#the routine helps a lot with this even though half that routine revolved around mom

[sheyshen]

man considering i haven't actually done all that much this week I'm like exhausted.

[tooruluv]

Tooru Oikawa x F!Reader ( part 3 )

❝ my love for him is much like winter, a skeleton for the world to see. too bad he never liked the cold. ❞

description: being the neighbor and lifelong best friend of tooru oikawa definitely had it’s perks. you were never an outcast, always had a seat at lunch, got into volleyball games for free. the problem was, however, that being in love with him outweighed those perks. you would never tell him that, though, even if it hurt like hell.

genre: best friends to lovers, angst, unrequited love, fluff if you squint hard enough

word count: 2,210

warnings/notes: um yeah. this one moves fast, but this whole fic is basically about this one scene, this one part. so enjoy. no serious warnings, just strong language and some gay shit. angst.

tag list: @afuckingunicornn​

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“You’re... gay?” you whispered.

“It isn’t a fucking slur, you drunk ass.” Iwaizumi spoke, shoving you with his arm (making you hit your head on the door, but you barely noticed). “And I don’t know what exactly I am, but I just know it’s not straight.”

“Matsu?” you turned to the other boy. 

“I’ve been gay, and Iwa is sexy as fuck so who am I to deny his sexual awakening?”

It almost made you laugh.

It was hot in the closet. Dark. And you were squished in between two (very tall) men. A single light hung from the ceiling, swaying slightly.

“I uh,” You were so numb. You played with your sleeves. “I watched ‘Kawa make out with this girl. Stood there like an idiot and watched it happen. And it… it sucks to like know about it but to see it…to watch it happen…it’s way worse.”

“Oh,” They both said, sadness laced behind a whisper.

“You were going to tell him, weren’t you?” Matsukawa inquired.

You gasped, turning wide-eyed to Iwaizumi. He held his hands up in surrender. “You told him?” and “I didn’t tell him I swear!” coming out of both of you at once.

“I knew for, like, years now.” Matsukawa interrupted. “You’re the most obvious person ever, just so you know. You might as well be the fucking heart eye emoji whenever you look at him.” He paused to gauge your reaction, which was nothing. “Back to my question: you were going to tell him, weren’t you?”

“I..” you bit the inside of your cheek. “Yeah, I think so? I don’t know. I just know I really wanted to talk to him and see him and hear his voice. And I still do. But now my mind is full of him and the really pretty brown-haired girl exchanging spit.”

“Gross.”

“Maybe we should get out of the closet and get some air.”

The next morning, you woke up on the floor in the guest bedroom. Iwaizumi had taped a piece of paper to your forehead (“drink water” it said), and a blanket was wrapped around your upper body. You could not remember what happened after leaving the closet, how you ended up in the guest room, or why you were on the floor and not in the perfectly good bed above you.

But, nonetheless, you got up and headed downstairs to the kitchen. Where the fuck is Oikawa?

A loud thump interrupted your thoughts. Yup, there he was. You let out an annoyed groan as he decided to make the most noise possible on his way to the kitchen.

You pulled yourself onto the counter, wanting to slam your head against the cabinet. You never got hangovers, why was today the day you got one?

“Well don’t you look beautiful this fine morning.” Oikawa greeted, smiling.

He always looked his best in the morning, you thought. He may come across as perfect, but it makes your heart do flips when he comes in with bed head and his glasses on. Not to mention he looked absolutely gorgeous in the morning sunlight, beaming and bright.

“You don’t look too bad yourself.” Your eyes were still closed.

You heard movement, a cabinet open then close, and only opened your eyes when he stood in front of you (in between your legs, no less). You held your breath.

“I look amazing, and you know it.” He was so close you could feel his breath. He brushed his teeth, the smell of mint circling you. Why was he so close?

He reached forward, pressing his hand to your forehead. Still half awake and clearly extremely hungover, you leaned into his touch as he moved his hands to your cheeks. His eyes scanned your face, but your eyes never moved from his.

His hands paused and stayed on your neck, just below your jaw. Hovering.

Unconsciously, you leaned forward. Only a little bit.

And he did too.

Your lips were so close. If you wanted to, you could kiss him. Just like that. A few centimeters away, and you could do what you’ve wanted to do for years. Feel what it would be like to be one of the many girls who had their lips against his. The air was so tense, so full of something you couldn’t explain. Just a few centimeters. Was he leaning in too?

He moved back.

“Medicine for your head, and you have a little bit of a fever so there’s something for that too.” Oikawa spoke. His voice sounded deeper, but maybe you were just thinking things. A small cough from him. He put pills into your hand. “You get something to drink. I’ll start picking up trash, you’re on…”

“Cups and cans duty.” You finished. It was always the routine. “Thank you.”

“Don’t slack off too much, you fucking drunk.” He joked, smiling at you with a trash bag in his hand.

You rolled your eyes at him, throwing the nearest empty can at him. You smiled, but your heart was aching.

The first time Oikawa had ever thrown a party, it was a disaster. 

People flooded the house, though it was only supposed to be a small get-together and ended up a huge banger. The school talked about it for a while. An increase in his popularity.

The two of you were left to pick up the mess. 

“Where the fuck do we start?” you asked, staring into the abyss that was once his living room.

“I’ll pick up the garbage and you pick up the cans and bottles?” Oikawa suggested. “If my mom finds any alcoholic beverage in this house she will pelt me with my own volleyballs.”

“I’ll help too.” Oikawa’s older brother said from the doorway, trashbag in hand. “Let’s get to work. We only have until six.”

Matsukawa soon joined your routine.

For the past month or so, Iwaizumi would eat lunch with you in the library as you studied for the entrance exams. Oikawa would join sometimes, or he would come right before lunch was over. He liked to eat lunch in the cafeteria, liked to “have that break from studies”. You two didn’t mind, you got more done without him distracting anyway.

Matsukawa had become your third-party during Lunch Study Dates. You didn’t complain, and you didn’t ask the two of them what exactly their relationship was. You joked with Iwaizumi that you were simply there to hide the fact they never stopped flirting. He would just laugh.

“Wait, you almost kissed?” Iwaizumi asked, studies long forgotten.

“I think so, yeah.” You kept your eyes on your paper. “It was weird, and the air was super heavy. And he hasn’t talked to me since. Not even while we were cleaning.”

“Not even a text?” Matsukawa asked.

“Not even a wave in the hallway.”

“Now that’s weird.”

“You’re telling me.” You finally looked up. “I.. Nothing has ever happened between us like that. Ever. And it was so out of nowhere, like, you would think our first almost kiss would be some cool moment or something. But it was just us, and I was hungover as fuck, and we just spent the rest of the afternoon in silence. And all that there has been since is just that. Silence.”

“I’m sorry, love.” Matsukawa reached over to place his hand over your wrist. “You know what. Tooru is an idiot. He is. I would have kissed you.”

“You’re gay.”

“And I would’ve kissed you. That’s the highest compliment you can receive. Accept it, woman.”

Growing up with Tooru Oikawa, you knew many things about the boy that many didn’t. You knew that he always put extra syrup on his pancakes and waffles, you knew that he always preferred hot showers rather than the cold ones his mother always tells him to take for soreness, and you knew that he practiced more than anyone could imagine.

He grew up with a volleyball attached to his side. He set it whenever he could, he would serve it into your yard (and then go get it and serve it back into his). He would ask you to join, but you always just watched.

Growing up with Tooru Oikawa also made you witness his growth. And you think that’s another reason you fell in love with him.

His passion was indescribable. You couldn’t count how many times people (including yourself) have told him to relax, take a day off, remind him to eat and drink. But his heart was in it, no matter how much it distracted him from daily fleets. You admired him for that.

You didn’t have that Thing growing up. You tried a lot of different things, different hobbies and sports and classes. But you never had that thing that you had so much passion for that you had to remind yourself to breathe.

One week of silence. One week of nothing from your best friend. Not a text, a call, a smile sent your way. Not even an eye contact.

It was strange. Your entire life had revolved around being around him, your routine included smiling and walking with him in the hallway, fixing his tie in the morning.

He was already in class when you came to school. And his tie was straight.

You decided to spend most of your free time in the library, knowing that Oikawa didn’t find himself in there very often. If he was going to avoid you without an explanation, you could avoid him just as hard and for just as long. That was your logic.

Iwaizumi joined you, plopping himself down on the couch beside you. It sat in the back of the library, in the corner away from everything. You were being Sad TM.

It was so stupid, of course. To be upset or sad about something that didn’t even happen; at something that almost happened but never did. Iwaizumi reminded you that it wasn’t about the near kiss, but the silence after.

A body appeared out of thin air in front of you. You wouldn’t mistake the boy for anyone in the world.

“’Kawa.” You said, looking up. He looked way taller from your position on the couch. “Hi.”

“Hi.” He said. No “nut” this time. He fidgeted with his fingers. “Can I get my jersey back? The one you wear to the games?”

Your eyes shot up.

“’M sorry?”

“Can I get my jersey back?” he asked again.

You felt Iwaizumi put his hand on your thigh. You must’ve been shaking. One week of complete silence and complete rejection and absence only to be met with the break of a tradition.

“Um, yeah.” You blinked. “Yeah. I have it at home, I can stop by later and give it to you.”

“Just bring it tomorrow. Before the game.” He spoke. But his voice didn’t sound like his. It was forced. Since when was talking to you a task?

“O.. Okay.”

A pinky promise was something taken very seriously. As kids, it was treated with the upmost respect and honor.

It was middle school, and the team announced that for a special tournament, and for school spirit, that the players would pick their best friend to wear their jersey to the games.

Oikawa immediately came to you with his “away” jersey, proudly holding it up. “Pinky promise me that you will always wear my jersey to my games!”

“Pinky promise!” you had told him.

You wore the jersey as you wrapped your pinky around his. Wearing his jersey became one of your favorite parts of going to his games.

Guess in high school, pinky promises don’t mean the same thing.

The thing about Tooru Oikawa is he never dates. This was something you knew for certain. He has never once had an official girlfriend, and he always talked about how he never planned on having one (“They’re both a distraction and a big responsibility,” he would say. “Besides, what would I need a girlfriend for when I already have a girl who does everything for me?” he would add).

Which is why you were surprised to see him hand in hand with a very familiar girl later that day. The long perfect brown hair, the long legs. After seven days of not speaking to you, he had a girl wrapped around his arm as though it was the most casual thing of him to be doing.

You stopped in front of them, trying your very best to hide your confusion.

“Oh!” he smiled, saying your name. Acting as though he hadn’t just asked you to turn in something that had meant something important to your friendship (at least it did to you). “You haven’t met Sana. My girlfriend.”

The aforementioned girl, Sana, smiled at you. Perfect teeth, of course. She gave a slight bow before reaching out her hand. Girlfriend.

“Hi! It’s so nice to meet you, I’ve been waiting to meet Tooru’s best friend!”

You forced a smile as you shook her hand. “Nice to meet you too, Sana.”

You looked over her shoulder, to Oikawa (who looked nervous, fidgety in fact), and to Iwaizumi and Matsukawa (who stood a bit further away, but just as shook and confused as you).

[laughing-with-god]

any advice for new fic writers that aren't writing yandere? 👉👈 i've read your yandere tips and was wondering if you had more that didn't apply to that topic

Stay away from cliches pls. Here’s a few things that I personally find annoying;

-OC has a bestfriend that’s dating another member. This is okay even though it’s played out a lot but don’t you you dare decidate chapters to that relationship or switch the POV to the OC’s friend so we can see what that relationship is all about. Like if we came here for Y/n and Yoongi, why the fuck would we read through chapters concerning Y/n’s bestie Maggie and her relationship with Hoseok?

-Abuse is something that shouldn’t be written about lightly, pls don’t write about it just as a plot convenience. Also love shouldn’t ‘save’ the abused character. Like “uwu I’m dating Jungkook and suddenly my anxiety is all solved”

-Just bc they are your bias shouldn’t mean that they should treat you like dirt. Soooo many times I see fics where the bias cheats, hurts or even abuses the OC and literally it takes a day and a half assed “srry babe” from the bais for everything to just be okay again👀. Like sis give us resentment, give us betrayal, give us character development instead of “oh Tae’s hot so ig idc he literally fucked my mom”

-if ur framework revolves around song lyrics, fuck off. (What I mean by this is random song lyrics being plopped in there for dramatic effect. It’s cheesy, interrupts flow and just in general showcasts weak writing bc your TRYING SO HARD)

-STOP SLUT SHAMING. Listen, too many fan fics have an antagonist that is supposed to be a threat to the main character and their relationship with the guy. I get that, but too many times the girl on girl hate is totally uncalled for, without actual reason other than a man’s attention, and promotes slut shaming. Think when putting two girls against each other; why are they beefing with each other? For a man? Is that what I want my main character to be all about? Hint; if the antoagoinist is described to always be wearing flimsy clothes and cakey makeup then your promoting slut shaming.

just general writing tips;

Try to read some of your work out loud while typing it, it helps to catch run on sentences or wording that doesn’t make sense.

For me this helps but think of a quote, theme, song or any piece of art really that you want your piece of writing to have the same feel as. Helps with tone and vibe.

Seems obvious but simple thing lots of fic writers forget; make sure it’s obvious who is talking. You don’t want people to get confused with dialogue. Make sure to add “he said” “she told” “his voice was hoarse and rigid when this was said” “she uttered” stuff like that. Get creative with it too.

If you have a lot of the same phrases in your writing, pls try to switch it up. Instead of saying ‘he walked into the room’, be like ‘he strode into the room with grace and speed’. Small details really up quality. Fanfic readers cannot count how many times they see “their lips collided, fought for dominance ect.” Be different.

Don’t walk us through a character’s routine. Personally, as soon as I see that: I just bounce from the fic completely.

—-uwu I love this, you hoes should ask me for advice tbh——

[eerythingisshaka]

Play Though?  Pt. 2

Part 1

(Dad!M’Baku x Black!OC)

Word Count: 4.8K

A/N: I started the first chapter as a Reader insert, but I’m starting to feel more for original characters, so our main girl, Xavier’s mom and M’Baku’s love interest is Remi!  

Remi had a problem, a pretty big one.  A couple of days had passed since the unexpected friendship between M’Baku and both of their children.  Xavier had talked his mother’s ear off to death about his spunky little new friend he made, and it made Remi genuinely happy to hear.  She wanted her son to get in touch with his new friend again and have a solid friend, however thanks to her father, that may not happen.

M’Baku thought he was slick giving his number to her instead of the other way around.  This forced Remi’s hand to have to make the decision and time to make the phone call and invite them over for the playdate that was promised.  And sure, if Remi said she didn’t want to see M’Baku again, it would be a lie.  But she didn’t even know where to start with him.

“X, get your backpack, it’s time to go baby.”  Remi says, sliding her shoes on as she grabs her keys.  

Xavier drags his feet into the kitchen along with his backpack on the floor.  “Mama.”

“You didn’t pack your game in there right?  I don’t want a kid to steal it.”

“Mama.”

Remi grabs her purse talking to herself.  “If I am late again, I’ll fire my damn self.  Shit!”

“Mama!”  Xavier yells out.

“Oh!  Mama’s sorry, I know that’s a bad word.”

“Daddy say that all the time.”  Xavier says matter of factly.

Remi turns to him with her hand on her hip.  “Excuse me?  ALL the time?”

Xavier nods, picking at his nose.  “Mama I don’t wanna go.”

Remi sighs walking over to her son and kneeling at his level.  “Why not?  You had a good time last week.  You have friends there.”

He shrugs.  “I don’t feel good.”

Remi puts a hand to his forehead.  “You’re not hot...Is it your tummy?”  

Xavier shakes his head.  “Sometimes I don’t wanna go is all.”

Remi looks at her son’s round face lovingly.  Her eyes looking back at her has always been a quick source of pride for Remi.  Her hair texture, face shape, and bits of personality brought back memories of when she was a little girl.  She took her time with him in moments like these.

“Well son, you know how Mama has to go to work everyday?”

“Not Saturday!”  He corrects.

Remi chuckles.  “Yes, smart boy.  Not everyday do I work, But when I have to I go.”

“But you’re big, you have to.”

Remi smirks.  “I am, but you have things to do too.  Like keeping your toys cleaned up, and eating your peas and carrots.”

Xavier crosses his arms.  “I don’t like those.”

“I know X.  But think when I wasn’t feeling good on your birthday and you wanted your favorite blueberry waffles and sausage links with lots of syrup and scrambled eggs?”

Xavier’s eyes widen with excitement.  “Can I have some now?!”

Remi shakes her head.  “No, but do you hear me?  I was sick and still gave your your favorite breakfast?”  Xavier nods.  “So things like that happen.  You do stuff you don’t want to because you want to do right for other people.  I wanted you to have a good birthday even though I didn’t feel good.”

“Whose birthday is it?”  Xavier asks.

Remi hangs her head from this merry go round of a conversation.  “No one’s.  But you have friends and learning to do, which you need to be a big strong boy, so we have to go.”

Xavier pouts heavily as she puts on his backpack and pushes him out the door and in the car.  Once she pulled up to daycare, Xavier’s face is covered in tear trails and snot bubbles, grips her hand tightly as she walks him to the entrance.  A smiling worker greets Xavier happily.

“Ohhh, are we having a rough morning?”

Remi smiles tightly.  “Kind of.  He wasn’t feeling like going out today.”

The daycare worker kneels down.  “Well I’m glad you came.  Today is when we learn about planting with crushed up Oreo cookies and gummi worms and all kinds of good stuff.  Doesn’t that sound fun?”

Xavier rubs his eyes hard nodding his head.  Remi rustles his braids.  “Sure does!  You go ahead with Ms. Faye and have a good day.  I’ll be back soon, ok?”

Xavier, hugs her legs with one healthy squeeze before going in.  Ms Faye stays back with Remi for a minute.  

“He’s been really great with the other children lately.  First whole week without even a threat of an incident.”

Remi nods, folding her arms over herself.  “I think that the word ‘threat’ is a bit strong but I appreciate the update.”

