#side note; is there gonna be a third knives out movie..?

[here-there-everyfuckenwhere]

Do people write fanfics about Benoit Blanc..?

I wanna read about that guy getting into Situations

[gohyuck]

the purge: society

pairing: firefighter!san x reader

genre: purge au, angst, some fluff

warnings: mentions of violence (especially violence against cops), murder, blood, injury, weapons (guns, knives, metal baseball bats)

word count: 2.4k

note: this was originally meant to be a drabble and it’s still pretty short so i didn’t get to elaborate on the characters but honestly maybe i’ll explore a purge universe with ateez someday because this was fun (i’ve never watched any of the movies though so i’ll have to get on that)

“What the fuck?” 

He hadn’t expected to see anyone left alive on this street.

“Shut up and get down,” You hiss, reaching your good arm up to grab onto the man’s jacket collar before unceremoniously pulling him towards you. He stumbles, falling gracelessly onto you. A scream bubbles up in your throat as he accidentally puts pressure onto your already free-bleeding bicep, but you get ahold of yourself just in time, only letting the quietest of wounded moans escape you. 

“You’re the first person that hasn’t tried to kill me before talking to me all night - oh, shit,” The stranger trails off, swearing when you effectively stop him from speaking further by placing your switchblade right under his skin. It’s only then that he even pauses to take you in: your back is up by the police car door, sure, and your left arm has a massive gash in it, but you’re armed. There’s a pistol laying idly in your lap, kept company by a metal baseball bat. 

Not to mention, the knife at his neck. 

“What the hell are you doing, walking around unarmed and with a first aid kit? Also, how the hell are you unarmed and with just a first aid kit? What the fuck?” You let the questions out in a rapidfire fashion, and he can’t help but clock the slight rasp in your voice. It’s easier to recognize than the pained wheeze you’re trying very, very hard to suppress, but neither escape him. He’s trained to notice the little things, anyways. 

“You need to bandage that shit up,” The man ignores your questions, moving his head just enough to miss your blade but also enough to be able to look you in the eyes. “How long has it been bleeding?”

“That’s none of your business,” You grit out. “Answer my questions or I’ll kill you right here and now.”

“If I answer yours, will you answer mine?” For some reason, he doesn’t seem to be panicking just yet. His gaze is sincere, but it’s too solid to be that of a bona fide idiot. You suck in a breath of air. Threatening him would be so much easier if he didn’t seem like a nice guy. It’s hard enough to live through the night, you don’t need guilt on your hands, and you know you’re going to feel guilty when you kill him. And you will kill him.

You need that first aid kit. You’ll do anything for it.

Anything, starting off with lying. 

“Sure,” You reply, steeling yourself for any sudden movements he might make now that you’re faking amicability. Maybe he’ll believe you to be vulnerable and try for your pistol or your bat, or maybe he’ll be properly cruel and finish off your arm. You don’t want to think about it. He lets out a sigh of relief, and you can’t help but wonder if you’ve actually affected him after all. “Now speak.”

“Not unarmed, there’s a police-issue pistol in my jacket and a tactical knife in my jeans. I’m not totally nuts. First aid kit’s for my buddy, though, I’ll be real, you need it way more than him.” There’s something resembling concern in his expression as his eyes flit between your torn arm and your face, but that barely interests you. You haven’t truly registered anything after ‘police-issue’.

You lean in, pressing the edge of your knife against the skin directly above his adam’s apple. For the first time since you’d cornered him, your mystery purger’s breath hitches. His eyebrows draw together in confusion. It’s no matter. You no longer regret the fact that you’ll have to tear his jugular out yourself. 

“You’re a hog, huh,” You stare him down, any sympathy you might’ve had gone. For a moment, it seems as if he has no concept of what you’re saying. A second passes, though, and his gaze clears. 

“Firefighter,” He responds, though the word is garbled due to him attempting to keep his movements to a minimum. You pull back slightly, very slightly, to let him explain. “I… found a dead cop, jacked his pistol. I’ll show you my ID, if you want.” 

“Let me see it.” You nod your head at him as if giving him permission to live a little longer, though you both know full well that identity theft and identity fabrication are legal, too. Might as well see how much effort he puts into a fake. The man waits until you pull back just a bit more, enough to let him slowly reach his hand into his back pocket before producing a lanyard. 

You grab it out of his grip with your hurt arm, not willing to move your knife too far away from his throat. You simply don’t have a good enough read on - you glance down - San Choi, ACT Firefighter, Employee ID: 018-102-4 to allow yourself any leeway with him. 

His gently smiling face stares up at you from the plastic card, protected only by a clear sleeve connected to a red lanyard. San’s photo has black hair and an undercut, styled so his forehead is on display. A pair of dimples makes a guest appearance, and, overall, he seems like a genuinely sweet guy. The ID looks real, too, so maybe you aren’t totally fucked. 

The San under your knife has bleach blond hair that almost falls over his eyes, though you suppose you can’t blame him for skipping out on the hair product tonight. He seems slightly tanner than his photo, his skin beautiful even now as dust from the aftermath of the explosion starts to settle against it. 

Right. The explosion. 

Recalling the events leading up to you meeting San forces you to remember that you have a gaping, bloody gash in your left arm. You’re honestly lucky to be alive, having ducked and used the car you’re against for cover from flying debris after a building down the block had exploded. You’d just finished driving your knife into a cop’s side - third cop of the night, eighth of your career as a purge cop killer - to make sure that he was dead when you’d heard the bomb go off, and you’d dropped before even thinking about it. Something had hit your arm on the way down, and when the adrenaline had finally left your system, you’d taken note of your blood-soaked sleeve. 

You’d closed the car door after that, sealing your third murder of the night in the vehicle just so you could lean up against the door. It had been 6:31 in the morning then, and you had figured that someone would come by and kill you in the last moments before legality ensued again. You’d assumed that you’d fight, of course you would, but your arm being totally fucked definitely put a damper on your belief in your ability to overcome anyone or anything else. 

Instead of the disgruntled, trigger-happy purger you’d expected to eventually find, though, you’d been found by San Choi. San Choi, who’s currently staring at your wounded arm like it’s grown eyes and can stare back. 

“Come on, let me fix it up,” He pleads, lifting the kit up with the hand that’s farther from you. “You might not trust me, or whatever, but the purge is about to end as it is. I have a paramedic friend, Seonghwa, who’s taught me the basics of -”

“Shut the fuck up.” You tell him, though you’re quickly losing your bite. He obeys regardless. God, your arm really, really fucking hurts. Before pulling your knife back, you check the watch on your wrist. 6:47. Stay alive for 13 more minutes, 780 more seconds. You’ll be fine. You take the shakiest breath you’ve ever taken. 

You pull your knife away from him. 

Nothing happens. 

“I’m going to use an alcohol free wipe and then wrap gauze around your arm, okay? You’ll just have to hold out until we can get you to a working hospital after that,” San speaks as if he’s talking to a child, or a scared animal, and you can’t blame him. He doesn’t seem like a purger, but you technically are one. You wouldn’t put it past yourself to attack on a whim if you were him. He, very slowly and with his hands in your full view at all times, opens the kit and pulls out the requisite materials. 

“Gonna need you to rip your sleeve off above the cut.” He continues, leaning back as you bring your knife up to your clothes and slit the cloth right above your wound. You tear the remainder of the sleeve off your arm before throwing it behind you somewhere. San gently grabs ahold of your elbow - his palm is calloused in a way that tells you he lifts regularly, and you’re sure of this as he discards his jacket and you watch the muscles ripple in his arms under his thin black shirt - and places the wipe against your cut. 

Your reaction is instantaneous: now that you’re completely past the adrenaline stage, the feeling of something, anything against the gash has you reeling to cry out. Before you can even process that you’ve made a sound, a hand presses hard against the back of your head, shoving your mouth against San’s. 

He doesn’t know how else to shut you up. 

His lips are chapped, but the sensation of being kissed so suddenly jars you out of your pain. San attempts to pull back, and you can already feel the apologetic wince he’s about to give you, but he brushes over your wound with the wipe again and your pain doubles back. It’s you that pulls him in this time, pressing your lips to his sloppily but forcefully as if it’ll alleviate the burn in your arm. 

Kissing him only slightly muffles you at best, but you no longer care. The purge isn’t over yet. You could both die at any second. Hell, San could kill you at any second. His hand moves from the back of your head to cup your face as he leans in towards you to deepen the kiss. His lips are chapped, yes, but they’re soft. He tastes like mint and copper: there’s a cut in his lower lip. You don’t mind. 

San pulls away for a moment, but only does so to grab the gauze from the kit. Once he’s wrapped it around your arm once, twice, thrice, he leans back in and your mouth accepts his own eagerly, your other hand coming up to drape over his shoulder. Neither of you know why you’re doing this, kissing a stranger with such fervor as one of you bandages the other up, but you both know that there’s really nothing else to do. 

It’s only after he finishes taping you up that the two of you pull away fully. His eyes are still just as kind as you’d thought them to be at first, though his lips are far more swollen than they’d been mere minutes prior. You admire your handiwork, eyes tracing his features as he admires his own, thumb very, very gently running over your gauze. Both of you raise your heads to smile sheepishly at each other at the exact same time.

Three things happen in rapid succession. 

“Good?” San’s voice is barely above a whisper, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. Just as you’re about to speak - 

“San!” A voice, low and hoarse, interrupts you, and you look up to see the barrel of a gun pointed directly at the space between your eyes. You’re frozen in place for a split second before you start reaching for your own pistol. Your fingers brush the grip when - 

The clock strikes seven, and sirens go off all around you, signalling the end of the purge. 

The gun is out of your face. Your hand moves off of your own.

“San,” The owner of the gun pays you no mind, suddenly, his entire focus on San. The gun-owner reaches a hand out, and the firefighter beside you takes it, allowing himself to get pulled up to his feet. “You okay?” 

“Yeah, Yunho, I’m totally good,” San responds, giving the taller man a cat-like grin of reassurance. Yunho’s got a fireman’s helmet on, and you suppose it’s good as protection. He must be a fellow firefighter, then. He’s tall, and though he’d seemed nothing short of severe mere moments ago, he seems softer, kinder now that the purge is over. The transformation is enough to give you whiplash. His right hand is wrapped in bandages, and this catches San’s sight at the same time it catches your own. “What the hell happened to you, though?” 

“That policeman you killed had buddies,” Yunho replies with ease, but you don’t miss San’s wince. Seems like he hadn’t just happened upon that police-issue pistol. You can’t help the small grin that fights to make its way across your face. “They tried to get into the station, we had to fortify ourselves. We’re mostly fine, just that Woo’s lost a finger. He’ll live once he stops whining about it. We were mostly worried about you, honestly, taking fucking forever just to find a first aid kit. Who’s this?”

Yunho moves the topic of conversation over to you so naturally that you barely even realize what has happened before San is reaching a hand out to you to pull you up to a standing position. You grab ahold of your pistol, though you shove the bat off your lap before allowing yourself to be brought up. Without thinking, you practically plaster yourself to San’s side. Now that he’s for sure what he told you he was, and now that you’re no longer in danger of dying, you can’t help but feel inexplicably connected to him even though neither of you know each other. San wraps an arm around your waist naturally, and neither of you miss Yunho’s eyebrow raise. Neither of you acknowledge it, either. 

“This?” San asks rhetorically, turning his head slightly to look at you. He’s smiling again, and you find that you want to see it more often. Maybe you’re experiencing the onset of delirium. You hope not. “This is…” 

“(Name),” You reply, being honest. There’s no need for you to lie. Besides, you owe San answers, right? You stick your uninjured arm out, letting Yunho shake your hand. San’s grip tightens around your waist. 

“I’m (Name).”

[mojofun]

Not My Type (Sirius Black x Reader)

Hello earthlings :) This is an entry for This is an entry for a writing challenge I’m taking part in, launched by the wonderful @obsessedwithrandomthings​ for getting 500 followers; congrats again :) The prompt I chose this time was <<You look so good in my shirt>>. I can just imagine our dear Sirius using lame one-liners when flirting with girls, and this is the result. P.S. I’ve been listening to Motionless in White lately, so this thing is packed with lyrics references. Besides, Sirius looks like the kind of guy who would totally dig that style of music so I thought “why not?” I hope you enjoy it!

Gif not mine, credits to @snuffles-padfoot07

<<Remus?>>

No answer

<<Remus. Remus Lupin>>

Still silence

<<Remus John Lupin>>

Still no reply

<<Moony. Moony, Moony, Moony->>

<<WHAT?!>> The taller Marauder ultimately snapped, turning to glare at his bespectacled friend; said friend acted like nothing happened, simply holding up a slip of paper

<<Do you think Lily will like it?>>

Sighing, Remus gave the poem a skim before rolling his eyes

<<Won’t you give the poor girl a moment of reprieve, James?>>

<<Cmon, help a friend in need!>>

<<Why me?>>

<<You always has a way with words>>

A snort came from the opposite side of the room

<<And yet, he still got no date>>

Remus scowled

<<Prongs, why don’t you ask Padfoot then? Merlin knows Y/N loves his idiotic pickup lines>>

Sirius acknowledged the hit, rising from his bed and walking toward his two mates with a strut. Once there, he took James’s poem and read it, nodding in approval

<<Go for it, pal>>

<<What about you, oh great master of poetry?>> Moony teased, still miffed about Sirius’s jab <<How will you annoy your muse today?>>

The shorter male chuckled, smirking mischievously

<<Don’t worry, Moony. I’m very well-prepared>>

<<That’s exactly what worries me>>

              _______

<<Y/N! Y/N!>>

Sirius greeted the H/C girl who’d just walked in the class with her friends. As soon as she saw him, she groaned

<<Oh no>>

<<Come sit by me!>>

Another H/N patted her back soothingly while she face-palmed

<<I think I already know what my boggart’s gonna look like>>

<<Oh love, come on! You don’t need to be afraid of me!>>

<<I’m not scared: now that I think about it, you look like my boggart after I’ve cast Riddiculus>> The female deadpanned.

Sirius was stumped.

Beside him, Janes cackled

<<Your girl’s got sass, Padfoot>>

The other guy could only nod, watching as his crush took a seat as far as possible from him- or tried to: thanks to his distraction, all the other spots were occupied.

That meant she was sitting in the next desk. 

Y/N hoped that she’d successfully quelled the Gryffindor’s idiotic onslaught.

Well, she did... Just for a little while though

<<Such a sharp tongue for someone so pretty, doll>>

<<I also own very sharp blades, Black>> The girl countered, glaring at him <<Do not tempt me>>

<<I knew you couldn’t resist!>> He cackled

<<Yes, my killing instincts are very strong right now>>

The quaint theatre was interrupted by the arrival of Professor Silvanus Kettleburn, who immediately gave dispositions for the class

<<Very well. Today, you will work in pairs>>

The sentence every student dreaded, especially poor Y/N.

It seemed luck was not on her side that day because, when the professor announced her partner, she was faced with a smug Sirius, grinning from ear to ear

<<You know, my therapist says I’m afraid of commitment. Wanna help me prove em wrong?>>

<<Interesting. I’ve never wanted to commit more>>

<<Really?>>

<<Yes; a murder>> The E/C-eyed student walked away from him, heading toward the fire crab the professor had assigned them

<<Ready to give up, Padfoot?>>

<<Never>>

<<I don’t know whether to commend you on your tenacity or call you foolish>> Remus commented

<<She’s made of fire, but I can handle it. And no, James; I’m not talking about the crab>>

              _______

<<No no no no. Stop right there>>

<<What?>>

<<You need to chop those before feeding the crab>>

<<Oh>>

<<Give them to me>>

Sirius nodded, handing her the food and watching her cut it, slowly and precisely

<<Where have you been all my life?>>

<<Hiding from you>> Y/N replied coolly.

The boy cackled

<<You’re smart, funny, pretty, and you’ve got an insane amount of sass. You’re everything I’m looking for in a girl>>

<<Wow, I’m so lucky>>

It would have been impossible to ignore the sarcasm lacing her words, but Sirius didn’t acknowledge it

<<Would you want to go watch a movie with me this weekend?>>

<<I’ve already seen it>>

<<How can you know?>>

<<You’re asking me out again: I’ve already lived this horror enough to last me a lifetime>>

The older Black brother laughed, shaking his head in amusement

<<Alright, let me try again>>

<<Please no>>

<<Can I take you out on Saturday?>>

<<Sorry, I’m having a headache this weekend>>

<<What?>>

<<Leftovers from the one you’re giving me now>>

But you->>

<<Bitch you’d give a fucking aspirin a headache>> She growled.

Once again, Sirius was at a loss for words. Not only had Y/N just used two swear words in a sentence, but he knew he’d already heard those words somewhere...

<<Wait a second. You listen to Motionless In White?>>

He cried out. The female snorted

<<Are you kidding me? They’re one of my favourite bands>>

<<I like them too>>

Finally, the tension between them seemed to dissipate. Finally, Sirius’s smile was not a smug grin but a real, happy smile.

