#this is all very speculative and very much word vomit from a few months ago but i wanted to put it out here bc its easier for others to see | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dorminchu · 3 years ago

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Insult to Injury: The Director’s Cut — Chapter 03

Fandom: James Bond Characters: Madeleine Swann, Lyutsifer Safin, OC(s) Relationships: Madeleine Swann & Lyutsifer Safin Warnings: PTSD, moderate language. Rating: M Genre: Crime/Drama Summary: A troubled psychologist desperate to escape her past criminal ties finds herself drawn into a far more insidious schism. [Post-Skyfall]

[Ao3 | FFNet]

— Episode III: HEDGEHOG’S DILEMMA —

Over the next hour, Madeleine’s initial animosity dissipated into tacit acceptance of the situation. Apart from the two unnamed associates, her and Safin, there were no other passengers. On paper, their route was straightforward. They'd stop at Genève, switch trains, be on their way to Sion. A five hour commute in total. Leaving roughly four hours to glean as much information as possible about her primary source of information.

At a glance she placed Safin somewhere in his early-to-mid-thirties. He had a soft face chipped away through years of ruthlessness—you could see it in his eyes, this kind of cold reticence that needed no introduction. The scarring threw off her estimate by a slight margin. He was dressed smartly, darker colours, blending in easily with any other first-class commuter except for the gloves. Madeleine, in a white blouse, grey wool cardigan to match her shoes.

“I'm curious. When you contacted the HR office and informed them I wouldn't be coming in, how did they take it?”

“They were surprised that you came in when you did, but ultimately sympathetic, given the nature of the situation. Your secretary mentioned that you're not one to take time off without prior notice.”

“Of course she would.”

“Would you like to know what they thought of you?”

As he spoke he watched her closely. “Diligent and well-mannered when it came to clientele. Aloof outside of an office setting. After graduating from two prestigious universities, you were still working at a public clinic. Your office and equipment were particularly sparse for a twenty-six year-old in the modern era. I imagine they thought you were in an inordinate amount of debt or else eccentric.”

Madeleine chewed on that for a few seconds. “That’s all well and good, but you cannot get all the nuances about a person from simple inference, or a background check.” Safin remained unreadable. “It was the secretary who told you all this?”

“In this profession, people provide me a lot of information I don’t ask for. I’ve learnt not to take it personally. You’d know what that is like, I’m sure.”

“I suppose so.”

Sunlight beamed on the side of her head, warming her past the point of languid ease. Should've picked the aisle seat. Trapped by her handbag at her ankles; burner phone, wallet, spare cosmetics, and a custom holster for a gun she hadn't touched since moving in with Arnaud.

Three years ago, what was on her mind? Fresh out of Oxford, too cynical to be starry-eyed. Volunteering still gave her a false sense of self-importance, rather than existential exhaustion. Carving out her altruistic identity through deeds, not the blood money she had to take advantage of. Still believing in a world governed by monetary prowess and tacit favours. That somehow, she'd make up for inherited sins in sheer time and effort.

On her own, she just ended pulling up roots and moving on every couple years, leaving behind very little of herself. Taking some perverse pride in the impossibility of knowing an enigma but each year she noticed the empty space, the quiet of the flat, more encompassing. Lines on her face. Still young but not forever.

Maybe she needed some change in her life. Company, but not for the sake of matrimony. Living with Arnaud in Paris had made it easier to accept the façade of a charmed life, even if their relationship was one of social convenience. It got her father off her case. Her colleagues finally stopped speculating that she'd gone frigid and switched to wondering when she and Arnaud were going to move on or get hitched. Never to her face. Always to the secretary, who passed along the information with the same enthusiasm as commentary on the window dressings.

Marriage crossed her mind, once or twice, in abstract. A last resort to keep up the veneer of normalcy. She could change her name. Become another unassuming face among thousands. Settle down while she was young. She wasn't a company man like her father. Maybe, for a year or two, before her past knocked her back into reality. Keeping her family life and professional life separate was paramount. The events of this morning proved as much.

An attendant came over smelling of artificial vanilla and enquired if they would need anything. Stench recalled the low-lit bathroom in Conakry; a rush of saliva flooded Madeleine’s mouth as before vomiting. She shook her head. The attendant looked over at her in concern.

“Everything's fine, thank you,” said Safin.

Madeleine threw him a bitter look as the attendant continued down the aisle. The sentiment was not reciprocated. Taken up by a need for conversation, if only to get out of her own head into someone else's for a while, she began, “So—” cleared her throat “—so, you head your own team?”

“That's correct.”

“How long have you been operating?”

“Fourteen years.”

“That’s quite a long time. I cannot say I'm familiar with the detail.”

“Our operations tend to stray away from the public eye. The situation in Conakry was an exception.”

Madeleine nodded primly. Still grasping for a conversation topic that wouldn’t completely sabotage her own intentions. What the hell could she do if he was one of SPECTRE? Second-guessing all his responses wouldn't get her anywhere. She simpered.

“I understand that this is not an ideal location to talk in-depth. But it wouldn’t hurt to know why my father saw fit to bother with me after all this time.”

“He has never discussed his business with you?”

“He made sure to keep me abreast of most of it. But I always knew where the money came from.” Madeleine frowned slightly. “There was an incident in Bolivia, back in 2008. I was volunteering on behalf of the IDPs and civilians affected by the water crisis. Dominic Greene, the famous entrepreneur, lost his life and the organisation QUANTUM shut down. But the gas explosion at the La Perla de las Dunas, that was all over the news. At the time it was deemed a political assault because several key members of the Bolivian military were rumoured to be involved.”

“On the news, do you recall ever hearing of a man named Luiz Medrano?”

“Medrano? As in, the exiled dictator?”

Safin nodded. “General Medrano cut a deal with Greene. Undisputed access to a seemingly useless piece of land in the Atacama Desert. It was, in fact, the site of an underground dam. Greene would have a monopoly over Bolivia's water, and Medrano and his coup would seize control of the country.” A particularly cold smile crossed Safin’s face but didn’t reach his eyes. “Not all of their subordinates were loyal. Someone from the outside must have intercepted at the hotel. Even so, their claim over the dam might have stayed out of the public eye if not for the amount of military figures found complicit in that political handover.” He paused. “QUANTUM's disbandment was not made public at the time. How would you know of this?”

Madeleine lowered her voice. “QUANTUM was my father's company, and Mr Greene was one of his associates. Besides, I never knew Greene personally. I don't think my father mentioned him to me more than twice in my life. I just put two-and-two together. He'd never let me see his shame directly.”

“I presume your father was acting in the interest of your protection.”

“He's always been meddling in my affairs! Even when I was a little girl. It's funny, you know. He was too busy to raise me so it fell to my mother. And then, once I got older, he decided to come back into my life. I would stay with him for a few months and go back to whichever school he put me through for the rest of the year. We stopped talking once I went off to Oxford.”

“And your mother?”

Madeleine froze. Averted her face towards the window. “She passed on when I was younger.”

Something indecipherable surfaced in his expression. “My apologies.”

“No, it’s all right. I’ve had time to mourn.” She scowled at nothing in particular. “I hope you realise I don’t have much on me.”

“Your personal affairs have been collected from the flat. You will have access to them once we reach our destination.”

“And that was decided by him, or you?” Safin held her gaze. “Well, you are doing this on his behalf, are you not?”

No answer. Back to silence until the attendant passed by again, accompanied by the scent of faux-vanilla. Madeleine couldn’t stand to sit another minute.

“Where do you think you’re going?” asked Safin without looking up.

“Dining car. I haven’t eaten since this morning.”

Safin made eye-contact with the associate on his side, nodded. The man got up and followed her into the next car without a word.

The attendant and passengers became nonentities while Madeleine ordered a sandwich and coffee. The associate didn't order anything, scanning the car. Just a pair of commuters, to the untrained eye.

“Welcome back, Dr Swann,” said Safin. “How was the dining car?”

“Uneventful.”

Safin glanced at the associate who was now sitting a few rows down. “I’m glad there were no complications.”

“I would certainly hope not,” Madeleine muttered. Every sentence that left her mouth gave him more ammunition. Ill-advised to put up a haughty front for the rest of the train ride. Tolerating the situation without being happy about it. Best get a grip before she made a bigger fool of herself.

“I’m not one of your patients, Dr Swann. There's no need to try and figure me out.”

“I am not trying to do anything of the sort.” Terse, reflexive. Safin drew a quiet breath. Madeleine glanced over at him and of course, he initiated:

“Do you enjoy your work?”

“Psychology?”

“Yes.”

It was such an ordinary question that Madeleine forgot to be indignant. “I… well, truthfully there are a lot of days where it is not very glamourous. But, if the alternative is to sit by and do nothing while others are suffering, I wouldn't give up for the world.” Shrugging off her lingering bad mood with a white lie. “And you?”

“I have no complaints about my work.”

A little brisk, compared to his previous responses. But she hardly knew the man well enough to start parsing for tells. In his position she'd probably have answered the same way.

On the second train heading from Genève to Sion, Madeleine was out of conversation topics. Not that Safin was one for talking anyway. She'd settled into the pattern of being scrutinised and returning the scrutiny. Just like her father to send a highly-trained watchdog in lieu of an apology.

Once again, they had the car to themselves. The afternoon sun beaming in through the window imprinted on her retinas until she pulled down the blinds.

The passing attendant did not address her beyond a glance and a small, terse smile. Probably just itching to get to the end of his shift and go see his friends for drinks. In his absence, her eyes kept flickering over empty rows, scanning, rescanning, fruitlessly.

“Dr Swann,” said Safin quietly, “is there a reason you keep looking over at the door?”

Madeleine purposefully relaxed her shoulders. “I wasn't aware that my father owned property in Sion. It's uncommon.”

“It's an architect’s villa located in Pont-de-la-Morge. Built in 1950, refurbished in 2008. You’ll have your pick of rooms on the second floor, if that makes any difference.”

Madeleine nodded. Running his sentence through in her head a few more times. She looked up sharply. “You’ll be staying there as well?”

“Given what occurred in Guinea and France, I would say it is in your best interest to have someone watching your back for a while.”

“You might have mentioned this before.”

“My job is to keep you alive. That’s as much reassurance as I can offer.”

⁂

Arrival at the station. Ushered into another black car. The sky overhead threatening rain as the car pulled into the drive. The perimeter of the house was flanked by several men not dissimilar from the two who’d collected Madeleine from her office. They did not speak. A couple of them nodded to Safin before bidding them entry.

An abundance of glass doors and aesthetically pleasing windows. The kitchen; wood panelling and stainless-steel. A fireplace in the living room with glass doors directly adjacent that led out to a terrace. The lawn watered itself. There were three bathrooms and bedrooms respectively.

Her own room was up the stairs, on the right. Far less claustrophobic or lived-in than Arnaud’s apartment. A fitted wardrobe, a stiff-looking bed. Mahogany sofa that wasn’t really her style but could be worked around. Light on the westernmost wall. Another set of glass doors that led out to a balcony, flanked by maroon curtains. She turned on the light, drew the curtains shut. Opening the wardrobe, she found the clothes she'd left in Arnaud's apartment that morning. She parsed through the fabric, unsure whether to find this latter aspect convenient or invasive. Some of these clothes she hadn’t worn in a season or two.

Arnaud's last conversation came to mind. Had he come back to the flat after she left in order to apologise, or collect her things? If they hadn’t argued that morning he might still be alive. Worried enough, perhaps, to ask around and get himself in a lot of trouble before he was silenced.

Madeleine shut the wardrobe forcefully. A change of style the first step to reinventing herself.

Over the balcony she caught sight of Safin and his associates. He looked over as she came down the stairs. “The room is fine,” she began, “but, if I'm going to be here a week I'll need some things in the morning.”

Safin nodded. “Once we work out an itinerary, that shouldn't be an issue. You recall the two men who accompanied you?” The first nodded; the second smiled politely. “Simply inform one of them and they will transport you as needed.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” said Madeleine. No chance of giving these men the slip and expecting to survive.

⁂

That night she buried herself under rough wool blankets. Dreamless sleep the most precious amenity of all. She couldn’t start drinking and risk a hangover. If she started taking pills she'd draw attention to herself pretty quickly.

Normally she could manage to sleep. Restless but consistent enough to scrape by unnoticed.

Waking up half-fevered. Unfamiliar ceiling. Sion, not France. Waiting for the initial swell of terror to pass, as it always did. Regulating her breathing. Just a trauma response. Laying still, unsure if it was midnight or five in the morning.

Back in Ermatige, the waves of terror and relief used to crash down, shake her apart. Twenty-six year-old Madeleine chewed her lip. Sitting up, wrapping her arms around herself. A dull throbbing behind her eyes, in the base of her skull. Heavy scent of petrichor invading her nostrils.

About to get up when she heard the creak of floorboards. Movement from the hall towards the stairs, descending. Someone was up and around. A few seconds later, Safin’s voice, indistinct.

Oh, God.

She hadn’t disturbed him, had she?

She could lay back down and feign sleep until her headache became too much to ignore. Or she could go on with her day. Checked the time. 06:21.

Technically still too early for her to be up and about.

The warmth of the sheets became cloying. She stood up, barefoot on varnished wood, creeping over to the balcony. Reaching out to touch the pane. Cool glass kissing her naked palm. In a month or two the ground would be laden with snow.

Opening the door. Stepping out onto the balcony, gripping the rail. Quieting her breath to hear the whisper of water on grass. Taking fresh air into her lungs until she was shivering. Soles of her feet smarted.

The men surrounding the premises did not move. But they must see her up there. She stepped back indoors.

Silvery glint in her peripherals. The old television reflecting the light from outside.

Combing around the drawers for a remote. She clicked it on. Quickly hit the mute button. Squinting at the harsh colours that only reignited her headache. Flitting through channels for news. Poring over the headlines.

Not a word about the MSF. It had only been a month since she came back to Europe. Next week was October.

She sat there for a while letting the colours wash over the room. Clicked it off. Stumbling into the bathroom. Bags under her eyes more pronounced than the day before.

Madeleine had a shower, trying to piece together the dream. Hazier than in her youth. She discarded it. Only a dream. Drying off, dressing for the day. Contenting herself with the solidity of wool and linen, she went downstairs to have breakfast.

Safin, hovering by the glass doors in the living-room area. Dressed as if for another commute. “Dr Swann,” he said as way of greeting.

“Morning,” she replied. It was seven forty AM. No job to distract her from this newfound sense of nihilism. She rifled through the pantry looking for some cereal and saw an expensive-looking bottle of alcohol towards the back—liquor. Madeleine took the cereal, fixed herself a bowl and some coffee.

Caffeine counteracted her torpor, but the headache remained. “I don’t suppose this safehouse has any painkillers?” Safin looked over. She was already going through cabinets. “It’s my head. Just the weather, really.”

“Did you sleep?”

“Well enough.” She met his gaze with more confidence than she could back up. Safin’s attention diverted to the side of her head.

“On your right.”

She took two with her coffee. Ate in silence. Waiting a week in the hope her father might have an excuse was a truly miserable proposition. What would she say? Hello, Papa. I’m still alive. Did you pick this location to remind me of your home in Austria? No, that wouldn’t get her anywhere. Easier to approach her father in the same context as her job.

“Who do I speak to when I’m ready to leave?”

Safin glanced over at one of the associates.

⁂

The spotter gave her the run down on the way. In terms of travel she couldn’t go beyond the canton of Valais and she could not contact anyone else outside of Kerberos to confer information about her father’s whereabouts. But aside from that she could pretty much go anywhere.

First, clothing. That took her to Bottega Veneta. In Flagranti’s Business Acumen playing over the intercom. Madeleine's hackles raised. The painkillers in effect. Caffeine wearing off. She started parsing out signs. She hadn't really thought about what she needed beyond a change.

So accustomed to the life of a disconnected middle-class that its opposite became seductive. Perusing the aisles in a daze. Selecting whatever pulled at her heart in a perverse reminder of home. Nothing too extravagant. A new raincoat and a couple pairs of shoes. Navy scarf for the winter months. Spare lipstick. A few more shirts and dress pants in monochrome. Spare underwear, socks.

Spent half an hour trying it all on. Avoiding the eyes of the woman in the glass. Most of it fit but she didn't feel any different. The raincoat especially gave her a funereal look. She already had a reputation for being severe. What did it matter? She was always severe and the rest of the world could just bite the bullet.

Shit. The spotter was waiting for her. He probably didn't care either way. They hadn't talked much and she wasn't about to humanise him. She'd only let her guard down faster.

She parsed him out. They made brief eye-contact. Unimportant banter between her and the cashier during the transaction. Taking her bags. Walking over rain-slicked asphalt. Back into the car. The beat of raindrops on the window lulling her into a false sense of security.

Snapping herself out of it when the car stopped. “I’ll get it,” she insisted. The associate didn’t protest.

Treading up the stairs, down the hall. Pulling old clothes out of drawers, off hangers. Substituting her purchased goods. It wasn’t enough to fill the wardrobe, but she would have time to buy new clothes. Set aside the old stuff to be dealt with.

Shambling downstairs. Hungry without any real appetite. Safin nowhere to be seen. It took all the strength she had just to stand. Moving over to the sofa. Slumping into it. Closing her eyes. Only for a second.

The sound of a car pulling in mixed up with the sharp staccato of rifle fire tearing apart a wooden door.

Papa's gun in the cabinet, next to the bleach.

