smile as you pull the blanket around you, desperately trying to cling onto the warmth he’s leaving behind.

You’re unsure if your heartache and tears are from your soulmate or you, but all you can do is muffle the sound of your sobs into your blanket as you breathe in the last of him.

.✫彡.✫彡.✫彡.

You end up taking up more hours at the animal shelter, and you begin writing out the thoughts inside your head. It’s kind of therapeutic because you can weave together a world, a reality that’s not yours. Sometimes, you are just staring at a blank page on the screen because you don’t have it in you to write, but you just end up trying to type out your incoherent thoughts anyways because it feels like it’s a way to get it off your chest, because it feels like you can live somewhere else as someone whose heart isn’t constantly in pain.

And, if your mind and fingers are preoccupied with creating, typing out a story then there are fewer chances that you end up thinking about brown eyes and dyed blond hair and smile brighter than the sun, fewer chances you end up texting him the thoughts inside your head and the feelings inside your heart.

It doesn’t work though because you find that all your stories have some parts of him in there. The protagonist that you unconsciously modeled after him, the love interest with his passion for life, the best friend with his embarrassing tendencies, the villain with his hunger for more, everything comes back to him.

You try not to think about the constant dull heartache and mild confusion that resides in your heart. You try to not mind the fact that there’s a constant hope somewhere in the back of your mind that whenever your phone lights up, it’s a message from him, and the tightness of your heart when it isn’t.

You wonder if he feels the same way.

It’s a Saturday night, and usually, you’d ask if your roommate wants to hit the club with you. Then you realize Atsumu just had a game in Tokyo, and you always somehow end up bumping into him at clubs. You only wrap yourself in your blanket once again as you curl up in a ball. You feel a little woozy like you’ve had too much alcohol, and your head is throbbing. Your soulmate has been drinking a lot in the past month, you think, and it’s a little crazy because this past month without Atsumu has been a little bit of a new low for you too. You almost hope that your theory about Atsumu being your soulmate is wrong because you’re a little concerned if he’s drinking so much recently.

When your phone lights up and vibrates, signaling a text message, you mindlessly grab it because you are expecting a text from your roommate.

But it is from Atsumu, and all the air in your lungs leaves you when you read his message.

“i miss u”

You’re hesitant in responding. You want it to mean something, mean he actually misses you and cares about you, but you’re scared to get your hopes up. What if it isn’t even meant for you?

You only respond with a short, “are you drunk?”

“maybr but i miss u all the samne”

You don’t know how to respond, but he continues to send you texts before you can think of a response.

“i miss sseein u in my ned and dryin u hair aftet hsowers”

“i hera ur laugh wjen i makr a joke anf ur all i think fo when i ssemll books and inkk”

“i c u efvrywhere i go”

“i thik im in luv w u”

Your heart is drumming instantaneously to an irregular rhythm, and you exhale forcibly when you read his last message. The message becomes blurry on your screen as your tears drop. Your mind is feeling a million things and your heart cannot keep up with his confessions. He’s drunk right now, you think to yourself, so don’t take this to heart. Don’t think too much into it. Don’t.

“you’re drunk tsumu”

You are about to type more when you see him send another message.

“can i cone c u”

“pls”

You see the three dots at the bottom of your screen before it stops. Shortly after, you see the three dots again and you wait in anticipation, subconsciously holding your breath as you bite your lip.

“Hello, this is Meian. Sorry about Atsumu. He’s drunk, but he is true in his feelings. I think he (and the rest of the team) would appreciate it if you could spare some time to talk to him. You don’t have to if you don’t want to or feel uncomfortable though.”

You don’t know what to think, but you are reluctant to see him. “What is the point of love if it doesn’t consume you?” echoes in your mind. You remember wanting to be absorbed in love, to find passion that makes you feel alive, and you find that in Atsumu. You realize you can’t keep holding back like this if you want to live, and you’ve always wanted an adventure and he is your greatest one. He is someone you are willing to fall for, even if you aren’t his 120%, because he makes you feel like you are 120%. You take a deep breath and begin typing.

“okay. where are you guys?”

Meian drops you a pin, and you realize it’s the park you two always pass by on the way back from the club. You fight the slight dizziness in your head as you get up to put on your black coat with gold trims that oddly reminds you of his jersey and head out. Your heart is running at a million miles per hour, but the burn in your lungs as you breathe in the cold air oddly gives you a sense of calmness and clears your head.

You are not sure what you want from this - you do, but you don’t want to say it aloud because what if you jinxed it. You are trying to calm your raging heart as you near his location. Your head is getting clearer and clearer, and you wonder if your soulmate is finally sobering up.

You arrive at a park shortly after. You see Atsumu slump on a bench, arm over his eyes as if he’s contemplating his life. You see some of his teammates around him, Meian and Bokuto sitting on either side of him, Hinata crouching in front of him, and Sakusa standing close by but not in their proximity, saying something you cannot make out. When Bokuto spots you, his golden eyes light up under the lamplight and wave you over vigorously. The rest of the team follows, but all you can focus on is Atsumu raising his arm slightly to peek at you.

Sakusa is the first to approach you, and he nods as a greeting. You nod back, and his voice is even, albeit frustrated, you think, as he says, “Please talk some sense into this idiot.”

Your throat dries, but you nod again nevertheless. “I’m not sure if anyone can talk anything into him,” you offer with a dry chuckle.

He sighs in agreement before he looks at you with something akin to sympathy in his eyes. “Good luck.”

Bokuto comes up as Sakusa leaves. His good-natured eyes and energetic smile energizes you, and it momentarily brings a small smile to your face.

“Hey!! Thank goodness you’re here! Tsumtsum’s been in a slump ever since you stopped hanging around. He’s a good guy!”

“Yeah!” Hinata’s voice chirps in, eyes bright and smile even brighter, “He’s a little troublesome, but he’s a good guy.”

The two of them look like they are about to continue saying more when Meian comes and places a hand on both of their heads and ruffles their hair a little to stop their tracks. It’s kind of sweet, and it warms your heart a little bit because it looks like a dad calming down his children.

“Good to see you here. As they said, Atsumu is a good kid, but I’m sure you already know that,” Meian says with a small knowing smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

“I do,” you admit softly and return his smile.

“Alright, well we were just here to make sure he got here okay. Here are our numbers if you don’t want to deal with him anymore,” Meian laughs softly.

You whisper a soft thank you before your eyes flicker to where Atsumu is sitting. He is still slumped over, though you can see the red in his cheeks and the tip of his ears. It’s kind of adorable, and it makes you smile, but your feet feel glued to the ground when you want to step forward. You know you told yourself it’s okay to embrace these feelings, to fall, but it doesn’t make you any less afraid. Your brain is prepared but your heart is still scared.

As if the trio senses your uncertainty, Hinata starts, “Tsumtsum’s an honest guy, so he wouldn’t say anything he doesn’t mean!”

Bokuto nods his head vigorously and cheers you on. “Yeah!! Go for it!!”

Meian just pats your shoulder and ushers the two with him as he walks forward. “Go.”

You inhale a deep breath and nod, feeling like they just gave you wings to move forward. “Thank you.”

They laugh it off before they walk off, and you can still make out some of their conversations - something about making Atsumu treat them some A1 wagyu steaks and “oooh, what about all you can eat BBQ!” next time.

With newfound confidence, you walk towards the bench where Atsumu is sitting. He peeks at you from under his arm again but doesn’t say anything otherwise. You take a seat next to him, leaving some space in between despite the cold weather enveloping you. The two of you sit in silence for a minute, and it’s so quiet that you feel like you can hear your pulsing heart. You stare at the evening sky and take in the stars that no longer seem like they twinkling in disappointment.

He tugs the end of your sleeve, and this pulls you out of your reverie. “I wasn’t lyin’,” he says softly. You can smell the alcohol in his breath and hear the slight slur in his voice, but he sounds genuine and exposed.

“I don’t know what you want from me,” you silently admit.

His fingers on the ends of your sleeve make their way into your cold hand, instantly starting a fire on your hands and burning into your heart. “I just want ya.”

Your head snaps to look at him, and for the first time in a month, you’re really looking at him. You see his honest and hopeful brown eyes, face red from the winds or the alcohol or from being so raw, and form tense, almost as if he’s scared to hear the answer. You miss seeing him, being next to him, being with him.

“I thought you didn’t want to fall in love,” you respond faintly, almost inaudibly because he is holding your hand and it sets your soul ablaze in a way that you only feel when you’re with him. You’ve wanted to hear those words for so long because you’re absolutely in love with him and you’re scared to get your hopes up only to have them crushed again.

“I didn’t,” he admits honestly, “But it was too late. I see traces of ya everywhere even when ya aren’t there - in the crowds, at coffee shops and bookstores, at home when I’m back after a long day. Even when I close my eyes, I can see yer dumb smile and hear yer cute laugh, and it drives me insane.”

You smile as you whack him lightly with your other hand. “My smile isn’t dumb!”

“It makes me dumb, so it’s dumb,” he argues with a pout, but his pout fades into a smile that matches your own.

“That makes no sense, dummy,” you whack him softly again. You are almost afraid to process the latter of his statements because your heart is pounding so hard you can’t focus. You don’t miss the softness in his eyes or the affectionate smile when he’s looking at you, the gentleness and warmth of his hands as he’s holding yours.

“I think I was already in love with ya,” he confesses softly and squeezes your hand.

You can only stare at him. You feel a sudden rush of heat and excitement, of longing finally answered, of magic and love that sparkles and fills your heart and down to the depths of your soul. The words you never thought you would hear from him, the feelings you never thought would be returned, is right here. He is right here. Your heart is on fire, and you’re so hot it feels like you’re melting despite the cold weather. You feel like you’re on top of the world.

“I love you,” you whisper hesitantly as you search his eyes, not wanting to scare him off. You know he is a free spirit, and he doesn’t want and shouldn’t be tied to anything he doesn’t want to. When you only find the same look he gave you in his eyes, you can now finally put a name to the emotion: love. It gives you more confidence to squeeze his hand back and continue. “I love you with all my soul, with everything I have in me, from the beginning until the end of everything.”

Your heart beats madly and irrevocably, and for a moment you’re not sure if that’s your soulmate’s heartbeat or your own. You can only disorientedly stare at him, and he takes this moment to take your shaking hand and place it on his heart. You feel the rapid pace of his heart, and your accelerated heartbeats sync together in beats. His thumb gently brushes against your knuckles, and you find that this is a reality you don’t want to escape.

“It’s the same,” he affirms, easily and unquestionably.

“It’s the same,” you repeat slowly, words breathe out airily, and you are still a little in disbelief. “Looks like I stole your heart, huh?” you laugh softly.

“It was yer’s for the taking,” he replies honestly with a grin.

The distance between the two of you is gone, and you bask in his warmth. Your heart feels absolutely at peace and in love, and you’re wondering if your soulmate is feeling the same thing.

“You know,” you start, voicing out a theory you’ve had for a while, “Sometimes I think you’re my soulmate.”

He stares at you dumbly. “Huh, ya know, I’ve been thinking the same thing for a while too. I just wanta sleep sometimes after a long day, but then I suddenly feel excited and caffeinated and then want to cry in the middle of the night. There’s no one else I know who’s like this except for ya because I know ya do this when ya write the stories inside yer head.”

You stare at him. You don’t realize that he notices these small things about you, that he watches the way your face contours into a smile or falls into tears when you invest yourself in your stories. You can only smile wholeheartedly. “No one else has so many embarrassing moments that it makes me embarrassed and want to hide in a hole.”

“What!” he exclaims and adamantly insists, “I’m always cool and suave!”

“Uh, yeah, that ain’t it chief,” you retort with a grin. “You’re kinda embarrassing.”

He puffs his cheeks and pouts. You smile as you poke his cheek. He’s so cute. When his eyes meet yours again, your world stills. He is handsome, you think, as he leans closer to you. There’s something magical about this moment, and when he finally kisses you this time, delicately and hesitantly almost like he’s afraid and uncertain to, it feels different from the lustful, passionate kisses at night. It feels softer, indulgent, and it sparks a fire in your soul, like neon lights in a world gray, like summer in December, like you’ve been consumed wholly by love. When you finally separate for air, all you can do is mutter an airy, “Again.”

He swiftly kisses you again, and you kiss once, twice, until all you can think about in this moment is him.

.✫彡.✫彡.✫彡.

You are writing your graduation project when you hear loud footsteps behind you. The scent of spices and soft cinnamon hits your nose before strong arms wrap around your torso. Blond hair tickles the side of your face as Atsumu rests his chin on your shoulders.

“Good morning,” you greet softly. It’s still early in the morning, and you’re a little surprised he is awake before his first alarm for his morning run.

“Mornin’, love. Whatcha doing?” he asks as he stifles a yawn, voice still groggy.

“Finishing a long-overdue story,” you hum out in response, your eyes never leaving your computer and fingers still on the keyboard.

You continue to work as Atsumu holds you, and for a moment, you think he must have fallen back asleep because he’s so quiet. That idea quickly disappears as he kisses your cheek, his stubble tickling your skin. When you laugh lightly and swat him away, he groans out in frustration from the lack of attention and buries his head in the crook of your neck.

You only laugh again, “I’m almost done, Tsumu.”

He whines in response before he lifts his head and settles his chin on your shoulder again. He quiets, and you can feel his eyes following the movement of your fingers as you type.

“Whatcha writing about?” he asks curiously, eyes now glancing at the words on the screen.

“The girl who felt like she had nothing,” you hum softly, a little distracted. “Then a dumb idiot came and made her realize she had everything all along.”

“Does it have a happy ending?” he asks, curiously, playfully, and almost shyly. He remembers you telling him about this story, about you from days long ago.

You stop typing momentarily and turn to meet his brown eyes and a soft smile. In moments like these, you wonder how you are so lucky. Your heartbeats sync together, and in his eyes, you find the passion you’ve always dreamed of, the 120% you’ve never thought you could be, and the love you’ve always wanted that consumes your heart and soul.

“I love you,” you breathe out.

His enthusiastic smile and loving eyes already answer you silently before he says it, but when he whispers “I love ya too”, it feels exciting yet peaceful, full of contradictions, but it feels so soft, whole, complete, and you want to live in this moment forever.

“A love like ours doesn’t have an ending, dummy.” The corners of your eyes crinkle in joy as you lean your forehead against his.

“Good,” he responds, hand tucking the loose strands of your hair from your bun behind your ear, “That means I get to keep ya forever.”

You hum in agreement. The thought of your bucket list from high school that you started to find fun briefly flashes in your mind, and you are glad to know that you don’t need things to check off to find fulfillment because you already have all that you want right here. But, you admit, you are glad you can finally cross out the final item of falling in love and being loved in return because you find that in Atsumu. He pushes you to find your passions, to fulfill your dreams, and he is your home regardless of whether you succeed or not. Whatever it is, whenever it is, you know he loves you all the same because he always looks at you like this , like he can see the stars in your eyes, like you hang the moon up every night, like you’re brighter than the sun.

“Yeah, forever sounds good.”

.✫彡.✫彡.✫彡.

stole your heart, and I got lucky. stole your heart, and it was mine in a million ways, for a million days.

end notes: pls don’t ask me how this soulmate au works. i don’t know either.

#miya atsumu #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #miya atsumu x reader #atsumu x reader #hq!!#haikyuu!!#miya atsumu x you #haikyuu x you #sorry this got kinda long #lowkey inspired by million days by sabai and lets not fall in love by big bang #head empty miya atsumu only #sometimes i write things #idk why these keep getting longer and longer when i just wanted to write a short fic #im sorry i have the vocab of a child #dunno how to describe volleyball games so i went the Hinata route #text

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hopeshoodie · 4 years ago

Text

Rarepair Sunday- Hopeisol

Headcanons

The actual power couple we deserved. The both came into the game with opposing strategies- Hope thought it was important to be cordial with everyone and play the social game, Marisol came in prepared to be extremely competitive and selfish.

But throughout the game, they gradually adopt each other strategies unknowingly (as Marisol burns through partners she’s only tethered by her platonic relationships with MC and Noah, and Hope reverts to being territorial and selfish because MC/Priya sabotaged her relationship and didn’t have the decency to not gamify it). Marisol approaches Hope towards the end, after she breaks up with Graham for flirting with MC, to thank her for the advice. “You were right, the only thing keeping me sane is the friendships. It was dumb to actively TRY and sabotage friendships with the girls for the sake of gameplay.” And Hope starts silently crying because she feels like she hasn’t had the luxury of that.

They hug, Marisol leans in for a kiss, Hope hesitates, then Marisol pulls away and starts apologizing profusely for ‘misreading the situation’. Hope shushes her by kissing her back, and it gets heated.

When they pull away Hope laughs lightly and admits “that hardly helps my inability to build friendships.” Marisol grins and kisses her again, deeply. They get a little handsy, but it doesn’t go much further.

Neither of them talk about it after. Marisol starts dating Elisa, and gets really involved in the toxicity of that relationship. Hope finishes the game with Noah.

Both relationships don’t survive the real world for more than three months. Hope finds her mind periodically drifting back to Marisol…

After sending a text, they meet up for brunch and the rest is history. For some reason being out of the villa erases a lot of their awkwardness- now they’re just best friends. They ramble about politics with each other, have most of the same values, and consume the same kind of media. Hope invites Marisol on a work trip to somewhere in South America, and they become more than friends.

Best. Dressed. Couple. Ever. Neither of them keep active social media, but what does get posted to instagram is absolute fire. Marisol has that really classic, monotone, sleek fashion taste and Hope has the really elegant style with bright contrasting colors and sharp silhouettes. They are… Stunning.

A lot of LITG couples struggle with the day to day. Hope and Noah struggled with this- they were totally fine when they were doing grand gestures or being intensely affectionate, but then when little hiccups came up or the daily minutiae of making food/going about their daily life set in they couldn’t keep the same affectionate energy. Hope and Marisol do not have that problem what so ever. While they can be super affectionate, that part of their relationship is a bit more lacking whilst they get along really well on all the little details.

Their dynamic is like highschool lovers because neither of them have had such an emotionally important sapphic relationship before. They’re absolutely infatuated with one another and feel like it’s them against the world. There’s a ‘we’re building our empire’ vibe. But equally explosive is their arguments- Marisol is passive aggressive and Hope is SO reactive. Their disagreements, though few and far between, end in screaming and sobbing in separate rooms. They definitely break up a few times, then Hope will bring flowers and beg to get back together or Marisol will awkwardly show up and pretend that nothing ever happened. They mellow out with age and consistency in the relationship, but the first few years are super intense.

Love is Hope making an effort to plan out vacations/events for them then insisting Marisol follow through and come. Love is Marisol encouraging Hope to find a WOC therapist and talk about anger management and insecurity with her. Love is Hope holding Marisol accountable for making selfish mistakes and insisting, calmly and firmly, that she needs to apologize and make amends. Love is Marisol finding little jokes that make Hope laugh and then peppering them around her world, forcing Hope to admit that she loves the ducks of the month.

No kids, no attachments to their hometowns, two large corporate incomes- they live their absolute best life. Travelling and fashion are the big investments for them. I don’t think either of them really feels a need for home ownership, so they periodically upgrade just for the hell of it and enjoy condo/apartment living.

Almost every day they visit each other’s office for lunch. It’s not a consistent ‘at noon my wife comes’ because it changes with their workflow. But even if it’s a busy day, Hope will visit and sneak Marisol a coffee during a 5 minute break, or Marisol will show up and they’ll eat lunch in Hope’s office with the door firmly closed and the blinds drawn. They’re not overly affectionate in public though- Marisol is a fan of kissing Hope’s wrist and the back of her hand, and Hope loves to run her hands through Marisol’s hair and hold the back of her neck.

Light nsfw but they definitely come into their own sexually through each other. Neither of them has a lot of experience with women, and I think if they were with someone who was experienced it would be a process of embarrassment and discomfort. But because they’re both learning together, the power dynamic is a lot more balanced and they don’t enforce strict roles onto themselves.

They adopt a really crotechedy, mean old cat and constantly joke that he’s the man of the house. He’s an asshole, but they’d both die for him (and they both just want some other presence to be in the home, even if they don’t interact with him outside of sitting in the same room).

While they’re still friendly with the other contestants, they’re much closer to their non-Love Island friends, and are generally more isolated than other characters. They’ll show up to the 1 year, 5 year, and 10 year reunion, but not much more than that. Neither of them were close enough to keep tabs on or reach out to other islanders. Maybe Noah reaches out years down the road and he reconciles with Hope, but neither of them feel the need to keep in touch.

They are SO supportive of each other’s projects and careers. They both intently listen to the other ramble about their workdays, have a deep understanding of what the other’s position and role is, and want the other to be challenged. Marisol often jokes (and honestly it’s kind of true) that if Hope was sick she could fill in, and a couple of times when ranting about a negotiation Hope has suggested a tactic that ended up working.

When Marisol’s dad is struggling with alzheimers, Hope is honestly more attentive to him and the situation than Marisol can bring herself to be. Hope visits him at least three times a week, takes charge of all the arrangements, and encourages Marisol to visit him on ‘good days’ while quietly discouraging her from visiting on bad days.

They’re the best aunties to Hope’s brother’s kids. Hope and Marisol 100% spoil them, and are happy to watch them for a weekend, but are always relieved when they go home and the house is quiet again.

As they age, they both get a lot more philanthropic than they were. I can see Marisol retiring and accepting a role on some kind of board or nonprofit. Hope will work for as long as she possibly can (and considering she works in corporate, that’s a lot longer than you’d expect). They both struggle with retirement, and how to provide structure to a day when they can’t work like they used to.

Hope really struggles with losing the mobility and strength that she’s used to having. Not being able to do things that she ‘should be able to’ brings her to the point of a breakdown multiple times. Marisol struggles to know what to do, outside of laying a sympathetic hand on Hope’s forearm and nodding sadly. They still travel a lot, but it’s more confined to tours and cruises than it used to. Admitting that her health/bodily abilities make an annual trip unfeasible is the hardest thing Hope ever does.

And despite how Hope’s health is the first to start wavering, Marisol has similar problems to her dad. Far too soon. Maybe a year after Hope admits they need to opt out of another trip abroad, Marisol starts to turn sharply downhill. Hope can pretend it’s fine, that Marisol hasn’t been blankly sitting on the couch for 9 hours or forgetting basic information or getting lost in the middle of stories. But then the wandering starts, and the fear and confusion at not recognizing where she is. Admitting Marisol needs more care than their condo can provide, that SHE can provide, absolutely shatters Hope. They both move into an assisted living home, because Hope can’t bear to leave Marisol alone.

The worst days are when Marisol outright doesn’t remember her. There wasn’t anyone in her life early on who looks like Hope, so there’s no one for Hope to ‘pretend to be’ like a sister or aunt. Marisol will just assume Hope’s a nurse on these days. Being brushed aside and dismissed is better than not seeing Marisol at all.

But the good days are so lovely. Gentle. Soft. Both of them feel whole.

Marisol passes before Hope does, and Hope doesn’t have it in her to move out of the home and be on her own again.

#litg

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chayacat · 3 years ago

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Devil’s Sweet Star (27)

Fandom: Dead by Daylight

Ghostface x Female Reader

Rated M for Violence, Language and Smut

***

Who would have thought that one day you would have your own establishment, as well as employees? Seriously who? Even you didn't think it would happen. You've been dreaming about it since you were a little girl, you weren't like other little girls who wanted to be stars or singers. No, since you were a little girl, you were attracted to the cooking and that in a way, that was your father's fault. He wanted to share his love of cooking so much that he more than passed it on to you... He's infected you. Cooking, a world of exotic flavors that was offered to those who wanted to enter.

So, you studied a lot of recipes, whether simple or complicated, you watched and helped your father make the meals, as well as your mother who sometimes also made pastry. And since that early childhood.... you dreamed of having your own establishment or you could put it all into practice. Whether it was a café or a big restaurant, all you wanted was to bring a smile and good mood to people via food. And today... this little girl's dream has come true. You were the owner of the Nebula, the most attractive café in all of Roseville. And all this in such a short time! It's very impressive! If only your parents could be there to see it...