Ms. Faye shrugs.  “Look, it’s tough on everybody involved.  But we try to be supportive and encouraging so he is reminded that no one is against him.  Does he display any aggression at home?”

Remi shakes her head.  “And once again, please watch the words you use to describe his behavior.  Aggressive?  Never.  He is a mama’s boy, turns into a puddle whenever I call him out on the smallest thing.”

Ms. Faye nods stoically.  “Ok.  I know he used to mention visiting his father more often, has he been able to get time with him?’

Remi shifted nervously.  Xavier’s father was a sore subject for Remi to dive into at any point in time.  He is a slick talker, big dreamer which was half the reason Remi gave him the time of day.  He has a way of making her feel like a sinking ship was still rising on the other side of the surface if you hold your breath long enough.  But his promises never came to fruition and led her and eventually her son down a road that they barely got out of unscathed.  She’d hoped Xavier was still young enough to not be worried about the troubles of the past, but it doesn’t seem that way.

“We have plans to see him soon, yeah.  Just don’t bring it up to him, that’s a little too heavy to have on his mind when I’m not there.  Ok?”  Remi says.  Ms. Faye nods knowingly before bidding her farewell.  Remi checks her phone:  of course time got away from her again.

Remi zooms over to the beauty shop, parking in the back as she jogs in the back door to make it to her chair.  

“Uh uh!  I know you not trying to get past us that easily Re!”  

The voice that called her out belonged to Patricia or Trixie, the shop owner.  She’s a middle aged Black woman who looked like Storm’s auntie, grey locs and all sitting atop her head in a bun  and headscarf.  She’s putting a roller set into an elderly woman’s hair.

“I’m sorry Trixie.  I got behind dropping my son off at daycare.”  Remi says, prepping her area.

Trixie fixes her mouth before speaking.  “You spoil that boy too much.  Why don’t you have my cousin watch him?  She run a daycare from her house and won’t charge you an arm and leg to do it.”

“Are we just gonna forget the trap house she lives next to?  Or how she turns deaf and blind soon as someone calls her on that phone she stays glued to 24/7.”  Remi says.

Trixie waves her off.  “Oh the boy gotta learn how to handle himself in the world eventually.  When his father coming by to get him?”

Remi calls a waiting patron over to her chair.  “I don’t know anymore.  I haven’t tried calling him lately.”

“Oh hell, you shouldn’t have to!”  Mika says out the blue across the room.  She works with Remi too, started not long after Remi did.

“Thank you!  The boy ought to be calling you to spend some time with his firstborn!  I still wonder if he lying bout that…”  Trixie adds under her breath.

Remi starts walks her patron to a sink bowl.  “That’s the truth, believe me.   The man acts like his dick is solid gold and his sperm is diamond encrusted.  Surprisingly he don’t give it out willy nilly.”

Trixie helps escort her patron under a dryer.  “He was always so odd to me.  Too pretty to be like that, he oughta be having babies right and left.”

Mika chimes in from her filing her nails.  “He could be like Prince or Leonardo di Caprio out here: had all these women in a tizzy but no kids.  They kept they shit on ZipLoc.”

Remi and Trixie laugh at her suggestion.  “Ok, ok.  But to be serious a second, he should be calling you, for real.  He needs to see his son and you need a break.  I can tell you running yourself ragged making sure the sun revolves around him.”

Remi towel dries her patron.  “I’m good.  Xavier IS my world, I’m not ashamed to admit that.  I’m raising a Black man in the making, and I will not fuck this up, deadbeat daddy be damned.  Plus, I get me time with you all here.  That’s socializing enough.”

Trixie makes a face with a slight eye roll.  “I mean that’s noble and all, but hell, I don’t need you being a spinster at your age.  You still got all that youth, you need to put that beauty and energy into something that’s gonna appreciate it.  You know, someone that doesn’t require potty breaks and reads at high school level.”

Remi scoffs as she combs out her patron’s hair.  “What’re you trying to say?”

“GIRL GET YOU A MAN!  A date, a one night stand, a something with a dick and a pulse!”  Mika exclaims.  The whole shop goes quiet looking at her like the aftermath of an explosion.  “Y’all were thinking it.  You too Mae, I know you know.  You been married 50 yrs and his death didn’t stop you.”

Remi’s patron Mae turned around in her chair wordlessly away from Mika in response.

Trixie tries to even things out.  “Thank you for that Mika.  But what I’m trying to say is you need a night out or something.  You say you socialize with us but you never go outside of this shop with us, and that’s not cuz we ain’t tryin.”

Remi sighs.  “You right, you right.  I got a routine is all, and what if I go somewhere and-and Xavier needs me cuz he misses me?  Having a nightmare?  Wet the bed?”

“Ohhh my God.”  Mika groans.  

“Mika, shut the hell up.  Re, I get that.  When my kids were small, they had my undivided attention cuz I was young, younger than you, and had to hustle to make sure my babies had what they needed so their lives were good despite the circumstances they were brought in.”

“Thank you!  Yes!”  Remi exclaims feeling vindicated.

Trixie holds up a hand.  “But!  I didn’t have a life because of it.  I lost a little bit of what it meant to be me outside of being a mother.  Now, like I said I was younger, less established and had an extra couple kids before your age compared to your one.   All I’m saying is, you have a means to make a life for yourself still without losing yourself.”

Remi sighs.  “The boy is a handful though.  I won’t put a man over my son.  Even like this past weekend, some guy tried to talk to me up with his kid at the park.”

“Oh?”  Mika perks up.

Remi nods, oblivious to Mika’s excitement.  “Yeah!  Interrupting my time with Xavier so he could try and talk me up.  Like he wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

“Wait, wait wait.  Ok, first of all, what was the exact situation here.  Did he look like one of these dusty van driving niggas using a kid to lure women or something?”  

“No, Mika!  But he don’t have to, he’s a big ass dude.  Like a fucking...oak ass tree ass, thick looking nigga…”  Remi says hesitantly.  She bites her lip at the thought of his appearance, almost forgetting how handsome he is with the amount of time having passed.  

Trixie walks up to her pointing.  “Girllll, I see you!  He was FINE huh?  Light skinned, dark skinned?”

“Dark skinned, yeah.  His daughter is just as cute too, like gorgeous and smart.  He treats her like a doll.”

“How much time did y’all spend together??” Mika’s voice asks in a high pitched voice, fanning herself.

Remi stamps her foot.  “Y’all stahp!  It’s literally not like that at all.  He tried it though, giving me his number like he just know he gonna see me again.”

Trixie and Mika look at one another one second before falling out in laughter and praise dancing in the middle of the shop.  Remi looks at them in wide eyed wonderment before coaxing them to calm down.

“Aye aye!  This is a place of business y’all, the hell you doin?”

Trixie stops to catch her breath.  “Child this MY place of business, you better turn up!  If you don’t call this fine single father who gave you the go ahead to seek him out, I WILL!”

Remi rolls her eyes.  “It’s gonna be a waste of time though!”

Mika chimes in.  “Let him waste your time!  You got your time too organized, you stiff!  You need something to break down your walls….oh shit!  You see that double entendre!”  

Trixie and Mika screech, giving each other a high five.

“Excuse me!”  Mae says in Remi’s chair.

Remi turns to her.  “Oh oh, I’m sorry!  I’ll get you under the dryer right now.  Excuse the noise.”

She shakes her head.  “No dear, the man who is sweet on you.  Why not try to get to know him a little?  You’re too beautiful to be single, and you both have children.  There’s a lot to relate to one another about.”

Remi smiles sweetly at the old white woman.  “Thank you, I appreciate your advice Mae.  I’m still thinking about it though.”

“Well that is a start in itself.  Pray about it, you’ll know what’s right.”  Mae’s saggy cheeks lift a little as she smiles with a closed mouth as Remi escorts her to a chair for drying.

Mika and Trixie finally got off of the subject of Remi’s potential love life and got through the appointments of the day.  What little time she had to herself was spent thinking of dinner for Xavier and NOW checking the new contact in her phone and wondering if she should take the plunge dive in some uncharted waters.  By the close of business, Remi was zooming over to the daycare to see her little boy; she missed him so much by the end of the work day.  She’s thankful he is still small enough for her to hold and snuggle, though he’s growing up so fast.

When Remi arrives to the daycare, Faye walks Xavier out, who runs the rest of the way over to her.

“Hey X!  Did you have a good day?”  Remi asks, picking him up into a big hug.  He smelled like outside and the coconut oil spray she conditions his hair with.  

His little arms tightened around her head.  “Yeah!  I planted gummi worms and made mud!”

“It was pudding.”  Faye chuckled.  “Xavier was the life of the party today.”

Remi kisses his cheek greedily as she puts him in his booster seat in the back.  When she closes the door, Faye grabs Remi’s attention.

“Remi, he was great today.  He even helped out with the project, passing out our ‘flower pots’, which were just styrofoam cups.  But he really showed a lot of leadership and gentleness today.”

Remi looks back at her little boy in the car with pride.  “That’s what he is, gentle and bossy.”

Faye nods.  “So great.  He even had a lot of conversation for me today.  Someone he met taught him about plants before.  Some kind of strong trees from Africa?”

Remi searches her mind; she always took Xavier to the library for books of all kinds for him to learn about the world, but she didn’t recall anything from books or TV on that.

“Really?  I’ve got to ask him about that, must’ve been on PBS or something when I wasn’t paying attention.”  Remi surmises.

“Well it stuck, I love seeing comprehension in children at a young age.  He’s got a strong foundation for it in you.  Thanks for bringing him by.”  

“No problem!  I wouldn’t mind a discount on fees since he is such a joy.”  Remi says jokingly as she walks to the car.

“If only!”  Faye retorts, waving back proudly.

Remi and Xavier drive home, bopping to the radio edits of their favorite hits the whole way back.  Xavier’s mood lifted Remi’s so easily; she was dog tired on the way to pick him up after hours of being on her feet, but now she felt like they could party all night.  Looking back at his serious jam face mumbling the riff of a Miguel song tickled her, such a performer.

Once they arrived at their home, Remi starts to rundown the menu, heading to the kitchen.

“Ok X-man, we can have some spaghetti, I got turkey meat for sandwiches.  Or I could make those fish tacos, you liked those last time.”

“Mama, can I have my birthday today?”  Xavier calls from the couch he is standing on.

Remi closes the fridge door to approach her son.  “Mk, first, get off the couch.  We don’t even do that on birthdays.”

Xavier jumps off standing by his mom.  “Please?  Can I have my birthday?”

Remi pulls out some bread to make a sandwich.  “Sweetie, I don’t have any waffle mix or blueberries.”

Xavier crawls into a chair.  “No mama, I want birthday.  Not waffles.”  

Remi stops prepping the sandwich to look at her son carefully.  “Your birthday isn’t for six more months, why do you want to celebrate so early?”

“I want Sunny to come over and play.”  Xavier says reaching for a lunch meat slice to chew on.  

Remi looks at Xavier with confusion.  “Who is Sunny, baby?”

“My friend from the park.  Her dad came too, I want to see her for my birthday.”  Xavier says through a mouth full of meat.

Remi chuckles to go back to assembling her sandwich.  “X, you don’t need a birthday to see Jolasun, we can see her anytime.”

Xavier’s eyes light up.  “Can I see her tomorrow??”

Remi groans as she thinks.  “Uhhh, probably not….”

“If it’s my birthday tomorrow, can I see her?”  Xavier asks.

Remi gives her son a look.  “Xavier, what’s this birthday mess you keep talking about?  We will see her when I say we can,  I’m just not sure yet.”

Xavier’s face falls.  “But you say you do cool stuff for my birthday, even if you feel bad.”

Remi purses her mouth and steps away from the sandwich ingredients.  She pulls a seat up next to her son giving him her full attention.

“Listen, that’s different.  I told you that so you would understand why you have to go to school in the morning.  It doesn’t work for other things like seeing friends.”

Xavier’s eyes begin to water as he looks sadly at his turkey slice.  “But I want to see Sunny….”

Remi rubs his back.  “We will, X!  I promise we will, don’t get upset.”

Xavier sniffles.  “But you don’t want to…”

“No! No, I do want to see her.  She’s a lovely little girl.  I’m just nervous about...stuff.”  Remi says curtly.  Mika and Trixie could barely understand her thoughts on M’Baku, how would a 4 year old.

Xavier looks at her with puppy dog eyes.  “I am nervous too Mama.  At school and when I saw Sunny, but then I was happy because they were nice.  Sunny is too mama!”

Remi pulls her son in for a hug as chokes up a little.  His whole world crumbles so easily, she hated to see him get this way.  “X, now calm down so Mama can talk to you.  It’s ok to have friends and I’m glad you want to see them.  I;m so proud of you for being a big boy and not getting nervous.  Ms. Faye told me how good you were today.”

“Yeah?”

Remi nods, pulling him back to face her.  “Of course!  You’re always a smart little gentleman, don’t forget that.”  Remi wipes his tears and grabs a napkin to get at his nose.  “And I know Sunny thinks you’re great too.  So, since she knows how cool you are and wants to see you, why not go see her.”

Xavier’s face lights up again.  “For real??  Are we going to the park again?!”

Remi grabs her phone.  “Well, I don’t know exactly but I’ll call her Dad and we’ll see, ok?”  Remi gives him half the sandwich she made and a cup of juice and chips.  “Sit and eat while I talk.  Don’t drink all the juice and eat all the chips before you finish the sandwich.”

Remi walks over the the living room, sitting in her easy chair to scroll to his number.  Her heart felt like it skipped just at the sight of his name:  M’Baku.  Such a good name, took little effort once you got past the hard B, then your lips and tongue just fall in line with a whisper into the last two syllables.  It’s been days since their first interaction, would he even remember their interaction, her name?

She shakes her head free of toxic thoughts as best she could or she’d never go for it, and hit Call.  This is for Xavier and Jolasun after all, this would have little to do with you and M’Baku if she got her way fully.  The phone rang and rang in her ear, with each ring she wondered if calling was too much.  Maybe she should’ve texted or maybe go to the park like Xavier said and hope to run into-

“Hello?”  M’Baku’s deep, elegant voice bound through the phone to her ear, causing a tingle in her brain.  

“Oh, uh hey!  This is Remi, uh from the park?  You came over to help me with my groceries.”

M’Baku does a low chuckle.  “Yes, Remi, I haven’t forgotten you at all.  But I thought you had forgotten me.”

His tone dropping into a realm of hurt ego, it made him that much more charismatic.  “Well Xavier hasn’t forgotten Jolasun.”  Remi says, steering the conversation back on track.

“Tell her I said hi!”  Xavier yells from his chair with a mouthful of sandwich.

“....and he says hello.”  Remi adds.

“Ahh, I heard.  Jola is still napping, but I will relay the message.”  M’Baku says very relaxed, as if he is settling in comfortably for an intimate conversation.

An awkward pause of silence fills the conversation as Remi plays with her nails waiting for M’Baku to say something, anything to hopefully make her hang up an say that it can’t happen.

“Was...that all you called for?”  M’Baku inquires.  She could hear the smile in his voice.

“No.  Um, Xavier wanted to see Jolasun so I wanted to coordinate with you and see when you’d be free...basically.”

“Ah, so your son persuaded you.”  

“...yea.”  Remi adds curtly.

“Am I invited as well?”

“I mean you would want to bring her here I thought, so….in a way...yes?”

M’Baku groans demonstratively, muttering a few things under his breath for dramatic effect.  “Well, that is good enough for me.  Do you feel like having dinner tomorrow night?”  M’Baku asks.

“Uh, I mean I want the kids to spend time together, we’re not going-”

“Remember when I offered to show you an exquisite, nutritious meal that meat and plant eaters alike could enjoy?”

Remi smacked her forehead.  As hard as she tried to keep this conversation off of flirtation, she maneuvered herself into a ditch of embarrassment.  “Right.”

“Then me and Jola will come by, we can cook as they play, and we will all eat together, eh?”

Remi looks over to Xavier.  “That sounds nice, but I really don’t want to be stuck with trash and dishes.  Sounds like more work then I want to sign up for.”

“I know how to clean and take trash out.  I will bring my own pots, I am particular about my cookware anyway.”  

“Oh?  Are my pots and pans subpar?”  Remi quips.

“I don’t know yet.  I’ll have to come see for myself.”  M’Baku says.  Remi could practically hear his wink.

“Oh God, this is ridiculous.”  Remi shakes her head, gripping the bridge of her nose.  

“What is ridiculous is passing on a chance for a free meal and company since we all get along so well.  The kids have their playdate while we have our-”

“Dinner.  A good meal and babysitting, sounds lovely.”  Remi says.

M’Baku chuckles again.  “Yes, a meal in your beautiful home.  And I sincerely cannot wait for it.”

Remi felt herself getting warm.  The way he said beautiful, it didn’t feel like he meant the house.   She fought herself on wanting to hear that word from his mouth in connection to her instead.  “I...know Xavier and Jolasun will have a good time.”  

Remi hears shuffles on M’Baku’s end.  “I will have to let you go now, lady of the house is stirring.  See you on tomorrow!”

Remi smiles, saying goodbye before hanging up her phone and looking off into space for a bit.  She gets lost in remembering his features, his stance, matching his expressions with the cadence of his voice over the phone and imagining that wide smile excitedly planning a night with her and Xavier.

“Mama!  What he say?”  Xavier asks through a mouthful of crackers.

“Chew your food!  But they will be coming.”

“YAYYY!!”  Xavier pops out of his seat and runs over to his mom, climbing her feet roughly to get in her lap.

“Ouch, boy!”  Remi picks him up the rest of the way, laughing to herself as they embrace.  Xavier looks into his mother’s face, forehead to forehead, nose to nose.

“What do you say?”  Remi quizzes her child, her vision blurred as his features become a Picasso from her eyes crossing to look at him from point blank range.

“Thank you mama!”  Xavier’s breath smells like every component of his dinner.  She loved making her baby boy happy.  It’s not always so easy to do.

