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mychemicalficrecs · 4 years ago

Note

Coffee shop au or restaurant au?

Sure! I didn't try to make this Frank/Gerard only, but it did kind of end up like it...

Coffee Shop and Restaurant AUs

Buy Handmade by jjtaylor, Frank/Gerard, 40k, Mature. He knows something else is going to happen; his life isn't always going to be this. He just doesn't know what has to happen for that change to come, for him to wake up and become an artist with an Etsy page and a home studio, and to never have to see a cubicle again.

A Latte and a Cookie by mistresscurvy, Frank/Gerard, 3k, Explicit. The first half a dozen or so times that Gerard stops by the Starbucks closest to SVA, he's so desperate to get the caffeine into his system he doesn't even notice the guy behind the counter. Nor does he pay much attention to the fact that his cup seems to magically refill itself a couple of times while he's hunched over one of the tables and drawing steadily, his headphones on. He's busy, okay — his winter project is due in less than six weeks, and he is screwed. Royally, completely and without question. The cookies, though. The cookies he notices. He just doesn't know what the fuck they mean.

Pleathermouth Vegan Cafe by jedusaur, Frank/Gerard, 6k, Mature. Pleathermouth Vegan Cafe, says the sign in front of the next place on Gerard's job-seeking list, and he decides that it may be prudent to finish his cheeseburger before entering.

Vanilla Chai by frerarcl, Frank/Gerard, 2k, Teen And Up Audiences. Frank loves his job for a few reasons: free coffee, he gets to pick what music plays, his salary isn't shit. Oh, and not to mention that hot guy who keeps coming in who created a cartoon. That guy's the best part.

Click by gerardtouchedthebutt, Frank/Gerard, 7k, Explicit. Frank looked up at him and raised an eyebrow, shaking his head. “I missed that... That click you need to get with some people you know?” Gerard nodded and smiled a little. “I know what you mean about that click. That’s really important to feel if it’s gonna work I guess.”

Thank You for the Coffee by AnnieMallistic, Frank/Gerard, 20k, Mature. It's 1999, Gerard Way's final year at college, and he's hurriedly trying to finish up all of his art assignments, searching for somewhere he can concentrate to do his work. That place ends up being a cafe in which Frank Iero is working, trying to rebuild his bank account after his dreams fell apart and left him both broke and directionless.

#168- Push a raisin into the center of someone's cream-filled donut by orphan_account, Frank/Gerard, 1k, Teen And Up Audiences. Frank works at a coffee shop and Gerard is his new co-worker.

Foam Heart by lovebashed, Frank/Gerard, 1k, General Audiences. Frank and Gerard flirt over coffee.

Lighter by arainbowofsorts, Frank/Gerard, 13k [WIP], Not Rated. You can't blame Gerard for his lack of sociability. It wasn't his fault, really. Anyone who knew him personally could agree with sensible certainty that Gerard Way gets lost. Truly, he gets lost in the routine of his life, as comfortable and as familiar as the back of his hand. Strangely enough, it only takes one person, a person who had always really been there slipping under Gerard's radar, to break his trance irreversibly. That person is named Frank.

Coffee's For Closers by KobraKid4life, Frank/Gerard, 1k, Teen And Up Audiences. Frerard coffeeshop AU. It's supposed to be fluffy and stuff so enjoy ...

Gold Sharpie Promise by phylocalist, Frank/Gerard, 20k, Explicit. The Starbucks just down the street of Gerard's apartment is no strange place to him, neither is the people that work there. Apparently, though, he is a stranger to their barista, who always keeps getting his fucking name wrong. or The tale of the freelance artist that spends 99% of his time at Starbucks, the barista he hates, and how he stops hating him.

A Grande Frappe-Fuck Me? by fvckmefrankie, Frank/Gerard, 3k, Explicit. Okay, this had to have been the prettiest guy Frank had ever seen and he immediately wanted to get on his knees for him.

What the fuck, Mikey by the_big_pie_number1, Frank/Gerard, 2k, General Audiences. Gerard hated that fucking coffee place. He hated that the coffee was so rich and refined, he hated that the cakes and pastries were freshly made and tasted absolutely divine, he hated how the shop always made his clothes smell like coffee, he hated that whenever he was in it was almost always quiet and peaceful, and he especially hated -- nay, loathed the beautiful, perfect, tattoo covered barista, who always knew exactly how Gerard liked his coffee.

sweet tooth by etselec, Frank/Gerard, 3k, General Audiences. “Dude, who the fuck is that?” “What?” Mikey asked, pumping caramel messily into a cup. Gerard sighed, grabbing the mug from Mikey and finishing the rest of the order. He clamped a top over the cup and handed it to the customer. “That guy I just served over there. He was hot.” Mikey craned his neck to look over the counter. “You mean Mr. Hand Tattoos over there?”

Coffee is Better With You by za112, Frank/Gerard, 7k [WIP], Explicit. Gerard is a barista who hates his job, but continues to do it to support his five year old daughter and see the regulars that make his day better. Frank is in a band with no responsibilities, looking to settle down. This summary sucks but I'm trying to motivate myself to keep writing this thing, so like read and I'll give you chapters.

In the Chair by the Window by xobands, Frank/Gerard, 6k, Not Rated. Today your barista is: 1. Hella fucking gay 2. Desperately single. For your drink today I recommend: You give me your number.

Coffee Flavored Kisses by three_cheers_for_sweet_frerard, Frank/Gerard, 8k, Explicit. Frank knows this boy. Okay, so ‘knows’ is too strong - he goes to the same coffee shop as this boy, and maybe Frank stares at him just a little too much. A lot. Frank stares at this boy a lot.

There Is Just One Thing I Need by Honestmouse, Ray/Mikey, 13k, Teen And Up Audiences. Just a short, sweet one shot about Mikey Way and Christmas time. Except wait, life isn't exactly a Hallmark movie. Mikey could tell you that first hand. Life isn't just kisses in the falling snow and sugary sweets. Sometimes, your gift on Christmas isn't the newest band merch or a nice gift card. Sometimes... sometimes that gift is a person.

Pull by falter, Frank/Gerard, 7k, Not Rated. College is a hell of a lot easier with a steady supply of decent coffee. Too bad that's not what Frank's getting.

Better Latte Than Never by suicider00m, Frank/Gerard, 1k, Not Rated. Gerard drinks too much coffee (not that Frank is complaining).

The Happy Barista by obsessivechild, Frank/Gerard, 3k, General Audiences. A positive attracts a negative.

Concert lights by Rockysucks05, Frank/Gerard, 4k [WIP], Teen And Up Audiences. Frank Iero works at the Way restaurant with his friend Ray. He works the Way's party for the first time and meets his friend, Mikey's brother who wants to start a band.

Catch Me When I Fall by BasementVampire, Frank/Gerard, 1k, Explicit. Restaurants aren't always the safest working environment, and Frank and Gerard learn that firsthand.

PRINCESS by cellphonecharm_au, Frank/Gerard, 17k [WIP], Explicit. Some people have skeletons in their closets. Some people have multidimensional parasitic ghosts in their closets. The rumor mill has chewed Frank up and spat him back out, and even though Gerard's got some ideas, he's not going to ask about the bruises, or the bleeding, or the unidentifiable pills Frank is taking, or even the gun he sometimes keeps under his pillow. He'll wait for Frank to bring it up.

Milkshake by destroya_ah_ah, Frank/Gerard, 2k, Explicit. “Ew, how did it get on here?” Frank complained, peeling his shirt away from his front with a huge line of shake down the centre. “Do you mind doing this too?” He asked, still pressing the damp cloth just above the knee of his jeans.

#frank/gerard #ray/mikey #fic rec list #alternate universe #coffee shops #restaurants

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buckyreaderrecs · 5 years ago

Text

So Far Away: Chapter 5/?

Summary: Bucky Barnes doing what he does best. Saving. Loving. In this particular case, the object of both is you. (Bonus: Bucky Barnes happy, healing, doing really well!)

First chapter in series. Previous chapter.

Chapter 5: It’s time to find your family.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Reader Characters: Bucky Barnes, F.R.I.D.A.Y., Cecilia Reyes Additional tags: mostly canon compliant (Infinity War and Endgame didn’t happen, Stark Tower still exists), she/her pronouns, more tags/characters to be added with future chapters, hero Bucky Barnes, canon typical violence, warzone/disaster zone setting, Alpine the cat, other Marvel characters mentioned but not central to the plot, Warnings: possible triggers for anxiety and PTSD, major triggers for death of loved ones and grief, chapter 5 only possible trigger for food

Note: Please heed the warnings for this chapter; it’s a bit intense. As always, I’d love to know what you think. xo Rhi

So Far Away Chapter 5/?

The first night you'd spent at Stark Tower was forgettable in the sense that you had completely forgotten most of it. Vaguely, there was a bath, and Bucky, then bed. That was pretty much it though. So, it wasn't like the day after needed to do anything particularly special to be considered memorable. And yet, it was.

As Bucky put all the Mexican food trash into the paper Ubereats bag, you flicked through channels on television.

"Have you seen this?" you asked, stopping on Atlantis: The Lost Empire.

"I know, I know! I don't know shit about anything, but in my defence, I've been busy helpin' to save the world since I've been… good," Bucky replied, highly defensive but also still in good humour.

"Um… I just meant, 'cause it's a super underrated Disney movie. And nobody's seen it, like Hercules," you told him, holding back a grin.

"Oh… Sorry. Sam's always yelling at me," he explained, throwing the Ubereats bag in the bin and walking back over the couch from the kitchenette.

"About movies?"

"About everything," he said, rubbing his face. "He's cut up about me missing, like, all of hip-hop."

It made you laugh, which motivated Bucky to continue his bitching about Sam Wilson. "And! He thinks me and Steve should have more 'refined taste' in everything." He used air quotation marks, which Natasha Romanoff had taught him to use, much to the dismay of Steve. ("Captain America.")

"Refined taste?"

"Yeah, basically he loses it when he we like anythin' he thinks is bad. Like…" Bucky cycled through his list of favourite things. "The Fast and the Furious movies."

An image flashed in your mind of Steve and Bucky, completely decked out in their respective gear, marathoning the films, cheering at every car stunt and use of the NOS button. It made you smile, genuinely happy.

Bucky continues, "They ain't my favourite or anythin', but they're fun, ya know? He's probably just upset that whenever we get in car races it's mostly someone trying to kill us,"

"I guess that's… fair, but he's… The Falcon… that's super cool?"

Bucky grinned, but quickly shook his head. "Don't ever tell him you said that, okay? Never tell Sam you think he's cool,"

"Is it like feeding Gremlins after midnight?" you asked.

"I watched that one! And, yeah. It's exactly like that,"

"But it's not like you guys don't get to see cool things… and be cool,"

"I guess… We're used to it?" Bucky thought for a second or two, wriggled into the couch and rested his arm along the back of it. You turned to face him, legs crossed and entirely attentive. "Before the war I loved reading about what new gadgets were comin' out. Used to drag Steve to anything with tech stuff. But then, Hydra. I wasn't really conscious enough to realise I was in the future," he told you, chuckling a little to himself like it was funny. It was so nonchalant that it shocked you a little. He hadn't stuttered saying their name, or shifted to a darker mood. "Whenever I got re-programmed, I was re-trained too. Whatever advancements they made, I learnt. Meant when Shuri fixed my head up, I wasn't that inept. Got it a lot easier than Steve that way,"

"Just movies and T.V. and stuff that you missed then?" you asked, feeling like you needed to keep him talking because you'd never heard anything so goddamn interesting.

