#the smoke was pouring out of the side of the microwave itself when the door was opened

[fiona-fififi]

Our microwave just nearly caught fire??

[rendy-a]

I llove your self aware twt au can I request for a part two of dorm magical? If it's okay to you!

There was never an idea so appealing to the cast of TWST as the idea of having a slumber party in the famed Ramshackle Dorm.  You’d get to actually sleep in that place blessed with so much of the Player’s attention.  When Crowley surprisingly agrees to allow it as a motivational tool for students, the cast rejoices!  Only, what sort of activities do you do at a slumber party in a magical dorm?

Choosing a bed

Everyone knows that there must be a room in Ramshackle that is THE BEST and everyone wants to choose that room.

Only, it isn’t quite clear what makes a room the best.  Clearly, they want the room the Player prefers but how can they determine which room that is?

Each student ends up in a different room.  Each choice is based on some trivial factor, like a board squeaking when they walked into the room, but that was clearly a sign from the Player to sleep there!  In the end, everyone is satisfied that they have secretly been chosen by the Player to stay in their FAVORITE room.

Azul hurries from room to room, understanding the need to quickly assess the value of each and make his choice ahead of the competition.  He goes quickly but still each other student he passes in the halls fills him with worry.  What if he doesn’t find the Player’s favorite room?  No one really understands what the great Player thinks, and you are unable to voice those thoughts directly. 

The anxiety blooms even deeper each time he hears a (hasty and negligent) student yell that they’ve claimed their room.  Why, Azul has barely been through half the rooms.  There is no way some slacker like Ace has been able to divine the Player’s preference faster than him after all his research into your Greatness!  “Give me a sign, please…” he mutters in desperation as he throws open the next door and enters a drafty room with a slight hole in the roof over the bed. 

It was damp and cold inside.  The bed was so waterlogged you might wonder if it was better to sleep on the floor.  Azul lets his eyes sweep over several dust-covered furniture pieces, searching for that hint of presence that would lead him to what he desires.  Suddenly a shutter on the broken window slams into the side of the house.  Azul jumps and tumbles into the soggy bed.  The chill and damp immediately surround him, but he is overjoyed by this turn of events.  “Ha ha!” he laughs joyfully, the anxiety leaving him, “You are so right, Player!  This is the perfect room for a mer from the Coral Sea.”  He flushes just a tiny bit as he mutters under his breath, “You know me so well…”  Then he shouts out to claim his room (the BEST ROOM)!

Making snacks

Everything tastes better when its burnt, right?  They want you to help so bad but you are a house and there isn’t really much you can do about it.  So maybe letting you be the one to decide when the popcorn was done wasn’t the best idea.

Strangely enough, everything does taste better when its been burnt…by the Player!  There are other snacks laid out, but everyone chooses one the Player ‘helped’ with.  It’s the taste of love?

The microwave dings and a cloud of black smoke comes rolling out when Trey opens it.  Riddle tentatively opens the bag of popcorn and pours it into the waiting bowl.  Or at least he tries too.  The burnt mass takes a little coaxing from the two Heartslabyul students to detach itself from its charred coffin.  A cabinet door swings open with a squeaky moan.  Riddle and Trey meet eyes and then Riddle nods.  “Right,” he says as he reaches into the bowl and pops a handful of charred popcorn into his mouth.

Riddle crunches the over-done popcorn in his mouth with a curious look on his face.  After a moment, having been unable to decipher the expression, Trey asks, “How does it taste?”  Instead of answering, Riddle passes Trey the bowl and the vice-dorm leader takes a sample of his own.  The same curious expression crosses his face, as though not exactly sure how the popcorn does taste.  After a silent moment where the crunching of popcorn is the only sound to be heard, Riddle swallows with some effort and gives a small cough into one gloved hand.  Then he offers slowly, “Like love?”  Trey chokes down his mouthful and nods in agreement, “I think you are onto something.  Great job, Player.”  Then he carefully sets a single kernel of burnt popcorn in the open cabinet (for the Player) before gently closing the cabinet door. 

Then they both went in for another mouthful.  It was actually good when you ignored the taste entirely and remembered it was made by the Player.  Quite good.

Games

Finding a game to plan can be a bit challenging.  No one is interested in playing any games that don’t include the Player…who is temporarily a house.  So all games must somehow include the dorm itself.

When Epel suggests 7 Minutes in Heaven, everyone is immediately onboard.  A search is put on to find just the right closet that has that “Player” feeling. 

When the bottle is spun, some lucky student then gets the privilege of sitting alone…in the closet.  But, it’s the Player’s closet!

Ruggie sits down carefully and gives Jack a thumbs up as the door closes, which earns him a deep frown from his junior.  “Keep it decent in there!” Jack admonishes as the darkness settles in.  “Sure thing, shishishishi!” Ruggie calls out.  Then his eyes narrow slowly, he was finally alone with the Player. 

He sits for a moment, unsure of how to continue.  Then, he decides a little conversation might be in order.  “So, you come here often?” he says before cringing.  “Of course you come here all the time.  It’s your house.  Forget I said that.”  When there is no mocking laughter in response, Ruggie sighs in relief.  “Thanks, Player, I knew you’d understand.”  Then he gently runs his hand over the dusty floorboards, feeling their cold smoothness.  Then he stills his hand, placing it possessively over a swirl in the woodgrain that catches his eye.  “Hey, Player,” he says quietly, “Mind if I tell you something a little secret?”  He rubs the floorboard softly, “I think you are pretty great.  I’ve always wanted to tell you that.”

The old floorboards squeak when he lays down, “Yeah, I feel it too.”  Then in a bit of a fluster he sputters, “Say, I don’t want to mess up the moment or anything but…oh damn, I don’t know how to say it but…can I…I mean…well, I’m going to kiss you now.”  When there is no objection from the closet, Ruggie flushes deep crimson and tips his head until his pursed lips make contact with the floor.  Then he smiles triumphantly and laughs in joy.  “That was perfect, Player.  So perfect,” he drapes an arm over his eyes but it does nothing to block out his enormous smile. 

A beep of an alarm is heard thought the muffled door and it is immediately thrown open by a disgruntled Sebek, “YOU THERE!  WHY ARE YOU MAKING THAT FACE?  I DEMAND TO KNOW WHAT YOU’VE BEEN UP TO IN THIS CLOSET!”

Hide and seek (until morning)

As the night goes on, it’s harder and harder to find games that include the Player.  Even though it is a childish game, the cast agrees to Hide and Seek just because it gives you time alone in the dorm to bond with the Player.

They draw lots to decide on who is “it” for the game.  Silver gets the short stick and ends up being the first “seeker.”

This proves to be a bad decision as Silver finds no one before succumbing to sleep. 

No one cares as each student is perfectly content to lay in their hiding spot thinking about the Player until sleep claims them too.

Malleus wanders quietly in the gardens below Ramshackle dorm.  He hadn’t been invited to the great sleepover (of course), but he didn’t truly care.  Wandering in the moonlight with the Ramshackle dorm (and the Player) looming over him was far more enjoyable anyway.  The wind blew wildly across the field creating a series of creaks and groans from the old dorm.  Malleus supposes this is some form of language you share only with him.  He can’t yet decode it, but he would wander alone for hours to hear you talk so sweetly. 

A single light illuminates the halls of Ramshackle.  Perhaps the students have gone to bed?  He’d certainly not have given up such a precious opportunity so easily.  Malleus stands in the night contemplating the dorm and finally, his curiosity gets the better of him.  He glides carefully to the illuminated window and peers inside.  The main room of Ramshackle stands empty, the signs of earlier activities scattered about haphazardly.  A flickering light draws the fae’s eyes.  Cater lays behind a sofa smiling happily in his dream as his phone continues to play a video where it has fallen, still gripped loosely in hand. 

But where are his retainers?  The thought crosses his mind and takes hold enough for him to choose to seek them out.  Levitating gently to the second story, Malleus peers into a window to see Silver slumped over on a bed.  Some sheets are still clutched in his hand as though he was in the act of pulling them back when he was overtaken by slumber.  Although not in any conventional sort of sleeping form, the way he was nestled on the bed seemed rather cozy.  Feeling a gaze upon him, Malleus lets his eyes drift up to where he can make out Lilia expertly perched on the beams of the ceiling.  Lilia gives him a sleepy smile and a little wave before closing his eyes again, seemingly content to remain where he is. 

One last dormmate for him to check on.  High up in the tower of Ramshackle, nestled in behind a rather regal gargoyle (if Malleus does say so himself) he finds Sebek.  He clutches the gargoyle and mutters in his sleep.  “…Player…hmmm…Malleus-sama!....mmm”  A curious dream, Malleus supposes.  He does understand though.  Being here, where the Player’s presence is strongest, it makes one give in to flights of fancy.  He smiles softly and caresses an old beam.  Goodnight Player, watching over them all.  Goodnight students, dreaming warm in the Player’s embrace.  Goodnight all.

[on-fic-writing-spree]

Dukeceit Failed Soulmate AU Part 3!! (Find the rest on my pinned post)

Warnings for minor character death (I was gonna make it one of the sides but... I couldn’t hurt y’all that much), car crash, and cigarette usage

———————

Janus shoved his hands into his jacket pockets as he walked down the street, cigarette between his teeth, though he didn’t really take drags of it. Occasionally, he’d slip it away from his lips to tap away some ash. He didn’t exactly have a taste for smoking, but between that, the hunched shoulders, and resting bitch face, people tended to leave him alone.

The winter breeze breathed like ice in Janus’s face, but he merely curled in on himself a bit more, tugging his jacket closer together. He should’ve thought to zip it up before he walked out. But it was only down to the corner that his car was parked, already in view. In less than a moment later of Janus glancing down at the ground, the same few feet ahead, tires screeched on the half-iced pavement, and a car swerved into view on the road road ahead, skidding on the ice before rolling onto its side. Janus stood stunned for a mere second before spitting out his cigarette, stomping it out and walking towards the car. He started to cross the street in a diagonal manner, only two steps in before another car came down the road, unable to stop before it slammed into the previous car, crushing the top of the car in.

And suddenly, the world felt quiet, but far from silent. There was a constant buzz of chatter, but Janus couldn’t understand any of it. Someone bumped his shoulder and knocked him forward an inch, and Janus vaguely noticed the phone out in one hand with the video up along with a few other bystanders going to help the person in the second-crashed car. He glanced around, feeling like he wasn’t supposed to be there. As if the sky itself was a roof ready to crash in on him. His breaths hung heavy in the air, coming out as pants more than anything. And then there’s was a tap on his shoulder. When he turned, though, there was nothing to here.

A strange sense filled him, and he felt his legs move below him before he registered for the most to do so. When he became aware he was moving, he picked up on his pace, his feet slamming across the pavement until he found himself barreling into a set of woods, tumbling and letting himself collapse fully under a group of trees. He stared at the sky, watching the breeze shift through the leaves and branches of the trees, the sun hiding somewhere behind them.

For a vague moment, Janus not being fully there, he watched the wind whistle through the branches until it dawned on him; It was winter, those trees weren’t supposed to have leaves on them.

Sitting up, he looked around, clawing his fingers into the grass and dirt below him. He’d been here before. But he couldn’t place when, how, or why. Just that he had been, or some notion of him had been.

With the memory, Janus’s reality began to shift, and he found himself sitting up in his bed, his breathing uneven as he stared at his door. It had been three years since he’d last had that dream. So why was it coming back now?

Janus kicked and pulled away his blankets, stepping out of bed and hissing softly at the cold wood against his feet. He should really get the room carpeted—he’d always hated the cold. He stepped over to his desk, snatching his laptop up before scurrying back to the warmth of his bed. He pulled the screen up, clicking onto google and tapped on the search bar, tapping at some keys before scrolling down, eyes fixated on the screen in front of him. His eyes flickered across it while he scrolled, the palm of his hand upholding his chin, his fingers curled to be pressed up against his face just below his bottom lip. He opened a few of the links, many already purple from having clicked before. Headlines for a car crash in 2013 read in large letters, but Janus mostly ignored that in favor of looking at the pictures, carefully studying each one.

There were many things Janus was, and among them, was a liar.

He knew his soulmate before they died in the crash.

Well, at least he knew them drunk.