Heavy footsteps on wood.

No matter how fast she bolted she’d never get there in time.

Gloved hand on her shoulder.

Jerking awake with a guttural hitch, like she'd been sucker-punched.

Breathing hard. Her face damp.

“Dr Swann?”

Face-to-face with the last person she wanted to justify herself to. She averted her eyes. “Oh God, it's just—I’m sorry. It was just a nightmare.”

“About Conakry?”

She swallowed dryly. “Look, it’s nothing, I’m—”

“Don’t tell me that it is nothing.” His tone suddenly sharper. “You were in significant distress, now and early this morning. Nightmares are a common response in post-traumatic—”

“—I am familiar with the definition!” Ringing silence. She hadn’t meant to raise her voice. “Your concern is not unfounded, I know that it looks very bad. But I know how to deal with this. Please, just leave me be.”

“Just now, you said, don't come any closer, I'll kill you. Does that mean anything to you?”

Her hackles raised. “It's meaningless.”

“Depriving yourself of sleep won't do you any favours when Mr White shows up. If you want to be stubborn, I'll have no option but to keep you locked down until you have recuperated. In the meantime, think over what you must do to get some proper sleep. I'm not your therapist.”

He left her to sit, bitter and confused. He hadn’t reacted this way in Guinea and she'd been close to catatonic. So, what was this about?

⁂

For the next three days the Kerberos team confined her to the safehouse. Letting her out only to walk her around the premises for twenty minute intervals like a high-strung pet. If she were to take sleeping pills she was monitored. Resentment outweighed by desperation to regain her agency.

She learnt to recognise Safin's gait back and forth down the hall. Through the glass doors that led out onto the balcony, she could always see the figures silhouetted in the light from the terrace, blending into the shadows.

Even with all of this, sleep was no easier. Waking up half-fevered, clawing away the sheets. Expecting to see her stomach torn open, entrails and blood over the sheets not unlike brain matter and bone fragments against a hot car window. Finding unbroken skin sheened in sweat. The stress of the situation in Guinea and the extreme nature of the attack would inevitably recall some previous triggers.

It didn't explain away the nightmares about Altaussee. Hadn't she put that behind her years ago? Minor variations, each time. The setting was more indistinct than in childhood but the visceral details heightened. Sometimes the gunman would shoot her on sight before she stepped outside. Most often now, she'd run over to find no gun in the cabinet, and he shot her anyway. As a child she'd lacked the mental capacity to conceptualise how it would feel to die this way; now she dreaded what she'd see when she closed her eyes.

On day four, she was finally able to get some rest on account of exhaustion rather than effort. She woke up to the sun streaming into her face. Once she left her room, the two associates got her out of the house, into the car. They drove around Valais for roughly an hour and brought her back. Upon her return to the safehouse there were men checking over the rooms and furniture. Only so much protocol she could stomach, on top of all the scrutiny.

“I don’t want them in my room when I come in,” she told Safin. “Around the premises if necessary, but that’s all. If they must check all the rooms, fine, I don’t care, I just don’t want to see it.”

Childish to her own ears. Too beaten-down to think better. But he just said: “That can be arranged.”

⁂

The nights here were getting colder. Madeleine bundled up. She had never cared much for the autumnal season. All the decay covered beneath the snow to be unearthed come spring. Upcoming holiday meant throngs of people. Indifferent towards Christmas.

Safin was rarely around. In passing, he would acknowledge her in passing with a curt nod, and after day five he was more-or-less in the background. Every now and again, she'd catch him hovering in a room, just observing. Sometimes, if she turned, she imagined a flicker of something unfamiliar trapped behind his reserved countenance. But he never stuck around long enough for her to ask.

With an abundance of free time, she was unable to let herself to fall into the illusion of normalcy. Inevitable, then, that her thoughts would stray back to the MSF. Conducting research on her own, in the mornings and evenings; parsing through official news sites on her laptop, then underground articles, statistics, and anything else she could scrounge up.

The Guinean military had been busy quelling unrest for the last four weeks, but there were few details. Several key figures in the MSF were currently under investigation, tarnishing the reputation of the organisation. That stuck around the headlines, right next to some lesser story in the corner about various pharmaceutical companies cooperating in tandem with the Red Cross and clean MSF figures to ensure there was no repeat affliction throughout the rest of Africa. Madeleine didn’t see her face or any mention of a Psychosocial Unit mentioned anywhere.

The nightmares weren't any better. But at least she had something to point her energy towards rather than direct it inwards.

On day six, Safin was lurking about the living area when she came down. He didn't wish her good morning. “I'll say this once, for your own good. Forget about what happened in Guinea.”

A week ago Madeleine would've been indignant. Arrogant enough to question this. She said: “There has been nothing short of a civil outbreak, and all the other parties walked away more or less unscathed. And you expect me to ignore that?”

“You accepted that mission knowing that there was the possibility there would be casualties.”

“Casualties? It was a worst-case scenario.”

He looked over at her. “The situation escalated far beyond any one party's control. There's no sense in blaming yourself. You did the best you could.”

Always wearing gloves. What the hell had happened to him? And why, succeeding that, would one choose security as their preferred occupation?

“Are you going to ask if it’s genetic?”

Madeleine balked. For the first time in a long time embarrassed rather than unnerved. “I didn't mean to offend you.”

He shrugged. “No offence taken.” His tone was off, like trying for sharpness without credence. “It was a long time ago.” Cordial, but not openly genial. While their conversations topics didn't leave much room for trust or even camaraderie, at the very least they were not glowering at each other anymore. “There's been a slight change of plans. Your father should be arriving later this evening.

“Well, that's convenient.”

“I'm sure you would like to ask him a few questions about your situation.”

“There's no telling he will give me a straight answer.” Safin said nothing. Madeleine exhaled, looked over at him. “Irrespective of how I might feel about your employer, you’ve given me no reason to distrust you.”

“Very well, Dr Swann.”

Madeleine smiled. “Please, just call me Madeleine. I'm not working right now.”

A beat.

“All right. Madeleine.”

#no time to die #multichapter #crime drama #not canon compliant #slow build #lyutsifer safin #madeleine swann #mr white #general medrano #dominic greene #fanfic #fanfiction #sorry I'm late!

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rosemaidenvixen · 4 years ago

Text

A Secret’s Worth

Chapter 16: Walter

Ao3

Over the years Strickler had lost track of how many times another changeling had made a joke about how it must rankle him to teach history that he knew was false from firsthand experience.

But what most other changelings didn’t realize was that between ineffective funding and highly biased textbooks he’d be teaching falsehoods one way or another.

The truly ironic thing about being a changeling educator was being forced to leave out key events responsible for shaping the modern world as they knew it that no human was aware even occurred.

“Can anyone tell me who the final king of Camelot was?”

The predictable grouping of hands went up; Claire Nuñez, Seamus Johnson, Darci Scott, Eli Pepperjack. He had no doubt that they all knew the correct answer, maybe it was time to check that one of his less alert students was still mentally present in some capacity.

“Ms. Longhannon?”

The girl in question jerked her gaze away from the window “Wha?”

A chorus of snickers came up from around her. Shannon flushed.

“We were discussing the final ruler of Camelot, Ms. Longhannon,”

“Oh….that was King Arthur…..right?”

He smiled “Correct,”

Pressing a button on the remote in his palm, Strickler switched the view on the projector to a timeline extending from the years 400 to 1200 “The Pendragon Empire, founded by Uther Pendragon in the fifth century, lasted until the early twelfth century, ending during the upheaval surrounding the death of his descendent, Arthur Pendragon. A large part of the chaos after Arthur’s death was due to the fact that Arthur left no immediate heirs apparent. That combined with crumbling infrastructure and opportunistic invasions from neighboring nations is what led to the fracturing of the empire,”

Strickler paused as the soft scratching of pencils on paper filled the room.

Neighboring nations, what drivel, it was enough to make any self respecting changeling want to laugh and vomit at the same time.

Granted, Strickler himself hadn’t been present for Camelot’s true downfall. He’d been a young changeling back then, trying to sell a remote clan of Slavic trolls on the benefits of an alliance with the Gumm Gumms.

He hadn’t succeeded. But in the end it turned out rather moot.

No, that was putting it far too mildly. It had taken over a century for the Janus Order to recover from the chaos; setting their goals back by nearly a millennium.

Arthur might have lost the battle against his kingdom falling, but the victory he’d gained in the war was exponentially greater.

He’d prevented the extinction of the entire human race.

Strickler shut his eyes and pulled in a deep breath to ground himself back in the present as the last few students finished taking their notes.

No.

Not prevented. Delayed.

“Your final project will be done in groups, each group will be assigned a single century during the Pendragon empire and will put together a presentation summarizing the events and the impact of your assigned century. This presentation should last twenty minutes and we will be doing them in class at the end of the month,”

The entire room broke out into groans.

Strickler chuckled good naturedly “Consider it a small price to pay for not having any work over spring break, now I want you all to break into your groups, three to five people each, and have one member select your century, and enough rubrics for all of you,” he gestured towards the small slips of papers on his desk sitting next to a fat stack of rubrics “The rest of the hour will be in class work time, so I suggest you get started,”

There was a shuffle of desks and sneakers as the students settled into their groups, a handful darting up and snatching their centuries and rubrics under Strickler’s keen eye. Had to make sure everyone settled into proper groups and keep track of who was working on what century after all. He waited until things had nearly settled down before speaking up again.

“Jim Lake,”

The boy in question started in his seat, both him and his groupmates turning and looking at Strickler inquisitively.

“Yeah?”

“Do you mind stepping outside with me for a moment?”

Based on his expression Jim certainly minded quite a bit, a gauntness present in his features that hadn’t been there a month ago, but he stood from his chair all the same “Ok….sure,”

Strickler ignored the course of oohs that filled the room as Jim headed over to meet him at the door. Only after he had stepped out and closed the door behind them, the two alone in the hallway, did Strickler speak again.

“Jim, I’ve been monitoring your behavior these past few weeks, and quite frankly I’m concerned,”

Someone less observant and experienced at the art of subterfuge would have missed the subtle way Jim’s shoulders stiffened, the flicker of panic on his face before it settled into a calm veneer.

But Strickler missed nothing.

Jim forced out an uncomfortable laugh “Well...uh, sorry to worry you, but I’m totally fine,”

Strickler had to bite back a sigh. It looked like Jim, not unexpectedly, had decided to be evasive; no matter. In that case the only thing to do was strike at the heart of the issue, bluntly and without delay.

He whipped a comb out of his front pocket; cheap and still sealed in its plastic packaging, but very fine toothed, holding it out in front of him “I want you to run this through your hair,”

Blinking, Jim stared at the comb and then back up at Strickler “....are you serious?”

“Humor me,”

Looking more confused than anything else, Jim slowly took the comb, pulled it from its wrapper, and ran it through his hair once before promptly handing it back “There, is that all? Because I need to--”

“Jim. Look at the comb.”

He did, all the color instantly draining from his face.

From end to end the comb’s teeth were stuffed to the brim with short, black hairs.

“Your hair is falling out.” Strickler’s tone brooked no questioning. He wasn’t asking, he was stating a fact “So do not tell me that everything is fine. If everything were fine you wouldn’t be losing your hair from stress,”

Of course there were plenty of non-stress related medical conditions that could cause a sixteen year old boy to start losing his hair, but Strickler found that his intuition was rarely wrong.

Jim hadn’t so much as twitched, standing frozen in place, eyes wide and locked on the comb.

Strickler let out a sigh and tossed the comb into a nearby trash can “I’m going to be frank with you Jim, I know CPS is investigating your family,”

Now that got a reaction, Jim snapping his head up, breathing quick and shallow, voice tight with pure panic “You do!?”

“Keep your voice down, yes, the investigator called the school with a few questions,” Strickler saw no reason to bring up the fact that he had been the one to make the initial call, much less that he had done so at the behest of Mr. Domzalski.

“But I’m not going to ask about that. That case is a matter between your family and the state, now if you want to talk I am more than willing to listen, but I’m not going to pry into your family’s private matters,”

Just like that the wind went out of his sails. Jim practically going limp, swaying on his feet overcome with relief. But before he could relax too much, Strickler was talking again.

“That being said, in the weeks that the investigation has been going on, I have become seriously troubled by your behavior,”

“What...behavior...are you talking about?”

“You’re anxious and unfocused, I’ve caught you nodding off in class no fewer than three times in the past week. And this is pure speculation on my part, but I don’t think you’ve been getting nearly enough to eat, which could be contributing to your hair loss,”

Squirming under his scrutiny, Jim ran a shaky hand through his hair, before he quickly realized what he was doing and pulled it away “Ok things have been hard… and maybe I’ve missed a meal or two...but I’ve just...really been focusing on keeping my grades up,”

It was true. Strickler happened to know for a fact that Jim was pulling all A’s in every subject. But while that was a fact it certainly wasn’t the whole truth.

“You’re grades are exceptional, and normally I would applaud you for being so diligent with your studies, but I get the feeling you’ve been hyperfocusing on your schoolwork in order to avoid dealing with the other problems in your life,”

From the way Jim flinched at his words, breath catching in his throat, Strickler knew he’d struck the truth.

“Look...I...I know that there’s a lot going on, but I swear I can handle it,”

“Jim--”

“I promise it’s really not that bad,”

“Not that bad? For goodness sake Jim, your hair is falling out!”

The boy had no response to that, downcast eyes locked on the floor, unable to meet Strickler’s gaze.

Squaring his shoulders, Strickler clasped his hands together and netted his fingers in front of him. Bluntness had served its purpose in this conversation, now it was time for the olive branch “With everything going on in your life I imagine it must feel like you’re carrying the world on your shoulders,”

“Yeah,” Jim mumbled “Something like that,”

Strickler gave him a small smile “Have you heard of the greek myth of Atlas?

Jim looked up at that “No….should I have?”

“Atlas was a titan that took part in the war between the gods and titans, and when the titans lost Atlas was condemned to hold up the sky for all eternity,”

“Okay…but what does that have to do with...me?”

“In the myth Atlas alone bore the weight of the entire world on his shoulders, but Jim, you aren’t Atlas. However heavy your burden is, you don’t have to bear it alone. The faculty here can put you in touch with some excellent counselors and--”

“Actually I really don’t need anything like that,” Jim stepped around him and tried to go back into the classroom “And I should really be getting started on--”

“Jim.” Strickler allowed a trace of stone to creep into his voice “We are not done talking.”

The boy froze midstep, slowly turning back towards him with clear hesitation.

Once Jim was facing him again Strickler cleared his throat and started over “The purpose of counselors and therapists isn’t to scrutinize you or your family, but to give you tools and resources, coping mechanisms to help you better deal with the struggles life throws at you. And before you ask, no, you don’t have to talk about the investigation with them either,”

Jim’s mouth abruptly twisted into a scowl “If I don’t have to talk to them then why should I bother...even….”

He trailed off once he noticed Strickler’s expression, the boy couldn’t possibly see down to the depths of Strickler’s true thoughts, but he clearly saw something that gave him pause.

“...sorry,” Jim muttered, looking down and away.

Strickler just stared back at him evenly.

One didn’t survive as a high school teacher without developing a thick skin in regard to teenage impertinence. But this kind of snide back talk was far more in line coming from Steve, or even Seamus. Hearing it from Jim it was...troubling.

Not wasting any more time, Strickler pulled a sticky note out of his pocket and held it out “Here are a few of the counselors and therapists that I most recommend, but if you want more options let me know and I can get you a complete list,”

Jim didn’t move, arms not so much as twitching from their position at his sides. Staring at the note with a sour expression on his face.

“I’m not going to force you to go see any of them, but you will take their contact information and keep it,” One of Strickler’s eyebrows quirked up “Unless of course accepting the contact information of guidance counselors and therapists would put you at risk for some reason? If that is the case I certainly wouldn’t want to put you in any danger, but I would need to know exactly what kind of danger you would be in,”

Jim chewed on his lip, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides.

Strickler held his gaze, kept his hand extended, and waited.

Finally after what must have been a solid minute, Jim reluctantly reached up and took the note. Tucking it into his pocket under Strickler’s close scrutiny “Can I go back in now?”

Strickler frowned. He was not pleased with how this had turned out. Despite his best efforts the boy seemed dead set on refusing every helping hand extended his way. But as the saying went, one could lead a horse to water, but can’t make them drink. The only thing to do was continue to offer the water and hope one day he bent his head and accepted.

“You can, but please remember, as a teacher it’s not just my job to educate you, myself and every other staff member in this building has an obligation to look after your wellbeing, so please don’t forget that, young Atlas,”

Jim rolled his eyes “Yeah, sure,”

Strickler frowned; darker, harder this time, Jim shrinking under the force of his gaze. Brusqueness gone as quickly as it had come.

“I...I’m sorry…”

It wasn’t as though Strickler was losing his patience with the boy, compared to his dealings with the order’s underlings this was as relaxing as a day at the spa. Rather he was becoming increasingly concerned by Jim’s uncharacteristic outbursts.

Despite Jim’s best efforts to bury his troubles and pretend that they didn’t exist, his woes were finding their way to the surface one way or another.

“More people care about you than you know Jim,”

Strickler was suddenly struck by inspiration. For whatever reason Jim wasn’t comfortable reaching out to Strickler, or any other adult it seemed. Perhaps the idea was to appeal to his peer relationships.