--

The next night, Remi lays out a couples of pots, pans, and various utensils to prepare for the night with M’Baku and Jolasun.  He texted earlier in the day to let her know he would be bringing groceries with him so Remi wouldn’t have to worry about having the right stuff, no matter how much she protested against this.  Remi still felt off about tonight, like something wasn’t quite copacetic but she reminded herself this was not a date.  More like a summer camp and they were the counselors….not horny ones like the movies always depict, that’d be gross…

It had been so long since Remi let a man interested in her inside of her home, she really was not sure how to act.  M’Baku could still be just a nice buddy, with little interest in her especially exclusivity.  

Remi groans at the tracks her mind went on.  She keeps steering into a romance thing!  The kitchen was set, so she changed atmosphere, going upstairs to check her face and make sure she was good to go  look-wise.

She tried to keep her outfit cute, but not too elementary school teacher-ish.  Enough to show her assets, but conservative enough to wear to church.  But not too formal to keep up with the kids and there impending messes, just over the line of looking like she cares.  She is at her house for this, but some freshening up is necessary for guests.  

She takes out a nude lip to touch up as she calls out to Xavier.  “X!  Come here so I can see you!”

Xavier’s feet stomp rapidly up the hall to stand outside her bathroom.  He has on his favorite CoryxKenshin shirt with a little plaid shirt layered over it and canvas pants with his Keds.

Remi beamed.  “You are so handsome!”

He looks down at himself, almost going into a headstand as his braids stood up to gravity.  “I do?”

“Yes!  Of course, always!  Are you excited?”

He nods.  “Are we going to sing happy birthday with cake?”

Remi laughs as she fills in her brows.  “No baby, remember?  We aren’t going to do your birthday.  This is a regular day with your friend Jolasun.”

The doorbell rang on cue.

“Sunny!”  Xavier exclaims racing away.

“Xavier, don’t open that door!  I’ll get it!”  Remi’s heart rate picks up as she tries to summon the energy of her co-workers to gage as much of the possibilities tonight has to offer as possible.  Checking her phone, looks like they are a but early, she thinks as she heads downstairs again.  

Xavier is bouncing by the kitchen, ready for an adventure.  His smiling face calms Remi effortlessly as she glides in her confident walk across the floor to the door, putting on a genuine smile as she opens the door.

“Hey, Remi!  And little man!  Look at y’all!”

Remi’s face drops instantly.  “Ron?”

Part 3

Masterlist

Ragtag

@yaachtynoboat711 @chaneajoyyy @bidibidibombaclaat@sarcastic-sunshines @great-neckpectations @wakanda-inspired @klaine15689  @foulmouthedandfanfic @nickidub718 @supersizemeplz @yofavcocoa @ashanti-notthesinger

[amateur-troubadour]

The Nebraska Chapter

          When I opened my eyes, I was laying in my bed back home. Or at least it was my bed before I’d graduated high school. We’d gotten rid of it when the basement flooded during my second year of college and the bedframe became warped. Rolling out of it, I realized that I wasn’t just in my high school bed. I was also in my high school body. I’d thought I felt a pound or thirty lighter.

           Being back in high school wasn’t too surprising. The dreams tended to go that way. Something about appearing as the last you that you really felt was you. I can’t remember who told me all of that, but it sounded like a whole lotta horseshit to me. The only reason high school John wasn’t coping poorly with his problems was that he was actively ignoring them. Maybe that’s exactly who I was though, and this trend of tackling issues head-on was causing some dissonance in me.

           I took a couple of groggy steps out of the room and into the rest of the basement. My basement. Not dirty and dark like the house in Iowa, rotted steps and who-knows-whats lurking around the corners. Dirty and bright. Home. Slowly, testing out the limitations of my newly awakened body, I made my way up the stairs. Reaching the top, I heard the familiar “DING!” of our Pizzazz pizza maker. Two Jack’s pepperoni pizzas a day were made on that baby.

           My mother rushed over to take Steven’s pizza off so it didn’t burn. Deftly, she cut it into eight, mostly equal pieces. It was a skill she’d honed every day since Steven had turned 12. He rarely ate anything besides Jack’s pizza, except when he had breakfast. At breakfast, he had six Oreos (or Chips Ahoy if Oreos weren’t available) with milk and a glass of pink lemonade. Steven was a man of routine. After cutting his pizza, my mother added a generous dose of salt and pepper to help the grease go down. She brought him his pizza, still on the cardboard cutting circle, with a cold Dr. Pepper, which she opened for him.

           “When did you start giving him the full pizza?” I asked, announcing my presence.

           They both turned to look at me, and my mother decided that, of the two of them, she should be the one to answer. “You startled me,” she said, beginning to compose herself a bit more, “When did you decide that you were going to wake up?”

           “Right now, I guess. When did you start giving him the full pizza?”

           “I don’t know. Probably around the time you went to visit your friend in Nebraska,” she said, walking back to the kitchen. She’d been cleaning before making Steven’s pizza, it seems. “Why do you ask? Do you think he’s getting fat?”

           “Am I getting fat?” Steven chimed in. Since entering high school, I guess he’d gone down the path of every other high schooler, growing self-conscious about his body. He’d slimmed down a lot. The mandatory exercise classes probably helped. He’d started working out at home too, or at least making an attempt at it. My parents even brought the old exercise bike upstairs into the living room for him.

           “No,” I said, “despite Mom’s best efforts to change that.”

           “Will you leave him alone? You know he only eats pizza.”

           “You never tried to give him anything else.” I knew how this argument would go. I’d had it so many times before with her and, given that I knew I was dreaming and that the whole world around me was based on my mind, I couldn’t imagine it going any differently. Still, it was fun to be antagonistic to her. Small acts of revenge for my childhood.

           “That’s not true. Remember when we tried to tell him we weren’t giving him any more pizzas?”            “And then you caved immediately? Sure.”

           “What’s your solution?”

           “Actually follow through on the threat. Don’t make him pizza. He’ll eat something new, or…” and I turned to Steven, pausing for dramatic effect, mustering the most sinister grin I could, “…he’ll starve.”

           My mom ignored me, but a look of genuine concern flashed across Steven’s face, and I felt guilty for a moment. I wanted to feel guilty about being mean to him sometimes. It had become hard for me to separate him from my parent’s babying though, and I hated the babying. Giving him a good scare was like pushing back a little bit, like teaching him his first swears or where to safely watch porn online.

           I walked over to Steven and sat in the recliner beside him. He had his little setup in his own recliner beside the window, looking over the fenced-in backyard. Two TV trays: one for his laptop, permanently on, usually browsing YouTube or DeviantArt; the other for anything else he might need at the time, like notebooks for drawing his comics or, as was the case right now, an entire pizza. Steven more or less owned the living room, forcing my parents to watch TV upstairs. He went on kicks of watching and then rewatching the same movie or show all day, and the big TV with surround sound was the best place for him to do it.

           “What’re we up to today bud?” As per usual, Steven immediately closed all his tabs when I approached. I knew what he was doing. He was looking up drawings of cartoon women with large waists in the middle of the day, in front of God and everyone else. On the times that I looked through his notebook like the nosey older brother I am, I saw that he’d begun drawing his own cartoon women too.

           “Nothing.” He stared at me for a bit and realized I didn’t plan on going anywhere. “Say John,” he began, firing into his question voice, “have you seen the Rise of the TMNT on Nickelodeon?”

           “I can’t say I have. I don’t watch too much TV.” I gave him the same smile as earlier, “It rots your brain.”

           “Well,” a pause as he processed how to take my joke, “you should watch it. It’s funny.”

           “I’ll get around to it, I’m sure.”

           I’d been led to believe that, when you realized you were dreaming, you could do anything you wanted. I never had that kind of luck. Anytime I realized I was dreaming, like I had now, it was always because whatever demons leading me on a goose chase had something new to show me. Well, what is it? Where are you sending me next? Get to the fucking point already. I hadn’t done much scavenging yet, but they’d already dragged me halfway across the country. How long would it be before I had to make an effort at renewing my passport?

           “John,” I heard my mother calling, “would you come here for a second?” She was in the laundry room right off the kitchen. Standing from my chair, I marched my way there like a prisoner to the electric chair. Slow, slouched, resigned. She was folding my clothes in her own system that I’d never quite understood. She was really picky about it though. When she saw I was there, she held up a plaid crew sock. Along the side of it was the phrase “busy making a fucking difference” in all capital letters. I couldn’t imagine someone actually making any kind of difference wearing those.

           “Where’d you get these?” she asked. It was a weird question considering I’d had them for well over a year now.

           “I got them when I went to visit Taryn a while back. Some festival or something.”            “Yeah,” she said, “but where did you get them?”

           “I’m not sure I’m understanding the question.” This is what the demon-sent dreams were like. Boring, mundane, but just a little bit off, like the entire world was shifted just three inches to the left. If I didn’t think about it, I might not notice, but I’d been thinking a lot for a while now. I took a good look at my mom now. Sure, her line of questioning was strange, but I realized now that her face was even stranger. Her eyes were too big for a human face by the tiniest amount, and her pupils were just a bit too long horizontally. She always had a thing for frogs.

           “It’s a simple question,” she said as she stepped forward, still holding the sock up for me. “Where did you get the socks John?”

           I began to back up, back into the kitchen. The sun was hidden by clouds, so the light felt very grey. Her legs looked like they were growing longer and blending together, becoming something rather snake-y.

           “Well, Taryn lives in Nebraska, so if I had to hazard a guess, I’d say Nebraska,” I had backed up against a counter now, but she was still coming closer. She was definitely half-snake now, and she was very slowly slithering towards me. Her arms began to grow longer, reaching down past where her knees used to be until her knuckles scraped along the floor. It didn’t seem necessary, given the whole slithering-like-a-snake thing, but I could roll with it.

           “What city?”

           It was only at this point that it dawned on me that the dream might be leading me towards Nebraska. Seward, Nebraska, where they threw an annual festival revolving around corn and how much they hated Idaho and their potatoes. With this realization came my mother’s shirt bursting open, revealing leathery wings on her back and a smaller, thicker set of arms beneath the spaghetti ones she used to walk. Guess I never realized how much of a monster I thought my mother was.

           Slowly, one of her long arms grabbed the counter next to me, pulling her close enough for her stronger arms to grab me. I think she tried to smile, but it looked more like baring fangs. Her face had warped beyond anything human, now looking awfully frog-ish. When she blinked, you could still see her eyes, like the eyelids had become translucent. She smelled like fish.

           “I got the message,” I said, trying to get my fingers between hers and my body, trying to pry her grip off of me. “I’ll just go to Seward and work it out from there. Can I wake up yet?”

           “No.” Her voice had changed too. My mom’s voice was still in there for sure, but now I was getting hints of several exes and my third-grade teacher, the one that forced me to write in cursive despite the fact I could barely write in print. People I, at best, hoped to never meet again. “We are beginning to think that you might not be the one we want for this.”

           “Maybe if you told me a little more about what I’m supposed to be doing, I’d be better at doing it. Hard to follow instructions that aren’t offered.”

           “No. We have decided that it is better to dispose of you, be done with all of the delays, find someone stronger to free us.”

           Steven was sneaking up behind the monster, dragging his blanket with him. He didn’t seem the least bit worried about the fact that we might not have a mom anymore. Before the thing could notice, Steven threw his blanket over its head and yanked down, causing it to reach up with all four hands to pull the blanket off.

           “Outside John!” With that, he took off towards the front door. I followed without bothering to put on shoes, something I’d regret once hitting the pavement of the street, but desperate times and all that. We ran about a football field’s worth of dead-end street before we made it to the middle of the intersection leading to the house. There, Steven stopped and turned. Given that he hadn’t steered me wrong yet, I did the same.

           Horror movies like to use the slow, determined monster to scare people. Be it a zombie or some killer like Jason Vorhees, there’s just something terrifying about seeing the inevitability of death personified, marching towards you. I do believe, however, that Hollywood has seriously underestimated how scary death can be when it hauls ass at you like a sports car, 0 to 60 in no time flat. I say this because I practically shit myself watching the frog-snake monster burst from the house and fly towards us.

           Seeing it in action finally gave me a sense of its locomotion that the confined space of the house had kept chained. The monster was very top heavy, so it beat its leathery wings as a way of counterbalancing its forward lean. In addition, it used the long arms as front paws, supporting itself on the knuckles. As it raced towards us, I could see that its fists were beginning to crack and bleed because of how hard it was pounding against the pavement. I tugged at Steven’s shirt to try and get him to move, but he stood still.

           “We really need to go Steven!”

           “I think we should stand here.” He seemed awfully calm about it all, and that calmed me down in turn. He always had a way of making me more resolute. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that he was the last person in the family to still think I could do something with my life, and I had to live up to those expectations.

           Still, the monster was closing distance far too fast. You know how, when you try and run in a dream, it sometimes feels as if you’re doing the cartoon run-in-place thing instead of getting anywhere? The monster was currently facing the opposite side of that coin. Every one of its movements seemed to cover more ground than any three of mine. I stepped in front of Steven and closed my eyes. The best way to take a hit is to be as unaware of it as possible.

           And then there was a sizzle, a scream not quite human, the smell of frog legs, and finally the feeling of the sun hitting my face. I opened my eyes.

           What had been my mother was slowly burning to ash in front of me on the ground, a single long hand laying at my bare feet, completely skeletonized. The sun had formed bright, painful blisters all over the creature’s body, and I could still hear the sizzling as it was cooked alive.

           “Maybe…” it croaked, “…we’ve underestimated you. Free us.” The rest of it became ash, leaving only charred bones in its wake.

           I turned to Steven, exhaled for a long time, and asked him how he knew that would happen.

           “How did I know what would happen?”

           “The sun. The monster. The way the sun melted the monster. Any of that would be fine.”

           He thought about it for a second, really mulling it over, before he gave me a smile, the kind I gave him when I teased him. Slowly and deliberately, he said, “I don’t know. It’s your dream.”

           “You’re a killjoy.” I walked closer to what had been the body of the monster, some six feet away from its outstretched arm. It had truly been some kind of hideous creature, like something you could imagine lived off of a diet exclusively composed of babies. The depravity of evil knows no bounds. I’d read that somewhere, I’m sure.

[hobimysun-shine]

Once in a lifetime, forever in a lifetime

A/N: I am aware that I am the worst with uploading on time, but I literally have no time to write, cuz college applications all the time and studying. I had some free time now around Christmas, so I hope you enjoy!! :)

Summary: Childhood friends with maknae line, coming-of-age kinda thing all the way through college, that will eventually include the hyung line as well, but i wont spoil anything for you, will get hardcore later on, i will put some trigger warnings, when i get to it;;

In this chapter: start it off with a lil smut (spoilers) and then a loots of angst 

childhood friend jimin/ platonic maknae line/ apart from jungkook/ vmin/ namjin/ hoseok x reader/ jungkook x reader/

Genre: mostly angst, fluff, smut + some sexual connotations/

Word count: almost 7k

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3:

Your phone beeped underneath the pile of notebooks for the 100th time this day and you just rolled your eyes, annoyed by the sound. You moved around the mess of notes on your bed to find the little machine that distracted you from learning all the steps for your practical exam tomorrow. It was a message from Jimin. Again. You closed the notification before giving yourself the time to read it and turned off the sound. You cursed Hoseok under your breath, for convincing you to unblock the boys and to give them a chance to talk to you. You weren’t even planning to allow it, after you spent two nights crying from anxiety that they were in the same city as you again.

           After a week of not talking about it however, Hoseok decided to bring up the topic to light, which was not the best idea and you didn’t know why he would do it after he was the one that had to soothe you for two night straight. But according to him, the “pain” he saw you dealing with for an year now, would not “disappear on its own” and you were supposed to “do something about it”. Which apparently was talk with Jimin, Jungkook and Taehyung. And you were doing quite well with disagreeing with him, until he had thrown his arms around your waist, nuzzled his head in your neck and whispered a “please, I hate seeing you hurt” in your ear. And of course, you being the weak piece of shit that you are, said yes before your mind could even catch up what you were agreeing to. And now Hoseok was constantly asking you if you did it yet, to which you would answer that you needed a little more time to feel ready to face them.

           Lost in thought, you jumped when someone knocked on your door. You ran to the entrance and peeped through the hole to see the said Hoseok standing on your doormat. You opened the door which a rush and jumped into his arms.

“Hello there, beautiful”, he said, suffocated by your hair and put you down giggling.

“Where have you been?” you asked eagerly since you haven’t heard of Hobi in three days, and the last thing he said to you was “did you talk to Jimin”.

“Exams, you know”, he scrunched his face in disgust. “But I am done for the year now, so I went to the store and bought food and wine so we can celebrate tonight” he raised the bags in both of his hands that were now threatening to rip apart.

You moved away from the door, so that Hobi could enter and head to the kitchen, where he spent more time than you did, even though it was your apartment.

“That’s such a great idea, but my last practical exam is tomorrow Hobi, I have to study” you whined.

He turned around after he had already put out all the ingredients and tied an apron around his waist with flowers that said “#1 Mom in the world!” on it and matched perfectly with his ripped jeans and dark shirt. He threw a disappointed look at you.  

“A practical huh?” he said bringing his hand to his chin in thought. “Come here” he gestured in a second.

“What?” you looked at him in confusion, but listened and moved closer to him.

“Hold this”, he gave you a knife in one hand and a fork in the other.

He adjusted your hands as if you were about to perform and resection and took a step back to look at you up and down.

“You’re doing great, sweetie, you don’t need to study anymore”, he clapped his hands and concluded as he shooed you out of the kitchen corner as if you were about to light it on fire (and by knowing your cooking abilities, his concerns were justified).

“Hobi, I’m serious you know this is the most important exam for the whole year!” you still tried to protest.

“I know Y/N…” he wondered for a second, his face finally getting serious” okay, how many of the books have you read?”

“Um… all of them?”

“All of them??” his eyes widened.

“Twice…”, you added shyly.