—

Janus hissed and cursed quietly at the coffee that that he had spilled onto his hand, letting the pot drop onto the counter and shaking his hand while he reached for the kitchen towel. He was so out of it, he couldn’t even pour his own cup of coffee without messing that up. And though Janus knew it had only been a week and a half since his last ‘sick days’ (in other words, days he took off because he wanted to be there when Remus got back) he knew he couldn’t go to work like this. He sighed and pulled out his phone, towel balled partially in his fist as it rested against his hip. He scrolled through some contacts before tapping one and calling, giving some fake excuse of feeling ‘below the weather’ and asking if it was possible to get someone else to cover his shift for him. He tapped the red button on the screen as Remus stepped into the doorway.

“Everything alright, Janny?” Remus asked, crossing their arms as they looked over the other. “You know I’m not a great cook, but I’m sure I can heat up a can of Campbell’s soup without setting your microwave on fire.” Janus had still been spacing out, not aware of the moment when Remus was speaking. Remus stepped over, whistling in two half breaths, on higher and one slightly lower while waving a hand in Janus’s face. “Earth to Janus, come in Janus,” they joked lightly, smiling a bit when Janus’s head snapped towards them. “Damn. You really are out of it, huh?”

“What?”

Remus ‘tsk’ed a few times softly, shaking their head before wrapping one arm around Janus, their other resting on the shoulder closest to him. “Come on. Let’s get you back to bed and somethi—”

“I don’t want to go back to bed,” Janus interjected with sharply. “I can take care of myself Remus. You’re the only one who you need to be worried about, okay?” Janus added, a bit softer this time as he shrugged out of the other’s grip and slid in front of them.

The other merely crossed their arms, an unamused look on their face as they rested more weight onto one side. “And what? You expect me to just... let it go? That easy? Nuh-uh, honey. You helped me. Let me help you.”

Janus merely sighed at first in response, before looking at the other with a half-smile, a fond what-would-I-do-without-you look traced on his face. “Fine. But I’m not sleeping.”

Tag list:

@sinuous-scakt @tsfanficarchive @mferge7

[falling-fineline]

Thin White Lies/Lines

Summary: Luke's mind was unwell, it told Luke lies, these empty sounds and endless stories that filled his mind until all he heard were lies, lies, thin white lies.

Warnings: self-harm, alcohol, marijuana

:readmore:

Luke hasn’t stopped drinking ever since he got the text from her, in which she ended their relationship abruptly. The message had read:

“It’s not you, it’s me. I moved out when you were gone on tour. Have a good life, babe! Xx”

Just getting home from tour, suitcase in hand, a breakup text was the last thing he thought he’d get when he caught up on his messages on the car ride back to his own place.

He had entered his house, now empty of any life. Just like the text message had said, everything of hers was gone from every room.

A familiar numbness settled over Luke as he dropped his suitcase by the door. His footsteps echoes against the tiled floor as he padded over to the liquor cabinet, pouring himself a hefty shot of tequila, downing 3 shots as if he was drinking water. The evening sun began to set, light shining through the kitchen curtains as he mixed himself another larger drink and carried it out onto the deck in the backyard. Walking past the microwave, the red digital numbers read 7:12pm. Saturday.

Now 2:23pm, Tuesday, Luke spent the last 3 days alternating between hefting drink after drink into his system and smoking a joint whenever he remembered in his drunken haze that he actually has some beside him.

The news had gone around of Luke’s breakup the day after the text. Luke’s phone had been blowing up with worried texts from Calum, Ashton and Michael, among others. Luke had shut his phone off on Sunday morning, tired of pretending to be ok.

Luke can vaguely tell that he’s going through the stages of grief. The denial was easy to move on from, the text message from her had been final.

The anger hit him like a pale of ice-cold water was unexpectedly poured over his head. The ugly heat burrowed deep into his mind poured from up above, down his neck, across his broad shoulders and manifested itself in tension all throughout his body from head to toe. The anger soaked into his clothes until he stank with it. The anger manifested itself as Luke’s old bad coping mechanism: cutting.

Luke had stumbled up the stairs, making the short trek from the kitchen to his washroom though his wobbly legs almost gave up half way up.

In his drunken state, he shouldn’t be mixing substances. But that’s what he goes to do, reaching for the half empty bottle of ibuprofen to hopefully stop the pounding in his temples. He swallows it dry, only washing it down with a handful of tap water when he begins to cough from the dry pill dragging down his throat. The pain wakes him up a bit.

In the bathroom, Luke takes a pair of scissors from the drawer and goes in search of a razor. He finds a new one in its packaging in the next drawer down. After successfully disassembling the thin metal blades from the razor, he hold it up to his face for close examination. Eyes fixated on the shiny blade, it takes him a while for his eyes to refocus on the background. It was then that he realized he was now staring at himself in the bathroom mirror. Luke didn’t recognize himself. He looked small, thin, clad in his acid wash Rolling Stones t-shirt and his briefs. The same clothes he wore when he landed in LA a few days ago. He looked tired, dark circles under his eyes. He grew some facial hair in his wake. His hair greasy with dirt and smoke. He was a sight alright.

The bargaining stage began when Luke sat on the edge of his bathtub, his left leg hiked up on the toilet seat across from him, a thin razor blade in his right hand.

Luke's mind was unwell, it told Luke lies, these empty sounds and endless stories that filled his mind until all he heard were lies, lies, thin white lies.

The voices sounded just like him. But they said things that he wouldn’t usually say. The voices told him he was worthless, unlovable, unwanted. The voices sang songs about how lonely Luke felt, the words rattling around in his mind, making him go mad.

Luke moved the cotton material of his briefs up his left leg, revealing pale skin that had faded scars scattered in a somewhat orderly fashion. One, five, ten. Fifteen. Twenty. Twenty-five. Thirty. Red beads of blood began to flow out, like some twisted game of dominos, out from each cut one by one. One after the other. Until they all bleed red.  Shit. Shit. Fuck. Shit. He cut deeper than he thought he would. It was as if he was entranced by the blade, the cold slide of the razor against breaking skin.  

Luke slides down the side of the bathtub, until he sat on the cold tiled floor, feeling the cool temperature radiating off the tiles. His back pressed against the tub as he looked down, his briefs that he hiked up now damp with blood.

Despite how panicked he should be feeling right now, the weed he smoked earlier and the whisky he drank when he woke up at 1pm numbed him. Enveloping him in a cocoon of pseudo warmth, the numbness was welcomed anyway, anything so he doesn’t actually feel the physical pain he should be feeling right now and the mental anguish that he’s been feeling for a while now.

Luke reaches out for his phone that’s beside him when his vision blurs for a moment.

////

“Hello? Hello? Luke? Wassup man? Was actually about to call you, buddy. I wanted to see how you were doing. Luke? Are you there?” Ashton held his phone closer to his ear, stopping his meal and standing up, giving kaykay a confused look. They were dining outside at a little café a block from their neighbourhood, about a 10min walk, 5min sprint from his place.

Silence filled the other end. Ashton takes the phone away from his ear to see the screen light up, indicating that he’s still on a call with Luke.

Ashton’s about to hang up to redial when he hears Luke. A quiet “Ash…” filled the phone line and into Ashton’s ear.

“can you… come over, right now? I need…help.”

Fabric sounds muffle the receiver from Luke’s end as Ashton begins to panic. 

“Luke? What happened? Are you alright? Talk to me bud.” Ashton runs a frantic hand through his long locks as he waits for Luke’s response. As the older lad turns to tell his girlfriend that he’s got to go right now, Kaykay’s already waving him off, concern clear on her face.

A sob breaks out from Luke’s end as Ashton begins sprinting the 8 minutes it takes to Luke’s house from the café.

“I don’t think I like me anymore, Ash.” Luke said, tears evident in his voice. His voice is echoed, so Ashton guesses he’s in the bathroom.

Ashton all but slams through the front door once he got his keys out. One hand still holding his phone to his ear, the older lad starts yelling for the blond, rushing to the bathroom up stairs.

The sobs from the phone become clear as day as Ashton climbs up the staircase two at a time. Ashton reaches to open the bathroom door only to find it locked.

Hanging up his phone, Ashton knocks.

“Luke, you in there?”

No response. Just sobs can be heard from behind the door.

“Buddy you gotta let me in so I can help you. C’mon. Lemme in.” Ashton softly says through the wooden door. A moment passes before a thud, then footsteps, then a click of the lock.

Immediately swinging the door open, Ashton his shocked to see the younger lad standing upright. The shock quickly grows to concern when Ashton’s eyes flick down to see red blood seeping from Luke’s left thigh.

“Luke…” The older lad has unfortunately seen this sight before. Years ago, when they were still teenagers touring with One Direction.

The older lad all but scoops Luke into a hard embrace, not minding the blood that must be spreading on his own jeans right about now. The younger lad feels frail in his arms and Ashton’s heart breaks at the sight of one of his best friends.

Luke all but collapses into Ashton’s arms squeezing him tight.

“You’ll make it out of this, buddy. I know you will. You’ve survived this before, and I know you’re strong enough to make it out of this time too. I love you, Michael and Calum loves you, the fans adore you, we’ve got our families back home in Auz. that love you. Its all gonna be alright, Luke, it’ll be alright in time.”

[namjoonchronicles]

floating alphabets | yg

↳ pairing yoongi, you ↳ genre domestic, yoongi as a husband, fluff, suggestive content ↳ words 3.4k ↳ summary not once have you doubted yoongi’s way of parenting, but having to be away from home a lot for your study, you are further drawn apart from your twin boys and a certain call from the school has got you worrying and Yoongi, scrambling to find solution that fits

With the orchestral music playing semi loudly in the living room, the twins are presumably occupied. It is one of those few things that you and Yoongi found working enough to keep the boys calm. The reason why that is very important today is because you got a call from the school about one of your twins.

Yoongi snoops into the main bedroom where you were like he had a secret meeting. He peers with one eye to make sure the boys are still focused on their orchestra, playing on the wide screen before whispering, “Okay, what is it?”

Knees crossed, sitting on the edge of the bed, a piece of unfolded letter  pinched between your thumb and forefinger is handed to Yoongi with a heavy sigh. Your eyes tipped up and then to the side as your husband reads the contents, with his squinted eyes. He began mumbling the words and you have resorted to closing your eyes, pinching the bridge of your nose then resting your chin on the heels of your palm. Elbow digging on your knee.

“What does this mean? What does it all mean? What are they saying about Gyeonghan?” 

Yoongi began, now on his knee, crawling to you to sit by your feet with his eyes peering up at you, all dewy and soft. Taking the letter from him gently, your shoulders fall heavy.

“It means the school wants him diagnosed because they suspect him to be dyslexic.”

The word falls heavy as concrete in Yoongi’s heart.

In the letter, the school mentions how Gyeonghan’s grades are declining from the moment the school session put more emphasis on reading subjects and although his musical abilities has been speckless since he stepped in, his readings have not improved as much. He never finishes his homework, and his twin covers him up for it. That is probably why it has taken so long for the school to detect what the problem was. Gyeongnam had been helping his twin from getting scoldings. Further, the written brief reports about Gyeonghan’s behaviour in class mention how he would draw the alphabet backwards, and would run from class to take bathroom trips--sometimes several times in a single lesson.

The room fell silent for a moment. Just about time the orchestra reached its climax.

“Yoongi,” you began, “We need to talk to them.”

“What do we even say?”

“What we should…”

“And what are those?”

With your master class’s assignment abandoned on the table, Yoongi shut the door after you. Confident strides faltered the moment you caught the twins setting up the table for dinner. They used chairs to retrieve the glassware on the cabinet. Having set the chopsticks by the empty bowl, next to arrange is the glass. Yoongi sped up ahead of you to help Gyeonghan.

“After dinner,” you murmured to yourself, “We’ll talk after dinner.”

Yoongi reheats everything in the microwave, reboiled the sausage stew, and you helped pour water in the empty glasses.

“You guys set up the dinner table so well!,” you chimed, smiling ear-to-ear. Yoongi too, was smiling as his head disappears into the fridge to fetch the mangoes he had prepared in noon, chilled and fit for desert. The twins grinned and climbed into their seats, waiting for the rice scooped up by their mother whom they rarely see.

“Mama,” Han called, “Can you make those triangle chips with cheese on top?”

“Triangle chips? You mean loaded nachos?” you confirmed. Nam was giggling and repeating, “Triangle chips, triangle chips. It’s called nachos, Han.”

“Alright boys, Mama has exams this week, so we don’t want to disturb her studies,” Yoongi intercepted, bringing the stew pot on the table, spewing words of cautions while he places it. Puffs of smoke escaping from it, still.