"Yeah. Hydra didn't exactly have a Netflix subscription for me," he said. You said nothing. "That was a joke. You can laugh," Bucky told you, softly nudging your knee.

"I don't know how you joke about it," you said honestly.

He shrugged. "You'll joke about all this too, one day," he replied.

No. No, I won't.

Bucky saw the conflict flash across you face.

"It's not like there isn't things that still blow my mind… Wakanda, for one," he continued, pulling you from your thoughts.

"Is it as cool as it looks on T.V.?"

"Cooler. It's gotta be one of my favourite places. And when I met Wanda… She thought I was a bit of a meatball. Never met anyone with powers like hers, you know? She's amazing. And Vision. Still don't really get what he's about,"

"So, you are friends with Wanda Maximoff but you think Vin Diesel is cool?" you asked, affronted.

Bucky laughed. "No. I think the cars are cool. The stunts! Vin Diesel seems like a jerk."

Another image flashed. Someone in the world, Vin Diesel, knowing that The Winter Soldier thought he was a bit of jerk.

Bucky watched you laugh.

"Come on, then. What's this one about?" he asked, turning back to the television.

"Atlantis-"

"Underwater city? I'm in."

That's about where you realised that Bucky Barnes was a massive nerd.

It took Bucky ten minutes to tell you that you needed to keep warm, putting the knitted blanket over you. It took twenty to have him scoot closer to you, his arm still on the back of the couch, behind your head. About half an hour in, Bucky said, "Yeah, this is better than Snow White. I love this little mole guy."

Bucky was watching, listening for any signs that the lack of conversation had given you time to think, to spiral. But, it hadn't. Atlantis was a comfort movie for you, a distraction. He could see you smile and frown along with the characters.

"It was pretty obvious that this was gonna happen," Bucky said at the high point of the plot twist. He was aiming for a reaction. You looked at him fast and dramatic. "I'm good at picking the bad guys. Kinda my job."

At the rolling of the credits, Bucky asked, "Ice cream?"

As he put a collection of Ben and Jerry's on the counter top, Bucky caught himself in a sudden realisation. He was keeping you busy. Eventually, you'd notice, or the day would carry on and bedtime would come; the quietness between 'goodnight' and sleep would crush you, pushing from you anxiety and grief. But first, Bucky thought, ice cream.

"Half Baked," you said. Bucky handed you the pint and a spoon.

You watched him open the Strawberry Cheesecake, Cherry Garcia, and Urban Bourbon. "Variety is the spice of life," he said grinning, his voice a strange mocking tone, like he was parroting someone you'd never met.

"I genuinely don't know where all that food goes,"

"In here," he answered, lifting his shirt and patting his tummy.

"Yeah, but like, do you have one of those trash compactor things that mooshes it all down super small?"

Bucky laughed. "Maybe. Who knows what's going on inside 'ere."

You were sitting on a bar stool, leaning against the kitchenette's counter. Bucky put the spoons in the dishwasher and the uneaten ice cream away. He liked things in their place, you noted.

"So," he said, too casually. It felt, correctly, like a lead up. "How are you feeling?"

"Full," you answered, honest, but also not really.

Bucky looked at you, nodded. "What else?"

You dropped your gaze, breaking eye contact. A nervousness grew in you, the gatekeeper to all the bad. It was telling you to flee - answering the question wouldn't be nice. You could tell that Bucky wouldn't change the subject though. He could wait in that silence all day for you to speak.

"I…" you began. "I don't know. There's just… a lot,"

"Yeah. That makes sense. There is a lot… Probably good to start telling me about it." When you said nothing to that, he added, "Or someone else. We can-"

"I feel guilty," you blurted out, partly to stop him suggesting you talk to anyone else, partly because the gate was opening and the guilt as behind it in abundance. Bucky nodded like he already knew what you were going to say, and what you meant. "I… I'm here. Where I'm more than safe," you said, looking around at the suite. "But I haven't done anything to deserve it-" Bucky went to say something but stopped himself. "I'm not the most hurt, or the most useful person to save or anything like that. And then, I haven’t even looked-" That was it. The tears began to stream down your face, heavy and hot. You could feel them pooling in your shirt somewhere. The sentence you started was lost, completely drowned out by sobs.

Bucky remained composed. He fetched tissues from the bathroom, took it upon himself to clear your face, ready for the next wave. It arrived immediately. "Come 'ere," he said, pulling you into him. There would be wetness and snot all over his hoodie when you would eventually move, but you didn’t think of that in the moment and Bucky really didn’t care. He stood between your legs, rocking you gently on the stool for a minute before you spoke again.

"I haven't even looked for anybody," you said, so softly and so painfully that even priests in confessional booths would have hung their heads.

"How could you?" Bucky asked.

During the time before his head was really put back together, that is what everyone did with him. They challenged Bucky's questions, forced logic on him, rending much of the harmful conclusions he'd drawn about himself incorrect. It was a good strategy and he'd learned it well.

You half shrugged and kept crying. A cycle had begun in your mind. You were crying because you felt guilty, but that made you feel selfish and stupid. You thought you should be crying for other people. All of that, of course, made you feel more guilty, starting the cycle all over again. But maybe that cycle was easier to loop on than any real feelings of grief and loss.

"When were ya meant to have time to find people? Couldn't do it in the refuge centre. Too much goin’ on. And your hand was smashed, probably killin' you. And like Doc said - in shock," he said, paused, waited for a response.

Bucky's hands were moving up and down your back with enough pressure to calm you sobs into softer hiccups and sniffles.

"Yeah?" Bucky prompted. You nodded and shrugged simultaneously. "Okay, so, couldn't have done it on the way here or last night. You were exhausted. Could hardly keep yourself upright. Ain't much use to anybody like that."

You covered your nose with a tissue and sat up. Even if he didn't care, you didn't want him to see you with a face covered in snot. Bucky had the tact to look away while he continued. You listened as you wiped your face clean.

"This morning, whisked ya away to Medical. Then force fed you some food. And now, we're here. So, if you're asking me, darlin', not too sure when you think you were meant to do all this people finding, you know?"

Bucky could see it in your face that you knew he was right. When you nodded, saying, "I guess," he felt completely victorious.

You drank the glass of water Bucky poured for you, then took a breath in, two, three, out, two, three.

"Okay," you said, voice almost normal.

"Okay," he repeated in solidarity.

"Can we find them now?"

…

The room was definitely not for civilians, but nobody stopped Bucky from walking in with you. It was a buzzing hub of activity and urgency. Voices spoke fast, people moved faster.

"It's kind of like a command centre," Bucky tried to explain. "Whenever there's a threat, we have a response team that do… I guess what would happen if there was an earthquake or somethin'. Search and rescue. Coordinating relief."

You nodded and stayed close to Bucky's side, not wanting to get in anyone's way.

"Sergeant Barnes," a very tired woman greeted.

"Hey. I'm really sorry to-"

"No time for that. What can we do for you?" she cut him off.

"Finding people that were in the attack zone," he replied.

"Everything we know, F.R.I.D.A.Y. knows. Integrated systems. Find a computer, preferably not in here, and ask her. Anything else?"

"No. Thank-" but she was gone.

Bucky hooked an arm around your waist and walked you back to the elevator.

"She was amazing," you said.

Bucky grinned. "Never met her before, but yeah, lot of people like that around here."

On a floor of the tower that was much calmer, Bucky and you sat in what you supposed was some sort of crazy high-tech boardroom.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y.?"

"James,"

"Oh, it's James now?"

"Yes. How can I be of assistance?"

The first step was making a list of everyone you knew who lived or worked in the part of D.C. that was affected. You named them, confirmed through social media accounts and DMV records.

"Do you guys have access to, like, everything?" you asked Bucky.

"Probably shouldn't answer that," Bucky replied, winking.

Step two was all F.R.I.D.A.Y. "I work fast, but I'd like to check my work, Y/N," she told you.

"If you can, can you check with-" Bucky went to ask.

"First responder reports?" F.R.I.D.A.Y. asked.

"Must be the day for being cut off by women smarter than me, huh?"

"I could be mistaken, James, but isn't that every day?"

Bucky laughed, looked at you for back up, but saw you staring at screen in front of you. The list of names.

Once you'd actually made it, you realised there were likely less people to find than you first though. Your housemate, Lucas, was a bike courier. He may have been out of the zone, 50/50 chance. Elizabeth, your best friend, lived on the next block over. She was home when the attack happened. You were watching her Instagram live; she was feeding her pet snake, Salem. Then, the girls at the hole in the wall café you worked at, Glory. You didn't know who was shift, so you listed all five.

There were more, but felt like naming everyone you knew would be greedy somehow. Bucky said, when you were ready, you could look through the list of the deceased. Even hearing the phrase made you feel sick though.

"Do you want to wait here?" Bucky asked.

You turned to him, ran your hands through your hair. "I don't know… I can't…" but whatever you couldn’t, you couldn’t even articulate.

Bucky nodded. "How about we get some fresh air? When we get back, F.R.I.D.A.Y. will have something for us?"

…

Out on the street, everything was loud. The whole back-in-reality thing really took you off guard. Seeing the city from the top of the Tower was different to this.

"I got ya," Bucky said, coming to walk right by your side. You looked over at him, and he offered his hand. You immediately accepted.

As you walked by multiple cafés, you wondered if Bucky had a favourite, or maybe there was a secret superhero club behind a hidden door in an inconspicuous bodega or Chinese restaurant. Alas, earwax - no such luck. Bucky held the door of a standard looking café open.

The guy behind the coffee machine nodded. "Buck,"

"Hey, Gee,"

"Seen ya's all on the news. Everyone okay?" Gee the barista asked, the genuine concern evident in his tone and expression.

"Ah, yeah. You know - nothing they can't handle," Bucky replied; you suspected it was the party line.

"Good, good. What can we get for ya then?"

"Don't worry about it, bud. I'll jump in line."

Gee shook his head and smiled as Bucky took his place in the queue to order. "You wanna grab a table? Or wait with me?" he asked you.

"Stay," you replied, stepping closer to him.

While you held your body in a way that shielded your broken bones from people's paths, it was easy being close to Bucky. He was probably very accustomed to being around the injured, so never accidentally hit the cast. You were grateful.

Bucky reached out and curled hair behind your ears, then leaned in to kiss the top of your nose. It was intimate, and brought solace. It was also very public; as he moved away, started greeting the girl at the counter, you realised there were more than a few pairs of eyes on you. Turning from the room, you stood closer to Bucky and listened to their conversation.

"You know I can't tell you that," Bucky said, leaning against the counter like he owned it.

"But, like, it's over, right? We won?"

"Tiff, would I be standing here if there was something else I could be doing?"

Tiff nodded, made a face like she'd been let in on a state secret. "Hmmm," she pondered for a second. Then, with pep, "So, the usual then? For one of Earth's mightiest heroes?"

Bucky rolled his eyes at her. "I hate you," he joked before looking at you. "What will it be?"

You hadn't really thought as far as ordering. Already feeling self-conscious and spaced out, the burning in your cheeks was getting hotter.

"Thinking maybe a pot of tea to share?" Bucky suggested, casual, but also sending you a quick wink - he was saving you again.

"Tea's great," you said.

After ordering, Bucky chose a couple of oversized armchairs by the window to sit in. He let you breathe, let you stare through the glass and people watch for a long time. He answered messages on his phone, checked in with Steve while you daydreamed. So deep in thought, or maybe just completely zoned out, you didn't even notice Bucky had made a call, or that the pot of tea had been placed on the small table between you.

