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rumblelibrary · 3 years ago

Note

I'm not sure if you have already done something like this before, and if you did, please let me know, I'd love to read it, BUT I was wondering if you could do a little thing, maybe with Sebastian Zöllner, where he is like totally behind on every fucking deadline, work is just piling up, he got into stress with his ex, the dishes are not done, he should go take out the trash, you know, everything is just piling up and he just cracks under the pressure, severely doubting his worth as a person. And his friend, the reader, gotta try their best to build him up again, telling him all the things they love about him, and it slowly turns into a love confession without them noticing.

Is this too elaborate, does that make sense for Seb? Idk. To me it does? Like he's always very...Seb around other people, but deep down I feel like he's always under this pressure to live up to his own and others expectations, wanting to be big and famous and perfect in a way.

I'm so sorry, brain go brrr.

Never Enough [Sebastian Zöllner x Reader]

Word Count: 4k Warnings: bad habits (heavy smoking and drinking), self deprecation, depression and some fluff in the end. A/N: I loved this prompt, I love to write Sebastian so thanks to you once more for giving me this opportunity

He should have probably realised something was wrong when the ashtray was vomiting cigarettes out from its dooming position beside the laptop.

He nervously used the left part of the one he just ended to scavenge some space and just pressed it along the others.

Or maybe when after another sip of the same cold coffee mixed with cheap gin he felt the walls of his stomach revolting and stirring against him, threatening a much bigger damage.

Or, again, when he felt like calling back Elke because he was so alone and he was hungry and tired, and she might hate him but he could pull some puppy eyes and maybe it would work. It usually did.

The truth was that he shouldn’t have taken up so many jobs, but the bank account was crying and he needed them, he needed the money.

But again: writing about the umpteenth girl- artist performing naked on a famous historic location?

Or do we have to talk about the way somebody splashed some colour here and there on a canvas saying it is the catharsis of his young mind against the social construct?

Please, may God spare him from the man calling himself landscape artist because he takes pictures of naked girls on a field.

Charged up with this amount of nothingness, he could just write and delete, write and delete, words count going quickly up to 400 only to go back at 0 in a snap of his fingers over the buttons, because he couldn’t just tear them down. He had to give them some hope, a glimpse of potential he couldn’t see and he wasn’t even aware it existed. Each of them disgusted him, but he was specifically asked to be entertaining and not a killer with his words.

So he kept swiping up videos and photos of these artists, trying to find one thing, one holy grail to get attached to and finally write one good optimistic line in the middle of the words he had to pull up to keep a moderate tone.

He rubbed his temple running over his hairline, which by the way was perfectly fine, before his hand reached down and he touched his t-shirt pulling on the neckline to gather some air, he was wearing his pyjama still, white stained shirt on blue tartan pants. He raised up the shirt and bowed his head down giving in a long inhale from the inside and just cringed to himself.

He looked around as he couldn’t stand up, if he did then he will get only more distracted and these articles needed to be ready for tomorrow.

He noticed the spray against the mosquitos on the floor, those little bastards always hiding under his desk to bite his ankles, he picked it up and sprayed it over himself like it was perfume hoping to ignore the need of a shower for few more hours.

His eyes scanned the small studio flat he was living now: the dishes sticking out of the sink, the noisy fridge buzzing. The one table that was also his work desk filled with used mugs, stained plates covered in cigarettes and leftovers, empty packages of his favourite brand discarded everywhere: from the bathroom up to the couch and to the small bed he owned. Damn, if he run out of cigarette it will be hard to ignore how he also run out of food.

The space was dark and gloomy, some of his stuff still packed up, the fake pop art panting of him and Elke staring at him reminding him of his other loss.

He didn’t touch the bed in days, he just slept on the seat or on the couch.

His attention was attracted by his phone buzzing.

He sat up straight as it was her, it was Elke.

Did she sense his discomfort?

“Elke” he picked up the call in a second.

“Wow, a quick answer, did you have your phone already in your hand or it happens just so late at night?”

Her sarcasm did’t go past him, but he just thought how long it was since he heard a human voice and not the recording of some idiot calling himself artist.

“No, I was thinking of you”

“Yes, sure, look I have sent you an email with the bills of the time you were here, the ones you have left to pay and it is only fair that you pay at least half of them”

“Sure” he just said it because he wanted to go past the point of money, he wanted her back. Maybe he could crush at her place, feel her hands through his hair, shower, sleep some good sleep and the articles will come around in few types “Elke, I was thinking we might…”

“I just called you for the bills”

“I know, but maybe we could have” his eyes darted at the top right of his laptop screen to see the time “a drink together?”

She huffed a laughter as he frowned lightly “I know you Seb, if it is money or sex what you’re looking for that door is closed and it has been for a long time”

“I know” he murmured as he let out a breathy sigh, a dooming sense of loneliness creeping over him like a giant spider ready to wrap him up and eat him “I just hoped…”

“Don’t hope Sebastian, you’re already an hopeless cause”

She hung up on him and he was left there, he kept that same pose with his phone against his ear. His eyes trailing once again over the empty page of his document on the screen, on the chaos surrounding him.

He nibbled on his bottom lip before running his tongue over the pained area.

He pushed the phone back down on the table with a tremble of his jaw and a shaky hand.

She was right.

What he did of his life anyway? He lost most of his occasions in life, he was now in his thirties and he concluded nothing of what he hoped to be, he failed in all the departments both as an artist and as a critic.

A jack of all trades is a master of none, and maybe only the first type of the famous quote could be applied to him.

He couldn’t even take the trash out or he couldn’t remember the last time he ate something that was vaguely resembling of fruits or vegetables. It is all good when you imagine yourself as a bohemian rooting against the world, when you convince yourself that’s only the proof you needed to know you are fighting well against a system of art that privileges banality and marketing over real artistic value and that, one day, all your struggles will be worth it.

Even Picasso was poor for a long time in Paris.

Damn, maybe to be in a situation like this in Paris would sound more romantic.

But the truth was: he never imagined to have to do it alone, that life would feel so overwhelming, that there wouldn’t be anything but extreme struggle, anger, loneliness and a terrible diet.

For a moment he wished to be a baby again, to be the bright boy he was and let mommy take care of his needs and his dirty shirt and empty stomach. He wished that maybe somebody noticed him before, that somebody saw his talent and helped him to pull it out instead of leaving him to do it on his own only to come late to every step.

And now it is too late, he is lost in the sea of terrible paid jobs and anguishing relationships, let’s not forget maybe he indeed had a receding hairline and he was doomed to get bold .

He squeezed his eyes as a soft sob took over his lip, hand running over his forehead as he pulled on his hair justifying his tears with some physical pain. He shook his head as he tried to gain back some composure, hand flung over to pick up his coffee mug and giving in a long gulp of the coffee, the same one he swore before to not touch again, only to almost choke on it, couching it out only to pick up the bottom hem of his shirt to clean his laptop screen.

He fucking hated to write on a computer, the old typewriters inspired him but that damn ink was too expensive now for his sore pockets.

He smirked to himself as he kept doing it, finding good excuses to call himself off any responsibility. But maybe Elke was right, well she surely was, she had two degrees, maybe he was really a lot cause. He frowned as he wiped slowly the screen with his already stained shirt, the wetness sticking then against his skin as soon as he let it go giving him another shiver.

He didn’t have even the strength to cry, he could only accept it was over.

The curse that he shouted out loud when he heard knocking at the door, smashing him out of his thought spiral, generated an immediate anger reaction from him.

“Fuck, shit, if it is the fucking neighbour, I swear I will kill her cat or that rat she has as cat, fucking hell”

He grumbled as he stood up moving across the table not caring about his state, he only wanted to crawl back into a ball and maybe nuzzle a bit somewhere.

When his death glare appeared after the door opened in a powerful swing his eyebrows lifted immediately finding you on the other side.

He blinked, one of those sleepy blinks where somebody closes his eyes and then opens them really wide to make sure it is not made up in their brain, that one.

His eyebrows furrowed as he stared at you

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

“You should wash your mouth with holy water Sebastian” you said shaking your head raising your arms to show him some paper bags “I am bringing food and body shower”

He shook his head ��Are you calling me stinky?”

“I am” You quickly replied moving past him into his place ignoring his groan.

He stood by the door slowly closing it, he was sure that old bitch was looking through her peephole, only then he stared at you try to make your way into the filthy kitchen. He was really embarrassed about his antics, but surely this time he exceeded some record.

“I am speechless Seb, I helped you with the moving and this place seems to have taken over you” you said as you knew he was in some rut when he kept such a long phone silence.

He was usually always texting, sending memes or one sentence texts.

You cared about him, deeply, you knew he was full of flaws and little quirks, but that’s what made him special. Nevertheless, you were worried about the state of the place, how it showed the way he let himself get dragged through the days. So he observed you, better to say, your back, the way you moved around opening the window to let fresh air inside, turning on a lamp to make some light that wasn’t just the blue one of the screen. Pulling out commodities and food from your magic bags like some sort of Mary Poppins of struggling writers. How you poured soap in the dirty load of dishes and pans, the way you marched securely to his desk to pick up that filthy mug and you frowned just sniffing at it.

“Is that poison?”

“Rat poison” he corrected you.

You shook your head as you cleaned a glass and filled it with water and among the groceries you pulled out a banana.

“Have this now, it will help” you said and he took the glass with one hand and the banana with the other like his brain was shut down.

He stared at you as you leaned your head slightly on side, he went through bad times after the break up but you had never seen him in such a helpless state.

He was chaotic but he always loved to keep up his appearance, to give that handsome and damned kind of vibe.

“Sebastian” you called him as his eyes spaced out and now where back on you “Are you alright?”

He observed you, he stared at your face like he was trying to recognise you, truth it was he kept pushing himself to say yes, say yes, say it is all good, make a joke, a remark, keep it up. You don’t need his burden, you don’t need to hate him like Elke and others do.

Just say yes.

“No” he said as his lips trembled and you watched his ironic mask fall right in front of you as he looked away hiding his tears, real tears, not the ones he can play out whenever he needs.

Just as quickly as you gave him the banana and the water you took them off his hands afraid he might hurt himself by dropping the glass in particular.

"Seb" you called his attention as he sobbed moving like a bird trying to hide his face against his own shoulder.

You took his now empty hands dragging him toward the couch and kicking off the pile of dirty clothes and discarded books on top of it to make him sit down with you.

"Talk to me"

He didn't, the man that was never out of words, even in the times he should have been, was now silent as a tombstone staring away from you as you gave a gentle squeeze to his hands. It pained you to see him in such a state.

So weak, so helpless like a lost child.

"I can't help you if you don't talk"

Sebastian shook his head still staring at the wall.

"You can't help me"

"Is it about writing? I can proof read you, it will be a moment"

He shook his head again making, hair bouncing from side to side.

"No, it is not important if I write or not"

You frowned at that comment.

"What the hell?" you just blurted out "Seb you're a talented writer, you're passionate, funny, witty, why shouldn't it be important?"

He looked up at you shaking his head "I can't write, I can't put together two sentences"

Your eyes travelled onto his side profile, truth to be told he looked worn out but he was still handsome like only Sebastian Zöllner could be. He had that chaotic charm, even with a wrinkled suit he was fearless, strong, poignant. You couldn't avoid him, he owned every place he stepped in and you could feel his gaze run through your bloodstream.

When he asks a question, he meant it, it was a test run into your bones and you loved every second of it.

His lips tightened as he diverted his gaze finally to you. You knew his relationship with Elke was important, he cared about others even if he didn't show it daily like most people do.

"Is it Elke?"

"No, she was just right"

"About what?"

He gulped, his throat dry as he pulled his bottom lip in his mouth grinding his teeth over it like playing something through that gesture.

"About me"

"Breakups are always shit, don't you even.."

"No Y/N" he interrupted you, he was serious, maybe his voice trembled but he wasn't lying or playing some role "I am really a lost cause, I mean look at his place"

His hand waved around the small flat like a drunk orchestra director.

"It is pure trash, I haven't finished unpacking, I didn't have food until you came, I am unable to look after myself, to look after the people that I care about. I worked so hard to be an artist and then I became a critic and now I am so knee deep into my own shit that I have more debts than entries, more failures than successes, more haters than friends"

He gulped down, the waterline of his eyes dangerously red and he sniffled up as he let out a little weak whisper "I just wish I could disappear"

"No"

It came out of you like a lighting bolt, it surged out of you before you could even elaborate. Like an order. A command.

"Seb, you're now in a rough patch of life, but you have always worked hard and well as a writer"

"I am a writer because I failed as an artist"

"You're a writer because you know of what you're talking about, because you're able to see the difference between marketing and passion, between hard work and laziness, because you respect that profession and it makes you the best critic"

"I just want to destroy them all because I am envious, Elke always said I am fuelled by my own envy”

"I have read pieces of yours only encouraging the rightful and bringing down the real frauds"

He shook his head as he was just fixating on the wrong, on the flaws, on the problems.

You huffed cupping his cheeks to force him to look at your eyes.

"Look at me" you said not admitting replies "you are talented in what you do, you are one of the best in your field and you're not on some big magazine only because they know they will have to put up with your shit: with the fact you always meet the people, you look at art pieces in presence, you touch them, you research the colours, you scrutinise everything to the bone"

He took your hands hating to be held like that but he squeezed them in his owns.

"And yes, you're allergic to ironing clothes and washing dishes is your personal nightmare, and yes, you give out many temper tantrums and have a terribly dark sense of humour, you are a failure at time and money management, you love filthy rich stuff and smoke like your life depends on it"

He stared at you, he listened quietly as you knew him from so long and many people, Elke included, wondered what you gained from helping him or just being around him that much. He often teased his ex about being jealous of you and she always said that it was like being jealous of a mortgage.

"So you agree?"

"I agree to say you are flawed like all of us, that you are just the perfect balance to your writing, you're what you write. You're passionate, you give out the two hundred percent of what you can give, you are like this, you go all-in in everything you do, there's no compromise, no mid way, no foreseeable change of direction, you speed up into the darkness and don't look back. You are bold, you take risks, you let people hate you because you do not compromise with who is son of who or who is the director of what gallery, you judge people over their real qualities. Because you talk to them in their face, because you don't hide that yes, you want to be great, because you're handsome and charming and smart, nobody can outsmart you in your field, not even that idiot you hate that much"

"Golo Fucking Moser" he murmured

"Golo Fucking Moser" you repeated with a chuckle "you don't have anything to envy to him beside the bruises he probably has on his knees for bending down to anyone"

He chuckled at that comment.

"And also, you're more attractive, that pisses off Seb, it is unfair to the poor man”

He leaned his head on side as you wouldn't normally shower him in compliments, he had enough ego for that, but you had never seen him like this and you wished to never see him again in such a state.

"You find me attractive?"

"Well for sure you're an eye candy" you joked

"I mean it"

You rolled your eyes blushing a bit and huffing a chuckle "I do, alight? It is universal knowledge"

He looked at you as he still held your hands in his, his thumbs making soft shapes over the back of your hand.

"That I am attractive or that you find me attractive?"

You groaned looking away with an embarrassed giggle “okay, okay, I see you're back in yourself, let's eat now"

You moved to stand up but he didn't do the same remaining sat in his spot.

"Tell me"

"I pumped your self esteem enough, now let me go"

He chuckled softly, he never really thought you'd be interested. He usually shows off so many bad traits that he has to tone himself down and really try hard to attract someone. It is all an effort on his part to appear better or at least less quirky.

And then now look at you, appreciating even his shit show.

"Y/N" he murmured giving you a soft squeeze. You kept silent not daring now to meet his gaze. He bowed his head trying to reach for your eyes with his gaze and he looked up at you, a smile that wasn't provocative over his lips.

You pulled back yanking your wrists off his grip to move straight into the kitchen corner.

You begun pulling ut some fresh vegetables and bread, you also got some cheese knowing he loves it, wanting him to have a good dinner.

He followed you almost immediately and soon you found his arms grasping you once more in a hug, his chest pressed against your back, his forehead on your shoulder.

"Seb, you..."

"I know, I stink, just give me a moment" he said and you obliged him gently caressing his arms around you.

You hated to be in the friend zone, but you wouldn't be able to survive to lose him forever or to have him joke about it.

Now he was quiet, tender like a hurt pup.

"Thank you, you know you can count on me too, right? For anything” he said and you chuckled softly “I know, you’re my favourite avenger”

He nodded brushing his crisp beard against your cheek and after few minutes stuck in that hug he dropped a kiss on your neck "love you”

He pulled back giving you a smile as he picked the shower gel you left on the counter bringing it with himself to the bathroom with a soft hum.

You smiled a bit bitterly to yourself as you guessed it was meant in a friendly way, but today it was alright. You could endure it. Also that kiss, he always did it when he was drunk, at parties or in the taxi back home after a viewing. It was his cuddly way to say things without saying them, without rambling, and you appreciated that silent language.

Maybe now he was drunk over his own feelings.

Just like you.

Tagged @cazzyimagines @lieutenantn @handmaiden-of-mischief @thesunflowersutra @zemomybeloved @fictionlandslanddreams @charistory @greeneyedblondie44 @apparrio @hb8301 @whatawildone @rhymerhymerhyme @thehuiabird @lilith-blackrose @unbeatablecurlgirl @obsidianlaszlo @alindeluce @zemosimp05 @baronesszemo-blackwood @nocapesdahling @everythingbeginsineternity-blog @archangelproperty

#sebastian zöllner #sebastian zöllner x y/n #sebastian zollner x y/n #sebastian zollner x reader #sebastian zöllner x you #sebastian zöllner x reader #sebastian zöllner headcanon #sebastian zollner #daniel brühl #daniel bruhl #daniel bruehl #ich und kaminski #ich und Kaminski fanfiction #tw: depression #tw: self deprecation

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mm2305 · 4 years ago

Text

All That Matters

Characters/pairings : Ethan Ramsey & Olivia Valentine

Words/Genre : 2.8 K / Angst , Romance

Warnings : mentions of death,injuries

Summary : Olivia gets seriously injured. How does Ethan react?

A/N : Hello again! This fic was written per @groovypalacehorselover ‘s request. This is the first time I’m attempting to write angst , so I hope this comes out good enough. A big THANK YOU to @romewritingshop for her help in editing this. Moodboard inspired by @potionsprefect 's ones.

Disclaimer : all characters and pictures belong to the rightful owners

My Masterlist

Enjoy!

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

Ethan was frantically rushing through the hospital corridors. Dread and anxiety flooded his mind that he could barely breathe. There was no way he would allow it to stall him. Pushing himself to go as fast as he could to get to the farthest wing of the hospital, he slammed the double doors ahead open.A group of interns were nattering amongst themselves,oblivious to the frantic attending approaching them. A thundering voice broke them out of their trance.

"OUT OF MY WAY!", he boomed at them, as he was approaching closer.

The interns, startled by him, broke apart allowing him to pass through them. What made them wonder though, was the clear, unadulterated emotion in his eyes. He looked as though his world was slowly crumbling around him. And they weren't wrong.

2 Hours Earlier

Olivia was finishing up her rounds for the day. In a few hours she’d be home, snuggled with her favorite throw blanket, watching a movie on Netflix while Ethan would complain incessantly about her taste in movies. She had to visit her last patient, a sweet seven year old boy named Nathan.

His diagnosis was a difficult case to solve and this made young Nathan restless. His mom came to stay with him in the evening but she had to go to work early in the morning. The poor boy was often bored out of his mind, taking adventurous strolls through the hospital, without telling anyone. There were several instances that she and a few nurses had to track him down, but still Nathan continued doing that. She couldn’t really blame the poor kid. Today was just one of those days.

Olivia walked to the nurses' desk, to ask about Nathan.

"Hello Sarah, did you happen to see Nathan? I think he snuck out of his room again."

"Dr Valentine! No, I haven't. Maybe you should ask Mary. She might have an idea where Nathan is.", The nurse replied with a soft smile.

"Okay, thank you!"

She left the reception in search of Mary. Before long, she found her in one of the halls.

"Hi Mary, I was wondering if you've seen Nathan?", She inquired politely.

"Dr Valentine! I was just looking for you. I think I saw the kid heading towards the halls leading to the new wing."

"The new wing? Isn't that under construction?", Olivia asked, an audible tremor in her voice.

"Yes?"

"Oh God! Come on! We need to find him now!", she said, a feeling of worry and dread filling her. The new wing Bloom designed was essentially a plan to enlarge the facilities available for research. From what she heard, it wasn't safe to roam around the place without any safety gear. It was too dangerous to go there, especially for a young boy like Nathan, but she won’t let him fall to harm.

After a few minutes of darting around and asking everyone they encountered, Mary and Olivia got the same response. They saw a kid among these halls at some point. By the time they reached the site, Olivia and Mary began calling for him.

"Nathan? Are you here?"

"Nathan? Nathan come here, it's me, Dr Olivia"

No answer. Either he wasn't here or he just couldn't hear them clearly. The two women began to slow down their pacing steps as they carefully tread through the congested building site, all while calling for the young boy.

"Dr Oliv?", They heard a small shaky voice calling.

Olivia knew it was him and rushed towards the direction of the voice. Mary, hot on her heels, noticed him first.

"He's there!", She exclaimed, running to his side and checking over him for any injuries.

Olivia began walking towards them, relieved that Nathan was okay,when she heard a cracking noise. She quickly realized that the wall, they were close to, was about to collapse! With a sudden burst of adrenaline, she rushed towards them and pushed them away from the wall. She smiled softly at them before she heard a bigger *crack* and everything went black.

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

MEANWHILE

Ethan was sitting at his computer, in his office, looking through files and updating the information onto his computer. Truth be told though, he was too distracted by a certain resident to concentrate on his current task.

