#they attacked me with this on what was otherwise a fine sunday afternoon

[dipplinduo]

🤍🪥❤️🍵Mintteashipping Mutters by the wonderfully talented @doneffect64 🍵❤️🪥🤍

[megthemewlingquim]

GOLDEN

Summary: He knows that you’re scared because he’s so open.

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Warnings: a bit of awkwardness with first impressions

A/N: This is Chapter One of my “Fine Line” series! If you don’t know, “Fine Line” is based off of the album of the same name by Harry Styles, and every chapter will be based off of each song from that album. This one, Chapter One, is inspired by Golden.

I hope you like this series! If you do, please reblog and leave feedback. I heavily encourage you to listen to the album (because it’s phenomenal), or listen to each song before you read each chapter. Speaking of chapters, they will be uploaded every Sunday at 12:00 PM EST. 

Find the “Fine Line” masterlist here!

As soon as his eyes find you, Loki Laufeyson knows he’s done for.

He’s absolutely wrecked. Head over heels. In love. Whatever you want to call it.

You remind him of his mother. You have her eyes. Or, maybe her eyes when she was a few eons younger - kind eyes, bright with youth and wide with awe. And he doesn’t blame you for it: Venice is gorgeous and every corner you turn presents something new. The sun shines and brightens your complexion, and you glow. You wear a yellow shirt and a black pair of ripped shorts. It’s amazing how something - someone -  so normal can look so beautiful.

You’re golden.

You pass a flower vendor, and his heart quickens when you smile at him.

The vendor, not Loki. You have a soft smile, but it’s white and full and lovely.

Oh, how Loki wants to look away and forget. For somehow, he knows that you’ll be the death of him, even with your tired eyes and your makeup-less complexion, if he ever sees them. He wants to leave, for he knows something here - present in you - will change him. For better or worse, no one knows, not even him.

But when you turn to leave, a bouquet of sunflowers in your hand and the vendor stuffing his dollar bills into his register, Loki blinks. And walks towards you.

Inwardly, he sighs with relief. Thank the Norns, he mumbles in thought, thank the Norns that no one recognizes me. Otherwise, I’d scare her off with the panic.

You seem to be in no hurry, even as the crowds become a little more hectic and the narrow sidewalks become more cramped.

He steps on something. He looks down, noticing a sunflower, crushed to bits under his shoe. Something within him causes him to gently laugh, and walk towards you again, leaving the flower on the gravel.

“Here, here —”  he gasps when he thinks he’s able to be heard. You glance toward him, stopping in your tracks, and his heart flutters. You’re even more stunning up close.

You keep your glance bare, bland with confusion. He stops, too, but he shuffles nervously once he realizes you’re apprehensive.

“You’re dropping them,” he says after a pregnant pause. “The flowers, I mean.”

“I am?” you say, looking down at your sandaled feet. “Oh, thank you for telling me.” You look back up at him and smile. “I’ll be more careful now.”

He smiles upon seeing your own. “Yes, er, well…” he stammers, somewhat embarrassed at his very-unlike-himself first impression. “Beautiful city, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” you say, looking around at the multicolored buildings around you, then at the crystal clear water below you. “It’s gorgeous.”

Another pause.

“I’m [Y/N].” You extend a hand, and he takes it. Slowly, he leans down, keeping his eyes on yours, and kisses it. You’re somewhat taken aback, but not enough to make you recoil or cringe in disgust. In fact, you’re flattered. “Coucou,” you say cheerfully when he lets go of your hand.

“That’s French,” Loki notes, “not English or Italian…” He laughs. “‘Hello’ to you, too. I’m Loki.”

Your eyes widen with recognition. “Loki… you mean you’re the one who attacked New York? How many years ago was that?”

He winces. Of course you’d recognize him. “Twelve,” he says. “However, I always have to tell everyone that that was against my will. I was being controlled.”

“By whom?”

“Thanos.”

“Oh.” You remember. Or, you remember hearing about it. The battle of 2023.

It’s a simple exchange. He’s surprised you believe him so easily, but you do. Already Loki seems extremely charming, so friendly. Also, it’s been years since Loki has actually done anything else to attack Earth…

“Would you… would you like to have dinner with me sometime?” Loki asks, letting the words slip out of his mouth and fall the gravel below him. There’s some hesitation in saying them. “Or maybe just get some coffee some afternoon?”

You hesitate, as expected.

You’ve had your heart broken before. It’s never, ever fun. Someone who at first seems so caring and kind turns out to be a heartless, cruel bastard with no regard for you. 

And Loki himself seems so... so open.

It’s funny: you hesitate at “dinner” but not “I attacked New York but not by my own will”.

“I… I don’t know what to say…” You swallow. “Thank you.”

He notices your hesitation. “You don’t… You don’t have to be scared. Believe me, I understand why you might be. You’ll be alright. But it’s up to you.”

That’s not why I’m scared, though, you think.

It’s been a while since you’ve been with someone, you realize. You’ve been lonely for too long, laying in an otherwise empty bed for what has seemed like ages. One thought races through your mind:

I don’t wanna be alone.

You take a breath. “Yeah, that’d be fun, actually. Something nice.” You smile, truthfully. “Thank you, Loki.”

He smiles back, overjoyed. “Of course, [Y/N]. I’d love to get to know you. You already seem wonderful. Do you know of any good restaurants down here in this gorgeous city?”

“Yeah, I do,” you say. “There’s a really nice coffee shop around this corner, actually. And there’s one over a block... There’s really a lot of cafés and stuff over here...”

A thought lingers at the back of his mind: That was very fast. I’m surprised.

He shrugs it off, wordlessly offering to help you carry your sunflowers.

[peaceoutofthepieces]

Sink Or Swim

tag list: @cleocc @feeling-kinda-so-so @hopelessromanticvirgo @dreamy-slytherin @adora8 @lockerfivethreefive @painfully-oblivious @poeticinemaa @jjustonemorething @sassy-sara @wedarkacademia @coolguyssyndrome @hischbabe @suckerforsobbe @tayspots @starmansander @theah0lt @zoenneforever @invisibleme @chibibanane @odi-et-amo85 @watermelonlover-123 @xiaomailab

Warning for panic attack near the end of the scene (after Lucas reads the messages). 

~^~

Tuesday, 18:47

Songs: nilu - Are You With Me; Michael Schulte - Falling Apart

“No, no, wait, why is it doing that?” Jens whines from the screen, delicately brushing his thumb under Lucas’s eye to wipe away the dark smudge. “Why the fuck does eyeliner drip?”

“It’s liquid, man, what do you expect?”

Lucas skips ahead as Jens groans in the background and the camera moves to Sander. He plays it again when Moyo does a close up of his own face, the eyeliner now perfectly neat, and making the blue of his eyes stark. The on-screen version of him laughs at Moyo’s dramatic sounds of awe, and then there’s a close up of Jens. His tongue sticks out at the corner of his lips, brow just slightly furrowed, intensely concentrated as he paints on a light layer of lipstick. His eyes flick to the camera, and he falters just slightly, lips twitching. He manages to hold onto his focus for another few seconds before his lips crack in a smile and then into laughter, and he quickly draws his hand away from Lucas.

“Give me peace, asshole,” he says, leaving the camera shaking as he shoves Moyo back and another laugh rings out.

Robbe has sent him the completed vlog, that they haven’t posted yet. Lucas is currently watching it for the fourth time, with the volume raised to be heard over the bartering of rain against his window. By now he’s able to fast-forward to the specific shots of Jens that he likes most. He has Instagram open in the background, where his chat with Jens still remains quiet.

He rubs his hands over his face as Moyo zooms in on Jens puckering his lips, initially indicating for Lucas to do the same and ending up blowing a kiss to the camera. Talking to him yesterday hadn’t helped as Lucas had hoped it would. The few moments of contact had helped ease some of his worry, but the gaping hole in the chest that Jens usually takes up has only grown. He had hoped he would get the chance to convince Jens to come home to him, and then the connection cut out and Lucas had to hang up on Robbe before falling into a panicked state of despair.

Sander curses from the screen and then rapidly apologises as Robbe moans a complaint. “Isn’t this almost over?”

Lucas wonders the same thing as the shot cuts back to Jens and shows him leaning back with hands raised, a grin on his face as he announces he’s done. Lucas pauses on the image, chest tightening and jaw clenching.

There’s a knock on his bedroom door and he quickly shuts his laptop before his father peeks his head in. “Can I come in for a second?”

Lucas nods, setting his laptop aside as Hugo walks in and hovers by the bed as he holds an object out to Lucas.

His phone.

Lucas examines the spotless screen with wide eyes before shooting his eyes up to his father’s, which are crinkled at the corners with his smile. He waggles the object at Lucas, and Lucas takes it carefully, running his fingers around the edges. He holds in the power button and after a few seconds, it lights up.

“The guy in the shop charged it a little so he could make sure it’s working, but you’ll probably need to charge it yourself now,” Hugo says. “It look alright?”

It’s still in his old, worn, blue case, and when it finally comes to life, his favourite image of him and Kes appears on the lock-screen. He hovers his thumb over it as it shakes in his hand. Slowly, he nods. “Yeah, it’s perfect. I didn’t even know you’d taken it.”

“Well, you need your phone. Even I can’t contact you without it. Consider it an additional late birthday present, huh? Better than those old albums I got you.”

Lucas shakes his head. “The albums are good. And the art supplies are expensive, I know that. You didn’t have to…”

“Shush,” Hugo waves a hand at him. “I don’t expect you to pay for things like that yourself. No matter how many jokes I make about you being an adult now.”

Lucas smiles slightly, though his eyes are misty as he turns his phone over on his palm. “Thank you.”

His father smiles back at him, then seems to hesitate again. “I also wanted to talk to you about this weekend. I organised a trip for the youth center. A few days away, where they can all hang out and do stuff together, can really help them out at this time of year. It just means you’ll be left here on your own.”

This would usually come as a relief. Now it makes anxiety churn in Lucas’s chest, and he has to quickly bite down on his lip. Otherwise he’ll do something ridiculous, like beg his father to stay. He’s overreacting. He’ll be fine for a couple of days on his own. “So, you’ll be going on Friday?”

“Yeah. The girls are taking them on the bus and I’ll drive down to meet them in the evening.”

“Where are you going?”

“It’s some kind of adventure center. One of the kids themselves suggested it. We’re staying at a motel nearby.”

Lucas nods slowly. “Then you’ll be back on Sunday?”

“Yeah.” Hugo seems only mildly confused by the questioning, at Lucas’s unusual show of interest. “Should be back in the afternoon. So you’ll be alright? You can call me now if you need me.”

Lucas hums.

“If you want to, you can invite one of your friends over to keep you company. Maybe Jens.”

He says it cheerfully, proud of himself for remembering the name Lucas had let slip weeks ago. He seems oblivious to the pain it causes Lucas, so Lucas tries for a smile. “Yeah, maybe.”

Hugo sets a hand on his shoulder and gives a squeeze. “Okay. Give your mom a call too when you can, alright? She keeps bugging me about you.”

“Have you been talking to her?”

“Ah, now, Luc, I still talk to your mother. Is that a new hoodie?”

Lucas blinks and looks down at himself, not understanding, until he sees the red. He’d forgotten he was even wearing Jens’s hoodie. It doesn’t smell like him anymore, aside from the faintest trace if Lucas moves in just the right way. He simply shakes his head as he looks back up at his dad.

Hugo purses his lips, nodding slightly as he shrugs. “Suits you. Alright, everything else okay with you?”

It takes a moment for Lucas to gain enough composure to smile and nod, and his father squeezes his shoulder once more before leaving him alone again.

Lucas takes a moment to breathe, then moves to his desk to find his charger, phone still clutched in his hand. He finds it hidden under a stack of papers and moves back to his bed, plugging the charger into the wall. He has to sit close to the edge so the lead will reach, but he manages, and soon he’s facing a flood of missed notifications.

Jens is right at the top.

It’s only after taking another long moment to breathe that Lucas is able to open the messages. There are a whole string from the weekend he’d left, easily two dozen, and guilt churns in his stomach once more as he reads through Jens’s concern. There’s even a selfie of him and Moyo from that Saturday, with both of them pouting at the camera, eyes slightly red. Obviously high. Lucas’s chest tightens further. He scrolls further down, through Jens’s more insistent questioning, where the frustration begins to truly slip in.

Then he makes it to the end, where he has a message from Sunday morning, sent just minutes before he had messaged Jens from Kes’s phone.

I’m getting really freaked out and I didn’t even think that was something that happens to me, but I really miss you Luc and I’m worried. please just message me. I love you

He reads it, then reads it again, over and over until the words blur and a single mantra runs through his mind.

I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you.

Lucas internalises the words, letting them fill up his chest until he can’t breathe.

Jens loves him. Lucas had no idea. Jens loves him and Lucas had left him. Jens loves him and Lucas had hurt him. Jens loves him and he’s being punished for it. Jens loves him and he isn’t here.

Lucas loves Jens, and he can’t breathe.

Air finally comes out in gasps, then heaves. The world around him has blurred. He’s being flung on the floor, dropped like a ragdoll, frozen in place, and then the slap. Over and over in an endless reel. Hands are shoving him, two pairs at once. His favourite brown eyes are unfamiliar, cold and distant, unreachable. He’s running away and running away and running away.

He’s staying and making it worse.

Jens has done nothing but love him, and Lucas has done nothing but hurt him. It’s his fault. His fault that Jens is in this position in the first place. His fault that Jens felt the need to try so hard and endanger himself. His fault that Jens is hurt. His fault that Jens is gone. His fault that Jens doesn’t know.

Lucas loves him, and Jens doesn’t know, and he can’t breathe.

He tucks his head between his knees and tries his usual method. He has to drop his phone to tangle his hands in his hair as he counts in for four, holds for four, breathes out for four. Except he can’t manage it. His breaths are short stutters, insufficient, and his ring catches in his curls and he sobs.

When he feels like he is going to suffocate, he drags himself to his feet. He stops once he gets there, having to stave off the urge to curl down into himself. His hands grapple at air, curled into claws at his sides as choked sounds continue to spill from his throat. It takes him three tries to repeatedly force himself into enough motion to open his door. From there he’s overcome with urgency, and he speeds down the hall, into the kitchen where his father is sat with a newspaper at the table.

“Dad,” he croaks.

Hugo looks up, brows raised. His expression falls instantly into concern as he stands from the chair and rounds the table. “Lucas? Hey, buddy, what’s wrong?”

Lucas lets out another sob. “I can’t—“

He cuts himself off as his knees give out. His father catches him as he sinks towards the floor, drawing him into his arms and providing a sturdy support. Lucas relinquishes all his weight and lets the man hold him up, kneeling on the floor alongside him.

“Hey, Luc. It’s okay, you’re okay,” he soothes, gently rocking him back and forth, hand petting through his hair in a gesture Lucas hasn’t experienced since he was a child half his current size.

“Can you help?” Lucas pleads. “Please, can you help, can you help me?” He feels his father nod, feels a kiss pressed to the crown of his head, and he lets out a shaky breath.

Hugo holds him and guides him through it, regulating his own breaths until Lucas’s heartbeat feels just manageable. “I’ve got you, buddy. I’ll do whatever you need. Do you hear me? I’ve got you. You’re okay.”

[ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes]

Field of Poppies Part 19

Summary: After being apart for six years, childhood friends Tommy and Amelia reunite under odd circumstances. Tommy is an outspoken young man and Amelia is pregnant and out on the streets. The bond of family can be unbreakable but it is tested often. Especially when Europe descends into war.

Part 19: The war rages on and Amelia struggles to hold things together as the Shelby boys face the Battle of Somme

           Dear Amelia,

            I got the photograph of Annie and Max together. I can’t believe how much they’ve both grown. I hope Max is being good to his sister. At least he’s been around John’s kids before.

            Have you made any New Years' resolutions? Not that you need to change anything. I’ve always thought you were perfect. Much too good for me and much too good for Small Heath. I promise that once I come home, we’ll get business going and start making real money. Then I’ll buy you that house out in the countryside. Nice big lawn for Max and Annie to play. We’ll have a stable full of horses. I think it’ll be nice. I want to give you what you deserve. I want to make up for lost time.   

            Tell Max and Annie I love them very much and I hope to be home soon. I’m hoping that at least Annie doesn’t remember me ever being gone. Maybe when I come back, she’ll be young enough that she won’t remember ever being apart from her dad. I’d hope for the same for Max but he’s grown up so much since I’ve left. And what you’ve been saying about him asking after me. I’m afraid he’ll never forget this. I just hope that I can make it up to him when I return. And to you.

            I love you very much.

            Yours,

            Tommy

            Since Ada was old enough to look after the kids, Martha and Polly swapped turns staying over at Amelia’s at night. With a young child and a newborn, they figured she needed some extra help. Especially since Amelia seemed to be stuck in deep sadness. It was clear she was doing everything she could to be the best mother possible for her son and daughter. But all of her energy and time went into them and her work in the betting shop. She hardly gave herself another thought, struggling to take care of herself most days. She never slept more than a few hours at a time, even if Polly or Martha was there to stay up with the baby if needed. She was growing thin because she had no interest in eating. Everything about her just seemed to dull. Her hair, her eyes, her skin. She looked lifeless.

            What was more, Polly knew she was lying to Tommy. She snooped a bit and read an unfinished letter that Amelia was writing to her husband. It was full of pleasantries and lies about her well being. She wrote about how wonderful the children were and how much they were growing each day. She wrote about the business doing well. Wrote about Ada and Finn. Polly and Martha. Abigail and Wilbur. Then, she wrote one brief sentence about herself.

            I’m doing well.

~~~~~~~           

            Neither Tommy nor Amelia knew that they were both having hauntingly similar dreams in the brief bouts of sleep they got. Each of them had vivid nightmares about losing the other in a haze of darkness. They would scream and yell for each other but there was no answer. They woke up in a sweat, almost in tears. It felt so real. Amelia swore she could smell Tommy’s cigarettes. And he was certain he could smell her perfume.

            Neither of them told a soul about the night terrors. They simply went on about their days, hoping that when night came, they wouldn’t have another dream. But it was inevitable.

~~~~~~~~~~~

            After a few months of Amelia’s depressive state, Max was starting to act out. It appeared he was picking up on his mother’s sadness and as a young child, it was frightening. He would have outbursts of screaming and tears at a moment’s notice. Any little thing could set him off. He often went off on Finn who had always been like an older brother to him.

            One day, things took a turn for the worst. Amelia was in the betting shop with the rest of the girls while Ada watched the children. She began to hear shouting and crying.

            “Enough!” Ada snapped from the parlor. “Max, get off!”

            Amelia got up to see what was going on. She found the sitting room had been turned into a warzone. Ada was holding back Max who was wailing and writhing in her arms. Finn was standing a few feet away, looking dazed with a bloody lip.

            “What’s going on?” She gasped.

            “Max hit me!” Finn exclaimed.

            Amelia looked aghast. “Maxwell? Did you hit Finn?” She knelt down on the ground in front of him.

            Ada let go of him, confident Amelia could handle him. “I don’t even know what set him off.” She sighed in disappointment.

            “Max, we do not hit people. That’s very naughty.” She scolded. The young boy’s face was going purple as he cried and tried to push his mother away. “What has gotten into you lately?”

            Overwhelmed and exhausted from overexerting himself, Max went limp. Amelia pulled him into her arms, cradling him close like she did when he was just a baby.

            “I miss daddy!” He sobbed.

            She felt tears well up in her eyes as she held him tightly. “I know, darling. I miss him too.” She tried to hold steady, to show him that she was strong. He needed someone to have strength. But she felt as if she fell short.

            “Why can’t he come home? S’not fair!” He wailed. He was getting so worked up he was practically shaking in Amelia’s arms.

            “You’re right, it’s not fair.” She rubbed his back. “It’s not fair at all. But it’s something we have to live with. We have to stay strong for daddy. I want him home too, but I know he’s keeping us all safe.” Her words felt so hollow. Amelia had become so jaded with the war. The toll was far greater than anyone expected. Was she just meant to stand around and wait for the news while holding her breath? Was she supposed to hope for the best? Was she supposed to prepare for the worst? What was she supposed to tell her son if Tommy died in France? How could she ever help him understand?

            Tears slipped down her cheeks as she rocked back and forth with Max clinging to her. Some days it felt like her children were the only things keeping her tied to the Earth. Otherwise, she was afraid she might just lose her mind completely.

~~~~~~~~~~~ 

            One Sunday afternoon, Ada came over to visit Max and Annie. She spent the day at Amelia’s playing with her nephew and cooing over her niece. When Max and Annie were put down for a nap, Amelia made tea for them both.

            “Who are you writing to?” Amelia wondered.

            Ada was sat at the kitchen table, adding to an already lengthy letter with a couple of pages. Immediately the young woman looked up, her face turning red. “Erm…well.” She sighed. “Fine, I’ll tell you but you can’t tell anyone. Not even Polly.”

            “I’m not a gossip, Ada. You know you can tell me anything.”

            “Well…it’s to Freddie.” She finally admitted with a shy look. “John said he doesn’t get many letters because his mother is ill and his father passed away. So, I started to write to him.”

            “Oh.” Amelia knew there was something else Ada wasn’t saying. “And you fancy him then?”

            “Mel!” She cried.

            “I’m just asking! I mean, you’ve known him practically your whole life.” Amelia thought out loud as she poured tea for them both. “Bit older than you.”

            Ada rolled her eyes. “Oh my God, he’s only seven years older than me. And I’m an adult so I can make my own decisions.” She replied, lifting her chin.

            “Yet, you want to keep it a secret.” Amelia sat down beside her sister-in-law, remarking silently at how much Ada had written.

            She huffed. “Because me stupid brothers would never let me see him. They’re too protective.”

            “They’re only looking out for your best interest.”

            “They’re being nosy.”

            “Alright, alright.” Amelia laughed softly. “I’m sure Freddie appreciates your letters.”

            “Oh, Mel, he’s so clever.” Ada gushed. It seemed she was glad for someone to confide in about her secret romance. But her face fell. “I just…I hope he comes home. It would be so awful to have this relationship with him and then-” Her voice faltered and her eyes went down to her letter. “I’m so worried about all of them. I don’t know if I could bear losing any of them. I think about it all the time. I’m worried every time Polly gets the mail.”

            Amelia knew exactly what she was talking about. She had to steel herself every day while getting the mail. She prayed that she wouldn’t get that damn letter. The one telling her that her husband had been killed. Somedays, she couldn’t even get herself to pick up the little pile of letters by the front door.

            “Do you think they’ll come home soon?”

            Amelia swallowed and nodded. “I think so. The war can’t go on forever.”

 ~~~~~~~~~~~

            Great British Offensive

            Attack On A 20 Mile Front

            German Trenches Occupied

                        In mid-summer, Amelia read the headline. Her eyes scanned for the usual markers that told her whether or not the news could affect Tommy.

            Somme.

            “Pol, that’s where the boys are.” She pushed the newspaper toward Polly who was sitting at the front table in the betting shop.

            She took the paper. “What did I tell you about reading the news? It’ll only make you more stressed.” She chided gently. “There’s no need to get up in arms about news like this. If there is anything to do with them, we’ll get a letter.”

            “I feel like I’m going crazy. Tommy won’t tell me anything. It’s as if he’s gone on holiday, just sitting around doing nothing. I know that’s not the case.” She replied.

            Polly sighed. “Sit down.”

            “Why?”

            “Because we’re having a conversation, sit down.”

            Amelia listened, but her heart rate was starting to pick up. “Polly, what?”

            “I wrote to Tommy months ago, a long time before Annie was born. I told him to be light on the details when he wrote to you.” She confessed.

            “Light on the…you mean he doesn’t tell me anything because you went behind my back?” Amelia instantly put up her defenses. It was her only coping mechanism other than shutting the world out.

            “I was looking out for your best interest. You couldn’t have stress with the baby and now you…well, I don’t think you could handle such news.” Polly replied frankly.

            “You have no right to intrude on my relationship like that!” Amelia snapped. “What I discuss with my husband is my business, no one else’s.”

            “I was only trying to help.”