“Like your friends,”

He gestured towards the window in the classroom door, at cluster of five desks with four students at them in particular “You happen to be graced with a group of companions who would go to the ends of the earth to help you, not everyone can be so fortunate,”

Strickler turned his head slightly, trying to gauge Jim’s reaction. But to his shock, rather than looking relieved or even uncertain, something hard and inscrutable had settled over Jim’s face.

“Yeah, they would wouldn’t they,”

The boy’s tone cinched it. Strickler had accomplished all that he could for today, pushing Jim any further right now would do more harm than good.

With only a pang of reluctance, Strickler opened the door and allowed Jim back inside, following shortly after.

He went over to his desk to grade quizzes while the students worked for the rest of the hour, Jim taking his seat at the cluster of desks, rejoining his companions and enmeshing himself in their project.

Despite his best efforts to file this incident in the back of his mind, Strickler found himself dwelling on his brief interaction with Jim. Keeping a subtle eye on him and his group.

Strickler had been doing this for a very long time and found that for good or for ill, his intuition was rarely wrong.

You can lead a horse to water but you can’t make it drink, only keep offering and hope one day he bent his head and accepted it. And Strickler’s intuition was telling him that Jim would break before he ever bent.

#tales of arcadia #Trollhunters #fanfic #A Secret's Worth #rmvwrites #walter strickler #jim lake jr

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veinsandknuckles · 5 years ago

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It's a bad life if you don't weaken, pt 5 (Tallahassee/Reader)

You had found a house. You’d found plenty of houses along the way, but this one looked especially promising with its two stories, a tall foundation that left the front door as the only entrance you’d need to guard, wide fields spreading out in every direction to lay bare anyone, dead or alive, who might try to sneak up on you. There were old tire marks in the soil running towards and away from the building, the latest set belonging to a car parked awkwardly against a wall with leaves and debris scattered on the roof - no one living was staying here.

Tallahassee tried to kick in the door and made a wonderful scene when it swung open without any effort, leaving him to land face first on the hallway carpet.

He looked so baffled and crestfallen when he got back to his feet that the three of you laughed at him even harder and he turned tail and ran on into the house until he found a door that hadn’t already been kicked in by some other survivor. You heard a crash, boots running across wooden floors, then another crash. Columbus and Little Rock entered after him and fanned out like a well practiced SWAT team to make sure Tallahassee’s display hadn’t awakened anything.

You carried in the bags, pushed the door back into its frame and secured it with the hallway cabinet and, gun at the ready, went to explore the next floor up. Those fools were making a lot of noise down there but you were sure by now that the house was empty. Thanks to their eager bad-ass antics, you had first choice of bedrooms.

Tallahassee came up the stairs once he’d gotten some of the smashing out of his system and he froze in the doorway to the master bedroom, his grin twisting into a mask of utter grief.

“No,” he breathed.

You were sprawled on the king-size bed, arms crossed behind your head, legs stretched out and luxuriating on the soft sheets. With a smile, you made the bed bounce and there wasn’t so much as a squeak of complaint from the springs. Three of you could have fit on the bed without brushing up against each other. “Oh yeah,” you purred. “This house was a great pick, Tallahassee - I can really see us making ourselves at home here.”

The other two finally caught on to what was happening and followed close behind. Little Rock elbowed Tallahassee aside and cursed at you. “Come on! I’m not sleeping on the floor again - Tallahassee, tell her.”

“Oh, wow,” came Columbus’ voice from somewhere down the hall, “this room is so nice! Hm, doilies.”

Little Rock bolted immediately and through the walls you could hear her flinging herself onto the bed in there and shouting “dibs!”

Tallahassee’s face was dark, and he glanced towards where your hand rested on your gun. “I could have you over my shoulder and out of here quicker’n you could get the safety off of that thing, missy.” He drew himself up with injured dignity and pressed a hand to his chest. “But I... am a gentleman. A gentleman with a sore neck and aching muscles and very long limbs.”

You raised your eyebrows and wondered if you could bring him back to the idea of lifting you up bodily. “Yes, that’s what we all call you behind your back. Gentleman.”

He shook his head. “You know, I give you kids everything I have and I get nothin’ but lip in return. I despair of your generation.”

Tallahassee did that a lot, drew attention to his own age and the gap between his and yours. He was welcome to fish for reassurance about his own all he wanted and you usually obliged, but lumping you in with the other two? “Watch who you call a kid. Columbus makes me feel ancient by comparison.”

He looked at you oddly before he smiled. “Figure of speech, sweetheart.” Something made him pause, as if he was weighing up his options. Then he sighed with exaggerated melancholy. “Well... if you won’t take pity on me, I’d better find somewhere else to bunk up.” Tallahassee touched the brim of his hat to you and walked off with his duffel bag slung over his shoulder before you could gather up the nerve to point out the bed was wide enough to fit both of you. ----

In the end, there were enough bedrooms to go around and then some - this house had obviously belonged to a real old fashioned country family. No one wanted to speculate further than this in any real way, but Little Rock made fun of all the framed photographs she found and amused herself by throwing them out the window, trying to hit the roof of the old abandoned car. Maybe she was working through something.

The other survivor(s) hadn’t stayed here long enough to ruin much. Their footprints had stained some carpets and there were broken egg shells and empty packets of food clogging the kitchen sink, but all of that would have expired by now in any case and in the cabinets there were cans, spices and nonperishables galore. There was also a corpse in the sitting room, but it was the still sort, so you pulled on some long rubber gloves, grabbed the edges of the rug it was lying on and dragged it, half wrapped up like a perversely over-stuffed burrito, slowly out and down the front stairs.

There were a few offers of help, but you wanted to stay busy so you declined, found a bucket and some soap, opened all the windows wide and eventually with a lot of elbow grease and retching, got the worst of the stink and the goo out. Tallahassee kept himself busy and alone in the rest of the house doing something mysterious, Columbus and Little Rock split up to rest a while and came together in the kitchen to cook and after a good few hours of quiet, hard work you felt your stomach rumble as the smell of death was replaced by the (honestly speaking, only barely) preferable smell of food.

It was amazing how quickly the unacceptable became commonplace - if you couldn’t learn to build an appetite with maggots crawling on your hands, you would have starved a long time ago.

When it was all done, the four of you sat down exhausted on the porch to the first hot meal you’d had in ages. The table was covered by an old sheet, there were wild flowers in a jug of water, there were beers to drink and the already empty bottles held flickering candles that picked up some of the slack from the setting sun. Someone, perhaps all three of them, had obviously had a hankering for the domestic and right now it didn’t seem like the sort of thing that any of you wanted to mock.

Tallahassee had gone to work with hammer, nails and whatever wood he could find and had already boarded up most of the windows that could be reached on the first floor. Everything that could and should be done today had been done and there was as much stillness and safety now that there would ever be again. In short, this was exactly the time when at least one person would be gearing up for a breakdown. The silence around the table could be excused while everyone was still ravenous and busy shoving the weird combinations of pickles, spam, noodles and preserves into their mouths but it worried you when things slowed down and there was still no talking. Something had to be done.

“Anyone feel like they’re going nuts?”

Well, that made them sit up. Columbus coughed and Tallahassee froze, fork half way to his open mouth.

Little Rock sighed. “I mean, yeah. Obviously.”

“You ever gone proper camping, like strapped into a heavy rucksack?” You addressed the question to her since she’d made the mistake of replying first.

“Ew, no. I had better things to do than subject myself to ‘nature’.”

Tallahassee kicked her chair under the table and she jolted and gave him the finger.

“Well,” you pressed on. “My point is, when you take the pack off and sit down, that’s when you feel how tired you are. And it’s almost impossible to lift the thing back up again after.”

Silence descended again. No one looked like they disagreed with you or were in doubt of what you were getting at. After a moment, Tallahassee opened another bottle with his teeth, took a drink, belched and said, “that’s a fair point, princess, a good analogy.” There was no knowing whether he meant it or if he was being sarcastic.

“You’re saying we shouldn’t get comfortable here,�� said Columbus. He hadn’t looked away from you since you started talking, which was rare for him.

“No... we’ve got plenty of supplies, this place looks safe enough and the propane tank is almost full. I think we need to rest. I’m just worried, if we’re not focusing on moving and surviving...”

“Well, my plan,” Tallahassee said and leaned back in his chair, “and you’re more’n welcome to join me, is to get absolutely, incoherently, pants-shittingly hammered. Ain’t nothing in this world can’t be solved by drinking.”

“Drinking what? Did you find liquor and just... hide it from the rest of us?”

He smiled and trailed his fingers lazily up and down the neck of his beer bottle, and you’d gotten completely off the subject but everyone was talking and ready to strangle Tallahassee, so for the moment at least the crisis was averted.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he drawled. “Bet you wish you’d given me the master bedroom now...”

“That’s such a great plan, Tallahassee,” said Little Rock, each word dripping with insincerity and with only lemonade in her glass. “And are you finally going to let me have some? I mean, I can find other ways to let off steam, if you think that’s better. I still say your hat could use some glitter... who knows what I’ll get up to while you’re passed out in a pool of your own vomit.”

Tallahassee drew himself up, puffed out his chest and held on tight to his hat. “I swear to God, you so much as touch this hat and I’ll show you what your own kidneys look like.”

“I’m practically 13! Give me a goddamn beer!”

“Actually, you’ve got almost another three months.” Columbus looked thoughtful. “Wow, I’d better start looking out for some toy stores...”

“Toy stores? Are you deaf? I’m a teenager.”

“Hah!” Tallahassee cackled. “Give me a break - you’re barely out of your diapers. Oughta get you some velcro shoes, I’m sick to death of watching you struggle with your laces.”

Little Rock turned her indignation back on Tallahassee and he welcomed it with open arms.

You’d never articulated this thought to yourself before, but he really did rile people up on purpose and you were beginning to see why. It might very well have started as a way to keep them at arm’s length, but he had another reason now - better they were angry at him than sad. Or numb. As the saying went: don’t mourn, organise against the idiot who hogs the booze and farts on your pillow ‘to remind you of home’. It wasn’t a very nice favour he was doing them but you couldn’t help feeling cheated that he never needled you the same way. It’d at least meant he was giving you some attention.

...Christ, you must be getting desperate indeed if that’s was the sort of attention you were willing to settle for.

“Tallahassee.” Columbus’ voice was soft but firm, and he glanced over at you. “Bring us your stash and pour Little Rock a very small drink.”

“Make me.”

“I don’t have to make you. You’re outnumbered. I favor a nice merlot, myself, but I will settle for whatever you’ve got.”

#Tallahassee #tallahassee x reader #tallahassee imagines #Zombieland #zombieland: double tap #woody #my fics

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hellfirenacht · 5 years ago

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Anon Request: Sasuke x Cat Lover

AU Where Sasuke didn't leave the village

I don’t beta these as I write so bear with me.

Animals were not something that Sasuke Uchiha was particularly fond of. It had been speculated that because of what happened to his clan, he refused to grow an attachment to anyone or anything. At least, that's what he wanted despite his ever growing fondness for his team mates, and one other person.

Sasuke was very rarely seen talking to anyone outside of his ninja business, but then there was you. He had met you years ago, when he was just starting out as a genin, one of your cats had taken a liking to him and would not stop following him around.

The irony being that you had called in a request for a mission to find said missing cat. That's when you two first met. It was the easiest mission Team 7 ever had, the whole thing took 30 minutes, tops. Heck, it had taken them longer to find you than it had to find the cat, which was waiting patiently on a log, staring at Sasuke as soon as they got their mission.

Even now, six years later the cat was still following him around the village. At least, she had been up until a month ago.

He didn't care, he lied to himself. He didn't care that this cat wasn't following him around anymore. He didn't care that sometimes the cat would have a note attached to his collar inviting him to dinner with her owner. He didn't even know the cats name! He especially didn't care that on the few times that he did have dinner with the cute owner she would curl up on his lap until he left.

Did he just call the cats owner cute? No, well, maybe? She was, he supposed, objectively cute. She did have the same color hair as the dumb cat, and same eyes too. Not that things like looks mattered. No, for him things like how she always remembered what kind of tea he liked mattered, or that she always made sure that there wasn't anything super sweet for dessert. Things like THAT mattered.

She mattered.

Fuck.

It had started raining. He ducked under a small roof, holding onto his small bag of groceries. He didn't mind getting wet, but it would be a pain if his food did. ---

"Sasuke? Sasuke!" You called out, running through the rain, feeling a sense of relief. "Oh thank goodness here you are. Please, have you seen my cat?"

He looked at you, frowning a bit. "No, I haven't seen your cat in a few weeks now."

Your eyes started welling up with tears. "Wh-what? I just saw her a few days ago. She usually comes home by now and normally I wouldn't worry so much but with the storm brewing-"

"Let's go." Sasuke said, dropping his bag, and replacing it with your hand. You didn't even have time to be surprised. It wasn't until later that you would have time to think about how warm his hand was or how quickly he decided to help you. He didn't even hesitate.

He lead you out of the village towards the training grounds, never letting go of your hand for even a second. "Your cat hangs out mostly around here." he said, looking around. It was dark, and raining and thundering and it would take a miracle to find-

"Mrow."

Sasuke was quick to force the log open from which the small sound came from and he froze for a split second. Your heart nearly stopped- he was always so calm and collected, what could he possibly be seeing that had him look like this? He yelled out for you to come over and he quickly pulled off his shirt. What in the world was going on?

"You're cat is giving birth, we need to get back to your place NOW." he bellowed, wrapping his shirt around your very VERY pregnant cat. You could see there was already one kitten pushed out, and who knew how long it would be until the second came out?

---

Your cat purred in content next to the fireplace, 4 kittens curled up next to mama, all healthy and alive, thanks to the still shirtless man next to you.

"I can't thank you enough." You say for the millionth time.

"It was nothing."

"It's not nothing! Let me at least buy you more groceries! You left yours behind, right?" you reply, desperately wanting to thank him in some way. "Or a new shirt maybe- I'm worried that the blood might not come out of-"

Your word vomit was cut short by slightly chapped lips pressing against yours.

"I said it's nothing." Sasuke finally said after pulling back. "I wouldn't have done it if I didn't.... care." the last word was spoken with a slight hesitance.

Sasuke was never good with feelings or expressing them but in that moment you understood perfectly what he was trying to say. So instead you simply nodded your head and took his hand, basking in the warmth of the fire and feelings of new life and new relationships.

#sasuke x reader #naruto x reader #naruto imagines #sasuke uchiha #anon request #nacht post #nacht fic

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k-popscenxrios · 6 years ago

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Didn’t Ask For This Pt 4 (Roommate!JK x OC)

A/N: The way I’ve written Jungkook in this story has me melting like I’m not even kidding. I love flirty JK so much dangit (Also part 5 will be out tonight, so look out for it!)

Summary: “I didn’t know you hated me so much,” he spoke as he grabbed my wrist and once again turned me around to face him, “and quite honestly, I don’t think I’ve done anything horrible enough for you to hate me to the degree that you do.” “You say that like the hate isn’t mutual,” I remarked as he shook his head. There was a bitter smile on his face as he took a deep breath, “I think you are quite honestly one of the worst human beings I’ve had to come in contact with.”

6.1k words | drama ✞ | fluff ♡

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | Finale

⇨ Masterlist ⇦

“Thank God you’re going to be with me today,” I hugged Chaeyoung as she just giggled, “I can’t handle Jungkook all on my own.”

“Well don’t be so focused on Jungkook that you forget that Jimin is single and very hot. He’ll be cleaning with us, too.”

“I forgot he was also gonna be with us tonight,” I felt my face heat up in embarrassment. “I’m not sure that I’ll have a chance with him. He did see Jungkook and I immaturely bantering back and forth.”

“Maybe he doesn’t mind. You never know,” Chaeyoung shrugged as she looked behind me. “Jungkook’s here.”

I spun around and spotted the bane of my existence walking toward the two of us. He had a small smile on his face as he spotted Yoongi up at concessions and waved his way. He also spotted Jimin walking from the break room and waved at him as well.

His eyes finally met mine as his face remained unchanged, sending me a small wave. Chaeyoung took that as a wave in her direction as she smiled and waved back at him.

“I have a quick question before he comes within earshot,” Chaeyoung leaned into me as I looked away from Jungkook and over at her. “If I were to flirt with him, would you disown me?”

“Yes,” I quickly answered, “I would rather you flirt with Yoongi or even Jimin. You’d have a better chance with Jimin than I would, anyway.”

“Not true,” she mumbled as she glanced over in Jimin’s direction.

“If you want, I could talk you up,” I smiled as Chaeyoung blushed.

“I want you to flirt, first. If he doesn’t seem interested, that’s when I’ll try…”

“Not if that means you’ll flirt with Jungkook,” I snapped as she frowned, “he’s an ass! He’ll just lure you into bed and never call you back.”

“Okay but,” Chaeyoung held up a hand to stop me, “he lives with you and sleeps in a twin bed, and he’d have to see me at work. He wouldn’t be able to ghost me.”

“He might quit, I don’t know,” I shrugged, liking the sound of that. If I knew that he would for sure quit over it, I would almost encourage Chaeyoung to do it… but I would feel like I was using my best friend just as much as Jungkook would be using her for momentary pleasure.

“Okay, pause,” she mumbled as both Jungkook and Jimin made it up to us at the same time. I took a deep breath and pulled out the schedule that my manager had given me, and we all started off for the day.