Finally, Y/N smiled genuinely back at him.

How cliché would it be to say that they felt like they were the only ones in the world at the moment?

(Fire crab aside)

And yet, that exactly how they felt.

It was so exhilarating that Sirius just had to try again

<<Y/N?>>

<<Yes?>>

<<I know the only words that you have for me are give up and get out>> The girl chuckled, prompting him to continue <<but I’m here to stay, forever and always>>

She laughed more. It was not sarcastic or mirthless but a true, joyous laugh

<<You know, you’re not so bad once I get past the smug act>>

<<I feel like that’s the biggest compliment you ever paid me>>

<<You’re probably right, but don’t get ahead of yourself. My killing instinct are not raging right now: let’s keep it that way, shall we?>>

<<I’m ready to bleed to make amends>> He joked. The young woman cachinnated, shoving him playfully

<<You idiot. You’re making it hard not to like you>>

<<That was my objective>>

<<Continue on this road and you might just achieve it>>

<<I will. Besides, I know better than to tease you when you’re chopping stuff with a knife; you warned me>>

Y/N cackled one more time, shaking her head in amusement.

It was an incredibly welcome turn of events.

              _______

Later that day, the two students sat together for lunch in the Great Hall, discussing anything that came to mind. Mostly their favourite bands.

The more they found out they had similar tastes the more engaged they became.

It was quite a sight. It surely left Remus and James gobsmacked: they would have never thought Y/N would actually want to be with Sirius. Didn’t he annoy her as much as James did Lily, with his dumb pickup lines?

Apparently not.

Their surprise grew even more when their friend suddenly asked her on a date- nothing new there.

They’d enjoyed endless attempts by Padfoot to win the heart of the smart and beautiful H/N.

Her answer, on the other hand, was something entirely unexpected

<<Yes, Sirius: I will go on a date with you>>

The black-haired Marauder offered her a huge smile, making her laugh

<<Thank you, darling. You won’t regret it>>

<<I certainly hope not>>

<<I’ll even make sure the place I take you to has sharp knives, so you’ll know what to do if I get too annoying, alright?>>

The girl laughed so hard that tears fell from her eyes

<<You’re an idiot>>

<<Duly noted. But doesn’t this idiot deserve a kiss?>>

Remus and James half expected Y/N’s smile to turn into a frown, and for her to smack him in the face.

Instead, against all odds, she giggled and pulled him closer, pecking his cheek

<<I finally managed to break the cycle>> Sirius beamed. Y/N snorted

<<Not entirely: you’re still an idiot>>

              _______

Idiot or not, the date went so well that they went on a second one, and a third, a fourth... And so on, until they officially became a couple.

Which meant Remus, James and Peter had to deal with their best friend and his girlfriend sucking faces and being all lovey-dovey- though they were sure those two only did it to piss them off.

Well, they’d learnt how to deal with it, as long as it was just holding hands and kissing- making out, actually.

But none of them was ready to find the two of them in bed together in their dorm room

<<What the->>

<<Ah!>> Y/N startled, waking Sirius

<<For crying out loud, guys, won’t you ever knock?>>

The poor friends just stood there, red in the faces while Padfoot rubbed sleep out of his eyes.

Once he’d had enough, he shouted

<<Well, why are you still standing there? Get out, we need to change!>>

Not even Death-Eaters after them would have made the three boys run so fast.

The female chuckled, standing up and smoothing our her boyfriend’s shirt that she was wearing like a dress.

The boy in question stared at her adoringly, pulling her closer

<<You look so good in my shirt>>

He fully expected her to blush, but she smirked and replied cheekily

<<I look even better out of it>>

The wink that came immediately after threw him for a loop

<<Y/N...>>

<<Yes, dear?>>

<<... That’s such a lame pickup line>>

<<Yeah... I stole the idea from you, along with your shirt>>

<<And my heart>> Sirius played along

<<... Just like that, the lame throne is yours again>>

<<But that makes you the queen of lame>> He pointed out.

She didn’t know what to reply to that, so she swatted him on the chest.

He gasped in horror

<<You said you’d never hurt me>>

His joke made her laugh.

When she calmed down enough, she teased

<<You’d still give a fucking aspirin a headache>>

<<Oh, are you an aspirin?>> For old times’ sake, he decided to throw in another lame pickup line <<I’d love to take you every 4-6 hours>>

<<Isn’t that too much for you?>> She teased. He chuckled and pulled her in his lap, pecking her cheek

<<You are too much for me, but I’m never letting you go>>

Despite the light atmosphere, those words held a promise of forever, and they both wanted that.

Their lips met and their hands held the other close.

Once again, as cliché as it may sound, they felt like the only two people in the world

              ___Extra____

Outside the door Remus, James and Peter stood still, looking at each other in confusion and embarrassment

<<How long do you think it will take?>>

<<Well, Wormtail, I don’t know much about Padfoot’s prowess in bed but->>

<<I’m not talking about that, James>> The shorter Marauder spluttered.

Remus sighed

<<That was probably the most embarrassing thing to ever happen to me. And that’s saying something, taking into account I hang out with you three>>

James cackled

<<Oh, Moony, you wouldn’t->>

<<I have a question>> Peter piped up again

<<What would that be?>>

<<Why are we still standing here?>>

<<Oh, right. We should come back later>>

<<Better yet, let’s change our house>> Remus groused <<Merlin knows I’m never going back there>>

After some silence, James spoke again

<<Hey, Moony, do you think if I used those pickup lines on Lily, she would->>

Professor McGonagall spent the whole day wondering if the incredibly loud sound she heard in the morning was actually a scream, and where it had come from

[medea10]

My Review of Trigun

How did I get into this anime? Let’s just say this was one of those animes that used to air on Saturday nights back in the day that I would every now and then come across while waiting for either Full Metal Alchemist, InuYasha, or Cowboy Bebop to air. But I never did watch a full episode or know a damn thing about this anime. So I’m just jumping into this anime blindfolded. All I know is that this was Johnny Yong Bosch’s first anime role.

Who is Vash the Stampede?

A frequent question that comes up throughout the series! Rumor has it that he wears a long, red trench coat and sports a Mohawk hairstyle. Some say he’s a notorious lecher. Many recount him shooting up their villages to a pile of rubble just for the heck of it. He has quite the reputation as he has a $$60,000,000,000 bounty on his head and is often known as the “Humanoid Typhoon”.

In reality, Vash the Stampede is…a bit of a dingus. He just happens to be at the wrong place at the wrong time and things kinda get out of hand. But that doesn’t stop two insurance agents (Milly Thompson and Meryl Stryfe) from following him around to confirm Vash’s identity and keep his actions to a minimum. At first, it’s hard to tell if he’s a stupid-genius or just flighty and gets lucky one too many times. But when shit goes down, don’t be surprised when you see this doofus get serious.

BETWEEN THE SUB AND THE DUB: Okay, what sad company did this use to belong to, Geneon, Bandai, or ADV Films? Oh, Geneon! That means good voice actors from L.A. put in really shitty roles. On the contrary, this was a fairly decent English dub. And on a severely positive note, this was indeed Johnny Yong Bosch’s very first anime role (and a main role at that). This was like fresh off his time as a Power Ranger! And I gotta give props for giving this guy a chance at voice acting. This role was the launching point to what has been a very successful career for Bosch. As for the sub, let’s just say I’m happy any time I get to hear Hiromi Tsuru in something besides Dragon Ball. Here’s what you might recognize these folks from.

JAPANESE CAST: *Vash is played by Masaya Onosaka (known for Bill on Pokemon, Isaac on Baccano, Jadeite on Sailor Moon, Kero on Cardcaptor Sakura, Leeron on Gurren Lagann, France on Hetalia, and Spandam on One Piece)

*Meryl is played by Hiromi Tsuru (known for Bulma on DBZ, Ukyo on Ranma ½, Yubel on YGO GX, and Mika on Gravitation) [R.I.P.]

*Milly is played by Satsuki Yukino (known for Kagome on InuYasha, Mion/Shion on Higurashi, Tae on Gintama, Amakata on Free!, Hiiragi on Natsume Yuujinchou, Mutsumi on Love Hina, and Yoruichi on Bleach)

ENGLISH CAST: *Vash is played by Johnny Yong Bosch (known for Ichigo on Bleach, Lelouch on Code Geass, Makoto on Free!, Izaya on Durarara, Artemis on Sailor Moon redub, Koizumi on Haruhi Suzumiya, and Yukio on Blue Exorcist)

*Meryl is played by Dorothy Elias-Fahn (known for Kaoru on Rurouni Kenshin, Naru on Love Hina, Tomoe on Rozen Maiden, Hakuei on Magi, Houki on Fushigi Yugi, and Amane on Tenchi Muyo GXP)

*Milly is played by Lia Sargent (known for Dorothy on The Big O and Judy on Cowboy Bebop)

FAVORITE CHARACTER: Milly! I don’t need a reason, it’s Milly!

SHIPPING: I didn’t really start thinking about shipping until more than halfway into this series. I thought there might be something between Vash and Meryl, but then again maybe not! Then I saw the backstory of Vash’s “younger days” and falling for the one woman who showed him compassion.

Yes, this is the same woman we consistently see in Vash’s flashbacks, Rem. Ooh boy, it’s one of those stories! So yeah, never mind my thinking with Vash x Meryl ever happening. I feel like Vash will mourn Rem’s death for a long time that I don’t think the whole thing with Meryl will ever work.

And as for Wolfwood x Milly…

FUUUUUUUCK! WHY DID YOU RUIN THIS CUTE COUPLE?!

MILLY WAS HEART-BROKEN!

…At least she got to have one night of passion with Wolfy-boy before the unthinkable happened.

THAT DARN CAT: If you watched this series, you might have noticed a little black cat spotted in nearly every episode. It’s there in the opening theme. It’s there in random places throughout the series. It’s there in the ending theme. What’s up with this cat? Well, there are a lot of theories surrounding this particular cat (or Kuroneko). Some say it’s really Rem inside that cat since you see it in literally every episode around Vash. Others say it’s because the creator of Trigun wanted to just mess with your minds with the kitty walking around in random places and towns. Seriously, it will always appear in every new town Vash and the gang comes across! As an avid cat enthusiast, I’m fine with whatever the result. Just as long as no harm comes to the little Kuroneko.

HALFWAY POINT: Halfway into the series we notice something more when it comes to Mr. Vash the Stampede. First of all, those horrifying scars all over his body! Second, that mysterious girl he often thinks about. I mean, we see flashes of her in the opening sequence. And third, the reason why he never kills. Vash has the ability of causing so much damage when pushed to a breaking point. One of the many reasons why he’s known as the “humanoid typhoon”! And that was perfectly shown when Vash chases the residents out of a town (so there would be no casualties), totally demolished the town during a fight, and made an indent on the moon!

But the story takes a sharp-left turn into WTF territory when we learn about WHAT exactly Vash is. Vash is a plant. Vash also has a brother named Knives. And while Vash has a mentality that all beings have a right to live, Knives has a “kill them all and let God sort them out” point of view. Now the existence of Vash and Knives came with a lot of controversy, especially in the ship that they were on. But that girl who Vash cares for, Rem cared for them regardless of what they were. Rem had high hopes for a peaceful world with coexistence. Too bad Knives had other motives and killed her.

ENDING TO TV SERIES: Vash has tried so hard to keep Milly, Meryl, and Wolfwood out of harm’s way. He knows there are some pretty bad people after him, including his polar-opposite brother, Knives. Vash hates death and wants to save as many people as humanly possible. He doesn’t want to see any more needless death. Probably from his flashbacks and losing Rem! Unfortunately, this doesn’t go so well.

I can see how iconic this death was now after witnessing it. Wolfwood, the priest who would hook up with Vash every now and then when they’re up against some ruffians, now finds himself in a crucial decision. He gets orders that he must eliminate Vash. And Wolfwood ends up dying instead in a very dramatic death scene. God-damn! And just that scene where Milly is sobbing freakin’ eats you up inside.

At least she had one night of passion before the unfortunate happened!

Vash hates the thought of having to kill anyone. But he might not have a choice if Knives is coming after him and even hires a powerful foe from a previous episode and the guy that killed Wolfwood to take you out. Once Vash met up with Knives, he winds up having some pretty sick flashbacks of Knives. But our homeboy was able to take out Knives, the desert area gets water, and…

I’m gonna have to read the fucking manga for more, right?

Tap dancing fuck!

BADLANDS RUMBLE: 12 years after the series ended, Japan decides to release a side-story in the form of a movie, bringing back our favorite characters like Vash, Wolfwood, Milly, and Meryl. And yes, reuniting the cast…in Japan.

By 2010, Geneon was as good as dead and FUNimation licensed Trigun. In short, they managed to get Johnny Young Bosch to reprise his role as Vash the Stampede. But everyone else was replaced. And surprisingly, the people they got to do Wolfwood and Milly were pretty freakin’ close to their original voices. Meryl’s voice, come on I know Luci Christian any-damn-where! Vash helps a young lady take out a big-bad guy (who turns out to be his father). And it has the feel of the original series where it’s set in a western town with lots of booze and shoot-em-ups! It’s an interesting side-story to the Trigun trilogy.

Trigun was a pretty good anime. I mean, not one of my favorites, but I can definitely see a lot of people sticking by this classic. Maybe you can chalk up my blah attitude to the fact that I’m not fond of westerns and I kinda took it out on Trigun. Or the fact that there was so much more that the anime could have covered before the end and the ending kinda felt off to me! Like I thought I was expecting more. But I suppose that’s what mangas are for. To be honest, the stories that really grabbed my attention were the back-stories with Vash and Knives and Wolfwood’s final episode.

*sniffles* At least Milly got one night of passion before he died!

If you would like to check out Trigun, all the episodes are available through FUNimation and Hulu (in both Japanese and English). And if you really like the anime, why not purchase the hard copies? Both the series and movie are available for home video.

Okay, that took me a while, but I’m glad to finish Trigun. What’s next on the FUNimation list?

EEHHHHHEEEHHHE

Fuck is that supposed to mean? What is that? Is that even in English?

YOU WILL BE HORRIBLY MUTILATED: The Isekai

Do you mean Re:Zero? That’s great…but that review’s not ready yet. And it probably won’t be until after April 2021! So let’s cast caution to the wind and pick another FUNimation licensed anime.

You’re watching Sarazanmai next. It’s best if you don’t ask questions.

Sarazanmai? The fuck does that even mean?!

OH. MY. GOD.

[seenashwrite]

Step Right Up (Part Four)

Status: Part 4 of 4   Word Count: 3.1K Category: Mini-series; Behind-the-scenes canon compliant; Mystery; On-the-case Rating: (Older) Teen & Up Character(s): Sam, Dean, various circus folk, special guest star Warnings: None Author’s Note(s): Post-story (lots of fun stuff!) Overall Summary: Sam is trapped in what’s left of a burnt-down circus while attempting to assist a tormented soul, when a mysterious ringmaster arrives.

* ~ * Series Master Post * ~ *

Only one area was illuminated, the large spotlights focused on the center ring. The rest of the tent was pitch with shadows. And there she stood, next to the high wire by one ladder, the ringmaster across from her, next to the other. His fists were clenched, and he was twitchy, and unkempt, his face and clothing smudged with soot, holes here-and-there where embers from the fire had landed. He was flushed, just seething with anger, and she couldn't have looked more relaxed, not a flicker of fear.

"Where is it?!" the ringmaster demanded.

"Far away from you," she replied, and laughed.

"Stash it someplace," Dean whispered to Sam, who quickly stuffed it in his back pocket.

“Stupid nit. This isn’t some game. I’m not in love with you, I never was, keeping me here won’t change that!”

“Oh!” she said, making her eyes wide, her lips forming an O, bringing her hands up to her cheeks in what was clearly faux shock. Then she twirled, came out of it to begin lazily skipping in a circle, arms out, like a little girl who hadn’t a care in the world.

And as she did, from all sides, forms were emerging from the darkness. The ringmaster was startled, began moving away from the ones behind him, closer to the center. Her clown family was nearest to her, and Sam began taking inventory of the others, those he hadn’t seen before.

There were at least------

"Two?! Two ghosts? Two ghosts, he said!" Dean hissed, and Sam gave him a look, then went back to his observing.

There were at least fifteen additional people, several more clowns, a few acrobats, mostly other performers. Some Sam took to be vendors, based on their uniforms. Another man carried a long whip, coiled in his fist, he and the woman beside him in safari-like attire. A tall, slender woman in a slinky dress had a boa - snake, not feather - wrapped around her shoulders. A quite large woman wearing a long, clearly fake beard held hands with a very tiny man, the latter of whom climbed atop one of the stands for the animal performance, a chattering spider monkey in a vest and bowler hat perched on his shoulder.