“Excuse me boss... Do we have any March cakes left?”

You blink for a few seconds looking at Amy. Then you come to your senses before smiling at her and stopping what you were doing.

“Of course! Here they are! they've just been finished! they are fresh and ready for sale. Are you going to make it?” You ask with a smile.

“Yes, ma'am! you can count on me!” answers Amy before taking the tray where the cakes were.

“Amy! Don't forget what I told you. You call me by my first name, not boss. Ok?”

“Oh...right. Excuse me (Y/N). I would try to remember that.

Amy left the back shop, smiling, to return to the room. On this side, the room was full. Corey didn't lack work between cleaning tables, serving and re-serving customers and taking orders. Yet he found a way to talk to Amy. They're both so adorable. It's the perfect duo. The other candidates were interesting but... Amy and Corey stood out from the crowd. They had a future these two. They will go far... you were sure and certain of that. If one day you had to leave Roseville... You knew the Nebula would be in a very good hand.

“Everyone's been through something tragic, sweetheart. I'm one of them. And I'm going to make everyone pay for it. Until my last breath.”

What did he mean? Did he know about it? No... No, that’s not possible. He couldn't have known. The only ones who know about your parents aren't the type to go and tell everybody about it. Especially Jed. Yet the words of Ghostface crossed your mind. If he knew about it... he would have let you know. But it's Ghostface... and subtlety could be part of his vocabulary. With this man, anything can happen, anything can surprise you. What is most surprising... is that he's ready to protect you. But above all, it was his last words that surprised you.

“I know that one day... You'll call on me for that. Everyone has a dark side to the bottom of their heart; it only takes one click to bring it out”.

We can deny it as much as we want, but Ghostface is right. We all have a dark side. And it only takes one thing to get it out. A single provocation, a single remark or a single wrong move in a moment when you have to be calm and need support... and it's the explosion. And the problem in this case... it's that you don't know how far you can go. If we go further than the red line. But will you go so far as to ask a murderer for help? A murderer who, for some reason always unknown to you, decide, proclaim, that you were his and only to him. While he knows that you already have someone.

“Miss (Y/N)! Sorry to bother you but... There's a guy who wants to see you! He says his name is... Jed Olsen. Do you know him?” ask Corey.

Speak of the Devil...

“Well, if we assume that it's my boyfriend... Yes, I know him, Corey. Tell him to come, he's got a VIP pass.” You respond with smile, laughing a little.

Corey left with a smile and a few moments later, Jed entered the room. And the first thing you did was to put down your things and kiss him tenderly. How could he be so beautiful from day to day? You remember the first time you met, so shy, so unconfident... and today it is the exact opposite. He wears less and less his glasses when he’s not in front of a screen and leaves his hair looser more often. Jed has definitely changed. And for the better.

“I see you ended up choosing your employees. Are they doing well?” Ask Jed, smiling.

“Very good indeed! for their first few days, they are quite reactive and motivated. That's exactly what I was looking for. Even though Amy still has a little trouble taking the initiative, she's doing well. Corey almost fell several times but he managed to hold back each time.” You respond with a smile.

“Good. it's going to make you feel a little relieved at least, you won't have to manage everything on your own. Is it official or are they in a testing period?”

“Technically they are in a testing period. But from what I see we can say that it is official. What about you? How's it going?” you replied.

“Wilhelm is always grumpy... But at least we're moving forward. Hoggins met someone a few days before threatening McKellan. And it's possible he's the murderer. After that's just speculation, when we find this guy, Wilhelm will make him have a bad time, you can believe me. While we wait for news, we'll continue our work at the paper. I never have accumulated jobs. Because between us... Roseville police officers aren't really smart...” Jed responds scratching the back of his head.

“I see. Poor you... You must be exhausted. Courage once the murderer is in prison everything will return to normal...I hope.”

“You still think about it, right? You know if you need to talk about it, we can... do as a kind of therapy every night, I'm not a psychologist but... talking from time to time feels good. And in exchange you can play the psychologist for me... because sometimes... I could use it. And I think you do, too.

You nod as you bow your head. It's true that you both need to talk. And it feels good. it feels good to take all that weight off your heart, just as it feels good to have someone you trust to talk about it. And there's nothing better than Jed for that. You know that with him, your secrets will be well kept. Not that you don't trust Melina or Mattew.... But you feel more comfortable with Jed. Even if you don't feel comfortable with your boyfriend, who would you be? You drink a glass of water before looking at your worktop. Many pastries were being made.

“Yes... I'll think about it. But I promise, if I need it... I'll come and see you. And the same, if you need... Come to me. I'd have extra pastries.” you said with a wink.

“I'd just come for that then... I can't resist your cakes. Do you think they'll listen to my stories?”

You hit Jed's arm, who laughs, before kissing and leaving you to work in peace. He, too, still had work to do. You get back to work quickly, as customers continue to flock. And you may run out of cakes in shop windows. The rest of the day passed quite quickly, guests sometimes staying a good half hour, asking for drinks and food again of course. The day was a little more lucrative than usual, which is a very good thing! And we must not forget that now that you have employees, you would have to pay them a salary.

You clean the worktop, while Amy and Corey took care of the room. They were talking at the same time and just hearing them... you think they're adorable. They laughed, provoked themselves a little and gave each other advice. Let's say that for that last point, it was more Corey who advised Amy. How lovely they were together. Kind of like you and Jed, either. If these two are not already in a relationship, you hoped they would form a nice couple for as long as possible.

You chat with them for a little while, in order to learn more about them. Amy lives a little out of town, while Corey lives in the town hall district. He had taken over the house of his mother who moved to Alaska... himself wondered why. You greet them both before doing your daily surveillance ritual and closing the café. As you were about to go home, your phone rang. Melina.

“Hey Melina! How are you? Not too tired?” you ask cheerfully.

“Hey! I'm fine, I'm fine. We can't stop running today. I was thinking we could have a little girl outing tonight! Nothing but you and me! just to decompress a little bit! What do you think?” She answers.

“I don't know... I had a lot of work and still I have to work on other recipes and …”

“Oh, Come on. You need and you have the right to rest a little! your coffee is working very well so far. You don't have to rush to the top. Take your time and think of yourself! I know a small bar restaurant, believe me if you like the jazz atmosphere, you'll love it!”

“Okay ok... You won. At least let me change and you'll pick me up at home. Is that okay for you?”

“Sure! I'll be at your home in 30 minutes!

You both hang up and you sigh while shaking your head. Decidedly despite the day she had, Melina still finds a way to go out at night. She doesn't lack energy! This is what completes her character in itself. How could one imagine her other than that? That's impossible. You go home to take a shower to remove the smell of whipped cream, coffee... and sweat too. You take the opportunity to send a message to Jed, a message that turned into a conversation. He asked you to be very careful because even though it is a small town, Roseville can be dangerous at night. To which you reply that with Melina, it is more the aggressor who will suffer than you. He laughs, tells you that he loves you before wishing you a good evening and a good night. Melina arrived as planned after 30 minutes, ringing home, excited to have this girls' night out. You laugh at her attitude, she's really adorable sometimes.

“You'll see this little Jazzy side makes all the charm of this place! I often go there when I need to decompress. I confess that it’s been a little while that I did not go there but I know that it has not changed thanks to Mattew!” said Melina cheerfully.

“I trust you with that! I've never been to a restaurant bar like this. I can't wait to see what happens!” you respond with a smile.

“That's the dress you put on for the date with Jed, isn't it? I understand why he broke down, you're so cute. The black floral dress, a classic but still as effective. Let's go before there are too many people!”

You both get in Melina's car and head to the restaurant bar. The music could be heard from the outside, and frankly it was nice. You both enter the property and the waiter greeted you in an immaculate smoking. You both sit at a table and one of the servers brought you the card. There are so many delicious things on this menu that you don't know what to take. Melina already knew what she was going to take... And just by the expression on her face, you know it's delicious, and that's surely what she takes every time. The server returned a few minutes later to take your orders and cards. You let yourself be tempted by a good steak with fries, all with a small homemade tartar sauce, and for dessert a sublime glass of banana split ice cream. Melina had taken a veal blanquette and the same dessert as you.

“So... You see it feels good to sit down a little and enjoy your evening. it relaxes and that's all you need!” She said.

“I guess you’re right. Thank you, Melina.” You respond

“No problem! Let's enjoy this evening without the boys, just two women who are free as air.”

You smile while raising your glasses, wine for her and water for you before you drink. Then came the dishes. Melina salivated and took a bite, emitting a little sound of satisfaction. It was good to be able to land without worrying about work. Melina's right, it feels good. And you're going to enjoy it! the music relaxes you completely and you let yourself be dragged into the rhythm. Melina did the same, you chat, laugh, and even dance on the small dance floor.

Tonight, is your night. Tonight, you're free to do whatever you want, without doing too much either. But tonight, you put your work aside, your doubts, your fears, your questions, everything disappears for a night out. And tomorrow we'll see if they come back. They will come back one day, for sure but for now, we are holding out, making the most of it, all with an incredible friend.

No Ghostface. Just you and a great night waiting for you. And a good sleep on the way home, too. Make the most of it.

Because God only knows when you can do another one like this.

Make the most of it, my little lady.

Because you may not have others like this for a long time.

Or even never.

***

(I came to my driving hours and for my first two hours, it's not too bad XD but hey I will progress over time! Besides, I started in Stardew Valley and I love it! I'm going to spend my weekend playing there to relax. I hope you’ll like this chapter like the others ones! Well, it's time for my brain to rest! Have a great weekend to you all! See ya!)

#dbd fanfic #dbd #dead by daylight #ghostface #danny johnson #jed olsen

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hazard-and-friends · 4 years ago

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Month 11

What the fuck. Holy hell buddy.

The focus here will be catching us up with the missed months and then next month I’ll do a 1 year retrospective.

The last time I posted one of these was January 9th. In late February, we moved from FL to WA; at the end of the month we moved into a new, one bedroom apartment. In mid-March I started a part time job which I adore (running puppy camp at a R+ facility! in the next few weeks I’ll start teaching swims and puppy play groups!). So first we did a massive amount of prep for the move, and then we did even more prep for post-move things like “meeting my family” and “oh shit there’s hills now” and in between the two we’ve made huge strides on the cat thing.

The details!

Night time: We have completely stopped putting him in the crate at night. There were two reasons for crating to begin with: 1) We didn’t know where Penny wanted to sleep and didn’t trust them when we were asleep and 2) to create good sleepy associations prior to the plane flight. #2 is no longer relevant and a) Penny wants to sleep Up or in the bed and b) Hazard laaaaargely doesn’t care about her once the lights go off. So he sleeps on the floor, after a VERY exciting 4 nights at the airbnb where he got to sleep in the people bed with the people (Penny slept on top of the catinets cabinets).

Crate in general: I spent 2 months working on the plastic crate not being the actual devil, and he did end up being happy in it. But he’s regressed to thinking that crates in general are prison spaces due to the plane flight, so it’s all to the good that he doesn’t have to go in at all anymore. Regular crate training (for trials) is on the task list.

Medications: He was on trazodone through late March. For the flight itself, I started him on gabapentin (100 mg 3x daily) 24 hours before the flight, and gave him a double dose when we left the apartment. All of this was cleared with his vet first, consult with your own etc. No side effects and the gabapentin definitely helped--but he was still upset at takeoff and landing. One of the reasons I wanted him to see a vet in March was to switch off trazodone and onto something actually validated in separation anxiety. He’s now on Reconcile, 24 mg once a day. At 2 weeks in: No lasting side effects (the first 48 hours were a little weird), and overall anxiety is decreasing.

Anxiety in general: IT’S BEEN A FUN TIME Y’ALL. Because trazodone and prozac (Reconcile) both affect serotonin, he had to come off trazodone for 4-5 days before starting Reconcile. Which confirmed a bunch of things:

Trazodone wasn’t doing very much at all. 90% of the time he was unchanged.

He is WAY more anxious on car rides than anyone realized. Once off trazodone, he started whining continuously on the way out--the way back is fine, either because he’s exhausted, he knows we’re going home, or we’ve already been to the superfunexcitingplace.

Trazodone wasn’t doing SHIT for his separation anxiety, which was unchanged.

He was only slightly more reactive to the cat and no more reactive to strangers. Cool.

Now that we’re 2 weeks into Reconcile: Starting to see big improvements in separation anxiety (more on that later) and cat tolerance is back to baseline (ditto). Car rides are still chatty but rapidly improving. No side effects, still playful and happy and silly.

Separation anxiety: Over a month, we achingly worked our way up to 90 seconds of me gone, or 30 seconds of me gone if I had done one preparing-to-leave thing. And even that was unreliable. That’s not right, guys. That’s the big reason we switched medications. Because keep in mind that all of this is while Jo was in the room with him. Yesterday I left to run errands with no prep and he just watched. I love Reconcile. It took about 5 minutes for him to settle down, but still. Plan is to bust ass and get to 15 minutes with no pre-departure cues and then add them back in.

Cat: Two steps forward one step sideways. While he chases her every other day or so, there are no gates in the new apartment. Sometimes we close the door to the bedroom so Penny can be unmolested, but often she’s the one who wants out, and she’s finding more and more places to chill. Moooost nights Hazard gets tied (harness to longline to my desk) but that’s more so that we don’t have to be constantly watching. At night there’s sometimes scuffles, but those end with Penny wherever she wanted to be and Hazard under the bed.

Weight: Vet had him at 44 lbs but he hadn’t pooped that day. He’s now on diet Hills SD, 1.5 cups, but he also gets around 100 pieces of treats a day so that’s surely impacting things. He’s looking better and better though--nice thigh muscles.

Formal training: I have completely jumped the shark and started teaching rally cues. As soon as the budget balances I want to get back to doing rally with Sydney’s trainer, and he’s picking up the basics really fast. Also, recall?? Is coming along fabulously?? Amazing. Love it when I don’t have to do anything.

I jest, I did a lot. We did a bowl game where I put him in a wait, put food in his bowl, then went to the other side of the room and called him. He had to come to me before going to the food, and that really helped recall click in a way that other games hadn’t.

Handling: After 11 months I admitted defeat and took him to the vet for nails. The vet tech’s verdict is that he sang at her but she got them done in 5 minutes so hey. We’re going back to the very basics and doing it to enthusiasm, not compliance, this time. Sigh.

Good note: I did teach him a chin rest and he now LOVES offering it. Amazing. Love him so much.

Stranger danger: the BIGGEST progress. In the last month he’s met both my parents, my grandparents, one of my siblings, and a friend. 6 people, 3 genders, aged 19-77, and a whole array of builds and heights. They’re all white but you can’t have everything. A growing theme is he’s much better in novel environments than in his home base, so probably we’ll be meeting people outside and then walking them in. But still, seeing huge improvements in his willingness to associate with strange humans and let them touch him.

Walks: 40 min morning/20 min evening, except for once a week when it’s a 50-60 min hike or sometimes we rent the field at my work... It’s hard to be a dog ;) Fitness is less his problem on walks than focus for that long, so the hike is actually easier for him than 40 min along a 35mph road. Still, we’re getting lots of nice perky behavior out and about.

#ELEVEN MONTHS SORRY WHAT #training log #april 2021 #hazard to society

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i-am-out-of-my-vulcan-mind · 4 years ago

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To Forgive and Forget - Chapter 10

😱😱 Well here it is!

I’ve finally finished! It’s only taken me nearly a year. Thank you to everyone who has been patient and stuck with me for the duration of this fic. I’m sorry for any pain I may have caused 😂

Big massive thanks to @lurkingwhump. Without you I never would have managed to complete a fic like this. Thank you for the hours of research and plotting. I glove you.

Please let me know what you think ❤️

It had been a week since Jane had woken up in the ICU, a fortnight since she had been shot. Her levels had remained steady, the doctors happy with her progress. She had slept most of the time, trying to rest as much as possible to regain her strength. She and Kurt had spoken a little more about their argument, trying to clear the air as best as possible.

Kurt had said “clean slate” but Jane still worried that their insecurities would lead them to destruction.

She apologized again for sleeping with Clem while she had been on the run. Knowing how badly she had hurt Kurt by cheating on him, she wanted nothing more than to heal his pain, especially when it had taken her a couple of years to actually say how sorry she was.

It was morning, Jane sat up in bed, a pillow between her ribcage and elbow for support. She was picking at her breakfast, waiting for Doctor Thompson to come in on his morning rounds.

Kurt sat next to her side, frowning at her lack of effort on the food in front of her. She was yet to regain her appetite, still complaining of nausea and stomach upset. She was on antiemetics four times a day, but they barely seemed to scrape the surface.

The first time she had tried to eat anything, she had ended up in a vortex of pain and sickness, as her stomach rejected the food. She had never felt agony like that before, and she was too anxious to try again.

Doctor Thompson entered the room at that point, his own face mirroring Kurt’s concerned expression.

“How’s my favourite patient this morning?” he asked, sitting on the end of the bed.

Jane shrugged, wincing slightly at the gesture. She was still in a lot of discomfort, especially when she made any sudden movements.

“Still not eating?” the doctor asked kindly, yet rhetorically.

Jane chewed on her bottom lip, before shaking her head softly.

“Jane, you really need to eat to regain your strength. You’re not going to heal if your body doesn’t have the fuel it needs.”

Jane sighed, feeling defeated. She wanted to get better, truly, but she was so worried that her body would reject the food again. The severe onslaught of pain that had come with the vomiting, had lasted a couple of hours. She just wasn’t sure she could handle that again.

“I’m still just feeling sick.” she said in a small voice.

The doctor reached out and placed his hand on her shin. The three of them had grown quite friendly over the last week, so the gesture was acceptable.

“Jane if you don’t start eating, I’m afraid I’m going to have to put you on a feeding tube.”

Jane grimaced at that. The thought of how intrusive that would be had her shuddering internally.

“I had come here in the hopes you had gotten your appetite back… your levels are remaining strong… you are showing a remarkable recovery rate. I was hoping to kick you out to gen pop today.” the doctor joked.

Jane’s eyes widened at that. She knew that she would be in hospital for a while yet, but she desperately wanted to get out of the ICU. She wanted to be able to go outside, maybe go for a short walk - have a fricken shower.

The doctor looked at her plate expectantly.

Jane sighed, before picking up a piece of dry toast, and bringing it tentatively to her mouth.

“Your stomach is going to be irritated for a start.” Doctor Thompson warned. “The more you eat, the less unwell you will feel.”

Jane took a small bite, chewing slowly. The toast tasted like saw dust in her mouth. She swallowed thickly, allowing the food to hit her stomach before taking another small bite. She did this until she had finished a whole piece of toast.

Her stomach grumbled unhappily at the sudden intrusion of substance.

She let out a long breath of air, trying to control her sudden queasiness.

“Have some water.” the doctor said, handing her the cup. “It will help.”

She took a couple of mouthfuls, before laying back against the pillows, one hand resting on her upset belly.

“You ok baby?” Kurt murmured, holding her other hand.

Jane didn’t answer for a moment, before nodding.

“I don’t think it’s going to make a reappearance.” she said, her voice relieved.

The doctor nodded and then smiled.

“Good. If you manage to eat your lunch without any mishaps, then I’ll look at moving you into the Progressive Care Unit.”

Jane reached out and took another drink of water.

“Thank you.” she whispered, her exhaustion taking over.

“Get some rest.” Doctor Thompson instructed, patting her on the leg again. “I’ll be back to see you this afternoon.”

Kurt stood and shook the Doctor’s hand.

“Thanks doc.” he said, relieved. No amount of coaxing had encouraged Jane to eat, so he was thankful the doctor had found a way.

He sat back beside his wife, taking her hand.

“Do you feel a bit better now you’ve eaten?” he asked softly.

Jane nodded. The initial queasiness of ingesting her first solid food in days, seemed to be passing.

He smiled warmly at her, leaning forward to kiss her on the forehead.

The nurse came by at that point to administer her pain relief, antibiotics and antiemetics.

He watched her eyes grow heavy - as they always did after her medication.

“Rest, Jane.” he said softly. “Hopefully when you wake you’ll be able to move out of here.”

Jane smiled at that, before allowing herself to fall into a healing sleep, feeling better than she had in days.

0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°

Kurt watched his wife sleeping, feeling proud as punch. She had managed to eat a light lunch and Doctor Thompson had happily transferred her to the Progressive Care Unit. She no longer needed to be in the ICU, but she still wasn’t quite ready to be moved to a standard surgical ward. She still needed to be monitored closely, and any sudden change would land her straight back in the ICU.

He couldn’t keep the smile off of his face as he watched the steady rise and fall of her chest. They had removed the humidified oxygen, switching it for a standard nasal cannula. She looked peaceful in her sleep, her expression one of relief.

Kurt knew that being transferred from the ICU had lifted the weight off of her chest. She liked to be able to see progress and this was a positive step forward.

He felt his phone vibrating in his pocket. Pulling it out he looked at the caller ID, before quickly leaving the room to allow his wife to sleep.

“Patterson.” he answered the phone. “What have you got for me.”

“Hey Kurt.” she replied. “First off, how's Jane doing?”

“Better.” Kurt said, and couldn’t help it when the corners of his mouth started lifting again. “They’ve transferred her out of the ICU, and she managed to eat something.”

He heard Patterson’s sigh of relief.

“That’s great news.” she said softly.

Kurt heard her hesitate on the end of the line.

“What is it?” he asked, going into agent mode.

“I know who did the cover up on Anna Lee.”

“Ok?” he asked. He didn’t like the nervousness in her voice.

“It was Mayfair.”

Kurt’s eyebrows shot up.

“Mayfair?” he asked incredulously.

“It was because of Daylight. I speculated at the start and from the intel I’ve gathered, Mayfair was using Daylight to gather information on the Mob. She was trying to get one up on them.”

“So what happened?” Kurt asked, pacing up the hallway.

“Well when Daylight went bust, all the information she had gathered on Anna Lee could no longer be used… she had to clean everything up, fast. The files got redacted and Anna Lee was set free.”

Kurt exhaled slowly, sitting on a chair in the hallway and hung his head sadly.

“I honestly think it was just bad timing.” Patterson replied quietly, hearing his sigh. “The system went down before she had gained enough legitimate intel to pin anything on her.”

Kurt sighed.

“Thank you for letting me know.”

“I thought you deserved the truth.” Patterson said softly. “Give my best to Jane.” she said, before hanging up.

Kurt pocketed his phone, running his hand over the scruff of his face. He needed a shave. The toll of the last few weeks was beginning to show. He could feel the fatigue settling like lead in his muscles.

He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. So it had been Mayfair all along. He knew when he had seen Patterson’s face that morning that something had been up.

Shaking his head, he decided he would deal with those feelings later. Right now he needed to get back to Jane.

He walked back up the corridor, his blood running cold as he entered her room. The bed was empty, the blood pressure cuff, nasal cannula and monitors strewn across the bed.

“Jane?” he called, moving further into the room. When he received no answer he felt his heart rate start to pick up. “Jane?” he said again. He walked across to the adjoining bathroom, opening the door quickly.

Jane was lying unconscious and unmoving on the cold tile floor.

“Jane!” he yelled, rushing to her side. He hit the emergency button on the bathroom wall before collapsing to his knees beside her.

He reached out and cupped her cheek, trying to elicit a response from her.

“Jane.” he murmured, stroking her eyebrow.

A team of medical staff came pouring into the room, Kurt moving out of the way to let them work.

“I don’t know what happened. I left the room to make a call and when I came back she was like this.” he relayed. What the hell had she been thinking, getting out of bed for the first time without assistance?

The doctor leading the team shone his penlight in her eyes.

“Pupils are even and reactive, let's turn her on her side and raise her legs. I think she’s just fainted and is having a bit of trouble coming back to us.”

They turned her gently into the recovery position, being careful not to pull at the suture sights. A nurse crouched on the ground, elevating Jane’s legs.

