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koiiiji · 11 months ago

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windbreaker characters & their possible love trope (part 1)

warnings : no in general, maybe a ooc, but its my point of view, fluff

recommend : to turn on Lana Del Ray - West Coast

୭🧷✧˚. ᵎᵎ 🎀

Dom - arranged marrige. we take into account the fact that Dom is the heir of the yakuza. His father had long dreamed of the idea of uniting the two clans to expand the business, strengthen the position, and in general he was very close with the head of another clan, you know the type of male friendship when they brag about who has the coolest car and everything like that. (for about the same reason, you and Dom have an age difference of a couple of months) In general, when you were born, your fathers did not immediately decide that this would be a planned marriage, they still wanted freedom of choice for their children, but the two old men were too fascinated when you and Dom played together in the sandbox, or you two shared toys, and overall you got along great as babies. But as the years passed, interests changed, and from about 2-3 grades you began to have a "crisis in relationships", Dom were more interested in the "boyish" things, you in turn discovered the Internet and the charms of fictional characters (real footage of all of us). Therefore, your communication has gone from about infantile sympathy to childish antipathy when boys say "eeew girls, im not interested in them" and to the complete cessation of communication over the years. Well, your fathers also almost lost hope, trying to try on two fifth graders at holiday feasts, but everything ended up making faces at each other, and Dom’s first showed middle finger and yours first obscene phrases in response to him (later you both received a cradle from your parents) but the decision had already been made, and so everyone decided to just wait.

In fact, everything happened spontaneously. As it happens, girls grow faster, and there were no exceptions with you. So since you saw each other less often, Dom did not immediately recognize you, and of course refused to admit to himself that he liked you, and he decided to shove this sympathy away. A couple more years have passed, and you again super accidentally (no) met at one of your parents' clubs. This time it was your turn not to recognize Dom. And when you realized in the morning whose house you were in, you were shocked. So it tooks you two another 1-2 years to actually accept that planned things needed to be done and the idea of marriage in the first place wasn’t that bad.

Owen - forbidden love/ rivals/ competitors. While you honestly believed that your boiling hate for each other was mutual, Owen found it quite cute and intriguing how each time you trying to compete with him and how mad you get if you lose or if he jokingly flirts with you. Of course, he found you quite an interesting opponent, but you attracted him more as a girl, although it was still difficult because of your rival teams, and as Camila once told him when she noticed how he was staring at you at another training session, where he came intentionally before the rest of the Light Cavalry participants, "This won't be good for the image of our team." Usually you see him in training center, when your team finishes training, or when you wait for Light Cavalry to finish, or on the competitions and it always ends with your threatenings to his life or his bike. Of course you didn’t mean it so serious, it was kinda like tradition - he always so nice and jokes around while you all loud and screaming at him for his flirting lines.

Usually, you two never see each other somewhere in the city or on the streets, apparently you lived in different areas and everyday affairs were too different from each other, but somehow, now, almost at 11 pm, you look at each other in surprise, standing in the park, where both of you came to practice and free your heads from burdened thoughts. Owen wanted to break the awkward silence by greeting you, but you beat him to it by sternly asking “What are you doing here?” He smiled softly and running his hand through his hair, as he replied “I came here just to clear my head before sleep, shortcake. I hadn’t any intentions to interrupt you.” And looking up at you again, he smiled so sweetly, in his usual manner. You clicked irritably and went to meet him, “Then, since you're already here, let's have a race, and the loser is looking for another park, deal?” Again, she frowned so sweetly at her eyebrows, just the very seriousness - Owen thought to himself looking down at you from his height. Like all the smartest, the idea was certainly not bad, you even thought at the moment that you were about to win, because the agreed finish was already around the corner, when suddenly Owen jumped out from behind you and did a risky trick that allowed him to get ahead. But unfortunately, either out of surprise or confusion, you lost control and collapsed almost at the finish line. Your speed was decent, and your knees, shoulders and arms had a hard time now, all bleeding. Slowly rising from the ground, you felt such resentment and at the same time anger, either at yourself or at Owen. And all such a seething feeling of resentment, because of such a small mistake, to lose at the very finish, overwhelmed you with your head, and flowed out with tears from your eyes. You sat down by your fallen bike, hugged your bleeding knees and buried your forehead in them letting yourself cry. Suddenly you felt someone stroking your head and sitting down next to you, putting his hands on your shoulders. Looking up, as you expected, you saw Owen, and shrugged your shoulders and squeal at him “Get the fuck away from me! I don’t need your pity and help!” “Hey, hey, easy shortcake, im not a monster to let girl, who is also injured, be alone in park at night.” He tried to take you by the shoulders again. “I said get away!” You clearly didn’t planned to stop crying, and Owen understood that you’ll have a tantrum in a moment, so he decided to ignore your screams and pulled you closer, already hugging you completely. Of course, you didn't appreciate this gesture, you started pounding him in the chest with your fists, shouting for him to let go, for you to try again, that this time you would definitely defeat him and in general how much you dislike him. And Owen just held you tight, and let your screams and crying be drowned out in his sweater. After a couple of minutes, you were just crying into his chest while he pulled you closer, sat you down between his legs and just gently stroked your back.

When you finally calmed down and raised your tear-stained, red eyes to him, Owen gently put his hand on your cheek and quietly asked, “Well, have you calmed down? Will you let me help you now, shortcake?” taking a confused look away from him and blushing, you said, “If anyone finds out about this, you're finished, got it?” Owen laughed loudly and pulled you closer to him, and dropping his free hand on your cheek, gently kissed you.

Harry - hate/love or sunny/grumpy. Even ignoring the fact that you’ve been in the same team, he somehow never liked you. Honestly, he didnt even know the reason. You had such a bright personality, always nice to people around and guys in team,but still defended your interests and borders when it was necessary. Harry just couldn’t stand you. In his eyes you were quite ideal, he even accepted that you were kinda powerful at cycling. But most blood boiling fact about you were that Harry knew perfectly - he had a thing for you, but he decided for himself to hide it under mask of indifference and disinterest, because come on, feelings make you weak (such a men moment)

But the other thing about you that Harry absolutely couldn’t stand - is your tears. He saw it only twice, once when it was your first year with the Light Cavalry, the team came to wish you a happy birthday right at 12 a.m., and you burst into tears from the joy and sweetness of this act of attention. And the other time was when Harry himself brought you to tears, because you chewed his brains all day. He think that sometimes you have a bad habit activated, walking around and teasing him all day, offering to compete in something, and just dripping on his brain, because you probably have a pleasure to bring him to a white heat. And when he couldn't stand it one more time, he turned sharply at you and barked - "Are you a complete idiot? I think I told you to fuck off from me, leave me alone and go fuck someone else's brains out. How many times can I tell you, I don't intend to compete with someone like you," - and Harry took care to squeeze the word "like" like poison into your mind. And fortunately for him, as he convinced himself, you stopped bothering him after that time and resorted to communicating with him only in the most necessary cases. So for the first few days he liked how you avoided him, but after a week and a half of your absence from his daily life, he began to feel sad and guilty for being harsh with you... But wasn’t it your own fault!? That's right, it was your fault. But didn't he like your attention? Wasn't he warmed by the rays of your warmth?.. Damn, all these thoughts were difficult for Harry, and he did it easier - he left training earlier, stopped by the store on the way, bought a random gift that reminded him of you, went to your house and waited for you at the entrance to the house. To say less, you were shocked when you saw him near the building were you live, but decided to act all cool and just to pass by. He didn’t let you. Harry grabbed your elbow, but you tried to pull away, he turned you around to face him and grabbed your other elbow. “Let me go, you creep!!” You could feel how tears forming in your eyes. You didn’t understand why he even came here, he supposed to be in other place, he supposed to hate you, he supposed… “For the fuck sake just shut up and take it.” He handed you a gift. You were confused and looked up at him with an obvious question “why?” in your pretty eyes. Harry clicked tongue, left your elbows and started to walk away. When you softly mumbled “Thank you” he turned around and quickly closing the distance, he awkwardly hugged you. For the first few seconds you freaked out, but gave up and hugged him back and mumbled "You idiot" in his hoodie. Harry chuckled at your comment and squeezed your back harder "At least im not a crybaby as someone". He got a reminder that you can kick his knees pretty hard.

Hwangyeon - school crush. You were quite popular girl from his class - moderately smart, kind, but not enough to take advantage of your kindness, beautiful and friendly person in general. The fact that Hwang tried to get your attention by his money flex, “cool” - as he thought - actions towards other people in school, where so obvious, as the fact that he liked you. But you weren’t impressed by his shitty personality and usually you treated him coldly or mocked him about he is trying to assert himself at the expense of others. Was he mad at you for that? No, of course, he melted like butter in a hot frying pan from every second of your attention, and bragging to his boys that you two had “conversation”.

Actually his friends, everyone around and mainly Sangho were tired of Hwang’s whinings at home and he told him what to do. So here he is, standing in doors of your class begging you to help him with his english class. Since he asked you nicely and promised not to mock students as long as you help him, you agreed to tutor him for some topics that he couldn’t understand. So with time you two became a little bit closer and you even been in his place and know Hwang’s siblings. (both of them thought that he is paying you to be his friend*) In the midst of one of these preparations Hwangyeon was whining about how he didn’t understand anything and probably won’t pass this exam. You hated the fact that he was giving up fast and easy, but luckily you knew how to motivate this guy. In a second, you grabbed his cheeks with both hands, turned his head towards you and said “Listen, we’ve been preparing for this for so long and you gonna drop everything because of small misunderstanding? I already wanted to take you out for ice cream if you wrote this test better than the guy who sits behind me at school, but since you've already given up, well, I guess i’ll have to go with him instead.” you said slowly letting his cheeks go. Hwang took your hand, to let it stay on his cheek and rise his eyes up on you and with dead serious eyes muttered “If my score will be higher than 75%, we will go for that ice cream.” You smiled at him and said that it is deal.

Spoiler : his score was 68% his friends and you laughed at him for his bragging before exam, but you still took him to that ice cream shop and kissed his cheek for a good bye.

*bonus

its been quite long preparation session for english final exam before summer weekends, so you decided to continue at Hwang’s place. it wasn’t your first time visiting his place, maybe third or fourth, so his siblings already knew you, when you enter the house. you greeted everyone, warned them that you would be preparing for the exam and went to Hwang’s room. after few hours of studying you were tired of punching and shouting at your friend so you left the room for glass of juice and in the dim light of the kitchen you met Sangho with his laptop and glass of something probably alcoholic. you stare at each other for a second and you awkwardly announced that you came for pack of juice that two of you left in fridge. Sangho mumbled something softly and turned back to his laptop, when you were about to leave the room he raised his eyes from laptop again and asked in serious voice “did he pay you?”

you froze in place you were standing and on stiff legs, turning to him. “mhmm?”

“did my brother pay you to pretend to be his friend or whatever you two are?”

“n-no? he just asked me for help, t-that’s why im here!” he grunted something like okay and went back to his laptop. when door after you closed, Aria got out from behind the sofa and held out her hand to her brother. Sangho, in turn, pulled a banknote out of his pocket and gave it to his sister without a word.

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jessicafangirl · 2 months ago

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The Goore The Merrier

It's a different world where the dead have returned but humanity is always the same. One night your friend begs you to come with her to a concert at a local club to see a band you've never heard of. And it's there you find out things aren't always what they seem.

Hey Kids! This is a stand alone one-shot to see how this plays out and dip my toes into the Goore. If you like this, please comment so I know that creating a far longer story in this world would be welcome. Also avail on AO3 here

You got used to the smell. Somehow you did. When the world realized the dead were coming back to life it wasn’t pretty. And neither was the smell, at least when it came to some of the really damaged ones. There was only so much you could do when half your brain was exposed or say your ribcage looked like it had gone a few rounds with a weed wacker.