Two more men on the other side, standing near the clowns, were dressed in coveralls, one carrying a wide, long-handled broom, the other a mop and bucket - likely animal carers, if he had to guess. Then further behind them, there was the fortune teller, keeping part-way in the shadows, and out came the mermaid, walking slowly in her tight, tail-trimmed skirt. The wounds on their heads seemed sticky and fresh. It surprised Sam to see the teller put an arm around the mermaid, but then again, any bad blood didn't matter now; they were all united in purpose.

And though their clothing only showed signs of singes and ash, every single one of them were burnt, not one bit of exposed skin that wasn't melted and charred, faint tendrils of smoke still floating into the air as they moved. These were the people who were fighting to stop the blaze at the far end of the field, where the fire burned the strongest, where the animals were housed and the living quarters - the personal wagons - were located. Where the fire from the ringmaster's had been ignored, left to do away with the evidence of his crime, only to jump, seeking other tinder to consume. As it had only barely made it to the front, to the big top, the little butterfly was the only one who escaped without looking completely like a scene from a horror movie. Her, and the ringmaster.

"How did you die?" she asked, ending her skipping not far from the ringmaster, tapping him on the shoulder.

He'd been staring at the crowd behind him, and the tap made him jump as he whirled around. "Wh-what?" he stuttered.

She leaned in, whispered the question again in a loud, exaggerated way. "Howwwww did you diiiiiiiiiie?"

"I don't... I was looking for you... you weren't in your wagon or the dressing tent... weren't at the fortune teller's... but then I went to... went to... I wanted to leave. But I couldn't.... something stopped me..." The ringmaster trailed off, confused for a moment, then in a flash he was staring at her with tears in his eyes. "No. I did find you." He reached out as if to grab her, but she dodged. "Why did you get on the wire? After what you'd seen.... why would you DO that?!"

She dropped her girlish act then, eyes flashing, voice full of venom. "You were coming to kill me. The job was done for you. Why did it matter?"

"No... it was because.... because I thought to take you with me.... but then I saw...." He reached out again, to caress her cheek. This time she stayed put - and his hand went right through her. He gasped. "What is this?" He looked to the fortune teller. "You said things would be made whole!"

"You want to be whole?" the teller asked in response. "Are you certain?"

"I want to leave!" he yelled and, looking back to his former fiancée, said, "And I want you to leave with me!"

"You do not love me, you said so. You showed me so. You do not cry for me, you cry for yourself. And you do not want me - you only wanted me to lie for you. And when you saw I could not, you took the coward's way out."  She tilted her head, looking up, past the high wire, to the scaffolding that kept the big top erect.

There, dangling by the neck from a rope, was the body of the ringmaster.

He stumbled back, eyes fixed on his dead form. "No....no no no.... NO!"

"You are not leaving. None of us are leaving," she said quietly.

The fortune teller stepped forward now, and with a wave of her hand, the body fell, landing in a heap. She knelt beside it, waved her hand again, and a soft purple glow ran across it, then up, over, swirled around its ghost, and drew it back in. With a huge intake of air, the ringmaster found himself back in his body, flailing for a moment and then scrambling to his feet.

The group inched ever closer.

So did Dean and Sam. Dean began to pull out his gun, but Sam shook his head. Dean gave him a questioning look, but he acquiesced.

"I don't want to be dead!" the ringmaster said to the fortune teller, and then something seemed to occur to him. He stooped, picked up the top hat that had fallen with him, putting it back on, trying to seem put-together, in control, ever the huckster pitching a sale. "We can all be alive! You have magic, you can heal us all! The money, it must still be here - we can split it! You can undo everything!"

"Our time has passed," she replied. "You must pay for what you have done."

And just like that, the act fell away. "NO!" he screamed again, turned to run, but didn't get far. Dean punched him so hard, it knocked the top hat clean off, landing somewhere in between the seats. The ringmaster went to his knees with a yelp, holding his nose.

Everyone stared.

The fortune teller caught Sam's eye, raised her eyebrow, pointed to Dean in approval; Sam made a What are you gonna do? gesture and shrugged.

Dean noted the staring, frowned at them, then pointed at the moaning man. "Well, he's a dick!"

The clowns began laughing, clapping, jumping up-and-down, a little too hard, all of it, though Dean seemed pleased they enjoyed his performance, giving them a slight bow in acknowledgment.

The clowns edged closer; Sam took a reflexive step back. And before either brother could react, with all the distraction happening, the ringmaster took the opportunity to snatch Dean’s gun from his waistband, and he came up behind Sam, gun pointed at the back of his head, and gave him a hard shove. Sam didn't speak, didn’t fight it, keeping his eyes locked on her, though she was still staring her enemy down.

“You want to fly away with him, I suppose, don’t you, Butterfly? ‘To think they could doubt my love, yet today my love has flown away’ - isn’t that how our song goes?!” the ringmaster asked, pushing the barrel into Sam’s head. “Too bad! Because I’m taking this and you can all burn again, in hell!”

He reached down to Sam’s back pocket, where the tail of the bright yellow scarf was protruding, and began to pull.

And he pulled.

And he pulled more.

And he kept pulling.

While the rest remained stone-faced, the clowns went borderline hysterical, grabbing their bellies, bent over with laughter, one even dropping to the ground and kicking his legs in the air.

The scarf kept coming and coming, kept growing, a puddle of rainbow fabric around the ringmaster’s feet. He had begun to sweat - and he had also started to lower the gun. Dean was able to come behind him and take it away without issue. The scarves having run out, the ringmaster knelt, pawing through the pile of silk, searching for the ring.

One of the clowns had laughed his way over to where the knife-throwing target was set up, set to juggling six of the knives from the nearby table. Another clown retrieved the top hat, put it on his head, then hopped on a chair, tipping it onto two legs, balancing expertly. A third jumped up a few rungs on the ladder to the high wire, swinging around, back and forth, honking a small horn. 

The two workers began spinning the mop and the broom, respectively, occasionally tossing them into the air, executing quick spins before they came back down, as if they were lightweight batons. The boa flexed its jaw wide. The monkey screeched. The lion tamers unfurled and snapped their whips. And the butterfly began to sing, twirling slowly in a circle around the sobbing ringmaster.

They asked me how I knew My true love was true

“Stop it!” he cried, bringing his hands to his ears.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

Both brothers' heads jerked in near unison at the sound of heavy footsteps to the left, and the shadow cast by the lights outside revealed something so massive - make that two somethings -  it made their mouths fall open.

"Dumbo?" Sam whispered.

"And Dumbo's mom," Dean whispered back.

The crowd's advance halted, some shifting aside so that the juggling clown was front and center. The ringmaster was shaking as he climbed to his feet. He held up his hands as if declaring surrender, but the clowns kept laughing, the ones who'd been playing around now coming nearer to their juggling comrade. One by one, five of the six knives were passed off fluidly, and when the sixth came down, it was caught, flipped, and sent right into the ringmaster's thigh in one smooth movement.

He hit the ground, wailing, trying to hold the injury and slicing up his fingers on the protruding blade for his trouble. A lion's roar from just beyond the tent's entry briefly drowned him out. The elephants trumpeted, stomped their feet. Horses hooves pounded outside, from all directions, as if they were running a derby around the big top. The advance of the wronged upon the ringmaster resumed.

Dean and Sam now retreated themselves past the high wire, out of the center ring, their backs against the tent, as far removed as they could be - and no sooner had they done so, Sam spotted something.

"Dean. Don't. Move.”

"Not. Planning. On--- Oh."

They held their breaths as the tiger walked directly in front of them. It was so close that when its agitated tail whipped up, Dean felt the fur brush under his nose. It paid them no mind, fell into the routine with the rest, circling its prey.

"Good kitty," Dean breathed out.

A murmur went across the crowd, and other than the ringmaster's crying, everything - inside and out - went pin-drop quiet. Dean and Sam looked at each other, then to the others. Every eye was on them, and they had no idea what was going to happen next. The clowns were now in a line, shoulder to shoulder, and their butterfly was center front.

"It is time," she said.

"We, um.... we can go," Sam offered. "If you don't need our----"

"My ring, please."

Dean and Sam shared another glance, and Sam said to her, "I don't know where it went, it was----"

He cut himself off because the spotlights flickered, the tiger growled, the wind picked up and shook the entire tent, horses whinnied, and the lion slowly strolled through the entry, two lionesses close behind. The lights came back with a fury, showing that every face had grown dark, eyes sunken and cloudy, skin showing signs of rot. And worst of all - worst for Sam - were the clowns.

They were now advancing on him, creeping forward, all sneers and bared teeth - until she scurried ahead, and stood between them. They blinked, shaken out of their trance-like attack, some even hanging their heads apologetically, all shuffling back to join the rest. She turned to Sam.

"I.... I had it,” he said. “I don't understand what----"

"Shhhh," she said, putting a finger to his lips briefly. Her finger was cold. So was her expression, her demeanor. But he felt safe. Safe enough not to need to plead for his and Dean's lives.

She placed a hand over her heart, and her eyes left his long enough to glance at his jacket.

With a slight frown, Sam reached inside, feeling around in the breast pocket, and then he smiled - a nervous, relieved smile. He pulled out the ring, saving wondering how the clowns had pulled off that trick for another time; or, possibly never. He held it out to her, and she took it, turned away; but almost as soon as she had, she turned back part-way.

She seemed to have a silent conversation with the fortune teller, who gave her a nod, then turned fully to again face Sam. She reached out, took his left hand, raised it, and slipped the ring onto his pinky, where it fit just above his knuckle. Then as before, she threaded her fingers through his, gripped tight.

They stared at each other for a few moments before he said, "We'll give you time to do what you need to do. But when we start----"

"I know," she said.

He nodded. "I wish... I wish I could've saved you."

She released his hand. "You did."

Dean and Sam carefully navigated around the ring to get to the exit, giving everyone - and the animals - a wide berth. There was no grace period, no waiting for them to leave before beginning to take turns at the ringmaster. But somehow, cutting through it all, over the gaily laughing clowns and the screams of agony, way across the field, even as they entered the fog, was the sound of her singing.

Now laughing friends deride Tears I cannot hide So I smile and say When a lovely flame dies Smoke gets in your eyes

The fortune teller had been right; the ring wasn't real gold, not even close. They'd waited about an hour, which - if Dean's calculations were correct based on how long Sam had been gone - gave the troupe a solid eight to finish their business. They were sitting on a fallen log, watching the last of it melt away in the salted fire, when Billie appeared.

She walked over, held up a folder. "Found the file." She tossed it into the fire, then leaned against a tree across from them.

Dean gave her a look, and Sam's forehead creased; he’d have to ask later.

"So how'd it feel to save a bunch of clowns, Sam? The exposure therapy work?" asked Billie.

"That... that couldn't have been what all this was about... was it?" Sam asked, incredulous. "The ringmaster had said he was allowed to contact us, that I'd been recommended for it, but that would be---"

"Stupid," Dean interjected.

"Not so stupid," Billie said. "Maybe it was good for you to get to know someone who grew up around what frightens you."

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, somebody who had a mish-mashed family full of interesting folks, some who were scary-seeming to others, but they were family, and they were always on her side. And they were always on the move, on the road. Most all of them - in some ways - always on the run. Definitely misunderstood."

A smile, albeit a somewhat sad one, began to appear on Sam's lips.

"They wear greasepaint and costumes, all kinds of obvious masks, some with outward oddities that can’t be hidden. Hunters have their scars that are tough to hide, too, you know. Their masks are more subtle. But it’s still there, that proof of life. Under the smoke and mirrors. And they can all put on a hell of a show---" a glance to the smoldering ring “---or, when needed, be showstoppers."

"Well that was poetic. And subtle," Dean said flatly.

Billie ignored him, still looking to Sam. "Well? What's the verdict?"

Sam took a moment to think of his answer, then said, "I'm... reconsidering clowns. Some clowns."

Billie grinned. "Fair enough." And then, she was gone.

Dean exhaled loudly, clapped his hands together as he stood. "Wheeeew! So! Another one for the books." He pulled out his keys, shook them at Sam. "Ready to get the hell out of here?"

Sam glanced back at the field, a real smile now coming to his face. "Yeah," he said softly.

In the car, as their path was about to turn from dirt to pavement, Dean hesitated for a moment, asking, "You need for us to stop, grab a beer? Find a motel and crash for awhile?"

Sam shook his head, not looking at Dean, but staring out the window. "No. I want my own bed."

Dean watched him for a few moments, waited, knew his brain was chewing on something else.

Now Sam met his eye. "Can I tell you about her?"

Dean nodded, turned down the radio, and pulled onto the road. "Shoot."

"So she lost her parents when she was really young, but she gets taken in by another family, this group of clowns, and they...."

The small fire died, the smoke left the field, and the hunters drove off into the sunrise.

See Nash Write : Master  /  See Nash Write : Mobile

🏷️🏷️Wanna be tagged? Hit me up! 🏷️🏷️

Feedback is fuel! ❤ I hope you enjoyed!

Author’s Notes:

🤡 This started gestating forever ago, and I talked about it in spring of this year, so if some stuff seemed familiar to you, that’s why - see here and here.

🤡 You can learn more about Joseph Grimaldi here, and about the London version of the celebration “The Funeral of Grimaldi” here. I love this dude:

I will never write anything as grand as “pugilistic vegetable”.

🤡 On the subject of the song --> I promise you’ll recognize it when you hear it. It’s “Smoke Gets In Your Eyes” (apropos, yes?) and chances are you’re most familiar with the more modern versions, specifically the one by The Platters (1957). And you may be thinking “Nash! You whiffed! You’ve got this story taking place in the 40s!” Friends, why do you doubt me? It’s from a play in the 30s, and you can hear a lovely by the name of Gertrude Niesen (1933) sing it here.

I also highly recommend you take a few minutes to watch the following and have yourself a giggle. Judy Garland made no secret of the fact she did not care for this song, even though she sings it beautifully (I mean, she sings everything beautifully), so it was probably a “Huh?” for the audience when she launched into it on her TV show in the 60s. Be on the lookout for a special guest appearance by a (sort-of) moose. Damn, I love it when things come full circle:

🤡 On the topic of Romani circus performers, you can learn about one very special family, the Bougliones, via the obituary of one Rosa Bouglione, their matriarch, who died in September at the age of 107. She was a badass:

🤡 Honk-honk:

 @butiaintgonnaloveem   @impandagrl    @waywardjoy  @jalove-wecallhimdean  @jame-sbarnes  @just-another-busy-fangirl  @amanda-teaches  @fanforfanatic  @salt-n-burn-em-all  @idreamofhazel  @cyrilconnelly  @rozadolphin  @theblackharrystyles   @carryonmycobaltangel  @ilsawasanacrobat  @klaineaholic  @helvonasche   @ericaprice2008  @amionthetumbler  @tankcupcakes  @littlegreenplasticsoldier  @emlostinwonderland  @michellethetvaddict  @theoriginalvicki  @ellen-reincarnated1967  @copperseraphim  @mrswhozeewhatsis  @crowleylovesyou  @bumbleball13  @anticipate1003  @sixtysevenandwhiskey @raspberrymama  @lastactiontricia  @babypieandwhiskey  @winchesterprincessbride   @gripmetight-raisemefromperdition   @roseblue373   @thisismysecrethappyplace  @fandomismyspirit     

Cannot tag:

@waterfeenix137  

[wclfwiife]

"I'm not drunk enough for this."

Drabble List #2

@redneckxdixon

   “You sure about that?” she asked, holding her arm over her side. 