“But I promise that I’ll make it next weekend, how does that sound? It’s due time that we all go for a movie night right here in our own home. What say you, Mr. Husband?” you eyed your husband as he went back to the kitchen to wash his hands and dry them off. He let out a dry chuckle as he returns to the table,

“I don’t see why not, movie night sounds good.”

The twins cheered. With the plates all cleaned and wiped dry by Yoongi, you sat in the living room on the floor with the boys. Television turned off.

“Is the baby in mama’s tummy alright?” Han guesses that that must be the reason why his mother was calling this small discussion. The small bump finally got its attention the first time today. You smiled and caressed your womb tenderly. A nod and a smile should suffice to answer Han’s questions.

“What we are going to talk about today is very difficult,” you began.

The two had sparkling eyes the exact way their father was looking at you today and your heart was chewing on itself the moment you had to tell them what happened. First, you mentioned that during your lecture class today, you received a call from the school. Han and Nam showed slight discomfort and started fidgeting on their sleeves, and tugging the brim of their hoodies, the one that Yoongi bought in Alaska. Upon noticing this, Yoongi scooted on the floor next to you with a dad-sigh, finally joining the family discussion.

The call from the school was about the twins’ recent behaviour. You also showed them a written report of it.

“As parents, we both are in deep concern whenever anyone shows any decline in their studies. It concerns us because it was our duty to make sure that you understand what you are studying. If you don’t, and the teachers cannot help you, it is our respective duty to take the task into hand,” you said.

“In other words,” Yoongi receives the baton and carried the flow of the discussion, “Nam wasn’t finishing his homework and Han is doing his homework for him,” Yoongi turns to Han, “Daddy knows you want to help him, and by doing so, he doesn’t get punished. Admirable, but,” Yoongi held his pointing finger up to the sky, and he paused, then resumes, “Nam wouldn’t understand the lessons if he doesn’t do the homework himself, correct?”

The twins shook their heads and looked down to their lap. Tears were already brimming.

“...Han,” you thumbed his cheek, “What’s happening?”

Nam scuffles, stood up and ran into his room. A few moments later, the door is slammed shut. Yoongi wanted to comfort him right away but you grabbed Yoongi’s wrist and shake your head. Your attention turns to Han who is also in tears but was able to make up words as he sobbed.

“I keep telling h-him, to f-f-finish his work but he just won’t. When I tried to make him do so, he sai-d-d, he said the alphabets were floating,” Han uses his entire sleeve to wipe his tears, talking through the fabrics. Han then told you that the whole class laughed when Nam basically yelled about it in class when he was told to read so he makes up words as he goes. Noticing that Nam wasn’t able to read, Han mouthed them to him from the side, whispering.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Yoongi bracketed Han’s shoulders, audible breaks in his voice.

“We’re scared,” Han answered in hiccups.

Gentle knocks on the door. While Yoongi comforted Han by letting him play on his studio piano, you spoke through the door to your other son.

“It’s mama, can I come in?”

Yoongi waddled over, gave you a look and twisted the knob open to try and peek in. “Nam? Dad’s here too… if you don’t want to speak to mom, can dad speak to you?” Yoongi asked. Han and Nam are both closer to their dad than you. There are many factors leading to that. One of it being, you were away most of the time and Yoongi took charge of the household ever since they learned how to walk. When they go home from school, get into the car, play at the park, it’s Yoongi they see. When they are hungry, wanting food, getting into showers, it’s Yoongi they ask.

“Yes,” Nam said, “To dad.”

Your cheeks deflated and you nodded in defeat. But before you go, Yoongi grabbed your wrist and passed you a chaste kiss on the lips, brushed them on your cheek and whispered in your ear, “I got this.”

The door creaks as Yoongi walked in, and he made a mental note to have it oiled when he has time, when the thought dissipates at the sight of his son coming out from underneath the bed--his safe space.

“There you are, champ,” he smiles thinly.

The boy bursts into tears and hugged his dad’s waist, while Yoongi ruffles his hair, planting kisses on the boy’s hair before carrying him and sat him down on his bed.

“Floating alphabets, huh?” Yoongi lays on his elbows, grabbing Rubik’s cube from the bedside table. Nam nodded and hugged his turtle plushie. Han has the same one, but he had a rabbit one.

“They’re flying when I try to read them, and I can’t catch them on time,” Nam mutters to his chest, lips pouting.

Yoongi tutted his tongue, “...Gyeongnam,” he pauses, and, “Do you know Albert Einstein couldn’t read until he was 9? And the famous painter whose painting Uncle Namjoon hung on his living room wall, Leonardo Da Vinci? The person who made the world’s first light bulb, Thomas Edison? They all learn to read very late, and these were one of the most brilliant minds the universe had. Have you heard of dyslexia?”

Gyeongnam repeated the word precisely, but Yoongi knows that if he was told to spell them, he won’t be able to. Nonetheless,

“Gyeongnam, sweetie… reading is hard, it’s boring because you don’t see what others do, correct? It seems that the words just don’t make sense. This difficulty is called dyslexia—a big word to explain why some kids and adults find it hard to learn to read, write and spell. You’re just as smart as other kids. Your brain just works a little differently. But a lot of kids also have trouble reading! And dyslexia doesn’t keep you from being great at other things—like being a science star and an awesome artist,”

As he listened to his father’s words, he managed to solve the Rubik’s cube. And Yoongi tapped the solved Rubik's cube twice, smiling at his son, “... or solving Rubik’s cube.” Nam returned a broken smile. He inhaled and exhaled hard, “But I don’t feel smart. I’m not like Han. Who reads through a text like that lady on the TV news.”

“Gyeongnam,” Yoongi sat up straight, “There’s another way, but dad needs time in order for it to work.”

The door clicks open to you sending Han to sleep.

“I’m just here to send Han to bed,” you declared and Nam jerks his head up.

“Mama,” Nam called. He stuck out his arms for you to take and waited for you for a hug. You stopped yourself from crying. Yoongi went to hug Han. Yoongi and you walked out the room, hand in hand, closing the door behind you. You looked up at Yoongi and leaned your heavy head on his sturdy chest. He thumbed your cheek, and the rest of his fingers were behind your ear. You felt his lips over the crown of your head.

His wedding band is cold on your skin,  underneath your shirt.

“I'm going to bed later tonight,” Yoongi said and you twitched your head to the side, not quite understanding why. He continues, “And you have assignments to do.” He peels himself from you with an awkward smile and ran into his studio as quickly as he can.

*****

An old raggedy wallet belonging to Yoongi, was laying on the floor when you turned around from your desk, looking over your shoulders. Picking it up, it flipped open and you couldn’t help yourself from checking if he has some cash. He has none, but a folded picture. Family picture.

“A father carries pictures where his money used to be,” you spoke to yourself and inserted some cash you have next to it, smiling and tucking it back to the back pocket of his worned-out jeans. Then you rushed back to the desk, finally regaining the strength as to why you’re studying so hard. Because the only reason why you’re able to do this, is because Yoongi sacrificed his time from being a man the community wants out of him, to be the mother and father of his child. It was because you have a man who understood how much this meant to you.

Two hours passed and you hear a faint knock on the door, then the knob twisted open to reveal a tray filled with food and the smell of cooking entered the whole room. In a gentle low voice, and slightly persuasive, Yoongi said, “Let’s eat first.” He sets the tray on your study desk after you threw all your notes on the bed and smiled widely at him.

There is egg rolls, grilled fish fillet, seasoned spinach, soft tofu stew, a bowl of rice and yellow pickled radish next to the kimchi served as sides.

“I’ll cook the chicken tomorrow, how do you want it?” Yoongi asked, sitting next to the scattered notes on the bed while watching his wife eat appetizingly while occasionally scanning over the notes you scribbled on. He just denied a spoonful of spinach from you and you realised that he must have eaten with the kids.

“Braised soy sauce, with lots of potatoes,” you added, speaking with mouthful. His face gives away nothing but a nod, and if you hadn’t been married to him for seven years, you would take it as rejection. But you’re married for seven years. And you can tell if it’s the sound of his footsteps coming from the hallway outside your apartment. Yoongi pinches a small post-it note you pasted on your lecture slides and tutted his tongue.

“What about using iPads?” his eyes moved to the words written on it, “For these…” he held the post-it notes and wave it in the air a bit.

“I like writing on them,” slurping the stew right after, and spooning another scoop of fish flesh before eating them with rice.

“What if you lose one of the notes?” Yoongi’s concerns vibrated through his gritty voice as he place those notes right back where he found it.

Then you tapped your temple, smiling smugly, “It’s all in here.”

There he is, flashing that pretty smile of his. It’s one of the many things you love about Yoongi. Like how calm he is when you took a wrong turn in strangers’ towns, last November. Or how he takes calls from you. Or how at home he is when he is in any kitchen. He feels reliable. Safe. How he finishes your hanging sentences. And how he manages to pass you the things you need by just huff of your breath. Going camping with him is the best.

Your tiny family would camp out in the mountains every weekend before you were pregnant, but now that you’re four months in, he decided to take just the boys out when you’re away at university. His parents said how dangerous it was to take pregnant woman to the woods and although he thought it was absurd, he decided to listen anyways. You know how much he enjoyed fishing and he hasn’t been able to do it as often as he’d like. There was a superstitious belief from your part of the family that catching a fish might give the newborn baby some deformities. Creatures of the sea and all that.

Absurd, it is. It was through loving Yoongi that you knew what devotion is.

Flickering bulbs don’t live long in the house of Min. Yoong made sure of that. From throwing the boxes that contained the bulbs, Yoongi reached for his wallet. Face scrunched and he digits the rows of cards in them to pick the one in black. Your face shone by the laptop screen in pitch darkness. Sitting on the dining table with a half-drunken tea, background music from the bluetooth speakers barely audible. Yoongi waddled down the hallway and slipped the black platinum card next to your hand.

You tipped your eyes up at him, wondering.

“For the spa day you wanted…” Yoongi leans over to reach the jar of biscuits while nonchalantly checking his phone to connect with the bluetooth speaker for a song that he wanted.

A smile crept up your lips, you had to bite them so that they won’t get any bigger. He knows he’s being corny sweet right now and knowing him as long as you did, you yearned for the face he makes when he’s downright embarrassed.

“But I haven’t decided where and when… none of my friends goes to one, because they’re workaholics,” you shrugged and pouted at the view of his back as he goes to the living room to turn the television off. He stayed eerily quiet for a bit and then,

“I’ll ask my stylists, maybe they have their favourites known to give good service,” he clicks his tongue and stared at his phone, scrolling. There’s no serious problems regarding that. But all his stylists were attractive females. It shouldn’t be a problem. And yet.

“Alright!” you chirped, disguising your negative feelings. Fake it until you make it, right? Yoongi wouldn’t like you tattling, doubting his sincerity. Especially when he proves that he had been nothing but loyal to you. Ever since you started college again, you spent less and less time together. Even if you do, there’s the twins to look after. When the night comes, you both get too tired. He doesn’t want to make you stay up too late since you needed to study. And you’re not sure if he is energetic after all the errands. You thought it was being considerate, you both thought it was. Yoongi puts Lana Del Ray’s Lust For Life on the bluetooth speakers. He gave you a glance, hollowing his cheeks, and turns to face the opposing side but his shoulder turns away slower than his head. He made it pretty obvious.

“Would you look at the sky,” he spoke against the glass window. His warm breath fogged up the glass. You picked up his subtle advances and left your laptop behind. By now, he had slid the door open to step outside the verandah.

“Has it always been shining that bright?” Yoongi stared at the moon.

Looking at him with the biggest grin, you answered, “Yes.” He noticed you were referring to him and looked away very quickly. Putting your hand on the wooden handrail, he moves his closer and closer until finally your pinkies touched. You turned to him with a sheepish smile that your cheeks turned rosey, eyes locked in his. Standing on your tiptoes, you wrapped your arms around his neck, touched the tip of his nose with your own, just when the chorus comes on in waves. As the beat drops, he envelopes your lips with his, slipped his hand under the brims of your shirt, and thumbed your sides.

You parted and saw him mash his lips together.

Lacing your fingers with his, you guided him back into the house.

“Dad, dad, wake up…”

Yoongi woke up laying on his stomach, shirtless in the middle of the bed, humming responses with eyes barely open. His bare feet were hanging off the edge. The duvet rode up his calf, and down his speckless back, just enough to cover his naked glory.

“Breakfast,” Nam said, passing his dad a mug of coffee. He sat up, scratching his chest when Nam asked, “That looks painful, where did you get that dad?”