            “Well, I’m glad that Tommy will listen to you. And I’m so glad that everyone around me wants to coddle me like I’m so fragile. I’ve survived because I’m resilient, Polly. If I was so fragile, I would’ve broken years ago. But I’m still here! I have two kids and my husband is fighting overseas. I’m still here though and I’m still fighting. So, think about that next time you decide to censor my life.” She stood up quickly and left the shop.

 ~~~~~~~~~~

            The battle raged until November. Tommy kept fighting with the pictures of Amelia, Max, and Annie, in his breast pocket. Even at his darkest moments, when he wanted to give in, he kept at it. Even when his muscles screamed for relief, or when he was fighting through the mud, he continued on.

            It was lucky they all made it out alive, even though there were some close calls. John had broken an arm, Arthur was shot in the shoulder, Freddie took a nasty bayonet wound to the stomach, and Jeremiah had been hit with shrapnel. They tried to keep their spirits up, but after the battle, they had all changed so drastically.

            One night in the trenches, Arthur and Tommy were chatting quietly. Neither could sleep with the persistent sound of gunfire all around them.

            “Don��t even think Mel will recognize me,” Tommy muttered as he cleaned his rifle. “Won’t be the same man returning.”

            “Nothing’ll change, Tom.” His brother tried to reassure him. “You’re still Tommy Shelby. That’s not gonna change.”  

            He shook his head. “Already have changed, brother. We all have. We can’t just leave this behind when we go home? How do you think that’ll work, aye? We just pretend none of this happened?”

            Arthur’s brow wrinkled but he couldn’t come up with an argument. He knew Tommy was right.

            “M’fraid I’ll go back and she’ll realize that I’m not the same person. That she won’t like the person that I am. Maybe she’ll leave, take the kids with her.” He mumbled.

            “Enough of that. You’re only thinking of ways to punish yourself when you ain’t done nothing wrong. Put that shit outta your head, okay? Mel will always love you, you know that.”

                        Tommy stared at his rifle, all sorts of thoughts were running through his head. “And what if I don’t go home at all? What if I don’t make it out of here?”

            Arthur was obviously concerned with his brother’s thoughts but he couldn’t blame him either. The battle had taken a lot out of them. All of them saw the potential of death. There was no fooling themselves. Anyone of them had a good chance of never making it out of those tunnels. “You just keep your head up, aye? We’ve made it this far, we’ll keep going.” He said gently. “Just got to keep your hopes high.”

            Tommy heard him but wasn’t sure he believed.

Permanent tag: @papa-geralt-of-cirilla @biba3434 @kimmietea @karmezii @enrapturedbythemoon @vampgirl1997 @tarafaithe @evelynshelby

Tag list: @shelbyblinded

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[13-reasons-ideas]

Can’t Go Back Part 15

Neither of us knew how to continue that conversation, especially when we were upset. We sat in an awkward silence for a while. We both seemed to unconsciously know that we couldn’t have it productively or honestly if we were both still this upset. “I uh… I need to go finish an essay so Mr. Jensen can proofread it. I’ll be at the table if you need anything.”

“Okay. Do you want to be alone or…?”

“Doesn’t matter. You can watch tv or something if you want. I’ll be in the zone soon enough.” Monty nodded and awkwardly kissed the top of my head. I sent Justin a quick text, just to update him so he knew I was okay. I told him. We are going to talk about it when we are both in clearer headspaces. It took a few minutes for him to answer.

How did he take it?

He’s upset. I mean obviously he was upset. But he agreed that we need to talk about it when we can have a rational conversation. I’ll let you know how that goes. I spent the night writing essays and finishing up a couple of writing samples. At some point Monty came over and slowly pushed a bowl of yogurt, berries, and granola over to me silently before going back to the couch. I accepted it silently. I looked at the clock a while after I finished my yogurt and yawned loudly. It was just before midnight. I saved my work, stood, and walked over to the couch. Monty didn’t seem to be watching anything exactly. More just… looking at the screen.

“Are you coming to bed?” I asked timidly, pulling the sweater I grabbed an hour or two ago around me.

“Are you sure you want me there? I’m fine on the couch.”

“No, I do.” I nodded. He nodded back and turned off the tv. I held my hand out to him and he took it gently. He seemed unsure if this was something I really wanted or not. I smiled and squeezed softly. For the first time in days, together we went and got ready for bed. I put on another one of his t-shirts while he brushed his teeth and crawled into bed. He joined me a few minutes later. When he didn’t pull me closer to him, I curled up against his side and laid my head on his chest. All is not forgiven but I really need the sleep. He ran his fingers through my hair. If you didn’t know what had transpired in the last few days, it would seem like we were simply going to bed like we had every other night since we got married.

“Night night Monty.” I muttered, halfway to what I hoped would be a peaceful slumber.

“Night night Addison.” He replied. For the first time since Wednesday night, I slept soundly through the night.

In the days that followed, it was much of the same as Sunday afternoon. We danced around each other at home. We were short but cordial at school with each other. Refusing to say more than single- or double-word answers unless necessary, spending as little time together before or after class as we could, and keeping quiet at lunch may have raised a few of our friend’s brows. They didn’t comment on it if they noticed though.  It was uncomfortable. We may have been used to hiding and keeping quiet at school but that didn’t make it any easier. The whole point of telling people was to not need to do this anymore.

Monty pulled me aside after lunch on Tuesday. “I told Coach I have an extra PT appointment today because my knee has been stiff. Are you okay to talk after school?”

I stopped to think for a moment. Am I ready? I’ll take anything over this awkward silence and wedge between us. Even if I’m scared. At least he’s taking initiative to deal with it. “Uh, yeah. After school works for me. I’ll see you at home?”

“Okay.” I adjusted my bag and hurried off to class. This is going to be a very interesting afternoon. I tried my best to focus on my work, but my mind wouldn’t stop going over the possibilities of what could happen tonight.I don’t want this to be another screaming match. This could devolve so quickly. Am I ready to deal with him refusing to take responsibility again?  What if I’m wrong? What if he really is ready to try and fix this? Maybe it could go well. It’s going to suck either way. But maybe if we have an adult conversation, we can move on and things can get back to normal faster. What if…?

Monty beat me home. Mr. Porter called me into his office during last period to give me a couple of documents to send along with my college applications. As a result, I was running late to get home. I burst through the door, clutching the files to my chest so they didn’t fly everywhere in my haste to get inside. “Hey, sorry I’m late. Porter had to give me some paperwork and I had some questions about it. Took a little longer than I expected.” I huffed.

“No problem. Get everything you need?”

“Yeah. I’ll stop at my parents place later this week to scan it all.”

“Sounds good.” I set my papers on the island and went to sit on the couch. Pulling the blanket around me, I settled in for what could be a very long night.

“Do you understand why I’m upset?” I asked when he joined me on the couch.

“I think so.”

“Can you explain why you think I’m upset?”

“You’re upset that I didn’t communicate with you enough?”

“I mean, yes. That is part of why I’m upset. But it’s not the only reason.”

“I think you’re upset because you know that” he paused and thought about it. “You’re upset because I acted without thinking about the consequences. And it’s impact on you and our relationship.” Wow. He was listening.

“Y-yes. You have it mostly right.”

“Mostly?”

“I’m also upset because I know you know better than to do that. I’m upset that it seems to be becoming a pattern. We’ve talked about it before. I have no problem with you going out with the boys and doing stuff. I don’t even really have a problem with you drinking a little. I have a problem with it when you come home trashed, and I have to clean up the mess.” I reached out and took his hand on mine. We are in this together. No matter what. We are a team.

“I know. It’s just… you know I’m not exactly used to having to answer to someone.”

“I know. But at some point, that stops being an acceptable reason. At some point you have to own up and accept responsibility for your actions.”

“I know I’m responsible for my actions Addison.” He seemed to be getting upset now. I didn’t want this to turn into another blow up fight.

“Hey, I never said you didn’t know that. But there is a difference between knowing that you are responsible and accepting responsibility.” He didn’t respond so I continued. “This is becoming a more frequent thing and it’s concerning. When I say that you need to accept responsibility, I’m not trying to attack you or say that you think your behaviour is okay. I’m sorry if that’s how it comes off.” He didn’t respond again. I watched him look into his lap. “I need you to say something. We can’t have a conversation about this and fix things if you aren’t going to contribute.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say Addison.”

“I don’t want you to say any specific thing. I want you to contribute to our conversation. I don’t want to just sit here and talk at you. I don’t want to sit and just tell you how I feel. I want you to tell me how you feel.”

“I feel like I really screwed up.”

“Okay. That’s something. What else?”

“I don’t know. And I don’t know how to fix this.”

I decided to take a risk. “Do you want to fix this?” He whipped his head up instantly.

“Of course, I want to fix this. What kind of question is that?”

Okay, maybe that was too much too fast. “It was just a question. I know you want to fix this.”

“Why are you so concerned about this?”

“About you overdrinking when you go out with your friends?”

“Yeah.”

“Because you’re better than this Montgomery. I know you are. And you don’t communicate with me when you do. It’s like you’re trying to hide it. The fact that you don’t seem to see this as a problem is also worrying.”

“I’m not trying to hide anything. I just don’t check my phone that often with the guys, you know that.”

“I do. But any other time you’re with them, you tell me where you are or when you think you’ll be home. And you tell me when you’re leaving. The only time you don’t is when you do something that you think would upset me.”

“I never noticed that.”

“I didn’t think you did. That’s why I’m mentioning it.”

“Okay.”

“It also worries me that you really only do it when you’re with certain friends.”

“You mean Bryce?” He asked, raising a brow.

“Yes. When you’re out with pretty much any of your other friends, you don’t act like that.” He huffed out a laugh.

“And it all comes back to Bryce.” He muttered.

“Apparently yes. Since he seems to be the common denominator when we talk about this. And I haven’t spent enough time with your other friends to know otherwise.”

“He isn’t this horrible person that you think he is Addison.”

“Well, that may be true to some degree, but he’s not this amazing guy you make him out to be. He encourages you to do things that you know aren’t in your best interest.”

“You mean aren’t good for you.”

“No. I don’t. You know that when you drink like that, it causes problems between us. You know that when he’s around you act differently. I mean, you said yourself that it was probably a good idea not to tell him about us when we were considering who to tell about our relationship. If he was as good a guy you think he is, why would you say that? If you’re as close to him as you say you are, why wouldn’t you want him knowing about me? You were more than happy to tell Scott about us as soon as we told Justin. But not Bryce. That isn’t strange to you?”

“Bryce and I don’t have the same kind of friendship that Scott and I do. We don’t talk about important stuff.”

“Uh huh. Okay. We’ll go with that one.”

“I told you before I’m not going to stop being friends with him.”

“I don’t expect you to. I just think you need to think about the kinds of people you want to surround yourself with.”

“Addison. Your best friend is a recovering heroin addict who abandoned you for months. You don’t really have room to be passing judgement about who I choose to surround myself with.” My mouth fell open and I stared at him. I cannot believe he just said that.

“Excuse me.”

“Tell me I’m wrong.”

“That isn’t fair. That isn’t fair and you know it.”

“How is it not fair?”

“Because unlike you, Justin takes responsibility for his actions. Justin didn’t do it because his friends encouraged him to do it.”

“I don’t see the difference between what you said and what I said is.”

“The difference Montgomery is that I would say what I said to Bryce’s face. You would never say what you said to Justin’s face.”

“How do you know?”

“Because even though for some reason you seem to have forgotten this right now, I know you Montgomery. I know you better than I know myself. I know you wouldn’t.”

“Fine.”

“So is this how this is going to go? We were doing so well. We were having a mature conversation. And when I presented you with logical reasoning as to why I have a problem with the way your friend influences you, you hit me with that low of a blow?” He was quiet for a while. I huffed loudly and rolled my eyes. Honestly.

“I’m sorry.”

“Okay?”

“I’m sorry for what I said about Justin. It was out of line and it wasn’t fair. I know it’s not the same thing. I just… Bryce is my friend Addison. You can’t expect me to sit here and be okay with you telling me what an awful person you think he is. You don’t even know him.” It was my turn to be quiet. Maybe I was being unfair. I had never really spent a lot of time with Bryce, not that I wanted to. I mean, Justin was his best friend for a really long time. And giving him a chance wouldn’t mean I have to ignore all of the terrible things he has done. I wouldn’t have to be alone with him. A chance can’t hurt.

“Okay. I’m sorry too. He’s your friend. I’ll try to be nicer to him. I can’t make any promises though.”

“Thank you. If it makes you more comfortable, I can cut down on the time I spend with him.”

“I’ll think about it?” I still wasn’t super okay with the idea of telling him who he can and can’t be friends with.

“And I’m sorry that I took things too far when I was out Thursday night and it hurt you. When you told me that it scares you when I come home like that….” I didn’t urge him to go on. I knew it would come out eventually. Instead, I inched closer to him and held his hand a little tighter. I waited quietly until he was ready to proceed. “All of the sudden I was a little kid hiding in my closet from my dad again. I never…” he paused again, “I never wanted that for you. And I don’t want that to be what our kids go through. I don’t want them to be afraid of me. I don’t want you to be afraid of me.”

“I know. I never really realized that that was the reason I got so upset until I was talking to Justin. He called me out on trying to say that it was just a Bryce issue, when it’s not. Hey, can you look at me?” He looked up. “I’m not afraid of you. Not really. I know that you would never do anything to hurt me.”

“It’s hard to hear the woman you love. No, the person you love most in this world, tell you that you scare them.”

“I can imagine. Can I ask you something? You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. If you do, I want you to be honest with me though, okay?”

“Go ahead.” He nodded.

“Is there something going on with you that you aren’t telling me about?”

“How do you mean?”

“I don’t know, just something. Is there a reason you pushed so far past your limit on Thursday?”

“No. I can honestly tell you that I just got carried away. And I will concede that Bryce and a few of the guys may have encouraged it.”

“Okay. If there is, you know you can talk to me about it, right?”

“I know. I promise to tell you if there is. And I promise I’ll be more aware of what I do and how much I drink when I go out.” I nodded to him and leaned over to kiss him on the cheek.

When I had a moment alone, I texted Justin. Hey, so we talked for a few hours after school. I think we are at least on the road to getting back to normal. We kind of laid it all out and we both have things we can work on. Thank you for helping me figure things out.

That’s good. I’m glad to hear it Addy. What are best friends for?

Stealing French fries off of at lunch?

Hahahahhaha I knew it was you.

No comment. I love you.

I love you too.

By Thursday, Monty and I were starting to feel more like ourselves. Things were still a little tense and they probably would be for a while. At least until some of the residual tension went away. I was getting undressed when Monty got out of the shower that morning. “Uh Addison?”

“Yes?” I was trying to put on my pants while simultaneously clawing at my arms.

“Two questions.”

“What?”

“One, why are you scratching at your arms like you’re itching to get your next fix? And two, what the hell is all over your back?”

“Stress rash.”

“Why do you have a stress rash?”

“Well, it could have something to do with fighting with my husband for almost a week.” So itchy. Make the itchy stop. “And that coupled with trying to get my college applications in on time for early admission, has made me a little stressed out.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think so. It should clear up after I get my applications done.”

“Okay….” He passed me a sweatshirt from the closet. “Here, this is loose. Or do you want one of my shirts?”

“This is good. Thank you.”

I took a cool shower when I got home and decided to work on getting my applications finished. The sooner they’re done, the sooner the rash will go away. I merely grunted when Monty got home. I was too focused on my computer. He chuckled to himself quietly and turned on the tv. “That’s my girl.” He muttered. I smiled softly. A few hours later, I had done it. All the early applications for my choice schools were complete. I just had to submit them. Finally.

“Done.” I said as I hit submit.

“What are you done?” Monty asked, swiveling his head.

“I just submitted my last early application.”

“That’s good. How do you feel?”

“Like my entire future is traveling at light speed and is now sitting in someone’s inbox.” I put my face in my hands and groaned. Monty chuckled. I couldn’t stop staring at my computer screen. I heard him open the fridge and grab something. “Are you doing what I think you’re doing?”

“No.”

“That’s communal food. And no sex jokes.”

“I’m not.” I heard him puttering around the kitchen, opening and closing drawers. “Do we have… never mind I found it.”

“Okay?” He didn’t respond and continued whatever he was doing. The sound of a plate being placed next to me made me jump. I looked up and Monty was grinning at me. He gestured towards the plate. He made me a sandwich. “Thank you.” I said softly.

“No problem.” He ruffled my hair and went to go sit back on the couch.

The next morning, I had Montgomery put some lotion on my back to soothe the itch while we were at school. He left little kisses down the back of my neck. I tried not to smile but I couldn’t help it. Things were still tense, even after our talk. I wasn’t sure I had completely forgiven him yet. We were still walking on eggshells around each other. This wasn’t an issue we could just sweep under the rug and pretend didn’t happen. Slowly though, our relationship was shifting back to normal. “Can you grab the cream cardigan out of the dryer when you’re in the kitchen please?”

“Sure.” While he was gone, I got dressed in black jeans and a maroon lace crop top. He whistled when he came back in. “Those should be at home jeans.” I rolled my eyes at him and he slapped my ass playfully.

“Monty!”

“What?” he shrugged, obliviously. I rolled my eyes and flipped him off. He chuckled to himself, knowing he couldn’t do anything. You got yourself into this. I slipped on a pair of black flats and grabbed my travel mug as we left the house.

Justin was waiting for us when we got to school. He had two cinnamon twists and a cup of tea from Monet’s with him. Apparently with my name on them. “A rather large birdy told me you had an important night last night.”

“Ooooo.” Garrison teased.

“No.” Monty ground out.

“I submitted my last early application for school last night.”

“Oh. Not ooo then. Jeeze Addy, had to go and make the rest of us look like slackers.”

“Well, I unfortunately don’t have schools calling and sending pamphlets begging me to attend their institutions. Some of us have to rely on academics to stand out.” The small group laughed around me. I hugged Justin as I took a chunk off the muffin. “Thank you. Now I just have to wait for responses.”

“How long will that take?” Bryce asked as he joined us.

“Too long.” I stated. Don’t want to be nice. Even though I promised I would try.

“O…kay.” The bell rang before I could say anything that would get me in trouble. I did catch Justin’s lip twitch though. He knew my expressions like the back of his hand.

Geography was easily the most boring class of the day for me. I usually didn’t participate much. Today however, I couldn’t stop myself. I don’t know if it was the stress or the fact that I had been running on fumes for the last week and a bit, but I couldn’t hold back my laughter when a student made a less than thought out comment.

“But Ms. Carlson. When my family and I were in Brazil this summer, the Spanish sounded different.” Carter said. Oh my. I tried so hard not to laugh but it just bubbled out. And once it started, it wasn’t stopping. People turned to look at me. Zach and Bryce looked at me like I had officially lost it.

“I… I’m sorry. I-it’s not you Carter.” I started. “I submitted my last college application last night and,” I paused again to try to catch my breath, “my stress level has been just a little high.” I paused yet again and took a deep breath. “The reason the Spanish sounded ‘funny’ is because it’s not fucking Spanish.” He looked at me funny. “It’s Portuguese.”

“No. It’s Spanish.”

“No. It’s not.”

“Yes, it is. Ms. Carlson?”

“It’s Portuguese. Brazil was colonized by Portugal Carter.” Ms. Carlson told him.

“Oh.” I had finally caught my breath.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to laugh. I get a little loopy when I get stressed.”

“No, it’s okay Addy.” He nodded to me.

I relayed the story of the Geography incident to our friends at lunch. The boys, even Bryce and Zach who witnessed it firsthand, found it absolutely hilarious.

“So, do you like, know any Portuguese?” Ryder’s girlfriend, Taylor, asked. Monty cleared his throat and grabbed my hand, squeezing. I turned to him, seeking permission, before answering. He nodded. I turned my attention back to the group.

“I can curse and that’s about it.”

“Oh?”

“Let’s just say there’s a reason I haven’t spoken to my father-in-law since before I married his son.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to overstep.”

“No, it’s okay.” I liked Taylor. She was nice. She wasn’t a cheerleader or overly pretentious. I could see myself being friends with her.

“We’ve talked about it and we are both comfortable with the situation.” Monty added.

“Can we get that story sometime?” Connor asked.

“You have to tell them.” Scott said.

“They need to hear it.” Charlie and Justin agreed.

“Maybe one day.” I smirked.

[mari-vargas]

Ok so I’m sitting waiting for my car to get an oil change (yes…the alert popped up Monday afternoon…just a day after my whole tire adventure), and since I just told this story yet again recently (to my tow truck driver on Sunday) I figured I’d share one of my “when it rains it pours” stories about my car. This is the story I mentioned in the teaser/reminder post, about my car transmission.

So I was headed home from university for winter break one year, and I had my two cats and a friend from high school that wound up eventually following me to university. Wow I just realized how much I’d love to tell the story about this friend of mine, but it’s a whole thing in and of itself so I’ll get into that another time…maybe soon so I’ll make a bit more sense…idk it’ll be fine I’m sure.

Anyways, we lived about an eight and a half hour drive away from our university. We were about an hour and a half to two hours in to our drive, in an area looking just like any other on the main stretch of the journey and I had no clue where precisely I was. All of a sudden, my car started making a weird noise. I’m not even sure I can describe it, but I absolutely will still recognize it to this day and am terrified of hearing it. When my tire was about to blow out it started making a similar noise and it’s only because it was missing the next few things to happen that I didn’t freak out as bad as the first time my battery died. ANYWAYS after it started making a sort of…clunking sound, it started revving (which I will be perfectly honest, happens sometimes with my car especially going at higher speeds with resistance like air or a slight incline or a slight decline), but the next two things were especially weird. The needle on my rpm meter started hard swinging back and forth like a pendulum on a grandfather clock even though I was keeping a steady pressure on my accelerator…and then my acceleration started rapidly declining.

I was in the far left lane of a three lane section of the freeway, and I was rapidly decelerating without any idea why or any ability to get myself to go faster. Also couldn’t find my hazard lights because it wasn’t in the same place as the car I had learned in. Anyways…somehow, miraculously, and with an awful lot of anger on other drivers parts (mostly towards the end because I was freaking out and didn’t just stop) I managed to get all the way over before the next exit, exited, waited at a light to turn left like an absolute dummy, and very very slowly made it into the parking lot of some sort of mall or shopping center thing. Where I then parked, and proceeded to freak the heck out. My friend was freaking out too and honestly I think I had more knowledge about what to do than he did, which considering the near white out panic I was in for at least a moment there is kinda saying something. I didn’t know what was wrong with my car. I tried to compare it to things I’d seen happen and just…didn’t know. My gas was full, the battery seemed to be working, tires all fine of course (don’t even remember if I’d even thought about tires at the time). All I knew was that my car had stopped accelerating at all. Maybe there was something wrong with my accelerator? I just didn’t know. It was out of my depth for what I knew how to deal with.

I started messaging everyone—texting because autocorrect could carry me through the worst of my hands shaking, fingers slipping, and eyes blurring which were all getting in the way of my ability to call anybody. I remember talking a lot with my sister, and a bit with my dad, probably even my mom at some point (who would’ve had a significantly leveler head and some more info than my dad). My sister meanwhile was talking and relaying information back and forth with my niece’s dad who was a mechanic at several points before and during the time we knew him (honestly don’t know if he currently was or wasn’t at that exact time but knowledge and skill like his doesn’t just go away). But whatever I’m amongst all that my sister was also the first to remind me about the AAA our grandma has gotten for all of her grandkids as soon as they start driving (yes, same grandma I travel with all the time. Makes sense, no? Always glad she’s able to do that for the five us).

So I call AAA and my friend is on the phone talking with his mom. My dad, knowing I could get a tow up to 100mi, sends me the address for a steak house exactly 100mi from the shopping center I was in (and had a decent sized parking lot for trucks). Tow truck pulls up, finds out I actually really am aiming for the full 100mi, calls his boss to get clearance for the long distance tow rather than the in town tow he was told he was cleared for because he didn’t want to pass us off to someone else since I guess he was sorta attached to making sure we got through this after hearing probably a full blown spiel from me, gets the OK and loads up my little red spark which I had cracked the windows of for my cats. We all hop into the cab of the truck and he goes and gasses up and as we’re pulling out of the truck gas station, I realize where I am. My car had died just past the exit I usually would stop for coffee at. Needless to say I was a bit superstitious after that and always stopped at that coffee shop either direction after that, whether I needed coffee or not.