A couple of painstaking moments later, Jane’s face contorted in pain. She groaned, before her breathing accelerated and she let out a wail of anguish.

“Push 10mg of morphine.” the doctor instructed. “Jane? Can you hear me?” the doctor asked, leaning over her.

Jane squeezed her eyes shut, trying to curl in on herself as her abdomen pulsed with pain. She had fallen onto her suture sites, the impact sending tendrils of white hot agony up her side.

The nurse injected the morphine into Jane’s upper arm. Kurt watched in horror as she writhed on the floor, screams of anguish escaping through her clenched teeth.

He ached to go to her, but didn’t want to get in the way of the medical staff. He saw the doctor leaning over her, urging her to slow her breathing down and try to relax.

It was a few painstaking minutes later, that the morphine finally seemed to start taking effect. Her wails died down to whimpers, and her body seemed to calm down a little, her muscles not so rigid.

“Ok let’s get a transfer sheet under her. I’m not comfortable with her standing again so soon.” the doctor instructed his team.

Kurt stood back in the room, watching the staff roll Jane onto the sheet.

“On my count.” the doctor said, coming to a standing position. “Three, two, one.”

In unison they lifted Jane from the bathroom floor, before manoeuvring her back into her room.

She cried out in pain at the movement, before her eyes squeezed shut, and her mouth opened in a silent scream.

They lay her on the bed gently, shuffling the sheet out from under her. The nurse helped prop her up on the pillow, before tucking the blankets back over her.

“Alright Jane, we’re gonna take some obs, ok? After that if your pain hasn’t calmed down, we can give you a little bit more morphine.”

Jane nodded, before finally opening her eyes. “Kurt!” she whimpered, her eyes begging him to come closer.

Kurt took that as the opening he had been waiting for, rushing to her side. He stepped up to her face, smoothing her hair back gently.

“I’m here… I’m here.” he soothed.

One nurse got to work, taking her blood pressure and temperature, while the other hooked her back up to the monitors and inserted her nasal cannula back into her nose.

“What were you thinking?” he asked softly.

Jane’s chin wobbled slightly, her eyes wide and vulnerable.

“I n-needed to use the bathroom.” she got out in a small voice.

Kurt frowned at that. She had had her catheter removed before being transferred to the PCU, in the hopes her body would start performing normal functions again.

“Why didn’t you call?” he asked tenderly, though he already knew the answer.

“I didn’t want to call the nurse for something so trivial.”

Kurt shook his head.

“Oh, Jane.” he whispered. “They’re there to help.”

One of the nurses nodded in agreement. “He’s right you know.” she said kindly. “Anything you need, you just need to ask.”

Jane sighed, before grimacing in pain again. A small sob escaped her throat, making Kurt’s heart constrict.

“Your vitals are a little high.” the doctor told them. “No more unassisted trips Ms Doe, or you will end up back in the ICU.”

Jane agreed by silent communication, trying to breathe through the pain. She couldn’t speak, the agony in her side throbbing with every beat of her accelerated heart.

“Do you feel you need the second dose?” the doctor asked.

Jane nodded, making eye contact with Kurt. The expression on his face broke her heart. She had yet again caused him pain by her own stupid actions.

The nurse injected another, smaller dose of morphine into her IV.

“You’ll hopefully be able to sleep the brunt of the pain off with that many painkillers on board.” the nurse said kindly, before capping the needle and moving off.

Once Jane seemed to have settled down, the doctor checked her heart rate again.

“Good. It’s a little lower. You just rest. I’ll be back to check on you in a little while.” he said, before making eye contact with Kurt. “Call if you need anything.” he said, giving Jane a pointed look.

Kurt nodded his thanks, before returning his attention to his wife.

Already, the second dose of painkillers seemed to be taking effect, her face still contorted in pain, but her eyelids heavy.

Kurt sat gently on the bed, the adrenaline seeping from his body, leaving him feeling a bit shaky himself. He continued to stroke her hair off her forehead, hoping his ministrations were helping to relax her.

Her eyes rolled into the back of her head, before she let out a long breath of air and drifted off to sleep.

Kurt closed his eyes in exhaustion and concern.

What the hell was he going to do with her?

0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°

Jane slept through the rest of the afternoon and through the next night, her body completely exhausted from the faint.

Kurt stayed by her side all night, managing to get a couple of hours sleep in the armchair next to her bed. After her ordeal with the bathroom floor, there was no way he was going to let her out of his sight, until he was confident she was actually going to ask for help.

She woke up the next morning, blinking against the morning light.

“Hey.” Kurt murmured, leaning forward to kiss her good morning.

Jane grimaced, her body still tender from falling the day before, but she managed a smile for her husband’s benefit.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, though he could already guess by her pale complexion and the drawn features to her face.

“Sore.” she admitted, shuffling on the bed to try and get more comfortable.

“You’ll be due your meds shortly.” Kurt informed her, looking at his wrist watch. “And then you really need to try and eat breakfast. You missed dinner last night.”

Jane groaned at the mere thought of food. Her insides had started churning again after the onset of pain, reminding her of the agony she had felt the first time she had eaten and vomited.

“Jane… you need to try.” Kurt encouraged. “I know how badly you don’t want to end up back in the ICU.”

Jane sighed, before meeting his eye.

“I’ll try.” she rasped quietly. Her throat was raw, her voice husky from screaming the day before.

A nurse came round, administering her medication into her IV line. Jane exhaled in relief when the pain meds and antiemetics started working.

Her breakfast came shortly after and Jane couldn’t help but pull a face at the food in front of her. Her belly lurched, sending her into a fit of panic.

“I don’t think I can.” she admonished. She looked up at Kurt with big sorrowful eyes.

Kurt sighed, before standing.

“That’s it.” he murmured, before walking to the door. “I’ll be back soon.”

Jane sat in her bed feeling dumbfounded. Had he really just walked out on her? She knew that his patience was starting to wear thin, but she never thought he would actually leave because she felt too unwell to eat. She knew he wanted her to get better with all his soul, and she did too, but the thought of eating with her already unsettled stomach, and then possibly being sick… she shuddered.

Jane sat staring at the TV, flipping through the channels for what felt like hours. She had kept her promise and notified the nurse when she needed to use the bathroom. To her horror, because her blood pressure was still low, the nurse had brought her in a bed pan. They didn’t want her walking with her vitals the way they were and potentially passing out again.

But she breathed through the embarrassment, knowing that if she didn’t, Kurt would probably kill her himself.

It was almost midday when he arrived back in her room.

“Kurt… I…” she cut herself off when she saw the two little visitors traipsing in behind her husband. “Fletcher!” she beamed, grinning from ear to ear. His little face made her heart swell. Peeking out from behind Fletcher, was a little girl, one who she had only seen in photographs. “You must be Tyler.” she said gently.

The little girl nodded, before smiling back at Jane.

“I thought you could use a little cheering up.” Kurt admitted.

Jane looked up at her husband, biting the inside of her cheek to stop herself from crying. “Thank you.” she mouthed, before turning back to her small visitors.

“I gots you something.” Fletcher said proudly, before placing a takeaway mug on Jane’s bedside table. “Broth.” he said proudly.

“Oh… Fletcher… thank you. Maybe I’ll have it in a little while.” she said before looking up at Kurt. “Low blow.” she muttered at her husband. The fact that he had used a six year old to get her to eat, had her both wanting to laugh and cringe at the same time.

Fletcher shook his head.

“No… Mr Kurt said you have to eat it all up while we are here. He said you’re sick…”

Jane sighed. Of course Kurt would have told him that. He was using all the ammunition at his disposal.

“Yes… my tummy’s just feeling a bit yucky.” she said softly, directing her attention back to the little boy.

Fletcher looked up at her thoughtfully.

“My mommy always used to make me broth when I was sick too… she said that even if I didn’t feel like it, I needed to eat it… so I could get better.” He scratched his head. “You need to get better… so you need to eat the broth.”

Jane eyed her husband wearily, before picking up the takeaway mug. “Alright then…” How could she say no to that face? Though she was incredibly concerned that things may go pear shaped. She didn’t want to scare the children if her body was to reject the food and send her into a screaming fit of torment.

She opened the lid with shaky hands, before bringing the mug to her mouth. She took a sip, before swallowing thickly, stifling a groan as the broth hit her stomach and started bubbling.

“You have to drink more.” Tyler piped up for the first time.

Jane sighed, bringing the mug back to her lips. “If this goes wrong, you need to get them out of here quickly.” she muttered to Kurt, before taking another sip.

“You’ll be fine, Jane.” Kurt murmured, raising his eyebrows at his wife. He felt guilty that he had used the kids as a form of blackmail, he knew Jane wouldn’t be able to deny them, but he couldn’t see her going backwards, not this far into her recovery.

Jane managed to drain, half of the mug, before Kurt saw her face turn three shade paler, a green hue tingeing her cheeks. “Drink some water.” he told her gently, handing her the cup.

She looked incredibly uncomfortable, breathing shallowly as she tried to keep the broth inside of her.

She took a couple of sips of water, before laying back onto the pillows, her eyes closed. “I’m done for now.” she said gently, not wanting to scare the kids, but also letting Kurt know that in no way was she going to try and consume more of the broth with her belly roiling the way that it was.

“Was it nice?” Fletcher asked, reaching out to touch Jane’s arm. He started tracing the tattoos on her skin, making her smile. She opened her eyes to look at him, her nausea momentarily forgotten.

“The best I’ve had.”

Both Fletcher and Tyler broke out into massive grins.

“We helped make it!” Tyler beamed, jumping up and down excitedly.

“You did?” Jane asked, with as much enthusiasm as she could muster. She was growing tired, but seeing these two, made her feel happier than she had in days.

A nurse entered the room at that point, holding a kidney fish full of vials.

“Just here for a bit of blood.” she told them.

Fletcher looked worriedly up at Jane.

“Do… do you want me to go first?” he asked hesitantly, remembering how Jane had gone first when he had to have a test.

The corners of Jane’s mouth lifted, before she shook her head gently.

“No it’s ok. Thank you though! You’re very sweet.”

Fletcher beamed, turning to Tyler and whispering something in her ear.

She looked up at Jane with wide eyes.

“The lady that looks after us, told me I have to say thank you.” she said gently. “But I can’t remember what for.”

Jane felt a mound of tension, that she didn’t even know she was holding, release from her shoulders. So Tyler really was none the wiser. She had been treated well enough while she had been kidnapped, that she had just thought she was just in another foster home. She sighed softly, smiling gently at the little girl.

“You are most welcome.”

She eyed her husband wearily, indicating that she wasn’t going to be able to hold on for much longer.

“I like Miss Rebecca.” Fletcher piped up. “I hope we get to stay with her forever!” he said, jumping excitedly.

“Me too!” Tyler giggled.

Fletcher returned to tracing the lines on Jane’s arms, still just intrigued by the “drawings” as he had been the first time.

“How about we say goodbye now, hmm?” Kurt suggested, seeing his wife’s eyes starting to droop.

“Aww.” They both whined. Jane smiled in amusement. The innocence on their faces was so refreshing.

“How about you come and see me again in a few days?” she suggested, knowing that it was going to be their little faces that helped her get through her recovery.

“Ok!” They both said eagerly.

“Goodbye Miss Jane!” Fletcher said loudly, before Tyler followed suit.

“Goodbye.” Jane replied softly, waving at them. “Thank you for the broth.”

Both children grinned back at her, before waiting by the door for Kurt. Kurt leant forward, giving his wife a quick kiss on the forehead.

“Thank you.” Jane said sincerely. Their visit had truly managed to cheer her up. She watched them leave, laying back into the pillows with a contented sigh.

She drifted off quickly, the anxiety in her belly finally calm.

0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°

One week later.

Jane and Kurt sat outside in the hospital gardens. She had slowly built up the strength to be able to walk around the hospital corridors, and today Kurt had surprised her by taking her outside for the first time in three weeks.

They had walked out of the hospital slowly, Kurt pushing a wheelchair in case she got too tired. She had made it out to the garden without a hitch and was now sitting in complete content, with the sun on her face, the breeze running through her hair.

She let out a peaceful sigh, before opening her eyes, to see her husband looking at her.

“What?” she asked self consciously.

“Nothing… you’re just really beautiful.”

Jane felt herself blush. Even after all these years, he could still get a rise out of her, just by paying her a simple compliment.

“I’m so thankful that you are ok.” he added seriously. “I don’t… I don’t know what I would have done if…” he choked on the words, suddenly not able to speak.

Jane reached out and took his hand.

“But I didn’t.” she finished. “We are both ok… Fletcher and Tyler are ok… everything worked out.”

He took a shuddering breath in, before releasing it slowly. “I’ll never take anything for granted again.” he said gently.

Jane hung her head. “I’ll never take you for granted again.”

Kurt cupped her chin, forcing her to look at him.

“Clean slate remember. Forgive and forget.”

Jane smiled softly, bringing her hand up to rest against his own.

“Forgive and forget.” she repeated, moving their hands down so they were covering her heart. “Now… when do I get to go home?”

Kurt chuckled at that. “Soon, my love. Soon.”

He pulled her against him, holding her close. He was so thankful he would get to take her home at all, that he wasn’t in a great rush to get her there. He needed her to rest and to heal, so they could continue their lives together.

They needed to continue saving the world, by solving as many cases as possible and taking down one bad guy at a time.

This was their second chance… and neither of them would forget it.

fin

#blindspot #blindspot fanfic #Fic: to forgive and forget #jane doe #kurt weller #jeller #whump #epilogue

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braincoins · 4 years ago

Note

for the prompt!!! shiro and allura stranded on a strange planet that neither of them recognize???

((Me being me, I just had to think about famous sci-fi planets I could dump them on.This one is technically a moon, but then again I think Olkarion is technically a moon, too, so whatevs.))

He groaned as he came to. He didn’t even have to go back through his memories to know what had happened: he’d felt this before. It was sort of like the mental equivalent of a pulled muscle, though it usually faded pretty quickly once he opened his eyes and got his bearings.

This was what it felt like when Black “ejected” him while teleporting. This is what it felt like to be - somehow - whipped through the universe and winding up in some random place. Granted, the places had always been able to sustain human life, and he’d never wound up... say, inside a wall or impaled on anything. He always “landed” in a safe, deserted spot.

Another groan next to him made him open his eyes faster, sit up and turn towards the sound.

“Oh no, Allura,” he said, scooting over to her. She was laying next to him, just a little ways away.

“What happened?” she asked, not yet opening her eyes.

“We must have taken a hit while you were supercharging Voltron,” he told her. “This is what happens when Black... uh, ‘saves’ me. She must have sent you away, too.”

She opened her eyes, rolled her head over to look at him. “At least we’re in the same place.”

“Yeah, I’d’ve been worried about you otherwise.”

She smiled, and there was the faintest glow of her eyemarks. “Now where are we?”

He looked around. “I don’t know,” he answered honestly. It looked like an abandoned colony. It was raining and dark, and he felt the artificial warmth shed from the colony buildings. He knew then what it was, at least, if not where. He stood up, then helped the princess get to her feet as well. The lights were still on, the buildings shuttered. The word “abandoned” wandered through his consciousness again, with more surety to it. But... everyone could just be inside, waiting out the storm. There was nothing to say it was abandoned except for this feeling in his gut.

“Come on,” he said. “Let’s see if we can find somewhere dry.”

She let him take the lead, and he headed for a side building. Something... something in him said to avoid the main colony building. The same something that was sure there was no one alive here. Despite the power, the intact structures. He walked, and she followed.

“What is this?” she asked, looking around.

“Terraforming colony,” he told her. “Colonists from Earth, sent here to set up a colony, make the air breathable - which they seem to have managed,” as his suit informed him so, “and make the place habitable for us.”

“Invaders?” she asked, aghast.

“Colonists,” he insisted. “It’s an uninhabited planet. No indigenous sentient life forms. Maybe some animals or insects or something, but no people.” As he looked around, he had a hard time imagining animals here.

“No offense, but it still looks rather uninhabited.” She was looking at the shuttered buildings they passed.

“Perhaps the colony wasn’t as profitable as hoped. A lot of colonies are financed by one or more businesses, hoping more for material than scientific gain.” But even as he said it, he didn’t believe it. The lights are still on. If they’d formally shut down the colony, they wouldn’t have left the power plant up and operational. It was the most expensive part of a colony like this. There was absolutely no way it would ever be left behind, or at least not left behind and running.

“Here,” she said, pointing at a building. The shutter looked dented, a bit battered. It’d be easy to get a handhold on. So the princess did, grabbing hold and pulling on the metal, causing it to creak as she bent it out of shape. He shone a light in the opening she’d made and found the door, just a little ways away. He cut the shutter just where the door was, melted the lock, and held the door for her. “Princesses first.”

She laughed and walked in, already looking around. He closed the door behind them. There wasn’t a strong wind, so, for now, at least, it stayed shut.

The rain was a constant but distant pattering sound in here. He didn’t hear anything that sounded like dripping into a puddle, so the roof was probably solid.

Allura had illuminated her tiara gem, allowing it to act like a headlamp. “What is this place?”

He reactivated his suit’s light and shone it around. “Looks like... surveying and camping gear. For exploration beyond the colony walls.” He took his helmet off and set it on a counter, then continued his own exploring. “Not a bad place to hole up. They might have some water and rations. Hold on.” He vaulted the counter and looked around. Even though the Galaxy Garrison was pure science and exploration, government-funded, these sorts of pop-up buildings were standardized. Even a wealthy multinational conglomerate wouldn’t bother reinventing the wheel.

“Ah, here we go!” He found the button and, with a quick press, they had lights again. This place looked like it had seen some use, but it also was well-stocked, if a little dusty. Knives, grappling hooks and kevlar reinforced rope, the promised water and food rations, one and two person tents, ISO 228 K sleeping bags, first aid kits, and much more... All of this further underlined the fact that the colony had not been deliberately shut down. No one would leave all of this behind.

“I’ve activated my suit’s beacon,” Allura said. She’d removed her helmet as well.

“Right, hold on.” He activated his and went over to the food stores. “We’re stuck here for a while, so might as well enjoy it.” He scanned the offerings. “Here. Try these.” He tossed a bag at her.

“What are they?” she asked, tearing it open without waiting.

“Freeze-dried strawberry slices. They’re fruit. Better when they’re fresh, of course, but...”

“Oh! Interesting,” she said, already chewing on one.

He smiled, shook his head, and picked up a bag of apple slices, grabbed two full water canteens, and brought one to her. “Here. It’ll be warm, but it’s water, at least.”

She thanked him with a nod, they set their snacks on the counter, and he hopped up to sit on it. After watching him do it, she did the same. They sat next to each other on the counter and ate.

“How long does it normally take you guys to find me?” he asked.

“Usually a few days, except for that one time you just wound up on Olkarion.”

He nodded. “Well, okay then. We’ll be set here. And if someone shows up - which I doubt - we can explain.”

She studied him for a long moment. “Shiro, what do you think happened here?”

He considered coming up with a lie, then shook his head. “I don’t know. I...”

“Shh!” she said suddenly, holding out a hand towards him.

He closed his mouth instantly and watched her ears twitch. And then, he heard it, too. A sound like... scuttling? Maybe? It was hard to make out through this weather, but it was definitely not just the rainfall.

The power failed for a second, the door whipped open, and the rain started coming in. He leapt off the counter and ran to the door, pushing it shut.

“Here,” Allura’s voice said, just before the power came back on. She was holding a box. “Put this up against the door to block it.”

“Thank you,” he said. When he took it from her, he wasn’t surprised to find it was heavier than she’d made it seem. He pushed it up against the door. “There. That should keep the door shut.”

And then he heard it again, clearer: a definite scuttling sound, combined with a sort of... dragging? It wasn’t as muffled by the rain.

Allura looked to him for explanations, and he had none.

#Socks writes VLD fanfic #a hint of Shallura #I bet glimmerclouddragon knows where they are #after the beginning of the movie but before the marines get there #Anonymous

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anistarrose · 5 years ago

Text

The Fishtank Between Time and Space (GF One-Shot)

Summary: Stan doesn’t think much of the pet axolotl Ford left behind… until he realizes hardly anyone else can see it.

Word Count: 2100

Warnings: none

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20653508

***

Stan initially figures it’s just a weird pet of Ford’s, simple as that. After all, Ford was okay with him adopting a possum and tying a knife to it when they were kids — little pink salamanders are frankly very normal, by the standards of Stanford Pines.

(Not to mention by the standards of the town that is Gravity Falls. Ford could’ve caught all kinds of disturbing creatures out there in the woods, like a feral gnome or a literal sentient fire... or like something that Stan hasn’t even laid eyes upon, only knowing of its existence from the creaking and rattling noises he always hears when venturing through the forest at night. But thankfully, Ford hasn’t invited any rabid beasts or dark entities that Stan knows of into his house, and Stan’s grateful for that.)

But the salamander — the “axolotl,” Stan learns after finally breaking down and doing some basic research — always feels just a little bit off, in a way he sometimes struggles to put his finger on.

He thinks it’s all in his head, how the beady eyes always seem to be fixed on him. How it never seems to stop smiling. How he’s never once seen it eat, even though the food pellets he gives it never seem to accumulate on the bottom of the tank.

He doesn’t know a whole lot about axolotls in general, and on the basis of that ignorance, he convinces himself that the salamander Ford left behind is perfectly normal.

Until one day a few months after Ford’s disappearance, when something rare happens — he has company other than the usual tourists.

It’s just Boyish Dan Corduroy, hired with some of the first spare cash Stan has had in a long time to come in and fix a few squeaky doors. But he takes his time lumbering through the living room on his way out, which sets Stan on edge. None of the secrets he’s hiding are possible to uncover from this floor of the house, but habit keeps him anxious. Throughout the rare times in his life in which he’s had a residence to call his own, visitors have almost always meant bad news.

Dan’s gaze lands on the fishtank, which has been diligently maintained as a healthy environment for salamanders even though the rest of the room is an unorganized mess. (There are a lot of jabs you could take at Stan’s character, but for whatever reason, he’s developed a soft spot for Ford’s old pet.) As always, the axolotl’s eyes stay fixed on Stan, even though the lumberjack is closer.

“You keep this tank pretty clean,” Dan notes. “You gonna buy some fish or something soon?”

“Well, I’ve already got the —” Stan pauses, realizing he’s not sure how to pronounce axolotl. “The salamander.”

Dan presses his face close to the side of the tank, inches from where the axolotl sits, gills twitching. “Really? Where?”

“You serious? It’s literally right in front of your face — that thing with the pink frills and the beady eyes?”

Dan steps back from the tank, throwing an arm behind Stan the clap him on the back. “Ah, I see what you’re doing! It’s a new attraction you’re testing out on me — the invisible salamander! Good one!”

“Are you — are you fucking with me? Can you really not see —”

But Dan’s already leaving. “Good luck with the Murder Hut business!” his voice boomed from the porch outside. “I’ll tell everyone to come visit your invisible friend!”

Stan whirls around back towards the tank. “Do you know what the fuck that was?” he asked the axolotl. “Who’s really pranking me here — Dan, or you?!”

The axolotl offers no reply, and Stan feels like an idiot for the brief moment in which he’d genuinely expected one.

“Maybe Ford did some weird occult shit to you, and you didn’t have a choice in the matter,” Stan mutters, shuddering slightly as he thought back to all the cracked prisms and X-ed out eyes he’d discovered in his brother’s house. “Or maybe I’m going crazy and hallucinated you all along.”

A bubble comes out of the axolotl’s mouth, rising to the top of the tank before bursting with a satisfying — and very real-sounding — pop.

“Thanks for the reassurance.” Stan tosses a handful of food into its tank, and trudges back to his bedroom upstairs.

There was one rule that Stan very quickly established as he began to run the Muder Hut — or the Mystery Shack, as he was thinking of renaming it — and that rule was not to keep anything genuinely supernatural around, unless it was vital to getting Ford back.