It was chaos for five or six months until a combination of the military and corporations came together to figure out a way to make the living and the undead work. And in the case of some people, actually make the undead work. And that’s how two years after everyone discovered reanimates were real, the dead were an everyday part of the lives of the living. There were other terms for them not nearly as kind. Shamblers, zombies of course, and the very touching corpses.

Needless to say there was outrage among many living workers when companies and business owners realized they could get the cheapest labor ever when it came to the dead. Most of them just needed a place to stay and a supply of blood or meat…the source not really important. When you were a reanimate, you didn’t need to worry about heat or cold. Some of them were always going to be confused or near catatonic, which was sad to see.

The dead didn’t need human brains specifically or human body parts. The virus that was running through them and making them come back to life just needed fuel to keep it going. Of course human was better it was discovered, maybe because it was pure for the system.

You found this all interesting as it played out, after the horror faded and the danger was culled of course. You’d seen enough Romero movies and zombie flicks to know this could have become a world ending event. But leave it to the rich people to figure a way to profit from something like this…even when a person is dead they can’t get away from the need to work for a living…if that was the right phrase.

Of course the workers who lost jobs to the reanimates weren’t happy. Which made things worse somehow for the already dead. Hatred of them spread, even families who should have been happy that their loved one was returned instead ostracized them, hated them. Not everyone came back of course…you had to be infected before you died. But still…you wouldn’t have been sad to see your grandfather again.

The virus was an interesting thing. It seemed to heal its hosts after being activated by death. But some reanimates were just too far gone depending on how they died to be completely fixed or even verbal. Then there were the ones who could pass as normal, still completely human. No one knew they were undead until something tipped them off. Boy did the haters really not like them. Many of these poor reanimates who tried to pass as human and were discovered found a way to final death. Yes, you could kill a reanimate. The tried-and-true method of cutting the head off did it. The brain was needed to keep going and if you took that away, final and total death was the result. The hate mobs would disappear them and no one was the wiser…or if they were they didn’t care. They had already been dead once, right?

Again, you were only shocked at the hatred humanity could have only for a brief time. Then the reality of how even in the face of something awe inspiring as this the dickheads could figure out a new way to be dicks. People never let you down when it came to letting you down.

Your small town was like a microcosm of the world as a whole. Reanimates were a part of the everyday, so were the hate crimes against them. Lucky for you the job you had was one that required people skills and talking. Or more to the point talking and the ability to bullshit your way through dealing with people and their cell phone issues. Call center work wasn’t what you had gone to college for, the couple of years you’d attended. But life happened and so it was a dead-end job, in a dead-in town, with quite a few of the dead that made up your existence.

That day had been a long one. It was a Friday and cell service had gone down for a section of the country. Somehow the callers expected you to singlehandedly restore it. There was a lot of screaming, a lot of cursing, and you had nearly bit your lip in half keeping yourself from screaming back at them. By the end of the day you had a headache and just wanted to crawl into bed.

“Hey girlie!” Your co-worker Patricia called as you grabbed your bag and slung it over your shoulder. “What are your plans for the evening?”

Patricia was one of the few people you liked. She was younger than you but had nearly the same amount of sarcasm as you did, which was a feat. She hid this behind a shock of light blue hair and multiple piercings. She was like a bubbly version of Tank Girl.

“My bed and a TV with as much 70s schlock as I can stand.” You replied. “And a large dose of Excedrin.”

“What if I gave you another option?” Pats sauntered over and blocked your exit from your cubicle. She grabbed up your Funko Pop of Godzilla and started turning it over in her hands.

“I would say I would highly doubt you had the ability to convince me to do anything other than what I just said.” You held out your hand for the pop which she dutifully placed into your palm.

“Look, I need a wingman, and my usual let me down.” She gave you big, dark anime eyes as you placed the king of the monsters back in his spot. “There’s a gig tonight at the Corpse Grinder and I’ve got a date but….you know….I just want back up.”

The Corpse Grinder was the local metal bar known for loudness and some very unusual performances. The name had been in play before the dead returned…you’d think they would have changed it but heck, edgy was in.

“Pats…my head feels like it’s going to explode, and you want me to go to a concert where I may go full Scanners?” You give her a look of disbelief.

“I’ll owe you. Come on…it’ll be fun!” Somehow, she made her eyes bigger.

You sighed heavily. “Fine…but I’m only going because I don’t want you to be taken advantage of…and also you’re taking my shift next Friday.”

Patricia pouted for a half second and then grinned broadly. “Fine, deal.” She hugged you and you patted her back for a moment.

“Who’s playing?” You asked as you both headed out of the building.

“Oh this new group…at least they’ve never played here before. One of those fake undead ones. The Unearthed.” She said excited.

It was a thing these days that musicians, especially the metal and punk scene ones, would play act like they were reanimates. It was edgy of course and was a big fuck you to the establishment which was the way punk had been for decades. You’d not heard of these guys before, not that I could remember. That didn’t mean much though, you didn’t do the live band/bar scene often.

“This is a death metal one isn’t it?” You asked as you emptied out into the parking lot, the sky already turning dark.

Pats nodded happily. “Yeppers, and one of the best. Seriously, you’ll have fun.”

You sighed, pushing your glasses up your nose, the twinge of the headache still dancing behind your eyes. “What time do I meet you there?”

She flashed all of her fingers at you. “Ten is when the shindig starts. So be there like at 930. I’ll get us a close table.”

“Okay…I’ll see you in a few.” You headed to your car and drove home.

After taking four large pink pills and shooting them down with Mountain Dew your headache started going away. Excedrin Tension Headache was a gift from god. The hot shower you took managed to get rid of the rest of it. Now came the fun part…what the hell did you wear to this?

After rummaging around in your small apartment closet you chose a pair of acid wash jeans you’d had managed to keep since your 20s. They were artfully ripped on the knees. You paired it with an Alice Cooper concert shirt you’d also had since your 20s. The shirt was faded to hell, but Alice’s wide eyes were as vivid as ever. Make up was dark eyeshadow and a purple lipstick so deep a shade it coul. ave been black. Silver hoops and your black leather jacket covered in pins was the last piece.

You looked in the mirror and pushed your glasses up your nose, giving your hair one last fluff. This was as good as it got. You fed your beta fish Poe and headed out the door.

You had figured there would be a line just to get in and was betting on Pats to keep her word on the table. Sure enough the line was out the door and part way down the building. You’d actually got there 20 mins earlier than she’d said to. You got behind a group of 20 somethings that had what appeared to be every part that could be pierced pierced animatedly talking about the band that would be playing.

“Dude…Mary’s gonna kill.” The guy with both sides of his head shaved started bouncing up and down in excitement.

“I can’t believe we’re finally seeing them.” The girl with a chain linking her nose ring to her ear said while taking a long draw off her vape pen.

You pull your phone out of your bag while thinking how, if ever there was a chance she’d wind up in a fight, the jewelry choice she’d made was a bad one. One yank and it would be blood, tears, and screaming. Your brain had a habit of going to the dark side often.

You decided to look up the band while waiting. Eventually you found a fan page for them. They had a decent following for being relatively new. They had released a record a few months ago that was getting play on the independent scenes. As you shuffled along, seeing the pierce posse moving forward, you popped in your Airpod and started listening. It was death metal alright, but where a lot of that style didn’t do much for you, Unearthed had something more artistic going on. You could actually understand the lyrics and the lead vocals had a style to them that made the growling demonic tone stand out.

After hearing one song, a ditty about cursed souls burning in hells fire forever for their love that was forbidden, you decided you liked them. You’d moved to the halfway point of getting in when you pulled up a group photo, one of those staged ones for promotions.

The band consisted of four guys, all in tight black jeans. They were all wearing leather jackets that had seen some things, mostly illegal things if you had to guess. Two were blondes, one was bald, and one had dark hair that was styled in a stylish version of a devilock. All of them had various splatters of blood on them, but devilock had it running down his face. His big, green eyes stared out from the picture in a way that was unnerving, even without the blood if it hadn’t been there. All four of them were pale, nearly alabaster white. The skin tone made that blood on his face stand out even more. If this guy wasn’t the lead singer you’d eat your own jacket.

Sure enough and strangely enough you saw on the description that this was the Mary the group in front of you were talking about. Mary Goore. Well that was a choice name. “Huh.” You said aloud. Mary of the demonic growls that somehow were as smooth as dark chocolate. Well Mary, you thought, I hope you are worth the wait here and it’s not all studio magic.

After another few minutes you showed your ID to the guy at the door and paid your cover charge. You were still like three minutes early and you quickly looked around for Pats. You saw her notice you and sure enough she had a small table right near the edge of the stage. This may or may not have been a good idea. You’d seen how the crowds could go at these things before…that table was probably not going to be upright by the end of the concert. Well, it would be an adventure…at least her date was there. Brown hair, piercings too, and a ratty hoodie with a King Diamond t-shirt that had seen better days. Yeah, that tracked with Pats previous dates she’d shown you pics of.

You pointed to the bar and made a drinking motion with your hand, hoping it didn’t look pornographic. Pats returned a thumbs up and pointed to the table where their drinks were sitting. You shot her an OK sign and headed over to get a beer because you had earned it this week. The club itself had a relatively unsticky floor which was a welcome surprise. The air did smell of booze, a little bit of weed, and a little stale smoke. All in all though, it wasn’t bad. The bartender and his team seemed to have a good flow too and the line was moving okay.

You were still going to have a little of a wait, so you went back to your phone glancing up every so often. Eventually you figured this was a sure-fire way to drop your phone and cause an accident as the crowd was growing. You pocketed your phone and took a breath, looking around at the various concert posters and neon signs that covered nearly every inch of wall space in the joint. The band would be going on in fifteen minutes so you hoped the line would get faster.

All of a sudden you heard a loud voice, very obviously drunk, coming your way. “Let’s get this show on the road mother fuckers….wooohooo!” You’d turned towards the sound just in time to be slammed into by said drunken voice’s owner. He looked to be 350 pounds and covered in tattoos, a few of which you didn’t notice were a mix of Aryan brotherhood symbols and sayings.

He’d knocked you off your feet and not in the romantic way, one of his waving hands even hitting your face with enough force to skew your glasses. You didn’t notice that though as you were realizing you were falling to the floor, which while not sticky was probably not the cleanest place to faceplant.

Before you hit the wooden beams something or someone caught you. You let out a humph of air as your arms were gripped by strong hands and your face landed against a leather clad shoulder. The hands stood you back up, holding onto you a moment longer as you steadied yourself. “Thank you…” You started to say, “I’m so sorry…he…” and when you looked up into the face of your rescuer you paused.

Large green eyes with a thin line of black rimming them looked down at you, a dark lock of hair falling over one of them. The blood was missing but his skin was as pale as the picture promised it would be. His cheekbones were just as sharp. He looked at you strangely, one dark brow raised.

“You’re with the band.” You said lamely, still a little shook. Mary Goore was still holding you up, his chilly fingers cold even through the material of your jacket. He gave a barely perceptible nod.

“Uh…thank you again…he sort of barreled into me and I didn’t mean to fall onto you.” You were rambling, part of your brain still trying to figure out the best adjectives to describe the green of his eyes.

You saw those eyes look over to where the large, loud drunk had headed. He was now in a corner with a couple other smaller versions of him, all of them equally inebriated and excited and just as obnoxious. Mary’s gaze was not kind and for a moment you thought you saw the thin, red veins of his eyes flash black. It was only a half a second and you shrugged it off as the lighting and also the fact your glasses were about to fall off your face. You were probably legally blind without them, but yeah, your eyesight sucked so it shouldn’t surprise you.

Mary Goore turned back to you, the glare changing to a look of perusal. His full lips thinned and while one hand stayed grasping your arm, the other raised up and straightened your glasses on your face. His fingertips grazed your cheek, and you nearly shivered at how cold they were. They must have just come in from outside. The faint scent of cigarettes still clung to their skin and the leather of their own jacket.

