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space-mermaid-writing · 3 years ago

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House Arrest [Loki X Reader] Chapter 1

Summary: You are Clint’s 'little' sister and actually a trained Shield agent. But you gave that up a few years ago and became a Chef, because you wanted a normal live. Then one day Natasha shows up at your door and takes you to the Avenger Tower for a while for security reasons.

Tags: Reader is an former Shield Agent, chef!reader, Reader Barton, 2012 Avenger vibes, everything is still alright, Slice of Life, Avengers Family, Loki has a good heart, still the god of mischief, Slow Burn, mention of food and cooking

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Chapter 1: New Home

It's just before midnight when you finally get off work. You really like your job, but the hours are murder. Being a chef at one of the most expensive five-star restaurants in Philadelphia has its price. You take off your apron, which has hardly any stains from the last few hours on it, and throw it in the wash. The white jacket goes neatly into your locker and is replaced by a cardigan and a scarf. It’s a cool night. With a last good bye to your colleagues, who are still putting the dishes into the dishwashers, you make your way home.

The night is dark, but the streets are lit by lanterns and the windows of closed stores. Even if it had been pitch black, it wouldn't have worried you to have to walk alone through the empty alleys. Last year a guy had tried to rob you and threatened you with a knife. You had given him a broken nose and several stab wounds in the shoulder. After all, you had been trained at Shield. But the poor guy didn’t know that.

Half an hour later you arrive at your apartment. It's more functional than nicely furnished, and everything is a bit of a pick 'n' mix. But you don't mind it, because you spend most of your time at work anyway. At home you don't feel such great importance to culinary variety when it comes to your own food. A pizza or French fries with ketchup were always welcome. After all, you've been standing at the stove long enough at work. Tired, you decide to wait until breakfast for your next meal and, after a quick change of clothes, just fall into bed.

Fortunately, the next day is your day off. You make good use of it and sleep in. Afterwards you have an nice brunch with eggs, bacon and toast and after a short shower you go into town to do some errands. The sun is shining warmly from the sky and it's a beautiful spring day. If this holds up until the weekend, maybe you'd visit the weekly market and see what exotic and rare foods you can grab there. You love these little trips, even if you rarely find the time.

About two hours later and with three full shopping bags, you re-enter your apartment. It's on the second floor of a rather nondescript building, but the interior is very modern, with pastel-colored, high walls. You put everything in the kitchen cabinets and then brew yourself a tea/coffee, with which you make yourself comfortable on the couch and turn on the TV. It's time to relax a little. So you zap through the programs, watch the rest of an episode of your favorite series and then decide to watch a reality series, which is not exactly known for its quality but is entertaining. So the noon goes by until suddenly the doorbell rings. You get up to see if it's the mailman or a neighbor with a package. But a look through the peephole shows you that it is neither. Surprised, you open the door "Nat!" Natasha Romanoff is a friend of you and your brother, as well as the godmother of his children. But due to her job you rarely see each other. "Hey," she greets you with a small smile. "Can I come in?" "Sure." You lead her into the living room, where you turn off the TV. "What can I get you? Tea, coffee, milkshake?" "Coffee is fine." You disappear into the kitchen for a moment as she sits down in the armchair. Natasha was a rare visitor. Mostly she came with some news from Clint. You see him even less because he spends what little free time he has mostly with his wife and the two kids. Understandable. You don't hold it against him and try to visit them on holidays or for birthdays at her farm.

It doesn't take long until you return to the Russian woman with a new cup and some pastries and sit down on the couch again. "Well," you ask her curiously. "What do I owe the pleasure?" Natasha reaches for her cup. "It’s rather inconvenience. But first tell me if you’ve observed anything unusual lately." Questioningly, you look at her. "What do you mean?" "Nothing weird? You sure?", she asks. "Tell me what I'm supposed to have seen, please," you prompt her, both impatient and confused. Natasha gets right to the point. "You're being monitored." "By Shield?" "By Hydra." Stunned by this news, you remain silent. Natasha uses this pause to drink her coffee. "Oh, this is really good." But you don't listen to her at all, because various thoughts are circling in your head. And again you try to remember if you have noticed anything: same people you met, vehicles, anything. But you got pretty used to your life and didn't pay attention at these things. "Anyway, I'm here to pick you up. For your own safety it’s best if you stay with us for a while," Natasha finally breaks the silence and you look up. "What could Hydra possibly want from me? I don't know any internal secrets anymore. There are better to kidnap than me." "That's what we're trying to figure out right now." "Well, the danger doesn't seem to be acute", you note. "If they wanted to grab me, I wouldn't be sitting here by now. Thanks, but I decline and prefer to stay here. I have my job and the apartment." And now that you know what's going on, you can pay attention and take the necessary precautions, too. "Thanks for warning me." Natasha, on the other hand, doesn't look like she gives you a choice. "You know Shield has its ways to convince you?", she reminds you, but you shrug. Why would such a large organization bother with a single civilian like you? "What does my dear brother say about this matter?", you ask instead. "He hasn't been informed yet." Ergo, they deliberately leave him out of it so that he can't protest. You know this kind of approach of Shield.

Clint understands and supports you in your civilian life, even though he protested the loudest back when you announced your exit. "How’s he?", you want to know from Natasha, who is now finishing her coffee. "He's alive." That can mean just about anything from being happy and healthy to badly hurt but breathing. Better than being dead, you guess. "He's out in Africa with Steve right now." "Busy, huh?" "As usual." She stands up as a sign that she has nothing more to say for the day, and you walk her to the door, where you bid her farewell. "We'll talk again soon," she promises, but admittedly you have little desire to do so right now. "Sure," you reply and close the door behind her.

Well, that were some news. You put her empty cup in the sink and pause thoughtfully by the window. How could you have missed Hydra's agent, you ask yourself while glancing out. Your new life made you too comfortable. But it also takes up a lot of time and energy. And anyway, you dropped out because you didn't want to be cautiousness all the time anymore. You wanted a normal life with a normal job and normal problems. Away from agents, assassinations and super powers. You didn't want to check every day on your way to work if you were being followed, secretly monitored or if someone else was out to get you. That's why you’ve chosen this life. With a sigh, you sit back down on the couch. The past never leaves you alone, you guess. But tomorrow would be a long day even without these new old worries.

The advantage of being a chef is usually that you don't have to get up at the crack of dawn for work. Most Restaurants open at noon, some even in the evening. So does the one where you work. There are preparations to be made before opening time, but you can still sleep through the morning, do some housework, and then head to the restaurant in the sunny afternoon. That's where the trouble starts, though. Just as you're about to open your locker to change your clothes, someone taps you on the shoulder. It's your boss, who hands you a letter. You can tell immediately from his serious expression that something is wrong. And when you open the envelope, you discover your resignation. You look up, perplexed, but you lose out in the following discussion. You don't even get a decent explanation, and that’s what annoys you the most. You're pretty sure your skills aren’t the issue, neither is the way you work. Nor the way you treat your colleagues, with whom you get along very well, even if the tone among cooks is a bit rough. You go back to your apartment, now in a bad mood. It‘s unbelievable! The sunny weather seems like a mockery to you now, and the people you meet along the way are in far too good a mood, in your opinion. It will be hell to find another good job as this was.

Arriving back home you immediately get more bad news: your landlord put a notice on your apartment door. The bathrooms in the building will get completely renovated soon and will be unusable for several weeks. Plus the heavy construction noise during the day. And the water would be turned off. It would be best to find temporary substitute apartment, so they recommend. "Haha...ha..." You laugh dryly and unlock the door. Was that a coincidence? When Natasha had been here yesterday? Probably not. You know Shield's methods and that it’s easy for them to take away your job and your apartment just to get their way. You have two options: either you accept the offer before Shield gets any more stupid ideas, or you run away and try to hide. With a sigh you go into your bedroom and throw a suitcase on the bed, in which you pack clothes, the most important documents and some things from the kitchen you need for work. Not everything fits, so you add a second travel bag. Meanwhile, you think about who you could complain to. Your brother was a favorite target of yours, but he a) had nothing to do with this matter and b) was not in the country. Which’s a shame, because you'd really like to have him by your side right now. If you wanted to complain to Shield directly, Fury would probably be the best person to do it. But you hold too much respect for him to vent your anger to him. Maybe just the next Shield agent who would come to you on this matter would have to step in. You know someone would definitely get back to you. With one last look around your apartment, you leave it and lock the door. Then you shoulder your bag and make your way out.

Just as you're thinking about getting a large coffee from Starbucks down the street, a red sports car pulls up to the side of the road. Natasha at the wheel. "Hmph..." You walk over to her and throw your luggage in the back seat. Then you take a seat in the passenger seat yourself. "Just for the record, I'm not happy with this." "I can see that." She tries to give a sympathetic smile, but you know this is just a job to her. "Well then, off to the Bat Cave, Wayne." "Does that make you Robin?", the Russian asks, driving off. "I guess", you reply snippy, not interested in keeping the conversation going. Fortunately, Natasha wasn't exactly the talkative sort either, so you have some peace and quiet to get your thoughts in order.

It takes you just under two hours to drive from Philadelphia to New York with city traffic slowing you down a bit. Otherwise, you would have arrived earlier at the former Stark Tower. It's been the Avenger Tower for some time now, but that doesn't make much difference, except that Tony Stark seems to be too lazy to put the remaining letters back on it.

Natasha parks in the private underground garage and you take the elevator up to the grand lobby. She tells you about the current residents here. There’s the usual staff, who are of course always present. Of all the Avengers, Bruce Banner is living here permanently. "He actually hardly ever leaves the lab," the Russian explains. "I'm currently living here, too. Every now and then Thor stops by, but mostly he prefers to explore the world. And his brother Loki is here. There have been some...problems with him and he's sort of under supervision here. Tony trusts technology more than Asgard. The owner of the house, by the way, is out visiting an outpost right now." "There are even Avengers outposts?" Natasha nods as she walks you down the halls to the living area. "But don't tell Hydra." "Sure", you promise unfazed. "Speaking of which, if I want to go out to visit someone, do I need a key or how does this work?" "It's better if you stay here in the house for now. It's for your safety, after all." "For how long?", you want to know. The answer is short. "As long as necessary." "So I'm sort of locked in here”, you state. That's typical Shield. As soon as there's any problem, an agent is sent in to put everything in solitary arrest or quarantine. As long as it’s shielded from the rest of the world. Natasha stops in front of a door that is now yours, but doesn't look directly at you, which as much of an answer as you get. "I'll be fine on my own now, thanks," you smile politely but not genuinely at her, and after she assures you that you're free to move around inside the building, you head off with your luggage in your new apartment.

#Loki #Loki x Reader #House Arrest #Chapter 1 #my writing #Clint #clint barton #hawkeye #loki laufeyson #imagine #chef reader #mcu #marvel

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anthonyed · 4 years ago

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There's a flower on his table-top. It's the last thing Tony notices; shrivelled, half hidden under a stack of folders with a leaf torn and browned.

He stares at it for a full five minutes, muscles tensing further and further until the wrench cuts bluntly into his right palm and he hisses as he drops it, feeling burnt.

It's a quick second distraction from that aged flower but it serves its purpose perfectly.

Tony turns away, calling for Dum-E to throw it into the trash.

Habitually, he drinks his coffee black and hot. No sugar, no milk needed. Just a quick fix to boost his system so it can function for another four hours.

Natasha catches him at 4am, wrapped in a woolen cardigan with an irritated frown on her pretty face.

She stares at him, and stares while he stares right back at her. It's like they're both trying to shift through words to find the right one to say.

Eventually she turns away and leaves.

Tony's not surprised, nor is he going to admit it bothers him more than he likes to think.

Clint is blunt. And brutal.

It's perhaps all the times he'd fallen on his head throughout his life, that he doesn't shy away from calling Tony an asshole, face forward.

"You just gotta destroy someone else along with yourself don't you?" His words cut like daggers.

If he's honest, Tony cries.

Two weeks after that dried rose, he stares at a teardrop on its spot. He hates the stream that doesn't stop but guess that's the price he has to pay for breaking someone's heart.

It's a strange sort of thing, to notice a drop of clear liquid before realising what it is and then, where it's from. Humiliating too. For Stark men don't cry but Tony always manages to break that streak somehow.

No wonder Howard hated him when he was alive.

It's the sight of Steve that does it in the end.

Forlorn in his long cotton sweatpants and thick beard and he's as good as he'd last seen him, or maybe better. But his blue eyes shine less, like something's hardened over them and when they meet Tony, they stare right through him as if he's a stranger.

And that's way too brutal than what he did, Tony thinks.

Indifference versus rejection and the former will always be the grand prize winner.

One night, after four months of turning away from each other, Steve comes to stand by the window where Tony's at; nursing a glass of whiskey for his rotten heart and his presence is so thick that it moulds around Tony like a warm cocoon. Comfort which he's been yearning for ages now within his reach but it's not really his to own, is it?

They don't speak. They don't look. They simply stand there right next to each other as if testing their boundaries and it goes on for hours and Tony feels tired; his eyes burn with sleep and whiskey but something in his veins pleads him to stay cause it knows if he leaves now, this will be it.

He doesn't leave.

Two days later, Steve puts a strip of bacon on his plate of breakfast and carries on flipping pancakes like there is nothing out of normal.

Clint's bite of waffle catches dust on its fork while his jaw hangs slacken staring at both of them.

Natasha's smirking, but it's barely there, for barely a second before it's gone behind a mug of jasmine tea which scents the whole kitchen.

Tony chokes on a strawberry, is what all of them think, but really it's a huge lump of tears stuck in his throat which grows and grows until Sam whacks him on the back with all his strength combined.

"Jesus Christ," he hisses between shaking his head.

Someone tells him on a Saturday, while the Sun is pouring hot into his workspace that Steve is still hung on him as he was before the mess.

Tony puts a name to that someone when he discards his goggles and meets piercing grey eyes behind a swath of long brown mane and, "My God," he says, "Do you have no plans to cut that lump of grease, Barnes?"

One day, he passes by a flower shop on the busy New York street while in search for caffeine post board meeting and it's a slight hesitation in his steps before he hurries along that sits with him until the dead of the night and he recalls vividly the smell of that dried rose he trashed that day and the ache in his chest which feels better now and he's thinking and thinking and -

He orders a bouquet the next day.

100 red roses within a mass of baby breaths and it's delivered to the garage, not to its intended recipient because Tony is still not sure this day.

And he still isn't sure even after a day, and another and those roses lose their luster and they wilt and they rot and Dum E kindly blends them into a smoothie which Tony pukes into the toilet bowl a week later.

The thing is, it's not the roses but Steve that he isn't so sure.

Sure, Barnes was a twittering little nosy bird who sprinkled some hope in Tony's dead garden. Sure, their friends tease them during battles or sometimes some random moments when their eyes meet, or fingers touch or Steve places an extra pancake on Tony's plate or when Tony gives Steve's shield back looking shinier before ever -

Sure, there are instances but, nothing was ever said between them after Tony tossed Steve's heart into the trash can and everything feels broken still sometimes when it's only two of them in a space together.

Courage comes in the form of a death threat when a rebar goes through and through Steve's chest but it barely misses his heart and Tony loses his shit like never.

If ever Rhodey has seen him so still, it is now by Steve's bedside smelling miraculously of both blood and antiseptic. Even Pepper couldn't get through him, in the end.

It takes 10 days and three hours for Steve to open his eyes and the first thing he smells is sweet floral.

Almost too much to the point that he scrunches his nose. Too much that he forgets the pulsating pain at his right temple and the tearing one in his breastbone. But he sees Tony in the mass of red, white, yellow and almost every other color in a rainbow and he understands immediately where the source of it comes from.

"Maybe I went overboard," Tony rubs his nape, looking oddly out of place but beyond desperate.

Steve's hand, already in his, gives a good squeeze and he feels better, marginally, but still unearthed. Like he shouldn't be here, but he couldn't help himself because he needs to and he just has to.

Steve croaks, "Just a little," and the twitch of his mouth gives more hope than a lake to a man in a desert. Tony drinks all of it like a starved man and he lets out a sigh he's been holding for ages. And the apology too, slipping through his lips into the clasp of both of their hands.

"I'm sorry," smelling sickeningly sweeter than the rose which came with Steve's 'I love you' eight months ago and it makes Tony wince.

Steve's silent through it. Through another hour Tony spends rambling over nothing and everything because Steve hasn't said anything and even then, even when Tony leaves, closing the door behind him, Steve doesn't say a single word.

"Maybe you're wrong," Tony wants to tell him. It's the only reason why he climbs out of his workshop at 3 in the morning because that's when their resident Robocop comes out for late night munchies.

And he almost says those words because that pair of shoulders are familiar as well as the black hoodie draped over them, except the owner of that body turns and Tony stops dead in his tract, breath caught in his chest because that is not Bucky Barnes but Steve Rogers.

And then he turns 180 and bolts out of the kitchen.

Once upon a time, the only person who'd dare to call him coward to his face would have been Rhodey. But now he's got like 10 of him and everywhere he turns, he seems to run into one of them.

"What are you running from?" Bruce asks him one day and Tony almost tells him. Almost. Cause it's Bruce and he would never judge but that is about it.

Something about all of this with Steve makes Tony feel like he should be judged. Bound to a stake and forced to face his judgement day because that's what he deserves for breaking Steve's heart.

So he opens his mouth, and he closes and he shakes his head and pretends Bruce never asked him a thing at all.

And then Steve walks into his shop - Jarvis, that bloody traitor - and Tony is so shocked about this turn of event that he misses the close proximity Steve puts himself to Tony when he asks roughly, "Did you forget I almost got killed?"

When Tony shakes his head mutedly, he asks, "Then you don't care to see if I recover. Is that it?"

Aghast, Tony opens his mouth to protest but Steve doesn't let him.

"You spent days sitting and mourning by my bed when I was unconscious and you bought so many flowers as if you wanted to bury me in them. Did you want to bury me in them? Is that why you're running away from me now that I'm back alive?"

And that hurts because, "How dare you?" Tony whispers, breath lost in boiling blood and he blinks back hot tears, looking up at the man he loves.

Those hardened blue eyes melt and they shine with tears when Steve cups his face and demands, "Then why are you avoiding me?"

"Honestly? Cause I think you hate me," and there it is. The ringing truth which Tony didn't know existed until it comes tumbling out of his mouth and his throat pains when he tries to swallow a building lump cause it hurts to look at Steve when he looks like he's been cut by a thousand knives.

So he tries to turn away but Steve pulls him into a bone-crushing hug and hisses into the crown of his head, a remarkably unfamiliar word to ever be directed at Tony Stark.

"Idiot."

#stevetony #stony #mine #and i finished this last night

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sasa-gay-yo · 4 years ago

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Just Us (Chapter Four: Pretend)

← Chapter Three

Levi had accustomed himself to come at one on the Saturday he had off. He would walk in and order black tea, knowing I would give him the complete opposite. When the rush of people was over, he would take the cloth from my hands, commenting on how soap adds to dryness, and clean the table tops to his liking. I never understood why it took him one pass, but when I did it, he would complain over and over again. Secretly, he must want to clean. Maybe it’s his idea of normalcy. Being able to clean up inside the walls when it was hard to do the same on the outside. It gave him a sense of being in control that he didn’t have over there, so I let him clean while I swept.

Then, we would close the windows, lock up shop, and he would take the entrance in the back of the café up to the apartment so no one would suspect anything. It felt weird having to sneak around doing no wrong, but Levi was the master of it and insisted. We would sit across from each other, tea in hand, and just talk about anything. The topics included the best water source in the walls, the gossip that plagued Trost, and how many kicks it takes to knock out all of someone’s teeth. While certain topics about the Scouts or the current expedition would come up, they were short and never really taken care of. He never asked for my time in the underground or the details about me gaining ownership of the café. It was a good game of pretend for the time being, but it got me thinking about what we were pretending to be. As we sat there, in my home, sipping tea, what was this “normal” that Levi was playing out? If he wasn’t Captain and I wasn’t civilian, then what characters were we? And at what point will this game morph into reality… if it for me hasn’t already.

We’ve met three times more after we started the game. Twice after expeditions and once on a random day in the middle of a blizzard. The Scouts were preparing to go out for an expedition, but it was suspended for the day until the weather had cleared up.

I never went to see Levi off. I’d listen to their shouts from the comfort of my café, but never went to see them leave the town square. I think that’s when the game we were playing would break. Seeing Levi and Captain Levi leaving and me as the civilian, hoping he’d return. I would only go meet them on their way back and we could pretend again once I saw his face and knew he was alive. It was dangerous, like I had said before. Deep down Levi had to know that too.

Now, we were in the last month of the year, and the Scouts were off on a shortened expedition so they could spend the end of the year festival with their families. I didn’t have any idea what Levi would do then. We never had the opportunity to meet for more than one night a month. Would that change?