  Daryl wandered off that morning and people were getting worried. No word or note..no sign of him for hours. Ash decided to go out and look for him. He probably holed up somewhere if he ran into a hoard or something, he’d need help--whether he admitted it or not. Armed with her usual essentials--crossbow, three knives, two hand guns, and her bag which had a couple water bottles, some first aid supplies, and a couple other items, she set out to find their resident surly redneck. It was hours before she even found the slightest trace of him. She kept on track to an old warehouse she hadn’t seen before. Sliding her bow onto her back, the woman decided knives would be better from this point forward. “Dammit, Daryl,” she groaned as she lifted herself onto the ledge of a broken window. She tried to catch a glimpse of the inside to gauge its danger level. One body in the corner, unmoving, potential threat. Where there was one, there was always more. She couldn’t tell if the body was dead-dead or just waiting for fresh meat to reanimate. Either way, she was vigilant.   She was about to climb down off the window when she heard a growl from behind her. “Shit.” Balance lost, she slid clumsily off the ledge and landed hard on the ground beside the walker grabbing at her. Kicking him away, she grabbed at the blade she dropped on her way down a few inches away. Fumbling for the handle as he came back snapping and clawing, she thrust her knife straight up through its eye socket into his brain. He fell instantly forward, eliciting a reaction ‘eugh’ from her as she pushed him off. She pushed herself up, brushed herself off, and grunted in frustration. “Dixon, when I find you I swear I’m gonna...” she trailed off when she found a door propped open a few feet away. Not enough for anything to get in from the outside, but enough to be easily pushed from the inside out if need be. She sheathed one of her knives, trading it for one of her pistols. Ash slid through the door, putting it back in the position it was prior with a cautious stance, pistol over knife (almost like a cop would hold their gun over a flashlight, but the wolf had the advantage of being able to see in the dark once her eyes adjusted). She walked slowly through the large open area, taking in her surroundings. Boxes and machinery left abandoned, greasy, dusty, and broken down. The body in the corner was a haven for flies and other creepy crawlies, definitely not in any condition to get up even if it wasn’t dead-dead. She made her way into an area off to the side, following the trail of evidence left behind by someone who was definitely not dead.   She didn’t want to call out just yet, just in case it wasn’t the man she was looking for that had taken refuge in here. Her ears perked at a sound in the distance. Turning swiftly, she aimed her gun at the sound, waiting a second before heading towards it. A voice in her head cracked a sarcastic hello? like the idiot in the horror movies would call as if expecting an actual answer. She almost snorted at her own brain as she came to another door. Waiting again, she listened closer. Three voices. One she recognized, two she didn’t. Threats were being thrown around from each voice, two more so than the third. He wasn’t a peace keeper by any means, but definitely less agitated than the others, more overstated and cocky. Daryl what the fuck did you get yourself into? She sighed quietly outside the door before slipping through it as silently as possible. There were slivers of light shining through broken windows, showing specs of dust dancing around the three men as they stood off in their little circle of testosterone.   The scene became violent quickly when one of the men shot at Daryl, missing, but ensuring a brief fire fight. Ash jumped in and shot the man shooting at her friend in the neck as Daryl took down the other. She felt it happen, but ignored it for the moment. Damn. Daryl pointed at the fallen bodies. “You believe that shit?” He said something else, but it became muffled when the floor began to slip out from under Ash’s feet. She landed hard on the concrete, almost mimicking her previous fall outside. A hand pressed to her side, she felt the warm proof of what she already knew. Double damn. She thought she heard Daryl ask if she was alright, seeing him come over to her. She didn’t answer. He continued to say something about the two men but she wasn’t listening. The pain was taking over as the adrenaline faded. Her head touched the cool stone beneath her.     “I’m not drunk enough for this,” Daryl obviously referenced his encounter with the other guys and their brawl, but Ash noticed the almost empty bottle across the room staring her in the face where he stood during that shoot out. 

    “You sure about that?” she asked, holding her arm over her side, hand still pressed to her wound. She moved her hand with difficulty; the crimson liquid shining in the dim beam of sunlight as she pointed towards the bottle. Blood dripped to the floor from her finger before her hand fell limp. “Found him,” she mumbled, as if she were talking to someone, letting them know Daryl was safe before her eyes fell shut while she muttered once more, “I f..ound... him.” 

[mvssmallow]

Cloudy With A Chance

Part 22: …of just you.

Masterlist

There’s silence from Hanbin’s parents. He’s surprised but grateful for the emotional reprieve because God knows they both needed it badly.  

The tension in Hanbin’s shoulders slowly melts away after awhile, like he’s just too tired to think about that anymore, like he’s closed that book and put it back on the shelf to revisit at some other time when he’s ready for it.

They distract themselves with other things. Hanbin helps him move back in and it’s organised chaos all over again but at least when he falls to sleep at night, it feels exactly like it used to. Like life goes back to normal again.

Sort of.

His hand is still broken and at some point he knows he’s going to have to tell the garage that it’s going to take longer than 2 weeks to heal. He doesn’t really know what to do about that but the relief of moving back into Hanbin’s apartment and life momentarily drowns out all the worries that float around his head.

Hanbin worries enough for the both of them anyway.

“When are we going to tell the garage? There are other options though right? I’m sure there are options. There are always options.” Hanbin says as he gets their dinner ready. “I’ll think of something.”

“Since when were you the optimistic one?” He asks, stealing a piece of cucumber from the chopping board.

“Since I agreed to stay with you.” Hanbin smirks. “It’s necessary for survival.”

It’s just a broken hand but it changes so many things. Hanbin was always better at feeding them and he still does that but the meals start coming pre-cut and pre-sliced into bite sized pieces, like his mum used to do for him as a kid. The chopsticks and knives are gone, replaced by forks and scissors that only need one functioning hand to operate. The slippery glass tumblers stay in the cupboard and suddenly they’re drinking out of mugs with thick handles because his left hand is too uncoordinated and Hanbin gets tired of cleaning juice off the counter.

“Why don’t you just get me a sippy cup?” He jokes.

“They didn’t have them in adult sizes.” Hanbin says casually.

“Jesus, Hanbin. I was kidding…..”

Things in the bathroom change too. The Disney toothbrush gets replaced with an electric one. All the bars of soap get replaced by the liquid versions that come out of those pump bottles. But the one thing that can’t be replaced with an appliance is his ability to wash his hair properly and reach the other side of his body. As it turns out, Hanbin thought of a solution for that too.

They’re in the bath again and he’s sitting between Hanbin’s legs, just quietly savouring the feeling of having someone else washing his hair and taking care of him like he was something worth taking care of.

“How’s the hand?” Hanbin asks.

He looks at it in the warm soapy water. It was already healing and most of the swelling had gone down. “It’s okay.”

Soft considerate fingers trace around all the tattoos on his back; the cross, the code, the quote that Hanbin still hasn’t asked him about.

“Think you can shower yourself now?”

“Well. I haven’t really tried to….I don’t want to like re-injure it or anything now that it’s better. Not that it’s really better. It’s still broken….”

He mumbles his way through a too-long-too-vague answer and he can hear the amusement in Hanbin’s voice.

“If you like the baths, just say it Jiwon.”

“I like the baths.” He admits, mostly to himself because Hanbin just laughs and calls him lame.

I like being close to you.

****

Being unemployed is good for a short amount of time. As soon as Hanbin kisses him goodbye and leaves for work, he binge watches TV shows, anime, movies, rap documentaries and animal planet. He eats all the boxes of food Hanbin leaves in the fridge for him and laughs at the notes that get written across across the lids.

[this is for lunch, you better not be eating this now xh]

But after awhile, his brain starts to go stale and it’s time to deal with the long list of things he’s been ignoring for the past two weeks: work, new verses for the upcoming mic night, trying not to screw up their relationship for a third time…

He picks the lesser of the three evils and opens up a blank note page on his phone.

Minutes pass but nothing comes out. The cursor blinks with hopeful expectation but no inspiration. He told Hanbin about the next mic night over breakfast, downplaying the significance because there’s no reason for both of them to be nervous wrecks all week. Now that he’s alone, he lets his mind chew through all the thoughts: it wasn’t just another rap battle, it was a showcase without prizes but rumours have been circulating that there would be a few hidden record scouts there looking for the next underground wildcard. He can’t fuck it up. Not again.

There’s a big window in their bedroom that overlooks the streets below. In the evening he knows Hanbin likes to sit and watch the sunset over the rooftops with that unreadable expression on his face. Another faraway look from a faraway place that he will never know about. But that’s okay. That’s one for Hanbin to keep to himself.

He’s always written better with pen and paper and crawls over to their wardrobe to dig around his bag for the Cinderella notebook that Hanbin let him steal.

And that’s when he sees it, right at the very back and behind all their clothes and shoes, there’s a box that he doesn’t remember being there before.

It’s full of Hanbin’s research papers for the book he was writing. There are pages and pages of printed out references, scrawled reminders on the back of old envelopes, ideas on dog-eared post-it notes and a copy of Norwegian Wood so battered that the spine was barely attached to the worn-out cover. There’s a folded piece of paper used as a bookmark, it looks like a page torn from a notebook, the writing faded in pencil, the paper uneven, like it got wet then dried then got wet again.

He doesn’t want to read it.

He knows he shouldn’t.

But he does.

No matter how far you travel, you can never get away from yourself.

I tried but at every corner I still find the old me, the one you will get bored of, forget and walk away from.

Maybe I will find you again somewhere across the Universe.

-H.M

He tucks the note back into the old pages of the book and pushes the box back into the shadows of their wardrobe.

Then he sits, exactly where Hanbin does in the afternoons, and looks out the same window and across the same rooftops. The quiet waves of melancholia lap at his feet and he feels so protective of this fragile thing between them, now more than ever, but at the same time, it always walks hand-in-hand with all his frustrations.

Why can’t he make Hanbin any happier? How many days pass where he fails to convince Hanbin that he will never leave again? Will they go through the rest of their lives caught in some exhausting one-sided story? Will he spend the next 20 years repeating the same words over and over until Hanbin pretends to believe him?

He writes his verses after that. All five of them.

The world doesn’t change just because he’s in a different mood. There’s no bittersweet sunset to stare at or sad orchestra playing, there’s just clear blue sky, the rustling of trees and the reassuring flow of everyday traffic. Life goes on. He needs to remember that. He needs to let Hanbin be who he needs to be and maybe that person is just someone who just needs to write out all his feelings in order to make sense of them.

That’s something they have in common.

****

At some point his mic nights become a family affair, like birthdays, doctors appointments and Christmas. The dates written down in Yoyo’s diary, typed into June’s schedule at the tattoo shop and circled in red on Hanbin’s calendar.

He’d never tell June out loud, he’s not ready to be laughed at for 2 years again, but they are his new family now. He’s floated through life for so long, pulled along by gravity and the flow of the current, that he forgot what it felt like to have a family-one that doesn’t just grab at his foot and drag him back down to Earth but one that just lets him keep floating to wherever he wants to float to and gives him a string to tie to his finger so he can find his way home when he needs to.

He’s grateful for all of them.

Sort of.

“Didn’t you say it was a showcase? Why aren’t you wearing that shirt I got you at Christmas? Instead of….whatever this is.” Yo points condescendingly at the white shirt he buttons up. “What if you get signed? Don’t you want to look your best?”

He rolls up the sleeves, just enough to clear Richard Parker’s tail. “No, I just want to look like myself? If they’re gonna sign me, I want them to know what they’re getting.”

Yoyo rolls his eyes and June snorts in the background. They were truly one person. “Yes and it doesn’t matter who wins right? Because just competing is enough?” June says sarcastically. “What kind of hippie bullshit….”

Hanbin comes out of their bedroom in blue jeans, a white t-shirt and a black jacket hanging off one shoulder. They all stop talking at the same time. He can’t look at Hanbin through anything other than slightly delusional rose-coloured filters so it’s reassuring in a way, to know Hanbin has a similar effect on other people.

He knows he’s not the superstar in their relationship.

“What?” Hanbin asks, fingers pulling at the sleeves of his jacket nervously.  

Yoyo clears his throat. “Your boyfriend looks like a scrub. Why does he insist on wearing that white shirt all the time?”

Hanbin looks over at him with that adorably confused expression that makes him want to walk over and bite his cheek. “But I like that shirt?”

He gives Hanbin a wink, which earns him a blush that he hasn’t seen in a long time. It takes him back to that day they spent in June’s tattoo shop getting Richard Parker inked and shaded. Back then, he had no idea what was going to happen. But back then he thinks his heart probably already knew.

“Disgusting.” June mutters. “If you’re done with the eye-fucking, we need to get going.”

Yoyo kicks at his ankle. “June!”

“What?! They’re doing it right in front of me and my vodka!”

Hanbin blushes even harder and walks out into the living room with his head down.  Yoyo follows him, shaking his head in June’s direction but trying not to laugh at the same time.

He shoots June his dirtiest glare. “Are you done embarrassing me today?”

June looks at his watch. “But it’s only 7pm?”

He grabs his jacket and groans. “Let’s just go.”

“Whatever you say Romeo.”

The walk to the train station is full of bickering, as usual. By the time they get to the club and he can see the other rappers in their new snapbacks and gold chains, he suddenly wishes he made a bit more of an effort after all.

Hanbin watches his face and leans in next to his ear. “Gold chains don’t get record deals. There’s nobody like you except you.”

It echoes in his ears long after he leaves Hanbin to go backstage and he can still hear it, right up to the moment when Bobby steps out into the spotlight.

Look for me - Young, B Cruisin down the westside - high, way Doing what we like to do - our, way Eyes behind shades, this necklace the reason all of my dates been blind dates But today, I got my thoroughest guy with me I’m mashin the gas, he’s grabbin the wheel, it’s trippy how hard He rides with me - the new Bobby and B Only time we don’t speak is during “E and the City” He gets tech fever, but soon as the show is over He’s right back to being a soldier Cuz baby’s a rider, and I’m a roller Put us together, how they gon’ stop both us? What ever he lacks, I’m right over his shoulder When I’m off track, he’s keepin me focused So let’s, lock this down like it’s supposed to be

The OG Bonnie and Clyde, Bobby and B.I

-Original Lyrics by J.Z

He’s barely stepped behind the curtains when a hand pulls him into the darkness. A wet mouth presses insistently against his and he’s about to push away out of shock but…..no, he knows that mouth, the way it feels, the way it tastes, how hard it bites, how soft it sighs…

“You wrote me a song?” Hanbin asks in a breathless whisper.

“Yeah. Happy Birthday, baby.”

“My birthday is tomorrow.”

“Yeah but you’re ruining the moment right now.”

“Oh, are we having a moment?”

“Yeah we are.”

“Who’s B.I?”

“My other boyfriend. The one who doesn’t ruin moments.”

“He sounds boring.”

“I know. You’re better.” He says, pulling Hanbin in for another kiss. “Can I take you home now?”

Hanbin bites at his lower lip. “Yes.”

They’re barely two steps away when Hanbin stops in his tracks. “Wait. We can’t leave now. There are record company people here. Right now. They might be looking for you. What if they’re looking for you?”

He shakes his head, he doesn’t care, he just wants warm skin underneath his fingers as soon as possible. “If they want to find me, they’ll find me.”

Hanbin catches his wandering hands, holding them still and looking right into his eyes with that kind of unwavering determination that annoys him and turns him on the same time. “No. I’m not letting you make stupid decisions because you’re not thinking with your head.”

“I am….”

“No, you’re not.”

“I am!” He protests, even as his tries to pull Hanbin towards him again. “Come on, let’s go home.”

Hanbin grips his hands tighter and doesn’t let either of them move. “If you stay here a bit longer, I’ll let you do whatever you want later…..”

His mouth goes dry and he stares dumbly at Hanbin’s face for an awkwardly long amount of time.

Later?

What does he mean, later?

How much later?

“Jiwon?”

He scowls and grunts in reply.

“Promise?”

He pulls his fingers out of Hanbin’s hands. “Yeah yeah. I hate you for this.”

Hanbin smiles and leans forward to kiss him again. “I know you do.”

He lets Hanbin straighten up his clothes and attempt to tidy his hair before pushing him back out into the crowd.

“They don’t just sign people up at these mic nights, you know. That’s not how it works.” He says as some fans come up to shake his hand. “They’re just here to check people out.”

“I know. But just stay anyway.” Hanbin says as he puts a friendlier amount of distance between them. “And don’t get all touchy. In case someone is watching.”

“So you’re just gonna be the boss of me now?”

“Since when were you the boss before?” Hanbin replies with an arrogant smirk.

But he does what he’s told. Hanbin gets him a drink and leaves him to talk to the fans that want to meet him, the other rappers who are still talking his punch-up and funnily enough, all the girls who are blatantly trying to hit him up even though he’s pretty sure there are all kinds of rumours about him going round.

Every now and then his eyes search for Hanbin, eventually finding him sitting at the bar with June and Yoyo, all three watching him and trying not to laugh when a small pretty blonde starts stroking his arm.

But a promise is a promise.

Sure he wants a record deal. He wants that more than he wants most things.

But he wants Hanbin as well.

He wants Hanbin more than he wants a record deal.

Not that he’ll ever say that out loud.

He’s not ready for an ass-kicking.

When the night ends, he’s half drunk and talked to so many people that he can barely remember anything but Hanbin’s satisfied so he must have done something right.

“Heard you scored, Jiwon?” June teases him as they walk to the train station.

“I didn’t score. Bobby scored.” He pulls out three scraps of paper with messily scrawled phone numbers on them and let’s the scraps fly off his fingers into the night.

He curses Hanbin for getting him drunk and making him stay in the club for so long because as soon as they’re on the train, he’s leaning heavily against the window, ready to just go straight to sleep.

“It’s your birthday soon.” He says, trying desperately to stay awake. “There’s a cool bar-”

“No. We need to go home. You look like shit.” Hanbin says, pulling him over so he’s leaning on a warm shoulder instead of a cold window.

“No, I’m okay!” He says with as much enthusiasm as he can muster, feeling the exaggerated way he’s blinking and just knowing Hanbin sees right through it all. “I went to check it out already. I told the guy we’d be come back and he said he’d make you a birthday drink. We should have a midnight toast because you were born and it’s kind of awesome that you were born and…”

Hanbin just laughs and tucks him under his arm. “We can go some other time okay? I need to take you home.”