…

“Okay, I think Jimin’s flirting with me,” Chaeyoung mumbled as we split up with them to clean the restrooms.

“Really?” I smiled in excitement as Chaeyoung let a sheepish smile appear on her face.

“I wanted you two to hit it off, though…” she tried to not look sad, but I could tell that she was.

“I don’t care, Chae! Plus, if my dating life is so important to you, I think that Yoongi might like me? It’s just speculation, but it’s possible.”

Chaeyoung bit the inside of her cheek in thought before shaking her head, “I don’t know about that. He just broke up with his two year long girlfriend only a couple weeks ago. He might take a while to come around.”

“Well, I’m in no hurry,” I shrugged as we finished up in the last of the three female bathrooms. “Anyway, we should head into theater 7. The boys should be in there already.”

…

Jungkook and I ended up being split into one group while Chaeyoung and Jimin were in the other. We were running low on time between movie showings, so we divided the theaters amongst the groups. I wanted to be grouped with Chaeyoung, but since Jungkook and Jimin are brand new workers, we couldn’t just send them off alone to clean the theaters.

And unfortunately for me, I’d rather Chaeyoung flirt with Jimin rather than Jungkook any day.

“It’s flattering that you picked me,” Jungkook joked as I gave him a fake laugh.

“Chaeyoung and Jimin have been flirting it up all night. I had no choice.” I mentioned as Jungkook laughed.

“Really? I thought Jimin had eyes for you.”

I spun around and looked at him with surprise. Surely he was kidding…

Jungkook looked like he was having trouble keeping a straight face as I felt my cheeks heat up. I felt my heart betray me for actually getting a little excited about a boy having a crush on me.

After all, thanks to Taehyung, even boys that liked me in high school wouldn’t ask me on a date. The closest I got to dating a boy was back when I first started at the movie theater. I had been there a few months and was put in charge of training our new hire, Yoongi.

He took to me very quickly and relied on me to answer all his questions about everything that he didn’t understand.

At the staff Christmas party, he had asked me if I would like to go to his New Years party. I agreed to go, but that night ended up being a disaster. I showed up to the party in the prettiest dress I owned, freezing my butt off because of how thin the material was.

I found him pretty quickly in the night, but that was the same night that he asked his (now ex) girlfriend out. I was so embarrassed over my assumptions that I left before even saying hi to him. The next night when we worked a shift together, he asked me why I didn’t go to his party. I lied and said that I was feeling sick and just didn’t want to be around all those people.

Thank God that Taehyung never found out about it, because if he had, Yoongi would never talk to me again.

“You’re not funny, Jungkook,” I mumbled, finding myself getting more upset over that than I wanted to admit. My love life was a lot more pathetic than I wanted to admit. Jimin’s cute and he seems sweet, but I did not want to seem so desperate that I would kiss any guy that showed any interest in me.

“I thought it was pretty priceless,” he bit his lip and rushed to walk ahead of me. He turned around and walked backwards, looking into my eyes as I tried to avoid his. I could tell that my demeanor had changed, and I’d die if Jungkook found out that I’d never had a boyfriend before. He would never let me live it down.

“Whatever,” I mumbled as he continued to study me. He slowed down and stepped in front of me which caused me to run into him. I dared myself to glare up at him for walking into my path, and his cologne once again engulfed me.

I took a deep breath and tried to shake off the weird feelings that were swimming in my stomach, but when I saw Jungkook’s eyes soften, I nearly melted. How does someone as disgusting as him have such a mushingly soft look?

“Are you okay?”

I looked away from his eyes and pushed him away from me. The smell of cologne faded away as I brushed past him and nodded.

“Yeah, just being so close to you is revolting. Don’t do that again.”

…

We met back up with Chaeyoung and Jimin as the two were smiling and laughing with each other. The two seemed to hit it off when they had the alone time together.

I felt envy in the bottom of my chest as I dared myself to look at Jungkook. He wasn’t paying attention to me; he was also looking at Chaeyoung and Jimin. I felt myself want to vomit at the thought of Jungkook looking at Chaeyoung like he was.

Chaeyoung is beautiful and somehow still single… and if he wanted her in his bed, it seemed like all he’d have to say is that he was interested in her.

But maybe Chaeyoung doesn’t care about Jungkook anymore now that she’s caught Jimin’s attention.

“Okay,” I cleared my throat as we all stood in a circle once more, “our last theater is a big one. We might need someone at concessions to come help us clean. There were almost 200 in this theater.”

“Wow,” Chaeyoung’s eyebrows raised, “I didn’t realize we were that busy tonight.”

“Me neither,” I shrugged as I looked at the numbers I’d written down, “When Yoongi gave me the numbers, I couldn’t believe it.”

The four of us made our way to the theater in question as I took a detour to the concession stand. I walked up to Yoongi and he smiled when he saw me heading his way.

“I need some help for 1. It’s up to you on who goes.” I spoke as he looked at everyone that was at concessions with him.

“This is a hard one...” he mumbled before looking back my way, “I think I’ll send myself.”

“That’s what I thought,” I smiled and gestured for him to hurry up, “we don’t have time to just stand around, go grab a broom and meet me there.”

“Yes ma’am,” he laughed and disappeared into the back room.

It wasn’t long till Yoongi was walking into the theater, and I smiled at his exaggerated breaths.

“Sometimes I think you’re trying to kill me,” he spoke as I rolled my eyes and stuck my tongue out at him briefly.

“I didn’t force you here. You chose to be the one,” I shrugged as he just laughed.

I looked up to see Jimin and Chaeyoung giggling about something. They were growing close awfully quickly, and I felt myself growing insecure by watching them. Why was Chaeyoung able to get boyfriends so fast while I’m working on year three of a platonic relationship with Yoongi?

I looked back down at Yoongi and felt a sigh leave my mouth. Did it really have to be Yoongi? Did I actually like him like a boyfriend? Or did I just see him as the only guy in my life I was willing to see a future with?

I sighed and found myself seeing Jungkook in the same row of seats as me. I sent him a questioning look as he just looked my way with an unreadable look on his face.

“Pick a different row, douchebag,” I spoke loud enough for him to hear, but not loud enough to cause a scene.

“I was actually here first. You’re the one that walked in my row when you were staring off with that empty brain of yours.” He responded as he took a few steps closer and swept up more popcorn.

“Why do you always have to be right?” I mumbled as I noticed everyone was starting to look our way. “It’s okay to admit that you’re wrong every once in a while.”

“But I haven’t been wrong yet. I’m not lying to you, I’m just acknowledging your flaws.”

I took a deep breath and shook my head stomping up to him with my eyes narrowing, “Why are you such a-”

I felt my breath catch in my throat as Jungkook caught my wrist and pulled me to stop right in front of his face. Our faces were so close that if I stumbled from my awkward stance, my forehead would be touching his nose.

The cologne once more consumed my brain as his narrowed eyes slowly softened a sickening amount. I was getting nauseous at how often Jungkook and I were standing close to each other. I’d never been this close to anyone before today, and it’s happened about three times just today.

“I’ll tell Taehyung that you keep pulling me close to you like this,” I threatened as Jungkook sighed and shook his head.

“You’d admit that this is happening? That’s awfully mature of you,” he snidely remarked before he leaned into my ear. I almost squirmed under his hold, confusion and embarrassment taking over me.

“Did you really think I’d make a move on you? Disgusting.”

I shoved him off me as I swallowed and cursed my cheeks for displaying just how embarrassed Jungkook had just made me.

“Get back to work,” I ordered as I spun around and pretended like nothing ever happened. I was just hoping that everyone else would also act as if they didn’t see anything.

…

“The sexual tension was so thick that I thought he was about to rip your clothes off,” Chaeyoung whispered as we headed to the closest fast food restaurant for a dinner break, “I was getting nervous just watching you two!”

“I’m sorry, but the energy that you actually felt was anger and disgust, not arousal or anything even close to that.” I felt embarrassed talking about it, but that was all Chaeyoung wanted to talk about.

“God, how did your heart not burst out of your chest when he pulled you closer to whisper in your ear? I would have just melted into mush if a hottie like him did that to me.” Chaeyoung put her hands on both her cheeks and bit her lip, “I would kill for him to do that to me my God.”

“Well, go right on ahead and seduce him for the love of God,” I felt the bitterness in my voice, and Chaeyoung seemed to sense it, too.

“Okay, Ari, why are you so upset over it? Don’t you want a boyfriend?” She asked as I shuddered.

“Him? My boyfriend? We’d kill each other even if we attempt a relationship.” I felt a headache forming behind my left eye, “Don’t romanticize what just happened. You wanna know what he whispered to me when we were that close? He said ‘Did you really think I’d make a move on you? Disgusting.’ Is that something you want in a boyfriend?”

“Wow,” Chaeyoung frowned and put her hand on one of mine, “Ari, I’m sorry… just, it looked like his eyes were telling a story of how strong his feelings are for you, yet your brother forbids your love.”

“This guy hates my guts, Chae. And I, in turn, hate his guts as well. We don’t mix well together.”

We finally made it into the parking lot of Taco Bell as Chaeyoung and I stepped into the building.

…

The rest of the night was going fairly smoothly as I saw the clock strike 10:00. Our last movie of the night let out at 10:05, and we were about done with taking out the trash. After we cleaned this last theater, we would all be good to go home.

I looked over to Chaeyoung who was actually looking Jungkook’s way. I caught her attention and sent her a questioning look as her cheeks heated up and she looked away.

Was Chaeyoung crushing on both guys at the same time? Is she nuts? What does she even see in Jungkook? I will never understand…

“Which theater is our last one?” I snapped out of my thoughts as I looked back at Jimin.

“Theater 2,” I responded with a soft smile as he nodded.

“Do you think that you and Jungkook could finish taking out the trash? If Chaeyoung and I start cleaning in 2, we’d get out sooner.” Jimin offered as I looked at my phone. It was nearly 10:05, so I just sighed and nodded. As much as I didn’t want to be left alone with Jungkook yet again, I’d live with it.

“Go on. There isn’t much to take to the dumpster, anyway,” I spoke as Chaeyoung smiled at Jimin and the two of them turned around and began walking back the way we came.

“I’ll text you if we finish before you guys,” Chaeyoung looked to me as I nodded and gave her a thumbs up. Not even three seconds later, they had disappeared from sight, leaving Jungkook and I to finish pushing the trash cart to the dumpster.

The two of us were mostly silent as we unloaded all the bags of trash into the smelly dumpster in front of us. I wasn’t about to say something to him because I was honestly really tired… I didn’t have the energy to have any arguments with him.

I thought that we were just going to stay silent until meeting up with Jimin and Chaeyoung again, but Jungkook opened his big mouth to disprove my hopes.

“Taehyung texted me earlier today. I told him about me beating you in Wii bowling.”

“Great,” I mumbled. I just know that Taehyung is going to tease the life out of me for losing to not just anyone, but to Jungkook.

“He liked the idea of going bowling soon. He said that he doesn’t have to work on Monday night, and neither do we. You should ask Chaeyoung and Jimin if they want to tag along if they’re off.” Jungkook continued. I was relieved that he switched the conversation to making plans instead of gloating about his win over me.

“Okay,” I simply agreed as I could sense Jungkook’s surprise. He didn’t push any further as we walked back into the building and left the trash cart in the electrical room.

I felt my phone go off in my pocket as I pulled it out and spotted a text from Chaeyoung, “They finished the theater so we just need to clock out.”

“Awesome,” Jungkook sighed and I noticed him run his fingers through his hair. I tore my eyes from him as he glanced over my way in return. A small smirk appeared on his face as he started walking closer to me. I could only be thankful to the trash and sweat that was masking his cologne which smelled too good for my own sake. “You know, when we work the same shifts, we should ride together. It’d save gas that way.”

“Hell no,” I responded quickly as Jungkook just laughed and shrugged.

“Your loss. I’d let you DJ,” he shrugged, but I wasn’t giving in. The drive was one of the few times I didn’t have to deal with him, and I wasn’t about to add him to that, too.

“I’ll pass,” I rejected again as I looked over at him. He just continued to look down the hall as I narrowed my eyes slightly. What do people see in this guy? Looks can only go so far when your personality is so… ugly…

We met back up with Chaeyoung and Jimin as the first thing that popped into my head was the bowling plans. I smiled at my friend as she raised her eyebrows at me.

“So Jungkook, Taehyung, and I are going bowling on Monday night. If either or both of you are free that night, you’re welcome to come,” I offered as Chaeyoung smiled and nodded.

“I’m free that night! What about you, Jimin?” she turned to look at the boy as he pulled out his phone to check his schedule.

“Uhh, yeah! I can make it as long as it’s after 5:30,” he smiled and looked at Jungkook and I, “Are you going to AMF?”

“That’s the one like five minutes away, right?” Jungkook asked as we all nodded, “Then yeah. So does 6:00 sound good?”

“Yep,” Chaeyoung smiled and looked my way with a slight smirk, “You should ask Yoongi to come, too. I’m sure he’ll be there if he can make it.”

“Oh yeah, I’ll ask him on our way out,” I nodded as I ignored her teasing look. I was just asking him because I would like for him to be there. Nothing more and nothing less.

We all headed to the back to clock out as I spotted Yoongi standing at the sink. He was almost done washing the dishes, but he was still a good 50 minutes away from being able to go home. Unfortunately, there’s a 10:30 movie, so we don’t officially close until 10:50 tonight.

“Hey,” I smiled and walked up to him. He looked over at me and smiled before looking down at what he was doing.

“Are you guys done?” he asked as I nodded and stepped slightly away to make sure that I didn’t get splashed by any of the water rushing from the sink.

“Yeah,” I voiced, “You wouldn’t happen to be busy on Monday night, would you?”

Yoongi glanced at me for a few seconds before looking back into the sink, “I think I’m off on Monday. Why?”

“Awesome,” I smiled and tried to contain my excitement, “I’m inviting some friends to go bowling at AMF, and I was wondering if you wanted to go.”

“That sounds cool,” He smiled at me and started to drain the sink and dry his hands. “What time?”

“6:00,” I informed as he nodded, “It’s gonna be me, Chaeyoung, Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook. That’s all that I know of.”

Yoongi’s eyebrows raised at the mention of Jungkook. He lowered his voice and leaned toward me so that only I could hear him.

“You invited Jungkook to go?” he was completely perplexed as I just smiled and shook my head.

“Uh, Jungkook was actually the one that had the idea in the first place. He found out that I’ve never been bowling, so now we’re going,” I explained as Yoongi just nodded and raised his eyebrow at me with a little disbelief.

“You two must have not dated very long for him to not know something simple like that,” I mentioned as I nearly choked on my saliva. I forgot that Yoongi’s under the impression that Jungkook and I used to date…

I shuddered at the idea before snapping back to the present.

“It just never came up,” I tried to play it up, but Yoongi was too intuitive for my lies.

“You love Wii bowling to death. What do you mean that it never came up?” he was quick to spot my bull crap as I felt my face heat up.

“Does it really matter?” I mumbled in embarrassment as Yoongi sighed and rolled his eyes.

“Fine. I’ll stop pestering you. I’ll be there at 6 on Monday.”

“Awesome,” I smiled and walked over to the computer to clock out. I couldn’t help but notice that Jungkook had hung around instead of leaving ahead of me like the last time we left around the same time.

I walked past him, only for him to push himself off the wall that he was leaning against and follow me. “We don’t have to walk together, you know.” “Taehyung also texted me to say that I need to walk you out when we work together so that he knows you’ll be safe,” He mentioned as he had his nose in his phone. It was a miracle that he wasn’t crashing into anything.

“And you’re actually listening to him?” I laughed as Jungkook just ignored my comment. It didn’t take long for us to get to our cars in the parking lot as I unlocked my car and opened the door to get in.

“I’ll see you at home,” I called out as Jungkook looked at me from his car and just waved before we both disappeared into our respective cars.

The weekend felt like the longest I’d ever experienced due to the amount of business that we did at work. A really big movie had just come out, and everyone and their dog was dying to see it opening weekend.

I’d barely had time to sleep when not at work, and I didn’t have to even think about Jungkook for the whole weekend since we worked opposite shifts for two days, and then on Sunday he worked concessions while I was on cleaning.

After the busy weekend came and went, Monday was finally here. Jungkook and I had the whole day off while Taehyung had a morning shift to work until 12. I had every intention to avoid Jungkook until Taehyung got home, but those plans fell through very quickly when I ran into Jungkook on my way to eat lunch.

Neither of us said anything to each other as I brushed past him and tried to ignore just how strong his cologne smells today. It was as if he knew how much I liked it, so he put on more than usual today.

“I’m pretty sure that Taehyung’s inviting some people to come bowling with us,” Jungkook spoke, following me into the kitchen. I opened up the pantry and tried to ignore any words Jungkook had to say, but he wasn’t giving up that easily.

“I think he’s inviting Jennie to come,” Jungkook mentioned as that caught my attention. Taehyung was inviting a girl? Not just any girl, but an ex of Jungkook’s?

“Is he crazy?” I asked as Jungkook’s eyes slightly brightened at the fact that I responded to him.

“I guess so. I mean, I’m over her, and I wouldn’t flirt with a girl that Taehyung likes,” Jungkook spoke, leaning against the counter behind him. “I don’t know if she’ll actually come, but he mentioned wanting to invite her in a text he sent me last night before he fell asleep.”