“Yo, Goore…you want something before you go on?” The voice of the bartender called behind you.

The musician nodded and after one more look at you, released your arm. He then held up two, long thin fingers towards the bartender who nodded. He grabbed two bottles of imported beer and popped the tops off them and placed them on the counter. The tall, thin figure moved through the people like a specter in front of the busy bar. You just stood there in the same spot watching in awe at the graceful movements born of hours in places like this.

You shook your head and turned to just head back to Pats and her date, your drink forgotten. Before you had taken two steps you felt a hand on your shoulder. You turned and Mary held out one of the beers to you with another slight nod. You took the condensation covered bottle, not familiar with the name but not caring at this point. “Thank you again…you didn’t have to.” You sounded like an idiot to yourself but something about this entire interaction felt…surreal.

Mary’s lips pulled up just a bit into the faintest hint of a smile. And something in that look made you smile too. You raised your beer in a toast and lightly touched the glass of Mary’s with a barely perceptible plink. “Here’s to knights in shining leather.” You said. His smile grew enough you saw just a little flash of teeth, seemingly sharp incisors glinting in the neon. Mary then gave of all things, a courtly bow to you.

You laughed. “Have a good show.” You told them and you swore Mary winked at you and then headed off towards the backstage door, taking a long swallow of beer.

You shook your head, taking your own drink of beer. It was good, a bit richer and stronger than the normal Budweiser you would get. You headed back to Patsy, noticing her date was missing. She grinned up at you. “Hey! The shows going to start soon.” She beamed and you noticed she looked a little more glossy eyed than normal.

Sitting down you turned to her, “What happened to your date?” you asked, taking another drink.

She took a drink of her own, something that looked like a green martini. “He actually works with the band, actually for their manager. He’s doing some stuff real quick and then he’ll be back.”

Your eyebrows raised. “So, is this Mr. Right?”

Patsy giggled. “Oh…I don’t know…we’ll have to see how the night winds up won’t we?” She nearly slurred the words.

You didn’t know what to make of how tipsy she already was. Maybe she’d pregamed before the show. You decided to keep an eye on her. “Well I sort of met one of the guys in the band.”

She turned to you, glossy eyes wide. “Really?”

“Yeah, some asshat came in and knocked me over. Mary Goore caught me before I could land in someone’s beer spill.” You were still a little shook by the encounter, not only because of the idiot who knocked you flying and the fact your cheek probably would have a bruise but just those green eyes of Mary Goore’s were…haunting.

Patsy let out a little oooh sound. “Oh honey, are you okay? I’m sorry I didn’t…didn’t see it. Want me to kill the shit for you?”

You doubted Patsy could stand for a length of time, let alone go into battle for your honor. “It’s all good. Let’s just enjoy the show from the safety of this very unrickety table.” You placed a finger on the edge watching it tilt up at the barest pressure.

“Hey, don’t…don’t knock it.” Patsy grabbed her glass and took another swig of the green stuff in it.

It was another couple of minutes before Patsy’s date came back to the table, a little sweaty and out of breath. “Sorry baby…had to make sure some things were set.” He put his arm around Patsy’s shoulders. Then he noticed you. “Uh..hey.”

Patsy quickly introduced you to “Chuck.” You reached over and regretted immediately shaking his clammy hand. You noticed he was jittery and there was an odd colored stain on his King Diamond shirt now…which probably wasn’t the first King Diamond shirt to be covered in something gross but…it looked weirdly like blood in what little light you could see.

The lights in the bar blinked on and off twice and a man in a tattered and patch covered denim vest with a long beard went to stand behind the microphone. His garbled voice spoke to years of smoking and drinking the cheapest whiskey around. “Alright you misfits and monsters….I want you to get up off your asses for the dregs that we dug up just for you. Behold, The Unearthed!”

The lights then dropped off completely and you felt your heart jump for a moment. There was an eerie blue light shining on the stage as four men wheeled out four sperate coffins. Over the speakers there was a haunting organ playing, something straight out of Phantom of the Opera. Once the coffins were placed, the men dressed in all black hurried off the stage…and then the lights cut to black and there was a scream rattling the speakers which suddenly stopped.

Then the sound of a guitar cut through the darkness and the red and green lights lit up the stage where suddenly the band were just…there. At the center was Mary, standing behind a microphone, on his face glinting in the red light was the blood that had been missing before.

He looked like a supernatural creature alright. His cheeks hollow, bones sharp. His skin was as white as chalk and his eyes were now darkened more around the lids and below. His lips were black, the blood dark and dripping over his eye, down his cheek and chin. That shouldn’t have been attractive, it shouldn’t have made you wonder if they used corn syrup in the mix and would it be sweet if you licked it from his jaw. As they started playing the instruments in earnest Mary’s voice blasted over the sound system, a melodious growl straight from a fallen angel in hell.

Even when the crowd, as you knew it would, started creating a pit in front of the stage you couldn’t take your eyes off of Mary. You noticed he didn’t really blink as he was performing. At some points, during solos, he would stare across the crowd, not even looking at them, his long pale fingers massaging music from his guitar that would sound apt for Satan’s throne room…or bordello.

You eventually looked around at the rest of the band, but it was as if you had to physically yank your head away from Mary. They all looked a little strange, but that was the point you supposed. The gimmick. The dead band…it was edgy alright. The blood on Mary’s face was replicated on the other guitarist and bassist…apparently the drummer ate his victims a little cleaner.

You felt Patsy tap your arm. It was too loud to talk but she made a gesture toward Chuck and a very loopy, very suggestive grin. Something made you want to tell her to not leave with the guy…you don’t know why but you really didn’t like him. But then he was pulling her along with him and she was barely standing on her own, leaning on him heavily as he led her away toward the backstage door.

You watched with wary eyes, nibbling your lower lip and gripping your long empty beer bottle.

A new song was starting, and the tone of the music was changing. This was slower, not nearly as hard as the previous music. And while the lyrics were still on brand, dark and gothic, it was like the song you’d listened to waiting to get in, having a touch of the romantic. Mary’s voice went from growling snarl, to a velvet purr that you could feel in your chest. He was gazing down at the ground while he sung, fingers moving with skilled practice along his guitar, the red lights highlighting the demon tattoo that graced his forearm. At some point he looked up and turned right in your direction.

It was surprising and you felt yourself freeze as those green eyes locked with yours. You don’t think he’d looked at anyone directly the whole night but now you felt the weight of that gaze trapping you in your seat as his voice reached right through your ribcage. He didn’t blink once…you know because you felt the fact you weren’t either. As the chorus broke through the speakers about serving his heart on a platter to the one that would give him forever you nearly fell out of the chair as he turned away, letting you free of his stare and then starting a solo on his guitar.

You had to shake your head clear, finally blinking and grasping onto the rickety table for something solid. The show was over after another two songs, one of which was the encore. Patsy had still not returned from the back stage and there was no sign of her date. The Unearthed disappeared nearly as quickly as they had appeared, and two techs were breaking down the stage set up.

You didn’t know what to do but you had a feeling that something was very wrong. After a few more minutes of waiting you wandered outside the bar, looking around in case you had missed your friend walking outside. There was no sign, just some smokers. You recognized Patsy’s car in the lot, the deathtrap she called it, an old Fiero painted neon green. You couldn’t miss it. Unless she had left in Chuck’s car she was still there.

You chewed on your thumb nail, nerves roiling along with your stomach. The bar was going to close soon. Taking a deep breath you headed towards the alley that ran along the side of the building. The scent of garbage and old booze hit you hard along with smells you didn’t want to put a name to. There was a large truck the size of a small UHaul parked next to what looked like a side entrance. You quickly moved to the side door and hoped it was unlocked. Luckily, some lazy bum had decided to plant a piece of cardboard in the door so it couldn’t close completely.

You peered inside and didn’t see anyone walking around, so you carefully slipped in and placed the block back where it had been. The backstage area was dimly lit. The scent of tobacco and weed was strong back here along with a slight tang of booze. It was better than the alley you thought. You just needed to find Patsy and get the hell out of here, or at least find out where she was and if she was okay.

Moving cautiously through the backstage you realized the place was bigger than you originally thought. It was almost TARDIS like, it just kept going, bigger on the inside. This was no doubt due to the amazing amount of anxiety pumping through your system but still…

Hearing voices you ducked into a doorway while two men walked by you in the hall. One of them was the guy who had announced the band, the other you didn’t recognize. He was rail thin with thinning hair and a suit that had seen its glory days in the 80s no doubt. You caught a bit of their conversation, something about payment and maybe extending the run. It faded away as you watched them walk further down the hallway, swallowed up by the shadows. You took a couple deep breaths to calm your heart down and then headed in the direction they had come.

You found a door marked green room, with the green marked out and a crudely drawn PARTYY written in. It was closed. You pressed your ear to the door and, oddly, didn’t hear anything. You would have expected some sort of drinking or said partying. But maybe Patsy was inside or someone who knew where she was was in there. There was also the possibility of Mary Goore, a traitorous voice said in your head. You shook that away. You were here on a mission to find your friend, not the pale rock god you’d just watched.

The door was stuck but you pushed harder and it popped open for you. You glanced around and then walked in, surprised again that no one made a sound at the door opening. The room was dimly lit. Again, it was bigger than expected. Maybe it could hold a party actually, but as you stepped in the few couches inside were shoved up against one wall, and running along the other were leaning the coffins from the start of the show.

Your eyes narrowed to the contraption that sat on the coffee table in front of the coffins. It was plugged into the wall, a strange humming coming from it. There were tubes, four of them, running from the machine into each of the coffins through a small hole in the left sides. What the fuck was this?

Cautiously you stepped closer and looked at the clear container that made up the center of the machine. Your lips parted in surprise. That…that was blood. The thick, ruby red liquid was unmistakable. This couldn’t be happening…this couldn’t be real. But the dead lived, you’d seen them. But what was this?? There was no way…

You turned to the coffins and peered at them closer. Each had an engraved letter on the front in a small silver plaque with a very intricate skull design surrounding it. You saw the one with the M in gothic script. Another voice in your head told you not to do what you were about to do. It really yelled at you that this was stupid, and you needed to leave. But morbid curiosity and the desire for answers were winning out. You needed to find Patsy.

Steeling your shoulders, you wrapped your trembling fingers around the caskets lid and pulled it open, slowly. When it was opened you peered around and gasped. There, eyes closed and as still as a corpse would be, was Mary Goore. The tube ended in a needle that was going into his pale arm. His dark lashes lay against his pale cheeks, the right side of his face still wearing the blood he’d had on stage. He wasn’t moving at all.

Your lips were parted in shock. What the fuck was going on? Was the blood…going in or coming out? You glanced down at his arm then back at his face. You turned and looked at the machine then back at the singer. The shaking in your fingers grew worse but you had to know. So you lifted your right hand and pressed it against the thin, faded material of the Corroded Coffin shirt he was wearing, right where his heart should be. There was no beat, or if there was, it was so faint you couldn’t even feel it. His skin was cold through the worn cotton, nearly like ice.

You pulled your hand away and felt tears pricking your eyes. My god, had someone killed them? Jesus Christ…where was Patsy? Everything was hitting you like a freight train. You turned around, trying to calm your breathing, trying to get your mind to wrap around this surreal nightmare taking place in a time filled with nightmares. “Fuck Patsy…what…what have you got me stuck in…where the fuck are you?” you whispered to no one. Then you heard the voices outside the door and coming closer. You were trapped and there was nowhere here to hide. You froze hearing them stop right outside the door. Shit, shit, shit…

A hand wrapped around your mouth and an arm grabbed hold around your waist. You were pulled backwards with a speed and strength that didn’t even give you time to scream or struggle. Your wide eyes looked around as the sides of the coffin surrounded you. A doc marten clad foot kicked backward, and the coffin lid closed with a jerk, surrounding you in darkness and the scent of cigarettes, leather, and a metallic tang that you now knew was blood.