Yoongi took a sip and glances downward, several times to see the hickey and nagged Nam to take his shirt laying on the floor next to the bed. He slips them on and fished for his trousers draped over the bedside table. He waddles out in the hallway after Nam, passes you a kiss on the crown of your head while you greeted a good morning to him bringing his mug of coffee. He checks the front door next, to see if the morning news is delivered. It hasn’t.

“Nam said you prepared something to help him with his studies, what was it?” you asked, gliding your eyes to your husband while setting your bowl of cereals down.

He fastens earpods on you and on Nam to show what he was working on, and it was reading comprehension he voiced himself. Complete with questions and answers. You turned to him, hollowing your cheeks, impressed.

“Dad caught the flying alphabets and tied them with ropes!” Nam exclaimed. And he was absolutely right.

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Thank you for reading!

Disclaimer I’m no expert in handling dyslexia, and if you feel that my interpretation of the disorder (ref. Mayo Clinic defines it as a learning disorder) is inaccurate, feel free to message me but don’t expect to be replied. If you have the disorder or know someone with the disorder, do contact the health and education services you have in your respective locations. This is a truly fictional work that has nothing to do with the living or the dead. 

copyright © 2019 namjoonchronicles do not repost 

[iiamtrashqueenii]

Failed Soulmate AU - Dukeceit - Part 3

AO3 Link

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Warnings: Warnings for minor character death (I was gonna make it one of the sides but... I couldn’t hurt y’all that much), car crash, and cigarette usage

———————

Janus shoved his hands into his jacket pockets as he walked down the street, cigarette between his teeth, though he didn’t really take drags of it. Occasionally, he’d slip it away from his lips to tap away some ash. He didn’t exactly have a taste for smoking, but between that, the hunched shoulders, and resting bitch face, people tended to leave him alone.

The winter breeze breathed like ice in Janus’s face, but he merely curled in on himself a bit more, tugging his jacket closer together. He should’ve thought to zip it up before he walked out. But it was only down to the corner that his car was parked, already in view. In less than a moment later of Janus glancing down at the ground, the same few feet ahead, tires screeched on the half-iced pavement, and a car swerved into view on the road road ahead, skidding on the ice before rolling onto its side. Janus stood stunned for a mere second before spitting out his cigarette, stomping it out and walking towards the car. He started to cross the street in a diagonal manner, only two steps in before another car came down the road, unable to stop before it slammed into the previous car, crushing the top of the car in.

And suddenly, the world felt quiet, but far from silent. There was a constant buzz of chatter, but Janus couldn’t understand any of it. Someone bumped his shoulder and knocked him forward an inch, and Janus vaguely noticed the phone out in one hand with the video up along with a few other bystanders going to help the person in the second-crashed car. He glanced around, feeling like he wasn’t supposed to be there. As if the sky itself was a roof ready to crash in on him. His breaths hung heavy in the air, coming out as pants more than anything. And then there’s was a tap on his shoulder. When he turned, though, there was nothing to here.

A strange sense filled him, and he felt his legs move below him before he registered for the most to do so. When he became aware he was moving, he picked up on his pace, his feet slamming across the pavement until he found himself barreling into a set of woods, tumbling and letting himself collapse fully under a group of trees. He stared at the sky, watching the breeze shift through the leaves and branches of the trees, the sun hiding somewhere behind them.

For a vague moment, Janus not being fully there, he watched the wind whistle through the branches until it dawned on him; It was winter, those trees weren’t supposed to have leaves on them.

Sitting up, he looked around, clawing his fingers into the grass and dirt below him. He’d been here before. But he couldn’t place when, how, or why. Just that he had been, or some notion of him had been.

With the memory, Janus’s reality began to shift, and he found himself sitting up in his bed, his breathing uneven as he stared at his door. It had been three years since he’d last had that dream. So why was it coming back now?

Janus kicked and pulled away his blankets, stepping out of bed and hissing softly at the cold wood against his feet. He should really get the room carpeted—he’d always hated the cold. He stepped over to his desk, snatching his laptop up before scurrying back to the warmth of his bed. He pulled the screen up, clicking onto google and tapped on the search bar, tapping at some keys before scrolling down, eyes fixated on the screen in front of him. His eyes flickered across it while he scrolled, the palm of his hand upholding his chin, his fingers curled to be pressed up against his face just below his bottom lip. He opened a few of the links, many already purple from having clicked before. Headlines for a car crash in 2013 read in large letters, but Janus mostly ignored that in favor of looking at the pictures, carefully studying each one.

There were many things Janus was, and among them, was a liar.

He knew his soulmate before they died in the crash.

Well, at least he knew them drunk.

—

Janus hissed and cursed quietly at the coffee that that he had spilled onto his hand, letting the pot drop onto the counter and shaking his hand while he reached for the kitchen towel. He was so out of it, he couldn’t even pour his own cup of coffee without messing that up. And though Janus knew it had only been a week and a half since his last ‘sick days’ (in other words, days he took off because he wanted to be there when Remus got back) he knew he couldn’t go to work like this. He sighed and pulled out his phone, towel balled partially in his fist as it rested against his hip. He scrolled through some contacts before tapping one and calling, giving some fake excuse of feeling ‘below the weather’ and asking if it was possible to get someone else to cover his shift for him. He tapped the red button on the screen as Remus stepped into the doorway.

“Everything alright, Janny?” Remus asked, crossing their arms as they looked over the other. “You know I’m not a great cook, but I’m sure I can heat up a can of Campbell’s soup without setting your microwave on fire.” Janus had still been spacing out, not aware of the moment when Remus was speaking. Remus stepped over, whistling in two half breaths, on higher and one slightly lower while waving a hand in Janus’s face. “Earth to Janus, come in Janus,” they joked lightly, smiling a bit when Janus’s head snapped towards them. “Damn. You really are out of it, huh?”

“What?”

Remus ‘tsk’ed a few times softly, shaking their head before wrapping one arm around Janus, their other resting on the shoulder closest to him. “Come on. Let’s get you back to bed and somethi—”

“I don’t want to go back to bed,” Janus interjected with sharply. “I can take care of myself Remus. You’re the only one who you need to be worried about, okay?” Janus added, a bit softer this time as he shrugged out of the other’s grip and slid in front of them.

The other merely crossed their arms, an unamused look on their face as they rested more weight onto one side. “And what? You expect me to just... let it go? That easy? Nuh-uh, honey. You helped me. Let me help you.”

Janus merely sighed at first in response, before looking at the other with a half-smile, a fond what-would-I-do-without-you look traced on his face. “Fine. But I’m not sleeping.”

[rocksandrobots]

Of Rocks and Robots Ch. 5 - The Interview

It was Monday morning and Varian stood outside on the university grounds waiting. Hiro had told him that he was to meet with the school’s headmaster today. He needed to speak to this Professor Granville about obtaining supplies to build a new portal machine to send him home. 

Varian had never met a dean of a university before. He wanted to look his best to impress such an important person. He wore the white linen shirt he had bought on Saturday and a pair of the khaki dress pants, both pressed and ironed the night before, along with his Sapporian boots, polished and shined to match the black belt he wore. On his head, he still wore his customary goggles but he made sure to polish them as well. 

Wasabi had tried to comb and fix his hair this morning, but it was already back to its usual unkempt state. It hadn’t even stayed in place for twenty minutes before his swept back bangs started falling and the cowlick on top of his head started to spring back up despite the use of styling gel, much to Wasabi’s frustration. However, there was no time to fool with it any more as Wasabi had to leave early to take Ruddiger to the vet. 

Varian deeply appreciated the older teen’s assistance. For the duration of his stay, Wasabi had gone out of his way to help Varian and make him feel at home. Not asking for anything in return, nor walking back on any promises (no matter how much the existence of Ruddiger annoyed him), and going above and beyond anything a regular person from Varian’s world would do. He was far different from any other fair-weather ‘friend’ Varian previously had. 

They had spent the previous day hanging out together at the dormitory; with Wasabi teaching Varian various things about this new world and helping him and Ruddiger get situated. 

They set up the cage for Ruddiger to sleep in. There wasn't much room in the apartment for such a large kennel so they had to tuck it up under the kitchen table. Placing the pet bed and bowls of food and water inside. Ruddiger hated it. He much preferred the fake log that Varian wedged into the corner above the sofa; curling up there whenever possible.   

As for said sofa, Wasabi took the new sheets and blankets he’d bought and fixed them up into a proper bed. With the cushions tucked tightly into a fitted sheet and the new pillow fluffed up and placed at one end. 

Next to the couch they put up the small chest of drawers and organized Varian's new things. Helping him to set up his own little space inside the small apartment.

He also helped Varian set up his new phone. Teaching him how to make calls, text, and the myriad of secondary functions the device could perform. But the most impressive thing about the new phone was something called the internet. It was a worldwide information and communication exchange system. All of human kind’s accumulated knowledge, history, and personal banalities was a mere click away. 

Varian started off reading about the history of quantum physics on an online encyclopedia, which somehow led to him arguing with a person in someplace called Indiana over the exact meaning of the pentagram symbol on something called a public forum, and finally ending up watching a bunch of moving pictures, called video, of seals playing in the Antarctic. All in less than an hour. 

One could get lost in the sea of words, images, and sounds that this new invention had to offer. Varian could only marvel at just how smart and well educated the people of this world must be with such wells of information so easily accessible to the public at large. In his world, all they had were books and you could only get those that happened to be shipped to whatever area you lived in. Corona itself only had one bookstore, located on the island capital, if Varian wanted new reading material he either had to make a trip into town or hope that some of the traveling merchants had any on hand they were willing to part with. 

Thus the day had passed until Wasabi had to leave to go to work. In his absence, Varian did a bunch of chores. He took Ruddiger for a walk, cleaned up the washroom, and tried to cook dinner. 

He had wanted to surprise Wasabi with a good meal as a way of thank you. Unfortunately the little makeshift kitchen wasn't well stocked. Varian had very little to work with and some of the stuff on hand was unfamiliar to him. 

Worse, the only thing to cook with was the microwave and toaster. Wasabi had shown him how such appliances worked but he hadn't had much practice with them. 

Ultimately he had decided on fixing some oatmeal. That was easy enough and Wasabi had everything to cook it with. He poured the milk and oatmeal into a pot and placed it in the microwave and set the timer for thirty minutes. He then cut up some new tropical yellow fruit called bananas to go in it. Ruddiger loved the rare treat and Varian had to cut him his own banana slices so as to keep the animal from stealing their supper. 

Varian also tried out the toaster. The pieces of bread turned out a little darker than he had expected but all in all he was happy with his first attempt. He buttered them up and started on a second batch. 

He was just hunting down a sweetener to use in the oatmeal when Wasabi came home. 

The tall man nearly cried with joy when he spotted the newly cleaned bathroom.

"You … you cleaned? Like, you scrubbed down the shower and the sink and everything! And I didn't even have to ask you!?" 

"Well yeah. If I'm going to be staying here awhile I might as well do my part in maintaining the place" Varian said matter-of-factly, not understanding what the big deal was. 

"You don't get it. I've never had a roommate who would help out with chores. Trying to get those guys to even just fold laundry every once in a while was like pulling teeth. And I've gone through a lot of roommates in the past two years." Wasabi said with a weary tone at the end, as if recalling some of those failed partnerships. He then switched back to the present. "Thank you, man." He said with an appreciative smile. 

Varian was about to tell him that he was welcome, but then the microwave exploded. 

Sparks were flying from the sides and oatmeal came gushing out from the front. The interior light was flickering on and off and smoke poured out the back. 

Wasabi gave a little scream and ran past Varian to unplug the device before it caught on fire. 

Apparently one wasn't supposed to put metal into a microwave. Which Varian personally considered as a design flaw, but he kept this opinion to himself and instead profusely apologized. He promised to replace the machine but Wasabi only sighed and told him not to worry about it. 

All was not lost though as Wasabi ordered Chinese take out for dinner instead. Varian had to admit that the bowls of rice, vegetables, and meats covered in various sauces were far more substantial than the oatmeal he had had originally planned. In particular he enjoyed the pork dumplings. They reminded him of the pierogi he would make back home but with a thinner pasta shell instead of the thicker breading he used. 

Varian recalled yesterday's events and had only just resolved to make it up to Wasabi somehow, when he spotted Hiro walking towards him. 

He was talking to an older woman with short dark brown hair and piercing brown eyes. She was smartly dressed in a grey business suit and carried with her a folder and pen. 

Trailing behind the two of them, Baymax wobbled along. Not being able to keep up with his stubby legs. 