“I don’t care if you’re over her, you’re a huge flirt,” I narrowed my eyes, “Plus, wouldn’t it kill you for your friend to score a girl that even you yourself couldn’t keep?”

“She might be hot, but my attraction to her was mostly physical. Relationships like that never last very long,” Jungkook glared my way before walking closer my way. I took a deep breath to try and keep from smelling his cologne once he got too close, but it was too late. He was already too close to me.

“It wouldn’t stop you from coaxing her into your bed,” I spat as Jungkook just smirked and took another step closer to me. I looked up at him almost nervously, but I didn’t want to lose my tough glare his way.

“My bed is in this apartment, you know,” he spoke softly in a way that sent chills down my spine, “I’m not bringing anyone back here to catch sight of your ugly face.”

I shoved Jungkook away from me and cleared my throat to ignore his smell, “Go to hell.”

“Nah,” he laughed and moved to open the fridge next to me, “Anyway, tonight should be fun. Chaeyoung and Jimin will probably flirt until all of us puke, and you’ll awkwardly talk to Yoongi until he asks you out, if he ever does.”

“It’s none of your business what he does with me,” I spoke mostly into the pantry since I was still looking for something I could fix. Maybe I’ll just make an egg sandwich…

“I mean, for a girl who wants a boyfriend so bad, she sure doesn’t give a guy off any vibes of being interested.” Jungkook remarked as I pulled the loaf of bread out of the pantry.

“How do you know any of the vibes that I give Yoongi?” I put the bread on the counter next to the fridge as Jungkook closed the fridge on me. I looked up at him as he leaned against the fridge and smirked.

“You want in the fridge, right?” he raised an eyebrow as I nodded and tried to shove him out of my way.

“Jungkook, what is your problem?” I huffed as Jungkook bit his lip to try and bite back a smile.

“Do you really think that Yoongi has an interest in you?”

I took a deep breath as I felt myself not liking where this conversation was about to head. “It’s very likely. But I don’t have to prove anything to you.”

“Hm,” Jungkook nodded and looked up at the ceiling, “So, if someone as pretty as Jennie were to flirt with him, you think he’d turn her away for you?”

I felt my gut twist at his words, and I didn’t have to think very long about it. He’s mostly indifferent around people he doesn’t know, but he is a male… No, I don’t want to think about something like that. Yoongi doesn’t just let people flirt with him out of the blue. It would make him uncomfortable.

“He might not turn her away for me, but he’d probably ignore her. He doesn’t give just anyone the time of day.”

“Well, do you think he would get jealous if I were to…” Jungkook paused as he pushed off of the fridge and I jumped as one of his arms pressed into my back. My heart jumped as I looked up at him and our faces ended up impossibly close to each other’s. His smell was filling all of my senses as my stomach started to churn. I did not like this feeling…

I blinked a few times as Jungkook just continued to house a slight smirk on his face. I swallowed and started to try and back away, but he used his free hand to secure his hold on me.

“Do you think he’d be jealous if he saw us this close?” Jungkook asked as I briefly thought about it. In all honesty… He would probably brush off all feelings he might have had for me if he saw us like this. He’d give up instead of being jealous. After all, neither of us have tried that hard to show each other any relationship past friendship.

“No,” I swallowed and looked away from Jungkook. I wasn’t liking what Jungkook was saying at all. It was making me upset more than anything, “I think that he’d give up on me if he had any feelings for me. After all, we’ve never hinted at anything past friendship between the two of us.”

“Hm,” Jungkook spoke, continuing to hold me close to him. I started to push him off of me, and to my relief, he actually let me go, “Well, sucks for you. I guess you’ll just have to deal with this on your own.”

“I don’t need nor want your help, anyway,” I slightly glared at him before shoving him away from the fridge to continue making my sandwich.

Jungkook and I didn’t really talk the rest of the morning as I waited for Taehyung to get off and get home. Time went by so incredibly slowly as I sat in my silent room, scrolling through all my different social media accounts.

Time finally came for Taehyung to get home as relief washed over me. I was getting sick and tired of being around Jungkook, whether we were avoiding each other or not.

“Ari~!” Taehyung sang as he smiled and gave me a hug, “So I invited two coworkers to come tonight. I think you might like one of them…”

I raised an eyebrow as Taehyung let go of me and pulled out his phone, “So I invited Jennie to go, as well as…” he paused before turning his phone screen for me to look at it’s contents. “This is Jung Hoseok. He’s an old friend of mine from high school. Do you remember him?”

I looked at the picture and nodded, “Yeah, I think I remember him. I’m pretty sure he gave me a ride home one day after school when you went home with Jungkook after dance practice.”

“Oh yeah,” Taehyung nodded and smiled, “But I invited him and I told him a little about you. I think he’d be a good boyfriend if you two hit it off.”

I felt my face heat up as I raised an eyebrow, “My brother, Kim Taehyung, is trying to set me up?”

“I know, I know,” he shook his head and his face heated up to match mine, “I’ve been pretty harsh on all guys that even look your way, but I’m feeling real guilty. After all, you’re nearly 20 and you haven’t even had a boyfriend before.”

“Thanks to you,” I mentioned as he winced. I couldn’t help but cringe at the fact that Jungkook had heard Taehyung say that about me.

He showed me his phone again as he grimaced when he realized that Jungkook was also in the room. “But look, I’m trying to set you up now. He’s good looking, isn’t he?”

“Well,” I looked at the picture and felt my cheeks starting to heat up, “Yeah, he’s pretty cute.”

I jumped at the sound of Jungkook clearing his throat, “As much as I like hearing about you setting your sister up, it’d be great if I could not be in earshot for it. It just makes me feel guilty for this poor guy that’s walking into something he isn’t capable of handling.”

“I’m sorry?” I glared at Jungkook, but he just continued to scroll through his phone. “You were fine with talking about Yoongi earlier, but now that Hoseok is brought up, you don’t want to talk about it?”

“Well, Yoongi knows how immature you are,” Jungkook remarked as he looked up from his phone before locking it, “But Hoseok is too good for you. You’d destroy him.”

“Destroy him? I’m not a bomb,” I glared as Jungkook just smiled bitterly.

“You’re destructive like one.”

“Okay,” Taehyung waved Jungkook off as Jungkook looked back down at his phone, “Well, he’s going to be there tonight, so if you’ll talk to him a little bit, maybe you’ll hit it off.”

“I’ll give him a shot,” I nodded and sent Taehyung a thankful smile, “Thanks, Tae. You didn’t have to do that for me.”

“I know,” he smiled back before wrapping an arm around me, “But how have you two handled each other? I see you’re both still alive.”

“She’s tolerable,” Jungkook spoke up as I ignored him and sighed.

“I haven’t really been around him much because of working being hectic, but when I am around him, he’s been… okay.”

“Wow,” Jungkook looked up at me with a slightly offended look on his face, “I gave you a way better response than you gave me.”

“I guess that means that I’ve been better than you have,” I narrowed my eyes as he stood up and raised his eyebrows.

“Which one of us has put up with your whining over having no boyfriend?” he snapped as I took a step closer to him in annoyance. Taehyung sighed behind me and disappeared into the kitchen to get away from the two of us.

“I’m sorry, you keep bringing it up! I wouldn’t have talked about it this much if you hadn’t initiated it.” I retorted, taking another step closer to him.

Jungkook stayed quiet for a few seconds before taking a step closer to me. We were now only a few feet away from each other with glares shooting in the other’s direction. I was even doing a good job not getting too focused on how good he smelled…

“Why are you so obsessed with my love life, anyway?” I asked in a much softer voice than before. I was almost afraid for Taehyung to hear my words, and I think Jungkook was thinking the same thing when he replied at an equally low volume.

“You’re just so pathetic.” His words didn’t exactly sound genuine, but I just assumed that they were.

The two of us continued to stare into the other’s eyes as I found my harsh glare melting into what was almost a soft look. Jungkook’s eyes followed suit as I felt like different eyes were looking at me. He was giving me a look that mirrored the look I saw him give me at work the other day.

I actually found myself liking the eyes I was looking into. If I could just get a look like that out of Yoongi or Hoseok, I would be on the right track.

...Wait, I wanted Yoongi and Hoseok to look at me the same way Jungkook did? I felt a weird twisting in my gut at that thought, but I tried to ignore it. Why was Jungkook looking at me that way, anyway?

“Did you two eat?” Taehyung asked from the kitchen as both Jungkook and I answered at the same time.

“No.”

“Cool, let’s order something,” he continued as Jungkook and I moved away from each other. We pretended like nothing ever happened as I walked into the kitchen with to talk to Taehyung.

I couldn’t help but continue to think about my previous thoughts. Why did Jungkook look so… soft? It was going to bother me until I got some answers, and unfortunately for me, I didn’t really want any answers.

A/N: The more I post, the more excited I get over this story! Things only get better from here cx

⇨ Masterlist ⇦

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a-cai-jpg · 5 years ago

Text

I feel like this is to assure myself and no one else.

It has recently come to my attention that real people actually read this blog.

That sounds a little stupid, given that I religiously advertise it on both Snapchat and Instagram, but there was a part of me that assumed it would fly over the heads of most (see: all) people. And it's inherently contradictory, but I did not think a Real Person would take time out of their lives to read my utterly irrelevant musings.

I am terribly grateful to my friends and then some for deeming me important enough to click into this site. I am thankful for their validation when they don't just do it silently, lurking amidst the sans serif. One quoted my own words back at me in ALL CAPS, another sent me a video zooming in on my disgruntled face on the sidebar, and more mention it casually in passing conversation, jolting me into the reality that yes, this is A Thing.

But as I laid in bed and typed up the post two days ago, I'm suddenly reminded of why I rarely made my writing public.

I sound like an ungrateful little shit, and I'm truly happy whenever someone mentions The Thing (i just don't like the word blog), and I want to share The Thing with the world because it's a little scary thinking about how all your time and effort and words and emotion could be lost somewhere in the void, like an unread letter that's wandered off the post-trail, but.

Writing digs into the most vulnerable flesh of your heart and mind. I recently saw a quote, "We are writers, my love. We don't cry, We bleed on paper." And there are variations of this quote from others: "I don't think all writers are sad. I think it's the other way around: all sad people write;" "I didn't write it down to build a poem. I wrote it down because that is what I do with the things that unravel me. I drag them across a page."

I don't mean for this to take a maudlin turn, but writing is a salve for aches in the soul. I'm by no means a writer, but I like to think I write (s/o to my soulmate, jackson wang, who said, "i'm not a rapper...i just rap). And sometimes, sharing what I've "dragged across the page" is turning my skin inside out.

I'm definitely more comfortable with sharing my vulnerability through words on a sheet of paper (or words on a WordPad document) than through words spoken to another Real Person.

In my junior year of high school, I sat in a hotel room in Sacramento with words stuck behind my clenched teeth. It was the most peculiar feeling, like if I loosened my jaw, I would vomit the words from my chest and they would tumble off the bedsheets and onto the floor, staining the hotel carpet. But the tension never snapped, and I scrawled them onto a torn sheet of paper instead.

Even now, I express the deepest parts of my emotions through letters. I think a large part of it is because I don't want to see the emotions unfold on someone's face. It's not that I don't want to see them, but I don't think I--this emotionally constipated individual--am capable of responding to them in a way that's not, "Uh. Yeah. Okay. Lol bye." And I feel like that's just not appropriate or sufficient in some circumstances. Better to just avoid the potentially awkward situation.

(yes this is not the most mature way to deal with emotions but spare me the lecture.)

And so, when I am writing, and not saying words at someone's face, I pull out the most intimate intricacies of my heart and twist them into phrases and sentences. And I like to do it without a filter.

But when I was writing these past few days, I was conscious of an audience. I began crafting sentences through the lens of what would this specific person think of this and oh my god what if this person reads this and fuck it ok just kidding we can't just fuck it sos. It was a dangerous balance between editing and re-editing and declaring, "Fuck the world, I write for me, and I'm going to write recklessly and with abandon."

This the main crux of the problem: there is me, the person that you know and talk to and maybe have grown up with, and then there is me, the person who spits words out onto The Thing. And sometimes the two me's mesh perfectly like a pattern overlaid on another to produce an image, and sometimes they don't.

It's kind of like when you go clubbing with a childhood friend for the first time, and you've only known them as the youth group-going, favorite child of all Asian parents, and then y'all are in the club and damn okay they just took seven shots in a row.

(I'm not speaking from personal experience.)

There is a moment of reckoning when you try to reconcile two facets of a person.

(Or maybe this is a me problem, but bear with me here.)

A few months ago, I took a trip with two of my closest friends to San Diego, to visit the college town where one of them spent four incredibly formative years. It was fun and beautiful and very, very disorienting, because in my egocentric point of view, I had forgotten that we lived these four years separately. Suddenly, he was introducing to me a different life, a different history that I wasn't part of, and I couldn't help but feel like I was sitting in the passenger seat of a stranger's car, listening to a crude imitation of a familiar playlist.

The feeling began somewhere on the 5 freeway, when he navigated the unfamiliar lanes with a practiced ease, and swelled as the sun set and he told stories about Mount Soledad and him and his friends.

And it was weird, because I felt like an intruder, even though I had been invited into his memories, and the unease took shape as silence and stilted words until he asked, "Are you okay? You seem weird." And the feeling was spilling onto the back of my hands as I gripped the skirt of my dress, but I couldn't beat it into words, so I unclenched my fists and fastened my seatbelt and choked out a, "Nah, I'm just tired."

I think I'm still in the process of working through this reckoning. It doesn't happen for all of my friends, and it's not always so discomforting. Sometimes, I scroll through Instagram pages with a sort of curious hunger to fill the years I’ve missed, and other times, I take the new information, file it as: Yeah okay, I could've predicted that. But then, there are the times where I can only search someone's face in silence, lump in my throat as I rewind our histories and try to find where one of them snagged and became out of sync.

The different facets of the self should, all in all, unveil the most authentic self. The more you get to know a person, the more you really know a person. I imagine it like you're building a three-dimensional sculpture, and with each new piece of information, you add another bit of plaster to it. Yet, I sometimes lose sight of what I'm trying to build, and when I see the blueprint again, I realize I've veered wildly off course. It's scary, every time I run into a moment like this, because it's like the person I knew, the friend I've had for a decade, was actually just someone I created in my mind, a person who overlapped at the edges with the Real Person, but ultimately, were not the same. And when the illusion disappears, I'm left with a stranger.

I'm exaggerating, but.

I'm a little scared this is what you will feel as you read this. I'm scared there will be no separation between the writer and the writing, and although writing reveals the deepest, most intimate parts of a person, is it really the authentic self? It's only a slice, a slice I had cut with carefully chosen words.

So I want to assure you, if you are someone like me who thinks they view the world on a wide-angle lens but really, only through a slit, and you are someone like me who reels when the cover is yanked away and you're left staggering through the new vista, that every sentence is a part of me, but who you know and who you talk to and who you message is a larger piece of me. And maybe we will never get to know each other fully, because that kind of privilege is saved for but a few, that doesn't make either of us any less authentic.

I sometimes wonder what character development looks like in the real world. When I was a sophomore in high school, I cringed so hard when my favorite English teacher tried to use my essay as an example in class that he almost immediately pulled it out from underneath the Elmo projector and used someone else's. In freshman year of college, I wanted to join a creative writing club, but after realizing that I wouldn't be able to submit my work for peer-editing anonymously, I banished that notion. Yet, for some reason, in my senior year, I decided I wanted to take a fiction writing course. On the day of my first workshop, my hands shook so much that I had to sit on them to stop trembling.

In the beginning of the class, I, myself, had a very difficult time separating the writing from the writer. I think especially in an intro class, students use facets of their own life to create fiction. I think even advanced writers do the same, because ultimately everything you write is you. And I did my fair share of speculation--why did she write about a sibling rivalry does she have a sister, hey did this guy study abroad in hong kong with you because he wrote about that, and huh i wonder if she grew up in florida this is beautiful.

It's the kind of speculation we do with the Greats. Did Shakespeare write Hamlet for his son, Hamnet? Who was Sonnet 18 written for? Was Shakespeare gay? Because see, in this one bit, he wrote.....

(i was a very bored AP lit student ok)

It's the same kind of speculation my friend did when she finished listening to a new song by Crush and said, "Oh, he must be dating." Or the speculation all the YouTube comments had when Jon Cozart and Dodie Clark released duo songs titled "Tourist: A Love Song from Paris" and "a non love song from nashville." It's the kind of speculation you do when you are given a slice of someone's soul, and suddenly, you want to understand the whole thing.

But that kind of scrutiny is uncomfortable. We're okay with doing it to Shakespeare, because the dude's dead. We're okay with doing it to big name artists because hello, Crush is not going to hear my friend talking about him. We're less okay with doing it in the public realm of YouTube comments because they are read by the content creators who explicitly said, "pls don't speculate." We are even less okay with doing it to our peers, and we are not okay with other people doing it to us. Okay, maybe I should just speak for myself.

My trajectory in that fiction writing class was backward. My first story was about a white male living in New Jersey. My last story was about a Chinese American woman who used to live in the suburbs of Los Angeles.

It wasn't planned.

It's as if my subconsciousness drew up barriers the minute I stepped into that classroom, and wrote a story as far removed from who I am as possible.

Because really, who is going to think that the gas jockey with a hunger for divine power is me?

(sike.)