Him and Olivia have been together for a little more than three months and he was happier than he had been in a long time. She really had the power to turn the worst of days better with just a smile.

She started coming to his house after work, in fact it’s almost like she had permanent residence in his heart and place. She spent most of the time there with him, just being together. Cooking, watching tv, playing ridiculous board games she always won. It was all very domestic and Ethan always felt his heart swell with love for her, at how at ease she felt being with him, in the place he now considered a home.

Glancing at the clock, he realised their shifts would end soon but he was too impatient. With a soft sigh, he turned off his computer and walked out of his office ,towards the front desk.

"Good afternoon, have you seen Dr. Valentine?", he asked a nurse he knew she frequently talked to.

"Dr. Ramsey! Yes, she was here a little while ago, she was looking for her young patient, Nathan. He has a habit of sneaking out of his room, you see - Wait a minute please!", she paused to answer the phone.

"Bloom Edenbrook Hospital how can I help you? Mary? What?! I’m sending the team right away!"

The woman, Sarah, turned to Ethan with a flurry of panic coursing in her eyes.

"Dr Ramsey, it was the nurse who was with Dr Valentine. They found the boy at the construction site! When they reached for him… a nearby wall collapsed on them!"

"What!? Oh my… No no no… Wh-What else did she tell you? Tell me!", he demanded, his eyes glossed with panic, the usual pink hue of his face drained as he turned as white as a sheet, his breathing in short stuttered gasps.

"Olivia ... was hit worst." Sarah whispered on the verge of tears.

"Page Mirani, Delarosa and the best nurses this damn hospital has! Understood! I'm going there now!"

Before she had a chance to reply, he was already off in search of his Olivia.

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

PRESENT TIME

Ethan continued running through the maze of corridors, his eyes full of unshed tears.

"Not her, please not her! Don't take her from me! Please!", Ethan wasn't by any means a religious man, but the fear of losing the woman he loved made him pray to whoever could hear his agonized thoughts. The one person on this earth for whom he would give anything for, was again in grave danger. Memories from the last time she was at the brink of death flooded his mind, knocking the breath out of his lungs. How fragile she looked and to know he couldn't do anything to save her, other than watch her become progressively weaker and her radiant smile, the one that could lighten up a whole room, fade away. "No, don't do this right now Ethan. Focus on her. Only her.", he thought, nodding to himself while pushing the last hurdle of doors open. His eyes quickly scanned the room, trying to locate her.

He finally saw her.

She was lying on the floor pieces of rubble around her. She was unconscious, her eyes closed, her golden hair around her face. As he rushed to her side, whilst avoiding the scattered materials, he saw a small patch of blood on the side of her head.

He knelt beside her, being careful not to move her, in fear of causing more damage to her body. He took her small, still warm, hand in his and softly began to stroke her cheek and hair.

"Darling? Olivia? It's me, Ethan. Please Olivia, can you hear me?", his voice wavered at the sight of her blood on his fingers from stroking her hair and a few tears were finally breaking through.

Her eyes fluttered as a soft little gasp left her lips.

"E-Ethan?", she whispered, her voice hoarse and barely audible.

"Yes, Love it's me."

"I… it hurts.. I can't…", she croaked but it was too difficult for her to breathe properly, the dust hovering in the air wasn'tmaking this any easier. Ethan noticed this and pushed her head slightly back, to allow her to breathe better.

"Shh darling I know… I'm here love, I'm not going anywhere...Please sweetheart don't give up on me… please…I can't lose you", Ethan whispered, stroking her cheek softly, trying to be strong for her.

Olivia fell unconscious once again, her chest taking short ragged breaths. He pried his eyes away from her to look around the room. A woman was in the corner with a crying child in her arms, trying to comfort him.

" Hi… Are you okay? Did you get hurt?" he asked them as he approached them.

"Nothing too bad. Might just be a sprained wrist and a couple of scratches. Nathan’s fine too, just shocked. Dr. Valentine…. she … she got the worst of it.", she replied with tears in her eyes.

Ethan didn't have a chance to reply as the team arrived. They immediately got down to work, not even hesitating to lose a minute, paying Ethan no attention.

"Get her on the gurney carefully! One mistake and you're fired!" Zaid commanded, with a fiery stern voice at the team of nurses.

"Zaid, she's got a cut on the side of her head and she's bleeding. I don't see anything too serious but we should order a scan. Shortness of breath indicates one or two fractured ribs and her left ulna and radius might be broken, given the swelling.", Ines said with evident concern and fear thick in her voice.

"Let's get some scans and see exactly what's going on", Zaid replied, trying to be as calm as possible, in this case. Olivia was his colleague,but more importantly she was his friend and he wouldn't allow anything to happen to her. Not on his watch.

"I'm coming with you!", Ethan interrupted their conversation.

"You're not in the right state of mind to help her now!"

"Zaid’s right about this. She needs you to be calm and focused when she wakes up.", Ines told him resting a comforting hand on his shoulder.

Ethan had no choice but to reluctantly agree.

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

Several hours later, Ethan was pacing anxiously in front of the room Olivia was checked into. The night doctors were there checking on her. As soon as they heard what happened, her friends joined Ethan in the waiting room, to hear news about her condition. Sienna when she saw her best friend in that state, immediately broke down, Aurora and Elijah trying to comfort her. Bryce, Rafael and Jackie, were mostly silent, their minds running through endless scenarios of what could happen to the most courageous woman they knew.

She had a broken hand, three broken ribs; one of which was pressing too close to her lung; causing her difficulty in breathing smoothly. This required a minor surgery, which was conducted by Harper herself. She wouldn't let anyone else touch the woman she had come to consider a friend. Her head injury, thankfully, wasn't too bad, but there was a possibility of a mild concussion. The whole hospital was there to help Olivia in whatever way she needed. From nurses to interns to anyone she had always been kind to.

Now, Ethan was waiting outside of her room alone, because her friends left a few minutes ago. She wouldn't wake up for a few hours and they made sure she would be completely okay before they left. Besides, they knew that Ethan wouldn't leave her side. That is, once he got to finally see her.

Thirty agonizing minutes later, he was finally allowed to go into her room. His eyes glided across her small form on the hospital bed. The side of her head was wrapped in white gauze, because of the injury there. Her left arm was in a cast and placed on a pillow to make her more comfortable. She was hooked to an IV, her body seeming too delicate on the hospital bed. Her face was in a serene slumber, her body was still under the influence of the drugs she was given during and after her surgery.

Ethan took her soft hand in his, kissing her knuckles and looking tearfully at her.

"My love… You scared me so so much… When that nurse told me you were hurt… I thought I was going to lose you. Again.", He started talking to her, even though she couldn't hear him, he was baring his heart to her. Letting the tears he was holding on to fall.

"Finding you there, lying unconscious… was unbearable. Knowing that you may be gone forever, never being able to touch you, or see your beautiful smile, hear your awful jokes again… I’ve never believed in a higher power, but if there is a being that saved you, then I am grateful. Because, without you, none of this matters. You're my whole world Oliv. And this world means nothing to me if you’re not here darling", he finished , laying a soft kiss on her lips.

He stayed with her for a few hours, having no intention of leaving her, but Naveen forced him to go get a coffee and something to eat. Of course, Naveen promised he would stay there with her while Ethan was away.

On his way back to her room, he encountered Leland Bloom. "Great, just who I wanted to see", Ethan thought, resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

"Ah Dr. Ramsey. I was just coming to find you. How is Dr. Valentine?", he asked with a facade of interest.

"She’s in her room resting. Still unconscious though, because of the anesthesia from her surgery. Now if you'll excuse me", Ethan curtly replied, walking past Leland, anxious to return to her room.

"I was hoping to come with you, actually. I wanted to ask you, will she make a full recovery?"

"Not that it's any of your business, but yes, in a couple months she will probably be alright.", Ethan gritted his teeth, retraining his seething anger at how intrusive this man could be.

"Probably? You're not certain? If her recovery takes so long, then she will be left behind in the hospital's advances. Pity… she was actually going to be one of the key assets to the progression of the hospital's success.", Leland said, not having noticed or probably caring about Ethan's expression.

Ethan couldn't believe what he was hearing. The way he spoke of Olivia. His Olivia. A human being, as though she was nothing but a tool to be used. He clenched his fists, blood coursing through his veins, ears ringing, face and neck flushed red with anger, trying to resist the immense urge to punch him square in his arrogant face.

"How DARE you talk that way about a human being who was seriously hurt? She could have been fucking killed and all you have to say is that she would be an asset to the success of the hospital? What kind of person are you, really? Do you see anything beyond your own selfish, moronic advancements?", Ethan turned to him abruptly, almost roaring, all the pent up emotions escaping him in this outburst towards this man.

Leland was stunned at his outburst, mouth gaping open for a second before he recollected himself. The two of them had become the center of attention as the nurses and doctors were forming a small circle, staring at the two men.

"I would best advise you against speaking to me like that Dr. Ramsey. I'm the one who is in charge here and I expect you to treat me with respect. Now, I understand you are under pressure right now since your partner was hurt, so I'm willing to look past this little tantrum. See you soon, Dr Ramsey." he replied, walking away from Ethan, who was stalking his way down the corridor to Olivia’s room, unbothered by Bloom’s words.

The only person in this world whose words mattered, laid in a hospital bed right now, and he vowed he would not spend any more precious time away from her. Because despite what life throws at them, all that matters is that his Rookie ... his Olivia ... his true love will be alright. They will be alright. Together.

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

Thank you for reading !!!

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vyladromeave · 4 years ago

Text

Mr. Zvahl has updated!

(Yes! Literally over a year later! Longer a/n on the actual ao3 page, if you want more of an explanation!)

CHAPTER 7: Plummet

Read the full thing on AO3!

•

Two weeks had passed since he had rejoined the Overworld, and he was finally starting to find a place in town. He spent most of his time simply watching over the village- that was something he had always been good at, after all. Sometimes he had tea with Zoey, and sometimes she had him run some errands for her. It was mostly short, trivial things- he did herb gathering too, but now only with her supervision to make sure nothing too disastrous would happen again (He was finally recovering from the fiasco from last time. He normally wasn’t so bad with nature, but the area around Phoenix Drop had changed so much...), though nothing terrible had happened yet.

Dante stopped by to chat from time to time, he figured partially because Vylad was the newest thing to happen to the dying town, and partially because he was still trying to figure out Vylad's whole story. The questions he had already asked were clearly not enough to satisfy him. His cover-story had become a bit more complicated, but it was nothing he couldn't handle. Dante was very clearly trained to be a guard, not to subtly interrogate people, and he was easy enough to deflect and mislead. He hadn't spoken with Levin in depth again- he was too busy for Vylad to even consider stopping by- though he had managed to inform him about his plans to stay for now. Kawaii~Chan waved whenever he passed by her. And Zoey had made good on her word, he found a small cake in the tree near the branches he climbed often to get to his little perch a couple days ago. It was very good. Dante and his child were extremely lucky to have someone like her.

His makeshift tree-branch home was as shabby as ever. He supposed it was somewhere on his list of things to address in Phoenix Drop, although he wasn't quite sure what to do about it and where to start. Calling it a "home" was really giving it too much credit, since all it really consisted of was just a blanket laid on top of one of the further branches in the tree. (The blanket was a gift from Zoey. She disliked that he decided to live on a tree branch instead of in one of the many empty houses, though she couldn't really stop him. However, she could give him a blanket so he would look "less cold all huddled up there," and who was he to refuse?) He liked it well enough, but it was a bit pitiful. If he really was going to stay here for some time, perhaps he'd need something a bit more permanent.

He began to shift- he had the day mostly to himself, no favors for Zoey to run, and Dante seemed fairly occupied, as he usually was. Maybe today was the day he would fix up his so-called home. It was still a bit odd to call this place a home though- he'd never expected to stay here for so long in the first place. Maybe that was why he hadn't gotten around to getting a proper living area. The idea of a permanent residence here... scared him? No... that wasn't right, and if it was then he'd never admit it, not even to himself. He could hear the twins playing below the tree, as they often did. Their playful yelling motivated him to sit up from here he was laying against the branches, prepared to begin work on a more suitable place for himself.

But he was not prepared enough.

The moment she shifted on his branch, the one he had been living on and sleeping on for weeks, the branch that never intended to be stood on in the first place, the one too high and too thin to ever properly support extra weight for so long, creaked loudly underneath him as he shifted. He went completely still. After a long pause, he moved ever so slightly towards the base of the tree, only to stop at an even louder whine from the branch beneath him. The twins had stopped playing beneath him.

He froze again. This was bad. Very bad. Shadowknight or not, a fall from this height would certainly injure him, would maybe even kill him if he had been just a normal human. Surviving a fall from such a height would only raise more questions from the others, and he was on thin enough ice with them already. And if just surviving the fall was bad enough, the thought of the others realizing what he was when his injuries inevitably healed faster than they should...

He looked down at the ground that was so far beneath him. Everyone would know. He felt a pounding in his ears. Everyone will know what a monster he is. He could feel the branch peeling itself apart beneath him. Everyone will know just how much he's been lying to them.

He’d always known he was a monster. But for once, he was scared of being seen as such.

Staying still on the branch only caused it to groan under his weight, and moving only seemed to make it fall apart even faster. In his panic and adrenaline-filled mind, only one thought remained.Jump.He doesn't even register the moment his feet leave the wood, just the snap that resounds from the large branch splitting apart beneath him. His hand brushes against another bough and he reaches out, but he's not quite high enough and can't grab onto the underside of it.

He’s falling.

He felt nothing but the wind biting through his clothes, and the occasional jab from bundles of leaves that smacked into him. He was falling fast- too fast to grab anything now. There was only one way left out of this for him, he needed to teleport. He hadn’t done so since his escape from the Nether- wasn’t even sure if he still could- but he knew it was the only way he could stop his momentum and land safely. There wasn’t enough time to think about who could be watching, he needed to focus, needed to concentrate now, needed to stop his fall before the ground did so for him.

He cleared his head and the world faded away around him. The seconds blended together. He closed his eyes, forced a clear picture into his mind of the ground beneath him, focused on nothing but the thought of it.

And suddenly he was gone.

He landed hard on the ground, though he knew his teleportation must have worked because nothing felt broken when he landed. Regardless, the impact from the landing leaves the wind knocked out of him, and he’s barely able to force himself to his feet. He leaned against the base of the tree and breathed heavily- that was much too close of a call for his comfort. And since when was teleporting so difficult for him? Sure, it’s hard to focus when you’re falling to your doom, but it felt… different than before. The teleportation itself felt the same, but it was hard for him to gather enough power to do so in the first place.

He pushed the thought aside. Maybe there was more to it, but if he had lost some of his magical capability in exchange for his escape from the Nether, then so be it. It wasn’t something he especially valued, and he had been prepared to lose much more important things to escape that place. He made a mental note to be more cautious with any other Shadowknight abilities he might have to use in the future while catching his breath. But for now, he simply brushed himself off, picked some of the twigs and leaves out of his hair. Someone would most likely come to check on the disturbance, and he had to make sure he didn’t look like he hadn’t just fallen out of a tree and slammed into the ground.

~~~

When she wasn’t spending her time at Aphmau’s old house or studying the Irene portal, Zoey spent her time in her room at the Yggdrasil tree. She didn’t live up in the highest branches of the thing (like some crazy people), instead she had her own room among the lower branches. She loved the place, it had little pieces of all her various homes all rolled into one. The Yggdrasil tree itself reminded her of her Elven village, while a simple step outside her room offered a beautiful view of Phoenix Drop, the docks, and the ocean that bordered the town. Of course, she loved her room in Aphmau’s house almost as much as she loved Aphmau herself, but sometimes staying there was just… too much. She’d moved all of her ingredients and belongings from her old room at Aphmau’s house into the tree only a couple years after they’d disappeared, around the same time when she began focusing more on the possibility of getting them back.

Yggdrasil trees are strong and sturdy, and as long as you don’t move too high, they can house multiple buildings if constructed correctly. The Yggdrasil tree in town was also a makeshift guard tower for the town, since many of the preexisting ones were in disrepair. There were even some unoccupied rooms built into the thing. Levin and Malachi had lived with her in the tree before they’d decided to fix up the old Lord’s home, but now that they had moved out, the tree was usually empty save for her.

She liked working in her study at the Yggdrasil tree more than anywhere else. It could get a bit lonely, but she liked it that way. If anything, having ““Zvahl”” (she was almost certain that was not his real name, but he never gave anything else to go by.) also living in the tree meant it was more occupied now than it had been in quite some time. Though the stranger never bothered her unless she bothered him first, and that was fine with her. The quiet remained, and her research persisted.

That is, until a splitting crack echoed somewhere in the tree above her.

Startled, she stood up from her desk with a start. (She nearly closed her notebook out of habit, but left it open so the new ink on the pages could dry.) Was that the tree? It must have been, but… how? Why? She rushed to open the door and peered outside, just in time to see something falling through the branches at a high speed. Had a branch broken off of the tree? It’d been falling too fast for her to catch whatever it was, but what else would explain the noise?

She only realized what was truly wrong when a very familiar blanket, one she had gifted to a certain someone living above her in this very tree, floated down and caught itself on a bundle of leaves in front of her.

She ran.

No. No, this couldn’t be happening. He had to be ok. He had to be…

~~~

“Zvahl!”

He turned to see Zoey hurriedly running down the steps of the tree, skipping multiple at a time.

“Zoey. Hello. Sorry, were you studying? Did I disturb you?”

“Did you-” She kept pausing to take breaths between her words, she was still out of breath from running down the tree so fast. “-the branch- I heard it- did- did you fall?”

“No, not really. I almost did, but I caught myself before anything terrible happened...” Lying to the residents here had become easier, though that didn’t mean he felt any better about doing it.

“Oh- your blanket. It’s probably still caught somewhere in the branches. I should go get-”

“NO! Don’t you DARE go back up there! YOU COULD HAVE DIED!”

He was shocked to see her nearly moved to tears. She grabbed roughly onto the sides of his shoulders, and although it made him a bit uncomfortable, he tried not to back away.

“Are you hurt? We- I have medicinal herbs in my room, I can go get some, I-”

“Zoey… I told you, I’m fine. I didn’t fall, and I’m not hurt. There’s no need to be upset.”

That quieted her at least, but she wouldn’t stop staring at him, clinging to him as if he’d disappear if she let go.

“If… if you had died…” she hung her head. “I just… I don’t want to dig any more graves. Not here. Not now. Irene, I wouldn’t even know what name to write on yours…”

Was it that obvious he had given her a fake? That troubled him, but he tried not to let it show. (He was rather good at suppressing what he was thinking and how he was feeling. He had a lot of practice.)

He lightly rested a hand on her arm. “Zoey. It’s alright. Truly. Everything is fine.”

They stayed like that for a moment as Zoey fought back her tears. Eventually, she regained her composure, let go of him and wiped the sadness off her face.

“...Alright. I’m glad you’re ok. But… could you sleep in the guest room tonight, instead of the tree? You remember the guest room, right? The first one you stayed in, at Aphmau’s house? I know the odds of that happening again so soon are low, but… Just for tonight.”

“I… yes, I can do that.”

As he carried what little belongings he had to the guest room he had previously stayed in, he observed the quiet house. It was so perfectly Aphmau in every way, the purple-hued walls and quaint kitchen, worn wooden furniture kept alive with love and care. There was no questioning that it belonged to her, even though she was gone.

He’d never really had a home before, not in O’khasis and certainly not in the Nether. Sure, he lived there, but that didn’t mean he was welcome, didn’t mean he ever had a place that really felt like his own.

It could be nice, he thought, to have a place that was truly his. He didn’t need anything right away, in fact he didn’t need any place at all, but still...

Was that selfish? To want to belong in a place he would never truly be a part of?

Probably. Almost certainly. And it was a bad idea too, for multiple reasons. One of which being the danger of someone like him becoming attached to things. Another being he knew he would have to leave whenever Garroth, Aphmau, and Laurance returned from the Irene Dimension. He had always watched over this town from the shadows, it was unlike him to become so directly involved, and there was no way things would end well if he stayed. That, and he knew he'd never be able to face Garroth. Not really. And in case that wasn't enough of a reason, he also knew that his residing here would only attract trouble. Sooner or later, the monstrous truth of what he was would catch up with him. The people of this town were smart after all- they were already aware of his name being fake, who knows how little time he had left before they caught on to who he was? What he was?

So then why did the thought of leaving this place hurt?

He didn’t understand.

No. He knew perfectly why.

He’d already grown attached.