“Twice? Kim Y/N don’t you dare tell me you haven’t studied enough, do you know that for this exam I read only half of everything and got an 86%” Hobi huffed.

“Yeah, but you’re smart” you said crossing your arms in front of your chest.

“And you’re smarter!” he said simply which caught you off guard because he rarely praised you, since most of your conversations revolved around making fun of each other.

Sensing the silence, Hobi turned and flashed a smile.

“But I’m still gonna be a better surgeon than you, miss!” he shrugged.

“We’ll see about that!” you smiled as well and got closer to see what Hobi was cooking, completely giving up on the thought of going back in the room to your medical books, when he was here flashing smiles and filling your apartment with the sweet scent of his cologne.

An hour later, you were sitting on the couch, legs thrown over Hoseok’s lap, full with the delicious spaghetti he had prepared for dinner and slightly buzzed after you two had downed two bottles of red wine. You were gasping for air at a joke he had made and tried to get off the couch before you threw up the food you just ate.

“Hey, where are you going?” he asked and pulled you back down, this time closer to him.

“I was going to pick a movie we can watch” you said, as it was a routine to watch a movie with him when he would come over and cook at your place.

You saw him shift next to you as he still was holding you down.

“Actually Y/N, I thought we could do something else tonight” Hobi looked straight in your eyes and you could feel your heart speeding up like crazy.

“Like what?” you asked while trying to seem calm on the outside, even though you could feel your cheeks warming up and you were praying he would think it was because of the wine.

“Like…” he paused as he once again moved closer to you. “Like talk about your past” he finally said and you tried your best not to show your disappointment.

You were actually quite immune to being disappointed with Hoseok because after an year of constant body contact, and no words of affection, you were no longer expecting any sort of romantic confession from him. However you couldn’t help, but get flustered after hearing him speak like that.  

“Um… my past?” you blinked a few times, trying to assimilate his request.

“Yeah… I mean”, he stopped to take a deep breathe ”I know we talk about a lot of stuff, like medicine, people in college, movies, music, books, flowers, even the future. But we have never talked about the past. And I want to know about it, now that you have to face it.”

He managed to hold eye contact, even though you could see it was hard for him. You didn’t say anything for a minute or two. You finally exhaled, not realizing you were holding your breath for so long.

“Okay, I’ll tell you” you agreed.

“Everything?”

“Everything” you confirmed and he smiled.

“But” you continued and his smile disappeared. “You also have to tell me. Everything” this time you looked straight in his dark eyes.

He gave it a thought and finally tilted his head a bit.

“Deal, but you’re first.”

You took a deep breathe, and tried to take yourself back in time, which you have been avoiding to do in the past few months. What exactly meant “everything”?

“Okay, well… where do I start? I am from Busan, I was born there, because it’s my father’s city. My mom is from Spain.”

“Wait that’s why you’re eyes are lighter and you hair is kinda wavy?” Hobi’s eyes widened as if he had discovered something great.

“Yes, but don’t take it as a good quality of mine. I have always been bullied about it and it really helped me getting the label “weird” in school.”

“I have always though they made you more beautiful,” Hobi stated.

Heartbeat.

“Yeah, that’s what Jimin would say as well. Which brings me to him. The boy with the blonde hair and the…piercings” you shuddered, not because you were against them in any way, but because you weren’t used to that image of him. ”Remember?”

“Yeah, hard to forget, I think you gave him a blue eye” Hobi scratched his head.

“Anyway, him. We were neighbors when we were born and we have been friends ever since I can remember. Our families are friends… well…were, but that’s for later. So yeah, I know him since a baby. I know Taehyung from the kindergarten and Jungkook since middle school. We have always been friends. I don’t know why exactly, but I have always had a hard time with trusting people and I never really made too many friends. In high school we were kind of the cool kids because they became “super hot” and girls were all over them.”

“Wait I thought you said you were weird?” Hobi stopped you in confusion.

“Yeah, I was… but like cool weird. I don’t know, I never really cared about these things. But anyways, until the senior year of high school it was like that. Strict rich parents, a private high school, with the only three people I could trust and many parties, but nothing crazy, just alcohol and weed sometimes. So yeah, last year of high school. By then my father and Jimin’s father had a company together for many years. I don’t really know what happened because I never really cared about business, but apparently my father screwed over Jimin’s and his father was left without a position. Jimin has always been really close to his family, so it wasn’t a surprise to me that he found it hard to talk to me the day after it happened. It was a surprise however, that he didn’t even try to hear me out even though he knew that I had nothing to do with it. He never spoke to me since then…until now. I also dated Jungkook for a few months back then, until he decided to screw me and leave after the thing with Jimin happened. Taehyung would also pass me in the hallways after I unintentionally sent his application to the wrong university…I was so tired with the applications for medicine, I didn’t even realize what I was doing until they emailed him that the program he is applying for was medical, not for actors. After that he would only talk to Jimin, but he had always liked him the most. I guess they really must have hated me then. They didn’t speak to me ever since October senior year. Not when my grandma passed away, which was the hardest thing in my life, since she was the only person from my family I have even been close to. Not when the other girls from school would pick up fights with me in the hallways. Not even when I overdosed on sleeping pills and was taken to the hospital. Nothing. At the end of the year, I went to prom alone, and after that Jimin left to study modern dance, Tae made it into a couple universities for acting and Jungkook would major in art. I was left with my medicine in Seoul, Which brings me to that night, on my first college party, when I met you.”

You lifted your head to see that Hobi was staring at you with a mix of sadness and compassion pooling from his eyes.

“I see why you don’t want to talk to them,” he finally said.

“Yeah…well, c’mon now. It’s your turn” you pushed him playfully.

He exhaled.

“Okay, so. I’m from Gwangju. And my family was shit pretty much. My mom left when I was born after spending a few years with my father and my older sister. Ever since I can remember, my father has been drinking heavily and would gamble all the time. He would spend every single won my sister made and she was forced to work part-time since she was fifteen. She left soon after she turned seventeen, but has always been contacting me and never stopped sending me part of the money she made. She is smart and it was easy for her to be noticed by companies and get jobs early on. In the beginning I made money with dancing, which is actually something as a passion of mine” he chuckled.

“Wow, I never even thought of that,” you gasped, your brain denying the fact that you definitely liked to get attached to dancers, apparently.

“Yeah… and in high school I was never a kid who had a lot of friends, but no one ever tried to make fun of me either, I guess I was just minding my own business and they knew I could get physical if I had to, so no one bothered me. All of my friends were older, I had a few that I would hang out with, but they were constantly travelling, they should be in college now, but I don’t know where exactly.”

“What are their names” you asked curiously.

“Doesn’t really matter, but the closest person in my life, other than you and my sister, was a guy that was an year older than me, named Yoongi. As I said, I don’t really know where he is right now…”

Hoseok went silent, which indicated that this was all he could say.

Comparing his past to yours, you felt bad that you always made such a fuss about your issues, when he had it much worse than you, but was always the one to hold you.

“I’m sorry… I never knew…”

“I was that messed up, I know” Hobi smiled a little, “but don’t be sorry Y/N. You had only made my life better for all it matters. Much better.

You smiled back at him and allowed yourself to get a little closer to his body.

You two stayed like that for a while when Hoseok broke the silence.

“You know sometimes I think…about when we first met” he was looking down.

“I think about what you did.” He moved his hand on your thigh.

“What I did?” your heartbeat was speeding up again, and this time your brain could not think straight, because there was just one think Hoseok could be talking about.

“Yeah… you don’t remember… but you kissed me. A few times” he said neither closing, nor increasing the distance between the two of you.

“Yeah, I guess I did” was all you could say and cursed silently.

It wasn’t your fault, you’ve never been in such situation with a boy. Jungkook has always been much more for the action and less for the words kinda guy.

“Yeah… sometimes I wonder…”

You wonder?

“I wonder what it would feel like, if you kissed me again” he spoke all in once.

…

“Why don’t you come and find out” you said bluntly, which immediately regretted, but when you lifted you head to say “sorry” you saw Hoseok just inches from you.

You were now pressed back and his body was shadowing over yours. His face was so close to yours and your eyes went down to his plump pink lips, which were getting closer with every second. Hoseok soon closed all distance between you and your lips met his, soft and hot. He pressed them onto yours a couple of times before you felt his wet tongue asking for access, which you gave right away and he collided into you. Soon enough his hand was on your bare waist and the other was softly placed on your neck. He pulled away so you can both take a breath.

“Has Jungkook ever kissed you like that?” he asked, but there was nothing cocky in his question. You felt like he honestly cared if anyone has kissed you like he really meant it, in the way he did.

“No” was all you said, before his lips were once again onto yours.

He was good, the way his tongue explored every part of your mouth, they was his lips felt onto yours and the way he sucked and bit them making them red and swollen.

His lips moved to you jawline, placing wet kisses all along and eventually finding your neck, where he gently bit once again, making you moan.

“Shit, Y/N, do that again,” he said and bit even deeper making sure to leave a purple mark on your soft spot, moans leaving your body.

He had moved his hand down to your lower body and was slowly making his way between your legs. He played with the waistband of your sweatpants and then your panties as he eventually slipped his hand to your bare core. You moaned his name in the kiss, which apparently was a turn on, because he moaned back and you felt a finger slide against your entrance. More moaning and soon the fingers were three.

“Please” was all you could say through hitched breath.

“Fuck, baby, you are so wet for me, it drives me insane” Hobi said, the grip on your neck tightening as he kissed you and let a finger slide into you.

You were now a moaning mess, and Hoseok was only making it harder for you. He eventually added the other two fingers and was skillfully sliding them in and out of you, slowly, but very surely leading you to your high.

“Hobi… Hoseok, I’m … fuck, I’m close” you cried in his bare chest.

“Not yet baby”, he said, and with that, slid all of his fingers out of you, leaving you empty and needy.

You whined with displease, but Hobi made sure to not leave you like that for too long.

“Babygirl, I want to feel you around me,” he said and positioned himself in between your legs.

You wasted no time as your hands immediately went down and unbuckled his jeans and slid them off, leaving him in his boxers around his very hard member.

You threw your legs around him and kissed him in excitement, but pulled back when nothing happened. Hoseok looked at you with sincerity in his eyes.

“Are you sure you want this Y/N? Because I can’t… I mean I don’t really know what we are, or what we are gonna be. But… I know that I love you and I won’t leave, so…”

“I want you” you said interrupting him and with a kiss, he slid right into you, stretching you out completely.

“Fuck, you are so tight” he almost growled as he gave you time to adjust and started moving slowly at first. He eventually picked up his pace, and you buried your head in his neck leaving small hickeys and moaning into the kisses.

His hips were driving you insane, each motion getting you a step closer to your orgasm, as your moans became hotter and louder.

“Are you close, Y/N?” he asked though a moan.

Yes, God, yes, please” you said and Hobi slowed down his movements, making each thrust harder and sloppier, when eventually with one last slam you kissed him and came, with him reaching his high just seconds later and letting you ride out your orgasm.

He pulled out of you and let himself fall right next to you in complete bliss, while you were trying to catch your breath. He then got up and came back soon after bare-chested and wearing only shorts with a warm cloth and wiped you off, putting your panties back on. Then he laid next to you, hugging you closely and plopping a blanket over the two of you.

“I love you, Y/N” he said and kissed you sweetly one last time.

“I love you, Hobi” you said back and threw your arms around him, slowly drifting to sleep to the sound of his heartbeat, for the first time in forever truly happy and away from all sorrow.

  You opened your eyes slowly to the early morning sunlight shining through the curtains in the living room. It took a few seconds before you remembered completely what happened the night before and the moment all memories completely returned to your mind, you propped yourself up on your elbows, slight headache reminding you of the two bottles of wine that you downed yesterday. You groaned and turned around to see if Hoseok was still next to you. And he was. His arm still loosely hanging around you, his face fully relaxed, making the usual devilish vibe about him disappear and leaving his angelically beautiful features exposed. You unconsciously smiled and extended your hand to touch his flawless skin with the back of your hand.

You saw the corners of his mouth move up as he reached for your hand on his face and interlaced your fingers with his. He slowly opened his eyes and looked straight at you. You were surprised by that sudden movement and dipped back pulling the blanket over your head to which Hoseok just laughed.

“What are you doing Y/N?” he asked surprised by your actions.

He came closer and tried to pull the blanket down, but you held it tight letting only one eye out.

“Don’t look at me like that, I’m ugly early in the morning” you muttered and tried to get the blanket out of his grip, but he was much stronger and just pulled it all away from your face.

“Baby you are so pretty,” he whispered and before you realized, he gave you a peck.

“Are you blind, my hair is messy and my makeup is probably smudged all over my face?” you protested.

“No” he just said and then kissed you harder adding his tongue to the kiss and leaving you breathless, without anything else to say.

“God, I could kiss you all the time” he smiled and then continued peppering kisses all over you.

You giggled completely lost in happiness, until you realized how weird it was to be completely unbothered by anything. When you suddenly remembered reality and jumped away from Hoseok’s grip, who was now going lower to your neck.

“What’s wrong Y/N?” he asked in worry.

“The exam, my exam, today, now” you practically blurted out as you made your way to your phone to see the time.

When you finally reached the table where you left your phone last night, you looked at the screen in panic. 9:00 am.

Good. Good. You sat back on one of the chairs. You had time, since your exam was from 11:00 am.

You lifted your head when you saw Hobi enter the kitchen and almost gasped out loud. Yeah he was practically naked into you last night, but seeing him like that in the light of day was different. He had perfect proportions, not too muscly, but not too skinny, long legs, broad shoulders and just slightly visible abs. You caught yourself staring and turned your head blushing at the sight. You couldn’t afford to be that distracted. Not before the most important exam of the year.

Hobi came to you and lifted your chin with one finger.

“You’re not late, relax” he laughed. “I am going to leave now and let you get in the right mind for a test.” He went on and you almost whined.

“And after that, you are going to go and talk to Jimin” he continued unbothered and ignored the face you made.

“Um, sorry sir, just because I let you get lucky, does not mean you can tell me what to do now” you stood up and stuck a finger into his chest.

“No, but you would still listen to me, ain’t that right?” he wiggled his eyebrows and jumped away just in time to miss the punch that was coming at his face.

He moved closer one last time and gave you a long and passionate kiss.

“You are gonna do great Y/N. At everything today” he said assuring, and somehow you believed him once again.

“But what if I don’t” you said in small voice.

“Well, if you don’t, I’m just one call away” he smiled and with that disappeared into the other room to get dressed and leave you alone, to deal with everything else in the world.  

                                                            ***

You couldn’t concentrate throughout the exam. Your mind was periodically flying off to last night and Hoseok or to what would follow this afternoon. So you were quite surprised when the arbiter gave you your evaluation paper that said that you got overall 90%.

“You demonstrate great knowledge and precision, Ms. Kim, although we believe that you would have done even better if you weren’t so hm… distracted.” Said the woman who gave you the evaluation form dryly, to which you thanked and left the room.

It was okay. 90% was less than your usual scores, but it was better than Hoseok, so you considered it as a success.

You were now out in the sun, which would normally do you good, since you loved sunny days, but today it was just making your headache worse and the thought of Jimin more tiring.

You sat on the grass and took a few deep breaths. You moved your hand through your backpack trying to find your phone meanwhile finding a bag of nuts that you also got out to snack on. With shaky fingers, you unlocked your phone and went to messages, where Jimin and the rest have been spamming you apparently since the beginning of last summer. You tried not to read everything else that was sent, as your mind focused only on finding the address of their current location.

You eventually found it and headed to your car (a present by your parents for finishing the first school year), where you got the information in the GPS and headed there.

On the way, you were focusing on everything else, but the slow anger burning in your bones, trying to ignore it, as if it would disappear if you wouldn’t acknowledge its existence long enough. You almost passed a few red lights and ran over a squirrel in your haze, and eventually your GPS announced that you had reached your destination.

You parked in front of the white building where they lived and closed your eyes massaging your temples.

You were going there to talk. Not to beat them up again, or to run. To talk.

You opened the door and went out. Just talk. You took a step ahead, and you almost fell, your heel getting stuck in between two stones on the ground. You cursed under your breath and at yourself that you hadn’t picked something less flashy to put on in the morning.

Another thing that had also changed throughout the year was your style. Before, in high school you were quite used to wearing more boyish outfits, wide t-shirts and loose pants, making sure to fit in with the other boys. After you left, you had decided that together with the hair and location, you also needed to change your wardrobe. For a weekend you had thrown away all old clothes and stack up on “girl clothes” that included short skirts, cropped tops and skinny jeans, which with time you got used to wearing and even felt nice that you were finally free to feel like an actual girl. So without taking to account the fact that you were visiting your old friends that day, after taking a shower in the morning, you had thrown a short skirt and a shirt that enhanced your features and a pair of your favorite heels that showed off your legs.

You shrugged, trying to ignore the fact that the boys were not the only ones that had visibly changed and continued to approach their apartment building. How convenient, you thought, that they all lived together. You didn’t have to search for each one of them individually.

The number on the door said “9”, which indicated that you were at the right place, and before you had the time to rethink your actions, you pressed the bell in anticipation, that made you regret eating those nuts at lunch.

You heard slow steps approaching the door, which immediately signalized it was Taehyung that would open the door, because only he could walk in that manner.

The last few seconds before the door opened were like minutes, in which you became even more anxious and impatient. The initial adrenaline high from the sex with Hoseok last night was wearing off with time. Just when you were about to consider running away once again, the door opened and a not very tall boy that seemed genuinely done with you already stood in front of you. You stood speechless for a few seconds, without any of you saying or doing anything. Finally he moved his hand to his face in a motion of looking at an invisible clock on his wrist.

“Can I help you, orr…” his voice was very slurred and reminded you a bit of Tae and for a moment you wondered whether he is not drunk.

“Um… Sorry, I was looking for Jimin… or Jungkook, or Tae?” you asked still in a position ready to run away at any given point.

”Ah, are you one of the girls from last night? Cuz if you are, they said to tell you, they are not interested in any further communication of any sort” he replied annoyed.