But the axolotl… well, it’s still up for debate whether it really is magical, but Dan hadn’t seemed like he’d been joking, and Stan’s pretty sure that if he was going to hallucinate, he wouldn’t imagine into existence a real salamander that he’d never heard of before with perfect accuracy.

Stan doesn’t want to get rid of it, though. He’s gotten used to the axolotl’s company and the routine of caring for it, even though its eyes still weird him out from time to time. And it’s already been around for months without showing any malicious tendencies, so… would there really be any harm in keeping it around?

***

Months, years, and then decades pass, and Stan’s relationship with the axolotl stays more or less the same. He feeds it and cleans its tank, it smiles at him, and he feels just the tiniest bit less lonely. It’s not much in terms of companionship, but Stan is happy to take what he can get. He talks to it sometimes, telling it about all the places he’s searched for Ford’s journals and all the roadblocks he keeps hitting while he works on reactivating the portal, and it always looks so encouraging.

But two things happen during those years — the first being that Stan becomes convinced that something supernatural is going on with that salamander.

Business is booming so dramatically that he can hardly handle it all on his own, and he goes through several handymen and cashiers before eventually firing each one. Almost all of them comment on the empty fishtank at one point or another, gesturing right towards the spot where Stan can see the axolotl floating, clear as day.

He definitely wonders if he really is hallucinating it after all, but then the second interesting thing happens: someone else notices the axolotl. Several someones.

“I didn’t know you had any pets besides the goat, Mr. Pines!” Soos exclaimes on his second full day working at the Mystery Shack, smooshing his face up against the side of the tank. “What a weird fish!”

Stan is so caught of guard that he doesn’t even think to explain that it’s actually a salamander. “Uh… yeah. It sure is.”

Soos frowns. “Something wrong, Mr. Pines?”

Stan folds his arms, shaking his head even though his mind is racing. “Me? I’m fine. Just wasn’t expecting you to spot the shy little guy, since it usually likes to… you know, hide from strangers. Now, were we going to try and fix the golf cart, or not?”

And that’s the end of the axolotl discussion with Soos, over as quickly as it had begun. During the rare occasions Stan leaves the Mystery Shack, he always instructs Soos to feed it, and the axolotl always seems happy and healthy when he returns. He cannot for the life of him figure out why he and Soos seem to be the only two people in the world who can see it, but eventually he gives up on wondering. A mystery like that would’ve always been more of a question for Ford, anyways.

When he hires Wendy, it takes a while for him to realize that she can see it too. She spends so many weeks passing by the fishtank and not commenting on it that when she finally brings it up, Stan nearly spits out his coffee.

“Where’d you get that salamander, Mr. Pines? My science teacher is looking for a class pet, but everyone just keeps suggesting boring stuff like hamsters.”

“Uh… it came with the Shack. Two-for-one kinda deal, you know.”

“Darn, I was hoping you fished it out of the lake or something. Then I could’ve just gone and caught one myself.”

A few years later, when the twins arrive for the summer, Stan’s heart aches as he watches them discover the fishtank for the first time.

“Hey, Dipper, come check this out! Do you know what kind of animal this is?”

“Whoa, is that an axolotl? That’s so cool! I think I read that in Aztec mythology, they’re associated with the god of twins!”

“Really? Then you’ve just made the perfect new summer pals, Mister Axolotl!”

“Don’t tap on the glass like that, Mabel. You might scare it.” Dipper notices Stan watching them, and immediately starts firing off question after question. “Where did you get it? Do you ever show it to tourists? How long have you had it? How long do axolotls live? It looks pretty small — is it still a juvenile? Do they ever get bigger than this?”

Stan sighs. “Kid, I didn’t even know how to pronounce the world ‘axolotl’ until you showed up today. All I know is how to keep it fed — anything else, and you’re better off looking it up at the library or on a computer or wherever.”

“Well, you at least know where you got it from, right?”

Stan scoops a spoonful of food into the tank, avoiding eye contact with Dipper as he headed back to the gift shop. “I do, but it wouldn’t be the Mystery Shack if I didn’t keep a few secrets, would it?”

Dipper groans. “You’re no fun.”

***

When the axolotl disappears, it hits Stan harder than it should.

Even after thirty years of taking care of it, he never quite thought of it as his pet. It always struck him as more like a roommate, if anything — a lovable little freeloader who came in on its own terms, and stuck around only because it liked the place. Stan’s never given any thought as to why, but he’s always just felt weirdly certain that it could leave at any time if it wanted to.

And now, it has.

So he can’t help but wonder if it’s his fault. If he didn’t clean the tank enough, or cleaned it too much, or wasn’t fast enough noticing or resolving the situation with the lobster Mabel dumped in the tank.

Maybe it wasn’t anything he did. Maybe the axolotl just got bored of watching a man spending thirty years lying to tourists, forging his own brother’s signature, failing to learn quantum physics, and ultimately accomplishing absolutely nothing worthwhile.

Eventually, the kids notice and ask him, and this time he can’t spin it as a secret he’s keeping. He genuinely doesn’t know.

***

After Weirdmageddon, Stan’s memories are a two-thousand piece puzzle scattered across a tabletop, and he thinks he’s starting to fit some of the edge pieces together again, but there are still more gaps than connections. He remembers that the people who have been doting on him and showing him pictures are his family, and he remembers that he loves them and trusts them to help restore him to his former self, but progress is just… so… slow.

He doesn’t remember why they say he saved the world. He’s pretty sure they’re stretching the truth a little, but after seeing the way Ford’s face fell when Stan first asked why everyone was calling him a hero, he’s decided not to correct them.

So what if he doesn’t feel heroic? If it makes his family feel better, he’ll keep it to himself — it’s the least he can do, considering how many tears they’ve already shed for him.

But the first morning after his alleged act of heroism, while trudging through the ramshackle ruins of (he thinks) his house — a flicker of motion from behind cracked glass catches his eye.

The fishtank is nearly drained of water, but a familiar salamander sits in the puddle at the bottom, beaming at him. Stan blinks and rubs his eyes, wondering if he’s still dreaming, but then —

It speaks to him, in an ethereal and musical voice that resonates oddly in his ears, like he’s hearing the echo before he hears the words themselves.

I am so proud of you, Stanley.

“For what?”

Everything.

It dissolves into a froth of tiny, pink, glowing bubbles, which burst one by one as they float towards the top of the tank, and then the axolotl is gone.

***

(End notes:

So one day a few weeks ago, I just randomly woke up thinking “what if the Axolotl was only visible to the members of the Zodiac?” and several bouts with writers’ block later, here we are! Thoughts/comments/reblogs are welcomed as always!)

#gravity falls #stanley pines #the axolotl #soos ramirez #wendy corduroy #dipper pines #mabel pines #rosalia writes fic

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xantchaslegacy · 5 years ago

Text

Forgiven, Ch 2

Chandra had seen plenty of strange sights on plenty of different worlds; it came with the territory of being a career planeswalker/renegade/aspiring hero. She’d had days full of zombie hordes, days where she’d defied gods (with mixed success) , and days where she clashed with everything from dragons to giant demon frogs.

Today seemed set on one-upping all of that.

She’d expected to see some interesting things when Vraska asked for help with the reactivated eternals terrorizing the undercity. It was new territory, even if the foe was an old one. Still, the sewers of Ravnica were a bigger and more tangled maze of tunnels, caves, and entire districts than Chandra expected, stuffed with more variations of fauna, flora, and fungi than she had seen in one place. The izzet cyclopses who’d come along to assist in the clean-up were some of the oddest allies she’d ever had (their voices were so high pitched...and how were their heads so tiny?). The eternals, their blue lazotep now covered with an additional layer of fungal plates and clinging moss, had looked strangest of all-

-at least until an imp with a bow-tie offered her dinner.

“I insist, it would be shabby in the extreme if Pivlichino’s accepted so much help without offering a hot meal in return.” The imp, Pivlic, wrung his hands together imploringly. He hovered just in front of Chandra, taking conspicuous care not to drift close to the grimy walls or knee-deep filth of the undercity tunnel.

“It’s fine, really.” Chandra glanced back at Samut, who just shrugged. “We’d have to clear out the eternals here even if the tunnels didn’t run under your, uh, restaurant?”

“Ravnica’s newest, grandest restaurant, club, and bar,” The imp exclaimed with a bow and a flourish. “And please. Consider it a gift on behalf of the entire city. These metal monstrosities have been a blight on our streets, and to think there are still a few lurking about...”

Samut tensed in the corner of Chandra’s eye, but said nothing. Quietly, efficiently, she continued to lay out the still bodies of eternals along the dry side of the tunnel.

“...it’s truly a blessing to know such capable mages are seeing to the elimination-”

“Thank you,” Chandra cut the imp off. “And sure, we’ll take a meal. We should be done with for the day in an hour or two.”

“Excellent!” Pivlic clapped once, the crisp sound echoing down the tunnel. His attendant, a stooped ogre with a collar and bow-tie pressed crisply against his bulging neck, stepped forward, holding out a small silver tray Chandra. On it were two silver-embossed slips of paper, which Chandra took with a furrowed brow.

“What are-?”

“Show those tickets to the maitre d’ and she’ll see you sat at one of our best tables. We’ve got genuine Gruul folk musicians playing this evening; the perfect compliment to a hearty meal!” Pivlic bowed, spun in the air, and flew off up the service tunnel that led back to the streets. His attendant followed, ascending by ladder slowly, grumbling under his breath.

“Are we getting a feast in our honor?” Samut was sitting up against the sewer wall, next to the neat row of eternals, a tired smile and a raised eyebrow aimed at Chandra.

“Fancy dinner.” Chandra waved the tickets and slumped down next to Samut. The ground was filthy, but they’d gone through waste up to their shoulders several times already that day, so the added grime barely registered. “Um, I hope that was alright that I accepted the offer for both of us. If you’d rather not-”

Samut waved the apology away. “I was going to ask if I could buy you supper for all your help and your company anyways, so all the better.”

“All the better,” Chandra echoed. She tucked the tickets into a satchel on her belt. “So...what do you think so far? One last bit of Bolas’ magic keeping them going? Maybe he had another necromancer waiting in the wings with the Golgari?”

“Either. Both. That would make sense if the false god is half as clever as all who know him claim. I wonder though…It doesn’t seem as if touching them endangers our sparks any longer. If it was the false god, well you’d think those enchantments would still be in effect.”

Chandra nodded. She had bare-handed grappled at least two of the eternals that morning, and gotten away with nothing but scrapes. “Maybe. Must have been a pretty exhausting spell to maintain.”

“Probably. Either way, one less spell desecrating my sisters and brothers.”

“Oh yeah, about that...” Chandra looked across Samut at the broken Amonkhet warriors. “Should we, um, say anything? Do you have some kind of burial rite or…?”

“I’ve said what needs to be said.” Samut leaned her head back until it rested against the stone. “You know, I don’t have a clue what burial customs my ancestors had. The false god left our viziers with the practice of mummification, but none of our proper rites of remembrance.” She sighed. “Nothing to be done but to say goodbye to them as warriors.”

Samut lapsed into silence. They sat listening to the rush and gurgle of the sewers for several long minutes before she shrugged and stood.

“My comrades and I have a lot to re-discover, if we survive the coming years.”

“Yeah,” Chandra nodded and stood as well, “I uh...I can imagine that’d be, uh...” Her mind grasped for the right words to continue this conversation she’d started. “Actually, I guess I couldn’t. I am very sorry, though.” She pointed at one of the growths on the nearest eternal’s armor. The fungus was grown in the patterns reminiscent of the Golgari undead, with spongy masses and plates forming crude, partial armor. “Do you want me to burn any of that off, at least?”

“It’s no worse than the lazotep,” Samut laid a gently hand on the smashed skull of the closest metal-coated zombie. “And since we haven't seen any partial eternals moving under the control of the growths, I don’t think it’s much of a danger anymore.

“Thank you, though,” She added.

Chandra nodded. Her hands fell back to fiddling with the cool wrist of her gauntlets. One of the eternals had cast a volley of arrows through a gas line, puncturing it in over a dozen places. Chandra had resorted to fire-free means of fighting for the rest of the day while the izzet cyclopses struggled to fix the ruptures. She could still hear them further along the tunnel, stomping through the muck, sifting for any remaining zombies in the area.

Vraska had approached each of them separately about the renewed eternal problem. While Bolas’ death had brought the entire force to a standstill, the vengeant ravnicans had not destroyed all of them. A significant number had made their way into the sewers and waterways before they’d been deactivated. Some, for whatever reason, had congregated in dead-ends and abandoned shafts, where they had simply hunkered down and seemingly waited for the war above to end.

That would have been easy enough to clean up. Then a blue-metal hippo had attacked Zonot, killing three researchers before the guard-krases could put it down. The Simic had assumed the fungal growths were the result of some rogue project gone awry. A week later, a squad of spear-wielding eternals attacked an underground Rakdos poetry slam, and this time there had been no mistaking the Golgari fungi covering the attackers.

“Which is a bad look for the swarm,” Vraska had explained. “I could point to the half-a-dozen attacks on our own undercity territory as counter-examples, but no-one wants to hear it. Even if my guild wasn’t at war with itself regularly, other would just say I sent those attacks as plants to throw suspicion off of myself.”

Chandra had agreed to help immediately, just for something to distract from her latest bout of restlessness. She had almost even turned down the gold Vraska offered for the job.

It was quite a lot of gold. The gorgon seemed to still feel bad about how things had gone with Baan, as if that creep’s fate had been anyone’s fault but his own. Chandra hadn’t asked yet if Samut had been offered the same price for her help. It was clearly personal enough for Samut regardless, and ambivalent as Chandra felt about payment, she couldn’t imagine offering Samut the same without it being at least somewhat insulting.

“So just, uh...leave them for the Izzet grunts to move?”

“Yes.” Samut nodded. “I’ll trust the natives do what’s best for their own plane.” She looked over the line of fallen warriors. “A whole lifetime perfecting our bodies for the afterlife, and it turns out the best we can hope for after death is that we lie still and unused by evil.”

“I...I’m sorry.”

“Yes, you said that.” Samut smiled faintly. “I’m not much for being sorry about what’s past. I’ve lost a lot of my life already...I need to focus on making the future better.”

“Better life...” Chandra stared across the tunnel at the opposite wall. “What do you have in mind?”

Samut nodded, lips pursed.

“Dinner would be a good start.”

* * *

Pivlichino’s (or Pivlichino’s IV, as the sign outside read, for some reason), was spacious, crowded, and loud. Chandra adored it. The tables were laid out in a patterned sprawl, built to every size and shape needed for accommodating the different bodies of Ravnica. Groups of goblins shared drinks at long, short-legged benches. Minotaurs and elves and humans wolfed down meals at an array of middling tables. Chairs with legs the size of tree-trunks loomed large against the near wall for the odd giant diner. Waiters bustled among the diners, hefting barrels of bumbat and platters of every kind of food. Plates of steaming intestines. Sliced fruit arranged over sweet ices. Bowls of beetles drenched in vinegar.

The maitre d’, a harried-looking Viashino, had taken one look at Chandra and Samut, and escorted them to a small side room before they’d made it ten steps into the building. There, they’d been presented with a huge selection of fancy clothes to change into.

“Seriously?” Chandra had asked, pointing over the maitre d’s horned shoulder at a troll lumbering into the restaurant. “She’s covered in spiders.”

The maitre’d had sniffed. “They are not sitting at our best table.” She waved her arm at the tiers of clothing covering the walls “You may have your pick of the lot. Our thrulls will even clean your current...garments. If you would like.”

Samut had picked a tiered red-and-gold formal dress, then replaced the skirts with a set of pale white trousers and fancy riding boots. Her stride through the dining room was confident and fresh, and not at all like someone who had been trudging through sewer-muck all day. Chandra, on the other hand, was very much showing the day’s labor as she ambled beside Samut in a hastily-thrown-on set of Selesnya robes that reminded her of Ghirapur-style dresses, in cut if not in color.

Still, despite the fatigue, the heads they turned and eyes they caught were definitely aimed at her as much as Samut, and Chandra felt a little swagger sneak into her walk, even as she gawked like a tourist at the main dining room.

Pivlic practically glowed with delight at Chandra and Samut’s reaction as he escorted them to their table. He needed no encouragement to show off every detail of the establishment, from the “authentic Gruul wall-art” to the “specially Simic-grown kelp-thread carpets.”

“-and of course, our mealtime entertainment for the evening.” Pivlic gestured toward a group in Gruul hides dragging instruments into the main dining room by a side door.

“Real...real popular place you’ve got, huh?” Chandra commented, consciously restraining herself from stopping and watching in awe as a trio of demons devoured a tower of chocolate ice the size of a small house.

“Patrons from every guild and guildless walk of life enjoy the fine food and facilities of Pivlichino’s,” Pivlic beamed. “Paid for with Orzhov gold, of course, but co-owned and run with the best cooks, entertainers, and brewers of the Rakdos and the Golgari. A true symbol of collaboration and goodwill among guilds.”

“Impressive,” Samut replied, absently. She was glancing all over, at every diner and dish and decoration in sight. Chandra would have thought it just enthusiasm of the newly sparked if she hadn’t been gawking herself.

“We have a few private rooms, but I can tell you two will be happier with a full view of the action.” Pivlic gestured to a set of tables on a raised dais, right next to a small balcony. There was a clear view of the setting sun down a long boulevard through the window, and a panorama of most of the dining area on the other side of the table. The chairs were made of wicker and resin, and the cushions looked suspiciously like Simic oozes, but were soft as silk, and Chandra felt every bruise on her shoulder slide away as she leaned back and peered at the pedestrians walking a few stories below.

“Start our dear friends with a round of Appetizers Allegiant,” Pivlic dictated to a waiting minotaur waiter, standing at blank attention with a red cloth draped over his forearm. “Our special until the end of Seleszeni,” He added with a wink. “Variation without spoiling your appetite for more.”

The band started setting up as they waited for water and appetizers. The Gruul had brought several large drums, carved horns, and a massive string instrument that had clearly been carved out of a six-foot chunk of rubble. They hauled everything onto a raised stage in the center of the dining space. A serviceable place to play music, though something about it made Chandra think of a fighting ring.

“Do you like music?” Samut asked, nodding at the stage.

“Some of it. We have the best dancing music on my home plane. You have to come listen to Kaladeshi qawwali singers someday.”

“I think I’d like that. Anything you can move your feet to is best.”

“Yeah. I bet Gruul music is good for dancing” Chandra eyed the band. The largest of them, a towering centaur, had wrestled the rubble-harp upright, and was plucking at it experimentally. “Though I guess even if it is good to jam to, there’s not much of a dance floor.”

A quick glance around the massive room confirmed this. Chandra frowned.

“Huh. I thought Pivlic said this place was a club too.”

“What does that mean, ‘club?’”

“Oh! Ummmm….” Chandra bit her lip. “I guess they can change from place to place, but like...I guess I think of a place with music where you can dance. Sometimes fancy, sometimes not. I prefer the latter.”

Samut nodded. “We’ll have to incite some dancing tonight.”

Chandra accepted a glass of water from their returning waiter and raised it to Samut. “We should hang out more often.”

The ‘Appetizers Allegiant’ arrived on five small plates, each showing off a fusion of tastes each guild was known for. The Golgari slow-roast slider with Rakdos pepper sauce was fantastic, as were the thin slices of thrull pate with a minty Azorius-inspired jam.

The band started playing as they worked through the dishes. The first song was a low, slow-building rumble of a song. The lead singer, a barrel-chested goblin, rasped out lyrics about the setting sun setting the world on fire.

“Interesting,” Chandra nibbled on a bite of toast points made from Boros rations and an organic mash of Gruul vegetables. “I was expecting more smashing-themed songs.”

“I like it,” Samut said. “Reminds me of the training songs from back home. Most of them are about the sun.” She made a slight face. “We’ll have to come up with some new lyrics now, I suppose.”

“How...how are things back home?”

Samut frowned. “Better than we feared, but harder than anyone could have imagined before...well, before. We’ve scraped together an outpost at Hashep, but just about every stretch of the desert is hostile even without the dangers of starvation or exposure. It’s about all Hazoret can do to keep the horrors at bay.”

“I’m really sorry to hear that.” Chandra looked down at the table. “I, uh, went back to Naktamun, a few days ago. I hadn’t even thought to look for the survivors.”

“We’re a plane of fighters,” Samut replied, low. “No need for you to feel bad about having other concerns. It seems like every plane has its share of horrors. And things aren’t so dire that I can’t spare time to see to matters here. To try and find help for my plane on other worlds.”

“Have you had any luck?”

“Vraska has put me into contact with one of the guild leaders here. Ral Zarek.”

Chandra nodded. “I’m familiar.”

“He’s come twice so far to survey the land. The land and what equipment we’ve been able to scavenge from the ruins. He’s confident that we can construct a device to bring the rains more frequently, which, basically, is to say at all.” Samut sighed. “But we persevere. We are strong. I find that I am able to best serve my people by assuring them our betrayed comrades and ancestors have been put to as honorable a rest as I can make for them.”

“If I can help at all...I can’t imagine the hardships your plane is going through, but whatever I can do...”

“I was actually going to ask if your lover was still around,” Samut replied. “-and if she would have the time to visit Amonkhet. Our excavator mages have made immense strides in re-discovering connections with the plane, and using them to coax new growth, but it would help to have someone of her talents who can travel with her own reserve of mana.”

“My…? Oh.” Chandra’s ears got hot, and the looked away, out the window. “That’s not...you mean Nissa. It’s um, it’s not like that, anymore. I mean, I could definitely ask, but...” She trailed off.

“Oh? Oh. Oh, I’m very sorry, I had just- will, I saw the two of you when she joined the battle, and afterwards, well, I just thought...”

Chandra jerked her shoulders in a small shrug. “Sure. I guess I thought so too.”

“It can be hard, when a fight goes wrong,” Samut offered. “It was the same in the trials. Even in training. The closest crop can feel disunity when faced with an overwhelming trial.”

“We’re just not right for each other,” Chandra said. She picked up a mizzium fork from the small plate in front of her, its tongs woven through with some kind of...blue roasted worm? “That’s all. We talked about it.”

“Didn’t like each other as much as you thought?”

“No, I...” Chandra set the fork down and frowned. “I’m still working that out.”

“Mm. Didn’t work it out when you talked?”

“Well...it wasn’t that long of a talk, I guess.”

Samut grimaced. “You ended your relationship before you knew why you wanted to end it?”

“Would you believe I told myself it was because I didn’t like girls?”

“The way I saw you look at her when we first met in Naktamun?” Samut’s grimace twisted into a smirk. “The way you two looked at each other when we felled the false god? No, I don’t think I would believe that at all.”

“I mean, she might have been the only one, for all you knew.”

“Only one?”

“Only, you know...” Chandra twirled her hand through the air, not quite sure what sort of gesture she meant to make. “The only girl I liked.”

Samut raised an eyebrow. “Was she?”

Uh...” Chandra’s hand fell to her lap. “No. She wasn’t the only one. She isn’t the only one, I guess.”

“Oh?” The smirk widened. “Well, who could blame you? When there are women like me in the world...” Samut shrugged, throwing both hands up in the air and tossing her hair.

Chandra rolled her eyes. “Anyways, I guess I was just grasping at reasons, so I told myself anything.”

“Are you though? Pansexual?” Samut asked, with a straightforwardness that caught Chandra out of nowhere.

“Uh, bisexual, I guess?”

“Bisexual?”

“Yeah, guys and gals. Love ‘em both.”

Samut tilted her head. “Ah. There’s so much more than just men and women in the world, though – oh, I shouldn’t have assumed-” She flushed slightly. “Is it just humans on your home plane?”

“What…?” Chandra tilted her head as well, quizzically. “Oh! Oh, no we’ve got plenty of – I don’t have a preference of genders.” She shrugged. “I mean, I’ve got a type, but, you know, it’s just one of many types.”

“I’ll toast to that.” Samut nodded. She raised her glass of water. “Here’s to everyone.”