And for the first time in decades, he was terrified.

~~~

#vylad ro'meave #zoey taltatheil #zoey aphmau #aphmau zoey #Minecraft Diaries #Mr. Zvahl #zoey mcd #mcd zoey #zoey minecraft diaries #minecraft diaries zoey #mcd #long post #aiki writes

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coppicefics · 4 years ago

Photo

Masked Omens: Week One

New chapter here, or read from the start here!

(Right click picture and select ‘View Image’ or ‘Open Image In New Tab’ for hi-res version.)

[Image Description: Image 1 - A simple rendition of the Masked Singer UK logo, a golden mask with colourful fragments flying off of it. The mask has a golden halo and a golden devil tail protruding from either side. Below, gold text reads 'Masked Omens'.

Image 2 - A newspaper page from the Capital Herald, dated Saturday, 26th December, 2020. Full image description and transcription below the cut.]

The Capital Herald, Saturday 26th December 2020 News, page 11

GODLEIGH MANOR RESTORATION SET TO BEGIN YouTube Community Comes To The Rescue Of Historic House In Unprecedented Donation Spree Restoration work on Godleigh Manor, Little Dyvyn, is set to proceed at last after years of stagnation – thanks to an unexpected influx of donations from interested members of the public. A house has stood on the site since at least the early 13th century, but most of the current building was constructed in the 18th century by its then owner, Lord Michael Godleigh. It remained a private residence until 1914, when it was commandeered as a military hospital for officers injured in the First World War. When the war was over, the officers went home, but the Godleigh family had suffered severe losses, and those who had been involved in treating the injured officers had many bad memories associated with the place. What was left of the family moved out, and – barring the operation of a second temporary hospital during the Second World War – this once-busy house has remained empty and silent ever since. Left to its own devices, the house began to crumble. Water found its way through the roof, and weeds forced their way up through the floor. By the time the deed to Godleigh Manor was passed on to its current owner, Lucy Godleigh, in the mid-1990s, barely a few rooms were anything close to habitable. “I set up in a mobile home on the grounds,” Godleigh told The Capital Herald, “and basically just started trying to secure the few rooms that hadn't been completely exposed to the elements. Then I contacted a restoration expert to find out what could be done for the rest of it.” The experts' verdict wasn't what she wanted to hear. “There was no chance I could pay for it myself. The rest of the family opposed me moving back here; I was on my own. And to get the whole place back to the way it was, we were looking at anything from fifty million to three hundred million pounds. I was going to need help raising the funds, so I started campaigning. But it was slow going. Nobody's keen to put their hands in their pockets to restore a stranger's old family pile.” And, for over two decades, it seemed that a pile would soon be all that was left. Godleigh moved into Little Dyvyn, and the property was abandoned once more to the tender mercies of the elements and the frequent trespassers who came to explore. “I'd go up a few times a week, but it hardly seemed worth it. I'd all but given up. But then one of those visitors saved the day.” A YouTube personality known as Sergeant Shadwell, famed for his urban exploration videos and the occasional paranormal investigation, contacted Godleigh to ask to film in the house. “I said yeah, whatever, do what you like, it's a mess,” Godleigh recalled, “and he saved it. He saved my home.” Shadwell uploaded a video of Godleigh Manor in the last week of November. In it, he speaks frankly about the challenges and benefits of preserving such old buildings. “I don't know about there being ghosts here,” he tells viewers, “but there's a lot of wasted potential. Stately homes like this can and should be used, and it'd be a real shame for this one to crumble. I'll add a link to the fundraiser in the video description.” The Wytchfynder Army, as Shadwell's fans call themselves, have so far contributed £80m to the Save Godleigh Manor campaign. The fundraising page is filled with messages of encouragement and support, attached to donations ranging from £5 to £1500. Some donors have even explained that they raised the money through sponsored swims, bake sales, and car washes. “It's enough to get started, to make a really good start,” Godleigh explained, “I can't thank him – all of them – enough. They really came together to help me – a complete stranger – and it means so much, it really does.” So what's next for Godleigh Manor? First, says Godleigh, the surviving rooms will need to be stablised. Then the house's ground floor will be restored to its former glory, and Godleigh hopes to work with local historians to ensure that it is both a functional and educational space. “I won't charge people any more to use it than I need to cover the cost of maintaining it,” Godleigh said. “How can I? It's being restored by this huge community; it belongs to the community, and to Little Dyvyn. It's going to be a great space for everyone to enjoy.” Work is now set to begin on the Godleigh Manor restoration project as early as April this year, depending on local planning committee approval of plans first drawn up in 1998. MARY HODGES. To find out more, or to contribute to the renovation costs, visit www.savegodleighmanor.org.uk.

[Image Description: A sepia photograph of a large, grand house. Inset, a colour photograph of a hole in a wall, through which weeds can be seen growing. End ID.] [Caption] NEGLECTED: Godleigh Manor, pictured above in 1980, was once the heart of a thriving community. Inset, weeds grow in what used to be a service corridor to the rear of the main building. (Photo: Annie Spratt on Unsplash. Inset: E. Diop on Unsplash.)

THE NEWS IN NUMBERS 800 years of a house on the site 300 years in its current form 23 generations in the same family 29 bedrooms 40 acres of land £50m lowest estimated renovation costs £300m highest estimated renovation costs 198k subscribers to Wytchfynder 291 Wytchfynder videos 10 years Sgt Shadwell served in the Army £80m raised by the Wytchfynder Army £91m renovation funds raised so far 15 years estimated to complete renovation

[Image Description: a rectangular ad with a picture of Dr. Raven Sable. His name is signed beneath his photograph. Text reads: Don't settle for a balanced diet when you can have a SABLE DIET. End ID.]

Corner Cuppa with Esther James

[ID: Photo of a young woman's face. She has black hair cut into a bob, and slightly gothic makeup. End ID.]

Why do we know you? I'm the captain of the Red Roses, which is the England Women's Rugby Team. What are you passionate about? Rugby! Also, my girlfriend Jane (Adams, also on the squad), and my charitable causes, of course. I support the NSPCC and the Albert Kennedy Trust, in particular - both fantastic charities helping young people who've been let down, in many cases, by the people they should most be able to rely on. I'm really glad to be involved with them. What's your favourite holiday of the year? Pride! I love getting dressed up and going to the parades – most of the time Jane and I get to march, these days, which is great. Last year we even got to ride on a float at one of them, which was really surreal – we got to cover ourselves in rainbow feather boas and just have a laugh waving at people. What a great time! What's been your proudest moment? So far, it's a tie between coming out as bi in a press conference – which was really scary at the time but which led to such good things and such good conversations – and being made captain of the Red Roses. It's an honour just to be selected for the national side, but to be chosen to lead from such a talented group of women is even better. I was walking on air for a week! If you could do anything in the world once, what would it be? Only once? I'd hate to do something and enjoy it and never get to do it again. But, OK, hypotherically... Something completely different and mad, like getting up on a stage and performing a song like I really mean it, or bungee-jumping. What scares you? Bungee-jumping! Which is exactly why I'd like to do it. I think it's good to get out of your own head and your own comfort zone and just do something that scares you, if you can. What's your ideal day? Taking a day off of training and just lying on the sofa watching films with Jane for the whole day. We love what we do, but we don't get a lot of downtime to just relax and snuggle. But then, when we do get a day off, it's usually at the same time, so that's lovely; we're always together and it hasn't started getting on our nerves yet! If you could go anywhere in the world right now, with no complications or restrictions, where would you go? I've always wanted to go to the Eiffel Tower, but somehow whenever I end up in France I don't find the time. Jane's never been to Disneyland, so I think we'd have to combine the two if we got a no-holds-barred trip somewhere. And, obviously, I wouldn't exactly hate getting to meet Mickey again! What's the best advice you've ever been given? My gran was as tough as old boots, and proud of it. She once sat me down, when I was quite young, and she said, “Essie,” which is what she called me, “Essie, you'll do all right in life if you remember this simple rule. Make sure you keep your nose clean, but don't be afraid to get your boots dirty.” I'm not sure she meant me to take it quite so literally! But I think what she meant was, don't get into trouble unnecessarily, but don't be so scared of getting it wrong that you can't do anything right. That's stuck with me, I've held onto it all these years, and I think it's a good motto to live by. What's one thing you wish someone had told you when you were younger? I wish they'd told me it was OK that I fancied girls, that things were getting better. I think we've still got a long way to go, as a community, but I never could have dreamed that a bisexual woman could captain England when I was a little girl. Let alone that it would be me! Finally, what's one thing you'd like to tell younger people now? Be true to yourself, be true to your friends, and be kind. I think the world will turn out fine if we all just try to be kind to one another, above all. Next week's cuppa: Ligur Mortice, head of the Ligur fashion house.

[End of page.]

#masked omens #very much fake news #mo week one #fanart

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stanuary · 5 years ago

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Spark

(submitted by Quill)

It isn’t a thread, one beginning leading neatly (however tangled it may be) to one end. It’s a mechanism, built from pieces that most people would never think to fit together. (Like all Sparkwork.) * One piece is a conversation overheard, stating that madboys can only be equals if they are rivals. Stanley builds into his worldview that he is Ford’s minion, will be his chief minion. (He doesn’t tell Ford what he heard - Sixer’s got a bad habit of overthinking things and working himself up about nothing, and Stan isn’t going to risk him doing that with the nonsense thought that Stan might turn against him. It’d probably take three hours of arguing himself into a migraine before Ford admitted that Stan would never do that.) (The conversation was a hope that ‘those two Stan boys’ would be too busy destroying each other to turn on the town. Stanley does his best to rub in that he and his brother are an inseparable team, unbeatable. Each time their faces go a little greyer, a little greener, he feels a little more satisfied.) * One piece is a conversation shared, “I hate everyone calling me a freak!” said with a passion most would think too fierce for such a young boy, and Stanley redirecting his twin’s thoughts with “We’ll get out of this place and never come back!” because he knows, deep in his heart, deeper than he has the words for, that if Stanford’s breakthrough is the painful disaster that the pettyminded idiots in this town fear it will be (and push him towards) his twin will never forgive himself for it, will be wounded in a way Stanley won’t be able to heal, damaged in a way Stanley won’t be able to repair.

This piece is the keystone to everything else that happens.

* Their mother shapes two of the pieces. One is Stanley’s devotion to his twin, encouraged by her approval and whispered pride (at least his mother’s approval can be earned, even when it feels like his father’s never can; at least his mother is impressed by something he does, even if it sometimes feels like the only thing he does that impresses her is how much he gives to and for his twin). The other is shaped slowly, intentionally, quick lessons kept secret from the rest of their family, jokes and teasing that Stanley knows for teaching. “There are lies and there are lies,” his mother will say with a laugh in her voice, and: “if the truth’s only going to hurt, why say it?” she’ll murmur with a wave of her hand, and: “People see what they want to see anyway, so why not show them what they want in the first place?”

Stanley’s too busy keeping track of the bullies in their class to pay attention to the teacher, so his grades keep slipping behind Ford’s. Everyone sees him as the future madboy’s dumb strong muscle, and Stanley plays to the role with delight. (Stanley learns dishonesty. He’s an apt pupil.) * Stories of heroes and sidekicks shape another piece, wild adventures and improbable dangers that only people with the Spark could get themselves into - and out of. It’s a role that isn’t the villain, the only positive role a Spark is ever portrayed in, and Stanley embraces it as his future wholeheartedly (“The Spectacular Stan Twins! Stanford Pines and his chief minion, Stanley!”). Ford pretends to grow out of his interest in their shared dream, but Stanley knows his twin too well to think he’ll settle for being anything less than amazing, no matter how often the teachers at school try to convince him to. (Stan’s blood boils sometimes at the thought of the adults around them trying to smother his brother’s Spark just because they’re scared of it.) Stanford wants the admiration of everyone, but Stanley only needs the admiration of his twin. That’s why he’s going to be the sidekick. (He doesn’t share that information with Ford. His twin gets on this weird kick about 'fairness’ sometimes, and something in Stan’s gut tells him this would set it off.) * The half-destroyed clankship they find is a deceptive piece - a non-Spark might think it vital, but any Spark worth the name would see how easily it could be replaced by something else. It lies hidden within the false rocks some long-gone captain or crew crafted to hide it, impassible to any without the Spark of Genius. It stays hidden as they work on it over the years, toiling to learn its systems and repair them, rebuild it to be the vessel of their desires. (Stanford insists there should be two laboratories, one for each of them. Stanley agrees with the expectation that his brother will have taken over both within a week.) Stanley finds that the practical work comes easily to him. Stanford suggests when they’re young that it means Stanley’s genius will be in the mechanical field, but Stanley just laughs the thought away. Of course he’s good with mechanics, isn’t that necessary for a good minion? (He refuses to see the way Stanford looks at him when he says that, puzzled and a little concerned, with a sense that something’s wrong but none of the emotional skills to understand what.) * For their last science fair in high school, Stanford builds a perpetual motion machine. (Stanley builds a football-playing clank and laughs as his brother sighs.) The final piece is the offer - to Stanford and only Stanford - of a scholarship to West Coast Tech. Or maybe that’s the impetus, the power source. The Spark. * Stanley knows that Ma’s going to be worried (how long has it been?) but he’s too busy to care that bolt needs tightening (He knew Stanford was exaggerating how complicated those defense systerms keeping them from the interior control room were, it’d barely taken any time - it’d been so obvious -) Those old power sources were ridiculously inefficient, he was so lucky he’d had Stanford helping him invent replacements more metal, he needs more - aha! (was that part of the false rocks?) (didn’t matter, he’d needed it) these tools are amazing, he’s so glad he stole them He’ll have to leave the navigation alone, Stanford is so proud of what he’s done there - and it makes so much sense now, how was Stanley ever confused by it? - but the steering is all his, baby! they split the outer defenses between them (didn’t they?), so Stanford won’t mind if Stanley just tweaks that forcefield generator, right? Why did Stanford use such a basic wiring system? He’ll have to ask when his brother gets here OH! Stanley beams That’s what he’s been missing! His twin! * Ford clasps his hands behind his back and wishes he felt confident enough to tap his fingers together without worrying that they’d be counted. He’s so tired of everyone whispering that he must be a construct, as if polydactyly is so impossible without a Spark’s intervention. (He’s still trying not to think about the medical records he found detailing how impossible it should have been for his mother to have any children after she gave birth to Sherman.) He wishes Stan was here, to talk him up or calm him down or make him laugh, or all of those at once. He hasn’t seen Stan since he told him about this chance, words spilling out of him as he tried to explain how thrilling it was to be told he was valuable. He’d expected Stan to agree, to build him higher, but instead his brother had gone strangely blank-faced and wandered away, and he’d felt surprised and hurt and hadn’t gone after him. (He’s trying not to think that he should have.) (There are lots of things he’s trying not to think right now, about his family and his twin and his chances and himself, and Ford is really wishing Stan was here beside him right now -) The wall disintegrates. It’s impressively soundless, bricks and concrete and who-knows-what crumbling to dust, and everyone whirls and stares in horror because this must be a Spark attacking - Stanley strolls in through the dustcloud with a huge grin. And an even bigger raygun. “Hey, bro! Hope I’m not late!” He balances the raygun on his shoulder - somehow - and claps his hands twice. “Kiddo, get over here!” The football clank that he built without any voice-activation, Ford would have recognised - wait, is that what those extra circuits Stanley insists on adding to everything he makes are for? - jumps off the table and jogs over to its maker. Stanley doesn’t watch it, eyes fixed on Ford, filled with a burning glee that makes Ford oddly nostalgic (when did Stan lose that fire?). The principal puffs up his chest, steps forwards. “Stan Pines, you will -” Stan waves a hand at him dismissively. “Ah, shut up!” he orders. The principal freezes, too shocked by his insolence to say anything. Stanley takes the unintentional obedience as his due and strides over to Ford, grabbing one of his hands to tug him along. “C'mon, bro, let’s get going!”

“Going? I - Stanley -” Ford has no idea what’s going on. He stumbles a little, trying to put words to 'I’m in the middle of getting my scholarship’, but Stanley doesn’t give him a chance to. “Yeah, you gotta get to West Coast Tech in style, right? Come on, bro, I figured out that last bit of the wiring and everything, the Stan o’ War’s right there waiting for us, let’s head out!” “Us?” Ford asks weakly. “They gotta let you take your chief minion, right?” Stanley grins, repeating that old joke that Ford never found as funny as he did (of course Stanley’s not his chief minion, they’re equals!) and there’s something here, something about how Stanley’s actions seem to be a little to the left of reality, something about how compelling his view of things is, that Ford almost recognises - it’s like a formula that he almost remembers, these chemicals and this reaction means - The principal snaps out of the daze he was in, fuming at the blatant disrespect, furious at the way Stanley is ruining this (it’s as if this scholarship is a chance for the principal instead of for Ford). “You stop right there, Stan -” Stan turns to him, suddenly furious. “WHAT PART OF SHUT UP DIDN’T YOU HEAR? GET OUT OF MY WAY!” and the principal scrambles backwards with a squeak of, “Yes, Master!”

- and Ford finally realises what he’s seeing. “Let’s go!” Stanley demands, eyes feverish with the breaking through of his new Spark, and Ford should feel angry or bitter that Stan broke through first but what he does feel is a rising excitement that probably heralds his own. “Yeah,” he breathes, and the two of them run out to the clankship that Stanley finished building, their breakthroughs too obsessed with escaping to even think about revenge. * The Stan o’ War never does make it to West Coast Tech. (Stanford blames Stanley’s decision to convert it into an airship. Stanley blames the construct that shot them down. Fiddleford apologises - again - and the three of them get back to tracking down the latest monster Ford’s decided to hunt.) (Stanley stopped making fun of how many PhDs Ford collects between monster hunts after Ford coerced him into getting some of his own. “That was way easier than I thought it’d be,” he muttered after the first one, and Fiddleford and Stanford rolled their eyes at each other behind his back.) The Mystery Trio aren’t quite world-famous, but among the people who know what they do they’re widely considered the best at it. (Though what 'it’ is tends to vary.) “So, where to next, Sixer?” “Funny you should ask! I’ve just received coordinates for a fascinating settlement. A small town, apparently. Highest known concentration of non-Spark-related oddities in the country.” “It got a name?” “Gravity Falls.”

((Girl Genius fusion for week four, Prompts Science and Technology - Quill))

#stanley pines #stanford pines #ma pines #fiddleford mcgucket #fic #stanuary 2020 #submission

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writefasttalkevenfaster · 7 years ago

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Rafael Barba / Habits

Prompt: “I won’t kiss you. It might get to be a habit and I can’t get rid of habits.”

For @moriartyhiii, I’m not done torturing you yet. JUST YOU WAITTTTT.

Tags: @mrsrafaelbarba

Why were habits so easy to get, but oh so hard to lose? Rafael Barba thought, as he strode through the bustling streets of Manhattan, dodging rushed soul after rushed soul, as he made his way to the same coffee cart he had always went to the past four years. It was a habit, and one that Rafael couldn’t break. Even though, he was running late for a meeting with Liv; even though he had a dozen or more briefs that needed to be looked over; and even though he knew he was only going to catch a glimpse of you. But, you were a habit worth having.

Or one he wanted so desperately to keep.

It was a bad habit, oh he knew. Bad habits were an addiction, a dirty secret hidden under the bed, or tucked away in the back of a drawer, but except, he couldn’t keep you locked away like the rest of his past. The ghosts of his past only could haunt him in his sleep through his mind’s eye, but you, you weren’t some photo he could tuck away between the pages of a book. He couldn’t keep doing this to himself. But he told himself the last time, it became a pastime. But the two of you had put the past behind you before, right? He wasn’t ashamed, not in the slightest, of where he had come, where he had gone, and what he had done. He did what he had to. Period. And yet, he had left you behind in the process, but somehow, someway, you had found your way back to him.

For better or for worse.

It was only a date, that’s what he tried to convince himself of when he deleted a text to you he had spent the last few minutes writing to meticulously construct a perfectly executed excuse that you would see through with little effort. A second date that would go as well as the first, and perhaps this time he would swallow his fear and pride, and work up the courage to kiss you again. The two of you had come so close to another last time, after your lips has brushed against his own. Your breath was bated for another, a small gasp making him want to swallow your breath once against, but this time, he would wrap his arm around your waist, feel your softness, not only on his lips, but against him. And he would have, but the two of you looked away, breaking the spell that overcome the two of you, before he breathed good night, the warmth of his words, a promise of what could have been. Or what shouldn’t have. But then again, maybe he wouldn’t, if he knew better for the both of you. Although, he never said he said did. Especially now.

As he found himself waiting outside the coffee cart, his usual piping hot in his hands, as he stood sipping, staring out into the distance, until he felt a familiar hand wrap around his own. “I was wondering when you would bother to show up,” Your voice always had that teasing lilt to it, akin to a cat who enjoyed playing with its prey, before consuming it. You ordered your choice of drink, as he only raised an eyebrow. “Come on, Rafael, you’re the only man I know who is ever on time, do you ever ease up on the stick stuck up your arse?” Instead of taking offense, he only took another long gulp of his coffee, “I happen to be very busy,” was all the words he managed to get out, your intoxicating perfume muffling his brain under his heart’s thumb, his well of sarcastic remarks had run dry, instead filling with images of you in this moment, your elegant coat falling barely short of your knees, scarf tucked instead and peeking out from your collar.

“Not too busy to get a coffee with me,” Your words were bait, a trap you were laying down carefully and methodically, your feline eyes trained on his expression, awaiting an opening that would never come.