But I guess character development is becoming okay with vulnerability and with potential speculation, and as I wrote, I began writing closer and closer to the heart, pulling the words from the east coast to the west.

When the last workshop rolled around, I was calm, sitting at one of those awful, plasticky chairs with tiny, useless desks attached to one arm. I was neither defensive nor uncomfortable, like I thought I would be, just at peace and humbled as I listened to my classmates discuss the craft of my writing.

And I think that's the ultimate lesson: once you write something, or create something, and release out into the wild, it no longer belongs to you. It's an argument I used to make in my art history class, but it's an argument that John Green often makes when his readers ask him about the meaning behind his books.

I don't quite mean it like he does, when he says, "Books belong to their readers." I think that before the writing is consumed by the reader, it is its own entity, existing independently of both writers and readers. And when it is eventually taken up by the reader, the writer shouldn't feel a sense of possessiveness or vulnerability or fear about the content.

And shit, that really fucks up my other thing about trees falling in forests but anyways.

There are a load of other things I have to consider when suddenly, the dumb spools of thoughts in my brain become free content for the Internet. Like, privacy rights? Am I allowed to talk about this one thing my unnamed friend said, but wait, you can definitely tell who it is, oh fuuuuuu-. At what point is it oversharing? Do I get to decide the line between okay and TMI, or does me declaring that I am writing this for myself mean there is no line?

But, in the end, I just want to say thank you.

I’m really used to, as I’m sure many people are, presenting just one facet of my whole self to people. Every individual has a number of different roles, and each role comes with its own set of rules and norms. The sociological part of me says that this discomfort I’m feeling has a lot to do with the breaking down of norms. There is a certain playbook people go by when they lower their barriers, but this circumvents that.

And honestly, maybe I’m just thinking too much into it and all of this is for naught, but it was cathartic writing this all out, even if I had to take two very lengthy breaks to get my thoughts in order.

(just kidding, one of them was to watch Kingdom season 1).

There are so many things I am grateful for, and I fear that in the past week, I have been battling bad vibes and have forgotten how incredibly privileged I am.

So, here is List 16 of The 52 List Project (that my friend made me start legit in 2016 and I'm still on list 17)

List 16: List your Essentials 1. Family & Friends ✔ 2. Affirmation & Love ✔ 3. Achievement ✔ 4. Happiness ✔ 5. Hope & Dreams ✔ 6. Phone ✔ 7. ID/Card holder ✔ 8. Plush blankets ✔ 9. Stuffed animals ✔ (so many!) 10. Inspiration from a boy on skates ✔ (see: hope & legacy) 11. Good music ✔ (i gotchu fam, here's ur r&b fix) 12. Good books ✔ (go check out a book) 13. Good conversations ✔ 14. Thoughts ✔ 15. Creativity ✔ 16. Music ✔ 17. Possibilities ✔

#beep boop beep boop beep boop beep boop skrrt skrrt

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marinazale-archive · 6 years ago

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small miracles | selfpara

characters: Marina Zale, mentions of Jackson Gates, Finnick Odair, Annie Cresta, Lincoln Conway, & Mags timeline: the reaping and train ride of the 78th Hunger Games summary: Marina hasn’t been feeling well. Right before the reaping, things start clicking into place. word count: 1,300 words trigger warnings: vomit, pregnancy, miscarriage

The nausea had been plaguing her for days. It was July. Marina never got sick in the summer. Lately she’d been tired, nauseous, and just generally out of it. It came in waves and never lasted for very long. She was quick to dismiss what she was feeling. It was nerves over the upcoming reaping or over seeing Jackson again for the first time since the morning after the garden party. Sure, they’d talked a lot since then, but that wasn’t the same as being in the same room with someone you cared about. Someone you’d been intimate with.

The morning of the Reaping started with Marina unable to eat more than toast and some ginger ale for breakfast. She felt absolutely awful and couldn’t recall the last time she was sick like this. She’d been much younger, laid up with a stomach bug over Candlenights. She recalled Mags coming to check on her then and teasingly asking if she was pregnant. That had been years ago and the thought brought a smile to her face. The older woman had become something of a mother to Marina and she wouldn’t have known how to navigate life as a victor without her.

But as she got ready to head to the Justice Building for the Reaping, Mags’ joking comment from years ago kept tickling in the back of her mind. You’re sure you aren’t pregnant, dear? Marina had laughed off the thought those years ago. Not only had she been told at fifteen she’d have a hard time carrying a baby, she had been chaste. Back then it had been funny. Now the puzzle pieces were beginning to click together.

She’d opted to walk to the Justice Building from the victor’s village. The sun overhead felt good on her skin and she took solace in listening to the seagulls, just as she’d told Jackson so long ago. Anxiously she fiddled with her seaglass bracelet as she walked, mentally counting backwards. How long ago had it been since she last had her cycle? A month? Longer? By the time she reached the Justice Building, the color had drained from her face and she felt lightheaded upon realizing she hadn’t had her cycle in two months. Not since before her last trip to the Capitol in May. Not since before she made love with Jackson. Oh.

The nausea returned as she joined the other District Four victors on the stage before the Reaping could begin. It was impossible for Marina to focus on what was happening with the escort and which tributes were selected to represent the district. All she could think about was the what ifs. What if she was pregnant? Did she dare get her hopes up? Motherhood was something Marina had wanted since she was young, a hope all but dashed in the aftermath of her time in the arena. Could she even be pregnant? What if it was just the stress of the upcoming Games throwing her off? Sure, that was possible but how likely was it?

She stood there, barely listening as the tributes were selected. How could she focus on anything else? She was vaguely aware that both her tributes seemed to have potential and weren’t young, but that was something to worry about later.

By the time the reaping ended and Marina’s tributes were led into the building to say goodbye to their families, she immediately headed for the train. Nauseous and lightheaded, she had a lot to think about. Her world was spinning. Was this happening? Was she pregnant? Would she actually get a chance to be a mother? But what if she wasn’t? Or worse, what if she was and then she lost the baby? After all, at fifteen the Capitol doctors told her it would be a struggle.

Oh god. What would Jackson say?

It took Marina a surprisingly long time before she considered what Jackson’s feelings would be about this. If she was pregnant, it was his. There was absolutely no question there. There hadn’t been anyone else. How would he feel? Sure, they were good friends but that was before things got more complicated, and a baby would certainly complicate things further. It was those racing thoughts in her mind that had Marina rushing to the bathroom, suddenly overwhelmed with nausea.

While she did go greet her tributes upon their arrival on the train, she eventually handed off early mentoring duties to Finnick, Annie, and Lincoln. They were more than capable of handling everything the tributes could need between the District Four and the Capitol. She felt too nauseous and looked too green for anyone to question her desire to keep to herself. Marina was terrified if they asked too many questions, she’d speak her dreams aloud and watch them turn to ash. No, it was better to wait. She needed to know for certain one way or another. Once they arrived in the Capitol, then she’d know. Then she could figure out her next step.

By the time they reach the Capitol, Marina is sure she’s making this up. She couldn’t actually be pregnant. There’s no chance. It’s wishful thinking making her believe something impossible. Still, she knew she had to take a test. She would never have any peace of mind without one. Surprisingly, it was harder than she thought it would be for her to get her hands on a pregnancy test without someone seeing her buy it. That was the last thing she needed, pictures of her buying a pregnancy test splashed all over Sponsor’s Weekly complete with speculation on who the father could be.

Eventually she made it back to the District Four suite so she could take the test. Hiding out in the bathroom was overwhelming and those few minutes waiting for the results had Marina’s mind racing in a million different directions. Did she want it to be positive? What about negative? How would she handle it in either way? Would she be happy? Sad? Overwhelmed? Scared? There were so many thoughts that she could barely take time to process them all. There was simply too much to think about.

Tentatively, Marina finally reached for the rest when the time was up. Lifting it in her trembling fingers, she took a deep breath then looked down at the results. Two thin lines showed on the test and it took only a few seconds for Marina to realize what that meant. Tears filled her eyes and she half laughed. It was positive. She was having a baby. Motherhood had been calling to Marina since she was young, but the timing never seemed right. She had always imagined raising a family with a partner.

Jackson. He came to mind and she stopped. How would he feel? He didn’t ask for this, that much she knew. They were still figuring out where they stood with each other after the night they spent together. The night they made their baby it would seem. Would he be happy? Angry? She honestly didn’t know.

All Marina did know was she had to tell Jackson, and she had to hope that everything would be okay. Now that she knew she was pregnant, she already loved that tiny baby. Losing it would be the worst thing in the world, but that fear would always linger. Especially after everything she’d been told as a teenager.

It took time for Marina to calm down and dry her eyes, but eventually she realized this was a good thing. No matter what happened it was good. It was a miracle, a dream come true, and she would never dare question that. It was a chance to have a family and that was all Marina wanted. Maybe, just maybe, it would all work out in the end.

#*selfpara #re: jackson gates #vomit tw #pregnancy tw #miscarriage tw #ttwtask #//it touches on the reaping so

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loudgothbf · 4 years ago

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One of the things that made it hard to testify was having Yuta watching. His defense attorney didn’t leave the table, which meant as he looked to him to answer his questions, he could see Yuta, sitting calmly, listening.

“Mr. Shiryo, can you tell us why you were on pain medications to begin with?”

Hibiki swallows. Stop looking at me. Stop. “I-- yes, I was in a car accident with my parents when I was eleven. A drunk driver killed them both, and I was put in a coma. I was on pain medications because it gave me a lot of phantom pains, and physical rehab was a long and painful process. They were prescribed by my doctor.”

“Was the chronic pain the only long term result of your car accident?”

You... you little-- “No. It wasn’t.”

A pause. “Well, what were the other results?”

“I... I suffered head trauma. Damage to my frontal and occipital lobes.”

“And what diagnoses did the physicians give you?”

He huffs rolling his eyes. “It...” How can this be relevant? How is any of this relevant? “Am I really required to tell the court my personal medical history?”

“Answer the question, Mr. Shiryo--”

“Objection, relevance.” Finally.

“It’s relevant for understanding Mr. Shiryo’s behavior.”

“There’s no evidence that any sort of traumatic brain injury would have affected his behavior in this particular situation--”

“You would see that it does if you gave him a chance to answer the question.”

The judge sighs. “Overruled. Mr. Shiryo, answer the question.”

Hibiki’s gaze drops, breathing becoming deliberate and slow. If he doesn’t stay calm he’ll scream. He wants nothing more than to scream. “I was diagnosed with an impulse control disorder and post traumatic stress disorder.”

“An impulse control disorder? And the doctors put you on highly addictive medications?”

“Objection, leading the witness.”

“Sustained.”

“I’ll rephrase. What explanation did the doctors give you for putting you on medications that have a high risk for addiction?”

“I was administered my medication by a nurse for a few months after I left the hospital, then my foster parents managed it until I went to school on my own. They said that I was at a much lower risk with someone else giving me the medication than I would be taking it on my own.”

“But you took it on your own at school, correct?”

“Objection, leading the witness.”

“Sustained.”

“I’ll rephrase. Did you have someone to administer your medication while you were at school?”

Hibiki hesitates. “No. I didn’t.”

Without any follow up, the defense attorney turns his paper over and smiles, quickly flitting to the next question. “Were you abusing drugs at the time you were dating the defendant?”

His eyes widen, throat tightening. Of course. Of fucking course. They were going to blame the breakup on him, say that he was delusional and obsessed, say that he spent years plotting revenge instead of being a popsicle because of him-- “Not initially.” He snaps defensively. “It started about a month and a half into us dating each other. Agawa was especially rough during sex, which made my pain worse, and my anxiety around the sex he demanded worse, so I started taking more medication.”

The defense attorney’s face goes stern, and Yuta, for once, shows a flash of anger. That wasn’t the version of the story Hibiki was allowed to tell. It wasn’t the version he’d told a million times before. Because Yuta always said it was the stress of school, it was his own inability to cope, it was him him him. “You don’t think that having no one to monitor your medication intake was a factor?”

“I know it was a factor,” he says flatly. “I also know it wasn’t the reason. I had no one looking after me at school, so no one asked about the bruises or bleeding, or why I was so out of it. But it wasn’t the reason I started ‘abusing’ drugs. Funny word choice, actually,” he mutters.

The defense attorney swallows, turning over his paper again. “Mr. Shiryo, can you tell the court what the primary side effects of opiod pain killer and benzodiazapine overdose are?”

Hibiki sighs. “I’m not an expert witness. I can’t, no.”

“Fine, I’ll rephrase. Can you tell us what the primary symptoms you experienced were?”

Pause. “Yes. Nausea, insomnia, vomiting, anxiety, shakes, memory loss... uh, fatigue, concentration issues... think that’s about it.”

“Memory loss?”

“Yes.”

He seems to calm slightly, sternness melting away into his usual professional, unruffled demeanor. That’s what he reminded Hibiki of-- it clicked, just now. A crow. Even his voice sounded almost like a caw. “How certain are you of your testimony of the events of the night of your breakup with my client?”

Of course. “Completely certain.”

“Really? A tox panel from the night you were admitted to the hospital for your broken arm says that you had extremely high levels of both opiods and benzodiazapines in your system, which you’ve just admitted caused memory loss.”

“I am completely certain.” Hibiki’s voice carries a sharp, irritated edge.

“The description of the events that you gave to the ER doctor that night said, and I quote, ‘I fell during an argument with my boyfriend and broke my arm over the back of a chair.’ You yourself said you fell, in an account given hours after the events. Is it possible you are recalling it wrong now, after more than a decade?”

“No.”

“Then why are the stories different?”

“Because--” Hibiki snaps, pausing for a second to take a deep breath before continuing. “Because I was lying that night. I didn’t want him to get in trouble because I thought he might do something to me.”

“You lied?”

“...Yes.”

“How can we be certain which of your so-called ‘official’ accounts is a lie?”

“Because it took me years to recognize how abusive Yuta was to me, and that night, after it all happened, I was scared.”

“That’s very touching, see, but not very convincing. Because maybe what changed in that decade wasn’t that you ‘came to your senses’ and had any sort of realization, but rather that you grew bitter over his successes and your continued failures, and you wanted to craft a story to bring him down--”

“Objection, speculation!”

“Sustained. Be warned, councilman.”

“What is your profession, Mr. Shiryo?”

He feels a stab in the gut. “I’m... I’m an adult dancer.”

“An adult dancer.” He smiles as he says it.

“Is that a question?” Hibiki sneers.

“No, no,” he says lightly, feigning innocence. “Is it difficult work? Somewhat demeaning at times?”

Hibiki glances at the prosecutor, who nods at him, then to the judge, who gives him a curious look. His eyes scan the crowd for any hint of a reaction, finding nothing reassuring. “Yes. It’s physically taxing, and there are clients who don’t follow the rules. They touch us. But they get kicked out, so it’s-- it’s... a job.”

“You were accepted to Hope’s Peak, were you not? For ikebana?”

He swallows. “Yes, I was.”

“And you worked in a flower shop in high school?”

“Yes, I did.”

“Do you like your job?”

“It’s-- not all the time, no. I don’t think anyone does. But I do it for the money and I’m good at it, so I guess in that way it’s fine.”

“Do you regret not pursuing a job in your field?”

“I... didn’t have much of a chance to. I spent ten years in captivity. Not even allegedly, the... the person who did it, she...” He sighs. This is Yuta’s crime, but... he can’t accuse him of this. He can’t, or he’ll look like an insane, jealous liar. “She was convicted a few weeks ago, actually. So yes, I wish I’d been able to get a job that I enjoyed, but I’m getting by.”

“Does it make you jealous to see someone who you claim did horrible things to you during your relationship with him go on to live his dreams and become a respected and revered pillar of his community?”

Hibiki bites his lip, staring down at his lap. The answer was yes, but... if he said that... Yet if he lied, everyone would see right through it. There’s no way he didn’t care. “Yes. I worked hard and was punished for no reason. It bothers me that almost everyone I knew got to live their dreams except for me.” Tears well up in his eyes. Why did saying that hurt so much? He knew Yuta took a lot from him, but... maybe to realize how far he’d really fallen...

“Nothing further, your honor.”

#event: monster

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kpop-magick · 8 years ago

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BTS Poppin’ the BIG QUESTION OF DO YOU WANT TO DEAL WITH ME FOREVER?!

A/N: So a few people (like 2) asked for individual member proposals, I just figured why NOT EVERYONE. Requested by anons: “Can I get a BTS imagine where I come back from my world tour to see J Hope propose to me?” “ Can I get a BTS imagine where Jimin surprises me by coming to my concert in LA and proposing to me” “Can I get a BTS scenario where J Hope surprises me on tour by proposing to me at one of my concerts “ For those two requests, that will be the scenario but for the other five, it’ll be just random proposals? Like a surprise one, well usually proposals are surprises. So yeah, enough rambling.

well this took forever

Italics in quotations= dialogue. Example: “Yo, wassup?”