“What the hell are you thinking about so hard? A new recipe?” I turned to Jonas who was sitting next to me. We were going over what extra I was going to order for the holidays. People desperately wanted fresh bread and pastries, and I had to include fruit in them as tradition states. I would be busy the week before the festival time, so I would have to close up for a few days and hope that my profit for the holidays would outweigh that of which I lost. It usually did and I had most of my savings because of the year-end. Last year, I had enough saved to even go out and enjoy the festivities they put on in Trost.

“I’m doing math in my head, hold on. If it takes four berries per pastry and twelve a batch and I plan to make twelve batches that's...I wrote it down, that's like, round up, six-hundred. And you said you can guarantee there to be twenty plus in each box, so I’ll have to buy… thirty boxes! That’s so much money!” I whined on the table and Jonas wrote down the number on the form. At least I would get a friends and family discount.

“I think people will want more than you have anyways. I mean, this is the time of year you usually have a line outside of the café.” He put a hand on my back and I sat up again.

“It’s just I hate spending money every year on a business gamble. Especially when I have to get gifts for people too. With the increased prices, I’ll have to dig into reserves and I have yet to buy just regular working items in the capital. That's another five or six days off.” I put my head in my hands again. Too much to think about.

“I could go to the capital with you this time. It would be easier since I know a lot of the merchants there.” I shook my head no.

“I don’t just get supplies at the capital. Sometimes I go to get my hair cut, other times I shop for a whole day for gifts. It’s really boring, and besides you have to deliver things. I know the volume of orders is also a lot during this time.” He nodded and looked dejected that I rejected his offer, which made me smirk. Don’t think I’ve forgotten what June said to me… and I’ve noticed it too. The hand bandages, bringing in extra stuff from Reeve’s, showing up right when Levi does and talking for an hour. He may not be that smart, but the common sense he has is astounding.

“Well, if you don’t let me go to the capital with you, then you have to go to the year-end-”

“The Scouts are back! Only two casualties!” I cut off Jonas from whatever he was going on about and walked out the café door with the other customers. The two casualties remark got them on their feet, excited, but any talk of casualties got my stomach turning. It would never be Levi, but there was always an off chance.

This time, lots of people gathered around the streets, probably even some visitors to see their child return from the Scouts. It was always something that happened during this time of year. A long vacation meant that the families could finally be together and rejoice about another year alive. It made me think about the families that had those hopes devastated. This year-end would be different for them.

The Scouts turned the corner with less than before, but not because of death. People had gotten off the convoy when they had seen their family. Some people would not get off and ride to either lodgings in Trost or the HQ. Levi was one of those people. If I had known about the way the Scouts do year-end, I would have invited him to come and stay in my apartment and not have to ride back and forth from outside Trost. Even if I did that, for threat of rumors, he probably wouldn’t have gotten off at the café.

I saw him by Erwin, all near the end this time so that the others could leave the line undisturbed. We locked eyes and he nodded once before staring ahead again. I smiled and turned back around, entering the warmth of the café. Jonas followed looking back and forth between me and the Captain on his horse. If anyone had suspicions about Levi, it was him and the older women who seemed to always show up at one on Saturday. This time, I had no idea when he would show up to the café, as he was much more freer than usual.

“Is Captain Levi going to buy some pastries for his Scout comrades?” It was probably jealousy that made him act so hostile. I wish he would just act normal in these situations.

“I hope so. That’s a lot of pastries to buy. I might even force him to for how many cups of my tea he drinks.” That wasn’t a lie. I would need to buy peppermint tea in the capital by how much we’ve both drank in the past 2 months. Who knew three nights could ruin my supply of tea? And I was worried about the Garrison.

“He pays for all of them, right?” I nodded and signed the order form. Jonas was just trying to find one crack in Levi’s personality. Something to make it easy to hate him more.

“Every third cup is free though. Maybe I’ll eliminate that policy just for him.” I wanted to get Jonas to laugh, but I guess when talking about Levi that was impossible.

“Since this is such a large order, you have to put fifteen percent down. Company policy.” I reached into the bag that held some of my money and sadly dished it out. Why must this world run on a monetary system?

“Well, I’m off. The bar down the road has a lot of wine to order. I’ll see you in a few days, yeah? You’re planning to go to the festival, right?” I nodded and stood up, walking him out.

“Of course! I have to give you your gift, too. Don’t tell anyone, but I think you’re going to like what I planned.” He smiled and raised one hand in the air to wave goodbye as he walked through the crowd. In all honesty, I had no idea what I was going to buy him or anyone. I just went to the capital and hoped the items at the marketplace spoke to me.

“Do you have something for me planned too?” I jumped and almost slammed the door on him. Levi was leaning against the outside wall, one leg up, like he always did. I just wasn’t expecting him to come today or this quickly. My heart started beating fast again.

“I thought you’d be going to HQ.” I looked him up and down. He was in black slacks and white shirt, his regular, everyday outfit. That was a quick change. I tried to tell him that he still stuck out because we don’t dress like that, but he refused. Even his clothes had to have crisp, clean folds and edges that made them stand out.

“Erwin thought it would be nice to have the Scouts without families to board together in town for the festival. So we wouldn’t have to go back and forth.” Convenient.

“That’s cute. Is it also because Mitras doesn’t want to send in any MPs, so they put you all in charge for the district you’re closest to?” He smirked for a second then dropped it.

“How did you guess that?” I smiled and moved out of the way so he could walk into the café.

“It happened last year too. I forgot you weren’t there yet. The old ladies aren’t here to oogle at you, so you’re going to have to deal with no female attention.” He followed me behind the counter where he leans against to watch me bake or make coffee when he’s too bored of the window. With the news of the Scouts and families reuniting, the café was now empty. Levi would allow himself to play the normal game again.

“I think I’ll be fine.” He stood there, watching me make puff pastry for what felt like forever. Even if it was comfortable to have his eyes on me, sometimes when I knew he wanted to say something, it was annoying.

“If you’re so interested in how to fold puff pastry, I can show you tonight.”

“O-Oh… Um, I can’t stay tonight. We have an officer’s meeting to plan all of the expeditions for next year.” Oh. That’s a first. Why did it make me so sad that he said he couldn’t stay? I’m not used to it. We’ve only done it four times.

“I’ll be going to the capital tomorrow. I guess we’ll both have to wait a few days to finish our conversation on what color to repaint the walls of the Scout HQ.” He switched sides of the counter so he was leaning on the one I was working on. When he did this, it meant he wanted to know I understood something. Very Captain of him.

“Capital? By yourself? At this time of year?” I nodded and pushed aside a finished puff pastry sheet.

“I always do. I have to get a lot of things for the festival. I also buy gifts, so if you want to have an amazing gift like Jonas, I have to go.” That made him blink and I’d never seen that look before. He seemed dumbfounded with the idea I was going to travel there myself.

“You’re actually buying me a gift?” Oh, so it wasn't the trip. It was the fact someone was going to get him a gift. I’m sure he’s had someone give him gifts before; his fellow officers or friends or someone.

“Of course I am. I’d consider you important enough to get a gift for.” The reddening of his face didn’t go unnoticed. Another win for me. I’ve made it my mission to get him to show emotion on a daily basis so I wouldn’t have to guess what he was thinking. So far I’ve gotten one smile, three instances of blush, and one small laugh.

This is what I meant by pretending to be normal. If he wasn’t a Captain right now, and Captain Levi would never blush, then who was he? What person was he playing that would stand right next to me and blush? Who am I playing to have the right to elicit this type of reaction from him? Right now, I wasn’t playing. When I talk about paint and not about how curious I am about Levi’s time in the underground, that's pretending. How far does Levi take it?

“I guess I’ll have to buy you a gift at the capital too.” I stopped folding dough. My heart picked up speed again.

“Huh?”

“Well, you can’t go on your own to the capital. Someone who’s capable of defending you from the Underground pickpocketers has to go with. I know how they work too. Plus, I have to get gifts for people. It’s just convenient that you happen to be going tomorrow.” I raised an eyebrow and remembered how easily I had denied Jonas. Was it real me or pretend me that didn’t want to deny Levi of escorting me to the capital? It all seemed like a fairytale; being escorted by a handsome, capable male. Short, but capable. Who was I to deny myself of that?

“I’ll think about it. I might leave you if you show up though. You don’t even know what time I’m going,” He pointed to the door, one hand still in the pocket of his damn slacks.

“Assuming that the sign you put on the door is correct, you’re closing tomorrow at noon. If I come at noon, I’ll catch you just in time for you to deny me.” He seemed to be in a good mood today if he was making jokes like that. Levi’s conversation depended on how that last expedition went it seems. Once he came back and barely talked to me. At that point I prepped dough while he sat on my couch staring hard at the wall. The other time he came back, he was his normal self. Not talking much in the morning, but then talking about all the ways he’d remodel the Scout HQ if they had the money at night. No matter what mood, he wouldn’t talk to me about the expeditions. The line he wouldn’t cross, I’m assuming.

The next day the café was extra busy as everyone wanted to get their orders in before I closed early. There were bulk orders for parties, the buying of heavy amounts of bread, and regular coffee sales. When noon came around, I was proud to say I was legitimately out of bread and only had a few pastries. I decided to take those along on the ferry ride.

I went upstairs using the back way, going to grab my bag and the amounts of money I put aside. Last night, I made sure I calculated four or five times, allotting only a few extra amounts of change if I went over budget. During year-end, I had to be very strict with my spending if I didn’t want to go in the negative like Mr. Flynn had taught me.

“Eva.” I stopped walking up the stairs and saw the person sitting on my steps. Was it bad that I felt disappointed that it wasn’t Levi? He said he was going to come at noon.

“Jonas. What can I do for you? I gotta run soon to buy a ticket to the ferry.” He smiled and held up two pieces of paper. Oh gods.

“I bought them already. Like it or not, I’m coming with you.” That unsettled me, because I had subconsciously accepted Levi’s offer. Jonas might be a bit heartbroken if I say that.

“Uh, Jonas, you should go return those tickets so you don’t waste your money. If you do it an hour before the ferry, they give you a full refund.” I tried to push past him to get to get into my house, but he held his hands up. This was getting frustrating. He wouldn’t even let me get into my own house.

“You shouldn’t be going alone at this time, Eva. You remember what happened last year, you got robbed!” I rolled my eyes and tried to push past him again, but it didn’t work because I wasn’t a six foot tall man who lifts heavy boxes everyday.

“They tried to take my money, but it was an empty bag, Jonas. I’m not stupid enough to be carrying things around like that. If anyone knows how pickpockets work, Jonas, I’m one of them. Please, can I get into my house.” He stepped up one more step and held his arms out wide like he was doing something heroic. I couldn’t tell him that I wasn’t going alone, so he’d just have to trust me on this one.

“Do I have to kick you off these stairs?” Jonas froze and his eyes almost bugged out of his head. I had to lean over so I could see where the harsh voice came from. Curiously enough, he was standing there in my opened door. How the hell did he get into my apartment? Did I not lock it this morning? His voice was the harshest I’ve ever heard it.

“What are you doing here?” Jonas snapped his head back and almost hit mine. This was the first time Jonas had probably said a full sentence to Levi that wasn’t full of stutters.

Levi’s eyes were scary too. Meeting them, I could see his unfaltering glare towards Jonas. Chills. It didn’t help that he was looking down at us the whole time.

“I’m here to escort Miss. Flynn to the capital so she can fill out a personal order for the Scouts.” It was a good lie that even I wouldn’t have been able to think of. He even used my last name which made it sound more legitimate. The only thing that might have been against us were those damn black slacks.

“Is that true?” Jonas whipped his head back around and again almost hit me. I gave him an annoyed look before scratching the back of my head.

“Yes, it’s true. Now, if you’ll let me by, I need to get my bag.” He looked defeated when I walked by him and I honestly didn’t think it was this serious. Maybe he had something planned but now Levi had come by and ruined it. Money was wasted on those tickets.

Without a word, I walked into the door past Levi and he slammed it behind me. I didn’t think he’d do that and thought it a bit rude to Jonas, but we didn’t have time for apologies. I’d give him a free cookie when I got back. The ferry was going to leave in about an hour and it takes twenty minutes to walk, not even mentioning the lines.

“Do you have money to buy a ticket to the ferry? I didn’t budget two people.” He put on a tan winter coat before shaking his head no. It was a nice coat with the wings of freedom on the back and a fur lining in the hood. It mimicked that of their capes, but these were definitely for winter. It looked nice and warm.

“We’re taking horses.” I dropped my bag and turned quickly to him.

“Huh?! I don’t even know how to ride a horse!” He let out a huff in laughter and slung his bag over his shoulder. I hated horses.

“It’s not hard. Besides, your horse is tied to mine. All you have to do is sit.” Oh, yeah, sit on an animal running at top speed. Of course the soldier is making it sound so easy. I’m even in a skirt, how is that going to work?

“I’d rather buy you the extra ticket.”

“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of a horse.” He sounded… annoyed? Tough. I wasn’t going to tell him he was right though.

“I’m just more comfortable going on the ferry. It’s what I always do.” I put on my coat and he opened the door slightly, probably checking to see if Jonas was still there.

“Your boy seemed extra confident today. He even glared at me from less than 5 feet away. Usually he stands by your counter and does it. You should tell him I’m proud.” I rolled my eyes and headed out the door. My boy. What kind of…

“Are we still trying to get on the ferry or have you snapped out of your delusion that it's better than horseback?” I shook my head and put my hands in my pockets. I couldn’t risk them getting any dryer in this weather. Hopefully, he had some spare gloves.

“You can take the horse. I’ll meet you in a few days.” He groaned but kept walking next to me.

“If we take the horses we’ll get there early in the morning tomorrow. It would reduce it down to a three day trip instead of a six day one. You’d lose less money that way.”

“I have enough money. Even more now that the Scouts want to order some pastries from me.” It was supposed to be a jab at him, but he didn’t falter at all.

“Erwin said he wants something sweet. I’m assuming something with fruit too. I don’t know what these people like, so I’ll just order the most common thing I can.” I stopped walking and he went a few steps ahead of me before turning around.

“You were… Y-you were serious about the order?” He nodded.

“At the meeting yesterday, I volunteered to get desserts for the officer’s year-end party they always have. You’re the best in Trost, aren’t you?”

Somehow that got me on his damn horse.

Chapter Five →

Chapter Masterlist

#levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x oc #levi x oc #levi x reader #shingeki no kyoujin levi #aot #aot levi #captain levi #levi heichou #shingeki no kyojin #original #snk

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tessatechaitea · 4 years ago

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Cerebus #11 (1979)

The only weapon you need to provoke a police officer to violence is scorn.

Sorry! The above caption had nothing to do with The Cockroach's first appearance in Cerebus and everything to do with how the Omaha Police arrested peaceful protesters by claiming that they're purpose was to "attack and/or provoke police officers to violence." Also, you can tell they're already spinning and lying by adding the "and/or" so they can imply that the protesters are planning on attacking police. And, well, even if they weren't (and they did say "or"!), their other main plan was to provoke them. But of course everybody whose ability to perceive reality isn't clouded by their incessant need to defend police no matter what understands that police will abuse their power at the drop of an eye roll. They believe any slight disrespect is an excuse for a violent rebuttal. They force physical violence on people whom they have no reason to arrest simply so the person can struggle against the assault, as any normal person would do, and then claim resisting. Police should be confronted by scorn and disrespect at every turn. Only when they learn not to instantly resort to violence and threats will they deserve to not be. Welcome to my comic book and/or police review blog! Deni's "A Note from the Publisher" continues on a theme that I hadn't noticed until just now: every new issue of Cerebus now seems to be a landmark issue! It's an interesting self-promotion take that I have to admit I'd never thought of trying. "Every new Eee! Tess Ate Chai Tea review is a landmark review!" You know what else is a landmark? Places & Predators, my Cribbage-based Roller Playing Game! You don't even really need any friends to play it. Just read it like a book and enjoy it! Or play it like a Fighting Fantasy Adventure Book! Use some online Cribbage app! Figure out how to use the crib in ways the online app definitely won't let you! Oh, the reason this is a landmark issue is because more letters came in than normal! It's a hit! Deni also reveals that she'll be making the Cerebus plush toys that were advertised in previous issues and at half the price! So kudos for stealing that job from the person who originally made them! It probably wasn't anything so dramatic but what fun is going through your life defaulting to the best, most optimistic possibility in every given situation? Have some fun! Act paranoid! Purposefully misunderstand your father and scream in his face! Kick a dog! Sorry! I got carried away! I would never kick a dog unless it was attacking me. But even then, I'd be wishing I was kicking the owner who let it go off leash. The dog doesn't deserve my epic self defense tactics in its soft face. But the owner certainly does!

The basics on the origin of The Cockroach.

I didn't realize Dave came up with The Cockroach because it was gross and disgusting. I just thought it was a more clever version of a bat, keeping to the shadows, hiding, surviving, a constant annoyance to poor people. In any case, The Cockroach is the greatest parody of The Batman, hands down. Because The Batman has become such a parody of himself time and time again, you just need an absolutely Batshit insane version of him. I don't do segues so Cerebus has come to Beduin to sell the Black Blossom Lotus. Just look at all the continuity Dave Sim is giving his readers! I wonder how many comic book fans would list "continuity" as their number one favorite thing about comic books? Like, are there people who would list that above great writing or terrific art? Judging by how terrible a lot of mainstream comic books are and how rabid many of the fans, I'd suspect it was a fairly high number. Maybe 65 out of 100, Bob. Change that card! The Merchant Cerebus deals with is a kook who might just have a super secret identity. It's weird to think of the Roach as being capable of actually living an independent life! I suppose he's just barely hanging onto his sanity at this point (and, of course, only during the day). But then he comes into the mystical aura of strangeness that aardvarks apparently exude out of their buttholes and he just loses it completely. He becomes less a merchant slash superhero and more a superhero slash zombie cosplayer. Also he becomes one of the greatest characters ever created! There are like four of them in the entirety of Cerebus! The exclamation point is because I think that's an incredibly high number and not because I think it's an incredibly low number. Most comic book's protagonists never quite make it to the greatest ever! Plus I'd probably give Cerebus more than four but a lot of them are just really good parodies, satires, and slightly-off representations of characters and people who already existed. The merchant buys the Black Blossom Lotus from Cerebus for 100 gold pieces and then promptly drops it out of the window and into the Feld River.

Not only does Dave Sim come up with a bunch of memorable plots across three hundred issues, he also comes up with a lot of good Dungeons & Dragons campaign ideas.

The Merchant pays Cerebus a sack of gold and gets ready for bed as Cerebus begins to leave. Before Cerebus can even exit the hallway outside the merchant's bedroom door, Cerebus begins to hear loud ranting coming from the other side. It's a lot of hissing and threats of murder. Against his better judgment, Cerebus decides to see what's happening and gets his first look at the guy who will be a huge headache to him for the next two hundred issues or so.

One thing I like about Dave Sim is how honest he is when recounting where he came up with or stole his ideas. He gives plenty of credit for the Cockroach and his hissing to Marshall Rogers and Jules Feiffer. It's admirable because a lot of people would just figure, "It might make me look less of an artist and who's going to know anyway?!"

Just a few days ago, my old elementary school friend who was blown up in Iraq and then became a comedian playing to Christians and patriots (which I mention so you'll understand how, as a wounded veteran, he'll never be criticized by his audience and he'll never really grow as a comedian) posted a Tik Tok on Facebook that was just a film of a television set capturing the "Masked Debate" bit on Last Week Tonight with John Oliver. The clip only shows all the clips of news readers saying "masked debate" and none of Oliver's or the show's set-up. He then watermarked it with his Tik Tok name. Now all of those naive followers who can only seem to reply to his posts with the laugh/cry emoji probably think he wrote it. Better yet, they're probably mostly Trump followers who would never admit to finding that libjerk Oliver or his show funny. What's even better is that the Tik Tok has some quote along top that's watermarked with somebody else's Tik Tok name! So it looks like Bob doubly stole the bit. Man, I wish I'd joined the army and gotten blown up and then found Christ and developed an audience of uncritical naive yahoos who would wildly applaud everything I wrote! Why didn't I join the army?! Oh, that's right. Because I believed I had a future right out of high school. Well, I guess Bob is having the last laugh now! Cerebus follows Cockroach across the rooftops to find out what's going on. He eventually witnesses the Cockroach confront a man in an alley, accuse him of killing his parents, knock him out, and steal his gold. The gold part of the night helps Cerebus to ignore all of the other confusing stuff. The Cockroach doesn't gloat for long. He's off to find another victim! Cerebus witnesses him mug another guy whom he also accuses of killing his parents. He also admits to doing this for thirty years. So now Cerebus thinks the guy is crazy but also crazy rich. At the end of the night, the Cockroach returns home and drops the gold purses into a secret panel in the wall. He falls asleep, wakes up, and, when he sees Cerebus, acts as if Cerebus were just leaving. So Cerebus realizes that the merchant doesn't have any idea what the Cockroach is doing. Which means Cerebus is going to recover those gold purses before the Cockroach comes back! At the moment, Cerebus doesn't realize that he's going to be finding thirty years worth of gold purses in the merchant's walls. Can you imagine how boring the last two hundred and eighty-nine issues of Cerebus would have been if Cerebus managed to steal all of the Roach's gold?! I'm sure some of you are thinking, "It wouldn't have been any worse than the last hundred issues we did get!" Also, can you imagine how fat Cerebus would have gotten drinking tons of ale and eating loads of rich foods? I'm laughing so much just trying to picture it! Ha ha!