“Yeah!” Chandra knocker her cup against Samut’s, spilling a few drops on the tablecloth. “The whole buffet!”

Samut burst out with a sharp laugh. “Buffet?”

“Okay maybe it’s not a perfect metaphor, I just mean...you know, curry is all well and good, but sometimes you want a-a mango, you know?”

“I’ve not tried either of those things, but I take your meaning.” Samut wiped a small tear from the corner of her eye.

“My guests!” Pivlic flapped up to the table, the minotaur waiter in tow. “Enjoying everything so far?”

“So far,” Samut replied. Chandra nodded, guiltily stuffing the last small plate – a Simic-bred eel-shrimp on a bed of selesnyan lettuce – between her lips.

“Is womderfulf,” she managed through her full mouth.

Pivlic beamed. “Splendid. And any thought on your entrees for the evening? I’m happy to go over the specials.” The waiter moved up and offered Chandra and Samut several crisp sheets of fine parchment. “We also have an extensive house menu, new to this iteration of Pivlichino’s.”

Samut looked both overwhelmed and delighted with the wealth of options, and listened eagerly as Pivlic listed the special dishes. Chandra zoned the imp out, and flipped through the sheets, which listed options for hot dishes, vegetarian dishes, and dishes for undead patrons.

“Errr...maybe just a steak...” Chandra scanned the meat options, looking for an animal she was familiar with.

“Mmmm, that does sound good,” Samut said. “Not very balanced though. Hardly the whole buffet.”

Chandra looked up from her menus. Samut was peeking over the edge of hers, grinning. Chandra stuck her tongue out. Pivlic looked between the two of them, a politely puzzled look on his face.

“I mean, if you only want the meat menu.” Samut extended her hand and beckoned with her fingers. “I’m happy to look at the rest.”

“Well it just so happens I am in the mood for a steak tonight,” Chandra shot back, a smirk of her own twisting the corner of her mouth.

“But just look at all these options!” Samut held up her stack of menus dramatically. “Greens and grains and all kinds of sweet treats! A whole world of food in front of you!” She gestured at Pivlic. “And the soups of the day, Chandra! Did you hear about the soups?”

Pivlic nodded graciously.

“I like meat just fine,” Chandra shot back. “Look at this: ‘side of beef with raze-boar bacon. Who could want more than that?”

Samut made a mock-offended face, and clutched a hand to her chest “Well, people with taste, for one.”

“I know what I like!” Chandra said, trying to stifle another laugh, but shouting instead. Thankfully it was only a little loud, the diners in the closest tables only gave her slightly affronted looks.

Pivlic coughed into his hand. “If I may, miss Nalaar, I don’t think your friend here is suggesting you aren’t interested in the, ah, side of beef. I believe she is merely suggesting that’s not the only menu you’d order from.”

“Oh, we covered that bit already,” Samut said, then turned aside and smoothly transitioned from the beginning of a belly-laugh to a feigned coughing fit.

“Right, right.” Chandra buried her face in the menu. “Um, a few more minutes, please.”

“Naturally.” Pivlic bowed and fluttered backward from the table. “No rush at all. I’ll be back shortly.”

Chandra fanned herself with the inside of the menu before setting it down.

“We were just talking about dinner just now, right?” Samut was straining visibly to restrain an even bigger smile than the one already stretching her cheeks.

“You’re awful.” Chandra rolled her eyes. “Sometimes a meal is just a meal.”

Samut held up her hands. “Fair, fair.” Her smile faded slightly. “Does it make you uncomfortable? I don’t mean to joke if it does.”

“It’s fine.” Chandra looked out at the band, taking in the current tune. “Thinking I was straight was a pretty ridiculous thought to have. I’d laugh at it if it wasn’t so pathetic.”

The new song was slow, with more focus on the percussion. The singer was speaking in some language Chandra couldn’t recognize. Guttural, but with the instruments it was, admittedly, a very pleasant sound to close the day with.

“Still not much to dance to,” Samut remarked, engrossed again in the menus.

“Mmm.” Chandra’s gaze wandered from the band to the nearby tables. A few patrons were engaged in watching the band as well, but most were well into their meals. Trolls. Humans. Vedalken. Centaurs. Goblins.

Elves.

A spot of blue among the tables caught Chandra’s eye. Jace was walking across the dining room with Vraska, Pivlic leading them along. He had caught sight of her as well and waved. Chandra grinned, pumping her own arm in the air. Jace said something to Pivlic, and the imp looked to Vraska, who nodded. The three of them changed course for the raised seating area.

“Chandra.” Jace surprised her by offering a hug when he reached the table, which she jumped into. Vraska she exchanged a handshake with. It was nice being on friendly terms with the gorgon, but she still felt more like Chandra’s employer than a friend.

“You clean up pretty good, Mr. Belts-and-Cowls,” Chandra teased, landing a light punch on Jace’s arm. He was wearing his customary blues, but instead of a cape and hood, he had a neat pair of trousers, boots, and a wide-collared shirt with gold buttons up the front. “Is that a loaner from the restaurant, or just a good illusion?”

“100% Ixalan threads.” Jace patted his thigh. “and I could say the same to you. Looking very sharp for someone who’s been in the sewers all day.” A look of concern flashed across his face, and he looked from Chandra to Samut, who was introducing herself to Vraska. “Is this – we’re not interupting a date, are we?” he asked, suddenly whispering. “I mean, I figured you and Nissa were still - I mean, that you had...”

“It’s fine,” Chandra whispered back. She could feel the smile slipping from her face despite her best efforts to keep it in place. “I’m happy to see you. Both of you,” she added, louder. “Would you like to eat with us?”

“As long as my wonderful date doesn’t mind?” Jace threw an unbelievably cheesy-looking grin at Vraska, and Chandra, once again unable to control her face, felt her eyes roll back a bit. Vraska just smiled, and actually blushed a bit.

“Yes, let’s have some tables pushed together then,” her golden eyes scanned the nearby settings. “If there’s one to spare…”

“Naturally; how fortunate to have so many friends of Ravnica joining us this evening!” Pivlic snapped his fingers and their waiter appeared seconds later, a table cradled in his hands, and a chair slung over each horn. “And have we decided on an entree?”

“Krovod steak and beans,” Chandra said, handing the menu back and shooting a defiant glare at Samut. Samut just rolled her eyes and ordered a vegetable stew, ogre-style.

Jace’s eyes glowed blue very faintly as he sat down. “Chef’s soup, please.”

“A very excellent choice, sir. Our most-”

“-popular dish this evening?” Jace finished. “Yes, I noticed.” He winked at Chandra.

“Rat roast,” Vraska said, not even glancing at the menu as she sat. “As rare as your chef feels up to.”

“Splendid all around.” Pivlic signaled another waiter to bring forward a pitcher of water, and bowed. “Your meals will find you shortly.”

“And the spirits for the evening, please!” Vraska called after the minotaur as she settled into her seat.

“So, um...” Jace looked between Chandra and Samut. “What were you both talking about before we got here?”

“Diet preference,” Samut said, raising an eyebrow at Chandra.

“Oh?”

“The conversation was wrapping up, actually,” Chandra said. “What have the two of you been up to?”

“Guild work.” Vraska rapped her fingers against her cup of water. “We’re trying to integrate the Kraul fungal farms with our larger food supply network, but there’s quite a lot of internal faction-fighting to put to bed before that can happen.

“To say nothing of the undead invaders you’ve been so helpfully taking care of,” she added.

Chandra and Samut both accepted the thanks with a nod.

“Leadership is, ah...rather stressful?” Chandra ventured. “I hope you’re getting enough down time. I can’t imagine being in charge of that many people.”

Vraska smiled back at Chandra. “I’m sure you did you’re best, Abbot Nalaar.” There was something very sad in her eyes, despite the grin, just as there had been when Chandra had first volunteered to help with the eternals.

“Abbot?” Samut asked.

“Like uh,” Chandra rolled her hand, looking for the right words. “Like a religious leader.”

Samut failed to stifle a laugh. Jace grinned broadly as well across the table, and Chandra presented them both with a flaming middle finger.

“Sorry, sorry.” Samut took a pull of water to settle herself. “You were a religious leader? You just...well, I suppose every world is different.”

“Speaking of worlds,” Jace said. “How is Nissa? Is she still on Zendikar?”

“Oh, uh, I think so.”

Jace frowned. “Is everything alright? Have you seen her recently?”

“Nissa is one of your planeswalking companions, isn’t she?” Samut interjected. Jace turned to her, and hopefully missed Chandra’s smile falling away a second time. “What has your crop been doing since the invasion?”

“Oh, um...” Jace started counting off on his fingers. “Kaya and Teferi are both back on their home planes at the moment; they’ve got matters they wanted to settle on their own, but they’ve promised to check in if they need a hand. Chandra, well you know what she’s been doing, and me…well, I’ve been making sure the esteemed Golgari guildleader takes some time off-plane to relax when she needs it. Um, as for Nis-”

“What sort of relaxations?” Samut asked.

“Oh, the usual silly couple things,” Vraska said, squeezing Jace’s hand on the tabletop. “Cafe dates. Visiting bookstores. Some off-plane piracy here and there, and of course-ah! The food!”

The waiter strode up to the table, a tray and folding table loaded with steaming plates in one hand, and several bottles cradled in the other. The food set Chandra’s mouth to watering, and she was immensely relieved when Samut started on her own dish right away, so she had an excuse not to wait while Jace and Vraska picked out a bottle for the table.

The steak was about two inches thick and incredibly tender. A pepper gravy coated the cut, and a large helping of butter beans sprinkled over with bitter herbs filled the rest of the plate. Chandra ate through almost a third of the plate before Jace and Vraska settled on a wine; a round blue bottle that they turned over in their hands, exclaiming about its color (and...viscosity?) in excited whispers.

“You two have a lot of interests in common,” Samut observed. “Books, piracy, wine?”

“Yes, well.” Vraska speared the cork with her knife and ripped it out. “We’ve been exploring many more common interests since we started therapy, haven’t we?”

“Cheers to that,” Jace grinned, holding out his glass. Vraska tipped the bottle and a blue, sweet-smelling wine splashed out.

“Therapy?” Chandra asked through a mouthful of beans. “For real? You guys are like...well, Jace acts like he’s a hundred years old sometimes, but you guys are a little young, right?”

“What’s a therapist?” Samut asked.

“Well, apparently it’s never to early too protect your investment in another person.” Jace exchanged a glance with Vraska, and they both grinned. “Tomik said that. He was the one who recommended an Orzhov specialist to us. Same one he and Ral see.”

Chandra wrinkled her nose. “Orzhov? The ones who were basically keeping Kaya captive?”

Vraska nodded. “I was about as enthusiastic as that. But it turns out it’s about the one service the syndicate offers that isn’t just part of an extortion machine. I mean, sometimes it is, but we’ve been lucky enough to take advantage a genuinely good specialist through the guildleader’s professional connections.”

“So you go and tell a ghost about your relationship problems?” Chandra turned aside to Samut. “Therapy is like...well I don’t know how it is on Ravnica, but they have people in Ghirapur who like, help people who have problems with their lives, or sometimes they help people who have problems with relationships.”

Samut nodded. “A confidant, or something like that?”

“Yes, though usually someone who’s trained to listen and give advice.” Jace sipped his wine. “Ours, for example, is an Orzhov advokist trained in mediation and dispute settlement.”

“And do they help?” Samut leaned in. “When you tell them about your problems?”

“So far,” Vraska said. “It’s funny. There are things you don’t realize are causing problems.”

“Or things you do recognize as problems that you just never talk about until someone helps you see the need for it.” Jace reached out a hand and took Vraska’s. “Sometimes it’s nice just to have good advice.”

Dinner rolled along with an ease Chandra hadn’t felt in months. They laughed, shared bites of their meals, and swapped stories. Chandra related her mother’s recent accomplishments with the Ghirapur consulate. Vraska dropped bits of low-level guild gossip. Jace and Samut engaged in a minor debate over the use of illusions in combat. Chandra tried a glass of the wine, and found it about the same as she did most other wines, but enjoyed the soft buzz in the back of her head to accompany the warmth in her stomach.

When the last ray of sunlight slipped out of sight, the band fell into a soft, almost wistful song, mostly focused around the huge flute-player, who swayed and pushed out a long, rolling stream of notes while the singer threw himself into a raspy spoken-word bit about a cyclops falling in love with the moon.

Pivlic re-appeared as the dishes were cleared away, bearing slices of cheesecake dripping with drizzled lines of jam and honey, and hot mugs of ogrish coffee. The hot, bitter drink snapped Chandra out of her post-meal drowsiness enough to enjoy the end of the Gruul set. The band had set their instruments aside, and for a moment it looked like they were packing up. Then they began dancing around one another in tight circles, beating their breasts. The big flutist started up a chant. One of the drummers, the viashino, began clapping out a sharp, precise rhythm, and the flutist took center stage, weaving his arms through the air with slow, jerking movements. The chant became a call and response tune that some of the patrons seemed to know, and were enthusiastically singing along with. Jace even knew a few of the words, and pumped his fist in the air each time he called out.

“Gruul riot anthem.” He whispered to Chandra between calls. “Very popular at Rauck-Chauv.”

Applause and a chorus of hoots filled the dining room at the song’s conclusion. Pivlic fluttered over to loudly and grandly thank the band. Vraska tapped Jace’s cheek.

“Not too shabby, blue-boy. I want to hear that much enthusiasm next time the crew does drunk shanties.”

Jace grinned sheepishly. “Are there other kinds of shanties I don’t know about?”

“Shanties?” Samut exchanged a look with Chandra. “A piracy song?”

Chandra nodded back. “A pirate song. It’s important that you know how funny it is to me to imagine Jace singing one.”

“Jace has many fine pirate qualities.” Vraska ruffled his hair with a free hand, sipping coffee with the other. “You’d both be welcome to join us sometime. If that sort of thing interests you, of course. It’s mostly taking gold from vampires, which is as noble a cause as you can find in the multiverse.”

“That could be fun.” Chandra rubbed her hands together thoughtfully. “I like the sound of Captain Nalaar, in hot pursuit of gold and adventure.”

“Hot pursuit?” Jace smirked, raising an eyebrow.

“It’s a phrase, blue-boy.” Chandra snapped her fingers, lighting a single flame on her index finger. “But since you mention it, just imagine the terror of being pursued by fire on the open sea.” She twirled the flame around, then doused it in the last bite of her cheesecake. “Uh, not that I would make an open flame on your ship, Vraska. Well, not without permission.”

Vraska laughed. “That’s fine. Glad to see you’re burning with enthusiasm. It’s a good trait for a pirate.”

Chandra rolled her eyes as Jace chimed in. “Yes, Chandra has a lot of good qualities that could, uh, light a fire under a reluctant crew.”

“Mmm...” Samut’s eyes glittered. “Like her warm personality.”

Chandra stuck out hr tongue and stood up from the table. “Beltwurms eat you all. I’m going to go get another drink.”

A second group of musicians were setting up on the stage now, and the waiters were clearing away a large swath of the tables around them, creating the dance floor Chandra had wondered about. She skirted the growing space while checking out the new band. They were a mixed group: two women wearing Rakdos colors with no instruments, an grey-bearded Izzet mage, hooking up his gauntlets to a large device that crackled with electricity, and two vedalken, on the drums and lute, respectively, that didn’t seem to be wearing any guild colors at all.

A number of the patrons from dinner had clustered around the bar that ran along one long wall of the dining room. New patrons were slowly filing in to add to the small crowd; a noisier bunch than most of the dinner crowd, and more eager for drink.

Chandra ordered an Uzvar and gin from a half-demon bartender, then perched up on a stool to bask in the crowd and the chatter of ravnican voices. Groups of guildless youths toasted clay mugs of pale ale. Two Azorius officials, looking out of place in their white robes, sipped green liquor from shallow glass cups. A centaur trotted past as the bartender slid the cocktail across the bar, and the look she flashed Chandra nearly made her drop the glass.

Damn it’s been too long. She almost followed after to ask the centaur her name, but an elf, also in conclave garb, greeted the centaur as soon as the thought occurred to her, and pressed her own lips against the centaur’s.

Taken. Figures.

The Gruul band was lounging just as short distance down the bar, laughing and chattering with a clutch of other patrons. The singer was entertaining a pair of young women in Orzhov robes with some kind of impression, and the drummer was in a hot debate with a vedalken and two older humans. Chandra’s eyes slid past them to the musician who’d been playing the huge flute, a tall, long-haired hunk whose arms were on full display under a vest of woven vines and bones. She lost herself in a stare as he reached over the counter with one arm and easily hefted a tankard of beer half as tall as he was.

Definitely into girls , Chandra thought faintly, sipping her drink and vaguely aware her feet were carrying her in the direction of the band . But that’s alright too.

“Play here often?” The words were out of her mouth before Chandra could fully think through her approach. She compensated for the lack of planning with her winning-est smile and a smooth slide against the bar toward the Gruul hunk.

He blinked and looked down at Chandra, and for a second said nothing. Chandra held up her smile for that second, wishing she had a smoother come-on. Then, mercifully, the hunk grinned.

“Ah, first time, actually. I, uh, only joined a few months ago, but Skelly-” He gestured with his drink at the goblin on the bar, who was doing puppetry for the Orzhov fans using a pair of mouse skulls “-plays all over. He’s even did a set at the Juri Revue once!”

Chandra wasn’t entirely sure what that was, but grinned and nodded all the same. “That’s a big gig, I guess?”

“Oh, uh, yeah, pretty big. Plus Rakdos himself did the encore that night. Or so I’m told. I, Uh, wasn’t really in the scene back then but-”

A muffled burst of sound cut the hunk off mid-sentence. The new band was jamming, the beat was quick and exciting, but it sounded oddly faraway.

“Local enchantment,” the bartender said, catching Chandra’s confused look. “So folks can talk at the bar. And so I can actually hear orders.”

“Oh...makes sense.” Chandra threw back her drink and tapped the hunk on the arm. “Wanna dance?”

“Hm?” The hunk looked from Chandra to the dance floor. He set his tankard down on the bar, grinned, and cracked his knuckles. “Absolutely. Let’s show ‘em how it’s done.”

The band boomed louder as soon as Chandra’s boot hit the floor, raising goosebumps along her shoulder. This music was sharp, rapid, and loud. Perfect for dancing however wildly and badly you wanted to.

Through the other patrons, Chandra caught glimpses of Samut coming down the few steps from their table to dance floor She paused right at the edge of the crowd, watching them for a few seconds before diving in, and Chandra lost sight of her. Jace waved from the table, behind the spot she’d disappeared.

Want me to keep an eye on you two? Maybe check in a little later? He kept his mental visit brief, but Chandra was happy to hear his voice. She flashed him two thumbs up and turned back to dance with the hunk.

She had to laugh. The big guy had looked totally natural bobbing and pounding to the Gruul music, but whatever dance you were supposed to be doing to this more hectic, energetic Izzet-Rakdos stuff...well this definitely wasn’t it. He looked like he was having a good time at least. Chandra moved in closer and the hunk winked at her before making an absolutely absurd motion like he was hula-hooping with his shoulders. He was doing it on purpose.

Chandra hooted, and they danced close circles around each other, dodging and weaving through the wild thrashing of the other dancers.

Samut flashed in and out of sight through the crowd. She had already mastered the jerky new dance form, and was adding her own spins. A small ring of other dancers formed around her about seven songs in, howling and clapping as Samut threw a daring backlip into the routine, and cheering as she landed perfectly on her feet. Jace and Vraska were just beyond that, sitting at the table and overlooking the dance floor. They were both seated, but leaned up against each other, swaying to the music and whispering in each other’s ear.

The hunk finally started to look winded after a few dozen songs, and signaled that he was going to go sit for a while. Chandra followed him off the floor, and pretended to slip a little on the edge of the bar area so she could fall and steady herself on his side.

Solid, and just a lil’ soft. Awesome.

All good? Jace asked in her head.

All good. Chandra waved back. Now shoo; gonna work my moves.

“SooOoooOwO, what do you say you and me get out of here and go hang out at your place, big guy?” Chandra forgot about the muffling enchantment, and shouted slightly louder than she meant to. A vedalken just behind the started, and knocked over a (thankfully bare) drink table.

“Uh, why don’t we sit for a while. I’m still a bit dizzy from dancing.” He stooped and picked the table up off the floor one-handed, and sat on one of the stools. Chandra hopped up on another to join him.

“You’re pretty...pretty strong.” Chandra slammed her elbow on the table and flexed her fingers. “Let’s see what you got.”

The hunk chuckled, and laid his own elbow down, taking Chandra’s hand. The rough leather of his gloves was rough, but made it easy to get a grip around his palm.

“Alright.” Chandra squinted in concentration. “Three, two, go!”

A few seconds later, it was over, and Chandra was massaging the back of her hand.

“Sorry,” the hunk said, with an apologetic, almost shy smile. “No mercy is the Gruul way, after all.”

Chandra beckoned for the bartender to bring them over another round, then pouted into her hands, both elbows on the table.

“If Nissa was here she would have totally kicked your butt.”

“Who’s Nissa?”

“An elf. We um...we used to work together. Really strong.”

The hunk laughed. “A strong elf? We had a lot of those in the conclave. Still do, I guess. Some of my toughest friends were elves.”

“Mmm, not strong like Nissa, I bet. She was depcep...decepticaly...deceptively strong. Like a slender tree, but strong like an oak.” Chandra took a pull of her drink and slammed the cup on the tabletop for emphasis. “Do any of your elf-buddies have eyes that glow like they’re magic?”

“Uh, sometimes.” The hunk sipped his drink thoughtfully. “Usually when they cast spells.”

“It’s really cool, right?”

The hunk chuckled. “I suppose. I’ve got a couple eye-glowing spells myself. Should ask around if I look cool enough when I use them.”

Chandra snorted into her drink, and set it down. The hunk did have nice eyes. Thoughtful and fierce like Gideon. Playful like Liliana. Kind like-

“So, uh, your elf friend-”

“Girlfriend,” Chandra blurted out. “Um, I mean ex-girlfriend?” she looked down at the table. “I uh, I’m not sure. I think I might have messed things up with her. I mean, I for sure did, but...”

“Oh.” The hunk nodded, a different sort of apologetic smile on his lips. “That’s...I’m very sorry. That’s um...that’s always very hard to go through.”

“She was like, really my type, you know? Big strong pair of arms to hold you. That’s like, the hottest thing someone can have, honestly. But she’s really gentle, you know? Like, treat you like you’re a flower gentle, but not like a delicate flower because all the plants she works with are as strong as she is.”

“A nature mage?”

“Yeah! Oh, you should have seen the gardens that she kept while we were here on Ravnica...they would have made every nature guild jealous. She’s like...one of those people who always smell like their work, right? And she’s always working with flowers and plants so she smells like paradise.”

“I’m sorry she couldn’t come tonight,” The hunk said with a smile that almost looked...sad? “I hope I’m not prying but is she, uh, is she not from Ravnica?”

“Huh? Oh. no.” Chandra waved her hand in front of her face. “I mean, I’m not either. We all came back here for the war, you know?”

The hunk look puzzled for a moment, then his eyes went wide, and he nodded. “That is impressive then.”

Chandra cocked her head. “What do you mean?”

“Well. I mean, uh, that is, I’ve heard about the ones who walk from other worlds...there’s a lot, I’m told? Of worlds. If there there are dozens of worlds that each of you could be on.”

“Hundreds,” Chandra corrected, raising her drink and eyebrow for dramatic effect. “Thousands. No one’s counted them all, even.”

“Meeting a...a friend that’s precious to you? Over infinite worlds? That sounds like something special.”

“Yeah.” Chandra set down her glass. She heaved a breath, and realized she wasn’t feeling nearly as wired as she had been a few minutes before. “Um...I guess that’s how I felt when I first met her. Like, I’d been to so many places in the multiverse. That’s what we call it,” she added, “and, well...have you ever looked at someone and just thought, like, ‘that’s it, that’s the person that feels real?’”