I always make time for you. “I always would make time for old friends,” He smiled, turning to you in time to see a glimmer of a frown on your lips disappear into a mirrored smile.

“Old friends,” You repeated, nostalgia thick in your tone, but not enough to chase away your biting humor. Old habits did die hard. “Ah, we are old bags now, aren’t we? But I’m not as old as you, when’s your birthday again?”

“You’re going to have to better than that to get under my skin, Y/N.” He started to stroll forward, offering his arm to you, which you did take, your touch was gentle, so unlike your cutting words. “I’ve dealt with murderers, rapists, and worst of all, Buchanan.” He remarked, attempting to draw a chuckle from your lips, but your mind had halted, fixated on your previous statement.

“Do you want me to really try? To get under your skin?” You half-proposed, half pondered, as you held his arm a bit tighter, pulling him a bit closer. “I don’t know if you could take it,” Your fingers trailed up and down his forearm, “or get me out, I’m quite stubborn you know,”

“Quite?” He quirked a single eyebrow, you were the single most stubborn person he had met in his life, and his bread and butter was dealing with the most obstinate of characters that traipsed in and out of his offices.

“Don’t be rude, it’s unbecoming,” You chided, as your gaze went back to stare in front of you, “But perhaps, we could try tonight, if you have your big boy britches on, and that stick loosens a bit,”

“We’re still on for tonight?” The two of you had reached your parting spot, right outside the courthouse steps, the marble building looming over the two of you. “I thought this walk was your way of letting me down easy,” And how a part of him hoped that you would, that the two of you could let the past stay in the past, let the old ghosts settle down into their bones, long since buried, underneath a mound of guilt and lies, but he couldn’t blame you for wanting to play the same game he was playing, it was the very same you two always played.

“Of course, I always make time for old friends,” You winked, before placing a small kiss on his cheek, disentangling your arm from his own, as he watched you walk away, leaving him by the court steps. It was habit, after all.

It was his graduation day at Harvard Law, and Rafael Barba was not greeted with luxury cars nor an expensive bouquet of flowers, not even a stuffed bear. His mother hadn’t shown up for his graduation, she couldn’t, not between being principal and his grandmother had fallen ill, and nor had he blamed her, but as he scanned the crowd of new graduates and proud parents, he couldn’t help, but be a little bitter. He didn’t have a luxury car, nor did he have a bouquet of flowers nor a stupid stuffed bear, but as he got the gate, he got something better than that: you. And he had to admit, you were better than every single one of those things.

He hadn’t seen you since he had moved to Boston, your frowning face watching his car pull away, refusing to let even a single tear slide down. You were just as stubborn then as you were now. No, even more so now. And your stubborn, sharp tongued self had found your way to the gates of Harvard Law, as he stood there still in his long crimson and black robes, hat clasped in his hands, which he practically dropped when he saw you. Your lace dress brushed against your knees, your hair falling around your shoulders, a single strap slipping down, as you spotted him. He hadn’t moved, even as you called out his name, a moment passed, until he snapped out of his stupor.

“Happy graduation,” Your arms embraced him in a hug, wrapped around his neck, pulling you up on your tiptoes, as his arms slowly went around your middle, the surrealness of the moment overwhelming him. “I hope I am an adequate graduation gift, because I didn’t have time to buy anything between medical school exams,”

“Medical school?” He pulled away to see you smiling softly, as your arms slowly left his shoulders, but his remained firmly in the same place. “You’re in medical school?”

“What? You think you’re the only one who can get out the Bronx?” You rolled your eyes, seemingly at his own ignorant arrogance, “But I am beside the point, you are the main attraction,” His arms released you, as you grasped his arm, pulling him in step beside him. “Let’s celebrate.” And with those simple words, he had been enmeshed, entangled, and ensnared in your grasp. As you stood in the doorway of his bedroom he wasn’t sure if it had been all of the alcohol he had indulged in, the mixture of sadness and nostalgia bubbling in the stomach, or the fact that you looked so goddamn beautiful with your askew hair and giggling affect, he had leaned down, cupping your cheek in one hand, ready to finish what he had never had all those years ago. Only for you to stop him, holding him by the shoulder, instead pressing a kiss to your cheek, and a good night whispered against his lips, you shut the door behind you. And he awoke with only a screaming headache and a goodbye note messily scrawled on the back of his commencement schedule. In the end, you were a reminder of times long past, of things that were best left alone, and still, he found himself here.

His mind swimming in memories and doubt, he had arrived at your choice of restaurant quite early, asking for the reservation placed under your name. The tables were well spread apart, allowing for some semblance of privacy, each table allowed two candles placed precisely in the center, cinching the romantic atmosphere of the almost beautifully quiet restaurant. And as the waiter took him to the table, to his surprise, he informed you that you had already arrived. But of course you had, you always loved to catch him off-guard, knock the air out of him with your words, and have him ready to devour at your liking. You were a woman who knew what she wanted and just how to get it. And you already had him.

You were sat perfectly in your chair, legs crossed as the slit in your dress teased of your softness hidden away underneath sarcastic and sharp words. Your table manners were excellent, to the point of scrutiny, and he knew that he would get scolded at least once for using the wrong fork or not unbuttoning his jacket when sitting. Because you loved to toy with him, it was a habit.

“You’re early,” He noted, as the waiter left the two of you alone, your wide Cheshire cat grin sending a chill up and down his spine. “for once.” He added, but your grin did not waver, instead rolling your eyes.

“Well, we do for friends, now don’t we?” You retorted, as he sat across from you. You were always the argumentative type, he knew you would have been a damn good attorney, if you hadn’t decided to venture into medicine instead. And then perhaps it would have been you calling the shots at the District Attorney’s office. “I already ordered a scotch for you,”

He sipped at the amber liquid, hoping to garner some courage he was severely lacking, but he only found himself staring at you as he did, wondering what he would use this courage for, and would it be for the best? But the dinner went smoothly enough, but he found the two of you playing at the same game as usual: the casual touches, the lingering stares, and the not-so-subtle innuendos weaved throughout the conversation, building towards a kiss. His fingers danced across your own, feeling the slight roughness of your skin, the small imperfections you let very few grow privy to, but of course, he did know more than most, and yet, still not enough.

Your lips for one, were something he wished he known more intimately; how they felt not only upon his own, how they tasted, and how they looked slightly parted: those he knew. He wished to know how they sounded when you said his name lovingly, how they looked bruised and battered underneath his treatment, and how you would use those deviously curled lips on him if given the choice. “Penny for your thoughts?”

His eyes snapped up from your gaze concentrated on your lips to your eyes, which were all the more conniving. “I’d like to think my thoughts are worth more than a penny,” and with his omission, he knew that you had caught him, especially as those very same lips smiled.

“You would think, huh?” And he suddenly realized just how close your chairs had grown throughout the dinner, not only his, but your own as well. Your leg brushed against his own, as your head rested on your arm, hair tumbling past one shoulder as your stare remained concentrated on him. “But I think you can make an exception,” leaning even closer, feeling your words warm his lips, swallowing the same breath you exhaled.

“You are the exception, the only one.” He breathed back, his walls crumbling underneath your touch, your sensation, and the feeling you gave him. And so he waited: for you lean closer, to close the gap, to consume him, But you didn’t. Instead, you moved to lift your glass to your lips, sipping slowly, setting the glass down gently. “I won’t kiss you, Rafael,” And he felt his heart deteriorate in your grasp, falling apart under your gentle, yet cruel care, as if you had finished a complicated procedure, only to use the very same instruments to wrench the beating organ out his chest. “It might get to be a habit and I can’t seem to rid myself of those. I can’t afford another.”

And Rafael knew in that moment, you were giving him an out, the both of you an out. The end to a multi-decade affair that had only ended in heartache each time, neither of you able to escape the ghosts of your pasts and the reminders of all that had been broken, including your hearts, and yet. He brushed his warm palm to your cheek, thumb slowly sliding over the width of it, before pulling you close. “But I can.” And his lips met yours, swallowing any doubts, fears, and hesitance, as you pulled him closer to deepen the kiss.

Finally, the two of you broke apart, his thumb still brushing against your cheek, and for the first time you had no sharp remarks or sardonic words, but only a small smile pulling at your lips as you simply asked: “Why?”

And Rafael only chuckled, moving your hair back, and enveloping your hand in his own. “Because you’re a habit worth keeping.”

Tag list: @aya-fay, @teatimewithtiya, @rosathawne, @laneygthememequeen @justpastthesecondstar, @anime-music-is-life, @snek-shit, @dreila03, @taylorhogle0510, @serendiptious-esparza, @mwesterfeld1985, @p-i-n-e-a-p-p-l-e-s, @iworldlywriter, @aspiringyoungwriter, @supermoonpanda, @occamybarnes, @iammostdefinitelyonfire26, @meganlpie, @sweetsummertime99

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turtleparadise · 3 years ago

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[ ~ One ~ Two ~ Three ~ Four ~ Five ~ Six ~ Seven ~ ]

[ This was... Something I just started writing. I was compelled. It actually started with the second scene. Seven years have passed since the original game. It’s been many years since their last huge adventure/mission/crisis together, but Yuffie and Vincent have traveled together quite a lot in the past few years. At some point, feelings happened.

These aren’t so much chapters, as collections of scenes... A lot happens between a lot of the scenes I’ve written (and those I will), but I’m only writing the scenes I feel like, and I can fill in the rest later as it comes to me... if I ever feel like it. ]

1. Digging in the Dirt

“Let’s see... Tomatoes for fish, tomatoes for fish... This seems like a fair weight exchange. Here, Sayuki, you take this one.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” A young woman accepted a packet of papers and turned to leave immediately. On her way, she passed the Empress’s father, who knocked on the doorframe.

"Daughter... We need to have a discussion..."

"Not now, old man, too busy." Yuffie was concentrating on a small pile of paperwork she was steadily dwindling down, writing one kind of order or another and giving each one her new "official stamp", which was an image of a chocobo with a piece of Summon Materia in its beak. Each completed paper or group of papers, she passed to one of the many citizens, all dressed in the same green and blue uniform of the newly formed Project Rain, each one departing as soon as they received theirs.

"What is all this?"

“This is just how we’re handling things until I finalize the trade routes.”

“Trade routes?!” Godo Kisaragi picked up one of the incomplete forms and balked when he read it. "Request assistance in construction for one week in exchange for fishing boat repair for one week...? Request five bodyguards... for five hundred kilograms of sugar??? We don't have these kinds of resources!"

"Yes we do, right here," Yuffie said, gesturing to the group behind her as she passed out yet another packet of papers. Godo looked over the group - all regular citizens of Wutai, all youngsters, none of them much older than thirty. They accepted their missions with smiles and looks of personal pride before heading off to trade goods, be bodyguards, or work in construction or farming or something along those lines.

"You're taking away our precious manpower to go help the people who nearly eradicated our country..." She stared up at him from her seat at her desk.

"No, Dad. Not those people. The people who need help. The children without homes. The towns reduced to almost nothing. The future. The future needs our help."

"Yuffie..." He couldn't say anything after that. Godo wasn't used to hearing his daughter speaking so profoundly. Maybe he hadn't truly listened to her in quite some time. Seven long years had passed since she had challenged him and conquered the great Pagoda. Seven long years since she had gone off to save the world. How much had she grown, while he had tried so hard to pretend she was still so small?

"Um, Yuffie," one of the youngsters spoke up, "you wrote 'butterguards' here."

"Whoops!" Yuffie burst out into exuberant laughter. "My bad! I'm so hungry, let's ditch this bore-fest for a minute and grab something to eat! 'Butter'guards, move out!" Godo let out a frustrated sigh, while her team shared a quick laugh.

'After all, she still is Yuffie...'

"I'll join you."

"Eww, don't you have old-man-stuff to do?"

"You're in charge now. I've got nothing on my plate. Besides, when do I get the chance to treat my little Turtle?"

"Daaad, not in front of everyone!" Her teammates all had a giggle fit. "That's a private nickname, PRIVATE!”

"Empress, all due respect," one of the youngsters said, "but all of Wutai has known about that nickname since you were born. My mom said he would go around proudly proclaiming 'My little Turtle stood up today! My little Turtle's grades are wonderful!'. We were all just so embarrassed for you that we didn't want to talk about it." Yuffie's face went beet-red.

"I am twenty-three! Twenty-three!!"

"And still my little Turtle."

"That's it! Come 'ere!" She wrangled him around and got a hold on his neck, but she laughed and leaned in to whisper, "I love you, Dad."

"I love you, too, my dear."

The assembled group definitely enjoyed the moment, some of them tearing up, some laughing and snapping photos, others remarking on how cute it was, which made Yuffie blush a bit more and glare at them.

"Hey, nobody asked you!" She kicked her father in the rear for good measure, trying not to use any of her strength. "Now begone, I'll meet you later!" He ran away without a second thought, and her coterie had another good laugh. "I'm so glad I'm leaving tomorrow..."

"You already chose an assignment, Empress?"

"Yep! I'll be a bodyguard while they build a new neighborhood in Hana."

"Allow us to go with you, Yuffie," another youngster spoke up.

"Guys, you will all have your missions, I promise you. Besides, I've already got a partner picked out."

"It wouldn't happen to be a pale-faced gunslinger, would it?" Yuffie felt blood rush to her face again at this.

“Shut it, Yamato!”

"Someone tall, dark, and dreamy?" Another suggested. Several "ooh"s and "aah"s erupted from the crowd, who apparently could not get enough of teasing their leader. Now she began to chase after them, and they scattered like leaves in the wind.

"NOBODY ASKED YOOOUUUUU!"

\\\\\

"Zzzznfrsrffggzz... Ahhhmmmzffthat's my rice ball..."

"Yuffie."

"Zzzzsnfg... Vinnie..."

"Yuffie."

"WhhhAT-I'M-AWAKE!" The Empress of Wutai sat up straight, pushing against her long-haired comrade, who she had just been leaning against. "All's quiet on the Western front! What's up? What's..." She paused to let out a long yawn, as the brief sparkle of alertness in her eyes faded, their lids drooping once more. She hadn’t even taken in the view of the relatively new city of Hana, located Southeast of the ruins of Midgar, bathed in silver moonlight. "What's the word, Vincent?"

"We've still got two more hours until next watch."

"Right, right, exactly," she said sleepily, leaning on his side once more and letting out another yawn, letting her eyes close. "That's what I told the Behemoth, but she still tried to eat you... I told her... You're MY rice ball... Zzzzfrrgbblezz..."

"Yuffie," he tried one more time, placing his natural hand on her shoulder and giving her a mildly violent shake.

"HuuuWHAT? I'm up, I'm up!"

"Yuffie, there are still two hours left until next watch."

"Ahh..." She rubbed her eyes, "Okay, okay, my bad."

"What's this about me being a rice ball?"

"I made the BEST rice ball... Tuna mayo filling... Sprinkles of horseradish and tempura on top... wrapped in the freshest nori..." She wiped a bit of saliva from the corner of her mouth. "Soooo goooood..."

"Horseradish is bitter when it's raw," Vincent pointed out, wiping at a bit of loose drool she had gotten on his arm. Not making a habit of wearing the cape and headband these days, his usual attire was the same sleeveless black shirt and matching black pants, though for the moment he wore the green and blue uniform of Project Rain. It definitely made for a more striking look, considering what his friends had all grown accustomed to.

"I know," Yuffie said, throwing her head back and laughing at the top of her lungs.

"People are trying to sleep," he reminded her. She quieted down quickly enough, and got up to dig around in the cooler.

"I know, my bad. You said two hours, right? I'm gonna need more Choco-Cola." She sat back down with an ice-cold glass bottle and popped it open, sniffing ecstatically at the fizzy bubbles set off by the release. She gulped down half of the bottle before turning to Vincent again. "You're giving me that look again."

"Look?"

"Yeah, the 'what an immature child' look."

"Have I ever looked at you more than just one way?" He asked, amused, though he made no obvious signs to show it.

"Lots of ways! But that's the one I hate! It's the one you give me that says, 'Yuffie, too much of that stuff is bad for you', 'Yuffie, look both ways before crossing the street', 'Yuffie, you shouldn't poke those lizards', 'Yuffie, why don't you eat breakfast BEFORE eating cake?'."

"I've never said those things."

"No, but you WANTED to say them. Face it, Vinnie. Deep down, you love to nag, but you're repressed."

"Well..."

"REPRESSED!"

"How long have we known each other?"

"...About seven years now," she replied into the glass bottle, sipping on the remnants of the soda.

"Haven't I opened up in that time? Begun to speak more freely? If I truly thought those things, as close as we've all gotten, don't you think I would have said something?"

"Well... I guess."

"Besides, you really shouldn't have poked those lizards, we almost ended up as their lunch."

"Vinnie...!" She thought about breaking the bottle over his head, but when she turned to see the look that was now on his face, her muscles relaxed, and she simply smiled at the amused look in his eyes, the upward curving of his lips.

"What...? What is it? Am I making another 'look'?"

"Yep. One of my favorites."

\\\\\

"So, the new neighborhood was built without a hitch."

"We did a pretty good job of guarding the place," Yuffie said with a grin.

"Where should we go to now?"

"I think Ol’ Fearless wanted us to stick around for a little while. Something about a 'battle plan'."

"When did he mention that?"

"When you went... wherever you went, and I couldn't go back to sleep."

"Those sodas..." He immediately fell silent, bringing his hand up, almost to cover his mouth.

"HAH!" Yuffie dropped into an aggressive stance and pointed an index finger at him, almost poking him in the stomach. "I CAUGHT YA! REPRESSED MAN!"

"Calm down, it's so early in the morning..."

"There you go. I know you find me annoying. Let it out, let it allll out..."

"Yuffie, Vincent." It was Reeve, stepping under the pavilion to grab a seat with them. He had cut his hair recently, and the shorter look worked great for him.

"Hey, Cait... Uh..." Yuffie stopped herself. "Hey, Reeve!"

"Somebody mention me?" A black cat jumped up onto Reeve's head, adjusting a crown atop its own head and smiling down on everyone.

"...Cait? You made one that moves around on its own?"

"Some scientist friends helped me out," Reeve said slowly, scratching his cheek. "I, ah... I've never had any children, as you know, and..." Yuffie squeaked, positively beaming.

"That's so cute! You're a dad now!"

"Peaceful times are treating us all well," Vincent nodded.

"Hey, guys!" Tifa made her way to the table as well, followed by the rest of their old crew: Nanaki, Cid, Barret, with Marlene tagging close behind, and Cloud, who was carrying a large box, which he dropped onto the table unceremoniously.

"Everybody's here," Yuffie cheered.

"How is everyone?" Reeve asked.

"Been better, been worse," Cid shrugged, tugging at the long stick of hay in his mouth. He had given up smoking just last year, much to the relief of everyone around him. "Shera n' me ain't done much o' nothin', really."

"Exceptionally well," Nanaki reported. "I've been studying at Grandfather’s observatory." At this point, Cloud had begun splitting up Gil and divvying it out to everyone involved in the most recent project - construction on the newly founded city of Hana. This was the job Yuffie had volunteered herself and Vincent to act as bodyguards for, but the whole process had gone on without any sabotage, fortunately.

"I have a girlfriend!" Marlene piped up, raising her hand, her cheeks flushed just thinking about that special someone. Yuffie, Tifa, and Reeve applauded for her.

"Yep, Marlene dating," Barret laughed. "She’s gettin’ around that age. Nothin' in the world coulda' prepared me for that. But we're workin' through it together."

"We're a team," his daughter cheered.

"You're surprisingly cool about this, Barret," Yuffie said.

"What?" He grunted, giving her an annoyed look. "You don't think I'm a cool dad?"

"No, no, not that. I'm just... so used to you kicking down doors and yelling and swearing. Or, I was." He threw his head back and laughed.

"You're not wrong. Look... It's been a while since I had to deal with Shinra tryin' to kill the planet. This is as hard as my life gets now. I've got no troubles."

"It's true," Tifa said. "He's just a teddy bear now."

"Hey now..."

"A very fluffy teddy bear," Cloud nodded, giving Barret a mischievous smile. The older man scowled and ruffled up his spiky hair.

"I've still got it, though!" He raised up his arm and flexed. An arm that, nowadays, instead of a gun attached, had a shiny prosthetic hand - granted, one that could transform into a gun if need be. "I'm ready to fight if that's what you need."

"I'm glad," he nodded. "I've been hearing about monster outbreaks around Kalm. I wanted two of you to come with me to check it out."

"I'm the man for the job," Barret said.

"Take me, too," Nanaki said, stepping forward. "It's been quite a while since I truly stretched my muscles."

"Alright, we'll head out in a few hours," Cloud said. "Thank you, everyone."

"What are you doing after that?" Yuffie asked. He shrugged at the question.

"Probably nothing," Tifa said. "I know I'd like to go home and relax for a while."

"New home," Cloud said, his eyes wandering down the street, where several blocks away there was a house that waited for its two inhabitants. He smiled down at her. "I can't wait."

"That's nice," Yuffie said, "but before you lovey-doves get all settled into married life, I'd like to ask you to meet me for a favor."

"A favor?"

"What about the rest of you? Any plans?" The rest of the group either shook their heads or made non-commital noises. "Good, meet me at Gongaga in two weeks."

"Gongaga...?" Cloud stared at the young woman. "Why there?"

"It's a surprise. Just know that I'm putting you all to work! Heehee..."

"I'll join you," Vincent spoke up. Everyone more or less agreed that they'd show up.

"Good, good, the plan is coming together... Muwahahahahaa..."

\\\\\

"I can't believe it..."

KLANG! WHIIIIIRRRR...

Heavy machinery demolished the remains of the melted reactor, pulling the discarded metal up from the earth as if uprooting some evil batch of weeds. The construction sounds were so loud, they had to yell to hear each other.

"When did you get this idea?" Cloud asked, not taking his eyes off of the remains of the reactor. Slowly, surely, the remnants of a darker time were wrenched from the soil, leaving the area around Gongaga a much more beautiful place.

"I've been wanting to do this for years," Yuffie yelled back. "But now I've finally got the time and resources. Okay, let's get to work."

Aside from hiring construction crews to tear down the giant eyesore and drag off its shattered carcass to be cleansed and recycled, Yuffie had arranged for farming tools to be sent in. She passed everyone a farming hoe and some gloves, and set about tilling the earth, gesturing for her friends to do the same. Some of them hesitated, but went to work.

"All the money and favors you got," Cid yelled, "and you couldn't get a machine to do this?"

"No," she belted out, before realizing that the last truck had departed, taking their noise with them. "...No," she said at a regular volume. "This is something I wanted us to do ourselves. Together."