The fingers over your mouth were like icicles. When you felt the lips near your ear they caused a shiver to run down every nerve you had left. “Be quiet and don’t struggle.” Mary Goore whispered softly into your ear. “Nod if you heard me.” His voice was barely a breath in the confines of the casket. He was holding you so close the zipper and pins that covered his leather jacket were cutting into your back. You nodded as well as you could, trying hard not to have a break down.

Mary’s hand moved slowly from your mouth, his arm coming to rest below chin, just under your neck, his fingers gripping lightly to your upper arm. You were trying to breathe normally but the situation and the fact you were in a coffin was making that very difficult. “You need to slow down…they’ll hear you. Slow your breaths, calm down.” His voice was so low you nearly thought you imagined it. His fingers splayed out against your diaphragm. “Slow down. I don’t have to breathe…they hear you they’ll know it’s not me.”

That bit of information did nothing to really help calm you down but when you heard the muffled sticking of the door popping open, announcing they were coming into the room you shuddered. Mary’s arms tightened around you. You closed your eyes and focused on slowing down the breaths coming from your lungs. “Good girl.” His lips brushed your ear, the words barely there.

You could hear the voices of the two men, muffled but still you could make out what they were saying. “So Chuck the Fuck came through?” The guy with the beard was asking.

“Yep, he always does.” The other man, the even more creepy one it must have been replied. You heard him walking by the coffin and you couldn’t help pressing closer to Mary. You felt their fingers move up and down your arm a very soft “shhh” coming from his lips.

“Where’s the girl at?” The bearded man asked.

You bit your lip and strained to hear what the reply would be, your stomach roiling.

“He’s taking her back to her place. Standard story, “Baby you were so drunk, you better take it easy.” The boys may be a little loopy after this feeding, I think he gave her a bit too much.” The creepy guy replied.

You nearly started crying, you felt tears forming but you held on. She was still alive. They’d taken Patsy’s blood and were pumping it into what you now knew were a group of very real reanimates posing as a fake zombie metal band. The situation was surreal…and the fact you were wrapped in the arms of one of the undead while hiding in a coffin with him was the cherry on top.

“Looks like it’s still pumping them full of unleaded. Let’s go get some dinner, it should be done by then. I’ll get you your take.” Beardy said and you listened to their footsteps walking out of the room, the now familiar sound of the stuck door opening and then it being shut.

“Wait.” Mary’s voice was still barely a whisper. You waited, it felt like a long time but was probably less than a minute.

Mary kept one arm around your waist to keep you from bolting and with the other lifted the lid of the coffin slowly, his green eyes peering around the lid. When he was sure there was no one else in the room he released your waist, transferring his grip to your wrist, both of you stepping out of the casket onto the cheap carpet. You pulled at his hand, trying to get him to let go but he wouldn’t. He wasn’t hurting you, but his grip wasn’t letting go, an icy vice wrapped around your bones.

“Stop it.” He said, his normal voice surprisingly soft with just a trace of an accent you couldn’t place. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Tell…that…to my friend whose blood you were…” He wasn’t sucking it like a vampire you supposed. “Being pumped full of.” There…that was accurate.

His eyes narrowed. “I just hid you in my coffin from being caught…” His full lips thinned. “Or was that someone else I was packed in there with?”

Okay, he had a point. In fact he’d been your knight in shining leather a couple of times that evening. Once from faceplanting due to a drunk and just now…and whatever would have happened if you’d been discovered. But this night had spiraled into something crazy. You let out a frustrated half growl, but stopped pulling away, head falling in defeat. “UGH…I’m sorry for being completely fucking freaked out after my friend was drugged and drained of her blood to…feed you and I had to find out this way. I think I’m allowed to be freaked out.”

Mary Goore’s eyes glanced away for a moment, a look of almost embarrassment crossing his bloodied face. “You do have a right to be freaked out.” They replied and released your wrist. “I’m sorry…you…this shouldn’t be happening.”

You were once again surprised by how soft his voice was in comparison to the demonic growling he could summon at will on stage. You watched as he took a step away, pulling the needle still in his arm out with a jerk that made you wince. The wound didn’t bleed, and you could have sworn the pale skin around the puncture healed in front of you. You glanced back up at his face, watching as Mary ran his long fingers through his dark hair. His green eyes were large and stood out in the dark of the room.

“What…are you?” You asked in a hushed whisper, not even realizing the question was leaving your lips.

Mary turned to you, face haunted, a mix of bone white and blood red. “I’m the monster darling.” He said in a bitter tone, mocking smile on his mouth. “Haven’t you figured that out yet? I’m the real deal. The walking dead.”

“But…you’re…well…I…” You couldn’t form the sentence.

“I’m able to fool you? Me and the boys fooled you all into thinking we’re still human?” He grinned then but it wasn’t a happy smile. His teeth were white, incisors sharp and glinting in what light there was. The black make up on his lips made them gleam even more. “That’s the whole thing sweetheart, we’re supposed to fool you. That’s what the boss wants. We have to be that good.”

You should be terrified and running for the door, but he’d done nothing himself to make you feel unsafe with him. You glanced away, not sure what to do, wanting to know what was going on. After another moment you asked. “Why? Why pretend?”

A strange look crossed his face. With a heavy sigh he fell into the couch against the wall, long legs stretched out before him. You hesitated, then carefully stepped over to set a little bit away from him on the plush cushions.

Mary glanced over at you. “Survival. That’s why.” They said at last. Mary leaned over to a small refrigerator that sat humming next to the couch. You heard the door open and shut and then he was handing you a can of unopened beer, keeping one for himself.

He popped the top and took a large swallow, resting the can over the exposed knee of his jeans. “You have to feed in this…life…unlife…whatever you want to call it. People hate you without giving it a second thought. Roy, the manager, he offered us a chance to fake it. Perfect cover, pretending to be what we actually are.”

You opened your own beer and drank down some of it. “Why does he do it?” You asked, voice unsteady.

Mary took a breath he didn’t need…it was out of habit. “We’re cheap. We’re desperate. We work for nearly no money and for blood.” He took another swig of beer, finishing the can and crushing it in his fingers. Mary tossed it with perfect aim at the trash can across the room. They turned to you with a wary gaze. “We can live on blood alone, we don’t need…meat. Only the really damaged ones do. The rest of the guys and I, we can pass for normal. We’re lucky. But something will always give us away. Roy, he keeps us fed with this routine. He and Chuck, they’ve got it down.”

“So…he keeps you fed and safe. Like pets?” You asked and immediately regretted it. You blamed the adrenaline and beer.

They weren’t offended, letting out a rueful laugh. “Yeah, like pets.” Those forest-colored eyes caught your gaze. “I’m sorry about your friend.” His gaze narrowed for a moment. “He won’t hurt the…donors. We’ve made it very clear to Chuck if that happens, he’s going to be the next one on the menu.”

Your eyes widened at that. You still couldn’t figure out why you weren’t screaming and running. But you still weren’t afraid of Mary. Maybe you were nuts. He apparently realized that wasn’t a comforting thing to say. Mary glanced down and twisted a skull shaped ring on his finger, then looked back at you. “You can’t…you can’t tell anyone about us.” His voice was lower, hesitant.

You swallowed a sudden dryness in your throat. Was this the threat now? “I won’t…I promise.” You drank down the rest of your beer, keeping your hands around the empty can to keep them from shaking.

You had seen how the “zombie haters” could react to something like this. Any reanimates that had managed to hide themselves in regular society got the worst treatment. Final deaths and all. And the only ones to get worse treatment were the living who helped them or were in love with them. Godless necrophiliacs, corpse fuckers, the descriptions were many. Even if it was a couple who had been together when the now reanimate of the duo had been alive. It didn’t matter to the hordes. You knew of at least two or three couples in the state that had met a fiery and mysterious end after it had come out. Those were just the ones you knew of, you assumed there were more.

So Mary or the rest of The Unearthed didn’t have to really explain much to you. You’d seen enough hate and what that hate could do. “I’ve seen what can happen.” You said finally.

Mary nodded, the devilock falling over his eye. “So have I.” he sounded weary.

You cocked an eyebrow up behind your glasses. “How did you…”

He gave a laugh and shook his head. “I know what your gonna ask. We don’t have time for that story.” Mary stood and held out a hand, gesturing at your beer. You handed it over and he repeated his actions of before, crushing it and tossing it perfectly into the trash. He turned back to you and held out his hand again. You placed your own in it and he helped you to stand.

“You need to go before he comes back.” Mary held onto your hand, his pale fingers cold against your own. “If he finds out you know about us, he’ll…” His emerald eyes looked away for a moment and you saw clearly now the veins change from red to black in his gaze as he stared at the door the two men had left through earlier. He turned back to you, the color fading to normal, but his expression was strained. “That can’t happen. You have to stay quiet. I’m probably an idiot but I think I can trust you.”

You shook your head and squeezed his icy fingers. “You can trust me. I’m probably an idiot too but I trust you.”

Mary actually laughed again, a genuine smile on his dark lips. “We’re two dumbasses together I guess.” He paused, still not letting go of your hand, the warmth welcome. He seemed to be pondering something and finally turned to the doorway and pulled you along. Mary yanked the door open an inch and peered out into the hall, checking the coast was clear. After he was sure he pushed it open and turned back to you.

“Go right and take the exit, you’ll have to go around the building to get to the parking lot, but you won’t run into anyone at this time of night.” He said, still keeping hold of your fingers.

“Okay, thank you.” You replied. Standing this close to him again, you could see the cracks forming in the fake blood dried on his face, his cheekbones gaunt in the shadows from what little light was there.

He smiled again, showing just the barest hint of what you could only call fangs now. “Don’t thank me…just remember what I said darling.”

You nodded and stepped into the hallway, but he still held your hand. You glanced back and saw the melancholy smile was still there. “We’re here all week.” Mary said, their voice hushed in the doorframe. “Maybe…maybe if you come back I’ll tell you a story.” He lifted your hand to his lips and placed a kiss on your knuckles, then released it.

You gave him a small smile in return, nervous but oddly excited at the thought of seeing the undeath metal singer again. Quickly you headed in the direction you were told and found the exit door. Out in the cold night you headed around the building only one or two stragglers still around. There was now recorded music blaring out of the club which would be closing in an hour.

The events of the night were still running through your head when you finally got to your car. As you unlocked the door you saw Roy, the manager and the owner of the club returning, and you quickly got into your front seat and locked the door. You hit the start button and placed your hands on the steering wheel, fingers shaking from the fact you could have easily been discovered.

In the light of the dash you noticed a bloody lip print on your knuckles, a good night kiss from Mary Goore. Unable to help it, you smiled.

#mary goore #tobias forge #ghost #the band ghost #zombies #mary goore fic #mary goore/you #mary goore & you #mary goore /ofc #zombies are real baby #mary is really dead sexy #as in dead #for real

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narrans · 7 months ago

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My Borrowed Son | 27 | Strangers Like Me

Chapter Twenty-Seven | Strangers Like Me

Parker was in awe of the place he saw. This place was so strange and yet he knew it was a house. An aroma that smelled sweet and familiar lingered in the air and only got stronger as the four of them approached the structure.

Parker’s mind was completely numb. No part of him felt real. He felt like a helium balloon, floating along and merely existing. Every sense was taking in information, but processing it was another story.

As they approached, Parker noticed two other small children who were smaller and younger than him outside of the structure. It sounded like the two of them were talking – well, one was talking, and the other was babbling simple phrases.