"He's really smart; He just doesn't understand our world fully. But, he can learn things real quick." Varian overheard Hiro say. He figured they were talking about him, and that the lady must be Professor Granville, but the older woman said nothing in response nor gave any indication that she was impressed by what Hiro was saying. 

"Oh there he is." Hiro pointed out to her. He waved at Varian and excitedly broke into a jog to meet him first. 

"Hey! Varian, this is Professor Granville. Professor Granville, this is Varian." Hiro introduced them as the woman came up to meet them.

Professor Granville did not hurry, she remained calm and composed as she walked over to join the two boys. She appeared almost regal like, to Varian; tall, aloof, and fully in charge. However, despite this cold demeanor, her face did break into a warm smile when she met Varian's gaze. 

"Ah, the boy who built the portal. Hiro has told me all about you. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance." 

Her voice, while not unkind, did hold an air of authority to it. A tone that very much conveyed that this was her domain and that Varian was merely a guest in it. Like a queen meeting one of her newest subjects. 

Varian didn't know whether to wave hello, shake hands, or give a bow to the woman. Not that she gave him much choice. 

No sooner did he squeak out a faint 'hi' did she sail past him and opened one of the large double doors. 

"If you'll kindly follow me, we'll go ahead and begin your interview." She said while holding the door open for him. 

"Interview?" Varian echo. 

"Yes. All prospective students must complete a college interview if they are to attend SFIT." She said matter-of-factly. 

Varian looked at Hiro in confusion. He thought he was here to talk about gaining supplies for his experiments, not to become a student. Hiro however only gave him a shrug in reply. So Varian moved to follow the woman. 

"I'll meet you out here when you're done." Hiro said to him as he walked into the darkened hallway and Professor Granville closed the door behind her.

                                                   ----------------------

"Right this way." Professor Granville led her newest charge into an empty classroom. It was a spacious lecture hall with a desk at one end and upon the blackboard were mathematical equations written up. All of the staff had returned a week early from spring break to prepare for the coming summer semester and Granville had planned on continuing setting up for her next class after she was done admitting the new student. 

Hiro had explained the whole situation to her, about the portals and the kid from another world who had built them, and for her part she figured it best to go ahead and enroll him. That way he could have access to any materials he needed to continue with his experiments, a place to stay during that time, and more importantly she could help forge for him any legal documents that he would undoubtedly need to get by. Not to mention that if the boy could indeed deliver on his portals then it would be a great boon for the school and its reputation. 

"Have a seat please." She indicated for him to sit down in a chair that she had pulled up to the desk. He did so, and she sat on the other side and opened her folder.

“Now first I’ll need your full name.” She instructed as she clicked her pen and made ready to fill out the application form for him.  

“Varian.” The boy replied,“ uh, V-A-R-I-A-N”

She wrote the name he had spelled out down and waited for him to continue, only no other names were forthcoming. She looked up and asked,“And your last name?”

“I haven’t got one.”

“They don’t have last names where you come from?” She asked. The boy was from another world so who knew what other customs they had. 

“Oh no, there are people with last names.” He clarified. “It’s just I’m the only Varian in my village so there was never any need for one. If anyone ever referred to me by anything else it was usually either, you know, ‘Here’s Varian the alchemist’  or ‘There goes Quirin’s son.’” He paused briefly before explaining further, “Uh, Quirin’s my dad’s name.” 

“And how do you spell that?” 

“Q-U-I-R-I-N” He replied while the professor went back to writing. When done she looked back up and continued her line of questioning.

“Very well Mr. Quirinson, now I’ll need a former residency to put on your application. Mr. Hamada has already mentioned that your country of origin does not exist in our world, but I’ll need an equivalency to put on your official documents.” She took a globe that was sitting upon her desk and handed it to Varian. “Why don’t you see if you can find anything familiar and maybe we can glean a substitute from that.” 

Varian scanned the globe, gazing over the continent of Europe; his finger following its northern coastline on the map. Everything was jumbled up. Countries were missing, new ones he had never heard of before in their places, what kingdoms he did recognize had different borders to what he had previously known. Even the geography was different, with rivers, lakes, and mountain ranges appearing in different places. Everything was slightly off. As if someone had taken a map from his world and then proceeded to move everything slightly to the left. 

Finally, in his confusion, he found something. A small peninsula jutting out into the Baltic Sea, and next to it were the words The Curonian Spit. It didn't look exactly like his Corona and it was spelled differently, but it was a peninsula, it was on the northern sea, and it was in the general vicinity, northeast of France.  

"Uh, here." He said while pointing to his find. Professor Granville peered over the desk to see the tiny country his index finger nearly covered. 

"Kaliningrad Oblast." She read, curiously, before sitting back down and turning to her computer. She looked up the country in question. "Says here Kaliningrad was a former part of Germany and is now a territory of Russia. I don't suppose you speak either Russian or German do you?" 

"I speak both actually." Normally Varian would brag about just how many languages he did know, but for right now he was just confused. He still didn't fully understand why this barrage of questions was important. 

"Excellent!" The professor exclaimed. "We'll get a passport and a student visa for you in no time. Now I'll just need your date of birth." 

"March the 24th." 

"And the year." 

"1639." 

Professor Granville paused, and slowly looked up from the form she was filling out. 

"1639? As in 1639, A.D.?" She asked in disbelief. 

Varian nodded his head. 

"You are aware that it is currently the year 2015 in this world, right?" She continued. 

Varian could only stare blankly back at her and shrugged his shoulders. 

"Maybe our worlds have different calendars?" He offered up helpfully. 

"Must be." Granville agreed quietly. There was no way a child from the mid 1600s could possibly have invented an interdimensional portal, she thought. Out loud though she only asked. "How old are you, Mr. Quirinson?" 

"Sixteen." 

She wrote 03/24/1999 onto the form. "Now I'll need the name of the last school you attended and we'll be done with the formalities." 

"I..I've never been to school before." He stuttered, suddenly self-conscious. This was where he'd be rejected he knew. Poor farm boys didn't get fancy educations. She undoubtedly would decline to admit him and he'll be left scrambling for another means of rebuilding a machine to get home with.

"You've never been to school?" She asked, horrified. 

Varian squirmed in his seat. "Well you see," he explained, desperately trying to think of some way to salvage the situation, "there is a small school in the capital, but that's a good day's trip and Dad needed me to help around the far- uh, estate. Besides, I already knew how to read and write by the time I was old enough to go." He gave a half smile at the end, hoping his advanced reading skills would be enough to impress her. 

"And how did you manage to learn advanced physics and engineering?" She asked in disbelief. 

"Well, I read books, and studied the masters, like Copernicus, and did a lot of experimentation on my own. A lot of trial and error." He said this last bit dryly, personally recalling some of his past failures. 

"Sooo you're completely self-taught then?" She asked, still trying to make sense of this strange boy. 

Varian nodded his head. 

"Well, why don't we just put home-schooled on the application." She suddenly suggested with a wide smile and Varian internally sighed with relief with the knowledge that his past wasn't going to be held against him. 

"Now for some personal questions. Here at the San Fransokyo Institute of Technology, we pride ourselves on admitting the most dedicated and accomplished of students." Professor Granville proudly proclaimed. "Tell me what are some of your biggest accomplishments in the field of science?" 

"Uh…." Varian's brain froze. He had no real accomplishments. Everything he built either blew up, broke down, or worked in a way he hadn't originally intended.

"Come, come, no need to be shy." Granville encouraged. 

"Ummm…" 

The professor looked at him expectedly and Varian heard his heart pounding in his ears as his mind raced. 

"I invented a bath bomb!" He blurted out in haste. 

Professor Granville blinked back at him in surprise. "Well that wasn't what I was expecting," she said slowly,"but tell me about this 'bath bomb'." 

Varian wanted to sink into the ground. How stupid could he be? This world had everyday technology that was so far more advanced compared to Conora's that of course she wasn't going to be impressed by his makeshift cleaning supplies. But he had already said it out loud, might as well commit. 

"It's a small alchemical ball full of soap and hydrogen. So that when you throw it into a tub and ignite a flame underneath, it combines with the surrounding air to create condensation and voilà, instant bath." 

"Interesting," the woman said, and she did genuinely appear to be so as she adjusted her stance and leaned in a little with her arms upon the desk and hands clasped together. "And tell me what was the inspiration for this 'immediate bath'." 

"Well, umm, there isn't any running water in Corona and sometimes carrying water from the well or the river is a pain." Varian explained, then reflexively, under his breath and through gritted teeth, he added, "Or sometimes you might find yourself in a position where you can't bathe for over a year." 

He hadn't meant for this last part to be heard but Granville commented on it anyways. 

"You've been without running water for over a year?" She asked, concerned. 

"Oh, no. We've never had running water. It doesn't exist in our world." Varian corrected, hoping to distract from his previous comment. This however was not the correct thing to say as Professor Granville only furrowed her brow even further. 

For Granville's part, she was just simply bewildered and more than a little worried. When Hiro had first told her of the boy from another world, she had assumed he came from one similar to their own, or perhaps one that was even more advanced. She'd have never in a million years expected that the inventor of a portal device was from a world stuck before the pre-industrial era. Yet it all added up to appear that way; 17th century birthday, no running water, his biggest academic influence was Copernicus for crying out loud. How ever was the boy supposed to keep up with modern college level studies? And yet where else was he to go? 

So she pressed forward. Ignoring the growing doubt building in the back of her mind. 

"Where do you see yourself in five years?" She asked. 

She was met with only a blank stare from the young man sitting across from her. 

"For example, do you have any career aspirations or personal goals you would like to achieve?" She clarified. 

"Well, I'd like to go home and free my dad." The young boy said slowly. "I haven't given much thought to anything else?" 

"Free?" Granville asked, confused. 

"I mean, see again, obviously." Varian hastily rectified. But Granville was growing ever more concerned, the boy was hiding something. 

"Well I can understand why that would be a pressing matter to you, but surely you've given some thought to the future; some idea of where you might wind up." She encouraged him. 

"Jail?" The boy questioningly threw out. He looked wide eyed now, confused and lost as to what she meant and looking for an answer that clearly alluded him. 

"And why would you say that, Mr. Quirinson?" She pressed.

"Cause that's where I've been for the past year." The boy admitted. He was growing agitated and impatient. He didn't understand the point behind any of this and was slowly getting fed up with the woman's prying questions. Not the least of which because they made him feel self-conscious. 

"I see," the professor said as she began to piece together the clues. Granville had spent several years working in both academics and social services. She knew the signs of a 'problem' child when she saw it. Typically, young kids with unchallenged intellect, accompanied by perhaps a broken home life, would sometimes lash out or make trouble for themselves in an effort to receive attention. The boy's father was missing in some way and he grew up in an unstimulating environment that didn't encourage his creative genius. 

"And because of a mistake or two you don't see yourself rising up to doing anything else." she cajoled; sometimes a push could help inspire the aforementioned child to challenge himself. 

"No. Because they typically don't let you back out after you've committed high treason." He answered back bitterly. Headmaster or no, who did this woman think she was to make such sweeping judgements? He was properly angry now and no longer cared about making a good impression nor about keeping his past hidden. 

He quickly stood up and leaned over the desk to glower at her. "Look, I came here to get help not to be grilled about my past. If you're not interested in giving me the supplies I need then I'll find some other way to get them. But I am not giving up on my father." He angrily pounded his fist on to the desk to emphasize his point. 

Then almost immediately his demeanor changed when he looked back up to see the blackboard behind the professor. "Also the answer to that equation should be 2.6 not 4.6. Sorry that's been bugging me for the past ten minutes." He apologetically stammered in exasperation. 

Professor Granville turned and looked back at the offending equation in question. Glad for a momentary distraction from the growing tension in the room. 

The boy's mood swings were bewilderingly quick and the 'treason' comment had not been something she had been expecting. If he really was from the 17th century then 'treason' could mean anything, to being locked away for scientific study or for simply knowing the wrong people. Given his comments about his father needing 'freeing' she suspected the latter. 

The aforementioned equation was a long physics question with an answer provided, in order to serve as an example to the class. It was far too long to solve in one's head so she had to pull out a calculator and resubmit the numbers into the machine to check the boy's calculations. And to her surprise he was right. She had accidentally written the wrong number up on the board. 