Bucky said your name, but you failed to move. He reached out, tapped a knuckle against your knee. You gasped, felt your heart skip a beat.

"Sorry!" he said immediately. "Didn’t mean to scare you…"

"No, it's alright. I'm just… um,"

"You're alright, darlin'. How do you take your tea?"

It was a simple enough question, but you looked down at the table like it was all alien.

"Maybe you can make your own," Bucky said, pushing the tea tray closer to you. "Give you something to focus on. Bring you back down to earth."

…

Although you were hardly touching your tea or the cookies the staff brought over as a gift, Bucky let you sit for much longer than what anyone normally would. It was starting to get dark, the café closing around you, when you finally seemed to become aware of the rest of the world again.

"Oh. Should we go?"

"Sure," Bucky replied, standing and holding his hand out again.

After thanking everyone, you were out in the city, walking back to the Tower.

The silence that existed between you and Bucky was a comfortable one, but the closer you got to your destination, the more nervous you felt. Something in your mind snapped, told you to try to be normal. So, you started to talk. Fast. And a lot.

"Do you all go there? Like, the Avengers? It was nice. They really like you. The cookies were good-"

Bucky cut in, stopping you more than actually wanting to answer. "It's easier to go to the same places. The novelty of us eventually wears off," he told you.

"Yeah, people don't really stop staring, do they? Must get tiring, having everyone watch you all the time. And treat you different." You internally begged yourself to shut the fuck up.

"Guess I don't really know what 'normal' would be… Don't like people giving me free stuff all the time though. Don't need it. Not really a skip-the-line type of guy," he said.

You wondered how much charity he needed after Steve brought him back into the fold. Instead of asking about that, you thankfully went with, "Must be nice sometimes though?"

Bucky thought for a second. It was one of the changes in personality he experienced after Hydra. Bucky in the 30s and early 40s was a little bit of an attention seeker, a true lover of the limelight. Not so much anymore. He thought of you then - how you'd considered him to be a hero, and how you had needed him. How you still needed him.

"Maybe there's a couple perks."

You nodded, went quiet again. Bucky noticed that you switched between that frantic, almost manic state and scary quiet a fair bit. He rolled with it, a little notorious for the odd mood swing himself.

It was in the elevator of Stark Tower that you started to get jittery. The palms of your hands started to sweat, but Bucky didn't let go. He also tried to not seem like all of his attention was fixated on you, but it was. When he took you back to his suite, rather than the crazy high-tech boardroom, he thought about explaining why, but figured it wasn't one of the main things on your mind.

Sitting on the couch in the same place you'd eaten burritos for brunch, you pulled the knitted blanket back over yourself.

"Ready?" Bucky asked, sitting down next to you and putting a glass of water and box of tissues on the coffee table. You nodded. "F.R.I.D.A.Y., how'd you go?"

You felt sick, real deep down in your stomach. It was a pushing force, making you hot and uncomfortable. Suddenly, the blanket was too heavy and you pushed it away with a weird anger.

Bucky wanted to hold you, but he knew the sensation of feeling trapped by grief. He gave you space and braced himself for what was about to hit you.

"I'm not sure what the best order to deliver this is," F.R.I.D.A.Y. admitted. She knew the limits of her programmed humanity, and it was probably the most impressive thing about her.

"Good news first," Bucky said.

"I've located Lucas and Elizabeth. Lucas is currently residing in an apartment just outside the affected zone. It belongs to a Jacob Short,"

"That's his boyfriend's dad," you said, nodding to yourself. Lucas was safe.

"Elizabeth is currently admitted to Howard University Hospital. She has a broken clavicle and humerus, and damage to the glenohumeral joint - all to her right side. She is in stable condition."

You breathed out hard, then took a tissue to your face. You'd not even noticed that you'd started to cry.

"Glory was destroyed," F.R.I.D.A.Y. continued.

That's when you looked up from the patch of floor you'd been staring at. On the screen of the television, F.R.I.D.A.Y. had been showing you relevant things - the Facebook status geotagging Lucas at his boyfriend's family home, the rental agreement that showed who lived at that address, Elizabeth's medical records, even security footage of her in the hospital.

You shouldn't have looked up.

For a moment, Bucky didn't understand why your breathing had all but stopped. Average people don't get a slideshow to accompany their bad news. He looked at the screen. A photo, then another, showed the entire building Glory was a part of reduced to rubble.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y., maybe we don't need the show with the tell," Bucky said.

"No!" you yelled. "I need to see."

If there was information, visual or verbal, you needed it.

"I logged into WorkForce using your credentials to view the roster. Two people were working at the time of the attacks: Carly Underwood and Ellie Gilbert," F.R.I.D.A.Y. told you. Before she said it, you knew it. "I'm sorry, Y/N. Both have been put on the list of deceased. Carly has been identified officially. Ellie is pending, but using our facial recognition and matching, I can confirm it's her."

You stood up, ripping the hoodie you were wearing off. If it was too hot before, now you felt like you were made of lava.

Bucky watched you start to pace. Your expression was alarmingly flat.

"The rest of your co-workers are safe. Only a Tara Constantine was in the affected area. She was on a bus moved to safety by Peter Parker."

There was footage taken from somebody's phone of Spiderman saving bus and carloads of people.

"I used your social media accounts to create an index of known people. As far as I can tell, you do not directly know anyone else on the list of deceased."

The phrase was still making you feel sick.

Bucky mistook that as F.R.I.D.A.Y. being finished. He thanked her, asked her to keep him updated if anything changed.

"Sorry, Sergeant. There's more."

Both you and Bucky went still. What else could there be?

"Your parents, Y/N,"

"They live on the other side of the city. Probably worried about me, right?" You turned to the screen, expected to see a worried Facebook posted asking if anyone had seen you. How could telling them you were safe not be your first thought? Stupid. Selfish.

On the screen was a grainy traffic cam photo of your parents driving. It was time and date stamped.

"They're fine," you said.

"Y/N, I'm sorry… Your parents aren't on the list of deceased-"

"Yeah, because they're fine!"

Suddenly, you remembered you did call them. You were still in the refuge centre, and it took you an hour to find someone with a phone willing to share. First, you called your dad, but it went straight to voicemail. Your mum didn't pick up. Only a month before, they'd had the landline switched off. How did you forget calling?

"But using street surveillance, I tracked their car into the affected zone. They got caught in the attack-"

"No. No. They hate that part of town. I didn't even move in that long ago and they already hate it. There's no reason for them to be there," you said, angry. No reason… except you.

"I checked through unidentified photographs-" she tried to continue, her voice noticeably more robotic than Bucky had ever heard it. He was grateful to have her then.

"The what?" you asked, confused and flustered and still feeling so fucking sick.

Bucky sighed, figured he should explain that one. "It's the same as natural disasters… When they find bodies, move them to try to identify them, they make a catalogue of photos to help. F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s saying she checked through them,"

"So? They're fine,"

"Our facial recognition and matching have a 100% accuracy record, but… I could be wrong," F.R.I.D.A.Y. said.

Bucky knew she wasn't, and was discomforted by her attempt at gentleness.

"Wrong about what?" you spat, already knowing.

"I believe your parents have passed away,"

"Show me," you said.

"Y/N, I-" from Bucky.

"Show me!" you yelled, moving to the screen, standing so close you swore you could feel the electricity buzzing from it.

The photographs from traffic cams were still up, static. You stared them down, waiting.

Bucky walked to you, stood behind you, held his breath.

F.R.I.D.A.Y. didn't speak again. She showed you all the photos of your parents she had found to base her conclusion on. The reach of her skills became apparent and terrifying. There was no way she and everything she could do, was legal. As photos from private accounts, devices, and websites flashed up, along with dozens from the DMV and work place IDs, you felt all the heat you'd brewed up drain from you.

Your body began to meltdown - you needed to pee, your mouth went dry, and earaches formed out of nowhere. It felt like you were being stabbed in the lower back. None of it made sense.

The screen went still again.

"Show me," you said once more.

Two overexposed photographs appeared on screen. Both were framed similarly - head shots of undeniably dead people. Also undeniable was the fact that they were the corpses of your parents.

"Turn it off," Bucky said.

The screen went black but you didn't look away. As long as you stayed there staring, the image wouldn't fade. You could see them in your mind. You could see the indent in your father's head, skull visible. You could see the blood on your mother’s face. Tape held their eyelids closed.

"Y/N," Bucky whispered, standing close. He waited for a response. Time was ticking by excruciatingly slowly. "Y/N, I'm gonna help you to bed," he said, but you flinched, so he stopped moving towards you. "Okay… That's okay. You can stay-" but before he could end the sentence with 'here,' you screamed out a guttural cry that mutated into sobbing.

Very quickly for Bucky then, time sped up again. It was moving too fast though. Your legs gave up, and he caught you only just before hitting the floor. You crawled out of his arms, along the floor, dry heaving between sobs and yelped of pain as you ignored the fact one hand was crushed. In the couple of seconds it took him to work out if you were going to throw up, you did. You puked all the Mexican and tea you'd had, then continued to crawl, making it close enough to a wall that you could lay on your side and lean against it.

Bucky knelt in front of you, tried to pull your hair into the tie that was usually around his wrist. Once successful, he went to retrieve a cold, wet wash cloth. He wiped your face but gave up when the sobbing seemed to get louder. He could make out words sometimes. For the most part, there was nothing coherent in your mind to articulate. You curled up into a ball, switching between deep sobs and outright screams.

Eventually, it all subsided into an even crying but you stayed in a tight ball. Bucky sat beside you, pressed close enough that he could feel each movement you made. After hours, once you'd gone quiet, Bucky whispered, "I'm gonna look after you, Y/N. Promise."

Chapter 6 coming soon...

Tag list for So Far Away: @animegirlgeeky @howthehellisbucky @dumbubblegum @chipilerendi

Tag list for all my work: @bubbabarnes @browngirlmagic @lookalivefrosty @aynaraxas @vibraniumwitch @the--sad--hatter @fairislesheets (of course it doesn’t let me tag you! I’ll message you)

Tag lists are open - message me to be added.

#mine #So Far Away #Bucky Barnes #Bucky Barnes fanfic #Bucky Barnes imagine #Bucky Barnes fanfiction #Bucky Barnes reader insert #Marvel #Bucky Barnes x Reader #Bucky Barnes/Reader #Bucky Barnes x Y/N #Bucky Barnes/You #Bucky Barnes x You

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takonei · 4 years ago

Text

Beta AU - Main story, Chapter 3, daily life (Part 1)

Note of the author: We’re taking a break from the fresh angst to just... Discover new stuff.

Chapter 3: What is beyond humans’ control - Daily life

Day 9 since the beginning of the game. 7:00 AM.

Shuichi laid awake on his bed, the vision of Maki’s corpse still in his mind.

He had woken up several times during the night. He tried taking a shower, fidgeting with one of the items he got at the Monomono machine, but nothing really helped.

He gave up on sleeping and prepared himself to go to the dining hall, and perhaps find other people like him.

He actually didn’t see anyone on his way, to his surprise.

Suddenly, as he entered the main building, he spotted Monosuke, who looked liked it had been crushed by a huge falling object. He remembered the circumstances of Maki’s execution. Did the bear even escaped with the others? Monokuma probably took the remaining pieces and put them here.

Speaking of Monokuma, he appeared out of nowhere.

“My sweet monokub... It’s such a tragedy!” he cried.

Shuichi sighed. “You force us to kill each other. I can’t exactly feel sorry for your kid.”

The bear took out his claws. “Hey! A little bit of respect here!”

The brunet was unimpressed.