"The people of Gongaga can finally have their farmland back," Nanaki said. Having no opposable thumbs, he was simply using his paws, and getting a lot more work done than the others.

"Yep," Yuffie nodded. "But we have an agreement. I'm building a shrine in the center."

"A shrine?" Reeve asked.

"A memorial." Cloud suddenly stopped tilling, and stared at her.

"...For Zack?"

"And Aerith?" Tifa asked.

"I knew you guys would get it," Yuffie beamed. "This is the big project I've been trying to get to all this time. Everybody lost people to Shin-Ra’s idiotic.. ness. And Gongaga’s no exception." The sound of farm tools dropping on soil. Footprints in the dirt. And suddenly, she found the arms of her friends squeezing her tight. First, Tifa and Cloud. Then Barret. Cid. Reeve. Nanaki nudged her leg. And finally, Vincent. "Hey... Guys... No fair! You can't make me cry right now! I have work to do!" They eventually let go, all but Tifa.

"Thank you for this."

"Hey, we all wanted to do something like this, right?"

"Yeah," she laughed, wiping away tears, and finally let go of the ninja woman, planting a kiss on the top of her head. The crew got back to work, despite the fact that most of them were crying. "I loved her so much! I love her. I miss her."

"We've never been complete without her," Reeve said. "...Sorry, everyone."

"You're right, though," Barret laughed despite himself. "You're definitely right about that."

"I'll never forget all the nights we snuck out to talk to each other," Tifa said. "I hadn't had such a close friend in such a long time... We did everything together."

"I remember the time I thought I was a goner," Yuffie said, steadily tilling the soil. "She healed me, and I thought it was all good, but I almost reopened the wound. She forced me to go lay down. But she sat down next to me and told me random stories until I fell asleep." She sobbed, and wiped at her cheek. "Usually I'd say 'Stop treating me like a kid!'... But I never felt like she was. She never patronized me or acted like I was too young to understand things..."

"I remember her constantly naggin' me to quit smokin'," Cid said, then, under his breath, "Took me a while, but I got around to it, hon."

"She's proud of you," Tifa said. "I just know she is."

"I remember how brave she was," Reeve said. "And how compassionate. I wish... I could have spoken with her more honestly."

"I remember the time she dolled me up," Cloud said, deadpan. Tifa couldn't stifle her laughter. "She said it was to help rescue Tifa, but I know she really just wanted to see me in a dress."

"Who wouldn't?" Tifa asked with a wink. "You were gorgeous."

"Remember when she knocked that Zemzellet into orbit?" Barret let out a hearty laugh.

"I don't think it made it into orbit," Cloud said.

"I don't think that's possible," Reeve added.

"Whatever! She knocked it pretty far! And it was only 'cause it showin' up interrupted our conversation." The crew had a good laugh at this.

"Damn, wish I'd been around for that one," Cid said.

"I remember having wonderful conversations with her about the Planet," Nanaki spoke up. "We could talk for hours. There was so much knowledge that she had, and so much that I wanted to share with her. It was as if we studied the Planet from two different, but similar view points. Ah, but she was a delight to speak with. She was... probably the best friend I ever had." Everyone fell silent for a moment, organizing their thoughts, crying or laughing or shaking their heads at memories of their friend.

"Vinnie...?" Yuffie eventually asked. "What do you remember most about her?" The long-haired man took a moment to respond, as he usually did, but never once faltered in his work.

"I remember her voice," Vincent said, setting off a new wave of tears among his friends. "I remember her singing... It was such a wonderful sound. Even my sleeping heart stirred at something so beautiful." Tears fell down his face, but he kept working, as if he wouldn’t find the right words unless he kept digging, and digging, and digging. Finally, he stopped, and leaned on the handle, staring up into the sky. “I remember her... so vividly. I can still hear her singing a motivational tune while we walked, or some sweet hymn in the dead of night. I can still hear her...”

"She was always singing," Yuffie nodded. "She lit up our days."

"I hear her, too," Tifa sobbed, bringing a hand to rest on his shoulder.

"I'll never forget," Vincent said, "when she locked arms with me and told me not to be so down on myself. Then she locked her other arm around Nanaki's, lifting him right up onto his hind legs."

"You had to bring that up," the giant wolf-cat said dryly.

"And then we all locked arms together and kept marching," Vincent continued. "Though we were tired, though we didn't want to keep going, though our lead on the temple required us to travel so many more miles... She kept us marching, and sang about the sun, the moon, the Planet, the galaxies so far away. She... kept us marching."

"She kept us marching," Tifa echoed, nodding.

"Thinking back on it now... In the days when she was no longer with us... When there were times again where I felt we couldn't keep going, when I felt it was hopeless... Among other things, remembering her singing, helped me keep putting one foot in front of the other."

They all nodded. They all had that struggle. They all remembered her. They had all kept fighting, for their own personal reasons and for the Planet itself... but also for her.

“And I just wish...” He laughed, the faint traces of a thin, sad sound sprouting from his mouth, “...that she could see me now. How far I’ve come, how many wounds have healed. I just wish she could see me smiling. If only I would have smiled at her, just once...”

“She can see you, Vince!” Yuffie ran to him, throwing her arms around him. “She can! She can see you smiling.”

"So let the sun... shine... through..." Tifa slowly began to sing, her voice breaking, sobbing once again. Barret placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Ohhh, wake the eyes," he joined her, smiling softly, "the eyes that see."

"So let the sun shine through," Cloud joined. "Oh, wake the eyes, the eyes that see." Next was Reeve, then Yuffie, then Nanaki, then Cid, and finally Vincent. They sang together as they dug up their pain along with the nutrients buried in the abandoned soil.

"So let the sun shine through. Oh, wake the eyes, the eyes that see. So let the sun shine through. Oh, wake the eyes, the eyes that see."

\\\\\

It had taken several days, but when their labors were completed (and those of the Wutai Guild of Artisans), amid newly-tilled farmland, a large alabaster shrine stood, surrounded by flowers. A stone path between the flower field led from the shrine, back to the small town of Gongaga. Inside the round walls, there were eight seats, each precisely lined up with a tall, paneless window. At the far wall, an altar was set up, with an old photograph of Zack Fair and Aerith Gainsborough, their names artfully etched in the alabaster below. And under their names, a message:

"To the lives lost to mankind's greed and cruelty, to the memory of the past and hope for the future, and to the proud region of Gongaga. Let it always shine as it once had."

"I feel like all that sweaty grunt work made me feel better, somehow," Cid said, chewing on a thistle stem, leaning on the "arm" of his seat in the fancy new shrine. This earned him a few laughs from the group.

"I know I could use a workout like that more often," Barret agreed.

"Glad you think so, 'cause Corel is next," Yuffie said with a grin.

"...What?"

"I'm taking my crew to North Corel to clean up the place, start a farm, all that jazz. You in?"

"What kind of question is that?!" Barret asked, tears running down his face. "Of course I'm &^#$# in!"

"Ahhh, that's the Barret we know and love."

"Yuffie..." Tifa spoke up slowly. "Thank you for this. So much..."

"I should thank you guys," Yuffie said, scratching the back of her head. "I couldn't have done it without you."

"You helped me sort through a lot of my feelings," she continued. "I thought that I had healed and moved on, but... I realized that we never got all together and talked about her like this. There was no reason for us to be alone with that pain! Never! Losing her... It was something that happened to all of us. And not once, in seven years..."

"But we gave ourselves that time now," Nanaki said. "And it's done us good. And no matter how far apart we travel, we will be together. If any of us ever needs to talk about Aerith... or the things we've been through... Let's always be there for each other."

"They'll be arriving soon," Yuffie said, gazing out from the windows of the shrine at a small procession of people. "Tifa, could you do the honors...?"

"Of course."

The defenders of the planet, eight unlikely friends, sat in each of the seats, as the townspeople of Gongaga came and went, bringing photographs of their own loved ones who were lost because of Shin-Ra's corruption, or flowers for those they had known. And all the while Tifa sang, her eyes closed, dabbing at them with a handkerchief.

"Once, there was a way... to get back homewards. Once, there was a way... to get back home. Sleep, pretty darling, do not cry. And I will sing a lullaby."

When the Fair family came to the shrine, crying fresh tears they probably hadn't let out in years, they stopped to greet Cloud, the last seat on the left, right next to their son's name. They stopped and they embraced him, and pinched his cheeks and tousled his hair and told him how much Zack had loved him, how much he had written to them about his best friend, and told him that he was always welcome in their home. He held back his tears until that last part, and they embraced him again and bade him farewell, leaving an old toy sword beside the photograph.

When Elmyra entered, she paused to kiss each of her daughter's friends atop their heads, sobbing uncontrollably by the end of it. This was the most beautiful thing she could ever imagine anyone doing for the little girl she had raised as her own. She filled the shrine with flowers from her own garden, and left the basket under the altar.

"Golden slumbers fill your eyes. Smiles await you when you rise. Sleep, pretty darling, do not cry. And I will sing a lullaby. Once there was a way... to get back homewards. Once there was a way... to get back home. Sleep, pretty darling, do not cry. And I will sing a lullaby."

\\\\\

[ ~ One ~ Two ~ Three ~ Four ~ Five ~ Six ~ Seven ~ ]

#boy #you're gonna carry that weight #carry that weight a long time #Yuffie Kisaragi #Final Fantasy #FFVII #FF7

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ganymedesclock · 7 years ago

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Do you have any headcanons for the Voltron teams child selves?

Honestly, anon, I’m really glad that you asked this because I think that people often... really underestimate the amount of personality and autonomy children have? I’ve seen fics and RPs of younger versions of the paladins that seem to sort of assume there is a single default “child personality”, or maybe like... two or three of them, that are consistent from age 2 to age 13 when being a kid is pretty much just the first part of the process of being a person.

Shiro

My impression of a younger Shiro is really... earnest? Kind of a ‘teacher’s pet’ in the sense of, with an authority figure he really looked up to I can see him being very eager to please because he wants to be Good and Responsible, he wants to be a hero and a role model. At the same time, I get a sneaking suspicion that part of the reason Shiro in present is so drawn to Keith is because they had some things in common in the past, which... a glaring similarity between them is temper.

Shiro is frankly really short-tempered and snappy in the present so I figure any younger version of Shiro had kind of a worse handle on it, especially if he felt like something was really wrong. He’s the sort of person who would stand up to bullies no matter who they were, and with that kind of fearless I can see him actually getting into fights on occasion himself.

The real interesting thing with a really young/ “kid” Shiro would I think be watching him assembling that moral viewpoint and sense of values that are so dearly important to him. I like Josh Keaton’s headcanon that Shiro was raised mostly by his grandfather and a lot of that sense of old familial wisdom that he tries to piece together into something cohesive with his day-to-day life. As he gets older, I can see him being not quite so eager-to-please but in other ways, emerging even more as a peer leader and someone who’s quick to take responsibility for others, especially those younger than him. He was probably good at sports, too!

Another thing that I expect would be a factor here is Shiro as a quick study and someone who performs well academically, and with that and his sorta natural leader attitude and desire to make people proud, he’d come to put a lot of emphasis and effort onto his education. I can see him being a sort of student council figure in school but then, once he gets to the later grades and things get tougher, him going through a really difficult phase in late middle/early high school where he stresses out a huge amount and pushes himself way too hard trying to keep up that Straight-A reputation and his relationships/social life suffering, and that being kind of a dark chapter in his life that he worked through and let his hair down a lot in the timeline of the main show. Especially if he lost his grandfather around this time.

Though, Kerberos and its missing year would probably bring some old bad habits out of the woodwork for him...

Keith

Honestly I can see younger Keith as really, really subdued. Before meeting Shiro I don’t think he had much of that confidence to assert himself, at all, and being shuffled between foster houses, after losing his father I can see Keith having kind of shut down a lot. Just sort of keeps all of his limbs inside the vehicle and waits for everything to stop moving, doesn’t try very hard to connect with people because it’s not going to last.

Keith is super sensitive, emotionally, and, like what I said with Shiro and anger, I think the younger you’re spinning Keith the easier it’d be to get under his skin and upset him, especially around or before the age where he lost his dad because the implication we have is that Dad Kogane was a very soothing presence- Keith related to him mainly in that he was someone Keith looked to for comfort, so I think Keith at that age where, if he was upset, he’d be loud and proud about it, none of the internalizing and burying that he got into later- just plunk on your butt and bawl because that alerts Dad and Dad will make it better.

Of course, after losing his dad, I sorta feel like that crybaby inclination can’t go away- he’s still really sensitive, and easily overwhelmed, and his world has become very volatile and very upsetting so he’s overwhelmed a lot, and nobody will leave him alone but nobody’s filling that consistent comforter role that his father lived in, so he starts lashing out. I can see him having some really awful meltdowns, that he’s scolded for more than the grief and loss of security at the root of it is recognized.

So he internalizes it as he’s a “problem child”, he’s “angry”, he has “too much of a temper” and that makes him bury feelings of discomfort and fear, while, a certain amount of living up to expectations means he gets more comfortable expressing frustration. And that just gives him his tendency to explode that he has in canon- because he keeps stuffing his emotions until he can’t handle it any more and it overwhelms him.

I can see him taking up a lot of outdoorsy hobbies, his interest in photography and exploring areas just because he’s gotta get away from it all, and especially with how much I read Keith as an autistic kid who was diagnosed pretty late/close to the start of the show, and his alien heritage, Keith just feeling this profound awkwardness and sense of disconnect- but conversely, he’s athletic, and the natural world, compasses, weather follows fairly predictable patterns, they’re things he can deal with and prepare for. And with that, he starts to get his legs under them, a bit of a sense of confidence that maybe he’s not awful at everything, there’s safe places where if he explodes it doesn’t hurt anybody but him.

I think he met Shiro at around this point, a few years before his canon age, and sort of the work he’d done connecting with the outdoors and building confidence there gave him a better foothold for Shiro to just start towing that confidence into more populated environments, into school, towards accommodations where he can apply himself and start feeling more positive and in control of his life. Leaving the foster system, and thus not being reassigned to new houses, actually makes him feels like he has a consistent environment so that helps too.

Lance

I can see Lance just, being kind of a total ray of sunshine as a kid? Like, he’s the youngest but he’s totally his mom’s favorite, just a little, he’s kind of spoiled and he knows if he has an argument with his siblings he can leverage the advantage of running crying to mom.

He’s super squirrelly too, and impulsive, and it makes him a little difficult to manage and he probably has a lot of bumps and scrapes and broken bones, but he loves swimming, he’ll scrabble over everything and fidget and jump around and tackle people and he’s just this overly physical kid who doesn’t ever actually want to fight anybody he just loves everyone and it takes him a while to figure out how to be gentle with other people (and his own body). He might feel a little under pressure because there’s this really big family and all these different people, and he’s not sure he can keep up with them sometimes.

Personally I like the idea that he was influenced a lot by movies since that was one of the main bonafide ways to make him stay in one place, he’d just sit and watch movies for ages, in Spanish, and in English with subtitles, and while English isn’t his first language he grew up hearing it thanks to a lot of his favorite films and that affected his pronunciation when he did start learning. Just imagine kid Lance, lying on his stomach with his head propped on his hands, kicking his legs and watching old action movies.

He probably started going to school in the states before the Garrison. Initially it was part of a school exchange thing and he stayed with a host family (that he’s still really close friends with) but just, his whole sense of adventure and excitement going into it. And nerves, of course, because he’s new kid in the country, and I think a lot of the, wanting to be liked and seem cool is what really got him trying to take up a lot of the traits of his favorite action stars, because even if he didn’t have his family and especially his mom there for comfort, his heroes were still with him. He could’ve even had dreams of becoming a movie star himself.

It didn’t always end well, there were people who took advantage of his trust and newness and made fun of him or teased him, but, that’s also when he met Hunk, who, honestly, I really can see their friendship starting with Hunk standing up to Lance’s bullies because he’s seen this happen before and Lance just keeps trusting them and he doesn’t get it but not on his watch. That could even be the thing that pointed Lance towards the Garrison, and that pupates into the mostly-fearless Lance we see in canon.

Hunk

I’m going with the headcanon/theory that Hunk is related to Commander Hawkins and, like Pidge, he’s a Garrison Brat through and through.

From the start, there’s a certain amount of stress because there’s this clear Expectation of Greatness and, is he gonna live up to that? Sure, his dad is the coolest guy ever and he’ll totally tell everybody about that, smugly, but, he’s not his dad, he’s a lot smaller than his dad, and he cries a lot.

But he’s really curious and also kinda spoiled and can cute his way out of getting punished that time he took apart the TV and broke something important, so as much as it stresses him out to be in such illustrious company and inevitably greeted with “Oh, you’re Hawkins’ boy! He’s told me so much about you!” at every turn by strange and very important adults, he’ll keep soldiering on.

He gets into constructive toys and simple dishes and science fair projects and then starts playing with real ovens and motors, since he’s good at that, and that makes him confident, and he’s not so sure about talking to strangers because he’s a chubby kid who cries a lot, but, the more he studies and the more he tinkers, the more confident he gets and the more he starts to resent things that get in the way of him and really cool stuff.

And then happens puberty and a particular eventful growth spurt he hits faster and stronger than most of his peers and Hunk starts to realize he has some real power here. The smart aleck bully kids hesitate to mess with him or steal his books, the football coach and the boxing coach are having a small-scale personal war over him and are a little heartbroken when he joins the cooking club instead. And so begins a long quiet creep towards nearly unstoppable when he’s confident about his position, which starts to head towards a lot more situations.

I said before that I think that Hunk met Lance by confronting his bullies but after that, I can see Hunk being kind of charmed by Lance’s sense of adventure, only, they’re getting into the Garrison at that point and suddenly Hunk is reminded that there are, in fact, gods he fears, like his dad and the people who employs his dad.

Pidge

Personally my image of really young Pidge is absolutely nothing so much as this triumphantly beaming kid in overalls, absolutely covered in mud, showing you that she just caught a frog. Her dislike of the outdoors is a recent addition because at first she’s super excited by any new thing, as a pre-verbal infant I just imagine her as a bright-eyed fountain of happy babbles and noises and flailing.

About the time she goes into kindergarten she starts getting more discerning, and more disappointed, and a little more inclined to run wild because things are obviously wrong and people can be mean and what do you mean she has to share, these people don’t know the right ways to play or the important things like Matt does-

(and Matt is older enough that they don’t often want the same toys at the same time, at least, in the same way- and he’ll compromise when it comes to Pidge because he just adores her, right from the start, even if they squabble sometimes and he never quite forgave her for that one time she puked on his favorite shirt)

-but suddenly there’s these other kids, and she doesn’t like this at all and she wants to go straight home to Mom and Dad and Matt because she wants a refund on her entire peer group.

School is hard and frustrating and stressful and she usually doesn’t focus on projects or assignments because she’s too busy being upset at first and this warrants a pretty major response from the Holts because their baby girl is unhappy, and this gets a whole bevy of tests and observations and the conclusion is, yeah, she’s definitely autistic and probably ADHD, and adjustments are made and accommodations but there’s still this awkwardness, this difficulty between her and the other kids.

Free time becomes important, computers become super important because nothing is more important than having environments that are Just Hers, she wants her own room and her own things and her own space and that’s when she withdraws from the outdoors, grumbles about family camping trips more even though when her mom talks about types of flowers, the way that leaves works, soil and its properties, she still hangs on every word, chatters back fast and excited and happy. Because it’ll still be okay, as long as she has this, as long as the safe place is here- it’s her greenhouse, her safe place away from the wind and the cold and the elements.

And then it’s still safe, but it’s not full enough any more- and then she needs to go find them.

#voltron legendary defender #vld #Shiro #Keith #Lance #Hunk #Pidge #readmore #Anonymous

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 7 years ago

Text

This Evergreen Love

(x)

Summary: Enjoy World’s Best Dad? Check out the story from Dean’s perspective in this very special fic...

This Evergreen Love Masterlist

Pairing: single parent!Dean x kindergarten teacher!reader

Word Count: 4,800ish

Warnings: language, self-depreciating Dean

A/N: Written from Dean’s POV...

“Hi Daddy,” said Gracie when I walked into Sam’s place around nine. I saw the mass of crayon pictures all over Sam’s kitchen table, Sam sucking down the last of his beer.

“Hi munchkin,” I said, bending down and picking her up, hiding back the groan that wanted to come out. Three twelve hour shifts in a row were tough. “Were you good for Uncle Sammy?”

“Perfect angel,” said Sam as he stood up. “Weren’t you Gracie?”

“Uncle Sammy made risoto for dinner,” she said. I raised my eyebrow at him, Sam smiling when I set her down.

“Why don’t you get your backpack and stuff munckin, it’s getting close to your bedtime,” said Sam, ushering her down the hall. “I saved you some.”

“Thanks,” I said, Sam grabbing a big tupperware container out of the fridge and handing it over. “Again.”

“It’s never a problem,” said Sam, wanting to say more but knowing I was too tired to respond properly. “You’re looking sleepy dad. You guys want to crash here for the night?”

“I appreciate it but no. She’s got school in the morning and I haven’t done laundry in days,” I said, looking at the container with my name written on it. He was the little brother but lately I’d started feeling like one. Sam had made me dinner three times already that week, he’d picked Gracie up from school and played with her, fed her and from the looks of it he gave her a bath earlier too. “Thank you for everything this week.”

“You need to take a day off. You’re getting bad again and-”