The hunk nodded. “I think I know what you mean. Sometimes something new in your life is just obviously right for you.”

“Right!?” Chandra put her glass up for a toast, and the hunk obliged with a clink of his tankard. “And like, it was really great with her because when we traveled together after that...well, she made me feel that way no matter where we went.”

“Comfort and constancy.” The hunk leaned back on his stool. “Sounds like a very special person.”

“Yeah.” Chanda looked blankly at her glass, vaguely offended at the absence of any more liquor at the bottom. “You know, maybe I don’t want to, um, hang out after all.” She looked up at the Gruul hunk shakily. “N’offense or anything; you’ve been real fun to talk to.”

The Hunk put his hands up. “None taken, miss. I uh, think I’m a bit too old for you anyway.” He picked his own tankard up and swilled it in his hand. “No offense.”

“Pffft, sure.” Chandra slumped in her stool, elbow on the table, chin in her hands.

“I spent a long time living a very different life than the one I have now,” The hunk offered “A life I thought was the only right path for me. When I finally had my moment of clarity, the moment that brought me to the Gruul...” He bit his lip. “...I don’t regret the life I led before that, and I don’t regret my choice to live a life that would’ve been unthinkable for me before. I guess...you’re young. Don’t be afraid of trying things you’re unsure about. Life’s too short.”

Chandra stared up at the hunk, blinking.

“Sorry; too corny?”

Chandra snorted. “A bit? But point taken.”

They lapsed into silence.

“Your friend looks awful concerned for you.” the hunk’s eyes flicked up and over Chandra’s shoulder. Samut had come off the dance floor, and was lounging by the bar, eyes on Chandra and the hunk. She had a few other dancers hanging around and talking at her, but she didn’t seem to be paying much attention to them.

“Better get back to the gang.” Chandra slid off the stool, and offered her hand to the hunk. “Chandra, by the way. ‘S been fun.”

“Ghired.” The hunk’s grip was solid, and the bones sewn into his sleeve rattled slightly as they shook. “Hope we meet again, Chandra.”

“Yeah.” She mimed a swat at his midsection. “Keep working on your dancing til then.”

Ghired laughed. “I’ll think about it. Come to the stomping grounds if you ever improve your arm-wrestling prowess.”

Chandra stuck out her tongue and trotted over to Samut.

“Thanks for keeping an eye on me.”

“I trusted you could take care of yourself,” Samut said with a shrug. “But it’s always good to have some solidarity on the battlefield.”

“That what this is?” Chandra leaned heavily against the bar. The warm buzz in her head and the thrum of the music felt like a blanket. She didn’t much feel like dancing again, but right now it was enough to watch the other ravnicans having fun.

“Life is.” Samut perched up next to Chandra. “All of it.”

Chandra laughed. “What are you? 18?” She put an arm around Samut. “You’re way too young to be so down on life.”

“We’re not that much older, grandma Nalaar.” Jace heaved himself up onto a stool on Chandra’s other side. He sighed and rubbed his thigh. “Though I sure feel pretty ancient right now.”

Chandra shot an outraged glance at the dance floor, then back at Jace. “Don’t tell me you were dancing and I missed it. Did you turn yourself and Vraska invisible??”

“No, she’s not the dancing type either,” Jace sighed. “Just a lot of standing around and talking to people we’d rather not talk to. “Guildmaster PR, that kind of thing. “She told me I should go sit down.”

Sure enough, Vraska was standing up on the dais, near their table, having a hushed (or as hushed as the noise in the room allowed) discussion with a frog-faced mage in Simic biomancer robes. Long, elvish ears poked out from behind the frog-mancer’s eyes, and they didn’t appear to be having nearly as much trouble as Vraska hearing over the music.

“Ah.” Chandra bumped Jace with her shoulder. “Boy-toy blue-boy banished while the adults talk?”

Jace laughed. “Oh, nothing like that. Vraska knows I don’t like the extended standing and talking. She’s...very good at recognizing when I’m uncomfortable. I guess we’ve both been very good at that, and now we’re working on acting on it more often.”

Samut cocked her head, quizzically. “Was that a problem before?”

“Not at first,” Jace replied, pursing his lips. “but it was hard for a while after what happened here. I think it took more out of us than we wanted to admit, and it was affecting how we acted. That, and Vraska does so much for her guild. It’s like...well, it’s like a dozen full-time jobs, and I wasn’t supporting her as much as I should have.” He smiled at Chandra and Samut, and the smile, small and tired as it was, reached all the way to his eyes. “It’s been tough but, well I really think whatever we have is worth it.” He blushed a bit, and a second later Chandra recognized the signs of a minor illusion fluttering over Jace’s face, hiding the red in his cheeks.

“Still working a little on being honest though, huh?” Chandra elbowed him in the side, then threw her arms around Samut and Jace.

“A little,” Jace laughed. “I’m lucky to have friends who still call me out.”

They sat together and watched a while. The Rakdos musicians showed no sign of slowing down, nor did the dancers. Samut nodded off on Chandra’s shoulder after a few minutes.

“So, uh, it’s helped, then?”

“Hm?”

Chandra looked at Jace out of the corner of her eye. “The therapy? Talking to someone?”

Jace nodded, slow, then reached into his cloak. “I don’t know if they take clients still, but I can put in a word through Ral if you want.” He scribbled an address onto a scrap of parchment and handed it to Chandra.

Chandra nodded. “Thanks. I think that’d be good. I’ll um...I’ll let you know.”

Jace just smiled and took Chandra’s hand. They remained a while longer, as midnight slipped away into the early morning hours.

The above is unofficial Fan Content permitted under the Fan Content Policy. Not approved/endorsed by Wizards. Portions of the materials used are property of Wizards of the Coast. ©Wizards of the Coast LLC.

#mtg #mtg fan fiction #forsaken #Gruulfriends #forgiven

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evakuality · 5 years ago

Photo

Welcome to episode two’s version of my lengthy comparison of these two characters. At this point, despite their stories being fairly similar, the boys are starting to diverge a lot in terms of who they are and how they react to the situations they find themselves in. The first episode can be found over here if you’re interested.

Isak’s second episode opens with him spending quiet time in his bedroom with Eskild. It’s really sweet, actually. Eskild likes people and being with people and he obviously feels like Isak needs someone with him, but he’s also content to be quiet and doing his own thing while letting Isak do his. By contrast, Hans comes into Matteo’s world. He’s also very happy by himself and Hans hasn’t felt the need to be there with him in the same way Eskild has. This is one of the least stressed/down/unhappy moments we see Matteo in during these earlier episodes. He’s playing a game and using his phone. He seems quite content. The difference is interesting here, too. Isak is just sharing space with Eskild so being asked about the attractiveness of guys is a natural progression of the situation, whereas Hans actively comes to Matteo to ask his opinion. It’s a more deliberate action, and I do wonder how much Hans suspects at this point, given that we don’t have the ‘he met me at a gay bar’ story in the same way we did with Eskild. It just seems like more of an open secret with Matteo than it does with Isak, and as we see later in the season, Matteo isn’t quite as adamant about it as Isak is.

The conversations they have are also quite different, though we get the same content. Eskild and Isak have a discussion about Eskild thinking ‘every guy’ is gay and that leads them into the discussion of how you can tell if someone is gay and leads to Isak’s realisation that Even joked about dicks and so he could be gay. Matteo, on the other hand, is much more deliberate in searching out the information he wants (finding out if David could be gay). He looks at his picture of David and he wonders out loud how you can tell if someone is gay. They both want to know the same thing, but Isak is reactive and Matteo is proactive in uncovering that information. Eskild is far more serious in his answer to how gaydar works than Hans, who makes a joke about noses. At this point, I feel like Isak has a better and more clear answer to his question regarding Even than Matteo does about David, even if his actual search for information on Even was unfruitful. Matteo, at the end of this conversation, has no better idea than he did at the start.

The next section is quite different for each of them, which is really fascinating. By this point, Matteo already has his David picture and is already starting to spend a lot of time obsessing over it, whereas Isak discovers the video of Even now. He’s charmed, of course, as Even is quite charming in this video, and we get to see him as he is increasingly fond while watching it. Matteo, by contrast, is with his friends and yet he’s still on the outer with them. They all got into dress up week while he either forgot or didn’t bother. But instead of mooning over a recorded version of David, Matteo gets actual interactions with him. It’s deeply awkward (so awkward!) but they’re both obviously happy to see each other despite that. So by the time they see Sana and Amira respectively, Matteo has another meeting under his belt and one that David initiated while Isak has just been caught watching an old video of some of Sana’s friends (though he doesn’t know that yet of course). It’s here that we really start to see some of the ways in which the two boys are so different. Isak is still in the romance of it all, the crush, and it’s still fantasy in a lot of ways. Matteo is having more real life connections and so is learning that David is at least interested in a friendly way. This is probably because by now Isak has a more firm knowledge of Even’s potential gayness (because, as per Eskild’s thoughts, he talked to a stranger about sucking dicks), whereas Matteo never got that from Hans. He has to glean it from David himself during these interactions. This means, of course, that at the end of the episode on the tram/bus Isak is taken by surprise as Even starts a conversation, while Matteo goes to David himself. Because Isak is definitely still in the ‘this is a fantasy about the hot new guy’ stage and Matteo is in the ‘this is a person I know and talk to and am interested in’ stage.

It’s even more obvious that Isak is still in a fantasy when we see the way he reacts to Even crossing the courtyard and completely tunes out everyone he’s with, to the point that they all go out of focus and their voices disappear in favour of a musical track. It’s not like Matteo is completely immune to this either, of course. He has his own little ‘wow David’s so attractive, imagine what he’d look like if he twirled to a nonexistent musical track’ moment. But when he does it, he’s already tuned out of the moment with his friends, exasperated with their discussion (which is yet again about sex). Isak is much more obvious in the way he tunes out that it’s a wonder the guys don’t pick up on it, particularly since he then tries to slide his way out of having to hang out with Emma. Isak’s fantasy extends to watching Even’s video over and over again (well I assume; he certainly watches it at least once more), and in watching a Baz Luhrmann movie to get closer to Even somehow. At this point, he’s still not made a genuine connection as yet and is still living in his constructed world where Even is an unattainable godlike figure. Whereas Matteo, as said before, is meeting up with David and seeing him around a lot more. And they are painfully awkward in a very real way. Matteo desires David, absolutely, but he’s not the god figure that Isak sees in Even. Consequently, Matteo doesn’t watch David’s favourite movie until after he’s told by David what it is because he has more real life things to hang his crush on rather than an online fantasy.

It’s a different route they take, one that’s more natural in some ways but much less ‘romantic’ fantasy-esque. It makes Isak’s meeting with Even on the tram much more poignant. He’s so deep in his fantasy crush by now that this is like a dream come true, a meeting with his crush! It’s big and powerful and sweeps him away. Matteo’s meeting with David is much more low key. They meet on the bus and stare awkwardly at each other because this is what they are now used to. Both boys, however, learn to relax as they spend more time with their crushes. Both open up and start to get to know the other boy. The scene in the apartment is very similar for both. They are both able to share and be open and they both find out things about their future partners. They both admire the art made by the other person, though Matteo gets a more intimate look because David (by virtue of this being Matteo’s house and not his own) has to show him his sketchbook rather than the things already hanging in public as Isak gets for Even. This scene is crucial for both pairs, imo, and while the ways they talk and interact are different in some ways, the scene serves for both Isak and Matteo to see their crush as a more real and rounded person. The disgusting food just highlights that and by the end they are both very comfortable with this person now. The mystique (for Isak) and the awkwardness (for Matteo) is mostly gone by the time they eat the sandwiches.

Of course, it ends differently for each of them. Isak is confronted with the very real, very present and very physically intimate girlfriend that Even never mentioned. Matteo gets ghosted. And this serves to highlight some of their differences too. Both Even and David appear to be ‘hot and cold’ but Matteo is running on assumptions whereas Isak has cold, hard facts right there in front of him. He even has the words ‘my girlfriend’ to hammer it all home. They’ve both lied to people about where they are and what they’re doing, but Isak has a harder wall put up by Even than Matteo does by David. Matteo is confused, but he’s not unwilling to approach David again as we see next episode. Isak pulls back because this is a big thing for him. So while Matteo looks more proactive than Isak, it’s mostly because he doesn’t have the same roadblocks in his way. They’re both left isolated and confused at the end of the episode, but Matteo is in a better situation.

Speaking of that lie he told Sara, Matteo, interestingly enough, makes a conscious choice to ask Sara to his place in the first place and so she has more right to feel aggrieved that he stood her up. And that’s partly because she’s his girlfriend and not a girl who’s trying just a little too hard to get with him. But it also says a lot about the boys. Isak is spoken over and the boys set up the meeting with Emma for him, presumably so they can find themselves other girls. Matteo’s boys agree to go to a get together for the Abistreich committee, and Matteo has made his own decision to be entirely alone with Sara by then. He again separates himself from them and what they’re doing much more obviously than Isak does. He doesn’t seem as connected to his friends as Isak is as yet, and that makes sense of the fact that he pushes for and gets the more connected relationship with David much earlier than Isak does with Even. He needs it more at this point. There’s a lot of focus on sex for Matteo this episode, actually. Sara tries to make it work when she’s upset, and his excuse is dreadful (‘have to clean’? seriously???), and then they make this meeting time for Friday. Coupled with the boys’ focus on wanting it, sex looms large in his life despite clearly making him uncomfortable. Isak seems much more at ease with these sorts of discussions even when he thinks of them as irrelevant to him. The Carlos/Kiki sex talk takes a much different tone than the Magnus/Vilde one, but even so, Isak seems more willing to be present and attentive in those conversations. Matteo literally doesn’t care, even when it turns to discussion of his own sex life. It’s this set of conversations that he tunes out from to watch David spinning in his imagination.

The differences in how they feel about their girls, and thus in how they treat them are huge as well. I don’t blame Isak here at all; he’s effectively bullied into spending time with Emma when he really doesn’t want to. But he’s quite dismissive and the way he talks about her is quite rude. Matteo, on the other hand, spends time alone with Sara and while he’s not interested in sex, he does want her to be happy and he does care for her. It’s a deeper, more enduring relationship so this makes sense. But it does show up how caring Matteo is, even at this point, compared to how distant Isak is holding himself. Again, it’s the performative vs the truly felt. Isak is still performing for his friends and he’s finding it hard to be true to himself, so his caring side that Eskild mentions later in the season isn’t displayed as much as yet. Matteo is being true to himself, in that he’s trying to be a good caring person, but it’s getting him into awkward situations with Sara where she wants the relationship to get to a point he doesn’t. He cares about her enough to try to make this work (at least he does after he sees David with Leonie and assumes they’re together), and so he looks up how to sleep with a woman if you’re not into her much earlier than Isak does. The reasoning is the same: I’ve seen my crush with someone else and I think he’s with her, though in Matteo’s case that’s a really over-zealous assumption from one hug.

So. That’s episode two. It’s an interesting one to look at because while the boys do share similarities at this point, they are diverging more and more. Isak is more present in his own life and with his friends, so he’s far more conscious in protecting his identity to keep that friendship intact. Matteo is largely absent from his life and from a connection with his friends, so he’s more willing to make a real connection with David sooner. He’s stuck in a situation with Sara which he’s not sure how to navigate effectively, but he cares about her enough that he can’t be as cavalier with her as Isak is with Emma who he wants to shake off at this point. Because Isak is more connected to his boys, it’s harder for him to push back against their expectations around him and Emma too. There’s a fear around losing them that Matteo doesn't have in the same way because he’s already consciously isolating himself from them anyway.

Episode three can be found here

#druck #skam #my meta stuff #my isak and matteo comparison stuff

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itsakpopalypse · 5 years ago

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Sit Boy :Meetings

Han Sanghyuk/ Reader

fluff, general hijinks, no warnings. this is all set up.

First in a oneshot/ drabble series

After being given a guardian demon at birth instead of an angel, Y/N struggles to not feel cursed. One day, she is left with a new protector, and honestly. he has a habit of getting under her skin.

You were cursed. Your very existence was an insult. You felt that way for as long as you could remember, but especially after your long standing imaginary friend told you what he truly was… a guardian demon.

As silly as it may seem, all people had a guardian angel. You, however, due to some heavenly clerical error, had a demon instead. He was…. Honestly not all bad. Just pretty flippant. He didn't cause trouble, or torture or hurt you…. Or even try to make you give up your soul (not his business, souls, he insisted) just kept you out of the biggest dangers and told really stupid jokes. More than anything, he was like a really awkward dad who no one else could see. He DID help you prank some bullies with a ouija board once, that was pretty cool.

Kael'eth stood before you, his normal relaxed posture, shrugging. "Sorry little one. I'm getting reassigned. "

"How? Aren't you bound to me until I die?"

He patted your head gently, yellow glint in his eyes. "Well…. I was never supposed to be what I am, and I guess the Big Guy wouldn't overlook it anymore. I have a task now. But listen. I couldn't leave you without some protection. So I've brought a friend."

When you began to pout he put a finger on your forehead and grumbled. "Don't. Pout. I have a reputation."

"What we have is FINE. I'm already cursed enough I don't want anything else." You grumbled like a kid, even though you were well into adulthood. You plopped on your couch and threw your feet up, looking at him expectantly. "So?"

"A. Hellhound. He's… well. You'll see." When the poof and (quite common) sulfur smell filled your apartment sat a black dog. It was huge. So long that you estimated if it stood on rear legs it would double you in height. "Hyuk, what the home, dude. We talked about this."

Another poof, and the black dog was a tall man. He had sharp, deep red eyes and an incredibly straight brow, a wide nose and a very square jaw. His hair was pushed back, slicked tight on the sides and he sported a dark, well fitted suit.

He was…. Impressive to look at, you noticed immediately.

"Fine. Whatever. Bipedal is dumb though, just for the record. " he said to Kael'eth. "Watch over the girl. I got you. Piece of cake. Get out of here." He scrunched his nose up playfully and waved the other man away, you realized his very impressive and foreboding aura had evaporated and he seemed…. Kind of fun?

Kael’eth patted your head once more, and eyed Hyuk pointedly. “Take care of her. Do your job.” he looked back down at you and gave you an almost worried glance. “Don’t take any SHIT from this one okay? You spoil him and he will never listen.”

“Got it. Will I see you around?”

“We’ll see kiddo. Go raise some hell, eh?”

You laughed as he poofed out, leaving you alone with the very tall and almost imposing figure who was now towering over you, small smirk on his face. You stood, reaching out a hand to shake his in greeting. “So I’m Y/N.”

His eyes traveled up and down you for a moment, eyebrow cocked. “Yeah, you are. You have any video games?” He asked while flopping his large frame over your couch, sprawled out with limbs askew so there was no room for you.

“I... I mean. I don’t really have anything? Can’t you .. use your… poof...powers?” You put a hand on your hip, kind of unprepared for this entire situation, and for his attitude.

He gave you a big, disarming smile, reaching out for your hand from his spot. He snagged it, tugging you with impressive strength towards him. “But I can’t do that. I’m not a demon. I’m a hellhound. It’s different.” He pouted but mischief played in his eyes and you were for a moment- almost- distracted by the cuteness of it all. “I don’t..” Another tug, dragging you to your knees until your noses almost bumped. “Poof.” He said the word softly, making sure to pout his lips on the ‘f’ , hand engulfing yours. His eyes appeared a bit rounder, still the same devilish red, but more imploring.

You fought the confused cycle of irritation and attraction, pulling back just enough to regain your thoughts.

“You have a lot of nerve, but I’ll consider it.”

You were rewarded but the biggest smile you had ever seen in your life, it took up most of his face and it was… if you were being honest, quite endearing.

You stood and forced some space between yourself and the alarmingly attractive man sprawled out on your sofa.

“Hey, Y/N?” His voice was inquiring, so you met his eyes once more. “I think we are both going to have a lot of fun, here.”

You were not having fun. Hyuk had eaten half the contents of your refrigerator, and played games non stop. He wasn’t really underfoot, otherwise, but he had a knack for getting under your skin.

Right now, you were considering it, but had not decided if it would impact him at all in his current far too hyper state. He was, in fact, sitting at the edge of your bed bouncing, which at his considerable size, made you nearly fly off once or twice.

That alone, would not earn your ire, after decades of being tied to a demon, some level of patience was necessary. This however, was your only day off, and it was 6 am.

“Y/n. Y/n. COME ON. I need to get out of here. I am hungry, and my legs are restless.” He was whining, now, and flopped back, landing with his face beside yours and his far too adorable pout on his lips. Too cute for how irritated you were.

“Y/N pleeeaaase. I promise not to hide your socks anymore. Please?”

You pried your eyelids open just enough to see him more clearly. He was expectant, full of life, and once again, you decided firmly, that you must be cursed. Even as much as you wanted to, you could not hate the excitable hellhound when he pouted. Or smiled. Or generally when he wasn’t causing mischief. Even then, sometimes.

After throwing on your most comfortable sweats, you followed him to the car.

“Buckle up.” You insisted. His head rolled on his neck, turning to you with almost amusement.

“I can’t get hurt that easy, Y/N. I am made of more durable stuff.”

“That’s fine. And that durable stuff is going to be planted directly behind a seatbelt before we start moving, Sanghyuk, no negotiations.”

His upper lip curled in annoyance but he did as told.

Once you began your travels, he would softly sing to the radio, a sound you rather liked, and when you put down the window, you were only mildly surprised when he stuck half his head out of it.

“Get back in here, Hyuk.” Your tone was one that brook no argument, but when he turned to pout you relented. “Just… For now. When we go to the park you can do it for a while I guess.”

His sly smile indicated he knew what he was doing, but you had already given your word. You pulled into the drive through for some fast food so that you could help with his restless legs.

“So are you just going to… I don’t know. Go full dog and run?” You asked between bites of chicken, flipping on your blinker as you were preparing for the turn.

His fingertips drummed on the windowsill for a moment before he answered. “Yeah. Full dog.”

This time, the smile wasn’t in his voice. You wondered briefly why, but kept your eyes ahead for safety’s sake. Turns out, in the week you’d lived together, you had learned that hellhounds could bring bad luck so… somethings are just better not left to chance.

“Alright.”

“Hyuk what do you think?” You came out of your room in your date outfit, a simple black skirt and blue blouse, low black booties adorning your feet. You kept it simple, since it was a blind date.

You had now lived together for 2 months, and you were used to Hyuk’s enthusiastic behavior. This however, was not that. He looked you up and down, before turning back to some anime on the television. “It’s fine. You don’t need to get all dolled up anyway.” He was totally and completely non reactive. It was… abnormal to say the least.

You sat beside him, settling a hand onto the top of his thigh to draw his eyes back to you. It worked, but his face was dark, and his eyes flashed brighter for a moment. “I didn’t, it’s just coffee. I asked you because you usually have good insight.”

Sure, it was a half truth, but stroking his ego usually brought him around. He laced your fingers in his and opened his mouth to speak, when your doorbell rang, effectively silencing his thoughts.

You hopped up and gestured for him to make himself a dog, or scarce, or both. He glared, but he went into your bedroom and left the door cracked. You heard rather than saw his transformation. Glamour allowed his dog to look smaller than he actually was, while maintaining mass. So you had a doberman now that looked about average but weighed more than a grown man. When he nosed out of your room, you went to get the door.

After ushering in your date, you told him to have a seat while you grabbed your purse, but when you came back, he was at the door, looking quite pale. “I’ve just remembered this isn’t going to work out I-I’ve got to uh, water my aunts flowers. In the country. I won’t be back.” He stuttered and stumbled his way out of your home, and you knew the culprit wasn’t far. Hyuk sat with his ears back, mirroring his earlier bad mood.

“What did you do??”

“Nothing. I just. Suggested he find somewhere else to be.” Hyuk whined, turning back into the form you were more used to, now go get out of those. Get in those sweatpants and come cuddle and watch tv.”

You glared, pointing a finger up at him, and he matched your glare. “Why?”