It wasn’t until they were a few feet away that they instinctively stopped and turned toward the approaching group. The oldest of the two’s eyes were wide and he quickly took the younger by the hand and guided her inside. There was some kind of commotion inside and, a few seconds later, two more adults, one man and one woman who looked a little older than the man they walked outside of the structure. Their expressions told Parker everything he needed to know about seeing him with the others.

They were apprehensive, completely uneasy, and shocked into silence at seeing him.

Parker’s step faltered and he stopped dead in his tracks. He never considered himself a shy person, but too much had happened all at once and was making him retreat into himself. His body trembled as he pulled the cloak given to him by the man further over his shoulders.

This made the man stop and glance over at Parker.

“You’re alright. It’s going to be okay, kid,” said the man. The same instinct Parker had experienced all his life that raised when he sensed his mom coming or when he fell from a great distance wasn’t giving him any red flags. Usually, the hair would raise on the back of his neck or something inside him would be screaming to run away.

That was not the case here.

In fact, there was something homey about what was happening.

It was familiar.

Parker swallowed, his throat feeling like sandpaper from getting sick earlier, and followed behind the man.

The woman ushered the other two teens into the home, giving Kit a harsh stare, before her features softened as she looked back to Parker. The man did the same thing as Finnick and Kit passed, saying something along the lines of, “We’ll talk about this later,” as Kit crossed the threshold.

The woman exhaled slowly as though to calm herself down before stepping forward toward Parker. The young teen noticed she had a prosthetic leg, which seemed unfathomable. How could she have a prosthetic leg and not be human? How did she get the supplies for it? It looked 3D printed after all.

“Parker, sweetie, come on inside. I’m sure you have some questions,” said the woman as she turned on her heel and vanished inside the house. The man with her followed shortly behind after giving the man who helped Parker a stern look.

Parker wasn’t sure why, but he got the impression that there was something uneasy and unspoken between the group and the stranger. Regardless, Parker drifted along through the door and into the home. He immediately noticed so many odds and ends that were hung from the walls.

The items ranged from ones he actually used to help build his own space to creative alternatives for everyday items. Things like thumbtacks in the walls for coats and bags and twist ties for hinges on the doors. There was a cork in the corner with a paperclip in the back which made the thing look like a stool or chair and this was just the hallway.

The number of things in the kitchen and living area alone that looked like they had been fashioned out of the most obscure items and turned out okay. One of the things Parker noticed was a bundle of blankets in the corner that looked like it had been made from yarn. There were trinkets hanging in the air and cut paper dolls and origami creations that looked to be made from old gum wrappers.

The idea of using trash to decorate was an odd one to Parker, but the actual execution looked rather enchanting and homey. This was just one of so many things all around that he recognized for their actual use but appreciated its reused purpose.

What on earth is happening? This place is fascinating. They reuse everyday items to make new things and use them for something else entirely. That matchbox is a cabinet and drawers. This other one is a sofa.

Parker absentmindedly stepped into the kitchen and suddenly found himself sitting at the kitchen table with a thimble full of something that smelled like tea in front of him. The man who was in the house was sitting at the head of a table made of cards while the woman continued to bustle about the kitchen, snagging more “cups” of tea for everyone else.

Finnick, the older teen, sat next to his father at a diagonal from Parker while the girl, Kit, leaned against the door facing with her arms crossed as tightly as a twisty pretzel. The other two were in the living area. It was clear the older one was meant to watch over the youngest but was failing miserably because every few seconds the youngest managed to charge into the kitchen in pursuit of her mother.

The other man stayed leaned up against the kitchen counter as the woman sat down across from Parker. With her lack of movement, everything finally fell still in the house.

The tension was tangible, but Parker had no idea how to even begin. What did he ask? Did he have the right to leave? Was he being kept here? Were all of these people delusional and calling themselves “Borrowers?” Or was that actually what they were?

Was that what he was?

“Well, Parker, I’m sure you have a lot of questions. You can take your time if you’d like. We’re happy to answer anything,” said the woman. “I… suppose introductions are in order. I’m Mira, and this is my husband Toulouse. Our eldest is Finnick and our daughter, whom I’ve been told you met last night, is Sprokit. Our other son is Reed and our youngest is Dove. We’ve been living here for many years and, well… hearing about your arrival certainly sparked some discussion.”

Parker looked at the man in the corner. He pulled the cloak further over his shoulders and swallowed again. The smell of the tea was appealing, but Parker’s insides felt like they could turn for the worst at any moment.

“And… him?”

The man glanced up at Parker, keeping his arms folded loosely, before sighing heftily.

“Kers. I moved here with you and your mom.”

Parker recited the names a few times in his mind, but he knew they wouldn’t stick. He felt like his mind was frozen in time back when he first entered the walls, and it would take nothing short of an ice chisel to get information through his brain at the moment.

“R-right…”

“Parker, do…”

“You… said you’ve known me for a while, but what does that mean?” Parker asked, interrupting Finnick as he began speaking. Parker wanted desperately for them to stay quiet and let him process the information in front of him, but that was a pipe dream at this point. It was obvious they wanted to help and wouldn’t relent until they thought he was satisfied with their answers.

They looked over at Kers, as did Parker, and waited for the answer.

“I said it before, I was hidden. I found your home a little over four years ago and decided to live there and make sure you were okay,” said Kers. He sounded exhausted, but truthful.

But it still didn’t make sense to Parker.

“W-what? What does that even mean? Okay? Okay from what?” Parker heard Kit scoff before she piped up from her spot in the doorway.

“Oh, please,” she said exasperatedly. “Okay from the human. He was making sure you were safe from the human.”

“Sprokit!” scolded Toulouse firmly, making Parker jump slightly. Kit rolled her eyes and rolled her lips together to form a thin line on her face. The father sighed and nodded. “She means the woman you call ‘mom’.”

The woman I call “mom?”

Those words echoed hollowly in Parker’s mind. It made him bristle that these people were calling his mom “the woman,” reducing everything she did for him all of his life to two simple words that didn’t do her justice.

It also felt like a punch in the gut. “The woman” he knew as his mom wasn’t actually that thing. A mom was a woman who gave birth to you. A mom wouldn’t lie to you. A mom helped and protected as well as provided for you. A mom loved you.

Parker felt his insides swirl again and he coughed a little as his body lurched. Thankfully, nothing came up, but it did make Parker feel sicker by the second.

“B…but…”

“Parker, it’s okay. I’m sorry. We’re just not used to talking to a Borrower who has been seen and talked to a human before. Old habits die hard,” apologized Mira as she leaned forward onto the table and smiled while catching Parker’s eye.

That word is what helped snap Parker out of his stupor.

Now feeling completely detached, the questions started coming in clearer for Parker. Though still numb and waiting for something to break through his frozen mind, Parker’s questions started manifesting, and he wasn’t about to let them slip away.

“That… word… Borrower… what is it?” asked Parker. Sympathetic glances flashed from every set of eyes to one another before turning back to Parker. Mira looked visibly shaken and upset, but she still mustered a smile for the young teen.

“Well, that’s what we are. We’re Borrowers. We borrow things that humans won’t miss in order to survive. Little things like sugar, bread, pins, cloth, ribbons, and anything else we might find useful,” Mira replied.

“We usually don’t see other Borrowers often, but we all live by a code in order to keep ourselves safe,” Finnick chimed in as he too leaned forward in his chair. “It’s rare for so many Borrowers to be living together under the same roof since it’s more likely a human will notice things going missing.”

“What about those two who come to visit?” interjected Reed as he began dragging the youngest, Dove, back to the living room. “They said they come from a massive group.”

“Rey and Hero probably live in that abandoned house down by the creek. I can’t imagine they live in a human’s house, especially with a big group. You saw their clothes. Definitely Outies,” dismissed Finnick.

“Outies?” echoed Parker. Toulouse nodded.

“Yes, Borrowers are usually ‘Innies’ or ‘Outies,’ meaning where they live; either inside a house or outside in the wilds,” replied the father of four.

Parker had to physically rest his head on the table to keep from vomiting again. The entire room as spinning faster and faster, making the teen see stars, and his action quieted them for a minute while he regained his bearings.

When he did, he dared to take a sip of the tea Mira gave him just to quench his parched throat. It was soothing and made him feel a little less sick. The sweetness definitely helped add to the taste too.

“So… y-you… you’re saying… there are just… massive groups? Or… rather… small clusters of groups of B… Bor-row…” Parker couldn’t get the word out, but his meaning was understood.

“Yes, that’s correct,” replied Toulouse.

“Th-then… why haven’t I heard of you? Why isn’t it on the internet? W-why… h-how does n-no one know about you?” asked Parker.

“About us you mean,” grumbled Kit. Mira snapped her fingers harshly at her daughter and gave her a warning stare before turning back to Parker. The palpable tension dissipated after a few moments in intense silence, followed by the eldest son clearing his throat.

“Because of the rules,” Finnick replied. Parker’s blank expression prompted further explanation. This threw Parker for a loop.

“Rule? There are… rules?” Parker asked aloud unintentionally.

“Yes, quite a few of them. There are three we Borrowers generally abide by in order to keep ourselves safe.” The way Toulouse explained reminded Parker of how his mom would explain things to him. It was slow and simple, broken into multiple parts to make it easier for him to process the information.

“The first rule is to never be seen by a human because it is dangerous for you and for all of Borrower kind. The second rule flows into the first which is you must move if you think you’ve been seen. It’s for your protection, even if you weren’t seen. The last rule is to never talk to humans. If they know we’re sentient, they’ll only try and get answers out of us.”

Parker listened to the father’s explanation and something in his mind flashed. It was quick, like a lightbulb memory, but he remembered hearing those rules once before, along with the reason why. Slowly, Parker said, “Because… they’ll treat you like a… pet….”

The inquisitive glances the family members gave one another told Parker he had said something correctly.

“That’s right,” said Reed as he popped back into the kitchen to retrieve Dove once again. “You’ll get thrown in a cage and they’ll throw away the key. You’ll never be seen or heard from again, and that’ll be the exposure of Borrower kind.” Parker twisted around in the chair and glanced at the younger kid as he flashed a smile and, snagging his little sister under the armpits, hoisted her up and waddled back to the living room.

Parker’s vision blackened around the edges, and he once again needed to rest his head on the table. A cold sweat covered his body. Regret filled him as he realized he was probably soaking Kers’ cloak through with his perspiration. The family of Borrowers waited patiently for Parker’s recovery as they awaited his next question.

But his mind was running wild.

Everything and nothing made sense.

This had to be a dream, right?

Parker pinched himself under the table hard along the outside of his thigh, but the trick didn’t work, and he was met with five pairs of eyes staring at him expectantly. One thought was something he clung to, however, and he hoped in this moment to possibly disprove everything they just said.

“But… my mom… she said it was a genetic condition. She said I have Parvi Homunculi Syndrome. It’s just a rare condition. Are… you sure you don’t just have that?” Mira must’ve heard the desperation in Parker’s voice because her features filled once again sympathetically.

“I… I know how weird it must sound,” said Mira. She brushed her hair to the side and sighed before clasping her hands together and resting them on the table. “But we’re Borrowers. We’re different than humans for a number of different reasons, despite how similar we might look.”

“Differences?” Parker barely uttered the word, fearing the sip of tea he just had was going to churn his insides and reappear.

“Yeah, differences. We have instincts that humans don’t have. Our vision is better in the dark. We have great balance and land on our feet; well, most of the time,” Finnick stated.

“Tell us, Parker, have you ever experiences anything like that? Sensing something before it happened? Feeling the tremors in the ground as a human walks around when they’re rooms away? Finding curious places to hide? Or feeling the need to hide when you sense something coming?” asked Toulouse. “Haven’t you ever fallen from up high and landed safely on the ground? The instinct or need to reuse or create? What about walking around here in the walls? Didn’t you notice how well you could see in such low light?”

His scenarios made Parker’s blood run cold.