So he tows us to the steak house a hundred miles away and it’s dark and the tow truck driver is concerned about leaving us in the middle of nowhere but I reassured him that I have someone with a car trailer on their way already. In case you’re wondering, that would be my sister’s coparent (here on referred to as B) with mechanic experience who would also fix up friends’ cars on the side and even had a couple of project cars.

So yeah we’re waiting there my cats are fine, frustrated over not being done with being in a car yet but seemingly understanding something unusual and out of my control had happened. It’s dark and around late dinner time. There’s a chain restaurant of some kind across the way, so my friend and I walk over there to get some dinner. Before that though, we had a talk because well…we’re wandering around in the dark. Now my friend, he’s tall like super tall and has a face that would at least warn away casual glances. However. He cannot throw a punch or literally defend himself in just about any way whatsoever. Me on the other hand, I unfortunately look like easy pickings. But I can throw a punch and otherwise escape an attacker and potentially help others get away too. So we had an agreement. He’d be there looking big and tough and warning away people, but if anything actually happened I’d be the one throwing fists and feet and getting us out.

I mean, we were fine. Got our food, got back to the car, no problem. But fact remains we had to have that conversation. Anyways it was another 2-4 hours before B showed up with the trailer. But show up eventually he did and he got us loaded up and into his truck (with my cats WITH me this time) and we hit the road, dropping my friend off with his mom at around 0100 and I finally made it home about half an hour after. He left my car on his trailer to get in the morning to take to the dealership.

So the dealership takes a look at it and says “well the transmission is completely dead, good news it’s still covered under the factory warranty.” It took a good while to be replaced but it was and again it was all on warranty.

Now I said “when it rains it pours”.

I could’ve just meant it was something major, out of nowhere right? But no…unfortunately, no. This was the winter break I’d been volunteering at that museum (have I mentioned this before? Eh….) and since I didn’t have my car I borrowed my mom’s. When I finally got my car back, we decided to keep having me use my mom’s car because I’d had to register it with security so they’d know not to charge me for parking. So my car sat in the driveway for the next…let’s say two weeks before I had to head back to university (again with my friend and cats in tow).

So it’s now I think the day before I leave and my dad takes my car to the grocery store and to gas it up for me while I’m working. Only…it doesn’t start. Or gives him problems or something I don’t even know the specifics. B can’t look at it before I have to leave, so we decide to just have my mom and I swap until spring. B came over maybe halfway through my drive and found a rodent nest in the engine compartment (rabbit or rat, we’re not entirely sure). Abandoned, but it looked like they’d chewed through some wires and other connectors to make room for their home. B got it taped together just enough for it to be taken back to the dealership to be properly fixed. It was.

BUT THEN (oh you thought it was over? Haha eh… almost)

It’s not quite spring break yet so my mom and I still have each other’s cars. My mom went to turn the key (on or off I honestly don’t know) and it broke. It was apparently a bit of an adventure for her involving at least three different shops but she got it replaced.

My little red car was running beautifully by the time I got it back 🤣

[purplesurveys]

1175

What’s the last vegetable you ate, and when did you eat it?  My dinner had broccoli and bell peppers in it.

What was your last Facebook notification for?  It was Aliyah replying to our comment thread on one of my posts. There wasn’t anything in her comment that was worth replying to anymore, so I just reverted with a Haha react.

What bands have you seen live? Paramore, Coldplay (not super legally), and One Direction.

Tell me an interesting fact about your mother:  She almost became a flight attendant, but she failed the final screening because of her height. I think the idea of her nearly having a completely different career is very interesting.

What do you think is the most important thing to happen to you before the age of 13?  In my case, probably getting my period. I got my first one when I was barely 10.

What were you super against as a young child but aren’t anymore?  Chicken curry. I also hateeeeeeeed Dora the Explorer with a passion, but now I find the show hilarious haha.

What are your plans later today? My work sched this week had been so fucking PACKED, that I want to do nothing but catch up on sleep all weekend. But seeing as I’m a proponent of revenge bedtime procrastination, I also highly doubt I’d let myself fall into a nap (Exhibit A: Me currently taking this survey at 2 AM...) If anything, I’ll probably just continue watching BTS In The Soop and finally start on Season 2 of Bon Voyage.

Are you doing anything exciting this weekend?  Well, it’s the weekend already, so...that ^ I will also have to take Cooper to the vet this Sunday.

Who do you talk to the most? Other than my team at work, Angela. I’ve been extra talkative these days because of our now-mutual excessive love for BTS, that I sometimes feel bad that I keep bombarding her with messages.

What are some things you do regularly that make you feel old?  Talk to my friends who are still in college, especially when they update me about the current happenings in UP that I have absolutely no clue about anymore.

Who is your best guy friend(s)?  I don’t have any best guy friends.

Do you wish your skin was lighter or darker?  Neither; I’m fine with my tannish skin tone.

If you had a tiny scar on your face, would you get it removed or just keep it?  Keep it; I already do.

Have you had an x-ray in the past year? Nah. My last one had been nearly 5 years ago, when I needed to get my back checked for scoliosis.

Do you think your first love still loves you?  No. And that’s okay. :)

What is something that is “going right” in your life?  EVERYTHINGGGGGGGGGGG I am so so happy with my life right now weeeee. I have the job of my dreams – I’m even working with THE ACTUAL K-POP GROUP SLASH PHENOMENON SLASH ICONS BTS for one of the clients I handle FHKDHGKHGFDKGHDKGH, I have the best and most supportive friends in the world, and I am now starting to grow my collection of BTS merch with my hard-earned money. Everything is going abso-fucking-lutely perfectly, and to think I didn’t think I would make it past 2020.

When did you feel ready to start dating?  Middle of high school.

When was the last time your pet bit you? If you don’t have a pet, have you ever been bitten by someone else’s?  I was play fighting with Cooper earlier tonight, and he got a little bit excited and ended up biting my upper lip quite harder than usual. It stung for a while, but it’s okay now.

Where were you the last time you made out?  I think it was my bedroom.

When was the last time you cried tears of joy? Yesterday.

How do you type your sad smileys?  Just this :(

Do you have “decorative hand-towels” that cannot be used in your house?  Nope.

What was the last soda you drank?  Probably the Coke I drank at an org event last year, pre-pandemic, out of sheer thirst. There wasn’t any water being served so I just gulped down the soda and tried to ignore the annoying fizziness. I don’t drink soda.

What was the last thing someone made fun of you for?  I was having a video call session with my workmates this afternoon as a way to end the week on a good note, and I recounted my experience of being locked out of the office while I was in the middle of a presentation for a client, and how I managed to get myself back in.

Have you ever had any type of surgery?  Nope.

Should kids be allowed to get tattoos/piercings without parental consent?  No.

Who was the last person to hit on you?  No one has in a while.

What was the last thing you decided not to do, that you were supposed to?  A deliverable a client asked me to do. It can wait til Monday.

What’s the hardest thing you’ve ever had to tell someone?  Maybe straight up admitting to my mom that she can be hurtful sometimes. It’s hard because she never actually processes things like that and they do nothing but vanish into thin air, even though it takes everything in me to be that honest.

What do you put on hot dogs?  Mayonnaise.

Ever fallen in the shower?  Like once, when I was 10 or 11.

What’s the worst thing you’ve ever called someone you care about?  Continued from last night. It was probably ‘bitch.’ Based on what I’ve learned from my mom, I put extra effort in particuarly watching what comes out of my mouth, because I know how words stick.

Do you think that things will get better?  I did, and now it has.

Have you ever legitimately saved a person’s life?  I think I may have. The story is a little triggering though, so I wouldn’t share it.

What’s your favourite book genre?  Doesn’t really count as a genre but I like auto/biographies.

Have you ever walked out of a movie at the theatre?  I’ve felt like it, but I’ve never done it.

Do dogs like you?  Yes, at least for 99.5% of my experiences.

Would you say that you project an air of authority?  In certain circles. But there are some groups where I trust others to lead rather than me.

Have you ever jumped off a high dive into a pool?  Nah, because I’ve never seen one. But even if I did, I think I would be too scared to do it hahaha.

Do you use one towel when you shower or two? (one for hair, one for body)  One. I use it to wash my entire body already.

Have you ever been to one of the great lakes?  No.

Who do you know that had a baby recently?  The son of one of my old college instructors. I believe she had been born in March because that prof recently posted family photos on Facebook that celebrated the baby’s first monthsary.

Do you like Usher’s songs?  Not in particular.

When was the last time you went to a waterpark?  Not a big fan of these as I find them unhygienic haha. The last time must have been...like anywhere between 12-15 years ago.

Have you ever ridden a train? Just once, and I had to go with Jum because I didn’t want to go alone.

What do you eat your French fries with?  Mayonnaise. If there isn’t any available, I’d want the fries to at least be generously sprinkled with salt; otherwise I’d find it too bland.

Do you have family problems?  Nothing blatant, but I know we are more dysfunctional than how we make it out to be.

What’s the last food you ate that was stale?  Pizza. I got two extra large boxes for my birthday last Wednesday and until now we still have some of it around :((( I ate some slices at around 3 AM earlier and they were tough as fuck to chew, hahaha. Still good, though.

How do you like your grilled cheese?  I don’t have grilled cheese sandwiches often. Surprise me.

What is the most challenging meal you have ever cooked?  I don’t cook.

What was your favorite thing to do as a little kid?  I liked watching my cousin play video games; playing outside; and answering my friends’ autograph books (aka my pre-survey days, lol).

Have you ever been close to drowning? Yup but just once. I was swimming and was just about to come up for air when one of my cousins, coming from the bottom of the pool, suddenly started to playfully pull me down. I was nearly out of breath by then and he had a much stronger grip on me, so I struggled for a while and ended up panicking and thrashing around a bit before I was able to wriggle myself free.

Have you ever had a panic attack?  It’s rare that it happens, but when it does it’s really bad and there’s no telling when it would subside.

Do you like doing housework?  Some, and only if I’m in the mood to. If I feel like I have to do it, then I get lazy.

Would you ever get implants?  I considered it before as a teen, back when small-chested girls were still bullied or made fun of on an everyday basis. How fucked up is that? I’m so relieved at how much social media has progressed.

Do you own a robe?  No.

Do you have a little sister? What’s her name? I have a younger sister but she’s barely a baby; she’s literally turning 21 this year. Nina.

Do you like crust on pizza or do you cut it off?  I like crust as long as it’s normal crust or stuffed crust. I can’t stand thin crust.

What was the last song you listened to?  Euphoria - credited to BTS, but it’s a Jungkook solo.

Have any of your family members been to jail?  Not blood relatives, but I know of super extended unrelated family members who’ve been to prison. Is there anyone that you feel you still need some closure with?  I don’t think so. Sometimes no closure is closure.

Can you remember when you first learned how to read?  I can’t, actually. All I remember is that I suddenly wanted to read everything by the time I was 5 and asked for nothing but storybooks every Christmas.

What event in your life has transformed your personality the most?  College. Gabie also had a very big influence on me during our relationship.

Have you ever had any teeth pulled?  Yes, but it was because it was already decayed.

Do you still want to be what you wanted to be in elementary school?  No, but I do elements of it in my work so that works out well for me. I wanted to be an author when I was in grade school, and today I regularly write various materials in my job.

What’re some TV shows that you would like to get into?  I just wanna get reconnected with The Crown again. I was already into it but I had to stop watching for a LONG time, because the show had some personal connections to my ex and so it seemed hard to get into the new season without breaking down lol. Now that I’m doing fine, I feel like it’s a good time to revisit the show.

How would you feel if you were drafted for the military?  Won’t happen here, but it’s the kind of situation where I wouldn’t really have a choice and would have to follow.

What is your favorite Queen song?  I don’t have any.

Do you know how to use any foreign currency? What do you mean, use...? Don’t you just use money to pay?? Hahaha or if you mean convert, then yeah I know how to do that with several currencies – US dollar, Korean won, Euro, Japanese yen, and whatever official name the pound has.

Been kissed by someone who you knew was “bad” for you?  Nope.

Ever taken an at-home pregnancy test?  I have not.

When was the last time you were at a loss of what to do?  I usually don’t have plans laid out on weekends these days anymore, so lately it’s all been a matter of winging it and just wanting to make sure that by the end of the day I get to say I made the most out of my free time.

What did you do on your favorite date with a guy/girl?  The time we did museum hopping + Italian dinner, or the one where we had French dinner + jazz bar.

What’s a movie you have seen in the theater more than once?  I never do rewatches for movies still in cinemas.

What is the reason you’re still alive?  I was stubborn and wanted to see if life would get better; I didn’t want to leave my dogs behind; I didn’t want to miss out on how potentially great and exciting my life could end up being; I didn’t want to cause and leave an even bigger emotional rift on my family.

I’m so happy I stayed.

Have you ever had sex in someone else’s bed/bedroom?  Yeah. Not the best decision, and I wouldn’t do it again lol.

Do you ever brush your hair before you go to bed?  Sometimes, so that it doesn’t look like a bird’s nest when I wake up the next day.

Have you ever had a dream about sleeping with a celebrity? (You don’t have to give details.)  I don’t think so. I have definitely imagined it in...other ways, though.

Has anyone ever told you that they needed you? Do you think they meant it?  Both in the superficial and loaded senses, yeah. 

How did you feel when you woke up today? What was the first thing you thought about?  I felt kind of like shit, just because I slept for only 1.5 hours – my body automatically wakes me up by a certain time, no matter what time I fell asleep. And also because my back and shoulder muscles were killing me with how sore they felt.

Do you still tell your parents that you love them?  I show it, but I don’t say it. I’m pretty stingy when it comes to that phrase.

Have you ever said “I love you” to someone you weren’t going out with?  Yes? It shouldn’t be limited to people you’re dating? I express it to Anj and Andi all the time.

Have you ever been threatened before?  Sure.

Would you date someone with a physical disability?  Yes.

Think of the last person you had sex with. Do you think they’ve slept with anyone else since they last slept with you?  Purely guessing, it’s likely. I’m not updated about her life anymore, though; life has been going on as if she never existed.

The last time you dyed your hair, what color did you dye it?  I’ve never had it dyed.

Think of the last time you went out to eat. Who paid?  I went out by myself, so I paid.

Do you save at least 15 percent of your income?  Yeah. I had a very good saving streak in which I was able to save anywhere around 50-60% every month...and thennnn I became a fan of BTS early this month LOOOOOL so now I’m back to like square three when it comes to my savings haha. Like I still know my limits and when to fucking stop taking out money from my bank account, but I’ve been spending dramatically more than I have been in the last few months.

Do you ever go on Reddit? If so, what are some of your favorite subreddits?  I used to go much more regularly, to the point where it was a part of my daily routine. Now I go at least once a month. I usually check out the Ask Reddit (for anecdotes), Today I Learned (for trivia), and GMM subreddits. Sometimes I’ll get on the Squared Circle subreddit as well to be updated on wrestling.

Were you ever a flower girl or ring bearer in anyone’s wedding when you were little?  Many times as a flower girl, yeah.

Are your parents in good health?  Fortunately, yes.

Have you ever been a caregiver to a sick/disabled relative?  Nope.

Is there any type of medicine you can’t take? For what reason?  Not that I know of.

Do you have a favorite pair of pajamas? What do they look like?  I don’t have pajama sets since I find them too warm.

Do you have any interesting pillow cases?  Eh, I don’t think so.

If something on your body hurts, which part is it most likely to be?  Shoulder muscles or my lower back.

Are you more afraid of spiders or bees?  Bees.

Have you ever worn fake nails? If so, what did the last pair you wore look like?  No.

Is Russian or Native American history more interesting to you?  Native American.

[oddsnendsfanfics]

Unraveling at the Seams Pt 2

Genre: Fan Fiction Pairing: Alex Høgh Andersen/OFC, Henry Cavill/OFC Warnings: Language, Sexual Innuendo, Possible NSFW Rating: M Length: Multi Disclaimer: a strict work of fiction, I own nothing except the original characters and the plot line. In no way am I affiliated to any of it.  

A/N: Well this is going over better than I thought it would. For that, I thank you all :)

thank you @flowers-in-your-hayr for the header :D

Catch Up Here 

“Momma,” The voice stirred through the sea air, rolling in off the Channel like a faint whisper. Nell scrunched her nose, her toes in the cool sand,  surrounded by the tiny grains. “Momma.”

This time of year the bay was beautiful, she remembered her first time seeing it, France to the East and England slightly to the North West. It had to be one of the most beautiful places Nell had ever...

“Momma!” The voice raised, accompanied by a violent shaking. “Mum! Mum!”

“Wha---” Nell groaned trying to roll away from the brutal wake up. Ivan could have at least waited until her alarm went off to wake her. “Ivan, stop.” she held her arm over her face, trying to block out the sunlight from the bay window.

“I need a new bag.” Ivan halted the attack on his sleeping mother. His dark curls a mess of bedhead, his blue eyes bright.

“Why? What happened to the one that you have?” Nell tried to find the time. Blindly grabbing for her phone, she gave in to defeat. Her alarm was due in five minutes, though there was no chance in getting those last five minutes of sleep. Her hair in it's own state of bedhead, she sat up and stretched her arms.

“I can't use it.” Ivan shrugged, standing beside her bed with the blue and red bag in his hand. He'd managed to get dressed, at least. Nell grunted, unable to form any more words at the current second. How she wanted to be back on that peaceful and quiet bay. “Momma.”

“What ever is the problem, my dearest boy?” She was awake now.

“I need another bag.” Ivan huffed. How many times did he have to tell his mother this? She was hopeless before he first cup of coffee. “I don't like this one, anymore.”

“Why?”

“Because nobody at school likes Superman any more. It would be so uncool to have it.” Ivan's eyes were wide and his voice serious. Nell chuckled, kids.

“Then go to your cupboard and get your old one, for today.”

“Okay, but we need to get rid of this. I can't be seen wearing this, ever!”

“Tell your father, he's the one who gave it to you.” Nell scratched the back of her head. Ivan dropped the bag and dashed down the hall. It was too early and Nell was too tired to remind him not to tear his room apart looking for something else.

Finally, the Superman drama causing book bag was replaced with one from the previous year. Nell assumed that since Superman was out, it would be cooler for her son to roll up to his class toting an old Peppa Pig bag. She would never understand kids and their crazes.

Breakfast. Check. Thanks to the blueberry muffins made by Bridie.

Lunches. Check. Shepherd's Pie, apple slices, a granola bar, and orange juice box for both of them.

Work bag. Gym bag. Keys. Coffee. Ivan.

And Nell was out the door.

Mornings like this were hectic to say the least, but they were Nell's favourite. Going into work later was always a bonus, though the real treat was getting to spend the early morning with Ivan. Nobody else there to interrupt them or tell them what or how to do things. It was the best part of the week, aside from Sunday, when Nell had the full day off and they indulged themselves in a late breakfast and an afternoon full of never leaving the couch.

At work Alex hadn't intended to wait for Nell, his schedule had been pushed back, which meant he had a little more time to hang out in the studio. It wasn't as if he had planned to be lingering when she walked into the department.

“Fancy meeting you here,” Alex greeted her before she could register what was going on.

“Uh, yeah. Hi.” Nell gave him a curt nod. “Rayna, can you help me unload those costumes we packed yesterday? I think there are one or two that need to be restitched.”

“Finished, sweets.” Rayna replied with a knowing smile and a wink.

The young actor had been following Nell around for too long, it was about time he got his due. At the very least, Rayna could help him get in a proper conversation with her colleague. It was less than a minute to her break, handing Alex a box of pins, Rayna instructed him to wait for Nell.

Settling into work, Nell ditched her bags and grabbed the folder she needed to begin mapping out the next round of costumes. Damn Rayna. Nell heard her tell Alex that she was leaving. Smooth on her friend's part. Taking her sweet time, Nell moved at a glacial pace. Small talk and nosy people were two things she wanted to avoid at all costs.

“Nell?” Alex poked his head around the door. “Ray said...”

“I heard.”

“Oh. Do you need any help?” He leaned against the door frame, his smile doing the best to charm the designer. His hair twisted into a bun, waiting for his hair and make up call, to transform him into whatever version of Ivar that they wished to create today.

“No thanks.” Nell shook her head. “You don't have to stand here, you know. I'm sure you have better things to do.”

Resting against the door, as if holding it upright, Alex's nose crinkled. “I am waiting for the call, I really don't have anything else to do.”

“Huh.”

On a typical day Alex would be nowhere to be found, while waiting for a set call. Like the other actors sleeping, reading, or generally goofing off was how he tended to spend his time. As of late he was choosing to spend more and more time in the costume department.

He watched Nell move around, gathering this piece or that, piling them up on a table at the end of the room. Whether she was conscious of it or not, her hips swayed to the music in her head, while she began to work. Her full attention set on the task at hand, she did an excellent job at ignoring Alex.  

The drawings on the paper before her had Nell's full attention, it was one of the bigger pieces, taking weeks to create and it still had fine details to be finished. It would be worn in the second half of the season, the actress it had been made for would look even better than Nell had imagined when this piece had begun. Her nimble fingers worked over a piece of costume, checking the stitching inch by inch. Alex had never sat and watched all the detail going into the clothing he wore day after day, while in character.

Such effort and care.

Nell could feel the steel blue eyes following her around the room.

He was tenacious, to say the least. There weren't many men his age who would stand that quiet and patiently. As awkward as Nell should find this, having Alex watching her felt familiar in a way. His presence reminded her of another time in her life, when another young actor had worked this hard to gain her attention.

This time she was going to be smart. Humor Alex with some chatting, rewarding him with a smile,  and nothing more. No longer was Nell going to swayed by gorgeous blue eyes and a flashy smile.

Alex was never quiet this long, strangely Nell liked him this way. His chatter was too much sometimes, despite him meaning well by it. She knew that he assumed she hated him. Yes, he annoyed her, never intentionally. What annoyed her was what he reminded her of, not him directly.

Shifting to prevent his leg from going to sleep, Alex stayed quiet and watched. He'd never noticed that Nell moved with absolute grace or that she had a small tattoo behind her left ear. At that he began to feel a tiny bit creepy.

“I may go get a drink, would you like anything? Coffee?”

“Uh,” Nell glanced up, catching Alex's eye. He was rather cute, standing there in half in his costume, looking like a lost puppy. “Scotch?” Nell's laugh was easy.

“I don't have any of that here, otherwise I would gladly share.” Alex winked. He liked her laugh. Was it too bold to tell her that?

“Unfortunate for us.” Nell joked. “Since there is no scotch, I'll take a coffee. Please. Black one sugar.”

Mock saluting, Alex grinned widely. “One coffee, black, one sugar on the way.”

Hearing that Alex and Nell had some easy interaction would surely please Rayna all while fueling her imagination.

She had told Nell more than once to enjoy the attention. He was young, handsome, generous, and could still be taught a thing or two where it would count. Each time, Nell would laugh trying to escape the conversation. Alex would soon move on, the second he found someone else to fawn over. He was young and handsome, women his age would eat that up in a second.

A handsome, sweet nature, generous actor was a recipe for disaster. Nell learned that first hand and would not, under any circumstances, go back there. She had been down that path and while it had left her with Ivan, she wasn't up for a second round.

“Coffee.” Alex held out the cup. “And!” he held out a package of chocolate chip cookies, tearing open the top he offered the first choice of the two cookies to Nell. “I grabbed these right before Marco, lucky score.”

“Well now I feel bad, poor Marco. What is he going to do?” Nell bit into the cookie.

Snickering, Alex shrugged. His friend would get over it.

“Don't you hate days like this?” Nell wondered out loud. “The slow days where nothing is happening, I hate waiting.”

“It's not my favourite, it's part of the job I guess.” Alex replied sipping his coffee and taking a bite of his cookie. “I'm not patient.”

“Neither am I,” Nell admitted. “Though being a mom has helped that.”

Alex swallowed his cookie and took another sip of coffee. After yesterday, he didn't want to step on any toes by discussing Nell's son.

“I don't...I don't know if I could do that.” Alex gently moved the conversation along. “Parenting must be a tough job. I can barely look after myself, it's why Marco lives with me.”