“Fine! I shall grief on my own! Kids are so insensitive these days...”

The teen rolled his eyes and headed to the dining hall, as Monokuma shoo-ed him away.

However, when he reached his destination, no one else was here aside from Korekiyo, drinking his tea.

What surprised Shuichi a bit more was that breakfast seemed already prepared and disposed on the table, with fruit juice, toast, butter, jam and more. Kirumi usually waited until everyone was here to prepare something, and it was usually something cooked, like pancakes.

It looked more like a casual, nice breakfast rather than the refined service they were getting thanks to the maid.

Perhaps it was because her secret was out, and she decided to give up the facade.

“You’re awake as well, I see.” the taller man said.

Shuichi took a seat in front of him. “I couldn’t sleep much to be honest...”

Korekiyo nodded. “I understand. Yesterday was difficult for all of us. If you need to talk about it my services are still available.”

He waved his hand. “No thanks, I’m good, I think.”

“I cannot force you to talk, but please seek help to one of us if needed.” He replied. “Also, take whatever you want on the table, although the usual service will still be provided later if you want to.”

The violinist poured himself some apple juice. “Did Kirumi decide to stop doing the usual breakfast?”

The man shook his head. “It wasn’t Kirumi’s idea actually, to do a casual breakfast. In fact she didn’t prepare any of this.”

Shuichi raised an eyebrow. “Huh? Did you do it yourse-”

“Some cereal and milk if you guys want to! And also some fresh orange-carotte juice prepared by yours truly!”

It was... Miu? The boy blinked in confusion. She wasn’t the type to help much in the kitchen, from what he’s seen. But after all, Kirumi didn’t exactly want anyone helping her to do the cooking.

“Good morning!” she smiled at him.

Shuichi blinked. “Did you prepare this?”

She nodded. “Yup! I know everyone isn’t exactly in a good mood, but I thought I could at least try to do something. Casual breakfast is nice too, y’know?”

He smiled. The overall smell reminded him of those summers he spent with his uncle and cousin, eating breakfast, the sun rising outside. “That’s really nice of you, thanks!”

Miu stared at him with dumbfounded eyes for a moment before she shook her head. “... Don’t mention it. Anyway, I’m helping Kirumi with the pancakes, do you still want the usual?”

“No, I’m good, thank you!” he replied.

Miu left to get back to the kitchen with a weak smile.

Shuichi turned to Kiyo. “What happened? I thought she would be a bit less... Motivated, considering yesterday.”

Kiyo took a sip of his tea. “She asked me about what she could do to handle the situation better. I suggested her to do things that reminded her of her life before the game, not necessarily her job as an artist.”

He chuckled. “And that’s how she ended up preparing breakfast for everyone.”

Shuichi looked at the entire table with wide eyes.

She had prepared a lot.

Her adopted son must have been spoiled by Miu back then.

“Although she insisted on learning how to do Kirumi’s pancakes, so I’m guessing that’s what they’re preparing.” Kiyo added.

Shuichi couldn’t quite hear, but the girls were talking in the kitchen. He couldn’t help but think about Kirumi. They didn’t talk about her real talent too much during the trial, but perhaps it was for the best. However he didn’t know how things would be from now on. How would the others act around her? Will she get some sort of punishment anyway?

He shook his head. Miu had prepared everything so everyone would feel better. Now was not the time to ponder about this.

As time passed, the others slowly came in, one by one. Even though no one could forget what they had seen yesterday, thanks to Miu the morning was a bit better than how Shuichi expected it to happen.

However some people were missing, he noticed. There were supposed to be 12 of them now. They were... 10? He didn’t notice immediately who was missing. It was around 8:30 AM by now.

But it became clear when Himiko entered the dining hall, looking visibly worried.

She sat next to Shuichi, at the end of the table.

“Is everything alright?” he asked.

“Mmh... It’s just that Kokichi refuses to leave his room. He said he’s not feeling well but... I don’t know what to do.” she replied, looking at the orange juice glass she had in front of her.

“Perhaps it would be better to leave him alone for now. Even if you managed to encourage him yesterday, it wouldn’t be surprising if he still felt guilty about the whole incident.” Kiyo pondered.

Himiko nodded, but that didn’t seem to help.

About two minutes later, Shuichi noticed Miu leaving the dining hall with a plate of pancakes and some fruit juice.

...

Around ten minutes later, just as Miu passed the door, Monokuma appeared out of nowhere as usual.

“Now, now! Since I’m a busy bear I don’t need you guys overreacting each time I appear!” he said.

Rantaro didn’t even try to hide his exasperation. “And every single time you appear I ask for you to get to the point.”

The bear cleared his throat. (Does he even need to do so?) “Ahem! It’s almost halftime, so the stats should be out soon for everyone to obsess over... And of course since you guys overcame the class trial, I figured I’d give you all a wonderful prize!”

Kirumi didn’t bother looking at the bear. “And we know the deal by now. Give us the prizes and go away. No one needs you here.”

However Monokuma looked like he was waiting for something.

“I said, I figured I’d give you all a wonderful prize!”

Still nothing.

“... Huh? My adorable little cubs aren’t coming? That’s strange.”

Suddenly their catchphrase was heard and the three remaining monokubs appeared.

“Rise and shine, Ursine!” they all chanted.

Monokuma, as usual, kept talking about how “cute” they were.

“Hey, my cute little cubs... Could you hurry up and give them the prize...?”

“FATHER... WE-ARE-NOT-YOUR-SLAVES.” Monodam said. “WE-WILL-NOT-LET-YOU-USE-US-ANYMORE.”

“Huh??” the black bear was sweating(?)

“WE-ARE-ABLE-TO-CONTROL-THIS-ACADEMY. THEREFORE, FROM-NOW-ON... I-WILL-BE-CALLING-THE-SHOTS.”

To everyone’s surprise, the smaller bears started fighting with their so called father, and even brought the exisals to prove their point.

Monokuma panicked, and suddenly froze.

Himiko raised an eyebrow. “... Is he dead?”

Keebo poked the immobile bear. “I don’t know... He looks like he stopped working.”

“ANYWAY. AS-THE-NEW-HEADMASTERS, WE-HAVE-FOR-YOU-BASTARDS... A-WONDERFUL-PRIZE!” Monodam announced.

The three bears offered them a golden hammer, a magic key and a ninja scroll.

“We’ve also hidden a flashback light. I hope you all grow closer now that you’ve regained more of your memories.” Monophanie added.

The bears left after that.

“Sheesh, do they want us to get along or to kill each other?” Kaito asked to no one in particular.

“If they can help us overthrow Monokuma, they could make useful allies!~” Angie suggested.

“They could be useful, but I doubt Monokuma will let them continue their tantrum for long.” Rantaro pondered.

Ryoma approached the frozen Monokuma. “Start the searches without me. I would like to take a look at... Whatever Monokuma is.”

Keebo looked skeptic. “Are you sure this is safe?”

The smaller man looked at him. “Can you help me take it to the warehouse? Two people would be better to examine him.”

The two took one last look at the bear. “The rules say not to harm the headmaster of the academy, but if he’s just frozen I don’t think we’ll get in too much trouble.”

“Can we leave this to you two then?” Rantaro asked.

Keebo grabbed the bear with ease. Ryoma gave him a thumbs-up. “You can count on us, boss.”

Rantaro chuckled as the two left the dining hall. He took a look around. “We’re still missing Kokichi, right?”

Himiko had her head resting in her arms. “He said he isn’t feeling well and asked to be left alone...”

“Which makes 9 of us now. 3 for each item.” Shuichi added.

The remaining students once again separated in groups.

Shuichi went with Rantaro and Kirumi to investigate the magic key.

Kaito, Miu and Himiko left with the golden hammer.

Angie, Kiyo and Tsumugi went ahead with the ninja scroll.

While Shuichi’s and Angie’s group stayed in the main building for the research, Kaito’s group decided to check if something appeared outside, like last time.

It didn’t take long for Shuichi to find a use for the key, since it was the door blocking the next set of stairs.

The two groups made their way to the 4th floor. The atmosphere here was heavy, creepy even.

Tsumugi noticed two main rooms on the monopad. One without anything on it and the other had a hammer and a chisel as an icon. They concluded they were the two new labs waiting to be opened. One for Angie and the other was still unknown.

Angie immediately jumped into her lab. It had a very different aura from the hallway. It was illuminated, and it looked like nature somehow made it’s way here, with grass between the floorboards and ivy on the walls. There were even exotic potted plants. But more importantly, on the wooden shelves were disposed many carving tools. There were also clay bags on the floor, and huge logs and stones on the other part of the lab. With them, bigger tools, like hammers, saws and... An axe?

Angie approached it casually, grabbing it easily despite her short stature. “This lab is a blessing!”

When she saw Shuichi looking at her with worried eyes, she smiled. “Do not worry, Shuichi! It was very common for sculptors on my island to do the entire work by themselves! From collecting the materials to create the work of art!”

He exhaled a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Did you really use these tools by yourself?”

She nodded happily. “Yup! Yup! Back on my island the more the artist was implied in the work, the more highly they were looked upon!”

She put back the axe to where it originally was. “I was one of the only artists to actually do the whole work by themselves. I was even recruited by Atua to contribute to the temple!”

“Atua...?” Shuichi asked.

“The leader, the governor of the island is Atua’s prophet! Being chosen to help him is like being chosen by Atua himself!” she replied. Although Shuichi could hear a hint of bitterness in her voice.

He checked to make sure no one was listening. “Is... Anything wrong? You don’t look fully pleased with this-”

“Atua is a joke.”

Shuichi’s eyes widened.

“I used to believe Atua’s prophet was actually passing his knowledge and wisdom, but he’s a lying, manipulative sack of shit I never want to see again. This island is behind me and that’s the reason I don’t want to leave this academy, ever.” she flatly said.

The boy had no idea how to respond.

“Woopsie daisy! Did I slip up? Sorry Shuichi, could you leave my lab for a minute? I wanna see if I can get some inspiration now that all of my material is here!” she turned back to him with a bright smile.

He preferred not to say anything. Perhaps he should tell Kiyo about this.

After leaving, Shuichi heard a click behind him. Angie had locked the door.

He passed by Tsumugi’s lab, which was open thanks to the ninja scroll, now placed in a small statue in front of the lab. Tsumugi and Kiyo were already looking around, so he decided to take a look at the three rooms on the map.

He saw Rantaro and Kirumi looking around.

“So? Anything new on your side?” Rantaro asked.

Shuichi preferred not to mention his conversation with the girl. “Angie’s lab is opened and she looks pleased with it. Although she asked not to be disturbed since she wanted some inspiration.”

“I see.” Kirumi said. “This room is empty. I don’t really know what exactly we could do with it.”

Rantaro approached the door. “They don’t have a lock on them. Just a handle.”

Shuichi looked around. “It looks like you could do some kind of occult seance here... Does Monokuma want us to summon a demon? I’m really not into that stuff.”

Rantaro blinked. “I would have gladly said something, but I genuinely have no clue what you’re talking about.”

Kirumi sighed. “And here I thought I could get some common sense out of you two. Demons don’t exist, neither do ghosts or any supernatural creatures.”

Rantaro sneered. “Well excuse me if I’ve never heard of ‘the occult’ before. I didn’t exactly got into high school, you know?”

Kirumi shrugged. “Same here. I got my job pretty early. But at least I have a little knowledge of what that is.”

They remained silent. They had avoided talking about her talent until now.

“That’s right... Your talent is ultimate mercenary...” Shuichi muttered.