Eight feet of gold would make Cerebus fatter than a domesticated raccoon!

In the end, Cerebus only makes it away with three sacks of gold. But in the process, he manages to completely screw up the Roach/Merchant equilibrium that's lasted for thirty years. In trying to exploit the man's mental illness so that he'd help Cerebus move the gold, Cerebus drags the Roach personality into the daylight. From here on out, the Roach will simply be a pawn of others, susceptible to almost any second-rate demagogue (although most of the people who subsequently control the Roach are of the first rate variety). The Aardvark Comment section was two pages this issue and had this letter that I don't think was being sarcastic?

I guess I also wouldn't necessarily consider a chainmail bikini as "a disgusting costume." He's probably thinking about Power Girl.

Also, and I admit it might have been a joke, but Dave Sim reveals that Ronald Reagan is Cerebus' father. That, um, makes sense! Cerebus #11 Rating: A. I almost gave it a B+ for variety but then I remembered I just read the first appearance of the Roach. I also forgot that my ratings don't actually mean anything.

#Cerebus #Dave Sim

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thekrazykeke · 5 years ago

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You’re Perfect

Fandom(s): Attack on Titan, Avatar: The Last Airbender, Batman: the Animated series, Bleach, Black Butler, DragonFable, Dragon Ball Z, Fruits Basket, Fullmetal Alchemist, Hellsing, John Wick, Naruto, Ouran Highschool, Persona 5, SkipBeat!, Suicide Squad, Telltale the Walking Dead, Tokyo Ghoul, Vampire Knight, and more!

Relationship(s): TBD.

Rating: K+ through MA.

Summary: What would you do if had the ability to ignore the boundary between reality and fiction? To be with your ideal person who only exists in anime, manga, movies, and games, etc.? With the power to go wherever you want to, would you stay in a fantastical world or return to reality?

Warning(s): Will be tagged appropriately per chapter and fandom, etc. etc.

Taglist: Click here to be added.

Tagging: @misspooh @ginghampearlsnsweettea @naomithenerdgirl @wojtud-widvut-fecret @indigorose049 @queenofhearts579 @fallinoutoforbit @ashthebootyholetickler @one-twisted-bee @stichpatched

Those with the strikethrough in their name, I’ll be sending the link through to your DMs, so please leave it open. I’d like to say that the listed fandoms is a cursory overview, and is prone to change. If you have something you’d like me to write about, a fandom and anime you want me to watch, don’t hesitate to tell me. I intend this to be a long running thing for all of us nerds to enjoy together. With that said, this is only the prologue and I hope to improve the chapter length and such from here onwards.

Stay so stay tuned, hit that like button, reblog, comment, whatever you prefer. Ciao~

Prologue

A Normal Day Turned...?

December 11, 20XX RealityLux, Inc. 5:36 P.M.

It never stopped being so jarring.

Being outside, or even, just surrounded by people, no, by strangers, all hustling and bustling, either on their way to some type of appointment, or work, or a friend/family member’s house, or, or something... Everyone always seemed to have a set destination in mind, and they were determined to get there.

Sometimes you found yourself unwillingly swept up in the crowd, with the vibe, the urge, to actually go along with the flow, curious to see where that feeling would take you.

The outcome for occasionally submitting to these whimsical flights of fancy led to awesome destinations, such as a brand new internet cafe that you’d never heard of but quickly fell in love with because of the decor and ambiance, or the park that boasted some of the best up-and-coming local urban artists, and even the black owned businesses which sold your prefered clothing style at a reasonable price.

During days like those, it felt as if you truly had the best of luck.

Well, honestly, the past several years felt like that.

Unluckily for you, you’d grown up into and been around long enough to witness the travesty and endless tragedies that plagued this crooked nation due to warmonger presidents like Bush. Cried with overwhelming joy when President Obama was elected, and cried again when his final term ended.

You’d wept furious tears over the fact that Hilary had not been elected, even though she was really just more of the same, and could not sleep peacefully during the four years that President Orange was in the White House. You’d lived through terror and injustice and bigotry. Or, well, correction, people stopped pretending to care whether or not they were labeled as racists and Neo Nazis. You learned to keep your head down even more during that time, to watch out for people not just at night time, but also during the day.

America has always been a terrible country instilled with hypocrites to the extreme but those four years had aged you well beyond your years. After Trump’s impeachment, although his Vice President tried to step up to the plate, it would seem that a higher power decided to have mercy.

Michelle Obama decided to run for President, and she won.

During her time in the White House, many things, both gradually and quickly, came to pass. Things that were long overdue, such as the rich and elitist members of society paying more on taxes, minimum wage being increased, pedophiles and rapists getting the maximum sentences, college tuition was lowered to an affordable price or free altogether, increased salary for women, etc. There just isn’t any possible way that Michelle would be able to undo the ugliness and rot that infected America for so many years. You still hated this country, but with her in charge, you learned to hate it just a little less.

Pop!

With a blink, you found yourself smiling on autopilot. Two of your coworkers, Jessica and Kate, were laughing and giggling as they poured themselves some bubbly champagne before going around the room.

“Aaaand youuu,” The bubbles are floating to the top, the scent of the champagne wafting upwards to your nose, “Get the rest because you clinched that deal with Bandai.” Kate praised, flashing her bleached white toothed smile in your direction. “Go, [Your Last Name]! Woo!”

“Ohh, we’re cheering now! Woo-wooo!!” Jessica joined in, raising her free hand in an enthusiastic wave.

Raising the glass in a faint salute, “Mm, c’mon, guys.” You took a sip of your drink. “This was a team effort.” Actually it wasn’t, but it sounded better to say it that way.

“Don’t be so modest, [Your Last Name].” One of the few random guys at the party piped up. “C’mon, give us a speech!”

Before you knew it, several more people had took up the call.

“Speech! Speech! Speech!”

Closing your eyes briefly, you inhale and then exhale. Raising your glass, you smiled a bit wider, and waited until they settled down. “It’s been an honor to work with you all for so many years. I hope to be working with you for many more years to come.Thank you.”

Short, sweet and to the point.

It gained a few good natured groans and people wanting to hear more, but they were quickly distracted by the caterers who brought in food and more wine and champagne. That was the perfect opportunity for you to sneak off, claiming that you were going to use the bathroom, placing the flute of half drunk alcohol on the nearest table while on the way out the door.

As soon as you were in the hallway, away from your colleagues, the (fake) smile that’s been plastered on your face all day fell off. You walked as quickly as possible with the four inch heels you’re wearing, reaching a flight of stairs and held onto the railing as hustled down them.

There’s a smile is on your face again as you take that last step, and this time, it’s genuine, because of the man holding his hand out to you so gallantly. You took his hand with a little laugh, accepting the small bouquet that he offered with his free hand.

“Cinderella rushing off from her ball before it’s even midnight. Classic, I love it.” He winked. You rolled your eyes and whacked him on the arm lightly. “Oh! Ow.” Feigning injury, he clutched at the ‘hurting’ part. “Violent. I guess you’re not Cinderella but that kick ass girl from Ella Enchanted.”

“Shut up. You’re so ridiculous, Mr. Hunt.” Shaking your head, you pretended to be upset, looking away with a huff. Only to really huff with annoyance when your ear is flicked. “Eli, stop~”

“That’s right, you better call me by my first name. ‘Mr. Hunt’ is my father, as you well know, little girl.” Eli grabbed you by both your hands, tugging you ever closer.

And closer.

Close enough that you catch a whiff of his cologne that he’s wearing and it smells expensive, woodsy.

Perfect.

“Eli, you found her!”

The moment is broken.

You jerked your hands free and smile automatically as another woman came running up to you and Eli, holding onto a wrapped, square box. “Kymbrea, hey!” You open your arms and laugh slightly as she handed off the package to Eli before wrapping her arms around you in a hug. After a few minutes, you patted her on the back to signal her to let go and she did, accepting the package back again, before holding it out to you.

“Congrats on getting that deal with Bandai. Knew you could do it. So proud of you, best friend!” Kymbrea happily proclaimed. “C’mon, open it, open it, open it.” With a needling voice, she gently cajoled you.

“Kym, hey, baby, that’s enough.” With a slight laugh, Eli tugged her out of your space. A pang went through your heart and the smile on your face felt a little brittle. Neither of them seemed to notice, thank god. “I’ll take this wild woman off your hands.” As he glanced at you, smiling as if nothing was amiss, as if he hadn’t been... Hell, you didn’t even know anymore. Maybe it’s all in your head? With an awkward nod and smile, that he accepted without issue, he wrapped his arm around her waist, leading her up the stairs, “We’ll see you later, [Your Name].”

You watched them go upstairs for a minute or two, feeling uncomfortable and embarrassed and dismissed. Swallowing the lump in your throat, hands still full with the gifts, you instead push those unnecessary feelings to the side.

Walking out the lobby to the front entrance, where the valet already has your car pulled up and ready for you, key dangling from his hand. You ignore his curious, slightly concerned stare, tossing the bouquet inside and on the backseat, the wrapped package getting only slightly better treatment.

Snagging the car key, you hand him a tip and then go around to the driver’s side, climbed in and then closed the door after you. Adjusting the heat in the car and the mirrors, you put the key in the ignition, made sure no one was behind you before taking off.

The further and further away you get from the rented out hotel, the less the feeling in your chest aches. It’s something you don’t take much stock in, you can’t afford to. For awhile, you drive around, only to eventually come to your favorite market.

It was getting dark, so you decided to do a quick in ‘I’m feeling sorry for myself’ and out run. So chocolate, poptarts, bottles of Lipton tea, the usual. All in all, less than fifteen minutes and then you were driving to your apartment. Seeing it from a distance still took your breath away.

You’d done this, this was your life, after all this time, you’d achieved that which seemed unachievable.

Living at the top, finally. It didn’t matter that it felt a little like a hollow victory.

After having a small conversation with the doorman, politely declining his help with your groceries and the two gifts you’d received. Your neighbor, some white guy you didn’t know the name of, didn’t allow you to refuse, citing reasons for why it wouldn’t be decent to let you suffer this alone, and eventually you agreed if only to get to him to stop; together, you and he caught the elevator for the top floor where your apartment is. Letting yourself in first, you told him thanks for the help, and he smiled, lingering. You handed him whatever was left in your wallet, a generous amount and still he lingered. It was starting to be uncomfortable so you slammed the door in his face, locking it shut quickly. quickly kicking off your heels and slipping on your flip flops.

Tossing the flowers into the trash, you began to put away most of the groceries, leaving only a couple boxes of poptarts and a case of tea out. The sound of running water is loud in the apartment, but familiar. Cleaning out a mug, you pour the bottled tea inside, along with a few ice cubes, grabbing the matching saucer.

Walking into the living room, you turned on the TV, placing the mug of tea on the coffee table side the couch. Reaching into your back pocket of your pants, you pull out your cell phone, also putting it on the coffee table after putting it on ‘read’.

Much more comfortable.

Sitting on the couch with your feet tucked neatly in criss-cross applesauce style, leaning back against the pillow, you grabbed the PS4 controller, pressing the power button and quickly choosing the game that you’d digitally downloaded. Thankfully, it’s fully downloaded and updated, ready to play.

For hours, you lose yourself in the combat, grunting with dissatisfaction when your on screen character is overwhelmed, or cheering with triumph when you finally beat a mini boss or passed a quest.

Only once your fingers started to cramp and you couldn’t ignore the urge to drink the tea, did you press pause. Sipping at your tea, you flexed your fingers, pressing the button on your cellphone and it lit up, showing off your message from Kymbrea which read simply ‘U play it yet?’ and inadvertently, you gaze drifted to the package sitting by your front door, which you’d dropped carelessly.

Feeling guilty, you huff out a sigh.

Getting up again, lightly tossing the controller back onto the couch, you walk over the package, picking it up and returning to your original spot. Carefully peeling off the wrapper, you reveal a totally pitch black box except for the bright red logo XR on it.

Raising an eyebrow, you opened the box and pull out a VR headset, a tiny controller, and instructions. Shaking the box, wondering if that’s it, out fluttered a piece of paper in pretty, delicate cursive, ‘I’ve already uploaded everything I knew you’d like. Happy early Christmas! xo, K.’

Shrugging, you sighed and completely decided to let what happened earlier go. Kymbrea had done nothing wrong, she is your best friend. If anything, you’re the problem. With that little (depressing) pep talk finished, you fired off a text, telling her thanks and that you were checking out her gift now. Once that’s finished, you set up the VR headset, all the cables and cords, and then put the headset on after making sure everything is up to date.

After some labels and companies that you didn’t know about and you assumed were associated with the game popped up in front of your vision, after that, that’s when things got a bit weird. There’s a black woman, who looks terribly, terribly familiar, walking straight towards you. Before she gets too close, she stops and tilts her head in that same weird mannerism that you know, but--

/Welcome to HTC Vive, the virtual reality which caters to all your needs. Before we can move on to the first chapter of the game, we’ll have to go through the registration to make sure everything is in order. Is that okay?/

Resisting the urge to groan out loud by Kymbrea’s utter cheesiness, yet also grudgingly appreciating the gesture, you decide to fight through the embarrassment because the AI looks so familiar to you because she was created, designed, whatever the term, to look exactly like you.

Once you finish up registration, verifying that yes, you’re over 18, and yes, you’re over 21, you don’t mind violence or gore, you know to take breaks and be careful of flashing lights, etc.

/So, the initial set up is complete. Some chapters will be better established with voice recognition, but can be played without. Do you wish to install this software?/

Literally going to kill Kymbrea, just shove a pillow over her face and smother her to death. Unwittingly, you groaned in sheer torture, before saying yes, feeling your skin heat with embarrassment.

/Understood. Voice recognition approved./

The AI’s voice changed to suit yours and whoa, that was kind of freaky but also pretty awesome?

Whatever, you’d think seriously about it later.

/We’re about to start your journey. Please make sure that you’ve done everything you needed to do beforehand because this chapter will be shorter or longer to suit your needs./

Yeah, yeah, yeah. Come on, come on. Once you answered the last minute questions, such as what you wanted to be called, your preference for your partners (male/female or otherwise), and other 18+ questions that you refused to admit got you hot under the collar, as soon as you hit the ‘Accept’ button, that’s when things really, truly honestly got weird.

Technicolors burst across your vision. The AI lady took steps towards you and she wasn’t stopping. You were freaked the fuck out something terrible, cussing up a storm and as you reached up, about to pull the headset off, figuring this had to be some kind of mcfucking joke or jumpscare or something, and then her hand is touching yours and that shouldn’t be possible at all.You open your mouth to scream but nothing comes out, or you don’t think it does?

You hear static and your vision turns black.

»»————-　　————-««

Stay tuned for the next update of You’re Perfect! You wake up in the bed of........?

#fic #miscellaneous #fics #black reader #awkward reader #misc fics #multifandom #black gamer #multifandom fic #thekrazykeke

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rudbeag · 5 years ago

Text

ClodFlash. Coffee Shop AU (Barry)

Fandom : The Flash (TV 2014), DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)

Name : Coffee is a hug in a mug. Coffee Shop AU.

Rating : Not rated (I could say it’s a General audience, with a kiss and one or two bads words)

Relationships : Barry Allen/Leonard Snart (main) - Maisie(OC)/Karen(OC) - Oliver Queen/Felicity Smoak - Iris West/Eddie Thawne (mention)

Characters : Barry Allen, Leonard ‘Len’ Snart, Maisie Hilston-Fell (OC), Karen Hilston-Fell (OC), Oliver Queen, William Queen, Felicity Smoak, Mia Smoak, Lisa Snart, Iris West

Tags : Tumblr: otpprompts, Imagine your OTP, OTP Questions, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Love Confessions, Misunderstandings, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Other Additional Tags to Be Added

Summary : Just a ColdFlash OTP prompt/questions found on tumblr. Each one of the questions will have an OS attached to it, so it will make it greater and way more interesting. The series will contains different OTP situations/Challenges etc.

1. In a coffee shop AU, who would be the barista who keeps spelling the other person’s name wrong? Barry and Leonard's different first Meeting.

Words : 6710 / 6.7K

Chapters : 1/2

Disclaimer : This OTP question was taken from the moon dust writings, Tumblr.

Read On AO3

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Chapter 1 ; I think that we need to be open to exploring something new. (Barry)

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1. In a coffee shop AU, who would be the barista who keeps spelling the other person’s name wrong?

Rep : Both, they will both do it, in different ways. BUT, it's always Leonard L. Snart's fault.

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Barry Allen, 22, whose name is Bartholomew, was a barista in the coffee shop "Tasty Interlude" in Central City. The Shop, belonging to Maisie Hillston-Fell, who is one of his High school best friends, is one of the most famous in the whole city of Central City. Because of the nice behavior of the staff, the quality of the coffees, the way the shop is open 24/7, the diverse and various tastes in drinks and multiples pastries they propose and the overall pleasant atmosphere - Which result to Maisie, who provides a reduction to nice people and allow an increase in the prices to those who are extremely rude and vulgar. This was a brilliant move, as Barry had spotted his second bully, Jamison Lordge — Tony still gets the first, but he already dealt with him — being nice and behave like a gentleman. Which, not to be rude, he is not.

Barry had worked for a month when he perceived him for the very first time; around 9 pm, during a wintry day, as it was winter and the barman was having a night shift. He was putting the Croissant and Napoleons in the display cases with some other pastries; Baklava, Chocolate pies, cream puffs, and Chestnut fondant cake, when he spotted this heavily enveloped man in front of the shop. He quickly cleansed his hands, thinking that maybe the man wanted to come in for a hot coffee.

The stranger was tall — bigger than him and barry was 183 cm or 6' 0 — and was wearing a white shirt with a black pant, dark baker boots with a leather vest of the same color. He was on top of that, wearing gray gloves, a knitted scarf with multiples shades of beige, a dark gray beanie, and winter protective glasses. Barry thinks the man is doing relatively too much as it was not that cold outside. Or maybe it is, he doesn't remark how the weather is as he had worked from 4 pm. He waited for the man to get in, but he didn't move at all, which was a bit disturbing because Barry was certain he was looking at him.

The man had already disappeared when Barry had jerked his head in surprise as he heard suspect sound from the back; fortunately, it was nothing more than Rosie, the store mascot, that leaves the shop by the kitchen's window. He couldn't find him. He surely was waiting for someone or was homeless waiting for something. Barry had lost his light fear and was a bit sad for not knowing if it was someone in need of something hot to warm him. Nothing more had happened next, and only two people had come taking hot drinks. It was the less exhausting and crowded night shift he had until now, since he started this work one month and a half ago.

When Barry's shift ended, at 11 pm and he said goodbye to the other staffs and get a leaving. He took with him a bunch of hot coffees cups for Joe, Eddie and the homeless that lives near the bus station he will pass by and where Joe will pick him. He sends them his biggest smile, while giving them their coffees cups; Latte for Gerard and Winston, Hot cocoa for Liam and decaffeinated for Julian, Roy and Old Liam. He took time to talk with them before wishing a goodnight to everyone and hoping a brighter next day when Joe's car was spotted.

Barry had totally forgot about the strange standing man until he saw him again, a few days later. He could recognise him due to his boots and the way he was standing; he was standing in a specific way that is actually common but gives certain vibes to Barry that he finds it way too strange, not that he is not a weird nerd that plays vigilante as he is one of the fastest men alive but this will certainly place him in a whole other level. He politely smiled at him as he entered the shop.

Today, the man is wearing a black shirt with the same dark pant and same biker boots but is having a blue parka and the gloves only. Barry can perceive his attractive, deep, blue-grey eyes and the only thing he could think about is that he is handsome and really charismatic. The man smiles back, while coming towards the counter.

" - Hello, sir and welcome to Tasty Intelude may I get your order, please?"

"- Hello. I am unfamiliar with this establishment and don't know what to try. Can you please help me with that? " He looked at the barman with a slight smile that emits the same energy as a smirk. Even his voice is charismatic; low, smooth and slow. The younger really loves it. " Barry. "

Barry felt more than saw his ears changing colors to a pinkish one; his name said by this voice sound like something more than it really is and it makes him feel strange, he quite don't want to know why. The barman then nodded after a few seconds because of the intensity of the look the attractive man is giving him.

" - With pleasure, what is the type of drinks you like? Creamy, sweet or strong?" He asked, while giving the menu a look, already knowing everything that was there but still needing for some assistance.

" - Surprise me."

These words made Barry look at gorgeous man with wide eyes and a hint of blush on his cheeks. What is he trying to do? He then nodded a bit, incertain. None of them had noticed how staff near, Maisie and Karen, her wife, were looking back and forth at them with an amused gazes. After another a little awkward second, the consumer added.