“Last night? Ah no… I’m very confused” you really were. “Will you just tell them that Y/N wanted to talk to them… or whatever?” you said and turned around in rush and anger, just to feel the boy grab your wrist.

“Y/N?” he repeated, now slightly more interested than before.

“Yeah, just tell them that whenever they have a little of their precious time, I would be glad to speak to them?” you continued sarcastically and tried to pull your wrist away from his grip.

“Tsk, you really are something, as they said” the boy smirked and pulled you towards the door.” Come with me.”

You protested for a little while and finally gave up ,since the boy was not letting go, and let him drag you into a dim hallway, all the way to a quite spacious living room, where music was sounding from somewhere, and the air was filled with the thick scent of alcohol.

“Wow” you said out loud really surprised by the never changing abilities of your friends to turn every place into a party hole in no time.

“Yah, Jimin-ah!” the boy shouted through the room. “A little someone has come to look for you! And she’s quite sexy if I do say so myself” he added more to himself, you were sure with the sole purpose to annoy you.

You turned to him and this time managed to pull your wrist away from his hand. You looked at him more carefully. He wasn’t too tall, but considering your height, even a house gnome was taller than you. His hair was bleached white and his clothes were ripped and messy on purpose, which definitely succeeded giving him a “bad boy” vibe, which you were sure most girls were instantly tuned on by.

“First of all, I have a name that I believe you already know, and second of all,” you looked at him with the deadliest glare you could pull off “fuck you.” You simply stated and moved past him making sure to push him lightly and sat on the couch.

He turned around, getting ready for a comeback, but was interrupted by the voice of Jimin entering the room.

“Yoongi, I told you to not let any of the girls, that knock on the door-“ he stated, but then his eyes fell on you and he stopped midsentence.

Yoongi?

You chickled.

“What, do they need to make an appointment, to see you?” you said cockily, not bothering to move your eyes away, suddenly feeling too bold.

Jimin gulped.

“Y/N- ah… you came? I didn’t think you would, after what happened and you weren’t returning any calls or messages and I-“ his voice suddenly became soft again, dropping of his previous act.

“Yeah, well I did.” You simply said.

“So do you have anything to say to me, since my phone is already blocked from your texts?” you continued.

“I’m-“ Jimin tried to speak, but was interrupted by the bedroom door opening.

“Yooo Chimmy boy, who you talkin’ to?” you heard another very well-known voice belonging to no other, than Jungkook, followed by Taehyung.

They, same as Jimin, looked around and the moment they saw you, their smiles vanished as if someone slapped them across the faces.

“Wow, I didn’t want to ruin the mood” you pouted and got up, suddenly feeling vengeful.

You walked to the table close by, as you made sure to bend a little when you sipped water in a cup, so that all of them could see your legs and hear the sound of the heels on the floor. They wanted to see confident, well you could play that. They wanted dirty, you could play that as well.

“Okay, Y/N please don’t hit me again?” Jimin was the first to speak. “First of all, I am so sorry for everything okay? I truly am. I regretted everything the moment I stopped talking to you. But my ego was too big at the time. I am so sorry for being an asshole, when your grandma passed… and when you were taken to the hospital. I am so sorry?”

“You knew I had nothing to do with the stupid company, Jimin” you spoke, this time there was no sugar coating your words.

“I fucking know… but my mom cried all the time and I was stupid, I was dumb” he said once again.

“Yeah, you were.” You agreed, still glaring at him.

He visibly got smaller under your look. You moved your eyes to Taehyung.

“Listen. I am aware that it was my mistake that you missed the application date for your dream university. I am aware of that okay. But you didn’t even gave me the chance to apologize, Tae?” your tone was less accusing, since you believed he was the only one who had a reason to not talk to you, from the three of them.

“I know, I am also sorry.” He quietly said.

“None of my actions after that were justified, I know it” his voice had dropped an octave lower and you didn’t know how to respond to him, since anger was still boiling on the inside.

“And you, little shit?” you said quietly, moving your gaze to Jungkook. “What is your excuse, other than, you fucked me once, and got tired of me?”

You were not shy with Jungkook, since you were most angry with him and with each spoken word, you were moving closer to him, getting dangerously close.

“Don’t play dumb. You know exactly why I dumped you, and it had nothing to do with the sex.” He spat back which surprised you, because no, you did not know in fact.

“Excuse me?” your face was heating up and your hands were itching.

“There were plenty of rumors Y/N. I’m not saying they were true, but everyone was saying after we… you know… they were saying that you hooked up with Yugeom. And after the thing with Jimin’s company happened and you fucked up Tae’s application… Well it was quite believable.” He exhaled all in once.

“Ohh, it was believable. So you all preferred to hear everything from someone else, and not your best friend huh?” sarcasm was back.

“We were stupid Y/N” Jimin came a step closer.

“I swear if you say that one more time, I will hurt you again Jimin” your voice cracked.

“Yeah, no shit, you were stupid. The three of you betrayed me and I was hurting. In the worst time of my life, you weren’t there because your ego was more precious. So excuse me for fucking not wanting to see you ever again? Or for kicking your ass, when you come out of nowhere, and all you say is “sorry”?” you were now shouting, and none of the boys were looking at you, except for a pair of curious eyes, that belonged to the other boy you forgot existed for a little while.

You turned your head away from him.

“So all you can say is nothing. Huh?” you scream at them once again.

You hear a quiet sob and saw that Jimin’s cheeks were now stained. He was crying.

“You have no idea” he really was crying. “How empty our lives were without you Y/N”.

“We all left the universities we got into, and came here to look for you… and beg you to forgive us.” Tae added.

Silence. Another pair of eyes also looked at you with sadness in them. Jungkook.

“Don’t expect me. To forgive you, just because you came back.” You said quietly.

“We are not expecting that.”

“Don’t expect things to be like before all of a sudden.” You added.

“We are not, just please. Just give us a chance?”

You didn’t give an answer. Just turned around to look for some food. Because for some reason. You were hungry. The burning pit in your stomach was not there, and all you wanted to do was eat something, which made you chuckle at the ways your body reacted.

Even though you knew you couldn’t forgive them all of a sudden, you knew you also made mistakes. Now that you knew they were aware of the pain they caused you, you felt ease in your gut. And you knew you missed them.

After you finally found a piece of pizza at the back of the table, you turned around with a softer smile.

“You are a bunch of assholes,” you breathed out and you saw their faces relax, as if they’ve been let of from a death sentence.

“So… I don’t want to ruin the moment… but. Was the black Mercedes down your car” asked the boy with the bleached hair who was now sitting by the window.

“Yeah, why?”

“Well… while you were speaking about your life struggles or whatever, they picked it up.” He stated.

“They what?” you blinked at his direction.

“Parking around his is illegal baby, so I don’t know why you did it, but they picked up your car and left.” He shrugged and moved away from the window.

“And you didn’t feel the need to tell me?!?” you shouted at him.

“I didn’t want to ruin the moment, sweetheart? And imagine if it wasn’t your car and someone else’s. Now is the car more important than friendship, I don’t think so” he said smiling, and it was obvious that he was mocking you by now.

“Go to hell…” you sighed, while picking out the phone from your pocket and calling Hoseok.

He picked just after one ring.

“Hey babe” his soothing voice came from the other side of the line.

“Hey” you said thankful for finally hearing something neither annoying, nor painful.

“How did it go, where are you?” he asked.

“I’m good… but, my car got picked up. Will you come a pick me up and I’ll tell you everything later” you said.

“No problem baby, just send me the address, and I’ll be there,” he assured you.

“Thank you” you said and hung up.

You lifted your eyes up and they fell once again on that odd boy. There was something about him that reminded you of someone. The way he moved and talked, laid back. And the way he would always pick up small fights with you, even though you had barely talked to him. He reminded you of… of…

Hoseok?

…

Yoongi?

He visibly noticed the way your eyes widened as you were staring at him.

“What’s wrong baby?” he asked trying to sound calm, but it was obvious that for the first time tonight, you made him a bit nervous.

“Do you… by any chance… know a person, named Hoseok?” you barely said and by Yoongi’s reaction, you knew he did.

“I do. Do you?” he asked again trying to sound careless, but failing.

In that, very second you heard the doorbell ring and the door opened, with the voice of Hobi coming from the hallway. You got up from the table and half ran towards the hallway, just to almost crash into Hoseok. He reacted in the last second, seeing you and opening his arms to catch you. Before you could say anything or to warn him, he moved closer and locked lips with you, silencing even the quiet music in the background.

When he pulled away, your legs feeling like jello, his eyes fell on the audience, and for the tenth time that day, you were in a room with people, absolutely unaware of what to do, in order to get a 100% on that chapter of life.

A/N: I hope anyone who read it, enjoy it, thanks for taking the time / I will try to upload much more often I promiiise + Its going to get much more hardcore and exciting, so I hope you will like it in the future as well <3

[aion-rsa]

WandaVision Represents the MCU’s Evolving Relationship with Death

https://ift.tt/eA8V8J

This article contains spoilers for WandaVision episode 5.

The Marvel Cinematic Universe isn’t particularly well-known for its jump scares. Though the studio’s suite of 23 films have adeptly blended genres at times, at the end of the day these are all still PG-13 action movies…not horror.

That all changed last week, however, when the studio’s first official television effort, WandaVision decided to spring a dead body on an unsuspecting audience. For one brief moment, Wanda Maximoff loses focus in maintaining her fabricated sitcom world. In that moment, the false image of her colorful android husband falls away and reveals the uncomfortable, terrifying truth underneath: The Vision is dead. Gray. Moldering. Empty. Dead.

We knew this already, of course, given the events of Avengers: Infinity War when Thanos ripped the life-giving Mind Stone from Vision’s head. We know what a dead Vision looks like – drab, lifeless, with a gaping mechanical hole where a brain once was. When we see his lifeless form in WandaVision though it’s somehow even more terrifying than before. For starters, the show springs it on us when we least expect it. But on an even deeper level than that, it is truly discomfiting to experience the contrast between the vibrant sitcom world in which he’s alive and the ashen real one in which he is very much not.

At least viewers could comfort themselves with the possibility that Vision’s dead body was merely another figment of Wanda’s imagination. It’s not like a Disney+ TV show would allow its heroine to become a grave robber and haul the corpse of her lover around like a grotesque marionette doll. Well about that…this week’s episode 5 reveals that that’s exactly what Wanda did. Despite The Vision’s living will stating he does not want to be reanimated, Wanda breaks into a SWORD facility and steals his mechanical bones. 

Nothing ever truly ends in the world of comics. And even the most steadfast rules about whose death “sticks” are made to be broken (paging Bucky Barnes). It’s very much the same in the MCU as well (paging Bucky Barnes once again…and Loki and Gamora and Groot). Not even The Vision’s death from Infinity War took, as here he is reanimated once again. 

Still, there’s something about the terrifying starkness of Vision’s true dead form that makes this all feel different. With this week’s reveal, and the events of the episode itself, Marvel has revealed that it’s ready to change its perspective on death. WandaVision is about a lot of things: sitcoms, trauma, Kathryn Hahn’s leg-warmers. What the show might be trying to communicate most powerfully, however, is just how difficult it is to accept the finality of death.

Each of WandaVision’s five episodes thus far has taken its name from a popular phrase or concept in the TV canon like “Don’t Touch That Dial” or “We Interrupt This Program.” Episode 5’s title is no different. “On a Very Special Episode…” refers to a vintage TV phenomenon in which “special” episodes of sitcoms would receive a light, spoken disclaimer before airing like “And now, on a very special episode of xxx.” “Special” episodes would frequently touch on difficult topics like drug use, child abuse, or…death.

“On a Very Special Episode…” is very much WandaVision’s own very special episode. So much of what occurs within these 41 minutes (well, 36 before its typically hilariously long closing credits) revolve around the concept of death and Wanda’s inability to process it. The “A” plot deals with Wanda and Vision’s kids, Tommy and Billy, growing up to age 10 so that they are allowed to keep and raise their dog named Sparky. 

Unfortunately, Wanda becomes distracted with her fight against SWORD and Sparky runs off into Agnes’s azalea bushes where he eats the toxic leaves and dies. Agnes is understandably upset and she wraps up little Sparky’s body before the kids can find it. When Billy and Tommy begin to cry, Wanda grabs their shoulders and tells them not to “age up” like they’ve done before. 

“The urge to run from this feeling is powerful,” Wanda says.

And if anyone would know about running from the powerful feeling of grief, it’s Wanda Maximoff. Save for a brief time on the run on a globe-spanning adventure with Vision, Wanda’s entire existence in the MCU has been one of pain. Her story begins with her parents being blown up in front of her and then doesn’t get any cheerier from there. 

Wanda watches her brother Pietro die in Sokovia. She then joins the Avengers only to accidentally kill dozens of people in Lagos while saving Steve Rogers. She joins the fight against Thanos and ends up having to kill Vision herself…before Thanos cruelly rewinds time just so he can kill him again in front of her.

Through all of these experiences, through all this death, the pain has just mounted and mounted and mounted. It’s no wonder that Wanda has done something as extreme as created her own sitcom world and bewitched a whole New Jersey town to go along with it. But this moment with Sparky is the first time we’re aware that she’s fully aware of her own pain amid all the death she’s experienced. And make no mistake: it’s all about death. 

“It’s too sad. You can fix anything mom. Fix the dead,” Wanda’s children implore of her. 

Billy and Tommy are likely a creation of Wanda’s own subconscious. This is her own subconscious  asking her…imploring her to fix the one thing she knows damn well she can’t fix. 

“We can’t reverse death, no matter how sad it makes us. Some things are forever,” Wanda says.

And yet…Wanda has reversed death in her own little way. She’s hauling around the corpse of her lover and psychically jangling him around like a fish on a hook. At episode’s end, she brings another one of her loved ones back when Pietro (“recast” as Days of Future Past’s Evan Peters) knocks on the door of their home and launches right into a “cool uncle” routine. This entire sitcom endeavor from Wanda is all about doing the impossible: reverse death. 

Adults are supposed to know better. They’re supposed to grow up and understand that death is a natural, if unfortunate part of life. For as another magic user once said “Do not pity the dead, Harry. Pity the living, and, above all those who live without love.” Wanda’s own fake children even respond to death with something that could be considered a comforting platitude to the rightly organized mind: “Family is forever.” Family is indeed forever. Family and legacy are what’s supposed to matter. That’s a nice thought but it ultimately means nothing to Wanda when up against the image of Vision and his pitiless, dead eyes. 

As mentioned before, death is a constant companion in the Marvel Universe – so much so that the embodiment of Death was the object of comic Thanos’s infatuation, and his original motivation for deleting half the life in the universe. But Death as a personification or a character only muddles the real life pain it can leave in its shadowy wake. Death isn’t a lover, a reaper, or a companion. It’s death. It’s the end. 

There is undoubtedly still time for Wanda to come to terms with the stark finality of it all. As this episode reveals, SWORD Agent Monica Rambeau is intent on helping her out, having recently experienced a death in the family as well. But Maria Rambeau is currently in the ground with a lovely headstone and some blooming flowers atop her. The images of death in Wanda’s world insist upon sticking around. There is no healing when you’re surrounded by corpses. 

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

That’s a big lesson for Wanda and the MCU to take in. Thankfully it’s one they seem intent on learning.

The post WandaVision Represents the MCU’s Evolving Relationship with Death appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/3cV7tgK

[abuziewicz]

my media use

At noon on Thursday, October 29th, I woke up. I had about two hours until I had to pick my sister up from school. I took a shower, got dressed, and went downstairs. By this point, it was around 12:30pm. I ate a bowl of cereal, picked up my phone, and laid down on the couch. When I get on my phone for the first time in a day, I check my emails and text messages first. I have emails from Venmo, Word of the Day, Postmates, and Holt International. Venmo let me know I had signed in to the app. Word of the Day gave me a fun new term: “subitaneous,” which can mean “suddenly.” I occasionally deliver food with Postmates, so they let me know what benefits they offer, such as store or entertainment discounts. Holt International is a Christian company that finds kids who are missing parents or struggling financially, and connects them with volunteers who sponsor them by sending a monthly fee over, to help them cover expenses. My parents have sponsored kids for years, and when I got my own source of income, they chose a girl in India for me to sponsor as well. Holt International sends me various promotional emails. I check my email to see if there are any coupons, or information that I need, such as paychecks. Mostly my email revolves around money, when I think about it. Sometimes I feel stressed out when I check my email, because my bank will tell me how much money I have, or I will read a subject line wrong and think I’m in trouble with a company. Usually, I just feel a sense of necessity, to see what I’m being emailed about, and to delete the emails I do not need. 

After I check my emails, I check my text messages. Most mornings this sequence is flipped, as messages are much more important in my world than emails are. However, this morning, the only text in my phone is a confirmation request for my wisdom teeth removal appointment in a week. I respond “Y” to confirm. I am a little nervous about the appointment, but I am glad it will happen so soon. 