Every single one of those things he mentioned was something Parker had experienced. He had always attributed those things to his condition.

So… my condition… it’s a lie?

Well… not a lie…

I do have a condition….

I’m a Borrower.

Everything they’re saying makes sense. How would they know about everything if they hadn’t experienced it themselves? They don’t know about my climbing and falling habits. They don’t know about the things I’ve invented. They couldn’t have known about my senses unless they had it too.

Mira’s face softened and she quickly pushed herself to her feet and retrieved a single square of toilet paper, tearing off a side and gently pushing it over toward Parker. It was only now he realized warm, salty tears were soaking his face. The tears glided down his cheeks and puddled at his chin before dripping onto his shirt.

His entire body shook like a leaf in a windstorm as he numbly snagged the piece of toilet paper and hid his face away. Breathing was a chore, and the few breaths he sucked in wracked his body with sobs.

Over and over, he asked himself why?

Why him?

Why was this happening?

How many Borrowers were out there? Surely there had to be some reference to them specifically out there in the world.

How could an entire race of people just be completely unnoticed like this family?

The thoughts that followed only made Parker’s sobs double him over.

How long had his mom known about him and not said anything?

Why was he just finding all of this out now?

Why had his mom lied to him?

Didn’t she love him?

Why didn’t she just tell him the truth?

Parker wasn’t sure how long he stayed hunched over smashing the now soggy piece of toilet paper to his face, but he did suddenly notice a pressure on his hand that wasn’t there before. Not like he cared. Everything was spiraling out of control and off of the edge of a cliff. What was one more thing?

Eyes red and dry despite the moist tears, Parker blinked away the blur and finally realized the pressure on his hand was Mira. She had reached forward and gently clasped his hand in her own. Parker felt the urge to resist but couldn’t tear himself away from the comfort the pressure of her hand gave. Her motherly instincts were right.

All Parker wanted right now was a hug… but from whom?

His mom?

Someone his own size?

Even now, the thought of someone being able to wrap their arms around him and him being able to do the same was unfathomable.

As his breathing calmed, Parker felt a new emotion boiling in his belly, and it quickly consumed him.

Anger.

Frustrated anger and distrust filled him like magma filling a volcano. He felt ready to burst at any moment, but he wasn’t about to leave now.

He needed to know more about these strangers like him. He needed to know more. His desire for knowledge fueled by the fact he had been deceived for his entire life hardened his features and cleared the darkness away from the corners of his eyes.

“Parker, I know this is a lot for you all at once,” said Mira, noticing the teen’s change in demeanor. “But…”

“Please…” said Parker, his voice cracking. The teenager was barely able to keep from falling apart as he sat there on that cork bottle chair. “Just… tell me what you can… about Borrowers? About what happens when… Borrowers are seen? What happens? And…. About me… and my….” Parker’s voice trailed off as he suddenly had trouble saying the word “mom.”

Toulouse sighed and leaned heavily onto the table and said, “Parker, are you sure?”

Parker nodded and squeezed Mira’s hand.

“Yes,” he said definitively. “Please.”

It took a few hours, but Toulouse and his family began telling Parker what he needed to know. They told him about how Borrowers had managed to keep themselves secret because of the rules and how they’ve had narrow misses in the past. They talked about how they went about creating their home and the balance Borrowers needed to live in secret with their human counterparts.

What really made Parker’s blood boil was the stories about what happened to Borrowers in the stories where the were caught.

Some were thrown in cages until they were rescued. Others managed to trick their ways out of their containment and away from their human captors. The one that hurt Parker the most was the ones that were treated as evolved pets.

Evolved pets had little homes they lived in with electricity and water. Repurposed doll houses were usually the container used rather than a cage with traditional bars – just like what Parker lived in.

Borrowers experienced isolation and every little thing was always taken care of. No need to borrow because food was always on the table. No need to climb because you’re carried everywhere. No need to go outside because entertainment is brought to you. The purpose of a Borrower was to go out and survive, not be taken care of at the whim of a human.

It was the exact existence Parker had been living.

It made his insides churn to think that his mom had been treating him like a pet for practically all of his life.

“Alright, that’s enough for today,” said Kers, chiming in after hours of silence. He had remained practically emotionless and silent for most of the time while Toulouse and his family helped “educate” Parker in the ways of a Borrower. The family opened their mouths to object, but Kers beat them to it. “Parker has been gone for a while, and I’m sure his mom is worried sick about him being missing. She’s bound to have noticed by now. You don’t want her looking for him, do you?”

The question shut down any arguments the family might’ve had. Despite Parker’s reservations in returning, he sighed and pushed himself to his feet.

“Um… thank you… really. I…” Parker stammered over his words as he thought about everything he just learned.

“You don’t need to thank us, Parker. Just, keep yourself safe,” said Mira.

“And, if you don’t mind, keep your knowledge about this place and my family close to your chest. I apologize again on behalf of my daughter. We should’ve made it clearer that she wasn’t supposed to act rashly when it came to your… situation,” said Toulouse.

“Thanks. I… can probably do that,” said Parker. His head swirled dangerously fast with his first step, but thankfully Kers was by his side and guided Parker safely toward the door. The older Borrower watched the younger cautiously while Parker paid him no mind.

Parker’s mind was far from him. There were too many other things going on to be concerned about revealing the family’s home. With a final farewell, Parker and Kers left the house and headed back down the route they came.

The two Borrowers were completely silent for the majority of the trek, leaving Parker to fester and dwell in his own thoughts.

It wasn’t until they were by the wall at a familiar stretch that Kers physically stopped moving forward and turned to face Parker. There was something in his expression that was sorrowful and uneasy, but also determined. It reminded Parker of the look Toulouse gave him a few times.

Fatherly.

It was a new look and took the teen by surprise.

“Parker, I know this is not how any of us wanted things to go,” said Kers. “But I want you to know that I’m sorry. It was never my intention to help keep this truth from you. I… had actually planned on talking to your mom today to figure out how to talk to you.”

Parker wasn’t sure if he was buying it, but Kers continued.

“I know you’re going through a lot, and I know I have no right to ask this of you, but listen to me and don’t do anything rash,” said Kers.

Parker bristled at the words.

“Rash? You don’t want me to be rash?! You knew. You watched for years and let me believe…” Parker took a breath as his fury reared its head again. “You let me believe I was human. You and that woman both.”

Kers stiffened as he heard that word. The last thing he wanted to do was make an enemy out of Parker, but Kers needed to make a few things clear to Parker. Attempting to diffuse the situation, he kept his voice calm and low.

“Parker, that woman is still your mom. She loves you and only wants the best for you. Believe me. I’ve seen it every day for years. I don’t think she would intentionally hurt you. I don’t know why she didn’t say anything, but it can’t have been easy when your differences are so obvious,” said Kers firmly.

Parker jerked his head away as he looked down at the corner of a nearby beam.

“She lied.”

“I know, and that’s not the best look. Still, Parker, trust me on this. She loves you. Regardless of everything else, she loves you,” emphasized Kers.

“She treated me like a pet. How… can I trust someone who would lie to me so easily for so long?” The words spilled out of Parker like water leaking from a sponge. He felt like he couldn’t absorb another thing and his words were now just spilling out.

“No, she didn’t. She treated you like her son. Coming from a family who used to have pets, I can see where taking care of a kid and taking care of a pet are almost the same thing,” pointed out Kers.

“But…”

“Listen, Parker. Don’t do anything rash. Think about everything you’ve just learned and don’t act emotionally. That’ll only hurt more,” advised Kers. “Sit and think about everything. I’ll be back later tonight to check on you if you’d like.”

Parker nodded numbly, but the adult’s words simply added to the puddle that was his thoughts. Kers finished walking Parker to his room and, with a reassuring pat on his shoulder, left the teen to go back to the world he knew.

As Parker jumped back through the electrical cover and climbed the stairs to his little house, he suddenly realized he was still wearing Kers’ cloak. The heavy fabric had been draped over his shoulders the entire walk back, and Kers must’ve thought Parker needed it more.

It felt like a hug from behind, and the warmth of the fabric kept Parker’s shaking at bay.

The teen made it back into his room and into his space with every intention of resting in his bed until dinner. The words he wanted to say were locked somewhere in his brain. He just needed time to muddle through.

It was what he saw in his kitchen as he entered the little house that instantly changed his mind.

Parker noticed a massive plate with cut apples just sitting there. Before, this would have been an enjoyable treat. Now, however, all Parker saw was those videos on his social media where some tasty treat was delivered on a platter to none other than the family pet.

Something about seeing that plate snapped something in his mind.

You’re just a pet to her.

It was a bold, hateful thought that spawned out of nowhere in his mind, fueled only by recent events.

Despite Kers’ warning, he wanted to know the answers.

He wanted to know why his mom hadn’t told him anything and everything she knew about him.

Another, greater part of him hoped that everything he just heard was a lie. He wanted it to be untrue. He wanted Kers and Toulouse and Mira and Finnick and Reed and Kit all to be lying to his face to abduct him into the walls.

Parker spun on his heel and marched back down the stairs and dared to climb the steps all the way down to the kitchen where he heard his mom… that woman… working away. Trembling in his shoes, Parker finally made it to ground level and came around the corner. The urge to vomit as he saw her filled him, which contrasted greatly with the expression on her face as she saw him.

~~~^*^*^~~~

Amanda had been pacing the floor for what felt like hours. She had practically torn the house upside down trying to find her son, Parker. After their little disagreement this morning and the fear eating her alive, she couldn’t find him.

His room?

Not there.

Living area?

Not there.

Bathroom?

Nowhere to be seen.

Kitchen?

Nope.

She had cut up some apples in the hopes of luring him out and to make sure he had a little something to eat if he was still upset with her, but to no avail.

She hoped that he hadn’t done something foolish or decided to go into the walls and got hurt. It was an idea she should have supported, but was afraid to.

It was clear now more than ever that she needed to talk to Parker about everything, and now she finally had the words to do so. The moment she found him, she would tell him everything. It was long overdue, but it was time.

If only she could find him!

Now, after she was about to start calling and shouting, there he was.

Parker came out from around the corner and relief immediately flooded over her. She rushed over and knelt, which made Parker flinch and shy away. Struck by the odd interaction, Amanda glanced over him and immediately noticed his appearance.

Parker looked drained. He had obviously been crying and looked ill. What really caught her off guard was what he had draped over his shoulders. It looked like some kind of cloak, but it was way too big for him. Brown, frayed, and torn, this thing obviously didn’t come from anything either of them had made.

There was time to ask questions later.

Right now, she was relieved beyond words that Parker was here.

“Parker! I’m so glad you’re here. I was worried sick. Where were you? Are you okay? Sweetie, I’m so sorry about earlier. I don’t know what came over me. I should’ve…”

“You should’ve what?” interrupted Parker, something that wasn’t like him. Amanda, caught off guard, felt her heart clench as she met her son’s eyes. There was something in them that she registered immediately.

Hurt.

Pain.

Anger.

Frustration.

Desperation.

Before she could say anything, Parker continued.

“How long?”

Those two words shook Amanda to her bones.

No. What?

“H-how long? How long what?”

“How long have you known I’m not your son?”

The words hung in the air. Like a dense fog, Amanda suddenly felt lost. Tendrils of tension clutched her chest.

No… I’ve run out of time. I’m too late.

Amanda’s throat clenched. She knew this conversation was going to happen, but not like this. She looked into Parker’s soft brown eyes and saw he was clinging onto the last threads of hope. It was part of that desperation she saw earlier.

And she had no lifeline to give him.

“Well?!” Parker’s voice cracked as tears welled up in his eyes. He looked to be on the verge of collapse.

Amanda bit back her own emotions as they constricted her throat. A bottomless void opened in Amanda’s heart.

“Parker… you are my son. I’ve always been your mom,” said Amanda. Parker couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Was she serious? Or was she lying. The tether he thought he was receiving was just within grasp. Maybe this was all just a bad dream.

Her next words shattered him.

“But I’m not your only mom. Someone… some beautiful, wonderful woman gave birth to you.” Amanda’s cheeks were etched with tears at this point. With the last bit of her strength, she choked out, “I love you, Parker, as if you came from me… but you’re right. You are not mine.”