“Sam, I’m fine,” I said, clenching my jaw. He crossed his arms and cocked his head.

“Take a day off or I’ll call mom,” said Sam, squinting his eyes.

“Seriously, Sam? Grow up,” I said, rolling my eyes, just wanting Gracie to stop fussing about so we could go home.

“Seriously, Dean? No. You and me have a system, a system you came up with after Jess. You and I have each other’s backs. We don’t dig dark pits to crawl into and never come out of,” he said.

“I’m just tired Sam,” I said, taking a deep breath. “She keeps me okay. I promise.”

“I want you to be more than...” trailed off Sam when we heard Gracie skipping back into the hall. “Night, night Gracie.”

“Night Uncle Sammy,” she said, giving his leg a hug that he returned, looking at me like this conversation wasn’t over.

“Night Sam,” I said, bending down and scooping Gracie up.

“Goodnight Dean,” he said walking us out, putting a hand on top of my head. “Get some rest.”

“I know,” I said, spinning around to give him a quick smile. He was only trying to help.

“Daddy, can I ride in front yet?” asked Gracie, frowning when I walked to the back of the car. “I’m not big enough yet? I grew though.”

“You have to get even bigger first, munchkin,” I said, setting her down on the ground and taking her backpack off, glad she climbed into her car seat on her own. She gave my cheek a kiss when I buckled her up. “Thank you, Gracie. Daddy needed that.”

“I drew you a picture at school,” she said. “Ms. Y/L/N helped me.”

“You can show me as soon as we get home munchkin. I can’t wait,” I said, shutting her door, tossing her backpack in the passenger side and walking around. I was actually freaking excited for whatever she’d drawn. “God it’s been a long week.”

“Here you go Daddy,” said Gracie, pulling the paper out of her backpack after I shoved her pajamas on her. I spun it around, smiling when she’d drawn me in a checkered shirt again.

“Thank you munchkin. I love it,” I said, not entirely sure what was going on in the picture but guessing from the orange hat on my head it was supposed to be a construction site.

“Ms. Y/L/N said it’s really neat that you build stuff all day. She said you must be super smart,” said Gracie. I plucked her up and sat her on her bed, kneeling down beside her with a big smile. Her teacher probably wanted to say your dad is a dumbass kid and he doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing with his life if he’s trying to pass off consturction work as cool. “Daddy, can we sit?”

“Okay,” I said, climbing over her bed, letting my legs hang off the side as she crawled under her covers, burrowing her head under my shoulder. “I missed you today. I promise I’ll pick you up from school tomorrow and then we can spend the whole weekend together.”

“M’kay,” she said, wrapping her arm as best she could around me, making it across my chest but not much farther. “Daddy?”

“Do you want a story?” I asked, knowing I already didn’t want to move from this bed, knowing that I was already past lights out for her but I really just wanted to be with her tonight.

“Why are you so sad?” she asked, lifting her head up, her hands on my chest, making me feel like the tiny one. “Can I make you happier? I’ll clean up better if you want.”

“No, no, munchkin,” I said. God she knew how to just rip a heart out and throw it on the ground. “No, Gracie, it’s nothing you’re doing. You make me so happy. I don’t want you to ever think you don’t make me happy.”

“Why are you so sad then? Is it cause you don’t have a mommy?” she asked. I must have squinted my face because she was shaking her head. “Not your mommy, not grandma. A mommy. A daddy needs a mommy. He needs someone, right?”

“Gracie, where-”

“Ms. Y/L/N said Mommy’s and Daddy’s take care of us, of kids, but that Mommy’s and Daddy’s take care of each other too. Who takes care of you?” she asked.

Any answer I could think of wasn’t appropriate for a five year old so I kept my mouth shut and just gave her a hug.

“You take care of me, your Uncle Sam, grandma and grandpa...they all take care of me. I don’t want you to worry about me munchkin,” I said.

“Okay,” she said, that little flicker in her green eyes I’d done myself a million times. She wasn’t buying it but she was tired and didn’t know how to serve a proper comeback yet. Or at least she was taking it easy on me.

“Do you want Bobby?” I asked, her head nodding when I sat up. I grabbed the white bear from her chair and tucked it in beside her, kissing her forehead. “G’night, Gracie. I love you.”

“Love you too Daddy,” she said. I flickered off her lights and plugged in her night light, her tiny snores filling the room before I’d even shut the door.

I ran a hand through my hair, feeling the ick of manual labor in it. My legs ached, feet throbbed, back hurt and I could still hear that jackass of a foreman screaming in my ear.

“We need the money,” I mumbled, stripping off everything and walking into the bathroom, a glance in the mirror telling me I needed to shave. I didn’t bother with it. I could only thank God it didn’t take long to wash short hair. I barely remembered to throw on a pair of boxers before I headed down the hall, tossing Sam’s leftovers in the microwave and the laundry in the washer.

“Mmm, thank you Sammy,” I said after taking a bite, promising to someday learn how to cook for Gracie. Just because I was a mess at everything didn’t mean she had to suffer. The clock said it was only ten and I figured I’d suck it up now and do chores so we’d have the evening together tomorrow. By the time I’d finished with bills and dishes and writing up the grocery list, it was time for my own bedtime. I’d nearly made it all the way past Gracie’s room when I remembered she was going to absolutely hate me in a week.

“Just one day. My daughter is graduating on a Tuesday,” I said. The foreman had snorted and looked me up and down. “It’s kindergarten, not high school.”

“She won’t even remember. You’re on shift, Winchester,” he said.

“But I have vacation saved up and-”

“And do you want back on the second shift? You wanted first shift and you got it. We even let you go pick up that little runt from school everyday. It’s summer, use your vacation when the season isn’t so busy,” he said.

“I don’t even get to pick her up everyday. I’m just asking for one-”

“Thank you for volunteering for overtime the next few days Dean,” he said, writing something down on his clipboard. “You’re back to normal shifts on Friday.”

“I didn’t-”

“You know how many guys would kill to be in your position? Make what you make? Have the benefits you do? You’ll take your vacation in the winter like everyone else.”

Another reason to hate Mondays and that freaking job. I made it back to my room and into bed, grabbing a pillow and shouting into it until I felt like I couldn’t breathe.

“You’re okay, you’re okay, you’re okay,” I said to myself. “One day at a time. One really fucking crappy day at a time.”

The power decided to go out just then and I almost laughed, a big crack of thunder overhead, alerting me as to what was coming next. On cue a minute later, I head the little movement of feet and Gracie pushing the door open with Bobby under her arm.

“Can I stay?” she asked. I was trying to break her of the habit but giving in was too easy of a choice tonight.

“Come here munchkin,” I said, flipping the empty side back. She crawled in and burrowed herself against me, flinching a little when the thunder cracked again. “It’s okay, Daddy’ll protect you. He’ll always protect you.”

“Daddy, you burnt the toast again,” said Gracie behind me the next morning, leaning over the counter, practically standing on the stool.

“I know munchkin and do not stand on that. It swivels and you can fall and get hurt,” I said, rolling my eyes when I tossed a few more pieces on.

“What’s swivel mean?” she asked, sitting back down, tilting her head.

“It means it can spin all the way around. You don’t want to stand on it because it’s not sturdy so it might move without you wanting it to,” I said, grabbing the grocery list and shoving it in my pocket.

“Oh. Mommy said it’s important to ask questions when you don’t know something that way you can learn,” she said. I blinked at her a few times before seeing a look I’d never seen on hers before. “I meant Ms. Y/L/N. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay munchkin. Sometimes we accidentally call people-”

“I don’t want to go to school. I don’t feel good,” she said, wrapping her arms around herself.

“Gracie,” I said, pulling the fresh toast out and smearing some grape jam on hers. “You’re not supposed to lie.”

“I don’t wanna go,” she said, ignoring her breakfast as I sat next to her. “What if I say it again?”

“Mommy? Gracie, everyone accidentally calls their teacher mom at some point. I did it,” I said, shoving my toast in my mouth in three bites. “You’re going to school.”

“I’m not going,” she said, crossing her arms and pouting.

“Gracie, not today, please. Daddy’s had a rough week,” I said, Gracie squinting her eyes. That wasn’t a good sign.

“You need a mommy to take care of you,” she said.

“Gracie, enough. We talked about this earlier in the week. Eat your breakfast so we-”

“Ms. Y/L/N is nice. She could be a mommy. She doesn’t have a boyfriend. You could be her boyfriend,” she said.

“Gracie, eat-”

“Maybe she wants a daddy. Maybe she’d make you happy. Promise you’ll ask her?” she said.

“Sure Gracie, I’ll ask her,” I said, her body staying in a tight ball. “What?”

“You’re not supposed to lie,” she said. She’d never caught me in one before and this was not going to end with her out of here on time if I didn’t nip this in the bud.

“When I pick you up from school, I will ask Ms. Y/L/N on a date,” I said. “I promise.”

“Pinky promise?” she asked, holding out her finger. I grabbed it and shook it, a smile on her face. “I want to go to school again.”

“Shocker,” I said, kissing her cheek. “I’ll be downstairs in three minutes, then we need to get you on the bus.”

“Hi Daddy!” Gracie said as she ran up to me. I picked her up and spun her around, glad to finally get some bonding time with her this weekend.

“Hi munchkin. How was school?” I asked, spotting a woman in a dress and heels heading our way.

“Good,” she said as I sat her down and helped her into the backseat.

“Mr. Winchester?” I heard behind me. I spun around and recognized her face from their class photo.

“Hi, you must be Gracie’s teacher, Ms. Y/L/N,” I said holding out a hand, trying to put on a happy smile but knowing it came out awkward. God she looked pissed and frankly cute. She probably had soft cheeks when she didn’t look at someone like they were a failure. “Sorry, I know I couldn’t make the introduction day. You probably think I’m a crappy parent.”

“Pack your kid her lunch and maybe you won’t be one,” she shot out, glancing away and then back at me, a little less fire in her eyes. I had to blink my own a few times before realizing she must be nuts.

“Excuse me?” I said, trying my hardest to not get into a shouting match in front of an elementary school.

“This was the third day in a row she came to school without a lunch. I don’t mind giving mine up on occasion but if you need assistance, we have programs,” she said, looking me over. Yup, she was definitely nuts.

“I did pack her lunch. I put it in her bag,” I said, the woman glancing behind me at Gracie and back at me. “I put…shit. Fucking shit,” I said, my hand shooting up to run over my head. I hadn’t made her lunch since Monday night. I’d sent her to school not once or twice without food but three times. Not to mention we were low on food as it was.

“That’s helpful,” she said, making a face. I let out a big breath and clenched my fists together.

“I work swing shift Wednesday through Friday. I make her lunch up Tuesday night. They called me in for overtime and I forgot to do it. It was an accident, I swear! I’m not some guy who forgets to feed his kid. I’m not the world’s best dad but it was an honest mistake,” I said, praying she didn’t call the cops or child services or someone on me. Gracie was the only thing keeping me together at this point.

“Leave a note out to remind you Mr. Winchester or have your wife do it,” she said, her face softer now as she turned away. I would have kissed that woman if I didn’t think it’d get the cops called on me myself.

“Wait. Thank you for giving her your lunch,” I said, catching her arm. He skin was soft and I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d been on a date. I pulled out my wallet and handed her a twenty but she pushed it away.

“That’s not-”

“Yeah it is,” I said, trying to put it in her hand but she shoved it back in my wallet and handed it to me.

“Put it towards her college fund and we’ll call it even,” she said, giving me a small smile. Oh, she wasn’t just cute when she wasn’t mad, she was beautiful. She lingered for a brief moment, maybe wanting to say more but I was completely lost.

“There isn’t a Mrs. Winchester,” I blurted out. “T-To make her lunch I mean.”

Oh, really? We had to fucking stutter like a middle schooler at a dance? Smooth moves, Winchester.

“I suspected as much,” she said. I cocked my head and she looked around, finding that you two were alone. “Gracie doesn’t ever draw a mom in her pictures or talk about one in her stories.”

“It’s just me and her. No one else,” I said, looking back at Gracie with what was probably fear and guilt. “I’m kind of terrified of what happens as she gets older.”

I hoped Gracie wanted to go to bed early because I needed to forget today even happened with a little help from-

“Mr. Winchester-” said the woman, pulling me away from that place.

“Dean,” I said, tilting back on my heels. Shit, I hadn’t done that nervous boy thing in years. What the hell was going on? I fell apart at any woman that spoke to me for more than two seconds now?

“Dean, she’s a bright kid. You’re doing just fine on your own,” she said, reaching out a hand to rub over my arm. A good part of me didn’t want to believe her but a little did and I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from grinning like an idiot.

“I think most of it has to do with her favorite teacher,” I said, trying to get some sort of cool back. “She talks about you all the time.”

“Good things I hope,” she said, curling up her lip into a smirk. She reminded me of Gracie a little with that look and I laughed a little at how she bit her bottom lip to keep it from growing bigger.

“Oh for sure. She accidentally called you mommy actually which is strange since it’s not like she’s ever had someone to call that. She got really embarrassed about it. Didn’t want to come to school and say it again in front of the other kids,” I said, not sure why I’d decided to share that bit of embrasseing info. Maybe to show how much Gracie liked her?

“How’d you get her to come then?” she asked, nudging my shoulder. I let out another laugh after recalling this morning’s conversation. “Promise a puppy?”

“No, not a puppy. I told her I’d…give into her finally,” I said, figuring why the hell not. She was only Gracie’s teacher for another week and a half. I’d never have to see her again after that. “I can’t believe I’m actually going to tell you this.”

“Tell me what?” she asked, tilting her head.

“You were teaching them the difference between Mister and Misses and Miss and all that on Monday right?” I said. She nodded her head.

“Yeah. The kids were fascinated by it for some reason,” she said.

“Well you said you were Ms. Y/L/N because you weren’t married and you let it slip that you don’t have a boyfriend. So every day this week Gracie’s been asking me to…ask you out because she likes you and thinks you’ll make her daddy happy,” I said, instantly looking at the ground. Dear God, she should have called the cops on me. “You know how kids are.”

“Yeah,” she said, her voice soft but friendly sounding. I risked a glance up and she was wearing a smile.

“Enjoy your weekend Ms. Y/L/N and thank you again,” I said, wanting to get out of there as fast as possible but something was just nice being around her. No wonder Gracie adored her.

“Y/N. I’m Y/N,” she said.

“Have a good weekend, Y/N,” I told her, barely taking a step back, watching her bite her bottom lip a brief moment.

“Well?” she asked, stopping me in my tracks.

“Well what…” I asked her back, probably scrunching up my face.

“You going to ask me out or not? You don’t seem like the lie to your daughter type,” she said. I rolled my eyes but fought back a groan. Oh, if there was ever a time in your life to not be a fuck up, this was it. I let it go for a fraction of a second, letting her see the heat I felt in my cheeks, a tiny pink shade on hers.

“Tomorrow at seven?” I asked, her head nodding.

“Pick me up in that car of yours and you got it,” she said, swapping phones with me fast before giving it back.

“Daddy did you do it?” asked Gracie, opening up the back door.

“Yes munchkin. How about you sleepover at Uncle Sammy’s tomorrow?” I said as I laughed a little. If I’d known going on one little date would make her light up like that I’d have done it a long time ago. “Alright, one more minute kiddo and then we got to run to the grocery store.”

“Where are you taking me?” Y/N asked as I headed back my side. I threw her a little smirk and she let out the most adorable little giggle. “I got to know how I should dress.”

“I was planning on cooking you dinner. No dress code in the Winchester household,” I said, opening the door. “I’ll text you tomorrow Ms. Y/L/N.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow night Mr. Winchester,” she said as I gave her a wave and climbed in.

“Daddy, you’re going on a date with Ms. Y/L/N?” asked Gracie, not even seconds after I was pulled out on the road.

“Yes munchkin, I have a date,” I said, smiling for a brief moment before sighing. I had a date I had no idea how to handle. “I need to call Sam.”

“Why did I agree to this?” I said, tilting my head in the mirror. “A sweater? It’s freaking June, nice call Sammy.”

“Daddy, where’s Bobby?” asked Gracie, pushing open the bathroom door and walking straight in.

“He’s in your bag already. You know you’re supposed to knock and wait for me to tell you it’s okay to-”

“You look pretty,” she said. Always such a little suck up when she knew she was in trouble.

“I think the word you’re looking for is handsome,” I said, bending down. “I really look okay?”

“You smell nice too,” she said. “Not like a boy.”

“Daddy gets all sweaty at work. I’m like you when you run around all day and you smell like a little stinker,” I said, tickling her as she giggled. “Daddy’s a little nervous if you couldn’t tell.”

“You’re awesome. Ms. Y/L/N will think you’re awesome too,” she said.

“Thanks munchkin,” I said, standing up and tossing her over my shoulder. “You and Uncle Sammy are going to have lots of fun tonight.”

“He said we’re going to have candy and watch scary movies,” she said.

“Yeah, Uncle Sammy is more of a scaredy cat than you,” I said, spinning her around as she laughed. “What about Peter Pan? You like that one.”

“Daddy, relax,” she said. “You got worry eyes.”

“I’m fine, munchkin. Why don’t you pick up that stack of books on your floor and put them on your shelf before Uncle Sammy picks you up?” I said. I set her down and she hopped over to her bed as I went down stairs. The casserole was done for sure but all the weird crap that went in it almost guaranteed Y/N was never coming back. I barely had the plates out before the doorbell rang. “Here goes nothing.”

“Alright then,” I said, standing outside Gracie’s room with a recently slammed shut door in my face. “You’re angry.”

Gracie was less than thrilled after I picked her up from Sam’s in the morning, letting her know that it went okay but she’d only see Y/N at school anymore.

“Gracie,” I said, knocking on the door. “Open the door.”

She flung it open and I would have laughed at how red in the face she was if her eyes weren’t welled up with tears.

“Munchkin, don’t cry,” I said, watching her storm away on to her bed, turning her back. “Gracie...”

“You made a mistake,” she said, not turning around. “You’re a big scaredy cat so you were mean like Trevor’s mean to me.”

“Gracie, is Trevor acting-”

“No. He’s mean though and you had to be mean too but you’re never mean and why were you mean to Ms. Y/L/N? You were happy when Uncle Sammy came,” she said.

Well, Daddy’s a fuck up, that’s why but that wasn’t exactly age appropriate.

“I didn’t think it was a good idea Gracie,” I said. “Maybe someone else will-”

“I’m too little to take care of you. Uncle Sammy isn’t always here. I want you...” she stopped, spinning around on her bottom, the tears loose now. Crying because of a bump I could handle. Crying because I put her in timeout or she was acting up I could handle. Crying because she was worried about me and her five year old butt was getting put through shit she didn’t deserve...that came close to having me join her on that bed of hers.

“Gracie,” I said, sitting down beside her, pulling her into my lap. “Daddy’s okay. I just need you.”

“But I’ll get bigger and you’ll be by yourself and then...” she said, burrowing her head against my shirt.

“If you said goodbye to me tonight, there would still be music left to write,” I hummed, Gracie immediately relaxing. “I used to sing that song to you before you were born.”

“You sing pretty,” she said.

“Do you want to go play outside with me?” I asked, Gracie shrugging. “Pretty please?”

“Daddy,” she said, wrapping her arms around my neck as I went down the stairs and through the back door. “Daddy.”

“Yeah munchkin?” I asked.

“You should apologize for being mean,” she said.

“You’re right. I should,” I said, plopping her down on her swing, giving her a few pushes until she was going on her own. “Got any ideas?”

“Uh huh,” she said with a big smile.

“Alright, let’s hear it then.”

Fucking hell, if Y/N didn’t look like she was about to murder me in the parking lot I don’t know what that face was.

“Mr. Winchester,” she said, her hands clenched by her sides. “Again, you sent your child to school without a lunch.”

“No he didn’t,” said Gracie, giggling to herself as she climbed in the back of Baby. I shushed her but she was laughing too hard. “Are you in trouble Daddy?”

“Yes,” I said, shutting her door and turning my full attention on Y/N. Hopefully I wasn’t in trouble too long. Or at least she didn’t scream at me. “So let me explain.”

I wasn’t fully aware of whatever nonsense was spewing from my mouth but Y/N’s face looked less angry as I went and I realized that kid had a point. Something about this woman just made me feel good and Gracie wasn’t thrilled with how things were going anyways so maybe bringing someone new in wasn’t going to ruin her. Or me.

“Are you going to keep babbling or you going to ask me out again?” she said, dropping her hands to her sides. Was she actually serious? She pushed my arm lightly and saw a bit of pink in her cheeks again. “Come on, I want my kid cuisine and wine date.”

Oh, I did not deserve this woman already.

“Would you like to have dinner with the Winchesters tonight? There’ll be a small child there but-”

“Two in fact,” she said. I flashed her a smirk she returned.

“Cute,” I said, rocking on my heels again. “See you at six?”

“See you soon Winchester,” she said, giving me a little wave and Gracie one before she backed away, letting out a tiny giggle when she probably thought she was out of earshot.

“Daddy did it work?” asked Gracie as soon as I was back in the car. I spun around and gave her a high five.

“Someday, not right now but someday, I am so going to owe you a puppy for this.”

A/N: Read Part 2 here!

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cosmosogler · 7 years ago

Text

hi guys.

i woke up on time but i didn’t get out of bed for a little bit. just felt really meh i guess! i got to class about three minutes late, which is Not Bad all things considered.

also, spaghetti day.

class was rough... i didn’t feel up to taking notes. i tried to pay attention but my mind kept wandering. just to random stuff.

my dream last night was about all my classmates. i wanted to go to the beach to swim in the ocean. i asked them to come along. but i kept getting mind-screw sorts of tricks played on me. like at one point i walked into a room and suddenly we all had levels and were fighting goblins and i took it in stride until i realized that this wasn’t the beach and that was where i wanted to go. i said “hey!! this is a computer game!” and luis was like “haha fooled you” and i realized i was sitting at a desk with a computer and he was at a desk behind me. i got up and kept trying to get to the beach. i think suzanne talked me into wandering into an aerobics class. and another one of them got me into an ocean-themed museum. i ended up in a shipyard at one point.

then i got to the beach!!! my classmates laid out their towels under a sidewalk-canopy-style construction over the sand. i kept getting the salty air in my pillow and i was real unhappy about that because i don’t like the smell of brine very much. also my mother was there and i was unhappy about that. i was determined to get into the water so i could turn into a dolphin and swim away i guess? or just... enjoy swimming for a while, ideally.

the ocean wasn’t looking so good though. the waves were getting rough and kept pulling out too far and then coming in too far and too hard. also there were sharp rocks along the beach and it was too crowded. i ended up not getting to the water, though i did get wet in the next few minutes.

i saw the water pull allllllll the way out and was like “aw hell no” and walked with my classmates out to the sidewalk and building area. the beach was extremely steep, like the ocean had been at least a hundred feet below where we had been at the edge of the sand. it wasn’t pretty sand. driftwood poked out of it everywhere. we thought we had enough distance but when the wave came it washed everything away. i was in the water looking at the washed-out buildings under and around me when i woke up.