“Now let me be clear about this.” She turned to the two, as intimidating as ever. “I have no reason to escape. There is food, water, there is no police, no one to pay me to kill other people... This is the most peaceful I’ve been in years, ironically.” she explained.

“I understand the feeling.” the medic said. “However gaining the trust of everyone else is going to be hard, I’m sure you know that.”

She let out a dry laugh. “Why do you think I’m telling you this? You two are probably the most willing to listen to what I have to say. Tsumugi was really insistant on her theories to try and accuse Miu, Ryoma and Kiyo are not trusting me in the slightest and Keebo... Let’s just say I don’t really trust him.”

Shuichi raised an eyebrow. “Kiyo? He is willing to listen to anyone though...”

She crossed her arms. “’Willing to listen’ and ‘trusting’ are two very different things. That’s what differentiates strategists and friends.” she explained. “Although I shouldn’t be talking. My job requires me not to trust anyone.”

Rantaro nodded. “I see.”

He approached Kirumi. “Saying that I fully trust you would be lying, but I trust you for now like I trust the rest of us.” He extended his hand. “So for now let’s just call this stay at the academy a break from our respective jobs. Is that alright with you?”

The mercenary smiled. “It looks like we’re on the same page. I appreciate it.” She shook his hand.

Shuichi scratched the back of his neck. “I’ll do my best to stay neutral on the matter.”

“Thank you.”

The trio left the first room to check the others. They all looked the same, so they didn’t pay much attention to them.

As Rantaro suggested them to go to Tsumugi’s lab, Kirumi kept staring at the end of the corridor.

“Did you find something?” asked Shuichi.

The young woman approached the picture and carefully touched it. “This is a pane of glass, not a canvas.”

She gently knocked on it. “There’s something behind it. It’s not just a wall.”

Rantaro crossed his arms. “My guess would be that this is where the hammer is used. However Kaito’s group is outside.”

Kirumi sighed. “That means they didn’t find anything.”

Shuichi giggled. “At least they tried...”

The group went to Tsumugi’s lab.

They were surprised to see that the lab had several floors, each filled with countless bookshelves. The first floor however, had some desks and blackboards to the side. The room had a modern feeling, unlike Angie’s lab. However unlike the library or Kaede’s lab, it felt like Tsumugi could do searches on her own, like a real laboratory for theoreticians.

Tsumugi was on one of the higher floors, going through the books, and Kiyo joined the group by going down the first set of stairs.

“You three are back I see. What did you discover?” He asked.

“Not much. There are three empty rooms for... What did you call it Shuichi?” Rantaro turned to the blue eyed teen.

He chuckled. “Occult... But that was just a guess! I don’t know what whoever built this academy had in mind!”

Kiyo blinked in confusion. “You... Don’t know what the occult is?”

Rantaro hid his face in his hands. “No I don’t. Seriously! What’s with you people summoning creatures! I have enough to deal with when I work, I don’t need... Whatever you try to make magically appear!”

Shuichi laughed as Kirumi sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Basically the occult is a bunch of scam artists profiting from people’s ignorance on basic concepts of physics to make money.” Tsumugi approached them, a huge book under her arm.

Kirumi had a sarcastic smile on her face. “I like this definition.”

Kiyo looked back at Shuichi. “Did you discover anything else?”

“Well... We found the use for the hammer... Except we don’t have the hammer. So we didn’t explore everything yet.” he replied.

Tsumugi hummed as she set her book on one of the desks. “We should get them back so we can finish searching the floor.”

“You called for us, so here we are!” a high pitched voice was heard from the entrance of the lab.

Himiko, Miu and Kaito entered the lab.

“When we were looking for clues we saw Monokuma outside and he pretty much guided us to the flashback light. Ryoma and Keebo joined us for some time but they thought that since we’re a lot here already, they said they were going to wait in the dining hall with the flashback light.” the latter explained.

“Oh.”

They decided to split up. Kirumi, Rantaro, Himiko and Shuichi would investigate the hammer while the others would be waiting in the dining hall.

They approached the glass pane. Kirumi, who had the hammer, broke the glass, opening a secret passageway.

The corridor had a different atmosphere, more like a deserted underground street. Himiko took a deep breath, already not liking the place. Rantaro and Kirumi didn’t seem to mind.

As they went through the dark hallway, only illuminated by a few weak light bulbs, they found the door. It was made of iron or steel, and it was really rusty.

Shuichi decided to check the monopad to see what exactly could this room be.

On the map was... A lotus flower and a hammer? It wasn’t like a tool, more like a judge’s hammer.

“So? Do you know what this is?” Kirumi asked.

Shuichi frowned. “I’m not sure...” he showed the tablet to the others.

Rantaro hummed. “I think I know... This is probably Kokichi’s lab.”

Himiko snatched Shuichi’s monopad. “Hmm... A lotus flower and a judge’s hammer? What does this have to do with Kokichi?”

Kirumi pondered. “I understand the judge’s hammer but I don’t know about the lotus. Either way, that’s the only possibility that fits.”

Shuichi put a finger on his chin. “Let’s see... We still have the labs of Himiko, Ryoma, Keebo, Kaito, and Kokichi to discover. So I think you’re right.”

Himiko gave the monopad back. “I don’t know if this is okay, but I really want to know what’s in there...”

Rantaro put a hand on the door. “Seeing what Kokichi thinks of his talent, perhaps we should take a look in case he refuses to go by himself.”

The four opened the door. The room looked like a vandalized casino on one side, and a ruined courtroom on the other. The casino part had luck-based games disposed on the tables, like roulette and some card games. There were also a few broken slot machines and games of darts. The courtroom part had a damaged podium in the back and a few chairs and benches on the sides.

The entire scene was unsettling, to say the least.

Kirumi was inspecting the luck games, regrouping the cards and try to make some order in that mess. Rantaro was going through the games in the shelves, dusty and dirty.

Himiko looked desolated in front of the courtroom part. She had her fists clenched, but didn’t say anything. Shuichi felt bad for her.

“Perhaps we should go back with the others... They’re waiting for us to activate the flashback light.” He suggested.

The others agreed and went back to the dining hall, Himiko desperately trying to calm down.

When they joined the others, everyone else was here, including Kokichi, surprisingly. However the four agreed not to say anything at the moment.

“So? Did you find anything?” Keebo asked.

Rantaro approached the flashback light. “It’s Kokichi’s lab from what we’ve seen. But we left almost immediately since you guys were waiting for us.”

Kokichi jumped at Rantaro’s declaration. “I see... I’ll check it out later.”

Kirumi crossed her arms. “So? Shall we use it?”

Rantaro looked at everyone to see if there were any objections. When none of them said anything, he turned on the flashback light.

They saw their own funeral. Their portraits... Them running from a certain group and them presumably dying in an accident...

After the memory flash, Shuichi struggled to keep his balance.

“Our own funeral...?” he muttered. He looked at the others, confused and worried as well.

“What the hell? I’m not dead!” Kaito yelled.

“We’re right here! What was that??” Himiko exclaimed.

“That doesn’t make any seeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

Keebo tried to say something, but suddenly froze, repeating the same noise on loop like a broken record.

“Keebo?” Ryoma said, approaching the robot. “Keebo!”

Kirumi smacked the robot on the head. She shook her hand after doing so. That must have hurt.

“Ouch! What h-h-h-happened?” Keebo said, immediately realizing the problem.

“Are you okay?” Rantaro asked.

“I-I don’t know... My head feels dizzy...” he rubbed the back of his head where the woman had smacked him.

Ryoma winced. “I don’t have many tools available, but I’ll try to see what I can do.”

Tsumugi glanced at the small man. “I can try to help. My lab opened and there are some books about robotics here.”

Shuichi looked at the ground. “Perhaps it should be better from now on if Keebo didn’t use the flashback lights...”

Kiyo raised an eyebrow. “Hold on, did that also happen after the first?”

Keebo winced. “Yes, Shuichi found me zoning out for a while some time after we used the first flashback light...”

Ryoma lowered his cap. “For now try not to do too much unnecessary stuff. Tsumugi and I can try to help you get fixed but we can’t do miracles. Her specialty is not robotics and it isn’t mine either.”

Keebo nodded. “I understand.”

“Anyway, what happened for us to get out own funerals?” Miu asked.

Shuichi was troubled as well. “I don’t know, but we’re definitely not dead.”

Kokichi frowned. “... I don’t think that funeral is real. It must have been faked... Somehow.”

Tsumugi pondered. “That’s the most plausible theory. Either we faked our own funerals to be safe from whoever was organizing the ultimate hunt or whoever caught us organized the funeral so no one will try to find us anymore. But we’re definitely alive.”

“However this flashback light didn’t give us a lot of details.” Kiyo noted.

Since they didn’t have much to think about, Miu and Kirumi prepared lunch.

After that, everyone parted their ways.

Keebo, Ryoma and Tsumugi were in the warehouse to try to see what was wrong with the robot.

Himiko, Kokichi and Angie were in the latter’s lab.

Miu and Kiyo were most likely talking outside.

Kirumi and Rantaro were talking in the maid’s lab.

Kaito was walking in the main building alone, so Shuichi went to him.

“Wait for me, Kaito!”

The biker turned around. “Oh hey, Shuichi. Do you need me for something?”

Shuichi scratched his head. “Not really... Just thought we could hang out.”

Kaito smiled. “I get ya. But I need to go to Rantaro’s lab to get some painkillers. My... Head hurts.”

Shuichi blinked. “Are you okay?”

He chuckled. “Don’t worry about it, it’s nothing. Let’s just go.”

The two made their way to Rantaro’s lab. Shuichi noticed Kaito was slightly limping, but that would have been rude to make a comment about that.

“Are you sure he won’t mind?” the violinist asked.

Kaito started going through the drawers on the left. “I told him earlier. He just asked me to tell him whenever I took some.”

After a minute of research he found a box of paracetamol. Shuichi didn’t do much in the meantime. He watched Kaito swallow two tablets in silence.

The two left the lab, not really knowing what to do.

“You think there’s a card game around here?” Kaito asked. “I used to play a lot with the guys.”

“You mean gambling?” Shuichi asked.

“I mean sometimes we played poker but most of the time we played simple card games. No bets, just chilling. There aren’t a lot of games we could play only us two though.” he pondered.

The smaller boy tried to think as well. “I think I know where we could find a card game but I’m still hesitant to go there...”

“Want me to go with you?”

“I don’t think it will matter much if we just borrow it... Follow me.”

The two made their way to Kokichi’s lab. Kaito was a bit disturbed, but didn’t say anything. Shuichi went through one of the shelves, grabbed a set of cards and the two left. The lab would have been a good place to play if the ambiance wasn’t so creepy.

They went back to the dining hall to play. The cards were dusty, but none were missing.

Kaito taught Shuichi one of the more popular games. Although “taught” isn’t the right word, since the game was all about discovering the rules by yourself and not having someone telling them. According to Kaito, “That’s the main rule of the game. You can’t talk about the rules or else you get a penalty.”

“Queen of spades, God saves the queen.” Kaito said, putting the card in front of him.

Shuichi looked at his cards. He hesitantly put a seven of spades. “Seven of spades...?”

“Penalty. You didn’t say ‘Have a nice day’ and didn’t take a card.” he said giving two cards of the pile to Shuichi, a large grin on his face.

“That’s not fair! I have no idea what’s going on and you could be making up the rules for all I know!” he replied, taking his new cards.

Kaito laughed. “That’s what I love about this game. When you get to teach it to others, you spend 30 minutes giving cards to them because they don’t know the rules.”