“I felt that way, at first. Especially after...”

“Right,” Alex wiped the crumbs of the cookie off of him. Sheepishly grinning at Nell. “I have to go find out what is going on for my shoot. If you're around later, how about we get together for another coffee?”

Saving her from going down a road that seemed rather personal for work, Alex crinkled the cookie package in his hand.

“Hmm,” Nell wrinkled her nose. “Not going to happen, sorry. Ivan will be here after school and I am off early.”

“Maybe tomorrow? Or Monday?” Alex was wishful that she would take his offer. He felt as though Nell had chatted with him to be polite or because she was bored, whatever he would take this as a personal win. If he had balls, he'd ask her for coffee over their days off.

“We'll see.” Nell smiled softly, her eyes creasing gently in the corner. She had stunning eyes.

“Until then, enjoy your shitty coffee. And good luck with all this work.” Alex waved backing out of the door.

He had accomplished a nearly impossible task today and it left him feeling invincible.

Lost in her work, time began to slip away. Deep in her element, Nell hadn't bothered to look at a clock since Alex had left. She knew it would soon be time for Ivan to come, a excitement began to bubble. Her son loved hanging out at work with his mother, his mood would change the older her got. Until then, Nell would take full advantage of the time he wanted to spend around his mother. Even if he did it because of how cool  it was to see people battling one another with swords?

“Nell, visitor.” One of the ladies who worked as a various runner knocked on the door. Nell's head jerked up, a smile on her face.

“Thank you,” Nell dropped everything she was doing to meet Bridie and collect Ivan.  Thanking their nanny and waving her off, the duo headed back inside. The afternoon warmth was welcomed on the other hand, the air conditioning was nicer.

“How was school?” Nell ruffled Ivan's hair and hugged him to her side.

“Long.” Ivan rolled his eyes, leaning into his mother. “Can I play with your phone?”

“Slow down, wild boy.” Nell eased. “You can, but if there is any school work it has to be done first. Go on, I will clear a space for you.”

“No school work.” Ivan beamed proudly. “I got a gold star today and don't have any.”

“Such a smart boy.” Nell held open the door for her son to pass through. “Give me a second, I will get you a spot to hang out and play games.”

“Okay.”

Ivan's quest for a game to play was sidetracked, when he stepped inside to find the familiar man hanging out, waiting like every one else seemed to be today. Bouncing the rest of the way across the room, Ivan greeted his friend. Calling to his mother. “Mum, I don't need to play a game right now.”

“Ivan!” Jordan cheered, his laugh coming in a growl. “How've ya been, buddy?”

Jordan and his girlfriend lived in the townhouse across the courtyard from Nell and Ivan. Having met Jordan at work with his mother; Ivan would sometimes join the actor in games of basketball on the small court behind their complex. On Saturdays, providing there was nothing else going on, Jordan would invite Nell and Ivan over to watch whatever football match was on. Jordan and Ivan would sit in front of the tv yelling and cheering, while Nell and Sophie ignored the chaos and spent time gossiping about this and that.

“Good, I guess. Ms. Inglewood has been giving a lot of homework.” The seven year old groaned, flopping down on the chair next to the actor. “Mountains of it!” His eyes were wide. “But not today.”

“Ah, all part of the school game, little man.” Jordan clasped a hand over the boy's small shoulder. “Tell me what you've been learning about.”

Nell snickered, pulling a rack of pants from the large cupboard behind the chairs, Ivan had been complaining for the last two weeks about this very subject. Jordan had opened a can of worms.

“Vikings.” Ivan replied in discontent.

“Well, look at that!” Jordan's enthusiasm was about to be squashed. He nudged the boy in the arm, smiling. “You must be at the top of the class, then?”

“No.” Ivan mumbled, folding his arms across his chest. “Ms. Inglewood has it all wrong and when I tell her that, she gets mad at me.”

“What do you mean?”

“She knows nothing about Vikings! It's all big and hairy men, wearing hats with horns, and how they were big bullies.” Ivan huffed, turning in his seat, he grasped the armrest, leaning over into Jordan's face. “She's crazy and not a very good teacher!”

“Hmm,” Jordan pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes. “Do you tell her that she's wrong, often?”

“Every day!” Ivan nodded firmly. He'd sat back a few inches, giving Jordan room to turn and face him.

“Maybe that's why she's always mad?”

“But she's wrong!” Ivan argued. “Wrongggg, Jordan, wrong!”

“So, the next time she is wrong, try being nice. Rise your hand and politely explain how what she is saying, isn't true.” Jordan offered the solution.

“Ugh.” Ivan sat back on his chair. “She won't listen to me, but...” He smirked. “She might listen to an adult.”

Nell listened to the conversation, no matter what Jordan said Ivan would try his best to get his own way. The little boy had a charming smile and those dazzling blue eyes, it was difficult for adults to deny him. A charm his father had as well. If he grew up to be like his father, the world was going to need some help handling them both.

“Buddy, I'm not sure that I'm the right guy to talk to your class. I don't now much about Vikings, I just pretend to be one.” Jordan shrugged, standing to finish putting on his costume. He had spent enough time with the boy to know how to deflect that charm. “Why don't you see if your mum can't help you find someone else?”

“But you're my best friend. And adult girls like you.” Ivan continued to argue. The various people in the room getting a chuckle, as the little boy tried his best to convince the actor. “Please.”

“Okay, Ivan, enough.” Nell cut in, running her hand through his hair. “Jordan has to get to work. We can discuss this later, let him go.”

“Mummm.” Ivan whined, ducking away from her. “I need someone to talk to Ms. Inglewood. Otherwise, she's going to produce a bunch of morons.”

“Ivan! Language!” Nell scolded her son. “Lets give this a rest, why don't you go see what they're doing in make up? I'll be right over with the rest of today's costumes.”

“Fine.” Ivan grumbled, sliding out of the chair. “But someone needs to talk to this woman. Where's Mr. Peter? He knows a lot about Vikings right?”

“Go and leave him alone, too!”

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[hidden-not-isolated]

Hidden, Not Isolated [C1]

He was shaking.

He was shaking.

He was shaking.

But he was relieved.

He had gotten to his desired location. 

After everything.

He’ll throw a party as he checks that off the list. 

Done, taken care of. 

All wrapped up and good to go.

…Now what? 

Sure, the idea of taking his complicated, daunting mission one-step-at-a-time certainly worked, however...for starters, he definitely couldn’t handle the idea of being anywhere near any other people; not to mention the strangers. The strangers. The strangers strolling around the proximity, doing whatever they want, you unbeknownst to their shenanigans that they do in the shadows. For all you know, one could be plotting to kill you next Sunday afternoon. One could be a kidnapper in plain sight, lacerating its victims. One could be scheming to expose your biggest secret to the entire world, directly or otherwise. Or to put it more simply, 

A town. 

Filled with murderers.

Which was where he was. 

Thoughts haphazardly crammed and rushed to his head as he forced the water threatening to raise behind his eyes to back off as his breathing firmly hastened and he glanced the area over, left and right, still contemplating of what may happen upon someone spotting him even if it was random...even if it was agonizing...even if it was the worst... even if it was the best...

The best.

As he pinched an eye shut, he grazed away the nearly cast tear with his palm whilst refocusing, and maybe distracting, himself boiled to the front of his mind instead of physically hiding from the insult-ready folk trapping him,

Find him. 

But if he was honest with himself and his Anthropophobia, his existence was still useless. How was he supposed get back on his feet if he had been unknowingly stapled to the ground in the first place? Guess he just didn’t know that until now. After all, he had no traces, no courage, no nothing. Essentially, instead of being something of millions of miles away from his objective, he was lost in his own, personal mind and apprehension. Literally no one could help him with this absurd disorder. He would have to deal with his pattern of heavy thought by himself. That’s just honestly cruel, isn’t it? After all, he didn’t even know who he was supposed to be anymore, would anything go his way? Couldn’t the universe just, you know, be considerate? Could it really not spare him even the smallest shred of luck? Surely it owes him, right? Out of everything he had gone through, wouldn’t it only be fair? Emerging from the whole “god doesn’t play the dice” stuff, guess not. In fact, with no sighting of his goal even now, perhaps he should’ve looked somewhere else, less filled with people. Perhaps he should've never come in the first place. Perhaps this was all an elaborate mistake. But there he was. About to die. He did that to himself. Hooray. Such advanced thinking. Clever. Really clever. See, it didn’t matter where he consciously made his way to, physically. After all, he had literally been hunting for this town for...a while...? So it wasn’t a matter of that. What else could it be? I mean, he could be anywhere in the world and it wouldn’t change the fact that he was having something of a panic attack.

His existence was fucking useless.

His frantic, terrified heaves of hyperventilation beginning to rapidly stutter once again, his neck instinctively tucks inwards, right hand tightly squeezing his left with a painfully tight grip uncontrollably in a nervous habit as his eyes remained wide and hysterically bouncing to the left and right, anticipating someone to maniacally sprint up to him with a melee weapon of sorts. The positions of his hands were over his mouth alongside the cloth that he automatically buried his lips with, trying to make sure the soft fabric didn’t slip--it made him feel a bit more safe. To be specific, it made him feel as if he was at his home...if he had a home, that is. He could only guess. That said, he still could barely muffle even the thinnest of heaves into the atmosphere. He couldn’t even ask somebody to call an ambience if he needed one, that’s how useless he was. Amazing. He had just gotten there and of course, he was continuously choking on his own worthless breath matching his personality over and over again. The sinister reality encircling him, he couldn’t imagine anything bad not happening to him and as if he could simply shut out the actuality ambushing him this easily, he locked his eyes shut as his hands and weave slipped to his chest whist the universe itself whirled in broad circles around him. He couldn’t focus. He needed to focus. He couldn’t relax. He needed to relax. He couldn’t breathe. He needed to breathe. 

B r e a t h e.

Taking several, large, expansive breaths, he thoroughly aired out his lungs as he forcefully commanded his throat. His lungs despairingly exhausted themselves panting all of the microscopic particles of dust elsewhere before he ultimately exhaled one final time, the desire to keep his eyes clasped amplifying by far the most that he had craved yet as exactly two total tears slipped from his eyes, one each, while he tucked his chin to the right side of his chest, shying his face away, effectively pinching the skin of his left hand.

. . . 

Swiftly, his hands sank into a posture near to his lower chest whilst he vigorously trembled uncontrollably, head slightly, unenthusiastically shifting towards the front of him and eyes tearing towards the town. His timid manner as he slipped his attention was visibly noticeable. He looked as if he just wanted to hide behind his hair and shun from any sorts of murderer-likely people who were exchanging discussions about how stupid he looked with one another as they sauntered beyond the proximities, snickering about how randomly sensitive and crybaby-like a grown man was acting for no apparent reason.

That said, though he was completely aware that peeping was daring, he was nearly swooped into a calmed status for a few moments, for exactly three parrots sang their chirps as they flew past his line of sight, the birds honestly startling him as they shuttled, him to instinctively adjust his attention and eyes to keep a tab on the flyings. 

As he traced the flutterings after they resting-ly perched onto a beam, he slowly twisted his neck left and right, not rushing to cautiously take in all of the scene that dauntingly made him feel oh-so-small in its surrounding-like style. That is, until he rabidly blinked a few times in wonderment as he took most notice to the vertical, coloured beams that fiercely shone directly into the atmosphere. They weren’t exactly bright enough to make one go blind even if they were to gaze for a prolonged amount of time but definitely enough to be seen from a mile away. And clearly striking. He found himself dumbfoundedly staring at the beams of colour, even after he instinctively roamed towards the lights in his glaze. Definitely something he hadn’t seen in years. The monument supporting the streaks of hue also persisted so causally, as well. Everything did. Everyone did.

The streets of this town square were far from being bustling or swarming with people this sunny day. They weren’t many folks out and about. So that was very good. Not a lot of people out and striving to kidnap him, throwing him into the basement that would also be the worst day of his day...which was a possibility to happen. So this was much better than any kind of crowd. Much better than any kind of crowd. Much better than any kind of crowd. He was very lucky. But then again, if he was very lucky...forget it. Why don’t we try to be grateful? Not much else has worked for this man, anyways. 

“I’ve always loved these beacons!” He violently flinched in his recently pacified status as a bloke abruptly ran around the structure, arms out immaturely. That’s what urged his self-preservation to immediately shoot his head towards the ground and began actively vibrating once again, cradling himself, praying that the individual would just go elsewhere if they didn’t pay much attention to them.

“Yeah, that’s why they call it ‘Beacontown,” He heard a woman return followed by barks of a canine, he believed. He also believed that a hastening shiver quickly jetted down his spine upon overhearing that another person was too close to him and, to top it all off, a dog that probably had razor-sharp teeth, ready to impound blood-cut stitches into his arm with a single snack out of his sensitive skin. 

No. 

Get away from me.

The fact that someone was in the proximity of him was all it took for him to frantically speed-walk to a distance, away from the characters, visibly quivering at the thought of being that girl’s or man’s next victim. Or, in fact, anyone who saw him. Just stay at least fifty-five-feet away from him and you should be fine. Just go away. But I guess there’s always a bright side. At least he knew what the town was called now.

“Beacontown.”

That made sense.

The beacons definitely seemed to be important.

By second-nature, he allowed his legs to go on autopilot as his mind was occupied with properly, thoroughly brushing his eyes around the area, scanning the neighbourhood with the scent of sweet spraying the diversified structures ever since he had shakingly taken a look around the proximity accompanied by his uncontrollable rabid breathing, seeking to discover and identify any potential ambush spots, yearning to keep himself guarded of the possible threats.

As he glimpsed left and right of the town, he just couldn’t disregard all of the monuments standing so plainly. Friendly. Ranging from what appeared to be a heartfelt memorial to someone to some sort of tiki-like-statue, this town’s square was unmistakably an interesting area. In as much of a good way as in was bad. Unsure of how else to describe it, he gawked wide-eyed at the structures scattered about the vicinities, various textures and materials utilized to build them, evident to the gentle stroke. It obviously took quite a while to create, but it seemed to be worth it, it contributing to the nonviolent atmosphere. 

His eyes finally separating from the right-line of buildings, his focus ultimately took a notice and attached to a thin piece of paper taped crudely to the side of a building upcoming, of which he could roughly make out the title of the paper to be from afar, however, he wasn’t entirely sure. Him being curious to thoroughly investigate and explore every portion of this town without running into any person, he promptly began to pick up the pace with his stride to the paper.

. . . 

Oh...

What have I done?

Yes, of course. Why didn’t he see that coming? It made sense...mostly. There were a few plot holes but knowing his luck, they’re probably be covered up later. If he got to later. Regardless, he couldn’t ask questions. He did this to himself. He had no excuses. It was a matter of time anyways.

He barely even noticed himself instinctively unsticking the sheet from the tac and off of the building before he stood firmly, still holding the newly-discovered filer that had caught his eye once again for a briefer moment. As he sat himself onto the damp floor of the alleyway, he noticed that his puffs of breath had become foggily visible a second prior to him holding the sheet upwards to thoroughly examine the paper as he reflected on his actions. He couldn’t complain, of course; he just couldn’t believe it.

It was him, Soren.

On a wanted poster.

[sarahhlauren]

Okay. Here we go. I’m really not sure where to start so I guess I’ll start from the beginning of all this madness. It was May 18, 2019. My mom’s birthday. I headed to work in the afternoon. I always closed on Sunday nights. My favorite bartender was working. We had spent the night making stupid jokes and making each other laugh until the last customer walked out the door. I closed at work like I usually did, not trying to stay too late because it was a school night. Monday morning comes, I wake up and for the first time, my body was not mine. It was not my own skin, it was not my own legs, my own hands. I couldn’t tell you what my face looked like because it was maybe 2 weeks until I could look at myself in the mirror. But, the world did not stop. There was work to be done, right? I had my first therapy session at 9 am, because prior, I had been dealing with severe depression, a final at 11, and my last final at 2. I had to focus on doing well and finishing out the semester, putting aside the fact that I felt like a ghost in my own body and mind. For the record, I got a 4.0 that semester, for the first time ever in college.

So it's late afternoon, I made it through my finals. I text my best friend, saying I need to come over and talk. As soon as I laid on her bed, I burst into tears as it took everything in me to say the words, “He raped me.” Even now, a year later, I hate that. It will never not make my stomach hurt. Within an hour, I was talking to three police officers, going over the incident in disgusting detail over, and over, and over again. Being asked questions a young woman should never have to be asked, especially by three young male officers. A few hours later, I was at the hospital. I went through the entire questioning process again from the nurse. A few moments later, I found myself standing there, naked. Being photographed, touched by a stranger, poked and prodded. I will never forget the posters of puppies with silly hats they have on the ceiling, as if that’s supposed to distract you from the flashes of the camera as you lay with your legs in the air. She forgot to mention that the hospital’s Plan B would have me in bed for 2 days. It felt like my insides were being scraped out with a rusty fork.

A few days later I eventually came home, and my mom was eager. She knew something was wrong but wanted to let me tell her on my own terms. The look in her face as tears streamed down her face fills me with so much anger I could punch something. That she had to hear those words and understand the gravity of the situation, and that I was pursuing legal action.

It was exactly one week after I saw him again. Not only did I see him, but I worked with him. Not just this one night, but for months. Because the investigation was active, I couldn’t say anything to my managers. This was the hardest part. For weeks, to act like everything was normal. To act like I wasn’t having multiple panic attacks throughout my shift. To act like I wasn’t getting alerts on my apple watch that my heart rate was pushing 120 bpm for hours. To act like I wasn’t in the presence of my rapist, as he was still approaching me. To act like I was listening to customers talk, when I was blacked out. If I didn’t act like things were normal, it could jeopardize the investigation. I am fully aware that some people may be questioning my actions. I don’t feel I have to defend myself to anyone. It was an impossible and unimaginable situation. I did the best that I could at the time, and I am so proud of myself for it. I chose to not take the easy way out. I chose to not quit my job. I chose to fight.

About early June, I was finally able to tell my GM what happened. I told them, “I do not feel comfortable working with him, ever again.” The very next shift, a few days later, my GM told me he was working that night and asked if I would “be okay.” What was I supposed to say? If I said no, I would get sent home, and in my mind at the time, that was letting him win. He took so much from me and I refused to let him take any more. So I worked with him that night, and for months. Being retraumatized over and over and over again. It wasn’t until months later that I could see how toxic that environment was for me. In the moment, I truly thought that I could just tough it out and I would be okay. I couldn’t see how much worse those months made my PTSD. Solidifying dozens of triggers, some still unknown to me until I face them.

About 5 months pass by, no news on the investigation. I had heard nothing from the investigator. These months were such a cycle of torture. My job wouldn’t do anything about him without a police report, and the police weren’t giving any updates. Nothing was moving. Meanwhile I am working with him a few days a week, retraumatizing my brain and body dozens of times over.

Trauma, anxiety and depression are really weird. Yes you have the common symptoms of lethargy, no motivation, sleep or appetite issues, but I feel like nobody talks about the blackouts and the memory loss. I have such little memory except for anything trauma related for those first few months. I can tell you every little detail about the following days, and weeks related to the incident. I can tell you what kind of car he has, his license plate, the exact parking spot that he parked his car in. I can tell you exactly what time he drove to work, which days he worked. I checked his schedule every week so I had time to mentally prepare myself to work with him on a given night. Do I remember my college visits? Not really. Do I remember anything I did that summer? No, unless I look back at photos. The memory loss is real, and it's weird.

Finally, my job transferred him to a different store. I felt a sense of freedom. Freedom to turn around at work without fear that he was looking at me. Freedom to walk to my car at night without a manager’s escort. Freedom to feel comfortable again, or at least try to.

Around mid-October, I met with the investigators again about the progress of the case. This time, it was two women investigators and I in a small room in the Sex Crimes Investigation Department in Orange County. It felt like they were on my side, or at least they were supposed to be. I didn’t anticipate being thoroughly questioned again. The same intrusive questions felt different coming from a woman, almost worse in a way. We got to the point where the investigators told me straight up, “it's your word against his, we have no proof of his guilt and without it, can’t move forward.” That was it. It was over. There was nothing I could do.

I did my best to move on, whatever the heck that means. There’s a lot I could say about my healing process, that is still very much going on and will be for a while. I’ll try to keep it limited. The most important thing I want to say about it, is that it is not linear. From May-August I thought I was fine, I was in denial. Then, someday it hit me and I understood the situation on a different level. One of the things I learned is how depression can impact memory. I have little memory of that summer, outside of events and emotions related to my assault. Each day brings something different. Similar to grief, some days are better than others. Triggers that once upset me, no longer upset me. Triggers I didn’t know existed last August, send me into a panic now. I still live in constant fear of seeing him, knowing that he is out there, living his life. Working through PTSD on top of preexisting mental health conditions was more than I ever could have imagined. It’s hard, it sucks and I wouldn’t wish it upon my worst enemy. I don’t have much else to say about that right now.

One of the most interesting concepts I read about in a book about trauma is called “learned helplessness”. I remember learning about this maybe junior or senior year in psychology class, but it never stuck until it applied to me. “Learned helplessness, in psychology, a mental state in which an organism forced to bear aversive stimuli, or stimuli that are painful or otherwise unpleasant, becomes unable or unwilling to avoid subsequent encounters with those stimuli, even if they are “escapable,” presumably because it has learned that it cannot control the situation.” Essentially, it explains why traumatized individuals tend to stay in the environments or climates that harbor the trauma. For me, it helps to explain why I stayed at work instead of quitting.

At the risk of sounding cliche, I would not be where I am today without the support system that I have. I am grateful every single day for my family and loved ones who support me unconditionally and have been with me at any point in this process.

I want to recognize how lucky I am, because I truly am. I am lucky to have been in a position where I could go to the police for help (regardless of the outcome), because many victims do not have that luxury. I am lucky to have had access to medical care. I am lucky to have continuous access to mental health professionals. I am lucky to have friends and family who believe me, who never questioned me. I am lucky that it wasn’t worse than it was. I am lucky to be alive, because not everyone is as lucky as I am.

I have a lot of reasons as to why I wanted to share my story. I want to make very clear that pity and attention are neither of my reasons. One of the main ones, is that I want to contribute the conversation about sexual assault and sexual violence. A big part of what motivated me to pursue legal action was the thought of me not being his last victim. Almost immediately I felt a sense of responsibility. Responsibility to do something about this, because again, I am lucky enough to have access to resources to do so. I hope this can spark conversations about the necessity of affirmative and continuous consent, regardless of circumstances.

Another big reason is to highlight the series of injustices throughout this process that have nothing to do with my rapist. I will not name names, however many of you will know the people that I am talking about. In no way am I attempting to slander them, I aim to simply draw attention to where I felt they failed me. I just want everyone to do better. To try harder. To do the right thing, regardless of company policy or whatever hardship it might bring them.

The first one, I believe was on behalf of the police. I understand the need to secure the privacy of the investigation, but they told me to “go back to work and act like everything is normal.” This was, and is wrong. I felt like I had to, because the police told me, and I’m supposed to trust them, right? Wrong. I feel they could have come up with a better solution, providing me more support than that.