" - Give me any drink you think suits me, I have fait in you. Barry." He smirked again and leaned over a little bit " I'll tell you if it was good or not. And make it large size."

" - O-okay. Great." Barry was, already, dark pink.

He thinks rapidly and looked over the coffee to get a sudden idea for what to give him, when he spotted a cup. It was Iris and Eddie, in an early morning coffee date, totally forgetting they are not alone in the shop despite being an extremely advanced hour. He knows what first hot drink he will serve him and started working on it. When he finished, he was satisfied with himself for few seconds before asking himself why is he proud. It is plain weird. He turned to the man and shows him the fuming cup.

" - What name should I put in?" He asked with a smile but it merges to frowns when handsome gives him a teasing smirk.

" - It wouldn't be funny if I give you my name, but my last name is Snart. Good luck, Barry. "

Barry was panicked; he is used to people giving him incorrect names; which might be funny at some point - some use famous actors, singers names or even movies or book characters - or telling him some that he never heard about before. But he didn't once meet someone that ask him to take a guess and find his name. That wa the weirdest thing ever, and it's from the same person.

" - There is your order, Mister Snart, it's a Caffee Latte, with a half spoon of sugar. Hope you will like it."

He writes Snart on the cup before giving it to him, Mr. Snart look at the cup for a long time that it made Barry nervous and thought that he will ask him to redo anther one. The man in front of him only gives him a mysterious smile then take the cup.

" - That was a clever move, unfortunately Snart won't work on it's own. Think about it for the next time we'll meet." He took the cup after paying and was going to go, but turned to look at the young barista. " And Mr. Snart won't either. I'll come tomorrow, have a nice day, Red."

Snart leaves the coffee shop, not after winking at Barry — that absolutely missed it - and let the two other staffs corning the poor young man and interrogate him about how is this hotie that was totally flirting with him — " yes, Bartholomew, he was totally flirting with you. " and make him spilt the tea about who is this person. They only could make him talk to them when it was their shift's end, which coincided with the arrival of the other workers and, of course iris was spotted inside as well. His foster adoptive sister and best friend directly joined them right when Barry was blushing.

" -What is going on, why is our little Barry is as pink as a flamingo? " She asked while setting her bag, containing her laptop on the ground, and look at them with questioning eyes.

" - He is blushing because a hot consumer flirted with him with the hottest way possible and a little game." Maisie explained.

Without waiting even a second, Karen explained everything that happened when Snart arrived, lacking to give any name. She does want to know what is the stranger's name to encourage his rgame with Barry, but if she gives the name to Iris, she will totally go and try to investigate everything about him and that will make the game end and maybe will ruin the chance of Barry with him because as much as she appreciates her — She really loves her. She is kind and daring and loves to help other people — but she is insistent and will surely will stalk the man or be fascinated with Snart overmuch that it will frightens him and push him away from the cutest male she ever met.

" - I am not blushing. And totally don't know who he is, I've never met him before." That was not a total lie, but he actually really never met him before. " He is just having jokes and want me to find his name. He was totally not flirting with me. I mean, it's normal, it does happen often... Right?"

By the looks he gets from all three girls; It seems that this games does not happen that often, which makes him turn pretty silent and blush a lot more than he already did. Okay. Maybe the charismatic man was really flirting with him — which he doubts — Or was acting his usual way, he couldn't know, and it truly means nothing for him. The girls were aware of what he was thinking but said nothing — Iris got warning from the two others — and decided to only interfere when Barry is clueless. Or will lost his likely future boyfriend, that they hope it will be more like a future husband. Barry, then receive a call, which is not unusual but he is lucky enough to be able to get a little rest.

—•—••–

As Snart had said, he came back the next day at seven;he was wearing a beige shirt, a black pant, some leather shoes and a grey parka that is less heavy than his blue one - Barry preferred the other. He waited until Barry was available to make his drink and talk for a while. His slight smile was left on his face, and he had put some great cologne. Barry greeted him with his usual big smile, and if this one was more vivid and joyous than the ones he gives newcomers, no one have to know it. Even if they seem to already do it.

" - Hello Barry. Have you found my name yet?" That was the first thing he naturally said to him, with a smirk. "The latte was good, but not that grandiose, unfortunately. What will I get today, superman? A medium size cup, please. We wouldn't desire me to have problem sleeping, wouldn't we."

Barry's ears blushes strongly before he started working on the next drink he will provide him. He had, indeed thought about his name but nothing came in mind, so he decided to start Alphabetically. Wishing from the bottom of his heart that his name wasn't from another country otherwise, he will never find it. He put the ingredients in the medium-sized cup. In the meanwhile, Snart was having a discussion with him.

" - So, how is your ankle? " He asked, gaining a weird look from the Barista, that didn't disturb him but he continued talking. "I saw you walking in the main street yesterday around 7 pm, like someone that suffer a twisted ankle. You really should be more attentive, the street is quite slippery in this period of the year I wouldn't want to stop seeying my favorite barista."

" - Oh, it was nothing, just me being a little clumsy. My foot is good!" He offers him a big smile, looking at his foot with the spiderman logo, a hint of blush on the back of his neck. "I'm absolutely fine, thanks for your concerns."

Barry was internally panicking; yesterday he had fought a metahuman with a rock power, he had been injured by him. Snart must have witnessed him when he was going home while his body was recovering from the attack he got. He offered him a smile to hide his nervousness before giving him his hot drink. It was a classic Cappuccino with sugar. He wanted to try classic drinks before going to the complex ones. Handsome took it carefully and look at the name.

" - Aaron? I am way to handsome to an Aaron, don't you think?" He playfully gives him a smile while paying. "It smels good. Thanks, have a a nice day."

Barry was speechless by what did not-Aaron had said, and he didn't know how to respond. He can't lie and say he was not "too" handsome, seeing as it is a lie, and it will upset him. He also, can't just admit he is handsome, since he is too nervous for that and because if he does this, the girls will never let it go, and he will get teased about this for a long time.

Snart note his reaction, and his smirk was way too marked not to be a tease, but it didn't make the barista want to make it disappears — he doesn't want to accept yet why he wants that with the other, but not with Snart — more it causes his face to get warmer. He winked again before looking at Barry with a gleam in his eyes. He turned after that and left the coffee shop, with his cup tightly in his hand. A smile hidden on his face.

—•—••–

For about three months, Snart came back to the coffee, in Barry's shift. He once arrived and it was not, thought — it was Maisie's and she gives him the man's schedule — so he came back later, to find him, and he rarely did miss their meetings on his own mistake, sometimes Barry have emergencies. He became good acquittance with the owners of the shop after that, and he somehow appreciate the couple, both of them .

He and the barista became pretty close and now, Barry flirt back with Batman. It's a long story; all you have to know is that Jamison was way too touchy with an awkward barista — Barry, who had ended his shift — and it didn't pleased Mr. Handsome, so he suggested the bastard should not touch what wasn't his, wearing all black. The next day, he got a free drink from the staff to thank him. Still, the best thing he was given was a lovely message on the cup "Thanks for protecting me, Batman" from Barry. Now, the hero's name is one of his nicknames. He pretty much likes it, because Barry is the only one to use it.

Barry — Bartholomew, he had learnt, when it was suggested, which is as great as his own name — had considered many of them, and for two months, he was absolutely wrong, trying different types — He even did try Albert, Coleman, Charleston, Broderick or Emmerich, and that was hilarious — so Snart had decided to give a hint, allowing him to know if the initial was right or no. Which, now, Barry knows his name is L. Snart, thanks to Lawrence.

Snart was undoubtedly in a jovial mood; he had a great dream; he got the best sleeping of the week — sleeping after talking with Barry is something he really liked — and his friend Mick had his plaster removed, thus, is in a good mood too so he will not be annoying him. It's also due to the fact that he will see his cute barista and that alone could light up his spirit.

He entered the shop; it was already crowded, but it is easy to identify the waiters, Sarah and John. Then he spotted Maisie with whom he had developed a relatively great friendship, with Karen, her wide, that is tease if you ask him. He, then, spotted his — Not his. Not yet — barista. Again, Barry was wearing the red vest he saw him for the first time, and that is the reason for the nickname he gives him. Red — Barry blushing a lot is another reason, but the vest remain the main one.

" - Morning Barry." He smiled at him "So, what is for today?"

" - Hello Batman !" He joyously smiled back while carefully preparing someone's cup. "Do you want to try something new today or do you like to go with the usual Double Espresso Chiaro? "

" – I've got the same coffee order for five days. I would like to change that." He started looking at the menu; it's the third time he has done it this whole period he was coming here. "What would you suggest for a sweetened drink?"

" - What about a Peanut Butter and Banana milkshake?" He asked while giving him quick glares. "It's no that sweet, but still sweet enough."

" - We'll see that after, Red." Snart smiles while adjusting himself to stand in a better position "But I trust you enough."

Barry finished the cup he was making and give it to John, the waiter. He then looked at his friend with a big smile, swiftly getting into work for the coffee of his favorite consumer. He seizes the usual cup. The he begins making the peanut butter, the milk and the banana plus some honey and start preparing the drink. Snart watches him with a tender smile on his face, that neither any of them had noticed. Other clients had, but for the consumer, it's a usual scene that occurs frequently when they are looking at each other and find it endearing. When the drink is finished and given to Snart, Mr. Handsome was going to say something but was cut with the arrival of someone. It was not the arrival itself that had cut him off, but the beaming smile his barista had given the newcomer. He turns to identify who the person was, and it was the notorious Oliver Queen.

As soon as Barry saw the millionaire, he leaved his post for his break and went to greet enthusiastically the man. With a tight hug, while the other male didn't seem to want to even let him, go. They looked as if they were really intimate and this picture causes the heart of Snart winch painfully inside his torso. It's not like he doesn't enjoy observing Barry with other people. It's just seeing the man he is unconditional in love with, being intimate and tender with a person that is not himself and being as close as a couple. That causes negative feelings. He looked at the cup in his hand, especially the name and that inadvertently causes him to feel worst. Lewis. Great. A growl escaped from his throat while glaring fiercely at the two other sittings in a table in the corner of the shop, discussing. He pays for the cup, and some fondant cakes then leaves the place.

Snart was gone and didn't notice the glance the staff exchanged between themselves, before looking at Barry. Maisie facepalmed herself with a desperate sigh before asking the other to continue their work. She and Karen decided to talk about it latter on, when they will be on the privacy of their home. Maisie went back to work while Karen decided to drop by the two stupid persons that were chatting, with absolutely no idea of what their action looked like to the other around. She sat face-to-face with Oliver when barry went somewhere.

" - Oh, it's good old Ollie! " She instantly started with a big, too joyful to be true, smile. "What bought Mr. Queen up in our city, thought you were doing, you-know-what in yours. Were you bored or in need some vacation from it?"

" - Good evening to you too, Karen. " He greets her with a nod while taking the tart the waiter presents him. " Thanks. I decided to drop by to say hello to my friend, and Felicity wanted for us to have some family vacation time with the kids. "

" - You have a personal work in Central City."She said matter-of-factly with a slight smile, knowing him well enough.

She looked at him with a smirk as he nodded. Naturally he must have a work to achieve in Central City, otherwise he wouldn't have been here and ruined the moment between Len — she definitely knows his name as she had the idea of searching for Snart — and Barry. And he will definitely ask for the younger to babysit his two children to have a date with his wife or merely enjoy some free time. She sighs then looked at him with a frown and her arms crossed on the table.

" - And I have works in central city, too." He smiles vaguely then look at her with a frown of his own."I did something or...? "

She jerked her head a bit before sighing again at his noticeable lack of intelligence. She looked around, making sure Barry is not coming back anytime soon, before giving him the darkest look possible. It was still cute, but that was not the point.

" - Needless to say that you did something, you big idiot! " She said in a low voice, so people couldn't listen to their conversation. But she knows they are doing it anyways; they are all worried about the love story as she is. " Might just ruin a love confession a hot, nice and perfect man towards Barry! Do you know how much we were waiting for it? Three months, yes, three damning months and you managed to ruin everything in less than five minutes because two looked like both were boyfriends not just Best friends. Do you know what quite of a sexual tensions they were having and that... "

She was going to start talking higher, so he merely paused and takes one deep breath. Then she starts looking at him while tapping her nail tips to the table and gazed into his keen eyes; expecting for the information yo be thoroughly analyzed by his brain. It doesn't take long; his eyes become wide, and his mouth opens to comes to be of the shape of a small O. He quickly places his usual mask on his face even if he still was a bit surprised, afterward.

" - I didn't know about that. " He grimaced. "Do you think it can be fixed or do the green one have to interfere?"

She intended to reply, and scold the man for joking about that, but barry was back so she couldn't answer. She gave him a look then returned to her work as a waitress, her mind already trying to find a way to help Barry. Promptly it's time to interfere in this story so that it will become unruined. This will be difficult, as none of them have any mean to contact Barry's future lover, even sure when he is coming back nor can clear the misunderstanding. And they intend clearing it, with Oliver and Felicity's help. Surely with all their expertise, it will be easy.

—•—••–

As expected, Snart didn't come for next to two weeks and Barry's state of mind was not the greatest around; he is pale, couldn't eat much, doesn't talk as he used to do, have the heart to do nothing and his smile is not as bright nor as true as it has been until now. Even as the Flash — that's his super-hero name — he was clumsy, careless and got himself injured way too much. He is desperate and barely knows the reason why. He is also worried about his favorite consumer; it is possible he was injured, bored of the coffee or maybe he did something wrong. He doesn't precisely remember, but it is driving him crazy. Everyone had seen him being in a bad mood, and they wanted to comfort him. Unfortunately, he merely says he is okay, while he definitely wasn't. And no one was up to confront him about that because he will become worst.

Karen and Maisie were trying suppressing their smile. They had worked for a week, but have set a plan to make everything become right again. They had found Snart's sister, Lisa, and contacted her to take her in he schemes. Surprisedly, she directly agreed to help them in the "plan" they also received the assistance of Felicity and of Oliver - does he in fact got any choice, thought? Naturally he didn't - and today was the D-Day. Barry was called to cover a shift — John was sick — and knowing the man he wouldn't refuse to help someone; he surprisingly loved to work and be in the coffee shop.

It started well, barry covered John's shift and nothing out of the ordinary had happened so far, it was even almost an enjoyable day, not much of bad consumers. He was too absorbed by his work to much give any attention around him besides his work, obviously. This was something the other used in an advantageous way to make the plan work better. It was a win-win situation as he didn't note how they organized themselves.

Iris was sitting in a table and seems to work; her laptop was open in front of her with a pill of paper was next to it and a coffee shop was there too. She wasn't really working, but more monitoring the outside as she possessed a distinct view on the street. Her job was to inform them about the moment the Snarts were coming inside. Also, it will let Felicity to know when she and her family need to enter the shop.

Karen and Maisie were inside, preparing everything; they were both baristas as they were the ones to encounter the Snarts first, and make sure Barry was not in sign when they will get inside. It's for the sole purpose to make sure Len wouldn't run away and break all their exhausting job and complex scheme that had taken one working week to be completed.

They didn't need waiting for too long before Iris saw the two Snarts coming towards the Coffee shop, she instantly makes the sign they were waiting for; the entirety of her papers fall on the ground and, of course, Barry rushed to help her arrange all of them in order. At this moment, Lisa dragged her annoyed brother inside; his face was clearly showing he did want to be anywhere but here.

Leonard didn't want to be in this place, and he didn't know where his sister insisted to come here and bring him along. He appreciates the spot, and the owner, but it's still a place he wants to avoid for a time — like the two weeks away weren't sufficient enough — to forget Barry. He just wishes for his stupid emotion to be in check and feel extremely unpossessive towards someone who actually has a lover. He merely accepted to come because he knows Barry's shift and Lisa had been very persuasive - threatening and then giving him the cold shoulders. He decided to be polite and salute Maisie and Karen before Lisa brings him to an unoccupied table in the corner, the most far from the windows and the door possible. She makes sure he take the only chair back to both of them, so he couldn't see Barry nor Felicity and Oliver when they will come inside.

Karen was the one to collect their orders — A hot cocoa with mini marshmallows and some cinnamon powder and a Double Espresso Ciaro with a cup of banana-orange juice accompanied by two chocolate-banana tart — and had small talks with Leonard and Lisa; asking about their days, how they are doing and all of that. She promptly omits to talk about Barry, and for that Snart is grateful.

He wouldn't be for too long, he even would want to kill her. The waiter delivers their order only a few minutes after Karen had been gone. It was Barry. Leonard had known it was him before he even gets the visual confirmation of it. He slowly shifted his head to look at the man he still remains in love with. He glared at his little sister; she must undoubtedly have something to do with this and he will get a revenge.

Barry was surprised when he recognized Leonard — he had made some researches, just to be sure he was alive — he wanted to greet him but didn't knew how to do it, especially since the man seem to ignore him. It started being awkward, and he was going to leave when Lisa — bless her — breaks the oppressive silence.

" - I am Lisa and you must be Barry, right?" She smiles and ignores her brother as much as she could. " Maisie had talked about you a lot. Don't worry, it's only good things. I think you are quite famous in the coffee shop."

" - Hello," Barry smiles back and nods "effectively, I am Barry. Barry Allen. Nice to meet you Lisa."

He smiles and takes the offered hand and shakes it. Lisa frowns a little then she hides a smirk on her eyes and Leonard knew she will do something stupid.

" - Likewise." She looked at him. " Tell me, Barry, are you related to one Hen- Ouch!"

The moment she said 'related' Leonard already decided to kick her leg under the table, but wasn't quick enough. He was aware of the relationship between Barry and Henry — father and son. He would have been the first one to talk about it if he didn't know it was a sensitive subject to the younger man. Why Lisa decided to bring it up now is uncomprehensible.

Barry was awkward and he excuses himself. Leonard intended scolding her when someone entered the shop. It didn't really bothered him, not until he overheard Barry greet the person. Damn 'Ollie' again. Like life itself is trying to gain a revenge on all the wrong he did since is young - What's next? Lewis will come into his house to hurt Lisa? Not like he hadn't done that many times already - and it starts pissing him off. He was going to leave the shop, again, when his sister indicates to something and her eyes pleaded him to turn and see it. Damn her.

He did, anyways, because he doesn't have much to lose already. Barry was hugging Ollie but then a little girl; 3 years old, light red hairs, brown eyed and cute literally jumps into Barry's arms. Leonard couldn't think that things could get way worst than what they were but this proves the contrary. Then he couldn't but to listen to their conversation, not that he wanted to.

" - Mia, don't jump on Barry," Ollie said with a smirk "you might break him."

" - Sorry Daddy." The little girl — Mia — smiles sheepishly and kissed Barry's check, "Sorry uncle Barry!"

" - It's okay, princess." He kissed her check with a big smile.

Leonard spotted, then a young blonde woman with a cheerful smile on her face while she looks at Barry with the little girl; himself do think it's the most adorable thing he had witnessed. Barry let go the little girl that run towards the blonde and looked at her, surely with the puppy eyes. She must be a friend of the family, or maybe an aunt. But why didn't she ask Barry, as she was in his arms already.

" - Mommy, I want orange Pie, please!"

Oh. She is her mother. It explained everything; she looks kind like her to be honest; same little smile and same nose, and eyes as her. She also has these puppy cutenesses; these will cause you to want to preserve them from harm.

And Oliver is her Dad, so she will certainly will end up... ! Oliver is her dad, and the blonde is her mother.

Oh !

Leonard looked at his beloved sister who gives him a triumphant smile. He gently rolled his eyes then, without him knowing how, the woman came to hug Lisa. It seems that his sister had planed this, and he doesn't know how to think about it; be proud of her because she was really quite he hadn't seen it coming; be angry at himself that he hadn't seen it coming and was played like a newbie. He was surprised when the blond looked at him and basked in this mischievious glow on her eyes.

" - You must be Lisa's brother, Leonard, right?" She didn't allow him time to talk before continuing, "I am Felicity Smoak, Oliver's wife."

" - Nice to meet you miss Smoak." He nods at her,"You can call me Len, or don't cal-"

" - Wow, your voice is great; your eyes too." She looked at him with a smile, which wasn't something he liked, while she takes place in the chair near his sister. "People out there call you Barry's beau you know? Some even use Future Husband to refer to you. Barry was so red when I told him; it was comic especially when he tried to deny his feelings for you — it's obvious he loves you, if you ask me — and ended up saying a half sentences where he nearly confessed his love. One of my co-workers always says that when you love someone, just go for it; if they reject you, at least you will heal faster. Did you know that -"

Leonard never meets someone that could speak as much as her. He was not barely trying following whatever she was saying until something had attracted his attention, but later — the information had to be fully understood by his brain — while she was talking with Lisa. He looked at her with surprise, even if it didn't really shown it.

" - Pardon me, but whay have you said?" He asked her. "I think I have misheard something."

" - Oh I was saying that buzzard do-" She couldn't finish as she was cut off by Leonard.

" - Not that," he said impatiently while asking himself how this subject was approached, "but what you said about Barry."