It is now 1pm. On Monday, I had taken my one-year-old 16GB LG smartphone and factory reset it in the hopes of getting more storage and faster processing time. Unfortunately, this did not work out as well as I had hoped. While I did have more space, the “system” (undeletable, inaccessible parts of the phone) took up 9GB of my available 16, and would only increase, even after a full wipe. I click on Snapchat, take a quick close-up picture of my face, and begin to type. Any story posted to Snapchat will only last 24 hours before disappearing. There is an option for the poster to have story posts saved into their Memories, a camera roll just for Snapchat. I have a private Snapchat story, in which I control the amount of people who see what I specifically post in that area. In this story, I have about 30-33 viewers. I ask such viewers, over top of the close-up selfie, “Anyone with Apple iPhones: what is your storage like? I am thinking of converting.” After it successfully adds to my story, I am on the Snapchat “Chat” screen. I have “streaks” (numbers that indicate the number of days two people have sent each other Snaps back and forth for) with eleven people. I send, one by one, a different picture to each of the eleven people. When I first downloaded Snapchat, I had over two dozen, maybe even three dozen streaks. Some people have hundreds. Often, people take one single picture, indicate in some way that the image is being sent to maintain the Streak number, and send it to everyone they keep a streak with. I have eleven people I send streaks to. It is no great hassle for me to send a different picture to each person. In fact, I prefer it, as it takes up more time. Most people take a little while to respond anyways. I dislike when people respond to my Snapchats within seconds, it is stressful to me! “Don’t you have anything else going on?” I wonder. “I understand that it’s a pandemic, but do some homework or something. I only snapped you twenty seconds ago.” Once I have sent all of my streaks for the day, I scroll over to see what other people have put on their stories. I usually only have around 50 stories to go through each day. I pay a little more attention to some, a little less attention to others. It is pretty easy to skip quickly from one story to the next if I want, but it’s only 1:20, so I have time to look at each one. There are Friday fundraisers, one of my sister’s friends had an emergency appendectomy (thankfully she was fine, and excited to watch Impractical Jokers in the hospital), some people had work pictures or puppies in beds. Most of the stories make me smile, a few don’t elicit much of a response or thought besides “oh, that’s nice.” Usually Snapchat does not bring me negativity that I am aware of. Sometimes I worry for people, in the event of, oh, a hypothetical emergency appendectomy, or when someone is sad or worried. One person makes me frustrated sometimes, as they routinely ask people for money for rent and food, then use that money to get tattoos. They tell people they used their money to get a tattoo, not food or rent. Lately they have not posted any requests, but the next time they do, I will most likely block them. Mostly, I am happy to use Snapchat to see what my friends are up to, even if I can’t see them very often.

After scrolling through Snapchat, it’s around 1:40. I open the Instagram app. I talk to a few friends through Instagram direct messaging. I am actually not sure why that is our main form of communication, but I do not mind it. My friend Russell has answered my Snapchat story through Instagram. He has an older iPhone, but as long as he doesn’t update it, it doesn’t get any slower. We discuss other aspects of the iPhone. I am thoughtful about it. Another friend and I get into a small argument- we have both been busy, and were worried that we were growing apart. I am slightly annoyed, then understanding and calm. A group chat I am in, called The Rats, is sending pictures of baby opossums. They are adorable and their mouths open at a full 45-degree angle. The possums make me smile. Returning to the Instagram home page, I can see posts made by people I follow. I like nearly every post I see as I scroll down. Mostly I follow people I know, and a few brands. It takes only a minute or two to like everything and return to the top of the page. Similar to Snapchat, I take care of business, then move on to stories. I pay very little attention to Instagram stories. Even though I don’t follow a lot of brands, some of the people I follow post dozens of stories in a row. I have to click through them rapidly. Sometimes it makes me feel anxious to move so quickly. Usually, if someone repeatedly posts too much, I “mute” them, which means I do not have to see their story anymore unless I actively choose to. Sometimes, I forget, and am left tapping tensely through the tags. As I finish going through stories, my mom walks in the door. It’s 1:50pm.

My sister goes to a technical school 15 minutes away. She has to be picked up around 2:15pm. My mom puts down some bags from errands she’s run, grabs some water, and asks if my brother and I want to join her to pick up my sister. My brother is in the middle of an XBox match, but the dog and I love car rides, and joyfully accompany her. She asks me to turn on my Halloween playlist as we drive. Around 1:55pm, I connect to the car’s aux cord, and pull up Spotify. As we drive, I fiddle with the Spotify songs- even though I made the playlist, there are some songs I prefer to hear over others. I also occasionally respond to messages about iPhone storage. Each one convinces me a little more, bit by bit. I am on my phone for about seven of the fifteen minutes that we drive to the school. As we wait in the parking lot, I text a little more. We were in the parking lot for about fifteen minutes- my sister forgot her iPad in her classroom and had to go back for it. I am on my phone for about nine of those fifteen minutes. When my sister gets back again, we head towards home. Beggar’s Night is going on at 6pm. It is around 2:30pm. My sister and I are going to dress up as Dipper and Mabel from Gravity Falls for when we ladle out candy. My sister and the dog are dropped off at home so that she can finish her costume and he can run around the backyard. My mom and I go to Walmart to pick up candy. We do not usually allow ourselves to pick up candy until very shortly before Beggar’s Night, as we will eat it. Even less than four hours was not enough time to exercise self-control, as each member of the family stole a few pieces. I am not on my phone for most of the Walmart trip. We are only there for around twenty minutes, weighing the prices and candy amounts of each package. After paying and driving home, we get in the door around 3pm.

I get on my laptop to check my CState email and Blackboard. I have no due assignments for the night, but I check to make sure I haven’t forgotten something. This takes around five minutes. I begin to finish my Dipper costume (painting a white ball cap partially blue), periodically answering more iPhone suggestions, and responding to regular messages. The hours of 3pm, 4pm, and 5pm consist of texting, painting, and briefly eating. I spend about one & a half of the three hours texting. I can’t easily text while I paint, but I perform both tasks alternatively while I wait for the paint to dry or people to respond. When it hits 6pm, we are ready for Beggar’s Night. We have masks on, a long ladle to scoop candy into bags, and cover from the garage to protect us from rain. Over the course of the two hours, we only get about a dozen kids, maybe fifteen at the most. My mom scoops generously, since she knows anything left over won’t last until 9pm under our roof. People are grateful and talkative. I am on my phone only once during Trick or Treat, and only for five minutes, to upload a Snaochat story of my sister and I as Dipper and Mabel, and of course, send a couple of texts. After Trick or Treat is finished, we are all cold, and left with about 10 of the 255 candy pieces. We settle down in front of the TV.

It is now around 8pm. We watch TV together nearly every night as a family, usually for at least an hour. In celebration of October and Halloween, we have started to rewatch Stranger Things. Other shows we may watch include New Girl, My Name is Earl, Bob’s Burgers, The Good Place, and The Legend of Korra. Sometimes we’ll throw in a movie if we have enough time. Usually we watch three or four episodes per night- one episode from one show, then moving on to one episode of a different show. I love all of these shows fairly equally, though I can confidently say The Legend of Korra is my least favorite. I still enjoy it! In comparison, though, I enjoy it less than the others. We watch shows that usually include comedy, to end our days with a collective laugh. Tonight, we watch New Girl, then Stranger Things, followed by My Name is Earl and tying up the night with Bob’s Burgers. We only have two episodes left of The Good Place, so we have been putting off watching it. I am mostly finished texting for the day. Before 10pm, I send goodnight messages and plug my phone in to charge. The end credits of Bob’s Burgers mark the end of my day.

[girlcrushchaeng]

Crazy in love » Chapter 6

Title: Crazy in love Pairing: MiMo [Hirai Momo/Myoui Mina] Fandom: TWICE Genre: Drama, thriller, abusive romance, supernatural (vampire) Summary:  Mina called it love, back then. And perhaps it was. At least from her perspective. She had fallen in love with a monster. On TV, it was often romantized. The monster gets the shy, alone girl who falls for the misunderstood mythological creature. The creature begs the girl to stay away, because it’s not safe. The girl stays. They both fall in love. The monster never hurts the girl. End of story. They lived happily ever after. Maybe the girl too gets transformed into a monster, so that it’d be both easier on both parts. Star crossed lovers who get to live until eternity. A couple that will last forever. Sadly, the reality was nothing like that. Not at all. - Based on Momo’s performances on Hit the stage. Word count: 4000+ Rating: T A/N: Excuse the grammar mistakes, I am not a native english speaker.

Read it on: AO3 & asianfanfics

The next few weeks were perhaps even worse. Mina started to feel worse every day Momo showed up. She couldn't bring herself to like it anymore, whatever Momo did. Her touches didn't feel the same. The roughness was simply annoying and a bit painful. The mask of adrenaline and love that had usually covered it was gone now, and it only left the scraping of Momo's fangs against her already sensitive skin. One time she even had to cry because it hurt so much. The bruises that formed on her body, the hickeys that were left there the next morning, the soreness off her muscles weren't a result of unconditional love anymore. It only hurt, a lot. She didn't take pride in them anymore, but despised them. Whilst she usually hadn't cared much for covering them up - since there were often too much to cover all - she now tried to pick button-ups and jeans to cover everything up, even when the heath was blasting outside. But that wasn't even the worst part of that all. Mina could live without sex, without wanting to be touched. She had never much cared for it anyway, and had only gotten interest when she had met Momo. She could live with only just seeing the blonde from time to time. The scary part was that Mina could feel herself fall out of love. She could feel that with every second that passed, she felt that she needed the blonde less and less. Whilst she had often day-dreamed about how it would be to have Momo's arms wrapped around her again and her soft plump lips pressed upon hers, she often found herself not thinking about her at all. Sometimes, it even felt as a burden to hear the three knocks on her door. Because she knew what would happen next. They'd have sex, Momo would leave Mina with an emptiness in her stomach and tears in her eyes, only to wake up the next morning with a saddened heart and a feeling that she either wanted all of Momo, or none of her at all. The sex wasn't enjoyable anymore, it was part of her day-to-day routine. She could almost scedule it in already. The only thing that variated sometimes was the time at which Momo appeared. But she always did, she never skipped. And Mina actually wished she'd stay away. Because she didn't want to feel sad anymore. She didn't want to be alone at night anymore. She wanted Momo to be close to her, or not at all. Momo seemed to notice that her lover didn't like her as much as she used to anymore. While she preffered the raw kind of touches, she toned it down to try to make it fit to the brunette's needs. She kissed her longer, more tenderly than she had ever done before. They had once kissed for half an hour straight prior to sex, but Mina wouldn't budge. Whenever their lips met, it felt like Mina tried to make them part as soon as possible again. When Momo pressed on, the brunette would kiss back, but it felt indifferent. She didn't enjoy it anymore, neither seemed to want her anymore with that burning passion fuelled with her love for her. It almost felt like kissing a doll, something that wasn't alive, something that just did whatever you wanted her to do. It made Momo feel weird in the stomach, she couldn't exactly pin down what emotion it was that played with her heart. Momo started to drop by less often, which was both a burden and a gift to both girls. Mina found that, now that Momo didn't drop by every evening, she liked it better. There was more time to do the stuff she liked. For months, she hadn't been able to watch her favourite shows, or drop by at Sana's often. But now that she had some extra spare time, she had more time to pay attention to everything and everyone else she loved. But at the same time, she missed her. God, she missed Momo so much it almost felt like the blonde had personally ripped out her heart. Because she missed her presence, so so much. She stayed up every night, hoping the blonde would appear on her doorstep. Maybe it was even worse than before, because she never knew whether Momo came or not. The emptiness got mixed up with dissapointed, which, perhaps, made her feel even more melancholic. Mina was trapped in a big dilemma where either outcome would make her feel bad. If Momo came by every night, she would be sad because she'd leave. When she didn't drop by, she'd miss her endlessly. Unless Momo wanted to give her her everything, nothing would change. "What has happened to us, Mina?" Momo sighed, at an evening in early January. The year had turned into a new one, but Mina didn't feel much better. She usually made this huge bucket list of the things she wanted to accomplish this year, but honestly, she couldn't think of more than 'Make Momo want me like I want her'. Her life revolved around the blonde nowadays. She didn't blame her though, in fact, it was her own fault for letting it come to this. "What do you mean?" Mina nuzzled her face into the crook of Momo's neck, exhaling slowly. They were naked underneath the sheets, still sweaty. It was a familiar feel nowadays. Her arm was draped over Momo's belly, but she was tensed, as if the touch of Mina made her skin burn. She didn't take her arm away though. Maybe she was selfish. She probably was. Momo stayed quiet for a moment. "We hate each other," she eventually said. "I don't hate you," Mina replied immediately. She felt Momo shift her head to look down to her. "Well, I hate this." This made the brunette look up. Momo's dark eyes would've blended perfectly with the darkness of Mina's bedroom, if it wasn't for the white in her eyes. Her skin and hair seemed to glow because of the little streams of light that the moon cast into the room. She looked beautiful. Mina wondered if Momo thought she was beautiful too. She caught the blonde staring at her lips more often than not, but she had decided long ago that it was because she wanted sex rather than love. It meant nothing. "What do you mean?" she asked again. "We are not like we used to be," Momo said slowly. "And I think that's a bad thing." Mina made a sound, which could be classified as a mix between a huff and a snort. "And you really don't understand why?" she asked, maybe a bit more forcefully than she meant it to be. Momo cocked her head to the left, like a puppy that didn't understand a command. She didn't have to answer for Mina to get it. "Because we're not robots that can do things without feeling," she went on. "We are humans. Well, one of us is, anyway. And we have got feelings. As much as I would like not to feel, I can't help to. And because my feelings get too strong, this-" Mina made a signed with her hand to both of them,"-is now awkward." "Then what did I do wrong?" Mina frowned her eyebrows. Was this really Hirai Momo who asked what she did wrong? The almighty vampire with no feelings? The woman that made her fall for her so hard but pretended not to notice? And not to care? Then why did she ask a question like this? Why didn't she just leave, like always? She always chose for the easy option out. Mina didn't understand why not now. But if they were going to have this conversation, she was defenitely not going to let her go off easy. "You didn't do anything wrong," Mina replied softly. She avoided eye contact with Momo, afraid that those big dreamy eyes would make her say stuff she didn't mean. She would soften her words too much. "You know what went wrong, Momo." The blonde huffed annoyedly, causing the brunette to look up again. "So this drama is all because I refused to be your girlfriend?" she hissed. Mina, startled because of Momo's sudden mood swing, backed up a little bit. She blinked confusedly and took her time to think of an answer. "Yes," she eventually said. "So it's my fault?" "I didn't say that, did I?" Mina replied. She suddenly felt very tired, and wished that they wouldn't have to talk about this now. It was a little after midnight and she was tired. "So it's yours?" "I'd like to say that it's both of our faults but we both know that it's mostly my fault," Mina sighed. As much as she hated to admit it, her feelings were causing all of this. If only she couldn't just have fallen in love with Mom, then everything would've been fine. But that hurt. It hurt to wish for that. Because the blonde deserved someone who loved her. Momo had been hurt way too many times, and a part of Mina just knew that she hid herself behind all those walls. If only she could break them down and make her feel really loved, maybe she would love her back. And she didn't want to get rid of her feelings. Even though being in love with her hurt like hell, it was also a very good feeling. It's scary to know you could give up everything for one person, but at the same time, Mina loved the feeling of it. She liked to fantasize about their lives if only Momo would give in to her. She pictured her holding Momo's hand in public. Going on dates together to the cinema, or just watching a movie at home together. In all the time that they had known each other, they had never even watched a movie together. Mina got up from the bed. She felt a bit nauseous to her stomach. She wished she had never started this conversation at all. Being still naked, she got to her closed to get herself some underwear. Some simple shorts, a comfertable sport bra, one of her sleeping shirts and the shorts she had worn the day before. Momo stayed in bed, watching her and every move she made. "Don't you want me anymore?" she asked sharply. "I do want you. You know I do," she said softly. Her voice was flattened, she even noticed that herself, so there was no doubt that Momo hadn't noticed it too. She sighed at her own lack of being able to act well. "You sound like you don't," Momo replied. She got up from the bed now too, seeking her clothes together from the floor. Whilst Mina thought of her answer, she got dressed too. "I didn't mean it like that," Mina sighed. Momo pulled a face, obviously not content with her answer. She buttoned the last few buttons of her blouse up, leaving the upper two open, so that just a little bit of her breasts were visible. It was enough to drive a girl mad, really. "Then what do you mean?" she hissed at her. "Because you really are not making any sense." With those words, Momo walked back to the living room. Mina hopped after her. Obviously she had pissed Momo off now, and she regretted it deeply that she had started this stupid conversation in the first place. She didn't know what to say. Mina wanted Momo to stay, that they could talk this through, but the words wouldn't leave her mouth. She was scared that they would never leave her mouth. Whatever she felt was already worth feeling guilty about without admitting it to Momo. What was she supposed to say? That she was in love? That she couldn't fall asleep at night without thinking of the blonde? That she wanted her to be her girlfriend? Hold her hand, and make her feel loved? That their relationship was in fact deeper than just sex, even though Momo wouldn't admit so. Mina wanted to cuddle with her, and kiss her good night, and take care of her when she is sick. She wanted Momo to do the same for her. Mina wanted to be reassured by Momo when she was nervous for a test, and be encouraged by her when she had another ballet performance. And even though Momo would tell her she wouldn't be able to make it to the performance on time, Mina would spot her in the audience anyway. She wanted to come home to a surprise dinner, made by Momo, or surprise the blonde with presents and flowers. To count down the days to their anniversary and do something amazing to celebrate it. To maybe eventually ask her to marry her, and live forever with her. And because she couldn't get all of that, her body has just turned numb. From the moment Momo and she had fought, her body was just numb. She didn't feel how loving Momo's touches were, and didn't see the tortured gazes the blonde cast at her when she turned her back around. Mina had closed herself off and shut Momo out, to protect her own heart. Maybe, only maybe if she would shut her out enough, she would fall out of love with her. And then everything would be okay. But at the moment, she still was in love. And she couldn't explain everything to Momo just now, because it hurt like hell. "I can't explain it..." she mumbled. Momo turned her head around, and squinted her eyes together when her gaze landed on Mina. The brunette turned her head to the ground, unable to look back. "What do you mean?" Momo sneered. "You can't explain why you suddenly shut me out? Is this all a mindless game to you? If you're doing this just to mess with me then I am going to leave right fucking now." Momo's words hurt Mina's ears. She cringed. "I am not doing this to hurt you, I swear," she said. Her voice broke down half way the sentence, causing the end to come in a sob. Momo clenched her jaws. "Then why are you acting so weird around me lately? It's like you're disgusted," Momo spat out to her. Mina cringed again at her words. It hurt her, even though she knew it was true. "I didn't know you were that affected by it.." she said softly. Momo let out a huff and crossed her arms in front of her body. "I should really go," she hissed, through gritted teeth. The blonde started to make her way towards the door, but Mina ran after her, grabbing her wrist just before her hand could close itself around the door knob of her front door. Momo turned around to her, shooting her a vicious glance. Mina would've gotten scared if she wouldn't have known Momo for more than a year. Or maybe she just didn't have anything to loose. "Don't, please," she pleaded, almost crying. Her sight was blurry already because of the tears she held in so strongly. She didn't want to cry. But it was in vain. Myoui Mina was a girl who cried easily, and once more her tears were flowing richly down her cheeks. She saw Momo's gaze lower to her tears. She pulled up her nose in digust of Mina's weakness. She couldn't help it. "And why not? You clearly don't give a shit about me," the blonde said in a low voice. She shook her hand loose from Mina. "Then what am I supposed to say?!" Mina snapped, when Momo again tried to go over to the door. "Nothing is good enough for you! I can't erase my feelings and when I try to make them go away, I suddenly 'don't give a shit about you'!" Mina was breathing hard and loud, she was panting. Her eyes were opened widely while her eyes pierced in Momo's. The brunette cursed under her breath and ran with her hand roughly through her hair. It hurt because her hair had gotten tangled over the course of the night. She looked back up to the blonde again. "And honestly, I don't understand why you're making a scene right now. You didn't want me. You left me every single night without feeling guilty when you knew it'd hurt me. So why are you now complaining that I took my distance from you to protect my own heart?" Momo stayed quiet for a moment, then huffed. "I had no idea that you were so affected when I left. Didn't I always come back the day afterwards?" she said angrily. Mina crossed her arms in front of her chest. "But I didn't want that. I didn't want you to leave and return the next day. I wanted you to stay. To cuddle up with me, and wake me up with good morning kisses and make me breakfast. I wanted you to hold me and reassure me, to love me. But you didn't. So you literally have no right to complain right now," Mina hissed back. She was surprised by her own fury. Maybe it had all been bottled up too long as sadness and pain, causing it to spill out of her mouth in anger. Mina didn't want to be mean to Momo. She didn't want to fight. But it frustrated her that she had struggled for the past year with her feelings and that Momo was getting mad at her for protecting herself. That wasn't selfish, even though Momo made it appear to be. She was just protecting her heart from further harm. "You are asking me something I can't bring up. To not make you attached to me too much, I leave. Is it too much to ask from you that you don't treat me like a pile of shit?" Momo replied. "Like a pile of shit? Are you kidding me right now?" Mina said. "So, you want me to go back to the days I adored you? That I spend nights awake thinking of how it would be if only you agreed to stay with me? Or perhaps that my mind was completely occupied with you all day? My heart would flutter when you would kiss me, and it wasn't because I wanted you. I was in love with you, Momo. I still am in love with you. Are you really asking me to go back to that? To have my heart ripped out every night because you just wouldn't stay?" Momo looked at her in disgust. Her nose was pulled up and her teeth were bared. The tips of her fangs shone dangerously in the faint light that was cast from one of her lamps in the livingroom. Her eyes were darker than ever. Her blonde hair fairer than ever. Mina's heart was beating fast and her breathing was loud and uneven. Fighting with Momo exhausted her, but she wasn't planning to stop until the moment she had said everything that laid on her heart. "You know, you were much more fun when you weren't in love," Momo spat at her. "Now let me through. I want to leave. As in "'I won't stay with you'." Momo mimicked Mina's at the end of her sentence, causing a wave of disgust for the blonde to run through Mina's body. Momo pushed her away from the door. Mina stumbled aside, almost losing her balance. Sometimes it was funny how easily she could get thrown off her feet in a room that wasn't the ballet practising room. She didn't plan on letting Momo get away though. As soon as she re-found her balance again, she raced back to the door. Momo had already pulled it open, but it slammed shut when Mina's body bumped against it. "Let me through, Mina," Momo said dangerously. Her voice had dropped low, and almost came out in a growl. Mina wasn't afraid though. She knew that Momo would never hurt her, not a single bit. So she stayed in front of the door. "Or what? Are you going to leave for good?" Mina asked. She felt her eyes tear up again. They started to drip down her cheeks once more. Her lower lip shook. Was she really this desperate to keep Momo here? At this point, she didn't know. She didn't know anything. "Get out of my way, Mina," Momo said, with a raised voice this time. "We need to talk this through," Mina replied, in the same raised voice. She let the doorknob go from her hands and grabbed roughly onto Momo's arm. "Maybe I don't want to talk it through anymore." This caused Mina's arm to loose its grip on Momo's arm. The blonde shook her off immediately. She took her arm back roughly. "So you're really going to leave.." she said quietly. Her tears had stopped rolling over her cheeks, but so had her heart. It felt like she had turned into a statue. She couldn't believe that this was happening. How could this be happening to her? Hadn't she given Momo her everything? The blonde looked at her with a weird expression that Mina couldn't exactly pin down. It was a mixture of different emotions, but most of all it seemed to be pity. Pity and disgust. Mina felt filthy and terrible. "Wouldn't it be the best for both of us?" Momo eventually said. Mina's heart felt like it was ripped from her chest. Not only was it cut in a million pieces, it was stepped on a billion times as well. If Momo was going to leave her, she didn't think she'd be able to survive. Not a second time... Not for good. It was too much. "Now get away from me, Mina. Or else I will have to use force." Momo's voice had darkened again. A shiver ran down Mina's spine. She clutched to Momo's arm, desperately to keep her here. "Get away from me Mina!" Momo yelled. Her voice cracked because of the force she put behind it. With her other arm, she opened the door again, but Mina had locked her arms around the blonde. "P-please, I'll die if you leave me like this," Mina cried. She was sobbing completely now, and didn't care anymore. She needed Momo to admit that she'd comeback. Mina honestly believed that she wouldn't survive it if Momo left her. Maybe she should've let her go back then.. "It's better if I go!" Momo replied back, with a hint of pleading in her voice. Mina just strengthened her grip and shook her head furiously. Tears ran down her cheeks. "Go AWAY!" Momo bellowed. With an enormous force she pushed Mina back. The brunette stumbled and fell backwards. There were two dull achings. One on the side of her head, which appeared first and seemed to be the worst. And eventually, a few seconds later, one at the back of her head. She was just concious enough to feel with the tips of her fingers to her temple. She felt something wet, but wasn't able to see it before she lost conciousneses. She heard Momo scream her name... It was the last thing she heard. She wouldn't have wanted it any different. Dying was something that was overly exaggerated. In movies. In books. In poems. People died horrific deaths in movies, by monsters, zombies, nature disasters, or at the hand of someone with a gun. In books, they died the same way. Poems only told the tormented pain of the people that were their loved ones. You never hear what it's like to die. Mina was able to tell you now. Dying was very simple. It was like you were slowly fading into darkness. Even when you have smashed your head into the table and your body should be in terrible pain, you could barely feel anything. Darkness ereased your vision. Your body won't move anymore, even though you'd want to. You can't even lift a finger. You can only think and realize that you are dying. But when the realization hits you, you can't be anything but okay with it. At least, Mina didn't feel a burning desire to wake up again. In fact, it was rather peaceful. There wasn't any pain, even though she reckoned she must've bled much. Her body was limp and numb. Her mind faded slowly, almost as if falling asleep. The last thing she had heard was Momo's voice. Mina realized Momo had never been in love with her. At least, not the way Mina had been with Momo. She was not able to control herselfself, she was driven by obsession rather than love. Once you're aggressive, you're not idealizing, you're not in love. All that's left is obsession. In Momo's case, it was the obsession with sex, with knowing your partner would give up everything for you, for liking the fact that you can control someone that way. Mina realized that too late. But did she regret anything? She couldn't say she did. Because Momo made her feel everything at once and made Mina experience true love for the first time. Ending your life like that was almost worth it.