The second one, would be by SO many people within the company that I worked for. My GM, the senior HR manager, and the 2 regional managers who were aware of the situation. All of them had the ability to not only relocate him, but fire him at the snap of their fingers, but they didn’t. I have my thoughts on why they didn’t, and all of them put my wellbeing at the bottom of the pile. The senior HR manager called me every so often to check in, and see how I was doing. It was made very clear that he didn’t give a shit about me and this was just a routine part of his job when he told me over the phone, “Thank goodness I don’t have a daughter, only sons.” This HR manager ultimately ended up telling my rapist the police were involved, which is very much illegal for a few reasons, and is ultimately responsible for ruining the investigation.

The third one was the investigator within the Special Victims Unit assigned to my case. Take this one with a grain of salt. I don’t know if I just got a subpar investigator or this is how they all are, but Olivia Benson would put them to shame. Without going into too much detail, I never felt heard. I felt like they couldn’t wait to get this case out of the way and never put in any real effort.

I would absolutely be lying if I said that I didn’t have any anger. I am so angry. I am fucking angry that this happened. I am so angry at all the ‘adults’ that I went to for help, and didn’t receive it. I am angry that I’m not the first girl that he’s done this to. I’m angry that I can’t prove it. I’m angry that in a court of law it’s his word against mine. I’m angry that he admitted he heard me say no, but it was the one time I didn’t put my phone in my pocket and take a voice recording. I am angry that a year later, I am still suffering every single day. I still have nightmares. I still have panic attacks. I still think about it every damn day. I am angry that he gets to live his life as he wishes. I am angry that I am filled with petrifying fear that it will happen again. I am angry that I’ve spent months, now a year, in therapy talking about him. I am angry that I am angry!!

20% of women will experience rape in their lifetime, and 1 out of every 10 rape victims is male. This is real and it happens. It happened to me. But it didn't have to. And it doesn’t have to keep happening. We all hold the power to make it stop. Start the conversations. Don’t laugh at jokes about sexual assault, because it’s not funny. Correct your friends, family, coworkers, bosses, and neighbors when they make jokes that contribute to rape culture. Stop supporting that behavior. If you see something, DO SOMETHING. Be the one to stop it. Be the one to step in. Be the difference. Break the cycle, do better, be better.

Again, thank you to all of those who have stuck by my side at any point in my journey. I appreciate you all more than you know and I love you all so much more than my words can possibly express.

Thank you, and you know who you are, for showing me what it’s like to be respected, to be loved. That it's possible to be comfortable in my own skin. To let your light shine through to the darkness that existed within me. To show me how strong I am, what I am capable of, and what I am worth. I am forever grateful for you and your grace.

For those of you who aren’t as fortunate, I am here. I am here to listen, to confide in, to help, to advocate, to love, to protect you. I am here for you.

For those of you know someone who has experienced sexual assault or violence, believe them. Be there and listen to what they want and what they need. Love them and remind them of the good, because there is so much more good than bad in the world.

For those of you that have read this far, thank you. Thank you for taking the time to hear my story. I hope to have impacted you for the better.

-sb :)

[alindakb]

Letters to my Parents - Sunday 19 April 1992 - by Alinda

Sunday 19 April 1992

Dear mom and dad,

Hermione is driving me insane! She has made herself a study schedule because exams are only eight weeks away. And she’s been bugging me, Ron and Neville to do the same. She’s been complaining about it for the last two weeks, saying the exams will be here before we know it. As if it isn’t bad enough already that we have stacks of homework for this Easter holiday. It’s been really hard to relax with Hermione reciting all her work or practising wand movements. I’m hiding from her right now. Malfoy thinks it’s very funny, he’s been trying to hide his laugh since I walked into the dormitory.

He and I have been getting along well this last month. You remember me telling you that I thought he was staying awake at night to make sure Nott and Crabbe would behave. Well, I was right. He fell asleep during History of Magic that Tuesday and he could hardly stay awake at lunch. So I asked him about it that evening when he was walking me back to the dungeon. He first tried to brush it away, saying he got plenty of sleep and that it was nothing. So I told him I don’t blame him for what happened and that he doesn’t need to protect me, that I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself. He screamed at me then, saying I clearly did need protection, since I had spent two weeks in the hospital wing after Theo had beaten me up. And that I was crazy if I thought that he would let that happen again. I just stood there, looking at him with my mouth open, not knowing what to say or do. Malfoy was really worried about my wellbeing and that was just too crazy for words. After a couple of seconds, Malfoy started walking again and I just followed him.

The next day I went to sit with him and Zabini for breakfast and tried to talk to him again about him staying awake to make sure I’m fine. Zabini agreed with me that Malfoy did need some sleep and he helped me convince him to stop trying to stay awake all the time. From then on I kept eating breakfast with them at the Slytherin table. I still have lunch and dinner with Hermione and her fellow Gryffindor’s, but it’s also nice to spend more time at my own house table. I think Zabini, Malfoy and I are becoming friends. It’s making things a little more complicated because Ron and Neville can’t seem to forgive Malfoy for all the teasing he did before, but he has changed and hasn’t said a bad word about or to me in the last two months. I didn’t tell Ron and Neville about him staying awake to keep me safe and how he saved my notebook and cloak (that they don’t even know about) from Nott. Ron and Neville not knowing that might make it harder for them to see that Malfoy is trying to be my friend, but I’m not willing to tell them. Only Hermione knows that Malfoy sacrificed his sleep to keep me safe and protected my notebook while I was in the hospital wing, and she still thinks Malfoy must have read my letters to you, but he said he didn’t and I’ll believe him until there is prove otherwise.

We also ran into Hagrid in the library last week, which was very unusual. He tried to hide some things behind his back and asked us if we were still looking for Nicolas Flamel. Ron bragged that we had found him ages ago. I had to hide my smile when Neville rolled his eyes. It had been Hermione and me that had figured it out, Ron had no part in that and he knew that. But I’m getting used to Ron taking credit for work he hasn’t done, always making everything sounding like a team effort instead of giving the person that done it the credit unless of course, Ron did it, then it’s just him.

Hagrid shushed him quickly, telling us not to shout about it. And when I told him I had some more questions about what else is guarding the stone apart from Fluffy he invited us over at his place. After he left Ron and Neville decided to find out what he had been hiding and told us he had been in the dragon section. I told them Hagrid always wanted a dragon and they informed me it was outlawed years ago. And that having a dragon is dangerous. Ron said his brother Charlie has some pretty scars from when he was burned by wild ones in Romania.

When we (Hermione, Ron, Neville and I) got to Hagrid’s hut all the curtains were closed and Hagrid even asked who it was before he let us in. I asked him about the stone and if he knew what else was guarding it, but Hagrid didn’t know. He only told us, after Hermione flattered him, that some professor’s helped with the guarding. Most of them are fine professors, but Snape was one of them. And I’m still sure he wants to steal the stone. And if he helped with the guarding, he might even know how to get past the other spells and protections in place. But Hagrid promised us that only he and Dumbledore know how to get past Fluffy, so I think the stone is safe for now.

But that’s not the only thing we found out when we were at Hagrid. He’s hiding a dragon egg in his hut. That’s why all the curtains were closed and he had a steaming hot fire going. He had won it in a game of cards with a stranger. He has gotten a book out of the library about dragon breeding, so he knows what to do and what kind of dragon egg he has. It’s a Norwegian Ridgeback.  I’m worried about Hagrid and his egg. What would happen to him when anyone would find out that he is hiding an illegal dragon in his hut?

The dragon is just another thing I have to worry about. There is the stone of course, which Snape is trying to steal, the dragon, the upcoming exams and the trickiest problem of all: Nott and Crabbe. I’ve been trying to figure out a way to stop them from coming after me. It’s nice that my friends escort me everywhere, but it would be nice to go somewhere by myself again, to be able to go to the toilet without someone having to come with me, just in case Nott tries something. And I know they’ve been looking for opportunities. I think I’ll need the help of Malfoy on this one. He’s much more cunning than me. I think I’ll ask him right now, I’m sure he can use a break from his studying. I’ll be right back and tell you how it went.

We have a plan. Malfoy is going to teach me some spells that will help me defend myself when they attack me again and some spells I can use to get back at them. I’m not sure about attacking them, but Malfoy says I need to show them that I will stick up for myself, that it is the only way to make them stop. And maybe he’s right, so I will learn the jinxes and see if I’ll use them when the time is there.

It’s almost time for the Easter dinner now, I can’t believe how the time flew when Malfoy and I were talking. We first talked about the plan to stop Nott and Crabbe. And then we talked about the upcoming exams. Malfoy told me his father expects him to be top of the class, but he thinks Hermione will beat him in most subjects. I told him his father would still be proud of him when he becomes second. I don’t think Malfoy thinks that is true, he still smiled at me and thanked me. I told him that my aunt and uncle won’t care how I do with my exams and that they don’t really care about me at all. Malfoy found that hard to believe.

Somehow we came to the topic of flying and we went on about that for most of the afternoon. Malfoy told me about his broom collection at his home. He lives in a mansion, with massive gardens and even a forest. He can fly around without any change of muggles seeing him. He said I should come to visit him during the summer hols, so we can go flying together, maybe even practice for the Quidditch try-outs. Malfoy wants to be part of the team next year. He hates just watching, he wants to play. He says he thinks he will be perfect for the seeker position. And I think he’s right. He’s really good on a broom.

I like the idea that Malfoy sees it as a possibility for me to come to visit him during the summer break. I think it means we are really friends now. He’s sitting next to me on my bed now, working on an essay. He asked me what I write in this notebook if it was some sort of dairy. So I told him, that I write to you, and he thinks that is cool, and a bit sad. He said he was sorry that you are dead and that I don’t have any living relatives I can write to. He writes to his mother once a month, to tell her how he’s doing. And that the best part is receiving a letter back, which I never will.

Him not knowing what I write in this notebook means he really didn’t read it when he was keeping it safe and that’s fantastic. It makes me feel all warm inside, I don’t really get why. I like hanging out with Malfoy. He’s really funny when he wants to and really smart. Not as smart as Hermione, but he comes close.

We have to go to the Easter dinner now.

Write to you again soon,

Harry James Potter.

[lovelylanden]

Safe House

Where Elliot and Tyrell are being followed and take refuge in Darlene’s old safe house. Things heat up quickly. 

Note: This description sucks but hopefully you enjoy regardless. Much love. 

Word count: 2.6k --- 

“900 watt or 1100?” Tyrell asks with a raised eyebrow as he watches Elliot scan the shelves with a sort of ambition and he can’t help but grin. 

“900,” Elliot says, nearly under his breath as he crouches to inspect the bottom shelf. “They break down the SIM cards better and they don’t explode like the higher watts do. We want to destroy the card but also don’t want to set my apartment on fire,” He mutters as he wiggles one of the microwaves out, reading the back of the box, nodding with approval and putting it into their shopping cart.

Elliot hadn’t initially planned for Tyrell to tag along on his trip to the store but after his last wipe down, his microwave was shot and the CTO had a car that would make his commute to and from his apartment much smoother. So despite the discomfort of the man watching him, Elliot had offered up the opportunity to which Tyrell had quickly accepted. He had hacked into another small business, an in-home soap shop that was cooking meth in their basement and had left an anonymous tip for the police before bolting. 

“I don’t know why you do this,” Mr. Robot says, arms crossed as he stood at Elliot’s side. “Hacking into small businesses is useless,”

“Surely much better than hacking into the largest conglomerate in the United States,” Elliot mutters before standing up straight and pushing the cart off to find Tyrell. He found a sort of comfort in hacking into small businesses; it was easy and Elliot could do it in his sleep with little to no consequences as long as he was smart about it. 

Wellick has disappeared within the aisles and if he hadn’t, Elliot wouldn’t have given Mr. Robot the time of day. He was able to recognize that his father was that of his imagination and nothing else yet had opted to speaking to him only when he was sure they were alone.

“Tyrell,” Elliot calls, shifting quickly between the lanes. “Tyrell where are you?” 

He could feel eyes on him and adrenaline rushes through his veins when Mr. Robot says, “Those men in suits are trailing you. You need to get out of here. With or without Wellick. Otherwise you’re screwed,” 

“I can’t just leave him,” Elliot hisses. “They’ll kill him if I do,” 

“Who cares?” Mr. Robot counters, annoyed. “He’s useless to us now. Just—“ 

“I’m not leaving him,” Elliot repeats, gripping the cart with white knuckles. “I’ll find him and then we’ll go,” He’s walking quickly down the aisles now, almost at a jog and it’s then that he finds Wellick in the next lane being held up against the shelves by his throat, choked by one of the suited men. Shit. So this wasn’t a delusion, then.

Elliot takes a final deep breath, balls his hands into fists and connects them to the man’s face until Tyrell is free from his grasp. “C’mon,” Elliot says as Tyrell gasps for breath. “We need to go,” 

All Tyrell can manage is a nod and follows Elliot on unsure footing as he sprints to the emergency exit. The alarm would sound but Elliot couldn’t be bothered, this exit was closer to the parking lot and if they were quick enough, they could make it to Tyrell’s car. Elliot risks a look back, finding the men not far off and he’s nearly dragging Tyrell to the car, snatching the keys from him and taking the driver’s seat as Tyrell stumbles over to the passenger’s. 

The tires squeal as Elliot backs out of the parking lot and onto the road and he grips the steering wheel a bit tighter to hide the trembling of his hands. “Where are we going?” Tyrell asks, voice raspy but breathing more even. 

“Darlene’s old FBI safe house,” Elliot says, not bothering to look over at Tyrell. “I disconnected the cameras a few days ago. I had a bad feeling something like this would happen,” His words ring true; it had been far too long since something like this happened, too quiet and Elliot was glad he had thought to do this. He wasn’t sure what he would’ve done otherwise. But what did Whiterose want from him now? Elliot had done his part. 

“What do we do now?” Tyrell asks quietly as he watches Elliot pick the lock and Elliot shrugs, sighing with relief once the lock clicks open. He had parked the car two blocks down in case the men had gotten the license plate and knew now that they were as safe as they could be. 

“Lay low for a while,” He says eventually, shutting the blinds and locking the door. “We need to stay here for a day or two. Then we should be alright,”

“Are you sure?” Tyrell asks and there’s the slightest twinge of paranoia lying in his tone. 

“This isn’t my first encounter with these people. I think I know what I’m talking about,” Elliot says almost sarcastically before frowning at Tyrell who winced each time he swallowed. “Are you alright?” He sighs. “Did they hurt you anywhere else?”

“No,” Tyrell says, relieved. 

“Go try to find something in the fridge you can ice that with,” Elliot orders, jerking his chin at the red handprint around Tyrell’s throat. “That should help if there’s any swelling,”

Tyrell nods, looking thankful before walking over to the fridge and does as he’s told. “We forgot about your microwave,” Tyrell says as he comes back out into the living room, holding a bag of frozen peas to his throat. 

“Fuck the microwave,” Elliot says with a roll of his eyes, propping his feet up on the coffee table as he lounges on the couch. “We’ll be just fine,”

Tyrell hesitates before him, nodding but looks uncertain. “Alright,” He whispers, taking a seat beside him. “Thank you for... saving me,” Tyrell says at last and Elliot shrugs, unable to hold his gaze.

“No need to thank me,” He says eventually. “I did what I had to do to keep us both alive,” Elliot had never done anything to show he had even an inkling of fondness for Tyrell so the fact that he risked getting captured by Whiterose in order to save him meant more to Tyrell than he could ever imagine. He takes a seat beside him on the couch, finally allowing himself to relax as he shifts the peas on his neck, wincing. “It’ll feel better by tomorrow or the next,” Elliot promises. 

Tyrell says nothing, only stares down at the chipped nails of his free hand and sighs shakily. “This isn’t exactly how I planned on spending my Sunday afternoon,” He says with a small smile as he sets the bag of peas on the table and Elliot can’t help but mimic it, amused. 

“You and me both,” He looks down at his hands, rough and calloused with bruising knuckles and Tyrell swears under his breath with surprise at the sight of it. Elliot looks up at him then, smirking and says, “What? Never seen bruised knuckles before? If they catch us, you’ve got a lot more to worry about than bruised knuckles, Princess,” 

“But you said—“ 

“They won’t catch us, Tyrell,” Elliot cuts in yet doesn’t feel very bad for spooking him. “Everything will be fine, you watch. If it would really make you feel better we can take turns staying up in case we run into trouble but I doubt it,”

Tyrell nods but his hands shook violently with nerves and Elliot tries hard to keep his irritation at bay as he says, “Jesus Christ, you need to smoke a bowl or two and chill out,” 

“I don’t do drugs,” Tyrell says quickly and Elliot can’t help but roll his eyes this time. 

“Right. Strangling people seems to be more your speed,” Tyrell flinches back, surprised at the jab and curls his hands into fists, anger bubbling up in his chest. 

“Fuck off, Alderson,” He snaps and Elliot scoffs with a raised eyebrow. 

“Last time I checked,” He begins, voice low. “If I’d have done that, you’d be dead,” Elliot was being a dick and he knew it but anxiety of his own rose up in his throat, wanting desperately to find it’s way out and the only way Elliot knew how to stuff it back down was to be hostile, to hurt people before he could get hurt himself. 

“Do whatever you want,” Elliot continues, standing up. “Leave or don’t, I don’t give a shit,” He moves toward what must be the bedroom and shuts the door, not looking back. 

***

“You’re gonna make me take the couch?” Tyrell asks through the opposite side of the bedroom door with a raised eyebrow.

“Well we’re sure as hell not going to share a bed,” Elliot says from the mattress, skimming through a discarded book, a classic but something Elliot hadn’t read on his own accord. “You can last two days on the sofa, your highness,” He snorts, grinning.

Tyrell wanted to complain, explain all the reasons why they should share a bed but huffs with annoyance and walks off instead. He takes a seat on the couch, the cushions feeling much firmer than before and groans. This would be a difficult two days but it was better than being wherever Whiterose had planned to do to him. He runs a hand through his hair, knowing he should be grateful. Elliot had saved his life after all so he supposed that meant he could take the bedroom.

The night was long; neither of them could sleep and Elliot lies awake, staring at the ceiling and wondering what in the fuck would happen next. Would the top 1% of the 1% find him? Kill him? Torture him? He couldn’t be sure and despite the front he put up, Elliot was terrified. He had undone the hack, yes but that had nothing to do with Whiterose. She had said so herself; 5/9 meant nothing to her so why was he being followed? Why had they attacked Tyrell? Was Tyrell keeping something from him? Did he know something Elliot didn’t? 

Elliot merely watches the time pass, hour by hour yet sleep doesn’t come. He could hear Tyrell snoring in the living room and tries his best to keep quiet as he rummages the kitchen cabinets for a mortar and pestle. After minutes of searching, he finally finds one and takes a baggy from his jeans, drops a precious pill into the mortar and grinds it to a powder. Once he’s satisfied with the consistency, he lines the morphine and snorts it through a dollar bill. “What’re you doing?” 

Elliot turns, anxiety flooding his system before the drugs have a chance to take over and finds Tyrell standing before him, rubbing his sleep heavy eyes. “Couldn’t sleep,” Elliot chokes out, eyes shifting quickly, anywhere but to Tyrell. “Was going to get some water,” He continues and watches Tyrell’s gaze lock on the mortar, then the dollar bill. 

“Right,” He says, unconvinced. “You’re doing drugs at one in the morning,” Tyrell says finally and Elliot cringes, staring down at his hands which shook slightly with the high.  

“What’s it matter to you?” Elliot asks lowly, wiping his nose and glaring at him. 

“If someone finds us I don’t want you to doped up on--” 

“I was high for the majority of the 5/9 hack,” Elliot cuts in quickly, too quickly, maybe and his tongue feels heavy in his mouth, twisted. “And yet I managed to take down the largest conglomerate in the United States. So I don’t think I have a problem with functioning when I’m doped up,” He sighs, running a hand through his hair and turns his back to Tyrell, cleaning up his mess. “Go back to bed,” He orders, frustrated. “I’m not in the mood to deal with this,” 

“If you wanted to keep things a secret you would’ve went off to the bedroom,” Tyrell points out and Elliot grits his teeth with annoyance but doesn’t turn toward him quite yet. “I think you wanted me to find you. You--” 

“You know nothing,” Elliot hisses, setting the bowl down with a hollow slam. “So I’d suggest you quit making assumptions,” He turns toward Tyrell then, taking the few steps between them before they’re nose to nose. “Bonsoir, Tyrell,” Elliot snaps with a sort of viciousness Tyrell had never heard from him before and watches as Elliot retreats toward the bedroom.

Tyrell groans and despite the fatigue, feels a growing sense of worry for Elliot. How long had he been getting high off morphine? How couldn’t he have noticed? When had Elliot gotten so good at hiding it?  

Elliot paces around the bedroom, morphine buzzing wildly through his veins but the anxiety of being caught still remained. Shit. I’m doing the one thing I promised myself I’d never do. Elliot thinks, wiping his sweaty palms on his jeans. I was revealing my source code, the one thing that kept me safe. Why was my self control crumbling? What made Tyrell so special? He was never supposed to know. No one was supposed to know. What happens now? Friend, could you help me?

The silence that follows is deafening. This person, this imaginary friend was just that. Imaginary and yet it gave Elliot some sort of unexplainable comfort. They were only there to listen, never to give advice or tell him that what he was doing was wrong or inhumane, just to lend an ear, let Elliot speak his mind without consequence and that was more helpful than Elliot would ever admit. 

When the darkness breaks into early morning, Elliot stumbles out of the bedroom, coming down from his high and in no mood to deal with whatever Tyrell was going to throw at him. He makes himself breakfast, whatever he could find in the safe house fridge and doesn’t offer Wellick any of it, sitting at the table with his back to the CTO with no intention on inviting him in. “Elliot,” Tyrell calls, watching the hacker’s stillness at the sound of his name. “Elliot, talk to me,” 

“Why should I?” Elliot replies, still not turning to meet him. “I have nothing to say to you,” 

Silence follows not long after that and Elliot doesn’t mind, only continues to eat his cereal dry while ignoring Tyrell the best he can. “This is childish,” Tyrell says finally, annoyed. “The least you can do is look at me,” 

Anger boils up inside Elliot and so he turns, eyes ablaze and snaps, “Is this good enough for you, Wellick?” 

Tyrell pinches the bridge of his nose with frustration and says, “I didn’t mean what I said last night. I don’t... I don’t want us to constantly be fighting,” 

Elliot can’t help but scowl at this, breakfast forgotten. “Isn’t that what we do?” He asks bitterly. “Fight? Seems to be all that happens when we’re together,” 

“It doesn’t have to be,” 

Elliot frowns at the softness of Tyrell’s voice, the light bruising on his throat and the trembling of his hands. “What the fuck does that mean? What else is there left for us to—“ He’s cut off by Tyrell’s lips on his own, caressing Elliot’s face in those large, deadly hands and yet... and yet, Elliot doesn’t mind one bit. 

“How about we share that bed instead?” Tyrell murmurs hoarsely once they pull apart. Elliot can only nod, pupils blown wide with lust and doesn’t complain when Tyrell shuts the door behind them and throws him down on the bed with a sort of hunger Elliot could get used to.

[greengargouille]

AC x ML: Static, Part 1

((So... Do any of you guys remember when, more than one year ago, I posted something about Which Partner, and I mentioned something about an akumatized Mimura? And then I mentioned it here and there and never seemed to publish any actual content about it?

Well, one year, multiple changes on the costume/power idea and a lot of inspiration, I’m... still not done. But since it’s Which Partner’s second birthday, why not publish the first half as a way to mark the occasion? Besides it being a bad idea for editing in details I forgot, I mean.))

The days following a big project always had a special taste to Mimura.

The freed time was great, of course, nobody would argue that. And it was a relief not having to worry about his parents catching him working on that when he pretended to be studying (well, not so much pretending as not correcting them when they assumed it was the case). But, mostly? It was just the satisfaction of a job well done. One step further toward maturing his skills. Sharpening his vision and showing it to the world.

 …To think not so long ago, he was still settled on never letting others know about his amateur film productions. The second year of junior high certainly had dampened his enthusiasm over the creative process. If it wasn’t for Korosensei- if it wasn’t for becoming friends with other artists- he might have actually abandoned it all, letting this part of him rot and suffocate till he no longer felt anything toward cinema or directing. Falling into class E might have been what saved him.

 Still, nothing Mimura had ever done, even before that year, was comparable to how ambitious he has been this time. With how popular Ladybug and Black Cat were, not just on a town or prefecture level but actual national status due to the moon explosion theories making all of Japan aware of supernatural beings, any project related to them was sure to bring views. For this one-of-a-time opportunity, his work had to be flawless. He had spent days seeking the highest quality videos available on the two superheroes, pondering over and over on the music, the transitions… Even in his first year in the film research club, he never had spent so much time and effort in a single work- not for one of such a short length, at least. 