~~~~~^*^*^*^*^~~~~~

Continue

Beginning

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adachimoe · 1 month ago

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PSC Eps 12, 13, 18, 19 "Ah-ha, I SEES it!"

Last time: Ep 1 + Explanation, Eps 2 + 4, Ep 5, Eps 6 + 7 (no Q&A), Eps 8 + 9, Eps 10 + 11 (plus PSC Cafe)

I paraphrased some of the phrasings, except for the fish question. I left that as-is because it impressed Isocchi so much she rewarded the viewer who asked it with a t-shirt.

Episode 12

Q: Does Rise wear earrings with a piercing-type backing, or does she wear clip-ons? A: Clip-ons.

(This sounds dumb because language thing and Atlus's answer. In JP, a "ピアス / pierce" is for pierced ears, but an "イヤリング / earring" refers to clip-ons. In English, we just call all of these "earrings" lol. The viewer asks if Rise wears a pierce or a clip-on or a magnetic clip-on, and Atlus answers that she wears clip-on, but not if her ears are actually pierced or not, hence my weird phrasing.)

Q: Where did Aragaki live before moving back into the SEES dormitory? A: He was probably living somewhere by himself, or he kept being an unwanted guest at the homes of his shady friends. Probably a big reason why he got to know Strega so well was cause he spent so long as a vagrant. Q: During Episode Adachi in P4AU, Adachi mentions getting tired of seeing the Moonlight Bridge when he was in the city. Did he used to live in Iwatodai? A: He didn't necessarily live there, but he worked in the city center, and would take the scenic route back to HQ by driving over to Moonlight Bridge to imitate a character on a popular detective drama.

(See this post for more about the TV show in question.)

Episode 13

Q: Who is Margaret's favorite (hot guy) Persona? A: I think Ardha, Helel, and Yoshitsune are her favorites since she swaps between them a lot. She uses Oberon for the 9999 damage Megidolaon, so maybe she's got some obsession with him? Q: Why does the P3 Protagonist wear his MP3 player in Tartarus? It makes sense during his everyday life, but it doesn't work during the Dark Hour, and it seems like it would be annoying swinging around during battle, or I think it would break when he gets attacked. Did he just forget to take it off? A: Part of the reason why is that he will sometimes he listen to it on the way to Tartarus. The other part is that wearing it has become a habit. Q: In Persona 3, what's with the wound on Sanada's forehead? I'm worried because his ribs healed in a month but the wound on his forehead still hasn't healed after a year. A: The band-aid on the left side of Sanada's forehead is just to express that, "He always has injuries cause he's a boxer". Due to his past, he's the type who wants to train to the extent that he's bullying himself, so it seems he has a lot of fresh wounds on his face.

Episode 18

Q: In P4D, Kanamin's costumes include her plain jersey with a shirt that says "Life" (人生) on it, and it seems like the writing changes when she dances. How many variations are there? A: 13 total ("Life" + 12 others). Q: When did Sho from P4AU get that scar on his forehead? I thought the story would explain something about it since it glows when his eyes glow, but even after clearing the story, there was no explanation. A: The scar on his forehead is related to "that one thing" being implanted into his forehead. The blue glow is due to the influence of "that one thing" and the red glow is due to the influence of "the big guy".

(Contextually: Blue = Plume of Dusk and alternate personality, red = Hi-no-Kagutsuchi.)

Q: I want to know if Shiroku's pet fish Akihiko that's kept at Shiroku Pub is a freshwater fish or seawater fish? The fish itself looks like an oarfish making it a deep-sea fish which would at least need a tank with seawater. But Inaba is surrounded by mountains and the only sea on the map is Shichiri Beach. I don't think it's that far away because the main characters can go there, but Shiroku runs the general store during the day and the pub at night so I get the feeling she doesn't have time to go get seawater. A: If you look into it, there's an "artificial seawater mix" for keeping seawater fish in aquariums as pets and it's very easy to get through mail order. If she really is keeping an oarfish in an aquarium, that's impressive - something no one else has been able to do! I wonder how she does it... There's so many fish you can catch around Inaba...

Episode 19

Q: What's with the distinctive hair styles on Yosuke's Personas Susanoo and Takehaya Susanoo? Did Yosuke wish he could have an afro? A: The flashy hair isn't because of Yosuke's heart, but because the mythological Susanoo had the image of a tempest and a violent storm. It being red is to communicate that, within the game, Yosuke is not just strong against wind, but also strong against fire. Q: During January in P3P, it's mentioned that Sanada and Mitsuru take standardized tests for university admissions. But in P4 Arena, Sanada had been training overseas. Did he drop out? A: No. As mentioned in the P4 Arena story mode, he was just on leave from school. It was probably his own version of a ritual purification before embarking on the path of fighting as a professional, but even Mitsuru told him, "You're overdoing it".

(Since Aki joins the police force to support the Shadow Workers in the epilogue, I assume this is talking about him fighting Shadows professionally, not him thinking about becoming a pro boxer.)

Q: Why does Ryoji wear a scarf? November seems a bit too early for scarf weather. Does the scarf have a special meaning? A: Mainly for impact when you first meet him, but also his values are different than other people's and we were conscious of that - like he's "a foreigner who hasn't gotten used to this town yet".

(Japanese people tend to dress based on the season rather than the actual weather lol. [E.g. an older woman in the countryside asked me, "Aren't you cold?" when I was wearing leggings and a t-shirt on a warm sunny day in spring.] November would usually still be considered fall.)

#persona stalker club #persona #persona 3 #persona 4 #persona 4 arena ultimax #rise kujikawa #shinjiro aragaki #tohru adachi #margaret persona #makoto yuki #akihiko sanada #kanami mashita #sho minazuki #yosuke hanamura #mitsuru kirijo #ryoji mochizuki

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theonceandfuturequeenoftarts · 5 months ago

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Thank you for the tag, @mosiva! ♡♡♡

"Self-rec time! What are your favorite five fics that you've written and why? After replying to this ask, feel free to pass on to five other writers to spread the love. 💗"

Four of these were easy choices and one was trickier, but in no particular order...

thrown into the nest (T, 10,565 words, WIP)

This fic possessed me. The first chapter took over my entire life for ten hours during which I came up with and wrote the whole thing -- I couldn't stop until it was done and posted. Two or three days later, the same thing happened with the second chapter. It's like I was exorcising demons into a doc file. It's also notable because maybe a week or two before I wrote it, I told a friend I would never write ABO fic. More fool me.

I love this fic because it drew together so many ace people -- I've never felt a greater sense of community than I did in the hours after this fic was posted, seeing the comments of people who saw themselves in Harry and Tom's experiences. It blew me away, and I felt so happy to have done justice to some small part of the ace experience. It was a different type of joy, and a bit more cathartic, to write compared to other fics of mine.

VII (M, 2,609 words)

I think I've said it before, but I honestly thought this would be one of those weird little fics that I wrote for myself and maybe five other people would like. It's grown beyond what I originally meant it to be, and while I really, really love the sequel too, this one holds my heart. It's disjointed and dark (for me), and it's one of the few that I've written that actually has Harry and Voldemort start out hating each other and move through it. (What can I say, I mainly write crack and fluff.) They're both feral and damaged and violent and cling to each other all the tighter for it by the end. I also like making the Unspeakables ethically (and morally) dubious and research-obsessed, and this was my first foray into that.

naïve melody (G, 2,904 words)

The Ferris wheel fic; another fic that I thought maybe five other people would enjoy. I'm still proud of the wistful tone it has, and some of the turns of phrase, despite the crack-tastic premise. It's sweet and silly and it makes me feel warm to re-read it. It might also be my favourite Voldemort characterisation of all the fics I've written.

engrave the silhouette of you (M, 10,480 words, WIP)

Look... I just like hurting them, okay? I used the "angst with a happy ending" tag because I need everyone (myself included) to know it's gonna be alright in the end. I have made myself a crying mess multiple times in the course of writing or plotting out this fic. This is very much a "how would the characters react in this situation if X happened?" fic that has grown legs. It's fun (and painful) to put myself in Harry and Voldemort's headspaces and then put us all through the emotional meat-grinder. But it's going to be fine. Eventually.

Capsized (M, 948 words)

Fun, not-previously-shared fact: this fic started out as a way for me to process my maladaptive daydreams and suicidal ideations through Harry. All of the things he imagines or considers are things that I have, as well. (This makes the one comment that says "MAKE HIM SUFFER YASSSS" really, really funny to me.) I wasn't sure if I would ever post it -- it took me five months to decide to do it, because it's extremely personal. But it felt good to put it all into words and make it... "pretty," I guess? It's probably as raw as I can make it while also trying to fit it into the HP world and have it be enjoyable to read.

(Honourable mention goes to Prompt-ober 2023, because it almost killed me to do it, but it was so much fun to write everyday for a month and have the same folks comment each day and chat with them throughout the month (I love you all ♡♡♡). However, that's like twenty-five different fics in one, so it doesn't count.)

Tagging @liquidluckandstuff, @i-dream-of-libraries, @toast-ranger-to-a-stranger, @aglassroseneverfades, and @hikarimeroperiddle

No pressure, do it if it will be a fun distraction! ♡♡♡

(Note: I recently locked my account to registered users only because of an AI scraper targetting Ao3. If you don't have an account and would like to read any of the above, just send me a message and I'll provide a file ♡)

#my fics #self rec #hp fanfic #tomarrymort

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cloverthecactus · 1 year ago

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house husband [miguel o'hara x fem!reader]

summary: you and your husband miguel recently moved into a new home and due to an unexpected twist, miguel became a house husband.

warnings: none !

wordcount: 1.4k!

notes:

not proofread, plug and post

no use of 'y/n' (hate it! can't stand it!)

intentionally written in lowercase with certain letters, words and phrases in capital.

this is drawn out a bit BUT eventually concludes

meant to be a 'short' 1 parter, but if requested will write a part 2 :)

you and miguel had recently moved into the perfect home.

a large cottage home, just outside the city and was surrounded by greenery every way you looked. in the backyard was a lake that sparkled a sea green colour. your husband (miguel) was a busy man. he was one of the few CEOs who "ruled" brand known as 'the spider society'. he designed sports clothing and called it the '2099 collection'. it became fairly popular in recent years and due to the overwhelming success, miguel finally gave you the ultimate gift, your dream home.

he held you in his arms as though you were a newly wedded bride and kissed your lips. he softly smiled at you and began to walk into your new home.

"oh, miguel, it looks so spacious... so amazing!" you excitedly exclaimed and squeezed his arm. "i knew you would love it" he softly chuckled, setting one hand on his hip as he stared at you, planning where each of your trinkets would be.

you were so distracted by your planning that you failed to notice your husband answering a phone call. you also failed to notice the slight anger and disappointment that fled to his face and voice. only once he had loosened his arm from your grip had you noticed his sudden change in demeanour.

"honey? what's wrong?" your face displayed worry but miguel's displayed anger. he turned to look at you and sighed as he rubbed his temples.

"i uh- lost my job" his tone was confused and no matter how many times you asked why they fired him or what he did to get this punishment, he just replied with a hushed; 'i don't know dear'. it made you pissed that he didn't have the answer and after bickering for several minutes, the two of you made a simple agreement.

you would work extra hours at your job (hopefully get a raise) and he would keep the house tidy. miguel then later dubbed himself as your house husband.

the two of you were able to live a stable life after that. you got a promotion at your job and began to get paid 60% more than before which allowed you to tell your husband to 'suck it' which he misread and actually did suck it...

but besides that, the two of you were happy.

you entered the home earlier than usual today and sighed aggressively as you took off the shoes that you wore. miguel hugged you from behind, littering your face in light kisses. you giggled as he performed his actions doing the same routine everyday as you entered the home.