Shuichi groaned in frustration. The game was fun nevertheless.

They continued playing, Shuichi slowly understanding the rules.

“Hey...” Kaito said. “I was thinking about last trial...”

Shuichi lifted his head to look at him. “... What is it?”

The biker put down a card. “What do you think would have happened if Maki had successfully killed one of us and not Kaede?”

Shuichi paused. He didn’t know. He really didn’t. “I... Think it depends on who would be the victim. If Kirumi died... Then there was no way we could have won the trial... I think.”

Kaito hummed. “I still feel bad... They wanted to escape together, right?”

Shuichi thought about what Rantaro said after the trial.

If someone kills they must accept what’s coming to them.

“Still... It was either them or the 12 of us. I... Think it’s a good thing we managed to get through this class trial.” he hesitantly replied, putting another card on the table.

“I mean yeah but... At what cost? We’re just killing more people as we go through these. Hell- Tenko and Maki didn’t even kill for selfish reasons. Tenko did it so we would all survive the time limit and Maki killed for Kaede. That’s fucked up.”

Shuichi looked down. “I don’t know. I really don’t know. I don’t know what’s right and what’s wrong. We have to go through these trials and we keep killing each other and I don’t know what to do I-”

“Shuichi!”

He looked up to see a worried Kaito starring at him. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have asked that.”

“No, it’s fine... I just don’t know what to do to help.”

The biker pondered. “I don’t think we can do much right now. Not gonna lie I kind of hope Kokichi’s karma thing affects Monokuma at some point. It’s not like any of us will mind if something happens to that stupid bear.”

The violinist chuckled. “That’s fair.”

Kaito was about to put down a card when he sighed. “Penalty to us two for talking when we weren’t allowed to.”

The two finished the game in silence. They returned the cards to the lab.

They came across Kokichi, Himiko and Angie, coming out of the craftswoman’s lab. Himiko was holding what looked like a replica of the moon and Kokichi had a wooden statue of a cat.

Angie had taught them the basics of carving and sculpting, and she had made them some sculptures they had requested.

The rest of the afternoon went pretty smoothly.

Miu and Kirumi prepared dinner for the rest of the group. Shuichi was really glad those two were here. Every single meal was fantastic thanks to them. Kirumi was already a certified cook, but ever since Miu started to help, things were more lively.

However, ever since Kirumi’s talent was out, Shuichi noticed some of them waited until Kirumi took the first bite before starting to eat. And unconsciously started doing so as well. It was mostly Angie, Tsumugi, Kokichi and Kaito doing so.

Shuichi felt bad. Just today she told him escaping was not her priority. Trust was not going to be easy to gain for her.

He just hoped those habits would come to an end.

After dinner, he decided to walk and get some fresh air. He noticed Himiko and Kokichi in the courtyard to look at the sky, as usual, and Angie was picking some wisterias.

He smiled at them and went to the main building. After approaching the stairs he heard some people talking from another room.

Shuichi hesitated at first, but decided to check anyway. The voices were from the monomono machine room.

He opened the door to see Ryoma and Rantaro here.

“Huh? Did you guys want some items from there?” he asked.

Ryoma was tapping his fingers on the counter. “I played at the casino the other day and got some coins. I didn’t know what to do with them so Rantaro suggested this.”

Rantaro took a coin from the pile and put it in the machine. “I’m not the type to gamble but this is pretty fun.” He turned the lever. “Sometimes we get doubles but that’s how it works.” he released the button to see what was he going to get.

It was a silver earring.

He took two coins this time and turned the lever. Some candy cigarette fell out. Ryoma took one out. “Some of these aren’t that bad.”

Rantaro put five coins in the machine. “Yeah but I want something other than food if possible.” he released the lever and crossed his fingers. A cleansing air freshener came out. He sighed. “At least it’s not food.”

Shuichi decided to leave since he was getting tired. He waved the two goodbye and went to his room.

Hopefully things would go for the best.

#ndrv3 #danganronpa v3 #ndrv3 au #beta au #main story

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nixmatize · 5 years ago

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Making room for someone new (chapter 5)

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My daily contribution to @marigami-week! Today’s prompt was “fencing”

Kagami needed to focus.

It was Thursday now, and she was at fencing practice… but just like with every day earlier in the week, she felt her own thoughts drawn back to Sunday. Waking up warm and content, discovering Marinette’s secret, and getting the chance to protect Marinette the way Marinette had so often protected her. The kiss on the cheek.

She knows Marinette said that they were still friends, and her continued texting with the girl assured her that they would not lose contact. However, Kagami still found herself unreasonably antsy to see Marinette in person.

It was strange; she had spent nearly her entire life without friends, and even her friendship with Adrien fit into her schedule nicely.

But friendship with Marinette did not conform to the nice little boxes Kagami kept trying to put it into. She couldn’t help but think of Marinette throughout the day, even when there were other topics she could be focusing on. When she was doing something where Marinette might be present, Kagami found herself straightening her spine just a little bit more, and putting even more effort into activities she had previously thought herself to be giving full effort to.

When Kagami had been practicing swordfighting under Mother’s direction on Tuesday, in the park directly adjacent to Marinette’s home, she put so much of herself into her work that Mother had offered her rare praise: “Excellent work, Kagami, much better than usual.”

Then, after a pause, “I wonder if your change in attitude is at all related to your sleepover this weekend? After all, during every break, you keep twitching toward that bakery...”

Concerned that her mother would get the wrong idea and label Marinette a distraction, Kagami panicked slightly and blurted, “No! Just… taking my fencing more seriously.”

At that, her mother had smiled slightly. “I was young once, too, you know. And if that girl convinces you to put more effort into your training, I very much approve.”

Kagami’s face had reddened, and she had returned to training without being able to think of a response.

And today, training with D’Argencourt’s other students in the gym attached to College François Dupont, Kagami felt the same inexplicable urge to impress. She knew that Marinette had just gotten out of class and may come into the gym at any time, and somehow that thought was a much more powerful motivator in convincing Kagami to preform her best than Mother’s presence as a spectator or Adrien smiling at her from next to the piste.

Reluctantly, she tore her eyes away from the main school to walk over to where her fencing partner was waiting for her.

Adrien’s smile got even wider. “It’s good to see you again, Kagami.” He looked at her face a bit more closely, then added, “You seem happier than usual this week – any particular reason?”

“I had the chance to have a sleepover with Marinette this weekend. Her company was very enjoyable.”

At this, Adrien’s smile took on a boyish lopsidedness, and his eyes sparked. “Yeah, Marinette’s really great, isn’t she?” Even though Kagami had discussed crushes with him before, and knew he claimed a crush on a coworker rather than his cute classmate, some part of her bristled at him talking about Marinette that way.

Was she jealous that he was showing attention to another girl? It was strange, because hearing about his (presumably attractive model) coworker had only made him seem like a more obvious target of Kagami’s affections, because she would not lose to some unknown airhead. It had not caused her any personal distress to hear him gush about how “pretty” and “strong” and “brave” this unknown girl was.

But somehow, his much less directly romantic remark about Marinette made Kagami want to shred him with her foil today. She didn’t know where this illogical feeling was coming from, and tried not to display any outward annoyance over his characteristically more-than-friendly way of talking about Marinette.

By the slightly alarmed look on his face, something about Kagami’s expression was betraying her actual feelings on the matter. Adrien seemed to be sweating a little as he excused himself to go finish preparing for their practice match. Kagami felt a deep sense of satisfaction about how quickly he retreated.

She took another breath to center herself, and added this latest episode to the list of how Marinette’s friendship, Marinette’s presence, Marinette in general seemed to matter more to her than was usual between friends. Kagami did not know what to make of her own actions, and set them aside to examine more rationally later.

Kagami turned just as the doors to the gym opened, and managed to catch the sight of Marinette slipping in to watch practice with the other spectators. When their eyes met, Marinette smiled at her and Kagami felt herself warm under the attention.

Marinette took her seat, one row back from Kagami’s mother, and set her bag down as she leaned forward to get a good view.

Kagami reluctantly drew her eyes away at D’Argencourt’s shout: “Alright, everyone, to your positions! Same partners as last time!”

She slipped her mask down over her face and stepped toward Adrien, determined to do her absolute best in this practice and prove her skill to the small audience. Adrien nervously shuffled his feet as she approached, as though he could read her intent.

Good, she thought, steel-sharp smirk settling into place. Let him try to stop me.

“That’s the end for today, everyone,” D’Argencourt announced after their regular two hour session. Adrien jumped on that immediately, taking the chance to limp away from her. While he was in no way seriously injured, there would definitely be a few good bruises for his makeup artists to figure out how to cover.

Kagami lifted her mask, looking over to the stands. She had spared a few glances throughout training, and though some part of her expected Marinette to get bored and do homework or leave, Marinette had always been leaned forward, enraptured. Now when she looked, she was startled by the sight of Marinette discussing something with Mother, face entirely red.

Kagami hoped that her mother had not said anything too bad, but judging by the level of heat in Marinette’s cheeks, Mother had either made Marinette embarassed or ashamed; perhaps both.

However, when Marinette looked over to see Kagami staring at her, she only grinned dopily and waved enthusiastically. Kagami tentatively raised her hand back, unsure of how to act. She turned back to the locker rooms to get a fast rinse off and a change back into regular clothes.

When she came back out in fifteen minutes, both Marinette and her mother were still there talking. She found herself overtaken by the twin powers of curiosity and concern, and made her way over to the two.

As she arrived, whatever conversation the two had been having had petered out. Marinette turned to Kagami and said, “You were amazing, Kagami! I’ve never seen someone move so fast with a sword!”

Kagami couldn’t help but preen a bit under the praise. She held Marinette’s opinion in high esteem, not only as a superhero experienced with fighting but also as someone very close to her that she had really hoped to impress.

“Yes, your fencing was commendable,” her mother added. “With some more practice to refine your form, I could see you going very far indeed.” That was very high praise from Mother, who had complimented her fencing more in this past week than she did in a regular month. Kagami was pleased by her praise, though it did not elicit quite the same powerful reaction that Marinette’s did.

“Thank you. I am ready to go, Mother.” Kagami was prepared for their usual post-practice ritual, where Mother would inform her of all the mistakes she had made while fighting, and Kagami would absorb as much of the feedback as possible in an attempt to do better next time.

However, to Kagami’s shock, Mother just shook her head. “I have some business I need to attend to, and you have nothing scheduled for the next hour.”

If Kagami did not know any better, she would describe the expression spreading across her mother’s face as sly. “Perhaps Miss Marinette could help you pass that hour? I had a very interesting conversation with her.”

Marinette’s face went an interesting red again, but given that she was still smiling, Kagami did not feel too upset at the change.

“Thank you, Mother,” she responded. This was so far out of the usual – having her mother explicitly give her free time and advise her to spend it with a peer – but she did her best to take the change in stride. “Marinette and I will stay together for the next hour, and then I can take the car to my next lesson.”

Her mother nodded and left the gym.

Once she had gotten far enough away from both of them, Marinette practically vibrated with excitement. Marinette took both of Kagami’s hands in her own, and gave them a gentle squeeze. “This is great! Would you like to come back to the bakery for your break?”

Kagami did not know how to resist Marinette’s starry expression (not that she was particularly trying), so they set off together on the one-block journey back to the bakery.

After a moment of quiet between them, Kagami asked, “What were you discussing with Mother? She has never intentionally pushed me toward spending time with friends before.”

Marinette’s face split into a even wider grin. Her cheeks must hurt under the strain of her own joy. “I promise I’ll tell you soon, Kagami,” she said, “but I want to be sure that I get it right first.”