A fake trailer. By using fan footage of the akumatized fights and the TV news interviews of the town’s heroes, with some editing and a voiceover narration, making a pretend video for a movie about the miraculous holders. Especially tricky since he couldn’t go ask said holders to play out a scene for him to film. 

Boy did Mimura had felt his heart pound when he posted it online. He hadn’t been able to fall asleep without checking every five minutes if he actually posted the right thing, hadn’t made any glaring error or anything off-putting. And checking the ladybug forum for new messages and seeing the positive reactions… The excitement had kept him awake. Thankfully he posted it on Saturday afternoon and didn’t have to worry about dozing through morning classes. 

Still, this Sunday might be free of classes, but not of any event. As a sort of celebration- and partly because Mimura had put his social time aside while he worked-, the artist trio decided to hang out together at the mall and go see a movie. The boy wasn’t too sure about its potential quality, as he had very mixed feelings over the director’s previous works, but it was his first time making a horror story, and he was working with that music composer Mimura liked. 

“Hey, you guys! I didn’t make you wait too long?”

It was rare for him to be the last to arrive. Granted, whenever he went to an exhibit with Sugaya, the artist was dragging with him way too much supplies, a supplementary weight he brought ‘just in case’. God, how many times Mimura had to help him carry his stuff as they had to run away from the rain. Thankfully the boy had judged unnecessary to bring anything this time.

“It’s fine, don’t worry.” Okajima replied while getting up from the bench where he was waiting. “We’ve got largely enough time before the screening. -More importantly,” Sugaya interjected, “congrats for your video! I saw this morning, it was almost at fifty thousand views? -Wow, no way, let me check.” Okajima took his phone and started to type. “Well, there are a lot of people on the Ladyblog forum…” Mimura started to answer, all kinds of excuses rushing into his head. “Right, there was a lot of positive comments, wasn’t it? You deserve it.”

Mimura really didn’t know how to reply to that, and it was even tougher knowing Sugaya was probably sincere and he couldn’t brush it off as politeness. Being praised- having an undisputable achievement- those weren’t things he was used to. Not like this. Not on that.

But it’s not like he could deny he had done something, and that something was successful. How much time one had to wait for the other shoe to drop before having to admit they did a great job?

“…Thank you.” It was hesitant, but it was a start.

Sugaya replied with a smile, one of those soft smiles where he unconsciously tilted his head on the side, which made Mimura finally relax. It was fine. Maybe he did deserve it after all.

“Hm. Guys. You need to check that.”

Okajima turned his phone toward them. A single sentence, white over a dark screen. A single, ordinary sentence, one Mimura had read plenty of times; yet seeing it brought out an uneasy feeling, which increased as Okajima explicated the obvious:

“The video had been taken down.”

--

“It wasn’t great, but it was entertaining, at least.” Okajima commented before biting on his burger.

 Despite the unpleasant news, Mimura had insisted for them to go through what they had planned. After all, they were already close to the shopping mall, and just because he would skip a movie and fast food lunch, his video wouldn’t suddenly magically reappear. He would need to look into the details of it, of course. But, later. No need to rush. It wasn’t urgent. Nothing that mattered.

“I dunno, I feel like I wasted my time. Like, the special effects are clearly the main point of the film, but they felt uninspired.” Sugaya replied while grabbing some fries.

 Plus, a movie was distracting, which was welcome at this moment. No need to act before calming down. A great film would have been better, of course, one where Mimura could get immersed and forget all about his current worries as he analyzed it. That’s what he did back when his grades started to drop. It had bordered more on denial then, actually, ignoring the problem till he was too big to ignore, and at that point it was too late. But that wasn’t the case now. Because there was nothing to ignore. Just a silly little problem.

 “Yeah, I see what you mean. Instead of showing us the creature, it would have been better to leave it in the dark, it would have been scarier.”

 The thing was, Mimura didn’t have the authorization for some of the footage he had used. He had tried to contact whoever he could, all the small intrepid reporters that happened to be on place during an akumatized fight, but he had completely forgotten to check for the TV interviews. It wouldn’t have been a problem most of the time, but maybe, for a more popular video…

“There’s that, of course, but also the music, it was fine but I felt it wasn’t used very well? They should have just cut it at some place. I don’t really know how to explain… What do you think, Mimura?”

Or was it the music? He was pretty sure it was free of rights, was he mistaken? Either way it would be able to remake the video while cutting the faulty element. It was all structured together. He couldn’t correct it.

“…Mimura? -…Sorry, what? I was thinking of something else.”

Sugaya and Okajima shared a look of concern. Oh, that was what Mimura had wanted to avoid. Concern. He wasn’t especially upset- shouldn’t be, over such a trivial matter- but with all the akuma attacks over the town, everyone was a bit on edge over any potential crisis. Still, he was annoyed his friends would think he would break down over something so unimportant. Between the school’s ostracisation, the wall he had constructed between him and his parents, and now the assassination, he had gone through much more stressful. It’s not a little annoyance over a hobby that would change things. 

“…Dude,” Okajima said, “if you want to talk, we’re here, okay? -That’s great to know.” Mimura replied in a way he hoped was casual. “But I’m fine. I was just thinking about something else, that’s all.” He immediately switched on an excuse. “My father told me to stop at the convenience store on the way to buy something, but I couldn’t remember what. I think I should try to call him now before I forget. Can you guys watch my stuff? -Sure?”

Mimura got up from his seat and took his phone from his pocket while leaving the table, barely checking to see his classmates’ reactions. Only a phone call. It was normal to go outside- well, outside the restaurant at least, he wasn’t planning to leave the mall- when calling someone.

Right, that won him a few minutes to himself. Couldn’t do more, or that would be suspicious. He still had barely touched his own meal after all.

…Sometimes it was exhausting pretending to be fine. Mimura knew his face showed his emotions easily, and he wasn’t so smooth a liar he wouldn’t slip up if someone asked him directly what was wrong; he was more the kind to redirect the subject before said question came up. All of this… it made him feel resentful against those who were concerned over him, for all the stress that added to him. Couldn’t they just ignore him and leave him sulk? But at the same time, it was his own fault for feeling bad about the situation in the first place. Why did he had to invest so much into something that didn’t matter? Why did he had to bring his hopes up when it couldn’t be any different from usual? He should know by now he wouldn’t get any recognition for his efforts. It was stupid to think otherwise.

Mimura put back his phone in his pocket and felt a piece of paper inside that he took, intrigued. Ah, right, the movie ticket. Stupid movie. So bland and so overdone, so many things that would have been easy to fix- but he didn’t have any right to talk about that as an amateur, did he? God he hated this. Why did some people get so much money to make their movies while he was stuck seeing his videos taken down for some petty authorization- it’s not like he did anything bad with it, it wasn’t a whole song nor a complete footage- why did others got away with making mediocre works and his had to be perfect and it still wasn’t enough, why wasn’t he enough, he hated this, he hated them all, he hated- 

No, he had to calm down. It wasn’t the moment. Later, in private. No, not later. Never. Getting over it. He would close his eyes, breath deeply and count to three, and then everything would be fine.

One, two, three.

When Mimura opened his eyes, a dark butterfly just entered his field of vision.

 He barely had the time to register it, to see it land on the ticket without being able to react- And then it was sudden clarity. Pure feeling. All parasite thoughts numbed down to barely a whisper.

“Static”, a foreign voice spoke into his mind- and the name felt so fitting, somehow, “I am Kochou. I can give you the power to get revenge over the unfair treatment your videos have been given. I only ask for one thing in return. -The ladybug and cat miraculous.” Mimura- no, Static- completed, a smile on his lips. 

Sentences popped into his mind, distant, the shadow of a thought process. ‘Bad idea’. ‘What will others think of you?’ But, already, those words dissolved into the resolute feeling that had taken him.

“I accept with pleasure, Kochou-sama.”

 --

Okajima looked at the entrance, his fingers tapping on the table as he waited. Not necessarily for Mimura’s return, but… something. A form of acknowledgement on how the situation was wrong. 

Okajima thought of himself as an honest man. If he liked something, he had no problem saying it, even knowing his opinion was unpopular. If he disliked something, he would complain about it with all the frustration and anger he felt- even when his classmates thought he was overreacting. He was just that kind of person. True manliness was to be totally shameless no matter the topic. That’s why dishonest situations like this one didn’t sit well with him.

“Say”, he addressed Sugaya who seemed absent-minded, “what do you think we should do? -Walk around in the mall? There’s a clothing shop I would like to see. -Not what should we do after eating,” Okajima corrected with annoyance, “about Mimura. He’s clearly not taking the video thing well, despite how he refuses to admit it. -Oh.” His classmate just replied with a small sound. “So I wasn’t just imagining things then. -Well, yeah, that was very obvious. I kinda want to force him to talk just for that, but he might just close up even more and we will go nowhere. Plus, you know. That might just add even more negative feelings to the pile.”

Sugaya stayed silent, clearly uncomfortable with the subject. His fingers idly played with his straw, twisting it as he seemed lost in thought.

“I don’t know what to do.” He finally admitted. “Neither do I,” Okajima replied, “but you know Mimura better than me. Plus, you’ve been akumatized already, so you should know how he feels. -That’s… I don’t think it can apply. I mean, I wanted to be left alone, but look at what that did for me. Do you really think Mimura could be akumatized over this? -Eh, dunno. Honestly I feel like bad luck is also at play, but it’s not like you can tell how important something is to someone, even if it seems silly. A man’s passion should never be ridiculed,” Okajima added on a serious tone. “…Wow, that would sound so cool if it wasn’t from you. -Hey, what’s that supposed to mean? -…If Mimura feel bad over this, then I want to help.” Sugaya totally ignored Okajima’s last comment. “But I never had this problem before? Like, with Chiba I trusted him to come to me if he felt like I could help him with something? -Dude, no offense but Chiba ended in class E with us and neither of us saw it coming. -Well, I did say something I could help him with, not sure what I could have done.” Sugaya sighed. “You’re not totally wrong though, I felt bad about it. -What about the other guys then? Didn’t you hang out with people of the art club sometimes? -Them? I… am not sure they counted as friends? Like, in the first place it always was way more casual, and it soured up quickly anyways. Because I’m ‘too much of a troublemaker’. -Oh, yeah, so they were this kind of guys, uh? I know what you mean. -…So, yeah, I don’t have much experience dealing with this. I want to help and I feel like there’s something I could do, but nobody is telling me what. It’s frustrating.”

Okajima wasn’t sure either what it was that they could do, but fortunately the noise of a door brutally closed and a scream stopped the conversation before he had to reply. 

“AKUMA ATTACK!!”

He turned his head toward the entry door, that an alarmed woman was closing, clearly terrified by what she saw outside.

“An akuma… Shit, Mimura’s still outside. -What, do you think he…?” Sugaya didn’t dare finish his sentence. “I don’t know if it’s him, but if it isn’t then he’s in first line to be attacked. -Crap, you’re right.”

People around them were starting to panic, some already diving under the tables, other running towards the kitchens, probably hoping to find a back door. Honestly, Okajima was tempted to follow them. He didn’t know what super villain would appear, but it certainly wasn’t going to be a fun experience.

…But, he already had made his decision.

“Let’s go,” he said to Sugaya, walking towards the entrance.

--

Hayami had to pull her nails into the palm of her hand to keep her face calm.

In front of her, on the other side of the small plastic table, Nakamura was currently playing with her nesoberi plushie’s pigtails. A Ladybug nesoberi. She wasn’t sure what was flustering her most, that her friend was so fond of her new acquisition, or the fact that it was sold at all. 

“It’s obvious,” Nakamura explained, ignorant of the girl’s inner turmoil, “if you have the blueprints and material to make nesoberi in a factory, then you’re not going to stop at fifteen. Probably, the collab with the arcade was to see how popular they would get. Man, I kinda want to see what kind of face the fans who spent so much on the game will pull learning they could just have waited a few months instead, it will probably be hilarious. -You don’t say”, Hayami replied, impassive.

How would Nakamura react if she knew Hayami was such a fan. She would probably be too busy harassing me over how I’m a Black Cat fan. The endless teasing… Thankfully she was good at keeping a cool appearance. 

At first, when the two of them had planned an afternoon at the mall together, she had thought it would just be a relaxing moment between friends. Some shopping, maybe a movie, trying out the new purikuma booth, checking out from afar that children live stage performance the mall was organizing- she vaguely remembered Chiba mentioning accompanying his sisters to see it sometimes, and it had intrigued her- just silly fun activities two teenage girls would do on their weekend. To be perfectly honest, Hayami would have tried to include some homework into that schedule, but Nakamura had loudly complained about it, and with Tikki insisting so much lately about all the work she did, she hadn’t pressed further.

 She would have never expected they would end up facing a shop window full of Ladybug and Black Cat themed goodies. It kind of baffled her sometimes, how popular was her other identity. She and her partner were just a pair of local heroes doing their job. Maybe it was the magic? Of course people would be all over something that proved the existence of the supernatural. She had seen some topics speculating on the subject on the Ladyblog, but she might have underestimated their importance. Usually people ask us more about our relationship… Well, revealing anything about the Miraculouses to the public would be a big no-no, even more than some hints about their true identities, so it made sense that interviews gave up on that.

Still, Black Cat goodies… She would have to come back there, maybe with a disguise. And to think they would end up selling that nesoberi plush… Would she have tried to win one if she knew the exclusivity would only last for a few months? Probably.

God, I really fell hard for him.

“Hey, I’ve got an idea.” Nakamura grinned with a face full of mischief. “Can you take a photo with my phone? I’m going to kiss my Ladybug and send it to Okajima. -Wh- I- Don’t do that!”    

Seeing her friend’s surprise, Hayami knew she made a mistake. It was uncommon for her to get excited over something, and she had tried to keep her composure the whole conversation. But, how could she stay cool over this. The idea of Nakamura kissing Ladybug- it’s not like she talked about some distant celebrity after all. And then thinking that Okajima could do the same… Now that was giving her chills. 

“My, my, seems like someone is jealous.” Nakamura playfully reacted by swinging her nesoberi in front of Hayami. “Do you want to steal a kiss? I’m willing to share~ -That’s not the problem.” Hayami replied as calmly as she could. “Oh, so perhaps you want to kiss m- -It’s unhygienic,” Hayami interrupted her, knowing very well how her friend would twist her words if she let her speak, “and you’re going to give him bad ideas. -Eh, I’m probably not the first. Heck, I bet someone among those who got the first fifteen have done it at some point.”

Hayami immediately thought about the Black Cat nesoberi in her room, and had to focus back on the conversation before having any weird ideas. She was too mature for that. She couldn’t- No, she should think of something else. Plenty of people might have kissed my effigy at some point. Yep, that sure calmed her. Oh, how she wished she never had this conversation. Popularity was terrifying sometimes.

“Akuma alert.” A voice resonated through the speakers of the mall, interrupting the girl’s inner troubles. “Our customers are invited to go walk to the nearest exit. No need to panic. We repeat- -Urg.” Nakamura’s face soured. “Goodbye, relaxing afternoon. Let’s go before we get caught up in the crowd. -I…” Hayami started to speak, while her mind was getting into a highly alert mode. She needed an excuse “We didn’t pay for our drinks, go ahead while I do it, I won’t take long. -What? Hayami, you can’t be seri- -It’s important! No need to argue, we’re only losing time. Trust me, I will leave right after. -Geez, why do you have to be serious like that… Alright, but only if you go along with me the next time I get a fun idea. -Accepted.” Hayami was certain she would regret it. “See you in a few minutes.”

She didn’t wait for an answer and went right into the shop, straight to the bathroom, while getting pushed on the way by intrigued people trying to leave. Thankfully the stall was empty; she opened her bag, from which flew a very familiar red creature. 

“It’s too bad,” Tikki lamented, “you finally had a day to relax… -No need to feel bad about it. Tikki, spots on.”

The familiar surge of power filled her body as her clothes changed for her more practical hero suit. Time to get into Ladybug mode. It wasn’t complicated, honestly. The focus, her shifting perception, the strength that filled her muscles, everything contributed to her feeling like an entirely different person. Maybe the glamour supposed to make her unrecognisable played a part too.

Still, I need to play it safe. She counted the seconds in her head, and when she felt she had waited long enough, left the shop’s bathroom. Nobody was there anymore. Good. She didn’t have time to think of excuses for anyone who might have seen the young girl enter- she had an akuma to deal with.

--

Ladybug walked around the mall, ready to react to any upcoming attack and directing any civilian she saw toward the exit, when she finally spotted an unnatural thing. In front of her stood a giant foggy pile of inconsistent color, minuscule spots of black, white and grey all mixed together; it kinda reminded her of TV static, in a way. The pile, if that was the right word for an accumulation without a specific form, didn’t seem to have any weight to it, as if it was superposed to the air rather than a solid mass, but she knew better than to touch it to verify. Who knew what it did.

She saw a black silhouette move from the corner of her vision, and, sure enough, when she turned her head her partner jumped to her side. 

“Good afternoon to you,” Black Cat greeted her, then immediately switched to the main topic. “Any information on our villain of the day? -No, I just arrived.” Ladybug informed him, hesitating to say anything more, then decided she was silly for doubting her every word. “I’m glad you could come. I was wondering if you would be able to show up before the fight. -Yeah, I wasn’t sure I would be on time either,” admitted her partner. “I was nearby, but surrounded by… well, it’s not important.”

Ladybug looked at him, but said nothing. Civilians, friends, family… Many ways to end the sentence, and none that mattered. They couldn’t talk about their true identity.

“What do we do with this?” She pointed toward the foggy obstacle with a move from her head. “Good question.”

Black Cat looked around, his eyes settling on a deserted chair from some shop on the side. Ladybug already understood what he was thinking about, and didn’t feel any surprise when he walked toward it only to throw it into the fog.

“Doesn’t seems solid, but I didn’t hear anything hit the floor. -Try to see with another chair what happens if you only put one partially? -That was the next step of my experience, yes.” Black Cat smiled at her.

Despite the situation, Ladybug couldn’t help but feel her heart warm up at the boy’s soft face. They might be in potential danger at any point, but at least she got him by her side, and he seemed to appreciate them thinking alike as much as she did. Well, maybe not as much, but at least a little? It sure made things easier for both of them.

“Hmm, it doesn’t seem to melt.” The second chair, that Black Cat put partially in the fog, still was intact when they pulled it away. “I guess it’s like smoke? Let me try putting my hand in it.” He looked at Ladybug for approval. “…It might not be safe. -All the more reason that I do it rather than you. Plus, you can always heal me afterward. -…That’s not wrong, but…” She would rather not see him get hurt, of course. Surely he could understand that? “Don’t worry, it’s just a test.” He put his left hand in the fog- it would only be silly to risk his ring hand, after all- and took it out. “See? Nothing happened. Actually, I didn’t even feel any pressure or change. It might be safe to walk in. -Even if it’s some kind of gas, it might be toxic.” Hopefully no civilian was caught in the middle of it. “Hmm.” The boy nodded, his green eyes still on the fog. “Only one way to know.”

Black Cat took a step forward, and soon his head disappeared in the smoky thing. Ladybug was uneasy about this- her partner always was the one who took risks in those situations. It was logical, of course, she was the one with the power to fix everything, and so had to be the last standing at the end, but… she didn’t have to like it. What did the boy think about it? Was he secretly resenting her for this? This didn’t seem in his personality, yet it was still a possibility.

I wonder how the previous Ladybugs felt about it.

Multiple times her and Tikki had spoken about the precedent heroes. Their powers, their strategies, their allies; most notably, how they still found time to relax and have fun. But as for their feelings… It was a subject Hayami didn’t want to bring up. Even if they were different people, it would break her heart to hear they didn’t get along with their partner. What if it was the case, and Black Cat heard about it from his own kwami? Would he assume she was the same? Even though I love him. No, it wasn’t even that. She cared about him. More than her crush, he was the partner she had come to rely on. Anyone could feel attracted to him, but their bond was special, important, in a way that would be hard to explain. If he told her he loved her, but couldn’t trust her… that would be just as terrible as the opposite.

The boy eventually got his head out of the fog, his face expecting something. 

“…So?” Ladybug asked, unsure what he was waiting for. “…Didn’t you hear me? -No? Did you say something? -Yes? That’s weird. I can breathe inside just fine, but I can’t see anything. Or hear, now that I think about it. And I guess you couldn’t hear me either? Wait, let me check again.”

Once again the hero’s head disappeared in the fog. Did that thing block all light and sound? That would be inconvenient. What if the akumatized was waiting for them insi-

“Ladybug, behind you!!!” 

It was only thanks to her quick reflexes she was able to react immediately. Her full body rotated, her hand in a fist ready to hit, but the person quickly jumped out of the way, a jump too big for a normal civilian. An akumatized. The villain made no sound when his feet hit the floor, which was, as Ladybug suddenly noticed, covered in the same foggy substance as the one behind her. So that’s how they were able to approach without me noticing, this removed the sound of their steps.

She looked around quickly on what was the source of the voice that alerted her. A very familiar voice… Barely hidden behind a pillar, she apperceived Fuwa and sighed internally. The girl had said she wanted to start investigating for the Ladyblog, and nothing Hayami had said had been able to convince her it was a bad idea.

She gently tapped Black Cat’s arm to alert him of the change in situation, as he probably hadn’t been able to hear anything, but her eyes were fixated on the villain, who didn’t move from his spot. Which was for the best, as they were closer to Fuwa if they had wanted to take her hostage.

The most noticeable thing in the akumatized’s appearance, the one that immediately popped out, was the giant color bars on the chest area of the suit. Like a malfunctioning TV, Ladybug thought despite never having seen the phenomena -it was a thing of movies, on older televisions. The rest of the costume, on the opposite, was all monochrome, mostly grey with little square spots of black and white, white the extremities of the limbs were all black.

When she finally looked at their- at his face, Ladybug finally recognized who was her adversary. No way she couldn’t- they might not talk on a regular basis, but Mimura was a classmate, and he sat next to Nakamura in class, so the both of them sometimes spoke while she was around.                         

“Another class E student,” Black Cat commented next to her. So he recognised him? Uh. He must have a good memory. “Right, it’s as if alienating and bullying a specific group made them more likely to have negative emotions.” Ladybug deadpanned as an answer. “…Seems like you feel a lot about this, uh?” Her partner replied in a sympathetic tone. “I just don’t like their school’s system.”

She couldn’t allow herself to say more. She couldn’t make it personal. Even just mentioning she was part of that school, no matter the class, would be too revealing. So Ladybug bit her lips and did what she had always done when she felt helpless about a situation: focus on the work she could do instead.

“Show’s over, you guys.” Mimura spoke to them in a harsh tone. “Hand over your Miraculous. -…Why do akumatized even ask this? Of course we won’t give them to you. -Maybe they expect us to make a special offer if they insist enough.” Black Cat joked. “’Congratulations, you’re the 100th akumatized, here’s a special prize for you!’”

Ladybug would have rolled her eyes for joking in this situation if this was anyone else, but she couldn’t help have a little smile instead. It was part of her partner’s charm to make silly jokes and puns in a serious moment. Their current adversary didn’t seem to appreciate it, though; he seemed ready to attack, whatever that would mean for him. Did he have another power besides that weird static-like fog? It was hard sometimes to tell with akumatized what skill sets did they have.

“I know where the akuma’s hidden in!” Fuwa shouted, momentarily distracting Ladybug. “It’s in his l-“

Before she finished her sentence, Mimura jumped on the heroes, filling the space between them with the static-like substance from earlier.

Then, only darkness and silence.

[writing-royza]

Tainted Blood, Tainted Soul: Chapter Twenty-eight – The Last Stage

A/N: Happy Sunday, everyone! I'm terribly sorry for all the delays lately; getting ready for conventions has had be too busy to write. But con season is done for me until October, so I should be able to get back on a steadier schedule! Thank you all for being patient. Enjoy!

I do not own FMA.

-----

Chapter Twenty-Eight - The Last Stage

CITY OUTSKIRTS, JADAD, ISHVAL

1423 HOURS, APRIL 27TH