She gives him a suspicious look before looking at the man she talked about; he was talking with an old couple. She seems to think about all the things she said about him, until something clicked in her mind. She looked at Lisa and chuckled.

" - That his perfect date is being home," she asked with a grin, "with his lover, drinking hot cocoa or tea and talking or watching TV with the fire on the chimney?"

" - No. Not that." Leonard was glad to obtain this information, but it was not what he was looking for.

" - Oh, that he is in love with you? " She smiles, and nodded her head when he shakes his. "He is deeply in love with you. Never saw him so sad and worried when you stopped showing up. I had to make him stop thining that he did the 'greatest wrong in the history of Central City', which is not the case. He really was down when you decided to stop coming. He even decided to throw up his little crush on you because he thought that it makes you incomfortable."

She said that like it was the most natural thing ever. Not like she just made Leonard's heart skip a beat — several, in fact — and simply tell him that his feelings are not reciprocal and, on top of that, that his little disappearance had caused sadness and worry to the one he is in love with. It's a lot to take, even for someone as calm as Leonard - giving some arsehole a good beating after said person nearly assaulted someone he cares for is being protective and aggressive yet still a bit calm as he did not kill him. He had to think quickly; what to do right now.

He turned his head towards where Barry was and found him behind the counter, helping Karen while Maisie is god know where. He analyzed him for few minutes, and when the barista felt someone looking at him, he looked back and smiles wide when their eyes meet. It's at this moment that Leonard's questions and incertitudes seem to vanish into thin air. He knows exactly what he should do right now.

He gets up after giving a look to his sister, who only smiles and nodded, before walking towards HIS barman, a grin on the face. The, he stood in front of the counter and looked right into Barry's eyes. They stayed like that for a good two minutes before the smallest break the silence.

" - Hey, Leonard." He said with a smile. "It's been a while, how are you?"

" - Hello, Bartholomew." Leonard smiles too, then lean on the surface a bit more to be closer. " I am well, now. I had heard you were in a quite foul mood. How are you?"

" - Yeah I, I am great, thanks." He bit his lower lip and Len found his adorable. "I am sorry, if I did something to make you, I don't know, uncomfortable."

" - You really did something," Len smirked, "you have stole something from me. You have my heart, and I am certain I don't want it back."

The pickup line was a total cliché — usually, Len don't use them — but it makes Barry going tomato red again and it's the cutest sign the older had seen; it's a look he would gladly see every day. Len was a bit nervous, but the shy grin he gets from the person opposite him makes him involuntarily smile too.

" - Well, I would need it because mine was stollen by you." he looked at him. "And I wouldn't like to obtain it back... even if you want it."

" - Great, because I don't want to give it back either." He smirked, "Now, I hope you like to eat Mexican, because I will come gathering you at eight, to take you out for our first date, boyfriend."

He was going to turn and leave to inform Lisa that she has to be on her apartment tonight. Barry's hand halted him. He turned to ask him if something doesn't satisfy him — he would have altered all the plan if it will make him happy — but was taken by surprise by a tender, gentle and delicious lip on his own. Damn. Barry is kissing him. He was surprised. Len kissed him back hungrily and with passion, making the tender kiss an intense makeout session, as much as they could with a counter between their bodies. Until someone cleared his throat.

" - Can you two don't do that in front of my children, but in your car or, better, in your appartment?" Oliver inquired while his hands are on Mia and William's eyes.

Barry breaks the kiss, with a light growl from Len. The latter looked at his now, boyfriend's friend and smiles at him.

" - Don't be jealous," he started, "I am sure you can make someone babysit them for the night for you and Felicity to have a 'date' too."

Then he was gone, ignoring with an amused smile the eyes of Mr. Queen who were definitely addressing him middle finders.

#Alexian_writes #Alexian_writings #Writings of Alexian #coldflash #One-shot #OTP fiction #My fanfics #Fanfics AU

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iblendingreenscreens · 5 years ago

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Cursed

First day of Marichat May and guess who’s late?? All well, this is my incredibly rushed take on the witch AU (I may re-write it in the future because I feel like I missed a bunch of important info, but for now this is it):

Marinette Dupain-Cheng had spent sixteen years of her life accepting that she was as unlucky as a person could be. She might have even gone so far as to say that her luck was worse than a black cat’s. So, at sixteen, when a spiteful witch cast a life long curse on her Marinette could do little more than shrug. The only reason she wasn’t completely content with her fate was because this curse had involved some one else as well.

Adrien Agreste had words. Tons of angry, violent and pleading words. He couldn’t believe that anyone as horrible as Lila Rossi could exist, but the proof was staring up at him in the form of two tiny black eyes. His anger and grief hit him like a punch to the gut as he imagines the soft tones and words Marinette would use to placate him, but he wouldn’t get to hear them. Not tonight, not for the past three thousand six hundred and forty nights and probably not for any of the nights coming.

Almost ten years ago to the day Lila Rossi, an experienced witch with a cold, spiteful heart had cursed two lovers to never be together again even if they were constantly with each other. In a fit of jealous rage she had spat out a dark, lost language that bound Marinette and Adrien to Ladybug and Chat Noir. So the two could exist as human or animal, but never at the same time.

Often the two would quarrel, via messages left in a journal, who got the short end o the stick. It was difficult to keep up an argument through written word which could only be updated and read every twelve hours. It was especially difficult to quarrel when the person you were upset with was right beside you...just as an animal (or insect).

All inconveniences aside the two had adjusted to their new life quite well. Perhaps Marinette was fairing better than Adrien, but it was only natural considering she was allowed to be human during the day when people and sunshine would do more than just pet your head. Being destined to wonder the night could not be healthy for the psyche.

There was also the fact that her companion was a cat. A cat which she could hold and hug, run her fingers through his fur and just be assured by the general physical presence of the living creature. Which led to Adrien’s biggest question, “How do you hug a Ladybug?” The answer, so far, was a simple and short, “You can’t.”

Whenever Adrien brought this argument up Marinette would silence him with a quick, “I crave bugs, Chat. ALL. THE. TIME.” Looking at their garden, particularly the Broccoli with it’s mild aphid infestation, he shuddered at the thought of ever wanting to have those in your mouth. Even through the window they made his skin crawl.

A ray of light drew him out of his thoughts, reminding him that his time was dwindling. He quickly finished his journal entry for Marinette, complete with a short and cheesy poem, before he slipped the book back to its rightful place on the shelf. He rushed outside fumbling with the glass jar tied to his belt. initially Adrien had been quite against the idea of keeping her in a jar, but after a few near misses they both decided she would be safer there than on his arm.

The little ladybug flew out of the jar and landed beside him just before their transformations began. Blinding pink and green lights enveloped the entire garden and Marinette thanked her lucky star that she didn’t have nosy neighbors. “Cutting it close, mon minou.” Were the first words out of her recently humanized mouth. The black cat by her side lowered it’s ears and gaze to the floor.

Silence captured the two for a moment longer before the raven haired girl caved. “Oh, come here kitty. You know I can’t stay mad at you.” With a chirrup the cat jumped into her lap before they continued watching the sunset together. Slowly the oranges and pinks that painted the sky faded to light blue as the sun settled into it’s first position of the day.

“All right, to to get off Chatton, I have things to do.” She said as she tried to place Chat Noir off her lap. He sunk his claws into her skirt and refused to budge. “I’m serious you needy cat.” She wined as her efforts continued to be in vain. For a cat that barely weighed eight pounds he sure had a good grip.

“I have so much to do. I have to mix up those herbal remedies for Madame Chamack’s little girl, I’m literally Manon’s only hope. The book merchant in town should have gotten our special delivery and I don’t want to know what happens if you’re late to a dubious book exchange. Oh, and Alya’s going to be coming over for tea, dinner and until the morning. It’s a busy day mon minou, we can’t lounge about in the sunlight forever.” The cat, which had taken to peering at her from behind his whiskers, seemed unbothered by the work load before them and simply stared at her. “Please Adrien.” Those two words had the cat scrambling off her at record speeds, like a magic charm he couldn’t resist. Except Marinette would never use magic on him that way, he only had his own weakness to blame. That didn’t stop him from glaring at her like it was all her fault; all the way from the garden until they got down to her underground potions room and then some more are she worked.

As Marinette busied herself with chopping, mixing and brewing odd little plants and animal parts she sent sidelong glances to the cat glaring at her. Heaving a sigh she looked up from her work. “You’ve really become a grump over the past ten years, you know that?” At the deadpan stare she got in return she could almost hear Adrien say, ‘Being a cat does that to a person.’

Unfortunately her feline companion couldn’t actually voice his thoughts, but with the practiced flow of an expert she continued the conversation. Year together helping her understand his facial expressions all the more. “Remember mon minou, all this,” She gestured to the hundreds of potions books and ingredients around them, “is for us. Sure it’s been strugglesome to get the right books, and maybe it takes time to whip up these remedies, but it’s a small price to pay for privacy. We’re so lucky no one asks questions, kitty. We’ve both seen what the king does to suspected witches, your father is brutal. You just have to have faith in me and we’ll get through this, I promise.” Tears sat in her eyes, but the cat gave up it’s angry stare. She willed herself not to cry, there was a time and place for that. That time was no today and the place was not here.

After brewing her chopped ingredients and finishing off the remedies with short incantations Marinette went over to Adrien who was napping in one of the many boxes strewn around. Gently she woke him up, “Come on Chatton. We’re taking a trip to town.” The words made him alert and not five minutes later Marinette was walking through the village, a black cat chasing the ends of her skirt.

The day flew by between travelling and concerned voices, hushed exchanges and excited tears, silent arguments now embedded with a new feeling of hope. The nameless merchant in town had the book they were looking for. It held such a large piece of the puzzle that was undoing their curse.

Right now Alya was in the kitchen finishing a dinner for her and Adrien to enjoy, while Marinette sat waiting of the sunset with her kitty.

Their relationship came with more hardships than your average one, but somehow sitting in the garden, drinking up the sunlight and threading her hands through Chat Noir’s fur she knew they would be just fine. Actually she was sure they would be better than fine because for the first time in twenty-six years it felt like the universe had a little luck to spare of the witch and her black cat.

#marichat #marichat may #marichat fanfic #fanfiction #miraculous ladybug #witch au #little witch and her black cat #i know it's late #sorry #marinette #marinette dupain cheng #adrien and plagg #adrien agreste #chat noir #ladybug #lila rossi #alya #alya cesaire

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mybukz · 6 years ago

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Review: Money Stories from Malaysians Volume 1

Title: Money Stories from Malaysians Volume 1 Author: Various Genre: Fiction, non-fiction Format: Paperback, ebook, 93 pages Publisher: Suraya Zainudin Communications Pricing: RM29.90 (book, postage), RM9.90 (ebook) Available at: https://ringgitohringgit.com/product-category/money-stories-from-malaysians/ Reviewer: Leon Wing

I wasn’t sure what to expect reviewing an anthology of short stories on the theme of money. Which is what Malaysian money blogger Suraya Zainudin put together: ten fiction and nonfiction stories. Don’t expect writings from money experts though. Some stories cover personal finance, but written with a twist—or rather, under a slew of genre, from the usual everyday stuff about how to manage your ringgit, to fantasy.

In “Look out for Naila, world!”, Jouhari Ali tells us how his daughter taught him about money. The story begins very early in her babyhood, when her mother called it a day with married life and left the father with the daughter and a low rent house. He bought an apartment later as she grew up a precocious little lady. They did father and daughter things together, like fishing. All well and good, but, again, what has all this got to do with money? Well, read further, instead of me revealing anything more.

“In Memoriam” by N. T. Cloever starts off with a doctor’s log in some distant future. By this, you know you’re in a fictional world. But a setting about money? You wouldn’t guess it if this piece appeared in some fantasy magazine, would you, when the log record tells us about some experiment involving growth hormones? We come upon an illustration of a girl holding an umbrella over a beggar. The patches on his frayed clothes don’t look very futuristic. The doctor is at Central Station, and the question on her mind is “What is wealth without memory? When in the distant future, memory is a commodity and a currency, what happens if you sell your memories for necessities like food? This piece reeks of Black Mirror, a scifi serial.

The longest piece, “Necessary Expense” by Sarah Anne, is another fantasy. It swills with a merman and some flying creature couple. Money is tight and they have to deal with monetary issues and expenditures, like water for the merman, fixing the tank, and broken furniture from flying indoors. Things are so dire that the flying female has to resort to selling some of her feathers, and then some.

I gather “Cigarettes” by Eu Leon is a true tale, about the expenses of smoking. The first instance rather makes one crinkle the nose, not because of the smoke. Though the writer doesn’t go all graphic on the act of “passing motion”, the mere narration is enough, even though it is tempered with a bit of humour about the smoke masking the even worse smells of durian and petai. Next, we read about other expenses concomitant with cigarettes: meals, traffic jams, tea drinking with friends, boredom, stress, break times, awkwardness, customers who smoke. Does the writer finally kick this bad habit at the end? Read the piece yourself to find out.

“An APP-xpensive Mistake” by Sumi S recounts an incident the writer doesn’t want to relive. It began the day her mother told her to withdraw the allowance her father banked into her account. She found it short by RM800—her brother had bought games for his iPad. The story goes on recounting how to get back the money, to keep calm, and to deal with customer service.

In “Condo” by Aina Izzah, we meet Farrah getting her hands dirty in a game show called “Condo”. The premise is she and other players compete for money, and rise up the condo for the final prize of RM1 million and a penthouse. The initial levels of the game seem simple enough, requiring her to eat, drink and fast. But one challenge has her digging into the bowels of a pig. She forwent a job interview for the chance to win big money. But was the sacrifice worth it? Besides, she has to make yet other sacrifices while playing the game—and also an “investment”.

“Managing Finances while Doing a PhD” by Juntaki is a puzzler. It begins sedately, elucidating the educational mysteries of doing a PhD. The sentences feel like they belong to a thesis, rather than a short story or a nonfiction. Take phrases like “processes involved in such a tremendous commitment may be content with …”, “affecting an individual’s ability to maintain stability financially…”. In this vein, the writer proceeds to “elaborate how I was able to effectively manage my finances during my phD.” I read on to see if all this seriousness is perpetuated with tongue in cheek. But, no, the writer is giving the reader a detailed rundown in all seriousness. If you’re interested in doing a PhD and want to know the costs involved, you’ll enjoy this piece.

The title “My Family’s Experience with Ponzi Scheme” leaves one without any doubt about the angle of the piece by Jonathan Kam. Like the previous story about going for a PhD, it also offers a lesson. The writer warns the reader about buying a membership and expecting to receive a share of other members’ money.

In “How Much is a Mother’s Job Worth?”, writer Chan Ai Sin counts the ways. Right from the start, she tells us being a mother “pays nothing, allocates no day off, and accepts no resignation no matter how tough the going gets”. She even includes a chart listing hourly rates of the various tasks a mother takes on. With humour, she tells us her experiences as milk producer, chef and nutritionist, staff nurse, and a couple of other positions.

“For the Greater Good” by Suraya tells a story of how a government scheme to give citizens a living wage became a bane to employers and a boon to employees. It destroyed companies like Rina’s when employees quit over the good news of this Universal Basic Income. No matter the direness of the story, I couldn’t help grinning, especially reading about how certain factions of people were against this UBI. Rina attended a talk and inadvertently got arrested for attempting to jeopardise government plans. I suspect the writer is hinting how the type of benefit schemes UK offers the unemployed could turn Malaysia into a totalitarian state.

These days when Malaysian writings in English hardly attract local readership, an anthology like this is not only off the beaten track of usual genres like literary, noir and horror, it is welcome simply for its monetary theme.

Suraya Zainudin is a freelance writer and an independent communications consultant specialising in online content creation and management. She is also the founder of Ringgit Oh Ringgit website, where she writes about her lifelong obsession with personal finance and how she invests, spends, earns and saves money.

#short fiction #Non-fiction #Malaysian literature #anthology #Suraya Zainudin #Money Stories from Malaysians Volume 1

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lilyvandersteen · 7 years ago

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A Rose for You

This is a short story for @fictionallylost as a birthday present. Enjoy, sweetie!

Also on AO3/Fanfiction.net.

Part Two.

Prompt: someone left me a rose backstage after opening night and I have no clue who it is because I’m not even an actor?? I’m just on set……AU

“Kurt, the backdrop is coming loose again. Where’s the staple gun?”

Kurt couldn’t answer because his mouth was full of pins, but he reached behind him for the staple gun and handed it to Sam, who thanked him and sprinted to the backdrop to secure it before it could fall on the actors.

Kurt went back to hemming the lead actor’s pants and then taking in the waist of his jacket.

“All done,” he said at last. “You can take off your costume, but be careful, there are pins everywhere!”

The guy shrugged off the jacket and hung it over the back of Kurt’s chair, and then gingerly wriggled out of the pants, folding them and handing them to Kurt.

“Thanks,” Kurt said. “I’ll make the adjustments tonight, and then the costume should be perfect. Make sure you’re here on time tomorrow, though, so that I will have time for last-minute changes if necessary.”

The guy, who was by now putting his regular clothes on again, wiggling his tush invitingly in Kurt’s direction, turned around and nodded. “I will, I promise. Thank you, Kurt.”

Mr Great Tush shot Kurt a dazzling smile before he left, and it took Kurt a full minute to shake off the effects it had on him and get back to work.

Right. Rachel.

“Rachel! Come and try on your dress!”

Rachel, who was schmoozing with Jesse, the director of the play, giggled at something Jesse had said and didn’t budge.

“Rach! Any day now?”

Still no reaction.

“Rachel Barbra Berry, if you do not want to go on stage in your undies tomorrow, get here this instant and try on your costume!”

Kurt yelled this loud enough for everyone to hear, and the stage hands and actors all sniggered.

Rachel’s head snapped up, her mouth a thin line. She whispered something to Jesse and then came towards Kurt.

“There was no need to yell like that!” she snapped.

“Oh, yes, there is. I’ve still got plenty to do before opening night, so I need you to hurry up and put this on! You can get your flirt on after.”

Rachel huffed, but took off her blouse and skirt to slip into the dress, sweeping her hair out of the way so that Kurt could pull up the zipper.

“Hmm, I’ll need to take in the bust area and the waist.”

Kurt busied himself pinning the dress until it fit like a glove, and then helped Rachel out of it.

“Okay. Send me the ensemble actors, please.”

Rachel huffed again. “What am I, your errand girl?”

“Yes. I don’t have the time to go running after everyone who needs a costume. Bring them to me.”

Rachel took a deep breath and then yelled, “Ensemble cast! Come fit your costumes!”

Kurt winced, but he guessed his ears ringing was a small price to pay for the rest of the cast hurrying towards him and eagerly trying on the clothes he handed to them.

Kurt went on pinning, and in two cases taking out the seams, for quite a while yet, and then sent everyone off while he stayed and headed to the sewing machine. The thing was ancient, and Kurt swore under his breath each time a needle broke, but he managed to get most of the work done before he started to yawn so jaw-breakingly that he knew he had to call it a day.

Sighing, he stood up and stretched to work the kinks out of his back. It was after midnight already. He should have adjusted the costumes way earlier, but he’d been kept busy prompting actors that kept forgetting their lines, painting backdrops, making props, fixing several spotlights that needed new light bulbs, and on one occasion even looking after the child of a cast member. The list of tasks he had to do was never-ending.

This was not what he’d hoped for when Rachel announced she’d signed the both of them up for theatre camp during summer. He’d been counting on getting a speaking part in the play. After all, he could act, he could sing and he could dance. And quite well, too, even if he said so himself.

But when Kurt had auditioned, Jesse had taken one look at him and frowned, and Kurt’s stellar performance of “I’m the Greatest Star” had only made the frown deepen. By the time Jesse had yelled “Next” without even acknowledging Kurt, it had been clear that an ensemble role was as much as Kurt could hope for.

When the cast list had gone up, it had proved to be even worse. Kurt was nowhere on it. He hadn’t even gotten a small, non-speaking role. Rachel, of course, was lead.

Kurt had been furious, and had stalked to Jesse to ask his money back. “You can’t call this theatre camp when I won’t even get the chance to act! What am I supposed to do for two weeks, huh? Sit around and watch those lucky enough to make your list though they don’t have half of my talent?”

Jesse had quirked an eyebrow at Kurt. “Didn’t read the brochure, did you? If you’re not cast, you’re crew. You’re going to be helping with the lighting, the sound, the costuming, the backdrops and anything else we need done. That’s part of theatre just as much as acting is.”

Kurt had shot Jesse a death glare. “Do I look like I signed up to do menial work?”

Jesse had just shrugged. “Somebody’s got to do it. You’ll learn fast enough. Sam will teach you. He was here last year, too. Sam!!”

A tall blonde Adonis had sauntered up to them. “Yep?”

“New blood for your crew,” Jesse had told him.

“Oh, nice,” Sam had grinned, and had clapped Kurt on the shoulder. “Come on back, I’ll show you the ropes.”