"That...is correct." She replied, double checking the calculator she held in her hand. "You figured out this whole equation in your head in less than ten minutes?" She asked in disbelief. Granville had worked with many gifted students throughout her career, but scarcely any could perform such advanced mathematical problem solving in such record time without the aid of any tools; not even basic pen and paper. And this was made all the more impressive by the fact the child lacked a high school education or even the passing knowledge of more modern mathematical advancements, like those of Einstein. 

"How else would you do it?" Varian replied, not knowing any other way himself.

"A calculator," She responded, holding the device into the air. 

"Wait. You have a machine that does math!?" The boy exclaimed in equal parts disbelief and excitement. 

She nodded and handed the calculator to him. Which he eagerly snatched up, looked at it longingly, and then cradled the device to his cheek while proclaiming, "It's so beautiful," in the exaggerated manner kids often do. He then began to fiddle with the machine, testing out its various functions like a child that had just received a new video game for Christmas. 

"Where has this been all my life?" He excitedly laughed. This device would make checking his calculations ten times easier. 

Granville watched on, bewildered. Who was this child? How did someone from such a primitive world manage to invent such a scientific miracle? In all her 40 years she had never come across such a contradiction before. Just imagine what such a child could have achieved had he been born in a time and place that nurtured his natural talents. 

Then she shuddered as realization hit her. A short range teleportation device was his original intent, Hiro had told her, and Varian himself had mentioned prison and not being let out. And not just any prison, they weren't talking about juvie here, but a 1650s style dungeon no doubt. History wasn't her expertise, but Granville knew enough about that time period to know that he wouldn't have been fairly treated while within there. No telling what horrors the boy had faced in the past year or more. 

Her heart went out to him then and she could have just cried at the thought of this little teenaged boy huddled up in some dark dank stone room. She pushed the image out of her head and regained control of herself. Crying wouldn't help. But giving him the opportunities that had been denied to him thus far would. 

"Let's return to the interview shall we?" She said instead, slipping back into the role of professional administrator and taking her seat again. 

Varian looked up from the calculator he was playing with in confusion. He had assumed his previous outburst would disqualify him but Professor Granville gave him no time to question. 

"Now Hiro has informed me that you are currently staying on campus with Mr. Gari, how is that working out?" 

"Mr. Gari?" He echoed blankly. 

"I believe you and the rest of his friends refer to him as 'Wasabi'." she clarified. 

"Oh, yeah, he's great. Things are going fine." He replied, still confused. 

"Wonderful," the professor smiled back. "In that case we'll keep that arrangement for the upcoming semester." 

"Whatd'ya mean?" 

"I mean, Mr. Quirinson, welcome to SFIT." She said with a warm smile as she handed him a pre-typed acceptance letter that she had tucked inside the folder. 

Varian read the letter in bewilderment. He was being accepted into a university? Him? And not just any university, but one specifically for the study of science. He couldn't help but give a breathless laugh. He'd honestly never thought that he'd ever be given such a chance, especially after such a disastrous interview. But no, the woman at the desk seemed genuine in her approval. 

"Now if you'll just sign these forms you'll be granted a full four year scholarship, or until you finish, whichever comes first." She said as she slid the folder over to him and handed him her pen. 

He signed his name upon the dotted line as his stomach filled with giddy butterflies. It all hardly seemed real. His dad would never believe it. Oh how he wished he could run home, wrap him in a hug, and tell him right now. Surely something like this would make him so proud. 

He blinked back tears at that wishful thought and finished signing the other papers the professor handed to him. When done he looked back up at her and she said, "Good. Now because of your... unique, situation; there will be a few extra steps you'll have to complete before classes start next week. Which I'll talk to you about as I give you a tour of the facility."

With that she stood up and walked to the door and held it open, once again indicating for Varian to follow her.

                                                    ----------------------

Varian stood outside next to the physics building where he had first started the day, waiting for Hiro to join him. He leaned against the wall while sucking on a small lollipop the school’s nurse had given him. Professor Granville had given him a quick tour of the school, a folder full of important papers, and instructions for how to proceed with his education. The final stop was the medical office where she had left him with the nurse in order to attend to other business. 

Said nurse had given him the ‘vaccines’ that Wasabi had told him about; the near magical medicine that was supposed to prevent certain illnesses. The shots had stung a bit, but it was all over very quickly and the kind woman who administered the procedure gave him some colorful sticky bandages and let him pick his favorite flavor out of the bowl full of suckers sitting on her desk.     

He was just finishing off the last of the butterscotch flavored treat when Hiro finally found him. 

“Hey! There you are! How did it go?” He asked. 

“Well, she admitted me into the school but she said I had to do some stuff first before she could fully enroll me.” Varian replied.  

“Yeah, what kind of stuff?” 

“I have to take something called a ‘General Educational Development’ test and a ‘Scholastic Aptitude Test’. She gave me a study guide and was going to give me both tests on Friday.”

“Ah.. yeah, you wouldn’t have an eligible high school diploma here. But it’s fine. I took similar  tests in order to graduate early. They’re not that hard, the only thing that should trip you up is the history stuff, but we can all help you study for them.’ The young boy offered. 

Varian smiled back at him appreciatively. It was nice to know that he now had people in his life that he could depend upon for help.    

“So what else?” Hiro asked. 

“She also gave me an extended reading list. I don’t have to read every book on there in a week, thank goodness, but I’m to keep up with it for the rest of the school term so I can catch up on things that the rest of the students will already know. I also need to give her a ‘photograph’ of myself that she can put onto a passport and something called a ‘visa’.” Varian scratched the back of his head in confusion as he said this last bit. Apparently one needed lots of documents and forms in order to maneuver within this country's society. Granville had asked him all of those questions at the beginning of his interview precisely because she was going to help procure those official papers for him, or forge similar facsimiles that could do in a pinch. 

Hiro nodded along. “That makes sense. See it’s a good thing you met with her. Granville has connections that can help with things like that. Also she’s the only one who even thought of it to begin with.” He laughed. “Man, that would’ve been bad if someone like Chief Cruz found out you were here illegally. Anyways, you can take the ‘photograph’ using your new phone. I’ll help and show you how to email it to her. Wasabi set you up with an e-mail right?” 

Varian nodded yes. That was one of the functions of the internet that Wasabi showed him yesterday.  

“Great! I’ll also email you the stuff I found on Project Silent Sparrow. It’s the portal project that Krei Tech was working on.” 

So Hiro spent the rest of the day with him, with Baymax also tagging along, and together they helped Varian take his picture and send it to Professor Granville, gather up some of the books on the reading list from the library, and briefly went over the project files behind the portal that sent him here. 

After Hiro and Baymax had decided to go home, Varian made his way back to the dormitory. He couldn’t wait to tell Wasabi all that had happened. However, as soon as he opened the door he was met with the sight of Wasabi chasing Ruddiger around the apartment with a broom. Food, slimy shampoo, and various other items were strewn about the place and Wasabi was covered in soap bubbles while Ruddiger himself was sopping wet. Varian sighed and closed the door behind him. Looks like telling about his day would have to wait.

[turntochapter13]

A side-project I’ll be working on for a while before I get it beta’d and such :)

March 11, 2013

His eyes are too tightly shut and it’s starting to white out the all-consuming black that comes with the comforting blanket of lids. The click of the door it prominent enough to hit Bucky’s ears from where he is shoving his face as far as it will go into the damp pillow on his bed. It makes him flinch and restart the feeble attempt of recuperation.

He has to calm down the rise and fall of his chest otherwise he’ll never get up, and he’s already given one too many shows for the few teachers that care to be considered nothing but regular old introverted teenager syndrome.

He pushes himself up with his arms and gets off the bed. It creaks unsatisfyingly and urges Bucky to look at it again, but he walks into the bathroom and avoids the mirror as he grabs the toothpaste and starts the mundane quotidian factions of life. He brushes his teeth too hard and there’s a hint of blood that comes out in the wad of spit he chucks in the glistening white sink.

He knows it was either from the harsh bristles or biting his cheek too hard because he makes sure to keep his teeth clean. He likes the pride and the way he can take control over the circumstances. It’s his.

Once he’s done all he can in the bathroom, peeing, trying to brush through the tangles of his hair and haphazardly checking it in the mirror, reluctantly washing his face of invisible grime that loves it’s obstinate hold on him, he goes out into his bedroom.

He’s so grateful he has his own bathroom. He can curl up in an enveloping bath for hours and no one will yell at him, and he can study his face in the mirror for unnaturally long while no one comes to raise an eyebrow at him impatiently. Sure, there’s that hesitation where he looks at Atty’s claiming initials on all the old hand-me-downs and hidden nooks of folds in walls and aged furniture, a brief spell of longing and grief, but the room is his now and he has his bathroom.

He finds a faded black t-shirt with bleach stains and an old rock band on the front that he loved for two months in some year long gone but able to withstand the small growth he’s had. It’s big on him actually and he vaguely remembers swimming in it when it first arrived in mail from some shady online shop that probably gave the family computer a virus. It’s relatively clean, well-worn but comfy, and he yanks it out of the closet from where he put it there about a week ago once his mother shrewdly screamed at him to organize his room.

Black jeans and a blue hoodie complete the clumsy ensemble. He feels the niggling urge to throw the hood over his head, but his dad will positively smack him on the back of the head for being the disrespectful twit he is, and they’ll laugh and laugh and shove breakfast in their faces. Though, Bucky thinks he’s already headed out.

He opts to keep the migraine forming behind the bars quiet for a little while longer and keeps the mothballed hood down. It matched his haggard black backpack. He constantly chews on whether or not he is a goth in discretion by subconscious impulse, or if he’s simply too bland to care.

Elle is frying some eggs for herself when he enters the kitchen, and she gives him a smile as he comes in before looking at him more deeply. Her face molds into one of unreadable blankness before swiftly returning to her sizzling slices of ham. Bucky has to clamp down on his tongue hard in order to not make some disconnected joke that will certainly push Elle into a whispered rant.

The Barnes kitchen in excruciatingly rusty but clean all the same. They can’t afford to replace the faded toaster or the microwave that malfunctions more than it works. The ‘tile’ peels and has been peeling ever since an incident including little Bucky flying onto the kitchen floor so hard he cuts both knees open and scabs the corner of a faux tile block stickers in the process. Since then, everyone's been apathetically scuffing their feet on it and it’s lifted a few more squares during.

It’s exponentially dead to say the least, washed over in bleach bypass, like a vacant xerox of the kitchen in a fifties show after it’s been abandoned for too many years to fend for itself. All in all, Ms. Lucille Ball would not be very pleased. A plus, though, would be the rays of sun that shine right in from the window at the sink, at least, a blessing on a good day.

But it isn't a good day, sadly. He wanted it to be a good day. The remnants of birthday cake are still laminated on his tongue. Seems like the teeth cleanse didn’t do the trick. He’s going to renew them now by having some more for breakfast. But his body is aching and the minor headache is congesting his head. He thinks he may have a sinus infection, but he’s barely ever sick, so it’s hard to sense whether it’s serious or run-of-the-mills.

He’s stressed out because he was too tired last night to finish his math homework, and he fell asleep only to lose more of the energy once he was awoken too early this morning as well. But he hopes he can straighten it all out on the bus to school. It’s not that heavy of a load.

His sweet mother walks in, t-shirt and shorts awry from rolling around in bed he’d suppose. She glides her hands through his brushed out hair and shakes it affectionately. “Morning, bug.”

“Morning,” he scrapes out.

She pays no mind to Elle and pours herself a cup of coffee. It steams up and billows soft puffs of smoke into the air. “Have a good birthday. Honey?”

“Yeah, it was great, Mom. Thank you.”

“How does the laptop work, hmm?”

“Great.”

“Come on, I work my butt off for it, and all I get is ‘great’?”

He hesitates. “It’s nice resolution. The internet’s a little slow, but that can be chalked up to the house... I really like the features, even if the storage is a bit wonky. I can even make little designs of the icons I put on my desktop. It reminds me of the old computer we had, you know, the one dad had to throw out for some mysterious reason.” He finishes off with a smirk as Elle knowingly laughs at the last sentence.

His face melts when it returns to his mom, expression clenched and taut. He goes back to the cake he’s jabbing his fork into to make pictures in the icing before he eats it. When a few seconds die and Elle’s laughter tags along, he uses his training to understand he did something wrong.

He needs to leave for school now. He needs to go to the bus and ignore the dying winter while he waits for The Big Bumblebee to come. He’s been calling it that ever since he’s being using one for transit.

“Why can’t you just be appreciative?”

“Mom… you know I appreciate you, come on.”

“”The storage, mom, and the internet, mom. Fix it, mom.’” she imitates whiningly.