Kagami did not know quite how to interpret that statement, but was willing to let it slide for now. Of course she was curious, but she would not disrespect her friend by pushing herself int information that she was not welcome to.

They reached the bakery, and Kagami enjoyed the small “ding” of the bell and the warm waft of vanilla-scented air that greeted them.

“Welcome!” Mme Cheng greeted before realizing who was at the door. “Do you girls need any snack before heading upstairs?”

Marinette turned to her for direction, and after a moment of silence, Kagami asked for a chocolate croissant. Marinette followed suit, and both girls took their treats upstairs to enjoy together.

Kagami was generally very happy with her diet, as eating well helped her to feel strong and lithe, but she had to admit that there was some inexplicable joy to sitting and sharing a Dupain-Cheng treat with Marinette.

The girls sat together in Marinette’s room, just talking and laughing and enjoying each other’s company until Kagami’s phone dinged with a notification alerting her that the car was downstairs waiting. She was shocked; it was unlike her to lose track of time so completely, but the hour had flown by in Marinette’s presence.

She reluctantly said goodbye to Marinette, and received a warm hug before going. Marinette still had given no clue as to her conversation with Mother, and her eyes twinkled with the secret, but Kagami found she did not mind; she would allow Marinette all the secrets she wanted if it kept making her glow like that.

She stepped out back into the cooler air outside and slipped into her car. She made eye contact with a waving Marinette one last time before leaving the bakery. A smile slipped its way onto Kagami’s face, growing even wider at the knowledge that she might see Marinette again tomorrow, since her fencing practice would let out before their school started.

#marigami #kagaminette #marinette dupain cheng #kagami tsuguri #miraculous ladybug #making room for someone new #ml #mlb #MADwriting #still havent learned how to tag

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bryonysimcox · 5 years ago

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Cutting, calling, sticking, sitting, subtitling: Week 15, Spain

With future certainty and concrete plans nowhere in sight, this week’s blog post is in praise of the mundane. Seven days of everyday life.

When prepping for this blog entry, I started panicking. What’s the overarching message? The big-picture mood of the week or the lesson I’ve learnt? Well this week, there isn’t one. It’s been seven days of everyday life and I reckon that’s worth celebrating too.

We’ve been pitching for some exciting work this week.

I can’t talk about the specifics, but it’s heartening to be actually planning and quoting for real-life projects that could bring in real-life money and real-life experience. We pretty much work on Broaden as a full-time venture anyway (regardless of if it makes us money), so when prospective clients reach out to Broaden to ask us to do more of what we love, then that’s a bonus.

I guess that’s the beauty of filmmaking, it’s so broad and its potential is so great that it can be valuable for a whole lot of people. I also think in the coming ‘new normal’ as countries, cities and communities come to adapt life around Covid-19, that the role of video and online streaming will shift, and perhaps become a more central element in our lives.

I’ve also been working away at editing the video we started filming last week about Economics for a more just and equitable world. It’s starting to take shape, though there is a lot of refinement needed (I’ve cut 150 minutes down to 30 minutes but still have a fair way to go!). Working on this video is also bringing about a newfound challenge of how we make videos like this visually stimulating, when they predominantly feature digital interviews and we can’t film footage out and about due to lockdown. It’s forcing us to get more creative with motion graphics, which is no bad thing.

In what is the culmination of a longstanding project, we also interviewed Rich Evans about The Foundations in New South Wales this week.

‘The Foundations’ is a truly extraordinary project/place in Portland, a tiny town about two-hours inland from Sydney. I first discovered the project when I worked in Australia, and the company I worked for, RobertsDay, was involved in a masterplanning process. Portland was established around a cementworks which went on to not only be the driving economic force behind the town, but also the backbone of the community. It was a source of civic pride (cement from Portland famously went to Sydney amid the building boom, coining it the phrase ‘The Town That Built Sydney’), and also helped establish social infrastructure like the swimming pool that is still a celebrated destination in the little town today. Sadly, as the cementworks decreased in scale and eventually closed in the nineties, it had a huge impact on the town.

(images) Scenes from January 2019 when we started filming at The Foundations, Portland NSW.

Back at RobertsDay, I had the pleasure of working on the masterplan and placemaking work for the next chapter of the cementworks, and I immediately fell in love with the place. Not only was it this incredible place of industrial heritage, but the owners actually wanted to transform the site into something really special - a tourist destination, an asset to the community, and a revitalised part of the town. From its current state - fenced-off, closed, and perhaps even an eyesore, the owners wanted to introduce artwork, markets, community gardens, museum collections, fishing and camping, weddings, concerts and a whole host of other things.

It was obvious that there was a story about The Foundations that deserved to be told, and so in January 2019 George and I spent a weekend there, filming local residents, business owners, and the wonderful Rich Evans, ‘Chief Reactivation Officer’ from The Foundations. This was before we’d even launched Broaden, but we were passionate to use filmmaking to document the transformation that was taking place there. However, over the course of 2019, other things took centre stage in our lives and we never got around to editing the final film.

And so, in lockdown here in Spain, we decided it was finally time to close off this story. Just this week,we called Rich over Zoom and asked him all about how things have progressed since we last visited Portland. Rich is a larger-than-life character who had so much good stuff to report (an artist in residence, growing market attendee numbers, new custom-designed public furniture, and the renovation of a central historic building which involved the removal of 1000s of bees!).

In a strange way, I’d originally thought of this hiatus as a weakness for our film, but it now has added another facet to the story: giving Rich a chance to reflect on progress at The Foundations and show viewers how much is possible in the space of a year.

Making collages serves as respite for the mind.

I return to my collage practice as a meditative practice, and a restorative one too. It’s something I do when I want to clear my mind, and use a different part of my brain from the video-editing-zoom-calling-analytical-planning side of my brain.

That said, the last few paper collages I’ve made have felt like a bit of struggle, and I’ve felt rather uninspired. The collages are never meant to be a forced thing, but instead something visceral and playful, but in recent times they’d stopped being that.

Until this week! This week, inspired to make a collage for my mum’s birthday, I started getting my boxes of magazines and compiled sheets out, stuck my ‘Making Collage’ playlist on, and somehow just found my groove. Shapes and forms shouted out to me, and I was more preoccupied with the mood of the pieces than perfection and precision. I was drawn to more ambiguous textures and the way that they could be layered, and what started as one collage ended up being a series of three (the other two of which I’ll later publish this week).

(image) The collage I made for my mum’s birthday, ‘Flirtatious Textures’.

Whilst I’ve feel as though I’ve found my swing with collage-making again (and have been also considering embarking on some critical writing about my creative process using academic texts for reference), this week I had a piece rejected. I’d made it to enter into a competition, and when the rejection email landed in my inbox this week, the usual heart-racing pangs of inadequacy entered my mind. Not only had I lost money on the entry fee, but my work was ‘unwanted’. I’ve spent some time facing those demons these last couple of days and reminding myself that I make my work for ME.

So if that’s the cutting and sticking, and the zoom interviews were the calling, what’s the sitting and subtitling this week’s post refers to?

We’ve been doing a lot of sitting. Sitting and staring, sitting and watching the sun set, sitting and reading books, sitting and checking Instagram, sitting and feeling guilt for sitting, sitting and swatting mosquitoes away (it’s rather hot all of a sudden), sitting and eating crisps, sitting and calling friends, sitting and laughing, smiling, frowning, thinking.

(images, left to right) Everyday scenes from the cottage, cutting and sticking, and a lot of sitting (as demonstrated by George!)

It feels totally bonkers that as we face a global health pandemic, all I’m drawn to do (or able to do) is sit. And George and I have certainly discussed the guilt, lack of motivation, boredom and soul-searching that’s grown (and comes along with sitting!) in recent weeks. I’m not sure if there’s some grand benefit to all this sitting, but it has called for the enjoyment of many a good book, and also a good phonecall.

One of the most joyful moments (spent sitting!) this week was surely the video call I had for my Granny’s 80th birthday, between my mum, my brother, my aunt and my Granny herself. There were laughs and cheers, ridiculous filters used and lots of talk of birthday booze and plentiful cake. But after the call, there were also moments of reflection and of gratitude; that we are able to celebrate together (albeit digitally) for the momentous milestone that is my wonderful Granny’s eightieth birthday, as she sits alone in her house in Scotland, is a blessing. Of course, I would have loved to have seen her in person, but I am so bloody grateful that we can connect to her even if just through the airwaves.

Birthdays in May seem to be a common occurrence in my family, and this week saw my Mum’s birthday too. Again, there was a sense of loss that unsurprisingly, I couldn’t be with her due to coronavirus (a fact made worse by the fact I don’t think I’ve been with my Mum on her birthday for about five years), but we were also able to chat and videocall. And I was also able to go back through my photos, reflecting on wonderful times shared across the years.

(images, left to right) Looking back at memories with mum - as a child in a sling, on our trip to Sri Lanka in 2018, and at the exhibition opening of ‘Talking Sense’ where one of her sculptures was displayed at the Portico Library last year.

Access to computers and the internet, free time to sit and chill, and family who are safe and sound is not a privilege everyone shares. And I am so aware of that.

I continue to think of the inequalities this pandemic is highlighting, and the gaps it is widening. Access to the fundamental elements for a just and equitable life are basic human rights, and yet as BBC newsnight’s Emily Maitlis reminded us, 'The disease is not a great leveller'. If while I’m sitting this week, I can at least read, watch, learn and share ideas about how we can tackle these gaping inequalities, my sitting was perhaps not in vain.

As our fifteenth week on the road drew to a close, and looked ever less like life actually ‘on the road’, I decided to take on the task of subtitling The Hundred Miler.

Initially, the only motivation to create comprehensive subtitles for Broaden’s thirty minute documentary was so that we could enter foreign film fests. And even then, we’d have had it professionally subtitled if we weren’t looking for ways to save money!

And so I naively embarked on what was to become a two-day odyssey involving Artificial Intelligence transcript detection, manually correcting the script, learning about timecodes, downloading .srt files and working to integrate them with YouTube.

The long and short of it is that The Hundred Miler (which also hit a whopping 100,000 views this week) now has complete ‘closed caption’ subtitles which you can use and enjoy on YouTube! But more than that, through conversations with others I realised the importance of subtitles from an accessibility perspective, as a critical tool to help deaf and hard-of-hearing people, as well as those for whom English isn’t their mother tongue. It was a refreshing reminder that we exclude people without meaning to, but that we can also actively include them if we take certain measures.

So that’s it, Week 15 in all its mundane glory. To those of you who are still here, reading my reflections on these strange and tumultuous times, thank you. Maybe this week you’ve been cutting, calling, sticking, sitting and subtitling too, and for that, I salute you.

#COVID-19 #coronavirus #estadodealarma #lifeinlockdown #hiacevan #toyotahiace #broaden #digitalnomads #vanlife #traveldiaries

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chrispavesic · 7 years ago

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The temperature starts to change, the days grow shorter, and that means it’s fall subscription box time!

(Actually it was 90 degrees here yesterday. We are having some strange weather this year in the Midwest. But I digress …)

My FabFitFun box arrived this week, and it is jam-packed with fall goodies that I can’t wait to dig into, as well as a few items that can be used year-round. Here they are in no particular order:

Mer-Sea & Co. Scarf – Blush Ombre

This scarf/wrap is very soft and a lovely color. It is billed as the ultimate companion – from the plane to the city streets and best of all, the washer and dryer. I like the fact that it can be machine washed, although I would use a mesh lingerie bag to protect the fringe.