There are a million protests in his head and he remembers seeing the stations fly by outside the window, further and further away from the bar where he wanted to take Hanbin tonight. But as always, sleep is always the true winner.

****

Jiwon is gone by the time he wakes up. It’s nearly 11am and he’s glad neither of them have anywhere to go today.

He lays in the warm sheets, scrolling through all the birthday message he gets on his phone, the smile never leaving his face until he gets to the most recent one.

It’s a message from his mother. His finger pauses over it for longer than he wanted it to. But it was just a normal birthday message. He reads it with relief and a tinge of guilt for how everything turned out. He sends her a reply, maybe an olive branch disguised as a monkey emoticon, because there’s no other person on earth who has known him for longer.

She sends back a message instantly. It’s a photo of his sister, holding up a drawing of a dog. Well, there’s always a silver lining in everything. He saves the photo and sets it as his phone wallpaper.

****

He’s getting dressed when he notices it, the impatient way Jiwon hovers around him.

“What is it?”

“Nothing nothing, you’re just taking ages.”

“It’s a Saturday.”

“But it’s your birthday! I have..things planned.”

Instead of being excited, he feels the anxiety creeping in around them “What did you do?”

“It’s a surprise?”

“What kind of surprise?”

Right on cue he can hear the ring of their doorbell. He looks across at Jiwon in alarm.

“Stay here. I’ll get it.” Jiwon says hurriedly and runs out of the room.

“What? No. What if it’s-”

But it wasn’t.

He can hear a voice he doesn’t recognise and plastic bags crinkling before the door closes again. He can hear Jiwon pottering around their kitchen, opening and closing a few too many cupboards and then there’s just silence as Jiwon shuffles back into their bedroom and stands in their doorway looking uncharacteristically nervous.

“I…um, did something. But you have to close your eyes.”

His heart thumps heavily as he closes his eyes and lets Jiwon take him by the hand, leading him to their kitchen and gently pushing him into his chair.

“Okay….you can open them now. And don’t laugh!”

It’s a whole table of food, which he’s already confused about, but on the kitchen bench there’s a glass vase with a big dense bunch of light and dark pink roses.

He doesn’t even know what to say.

This is the closest thing he’s ever had to a birthday party that didn’t involve his parents.

Jiwon chews his lip in worry. “Hanbin? You okay? I know you probably didn’t want a big party or anything so I thought we’d just hang out here today. Unless you do want a party because I can probably-”

His eyes flick up to meet Jiwon’s nervous pair. “No! I want this. I don’t want more people.”

“Thought so.” Jiwon reaches across the table to brush some damp strands of hair from his face. “Okay, so….I didn’t know what you felt like eating so I just kinda got everything. Don’t worry, I didn’t cook any of it. We’re not spending your birthday at the hospital.”

It takes him 30 seconds to locate the fork Jiwon set down for him and another five minutes before he can start chewing normally. The pink roses stay in his peripheral vision and he can’t stop looking at them.

“They’re for you.”

“They’re….really nice.” He says before mentally kicking himself. That’s not what he wanted to say at all.

“Yeah I thought so too. Jiyoon made it, said she remembered you.”

“Jiyoon? Who’s that?”

“Our florist lady.”

“The florist?” He echoes, mind suddenly reeling as it jumps back in time. “She remembered me?”

Jiwon nods and takes a sip of tea from a Mickey Mouse mug. “Yeah, she thought you looked like a cute drowned rat.”

“Well, it was raining!” He grumbles. “Did she remember you?”

“Not as much. Just that she thought I was gonna steal the baby ferns. She was kinda surprised when I told her why I was there.”

He reaches for the Mickey Mouse mug and sips at the hot jasmine tea. “Surprised? In what way?”

“Well, that we ended up like this. Isn’t it weird to think that a random stranger saw all that? She’s the last person to see me before I met you. She’s really cool though. She was like, “You owe me! You should name your first born after me!”

Jiwon laughs but when he doesn’t join it, it fades into a nervous chuckle. “Anyways, it’s just a joke. I told her you liked flowers and she asked me a bunch of really personal questions before she made that.”

He looks at the pink roses again. Pink roses mean gratitude, appreciation, admiration…..love.

Nobody has ever given him flowers. Or done anything on his birthday. Or joked about their future kids together. He suddenly wants to know what Jiwon told the florist.

“Hanbin? Can you say something because I’m beginning to think you hate everything.”

He tears his eyes from the roses and shakes his head, not realising he’d been silent for so long.

“What? No. No no no.” He reaches across to hold Jiwon’s good hand. “I love this. I love everything. I’m just…..so…..shocked you did it. I don’t really know what to say, that’s all. But I love everything Jiwon, I do. I promise.”

He gives Jiwon his dimpliest smile and the toothy lopsided one he gets back is already his favourite part of today. “Okay, good.”

After a lunch that stretches on for way too long, Jiwon suggests that they go for a slow walk around the neighbourhood. He’s lived in the same area for two years but he’s never really explored the surrounding streets and he’s definitely never done it with another person beside him. It all felt strangely new and its domestic mundaneness excites some weird part of him that he hasn’t figured out yet.

Half way through the walk, they pass a playground full of kids and he gets that weird feeling again as he replays all the things Jiwon has said about them before. Something must come out on his face because he feels fingers hanging onto a few of his, discreet and hidden by the sleeves between them.

Jiwon doesn’t say anything and he’s never been so grateful for the silence because he doesn’t know how he’ll ever bring this topic up. He knows it’s a feeling that just burns brighter and brighter the longer they’re together and if the thought of a long-term relationship scared him, it’s nothing compared to how he feels about their future.

But he wants them to have a future.

They need to have one.  

He lets go of Jiwon’s fingers and slides their hands together. Fuck discretion. It’s his birthday, he’ll do what he wants.

Jiwon must understand because he pulls up their joined hands to place a kiss across his knuckles.

He doesn’t know long they walk for but it’s late afternoon when Jiwon starts leading them back.

“Are you hungry?”

He shakes his head.

“Wanna go home?”

“Yeah.”

He wanted to snuggle on the couch and watch Evangelion but Jiwon bundles him up in one of his oversized hoodies and a soft blue blanket.

“It’s not that cold.”

“Not here. We’re going up to the roof, it might get cold up there.”

“The roof? Why are we going up there?”

Jiwon shrugs. “Don’t know. Come find out.”

He knew they had a roof but he’s never had any reason to go up there. When Jiwon unlocks the door and the light breeze hits him, he wishes he asked about it all those years ago. The sky was a deep mellow peach haze, the city buzzes on in the distance but it was calm over the rooftops of their neighbourhood as people were finishing their Sundays and beginning their Sunights.

There’s a bench where they sit, facing the city and just watching as the sun sinks lower and lower in the horizon. He leans against Jiwon’s shoulder and sighs, knowing it’s loud and that it’d be heard. He doesn’t care. He hopes Jiwon heard.

There’s a kiss against his temple, which he expected, and another one across the back of his hand, which he didn’t.

They sit for so long that the sky turns into a deep indigo and the first of the city lights begin twinkling from the tallest buildings.

Jiwon pulls his arm away and makes to get up.

“No, I don’t want to go yet.”

“I know. I’m just going to turn the lights on.”

There are hundreds of them.

Hundred and hundreds of tiny fairy lights fitted across the walls and beams and draped over all the ugly structures that would normally be there during the day.

Jiwon disappears back into their building for a few minutes and he’s left alone in his thoughts. It feels like a dream or at least some alternate reality that he can’t quite believe. With the dark open sky around him, it feels like he’s sitting right in the middle of the Universe, surrounded by a million stars. He feels small. His problems feel small. Small and insignificant under such a vast sky. It heals something inside him that he can’t explain.

Jiwon comes back carrying a white box.

“I didn’t even know they had any lights up here.” He says as Jiwon rests the box in his lap.

“They didn’t.” Comes the cryptic reply.

He looks down as the plain cardboard. “What’s this?”

“Don’t know, open it.” Jiwon says with a shrug.

It’s a blue Snoopy cake.

Somewhere between the adorably juvenile and slightly gaudy design and the thought that Jiwon actually went somewhere and bought him a kid’s birthday cake, he’s so overcome with affection that the only thing he can do is laugh.

Jiwon narrows his eyes. “What?! What!”

“Is this a kid’s cake?”

“Well…yeah but do you like it?”

“I love it.”

Jiwon sets the cake onto the small table in front of them and pulls a candle and lighter from his pocket. “Good. Because June said I was an idiot for getting it.”

He watches everything with a stupid smile on his face and warmest glow in his chest.

“Okay. Make a wish, I’m gonna take a photo.”

“No, I hate photos!” He whines out of habit.

Jiwon just rolls his eyes. “Seriously? You’re really gonna throw a tantrum right now?”

But he’s too ridiculously, deliriously, insanely happy to argue so he just leans forward to blow out the candle and wish for an impossible future. Jiwon can take as many photos as he wants.

There’s only one spoon so they take turns feeding each other straight from the box. Birthday cake for dinner. Since when did Jiwon know him this well.

“Want your present now?”

He licks some of the blue icing off his hand and looks over. “This whole day wasn’t the present?”

“Nope.”

There’s another box in his lap. Plain again, without any bows or ribbons or card. Completely unassuming. He doesn’t know why he’s so anxious about what’s in it. He suddenly doesn’t want to open it and he doesn’t know why.

“It’s okay. Open it.” Jiwon says gently.

And there, underneath layers of white tissue paper, is a first edition of Norwegian Wood. Straight from 1987. Signed. Dated. Certified.

“Where did you get this?” He asks, blood draining from his head and voice strangely shaky and grim. “How did you get this?”

“I just asked for it?” Jiwon says with a shrug.

He touches the cover reverently. There’s no other book he’s read more often. His knows his old copy is lying somewhere in the back of their wardrobe, completely worn-out and falling apart.

“But this is the first edition. How did you get this? Doesn’t it cost-”

“-do you like it though? Why does it matter how I got it?”

“Because I wanna know!”

Jiwon shrugs again. “I know people who know some other people and I got it.”

The most irrational paranoid thoughts suddenly fill his head. “You got this legally right? You’re not missing a liver or have some crazy life debt right?

Jiwon laughs at the absurdity of his question. “No. I got it legally and I’m not missing a liver….just a kidney.”

He just shakes his head in disbelief. “I love this book.”

“I know.”

He folds the layers of tissue paper over it and closes the lid before placing it a safe distance away on the table beside them.

“Don’t you want to read the thing I wrote in it?”

He shakes his head and climbs into Jiwon’s lap. “Later.”

He loves kissing Jiwon. He loves the way it starts, all nervous surprise and butterflies before it deepens into a hot warm mess that sucks all the life and thoughts out of him, only to give it back when he can feel Jiwon’s tongue trying to lick his mouth open. He always falls so hard, so fast and so far. He always feels so high and out of his mind. He always feels so in love.

“Thank you.” He murmurs, in between kisses. “Thank you for everything. You’re never gonna know what it means to me because I don’t even know what to say.”

Jiwon holds his face between his hands, one normal and one a little bit broken, just like them.

“Did you have a good day?”

“I had the best day.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

“What did you wish for?”

“Can’t tell you. Might not come true.”

Jiwon scoffs. “No. If you tell me, I’ll make it come true.”

“No.”

“Come on, please? I wanna know.”

He rests his head against Jiwon’s chest as the blue blanket gets wrapped around them again. “It was just you. I wished for you.”

“But you already got me.”

“Well, just in case. I wished for it twice.”

Jiwon laughs at him. “Wasted a birthday wish on something you already got? Geez, Hanbin. We need to talk about how birthday wishes work.”

That weird feeling was back. The one that just won’t go away and makes him feel a million years older than just 25.

“It’s….not really something you can get at a store.” He says hesitantly, not knowing how to even talk about something like this.

“It’s okay. Whatever it is. I’ll get it for you.” Jiwon says with the kind of steadfast confidence that always makes his heart skip a beat. “I got that book didn’t I? I can get you anything.”

“It’s so stupid, just lame really but….I just….wished that I could have a proper family….” His heart races in his chest and he feels more exposed that he has ever felt before. He wants to see the look on Jiwon’s face but at the same time, he really doesn’t.

“But you got that already too.”

**** It’s 3:40am.

It’s not his birthday anymore but he’s in their kitchen eating the rest of the Snoopy cake and still staring at the pink roses in disbelief. He moves them to the dinner table and lets his fingers run across their velvety petals until they hit the pointy corner of a card that’s hidden in the middle.

[22 -for every week I’ve known and loved you. Happy Birthday baby. xxj]

22.

He does the maths.

22 takes them right back to the beginning.

To the time he spent watching Jiwon get Richard Parker inked and shaded. Jiwon knew? Even back then?

The tears are already half way down his face before he really registers them.

He wonders what Murakami would say about him now: a 25 year old writer, sitting in an empty kitchen in the middle of the night with a half eaten kid’s cake and crying over a handwritten card.

He crawls back into bed, physically and emotionally drained in the best possible way. Jiwon’s sleep heavy arms automatically draw him back into the warmth again.

“I love you.” He whispers, not knowing if Jiwon was awake or not.

I love you more than everything.

****

Soundtrack: Across The Universe -Fiona Apple (Beatles cover) | 03 Bonnie and Clyde -Jay Z feat. Beyonce | Brooklyn Baby -LDR

[dannidixon-harkness]

Hi I haven’t posted anything in a while so I’m gonna do it now. Beware this is going to be a long bitch.

I am also kinda drunk due to the 2/3 bottle of wine and can of hard cider I finished earlier. And I don’t feel good but that could be because I’ve had more dairy today then I should’ve and I’m lactose intolerant.

Anywho down to the good shit.

I am an anxiety ridden depressed overachieving college student working on her third degree. Should I be on meds for that. Hell yes. But I’m not. Because of reasons.

I also know that we are in uncertain times and having an rough adjustment period from in class lessons to online, and that everyone is having a hard time during this.

HOWEVER.

I have this one professor. I have had issues with this man all semester. Something goes wrong? Not his fault. The entire class does bad on a quiz or test? Not his fault. The online conference won’t connect? Not my fault and no, I don’t have a back up in place like zoom to use just in case.

(Please note my sarcasm)

Anywhose, last night I had it. Not only does he have the habit of emailing us important shit just after midnight, he can’t keeep his shit straight anymore. When is the homework due? I don’t fucking know and neither does anyone else. Where is the lecture recording he did because he couldn’t connect the conference? I don’t fucking know either but it ain’t in the announcements where he said it was.

Side note: my momma raised a nice polite southern girl. I say “Yes ma’am” and “No sir” when I really want to say fuck you and no dude. One might even call me a ducking push over from how I act, even a suck up and tucking teachers pet. I. Am. Ducking. Polite. See even autocorrect helps me be polite.

Back to the story. He sends these confusing ass emails about the homework with conflicting due times in them. I don’t get them until like 10 am because I slept in, fuck that shit it was Saturday. And I was done. I went and ranted to the fam, and decided: this was it, this was the day I email him and tell him the truth. While being polite of course.

In the following 1000 plus word essay I wrote I dropped the word hell once and maybe a damn? Definitely mentioned “only you and God knows when” at one point. There might have been bullet points. Some underlining, bolding, and italicization of words and sentences. Maybe even all at once to emphasize a word. I told him what major problems there were and some solutions he could do. I told him his flaws, and how he made me feel. I wanted to cuss this man out so bad I almost used fuck at one point, but the little polite southerner in me wouldn’t let me.

But Goddamit I was fucking polite.

His response e-mail? This bitch called me impolite. And that he disagreed with most of the criticism I wrote. And that he would like to discuss this over a conference call later today.

One: just writing the first email put me in tears, made me dissociate, and tune out from everything and make fucking sun catchers for fours straight.

Two: his response email? Destroyed me. I have never. NEVER. Been called impolite in my 23 years on this fucking planet. I literally bawled, full nine yards, to my mother while she critiqued my first email to see if I was too harsh in what I said. It made me sick to my stomach. I know I’m already fucking failing this mans class, now what is he going to do to me? It was this fear that kept my mouth shut until this moment. I need this class for my upper level physics classes I need next semester! (Side note again: the class in question is Differential Equations and Linear Algebra, and my third degree is in Physics.) ((here is his response actually, duck it I’m posting it))

He can’t teach. I was going to give him the benefit of the doubt because this was the first time he taught this class but not at the sake of my passing this class and my gpa. And he won’t admit to doing anything Wrong, it has to be someone else’s fault this didn’t work out. Was I polite? Fuck yea I was, if he thought that wasn’t polite I should have gone off on him. Could I have been nicer? Yes. Maybe I should have dropped a nice “oh bless your heart”’for trying your best in these trying times. But damn son you are literally the youngest professor I have this semester and you are having the hardest time adjusting to online teaching. JFC.