[awaragainstboredom]

Writer’s Block: The RPG Method Part 2

I continue on with Rota’s background by adding in the other NPCs that have played an important role in her upbringing. I kind of had to go back an touch up on more with everyone of them. Though there are some like her father Beolf, that I haven’t done yet, because his is a more complicated tale, and also a lot of the plot with a lot of the characters in Rota’s backstory revolve around Beolf. At some point I will have to finish what I came up for with him. The same goes for Tsubame, Ilsa’s adventuring and life partner. I’ve always like the Avarial elves, and I came up with a clan that migrated to the eastern kingdom of Shou, where they were seen another form of Tengu, or Hengeyokai, and not as elves. Things to think about. Anyways, here you go:

Rota’s friends and family character background

Mother: Herja Grendelstadt   Class: Barbarian\Race: Tiefling (rumored to be descended from a Balor)\Age :(is only for wine) Ht: 6’7 and ¾\Wt:(Of her boot on your head if you ask this question)

Herja is brash, bold, loud and outspoken. Though she does come off as crass, she actually kind hearted and is ready to aid those she cares about when in need. Has no tolerance for idleness and laziness. She is quick to get to the point. She was really distant and even rougher around the edges in the beginning, being that she was raised by her father in the mountains and her later years by the man Thorin who killed her father in a duel (Thorin left her the farm before he passed away, because he owed it to her, and he knew his own two children didn’t want to keep it).

Of course when she became closer to her adventuring party, she started to warm up to people, but in her own brutish sort of way. Beolf, “The skald who never shuts up” would eventually marry and settle down with was a major element in her change. She shows everyone that she has moved on after his death, but is curious about how her husband really died.

Herja cares deeply for Rota, and wants her to be strong, so that she may be able to fend for herself and protect others. This is why she put her through a bunch of crazy training routines and made her work hard on the farm, from age 5 -12 and then at 18 after her first year of apprenticeship under Dragnar (in which she kicked her ass in a duel sent her back to Dragnar and scolded him for “shitty training”).

She also knows what it’s like to see your father die right in front of your eyes, and wants Rota to find strength inside herself with that tragedy. She waits to see her daughter again to see how her training has gone, and also she likes her, she guesses…

She also has two adopted siblings, who are Thorin’s children and are also tieflings. Olaf, who left the farm to become a sailor, and Kara, who left to learn the magic arts (rumors say she was a wizard school dropout, but is a powerful magic user).

Godfather: Touchstone (Real name unknown, or has forgotten) \Race: Human Class: Wizard/Hedonist\Age: (Whatever you want me to be…) \Height 5’9 Wt: 140

The genius (and handsome) wizard Touchstone was Rota’s Beolf’s closest (and handsomest) friend since he started adventuring. They met each other in Waterdarvia, after Touchstone got in a bind from gambling with some ruffians. Beolf , starving and lacking funds saw that Touchstone had plenty of coin(and plenty of good looks), and was able to fool the thugs and get away with(the fetching) Touchstone. In the end, he was going to use (the sexy) Touchstone to take his cash for deescalating the situation, but was up front with him about it. But (the striking)Touchstone knew that was his plan, and was looking for someone else to distract them while he would cast a spell unnoticed to get out of the situation. The opportunist saw the opportunist, and thus their (beautiful, but remember I am the prettiest) friendship began.

He took care of Rota when she was sent off to Hippocampus Scale at age 12 to be safe from Jarl Falken and his cult, and to teach her the magic she had always wanted to learn (a more fervent request seeing she wanted to find out what magic killed her father). Touchstone saw that Beolf always wanted to nurture her mind, so he made sure that she had plenty of books that He saw that she was really adept at learning spell formulas and theory (she learned it a lot faster than those who had been learning it at an earlier age in life), but the fact that she could not connect to mana meant she couldn’t go any further in Mage School.

However he didn’t give up on encouraging Rota to look at magic in different ways. And he had her tutor wizards that had issues with script or language barrier problems when it came to reading formulas and theory, and also tutored languages for those that needed it. He figured that her doing this she was able to make friends and be seen as reliable to students who were having a hard time in the Academy.

Another strength he saw in her was magic combat, and though she couldn’t cast spells, she was asked to come in to be the aggressor/protector in the lessons, and in turn learned a good deal on how to handle wizards straight ahead, and understanding what type of spell they might be casting themselves or for her. Touchstone also saw this as a good opportunity to boost her confidence against the students that bullied her, by understanding real life tactics (and a bit of physical dominance).

He saw there was a little spark inside of her that would allow her to be able to use magic, and thought that perhaps continuing with physical training might ignite that out of her releasing the magic power within her. And she thus at age 17 she was sent to learn under Dragnar, who could also help look after her and the book.

Touchstone is a master spell caster and a savant in understanding spells in formula and in action. He is also a hedonist, and probably would be considered to be among the Pantheon of Arch-mages. That is if he actually wouldn’t be running around embracing major amounts of debauchery. How he is an instructor at Hippocampus Scale is beyond a lot of people, but his lessons have a 100% success rate (so he says).

He is incredibly sardonic, acerbic, a big fan of gallows humor, a narcissist, and always has wine in hand. Despite all that, he is a caring individual, it’s just how he deals with things in life. He is very protective of Rota, and makes sure that he strengthens her mind to handle the trials of life (though he regrets he wasn’t able to help her with that awkward personality and anger she has as much as he wanted to).

He doesn’t feel bad that he gave her the book that her father was coveting from the cult, because with eyes on him at Hippocampus Scale, it was better off with her as she went to train under Dragnar. On a side note, Touchstone regrets getting her addicted to the “Darkblade Chronicles”, an epic series written by Val Ros’help about Sehl, a brooding Warrior Mage Half Moon Elf Damphir with magical longswords that are possessed by his dead siblings, who are also sorcerers.  

Weapon Master: Dragnar Fafnirson Class: Fighter\Race: Human (a child of a dragon blooded sorcerer)\Age: 48\Ht: 6’5

Rota’s master in her weapons training. The grizzled mountain of a man is also a close friend to Herja, Beolf and Touchstone. He is the son of heroes who were disappointed in him turning down learning magic to take up the sword. He was the reluctant leader of their adventuring party and would get into heated arguments with Herja about battle tactics being the brains of the operation. Dragnar is all about timing and patience, and understanding one’s terrain when fighting the enemy. They were also in an on and off relationship, before Herja started having feelings for Beolf. This caused Beolf and him to become rivals for Herja’s affection, but in the end she chose the bard. Dragnar, though bitter about them being together, was supportive of them and was always there for them. He even helped on the farm and gave gifts on the holidays.

When Touchstone couldn’t teach Rota anymore, he sent her to learn with him. Dragnar saw that her fighting style is wild like her mother’s, which made him work to reign in her rage and fight with more control. Though he also teaches her that you can’t be to controlled in fighting and must find a flow, and there is nothing wrong with cockiness in a fight as long as it remains in the “flow” and you can use it to psyche out your opponents.  

Dragnar believes: “Swordplay without swagger is like rain without clouds. Sure, it’s possible, but only because the wind brought it from a cloud in the first place. Just like that, your swagger will always be there in your swordwork no matter how distant you are to it.” Rota laughs at this advice, every time she thinks about it, and dubbed the “Dragnar Style” as: “Sword and Swagger”.

He sent Rota to meet her mother in a remote area, so that she could test out her daughter’s new fighting prowess after a year of training her. Herja won in small matter of time, and chewed out Dragnar for his “shitty training”. Ashamed, Dragnar spent the next 5 years training her more, and sent her out on her own to gain experience and hopefully will be ready to take on her mother and prove that she is strong enough to protect herself.

Five years after Beolf died, He and Herja had started seeing each other again,  on and off. Dragnar loves Herja, but knows that she only sees it as a physical relationship, because of Beolf. This is why he always gives out a long sigh when deep in thought. Rota, actually found out about it when she accidentally walked in on them making out, but was unnoticed. Touchstone knew before Rota and calls Dragnar “Your Mom’s Special Sword”.

The Dragnar Style is a known Two Weapon style ranging from an assortment of weapons, dragon wing like cross slashes and being adept at throwing them.

Secret Godparent: Ilsa Hildrsdottir Class: Ranger\Race: Dwarf\Age:??\Ht: 4’5\Wt: 90 lbs.

The cool and collective Ilsa. The ranger of the party, who originally left because of her partner and lover Tsubame died. Ilsa was a bounty hunter and Tsubame was an occult investigator. They worked mostly on occult based cases, and on one of their cases they clashed with Dragnar, Herja, Beolf, and Touchstone (Beolf called his group “The Spoilers”, much to his party’s dismay). Ilsa and Tsubame were bitter rivals with the other group, and would every once in a while run into each other for the same job. Eventually on a mission they ended up uniting their forces, which led to she and Tsubame becoming a part of the team, thus  making them a force to be reckoned with.

In the situation involving “The Order of the Unsung Rhyme”, summoning something from beyond that almost devoured the entire party, Tsubame called upon the power of her patron and sacrificed herself in order to save the rest of the party from death. After she died, the party was broken up, but not as much as Ilsa, who left the group because she was devastated and wished she went with Tsubame. A few years after Ilsa left the party, they disbanded, retired and went on with their lives. Ilsa had only come back to the world for Rota’s birth (in secret with Beolf and Herja), and Beolf’s funeral. Beolf’s death angered her even more and tempered her vow of vengeance against “The Order of the Unsung Rhyme”.

Ilsa has been the secondary form of insurance to protect Rota from within the shadows, finding out who would be a threat and who works for the Jarl and his cult.  Many a silent arrow shot, and many a throat has been slit, though Rota will never know. And in some way this acts as vengeance for Tsubame and Beolf.

When Rota went to train with Dragnar, Ilsa assisted her in Archery lessons, and speed. She did what she could to help her with walking silently, but just gave up. She taught her to read and speak Dwarven. Despite her gruff exterior, she is a very talkative person, and an avid reader, which is why she and Beolf got along so well. She and Rota go on and on about books they read, and she too is a fan of the “Darkblade Chronicles”, her favorite character is “Hard Target” the Dwarven Sniper Ranger with her bow, “Chill-bane” which is made from the bone of a frost giant’s spine. When they talk books, she sees a lot of Beolf in Rota. She also is a fan of sweets. She once almost killed Touchstone for eating her pie (This incident gave birth to Beolf song a called: The Pie Thief of the White Whale).