Kurt, blinded by Sam’s pearly whites, had put up no more objections, and had let himself be led backstage. Now, a week and a half later, he could wield a staple gun like a pro, recite the whole play from memory and knew the lighting and sound plan forwards and backwards, timing the dramatic spotlights and sound effects to the very second. Well, it wasn’t what he’d signed up for, but it might come in handy someday, right? And getting to spend ten days with a Nordic god who worked shirtless and kept climbing on ladders so that Kurt could admire his firm ass from up close, well, that was a definite perk of being a crew member.

Kurt smiled to himself, thinking of Sam. He was straight, of course, but he didn’t seem to mind or notice Kurt ogling him, and he was friendly and funny.

I’ve had worse crushes…

Ten minutes later, he slipped into the room he shared with three other guys from theatre camp. He always made sure to be the first to leave in the morning and the last to arrive at night. He had no idea if his roommates were homophobic, but he reckoned it was better to be safe than sorry. He was too tired to go shower or do his skin care routine, choosing instead to just flop onto his bed, pull the covers over him and drift off to sleep.

Though he’d gone to bed late, he woke up at seven, like clockwork, and went to take a shower. Just as he’d stepped back into his room with a towel around his waist and was bending over to pick out a change of clothes from his suitcase, he heard a groan from one of his roommates.

Kurt quickly looked around, but everyone still appeared to be sleeping. He hurried to get dressed, though, and made his way to the campus café for breakfast.

Just when he was paying for his mocha and blueberry muffin, he heard a cheery voice behind him. “Hey Kurt! Can I join you for breakfast?”

Kurt turned around and saw Mr Great Tush, again with a blinding smile, the likes of which ought to be forbidden so early in the morning. “Uhm, hi. Actually, I’m heading backstage, there’s still plenty to do. Your costume’s ready, though, so if you have a minute, pop in to see if it fits like it should now.”

He didn’t wait for Mr Great Tush to answer. He just grabbed his drink and his muffin and headed out.

“Okay, I will!” he heard behind him. It sounded less enthusiastic than before. No doubt, Mr Great Tush was in need of coffee too.

The day went by in a whirlwind of activity. Kurt adjusted the rest of the costumes, had everyone try them on again, and then did the lighting for the dress rehearsal, while Sam did the sound.

The dress rehearsal was a disaster. Everyone was so nervous that they kept forgetting their lines and needed to be prompted, and the singing sounded flat. Halfway through, an ensemble kid bumped into the tower with a balcony Kurt and Sam had constructed out of wood and painted cardboard, just when Rachel was at the top. The tower fell over, and Rachel shrieked and fell, too. Mr Great Tush tried to catch her, but was knocked off balance. Result: the tower was ruined, Rachel sprained her ankle, and Mr Great Tush hit his head and blacked out.

Kurt hurried to the dorm kitchen and grabbed two packs of ice cubes from the freezer and two towels. On his return, he handed one to each of the injured actors and then helped Sam reassemble the wooden tower as best they could, which took the rest of the afternoon.

Jesse had thrown out the ensemble kid, who had no lines anyway, and spent his time alternating between yelling at everyone, pacing the room and doting on Rachel, bringing her tea, a scarf, painkillers, bandages and ointment for her ankle and a vegan salad.

Rachel was in tears because her ankle hurt and she could not stand on it, and kept whining until Kurt told her to please stop.

“There’s no need for you to stand, Rach. Every scene that has you standing can be done sitting. We have this sofa backstage that we could put on stage for you. And for the tower scenes, we’ll just darken the stage before and after and Sam will help you up and then help you down again. And we’ll make sure you can sit in the tower. Okay?”

As soon as the tower was up again, now with the addition of a bench for Rachel to sit on, they practised Sam lifting up Rachel and putting her into the tower, and then taking her out again. And if Kurt kind of salivated over Sam’s muscles flexing, well, he was sure everyone was too preoccupied with saving the play to notice.

The last hour before opening night, Kurt checked everyone’s costumes one last time and then did the main actors’ hair and make-up. The ensemble had to fend for themselves, he just didn’t have the time.

Five minutes before the play was to start, he slipped backstage, gave Sam a thumbs-up and got ready to do the lighting.

This time, everything went swimmingly, and nobody seemed to notice Sam helping Rachel in and out of the tower. The applause was enthusiastic and went on for a long time, prompting Rachel to stand up anyway and curtsey, only wincing a little as she did so.

As soon as the audience was gone, Kurt and Sam tidied up the auditorium, and then Kurt headed to the sewing machine to fix a tear in one of the costumes. He was surprised to find a flower next to the machine. A red-tipped yellow rose. It wasn’t a prop. It was a real flower.

“Hey Rach! Is this yours?” Kurt yelled, but Rachel was already gone, probably taken to her dorm room by Jesse.

Kurt sighed and carefully put the flower on a spare chair before threading the needle of the sewing machine for his repairs. He’d get it back to Rachel later.

“It’s for you, Kurt,” a soft voice said, and Kurt jumped in fright. He turned towards the voice, and it proved to be Mr Great Tush.

“Don’t sneak up me like that, for Pete’s sake!” Kurt snapped.

“Sorry… I just wanted to say… The rose is for you. Not for Rachel.”

Kurt gaped at Mr Great Tush, who blushed and lowered his eyes, and oh wow, how had Kurt never noticed what beautiful lashes the guy had?

“You… Why would you give me flowers?” Kurt said at last.

Mr Great Tush chuckled. “Isn’t it obvious? I like you, Kurt. I’ve liked you from the moment I saw you. Only… You never seemed to see me. I thought maybe you resented me. ‘Cause I got the lead. I saw your audition, Kurt, and you MOVED me. You were so right in calling out Jesse for not casting you. You ARE better than the rest of us combined. You deserve better than to work backstage.”

Kurt looked at Mr Great Tush with wide eyes. “Uhm…”

“So I’ve been trying to get your attention, but you never even noticed me. That’s why I thought this might be a nice gesture.”

Mr Great Tush picked up the rose and held it out to Kurt, who hesitated, and then accepted it. A warm feeling spread in his chest, and he felt the corners of his lips tugging upwards.

“Thank you.”

Mr Great Tush beamed, another of those smiles that left Kurt breathless. Why HAD Kurt never noticed him? He was stunning! He was also… speaking, so Kurt had better listen. “Would you… Would you go out with me sometime?”

Kurt huffed out a laugh. “Yeah. Yes. Sure. If you tell me your name first.”

“Oh, you don’t…? It’s Blaine. Blaine Anderson.”

Kurt tucked Blaine’s arm into the crook of his elbow. “Well, Blaine, I know it’s late, but I’m hungry for a milkshake and fries. Let me take you to Marie’s Diner, and we can play Twenty Questions. Does that sound okay?”

“Perfect,” Blaine purred, and he kissed Kurt on the cheek. “Lead the way.”

#a rose for you #klaine fanfiction #for fictionallylost #happy birthday sweetie!

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rostamic · 6 years ago

Text

Interview with the Muse

- What is your Full name? Include any maiden names, aliases, or nicknames.

Rostam Morley. The Third. Esquire.

You can shorten it if you really want, but people usually just call me by my full first name. I prefer my full name. Kerry is the only one to call me “Tammy” and she remains the only one because no one else is allowed to. When I was a kid – sometimes even now – my mom called me “Pancake” as a pet name. They said that was the first English word I spoke during breakfast one day. Not even “hello”.

- When is your birthday? Do you know where you were born and at what time?

14th of May (Ordibehesht 24, Persian calendar). Some village outside of Shiraz, Iran. Don’t know what time.

- What is your star sign? Do you know your Chinese Zodiac too?

Taurus. Explains why I’m so good at bullshitting.

- What is your earliest memory that you can remember?

Fuck if I know.

- Where was your childhood home? Was it more urban or rural?

My adoptive parents’ place was a little outside the city. I’d say it was kinda more semi-urban than suburban. No white picket fences or anything like that, just an old type of house that fit the five of us, somehow. I don’t know what type they’re called. Ranch?

(In other verses his family lived in a semi-detached row home.)

- How was your childhood in general? Did your parents treat you well? Did you have a lot of friends?

It started off weird as fuck. It wasn’t easy to get me from my country and the details are blurry at best. It might be better if I don’t know the whole story. But after I came here to my family, it got better. My parents worked hard for me and when I started talking freely they couldn’t get me to shut up. So I got a lot of friends soon enough. Between the neighborhood kids and school kids, I had no shortage of people to play with.

- How was/is school? What is your favorite and least favorite subjects? What were your grades on average?

School was school. I didn’t get perfect marks and I didn’t want to – just to pass. High school I did the worst. They were being unnecessarily hard to “prepare” us for... what exactly? I found university easier than that. That was bullshit. But, like I said, I passed.

- Did you have a best friend growing up? What was their name? Are you still in touch?

I had some best friends. There were a whole bunch in the neighborhood and I had two at school. A few of them moved away or transferred to other schools and the ones that didn’t weren’t my friends anymore as the years passed. Our interests were no longer the same. That’s fine. Shit happens.

- Were you in any cliques?

No. I talked to everybody.

- Best childhood memory you can recall?

Playing outside, throwing rocks and chasing each other with sticks. It’s not really a memory, it’s a feeling.

- Worst childhood memory you can recall?

I got trapped in an elevator once. I decided to go off exploring on a school trip. Something malfunctioned on the way up. It felt like hours I was in there but it was probably only 30 minutes at most. That wasn’t fun.

- Name an event in your childhood that has shaped you into the person you are today

I sound like a broken record and I usually don’t bring it up, but being adopted tops the list. I don’t know what my life would be like if I stayed in Iran. Thank God I wasn’t born a girl.

- What is the dumbest thing you have ever done to impress someone? Were they impressed or was it all for naught?

I’ve done a lot of dumb shit but it’s rarely to impress anyone.

- Did you ever have any sweethearts or lovers? Do you have a boy/girlfriend?

I’ve had many lovers and a handful of exclusive relationships. I’m not spoken for now. ;)

- Are you a virgin?

Ha. Not since I was 14.

- Do you ever plan on getting married in your life? Do you want kids?

I think it’ll be a long time before either of those things happens.

- Would you rather have your own kids or adopt? How many kids would you want?

Ideally both. Being adopted myself, I was very lucky to get a home that treated me well. If I had any kids at all, maybe 4 total – biologically or otherwise.

- Do you think you'd be a protective parent or a relaxed parent?

Probably a mix of them.

- How would you prefer to pass away? Surrounded by loved ones and at peace, or while doing something heroic?

If anything, I wanna die quickly.

- Generally, how healthy are you? Do you get sick or injured easily or are you fit?

I’m healthy. I don’t get sick very often. My serotonin could probably use a boost.

- Have you ever been badly injured before?

A few times. The worst was from a fight in high school. Me and some other guy were arguing over some stupid shit in retrospect. We weren’t the least bit sober and when you’ve got two angry teens rolling, shit hits the fan quick. I’m only glad fists and knives were involved and not guns.

- What is the worst injury you have ever gotten? What was it and how did it happen? Were you ever close to death?

That fight. I still have a scar on my side from it.

I’ve skirted fate once or twice. I might not be so lucky the next time.

- How many times have you been to the hospital/doctor's?

Maybe 3 times? I don’t know, I don’t count them.

- Have you ever had a concussion or brain injury? Have you ever had amnesia?

I got a mild concussion from a fist fight. I’ve also blacked out at parties once or twice. I like staying conscious so I don’t go as hard as I used to.

- What was the worst illness you ever contacted? Do you know what it was? How long were you sick?

The clap. It’s long gone now. Moral of the story: Wrap it before you tap it.

- Ever had any extended hospital stays? What for?

No.

- Have you ever had to give yourself or someone else emergency first aid? What happened?

No.

- Are you employed? Where do you work and who do you work for? What do you do?

Manta Talent Acquisitions. I’m a consultant.

- Are you happy with your current job?

It’s fine. I’ve never done anything like it so it’s been a learning experience. The pay is good and I get flexibility. There’s better jobs out there I know but so far, I’ll stick it out with this one.

- Did you have any previous jobs? What were they and what did you do?

Lots. Did some short summer work through the years. For full time I was a restaurant host, bartender, construction worker, office aide, bookkeeper for a short stint, and now a talent consultant.

- Most dangerous thing you have ever done?

Drug mixing + alcohol = you might die.

Shower sex is a close second.

- Do you consider yourself a more active person or a more relaxed person?

Active.

- What is your dream come true? How about your worst nightmare?

I’m not letting you use that against me.

- What is the biggest and most important goal you have set for yourself?

Be a little less temperamental.

- How persistent would you say you are? How much does it take to get you to give up on a task?

It takes forever for me to give up on anything because I don’t like to give up.

- Would you surrender yourself to your enemies or fight to the very end?

That depends on the circumstances.

- When do you usually do your shopping? What is currently on your shopping list?

Groceries I get after work or later at night when the rush is gone. I get my clothing and home things whenever I need them.

- Top three things on your wishlist?

I’ve got what I want right now.

- Currently, what is something you want but do not need?

See above.

- Do you like shopping? What is your favorite thing to shop for?

I don’t care either way. I get what I need and go.

- What is the most expensive thing you have purchased? Was it worth it?

My car. Hell yeah it was worth it.

- What would you do if you were suddenly given one billion dollars out of the blue?

What wouldn’t I do? That’s the real question.

- What would you describe your style of clothing as?

Ah... A nicer kind of casual.

- Do you have any hobbies? Name all of them if you can.

My hobbies? Just watching movies or listening to music. Socializing. Running. Whatever I find interesting at the time I guess.

- Do you like and appreciate art? What is your favorite piece of artwork?

I’ve never been a big art fan. Leonid Afremov has great stuff, though.

- Do you like music? What is your favorite style of music?

I like rock music, but I’m also a basic bitch and listen to top 40.

- Have you ever seen any musicals? What is your favorite?

No. I don’t like singing in shows. People get really angry when I say I don’t like different animated movies.

- What are your top three favorite animals? What would you say your "Patronus" or "Spirit Animal" is?

Elephants. That’s really it.

Look. How could you not like them?

- What are your top three favorite colors?

Burgundy/maroon, grey, and... I don’t know. White? Black? Yellow? As long as I look good in it.

- What is your favorite season? Do you prefer hotter or colder weather? Do you like snow at all?

Summer. I’ll take hot weather over cold. Cold’s got its benefits, though. As for snow, it’s great to look at and play in, but I’m paying someone else to clean that up.

- What kind of flavors do you prefer: Sweet, Sour, Bitter, Spicy, Dry, or Umami (savory meat taste)?

Every taste has its place in my heart and stomach.

- Can you cook at all?

Yeah I can cook. But for you? For a price.

- What is your favorite dish? Can you prepare it? Do you have the recipe handy?

Breaded chicken served with oven-roasted allumette-cut potatoes paired with a spiced tomato reduction sauce. I can make it, but I don’t use a recipe so it tastes a little different each time.

- What is your favorite fruit and vegetable?

I love nectarines.

- What is your favorite dessert? What is your favorite type of candy/treat?

Favorite dessert is cookie dough ice cream.

- What is the best thing you have ever had the opportunity to eat? What is the worst?

Pus-- I really love nectarines. The worst was liver.

- Do you like to drink tea or coffee? Any favorite flavors?

I hate coffee, so I’ll always go for tea. I really like hibiscus tea but I’ll go for any kind of tea.

- Describe your sense of humor.

Situational. Bawdy. Dry.

- What is one thing you are justly proud of?

Where I am now financially. My job, where I live, the things I have. It took a long time to get here. Everything else in life is a work in progress.

- Do you have any religious beliefs? If not, have you ever been to a church service?

I don’t care what you do in your free time. I’ve only been to churches for weddings or funerals.

- What would you say is the worst thing someone has done to you? What is the meanest thing someone has ever said to you?

I had an ex-friend who almost blackmailed me into some serious crime. I’m not talking little drug runs, I mean stuff that’ll get you locked up for the rest of your life and then some. I had to get out of that before things got bad. Mean words on the other hand don’t mean anything to me.

As for the absolute worst thing someone’s done to me, I’m not gonna talk about it.

(It’s a very sore subject for him, sorry!)

- What is the worst thing you have done to someone? What is the meanest thing you have said to anyone?

I’d never hurt a fly. Honest.

- Share the latest entry in your diary/journal.

Don’t have one. My old counselor suggested me to have one a long, long time ago but I thought it was stupid. I don’t think that as much now, but I still don’t want one.

- What is the most precious thing you own? Is it valuable at all?

A necklace with a little elephant pendant from my siblings. It has no market value but it’s priceless to me.

- Talk about someone you know. It can be someone you either like or dislike.

[proceeds to talk about himself]

#headcanon #mirror mirror #{{ another long one }}#{{ remember he is an unreliable narrator so don't take all these at face value }}

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owlsshadows · 8 years ago

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Sculpted Memories (Akaashi x Kuroo)

There’s nothing Kuroo Tetsurou has in common with art galleries. He’s not a huge fan of modern art – or rather, he has absolutely no idea how to interpret it. Still, he stands in front of a gallery exhibiting exclusively contemporary pieces.

It is the debut of Akaashi Keiji, the sculptor, after all.

10 years after canon timeline, an adult Kuroo Tetsurou decides to face his teenage crush.

Fandom: Haikyuu!!

Pairing: Akaashi Keiji x Kuroo Tetsurou

Audience: T+

Huge thanks for @brokuro and @skiecas for their help with proofreading!

Keep reading, or find the story on AO3!

PHANTOM PAIN

Going to an exhibition is not really Kuroo’s cup of tea. It was originally Kenma’s idea to come, yet he bailed out on Kuroo last minute. He has always been a master of not going anywhere. This time, he said it was diarrhoea; Kuroo guesses it was the release of a new game. Not that he minds… he could never really get angry at Kenma for skipping out on social activities (apart from that one time Kenma stood him up and left him alone when they had promised to have a double tennis match against Bokuto and Akaashi, because Bokuto was not convinced that it’s a bad idea to play 2-on-1, and that one game nearly killed Kuroo). He simply feels awkward, standing here alone, in a place he knows he doesn’t belong. It would be good to have Kenma with him, to have some of his silent reassurance, or his deadpan comments which can miraculously ease Kuroo’s nerves. But Kenma is at home, curing his non-existent diarrhoea with a video game console.

Kuroo Tetsurou is envious of the kindergartener who walks past hand-in-hand with his mother in front of him on the pedestrian walk. This is the difference between a child and an adult: the latter is the same as the former, only more panicked without the familiar hand to hold on to.

Kuroo swallows hard, gathering his courage to enter the gallery. Since he has already arrived, he decides to enter. It is the debut of Akaashi Keiji, the sculptor, after all.

He didn’t hear about Akaashi for at least three years.

During university they still had their regular get-togethers, with Bokuto being the glue holding their friendly cycle together, but since the ex-ace’s shotgun wedding, their casual gatherings became rarer and rarer, and finally they died off around the time Kuroo won a scholarship abroad.

It’s been two years since he has been back in town now, but apart from Kenma, he doesn’t really meet with anyone on a regular basis. The Nekoma kids scattered: Yaku moved to the countryside, Lev has been playing in Russia, Fukunaga applied to a university in Sapporo, Taketora moved to Sendai to run a restaurant with the Tanaka siblings of Karasuno, and Kai was off at sea on some fishing boat to observe marine life.

It is not so much different with Bokuto either.

Naturally, they have been in contact, going out for drinks every second month or so, catching up on life. They still favour the same brand of beer, have the same sense of terrible humour, and have a common affection for volleyball. Yet, there is an untraceable, slight shift, caused by time and the wind of events, slowly drifting them apart.

Bokuto by now is a father of three, his proudly announced “second son” turning out to be twin daughters. He has stories of kids going wild, complaints about the Shirofuku in-laws, and the price of diapers.

Kuroo holds a degree in international business, and has a well-paying job and a nice apartment in Ikebukuro. Occasionally he talks about his job and sometimes about his black cat, whom he has rebelliously named Shiro.

In high school, they had a lot in common. Nowadays Kuroo has the feeling that he has less and less to talk about with his friends, and that life is going at a much faster pace than he is, with all his friends running past him.

Even Kenma, the forever gamer, extreme-shut-in Kenma plans to marry the fiery mandarin of Karasuno.

Here he stands, drifted away from his friends, like a sailing boat that has lost its anchor – floating further and further from reality, he feels – standing all alone in front of an art gallery, hesitating to enter.

It is the now he is lost in.

He has been standing here for what feels like ages since the taxi dropped him off. He wavers, even though he had made up his mind before. Walking in the lion’s den all on his own seems more and more dangerous with every passing second.

The door opens just as Kuroo is about to change his mind and turn on his heels to run. Through the door comes a man, sharp and spry and so breathtakingly beautiful that Kuroo freezes in motion.

The man doesn’t notice him, turning away from the door to light a cigarette. In the orange light of the gas lighter, Kuroo can see dark shadows cast over deep set eyes and hooded lids. Akaashi seems tired, but ever so stunning.

He blows out the smoke. His forever lazy looking eyes glance up the sky.