Now I’m trying to schedule this damn meeting with him to talk this out. I’m thinking of dropping. I’ve brought up some of my issues with the math department, and told this new addition of this saga to my advisor (she knows I’ve been having issues with him).

I have the damn class on my side (as well as anime and God) since they agree with me. They are praying for me as well since I told them I snapped at him. One positive thing is now he figured out how to publish shit on Canvas... after I told him how in my long email. Now he just needs to create the fuckingn homework turn in or he is getting 60 fucking emails on Tuesday with our homework attached.

Also I found out that I shouldn’t drink as much as I did after a huge crying jag. I was only able to be in nice drunk land for the entirety of Knives Out (good movie I recommend it) before the hangover headache kicked in. My eyeballs have felt like sandpaper the entire time I’ve typed this up. Fuck me. If I remember I’ll take picture of the sun catchers I made and post them tomorrow.

[forkanna]

[AO3 LINK] [EF LINK]

NOTES: As Forkannukkah draws to a close, I give you incoming floof and a very tiny bit of almost-smut. Also for some reason, I was listening to a lot of Rilo Kiley while writing this part, as I normally seem to be; just fit.

And this is not the end! Well… it is, but there's also going to be a bonus smut chapter. But it's entirely optional, and I promise you will miss NONE of the plot if you don't read it; almost more like a PWP oneshot sequel. Anyway, thanks to everybody who liked this fic and read it, I appreciate all of you and hope you enjoyed yourself!

Jessex

We crashed hard that night. I mean, morning. By the time we woke up, it was night again; we slept the whole day away. My phone told me that it was after midnight, even. Guess we needed to recover, even though I had been literally still as a statue for most of the ordeal. Mental exhaustion is real.

I woke up first, finding her sweet body next to mine, and I wanted to ravage her with kisses. Which was a lot more forward than I was used to being. The part of me that still wanted to believe that the whole ordeal was a dream quickly gave up; it had never been this easy to be sweet to Knives. Even after we started dating. Again, it wasn't that different from before… just that I could let myself do the things I thought of, instead of angstily talking myself out of lovey-dovey shit.

But I didn't ravage her. Instead, I only kissed her cheek as gently as I could, watching her lips twitch into a sleepy smile before she rolled over and snuggled down into the pillow. Biting my lip to keep from laughing about how cute she was, I bounced out and into the bathroom.

Really bounced. Yes, me. Yes, Kim Pine bounced.

From there, into the kitchen. Made pancakes. I made coffee and pancakes for my girlfriend, and dumb as it was the whole situation made me blush. By myself! In the kitchen! What a complete difference allowing yourself to actually accept and enjoy things makes.

Even threw in some chocolate chips. Revolutionary.

It wasn't easy getting two plates, two cups, and a jug of maple syrup into the bedroom in one trip. But I got it. Set my own and the syrup on the nightstand on my side of the bed, then slid in next to her. She stirred again, and this time the smell must have gotten to her because she rolled over slightly, blinking up at me.

"Hnnh? Morning…"

"Hey," I breathed, heart pounding in my throat and eyes misting over at how cute she looked there. "You gonna sleep all night?"

"Whuh? All night?" She sat up a little quick, then her eyes crossed slightly. "Ooh… that was… a bad idea."

"Here, this might help," I chuckled as I handed her the coffee. She wrapped her hands around it and sipped.

"Mmm… Nesquik. You remembered."

For a few seconds, I just watched her, feeling like I'd never known a person I cared about enough to literally watch them drink coffee. Then I plopped the plate into her lap. "Breakfast."

"O-ooh," she shivered, squirming a little. "Warm plate."

"Yep. You okay?"

"Well…" Now it was her turn to blush, seemingly over nothing. Which was what I thought until she whispered, "You set it on top of my morning wood."

My eyes went a lot rounder before I hissed, "Shit, sorry! I didn't even notice, I'm- you need me to-"

"I got it," she laughed at my panic, nudging the plate slightly to a more comfortable position on top of one of her thighs.

"Okay." Then I turned to sit next to her, grabbing for my own plate and the syrup, offering that to her first. She took the bottle with an overly polite little dip of her head, and I grinned. Once her pancakes were covered, she held it over mine and began to drizzle, very, verrrry slowly.

"Say 'when'!"

Still giddy and smiling so hard my cheeks hurt, I went, "Okay… okay, wait… when." Then she tipped it back up, and I took the bottle and set it aside before digging in.

About a third of the way through, she swallowed and said, "Thanks for this. I don't care, pancakes are a food for every time of day."

"Even morning wood time?" I whispered. Her hand came up to cover her face for a second, but we were both laughing. "I dunno… just woke up and felt you there, and was thinking about how much you did for me…"

"You don't have to. Like, it's not that I expect you to 'pay me back'; I did what we needed to happen. You'd do the same thing if I ever got stuck in my own head or whatever, right?"

It was tempting to jokingly say "Nah, I'd leave you to rot." And I knew Knives would have laughed. But in that moment, I didn't want to use my usual biting humour. It was becoming easier to make other choices now. So instead what I said was, "In a hot second. You're everything in the world to me."

Her fork fell to the plate as she stared at me, mouth slightly open. I had to look away, because that gaze was so intense. Then she pulled me a little closer and pressed our two sets of syrup-coated lips into each other. It was delicious and sweet in more ways than one.

"Fuck," I breathed when she let me go.

"I love you," she said easily, cheeks bunched. "Cutie."

"I am n-not cute," I protested weakly as I blushed almost as red as my hair. Not making much of a case for myself, I know.

"All lies. Princess Pine is the cutest princess."

Sighing, I finally reached for my own mug. "We're not calling me that."

"What about the dress? You promised."

"I didn't 'promise', I just didn't shoot it down. But… okay, maybe later."

"Yay!" she giggled, and I rolled my eyes as I sipped. "But if 'Princess Pine' really bothers you, I can stop."

Unlike before, I actually considered instead of demanding she never speak those words again. Finally, I set my mug down and muttered, "Just not in front of other people. Please? I have a reputation as a badass drummer chick to maintain."

"Deal. And I mean it, if I slip up you can punish me."

"Punish you how? A spanking?" That seemed to shock her more than I intended, so I cleared my throat. "Or maybe I withhold Nintendo privileges?" There; totally saved it.

"Y-yeah, that seems more appropriate," she giggled, cheeks rosy now. For a few seconds, we sawed our way through hotcakes and drank coffee. Then she swallowed and asked, "Unless y-you have a thing."

"What?"

"A spanking thing."

Again, I said, "What?" But the tone was a little more scandalised now. "No, I- what the fuck? I don't want to hit you, that's not the kind of thing I want any part of."

"Not 'hit', just like… kinky paddling? Nevermind." Now she seemed embarrassed, and I couldn't stand for that.

"Hey, maybe we could try it if you want. But no, I don't really have a specific thing that I know about. I mean, aside from liking you in general, which it already feels 'kinky' enough just dating a girl for the first time."

The little smile appeared. The one that always popped up when I called her a girl. Sometimes I missed it, and a lot of that was because the smile was usually so tiny it was almost insignificant. But I got it. Even though I didn't smile about it, I always liked when people called me Kim. Not that I have tons of love for my name, but being called "the drummer chick" or "the redhead" annoys me. So it's a very slight relief if someone doesn't do that. Probably the same for her when people got her gender right instead of calling her a dude, or whatever name she had before "Knives."

Which I asked her. I knew it was probably rude, but this was different from some random friend or stranger asking. I just decided not to hit her in the face with it. "So where did the name 'Knives' come from? Like… it's pretty unusual, so I'm surprised I didn't already ask before."

"Oh, it's really dumb," she laughed as we ate. But when I didn't say anything else, she shrugged. "Okay. Um… so my name was Qiang Chau, or Chau Qiang really. But like, I both wanted a Western name and a girl's name, so when I came out my mom let me change it on my birth certificate. And, um… I was still in junior high and trying to be edgy." By that point, she was blushing hardcore.

"Nothing edgier than 'Knives'. But I kind of figured you would go for something a little… girlier? Like, to make it more obvious to people that you are who you are now, and not still who they thought you were."

For a few seconds, I just kept eating and sipping at my coffee. When I realised the room was still silent, I looked over to see her eyes all watery. At first I thought I fucked up somehow, but then she leaned up to kiss my cheek, holding there for a long moment.

"What?"

"You're so sweet, Kim. Like… I dunno, just really hit me then. You're not messing up and saying stuff like I 'chose' being a girl or whatever. And I wouldn't mind much if you did, but like, it's so great to hear you getting it now. Makes me feel loved and stuff."

Now understanding, I set down my coffee and reached over to cup her face. "Yeah. Feel like I'm finally past the 'let's figure this out' stage. Not that much to figure out, except how I'm supposed to be a good girlfriend."

"Breakfast in bed is doing good, for sure." Then she looked back down as she started cutting up her last few bites. "And yeah, Knives is really my first name. But um… my middle name is embarrassing and dumb."

"Then don't tell me," I said easily. "I don't want you to feel embarrassed."

"Whatever. Um… it's Mulan."

Putting down my coffee again, I turned to raise an eyebrow at her. "Mulan? Like the Disney movie?"

"Yeah," she groaned, definitely wanting to crawl under my bed and hide. "Like, it was my fave growing up because she was Chinese, she was really strong and badass even though she was a girl, and… I dunno, she did the whole cross-dressing thing, so somehow that kinda fit to me, y'know? But I didn't want it to be my first name or I'd just get a lot of teasing. Like Japanese girls who get called 'Hello Kitty' or whatever. At least with Knives, other kids in high school tried to laugh at it but then I could pull out a knife and they'd be like 'oh'."

"Knives Mulan Chau. I dunno, I like it." I finished off my pancakes and set the plate aside, then turned to snuggle into her side as she finished. "My name's so boring. Kimberly Annabel Pine. Mom usually just called me 'Kimberly Ann' when I was being good, and only the full middle name when I was an unholy terror."

"That's sweet. Even the yelling part, unless she would yell about nothing. My mom does that sometimes." To my surprise, she offered me one of the last bites, holding it up to my lips. Feeling a little self-conscious, I opened and let her feed me, and we both grinned. It was such a randomly cutesy moment that I almost couldn't handle it.

"Y-yeah," I finally said once I swallowed. "She's a good mom. You'll have to meet her if I head back north again."

"That'd be awesome! And you can meet my parents, too; just make sure you wear hockey pads." I laughed, and she grinned before taking a sip of her coffee. "Nah, they're actually pretty cool, just nosy and set in their ways. But like I said, they both accepted me, which is way better than it could be. Families can be kind of mean about transitioning without even like, doing it on purpose."

Didn't have much to say to that. She would know better than me. I watched as she finished the food and the coffee, then set the dishes aside and slid down to snuggle a little closer to me. We kissed, and she wrapped her arms tightly around me as if she never wanted to let go.

"Thank you."

"What? For what, breakfast? No big."

"For existing," she whispered, and I felt my heart skip over a beat. "Being everything I wanted. A rock star who can treat me sweet. Like… everything."

"I'm not a rock star," I grumbled, but she just kissed me again. We tangled limbs and enjoyed each other's mouths for a few minutes. I forgot the thread of the conversation, forgot everything except how much I loved this, loved being with her.

Even when I felt something poking me again, I ignored it. But she didn't; not this time. Her lips pulled off mine and she whispered, "Guess you can tell how much I… like rolling around with you."

"And you can't, so I'll tell you: a lot." She grinned against my mouth, and we kissed. "But I'm having fun just like this."

"Me, too. Hey…" Her hand rubbed up and down my side. "Um… I think I'm gonna get a shower. Sleeping for that long makes me feel gross. After that… you wanna spend the rest of the morning before work just hanging out?"

My lips quirked upward. "You gonna jerk off in the shower?"

"No, I promise," she giggled, waggling her hips back and forth. A little gasp of desire fell from my lips. "You gonna do it while I'm in there?"

"Maybe." She pouted, so I changed it to, "No. I can resist."

Nodding, she kissed me again and began to get out of bed. Turned away so I couldn't see the tenting in her cute little floral-patterned panties. Hesitated. I was reaching up to put my hand on the small of her back, just to ask her something like if she was okay or needed something, or forgot something. It just barely brushed there before she turned around, and I found myself touching her again.

"Oh, shit," I breathed, staring at my hand. At the firm form resting there. After a couple of seconds, I drew my hand away and looked up at her. "Sorry, Knives, I wasn't-"

"I know," she said in a nervous voice. She knelt on the edge of the mattress, and I had to fight to keep from glancing back down again. Holding her eyes. "Do you like it? For real."

"What?"

"My dick. I mean…" She hesitated for a second. "My plan was always to have bottom surgery after college. Y'know, because of recovery time. Some people have more trouble with it than others, and I don't wanna flunk out of classes. But like… if you like me how I am, and I do get surgery… that affects you, right?"

That was a pretty big question. And I didn't want to answer right away, afraid of fucking up my words or hurting her feelings on accident, but she needed an answer. So I let Princess Pine take over. I kissed her hip, far away from the actual bulge but close enough to show I wasn't remotely afraid.

"I want you… to be happy. Yeah, you're hot like this, but you would be hot like that, too. So just… do what you feel is right for Knives. I'm not going anywhere."

Tears were in her eyes. She couldn't seem to respond, and was still holding herself still and watching me, so I kissed a little closer to the middle. A fraction of an inch at a time; giving her plenty of time to pull the ripcord. When she never said anything, only smiled blearily down at me while I kissed, I pressed my lips against her semi-firmness.

"O-ohh…" I didn't do it again, so a moment later she opened her eyes to look at me again, licking her lips. "Kim… how can you be real? You just… you didn't even flinch."

"Not everybody is Young Neil, Knives."

"That wasn't exactly what I was thinking about… and it wasn't just him. But yeah, you're amazing. I can't believe…" When I knelt up, putting our faces level, she smiled a little wider. "Hi."

My lips ghosted over hers before I whispered, "Love you," then kissed her harder for a moment. Satisfied that she believed it now, I pulled back and swatted her butt. "Now go shower, you stinky ninja."

"AH! Kim!"

"Testing out that spanking thing a little." Giggling, Knives backed off the bed, holding her backside as she skipped away. I saw her little CN Tower was still partially erect, but for once she wasn't trying to hide it away, wasn't turning or crossing her legs. Just grinning at me while she floated out of the room to bathe and I moved to take care of our dishes.

Nope, I really didn't have any problem at all. And I don't just mean with that one issue; I mean at all. There are days when you look around and just realise how precious life is, and this was one of those. And I expected to have plenty more where that came from, thanks to the cute stalker who changed my life from the inside out. Healed my heart. Made me happy when I never thought I would be happy again.

Happily fucking ever after. In both senses.

                                           The End (kinda? But not quite!)