For the second time in a week, vehicles bearing the Amestrian military crest entered through the massive arched gate, led by a lone horseman, proceeding cautiously up the avenue. The pair of trucks sent rumbling engine vibrations echoing from building façades, drawing a few stares from pedestrians, but far fewer than their predecessor's arrival.

As before, they drew up in front of the open entrance to the library, all the travellers disembarking as soon as the engines were turned off. None moved faster, however, than the black and white blur that shot from the lead truck, barking happily at the sight of his mistress.

Crouching, Riza allowed Hayate to fling himself bodily into her arms, smiling as he licked frantically at her cheek, whining softly. "I know, boy, I know," she murmured, one hand holding him to her, the other ruffling his ears. "I missed you, too." She glanced up at the others just beginning to approach, and gently nudged Hayate to stay put as she got to her feet.

As the ranking officer present, it was Alex Louis Armstrong who stepped forward, offering her a crisp salute that she returned with perfect precision. "Reinforcements arriving as requested, Lieutenant," he said solemnly, his tall frame blocking out the afternoon sun to cast her in shadow.

"We're grateful you could come, Major," she answered formally. Taking a step to the side, she turned partially to indicate those waiting just behind her. "You already know Major Miles, and you know Scar, of course," she said, conscious that she was omitting that the two had met via a fight in the streets of Central. "The other gentleman is Scar's teacher, and our liaison with the Ishvalan priesthood."

Armstrong bowed deeply, the sun glinting from his shaven, shining scalp. "An honour," he intoned, before straightening, and indicating the rest of his party. "I have with me Second Lieutenants Falman, Breda, and Catalina, specialists in research, strategy, and combat, respectively. I have also brought our communications specialist, Master Sergeant Fuery." He drew himself up to his full, considerable height. "And I am Major Alex Louis Armstrong, of the Central Investigations Office."

The Master stepped forward, answering Armstrong's earlier bow with one of his own. "You are well met, Major," he said in greeting. "We know you have important work to do, so we won't put your group through the formal welcoming. However, if you will consent to it, we will offer a blessing on your work to be done here."

Armstrong seemed slightly taken aback, but only momentarily. "I have no objection," he answered after a moment, and then, in an aside to Riza as the Master turned to an acolyte, he added, "Where is the Colonel?"

"Get through this first, sir, and then I'll take you to him," she answered in a low murmur, before taking several steps to the side. Hayate followed at her heels, loath to part company. From the corner of her eyes, she saw both Rebecca and Breda giving her quizzical looks and she waved their concern away with a single motion of her hand.

The Master stood forward on the library steps, flanked by three acolytes on one side and two on the other. He spoke briefly in Ishvalan, some kind of prayer, by the tone, and then switched to Amestrian. "Our God Ishbala, we ask your blessing, your protection, your guidance, and your strength on those who come to aid your people, on those who have journeyed so far for such a noble purpose. May the work they do be to the benefit of all, and may they go in safety."

As one, the five acolytes stepped forward, each of them placing a protection charm around the neck of a new arrival. Taking a step back, they bowed, then turned and filed into the library, leaving the Master alone on the steps. He smiled. "I'm sure you're all anxious to get settled, so I won't delay you any farther." He nodded to the trucks. "Leave your vehicles here, and my people will see to unloading them. Lieutenant Hawkeye will show you to the quarters we have allotted for you."

He bowed, and disappeared inside, leaving the group of seven Amestrians alone in the plaza among a smattering of Ishvalan pedestrians.

Riza took a moment to survey the array of expressions on the faces before her – ranging from wariness to confusion – and gave a small smile… albeit one that wasn't entirely heartfelt. "If you'll follow me? I have all the information for your lodgings and the Reconstruction Authority offices at the accommodations given to the Colonel and I."

She didn't wait for the reply, merely turning and starting for the pedestrian arch that led north out of the plaza. There was a pause of a few seconds before the others got themselves in gear after her, footsteps shuffling the sand as they moved. One set detached themselves from the group at large, hurrying to catch up, and Riza was not surprised when Rebecca fell in beside her.

"What's going on?" the brunette demanded, ignoring military protocol as she usually did when it came to Riza. "You and Mustang are practically joined at the hip and yet you show up to meet us without him?"

"The Colonel is otherwise occupied at the moment," she answered, knowing the words sounded stiff and forced, but not knowing what else to say. She could hardly explain herself properly when there were civilians around, especially civilians who had no idea what had been happening behind the scenes in the city. "He sent me in his place."

"Occupied how?" Fuery asked curiously from behind her. "Has something happened in the case since we left?"

Riza's reply of "You could say that…." was so quiet that only Rebecca heard, and from the grim look on her friend's face, she instinctively knew better than to ask what she meant.

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

GUEST ACCOMMODATIONS, JADAD, ISHVAL

1450 HOURS, APRIL 27TH

Curiosity was the primary expression on each face as the newcomers followed Riza through the door into the small adobe house. Armstrong had to duck substantially to fit his six-foot-nine frame through the entry, and when he stood straight again, his lone blond curl came dangerously close to brushing the ceiling.

"Not bad," Rebecca said, her eyes roaming over the entryway, and the kitchen and dining nook off to one side. "Kind of… homey, for the desert."

"Ours are going to be similar?" Fuery asked, closing the door behind the group as the last one to enter.

"The Reconstruction Authority has given you clearance for two of the houses in the immediate vicinity," Riza explained, pausing to scoop little Hayate into her arms; he settled immediately against her shoulder. "Falman, Fuery, and Breda will have the use of one; Major, you and Rebecca will have the other, unless you have any objections?"

"Not objections so much as questions," Armstrong replied. Standing straight, he fixed her with a firm, disciplinary stare that was not unlike his eldest sister's trademark look. "You still haven't answered the question from earlier, Lieutenant. On where the Colonel is and what exactly has him, as you put it, 'otherwise occupied.'"

"She probably hasn't told you because she's not sure what to tell you," a new voice chimed in, from the direction of the open living room.

Riza breathed a soft sigh, then turned toward Roy's voice, motioning the others to follow. "It happened shortly after I finished issuing the orders for you all to join us here," she said, moving down the short hall from the entryway into the living area, its normally sunlit walls dimmed by curtains drawn across the window. Enough light remained to see clearly, but when the room came into the group's view, it was immediately apparent that something was wrong.

Roy sat in chair across the room, his posture not quite straight, and almost… listless. Riza felt her stomach shift in nervousness as his eyes, seemingly blacker than usual in his abnormally pale face, lifted from the sheaf of looseleaf notes in his hands. His lopsided grin was still boyish, but lacked convincing strength.

There was a hissing intake of breath from Breda, and then cold silence settled on the room, the new arrivals clustered near the hallway, all five staring in mute shock at the man in the chair. The man, who, quite literally, paled in comparison the Roy Mustang they knew.

After a long, tense moment, Roy sighed and held the papers out to Riza. "The others said they would be back before too long, but they left that for us to look over and bring everyone up to speed," he said, fatigue pervading his voice. "At the very least, it gives us the information we need to formulate a proper plan of attack."

She took the small stack, nodding solemnly. "I'm glad to hear it, sir. Especially now that we have the reinforcements we need to carry out any plan successfully."

"Looks like you could use us," Breda observed doubtfully, the first to find his tongue after the initial shock. "No offense, Chief, but you look about ready to drop."

Annoyance flashed across Roy's face, and Riza felt something twitch guiltily in her chest. Another new symptom could only mean progression. Progression meant the Roy she knew was taking another step away from her… and was therefore one step closer to a slip that could plunge him down into a prison of his own mind's making. And who knew what kind of personality would take his place?

Thankfully, whatever instant of anger had shown on his face lasted only that long: an instant. When he spoke, his voice was just as calm as before. "I can handle it," he assured his master strategist. "I'll be fine by tomorrow. I'm already better off than I was yesterday."

Armstrong's brow furrowed more sharply as his concern deepened. "You were worse than this yesterday, sir?" Blue eyes went from Roy, to Riza, and back again. "I suppose we can be thankful for that, but… what exactly is this?"

"Another question, if I may?" Falman half-raised a hand for attention as he spoke, then pointed to his own charm, the others around him, and finally to Riza's. "Why are we all wearing these… but the Colonel isn't?"

Roy looked his First Lieutenant, his smile wry but without much humour. "Do you want to tell them, or shall I?" he asked, his voice already weary at the thought of it.

Riza settled to a comfortable seat on a large cushion, motioning the others to do the same. She settled Hayate on her lap, the little dog already starting to blink sleepily after all the excitement. "I can. But you'll all want to sit down; we're going to be here for a while."

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

GUEST ACCOMMODATIONS, JADAD, ISHVAL

1242 HOURS, APRIL 25TH

For what felt like an eternity, all the two of them did was stare at each other in blank shock. Slowly, feeling like he was in a dream, Roy lifted one hand to the slowly fading sting on the side of his neck, feeling dread begin to pool in his chest as his fingers touched something warm, damp, and sticky.

He knew, even before he pulled his hand back to study his red-stained fingertips, that it was blood.

No sooner had his gaze settled, wide-eyed, on his fingers, than Riza scrambled from her spot on the bed and bolted out of the room and across the hall to the bathroom. Still feeling a sense of disconnect, Roy didn't move, didn't react as he heard the water run, heard her rinse and spit.

She… bit me. Okay. Don't panic yet, he told himself. Forcing the worry and dread back, he got to his feet and followed her, only to find her with her hands braced on the bathroom counter, her head bowed as she stood over the sink. Strange, he thought, the words coming to him as though from a great distance, this is the second time in less than two weeks I've followed her as she bolted into a bathroom to spit out blood.

She didn't register his presence behind her, evidenced by the way she jumped at the sound of a short length of toilet paper being torn from the roll. She whirled, and Roy put his hand up. "It's just me."

His voice sounded flat and mechanical, even to him, and it certainly didn't do much to dispel her worrying. Brown eyes darted to the side of his neck… and she was abruptly herself again. Riza took a sharp breath in through her nose, letting it out in a businesslike huff as she squared her shoulders.

"Let me see," she said quietly, moving aside to let him lean back against the counter. She took the folded piece of tissue Roy passed to her, then stepped close, reaching up to dab away the blood.

"If it's any consolation, it doesn't hurt," he said, staring at the way her hair fell smoothly behind her shoulders. It had been tickling his nose mere moments before she bit, he had felt it brush over his forehead, over his chest as she ducked her head to sink those pointed teeth into his exposed neck –

"Maybe not," she pointed put, her tone dark and guilty, "but I'd say we have a bigger problem on our hands."

"Didn't your father always say I'd get you into trouble one day?" He grinned unsteadily as she looked up, her eyes blank with surprise that he would or could make a joke at a time like this.

"Roy, I'm the one who's just gotten you into trouble," she pointed out. Her eyes strayed to the marks on his neck, staring at them in muted horror. "I don't… I didn't mean to–"

"Sshhh, I know you didn't," he soothed, taking the tissue from her hand and tossing it into the wastebasket. "Maybe after an extended period with the vampire persona in charge, it was reflex?" He tugged gently on the pouch around her neck. "With this on, it should block most vampire effects, shouldn't it?"

"Most, yes," she agreed, then shook her head. "But not the weakness in sunlight, not the paleness of the skin… and maybe not the transmission of vampirism through a bite." She looked up, the guilt heavy in her eyes. "I suppose we won't know for sure, until…."

"Until the symptoms either show up or don't." His lips pressed into a grim line. "Well then, I suppose we'll just have to wait and see. It shouldn't take long; Kimblee bit you in the middle of the night and you were deep into the fatigue the next morning. If there's anything working at infecting me, I'd say we'll know by dinnertime."

She regarded him a moment, then nodded slowly. "I suppose you're right… and it's not as though we don't know how to fix it, if you are infected. Once the vampire that turned a victim is taken out, then –"

His eyes widened at her implication, and his hands went automatically to her shoulders. "Why would you say something like that?! Riza, I'd sooner live ten lifetimes as a vampire than have you sacrifice yourself like that so I could live a normal life!" He faltered a moment, slightly confused by the way she was staring at him in surprise. How could she think that he wouldn't fight to keep her safe, even from herself?

"I…." He hesitated, then started again. "After the last six months, after I only just got you back from being under Bradley's thumb…. I don't want to give you up again. Not even for something as serious as this."

She was smiling by the time he finished his explanation. "You think I would voluntarily leave you after those six months?" she asked, her hands lifting to gently slip his from her shoulders. "Don't forget that I only just got you back, as well. No, what I meant was that to cure you, the vampirism on me has to be lifted. To do that, we have to destroy Kimblee. Destroying him destroys my vampire self, which is responsible for turning you. Does that make sense?"

"A chain reaction." Relief flooded his chest, and he grinned awkwardly. "Sorry, I hadn't gotten that far yet."

"That's all right." She eyed him again, this time with a measure of satisfaction. "You know, you're taking this very well, for a man who might start transforming into a blood-hungry supernatural creature in the next few hours."

His grin was unsteady, but genuine. "Well, I'm much less calm on the inside." He shook his head. "What are we going to tell Scar and Miles, not to mention the others?"

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

GUEST ACCOMMODATIONS, JADAD, ISHVAL

1525 HOURS, APRIL 27TH

"The symptoms started later that night, around nine," Riza said, wrapping up the story. "We suspect it took longer than we thought because my full vampire persona hadn't emerged when he was bitten. The bite still had the ultimate effect of infecting him, but it was a small amount and thus worked more slowly."

Roy had not moved from his chair; if anything, he seemed to have sunk farther into it. "About nine, I fell asleep on the couch, and I don't remember waking up until noon the next day." He looked to his Lieutenant. "Hawkeye tells me she got Scar and Miles to drag me to bed, which I might have paid money to see." He lifted his left foot and let it drop back to the ground. "At least now I can do that without having to take a nap afterward."

"The first symptom is extreme tiredness," Riza explained. "While the vampirism leaches your body's energy to feed itself. After that, as you may have noticed, is annoyance and flashes of anger, which he's just started to exhibit."

"You don't have to treat me like a museum display," Roy muttered, half under his breath, as though in demonstration. Riza shot him a sidelong look, which he caught, and he immediately dropped his gaze. "…Sorry."

"You always did wear strong emotions on your sleeve, Chief," Breda said, forcing his tone to sound light. "But how did you come to be bitten in the first place?"

Riza had her answer ready, and delivered the reply calmly. "I had dropped a glass and broken it, so the Colonel offered to fix it with alchemy. Secretly, of course, since the Ishvalans don't approve of the practice," she lied. "I must have stood too close when the transmutation activated; and for whatever reason, the proximity to the energy transfer caused the vampire persona to show through, not much, but enough. Just long enough for me to bite him."

Rebecca frowned. "I thought you said your vampire side was suppressed?"

"It was. It is." The blonde Lieutenant's lipped thinned in self-recrimination. She reached up, touching the cloth pouch that hung around her neck. "Falman, you asked about these. All of you were given these when you arrived and told they were a token of blessing. They're actually an Ishvalan religious charm we've developed as protection against vampirism."

"Ohhh, I get it." Fuery's eyes lit with understanding behind his glasses. "They protect us by being repellent to vampires, and they keep your vampire side suppressed the same way."

"Exactly." Riza glanced to where Roy watched her, his eyes seeming to grow darker in the shadows of the room. "You also noticed that the Colonel isn't wearing one. We don't know what would happen if a fledgling vampire were forced to wear a charm; it could be the new persona wouldn't be strong enough to withstand the suppression, and if it were harmed or destroyed at such an early stage, it might take the host with it."

"I see…" Armstrong rumbled. "His vampire self is being allowed to develop so that it can later be suppressed with a charm at a lower risk to his body. Risky, admittedly, but the smart move to make."

"A smarter move is letting you all know what we're up against." Roy's gaze shifted from person to person, watching for reactions. "You all know that the serial killer from Central and East City is a vampire. That's been made abundantly clear. But what you may not be aware if is that this vampire is a blast from the past. Five pasts in particular: Scar's, Miles', Armstrong's, Hawkeye's, and mine."

"As for the rest of you," Riza said calmly, tightly gripping one hand with the other to help keep herself collected, "you all at least know the name Solf J. Kimblee."

There were more than a few soft gasps and suddenly clenched jaws in the room. Armstrong immediately stiffened, standing taller and coming perilously close to cracking his head off of the ceiling. Fuery gulped audibly.

"I thought… he was dead?" Falman asked, sounding uncertain, as though his own flawless memory might be playing tricks on him.

"So did we. He was eaten by Pride after failing to stop Alphonse on the Promised Day and being left mortally wounded," Riza explained. "However, vampires have a tendency to be classed as undead, which is what he became after Pride was destroyed. There's some very complex, very dark alchemy involved that I don't fully understand, but suffice to say that this vampire version of Kimblee is made up of what's left of Gluttony's hunger, Pride's arrogance and hatred for humans, and Kimblee's own psychotic personality."

"Great," Rebecca muttered. "So it's not just a vampire serial killer, it's a psychopathic vampire serial killer. I think I'd rather have Homonculi and those creepy, soulless white creatures you guys talked about."

"All of this begs the question," Falman interjected, "of just what we're planning to do about the vampire problem. How do we stop him?"

"The consensus so far is that we'll have to kill him," Roy answered, his tone heavy with weariness. "There's exactly one way to keep him confined, but it amounts to putting him back in prison. A very arcane and unconventional sort of prison, but prison nonetheless. And simply locking him away doesn't fix the problem that Hawkeye and I would both still be vampires."

Fuery spoke up, sounding slightly unsure, but gathering confidence. "From everything I've read… if you kill the vampire 'sire,' the one who turned a victim first, then you remove the vampiric curse – I guess it's a curse? That's what all the books called it. – on the people he turned, and once they're no longer vampires, the people they turned change back, and so on. It's a kind of cascade failure."

"Our thoughts exactly," Roy said, with an approving nod.

"How do you kill something like him?" Breda asked, the introspective look in his eyes suggesting he was already trying to think of a solution. "Vampires are supposed to be immortal, aren't they?"

"Not this kind," Riza assured him. "They're certainly extremely resilient, and I wouldn't trust them to fall immediately from a gunshot or explosion… but the damage from such a wound would kill them eventually."

"The trouble is that they could still cause quite a bit of damage even while mortally wounded," Armstrong added, and Riza nodded in affirmation. "So whatever method we use to bring him down will have to ensure he falls immediately."

"I don't know about you," Rebecca said, her nose wrinkling in distaste, "but I can only think of one way to do that."

"We've had a few days to talk it over, when I wasn't nearly passing out," Roy said. His dark eyes glittered at the thought of what needed to be done, and while Riza didn't entirely like it, she knew it was the vampire persona reacting, not his own mind. His voice was strong in the quiet room when he spoke again. "Like you said, there's not really much other choice.

We've got to take his damn head off."

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

RESIDENTIAL NEIGHBOURHOOD, JADAD, ISHVAL

1607 HOURS, APRIL 27TH

"It took you a little longer than we thought to reach the city," Riza commented, walking with Rebecca along the short, sandswept street to one of the houses allotted for the reinforcements' use. "What held you up?"

"One of the trucks got a flat about a day out from East City," the brunette answered. Her eyes roved constantly around the street, taking in the architecture, the people, and occasionally her friend. "We paused long enough for Armstrong to repair it with alchemy, but getting those things on and off the axles takes time. Aside from that, the only stops we made were for bathroom breaks, meals, or refuelling."

"I see." Riza gave her a sidelong glance, keeping her voice quiet. "And were you able to bring the special request I asked about?"

"Of course." Rebecca grinned. "It's all in a crate at the very back of the truck, away from any prying eyes. I labelled it as spare truck parts, so as not to raise suspicion, and so that whoever unpacked it on this end would leave it where it was."

"Well done." She smiled, a real, genuine smile she hadn't felt up to giving for a day or so. "I knew I could count on you."

"Who else?" Linking her arm through Riza's, she tugged on the sleeve of the brown, homespun dress. "Now, when are you going to hook us up with clothes like this? Armstrong stands out enough already, and even though we're all in civilian clothes, the rest of us could stand to draw a bit less attention."

Riza eyed her friend's dark brown curls with doubt. "I don't know how well your hair is going to fit under a headscarf, but there should already be Ishvalan clothes in your rooms in the guest accommodations. The waist sash can be a bit of a trick to tie, since the tie doesn't show, but I think you'll get the hang of it."

They continued with their small talk until they reached the house, similar in construct and layout to Roy's and Riza's. Opening the door and stepping inside, the two women found Armstrong already there, unpacking in a room clearly meant for him, due to the larger than average bed.

He emerged, having to duck the low doorjamb, his blue eyes watching Riza with concern. "Lieutenant, would you happen to have a moment?"

"For you, Major? As many as you need." She looked to Rebecca, lowering the hooded portion of her headscarf to lie around her shoulders. "I'll catch up to you in a bit."

"Fine, but don't blame me if I end up wearing these clothes inside out and backwards." Flashing a grin to show she was kidding, Rebecca headed off toward the house's other bedroom to explore the new surroundings.

Riza followed Armstrong back inside his room, waiting by the window as he closed the door behind them. When he turned to face her, his face was lined with the kind of worry only a man with four sisters could exhibit. "You seem to be much recovered from… your time away from the Colonel," he commented.

"You can say I went rogue, sir," she answered, her smile small and rueful. "It's essentially what I did, even though I wasn't exactly in my right mind."

"You weren't," he agreed. "And that's partly why I wanted speak with you. I know from my own breakdown during the civil war that being out of your right mind can have a strong effect on a person." He looked at her directly. "You seem much recovered. Are you?"

This time, her smile was reassuring. "Yes, sir. I'm still adjusting to the fact that I essentially have a split personality, but knowing that it's suppressed helps." She sobered, watching him with the same scrutiny he was directing her way. "But I'm guessing you're also concerned about how I'm handling the Colonel's situation?"

He smiled. "Astute, as always."

"I'm handling it guiltily," she admitted. "Given that I'm the reason he's becoming what he is. But I'm handling it all the same." She lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug. "At the very least, I know what to watch for, to know when he's growing strong enough to withstand the suppression of the protection charm. Getting it on him may present a challenge come time to do so, but I'm confident we can handle it."

He was watching her with curiosity now, moving to sit on the side of bed. "And just what are you watching for?"

Riza took a deep breath, ordering the symptoms in her mind. "An uptick in anger or aggression, an increase in physical strength, insomnia, lowered pulse and breathing rate, drop in body temperature…." She hesitated briefly, then added, "I'm not sure we'll actually notice this one, but from my own experience, an increase in libido goes with it all."

Those same blue eyes widened briefly, blinked once, and then returned to normal as he accepted what she had said and let it slide past. "I see. Well, since you've told me, I can help keep an eye on him as well. And I suppose Scar and Miles know what to watch for?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Then we're well on our way to being fully prepared." He stood, offering a hand to her. "We're all behind you. You know that."

Reaching out, allowing her hand to be engulfed in his much larger one, Riza nodded. "Yes, sir. And I think I speak for both the Colonel and myself when I say that we fully appreciate it, and that we're extremely glad to have all of you here."

Armstrong didn't have a chance to reply as there was the briefest of knocks on the door, and then Rebecca breezed inside. She had on one of the homespun dresses, minus the waist sash, and had successfully mimicked the sweep of the headscarf as she had seen on Riza. However, as predicted, the sheer volume of her hair was causing the lightweight fabric to billow outward instead of falling neatly.

"All right, Major, you've had your turn, and now it's mine again," she said. "I need my friend to come braid my hair so that I don't look like I'm trying to smuggle pillows with my head."

Riza smiled, clamping down on a laugh, as she looked resignedly to Armstrong. "Sorry, sir. Duty calls."

[amnachil]

The College Society Chapter 1 Part 5

The next part is here ! Let’s see what will happen to our guys :)

Liam Monday September 25