Kuroo has nothing in common with art in general, but in this moment he thinks of Akaashi Keiji as a masterpiece.

Memories flick through his mind, and the sudden feeling of guilt drives him into the building.

The first room he walks into makes him want to turn back instantly.

In the center of the hall, lit with a myriad of lights, stands a sculpture of an amorphous torso with no head or arms but at least twelve legs casting shadows to the walls.

Fear strangles Kuroo, gluing his eyes on the abomination. It looks like a centipede – and God knows Kuroo is bad with those – or a huge spider with human legs, and Kuroo knows it will haunt him in his dreams. Still, he finds the sculpture intriguing. There’s something in it – behind the layers of gross and grotesque – that he can resonate with.

He cautiously walks closer, ready to flee the moment the sculpture does something usual matter is not supposed to do.

“Pursuit,” he reads the tag under the abomination.

His insides churn with whatever unidentified feeling this is, which connects him to this huge mess of legs.

Kuroo stares, now up close, at the toes and ankles and knees and the curves of muscles and the thin lines of popliteal tendons, and he wonders how many models Akaashi had used to shape all these forms with such detail.

Kuroo feels drawn even closer, face bare centimeters away from a toe. It looks almost alive. It’s almost like a wicked living-breathing thing. A sudden urge awakens in him to lick it, but he suppresses his dirty impulse for the much more innocent poking of a finger, still an act unfavourable towards pieces of art.

The sculpture is not cold to the touch, not warm either. It’s smooth, even too smooth. It feels artificial.

Kuroo lets go of the toe, hurriedly glimpsing around, but no one has noticed him touching. He releases a deep breath – he didn’t notice he was keeping it in – and steps back from the sculpture.

The title troubles him.

Pursuit… of what?

So many legs.

Kuroo walks through the second room, with smaller sculptures, all pure white under red lights, all with the motif of legs.

There is a sculpture of a horse, which has human legs.

There is one of a tree with legs clutching around its trunk.

There is another with footsteps half washed away.

There is an installation by the wall; nothing much but a door swung open by a leg on the doorknob.

As he walks from sculpture to sculpture, the suspicion that Akaashi Keiji has a leg fetish is growing stronger and stronger in Kuroo.

The third room is small. The walls are covered in black drapery, the floor is carpeted likewise. On a well-lit pedestal stands a pure white sculpture in this darkness. It doesn’t take long for Kuroo to make the assumption that he has arrived to the most important piece of the exhibition, no matter how little interest or knowledge he has in art or galleries.

Kuroo has a feeling he is peeking in on someone’s secret as he steps closer, examining the sculpture. This one is much smaller, almost tiny compared to the abomination showcased in the first hall, yet it feels bigger, with all the darkness and the placement on the pedestal.

A kneeling male figure – the first entirely humanlike creature Kuroo has seen at this exhibition – is holding a lifted leg to his lips. The leg ends in large frills mid-thigh high, forming almost a flower in full blossom. The scene reminds Kuroo of Cinderella and the prince who puts the glass slipper on her foot, with the exception that the leg in the sculpture is undeniably that of a man’s, and instead of an odd shoe, a kiss is planted on the foot.

It looks romantic. A bitter feeling sinks into the pit of Kuroo’s stomach. This here is different from the fantasy nightmare in the other rooms. It’s very much a memory. A secret shared by no one else, but him and Akaashi.

They’d had a moment together; a split second they silently agreed to not talk about.

It happened during the summer camp of Kuroo’s last year in high school, when they had 3-on-3 matches with Bokuto, Lev, and the Karasuno first years.

“You’re bleeding, Kuroo-san,” Akaashi pointed out mid-game.

“True! There’s blood!” squeaked Hinata, and Tsukishima joined in with a murmured, “This is what you get, when you dive in so carelessly to reach the ball.”

As Kuroo looked down, he noticed the scrape on his knee. “Oh, this is nothing big,” he said absent-mindedly, “and you should be thankful I saved that point for us, Tsukishima, rather than grumbling to yourself.”

“You can’t play like this,” argued Akaashi. “Let’s clean it at least.”

“Let’s take a break?” Tsukishima offered.

“Yeah, five minute break!” Lev announced.

“Want me to teach you something fun?” Bokuto asked Hinata, and the two stormed off in an instant, shouting wildly at the other end of the gym.

Akaashi murmured something before turning to Kuroo. “Come,” he ushered Kuroo to the bench, rummaging through his bag.

“What are you looking for?” Kuroo asked, smearing blood off of his shin.

“Water and disinfectant. Don’t touch your leg with your dirty hands, please.”

Kuroo halted his movements and let Akaashi handle things. The boy looked quite adorable, dead serious and deeply in focus, as he started his ministrations on Kuroo’s knee. He has squatted down and rinsed out the scratch, washing away the dirt from the scraped skin, and then blotting the water softly with a tissue. He put disinfectant on the wound skillfully, then his hand slid down Kuroo’s leg to stop by his ankle. He held Kuroo’s foot up, examining it with squinted eyes.

“Your ankle seems fine,” he said.

Kuroo instinctively rolled his foot around. “Yeah, everything’s fine,” he replied, voice hitching as Akaashi’s hands touched his foot.

“Thank God,” the boy murmured, lips so close that Kuroo could feel his breath between his toes.

It was a brand new feeling, strange yet impulsive, which ran over him like lightning or a summer storm, and Kuroo wanted to squat down to reach Akaashi to touch him and to hold him in his arms.

It was a frightening thought.

As if on cue, Akaashi looked up and their gazes met.

Kuroo knew that if not for the others in the gym, Akaashi might have kissed his foot already. The thought intrigued him. It caught him off guard. He wished, he realised, for it to happen. This realisation was alarming.

He yearned to lean down and kiss the boy himself.

As if they had popped out of time, Kuroo felt as if their surroundings all slowed down and blurred, the noises of the others fading. He felt Akaashi’s fingers on his sole slightly tremble, but he didn’t break off eye contact.

It was desire. It was some weird flame engulfing them, burning them to ashes and leaving them for the wind to blow them away. It was a sudden physical aspect attaching itself to their well-established bond of mutual respect and friendly bickering. It gave a whole new dimension to their story, an element unknown to Kuroo before.

He had never considered this as a possibility.

His face flushed red, flustered.

He freed his leg from Akaashi’s touch, pulling his socks and shoes back on in the speed of light.

“It’s not good for your face to be so close to my feet, I sweat a lot and you may faint from the smell,” he jabbered, looking away.

“I see,” Akaashi said. Kuroo glanced back, and as their eyes met, a silent agreement formed between them.

They would never talk about this.

Then, Kuroo was seventeen, and he was afraid.

Now he is twenty-seven, and he searches for the title of the sculpture fervently like a stranded man looks for water in the desert.

“Phantom pain”, he reads.

It’s a medical condition he has heard of; it’s when the sensation of pain is coming from a body part that's no longer there, experienced by people after amputations.

“It’s quite roundabout,” he murmurs.

“You think so?” asks the man standing beside him. “Thank you for dropping by, by the way.”

Kuroo gets a small heart attack when he realises that he is not alone, but Akaashi’s smirk is not something he is willing to give in to. At least, not so soon.

“That leg has never been part of your body, to start off with,” he says.

Akaashi lets out a small chuckle.

“True,” he admits. “It still hurt, when we got separated.”

“Don’t you have a bit of a leg fetish, dear Akaashi?” Kuroo turns to the man.

Akaashi’s lazy eyes wander off, as if contemplating the answer.

“People tend to say so, but I have no idea why.”

“Are you sure?” Kuroo gestures around.

“I have no interest in legs in general, but I have a pair of legs I am particularly fond of. I’ve been searching for a replacement for them, but I failed to find anything so perfect.”

“So that’s what the Pursuit is about,” Kuroo whispers, almost mockingly.

“That’s a feverish nightmare.”

“But so many legs…” Kuroo teases.

“People can get eager,” Akaashi agrees.

“I hope you know that people’s legs change in ten years.”

“If I were you I would be careful with my words, Kuroo-san. People might take them as an invitation.”

Then, Kuroo was seventeen, and he didn’t dare to cross the line. Now Kuroo is twenty-seven, and he realises that there has never been a line to begin with.

He looks at Akaashi.

“You should take it as an invitation,” he says.

A/N: written as a Christmas (and birthday) present for @immodea!

Let’s say I am fashionably late...

Thank you for reading!^^

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu fanfiction #kurooaka #akakuroo #kuroaka #kuroo tetsurou #akaashi keiji #(i have no idea of the official shipname)#hilsstuff

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blueisunlucky · 8 years ago

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1. more cereal than milk 2. no 3. a broken adventure time card holder given to me from the one that got away on halloween three years ago 4. i don’t drink coffee & i take my tea with two sugars, sometimes one and a half, depending on the size of the mug 5. yes 6. no, but i’d like to 7. - 8. words 9. no 10. side 11. shipping each other with males whom they have a vague connection with (e.g. makes a teacher laugh once, sees a random boy’s name on their Snapchat contact list that we don’t know,) 12. earth 13. my brother showing me a meme 14. spiral stairs, raw brick walls, a neutral colour scheme and warm fairy lights. lots of them. these fairy lights will be stringed across the walls and have candid poleroid photos pegged to them. tables covered in newspaper clippings, sketches of plants and fairytale creatures, cutouts from magazines and used mugs. strange abstract paintings from market stalls that we thought were funny, creaky wooden flooring and shaggy rugs on top. 15. 99% of our solar system’s mass is the sun! the sun is fucking huge 16. spaghetti without the sauce 17. blonde, but people think it wouldn’t suit me. blue seems intriguing 18. i used to write these cheesy erotic short stories about my friend and some guy (see no. 11) on scrap pieces of paper for my friends to annoy the said friend. these papers are now lost, but the memories of them aren’t 19. no. i have tried, but i always forget about it after a while 20. blue, for the first girl my heart latched on to. 21. i don’t have a specific bag, but an assortment of school bags that constantly broke or were horribly bulky that i kept pushing or bashing people 22. is anyone? 23. write, but i never get the time anymore 24. yes 25. me break into someplace? ha i’m a pussy 26. what is this question? my school shoes, because i’m obliged to wear black shoes? 27. bubblegum is already a flavour 28. sunset 29. one of my friends literally lights up from about 20 to 100 if you mention something she likes. she has such pure, childlike enthusiasm 30. yes 31. socks. I despise the rise of ankle socks. you’re paying the full price for half a sock. like?!!1!? otherwise, i enjoy all socks, frilly, knee length, comical, odd. maybe not sports socks though 32. i have never been out with my friends after 3am. sad times. 33. apple pie, no doubt 34. i had a stuffed tiger toy called “Tiger” but pronounced like “Tigger”. he wasn’t the Disney one. my father bought it for my mother, and she gave it to me. my younger self called him my husband and I liked kissing him. he currently sits at the back of my wardrobe. 35. i am the stationary whore. i steal and hoard pens, pencils, rubbers, coloured paper, paper clips, etc, that i find on the floor or abandoned in classrooms when the coast is clear. 36. coldplay 37. messy 38. the sound of chewing, saliva, and those sort of things 39. i’m not sure. if i had to choose, i’d guess grey? 40. i have a gold ring with a gold bow on it in the drawer of my wardrobe. back in high school, me and my mates had this inside joke that one of my friends and I were “married”, so one April she and the others came to my house and she joke proposed to me. 41. Thanks for the Trouble, by Tommy Wallach 42. i wish i had a small, pretty corner coffee shop to tell stories about, but i just don’t drink coffee. all i got is the Starbucks and the Costa’s i grab hot chocolates from when i’m outside and alone, or when my friends feel like it 43. probably my cat 44. AS results day. we all got crappy grades, and the four of us sat in a playground and laughed 45. no 46. compasses and protractors are banned from my school because they’re considered weapons of math destruction 47. peppercorns 48. i don’t think i had a fear when i was younger, but now i fear rejection and being seen as boring 49. i’ve never owned a record and the last CD i had was given to me during primary school. everyone uses online copies now, unless they’re being aesthetic ™ 50. stationary (see no. 35). 51. Jenny, by Studio Killers 52. is Hollyweed considered a meme? 53. nope. i’m uncultured swine 54. my mother 55. pretend to forget, like faking momentary amnesia, and boy, it was the worst decision i’ve made to this day 56. nicknames, gift giving outside of holidays or birthdays, remembering little details 57. chaotic, suicidal, but nearing the end, strangely peaceful 58. i’m the vodka aunt, for i spike my own tea with it, as an “experiment”. I’m yet to find the wine mom 59. religion 60. yeah, i like it. La Belle Dame Sans Merci, by John Keats, at the moment, but i haven’t read enough to make an informed decision 61. a toy cross bow for my father. he never used it, and i don’t know why i got that; i just wanted to get him something. for me, a penguin cuddly you from a girl i hardly talked to anymore. i was sixteen or seventeen i think? i don’t mean to be rude but why? 62. i don’t have time to drink in the morning. the exception would be when i was doing that vodka-tea experiment (see no. 58) 63. my books are currently in a rainbow colour order. if they weren’t, i wouldn’t care too much 64. a pale blue, with a smudge of purple-grey clouds 65. the first friend i ever made, Tusma. she moved houses at the end of year three. i haven’t seen her in about eight years 66. depends. i’m torn between going dainty and picking yellow: buttercups, dandelions, daisies, with soft clovers and the occasional purple wildflower, like a rugged, forest fairy. or standing fierce, a red rose crown, thick with thorns, holly leaves and berries, some crushed, scarlet liquid dripping down my forehead but eyes staring straight ahead. 67. powerful, invisible, stealthy 68. cold, bitter, sometimes dry like a cough or wet and uncomfortable. it doesn’t snow anymore 69. scrabble, monopoly 70. in year nine, some kids decided they wanted to use a ouija board. i was curious, and i walked into the science room they were planning to use when the teachers were gone and the lights were off, despite my friends’ protests. it wasn’t an actual ouija board, but an imitation, scribbles on a piece of paper. i can’t remember who did it with me, but i’m pretty sure some of them were the popular kids. we felt no presence, although everyone tried their best to scare each other. we never said goodbye. no ghosts have haunted or killed me yet. 71. earl grey, or normal tea with a sprinkle of ginger 72. i feel as if i’m going to forget and can’t handle things, but i rarely note things down. i seem to cope, just 73. daydreaming, procrastinating, not being able to keep my own secrets 74. shy, quiet bean, needs to be protected at all costs, their laugh is more of a giggle, good at art, baby of the group, secretly wants to get drunk and make out with people, i suspect a little bi-curious but i can’t be sure, has technology and food kinks (but not at the same time) 75. i have a black and white cat named Wallace, after Wallace from Wallace & Gromit, because he eats cheese. he has a wonky tongue because he cut it on something but we never found out what that something was. he’s eleven years old, so he’s getting on now, and i think there’s a rising rivalry between Wallace and a mysterious black cat that keeps popping up near our garden 76. revising, duh 77. have never tried pink lemonade, so yellow 78. hateclub 79. sent me a claraxeleven edit as means to make me stay when i was thinking of running away. i thought only those deep in the doctor who fandom watched those, and it may have suggested i was rubbing off on him 80. lilac. i chose it because when i first moved into this room i was sharing it with my younger sister, so i wanted to choose a colour that she wouldn’t hate that was also not pink 81. watery brown stone (cba) 82. yeah, i was usually in the top or second top groups 83. i don’t buy albums, so i wouldn’t know where to start 84. yes. a small TARDIS at the back of my neck. maybe a ruffled feather, despite it being a little cliché, it has a literal importance to me. something related to space on one of my thighs, and perhaps something with roses, or skulls 85. unfortunately, no 86. i don’t know what those are 87. The Imitation Game, High School Musical, Edward Scissorhands, Men in Black, Shrek, Home Alone, Independence Day, The Wizard of Oz, Harry Potter, Hidden Figures, the Star Wars trilogy, Freaky Friday, Titanic, Jurassic Park, Alien, Terminator, Jaws, Jumanji 88. dancing when i’m alone, and dabbing (sorry not sorry) 89. debatable 90. it isn’t a city, but my favourite place is the Isle of Wight. i first tried tea in a big blue breakfast room at the b&b and learned to play pool at a pool table you had to put a pound in to play. i fed a lamb and my brother wet the bed and we watched a Lara Croft movie in our little room and it rained most of the time but i loved it all so 91. no where 92. barely sprinkles 93. bedhead, sometimes brushed 94. yesterday, a boy who loves me but i ran out of love months ago 95. nothing unusual 96. procrastinate 97. myer briggs? what is this? capricorn, gryffindor 98. NCS, where we all hiked across the coast of Wales, and at the end of it i thought my legs were going to fall off and my feet were all numb. beautiful views though 99. If I Lose Myself, One Republic; Give Your Heart a Break, Demi Lovato; Get Out, Casey Abrams; Oh No!, Marina and the Diamonds; Spectrum, Zedd 100. past, because i know what i’d do

#i spent hours on this #and no one will care

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cckuro-blog · 6 years ago

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My 14-day Consumption journals

Day 1: Monday, October 29

Breakfast: No time for breakfast

Lunch: 2 cups of black coffee, a plate of fried noodles, a plate of vegetables and fruit, and a slice of creamy chocolate cake.

Dinner: Too sick to have dinner

This is the first day that I am going to record my daily behavior of consumption. This morning I got up at 7:50 so I didn’t have enough time for breakfast. As a result, after my morning class, I was quite hungry and I ate a lot. However, I didn’t finish my cake because it had cherry jam on it. I do like cherries but I am not a big fan of cherry jam since it tastes like children cough syrup to me. For the sake of consumption, I tried to eat most of them with my resentment.

Here is a picture of the debris of my poor cake.

In the evening, I felt sick because of indigestion. I think the cherry cake should take part of the responsibility for my stomachache. Honestly, the lunch today at Dewies was just so-so. My classmate threw her whole plate of food into the dumpster. I guess I should have dumped my cake also. To avoid vomiting in the middle of the night I didn’t have dinner, and I didn’t drink water either. The only thing I consumed was a hydrotalcite tablet produced by Bayer.

Day 2: Tuesday, October 30

Breakfast: 2 pieces of toast, some scrambled eggs, fried potatoes and a cup of black coffee.

Lunch: A plate of vegetables, turkey, fruit and ice tea

Dinner: Spaghetti, fruit and 2 bowls of soup

I felt better when I woke up this morning, and I was hungry. I took a hot shower then went to Dewies for breakfast.

In the evening, after dinner, I went to Doolittle’s with my friend and I saw chips labeled as “$6 for 2”. I thought it would be great if I buy discounted chips now and save them for later, so I bought 2 bags of potato chips.

When I was writing down what I ate and what I did, I also thought the processes when the food was cooked and what I consumed. For example, the toast is made of wheat and water, then it has to be baked in a factory. Then it is transported to the school, which consumes gas and produces carbon dioxide. When I put the toast into the toaster, I consumed electricity and also produced carbon dioxide. As for my hot shower, I stayed in the bathroom for 25 minutes, and I wonder how much water was used and how much electricity was consumed for heating the water.

Thinking my every behavior consists of many procedures, the meaning of “a cup of tea” suddenly dawned on me. Everything we consume is not the surface we see, but a chain of substance beforehand. The food we eat comes from the raw materials that it makes of; the water is pumped from the underground then filtered with electricity, then it is transported via underground pipes to us, etc. Everything that appears that we have easy access to is processed in a sophisticated pattern. I am guilty that I have wasted a lot in my life.

Day 3: Wednesday, October 31 (Halloween)

Breakfast: I slept late, so I skipped breakfast and got lunch instead.

Lunch: Salad, fruit, coffee, rice and boiled vegetables

Dinner: Spaghetti, cream of vegetables and a cup of ice tea

After dinner: Party

I went to the poster exhibition held on campus today. I saw a bunch of posters of animals and fashion. Specifically, there was one poster about sustainability. My friend told me it was just cliché, and I should write it here. However, I don’t think so.

This is a picture that displays the relationship between nature and human industries. It delivers an idea that it is human ourselves who keeps impairing the nature, but it took a long time that we thought we were doing good with nature.

I had dinner with a French guy and I found every time when he was done eating, he never had leftovers in his plates and bowls. So I asked him why so, and he said he had been taught to have this table manner. When I was a kid, my grandma told me not to have leftovers in my bowl too, but I never managed to do so. It was bizarre that he has such a good habit that he wipes the bowls and plates with a bread while eating.

For the first time I tried cream of vegetables and it was surprisingly awesome! Therefore, I had 2 bowls of that, and I tried to clean my bowls as my friend does.

After dinner, we went to a Halloween party on campus, and almost all the students had a Halloween costume. Actually, a lot of students in my building had decorated their room at the beginning of October. In stores now items for Christmas are available. Soon they will dispose of the Halloween decorations and put the Christmas on. I asked some Canadian students if they would keep the items used this year for next year, and most of them said NO, because they don’t want to see the same thing again and they don’t like to hear their friends saying they wore the same costume last year. It is quite wasteful that they buy cheap costumes every year and wear them for only one night.