it is an interesting parallel to a dream i had many years ago, where when i was crossing a river a wave came down the river. i turned into a tree and my roots kept me stuck to the ground while the water calmed down. but this time i got swept away, and also was minding my own business beforehand.

considering my somewhat antagonistic relationship with water (and yet great need to be around it i guess) in my dreams i’m thinking the ocean was probably the secrets of the universe or something. physics. answers. reality. i knew if i got there i would be happy. but all those distractions along the way, and the horrible beach, and getting my clothes and stuff ruined by the air... i dunno. and at the end it basically destroyed everything.

i wasn’t... scared? i mean it was scary. but it was more like, disappointment and hopeless acceptance than terror.

water has always been kinda weird in my dreams. my therapist suggested they represent answers to the problems my dreams present. and it’s usually at least around. sometimes i’m wading in knee-deep water, not always while being chased by a monster. sometimes i’m running but there is water coating the floor and walls which makes everything slippery. sometimes i’m sitting on an iceberg stranded out in the ocean. one time i was in a war and i stumbled across a quiet stream under a tree and i looked into the water hoping for some kind of resolution and a piece of lined paper floated to the top. it had a note that said i am stupid.

anyway after class we went to get spaghetti. i managed to avoid complaining too much. then i went to group therapy. we got into some heavy stuff... i started feeling exhausted and disoriented about 30 minutes in and the feeling never really went away. when i walked back to the physics department i started feeling a little better from the fresh air and getting to listen to some music.

i skipped e&m... still... my drop request hasn’t gone through yet. i think i had things i wanted to do but i forgot about them until literally right now because i was checking out some online articles and some stuff about sonic forces. it looks like the sort of game i’d have really loved as a kid, even if looking at the dialogue now it’s like “this is designed to make kids feel like they are Important and part of the experience and this is how the writing is getting that across.”

i dunno. people say it’s “cringey” or whatever, and i think the story could have used another draft or two to pull things together better, but like... when i was thirteen that would have been really cool. it would have been COOL to put my own fan character into the story. there’s a lot of games that do that but none that seem to be so based on spectacle.

anyway!!! i spent my free class period doing not anything especially productive. i did start working on my quantum homework... i got one problem done while i talked to harrison and suzanne about our students and trends in our teaching experiences. then suzanne and jennica and i went out for dinner, to a mexican place. it was actually really acceptable. the burritos could use work but the salsa was on point. jennica and suzanne found out that i think really stupid jokes are hilarious. jennica was reading them off her sunday paper archive. they were at about the same level as the jokes you find on used popsicle sticks. i was laughing so hard i was crying though and that made suzanne laugh which made me laugh harder. she took a picture of me weeping at one of jennica’s jokes.

like “what’s a gorilla’s favorite fruit?”

it’s “ape-ricot.” NO EFFORT WENT INTO THESE JOKES!!! I GUESSED THE PUNCH LINE TO HALF OF THEM!!!!!!!!!

then we got serenaded by a real live mariachi band. suzanne asked them to play their favorite song and they played “despacito,” which has over 4 billion views on youtube apparently. we all had a great time. i gave them a huge tip.

since i hadn’t heard the song, jennica played it on the way back to the office. honestly i like the mariachi one better.

after that i biked home and got here around 8 and poked around on the internet all night. AND THAT WAS MY DAY!!!

going out for dinner was a good idea, i think. i felt a lot better with TWO filling meals today and the bad jokes were just transcendent. i think i phrased it to jennica as “the lack of effort that goes into these jokes is exquisite” and that made her laugh pretty good too.

i don’t feel like 100% complete garbage tonight but i am still lethargic? maybe it’s an “at home” thing.

i’m worried... waiting for some out of left field tragedy to break this little bubble of “a single peaceful moment” i have experienced. i hope my siblings are ok. my sister’s theater production opened either today or yesterday. facebook’s post ordering and time zone differences get a little tough to parse. and... i hope my dogs are ok.

i did have a good time. genuinely. i guess it’s hard to break the habit though. if you’re always in a horrible mood, then horrible news or experiences won’t make you have to fall all the way down from “pretty good actually” to “awful.” i’m tired of random accidents taking the wind right out of my sails. if i put the sails down and just paddle the whole way at least i have some... control over the situation i guess. about where i’m going.

it’s exhausting to feel that way all the time, sure, but like... at least there’s some stability, you know? that way, it’s not like i was having a good day before mom came in and slapped me, at least.

but that happened a long time ago. the attitude’s only marginally helping me now. it helps me more when i’m at home even today though so it’s like... do i really want to get out of the habit?

well i guess when i was real young i literally did not have a single reason to be happy ever. bullied at school, bullied at home... not allowed to go anywhere else........... happiness always came interrupted at random intervals. you start associating happiness with random things going horribly wrong. like you’re relaxing outside for the first time in weeks and enjoying yourself and then you learn over the phone that your family member killed herself. or you jump up in celebration and crack your head open on the bottom of a shelf that you happened to be under. or... a million other things, really.

so like, on the one hand, it’s a habit to be on edge when good things happen. but on the other, it’s some level of “i know better than that.”

i dunno i feel like all my unhealthy behaviors and thinking patterns have solid reasons for being that way!!! and when people ask me to change them, my brain is all like “but i NEED them. every SINGLE time i’ve put them down i’ve regretted it.” so like, why the hell wouldn’t i have trust issues? boundary issues? every time i say “no” i get steamrolled anyway. it’s less painful to say nothing and hope the problem goes away on its own. and even when i do get all riled up and ready to stick up for myself, the problem goes away on its own about a single sentence before i gotta actually stick up for myself!

why the hell wouldn’t i have a low self esteem? getting called retarded by your mother kinda does that to you! getting called a bad kid by your father kinda does that to you! you can say “their words don’t matter” ALLLLLLLL YOU WANT, but they DO matter. you’re literally ten, eight, six, four years old. of COURSE what your mom says to you matters when she’s the only adult in your life and you don’t know anything.

by the time you even start to realize that their words don’t have to matter, they’ve already had like 18 years to sink in. that’s a long time to feel like you’re garbage. and that’s a real long time to feel frustrated that you don’t have to feel like garbage and yet you still do. so it must be your fault somehow for not having the *~willpower~* to just shrug off parental comments and be a normal person a few seconds after realizing they weren’t telling the truth.

i’m still really struggling with the idea that i NEED to rest. i can’t work all day every day or else i get sick. and also reality looks weird, and it’s scary. and then nothing means anything and why should i be working anyway.

but if i juuuuuuussssssstttttttt triiiiiieeeeeeeeedddddddd harddddddeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrrrr, i could work all day every day. i could climb a mountain. i could go without sleep. i could just not eat. so i gotta keep trying or else i’m lazy and people will figure out how retarded i am.

i feel like that might be a cultural problem on top of a parental one though. so mom’s only 80% to blame for that one!!!

ok, that was an exaggeration. she’s 95% to blame. the chorus of “just try harder” is like hell’s bells to me.

oh man i almost accidentally clicked “x” on this tab when i went to switch to a different one. i should cut it off here before i accidentally delete the whole entry. also it’s after 11 so i should sleep... i haven’t gotten enough sleep in a very long time.

#tw suicide #not me this time dont worry #it was a long time ago i dont think ive talked about it here though

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thegirlsinthefirehouse · 8 years ago

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Descendants, Chapter 4

-----

It did take Abby and Holtzmann a couple of months to get everything streamlined and ready to go.

They both had their cycles figured out, multivitamins were being taken (Abby had to set an alarm on Holtzmann’s phone to remind her), and their donor had been picked out. He sounded like an interesting man. Genius level I.Q., product design engineer for a private corporation, and he had quirky habits, which he had listed quite thoroughly. He was a definite nerd and even wore glasses.

It hadn’t seemed all that real to the both of them (aside from the bills) until they had went and picked up the first set of frozen sperm. Holtz was up first, and Abby was nervous for her. They had set a vial out to get it to room temperature, and it was almost ready to start the process. Holtzmann was fidgeting as Abby came back into the room. She had already made a comfortable spot on the bed, leaving a couple of large pillows when she could place it under her knees and hips. She was taking deep breaths and blowing them out.

“Nervous?” asked Abby, watching Holtz’s pacing.

“All the sudden a pregnancy feels very daunting,” said Holtzmann, shaking her hands in front of herself. “Most of my teenage years was spent in denial that I’d ever do such a thing.” She grimaced. “My twenties were not much better.”

“People change,” shrugged Abby. “You know me, I wasn’t much for kids either.”

“Then why are we doing this again?” said Holtz. Abby laughed softly.

“You tell me. This was your idea.”

A beeping noise from Holtz’s cell let them know that they were ready to try the unfrozen sperm. Thawing had taken a few minutes.

“I can’t do this on my own Abs. Could you help me?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” said Abby. Holtzmann beamed happily at her wife and slipped off her boxers, flopping down on the bed and widening her legs after getting comfortable.

“Come at me bro,” she said, trying to be cute. Abby went over to the bedside table. The male genetic material and a syringe were at the ready. She took a deep breath and broke the seal on the plunger before checking the temp on the container. It was room temperature at least.

“You ready?” she asked. Holtz closed her eyes and nodded. Abby dipped the syringe base in the sperm and started filling it up as much as possible.

“Can I change my mind?” said Holtz in a small voice.

“Considering we’ve already paid to do this one and the one this evening and the same thing next week on me, I’m thinking no,” said Abby.

“Just checkin’,” said Holtzmann. “Shoot me up, baby.” The brunette rolled her eyes at her wife and got up on the bed. She got closer to Holtz, who was watching her movements. “Come here often?” she said in a tease, her voice going husky.

“Often enough,” Abby quipped back, the both of them sharing amused smiles. She got between Holtzmann’s legs, rubbing a finger across her folds before slipping in two fingers to find her cervix. Holtz laid her head back on the pillows, closing her eyes again. She concentrated her breathing into a pattern to keep focused. Abby stuck the syringe in once she had found it and started pushing down the plunger to release the semen. She caressed Holtz’s thigh lovingly to distract her. Once it was all gone, Abby pulled the syringe back out and sat it down on the table.

“You good?” she said softly.

“Fine,” said Holtzmann. She wiggled. “That wasn’t nearly as sexy as I thought it was gonna be.”

“Why am I not surprised,” stated the brunette. She kissed Holtz on the cheek. “And just think, you have to do this again in about 12 hours.”

Holtzmann made a face. “I suppose a second shot is best to err on the good side of chance.” Abby nodded and laid down beside Holtz on her side.

“At least the laying here is the worst part.” She paused. “For you, anyways.”

“I need to be up and moving,” whined Holtzmann. “Lying in bed doing nothing sucks balls.” She made a disgusted face, which made Abby snort. She rubbed Holtzmann’s bare knee.

“You are increasing your odds of conceiving,” she said. “This way all those billions of sperm has an easy path for a little while.”

“Hunting down my poor defenseless egg,” said Holtz. She rubbed the bottom half of her torso.

“It’s okay girl, I know this is going to be a shock to you, but those weird looking things are not actually bad.”

“You’re talking to your egg now,” said Abby with a soft laugh.

“Someone’s got to.” Holtzmann grinned and nudged Abby. “I’m so glad I have a wonderful wife who is willing to impregnate me,” she teased. “I’m such a well kept woman.”

“If I recall correctly, this was your idea in the first place,” Abby said, taking off her glasses and wiping them on the edge of Holtz’s soft cotton t-shirt.

“Babies,” teased Holtzmann. “You know you want them.” She ignored Holtz’s words and stuck her glasses back on. Abby rubbed her abdomen.

“You’ll be beautiful pregnant. Really Jills. I can’t wait to see them.”

Holtz gave Abby a smile. “Thanks Abs.”

“You want your boxers?” asked Abby after a moment. Holtzmann nodded and Abby got up off the bed and grabbed the garment. She handed them to Holtz, who nodded her thanks and started carefully sliding them back up her hips. When Abby didn’t return to the bed right away, she spoke.

“No cuddling?” she pouted. “I expected to be held after you inseminated me.”

“And here I thought you wanted to do this part by yourself?” humored Abby. She already had a feeling that Holtz had planned for her to do it all along. She sat down on the bed.

“You could help a girl out at least with an orgasm. That can help move things along,” said Holtz, letting out a small huff.

“I think that can be arranged,” smirked Abby. Holtzmann laughed when Abby pulled closer and started kissing her. Her boxers were pushed down once more and fingers were soon rubbing Holtz's clit, much to her obvious pleasure.

-----

Erin sat down primly on the couch next to Holtzmann after grabbing the files she needed for their meeting. They had all gathered on the downstairs sitting area for clients. They hadn’t used it often when they had all lived there, unless when they weren’t wanting to watch TV or take a nap on the upstairs one, which was definitely more comfortable. This couch meant business, which was why they were meeting. They were going to discuss the hiring of the new candidates for Team Ghostbusters. It was a little awkward for all of them. It felt weird to think that the organization was so much more than just themselves when for a while now they were all that there was.

“So... thoughts?” she asked. They had already weeded out the jokers and people who were just not qualified to handle the equipment. They needed people who wanted to learn and grow their skills. They also didn’t need those who were just there for the fame and publicity. They needed people who wanted to work and who had the desire to deal with ghosts, just like they were.

There weren’t many. A stack of 12 was all that was left.

“They’re all great,” said Abby. “Good credentials.”

“I like the one that was an engineer,” said Holtz. “Mechanical is a good choice to build on.”

“Of course,” said Patty. “You guys have to stick together.”

“Us girls,” said Holtz, smirking. “Her name is Jen.”

“Do you think we should keep the team just women?” asked Erin, saying what she knew everyone was thinking. “That would eliminate three of the candidates.”

When silence only meet her question, Erin sighed.

“I’ll take that as a ‘we wish we could, but it’d be illegal.’” She sorted through the files and put them back in alphabetical order before laying them down on the coffee table that was lined with old science magazines and paranormal pamphlets.

“We can wait and see what happens after the second round,” said Patty. “Because we are interviewing them a second time.”

“Without a doubt,” said Erin. “So... any absolute favorites?”

“I liked that one... I think her name was Angie?” said Abby.

“Oh right,” said Patty, snapping her fingers. “She seemed to be the most dedicated to the idea. Good knowledge of not only ghosts, but the paranormal in general. Like, extensive. And she was a whiz with computers. I’m sure that would be helpful.”

“Happens when you own your private computer consulting company,” said Holtz, rolling her eyes.

“She did seem the most in tune with what we deal with,” Abby said. “Did you see her fingering her necklace? She was wearing a nazar charm around her neck.”

“I didn’t even notice,” said Erin, surprised. “Really?”

“It was set in a sapphire heart.”

“Protection from evil,” said Patty. “I wonder why.”

“Maybe she has personal experience,” shrugged Abby. “We’ll find out I suppose. I think she should definitely be back. Jen too. We need thinkers and builders. Those were some great projects she had designed and constructed.”

“I’m going to live forever,” scoffed Holtz.

“You’d better start on that sarcophagus then,” smirked Abby. Holtz started stroking her chin in thought.

“Wa-what?” asked Patty, giving Holtz a look. “You want to build a fancy coffin? What the ever living hell?”

“It’s a Stargate SG-1 reference. It heals the body and stops aging. It’s sort of like a fountain of youth,” said Erin. Abby looked surprised at her.

“What? I liked it,” Erin whined. “Daniel was cute. And I like science fiction, you know that. How often did we watch the X-Files over and over?”

“I just wouldn’t have considered it your cup of tea.”

“Samantha Carter,” said Erin, holding up a hand. “Personal hero.”

“And here I thought Abby was the one who loved blondes,” said Holtz. “Erin Gilbert, I think we need to explore more of this side of you.” She smirked and draped an arm around her friend.

“Holtz, we’re both married. And you might be pregnant.” “Then I can’t get even more pregnant.”

“So any of the others?” asked Erin, ignoring Holtz beside her on the couch making kissy faces in her direction.

“I think we should consider Beth,” said Patty, holding up a file she had just picked out from the stack.

“Why so?” asked Abby, looking at the file after taking it from her.

“A Criminal Psychologist would be helpful. And she has specialties in Psychometrics and Quantitative Psychology,” said Erin. “I think it would be good to have someone who can analyze a ghost and the situation quickly.”

“I can see that,” agreed Holtz.

“Okay, I guess I’m calling people,” said Erin. She smiled.

“We actually made progress today.”

“Scary isn’t it?” said Abby, standing up and putting the file back. “We can actually make decisions.”

“So rare,” said Erin, smirking.

“Do we have any appointments today?” asked Patty.

“A couple this later this afternoon,” said Abby. “But not anytime soon. What’s up?”

“Good,” said Patty. “I’m taking everyone to lunch.”

“Ooh, what are we celebrating Patty?” asked Holtzmann.

“Our lives changing,” she said. “We’re growing the Ghostbusters, we’re all happy, and we can pursue the things we want. I think any of those is a good reason to celebrate.”

“I think that calls for a glass of wine,” said Erin. “Except maybe not Holtz.”

“It hasn’t been 72 hours just yet,” said Holtz. “I need alcohol.” <– Prev | Next –>

#yatesmann #ghostbusters 2016 #descendants fic gb

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delacruzlynn · 4 years ago

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How To Stop A Cat From Peeing Everywhere Best Useful Tips

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How To Keep My Cat From Peeing On My Bed

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Cat Urine Ph 8

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#How To Stop A Cat From Peeing Everywhere Best Useful Tips #How To Stop Cat Peeing On Carpet Uk

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ecotone99 · 5 years ago

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[TH] Forced - Part 1

Hey guys this is my first time posting on Reddit and my first attempt at writing a short story, English isn't my first language so any constructive criticism is greatly appreciated. Hope you enjoy it. I wrote it in Google docs and copy pasted it over here so the formatting might be a little bad doing this over a phone.

“Waking up on the wrong side of the bed” is an expression that has never made sense to me, or I hope to not. Maybe it’s just that tumor of pessimism that rests behind the back of my mind, whispering that nothing good could ever happen or will happen for me or for anyone around me. But like everyone else, I suppose, I too have to put up with that part of myself to get out this brick wall I call a bed. The glaring sunlight burns my corneas to a crisp, I can barely fumble my way into the washroom, I should really not forget to close the blinds before I go to bed, from now on I tell myself.

As I get into the washroom, the smell of lavender hits my olfactory sensors, money well spent on that air freshener packet indeed. Just as I was about to take care of the yellow stains of the wine on my teeth that I had left the night before, my phone starts vibrating in my pocket. That’s pretty early, I thought to myself as I went ahead and took a look at what it was.

Just as the day was starting to look a little faint, my eyes are now under the heavy load of reading the text from my heroin addled teen sister.

"If mom and dad don't let me go home by that time, I'd lose it. I'd just break down and they would want to kill me. They'd look at me and just cry and hug me and tell me to stay. please do something, Ellis"

I really don't understand addiction. For her, it's a way to escape from everything. It's like you're in your own little bubble, and you don't have to interact with anyone. But why would someone want that? Isn’t socializing with others the best part of life? I don't like leaving people hanging, but me not being involved is the best case scenario for everyone involved I suppose and I have a lot of things planned ahead for today as well, so let's get on with that instead of wasting time I thought to myself.

After I archived away my sisters message so as to not bother me with the rest of the day, I started brushing my teeth, my dentist told me it’s starting to show some signs of decay, I haven’t really taken dental hygiene too seriously to be honest, but nothing puts you more at fear than a negative observation from a doctor.

She had the best jawline in the whole hospital, hell even the whole country I'd say. It was hard to look at her face in the presence of the bright light on top of the chair I was sitting on but seeing her smile as she laughed to my corny jokes made me happy, I could feel her cunt almost throbbing since it was just an arm length away from me, it was one of those arousal's of mine which was difficult to resist. And one could tell just by the way she acted she was definitely interested in me but there was something, probably someone holding her back.

As I hop into the shower I also get to one of the highest points in my day, masturbating in the shower. I believe it is something every individual does in today’s society I suppose, something to make themselves forget about their forever monotonous days and pointless existence. I finish up my little joyous exercise routine and throw the towel on my back as I head out back into the bedroom. The sun was still shining strong and cloudless, not overcast with the clouds even by a tiny margin; the few that did seem to get through scattered and dotted the sky, appearing bright yellow on the horizon.

“Shit”, it’s almost 9, I’ve got to get to work, I told myself as I scrambled to get my clothes out of the century old wardrobe, hesitatingly putting on the white shirt and blue pants, that has almost become appended to my skin at this point. Throwing on the raggedy socks and barely polished dark brown shoes, I make my way to the door. Just as I make my way there it hits me hard, my little fiasco from last night has started to smell bad by now, but unfortunately I can’t take it out. For everything they’ve made an app out of, I will never be able to understand how garbage collection is not a million dollar idea.

I lock the door, walk down to the ground floor, as fast a pace I can muster, hailing a cab as I get myself out into the street. I wonder what surprise awaits me for being late, again. I blare heavy metal into my ears, drown out the negatives building up in my brain and try to be positive, happy, for a change. Every time I have to face someone for mistakes I’d be held accountable for, I could almost feel my heart beating harder than I remember at any other time in my life, and this chain has been repeating ever since I could form memories.

Before I knew it, I was at the entrance of my college, where I worked as a lab technician. I know what the words “lab technician” might have perused in your minds, it’s almost always synonymous with “loser”, but truth be told, I don’t have a problem being a loser, or rather seen as one for doing something that I need to, and this is not springing from the saltiness of not having the best life, rather it’s springing from that curious scientist that lives within me. I’d rather try and answer the questions in my life rather than make stacks of money that I would probably not know what to do with.