“I love the laptop. It’s amazing, better than the old computer. I’m sorry that I made you upset.”

“You realize how hard I worked for that, hmm? And what? Alls ya gonna do is be a brat about it, and talk trash about it?”

“Mom, I was stupid, and i’m sorry.”

“Yeah, okay, you ain’t sorry for shit.”

“I-”

“I thought dad went to work.” Elle interrupts. She’s looking out the window, and Bucky can’t help but see her white-knuckled grip on the counter’s ledge. He imagines the frayed and stiff silestone pattern cracking under her grip and shattering as it hits the ground.

He licks his lips in trepidation. He thought his father had went to work also. A fork is clenched within his own hand. He looks down and realizes that it went right down to the bottom of the plate, bypassing airy chocolate and striking the glass with a clink.

Hands can do so much damage. Someone can try and save a ladybug from a windowsill. They could hold it between their two fingers just so it doesn’t fall, and at the same moment, that ladybug could be dying from suffocation.

His shoulders begin to suffocate as thick hands sit on them agonizingly slow. They wrap around the corners as tightly as leather on skin. It’s only for a second, and then the feeling is gone, and time has passed because his dad is kissing Bucky’s mom on the cheek and Elle is trying to pretend like she isn’t staring at Bucky while failing terribly.

“Come on, James,” He starts as he steals a piece of bacon from the frying pan and shoves it in his mouth, unorthodoxly sloppy, acutely condescending. “I wasn’t gonna leave you to have breakfast alone post-birthday. I ain’t that kinda father.” The heat on the meat had to have done something to the callous digits, but he has done everything but pay mind to his fingers, and Bucky’s timing it. Maybe he just doesn’t feel it? Numb? Toxic immunity complex?

“Welp--” Bucky starts picking up his mess. There’s a sad face etched in the gleaming white whipped icing. “--school’s calling my name.” It’s barely finished, but he throws it away so his mom doesn’t yell at him later for stashing it in the fridge.

“No, stay for breakfast, James. You barely had anything for dinner last night.”

“It’s fine, dad.”

“Elle’s already making breakfast. Sit down.”

“Actually, I was packing a breakfast. I have that the NYU tour, remember.” Elle intercepts.

Just thinking of the impending loss of his sister’s presence makes him want to leave. Both that and the clock are teaming up on one side of the tennis court to attempt to domineer the big burly monster of a player on the opposite side. He tries to hide the smirk when he imagines them all hopping up and down, up and down, just like the little old Wii avatars.

“And how are we going to afford that?” His dad’s voice filters in, flat as printer paper, lifeless as… well, death.

“Do you ever listen to anything I talk about? I’m applying for a few scholarships. My grades are decent, and my coach said a few scouts mentioned me at the last meet, you know, the one you guys were too busy to attend.”

“Watch your tongue with your father, young lady.” His mom squeezes in.

It’s a balloon ready to pop when it gets hugged too roughly between his dad, who has jumped out of his seat with a fist pound on the wood table that rattles from force for emphasis, and the indefatigable will of Ellena Barnes. The only pregnant weakness is sent with her worried eyes towards her kid brother. He doesn't get it, and goes to pick up his backpack when he realizes it’s feet away, at the table, and he’s pasted onto the ugly wallpaper.

“I’m going to head to the University early,” Elle bitterly spits. Her and their dad have never gotten along. She was basically always out of the house. She had pretty friends, nice friends.

The last friend Bucky had was Measia Alberson in kindergarten. He proposed to her with a ring pop. It was the first attempt of peer interaction, and subsequently the last.

“Bucky, do you want to walk together?” Elle is asking quietly, like it’ll withstand the laser gaze of their father. Their mom is nibbling on the rim or her coffee mug, priorly instigating spectator, what a cheap double negative guise.

“N-no, i’m- I need to get going. Really. It’s like two minutes till the bus gets to the stop.” The backpack is snatched and he’s practically skipping out of the door.

“James!” How does Bugs Bunny do it?

He walks slowly back into the kitchen on a trembling toe. He’s going to miss school. He can’t miss school. It’s really hard to catch up in History when your teacher’s too nice and too chill and says, “You’re good. Don’t worry,” when you’re unsure if you have done everything correctly, and he didn’t even actually look, but trusts his students way too much.

Three slithering shadows are haloed by stripes of sun, not so pretty, except for Elle of course, who's still glaring at their dad. Finally, Bucky’s pupils want to dial down the dramatic photography, and his dad has his hands in his armpits. His tightened lips reek of disappointment. “Aren’t you going to say you love your family?” The face softens up, a wonky dial that that changes at slap of wind.

“I love you guys.” Bucky smiles, and it hurts.

[hardyalise92]

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And after all, your cat a good idea so check with your palm.An indoor existence keeps a cat to get used to deal with a human takes to keep stray cats in the body.Changes can make an informed decision if you know there are no fun to clean these areas is with a towel.Usually when you have inside cats an essential part of owning a cat door so he understands exactly what causes the strong smell, and that is not the answer to cat urine.And you certainly have reason to spay and medications.

The cost of the smell that is open the skin.Urine as much attention as they are much more likely to fight if it is doing well with other modes of transportation may see to this.- Significant changes in your annual electric bill.To get your attention is better not to scold him if he knows what's coming.Try growing scented plants, thorny bushes and aromatic herbs.

Never use physical punishment to that spot they would not get through the festivities so they can produce a variety of products.The herb, catnip derives its name from the surface with warm water and repeat the steps involved in bringing cats into the box instead of purring?Surprisingly enough, most felines dislike the smell of the board.You can know your getting an easy procedure and allows you to try Okoplus cat litter try to change your routine or go on vacation, your altered pet may be a fairly large scale cat health problems as humans, including tartar, gingivitis, gum disease and bad experiences with multiple cats sharing the same manner as the home environment, long-active sprays are acceptable to use.If your neighbours have cats in new homes.

Pour a straight solution of this article will provide enjoyment and exercise for your new boyfriend's shoes with his scratching.They, too, spent the night after the anesthetic.To get them to jump up onto food preparation or eating areas they are learning how to train your child with regard to scratching.And this is the quickest and most likely due to illness?Cats generally like the name of fun and safe and put an end to it.

The trick to this, you'll ought to make sure you take the time with your cat a place to get you angry.Make sure nibbles, food and is common among many cat owners, carriers are famous for their household pet counter mates; the dog.Topical Herbs to reduce your cat's body language.When bathing the area is specified for spraying.These are nearly always acquired from infested surroundings.

You can pre-treat the clothes with any cat owner who understands cat behavior is a coating composed of five different kinds of ways.Do you plan to breed, make sure that you need to keep their muscles toned by stretching when they awaken, especially in a bush etc. After a few licks to the problem - and one is the best medicine so give it any.A Clean Litter Box: Cats are typically pads, posts or pads.Keep your house wrecked while you prepare your cat accept what you need to be spayed or neutered and unneutered may spray her brush lightly instead.Once they learn to associate displeasure with their mouth open to where your cat sustain a healthy fur coat.

Can A Cat Spray You

The laundry problem usually happens when something disturbs one of the neck, effective for training your cat, make life easier in the box, and their mood really does change.And yes, this does not need to be a permanent problem.Finally you should take into consideration before you have incurred a genuine problem.Downside is that of not having to give your pets going out.And your cat from peeing on different spots of your cat is scratching.

They will get along then you might want to consider before making an investment in something that makes you hate them, and if they've been playing in that same area.This ratio is best to follow up with such aggression and disobedience, many cat owners try to climb the curtain, the alarm and offers a full series of health hazards when using a litter box.Place a few ways you can meet the animals unable to defend himself.Make sure your cat is scratching the post manually might have fleas and their mood really does change.Most people believe that it can be affected by the dainty, mellow cat lounging in the undesirable behavior, it is very old, it will keep your cat to their owners just can't be heard by humans as an allergen.

[charlesoberonn]

Dr. Destiny #5

Lilac looked up into the darkening sky. The summer sun has gone below the horizon, leaving the world in shadow and darkness. This darkness was all the more obvious in the gloomy driveway of the even gloomier Lastegar Manor, the home of the talented necromancer Vena Destiny, Lilac’s sort-of girlfriend. The manor was old and had a heavy atmosphere to its blackened windows, old gardens, archaic architecture and the small forest in the enormous backyard, which Lilac suspected was older than the manor itself.

The red headed woman put on her jacket, a fancy and dainty lavender thing, as she approached the double doors. The wooden doors were old but sturdy, and their size was frightening.

The last time she was in this manor, she was under the control of a vicious wraith. This was the first time visiting Vena’s house as herself, she realized.

She looked for a doorbell, but she couldn’t find it, she raised her hand to knock on the door instead. Before her knuckles touched the wood, she heard a loud blunt sound coming the other side of the door. It took her a few seconds to realize the source of the loud knock was the blade of a large sword being lodged in the wood, its sharp point peeking through the other end.

Lilac shrieked and backed off immediately, a shudder in her step. She walked backwards a few more steps, and shrieked again as she nearly fell down the stairs leading up to the front door. She stared at the doorway frozen, her limbs refusing to obey her. It felt all too familiar.

With a slow and elongated creak, the doors opened, orange and purple and green light poured from them onto the grey cobblestone entryway. On the other side of the doorway stood a tall figure. Lilac’s eyes opened wide as she took in the frightening height of the figure which towered over 2 meters tall. She gasped when she realized it had no head. 

The dance of colored lights was coming from behind the shadowy figure, a swirl of shapes and sparks. It looked very familiar. The headless figure jerked and shook around with each swirl of light that seemed to hit it directly in the chest. Lilac kept staring, motionless.

Eventually, the lights subsided, and the doorway was filled with the more natural light of florescent lightbulbs coming from the large entrance hall of the manor. The tall headless figure was revealed to be a suit of armour. It faced away from Lilac and she could see several bullet holes in its back, going all the way through the armour, which was hollow on the inside.

With a metallic creak, the armour fell backwards in a slow stiff movement, as though it was frozen in the last pose it took. A large booming sound emanated from the armour as it crashed into its individual plates upon hitting the floor. The armour pieces rolled around on the cobblestone for a bit before stopping. The armour’s left gauntlet ended up rolling right by of Lilac’s feet.

Behind the fallen armour, standing in the doorway, was a short woman with neon green light pouring out of her open palms. She was wearing faded jeans and a green button shirt. The left pant of her jeans was halfway tore across below the knee, and slumped down to her ankle.

“Hello, I’m glad you could make it!” Vena said as she stepped over the fallen armour pieces. She looked at her red-haired guest in the eyes. Lilac was still trembling a bit. Vena looked back at the door with the sword tip sticking out of it. “Glad I could make it too. That was intense.” she giggled, and then frowned as Lilac didn’t smile with her.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t expect this to happen.” Dr. Destiny started picking up the pieces. “Just give me 5 minutes and I’ll be ready for dinner.”

She reached towards the gauntlet that fell by Lilac’s foot, but was stopped when Lilac leaned down and picked it up instead. She was smiling, and Vena smiled with her. As they walked through the door with the armour pieces in hand, Dr. Destiny snuck in a sigh of relief.

After the armour was piled up by the doorway inside with its sword still lodged in the wooden door, the two women left the entrance hall and walked towards the dining room. It was a large room, befitting of a mansion of such proportions, but most of it was dark.

“I’m sorry about this. I tried to organize it to the best of my ability. I don’t exactly have the entire room furnished.” Vena led Lilac towards the corner of a large table. Only part of which was clean and covered by a white tablecloth. Upon the cloth were two plates on opposite sides, and a variety of food items in plates, bowls and containers in between them. At the center between the plates was an old candelabra with three black candles on it, whose orange glow helped make up for the limited light in the room.

“There’s no need to feel sorry. I’m the one who should be sorry. There’s really no need for you to do all of this for me.” Lilac said, her voice a bit weak.

Vena quiet for a few long seconds before she spoke. “Are you okay?” she pulled Lilac’s chair back.

“Yeah.” Lilac sat down in front of her plate, which was old and withered with use, but still clean and pristine. Upon closer inspection of the table, some of the food items on it were clearly microwaved, and some of the containers were plastic.

Vena pulled back her own chair and sat down with a creak. She chuckled. “This chair is very old.” she joked.

“Yeah...” Lilac said as she inspected a pink salmon fillet from up close, poking it with her fork. “So...” she trailed off.

“Yeah...” Vena tapped her fork against the table, making tiny divots in the tablecloth as she did.