[mundanemelusina]

Get to Know Me 1. What is you middle name? Matthew 2. How old are you? 21 3. When is your birthday? Oct 12 4. What is your zodiac sign? Libra sun, Gemini moon, Taurus rising, Scorpio Venus and idk the rest 5. What is your favorite color? Yellow! It's always varied but I love a soft warm yellow. Like the color the sun paints the world at sunset. Like crayolas dandelion crayon. WHICH BY THE WAY CRAYOLA IS FUCKIN RETIRING. THEY ARE GETTING RID OF MY FAVORITE COLOR. 6. What’s your lucky number? 3 7. Do you have any pets? My moms house has a lot but I don't live there any more? Are they really my pets? Idk man. 8. Where are you from? Greensboro nc 9. How tall are you? 5'10" 10. What shoe size are you? 10 in both men's and women's. Idk how it works I don't make the rules I just work here. 11. How many pairs of shoes do you own? In the 20s probably. Maybe more. How many pairs do I wear on the everyday tho? Like two maybe. I'm terrible. 12. What was your last dream about? Honestly last one I remember I woke up with the distinct memory of eating out a trans guy. 13. What talents do you have? Knowing exactly where peoples belly buttons are, whistling like various birds, quoting movies, remembering useless info, coming up with ideas of things I'll never do, sleeping too much, not having motivation, puns and/or bad humor, being able to identify almost any color by its crayola name. 14. Are you psychic in any way? You're asking a witch. That's a loaded fucking question. 15. Favorite song? Nah. I got loads of playlists tho. 16. Favorite movie? BOI. Ok. Listen. Stardust The high school musicals Harry potters, also third specifically Moulin rouge Hocus pocus Thirteenth year Legally blonde Easy a Anna karennina Lion king Hercules Little mermaid Hunchback of notre dam Spy kids trilogy First three shreks but specially no2 How to train your dragon(1/2) Rise of the guardians Series of unfortunate events movie Sucker punch Weekend (2011) The new beauty and the beast movie Lord of the rings Indiana jones 17. Who would be your ideal partner? This is a strange question. Not what would they be like. But WHO ARE THEY. NAME NAMES. GO. honestly idk. If I knew who it was I'd be trying to sit on their lap right now. 18. Do you want children? Error 404 answer unknown. I could be good with kids. I love kids. But do I want to raise them? Idk. And I don't want to raise any unless I know for sure that I do. 19. Do you want a church wedding? What does this mean? I would never marry a church. 20. Are you religious? All religions are simultaneously true and false. Schroedingers religion 21. Have you ever been to the hospital? Yes. Terrible asthma. Last big attack was on my thirteenth birthday. I had my first indoor swim meet at my high school and it was a small steamy space with hundreds of people so the air got supper thick and I had the worst attack ever. 22. Have you ever got in trouble with the law? Nope not do I plan to 23. Have you ever met any celebrities? I've met Julie Taymor! Famous director who directed the lion king on broadway and across the universe! 24. Baths or showers? Showers for physical cleaning, baths for spiritual 25. What color socks are you wearing? I don't wear socks I fucking hate them the stifle my creativity bc I can't think with them on. 26. Have you ever been famous? One of my selfie photo sets has 19,000+ notes does that count? 27. Would you like to be a big celebrity? Eh. I could handle it but that doesn't mean I want to 28. What type of music do you like? Musical, pop, indie/folk/americana, idk just whatever 29. Have you ever been skinny dipping? No. I get self conscious 30. How many pillows do you sleep with? 2 normal full pillows, a star shaped pillow, a moon shape, and a sun. 31. What position do you usually sleep in? Side curl? 32. How big is your house? 2 bed one bath apartment that has a living room and a kitchen. That's it. The whole place. Very small. 33. What do you typically have for breakfast? Harris teeter brand clusters and oats cereal with honey or bagel with cream cheese 34. Have you ever fired a gun? Yeah my dad taught me on his family's farm and my grandfather on my mothers side taught me some too. He loves hunting. 35. Have you ever tried archery? Ye with said grandfather. I didn't like it at the time but I love the idea of it now and want to again. I was pretty ok at it. Besides my terrible eyesight. 36. Favorite clean word? What the fuck is a clean word. 37. Favorite swear word? Fuck it's so vers 38. What’s the longest you’ve ever gone without sleep? I pull all nighters all the time but never really more than 36 hours without a nap. 39. Do you have any scars? I'm sure I might somewhere but I can't really think of any 40. Have you ever had a secret admirer? I wish. Usually I am the one admiring secretly. 41. Are you a good liar? I'm a thespian. It's my literal job. 42. Are you a good judge of character? Loaded question? How the fuck would I know this? Who are you? WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH JIMMY 43. Can you do any other accents other than your own? AGAIN. my literal job. 44. Do you have a strong accent? No. I actually have always been told o don't have one. Moms from New Jersey but grew up in the south. She doesn't have a thick one. 45. What is your favorite accent? ????? So many. Any U.K. Miami Cuban? It's specific but. Idk it's less about accents but I just love studying the way people talk. How they form vowels or little sayings they have. 46. What is your personality type? Enfp? 47. What is your most expensive piece of clothing? I have no idea. I don't like to buy pricey clothing. I'm a goodwill hoe 48. Can you curl your tongue? Long ways sideways twist and clover! 49. Are you an innie or an outie? Innie 50. Left or right handed? FUN STORY I was originally lefty but then my first grade teacher thought I was gonna be a gay witch so she made me switch. But lefty staid for everything besides writing. So batting golf all that. Writing texting jacking bowling is righty. So. Mostly right. 51. Are you scared of spiders? 4/10 52. Favorite food? *softly* don't 53. Favorite foreign food? I love food 54. Are you a clean or messy person? Messy af 55. Most used phrased? Changes weekly 56. Most used word? Changes daily 57. How long does it take for you to get ready? An hour with a shower? 30 without? 58. Do you have much of an ego? Huge 59. Do you suck or bite lollipops? Suuuuck 60. Do you talk to yourself? Constantly 61. Do you sing to yourself? ALL DAY EVERY DAY. 62. Are you a good singer? I AM passable but I'm not gonna win a Tony 63. Biggest Fear? Myself 64. Are you a gossip? Did you hear about Samantha and Jim? 65. Best dramatic movie you’ve seen? Check above 66. Do you like long or short hair? On myself? Idfk. On men? Short 67. Can you name all 50 states of America? Nope! Nor do I care. Fuck this place! (I can get most) 68. Favorite school subject? Transfiguration. Wait real school? Ok art, theatre, literature, science, marine biology was fun 69. Extrovert or Introvert? I need a balance of the two. Intro if I had to pick 70. Have you ever been scuba diving? Nah. Been snorkeling tho 71. What makes you nervous? Intrusive thoughts. Heights. Knives. Snakes and spiders. Fire. Mostly nervous I'll do something stupid and throw myself or my phone over the edge or into the flames. 72. Are you scared of the dark? Well I wasn't till you FUCKING MENTIONED IT. ASAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH 73. Do you correct people when they make mistakes? Most of the time 74. Are you ticklish? Yes but tickle and I'll rip off your pickle 75. Have you ever started a rumor? Started? No. continued? Religiously. 76. Have you ever been in a position of authority? Often. I enjoy it. 77. Have you ever drank underage? Whaaaaaat????? Me????? No never. 78. Have you ever done drugs? Gasp 79. Who was your first real crush? Literally. Ok. Listen. Buddy. So many. Idk who was first. All were dumb. 80. How many piercings do you have? Just ears 81. Can you roll your Rs?“ Ye 82. How fast can you type? Snail^2 83. How fast can you run? Turtle^2 84. What color is your hair? Naturally dark brown. 85. What color is your eyes? Dark green and orange. 86. What are you allergic to? Medicines some type of cat/dog/fur 87. Do you keep a journal? A book of shadows but not a journal 88. What do your parents do? Dads a muggle. Mams a witch. Bitofanastyshockwhenhefoundout Honestly I'm tired and don't wanna explain 89. Do you like your age? Age as in era of history??? Years in which I have personally traveled around the sun? 90. What makes you angry? Unfairness. My jealousy. Disrespect 91. Do you like your own name? Yeah I love it 92. Have you already thought of baby names, and if so what are they? Nah 93. Do you want a boy a girl for a child? Wtf is this gendered bs 94. What are you strengths? It's too late to have this crisis 95. What are your weaknesses? Seriously I'm tired 96. How did you get your name? I always forget 97. Were your ancestors royalty? Dads side had something 98. Do you have any scars? I already did this 99. Color of your bedspread? Gray 100. Color of your room? Between crayola jade and olive

[juicy-cookie]

Through The Valley - Chapter 8

Fic Summary: A deeper look into The Sanctuary.

Boy meets girl. Girl meets boy. Boy has a weird obsession with a baseball bat, promiscuity and the word “fuck”. Girl has to find out if she can look past these things. Also, zombies and shit.

AO3 Link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/10075958/chapters/24405657

Tags: @rickdixonandthefandomlifeposts @embracetheapocalypsewithme @redisunamused @kinkozan @lupienne @theblack-wolf @lovingzombiechaos @dragonracer @miiraal

Pairing: Negan X OFC

Chapter Summary:  Blood, brains and spidermonkeys

(I know the last chapter has been a little boring, so I hope this one will make up for it)

Word Count: 4316

The black van sped across the deserted road through fields that had been untouched by human hands for so long that all that was growing now were six-foot tall weeds, parched by the long summer that was now coming to a close.

Negan was scanning their surroundings for signs of walker activity, but the trip to their destination had been calm so far. A little too calm for his taste, since one of the van’s occupants was sound asleep with her head resting against the window and the remaining three people were respectful enough not to disturb her. He usually liked to chat during these long drives, and talk about the upcoming mission, but he guessed that it was better to let Lilly catch a few more Zs, before they would have to start their scavenging. Best to have his companions well-rested to face whatever was out there.

Their meeting on the day before had been quick and efficient. His declaration that Lilly would actually lead this run had been met by a couple of seconds of stunned silence, but when they had explained that every potential scavenger had to plan their first mission, she had stepped up immediately. Lilly had presented them with a ledger full of places she had already been to and had the grace to look ashamed when Negan had asked her why she hadn't shown him her notes before.

They had decided on a small town halfway between Sanctuary and the place where she and Jax had lived. Lilly had been there before and had told them that there were a couple of stores there that might be interesting. Even if the aisles had already been looted, the surrounding houses might still hold something interesting from people who had lived there the first couple of days into the apocalypse.

The apocalypse. Negan still couldn't warm up to the word. It sounded like nuclear fallout and an exploding sun and the end of mankind, although the latter wasn't too far from the truth, he supposed. He remembered watching movies about people roaming deserted wastelands and he used to make fun of the idiot characters that he had been sure wouldn't last two days in a real situation like that. He had liked to make up scenarios in his head and had arrogantly declared that he would have no problems keeping himself and Lucille safe. They'd probably end up the last two people on earth. As they passed the fourth abandoned farmhouse this day, he couldn't help but chuckle lightly at the irony of it all.

Lilly seemed to be an extremely light sleeper, because she woke up with a start and asked him “What's so funny?”

“Your face.”

“My face? What's funny about my face?”

“It's all fucking busy when you sleep. Like you've got some important shit to do.”

“Well, I do. I'm sleeping. Sleep is important.”

“Yeah, I fucking noticed that with you.”

“We're here,” Seth announced from the driver's seat and they all looked out of the car to inspect the town they had just arrived in. It looked just like any other place nowadays. Rusting cars, overgrown yards and hedges, buildings with windows that were either broken or blind. Lilly absentmindedly reached for her bow and quiver on the floor of the van and Negan copied her actions with Lucille. They had all spotted the walkers shuffling along the fronts of the stores and office buildings, which had by now heard or seen the van driving up the street and had started to instinctively follow the loud and moving object.

“This place is infested. We should go back or find somewhere else to scavenge,” Laura quietly remarked. Negan thought so, too, but he wanted to see what Lilly would do. He could use a bloody date with Lucille. He just wasn't sure if it was worth the hassle, since the stores around them seemed to have already been looted.

Lilly was busy concentrating on the buildings, turning her head left and right to look out of the car windows while Seth kept maneuvering the van slowly through the street. They had by now summoned a group of about ten biters that were following the van through town, snarling and reaching out for them with rotting fingers.

“Stop the car!” Lilly commanded, turning around to assess the walker situation.

“Lil, there are quite a lot of them,” Seth argued, but Negan was already in fighting mode, gripping Lucille and fiddling with the door latch, ready to jump out as soon as the van stopped. The girl wanted to kill, he'd happily help her to blow off some steam.

“Give us some distance. Go fast to that laundromat and stop there.”

Lilly's tone didn't leave any more room for arguments and Negan was impressed by how dominant she could be if she wanted to.

Seth stopped as he was told, but instead of jumping into the street, Lilly opened her door and climbed up to the roof of the van. Negan, Laura and Seth all stepped out of the van, their eyes wandering between the group of hungry walkers and the woman on top of the van, who had already nocked and drawn the first arrow.

“Keep behind me until I say otherwise,” she called down to them while aiming for the walker leading the group that was now about sixty feet away. She released the arrow into the herd and the first walker fell with several behind it stumbling over its now finally dead corpse. Lilly didn’t lose any time admiring her own handiwork and had already nocked a second arrow and added another walker to the ground. Her whole body was as tense in concentration as the bowstring she was pulling back to aim for a third headshot, but her fourth arrow ended up in the biter’s neck and the remaining undead had now come uncomfortably close. Lilly slipped her head through the bow so it would sit on her back and hopped down from the van’s roof, while barking orders at Negan, Seth and Laura:

“Seth to the left, Negan to the right. Make some noise. Try to split them up. Laura and I take care of what’s left. Go!”

Seth and Laura glanced at Negan to watch for any signs of disapproval, but he was already on his way to flank the right side of the herd, holding Lucille in a vice grip and grinning like a madman. He was happy to finally get some action and Lilly’s little show on the van had made him all the more excited to bash in some rotten heads. His and Lucille’s thirst for blood resulted in two dead walkers before the others had even time to get into position. The remaining ones went for his companions, who were now ready to end them. Seth and Laura used their respective knives on the walkers closest to them, while Lilly was busy grabbing the arrow that stuck out of the neck of the one she had missed earlier. She used the arrow to keep her distance from the biter’s snapping teeth and sunk her machete into its eye socket. It dropped to the ground and the arrow slid out. Lilly put it into the quiver behind her back and went for the next walker, this time bringing the blade down on its head and kicking one foot into its stomach to free the machete from where it got stuck in brain and bones.

Negan watched her in fascination until he noticed the last remaining biter had managed to get dangerously close to Lilly while she had her back on them. He ran over and swung Lucille in a wide arc, ending the battle in a rain of blood and rotting tissue.

He straightened his back and looked around for Seth, Laura and Lilly to make sure everyone was still in one piece. Laura was standing in the middle of the pile of dead walkers, panting slightly and cleaning her knife on some undead’s shirt. Seth was grinning and giving him a thumb’s up from across the street. Lilly was still standing next to her kill and was watching him intently. She smirked, said “Thanks!” and went to retrieve her remaining three arrows before she ran across the street to take a look into the shop windows there. Laura and Seth did the same, but they all shrugged and shook their heads after every inspection. Lilly was still busy peeking into every window as she made her way back down the street in the direction they had come from, until she stopped and sheathed her machete to look at an unassuming office structure with her hands on her hips. The rest of of their small group tried some more windows, but anything valuable seemed to already be gone and Negan could feel himself and Seth and Laura grow frustrated.

He joined Lilly in front of the three-story building at the end of the block.

“We stopped for this shit? What’s so fucking special about it?”

“See the steel door and the bars on all the windows? The other buildings on the street don't have that. Someone thought that whatever is inside is worth protecting. At the very least it’s a great hide-out.”

“Well, tough fucking luck. I'm not going to risk destroying the van by trying to rip out that door or the bars.”

“I don't think we have to. There should be access to the building on the roof,” Lilly mused as they walked around the corner into a small alley with some dumpsters. They both looked up the building to assess any possible entryways.

“Are we gonna fly up there? Someone destroyed the fucking fire escape.” Negan pointed at the warped and rusting metal stairs that had escaped from their hinges and were now hanging into the alley.

“No, I can get up there. I’ll try to open the door for you from the inside.”

“What if it’s full of dead fuckers, or worse, living?”

“Let’s check!” Lilly said cheerfully and walked back to the steel door, pulling out her machete on her way there. She put her ear to the door and listened intently for a couple of seconds before she raised her machete and used the handle to knock on the door three times. She then went back to listening to whatever was inside and Negan mimicked her so as not to feel entirely useless. He concentrated hard on any sounds and then he heard it: a muffled snarling and a scratching sound as if someone, or something, was clawing on the other side of the heavy steel. He stepped back and raised his eyebrows at Lilly who put her index finger on her lips and closed her eyes for a moment, still listening to the sounds inside the building.

“Okay, should be two, maybe three walkers. I can handle those.”

“So, let me get this straight. You’re going to climb up there somehow, try to get in through the roof, kill at least two biters on your own -and that’s only what you heard on the ground floor; there might be dozens of undead assholes in that building- and then open this heavy-ass door for us, so we can all waltz in and take whatever is inside. IF there even is something worth taking inside.”

“Yep. That’s pretty much the plan. The other buildings have been picked clean and I’m pretty sure it all went into this building. I think it’s worth a shot.”

“Well, it’s your fucking mission,” he shrugged and they made their way back to the others. Lilly slipped her bow and quiver from her shoulders and handed them to Seth, telling him to “Take good care of it!” and her eyes fixated on the building in front of her. She asked Laura for her flashlight, which she slipped into her belt, exclaimed “Geronimo!” and took off to the building’s wall in a run. Negan realized now what she had been looking at so intently a minute earlier. When Lilly reached the building, she grabbed onto the metal drain pipe that ran along the facade, jumped a little to place her feet on the left and the right of the pipe and started climbing up the wall.

“Holy shit! She’s a fucking spidermonkey!” Negan exclaimed and he and the two others laughed.

Lilly reached the roof in record time and hoisted herself over the parapet, which made Negan remember the defined arms and shoulders he had noticed on her during their little half-assed tryst back when they had found her. She disappeared for a moment, only to come back to the edge of the roof and yell down at them that the roof access door was indeed unlocked and that she would see them downstairs in a minute. Seth shouted back at her to be careful and she saluted them with a hand to her temple, took her machete and the flashlight from her belt and disappeared again. They heard a loud creaking sound, like metal grating over concrete and then there was silence.

The atmosphere down in the street immediately became tense again, while Negan and his two lieutenants waited for Lilly to let them in and it hit Negan that this had been an incredibly stupid idea. One girl clearing out an entire building by herself, going in blind to who knew how many undead freaks, and for what?

“You think she’s going to be okay?” Laura asked what everyone was thinking.