Rap Monster: He had been carrying the ring around for about a week before one day, he just kicked himself in the ass. Today was going to be the day. He had gotten the ring a little while ago and tonight, he was going to ask you. He never thought he would end up chickening out and then asking you on live fucking television. Your relationship with the now world famous Rap Monster had started over 3 years ago, however it was only confirmed one year ago. BigHit had decided that after years after their debut, it was unavoidable that dating was going to occur. They would rather confirm it when they knew it was serious than to let it turn into rumours and possibly reflect badly on the boys. Namjoon had only bought the ring about a week ago before the day he decided to propose. He had decided after he had finished recording with the guys, that today was the day. Recording had gone well, it was a great day. He felt like it was right! Until he got to your shared apartment and saw you. That’d when the nervousness set in. And you could tell pretty much right away. He was your boyfriend after all. “Was it a bad day at the studio, love?” You asked, putting down your book and scooting over to make room for him on the couch. “Ah.. No, just a lot on my mind.” “Like what?” You inquired right away, you wanted to know if you could fix it. I want to marry you, he thought, that’s all you need to say Namjoon. “We have a live broadcast tomorrow and Taehyung’s voice has been strained lately, I’m just worried about if we’ll have to sing; I don’t want him to damage his voice.” That wasn’t what he had planned on saying, he chickened out. He thought he could do it, but it was a lot scarier than he had anticipated. You didn’t believe it completely but you weren’t going to pry, even years after his debut he still got nervous over some things and that was perfectly fine. “You’ll watch us right..?” “Of course I will, I’ll stream it on the bus ride home from work. Besides, didn’t you hear? I have this insane crush on the leader of BTS. It’s getting pretty bad.” He couldn’t help but laugh at what you were saying, he pressed a soft kiss to your lips, the ring burning a hole in his pocket as he walked to the bedroom. It was meant for another time. Apparently that other time is tomorrow during a live broadcast. He hadn’t been thinking when he was talking about you during the interview, you and music were two subjects that he could just go on and on and on about. “... I had planned to propose yesterday but I chickened out-” “You what?! Were going to propose? Is she not watching this?!” It was this moment Namjoon realized he fucked up. “Ah.. Jagiya... I’m sorry.” Thankfully, they quickly changed the subject; deciding Namjoon didn’t need to show the world a new shade of red. It would be a great story to tell one day. Well children, Appa proposed to Eomma on live TV! And Eomma watched it on a bus, crying! Of course you couldn’t just not reply to this so you decided to voice your thoughts through a text which Namjoon received when the group was on their way back from the set. He knew it was you, and after a bit of encouragement he read the message. A message of only two words. Yes, pabo.

Jin: He had been planning this for over 3 months, 3 MONTHS. He took this very seriously, he wanted everything to be absolutely perfect for you. He told you it was going to be a picnic; triple checking the date he told you for the weather, he didn’t want it to rain on this day. Especially not on this day. Guess what? It did. That threw a wrench in his plans, so instead.. He reorganized the entire living room so it could be your new picnic space. When you got into the living room, it was really a speechless moment. He made all your favourite dishes, even the ones that were hard to make or had ingredients that were hard to make. The action in itself was tear jerking, but you managed to keep the tears in. You two comfortably ate; Jin was just.. watching as you enjoyed the food so much, it made him want to ask you right then and there. When you two were done, you were getting up to help with clearing dishes but he protested to this, asking you to stay where you were; however you insisted on helping him. Another detour in his plan. That was okay because when you were cleaning the dishes, he managed to get the ring from the hiding spot in the kitchen stealthily into his pocket. Now he just had to figure out how to ask, he had had a plan; but seeing you here and now.. Well, his mind went absolutely blank. He decided to just.. Act.

“Hey, (Y/N)?” You turned with the dish towel in your hands to see your long time boyfriend standing with his eyes focused on his feet, “Jin? Is something wrong?” He nodded, this made worry surge through your body; you immediately dropped the towel and went right to him. You gently placed your hands on his cheeks, “Hey, Jin.. Baby, what’s wrong?” He looked up at you, a soft smile on his lips as his hand took a hold of your left hand pulling it down to his waist. His other hand pulled the ring out of his pocket, “(Y/N), I have never been happier than when I am with you, and I want to stay with you. Forever. Would you do me the great honour of becoming my wife?” He held the ring in front of your left ring finger, waiting for your answer. All you could do was nod, the tears that had threatened to spill over an hour ago now coming back in full force, the tears rolling down your cheeks. He slowly slid the ring onto your finger, leaning over to press the lightest of kisses to your lips.

You just got engaged to Kim Seokjin, the love of your life.

Suga: You and Min Yoongi had been together for ever. Not really but you had became friends right after his debut, remaining in contact through text while you went to school. He became your best friend easily, his honesty was the first thing that you fell in love with. That and his love for music. You were a music major and when he heard you sing, he had encouraged you to pursue it; you had always dreamed about becoming an idol but Yoongi was the one who finally got you to pursue those dreams. You debuted only a year and a half after starting training. You became very successful as a soloist in the industry. You felt very blessed. And Yoongi was there for you the whole time. You two had started dating after BTS’ first World tour. You two had never really been so far away from each other and while you had already accepted that you probably would never confess your love to him; he had yet to even realize his feelings. You joke now about how it only took him a world tour to figure it out. After their third concert out of twelve he had been bombarded with his feelings of missing you and when he voiced this, Jin was the one who brought up that he may be in love with you. To be honest, he felt kind of bad for never realizing it sooner. It took him almost 6 years of friendship to figure out that he was in love with you. As soon as he got back to the hotel, he called you almost frantically. He was normally smooth and calm but he had pretty much word vomited his confession to you. And after a little convincing on his end, you admitted your reciprocation of his feelings. And that’s how you two ended up here. In his studio. Which had grown in size. It had been almost four years since that fateful night of his rambling call and you two were as strong as ever. Yoongi had had an idea, he talked to the others and management about confirming his and your relationship; some fans were speculating about it but nothing solid had come forward and especially not confirmation from the company. So when he came up with this idea, it would hopefully be great. BigHit had announced that rapper of BTS Suga would be releasing a song with his girlfriend. That being you and then your relationship would be out in the open. It had great feedback, a lot of fans were excited to find out who Suga’s girlfriend was and a lot of the were trying to guess who it would be, some saying (Y/N) the idol. It was good publicity and a very creative way to confirm your relationship. So that’s how you two ended up in the studio at around 1 AM; putting the finishing touches on recording of the song. It was going to be released as soon as possible and all that needed to be done was record and edit your parts. As you finished singing for what was only the second time, you heard Yoongi chuckle softly over the speaker before saying, “God, can you marry me?” You couldn’t help but giggle out a yes. “Wait, you heard me?!” You nodded and he laughed out loud, “Well come in here so I can give you the ring!” Utterly dumbfounded, you nodded and walked right to him in a little daze. He pulled a little box out of his coat pocket, “I’ve been carrying it around for a few weeks now, since I came up with this idea. Was waiting for the right time.” “I think now was right.” You simply replied as he slid the ring onto your finger.

J-Hope: You were finally coming home, that’s all Hobi could think about. You were coming home to him, and god, he could not wait. He had a huge surprise for you, he was going to pick you up. That was surprise number one because he had told you sorrowfully last week that he had practice all week and he wouldn’t have the time to come pick you up, of course you were devastated but you understood; it’s happened to you both in the past when one’s coming home and the other is too busy with their schedules. But he lied to you, he didn’t like it but seeing your face would be worth it. Surprise number two, however, was one that could get you to cry. You had been on tour for what seemed like forever. He had planned to go to one of your concerts to surprise you there but right at the last minute, he wasn’t able to. So he needed to rework his plan completely. His new plan involved the airport and a sign as if picking you up like a businessman before actually getting on one knee to ask you that age old question.

You were happy to have gotten the chance to go all over the world for tour, seeing your fans scream and have bright smiles across their faces was something you will never ever forget. But you couldn’t deny that you were tired. You just wanted to get home, relax and y’know, see your boyfriend. Other than face timing and seeing him in the media, you hadn’t seen him in, what? Pretty much six months. So you were pretty excited to be in his arms again. You two had been in a relationship for quite some time, it was as long as your entire career, which at the moment was almost at four years. When you two announced your relationship to BigHit, they weren’t exactly pleased. It was a peak time for BTS and your career had just taken off, despite being new you had a large budding fanbase; you were both doing great but being the honest people that you two were, you couldn’t hide your love forever. You had made a deal with the management at BigHit to confirm your relationship after BTS’ latest comeback. So then it was announced and confirmed and you both got some backlash from eithers respecting fanbase. Your fans attacked Hobi saying that he wasn’t good enough for you and some fans of BTS were attacking you for using the dancer for his fame. But you two never let this affect your relationship, you two were in love and anyone could see that if they looked hard enough. Time passed and your fans finally realized that love was pure.

So now here you two were, four years, a bunch of hardships later and you were going strong. He had known after your first few dates that he was going to marry you if you’d have him. He always knew that one day he’d propose, you two had talked about marriage and your futures before. You just never set a date, like nothing like by the time we’re thirty we’ll be married. You had never really thought that much about it but he had, boy had he thought about that sort of stuff. Hobi had planned this proposal six months ago when you started your world tour. Originally it was going to be at a concert then he missed it because his work came up so he planned for the day you came home at the airport. And that day was finally here. So here he was, standing at Arrival, with a bright ass yellow sign with (y/f/c) and green writing that read (Y/N). Fans were snapping photos but thankfully security was keeping them at a distance so when he saw you, he began waving the sign like a maniac. “(Y/N)! (Y/N)!(Y/N)!” He was pretty much chanting your name, the fans soon followed his lead. Once you got close enough (you needed to get over a red line), you left your suitcase and ran right into those arms that you had missed so much. A parade of awing followed this small encounter, you felt yourself tearing up from your boyfriends surprise. “You said you couldn’t come!” You managed to speak despite your face being crammed into the side of his neck. “Jagiya...” No answer, “Jagiya, I have to talk to you about something..”

That made you lift your head and move a bit so you could fully look at him, was something wrong? “Hobi... Is something wrong?” Hobi shook his head, grabbing something from his pocket, “No, of course not.” That was when he got down on one knee and those tears you had held so hard began flowing right down your cheeks. An absolute roar of screams came from the crowd of fans along with a lot of sounds of cameras clicking and the sight of flashes went off. “I just need to talk about a simple thing, that thing called marriage. I was hoping that you’d agree to marry me. So, (Y/N), will you marry me?” You couldn’t say yes fast enough, you practically tackled him down in a hug. He couldn’t stop planting kisses all over your face, after awhile he finally stopped long enough to slip the ring on and get your stuff so you two could finally go home. Not as boyfriend and girlfriend but as fiances.

Jimin: You and Park Jimin had been friends since your school days and that was good. You were both dancers and you decided to become idols together, it had always been something for you two to bond over. When he debuted, you couldn’t have been happier for him but you were still training so you ended up being just as busy as he was. You debuted a year after BTS had in a girl group of five members, you were both leader and the lead dancer, you and the girls had debuted with a very badass, sexy concept. With that concept, it opened Jimin’s eyes; it was like an awakening going ‘Hey this girl is hot and she’s your best friend. Damn.’ It took him almost the entirety of your friendship to realize, hey he’s in love with you. After that it didn’t take him long to confess his feelings, and for you to gladly reciprocate them didn’t take any longer than a few seconds. About a good four years of dating later and this past boy now man was ready to snag your precious hand in marriage. But he had yet to do that since he just got back from a tour and you had just started one. Then Jin just decided to pop the idea into his head to surprise you on stage with the proposal; saying ‘It’s not like your and her fans don’t know you two are together.” Which was true, you two had had a scandal about a year ago. Photos of you two exiting a cafe together had surfaced and it caused some uproar in both your fandoms. However, BigHit confirmed it after having a meeting with the two of you and what you hadn’t known was that Jimin had made a personal statement in the media, according to management he had insisted upon it. His statement was really sincere, he was asking A.R.M.Y. and your fanbase to accept the fact that two best friends had simply fallen in love and that you both were human just like them. And with that, you two didn’t really receive hate from fans; saesangs were evident you knew that. But after his statement, the uproar quickly died down. Now organizing this proposal was difficult because he had to contact management for your group and your other group members so he could sneak backstage and be prepared. But he did it. Jimin wanted it all to be perfect and so it was going to be. The day of your last concert in Korea was the day everything was going to go down. The plan was that during your solo stage, where you do this really great dance (like it’s super sexy and amazing) he’ll appear to dance with you (he has your whole dance memorized) and when you notice he’ll take his mic and begin his mini speech leading up to the proposal.

Thank Goodness, it went according to plan. However, once you said yes(duh), he hadn’t planned on your fellow members coming out and tackling you with squeals and excited chatter. But what should he really have expected.

He did feel better knowing you left for tour as his girlfriend but you were coming back as his fiance.

V: When Kim Taehyung met you, one could say he was almost taken aback by you. You had seen him and his dog walking and you just had to say hello, originally he thought to say hello to him but no, no, no. You wanted to say hi to the puppy~ And ever since then, he’s been enamored with you; automatically asking your name, where you were from. You basically helped him take his dog for a walk and you played twenty question with a bright ball of sunshine. During said twenty question, you admitted that you knew who he was and when he asked why you weren’t freaking out or something, you simply replied with “You’re just another person, famous or not; it shouldn’t matter.” At that moment, Taehyung realized he may just fall in love with you.

And fall in love he did.

He fell deep and hard and fast, you became everything to him. You two would go on walks together, go shopping, Hell, you’d already met his parents when he got a chance. You had gotten to go see him practice. You two became so close and honestly, you knew he liked you and you liked him. It was rather obvious? You two were practically inseparable, you cuddled, cooked together, slept together(in the literal sense). You did everything together. Taehyung had taken you to an amusement park for what he considered your first date. You both had an amazing day and at the end of the day when you had your cotton candy on the top of the Ferris wheel, he asked you to be his girlfriend. “I thought I was..” You replied slowly, which ended up causing you both to go in a laughing fit.

Now it was just over two years later and Taehyung wanted to propose. He spent months finding the perfect ring for you and during those months, it was all secret planning. He had to come up with a great reason for an elaborate date so on the fateful proposal day, he woke you up and said you’d be celebrating your 125th week-aversary as he called it. You were baffled but went along nonetheless; if Taehyung put effort into it, you knew you’d love it and it would be super duper fun.

You two spent the whole day wandering around the same amusement park that you two went to one your first date, it was such a great day. You both won giant teddy bears, giving them to each other (of course in the most dramatic way possible) And at sunset, Taehyung had managed to get you back on that same Ferris wheel. Sitting across from each other, with Mr and Mrs Gom (gom is bear in Korean) sitting next to you. He took a deep breath before asking the destined question of will you marry me. After the initial shock came the tears and a choked out yes, you couldn’t say yes enough.

Now Taehyung could rest assured that you two were going to get married, a nice happily ever after. The day was absolutely perfect.

Until the Ferris wheel broke.

Jungkook: Jeon fucking Jungkook, this boy was a handful to say the least. You two met one day when you were on a run for coffee and well, you had the cliched meeting of literally running into each other. Now that you look back at it, it’s laughable. You two became friends first, it took him awhile to get completely comfortable around you. It was great until you caught feelings, you held them in for quite a long time before you couldn’t really take it anymore and you just.. Exploded one day. It came as a shock to you when he said ‘Me too.” It ended up taking you a bit for it to sink in, he likes you too? Well, that was a nice surprise. Your relationship progressed rather slowly after that, neither of you were really in a rush to get to anything. Everything happened at it’s own pace and after over two years, Jungkook decided he was ready to marry you or at least make sure you knew you’d be married one day. He just didn’t know how to do that, his hyungs had tried to give him ideas; some romantic, others cute, but none struck him as something he would do. He wanted to do something simple but meaningful. It ended up being rather sweet. You two, when you had the chance, would go to your favourite cafe- The cafe where you had originally plowed into him. It wasn’t very busy and the little old lady who owned it was always sweet to you two. He figured since you two met in a cliched way, he should propose in a cliched way as well. So he recruited the ajumma to help; she had this little muffins that you adored and he asked her if she could sneak a ring onto the one you’d get. He was just praying you looked before you ate. So when you were getting your drinks and the muffins, the ajumma sneaked the ring onto the top of the muffin. You had already been sipping your drink when you went to take a bite of your muffin, before you could even think about moving the muffin you saw the ring. Boy, did your jaw drop. Without even managing words out yet, Jungkook beat you to it; nervously asking you if you’d want to become his wife someday.

Still speechless, you could only nod your response. Yes, yes, a million times yes.

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prill-ocs · 3 years ago

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Meemo Story Revisions

OKAY. MY INTERNET'S BEING SHIT RIGHT NOW AND SO I'M TAKING THAT AS A SIGN TO TYPE THIS STUFF UP THAT'S BEEN STAYING COOPED UP IN MY HEAD. Obligatory blah blah it's gonna be mostly word vomit from me so don't be surprised if it gets disorganized :')

Original lore post here: [ x ]

Misc doodles w/ Fay and Meemo: [ x ] ( I actually need to redesign Fay lmao)

So I'm still keeping the part Meemo doesn't remember much of his early childhood, aside from that he was alone from the start. ( Actually though, I have Thoughts regarding reincarnation and past lives, considering the fact that he's a ghost type hehe. )

ANYWAYS, he lives on the outskirts of some town, which he eventually ventures into out of curiosity. So this is where the main reason for changing up Meemo's story a bit comes into play. I was thinking about how it seems like. Kinda unreasonable? That the townspeople had such an adverse reaction to Meemo's presence, so I was trying to think of what could explain that. What first came to mind was mimikyu's dex entry and how their true appearance would shock people enough that they die. SO I WAS LIKE...HMM...Maybe something about his appearance would inexplicably bring about some kind of resentment in people, whether intentional or not? But then I realized that that effect would then carry onto Raku, and as we've seen, that doesn't seem to do anything LOL

To try and compromise then, I was thinking that mimikyus are pretty rare, or at least around this time where Meemo was still young. They're misunderstood and so they're perceived as something to be feared and treated with caution (especially since ghost types already tend to get a bad rap in my canon).