It is 100% polyester and sells for $98 on the Mer-Sea & Co. web site.

On a side note–I requested the blush-colored Jetset Diaries Cable Knit Beanie to match the scarf ($49 on the Jetset Diaries web site.) You can see from the box photo that I received the black one. Ah well … I will be giving it away as a gift.

I received two products from Whish: The Mud Mask came with the original box. The Almond Lip Scrub was an add-on. Their products are Leaping Bunny certified: Paraben free. Sulfate free. DEA and TEA free. Petrochemical free. Phthalate free. Naturally sourced with organic goodness. Made in the USA. I’m looking forward to trying these out.

The trèStiQue Matte Color & Shiny Balm Lip Crayon is a handy two-in-one product that features a creamy, lightweight lip color crayon with a natural matte finish, and a BB lip balm for added shine and moisture. It retails for $28.

The bright pink seems more like a spring/summer color to me, so I will probably save this until then. I like the fact that it is both a color and balm in one “crayon.” I might order a darker color just to try the formula this fall.

Private Party Gym Bag – Will Workout For Cupcakes: Because we all need motivation to work out. Although my bag should say “Will workout for coffee!” The bag retails for $49.

My TagAlongs Hot & Cold Gel Pack

This type of hot/cold gel pack is nice to have on hand. Unlike the typical ice-packs I use in a cooler, this is flexible and can be shaped to fit wherever you need it. They do recommend wrapping a towel around the pack before applying it to your skin.

This retails for $15.

Imm Living Coxet Wire Heart Ceramic Jewelry Holder – Retail value $33. This jewelry organizer is ceramic with a rose gold metal insert that stands and forms a heart-like shape. It measures 5 inches in diameter and it’s about 5 inches tall.

Deco Miami Lavender Cuticle Oil – Retail value $12.50. This is 8-FREE · TPHP-FREE · VEGAN · CRUELTY-FREE according to their web site. The ingredients as listed: MINERAL OIL • ISOPROPYL MYRISTATE • CARTHAMUS TINCTORIUS (SAFFLOWER) SEED OIL • ARGANIA SPINOSA KERNEL OIL (ARGAN OIL) • BAMBUSA VULGARIS EXTRACT (BAMBOO EXTRACT) • TOCOPHERYL ACETATE (VITAMIN E) • ASCORBIC ACID (VITAMIN C) • FRAGRANCE • VIOLET 2 (C.I. 60725)

It smells like lavender, but does not list lavender oil in the ingredients.

Molr Dental Club Organic Carbon + Coconut Teeth Whitening Powder and Toothbrush: I haven’t tried this product, but it looks interesting. This toothbrush set uses the power of activated charcoal to clean and whiten teeth as it binds teeth-staining pests like wine, coffee, and plaque. It retails for $43.95.

And finally another Add-On–Brazilian Kiss Cupuaçu Lip Butter Doce de Leite.

I have to admit this is the item I am most excited about in the box. I am a fan of the Bum Bum Cream–you can read about that in my post “Battle of the Bum Bum Creams.”

This is a lip butter infused with nourishing Cupuaçu, Açaí and Coconut Oil. It does not have a taste and smells heavenly. (It is so hard to describe but if they bottled this scent I would wear it as perfume.)

Verdict–was it worth it to me? Yes. There are enough items in the box that I will use to make it worth the $49 subscription. And the items I will not use I will give as gifts.

That’s it for my box. Let me know what you think. Do you get the FabFitFun boxes? How did yours differ? Share your thoughts in the comments below.

Disclaimer: This is not a sponsored post. All products have been purchased by me.

I would like to offer you a glimpse into Starter Zone, the first book of my new YA/LitRPG series, The Revelation Chronicles.

PROLOGUE

I was born into a world where silicone still ruled. Where the products of the earth outshone those of the sea. Integrated circuits ran all electronic equipment and scientists strove to make the conducting lines smaller and smaller. Silicon Valley tried, and failed, to make chips fast enough to upload human consciousness.

The Revelation came a few years later from the hydrologists. They designed a system that did not use silicone, but instead worked with water molecules. The hydrologists managed to imprint the consciousness of a human mind on a single drop of water.

The water was to be kept in self-contained, sealed aquariums—pure, undiluted, eternal—where virtual realities were constructed to meet every need and desire. All of human knowledge encoded and stored in literal pools of data and integrated with the drops of human consciousness. It was, the hydrologists claimed, utopia achieved.

The obscenely rich were the hydrologist’s first clients, many taken near the end of their lives. The procedure did not always work, but there were enough successes to spur people’s interest. People suffering from terminal illnesses volunteered to be inscribed, and the hydrologists worked and refined their process. Private companies formed and competition forced price wars. Hundreds of customers grew to thousands, and then to millions. There were landmark court cases arguing whether or not health insurance should cover the cost of the inscription—whether or not this was a medical procedure designed to save lives or a form of physician assisted suicide. The law struggled to decide if life ended when the body was drained to a dry, leathery husk, or if life continued inside those glowing, sealed aquariums.

I was thirteen when the governments seized control of the laboratories, first in the Eastern European countries. Then the labs of Europe and the Middle East were swallowed up. Terrorist attacks soon followed and destroyed most of the civilized world over the next three years. The United States, Canada, and Greece, those bastions of democracy, did not fall until the very end. Of course, by then no one cared whether or not the government or the private companies ran the uploading programs. Many of the aquariums ruptured in the strife and the droplets, imbued with human consciousness, re-entered the water cycle of the planet.

CHAPTER ONE

As the sun hovers near the horizon, ready to dip below and plunge the world into darkness, the weather changes for the worse. Clouds gather. Peeking out my window and over the outline of rooftops in the distance is what looks like thunderheads moving toward me in the invisible polluted gusts of wind.

I try not to think about the coming storm as I methodically pull on my boots and zip up my jacket. It is supposed to be waterproof, but I would not risk going out in anything above a light drizzle. Water has a way of seeping through even the best defenses. There’s also a lining that’s overly warm for a summer evening. I’m already sweating and the discomfort adds to my nerves.

I check the hunting knife strapped to my left leg. It was one of the first weapons purchased for me by my dad back when the sporting goods stores were still open for business. He didn’t think I was ready to handle a handgun at thirteen, but he taught me to shoot a rifle in the open fields by our house, helping me hold the weapon steady until I grew strong enough to support the weight. Now, three years later, I have a handgun, a Ruger semi-automatic, but bullets are scarce and loud noises are problematic. My small ammo stash sits in the bottom of my backpack next to the gun.

Instead of the gun, I carry an extra-light crossbow as my go-to weapon. I can hand-make the bolts so I don’t worry about running out of ammunition and the shot is relatively silent. I carry the spare bolts in a quiver strapped to my right leg. It’s awkward when running, but I can draw the bolts fast when needed.

My little sister, Alby, has loaded her own backpack. I lift it to test the weight and then pull a few things out. I place them in my own pack without comment. I help her position the lighter pack over her shoulders, tightening the straps so that it will stay balanced. She always tries to do more than she should, but I don’t like the way her face has a perpetual pinched, strained look or the deep shadows under her eyes. She looks far older than her seven years. This scares me more than everything else and that fear threatens to register on my face. I force myself to stay calm.

I check her raincoat and boots, making sure everything fits snugly. I help Alby pull up the hood of her coat, tucking in a strand of dark hair that has escaped her ponytail. As frightened as she is, she manages to give me a smile. I smile back, trying to present a brave front. As my dad used to say, “fake it till you make it.” Over the last few years, I’ve been faking confidence more and more often for Alby’s sake.

“Ready to go?” I ask with all the false cheer I can muster in my voice. I take one last glance over the motel room that had served as a temporary home for the last few days, looking for anything that we might have left behind. The room is swept clean. No trace whatsoever that we had ever been there.

Alby nods. “Ready, Cami.”

“If we get separated, remember to keep going north,” I say. “Follow the road till you get to the park, then take the walking paths. No matter what happens, keep going. Stop when you get to the Stone River. I’ll meet you at the bridge in the center of the park where we used to feed the ducks, okay?”

She nods again, looking up at me with those dark eyes so full of trust. I hug her, because if we do get separated, there isn’t much hope we will ever see each other again. I need to keep up the pretense of hope, though, because that’s all we have to keep us going.

Stone River Park is at the very limits of the city and the area surrounding it is relatively unpopulated. I figure that once we are out of the city, our chances of survival will dramatically increase. After reaching the park, we can follow the Stone River north. There’s bound to be deserted houses in the country and less chance that any of the gangs would be interested in the meager pickings outside of the city. We might even be able to find a place to stay before winter.

I crack open the door of our motel room. It is still light enough to stain everything with graying shades of color. The setting sun casts long shadows between the buildings, so I depend more upon my ears to find signs of other humans. I hear no motorcycle engines and no voices, only the wind, blowing and moaning, and the far-off call of a bird. The coming storm appears to have cleared the streets. They are deserted except for empty, crashed vehicles abandoned in every lane.

Alby and I had been lucky to reach the motel a few days ago. The single-story building is on the outskirts of the main town and catered to big rig truck drivers and other traffic from the interstate. I had found the skeleton key in the motel office after climbing in through the bathroom window. Alby and I spent the nights scouring every room for supplies.

No one had broken into it before we got there. Too many other rich targets to go around. But inside each room was a mini-fridge filled with snacks. Even though the electricity had been turned off, the chocolates and small bags of honey-coated nuts were edible. The tiny bottles of alcoholic beverages in each fridge did not seem useful, but I kept a few. They might be helpful in starting a fire someday when we made it outside the city. We even discovered coffee filters and a small bottle of chlorine bleach—a major score for treating our drinking water.

If I hadn’t spent days secretly peering out the dark windows of the motel, I might believe my sister and I were the last two people left on earth. But I know that out there, behind the ruined buildings and boarded-up windows, there are at least a few pairs of eyes whose owners would kill us without a second thought. My eyes flick toward the two bodies hanging from the traffic lights in the nearby intersection. They hadn’t been moved. Good.

The daytime usually belongs to looter-gangs, each with spray-can marked territories in bright displays of color that start on the buildings and drip down toward the pavement. The gangs wear something marked as well, usually a jacket or bandanna that will stand out from a distance. The snipers hole up in their nests and target anyone who encroaches on their gang’s territory. They particularly looked for members of other factions trying to increase their terrain.

Paint tags don’t show up well after dark, though, so the gangs have started leaving their victims as warnings to others not to encroach on their holding. These bodies have been hanging undisturbed in the intersection for several days, indicating a lack of activity in the area. I can only hope that the gangs have moved inward, toward the center of the city and more supply-rich targets.

No one is ever going to catch the murderers, or the ones who strung up the bodies like macabre trophies, and put them in jail. They’ll just go on and do it again and again. Like animals in the jungle—except that animals are not cruel.

We were lucky to go unmolested by the local gangs. Heaven knows we don’t look like we have much of anything, and we don’t look threatening, but that will only last for so long. Someday someone will try to kill us, possibly for no other reason than wanting to watch us die. The whole world, it seems, is at war, and no one is on my side except Alby. We only have each other.

A streak of lightning splits the sky almost directly overhead, making me wince. It is followed by a heavy clap of thunder. As frightening as it is, the bad weather is to our advantage. No one wants to be caught outside in the rain. Everyone is more afraid of fresh, untreated water and what it can do than they are of each other. But I believe we can make it out of the area and to shelter before the rain poses any danger.

In fact I’m betting our lives on it.

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Fall FabFitFun Unboxing The temperature starts to change, the days grow shorter, and that means it's fall subscription box time!

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