“I saw what he wanted, and I didn’t like it.” He responded, looking away while clearing his throat.

“You’re not a demon, you can’t read thoughts.” You said. Throwing back his own reasons for never doing things that benefited you. When he looked back at you, his eyes looked intimidating for the first time since your first meeting. His face icy and hardened.

“I saw it in his eyes. That’s enough.” His jaw flexed as his lips pursed, and he used the moment you were taking to process his words to leave the room entirely. Going into the one across the hall his bed was in.

You weren’t sure why he was acting so territorial. Maybe he was really leaning into his roll as guardian?

You were unsure, but for the moment, it was best to let the subject rest.

Instead you went to the convenience store and purchased two pints of ice cream, and beconed him once you were in your normal tv watching clothes. He peeked out fo his room, muzzle first, before slinking out and into the space beside you. “No ice cream? You really must not be feeling well.”

After putting it away, he crawled almost entirely into your lap as you scratched his ears, hoping to calm whatever fears he was feeling. It seemed to work, and you were rewarded when his eyes drifted shut and his body relaxed.

Conversations could come soon, for now, he deserved it.

#han sanghyuk #hyuk vixx #hyuk vixx fluff #vixx fluff #vixx fanfiction #hyuk fanfic

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angelicults · 5 years ago

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( ross lynch. cismale. he/him. ) is that richie tozier from stephen king’s IT in storybrooke? on screen + in the book, they’re very enthusiastic + humorous but here they seem more obnoxious + reactive. the twenty three year old radio host & aspiring comedian can usually be found around mel’s diner with their well loved but beaten up 1989 gameboy. they can remember much about their life back home. scraped knees through ripped jeans, scuffed red vans with faded sharpie’d words, unfinished thoughts in messy cursive on crumpled papers, the hallway light through the cracks of the bedroom door at night.

hey i’m howl & this is my child. can’t wait to rp with everyone & meet all ur babies !!! ps tell me who else to bring in

𝙖 𝙦𝙪𝙞𝙘𝙠 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚

i play richie with a mixture of themes from the novel , the miniseries , the 2017 remake and chapter two ... totally hectic, right ? i’m dramatic . i’ve taken quirks , bits and pieces from each to form his muse as well as some that’ve developed along the way since i’ve been writing him for some time . * triggering content to look out for in this post/plotting with rich are alcohol & drug mention, night terrors and anxiety . * there won’t be any major spoilers for IT chapter two here !

𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙚𝙡𝙨𝙚, 𝙞 𝙜𝙪𝙚𝙨𝙨

NAME: richard tozier NICKNAMES: richie, rich, trashmouth DATE OF BIRTH: march 7th ZODIAC: pisces HOMETOWN: derry, maine CURRENT LOCATION: storybrooke, maine GENDER: cis male ( he / him pronouns ) ORIENTATION: bisexual OCCUPATION: radio host by night aspiring comedian almost never

𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙪𝙧 ↝ the storytellers, able to spin amusing tales from everyday life.

𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙥𝙞𝙩𝙛𝙞𝙧𝙚 ↝ someone that's wild and free, and that can say what he/she wants to say without a care in the world.

dig a little deeper , richie goes on and on without really stopping until you cut him off . sometimes he says things he doesn’t mean , sometimes he just doesn’t hear himself talking . he’s the kind of person that enjoys distracting other people and making himself the center of attention , he’ll always be the one you can go to if something’s wrong and you don’t wanna talk about it but wanna hear someone talk anyway . also highkey the type of person that won’t order food on their own but will order for their friends and he’ll do it in a british accent because he’ll think it’s hilarious that the waitress buys it . ( narrator vc: she doesn’t buy it )

after the incidents of the 2017 film , richie didn’t really think he’d been effected much by what happened . he seemed to fade back into normal everyday life fairly well , until a couple of months passed by and he began to have night terrors . his parents were never easy-off , in fact the family often barely swept by even though both his mom and dad worked a ton , but they scraped the money together to put him into therapy eventually . while he couldn’t diverge the actual root of his problems , this helped him begin to cope a lot . he still experiences episodes nearly every week , but they’ve gotten a lot better . richie has a strong fear of the dark , feels anxious when he has no visible escape route , and sleeps with a bat under his bed .

alcohol/drug trigger. when he grew older and left derry , he fell into a deep party phase . it started with drinking more and more , going to clubs where he’d finally be accepted and gain a new group of friends . everything quickly spiraled out of control , though . he claims that he’s experimented with everything under the sun , and he’s not exactly wrong about it . for a while , he was hooked on anything that’d be able to keep him up for long amounts of time and black him out when he finally passed out . this is how he began gaining the real courage to stand up and tell jokes , but he lost his ability to string together an act fluently . present day , he’s kicked everything besides drinking socially .

in storybrooke he’ll be kind of pissed off/nervous . he doesn’t understand what’s going on and just wants to get back home , really . probably spent most of the time they’ve been here trying to find a way out but overly panicked when he realized there wasn’t one , and now he’s pretending that he’s fine going along with it but it’s most likely eating him up more and more each day . tune in to find out when he snaps

𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙤𝙢𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙞 𝙙𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙣𝙖 𝙚𝙡𝙖𝙗𝙤𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙚 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙤𝙣 𝙧𝙣

richie’s an extremely tactile person , he’s over exaggerative with hand gestures and often is very clingy to people he’s close with

he talks a lot and doesn’t really think about it so if he says something that pisses your muse off he probably didn’t mean it

i do play him with adhd and mild anxiety

we stan maggie tozier here , he grew up with two loving parents and that’s that !

it’s difficult for him to express emotions so he usually feels bad for being a jerk but would rather let someone believe that he’s actually a jerk than apologize

he’s very protective of his loved ones and the people close to him , basically if you mess with them you mess with him which isn’t saying much because he’d run from a fight unless otherwise forced to

he swears a lot i’m so sorry

it’s hard for him to get close to people but when he does he’s there like cling wrap and they’ll probably get super annoyed by it but that’s alright

very carefree/goes with the flow . he might make a dumb comment about things but they quickly blow over and he doesn’t care anymore

likes to be the center of attention , hates crowds

he can’t see anything ever

all you really need to know about him is that he talks 100mph and doesn’t really shut up . he speaks before he thinks and i’m fine with your character wanting to 1 2 knock him out

𝙞'𝙡𝙡 𝙢𝙖𝙠𝙚 𝙖 𝙥𝙡𝙤𝙩 𝙘𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙞'𝙢 𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙛𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙨

#maine.intro #this is Messy sorry #lms and i'll msg for plots!!!#even tho i haven't listened my wc yet:o)#˜ ♡ ﹙ richie tozier ﹚ ↝ 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙘𝙖𝙣𝙤𝙣𝙨 ．

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forallyourikemensengokuneeds · 5 years ago

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Lessons learned ch 3

Mitsuhide drove up to the address she had listed on her application and was horrified that this was where she lived. The area was so run down and from his experience working with the police force was majorly crime ridden. A young woman living alone here was dangerous let alone a basically asking for trouble.

She walked out of the apartment building and got in his car. He looked her over. "What?" She asked.

"Are you crazy or stupid?" He asked rather bluntly.

"Excuse me?" She retorted as they started driving.

"This neighborhood is no place for someone like you." He said.

"Excuse me again?" She asked.

"Noelle it isn't safe. You have to see that." He said softly.

"Well it is the best I could afford at the moment." She replied. "Not like a lot of people are running out to make a nice apartment cheap."

"I understand that." He said "but this neighborhood I know is riddled with drugs, prostitution, and other gangs. It's not safe for someone like you. You are alone and pregnant a perfect target here."

"Professor please." She said as she looked around.

"Alright I will drop it for now." He said as they neared the restaurant he had picked. "I hope you like this place."

"I'm sure I will. Its been awhile since I've been out." She said with a smile.

"I should have asked what you prefer but this place has a wide selection." He said, "it is also out of the way so no prying eyes."

"Prying eyes?" She asked.

"Things that could make you feel uncomfortable if lets say a few of the other Professors came in." He replied, "I would prefer not to have them around myself. "

"You're right I wouldn't like it if the other professors thought something more was going on between us." She said with a chuckle.

"Of course you wouldn't." He said dryly and he figured he had all his answers.

"That didn't come out the way I wanted it too." She said. "I don't want to be seen as a gold digger."

"What?" He asked chuckling now.

"I am a pregnant young woman who is completely alone, Professor Akechi. I am afraid that that is how I would be seen if I was seen with a prominent professor with a reputation like yours." Noelle said, "I know how people who see it."

"Noelle." He sighed. "Couldn't it just be the opposite though. A Professor like me sees an attractive young woman and wants to try to build something he isn't sure he could have in a different situation."

"I'm not sure I follow." She said.

"Let's go eat." He said as he pulled in as he wanted nothing more than to drop the conversation. He had given to much away already.

As they sat down in the dimly lit room near the back she looked around and understood this had to be his go to place. In a way it was like him. Dark and mysterious and full of secrets. Noelle's attraction to the man hadn't diminished an once since she began to work for him. She was well and good deep into a crush for the man and this was like a dream come true. She looked at him as he looked over the menu and she had to smile to herself. The reasons that led her here were also the reasons she could never have what she wanted the most. He wouldn't ever want her she was damaged goods now. However she could still have that private fantasy in the back of her head.

As they ordered he was not impressed with her choice. She was supposed to be eating and she seemed more inclined to pick at a small entree instead.

"Is the food to your liking?" He asked.

"Yes." She smiled at him.

"Next time you can get something else which is bigger." He said.

"Next time?" She asked.

"Noelle I didn't expect this to be a one time thing." He said. "Someone has to look out for you." He hand over his card to the server and looked at her.

"Professor that is a nice thought but I can take care of myself." She replied as she put her napkin down and couldn't look him in the eyes.

He reached over the table and hooked his finger under her chin and nudged her head up to look at him, "Noelle look at me."

"Professor." She whispered.

"Noelle when it is just the two of us would you please call me by my name?" Mitsuhide asked.

"That doesn't seem right." She replied.

"Why ever not?" He asked. "You do realize I am more than just a professor correct? I am a person too."

"I guess so. Its just that I work for you and I can't afford to lose this job." Noelle said.

"Who said anything about you losing your job?" He replied.

"But if I am to familiar with you I could lose it." She said softly.

"Silly girl. You won't lose your job." Mitsuhide chuckled. "In fact you may end up with more than you bargained for."

"What does that mean?" She asked.

"Oh nothing Noelle. Now will you please call me by my name when it is just the two of us?" He asked.

"Fine." She said.

"Fine what?" He prompted.

"Fine Mitsuhide." She said.

"Good girl." He smirked as he sat back in his chair as the server brought the receipt back along with his card. The first steps had been taken. He knew it and so did she though it was not clear to her at the moment. He had to smile to himself as he helped her from the table and escorted her to the car. "Is there anywhere else you wish to go?"

"No." She said softly. "I have to study and I have some work to do from my slave driver of a boss."

"Study what?" He asked ignoring her boss comment.

"I have a test on the formula and chemical compounds of enzymes reactions between substances." She replied.

"Like oxidant And reactives?" He asked.

"Thats it exactly." She said surprised.

"You're in luck than." He said. "I happen to be somewhat of an expert on that."

"Really?" She asked.

"Despite what you think my dear, I did take a variety of course while I was in college." He said to her laughter."

"I can't see you in a lab coat though." She said.

"Maybe one day I will let you see it." He chuckled. "Come on I help you with your studies."

"Pro- Mitsuhide are you sure I mean it is your time off." She said.

"Noelle I can't think of anything better to do or anything I would rather do either." Mitsuhide said as he started driving to his house.

"I need my books." She said.

"Perks of being a professor, my dear. I have access to all the books." He chuckled.

When he pulled into his house she looked around at the driveway and then the house. Noelle didn't want to seem surprised that he had a place like this. It was nice and well kept. The two story house was in a quiet neighborhood somehow she never would have thought it was something he would have. She had to shake her thoughts. "You coming or are you going to stand here and stare at the house?" Mitsuhide asked as he chuckled, "I know most people have that reaction when they see it as if I was supposed to live in a cave or something."

"I'm sorry was it obvious?" She said as she walked over to him as he opened the front door.

"The house is new. I figured since I am going to stay here for some time it was time to be an adult. I am not sure it was a good fit." Mitsuhide said.

"Why is that?" Noelle asked as she walked in to a nearly empty house.

"Like I said the house is new and it is too much for just me." He said as he threw his keys on the counter.

"Professor it is." She started to say.

"Mitsuhide." He said.

"What?" She asked.

"My name is Mitsuhide." He said as he looked at her again.

"Fine Mitsuhide I was going to say that the house just needs some things. Plenty of people live alone in places like this." Noelle replied. "I know plenty of people that have more than this but they often are miserable."

"Well that is good to know." He said with a deep chuckle, "personal experience?"

"My parents." She replied as she looked around.

"Well now that doesn't sound all that good." Mitsuhide said as he guided her to the couch in the corner of the large room. "I will pull up the text books. Did you want something to drink?"

"Water is fine." Noelle said as Mitsuhide looked at her and shook his head, "sorry for a moment I forgot. It isn't like I have many people over."

"The funny thing is I did forget for a minute." She laughed. "Normally it is like a plague hanging over me. You made me forget for a minute."

"I know I have no right to ask but is it horrible like that often?" Mitsuhide asked.

"I guess what makes it horrible is the being alone. I mean I didn't expect that my parents would even refuse to talk to me or that my siblings would follow suit. Its a child not a deadly disease or something. Thats what hurts the most that if I chose some other route they would welcome Me back into the family fold if inly I bow to their wishes. A unmarried woman having a child is unacceptable. Not knowing the child's father is also unacceptable. However the worst sin of all is choosing to have it and keep it." She said.

"So your family is what ultra religious?" He asked as he sat with his computer open as he listened to her.

"No more like ultra controlling. They aren't religious at all. My sisters and brothers follow their lead and do as they are told. From the career choices they could have to their spouses my parents make all their choices. It took them cutting me off for me to see it for what it was. Thats why I haven't run back. I could never live a life like that under someone's thumb. I might not be able to provide much but I can try at least. I have to try. It is my decision after all." Noelle said as she looked up at him. "What?"

"I find you extremely interesting Noelle. You had everything at your finger tips and you chose to make your own way." He said as he brushed a piece of hair away from her face. He looked into her eyes and he saw the slight flash of awareness in them. He had to internally smile at that. This was going to be interesting but he knew it would be worth it for both of them in the end, he just needed not to spook her long enough to have her see the truth in front of them.

#modern au #lesson learned #ikemen sengoku inspired #akechi mitsuhide #pregnancy #just checking to see if anyone reads tags #does anyone really?#i mean mine are mostly tame #comment if you do

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iampikachuhearmeroar · 5 years ago

Note

Skincare/ makeup culture ☕️

oooh. i’ll divide this post into two parts: makeup culture and skincare culture.

(1.) makeup culture.

i think everyone knows that I’ve never liked makeup, mostly because I had relatively bad cystic acne throughout high school, that reacted badly to all of the makeup that my sister used (but most particularly her l’oreal foundation). I think makeup culture is particularly harmful to young girls, like the makeup youtube channels that are run by the parents I suppose of 8 year olds, where the 8yo is the actual youtuber.

like don’t get me wrong, i know young girls like playing with makeup (I actually did when I was that age, funnily enough)….. but the fact that professional or just plain fucking ridiculously expensive makeup palettes are now being marketed to girls in bloody primary/grade/elementary school, is just fucking wrong. and yeah there’s the post on here about how some younger girls are finding themselves ugly when they don’t wear properly applied makeup or something like that. and that breaks my heart. why the fuck should a young girl be made to feel ugly if she can’t blend like josiemaycosmetics (I made that up btw idk any makeup channels besides Jeffree star, James Charles and that tatti woman tbh) and can’t afford the bullshit Too Faced $98 powered foundation, $65 Sunday Riley blush (I roughly remember the price of this particular blush bc my sister bought it for me for my 20th birthday so that I could according to her “look good for uni” but I never actually used it lmao… and it’s no longer sold here in australia) and Kylie Jenner’s overpriced lip kits and idk Smashbox “photo finish” primer priced between $AU23-$AU55????

like I had this bad enough in fucking HIGH SCHOOL with my sister telling me that I’d “never get a boyfriend” or “never get a date for the formal/junior prom” if I didn’t spend hundreds of $$$$ for a good face of makeup and didn’t spend hours and hours learning how to do my own makeup. or how last year for my uni grad, she made out that I’d ruin my own uni grad if we didn’t spend $250 on the makeup artist we got for me….. where I unfortunately found out that my skin reacts to MAC products 😭😨 bc the MUA used MAC concealer and foundation. my sister also expected me to remember the setting spray the woman used for my makeup, when I was there from like 4:30am till like 6:45am and i was barely fucking awake. the setting spray probably could’ve easily cost over $100. let’s be real here. like why am I expected to remember shit that early in the morning???

one of my least favourite things with makeup culture is that you’re not meant to fuck it up in any way, shape or form. like when my sister did my makeup for my two high school formals/proms (year 10 & year 12) she constantly told me not to scratch my face while she was doing it (but it made me itchy, hooray for L’Oréal being shit lmao)…. not to fuck it up while I ate at those events….. and she didn’t let me eat before my uni grad last year bc “you’d definitely fuck up your makeup. don’t you dare scratch your face at all today!” like for someone who has hypersensitive/highly reactive skin that she has to scratch when it’s itchy….. and also loves fucking stuffing her face with food….. expecting me to never touch/scratch my face and to practically starve myself to preserve the integrity of my makeup (that i ended up paying for some in the end anyway) for an event is fucking stupid and over-restrictive.

like i always hated the way that the kardashians ate on KUWTK bc it looked so fucking mechanical and whatever bc they had to obvs preserve their makeup while shooting and also look nice for the camera. like why the fuck am I expected to eat ~like that~ when I have a faceload of MU on???? FUCK OFF. I will scratch it off. I will smear the food all over my face (ok not really) and eat however I motherfucking want, thank you very fucking much. like for my uni grad last year I was up from 4am and my grad ended at like 12:30pm….. so I didn’t have food til about 12:35 when I left the hall. and the whole time while I was eating my sister kept reminding me to not fuck up my makeup that we’d spent $250 on. JUST LET ME FUCKING EAT WOMAN, I SWEAR TO FUCK. lmao.

the last thing I hate the most about makeup culture is that like….. I absolutely hate makeup like I said above….. but once I have it on I feel pretty and cry a bit bc I’ll just never learn to do it myself…. mostly bc I couldn’t be bothered…. bc I save hundreds, if not thousands of $$$$ from not buying all the bullshit essential items you need just for a ~basic no makeup, makeup look~, and bc my hands have never been steady enough to use some of the things, like false eyelashes and eyelash curlers or liquid eyeliner/normal eyeliner…..

but yeah. I just hate that it makes me feel pretty???? but I also feel good and more natural without it???? and I’ll never like my sister’s comment that: “you’re the prettier one out of the two of us…. but if only you hurried up and learnt to do your makeup, you’d be even prettier” or some dumb semi-condescending shit comment she’s said to me like that before. like why is the only way a woman can be pretty (other than some clothes that make her feel good) by smearing 100s/1000s of dollars worth of makeup on???? like why the fuck am I expected to spend all that money when a good bulk of men will never bother with the male makeup trend anyway???? like why am I expected to act differently when I basically just have grown up face-paint on lmao???? I’ve never felt natural in makeup, I’ve always felt awkward and like…. not sound like an cringey edgelord emo kid…. but i never felt ~real~ wearing makeup lmao. just yeah.

but yeah I also understand makeup is an art and I appreciate that. makeup culture is so fucked on all sides for women.

(2.) skincare culture:

now skincare culture is different for me. considering that, like I said before, I had relatively bad cystic acne…. and I’ve since also developed eczema during the winter months….. so I’ve had to develop a good skincare routine over the years to keep my skin under control. but again, there are parts that I don’t like about skincare culture…. like women are typically meant to spend, again, hundreds and if not thousands of dollars on super expensive skin creams (some of which I’ve tried) to fix their fine lines, their laugh lines, their crows feet, their blemishes, their birth marks and cellulite…… the list truly goes on and on….. and on top of that (well this hellsite which isn’t entirely accurate) I’m, or we as women, are expected to teach all of that to men in their 20s???? like fuck off. why and how the fuck didn’t they get the fucking memo to look after their own goddamned skin???? like my 20s are already tiring enough, and now I gotta pass on important skincare advice to men, who could easily fucking find it themselves online???? lord help their asses lmao.

but other than the men bit…. yeah skincare culture is just as bad as makeup culture. like when Cosmo mag was still running in australia, more than half of the shit the women at Cosmo were advertising as part of their skincare routines were literally $300 night treatment creams or moisturisers; $150 facial cleansers; or $500 skin peels, or $600 appointments at dermatologists and skin therapies like electrolysis that I’ll probs never be able to afford. like one of the luxury brands that I LOVE (💖) is Mario badescu bc the two pimple treatments that i sometimes I use from them (the drying lotion and the anti-acne serum) are the ONLY two acne treatments that have NEVER made my face turn red and my skin peel off (besides a really good neutrogena one that Neutrogena discontinued 😭). every other chemist bought pimple treatment cream makes my skin peel off/itchy/turn red. but sadly the two Mario badescu treatments are priced over $50 if bought together (ones now $31 (formerly $28, this one’s great bc it dries clear), the other is like $26, this one dries pink). so the chemist bought ones like the ones by Clearasil or OXY10 are my saviours at $11.99-$12.99, even though they dry out my skin to buggery and leave big white marks on my face bc they both dry white lmao. but I’ve gotta suffer that for the price of beauty lmao.

also there’s expensive face washes (or skin care program packs etc) from Paula’s choice that I love.... but again they were like $35 for a 400ml bottle and $25 for a fucking 150ml or 250ml bottle. now the one i like is $20 for 177ml, which is a rip off. some of the other luxury things that I’ve tried (via free samples) that don’t work, like Kate Somerville (priced at like $65 and over), Philosophy and god knows what else that i’ve bought from Mecca Cosmetica, which is the Aussie version of Sephora in the past. and yes, for acne treatments, i’ve used pro-activ before. it was ok… but i never used it in high school, after the awful time we had trying to cancel our subscription to it back in the day for my sister lol.

also can we talk about the ultrasonic face brush systems that are still raging strongly??? like they’re also super rip offs, especially with buying replacement heads for $35 a pop. like I’ve had a Clarisonic for years (that I’ve stopped using, admittedly)…. the model was roughly $250 when I got it for my like 19th birthday. now they’re even more expensive at like $315 for the latest “clarisonic mia fit cleansing system” which is linked on the $315. or now there’s the foreo that costs anywhere between $75 (the cheapest model) to fucking almost $400… ie $395. the replacement heads for the clarisonic and i suppose replacement like pads or something for the foreo are meant to be replaced every three months “for optimum cleansing” or whatever. like $35 every three months is a lot to maintain after a while. also using the clarisonic added like 10 extra minutes to my showers/general skincare routine bc you’re meant to use it for five mins or whatever and then spend another 5mins washing it out to make sure that it doesn’t collect mould and buildup too much soap residue. it was just a lot of effort to use, even if it did make me feel like i had a better and deeper face washing routine.

and yes, i know there’s Lush. both my sister and i (but more my sister) were obsessed with Lush back in high school, after one of our sydney cousins introduced it to us. but Lush’s skincare stuff for pimples just never worked for us. it made me breakout more, actually. but their old apple pie and choc-orange lip balms were the BOMB. it’s a pity that they no longer make them tbh. their jelly soaps were fun to use and smelt nice too. i can’t remember much else about lush tbh lmao.

for face masks, i’ve found that store/chemist bought formula 10.0.06 or whatever works the best for my skin. but the push, especially again in cosmo and other places, to buy more expensive face-masks and like designer FMs that you should really ask a professional to use first imo, is fucking harmful, especially when you’ve got ones that take off the whole top layer of skin from your face (like the famous and the overly popular charcoal face peel masks), or so i’ve read. like it’s yikes out there. please be safe with these masks, ya’ll. and the same goes for making your own organic face masks, considering that i’ve seen posts on here about using lemon juice which is bad for your skin??? idk anyway. i also hate how with the face masks i buy, there’s about 6 different “skin-illuminating”/“skin brightening”/”skin detoxing” etc masks, that all essentially do the same fucking thing. just keep it at one and fucking go; for gods fucking sake lmao.

but yeah, skincare culture does suck just as much as makeup culture, considering that is heavily focused on women’s self-esteem and wallets…. and barely ever focuses on men. like it’s a double-edged sword tbh.

also as side notes: why the actual fuck are makeup companies still giving their makeup shades or makeup lines sexual names???? like i just found a fucking blush shade by NARS, in my research for this post, called “Orgasm”???? like what the FUCK is wrong with ya’ll??? like y’all actually have the fucking AUDACITY to really make 8 year olds say that in their makeup tutorial videos as well??? “our best selling orgasm collection” sweet lord. that sounds bad. y’all need to sort your shit out, and so do the people who name nail polish shades..

the other worrying general beauty trends that i keep getting on my facebook newsfeed are the teeth whitening systems like hismile and at home laser treatment machines… and then also the charcoal toothpastes to whiten your teeth. oh and also the facial skin “vacuums”, that suck out dirt/oil and your blackheads/pimples etc from your pores. stay safe out there everyone, and do your bloody research. don’t believe the reviews and the hype.

also finally: take your skin type and skin condition/(s) into account if you want to use any of the things that I’ve mentioned that I use/have used on this post. or that I’ve just generally mentioned, like the Clarisonic and the foreo. because what works for me, might not work for you. I’m not a skincare expert or dermatologist. check with your doctor or a skincare professional or whatever before you start using some of these things, even if you might think that it’s stupid & pointless to do so.