“She’s tough. She can handle herself around those things,” Seth reassured her. He had seen Lilly in action while working on the fence and Negan knew that they had become friendly. He usually trusted Seth’s judgement, but he still felt a nervousness creeping up his spine and after a couple of minutes of them stupidly staring at the door in silence, he couldn’t stand still anymore. He swung Lucille over his shoulder and walked up to the building, followed by Seth and Laura, to try and listen for any movement inside.

Negan put his ear to the door again, but he couldn’t pick up anything with the other two behind him starting to talk about what they might find inside.

“Will you shut your fucking traps for just one second?” he barked at them in frustration, when they all suddenly jumped back from the door after hearing a loud noise of scraping metal. The door swung open, revealing darkness and a very serious looking Lilly.

She looked even paler than usual when she rushed past them and Seth's concerned question if she was alright was met with a grunted “I'm fine. Building is clear.”

Seth and Laura entered and Negan followed suit to find out what had upset his newest Savior and if all the hassle had been at least worth it. They were greeted by an overwhelming stench of decay, piles of blankets and food cans and three corpses lying by the stairs to the upper levels.

“Another fucking jackpot,” Negan grinned when he discovered water jugs and pasta packages, but his grin was quickly wiped from his face when he took a closer look at the three bodies. All three had obviously been walkers when Lilly had killed them and all three bore a tell-tale stab wound to their heads. However, only two of the three bodies were adult sized.

“Fuck,” he muttered and turned back towards the open steel door. He could see Lilly leaning against the hood of the van, looking up to the sky with her hands crossed in front of her chest.

When Negan approached her, she was taking deep, shaky breaths and when she noticed him, her smile didn't quite reach her eyes.

“You really have a thing for sniffing out places that are fucking loaded.”

“Thanks. Though to be fair, it was our place that was loaded last time and Dwight and the others sniffed us out.”

“Just take the fucking compliment,” he grinned and leaned back against the van, all the while telling himself that he was merely making sure to keep his newest scavenger happy and productive.

“So, uh… did those biters in there give you any trouble?”

“They’re fucking dead, right? Isn’t that the point?” she snapped and pushed herself off the van to glare at him with her hands on her hips. Negan raised his free hand in a placatory gesture.

“Whoah, calm down, babe. No fucking criticism intended.”

She chewed on her lower lip and leaned back next to him again, her eyes cast on the ground.

“You know you didn’t kill that kid, right? I mean, not really, anyway.”

“Yeah, I know…,” she sighed, “I don’t mind killing these things, but kids always fuck me up a little. I’m sorry.”

“No need to apologize. It really is completely fucked up if you think about it. If someone had told me two years ago that I’d scatter my neighbor’s fucking brain matter all over his driveway at some point, I would have had them institutionalized.”

“Were you friends with your neighbor?”

“Nah, he was a fucking asshole. Always complaining about the noise coming from my garage. But still…”

Lilly laughed at that and Negan was glad that he had apparently averted some kind of mental breakdown, but he still had to ask:

“Did you have kids? You know, before?”

She visibly tensed and stared off into the distance for a couple of seconds, before answering:

“Nope. I just don’t like killing children. Even if they’re technically not children anymore.”

“Fair enough,” he shrugged, not quite convinced. He’d find out eventually. He always did.

They made their way back to Seth and Laura who were already grumbling about having to do all the work alone. The yield from this house wasn’t nearly as big as what they had gotten from Lilly and Jax, but the stuff they did find was still valuable enough to justify the mission. Apart from two weapons and a few cases of canned food, they were particularly happy about a couple of water filters and some meds, including some children’s tylenol.

They carried everything to the van and were on their way back to Sanctuary after having spent not even three hours on that street. In, out, back home for dinner. Just the way Negan liked it.

Lilly fell asleep again during the car ride and he thought that anyone else would probably think that she had some kind of medical issue, but he knew better. He knew about almost everything going on at Sanctuary and the people patrolling at night had informed him about Lilly’s erratic sleeping habits. They’d often find her reading in the middle of the night, sometimes she would take walks around Sanctuary and chat to whoever had patrol duty and apparently, whenever she did sleep eventually, it would be next to Jax.

He kept wondering about what kind of relationship those two had. They were definitely close, but he had never seen them showing public displays of affection beyond the occasional hug and despite it turning out to be a ruse, she hadn’t exactly been reluctant to slobber all over Negan when they had shared a bed for those memorable couple of minutes three weeks ago.

His mind kept coming back to that night from time to time, especially whenever he had to interact with her and he had lost count of the number of times he had blown his load to the thought of her soft body draped all over him, her hands touching every inch of him she could reach and her warm mouth on his neck.

He had thought a lot about why she occupied his mind so much. Usually when women told him to get lost, he would move on without a problem. He had come to the conclusion that for a few glorious minutes, she had acted as if she had truly wanted him and that was something he hadn’t experienced since long before the world had gone to shit. That and she was hot as fucking hell, of course, even more so now that he had seen how capable she was of getting shit done.

Seth’s voice announcing that they were almost home pulled him out of his reverie and he cursed himself when he realized that he had been staring at her sleeping form for way too long. Lilly woke up from her nap with a yawn and a stretch of her legs and hopped out of the van with the others as soon as the van stopped inside the courtyard. Negan took his sweet time to gather Lucille and step out of the vehicle. The supply run had been fun after all and he knew that whatever was waiting inside Sanctuary could only make his day worse instead of better.

A couple of Saviors led by Carson walked up to them to carry the boxes to inventory and he caught himself being grateful that they weren’t accompanied by the wives who he had no doubt would be all over him soon to demand some treats.

He started walking towards the door and was surprised when Lilly fell into step beside him. He had expected her to run straight to Jax, since he, Dwight and Gavin should be back from the outposts by now.

“So… am I on the team, or what?” She looked up at him expectantly and a little doubtful, although he couldn’t imagine why she would question her performance today. She had done a really good job.

“I still have to talk to Seth and Laura, though I’m pretty fucking sure they’d have my fucking head on a platter if I didn’t make you a scavenger. So yeah, go talk to Dwight tomorrow to set up runs and shit.”

“Awesome! Thank you Negan,” she told him with one of her rare genuine smiles and he couldn’t help but smile back at her, “I’ve noticed that the other scavengers have other jobs when they’re not out there. I’d really like something to do when I’m at Sanctuary.”

“Well since you’re already leading the life of a fucking vampire, you could always do some night patrol shifts if you want to earn some extra points.” His smile turned to a grin when her eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“Is life here that boring that everyone knows about my sleeping schedule?” she asked, her voice laced with humor.

“Nah, I just like to keep up to date with what’s happening around here. And the new girl roaming the fucking halls at night is pretty fucking newsworthy. Mark almost shat himself when he saw you wandering around for the first time. Thought you were a fucking ghost.”

“Don’t give me any stupid ideas. I might just start messing with people,” she laughed.

“I wouldn’t fucking do that if I were you. You might get fucking shot.”

“Oh damn, right. Sometimes I forget that everyone is armed from top to bottom nowadays.”

“In-fucking-cluding you Miss Terminator. I bet I’d pull a fucking landmine out of your vagina if I ever got that far,” he grinned and carefully studied her face, bracing himself for the verbal, or even physical smackdown that usually followed whenever he got too crude with a girl.

“Now that’s an interesting mental image. How would that work, anyway? You touch it and blow everything to bits?”

“I know at least one thing that would blow with your vagina involved.”

She had been grinning and giggling the entire way to the inner courtyard and Negan hadn’t even noticed that he had been walking there instead of heading for the penthouse. She tried regaining her composure and leaned against the wall next to the door after they had stepped outside, her shoulders still shaking with suppressed laughter.

“Speaking of all my weapons… I never told you this, but I’m actually pretty useless with a gun. Never even held one before the dead started walking.”

“You sure as fuck seemed fucking confident when you threatened to shoot me in the head, back when we first found you.”

“Eh… fake it ‘till you make it, right?”

“Negan? What are you doing here?” Sherry was standing in the doorway to the hall, her hands on her hips, looking at them with an expression as if she had just caught them doing something way more inappropriate than just sharing a couple of jokes. Although they were standing rather close and to be fair, Negan did usually go straight for the wives whenever he came back from a run, instead of having little walks around Sanctuary.

“I’ll be upstairs in a minute Sherry,” he told her and Sherry knew him well enough to notice the edge in his voice and the way his eyes conveyed a serious ‘Get fucking lost’ attitude.

Sherry disappeared back into the hall, but not without rolling her eyes at him first. Lilly pushed herself off the wall and started heading for the dormitory.

“Well, I don’t want to keep you from anything. Thank you again for giving me a chance today, Negan.”

He tried to think of something that would get her to stay a while longer. He had really enjoyed their little banter. But all that came out was a grunted “Sure thing, babe. See you around,” before she smiled, turned around and broke into a run towards the dormitory door.

He shuffled back into the hall and started his ascent up the Tower, already dreading the verbal spanking he would get from Sherry. That bitch was way too jealous for someone who hated his guts.

He kept thinking about the way Lilly always laughed about his stupid jokes and for the first time ever, he decided that he would start frequenting the Groundling rec room more often from now on. Only to keep an eye on his subordinates, of course.

[uschickens]

Getting to know you meme

Okay. Okayokayokay. I said I was going to post more, actually engage more, so that requires, you know. Actually posting more. (Plus @momosandlemonsoda has graciously tagged me twice now, with no response from me, and that shall not stand!)

So. That meme thing going around.

Part I

name: Fannishly, I’m uschickens pretty much everywhere. Back in The Olden Times, I used Vix as my first name with uschickens, as in short for Vixen, as in a fox in the henhouse, which, like so many things with me, is so obscure as to only amuse myself.

star sign: Sagittarius, which seems a little ::skeptical headtilt:: at first, until you pair it with my Gemini rising and Virgo moon, and then it becomes a lot more we-know-but-hey-john-mulaney.gif

height: 5'5" (165.1cm)

time: 11:12pm

birthday: every handful of years, it coincides with Thanksgiving, so I get cake AND turkey.

nationality: american

fave bands/groups/solo artists: Like, currently listening to, or of all time, or or or??? This is a loaded question! Recently, Taemin’s Never Gonna Dance album hooked me hard. My other most-played playlists are called “last of the hardcore troubadours,” “frenzied banjos,” and “forest gods,” so I’m working the alt country/folk pop/whatever Florence and her Machine and Hozier have going on. Oh, and the Sleep No More soundtrack, so 1930s jazz, Hitchcockian strings, and edm all mashed together.

song stuck in your head: not even a song, just the one line from Taemin “we were just two kids/too young and dumb” over and over and over on repeat.

last movie you watched: I...have not watched a movie in a long, long time. Possibly a Knives Out rewatch? It Part Two? No, all my media consumption time lately has been devoted to...

last show you binged: All Things Tomb. I started watching reboot in, hmmm, late October? Early November? And with very few exceptions, various dmbj adaptions have been ALL I watched since then. It’s...kind of a problem. It goes in fits and starts, not a true binge since reboot, except for some blocking-out-the-outside-world plunges into Ultimate Note in early January. Reboot is the Tomb of My Heart, with Sha Hai a microscopically close second. Chen Minghao is my one! true! Pangzi, with surfer!Pangzi from tlt2 being a worthy predecessor. I am mostly here for post-Bronze Gate Wu Xies, and I vastly prefer the more realistic fighting style of reboot!Xiaoge than emo!XG, mathnerd!XG, or dancer!XG. But this was supposed to be about a binge, not my Standard Tomb Opinions Dissertation.

when you created your blog: 2010? There was a brief period when apparently I used tumblr for...interior design porn?? Rather than porn porn??? I quickly learned my lesson.

the last thing you googled: firstly, that would be the last thing I duckduckgoed, if we’re being strictly accurate, but I digress. It was [Richard Diebenkorn Guggenheim], part of a long-running conversation with my dad, who is a landscape painter currently going through an abstract expressionism phase. It’s getting wild up in here, folks.

other blogs: as I said, uschickens everywhere, by which I mean Twitter and dreamwidth and ao3.

why i chose my url: back in The Early Days of Livejournal, I lurked even more than I do now, so when I finally took the plunge, I couldn’t resist going with a name that really captured my inner Do Not Perceive Me, crossed with big band music and Louis Jordan. Ergo my tag line was “ain’t nobody here but... [us chickens]”.

how many people are you following: fuck if I know

how many followers do you have: fuck if I care

average hours of sleep: NOT. ENOUGH. But better than it used to be; see also my Twitter for some of the more bizarre paths my mind goes down when I’m in the middle of a juicy bit of insomnia.

lucky numbers: 3

instruments: a couple decades of piano and a solid eight months of French horn.

what i’m currently wearing: the dress I wore to work over pajama bottoms. I’m getting ready for bed, I swear. Halfway there!

dream job: ::hollow laughter:: I feel I would be excellent at being independently wealthy, at which point all my time would be devoted to travel, food, and writing about/photographing that travel and food, plus whatever experimental theater/circus/dance performances I happened to run across. But I shudder to think of actually relying on that sort of writing/photography to earn my keep, because there’s no faster way to kill my joy in a thing than to make it an obligation. Is “dilettante” still a thing? I’d be very good at that.

dream trip: do you want that chronologically or alphabetically? I have spreadsheets! I *will* be going to Singapore once all this ::gestures vaguely at the world:: sorts itself out. There’s a weeklong food tour in Mexico City for which I have lust in my heart. I want to rent a beachside with a million bedrooms for a month and just have friends show up for as much or as little of that month as they want. When I want true escapism, I look at the Aman hotel website, pick a location at random, and decide which suite I would like for a) myself, solo, b) myself with family, c) myself with friends and d) whichever characters currently live in my brain.

fave food: ha, I couldn’t pick a favorite band, and you want me to pick a favorite FOOD? Gumbo. Spaghetti and meatballs (but only good ones). Georgian khachapuri and aubergine satsivi. Fresh strawberries and cream.

top three fictional universe you’d like to live in: something written by Diana Wynne Jones, because it’s always a good mix of fantastic and pragmatic, with fundamentally decent people. Probably Howl and Sophie’s neck of the woods. Star Wars, because fuck it I want a lightsaber. And faster than light space travel. And I can’t think of a third offhand, but something with magic. Because if you’re going fictional, go big fictional or go home.

Part II

last song: the moody acoustic version of the Guardian theme song.

last movie last stream last podcast: We’ve already talked movies, and Vix Does Not Stream, so let’s go to the only thing that means my laundry gets folded in a timely manner - podcasts. I would be remiss in not mentioning the primary ‘castular joy in my life, the I Saw What You Did pod, which is two fortysomething women of color talking nerdily about two movies based on a theme each week. You’ve probably never seen most of these movies, and it doesn’t matter in the slightest. They themselves are a delight, and it’s exactly the sort of chewy discussion over media that I adore, especially because it is not done in an exclusionary, clerk-at-that-one-independent-video-store-who-always-seemed-to-be-sneering-at-your-choices way. Highly recommended. But, uh, the one I really should talk about is All About Agatha, a very good podcast reading and ranking all of Agatha Christie’s novels in order, because it is an excellent segue into...

currently reading: ...the fact that I am a solid 80% of the way through all of Agatha Christie’s novels in audiobook. In, like, the last two months. I haven’t read a book with my eyeballs since ::gestures vaguely at the world again:: (wait, no, I made it through the dmbj novels, for better or for worse), as reading with my eyes seems to be reserved for fic these days. But I am plowing through these audiobooks like it’s a part-time job. What even is life if not narrated by Hugh Fraser at this point? I’m not sure if I recommend the endeavor or not, but I and my knitting and my mystery audiobooks will be over here getting our Miss Marple on as long as possible. (For the record, the audiobooks have edited out some but not all of the egregious bits of racism but left most of the anti-Semitism. So, uh, there’s that.)

currently watching: Mystic Nine, my last full Tomb series. The only I’m not going into preemptive withdrawal is the presence of several side stories on iqiyi with English subtitles. Naturally not the ones I really want (heeeey, Liu Sang vs haunted paint can, plus whatever the hell is going on with Hei Xiazi from last month), but needs must. I suppose after that, I’m back to a reboot rewatch, for fic research purposes, if nothing else. I mean, I suppose I could watch a non-dmbj property? Like the backlog of recommendations I’ve been collecting?? Sounds fake, but okay.

what is antipoetry to you: I’m going to go out on a limb and say it’s another form of poetry. Something something even by rebelling against the form one is inherently bound by its concepts, especially when one tries to define oneself in opposition to something one cannot help but be shaped by it blah blah.

currently craving: I could say something existential about what the pandemic has made me yearn for (live! theater! with! friends!), or I could talk about the roast pork from Big Wong’s that I’m seriously contemplating for lunch tomorrow, but what I want most right now is for the goddamn construction crew that dug a hole in the road right outside my window starting at 10pm would finish and go away ASAP.