As I make my way to my lab, the corridors were quiet, with loud lectures going on in the classes, just as I was letting go of a sigh of relief, she spotted me, I greet her, “Good morning ma’am”, Monica Gonsalvez, my faculty head responds, “If you were a tad bit more late you could’ve used the suffix ‘afternoon’. Ellis this is the third time this week you’ve been late, I was kind enough to give you a job here thinking it would make it easier for you to pursue your studies and work in the same place but you’re making think more and more of this as a mistake? What possible reason could you give me for being late this time? Not that the other reasons were stellar, I’m just as curious as a cat to know what you’re so indulged into that it takes up all your time”.

“Ah fuck”, I thought to myself as I took a deep breath and put my hands in my pocket, tilted my head downwards, “Ma’am the last 2 days I was late, you’re right the excuses were a lie, I admit, but I suppose there’s no need to hold back from you the real truth”, I could see her interest has piqued, being an atheist, even I hoped to god what I was gonna say next didn’t sound too much like bullshit.

“My sister has been having a tough time with some health issues, for the past few weeks, and I’ve been trying to manage her as well as do my tasks here and get some studying done, I know it’s not a valid excuse to act unprofessional, and I will try my best to be more forthcoming and honest from this day forward.”, She scoffed at me and then responded “Really? You expect me to believe the reason for you being late is family troubles? That’s the best you could come up with?”

“Sorry ma’am” I responded, “She has been suffering from substance abuse for a long time now and she has relapsed back into her old habits, after I came to the understanding that I can no longer take care of her, I have taken her back to our parent’s house, ”, “here” I continued as I took my phone out to show her the message that she had sent me earlier today.

“Let me show you something so that it’ll be easier for you to trust me.”. Just as I almost opened up the message, she stopped me, saying “There’s no need for that, just try not to repeat this again, at least give me a notice beforehand so I don’t have to deal with your tasks in between mine too.”, she replied with an air of guilt in her throat*. “I will try my best ma’am and thank you so much for understanding the situation I am in.”* I replied, “Okay good, the shipment of some apparatus will be reaching in a few hours, I want you to collect it before you leave for the day, and also send me the list of all the equipment that needs to be replaced before 2 PM as well.” she replied*. “You got it ma’am”,* I answered swiftly before nodding and making my way to the lab.

That was easy, I thought to myself, who’d have known drug addled sisters would be such a great excuse, well there’s a use case for everything I suppose.

I enter the lab, it is half filled with students from all corners of the college, making ruckus, talking loud, fooling around with equipment, I try to quiet them down before I go into my cabin, but I fail as always. I am not that bothered by them to be honest, not as much as the others for sure. I too had a time like they did not so long ago, and I too would’ve done the same things they did, fool around and cause ruckus.

I did have someone that I thought I was in love with though. Maybe I did love her so much. There was a memory that she made me hold on to before she left. It was a memory of the feel of her palm against my face, like a gleam of sunlight in the evening air. The sky sparkled like a jewel as we walked alone on the grass in the park, We talked about the things we loved about, it pained me knowing that I would probably never have someone like that again, do those same things again. But I promised her at some point, that I would see her again, yet I didn’t.

I still remember the last day we met, she hugged me as we departed, and there I was, never had a chance to even tell her how much she meant to me after that. She left without me, then a thousand others.

I remember my first kiss with her, I had gone over to her house when her parents went away for the weekend. We were glued to the bed all day staring into each other's faces, not knowing the passage of time. Her lips felt soft, she felt ready to take me in her hand and sink her tongue into my mouth. She moaned as she felt her body flush against mine, hot breath on the line of her meticulously crafted breasts, my breath on her face, the kiss hung in the air like a veil between the two of us.

Then she closed her eyes, the kiss was gone, replaced by a soft hum that pulled her to sleep. She awoke every few minutes, making sure she felt the softness of my arms around her, she was happy, happier than I had ever seen her. But I knew, it was like a feeling from the depths of my heart, the feeling that told me this was it, and it would all end before I get to experience it the way I wanted.

Just as I was starting to get lost in my own string of reveries, a particularly loud co-worker, Neena, stepped into my office, “Eliis! There you are, I was waiting for you to get here”, I look back at her with a question mark on my face to which she replies in chunks, “We’re .. still on for tonight yes?”.

“Motherfuck, the date!”, I thought to myself, I still hadn’t cleaned the mess I made from last night, I gotta stall her. “How can I forget! Of course we’re still on, I have some errands to do over at my place, I’ll meet you at McLarens pub?” I ask*, “Oh that’s good, actually it’s fine, I could wait at your place if you want”* she replied*, “Ohh nooo, that’s fine, I’ll clean up at my place and give you a ping before I leave somewhere around 8 PM?”* I reply*.*

“Oh you’re cleaning up your apartment, is your parents coming over soon or something? Haha”, Oh fuck why did I say that. “Ah indeed, the day after actually, my mom’s a neat freak don’t want her to start lecturing me again haha”, I laugh nervously as I try to change the subject, before I could do so she interrupts me, “I could help with that actually, I’m a little OCD haha”, If only I knew she was this nosy when I asked her out, I would’ve jumped out of the fucking window. “Nah it’s fine mate, I’ll get it over with fast, I can’t wait for our date”, I blurted out before I said, “Alright, I think I need to check up on some shipment coming in now, I’ll talk to you later?”, “Alright, see ya!” she says, before she goes out of my cabin.

God damn, I had to clean up on so much stuff at the apartment, especially since I’m probably gonna get some action tonight, I wish I didn’t make such a mess last night, well what’s done is done, I said to myself. I swiftly went to pick up the shipment and drop them off at the lab. I got back to my cabin and locked everything up before I hailed an Uber to get back to my apartment and start cleaning.

Just as I entered my apartment it was around 4:30 PM, just a few hours to 8, I had to make it quick. I went to my bedroom where I kept all the heavy machinery under the bed. Humans are hard to cut through, even when they've been dead for multiple hours or even days for that matter. Even if something has been sent to hell, the heart of the beast lives on and something does survive I suppose.

I primarily use a bone saw to cut through her neck, then make my way to her hind and forelimbs, I dip the different parts in a vat of paint and varnish so as to prevent the odour from attracting the animals as I take her out, my building is filled with pets and god knows when I’d be spotted with a black bag full of body parts. I do truly feel sorry for this girl though, she was beautiful, had a smile that could light up any room, and was really into me. But it’s hard for me to not do what I have an impulse to. It’s more painful to not do than to do it. My last few words might seem a bit odd for the average mind, but I suppose, with what I had planned for later that night it’ll be no longer the case.

Before I know it I have everything neatly packed into bags which I can take on my way out to meet Neena and throw it on my way to see her. It’s kinda poetic how my friend here in the sack came from a sack and is leaving in one too, distracting away from my friend here for a bit, I realized that I stink, really bad. I need to get a shower in before I head out.

Ding Dong

What. the. actual. fuck. I had the slight notion of panic arising from the back of my head. I hid all the black bags in the bathroom and threw my gloves on the back of the sofa in the hall and fixed my hair before I went to the door. I open and see, none other than Neena. God damn it, does this girl have no idea of boundaries? More importantly, how did she find out where I lived?

“Heyyy Neena!”, I greeted, continuing with “How did you figure out where I lived?”, followed by a small smirk on my face so as to not look too terrified. “Ah one of your packages from amazon or something arrived at the college right after you left and I told Monica I could drop it off here and she gave me the address”, she replied*.* Ah of-fucking-course, that cunt Monica, I though to myself. My mind was going a 100 miles an hour and I was nowhere close to figuring out a way out of this, I can’t just tell her to fuck off, or can I?

“Hey Neena! Can you do me a favour? Did you see the supermarket opposite to the building when you came in? Could you be a peach and get me a can of some soda or something to drink? My electrolyte balance is all out of whack! By that time I’ll be done showering as well.” I asked*, “Oh of course, mate! I’ll be back in a jiffy then”,* before I knew it she was gone.

Okay now that Neena is dealt with I have a very small window of time, before she takes her long strides back in here and puts an end to all my upcoming plans with her. So I run back into the bathroom where the 3 big black bags of body parts were kept, take them into my arms like a new mother with triplets, careful to not cause a break in the bag so as to drip blood out of it. I carefully place them on top of the old wardrobe and remove my blood covered flip flops and put them into the bucket as I run into the bathroom.

I smother the flip flops with shampoo and my body as well, washing every inch of everything clean, getting rid of that nasty “paint-varnish-blood” smell, god I deserve better I thought to myself. When will I be able to put an end to this misery? After a solid 10 minutes of the shower, I throw the towel on my back and put on the now wet but clean flip flops. I go around the room just checking once again to see if I didn’t leave anything obvious behind, so far so good.

I can’t believe I finished with time remaining for her to return, just as I finished that thought, I heard the bell rang, I fixed my hair, wiped the excess water off my face, put on a t-shirt from the drawer and wrapped the towel around my waist to go invite her in. Just as I opened the door, I can see her mouth had gone from a hardline press to a boat-like wide grin. She definitely wants to get ploughed.

“Sooooo, where are we planning on going today?”, she asked, “Umm, do we really need to go somewhere?”, I replied, before adding, “We could order dinner and also watch a movie or something? You can pick the movie!”, “That sounds fun! Let’s order pizza!”, she exclaimed, “Sure”, I nodded with a slight grin on my face.

So I went to the dining table where my phone was kept and ordered pizza, for one. She had already made herself comfortable on the couch, facing the TV, trying to fiddle with the remote so as to turn on netflix. Finally she seemed to have gotten the hang of it and she put on a total chick flick to which I reacted with, you guessed it, “Wow that’s a good choice”. What do women know about movies?

Women don't know anything about art, and I say that because they don't do a lot of research on it, nor are they capable of it. And I don't think they actually know the history of any kind of art, and they don't know what works and what artists were important to the world. It's shocking to me that there's an untruth that has been hammered into people's heads, that everything that forces us to believe more crap like gender equality among a host of other things are actually material for movies and books? Why do we have to bring feminist propaganda into everything, for fuck sake. Maybe I’m reading too much into this, after all it’s just a chick-flick. Perhaps I was just preparing so that I won’t feel as bad when we’re through with it.

We both crash on the couch, I have my arm around her, she feels warm, I could see her grin reach her ears by now. She looks great too, I totally went over that while I was going through my little fiasco. She was wearing a black top with a yellow stripe on the shoulders and on the side, along with a grey skirt and blue shorts, she held a long black arm bag. She had earrings with blue stones in them and her bag had a black, blue and yellow-coloured striped print. She also had tied her hair neatly into a bun, something about women who tie their hair that just makes it so irresistable for me.

To be honest I kinda wanted her right there, just make her kneel and suck my cock. Don't make her struggle too hard you know. If she was disobedient, her head would be held down and at least one of her hands would be used to hit herself starting all the way up from her face to her vagina. And, more often than not, she'd have to go from kneel to stand up and turn around in less than two seconds.

Ah I’m getting lost in my fantasies and she seems to be the kinda girl that gets lost when there’s a video screen in the room. To break the ice I say, “Pizza will be here in 45”, to which she looks at me and replies, “Oh that’s wonderful, ellis! I can’t wait”, and her neck twists back away from my face back into the TV, why the fuck would she come here to watch TV? Is this what netflix and chill ACTUALLY is? No wonder these asexual faggot kids are all so interested in doing it.

I slowly tried to make my move, I placed my hand on her thigh and lightly pinched the inner part of it, to get her to open up a little, she's now lost interest in the movie, "finally!", I thought to myself. She sits on top of me, we kiss, she grinds against me, quite a rutting cat she is. She whines a little bit as she starts to feel me grow, I could feel the wetness starting to build up, even through those 3 inch thick denim shorts. She asks me if I had protection, I laugh in my head thinking, “STDs are the least of your worries honey”. But she does have a point, I still get to live for tomorrow, what if she has something nasty. I told her I’d grab from my bookshelf and come and that she could go into the room to her right and make herself comfortable.

Okay here we go, I run to the bookshelf where I keep the condoms, I pick one up, but I never understand why girls never ask my why I keep it here and not in the bedroom, it’s because now I get to keep my weapon of choice, which is a switchblade in the pocket of my pants too, just in case I get some wild thoughts in between our little wrestle session in the bed. I ran back and I jumped on top of her, we made out furiously for a good 5 minutes, before she asked me to get inside her, I said it wasn’t time yet and continued for yet another 2-3 minutes, before finally I asked her to turn around, doggy style basically.

This would inevitably turn out to be one of the worst decisions I had ever made as she placed her hand on the old cupboard and the to-and-fro motion of our action started to jerk it pretty harshly, on top of which rests the “trash” that we stored earlier. I still had faith in the cupboard, I was too focused to be distracted away from it, all I had to do was switch positions, but no I was too confident and arrogant. In around 5 minutes of all this commotion, she pushes away the cupboard as she feels something on her fingers, she screamed, louder than I had ever heard a girl scream before, this was a surprising first, even for me.

I tried to calm her down telling it’s just red pain and not what she thinks, but before I could complete my sentence one of the black bags fell out of the cupboard and became undone, and this seems to be the one with the hind legs. Motherfuck.

She started screaming even louder as she ran across my apartment to the entrance, buck naked, I took the iron that was sitting towards the entrance of the bedroom and gave one good chuck with it on her head, I don’t know what it was, but let’s just call it god’s grace or something like that, but it struck her right at the back of her head, probably destroying her brain stem. I am so heartbroken right now, I could’ve had something special with Neena, it didn’t have to end like this, I just realized as I stood there 2 meters away from her body, my reflection on the mirror that is in my hall, gives me a really nice “serial killer” look like Ted Bundy, before he went full retard. I gotta be honest I took a little pride in that. I mean that iron was pretty heavy and she was running like a cockroach with its head cut off.

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EDIT :- Spelling Mistakes

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davidoespailla · 6 years ago

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‘Help! My Luxury Rental Was Turned Into a College Dorm’

realtor.com; The King's College

Finally! After years of scraping by in cramped apartments in sketchy neighborhoods, you’ve made it—into a luxury rental with a doorman, concierge service, gym, bike room, and other posh amenities. It seems perfect.

Then you meet your neighbors, sunning themselves on the roof deck. Topless.

Sound like the opening to a Skinemax flick? On the contrary, it’s a reality for residents at The Azure, a new high-end apartment building in Brooklyn, NY.

“There were girls sunbathing topless up there,” one tenant with a child told the New York Post. “My wife was, like, ‘WTF?!’ There are a lot of families [here].”

You see, The Azure was facing significant vacancies, so the management company decided to rent out 30% of its units to King’s College, a liberal arts school in lower Manhattan. The result? Families who paid top dollar to live in a building with a business center, cold storage space for grocery deliveries, and other luxe features suddenly found themselves in what felt like a college dorm. A “dormdominium”! And you know what that probably means: late-night parties with eau de weed wafting through the halls and, um, some awkward bump-ins during rooftop barbecues with bikini-clad (or unclad) residents. And noise. Lots of noise.

“We bought into the luxury experience of the nice rooftop,” another tenant lamented. “We didn’t expect it to be packed with 18-year-olds.”

When luxury apartments turn into dorms: Why it happens

This rude awakening for well-heeled renters isn’t as unusual as you might think. It’s just what many luxury developers may find themselves doing now that the high-end rental market is softening, leaving empty apartments that must be filled to make ends meet.

“Building owners stuck with vacant properties will try to rent them to whoever they can within reason,” says Aaron Shmulewitz, a real estate attorney with Belkin Burden Wenig & Goldman in New York City. “When the economy goes bad, building owners have to scramble.”

Part of the problem is that a few years ago, the housing market was going so strong, developers got bullish on building—only to find themselves in a more sluggish market once their structures were complete.

“Opening a residential building is a many, many-year process,” says David Reiss, research director at the Center for Urban Business Entrepreneurship at Brooklyn Law School. “You have to acquire the site, you have to get financing, perhaps you have to get zoning approvals, you have to get your plans approved … then you have to build it and then you have to market it. You’re talking about years of work.”

Many of these builders were likely banking on the possibility that rental demand would just keep going up and up—but they bet wrong.

“We have a large amount of supply that came into the market within a fairly short period of time,” says Edward Mermelstein, a real estate attorney with One and Only Holdings in New York City. “At the same time, the demand has waned substantially.”

How do college kids afford a luxury rental, anyway?

While luxury rentals in any other city might be hurting right about now, New York is well-positioned to solve this problem, thanks to its high student population and limited dorm space.

“Renting to college students in Manhattan or Brooklyn has always been a trend, as there’s a total of almost 250,000 active students on this small island,” says Michael Jeneralczuk, a real estate agent with REAL New York. “With that said, luxury apartments are usually outside of student budgets.”

While a luxury rental might be outside of any individual student’s budget, a larger group of students can make it work. According to the Post, the King’s College students are paying a combined $6,000 per month for a two-bedroom apartment housing four people, which comes to $1,500 per person. This is more affordable than trying to rent alone; even a studio apartment at The Azure starts at $2,399 per month, according to the building’s website.

Meanwhile, the nonstudent rate for a two-bedroom apartment at The Azure starts at $3,391 per month. So by renting to King’s College students, the building is also making almost twice as much per apartment. So, at least for these two parties, it’s a win-win.

“It’s an opportunity to fill vacant apartments and collect rent,” says Becki Danchik, a real estate agent with Warburg Realty in New York City.

Given that the luxury rental market is slowing down nationwide, does this mean renters across the country might expect college-aged neighbors soon, too?

According to Reiss, it depends on development levels. In Los Angeles, construction has stalled, so apartments are filling up. Seattle, on the other hand, is facing similar issues as New York City.

“Seattle has had a construction boom, which means there are a lot of empty apartments,” says Reiss. “You face a similar situation where landlords are going to look to find some way to rent those out and make their money back.”

How to deal with college-aged neighbors

So if you come home one day to find a gaggle of college kids moving in—and assuming you’re so over college life—what can you do? For starters, you can’t just tell your landlord you’re breaking your lease and moving out because a bunch of Gen Z folks live next door.

“For regular tenants who were already living there, it cannot legally be a function of ‘Well, you rented the next-door apartment to a college student and therefore I can break my lease,'” says Shmulewitz, the real estate attorney with Belkin Burden Wenig & Goldman.

However, you do have a right to peace and quiet in your home—so if those college students are breaking any lease rules on noise, drugs, or indecent exposure, you have a good case to shut that stuff down.

The best place to start may be with talking to the students directly. They may not understand that the regular, working folks living next door need sleep. Or they might just need a reminder.

And if they don’t listen? Most apartment buildings have rules against excessive noise and au naturel sunbathing, so it’s time to nudge management about actually enforcing those rules.

“Every building has guidelines to create a certain atmosphere,” says Mermelstein. “Sometimes that gets a bit relaxed and the economy dictates what winds up being accepted by ownership.”

If talking to your neighbors and your landlord doesn’t work, you have a case for breaking your lease or discontinuing rent payments if other tenants are disturbing your quality of life.

“Most residential leases contain a clause that guarantees the right to ‘quiet enjoyment,'” says Heather Carbone, a real estate agent in Boston. “It is an implied warranty of habitability.”

To make a case, Shmulewitz says you must document your complaints. He recommends sending an email to your landlord as close to the time of the incident as possible and including documentation (e.g., a sound recording if you’re complaining about noise).

At that point, the landlord may enforce the rules and could even begin eviction proceedings. Ideally, the landlord would work with your concerns, but if not, “the next step would be to claim a constructive eviction,” says Shmulewitz.

“You would tell the landlord, ‘You’ve made me unable to live in my home. I’m leaving and I’m not paying your rent anymore,'” says Shmulewitz. If only one of the rooms is uninhabitable due to noise or odor, then you might consider not paying full rent.

How to avoid this situation in the first place

One approach to avoiding this type of situation in the first place might be to ask questions about who lives in the apartment buildings you’re considering. You probably won’t get an answer, though.

“Real estate agents cannot legally speak about who lives in a building,” says Danchik. This is to help prevent housing discrimination and to stay in compliance with the Fair Housing Act.

As an alternative, Jeneralczuk recommends spending some time in the building.

“Sit in the lobby for half an hour or more,” he says. “Tour the amenities a few times, and check out the area.”

Carbone suggests looking for online reviews of potential apartments. “A quick search might help shed some light on potential issues as well,” she says.

You could also look for rentals in co-ops and condo buildings. Danchik says that these buildings have a much more involved approval process, and “individual owners tend to be a bit more cautious about subletting.” To college kids or otherwise.

The post ‘Help! My Luxury Rental Was Turned Into a College Dorm’ appeared first on Real Estate News & Insights | realtor.com®.

‘Help! My Luxury Rental Was Turned Into a College Dorm’

#TRUSTED LOCAL REALTOR #‘Help! My Luxury Rental Was Turned Into a College Dorm’

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