WITH THAT BEING SAID! Once Meemo comes into town, people get to talking about his presence, with them talking and speculating amongst themselves if he's one of those so called mimikyus. It plays out pretty much how it was in my original post, where a bunch of unrelated misfortunes in the town take place (crops aren't great, weather's pretty bad, etc.) and of course they're all coincidental. Meemo nonetheless gets blamed for them and so, timid as he is, retreats back to where he had been living and tries his best to keep to himself, even if it is lonely.

A month or so pass (or however long seems reasonable for his presence in the town to be at least a little bit forgotten lmao), and in comes Fay, the pikachu. As stated before, she's a whimsical and air-headed person, and had gotten lost finding her way back to the town that she had just moved into. ( I figured her moving in would explain why she hadn't known about Meemo in the first place)

Fay spots Meemo playing by himself in the forest, and gets a little concerned that this presumably young child is out here all by himself. She approaches him which in turn startles Meemo, and he runs off into hiding. Unsure of what else to do, Fay returns home for the day. There's a cycle of her coming to the forest to see if Meemo's still there and attempting to at least greet him, and Meemo consequently going into hiding; but each time, he lingers a little bit longer and she's able to talk to him, even if he doesn't respond back with a lot to say. At one point, Fay even tries asking for his name; but Meemo doesn't know it and doesnt rremember if he even had one to begin with. All he knows is that the townspeople had been calling him something "mim....mimi?" and he's mumbling trying to remember what it was. Fay hears it as "Meemo" and of course the name sticks, as Meemo can't really say no anyways cuz he's not sure!!!

After going back and forth from the forest, some of the townspeople start to notice this and warn her that there's a monster lurking there and that she should be careful. Fay can only assume who they're talking about, but she goes back to Meemo to ask him about the things the townspeople are saying.

By this point, Fay's gotten Meemo to trust her enough that she can get close to him and have some semblance of a convo with him. It's a bit of a stretch, but she asks if he wants to come live with her, since she feels bad that he's out here all alone. She makes it clear that they'd cover up his appearance if he was okay with doing so, and that he had to be very careful. Meemo, desperate to want to try living with other people and have an actual home, agrees to this.

So of course, Fay has to go out and try out different outfits to see what Meemo likes, but what he eventually ends up with is something he makes himself - a mask and outfit that pays homage to Fay.

To avoid suspicion about Meemo's sudden presence at Fay's house, she says that he's a relative that she's caring for and the reasoning for his covered up face is that he's terribly shy. The townspeople, while wary, go about their business.

This is new information, but Fay is actually a schoolteacher, and while she'd love to introduce Meemo to her class, she knows how risky that is. Meemo, on the other hand, really wants to mingle with the other kids. I want to say maybe a few months pass before Fay, against her better judgement, decides to let Meemo join in.

So possibly a few months go by. Meemo's learning a lot (which was a plot hole I had before, I think. cuz I was like...Meemo had to have learned some stuff *somewhere*, which would be impossible in his post-Fay isolation). However, he is still a little more withdrawn than the other kids, since he's afraid they'll find out who he really is; so he does keep some distance from the others.

Originally, I had Meemo's wardrobe slip-up be completely accidental. This time around, I want to say it's market shopping day for Fay and Meemo. They bump into some of the kids from Fay's class and they ask permission to hang out with Meemo. Meemo looks to Fay for permission, and she hesistantly lets him, though of course she tells him to be careful.

The hang out starts off pretty normal, and Meemo's actually feeling pretty good about it. Like, maybe making friends was actually possible for him now. One of the kids gets a little too comfy, though, and starts asking Meemo why he's so quiet all the time, and why he's always wearing these clothes and mask, etc. etc. They start tugging on Meemo's cloak, trying to coax him to take it off, and Meemo starts to panic. He tries asking the kid to stop, but they're being really persistent about it. Once they attempt to reach for his mask instead, Meemo *really* gets nervous and out of reflex, uses a shadow claw on the kids arm, giving them a small gash.

The kid is now *pissed off* and the other two that are with them grab Meemo while the injured kids yanks Meemo's mask off. All 3 of the other kids gasp in horror, realizing it's the monster that had shown up in their town months ago and who their parents had warned them about. They all flee, leaving Meemo to cry alone in the small alleyway that they had been in.

After fixing his outfit back up, Meemo hurries back to find Fay, who notices he's visibly upset. The two of them return home, and Meemo tells her everything that happened. Realizing that things are about to take a turn for the worst, she tries to get things in order so they could flee town, knowing that it wouldn't end well if they stayed there.

Unfortunately, they're too late, and the kids had snitched to their parents; so this is where it ties back together with my original post. Basically an angry mob comes barging into Fay's house, demanding she hand Meemo over. Fay tries her best to put up a fight, but it's quite obvious the two of them are outnumbered. She gets caught in the crossfire of an attack meant for Meemo and is fatally injured. Meemo is overcome with emotion from all the events that had occurred and seeing his guardian fall right in front of him was the icing on the cake.

Meemo goes into a frenzied state, with his shadow tendrils going haywire everywhere and attacking everyone who had trespassed on the home that he and Fay had made for themselves. He comes out of the ordeal as the last one standing, all tattered up and bloodied. Fay's actually still alive, but very much on the verge of dying. Meemo falls to his knees beside her, now bawling at this point, while she apologizes to him for not being more careful. Fay reaches up to cup Meemo's face, smiles at him one last time, before she finally takes her last breath.

And this is stuff I've covered before. Meemo takes Fay's body to the place they had originally met in the forest and buries her there after having a small ceremony for her. He knows it's not safe for him to stay around those parts anymore, so as soon as he's able to, he sets off to find a new place to live.

After wandering around for a while, he finds an abandoned home that seems to be a good distance away from another town. Over time and with some work, he fixes the place up and settles in. After learning his lesson the first time, he doesn't get too comfortable with the residents in this new town, and only goes when necessary. (Eventually he does grow his own produce to sell, but that's not until a little later since it takes him a LONG time to be comfortable around other people again)

Fast foward many years later, he stumbles upon Chai, an abandoned baby pichu. Meemo thinks this to be a cruel joke from the gods, but also feels that raising Chai could be retribution for what happened to Fay; so he initally raises Chai out of guilt, but soon comes to care for him as if he were his own child.

As for Raku and Meemo, well. Y'all know how that goes down :')

SO YEA. UHM. I DIDN'T MEAN TO MAKE THIS AS LONG AS IT WAS. I just felt like if I had kept it like in my usual bullet point style, I wouldn't be able to say all the details I had in mind LOL

I think the only thing that I have trouble figuring out are the time frames of these things happening? Like ngl I still have no clue how much time has passed since Meemo went on the killing spree to the current time.

If I still wanted to go the route of Blanca finding out what Meemo had done, I think he'd have stumbled upon Meemo's original town. Mimikyus are a little more common now, but still a rare sight to see. I think it'd make more sense for a very long time to have passed so that the whole tale of mimikyus being bad luck is now just one of those tall tales from the old days; so someone seeing Blanca would be like "Wow hey are you a mimikyu? Y'know, this town's had a pretty interesting run-in with one, YEARS ago." and so on and so forth.

As for how Blanca would come to know that *that* mimikyu in the story was Meemo...well.....To be decided I guess LOL

Like I guess, there'd be a plaque or something at Fay's house, recounting what had happened and name dropping the two of them (Meemo and Fay).

*throws hands up* NOT SURE!!! WE'LL SEE!!!

#pkmn gijinka*#pkmn gijinka trivia*#meemo*

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guttersvillemayor · 6 years ago

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When The Dam Breaks

[It’s not often that my brothers surprise me. I mean I think I got to know them pretty well when we lived together growing up. They were pretty formative years, if you know what I mean. They always handled things the same ways with very few deviations. However, this one I didn’t see coming. As I was waiting for all the Mosby boys to pull me into a family meeting and give me an intervention or something, I was blindsided by the double agent they’d decided to use instead. Although later it was explained that it was her suggestion and they all just agreed it would probably be better to go that way then try to drag me kicking and screaming. It would seem they also got to know me pretty well during those formative years. And truthfully I should have seen it coming. After all, she was part of the reason I received the first late night visit from the twins. But that’s how I found myself staying up late one night drinking with Wendy while my parents were out of town for the weekend. She had claimed that she wanted some girl time since we hadn’t really caught up or hung out since I’d returned home. Which was the truth. Hell I’d even admit to myself that I was slightly avoiding her because of my conflicted feelings about her relationship with Jonah and my own personal crisis. She was just lucky that she’d caught me with my guard down as I’d already started drinking earlier in the evening.

Carrying a bag of good booze she joined me out on the back porch were I was just listening to some music, enjoying the rare cool Louisiana evening and drinking, obviously. “Mind if I join you? I’ve brought some stuff from the pub including your favorites.” My head gives a quick bob while I bring the bottle of Angry Orchard to my lips to finish it off. From what I saw her pull out, I knew we’d be sticking to hard liquor the rest of the night.] I’m gonna go inside and get some mixers for the vodka. I could go for a screwdriver right about now. [The dizzy, buzzed feeling hits me the second I stood up and that should have been a warning sign to me, but I was honestly too focused on drowning my feelings and the voices in my head to realized the danger in getting drunk with someone who I was trying to keep secrets from. It doesn’t take me long to deposit my already empty bottles into the recycling bin and pull out some orange juice, couple sodas and ice as well as some glasses to drink from before heading back outside. Wendy silently holds out her hand for one glass and starts filling it up with vodka and then orange juice. There were some perks to having a best friend who spent her life in a bar growing up. Still without either of us speaking, I take the now-filled glass back from her and take a good gulp of the drink.] Damn, you always know just the right ratio to where I can feel the alcohol hitting my bloodstream without feeling like I’m drinking more vodka than OJ. [I raise the glass in the air as a salute to her abilities. “It’s a good thing that I’ll be inheriting a pub then one day.” We chuckle because we’ve always joke that she was born to bartend, though we could never figure out if she’d have done something different if her parents didn’t own the pub.

She easily fixes herself a drink as we sit in the Adirondack chairs that were brought up on the deck by my parents years ago. No doubt they’ve done similar things on a nice night, sitting out on the porch and drinking wine or whatever old people drink. A low snort bubbles up while I take another sip and Wendy asks what’s got me amused.] Nothing, I was just thinking about my parents and having happy old couple moments out here in these very chairs…. [Suddenly my guttered mind takes the idea a bit to far and as soon as the image pops in my head I can’t help but voice it to Wendy.] God I hope they kept things PG. Or at least did the R rated stuff in your chair. [This causes her to wrinkle her nose at the gross image, but overall it doesn’t stop us from cracking up at what I’ve said. And once the laughter has winded down, Wendy gives a content sigh. “You know I don’t think I’d mind being like that one day with Jonah.” Another reminder of their relationship, about the fact that soon she’ll be my actual sister and yet her loyalties will first go to my brother over me, has me taking a bigger gulp than previously. However, Wendy doesn’t notice as she’s still thinking and speculating to me about her fantasy of a happy romantic future. I’m not proud of how bitter I felt in that moment, but loneliness can do that to a person. If I really thought about it, I could even be bitter about Teddy’s situation in life. Granted his constant companion was a small boy who he took care of, but as a live-in nanny he spent the majority of the day with another human who, for better or worse, loved him and who he couldn’t help but love in return. It only helped to make me realize how alone and unhappy I was.

Thoughts of Richard start to come unbidden to the forefront and I almost miss Wendy’s question. “Doesn’t that just sound amazing?” Her head turning to meet my gaze in earnest interest of what I thought. Although I couldn’t say if it sounded amazing or not seeing as I hadn’t hear most of what she’d said. I just hoped she wouldn’t notice my disinterest as I nodded my head, taking a big gulp of my drink to cover any awkwardness in my answer. Wendy’s eyes were too much like a hawk at times, able to pick up on the slightest clues in what I was trying not to say. Another potential cue at her double agent status, if I had had my wits about me. And whether or not she picked up on something this time, she still found her way onto the minefield with her next question. “What about you Ems? You’re gonna be 30 in the next month or so. Isn’t there someone you look forward to settling down with? I thought there was a guy back in Baltimore who you lived in the same building with... or was it that y’all worked together? [I quickly shake my head and hold my empty glass out towards her in silent request for a refill. She easily puts it back to rights once again and it’s almost as if she’s happy to ply me with alcohol, not that I question it at the time. “No, I definitely remember you gushing over him several times. Richard, right? But his last name was a little more interesting.” It’s obvious she’s trying to see if she can remember it from past conversations while I snort at her comment causing our eyes to meet. ] You’re one to talk, Melancon. [Wendy gives a slight shrug at that and waves me off. “Well it’ll be Mosby soon enough so there’s no need to go into all that. Now be honest, what was the story with that guy. I know I wasn’t there with you, but I’ve known you long enough to know there was a guy you were at least interested in.”

A heavy sigh escapes me unbidden and it’s as if my feelings and thoughts were just underneath the surface trying to get out. My voice is soft and low when I finally give in to Wendy’s questioning.] His last name was Espinosa, Richard Espinosa and we were both co-workers and living in the same building. [Turning from her penetrating gaze, I focus my own at the night sky and continue sipping my drink with regular frequency. Whereas I’m pretty sure Wendy had barely gotten halfway through her first one. It was as if Wendy saw the barely visible crack in my shell opening and decided to take a crowbar at it. The damn woman knew how to go for the kill. “Sounds like you two were very close then. How did he feel about you leaving the paper and moving back home?” A million things warred inside of me once she said those words and I can only imagine what my face looked like to her. Even so, all I was intent on doing was finishing my drink and keeping my mouth shut, but I was only actually able to do one of those things. As soon as I’d down the last of my second drink, I let out a harsh chuckle from all the darker thoughts collecting in my head.] I’m pretty sure he didn’t give a fucking damn since he was busy fucking another photographer when I got home one day. Nothing like coming home from a shitty day to just have life dump on you once again.

[Suddenly it was if the dam had broke and I didn’t care anymore about if the idyllic town of Mosby down at the bottom of the valley got wiped off the face of the earth by the flood of my emotions. In the morning, I’m sure I’d wonder just how much I’d had to drink to reach this point, but in the moment I had no fucks to give. I couldn’t even be bothered to register the shock on Wendy’s face as I grabbed the bottle of vodka and started drinking straight from it. The words flowing out of me between each gulp as easily as the liquor I was consuming.] It wasn’t bad enough that I’d lost my job months before that to the fucking bitch who is sub-par at best. Or that he’d turn into a right dick holding money problems over my head and making me feel like shit. Or that I’d practically wanted to be with him since we met. Nope… I had to still see that shit. With baby vomit caked all down my blouse from this horrible interview at a portrait studio. And I thought that was the last drop into what has to be the darkest pit of my life. But then I had to come home, which was another blow all together, and go through all these horrible feelings and thoughts. Including having my best friend telling my brother what’s going on in my life when I’m pretty sure it was obvious that I didn’t want anyone knowing about it.

[I’m not sure when I’d started crying or reached the end of the bottle or stood up for that matter. However, I did know that my voice had raised so loud to the point that it cracked and I wasn’t sure how much longer I could go, but I wasn’t done yet while Wendy was just sitting frozen in her chair.] I’m almost 30 years old and I was fired from my job so I have to work at my old highschool job, I’m no closer to finding someone to share my life with after spending two years pining for an assclown and I’m so goddamn broke that I have to live with my fucking parents. And I mean, I love them, but who wants to be a grown-ass adult living with their parents? I feel so fucking alone and lost, Wendy. So please don’t ask me if something is amazing because all I see in my future is the shitty fog I’m stuck in. [Slowly, I put the bottle down on the table and try to wipe the tears from my eyes, as if that will somehow help me get control during this meltdown. Already I’m regretting the verbal diarrhea and know that I’ve come too close to the unfriendly thoughts about my brother and best friend. The next words out of my mouth could either attempt to put the genie back in the bottle, sweep the dirt under the rug or completely burn my flimsy house of cards down. And with alcohol in the mix, it was anyone’s guess which one it would be.]

I love you Wendy, and I swear I’m happy that you and Jonah are happy. [Alright, seems to be going good.] But right now I just want to be alone… [Wait... wasn’t that what I was just going off about?] … by myself. With my thoughts… [Cause that’s done me so well so far. I’m not sure what side of me voiced that thought, but all the same it causes my eyes to drift to the whip cream flavored vodka bottle that Wendy had brought.] … and some more liquor. [Without giving another thought to my shell-shocked best friend, I pick the bottle up from the table and head inside. Somehow, there’s just enough presence of mind to lock the door before heading down to the ground floor where my bed is and I know there’s a bottle of orange soda. My focus solely on having the alcoholic equivalent of a Dreamsicle and drinking until I forget all the other shit in my life. God knows I’ll regret so much of this in the morning and for days, probably weeks to come. But all that mattered at the moment was drowning out everything, including the sound of Wendy talking to someone outside on the patio. I’d deal with the repercussions later.]

#WhenTheDamBreaks #EJMosbySL #EJ-Mosby

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