Nonchalantly, the young lad headed towards the kitchen. He just woke up, and he felt unmotivated. Why are we forced to start lessons on the morning ? He would have prefer to work only the afternoon. The unicorns were still asleep, lucky magical creatures ! Anyway, he opened the fridge and took the jam (his mother gave him strawberry jam), then grabbed the bread and prepared his breakfast. From his position, he could hear Nick, playing videogames in the living room. Did he have been playing the whole night ? Now used to his roommate's habits, Liam was able to sleep despite the noise. And by the way, when he had gone back home from work, Nick had been still awake playing. Well, it's his life and he does whatever he wants. The young boy finished his breakfast, and headed towards the bathroom. When he passed by the living room, his friend declared :

"Get ready dude, our guests are coming soon."

At first, Liam just nodded. Then, he realised Nick said "guests". What's he talking about ?! We're waiting someone ? (Liam was a bit inattentive, he could miss some informations from time to time, but a meeting ?) (Well, after all he forgot his own mother last sunday...)

"I told you Rebecca and Colton were coming for the group project."

"Colton."

The chestnut boy feared to see Colton. After this... painful moment with Barbara and her boyfriend, he had noticed this one was in their promotion too. And moreover, in his tutorial group. And I freaked out. But of course, Nick and Rebecca chose him for the project. Feeling perfectly awake now, Liam looked at his roommate, thinking about a pretext to run away. Nick, slumped in the sofa, was focused on his game. Besides, the brown lad noticed with a bit of surprise a tiny roll of fat covering his friend's belly. What am I imagining ? He's just bloated because as always, he stuffed himself. After all, several empty bags of chips laid around. (Rebecca had already considered their living room to be a pigsty).

"I'm sorry Nick but... I have something to do this morning." Liam eventually ventured.

"What are you talking about ? You told me you were free to work this morning !"

I don't remember... He often didn't remember what he had said. (Which sometimes led him into troubles). But he needed a reason to avoid Colton as much as possible, or he would have to face Barbara. I might be overreacting a bit... But anyway, I'm launched into this now.

"I left something... at Pasta's Place." he lied poorly. "I need to go this morning before the lesson..."

Nick (who was still playing and fortunatly didn't see Liam face) (Liam was a bad liar, and he was blushing like hell when it came to lie) nodded slowly.

"Okay dude, just go. We'll start without you."

Once in the street alone, Liam felt idiot. He was doing all that only to avoid a conversation about his ex and his family. It's because bad things happened... To be honest, really bad things happened, but he wasn't forced to reveal everything. And the more I shun Colton, the more suspicious he will be about my behaviour. Sadly, Liam was digging himself in deeper. He had been looking to the restaurant for at least thirty minutes, wondering, when someone hailed him. It was Rebecca, and while she was coming closer, his brain started to freak out. Gosh, what is she doing here ? And what can I tell now ?

"I was looking for you." she panted, evidently left out of breath. "I ran everywhere to find you."

"Something bad happened ?" he asked.

She appeared worried, and Liam having quite a good imagination, he was thinking about the worst. Did Colton just eat Nick ? What about the unicorns ? If the forces of evils were already there...

"No, absolutely not. But you weren't coming back, and Nick told me the Pasta's Place was just at ten minutes, but you left like one hour ago. So we were getting preoccupied."

He blinked, surprised. He didn't realise how much time passed. And I didn't expected Nick to be worried... Rebecca stood up straight and stared at him, perplexed.

"Did you find it ?"

"Find what ?"

"The thing you have forgotten."

Again Liam blinked. He totally forgot he had faked forgot something. Am I having memories issues or what ? She already was considering him stupid, but now...

"Yes, I found it." he eventually whispered.

"Nice. By the way, Colton cancelled at the last minute because he had a transport issue, so we have decided to put the project back and the lesson is also cancelled... Liam, are you fine ?"

Realising he was smirking like a kid, the lad stopped. Colton isn't here. Finally a bit of luck. He smiled to Rebecca, and declared :

"We should go back now."

And he started to walk, pleased by the good turn of this morning. (After all, he just avoided Colton). (And they wouldn't work on this annoying project). (He even might go back to sleep, after all).

Later this day, at sunset, Liam was alone at home when someone knocked on the door. We're not waiting anyone... Curious, the lad opened, and ran into the last person he wanted to see.

"Hi son." greeted his father. "You're doing fine, as far as I can see."

Isaac Strucker smiled. Nonetheless, Liam didn't smile back. What is he doing here ?! Why ? When he had moved in town, the young lad had expected to never see him again. His father left the family twelve years ago, when the eldest was only six, and had just came back from time to time, without any justification. Still today, Liam remembered his mother crying, alone in her bedroom, when she discovered she was pregnant of her third child but without any man to help her. And this last summer, Isaac had come back again for... reasons. He had decided to retrieve the children. Since Liam's mother had financial problems, and  thanks to his good lawyer, Isaac won the trial, and Chloe and Luka had to move with him. By luck, Liam was becoming independant, so he avoided this situation, but he kept an huge rancor towards his father. And now he's here, in front of me like if nothing happened. The forces of evil.

"Your mother told the judge you were depressing and not eating well, but it seems to me like your are in good shape Liam." declared his father with a smirk. "I wonder what will she invent next in order to prevent me for helping my children."

"You didn't help us when we needed you." retorted the freshman.

"That's why I'm back now boy. And if you need money, I can give you whatever you..."

"I don't need your help." interrupted the lad. "I'm doing fine by myself. Why are you here ? What do you want from me ?"

Isaac lowered his eyes humbly. He almost seemed sorry, but Liam wasn't naive. He took everything from my mother. She lost her three children in the same time. That's not how you make amends. The young lad remembered those nights, when he helped his mother to take care of Luka, the youngest. He remembered the longs evenings with Chloe, alone at home while their mother worked at her second job. We always managed to live without him, and we were happy. He annihilated everything.

"I can't force you to forgive me Liam." eventually stated his father. "But even if you don't believe me, I was worried since your mother told to the court you were depressing. I just came to see if everything was fine."

He took a break, but the brown boy knew he wanted to add something. He just waited, holding his urge to punch his father. The unicorns had told him he wasn't a good idea..

"Furthermore, I think Chloe and Luka would be happy to see you during the holidays... If you agree to come at my place, of course."

"I thought they were allowed to see mom during the holidays ?" questionned Liam.

"Well, not anymore... My lawyer wanted to prove to the court she was a compulsive liar and too desesperate to be a good mother, and thanks to you, it will be easy."

"Thanks to me ?"

Isaac took off his phone, and smiled cheerfully.

"I filmed you, and, in this way the court'll see you're perfectly fine. This added with the others proofs I collected will be enough for the judge. I was pretty sure you were at my side, my son. Thanks you."

And without waiting a reaction (Liam was too astounded to react quickly), his father just left him while shouting :

"See you for the holidays !"

Rebecca Thursday September 28

"Well, I guess I just have to buy another trash can." mumbled Nick, barely disconcerted.

The young girl, as for her, was dismayed. What the fuck this trash can did to deserve this ? It was dismantled, completly destroyed. And according to Nick, it was only the last victim.

"I understand he got issues with his family, but butcher a trash... Was it necessary ?"

She started to get worried. She would manage to ignore Liam's listlessness, but since monday, he had those surgings of violence she feared.

"I guess the trash can is good for the trash can." laughed Nick. "Anyway, let's go, Theo is waiting you for the training."

"How can you be so quiet ?! Your roommate is a violent guy."

"Nope. Family is the explosive subject, but otherwise, he's totally nice. And anyway, currently, he's just a serial trash can killer. I don't know what they did to him."

"I'm not kidding dude ! You should be prudent."

Nick stared at her with entertainment.

"Are you worried for me ?"

She rolled her eyes. He's impossible. How the hell could we have become friend ?

"As you said, he's a serial trash can killer, so how long before he attacks you ?"

He stuck his tongue out, and headed towards the door with the dead trash can in his hands.

"Let's go Miss Savage !"

Once they were changed and ready to swim, Nick, still wearing his vest, sat on a bench, took his gameboy and lost his interest for her. Watching him, Rebecca chewed her lips. He wasn't doing any exercise, and he was eating junkfood all day long. Just, she had no problem with him doing this, but Bob would disapprove. He wanted her to be in an optimal environment, which meant with healthy and athletics people. Until now, she lied to him, affirming Nick was a good swimmer but... But soon, Bob will come here to see if I'm telling the truth, and he'll find out what's really going on. She had to do something. Nevertheless, she would think about it later, because Theo called her to train, and she joined him. For a moment, she did a series of lengths, focused on her performance, but then, she glimpsed Liam. The chesnut haired lad was absent-mindedly dipping his feet in the water, staring into space. He's so weird... According to Nick, he had some family's issues he didn't want to talk about. But something went wrong on monday, and since, he was destroying trash cans from time to time. Rebecca was curious. She considered him like a friend, and she wasn't the kind of people to let friends alone. And yeah, to be totally honest, she was worried for Nick. To live alone with a violent man was dangerous, especially when this one was taller and beefier than you. Consequently, she headed towards Liam, and sat next to him. (Obviously, he didn't notice her... This guy was seriously daydreaming). (Sometimes, she was jealous about this ability : he could simply be somewhere, and forget everything, simply by watching the sky... that was a kind of superpower).

"Liam, I think we should talk. Look, I saw the trash cans you destroyed, and I think you should calm down a bit, because this is scary. Yeah, Nick is scared."

It was a little lie (honestly, she was convinced Nick was afraid but didn't show it) but probably the best way to make Liam react. For that matter, he looked at her, and sighed lengthily.

"I'm sorry for Nick. I didn't know he loved his trash cans this much. Anyway, I'm fine now, so don't worry. I just needed to...unwind a bit, you see ?"

"If you have problems Liam, we're here to help you." she whispered.

Honestly, she didn't expect him to talk. She knew him now (at least as much as someone could know this moody dude) and he wasn't the kind of people speaking about himself easily. She was fine with this, because herself was a secret girl too.

"Everything's fine." he assured (as she expected). "Thanks you Rebbie, I'm gonna tell Nick I'm sorry about the trash cans. I seriously thought he hated those."

The black girl smiled and nodded, letting him go. Did he retain only that Nick loved the trash cans ? Because it wasn't my point at all...

Later this night, once the training ended, Rebecca was going to left with Liam and Nick when Laura came to her. The short blonde girl looked a bit worried. She had dark rings under her eyes, and hold her bags strongly, like if she feared to be attacked.

"Sorry to bother you Rebecca, but I may have a favor to ask you." she started quickly. "Theo can't bring me back home this night, and I wondered if you could come with me. I have... infamous neightborhood to go through."

The black girl nodded slowly. Why he couldn't escort her ? What a good boyfriend... The two girls left the pool, and once she informed Nick about her change of plans, Rebecca followed Laura. Soon, they ended up alone in the darkness, faintly lit by the only street lamp working. They walked in silence, and the big girl felt unsure as much as they keep moving. Strange noise resonated around them.

"Are you... making this walk every night ?" she asked in order to say something.

"Yes." agreed Laura. "But usually, Theo is with me, and because he's tall and strong, we avoid most of the problems."

"Only most of them ?"

A trash can fell into the floor. (Why it was necessarily a fucking trash can ? He could not be a street lamp ? Or not, because it would be really scary). Rebecca took Laura hands, ready to run, but suddenly, the whole street lit up. A bunch of girls shouted something incomprehensible and rushed her.

"Welcome to the sorority Rebbie !" yelled Laura. "Here is your private induction seminar ! Have fun !"

And before she could say anything (like the fact she wanted to sleep because she had classes tomorrow) she found herself lifted and she lost the control.

Pete Sunday October 1

This ass. This ass. The young lad could not resist but stare at this handsome ass. Theo sport a tight black swimming trunks for the tournament, and exhibited his hunky body for the great pleasure of his lover. Nevertheless, Pete could only watch by far. Obviously because Laura was there, too close, and also because he didn't succeed to please Theo again. Since his conversation with Bradley more than a week ago, the idea of gaining weight in order to attract the captain was growing in his mind. He didn't know if it was really healthy but he was like an addict asking for more drugs. I should talk to him about this but... I'm not sure how to broach the subject. Anyway, while the organizer called the 100 meter crawl swimmer, Pete headed towards the restaurant, and glimpsed Nick, Rebecca and a stranger who were looking to the pool while eating a meal. He joined them and smiled.

"Hi dudes. Can I sit with you ?"

Nick nodded, and the freshman took it for a yes. He knew Rebecca wasn't exactly liking him, but whatever. I don't care about her after all. By the way, this stranger is cute. He was brown, with a beautiful and delicate face, and two glowing blue eyes. Noticing Pete was staring at him, he introduced himself as Colton, Nick and Rebecca's friend.

"Nice to meet you." responded gladly the blond guy.

For a moment, they watched the swimmers and commentated the performances. As Rebecca declined Theo's offer to make the tournament, and because Pete as Nick were too bad, they were all just watching and supporting their team. Now that I think about it, I never saw Nick swim... Outside, the organizer declared Theo winner of the 100 meter, and they all clapped with enthusiasm.

"I knew he was the best." laughed Nick. "We should eat something to celebrate his victory."

"Eat again ?! Seriously dude, you just finished your meal !" took offense Rebecca.

"And what are you gonna do to stop me, mom ?"

Nick stood up and went to the buffet, ignoring the fact his friend was holding an insult.

"He'll finish like a fat cow." she complained. "Don't tell me I didn't warn him."

"Maybe he'll, but that's his problem you know ?" replied softly Colton. "If he prefer eat than watching his figure... As long as he's happy znd healthy, there's no need to worry, right ?"

Rebecca nodded slowly, but Pete was completly focused on Nick, who went back with a huge tray of food. Did he seriously want to eat everything ? By the desesperate look of Rebecca, he wanted to. However, around them, nobody seemed to be displeased by the glutton, and Pete found himself quite fascinated by the way Nick stuffed this food down his throat. He glanced at Theo, who was outside with some friends, and then went back to Nick. Maybe... Maybe if I do the same and gain a bit of weight... I would get Theo back... Or even better, I would have Theo only for me...

After the tournament, Pete went to Mcdo for is work, and managed to eat the most greasy food he found, before he came back home. In order to gain weight rapidly, he already had quite a good idea. Since he was member of the culinar club, he was making the diner for Mike and himself, while his roommate was doing the cleaning and the shopping. And as a football player, this one used a caloric poder (highly compound of protein) in order to maintain his muscle mass. Of course, with a high amount of exercise, it worked quite nice. However, Mike told me that when he took this poder, he had to eat less and as healthy as possible, like salads. Otherwise, it's too fat. But Pete wanted greasy food. He wasn't a big eater, his stomach had a low capacity, but the poder wasn't nourishing, so he could easily swallow it with a big plate. By doing this for several days, he would gain a bit of weight, and Theo would be turned on. That was why Pete started to prepare a huge meal for him and Mike, and then put some poder in it. Mike is doing so much sport, and is so tall, he'll not see any difference. Then, he sat on the table, and called his roommate.

"It smell delicious !" was glad this latter. "You outdid yourself... Are we celebrating something special ?"

"I heard you won the first match of the season." lied Pete. "So here's the reward."

It was a little lie, nothing too bad after all. Mike looked at him, and mumbled :

"I was on the bench the whole time but thanks I guess. You're cool."

"Yeah, I know."

They both started to eat, and for the first time in his life, Pete felt the desire to devour as much as possible, because he knew it was the only way to please Theo.

To be continued

Hope you liked it :). Well, to those who wonder, the main plot is around Liam, but through other characters we can explore more of their college society. The first chapter is also a kind of introduction. There are 6 parts left !

There is still a lot to go through, especially for our poor Liam... What in his past is so unpleasant that he wants to forget it ? Rebecca is still looking for her place in this new place, will she manage to find it ? And will Pete succeed to reconquer Theo ?

If you want to know more about Liam, don’t forget to read my previous story ; The High School Game !

See you next week ! (I hope :x)

[cyb-by-lang]

Shell Game (13/?)

Training begins.

During lunch on Monday, Kei stopped in with Principal Nezu to let him know about what had happened on Sunday. He could take it or leave it, but she was nonetheless slightly relieved to hear that the water villain would probably get his hearing back. Eventually. In prison.

She wouldn’t have been that happy if the jackass had actually managed to lay a finger on Hayate, but that was an alternate universe she hadn’t allowed to manifest.

After classes on Monday, Kei and Shinsō met for their mutual tutoring session in the school library. First of all came studying and, like the good student he was, Shinsō actually had all the notes from the classes Kei variously daydreamed through, missed, or simply didn’t understand. Though Kei did copy a fair portion of them and asked Shinsō for explanations for various topics, a fair chunk of the trouble came from not actually reading the coursework. She’d read more of the Modern Literature coursework in the past hour as a result than she had since the term started, with Shinsō outlining his note-taking strategy in between barely-hidden yawns. Sunday night clearly hadn’t treated him well, but he seemed game enough for their agreed-upon training.

And then, after the sky started to change color, it began.

It was…probably about the physical equivalent of what studying was for Kei. To wit: An embarrassing slog.

I didn’t realize it was this bad, Kei remarked to Isobu, while watching Shinsō get warmups out of the way. It’d been a long time since Kei had seen anybody huff and puff that hard after running a mile. Or its equivalent.

Training was all right in theory. Between Hayate’s pestering and Shinsō’s offer, Kei didn’t have much choice other than to study. She just hadn’t expected to have that kind of time while waiting for Shinsō to exercise.

Their route today was in Mustafu, solely because that was where UA was and it saved them train fare. Besides, studying after school meant there didn’t really seem like anyplace else to go that still felt like they’d be keeping momentum going. So, Mustafu it was.

By mutual agreement, neither of them were running anywhere near the bank from yesterday.

You may have forgotten that the majority of humans cannot keep up with a special jōnin in any capacity.

…Crap.

Shinsō managed to catch up to her, eventually. Checking her phone, she timed it out to about ten minutes. Unless the internet was lying to her, Shinsō was somewhat slower than average for a Japanese boy his age, and he was definitely not going to make the cut with the Hero course kids with a score like that.

Kei wasn’t even winded. She felt vaguely guilty about that, but figured Shinsō wouldn’t appreciate what’d look like pity coming from her.

Maybe she should have started him out with a kilometer run instead.

Once Shinsō got his breath back, he gasped, “Please… Just let me focus on Modern Literature.” Before Kei could pose a clarifying question, Shinsō went on, “If I have…to also tutor you in math…before doing this? I am going to die.”

Kei did her best to channel Gai. It was generally a safe bet. “Don’t give up yet, Shinsō-san!”

Shinso muttered something unintelligible, reaching up to adjust the sweatband around his head. He didn’t seem encouraged.

“Anyway, now it’s time for stretches and cooldown activities.”

Kei’s outlook didn’t really improve from that point onward, though she wasn’t nearly as frustrated as Shinsō was. He made it through most of the stretches fine, though he couldn’t touch his toes particularly well. At the end of it all, both of them were differing levels of annoyed, but at separate problems.

Are my standards completely broken?

Yes.

She didn’t even know where to start with katas. She needed more of an idea of his capabilities, even if his physical conditioning wasn’t filling her with confidence.

They went to a completely mundane non-beach park, which was conveniently free of witnesses on a Monday afternoon. There wasn’t exactly much to attract people besides the playground fixtures, and those were a little stooped and sad due to too many Quirk-blessed children attacking the structure over the years. And there was a water fountain, which Kei supposed was probably the only thing to recommend it.

Kei poked and prodded until Shinsō stood across from her on the grass, his feet shoulder-width apart. Given his expression, he was less enthusiastic than she’d been as a kid about the entire process. Then again, her mother had been using a shinai and had, perhaps with a bit too much faith in Kei’s impulse control, given her one to hold while the corrections went on. The trouble then had been keeping Kei still, not getting Shinsō to keep his muscles loose.

“Throw a punch, please,” Kei said, after she was almost happy with what she’d managed.

Shinsō blinked. “Right now?”

“No better time,” Kei said, and before she’d finished the last word, Shinsō had already thrown it at her face.

Kei caught his fist one-handed and said, “Gotta change a few things before you do it again.”

Shinsō huffed. “I’ve only thrown one.”

“And I’m here to make sure you don’t break your fingers on the second.” Kei turned his hand, saying, “Thumb on the outside. Otherwise you can hurt yourself more than the enemy.” She let go of him and reset their starting positions. “Again!”

A second punch.

“Don’t punch with the flats of your fingers. Knuckles first.”

A third.

“Stop aiming at my face. You’ll hurt your hand worse and just barely break my nose. Too many bones.”

A fourth.

“Keep your wrist straight. Good thinking, aiming for the throat.”

And on, and on, and on.

Shinsō switched arms before he could get tired, while Kei continued to correct him with the patience drilled into her by her mother and by trying to teach Hayate kenjutsu in their younger years. There was a different tempo to this kind of lesson, and Shinsō didn’t have the experience Kei relied on as a fighter to fall into step with the constant demand. Falling into a pattern in a real fight could be fatal, but here she just needed Shinsō to keep pace.

“Enough,” Kei said finally, while Shinsō shook out his wrists. His hands looked a little reddened by the constant impacts. Her own palms hardly tickled. “Take a break.”

Shinsō glared at her, but she ignored it. While he stalked toward the water fountain, Kei tried to think her way through the problem.

Would they get further with pure physical conditioning? The technical details were important, but Shinsō’s endurance wouldn’t really matter in a match with students who’d been training all along. Either he could grab someone with his Quirk and would win the match after essentially trash-talking someone into submission, or he’d be forced to rely on barely two weeks’ worth of training to rally after mind control failed.

Dammit, if only we had more time.

That is what everyone says, eventually. But you do not have that kind of time.

Kei pressed her thumb to her lower lip, trying to think.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a familiar flare of fiery chakra, and Obito stepped out from behind a cherry tree in his Tokyo clothes. Jeans and close-toed shoes had been a hard sell for him, but the medical eyepatch and long-sleeved shirts without the Uchiha high collar had been comparatively easy. He still wore gloves to hide his mismatched hands, but otherwise Obito was about as inconspicuous as he ever got.

He had a smiley face on the eyepatch. Because of course he did.

“Hiya, Kei,” Obito said brightly. “How’s life?”

“Kind of weird. Did Hayate tell you what happened yesterday?” Kei asked, hand on her hip.

“A bit. You really do run into a lot of trouble, don’t you?” Obito’s gaze focused on Shinsō, who was making his way back to them.

“Trouble finds me.” Kei gestured toward Obito. “Hey, Shinsō-san, this is a friend of mine. Dropping in to check on me, I guess.”

“Kei needs looking after sometimes. I’m Uchiha Obito.” He inclined his head just slightly. “Nice to meet you, Shinso-san.”

“Likewise, Uchiha-san.” Was it just Kei’s imagination, or did Shinsō give Obito a searching look after all that? “So, are you two close?”

Oh, great.

“Uh, we did grow up together.” Obito was oblivious, of course. “So, what’re you two up to today?”

“Training,” Kei said, before Shinsō could dig any further into that topic. “The Sports Festival is coming up, so we’re trying to get in shape.”

Obito brightened. “Can I help?”

“Mark out another…two kilometers,” Kei suggested. With a sweet smile that sat not-at-all on her face without a twist, she said to both boys, “We’ll finish with that!”

Shinsō looked like Kei had just signed his death warrant.

Obito trotted off, whistling.

“So, are you two—?” Shinsō began with the beginnings of a teasing smirk.

“He’s my best friend, not my boyfriend,” Kei corrected him immediately. With a stern expression, she indicated the direction Obito was traveling. “And we do have a beach. What do you think about running in sand, Shinsō-san?”

Shinsō, even despite his exercise flush, somehow managed to go pale. “I’m good.”

“Thought so. Now, I don’t have much else going on in the afternoons, but I don’t think it’s realistic to meet every day.” Mostly because having a purple duckling following her around would put a severe cramp in her ability to keep up the whole “shinobi” thing. She hadn’t done a proper perimeter circuit since the school year started. “Okay. How about I show you how to fall safely on Wednesday? And maybe throw people.”

“Why Wednesday? Why not today?”

“I can show you how to throw Obito today, but only because his Quirk means we don’t need mats,” Kei explained. She tapped her foot on the grass. “Softer than concrete, but I’ve had concussions that say otherwise. So has he. And he already knows how to fall, so there’s that too.”

Shinsō sighed. “At this point I’m not sure who got the better deal here.”

“I did say I was fine if you cut it down to just Modern Literature,” Kei responded. She checked her phone for a cheerful “Done! ᕦ( ᐛ )ᕤ” from Obito, then said, “Let’s go. We’re wasting daylight.”

“I hate you so much already.”

“Big words for day one! Come on, it’ll make you feel better to throw Obito around.”

Shinsō groaned aloud.