Though Touchstone and Dragnar don’t know it, but if anything was to happen to Herja and Touchstone, she would be the one to take care of Rota until she was old enough to be on her own.

[ecotone99]

[HR] The Closet

The Closet - June 29, 1985

It all depended on the darkness. Whether it struck me with indescribable happiness, or unrelenting terror. The house, I mean.

​

My grandmother's house was a source of both joy and fear in my childhood; an unassuming white bungalow built by my great-grandfather's hands in 1915, it sat on a dead-end street in one of the more unfavorable areas of the small Texas town I traveled to with my mother on weekends for family visits, a short drive of an hour.

​

I would spend the school week anticipating the weekly trip as my cousin, the same age as I, lived a few houses down on the same street, and was all too happy to waste away the weekend with me playing video games, watching MTV, and joining the other kids on the street for seemingly endless games of kickball in the old church's parking lot until the street lights illuminated the dirt with an amber, incandescent glow.

​

The house itself was something out of a novel, old, weathered. It had all of the features one would expect as such. An old front porch, with select creaky boards, and a wooden swing, hung slightly higher on one side, causing the passengers to yaw a bit from side to side during the ride.

​

The yard was not unkempt, but plain and rather barren; this was a direct reflection of my grandmother. She was firm, rigid and simple in her needs, as with the yard she kept.

​

Entering the house would further solidify the feeling of walking into a ghost story. Creaking floorboards, seemingly ancient decor and furnishings, and a strange sense of age and history permeated the air, no matter where you stood in the place.

​

But, each and every weekend that we had traveled to my grandmother's house since I can remember, a small but steadily-tightening knot would develop in the pit of my stomach the Friday before we left; a splinter in the back of my mind, just like every weekend before. A feeling of dread that I didn't want to talk about with mother, or anyone else for that matter. I just wanted to forget.

​

But forgetting wouldn't help. The source of the fear was in knowing what my grandmother's house was. Haunted. Not haunted in the sense of fictional stories told around campfires, or an exaggerated tale nestled firmly in the unlikely realms of possibility; no, the house was infested..infected with a presence, and everybody knew it.

​

I knew this because I felt it. The emptiness in my stomach started as we approached the house from the road, and grew steadily as our station wagon pulled into the driveway, my heart silently skipping beats to match the popping of the gravel beneath our tires. The feeling would continue to fester as we entered through the front door, and grip me throughout our visit. I never wanted to run away from the house, but I never felt comfortable in it, either. No amount of happy memories (of which there were many) made in that place could comfort me.

​

The haunting there was real. It was accepted lore in the family, and it was spoken of in a matter-of-fact way, just as you would discuss an uncle's heroic service in the Navy, or the story of the family's migratory trip from Kansas, and the challenges faced and overcome on the way. Stories handed down of seances held by my then-teenage uncles in one of the back bedrooms; couches that moved seemingly on their own, petrifying howls penetrating the night air from unknown sources.

​

My grandmother always seemed almost happy about the occurrences, a sense of pride woven into her voice anytime she talked about the existence of the spirit that inhabited the house. Stories and folklore were something she valued, and showed great interest in. She loved telling them to us grand kids, and we loved to hear them. I felt safe knowing my mother was there, and she certainly would filter out any falsehoods or embellishments my grandmother attempted to weave into her tales, wouldn't she? Of course she would. She knew which stories contained slivers of truth, and which ones were complete fabrications.

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This particular weekend took place over the summer when I was twelve, well past the age of routinely believing in ghost stories and monsters. My greatest fears at that age, until that point, were the awaiting bullies prowling the halls at my middle school, and the inevitable copy of the year's final report card arriving in my parent's mailbox.

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The car ride to the house was quiet, as always, and the tension I felt was growing at an unusual rate this time, though I wasn't sure why. My grandmother had a plethora of stories to tell, and the most recent one concerned an unwelcome inhabitant in the house..an old Native American man, who appeared out of darkened closets at night, just before you fell asleep.

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She had seen the figure at least half a dozen times in the past; As the story went, it was always just before she dozed off in her bed, when the house was dark, and quiet, and always began with the high-pitched squeak of the old closet door slowly swinging open. An unmistakable odor of smoke would precede the apparition that would appear. The old man would unhurriedly emerge, his pale eyes finding the thinnest stream of light in the room so that he was seen, just barely; he would then speak a few words in an incomprehensible Native American dialect, before disappearing into the darkness.

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Her heritage was highly steeped in Indian culture, as she was three-quarters pure Cherokee Indian herself. Many of her stories revolved around Native Americans and their deeply spiritual way of life. I conveniently used this fact as an excuse to regard the stories with disbelief. Maybe it was the easy path to making myself feel better, safer, less afraid. Sometimes it worked. Sometimes it didn't.

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Nevertheless, the Saturday proceeded as it always did, filled with kickball, walks to the corner store to buy penny candy, serious video game sessions, and deep, intellectual talks with my cousin about the intricacies of Prince's "Raspberry Beret", and exactly what sexually-charged symbolism was at play there. It wasn't hard to keep myself busy with the activities of the day, and simultaneously let my deep-seeded fears melt from my mind, at least for awhile.

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As night drew closer, the skies darkened and the street lights bathed the broken asphalt with their orange glow, further enhancing the worrisome feeling that was still overcoming me. All of it was a reminder that soon there'd be no light left, and that terrified me, although I didn't know why.

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I convinced my cousin that it was time to head back for the night and hurried down the street towards my grandmother's house, as if the coming night would envelop me. It's odd now to think that we were scurrying towards the house, the place that my dread emanated from.

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We all went through the motions as usual, my grandmother making her nearly-famous fried chicken for dinner, while my cousin and I alternated between moping around the back yard, and flopping on my grandmother's old couches to watch classic sitcom reruns on the TV in the living room. While we laughed and talked on the couches, my eyes darted to my left on occasion, where I could see the open doorway of the room I would be sleeping in that night, the room I always slept in.

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I knew the Indian always appeared in my grandmother's room, never mine, but the building terror I'd felt this weekend made me not care about that detail as much.

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My eyes would occasionally dart towards the doorway. I couldn't help it. The room was cloaked in black, and only a few random objects were faintly illuminated by the living room light. I couldn't make out what the objects were. A small set of what looked like glowing, silver eyes seemed to peer at me from the room. What were they? There was a ceramic owl figurine in the that room, I thought. Wasn't there? Or was it another room? I think it was this one, I'm pretty sure it was.

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A glance to the TV, a laugh in concert with my cousin, and a quick glance back. There were no eyes..nothing. It was my eyes playing tricks on me, I knew it. This is what happens when you let your mind get the better of you.

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Nightfall came, as it does, and the family began to turn in. The house was old, and spoke as old houses tend to do, creaking, cracking, settling. As the TV went silent, and the talking ceased, all of these smatterings of sound become readily apparent, adding to my silent terror.

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The bedrooms in the place followed identical patterns, with beds against the back walls, and closets on the wall to the right of them. In my mind, it added to my dread, since the room I was about to sleep in might as well by my grandmother's room, where the old Indian resided. After changing and hurrying faster than what would be considered normal for an twelve-year-old boy, I jumped into bed and reluctantly flipped the switch on the bedside table light.

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I lay there, motionless, for at least twenty minutes. The house was dead silent, except for the almost inaudible noises of the house speaking. My eyes had become adjusted to the darkness, but the pitch black was so extreme that even then, I strained to make out even the frame of the closet door. Did it move? Was that a shadow? It was too dark to discern shadows from the play of light and dark within my own internal vision.

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My ears yearned for the slightest signal of the closet door creaking, at which point, I had decided, I would jump from the bed and clear the distance to the bedroom door in an inhuman amount of time. But why? Why did this have me so rattled, this weekend? It's not like I wasn't aware of the story before.

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I began to feel a little ridiculous. I'm not a five-year-old, I thought; nothing is coming out of the closet to get me. Kids my age weren't supposed to be afraid of the dark. Is something wrong with me? Would I need counseling? Would my mom be ashamed of me? Next thought - twelve-year-olds shouldn't be thinking about stuff like that.

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I flipped over on my side, away from the closet door, convincing myself that I was being what my jostling friends would call a big baby, and closed my tired eyes. My last thought before I fell asleep was about the plans my cousin and I had for the next day, and how at that point, I'd be laughing at myself (to myself, of course) about my unfounded fear.

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"Sleeping at last, the trouble and tumult over,

Sleeping at last, the struggle and horror past,

Cold and white, out of sight of friend and of lover,

Sleeping at last.

​

No more a tired heart downcast or overcast,

No more pangs that wring or shifting fears that hover,

Sleeping at last in a dreamless sleep locked fast."

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My eyes snapped open, jolted awake by a sound, but I was half-asleep when the sound happened, so I couldn't be sure what it was. The calculator watch I wore every waking minute showed it was 3:04 a.m. I had been asleep for five hours? How was that possible? It seemed like only a few minutes ago I was thinking of how stupid I was being about my fear, fear of..

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The sound again. This time it was clear, and so was I. I knew it was a creak. The creak an old wooden door makes when the hinges are about ten years past the point of needing lubrication. It was only a single snap of noise; nothing followed. I held still, and realized I was holding my breath, without the normal discomfort you'd expect. How long have I been holding it?

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What was...is something burning? A faint, charred smell of smoke hung in the air near my face, which was rapidly becoming thick and electric.

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I didn't dare turn over to look in the direction of the door, even though I'd never wanted anything more in my life. The silence was broken by soft, slow footsteps, as if someone walking in socks or light shoes were making their way across the floor towards me. I couldn't stand it any longer, I had to look. I could feel the presence behind me, breaking the barrier of my immediate space.

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I rolled, and saw the figure for a split second before it evaporated into a white mist. That brief moment was slowed down to what seemed like a full minute, and in that time, I was able to discern the being was a female, and elderly. No features were visible, no details of the face rendered, but I could see what it was. I knew.

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The apparition spoke, just a single moment before it disappeared. It was a native dialect; I couldn't repeat the phrase then, and I couldn't recall it now, no matter how hard I tried. I didn't understand it, complete gibberish, yet I remembered the phrase the next morning, as if I was a native speaker of the language. It was engrained on my mind.

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As I climbed out of bed, I heard muffled cries and a commotion coming from other rooms. After finding my mother standing in one of the bedroom's doorway, I discovered that my grandmother had passed in her sleep the night before unexpectedly. As I peered around my mother, and saw my grandmother lying peacefully in her bed, silent, a shock of emotion overcame me, and words burned in my eyes, forcing me to see letters, words, a sentence, whether I wanted to or not.

Sounds exploded in my ears, painfully, making me grimace and step back; the words I heard from the spirit last night were being translated to my eyes and ears, very clearly, very forcefully.

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"Your grandfather and I will now both watch over you, young man. Fear this house no more."

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[plus-dementia]

1st September 

I woke up to a text from Zoe… saying she bought us both Paramore tickets for January!! She won’t let me pay her back. I told her she’s not allowed to give me another Christmas or birthday present ever again. I’m so lucky to be surrounded by the people I am. Mom is so much more comfortable today. She’s wide awake as soon as I get downstairs. A new set of nurses have arrived this morning. We’ll be seeing them every day, four times a day. They’re here to make sure she’s comfortable and doesn’t need changing or moving. The woman who’ll be with us every day is called Avril. She’s really funny. I get showered and bring my makeup downstairs. I sit with mom while I’m doing it. She watches me through my mirror. As I’m doing it two of the neighbours come round. They tell me and Anne-Marie how proud mom was of us. We’re told this constantly, even by people we don’t know. Aunty Mary and Gerardine arrive while the neighbours are still here. They leave shortly after. I think they know this is family time now. Aunty Mary and Gerardine have barely been in mom’s room two minutes when a nurse from St Mary’s hospice comes round. She’s here to get to know us and what our plans are incase we do have to end up getting mom a room with them. Me, dad and Anne-Marie go separately in to the living room with her. She asks us questions about mom before and all the way during dementia. She seems to really want to get to know our whole story and not just what she’ll be a part of. I don’t think we’ve had that from any one else over the past few weeks. It’s strange talking about mom at the start of dementia. We all seem to have noticed the change in her at different stages. It sounds like I noticed first. We spent the most time together at the time of her changing. Anne-Marie was at uni and dad worked longer hours then. As we’re talking the home phone starts ringing. I answer it. It’s Aunty Marion. She was taking nan to the doctors today to talk about her chemo. Nan has pancreatic cancer. She’s missed a few treatments because her blood or iron levels, I don’t know which, were too low. We’ve been trying to get her to eat more to help this, but the chemo makes her nauseous. Catch 22. Aunty Marion tells me the doctor has said nan has lost too much weight. She has to go on steroids for three weeks, and if that doesn’t work she can’t have chemo anymore. This is the only treatment option she can have. Another bit of bad news. What great timing. I tell her I’ll get dad to ring her back once the hospice nurse has left. When I walk back in the room, everyone knows something is wrong. We carry on our conversation and the hospice nurse comes through to meet mom. As she’s finishing writing her notes, Avril comes back, along with a district nurse. We leave the room to let them carry on sorting mom. Just as they all leave, I tell dad and Anne-Marie what Aunty Marion said. Dad looks exasperated. Like his day couldn’t get any worse. He speaks on the phone to Aunty Marion for a while. I don’t ask what they spoke about and he doesn’t tell me. They’re coming back to ours now though. We’ve been trying to keep Uncle Gez busy with odd jobs to help him find a new routine. His life used to revolve around our nan and her routine. When we lost her, it was almost perfect timing that he could transfer that on to mom. There’s going to be no one left for him to really care for once mom has gone, so I think everyone’s trying to prepare him slowly. Me and Anne-Marie mention to Aunty Gerardine that it might seem to him like we’re keeping him away from mom. We think it’s a good idea that he has one on one time with her today. After all, second to dad he was her main carer. Natalie and Marina arrive. We could lunch together. As we are, Nan and Aunty Marion arrive back. Nan looks a bit down, but no one mentions anything about earlier’s news. She’s offered food straight away and for once she accepts the offer. Me, Nat and Marina eat our lunch while everyone else looks through the photos they brought back from Nanny’s house. After we’ve finished, and most people have left for lunch, the three of us go and sit with mom. Nan, Anne-Marie and Aunty Marion are still looking at photos. Tash rings and asks why Aunty Marion didn’t tell her she was coming over again. She wanted to visit. Aunty Marion thought she didn’t, but she must have gotten mixed up with Clariece. She has to leave to go home anyway. As she stands up, mom wakes up for the first time since she’s been here. She seems to keep doing that with Aunty Marion. We joke how she’s being rude and ignoring her. When me, Nat and Maz are left alone, I put on some 80s music, as that was mom’s favourite. We decide to have a glass of wine while we’re talking. Mom is staring at our glasses even though she never really drank wine. Her drink was Baileys. She must be thirsty, so I give her some water off the sponges. After two goes, she doesn’t open her mouth, so I stop trying. She must be in pain. The nurses come again so we leave the room. I remember that Nat and Marina are the only people who’ve visited and not had a photo with mom. I mention it to them and they say they’d like to have one. We go back in and mom’s eyes are closed. I ask her to wake up and she half opens her right eye. I tell her we’ll only be two seconds. She opens both and as I go to take the photo she’s closed them again. For another few minutes we try and make her open them. She eventually does and I take the photos. As soon as my phone is brought down, they’re closed again. Just enough time for the photo and then done. I need to get an external hard drive for my phone and Nat needs to go shopping, so we all leave to go to town. We walk to the train station and our train is cancelled. The next one is in half an hour. We decide to wait. I start to worry because I only wanted to pop out the house for an hour. We walk round a few shops and I end up leaving about 2 hours in. They ask me to go for a drink but I want to get home to mom. And all I’ve eaten today was that small lunch we had earlier. I get to the train station and dad is supposed to be picking me up. He’s ten minutes late so I ring. He’s never late, so I worry something wrong. Everything is fine. Avril has come over and he lost track of time talking to her. When we get home, I’m looking for something to eat and notice Margaret has made us a cottage pie. That’s just what I needed. Home cooked food. Nan is sitting in the room with mom. For some strange reason, mom is watching football on the tv. She’s never liked football, but she must like the movement on the green screen. Even weirder, she’s managed to eat 3/4 of a mouse nan had brought in for herself. She hasn’t eaten that much in two weeks. She hasn’t eaten anything in two weeks. She seems to be defying the odds and constantly surprising us. Aunty Mary, Gerardine and Uncle Gez come back over after dinner. Mom is still wide awake and we’re all so surprised. She’s turned a bit nocturnal. Me and Aunty Gerardine and Anne-Marie and Aunty Mary joke that we’re on two teams now: the red heads and the brunettes. We all start taking the micky out of each other. If we laugh long enough, you almost forget what’s going on. Until mom is brought up in conversation. It’s sad knowing she’s in the room next door, probably gutted she can’t join in. She was always the centre of every conversation. Me and Aunty Gerardine go and sit in with mom. We start looking through the photo album from the day I was born. Mom is still so interested and observant with photos. You can see her eyes scanning through the people. She can definitely still recognise faces, as she looks at me when seeing my baby photos. I like to think we have an unspoken language now, where she looks at me when she wants me to skip to a new photo. Mom stares at me so much. Even if I don’t talk to her, I’ll look over and she’s still looking at me. I’d love to know what she’s thinking or would say to me if she could. As we’re looking through mom and dad’s wedding photos, Aunty Gerardine asks Uncle Gez who lots of people are. I think she already knows, so I wonder if it’s asking or testing him. Me and Aunty Gerardine leave, and Aunty Mary goes in. It’s nice to leave them together as brother and sisters. I can’t imagine going through something like this with Anne-Marie. They leave quite early to let us all sleep. Dad looks so tired today. As I go in to say goodnight to mom, I give her a kiss and she makes a noise while her mouth’s open. I ask her if she’s trying to speak to me, and a few seconds later she makes a louder and longer sound. That’s the first time I’ve heard a sound that isn’t coughing or choking from her in probably a year. I like to think she was trying to say something to me then. I just wonder what it was.