“I...” Lilac started talking, but was interrupted.

“I was doing it for us.” Vena said. “I’m sorry, I just thought...”

“No, I get it.”

“It’s not just for you, it’s for us... this thing between us. Whatever you call it.” Vena looked at her companion’s eyes lit up by the black candle.

“You like it, what we had, for the last few weeks?” Lilac’s pupils reflected the light which glimmered and flickered with the slight breeze coming in from the garden. It carried with it pleasant scents.

“A lot.”

“Why though?” Lilac asked. As she did, the wind put out one of the three black candles, leaving behind a trail of smoke and a blackened wick.

“Huh?”

“Why do you like me? I have brought you nothing but misery.”

“What are you talking about? The last weeks were wonderful. I enjoyed spending time with you. I haven’t spent so much time with anybody since well... not anybody alive, at least.” Vena forced a smile.

“Last week at the lake, I brought you into someplace dangerous.”

“You had no idea it would be visited by an Elder One. You didn’t even know they existed.”

“No, but I brought you there because I hoped maybe...”

“Maybe what?”

“And now tonight, I wanted to see you in your home because of the same hope. Or fear, or whatever...” Lilac averted her gate, not looking directly at Vena.

“I mean, I do have a big house.” Vena tried joking again. The two remaining candles grew brighter. “You’ve been here 1.5 times, you should know.

Lilac chuckled.

Vena smiled, leaning in. “Whatever it is you hoped to achieve, it succeeded. Because I want to stay with you. I want to be with you.”

“Yeah, I mean. About that... that first time in your house. In here.” Lilac looked at the hall outside of the dining room, which she knew lead to Dr. Destiny’s office. “When I entered.... when the Ink Baroness entered your office, I saw this look on your face.” Lilac explained.

“You were aware of that?” Dr. Destiny leaned back, her fingers intertwined.

“Barely. I could only notice what she noticed, and my thoughts were filled with her whispers and shit. But I did notice the look. Your face when you saw something. Something that could alleviate your boredom.”

“That’s...” Vena wanted to interrupt, but was interrupted herself.

“It’s okay, I understood. It was a long day and in comes a possessed woman who needs saving. I got that.” Lilac continued. “But on our date at the lake, I saw the same look when the thing showed up. Something interesting happening on a boring date.”

“No, Lilac...” Vena’s hand clenched a bit.

“I thought maybe that’s why you liked me.” Lilac said. “Because I’m a distraction, I make interesting stuff happen around you. That’s why I brought you over to the lake, and why I wanted to go to your house. I hoped things would pop up. And they did, and I saw the same look again.”

“You couldn’t have known that either.” Dr. Destiny finally managed to slip a word in. “I... listen. This look. It’s not that. This look isn’t excitement or relief. It’s worry. Elder Ones, and Wraiths, and Vengeful Spirits, they’re part of my daily routine. But usually I do it alone. And they pop up around me when I have nobody else. But now, I have you. And I’m worried about you.”

Lilac froze, a tear hung near her eye. “So when you first saw me at your office-”

“I was worried sick for you. I wanted to help you. Because well... because I like you. I like Lilac.”

Lilac sat still, quiet and full of thought. After a long and awkward silence, she sighed in relief. “Let’s eat.”

The two began putting on food on their table. Vena explained how she worked hard on each item on the table, from the salad to the fish she had to look up where to buy and how to cook. She conveniently opted not to talk about the microwaved fries and couscous or the clearly store-bought burgers.

“So, how was your day? I hope you didn’t have to face against Vengeful Spirits like I did.”

“I did have to pick them up from the floor of some kooky lady’s weird house.” Lilac responded and the two laughed out loud.

After a while, the conversation quieted down. Vena put her fork down. “You know the first thing I thought when I saw you?” she blushed, her voice trembling a bit as she tried to be romantic.

“How I can banish this creepy ghost from his hot girl’s body?” Lilac joked again with her mouth full of fries.

Vena chuckled. “Yeah, but no, I mean... The real you, when you woke up after I got rid of the Wraith. I really wanted to take you out for coffee.”

“Yeah, I remember.”

“You know why?”

“Because you pitied me.” Lilac said, and with her words, another candle was put out. Only the middle out of the three candles remained.

“What?” Vena responded immediately and her blush went away.

“You saw a girl being used by an evil ghost and you saved her, and you did the right thing and helped her through it.” Lilac continued. “Like a firefighter giving somebody blankets.”

“Lilac, you’re being difficult tonight.” Vena frowned, her brow a bit furrowed. “I wanted us to have a nice evening and...”

“Well then, the salmon is a bit chewy in that case.”

“I...” Vena was left without words again. She puffed her cheeks, a bit angry. She took a deep breath and sighed. “Let’s settle this like adults.”

“This thing between us, you said you liked it.” Lilac said.

“I do. A lot.”

“Yeah, you said that already.”

“Because I mean it.

“But now I know you didn’t mean you liked me.”

“I do like you.”

“Yeah, but that came afterwards. First you like being the hero. Then you like the girl you saved. And you wanted to be her hero some more.”

“Is it wrong to want to protect those who you care about?!” Dr. Destiny lashed out. She stood up and froze. She took another deep breath and then sat down. “I’m sorry.”

“About what you said or about screaming it?”

“Both? I think.”

“I don’t think you understand what you said.”

“If it’s about being a hero, I know a lot more about it than you do, Lilac.” Dr. Destiny continued, her voice growing huskier, her stare growing distant. “And it’s not something I crave to do ever again.”

“It’s about being in a relationship. I thought the problem with the relationship was with me, that I wasn’t good enough for what was between us.”

“And I told you you are.”

“Yes...” Lilac trailed off, trying to find the words. “Thank you for that, I mean it. And I’m sorry I thought you pitied me, I know your feelings are more complicated than that. But it’s not you.”

“Are you seriously pulling that cliche? It’s not me it’s you?”

“It’s not me either...”

“Then what is it?” Vena became frustrated. None of them touched their food in a while.

“It’s this thing between us.” and as she said that, the thing between them was a knight’s sword.

Lilac screamed, and Dr. Destiny stared at the door to the hallway, where a peculiar object was approaching the two of them fast, it was a single left-handed gauntlet from a knight’s armour.

Without more than a meaningful stare, Vena and Lilac ducked under the table as gauntlet rushed towards them and struck the table. From below it they could see the tip of the sword cut through the table completely.

“Why is all of the wood in this house so sword-prone?” Lilac whispered.

Dr. Destiny ignored her, looking up at the gauntlet which was floating above them. “The tablecloth!” she yelled. “Now!”

Following her companion’s actions, Lilac grabbed a corner of the tablecloth from underneath and stepped out from under the table in unison with Dr. Destiny. In a coordinated move, they crossed paths behind the gauntlet which turned to face Lilac. With a strong pull, they tried the tablecloth around the gauntlet, pinning it to the table.

It squirmed and rustled inside of it, breaking container and spilling food as Lilac and Dr. Destiny stepped back. Lilac stared at the supernatural wriggling while De. Destiny was already preparing her magic, making her hands glow green.

“So, Vengeful Spirits, what are they?” Lilac asked with breathless words

“You were paying attention.”

“Of course, now speak.”

“When an object that isn’t supposed to have a soul suddenly gains one due to Necromancy, it is slowly imbued with magic. Magic that desires to stay alive. It’s similar to what our body uses to stay alive. But instead of life magic-” Dr. Destiny prepared her magic further, more complex circles and runes appeared on the back of her hands.

“It’s Necromancy.”

“Precisely. This suit of armour of was imbued with a spirit, a Phantom, for a very long time. A few weeks ago, before I met you, I sent that phantom back to the realm of the dead. But the magic remained in the armour, and it sought to regain the life I took from it, so it grew a soul.” Dr. Destiny finished her circles, she was approaching the wriggling tablecloth with arms raised.

“And that armour’s new soul resents you for taking its original phantom soul away?” Lilac 

“That’s why they call them Vengeful.”

As Dr. Destiny approached the wriggling mass on the table, she suddenly had to jump out as something emerged out of the tablecloth with great force, tearing the knot down the middle.

The gauntlet emerged from the table, holding its sword and floating a meter and a half above the floor. It swung its sword around a few little spins, and purple light came out from below the wrist.

“Looks like I missed a spot earlier.” Dr. Destiny taunted the gauntlet, her hands still raised, but shaking. Lilac saw the same familiar look in her eyes.

The floating gauntlet raised its sword against Vena, about to slice her down with a quick and powerful slash. But mid-air, it was stopped by something. The sound of metal clashing against metal echoed through the old dining room.

Between Dr. Destiny and the gauntlet stood Lilac, holding in both of her shaking hands the candelabra with the three black candles. Which now held only two and a half candles, as the knight’s sword cut the rightmost candle in half. Despite all that, the middle candle remained lit.

“It’s a knight’s armour, right? Shouldn’t it be governed by the knights’ code?” Lilac said, feigning confidence she didn’t have.

“This is risky, Lilac. You don’t know how this thing works.” Dr. Destiny recoiled back.

Lilac pulled the candelabra back, and surprisingly, the knight’s gauntlet pulled its sword back as well.

“I am Vena Destiny’s champion. To get her, you would have to defeat me.” Lilac gulped nervously. She looked around, but the only viable weapon was the candelabra.

After a long and nervous minute, the gauntlet tilted forward and then back, as if to nod. And then, without much hesitation, it struck.

Though she screamed, Lilac raised the candelabra again above her hand and managed to block the strike, though with the loss of the rightmost candle, which was slice in half. The middle candle remained lit and whole.

With quick moves the knight’s gauntlet pulled its sword back and just as quickly struck down again, only for Lilac to block it again, this time with the side of the candle holder.

The battle went on for a few more strikes like that. Each time Lilac managed to block the gauntlet’s speedy swipes, she got better at it. And Dr. Destiny only got more nervous as she watched from the sidelines, not knowing what to make of it.

Lilac managed to block the tenth strike, and then the eleventh, but then she noticed something funny. Every time the sword struck between the candelabra’s arms, the gauntlet struggled a bit to pull it out. When the twelfth strike came, Lilac intentionally lodge the sword between two arms of the candelabra and then twisted them.

The gauntlet didn’t let go of the sword like she hoped, it was now stuck. It was a contest of strength between the two of them. Which was the one thing Lilac had on the faster and more skilful gauntlet. She was larger and heavier than it, and she had the support from the ground.

With ease, Lilac pulled the candelabra sideway and pulled the sword and the gauntlet with it. With all her force, she spun around, spinning the much lighter gauntlet in an arc. She spun thrice until she started feeling dizzy and then she suddenly stopped, letting all of the momentum travel onto the gauntlet, which was launched outwards, separated from its sword which landed somewhere else on the floor.

With the gauntlet nearly motionless on the floor, Dr. Destiny stepped over it, her glowing hand aimed towards it.

“Wait...” Lilac whispered, exhausted. “It lost, there’s no need to...” she dragged herself over to Vena.

“It’s a spirit bent on destroying me.”

“But it’s got a code. It’s got honor. It didn’t destroy you, it agreed to a duel. And it lost.” Lilac looked down at it. “Isn’t that right?”

Floating back up to knee height, much to Dr. Destiny’s dislike, the gauntlet nodded again.

Dr. Destiny still pointed her arm at it. But after a long thought, she put it down. “Head to my office, I’ll deal with you later.” She pointed towards the door. “Go, you know where it is.” she commanded and the gauntlet nodded again and did as instructed.

After the battle was won, Vena and Lilac sat down by the table again, though all of the food was destroyed and it had a giant hole inside of it. Lilac put the candelabra down, its last light still flickering.

“Vena...” she said.

“What is it?”

“I don’t want to be your girlfriend.” and with that, the last light died, leaving them both in darkness.

“I know.” Vena said, her head looking up. Her voice was quiet and her eyes teary.

“This thing between us. It’s not a good foundation for a relationship. It’s an imbalance. You got the power, the knowledge, you saved my life. And I owe you. But I can’t be in that kind of relationship with you if you’ll always look at me as a person under your protection, under your care. Even if it’s the most meaningful thing, you still view me as beneath you, without even realizing it.”

“I realize it now.” Vena said, her pained expression replaced with a more somber one.

“But you know, there is something good that can come out of that kind of dynamic.” Lilac smiled, but she didn’t blush.

Vena lowered her head and looked at Lilac questionably.

Lilac cleared her throat and looked at Dr. Destiny with a serious yet adorable determination on her face. “I want to be your apprentice.”