However, I saw some students wear their normal clothes and simply did makeup or crafts on the clothes, which is better than buying disposable items. Some of them were ingenious, now that they borrowed decorations for the room from their friends and taped the decorations on them when they went to the party. I think it is a good idea on the ground that once people go to the party no one will care for the decorations in the room and eventually it will go to the trash. In that case, why not take advantage of them?

If I hadn’t taken this course and hadn’t assigned this task, I guess I would never consider so much overnight. Before I went to Canada, I never thought sustainability was relevant to me because I used to think even though I wanted to make the environment better, other people would damage it eventually, therefore it was meaningless to try. Now, I think even though an individual cannot change the world, but we can have more individual efforts on changing small things.

Day 4: Thursday, November 1

Breakfast: No

Lunch: Coffee, 6 pieces of brownies, fried noodles

Dinner: Curry tofu, salad, rice, and fruit

The resident assistants (RA) in my building are so cute that they made pumpkin faces and put them on the stairs. It made my day when I opened the door for class this morning.

But it is kind of waste that they used 5 pumpkins just for exhibitions on Halloween. Thinking about this, I talked to one of my RAs and he said it is a tradition in my residence building that residents make cute pumpkins together on Halloween. I also saw some pumpkins were placed at Dewies and they are getting rotten now. Even though it is a convention that pumpkins are made to artifacts during Halloween, it is still a pity to witness a number of pumpkins get rotten and go to the trash can.

Day 5: Friday, November 2

I have a cold today. When I woke up this morning I was light-headed, so I was in my bed all day. I only consumed several candies, but I used millions of tissues to blow my nose. I know it is gross, so I am going to upload only a small part of my tissues.

Finally, I had a low-consuming day. However, it doesn’t cheer me up, because a lot of tissues were wasted by me. Tissues are made of trees, so technically I am damaging forests. The only reason I can comfort myself is that tissues are easier to degraded than plastics.

Day 6: Saturday, November 3

Breakfast: Skipped

Lunch: Fried potatoes, coffee, fruit, toast, an egg from classmate

Dinner: Rice, Cream of broccoli, boiled vegetables, salad.

Midnight: Hot chocolate.

I didn’t feel good because of my cold. I wanted to go to the pharmacy but it snowed and rained, and I had a group meeting in the afternoon. There was no way to buy medicine. However, I still had a lot of food today.

Before bedtime, I was craving for a cup of hot chocolate as a reward for my hard working day, so I got up and made myself a cup of instant hot chocolate. It was quite good! Connecting this behavior to The Origins and Nature of Consumerism by Norris (2011), it can be explained that I desired for the hot chocolate, so I consumed it. It was not because I really needed it nor it was necessary for me. I just wanted the motivation to prepare my presentation for Monday’s class. I know I am greedy.

Day 7: Sunday, November 4

Breakfast: Skipped

Lunch: Chicken, seven-grain rice, mushroom pies, coffee, and salad.

Dinner: Coffee, water, spaghetti, pizza, and sandwich

Before bed: 2 oranges and an apple.

Today’s dinner was not that tasty. Even though, I don’t want to go out for dinner because firstly, it is too expensive; secondly, I pay $30 for my meals at Dewies every day, I don’t want to waste my father’s money.

I have to say fruit is the best in Canada. In China, people tend to buy imported fruits since they think it is less poisonous and Chinese simply think imported stuff is better than domestic ones, although the price of domestic commodities is half of the imported ones. People are willing to pay more for safer food and enjoy their “high-quality life”. There is nothing wrong for people to pursue a longer lifespan, but, for enjoyment, it is wasteful to buy imported fruit just for bragging about their richness and spreading their pompous lifestyle. This is also discussed by Norris (2011), he asserted that one of the factors that stimulate people to consume is their “self-indulgence”. Based on Norris’ perspective, I agree with him and think that when the intention of self-indulgence overweighs the real needs, consumerism is formed. Because of that, behaviors related to over-consuming the nature resources show up.

Day 8: Monday, November 5

Breakfast: Homemade mocha, 4 croissants, 2 strawberry paste, fried potatoes, toast, a sausage

Lunch: Skipped because of my make-up class

Afternoon tea: Brownies, coffee, and an apple

Dinner: Beef, rice, boiled vegetable, and cream of broccoli.

I made mocha by myself at Dewies—mixing coffee with chocolate milk. I know I ate a lot at breakfast. It is because my make-up class would occupy my lunch break and I worried I might get light-headed. In addition, I had a group presentation in the morning. I was afraid that I wouldn’t be able to perform well and affect my group’s presentation. So I decided to be pretty full before going to my morning class. I also filled my water bottle with coffee and chocolate milk so I could keep awake in the whole day.

Day 9: Tuesday, November 6

Breakfast: Homemade mocha, 4 croissants, 2 strawberry paste, fried potatoes, toast, a sausage

Lunch: Skipped because of my make-up class

Afternoon tea: Brownies, coffee, and an apple

Dinner: Beans, fried potato, spaghetti, and pot mushroom pie.

I had some spaghetti left tonight, because it was too spicy. Accidentally I added pickled peppers and chili powder at the spaghetti bar. The mushroom pie was so great.

Day 10: Wednesday, November 7

Breakfast: Skipped

Lunch: Strawberry cake, fruit, coffee.

Dinner: McDonald’s

I went to Jean Coutu today for my medicine. I spent $56 dollars in total on 2 types of medicine. While waiting for my medicine to get ready in the pharmacy, I walked through every aisle in the pharmacy, and in every aisle, I found something I wanted to buy. In the first aisle, I found eye drops, and I selected 2 kinds of them, one for wetting contact lenses, and one for eye irritations. In the second aisle, I saw hair dye and bleach, and a bunch of hair caring products. I did intend to get bleach and pink hair dye, but considering that I was going back to China in December, I changed my mind. In the third aisle, there were products for body caring and self-care products, such as shampoo and toothpastes. I got a bottle of hair conditioner, a bottle of body wash, a toothpaste, as well as a toothbrush. I didn’t dare to walk into the forth aisle because for 10 minutes, I already got 6 products and my hands were full. Therefore, I had to go to the cashier. I didn’t ask for a plastic bag since I took my backpack with me. All of the items I bought cost $40.

When I was walking in the street, the whole street smelled like food now that several restaurants were located there. Thinking that I had to give tips if I ate in a restaurant, I decided to go to McDonald’s. I got a large French fries, which roughly cost $2.

After dinner, I realized I forgot to buy Vaseline, so I went to the neighbor of McDonald’s—Dollarama. Similar to what happened in Jean Coutu, I went through the aisles and the items I got were more than Vaseline. In addition to Vaseline, I bought 3 bottles of air fresher, 2 laundry washing bags, 2 sausages and a bag of cough drops. I paid $15 at Dollarama.

Today I spent $57 in total. To most people, 57 bucks are not a lot, but to me, a stingy person, it is pretty much. On my way back home, I got a conclusion that commercials were evil, shops were evil, and restaurants were also evil. My desire for buying goods in the stores was amplified a billion times after seeing the description of the item. While walking through the aisle, I saw the items and it appeared that I needed all of them. “Even though I don’t need them right now, I will need them eventually.”, this is what I told myself when I was in the store.

As what Norris mentioned in Consuming Schools: Commercialism and the end of politics, my shopping behavior was simply hedonism, which was irrational. However, when I was on the way to the stores from home, I didn’t plan to buy so much stuff.

Why did I end up with a pile of unplanned items? What did happen in the store? It is undeniable that it was because the impulse drove me to grab those items. But where did the impulse come from? Now that I didn’t want to buy anything in the first week, it is impossible to assert that I am a shopaholic. Recalling all details when I was at the store, I believe my desire for shopping was aroused by the advertisement and discount labels. Furthermore, I notice that the way commodities exhibited on the shelves can tempt customers to spend more money. Cheap commodities are placed on the lowest shelf, and those on eye-sight level appear to be more expensive. In this way, customers unconsciously spend more money.

Next time when I go to the store, I will pay more attention to the items on the bottom shelf.

Day 11: Thursday, November 8

Breakfast: Ice tea, fried potato, egg, toast

Lunch: Rice, sushi, fruit, tropical tofu, coffee

Dinner: Oatmeal with raisins, 2 slices of pizza, ice tea.

Snack: Chocolate cookies and oranges (From Dewies)

After dinner, I went to a room escaping activity on campus—Escape the Gait.

I can’t believe the game was so hard but I solved the puzzles backward, and eventually, we managed it. It was a good exercise after dinner, so I got hungry around 10 pm. I went to Dewies for snacks.

After 8 pm, hot dishes for dinner will be replaced by pasta, creamy sauce, and tomato sauce. Imagining plain pasta is mixed with sauce, I have to say it is not tasty. Therefore, a lot of students just avoided it. Otherwise, some of them thought they would eat it, then they found it was intolerable, in the end, they dumped it. Every day I saw so much leftovers in the trash bins, I feel bad for the crops and farms. Therefore, I talked to the staff at Dewies, and she told me every day they collect more than 20 bags of trash, including food dumped by students, leftovers that students don’t like from the counter, and garbage from the kitchen. That is a gigantic waste.

As a person eating at Dewies every day, I agree that the food served at Dewies is not always good. But there are a lot of choices, like sandwich, salad, fruit, flakes, toasts, etc. I believe there must be a good one among so many choices. If the main dish served is not good, why not go to something else?

Before I took this course, I thought saving nature sources had nothing to do with me, in that no matter how hard I tried to save the resources, the contribution from people who did not care about nature could always destroy my effort. My effort on sustainability cannot compare to damages done by other people, so why should I try?

However, observing the amount of trash from Dewies, where I have meals every single day, I think the individual’s effort can count. If every student lessens their leftovers, and try to accept the food they don’t like, the food wasted can be dramatically reduced. Even though it is impossible to require everybody to act in a sustainable manner, at least I can start with myself and spread this idea to my friends. Little by little, people around me will try to save something.

Day 12: Friday, November 9

Breakfast: Skipped

Lunch: Ice tea, boiled vegetables, curry tofu, fried rice noodles

Dinner: Fish and fries, a sausage, boiled vegetable, water.

This picture displays the food that my friend got tonight—4 sausages, a bunch of fries, vegetables, eggs in a bowl of soup. However, he only ate 2 sausages, a little French fries, and only the eggs in the soup. 70% of his food that night was wasted. His explanation for his waste was: “I spend $30 at Dowies, therefore, it is my right to throw the food into the trash bag.”

He has been doing this since September. Until today I noticed how terrible his behavior had been. Therefore, I told him what I learned from sustainability. Then he argued: “It costs more money to recycle, simply wasting resources is simpler. Don’t forget we are in capitalism. We are dying to earn money.” I have to admit his logic works now that the core of capitalism is fortune. However, I must point out that many problems are caused by the wealthy. According to the picture below (APF, 2015), 49% of CO2 emissions are contributed by 10% of the wealthy population, whereas 50 % of the poor is responsible for only 10% of CO2 emissions. The wealthy buy private jets, cruise ships and run industrial factories, and consequently, produce more CO2. In addition, the wealthy buy luxuries excessively. Their consuming habits are no longer for basic biological survival, but for self-indulgence.

Global income deciles and associated lifestyle consumption emissions Photograph: Oxfam

Picture resource

The capitalist economic system is increasingly trapping and seducing human now that human needs are insatiable. Norris (2011) asserted that consuming habits are related to the following dialectical variables: biological survival (consumption) and consumerism, affordability and accessibility, as well as necessity and luxury. In capitalism, most folks care about wealth, vanity and enjoyment, which is the root cause of consumerism and materialism.

Day 13: Saturday, November 10

Breakfast: Skipped

Lunch: Fried potatoes, bacon, toasts, coffee

Dinner: Fruit, pizza, stir-and-fry, coffee.

Today I was busy reading books recommended by professors. I stayed on my bed all day besides going to Dewies.

Day 14: Sunday, November 11

Breakfast: Skipped

Lunch: Cream of mushroom, chicken, rice, salad

Dinner: Spaghetti, salad, curly fries.

Today I finished my toothpaste. This is the first toothpaste I used up entirely. Before this one, I always disposed of my toothpaste when it was about to be empty.

Summary

According to the 14-day record of my daily consuming behaviors, for most of the time, I just had meals at Dewies now that I live on campus. I have paid the meal plan before I came here, therefore I am reluctant to spend extra money eating outside. I don’t think I am a high-consuming person. Although I do long for owning luxuries, I can avoid shopping online. However, when it comes to seeing items on sale in the store, it is a different story. I am inclined to buy discounted commodities when I go to the store, even though the goods on sale is not what I need right now. I think I can save money if I buy with discount, after all, next time there may not be a discount.

Nevertheless, when I sat down and calculated the discount, it actually cannot help me save a lot of money. For example, there are always some goods labeled “2 for $X”. When I checked the original price and multiply 2, X just helped me save 1 dollar. If each discounted commodity can only save me, let’s say 2 bucks, it seems there is no reason to buy it during the promotion. For those self-cleaning items, such as shampoo and toothpaste, a new one can last 6 weeks. Technically, I don’t need discounts at all. The impulse for shopping is simply stimulated when we go to the store because it plausibly tells us we can save money if buying now. Market strategists grasp that customers want to save money, so they create a scene where customers think everything is cheaper than usual.

References

Norris, T. (2011). Consuming schools: Commercialism and the end of politics. Toronto: University of Toronto Press. doi:10.3138/9781442690257

APF. (2015, December 2). World's richest 10% produce half of global carbon emissions, says Oxfam. The Guardian. Retrieved from https://www.theguardian.com/environment/2015/dec/02/worlds-richest-10-produce-half-of-global-carbon-emissions-says-oxfam?fbclid=IwAR0hl12JNBq7fTq2cAhCXB_KCHz3Vl-C1LoNLe1hkpfBk_HM6t1ETzpnLXc

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hellofastestnewsfan · 7 years ago

Link

What is bitcoin? An investment? A technology? A bubble? What is even happening?

All of these questions seem like reasonable ones to ask, as its price has surged and plummeted. Bitcoin is many things: a proxy for more stable units like the dollar and the euro, a speculative investment, a payments mechanism, a means of hiding transactions from various governments and tax collectors, and a monetary innovation that might legitimately transform the world.

Yet cryptocurrencies, such as bitcoin, are also a bubbly, frothy, and overhyped phenomenon—a latter-day version of a penny stock, boosted by drug dealers, digital evangelists, Wall Street types, and a large twinset of Harvard rowers. Sure, sophisticated investors are pouring money in. But neophyte investors are charging bitcoins to their credit cards. A company called Long Island Iced Tea, purveyor of virgin lemonades and steeped drinks, added “blockchain” to its name and saw its stock price jump as much as 500 percent. Companies are raising vast sums on the public markets via initial coin offerings. The prices of various currencies are spiraling around like a loose tab of acid lost in a dust storm at Burning Man. It is getting weird out there.

Regulators are taking notice, concerned that beside the explosion of legitimate investment in digital currencies lurks a whole lot of old-fashioned consumer fraud, self-dealing, market manipulation, and false advertising. Among them is Joseph Borg, the director of the state of Alabama’s securities commission, who recently voiced his concern that people were mortgaging their homes to get in on the hype. I spoke with him as the price of bitcoin was in the midst of plummeting 30 percent in a day, to a point at which it still would have grown tenfold in a year. The interview that follows has been lightly edited for clarity.

Annie Lowrey: What’s your 50,000-foot view on what’s been happening with bitcoin?

Joseph Borg: From our office’s point of view, we have money transmitters and securities. If bitcoin is being used as a transmission vehicle for money, those businesses have to be licensed. We’re concerned about encryption, how they’re transmitting money, the security of wallets, that kind of thing. It’s just like Western Union. If you’re sending money via Western Union from New York to California, they have to be licensed to transmit the money. But they’re not creating the money. That’s one aspect.

The whole cryptocurrency area is getting looked at closely by regulators, for that money-transmitter aspect. There’s a group that’s come up with a cryptocurrency-transmission law to be used as a model. We’re studying that, and New York has been pushing out some regulations on cryptocurrency as well. But it’s such a new phenomenon. And any time you have regulators looking at something new, we’re behind the curve. The folks who developed it understand it and we have to learn it.

Lowrey: Got it, so that’s one side—the money-moving side.

Borg: Right, then there’s the securities side. We’re concerned about the companies doing initial coin offerings. We’re also concerned about the companies using bitcoin as a basis for people to speculate, or creating technology off of the blockchain. They’re raising money to develop other companies, raising money to get into business. That’s an investment, not a money-transmission business.

Right now, my message is: This is just like the dot-com bubble, tulips in the 1600s, and oil and gas speculation. Things get to be a mania. The retail market gets hits with advertisements and media pitches: You’re going to miss out on the next Microsoft! You’ve got to get in now, because it’s going up and up and up! It’s the same sort of thing that you see in any type of mania. When oil was $4 a gallon, everyone was pitching this new technology to drill old oil wells, that kind of stuff.

The difference with the cryptocurrencies, the bitcoin mania, is that the technology ramps up quicker and so the mania goes faster. The mania on oil and gas took two years—this is taking two months. It’s tech-driven and instant.

Lowrey: But the mania is the same?

Borg: You just go do a Google search for “make money on bitcoin.” It’s page after page of it, hyping it to the whole retail market. Bitcoin’s making new millionaires! Get in before it’s too late!

The thing is that the market has done well, but the average Main Street–type person hasn’t participated in it. They got burned by the micro-cap stocks in the 2000s, then burned by foreclosures and the real-estate collapse. They’re concerned about Washington deregulating everything, and Social Security going broke, and health-care costs going up. And they haven’t had a salary increase in years.

You’ve got a family making $60,000, $100,000 a year. They don’t have a lot of money for retirement. Then, someone comes along and says, “Make $13,000 in 24 hours, guaranteed!”—got to get the “guaranteed” part in there. It’s like you’ve got a fuel pump at a pump station, where the pump is stuck and the fuel is spilling out all over the street. And there’s people lighting matches. And someone says, well, let’s pour more fuel on it!

At some point, there’s going to be a huge correction, when the bubble breaks. I can’t tell you when that would be. It could go on for a while. There’s a lag time between when people invest and when they realized they got duped. We’re in the middle of the frenzy. It’s going to be 24 months, maybe longer, before we know. Sometimes it’s 8 or 10 years.

Lowrey: Are there people you’re especially worried about, in terms of getting ripped off?

Borg: Well, if these folks are seniors, often we don’t even hear about it because they’re embarrassed. They figure if they let people know, the family will figure that they cannot handle their affairs anymore. Seniors will tell us, “I lost the money. I got taken. But my kids would say I cannot manage things anymore if I told them that.” They don’t want to lose their way of life. However, I don’t think there are a whole lot of seniors invested in this.

Lowrey: Who is, then? Because that matters a lot for who would get hurt by a collapse.

Borg: The way I hear about it is that we do 80 to 90 public events a year. We talk a lot about protecting people from fraud, and I’ll ask people if they’ve heard of bitcoin or invested in bitcoin. If I ask, “Do you know what a bitcoin is?,” four or five hands out of 60 go up. And maybe two or four are invested. I’ll follow up during a break, when we’re serving lunch or breakfast. I’ll say, “This is risky stuff!” That’s a good way to hear about the exposure.

Most folks are doing it out of savings, maybe by selling off part of a mutual fund. They aren’t betting everything on it. A few said they took $10,000 out on credit cards to buy bitcoin. Some took out $10,000 in a home equity line of credit. That’s like a credit card on steroids, a second mortgage.

Lowrey: Right, your home is at risk if you can’t pay it back. I guess the question is whether these people can be said to know what they’re doing, and if they’re being exposed to fraud.

Borg: Remember back in the dot-com era, that ad with that orange-haired kid telling the CEO to buy Kmart stock? Or there would be ladies at the social club playing canasta, talking about how they bought this or that mutual fund and made $300 in four hours? The water-cooler conversation at the office went from football and baseball to what so-and-so bought today—that kind of hype.

Now, with cryptocurrency, the numbers are higher, the technology is quicker, and instead of television commercials, it’s all done on your phone. It’s a frenzy. But it’s not as big as it was back then.

Lowrey: Part of what matters is who’s distributing what money to whom. If it’s all fairly rich people, maybe you’d worry less about that as a regulator.

Borg: The bigger it gets, the more the pool widens out. People say everybody loses in a Ponzi scheme, but that’s not true! The bigger it gets, you have more winners and more losers. At some point, we’re going to run out of folks willing to pay $19,000 for a bitcoin. Then, we’ll see.

We’re not saying bitcoin is illegal or bad, or that cryptocurrency is bad. We’re saying, don’t misunderstand what it is. Don’t, because of the hype, talk yourself into putting yourself at risk of losing your house. I always say, if you want to invest in this, ask yourself if you would take $10,000 and put it on black in Las Vegas. If you would, maybe invest in bitcoin.

from The Atlantic http://ift.tt/2C8qoCN

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