#life #about me #shut up ilona #ask game thing #anon ask #answered anon ask #anon #answered anon #anonymous

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thelamppoststation · 5 years ago

Text

Future’s Past by TheLampPost

In 2008, a year after James managed to get off that godforsaken rock, he receives a visit from a young woman with blue eyes and blonde hair. She hands him a locket and a letter, then demands answers to questions that he didn’t even know existed. Post season 6 (Suliet) - This story is also partly set during the DHARMA days.

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

Chapter 2: The Plan

DHARMA Initiative: Sonar Fence, July 1975

She started across the field at a brisk pace, but by the time she got to the path beyond the bushes she'd broken into a run. A sudden wave of nausea twisted her insides into knots, and she couldn't help but wonder if it was due to her newly discovered condition or genuine nerves. This could not be happening. Not to her. Not after all she'd done to prevent exactly this type of scenario from coming to pass. Hell if she'd ever deliver a baby on this island again. Hell if it ever be her own.

When the pylons sprung into view, she stopped. The giant misshapen percussion bells on concrete sticks of terror stood tall and proud across the field in all of their youthful glory, not quite made for musical bliss, but blissfully fulfilling a purpose that kept people as arrested as would a theatre filled audience. Different purpose, same effect.

She crouched down, and flipped the lid on the data pad. Funny how the code was always the same, no matter what decade: 1623.

"What do you think you're doing?"

She whirled around. What the–?

"Miles!"

Where in the hell had he come from? He looked straight at her, narrowed eyes darkening the core of his black pupils, he looked almost threatening, and a familiar tightness settled in her chest, spread all the way down to her spine and back up her arms. She hadn't been on the receiving end of this much blatant mistrust in a long time.

"You scared me," she said, and smiled.

"Where are you going, Juliet?" he wasted no time.

She shrugged, hoping for it to come across as casual.

"I thought I saw something on the security monitors, figured I'd check it out. You know how Horace gets if we sound the alarm prematurely."

"Does LaFleur know you're out here?"

"Of course James knows."

Miles narrowed his eyes even further, causing for his already impossibly narrow slits to turn into even sharper ones; it almost reminded her of dark light peeping through the cracks of a badly insulated shed. He wasn't buying it. Damn him for tempting her into playing so much late night Poker. Miles was good at deception, but he was even better at recognising it. He'd been able to figure out all of her tells straight off the bat, and now she didn't have many, if any, left.

"Why are you lying to me?"

"What are you talking about?"

"I saw you," he took a step closer, and she had to suppress the urge to take a step back. "You were nowhere near the observation deck. I only followed you out here because I saw you flail out of the infirmary like a possessed madwoman. What's going on?"

She bit her lip.

"Look Miles, even if I told you; you wouldn't understand."

"Well," Miles crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Let's see what LaFleur'll have to say about that then."

He reached for his walkie, but before he could so much as pull the device from his pocket she'd already launched herself at him, pinning him to the ground with two hands above his head.

"What the actual fuck, Juliet!" he trashed against her, but she had a good grip on him, her weight pressing down hard on his lower abdomen. Maybe, if he had been a little heavier, or more muscular like James, he would have been able to break free, but Miles was about as scrawny as a malnourished field mouse.

"Get off me!"

"You don't want to do this, Miles!"

She gave him a hard look.

"They'll have seen you on the monitors by now anyway," he said. "I wouldn't be surprised if LaFleur is already on his way!"

She tightened her grip on his wrists.

"It would take them at least five more minutes to get here," she said. "Look, Miles, you're my friend and I really, really do not want to hurt you, but if you don't let this go, you'll leave me no choice."

He stopped, and stared, his eyes nearly popping out of his skull.

"You're serious?!"

She gave a curt nod.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me! Fine!" he slackened. "Go, then! You fucking Hilary Swank wannabe. See if I care."

She pulled his walkie from his pocket, and slipped it into her own jumpsuit before rolling off of him. He let out a loud, ever so exaggerated, cry.

"Why are you doing this?" he demanded, rubbing his wrists where red marks had already formed around them. She bit her lip.

"I'm sorry about that."

"Oh really? You're sorry?!" he spat. "LaFleur'll have a field day when you get back!"

"Please, don't tell him."

"You expect me to lie after you nearly broke my neck just now?"

She rolled her eyes.

"Hardly."

He let out a derisive snort.

"Yeah? Well, tell that to my impending hernia!"

Leave it up to Miles to add a side dish of drama to an already tense situation.

"If I'd wanted to break your neck, I would have."

"Well, THAT," he pointed at her. "That's a real comfort, thanks Juliet! I'll be sure to pass that along to the DHARMA folks at the next town meeting."

For all of his sarcasm she did feel guilty. Over the past year they'd become allies, friends even. Jin, Miles and James, the most unlikely group of people to have ever met and band together. Yet, over time, they'd all turned into more than just collateral casualties of time travel. If there was anyone she could trust it should be Miles, but there was just too much at stake. If she told him about her plans, then he'd tell James, and that would lead to more questions, and then accusations. She might even have time to stop and think, rethink. She couldn't risk that.

But then, maybe; she could throw him some breadcrumbs, some food for thought to chew on. It would give her a reasonable head start.

"Come," she said, holding out her hand. He took it, albeit reluctantly; she pulled him to his feet.

"I'm going out there to find Richard."

"Eyeliner Tarzan?"

She shook her head, that was almost amusing.

"You've been spending too much time with James."

"Says you."

"Excuse me?"

"You think that Jin and I would think that all of those bumps in the night we hear is just your furniture coming to life and humping itself? Which by the way–" He froze, catching her impending look of doom.

"One more word, just one more", her eyes threatened.

He cleared his throat, inching a calculated step backward.

"Why do you need to talk to Richard?" he changed the subject.

"Miles," the threat not completely gone from her eyes. "Just make sure that James doesn't follow me."

"Can't stop that guy from doing anything he doesn't want to do. Or, well… technically, wants to do."

He sniggered, amused by his own disaster of a joke, and she took that opportunity to slip between the pillars; as expected the pylons remained compliantly oblivious to her frame. Thank God for small mercies.

"Then stall him!" she threw over her shoulder.

"Whatever!" he yelled after her.

No matter his tone, she trusted Miles to be discreet. None of them should want to be stupid enough to ever risk their cover being blown, and besides where else could they go? Everything depended upon them keeping up appearances. Miles would reactivate the fence the moment she'd gone, and even though he denied it now, he would lie for her; if only for a couple of hours.

She sprinted down the overgrown path, twigs and leaves already sticking to her jumpsuit.

She'd better find Richard soon.

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The Jungle, July 1975

When James had first asked her about eyeliner Benjamin Button, she hadn't quite known how to respond. Before the 815 crash, Ben had only ever referred to Richard as his advisor, or the island's intermediator.

To her, Richard had simply been the mysterious man who'd first recruited her, and then delivered her to Ben as would a postman a package. Afterwards she only ever saw him sporadically. He preferred to live with another group at the Temple, a remote place in the jungle that even the D.I. had had a hard time locating in their day. But whenever he wasn't at the Temple he would intermittently show up at the barracks carrying perfectly symmetrically folded pieces of parchment paper; "Orders from Jacob", Ben would say.

The first time she heard that name, she'd asked:

"Jacob? Who's Jacob?" Ben had been evasive at first, but clear in his reply "Jacob protects the island; he protects us."

What Jacob was protecting them from, he wouldn't say. Instead, Ben would often talk about vague miracles and electromagnetic energy. She soon found out that they all looked to Jacob as worshippers would to a deity. She looked to Ben a lot back then, as he seemed to hold most of the answers in that regard, but after a while he started to misinterpret her intentions, invading her privacy in a manner that reminded her of how Edmund used to corner her out of nowhere.

Alarm bells screeched ear damagingly loud; she distanced herself from Ben, and turned to the others instead. She asked Amelia about the DHARMA stations, Harper about the Initiative, Ethan about the Sonar Fence and the submarine, but it wasn't until she asked Goodwin about the strange noises in the night that she finally received a truthful answer. "I'll show you," he said. The following day he took her out into the jungle, where they both silently watched an immense pillar of black smoke rise up and down into the air, moving about like a creature out of a horror movie.

She stopped asking questions after that, realizing that whatever was going on on the island didn't abide by any of the natural laws of the universe that she'd been taught to acknowledge rationally. The revelation didn't deter her inquisitive mind, though. So, without permission, she started looking for answers elsewhere. She rummaged through poorly conserved documents, discovered secret underground passageways, and abandoned DHARMA stations; still, whatever had happened to the D.I. remained a mystery that even she couldn't solve on her own. It wasn't until Alex took her out into the jungle, after a particularly heated argument with her father, that Juliet was finally able to lay that question to rest. Against Ben's explicit orders, Alex had shown her a pit filled with twisted curiosities that turned out to be decomposing bodies in faded navy colored jumpsuits. With a start she realized that it was them, that they'd never left, and had been there all along, so close to the barracks.

Horrified she asked what had happened, Alex replied:

"My father."

Like a homesick child Juliet'd crawled into bed that night, craving her sister's comfort more than ever. As she closed her eyes, she imagined that melodic voice soothing her; the feel of familial arms protecting her from the monsters that used to live in her bedroom closet when she was a little girl. For a moment she was eight again, and her sister her protector.

For months, she'd clung to those memories like a drowning woman to air, and with each new burning breath she watched herself drift further from the shores of that longed for existence, until one day, the image on the horizon curved and her sister dropped from view completely.

By 2002, Ben had her bound to an unbreakable promise, a chain and ball shackled to her soul. Goodwin taught her how to mask her longings, tempering her burning desire for home. And while, like a parasite, Ben continued to try to worm his way into her heart, (often dropping by unannounced with wild flower bouquets and Belgium chocolate) she taught herself to carefully stave off his advances, until she could stave them off no more.

Between 2001 and 2004, she lost nine women to a nameless invader that dragged her to the edge of insanity. It left no traceable data for her to analyse, and for months, she ploughed waist deep through a disease filled swamp of misery and despair. She located its entrance into the body, she watched how it tore through her patients, and she knew when it killed, but she remained blind to where it housed. All she could determine with absolute certainty was that it was happening, and that there was nothing she could do about it. And while over time, the memories of those nine wounds turned into rough skinned scars, any thoughts that she might have had of Richard slipped through the cracks of her subconscious, not to resurface until 1974.

Who was eyeliner Benjamin Button? James's guess was as good as hers.

She returned her attention to the road ahead, where she'd been trampling through bramble bushes, and wadding through clear water brooks for the past hour. She made sure to keep her estimated guess of the Temple's location on her right, while taking careful stock of her surroundings on her left, moving about with extreme stealth; the way she'd been taught to move about by them. It had become second nature to her now, like falling down and standing back up. But then, so had lying, cheating and manipulating her way out of impossible situations. There were moments, like these, when that realization hit her hard. She hadn't always been like this. In fact, she wasn't anything like the woman she used to know. That person had had morals, integrity, and no backbone whatsoever. It seemed like decades ago, but it had only been four short years since she'd last behaved like Edmund's string puppet, a lapdog with no discernible purpose. Not anymore. She'd learned her lessons the hard way: to lead or to be led, to harm or to be harmed, and to kill or to be killed.

She looked up, the wind had changed; she was close now. As another minute past she caught soft whispers, the kind that used to include hers. Pots clinging together, the crackle of a midday fire, the swishing of fabric, hands clapping, laughter. She stepped closer: shouting, more laughter; the careless rustle and bustle of people living their lives.

She could see them now, and for a moment she watched them from behind overgrown bushes. She crouched closer, twigs bending under the weight of her fingertips, but not snapping. She was more careful than that.

To her surprise, she recognized a lone woman next to a boiling cauldron that stood perched in the middle of the camp. A young Amelia. Pensively, she stirred the pot, cooking what smelled like a mixture of island vegetables and boar meat. A little to her left a young girl sat crossed legged in front of a boy, playing a clapping game. She couldn't quite make out their faces, but she briefly wondered about their names, if she knew them –would know them. There were more people, young and old. Some she recognised, others that had either died or left long before her arrival. Also, more children that would grow up to be vague acquaintances or book club participants.

She suppressed the urge to flee, deterring the heart racing expectation that foreshadowed her presence; the image powerful enough to change her mind. She rose slowly, then stepped out into the open with bold determination, her hands held high up above her head, one foot in front of the other. It was a stupid move. They were unpredictable and much more dangerous than their future counterparts.

She took another step closer, a branch snapped in two. Their reaction immediate: eyes turned on her at an inhuman speed, silence muzzled the buoyant atmosphere. Various threatening clicks snapped into place, weapons balanced high upon army trained arms. She counted five men swiftly closing in on her.

"Who are you?!" one yelled.

Why are you breaking the truce?" another demanded.

She turned to look at each of them, he wasn't among them.

"I need to speak to the person in charge."

They laughed; the echoes of their derisive mirth pressing down on her courage.

"I don't think you're in any position to be making demands, lady."

She really wasn't, but that didn't stop her from staring down a very young Tom Friendly. He couldn't be much older than twenty-five. Once, her superior in age and status, now her junior in years as well as knowledge. This was strange. Would he recognise her 26 years from now? Was that why he'd always been so nice to her? Because he knew?

"Stand down!" a rough accented voice suddenly cut through the group. Every face in the clearing turned, but Juliet had a hard time tearing her eyes away from Tom.

She'd never meant for him to die. If only she could warn him somehow, forge a connection through time and prevent a bad future outcome from coming to pass. "Whatever happened, happened", Daniel's voice thundered through her mind. Did her Tom know that she was the one who would end up digging his grave? Young Tom's riffle pointed straight at her, would he be the one digging hers? Would it come full circle, right here? Right now?

"What have we here?"

She forced her eyes away. A woman, roughly her own age and similar in looks, approached the group.

"Who are you?" she demanded.

Juliet blinked, confused, her mind half on Tom still.

"Where's Richard?" she blurt out.

The woman sniggered.

"Richard? What makes you think he'd want to speak to the likes of you?" affirming whispers, and nodding figures stepped up behind the woman.

"He'd want to know I'm here."

"He'd want to know you are here?"

Their amusement peaked.

"And what, pray tell, makes a DHARMA puppet such as yourself so special that Richard'd want to know?"

DHARMA puppet? She hadn't heard that one before. But if evidence was what they wanted, then she had nothing to worry about. They seared it onto her skin for a reason, after all.

"Check my back," she said.

"What?"

"My lower back, check it."

The woman's expression shifted, a concoction of amusement and disdain spawning forth some mild interest that stretched to the curving of her brows.

She looked at Tom.

"You heard the woman,"she shrugged. "Check her back, Tom."

Tom nodded.

"Unzip," he demanded.

Juliet compliantly pulled her jumpsuit down to her waist, revealing a white tank top underneath; with the barrel of his rifle Tom pushed the fabric up, and as the mark that lay seared upon her skin sprung into view, the tension in the air shifted once more.

Sharp intakes of breath seemed to suck the oxygen straight from the surrounding trees, travelling all around and down the wide clearing.

"Who gave that to you?" the woman asked, turning a whiter shade of pale as her eyes darted from Tom to the others.

"Let me talk to Richard first," Juliet repeated.

"Who gave you that mark?!"

"I'll tell Richard!" she countered.

"Tell me!"

"No!"

Her eyes darkened, and before Juliet could comprehend what happened next Tom had already slammed the butt of his rifle into her lower back. With a loud cry she crashed to her knees, rough hands pulled her up by her hair, and as the pain shot through her head and down her back it was hard to focus; the feeling similar to that of hundred needles sticking through her skull all at once. She looked up, the butt of another riffle hanging suspended in mid-air, aimed straight at her stomach. Reflexively she put her arms out, protecting that which she couldn't stand to lose.

"No! Stop!" she begged, her voice hoarse. "I'm pregnant!"

The man hesitated, his rifle poised, held back only by sheer doubt. He looked to the woman in charge.

"I'm one of you!" Juliet cried out, anger temporarily casting out all rational thought.

The woman motioned for the others to stand down, and Juliet heavily dropped to the ground, her heart hammering against her ribcage at a painful speed. She couldn't be sure of what she would have done if the man hadn't hesitated, but she sure as hell knew that the outcome wouldn't have been in his favor.

"You're no more one of us than any traitor who bears that mark will ever be again."

"At least it shows that at some point, I was one of you," she wheezed.

"A fleur-de-lis is hardly an original mark."

"Yet," she took in a painfully slow, but controlled breath. "This design is unique, and you know it."

The woman's upper lip quivered, extreme agitation forming around the corners of her mouth.

"Richard!" she called, never breaking eye-contact.

It was then that Juliet recognised her, the intense icy blues, the thick British accent. This had to be the famed Eloise Hawking. For some reason she'd always pictured her to be taller, and broader. The type of woman who enjoyed deer hunting and hammer throwing on early Sunday mornings right before dawn broke through the night. She'd imagined a wild tempered shark. But this? No. Not this. Eloise was slim, petite even, moving about with the same grace as a proud lioness. A hunter by nature, always with her pride in mind, nothing like a shark. Yet, the lines about her eyes mirrored Juliet's own mask, hiding an intense past filled with contradictions. Maybe, in another life, they would have been friends.

"Who's this?"

Richard appeared as summoned, popping into view like a genie out of a bottle. He looked exactly the same. He always looked the same. They locked eyes, and Juliet felt a shiver run down her spine. Bizarre, just bizarre.

"She bears the mark," Eloise barked. "How can she bear the mark?"

Richard looked confused, not quite comprehending what Eloise was referring to, but as he studied Juliet there lay sudden recognition in his eyes. It betrayed a thought, as though he'd been waiting for something like this to happen.

"What mark?"

"Our fleur-de-lis."

He stepped closer, Tom lifted Juliet's top again, stepping even closer Richard bend down, lightly touching the mark, his fingers cold on her skin.

"How is this possible?" he asked, looking up at Tom.

The young man stammered, but Richard shook his head, and waved him away.

"Where did you get this?" he said, for the first time really looking at her. "This is a very particular mark. Who gave this to you?"

"Jacob," she lied.

"What did you say?" a slow staccato punctuated each word.

"I want to talk to Jacob."

He studied her closely, his eyes burning holes into her skin. He knew more, much, much more.

"Take her to my tent," he ordered.

"What are you doing?" Eloise demanded.

"I need to talk to this woman in private."

"That's against the rules of the truce!"

"Jacob wants it so."

"How in the hell–"

"Eloise!" Richard cut off. "Trust me."

Juliet was sure that if Eloise had had fangs Richard surely would have fallen victim to her seething rage by now. But she stood her ground, respecting the wishes of a deity whose existence she probably had to take on faith as much as Ben had had to.

Firm hands guided her past Eloise, and the woman gave her one last foul look in passing.

Once inside Richard motioned for her to sit, then turned to the men behind her.

"Leave us," he ordered.

"I don't think–"

"I really don't care what you think, Brian. Leave us, now!"

Brian muttered something incomprehensible under his breath, but did as told, motioning for the other man to follow suit.

"What's your name?" Richard asked, once they'd left.

"My name?"

"Yes, you have one, I trust?"

"Yes, of course."

"Well?"

"Juliet."

"Last name?"

"Carlson."

"Carlson?" he frowned.

"Burke," she corrected. "Look, I–"

"Juliet Burke," Richard continued.

She stopped, rendered somewhat speechless by the interruption and this strange obsession with her name.

"You know what's funny, Juliet?"

Richard turned around, and sat down on the cot in front of her; the bed creaking beneath his weight as he pensively leaned forward on his arms.

"Two days ago, Jacob appeared to me," she sat up straighter; a pounding pain shooting through her back; she ignored it.

"He told me the strangest thing. Jacob said, that in a couple of days time, I should expect a woman by the name of Juliet Burke to come striding straight through the jungle into our camp, demanding to see him."

She stared, unmoved.

"Exactly, like you did just now," he paused. "Isn't that a funny coincidence?"

"I don't know what to tell you," she said, chilled by the thought of predestination. Although, by now she'd learned that there really was no such thing as a linear passage of time. She was living proof of that.

"No, I didn't think you would. But Jacob gave me a note," from his chest pocket he pulled a perfectly symmetrically folded piece of parchment paper, her name written in the centre in indelible ink, Jacob's ink.

She reached for it, but Richard held onto it, forcing her to look up to where his eyes met hers.

"I'm to go with you," he said.

"Go where?"

"Wherever it is you plan on going."

He let go of the note.

With trembling fingers, she unfolded it.

Jacob's message was short, poetic even:

"You may leave, But only once. Return, and you are to stay.

Choose wisely, Juliet.

Richard will show you the way."

- Jacob

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A/N: I know it took me a while to get this chapter up! I'm sorry! I always try to be as detailed and coherent as possible in my writing, and this one took a lot of time to figure out. I love writing from Juliet's POV, though! She's so incredibly complex, and I wanted to bring that to live more in this chapter. Hope it shows!

I decided to change the title of the story, because I just wasn't happy with it. I personally think that this new title does the story more justice; I just hope that changing it didn't make it too hard for you guys to find the story again. I promise, the title won't change again. This is it.

I also wanted to respond to the Guest who left a review on this story on ff.

First of all, thank you so much for your kind and encouraging words. I hope you'll continue to enjoy this story, and I truly appreciate the kind of detailed review that you left! I always love to hear what goes on in the minds of those who read my stories. Thank you for that! And also, yes the summary might give away a bit much, but it also only reveals the tip of the iceberg of what I've got in mind for this story! The true purpose of the summary was to create an expectation. I'm actually very curious to know what you think it means! But all in all, even if it means what you think it means, there's a lot more to it than just that one storyline/chapter. Ha! I hope I'm making sense!

Anyway, thank you all for reading this story. Hope to see you again in the next chapter!

#Juliet Burke #James Ford #Sawyer #Miles Straume #Lost #Suliet #Lost Fanfiction #Jin-Soo Kwon #Daniel Faraday #DHARMA Initiative #1975 #Juliet Carlson #Richard Alpert #Eloise Hawking #the Others #Hostiles #Chapter 2 #Future's Past #TheLampPost

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