"you're home early today. did something happen at work?" he looked at you with admiration, resting his chin on your shoulder.

"the paperwork got too much to bear and i had 3 meetings scheduled after one another. i got so stressed that i began to feel sick, so i gave the paperwork to my assistant to complete, rescheduled the meetings and came home." you softly smiled, leaning your cheek against his head.

miguel couldn't have you being sad. not after all you've done to keep your little family financially stable since he lost his job. he loosened his grip on you and turned you around to face him. he was wearing your white and brown frilly apron that was dusted with bits of flour and what seemed like butter and a wet stain you assumed was water or milk. to keep himself busy, miguel began doing small hobbies. he began cooking, learned embroidery, read more and even took a liking to gardening.

miguel gently placed a kiss on your lips, and walked you to the kitchen where he offered you one of the pastries he had just made. "honey, i'm exhausted. could i try a pastry once i wake up from my nap?" a yawned escaped your mouth as you sat down in one of the dinning room seats. "but i just made a fresh pot of coffee and it's my first time making blueberry scones." he pout and kneeled down before you, holding your knee.

"could you try just one? i can give you a fresh cup of coffee and then you can rest." he politely asked, a small smile spread across his lips. he looked so adorable, you couldn't resist. so with a defeated sigh, you smiled and nodded "sure honey, let's try one" his eyes lit up as he stood from his position and poured the coffee into your favourite mug. he dished two fresh scones and with a proud smile he rested the tableware down. "i hope you like it" he whispered and kissed your cheek.

"im sure it's delicious darling. your baking has improved a lot in the past few weeks" a warm smile coats your face as you take a bite into the warm and still soft scones. your eyes widen slightly at the taste which has your husband excited and giddy like a child who just got an allowance. "miguel, this tastes incredible" you chuckle and offer him a bite from the piece you had eaten.

he nods as he chews the scone and gently kisses your cheek. "i agree with you, this is the best sweet treat i've made so far" he spoke and sat alongside you as you drank your coffee and ate the scones.

you yawned, showing the effects of the coffee wearing off and tapped miguel's forearm softly while leaning against his shoulder. "you wanna take a nap?" he asked in a soft tone, looking down at you with a soft smile. you slowly nod and fulttered your eyes closed. "i could fall asleep right here, but then you're gonna yell cause im not getting proper rest" you pout, knowing how miguel got when it came to your well-being. he would get upset when the two of you would go on roadtrips and you would fall asleep with the seat upright, saying you deserved to sleep in a proper way.

"want me to carry you to bed?" he asked in a warm tone, moving his arm around you. you shook your head 'no' and insisted you walk up those long stairs to your bedroom. "fine then, if i can't carry you to bed, i'll help you there. i know how you get when you're sleepy" he scoffed and helped you stand, slowly guiding you to your shared room.

he helped you out of your work attire and into something more comfortable. he then tucked you into bed and kissed your forehead. "miggy?" you groaned and opened your eyes.

"hmm?" he replied looking down at you

"im no longer sleepy." you spoke in annoyance with your body and guilt as you made miguel do all of this for you to be wide awake. "i'm sorry" you apologised with a pout to which miguel just chuckled and sat against the edge of the bed.

"honey, it's okay. you are exhausted but you just don't want to sleep." he rubbed your leg that was under the covers and smiled

"i know that... i can feel the exhaustion, but i just cant sleep" you whined and rest your head against the headboard. miguel sighed and took off his apron, dusting himself off and climbing into the bed next to you. "i will cuddle you to sleep and once you're asleep, i'll make dinner and the wake you up with a surprise." he spoke reassuringly and opened his arms to engluf you in a comfortably cuddle.

"thank you miggy, i love you" you mumbled under his arm that you stuffed your face under. a light chuckled escaped his mouth and he kisses your head

"i love you too, dear"

the two of you laid in comfortable silence as he tried to cuddle you asleep, which you had discovered was not making you as sleepy as you thought.

"honey?" miguel called, knowing you weren't asleep. you hummed a reply and opened your eyes. "i feel like something's missing" he spoke unsure which caused you to look up at him in a daze of confusion. "elaborate please?"

"with you working almost nine hours everyday, it gets so... boring. dont get me wrong, i love this easy life i have, but i feel like i need something more." he sighed and looked down at you.

"i understand the jump from working almost every day to being a house husband. there's a lot you did at your job that you no longer do and it's frustrating" you replied in an understanding tone and moved your hand from his back to his cheek.

"cooking, cleaning, gardening... it's just not the same. it feels like something is missing, and i feel like i need more"

"what are you implying miguel?" you asked with a raised brow, fearing the worst.

"i want to have a baby."

you exhaled deeply and displayed a tentative smile. "oh thank god! i thought you were gonna ask for a divorce!" you laughed giddy, holding your hand on miguel's chest

"no, honey, i want a baby" he chuckled and kissed your forehead. "i can wake up at random hours of the night or morning to take care of the sucker and when you're so tired you want to cry, me and the baby will be there to cheer you up. think of the memories and challenges we will face together!" you bit your lip in thought

"miggy, i dont know. if i got pregnant that would mean i need to take maternity leave which requires me to spend around 2-3 months at home. where will the money come from? not just that, baby food, baby clothes, equipment. we would have to renovate the guest room to a nursery and–"

"calm down, love." he softly spoke and rubbed your back to soothe your mind from the worries. "what if we adopted? it would save the time wasted on maternity leave and we could renovate the nursery on our own. it could be a fun project that we can do together"

you had wanted to do more things with miguel and this seemed like the perfect opportunity. you had your doubts and issues with having an infant around, but if it made your husband as happy as he makes you, you wouldn't mind.

you looked up and made direct eye contact with miguel. tapping his chest softly and nodding you softly spoke; "lets adopt a baby"

you had never heard your husband squeal and you swear that if he was any higher he would have cracked a few glasses. he kissed your lips passionately and chuckled as he let go of your lips. "we're going to have a baby ! we're going to be parents !"

all you could do is smile. you had never seen miguel this excited in a long time and you savoured the moment for as long as you could. your husband had not wasted time on planning. he spoke about when the two of you would begin renovating your child's room, what colours the walls should be painted and what name your kid should call you.

he really liked 'papa'.

you were grateful that your husband rants about a topic once his invested, or else you would have never fallen asleep. you awoke hours later. the sun was setting and his colone lingered in the air. you opened your eyes and looked to the left to see a pink tulip and dinner with a small card along side the plate. it read:

to my darling wife, thank you for staying with me through everything. may this new chapter of our lives be as exciting as the last...

#fanfiction #miguel o’hara x reader #across the spiderverse #spiderman fanfiction #cloverthecactus fanfic #cloverthecactus #atsv miguel #miguel spiderverse #miguel o'hara #miguel fluff #writing #astv miguel #astv fanfic #cactusspider

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nerdygaymormon · 2 months ago

Text

It's been awhile since I blogged about therapy, but some things were said today which I want to remember. This blog is partially a journal for me.

————————————————————

First we began by talking about the hurricanes and all the stress and anxiety. I told him about stress eating and not doing any exercises and feeling blah because of it, but a hurricane is not an everyday event. He called it an anomaly, which I like that way of phrasing it. The weather and being without power was an anomaly and my behavior reflected that. This week I've gotten back on track.

Next I shared two pages from my book (which I had never brought before to therapy) about new beginnings, and the therapist was surprised that I felt that way. I spoke of how this year I joined a new friend group, I stopped the disordered eating, I became VP of a non-profit, all topics we have talked about in therapy. He didn’t realize those are all new this year, that yes, it could feel like a turning of the page to a new one.

I compared it to coming out. Yes, there’s the first time, there’s the big one where you tell the most important people, but that’s not the end. You come out again and again. It isn’t like those first times, but each time can feel like a bit of new start in that relationship. I feel like this year was a new start in my relationship with me.

My therapist commented that I have a tendency to come in and say something indirectly, and then as he asks questions I will take steps towards a destination and finally will directly say what I had been hinting at. That made me laugh. I didn’t realize I do that. I swear I didn’t come with the intention to share about new beginnings but I think I subconsciously meant to.

The therapist then said, “Okay, you’re here. You’ve had these successes. Now what? What are your plans for the future? What do you want to work towards?”

Talk of the future actually frightens me a bit. For much of my life I had to just focus on surviving the current of my life and the hard space I was mentally in that there wasn’t space to imagine the future.

Another thing is I've been suicidal at different times of my life. I have had several ages that I didn’t think I would live past, so imagining a future past that didn’t seem reasonable or useful, but then I make it and I feel lost, like “now what?”

I didn’t tell him this but a few years ago I was convinced I wouldn’t survive my 50’s. I’m 53 now and I am not in that same head space but I haven’t adjusted in my head to think about the future.

I shared some thoughts about an idea I’ve been working on that would feel like wrapping up this phase of my life. To which he asked what comes in the next phase? Idk. I’ve been so fearful of the future I try not to think about it. If I continue on my current trajectory I just imagine a lonelier and lonelier life as my nieces and nephews grow up, as friends inevitably drift apart.

That led him to bring up romantic relationships. I told him in the book I have written a few questions. Am I unlovable? Did I wait too long? Are there any good men left?

To pursue a relationship means being open. To date means to make yourself vulnerable in a way that others can hurt you. It means knowing what you bring but also what your flaws are, and how you’ll be perceived by others. Dating can be fun but also it’s not really that fun and can open you up for pain. I did some dating beginning in 2017 and stopped when the pandemic hit. I wasn’t in a good mental place afterwards to pick that back up again, I’ve been needing to work on myself (from being passively suicidal to realizing I have an eating disorder)

He surprised me when he congratulated me on being honest in my assessment of myself and for being willing to share with him

#david gets personal

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underforeversgrace · 2 years ago

Text

wrong paper

DannyMay2023 Day 19: No Backspace Challenge

title: wrong paper

words: 665

Summary: Mr. Lancer gets an assignment from Danny that is not right.

DISCLAIMER: This is no backspace, no spell check, no auto capitalization, and no punctuation shortcuts. I'll probably provide a better copy later on because ya girl can't fucking spell. Or type. Or write. Some of the crossouts are my fuck ups. Some are for flavor. ...to hide all my fuck ups.

~~~~~~

Mr. Lancer streched tiredly, blinking sleep from his eyes as he pulled the next essay towards him. Not for the first time, he considered asking Ishiyama to allow him to o go over basic penmanship in class, how could absolutely none of these children write legibily? At least they were workingon a creative writing course so the papers were varied and interesting for once.

Eve i Or at least… some of them were. Thus far, Dash had written about a football star with superpowers, Paulina about marrying a superhero, Mickey wishing he was a superhero…

living in a town with an actual superhero probably influenced some of these papers, if Lncer had to take a stab in the dark.

The next paper he pulled ou was one with a lot of smurdged and crossed out text, no name a t the ti top. The hanwriting was familiar, at least. Mr. Fenton certainly had a… unique version of chicken scratch.

Lancer frowned at the paper as he began to read it. this… didn’t look like the ‘Write A Story’ assignment he’d assigned.

The sear words indicated as much, vulgar languageLancer had never heard Fenton use.

Man, I am so fuckingover this shit. Mr. Popular Asshat shoved me into a locker FOUR times today. I’m so ecsawus exhaush exhausted. I’ve shoved at least 15 ghosts back into the Zoe at Zone this week. It’s Wednesday. Wednesday!!! Skulker has come for my pelt four times alone.

Oh I forgot the date - it’s Jan 23 26 2005.

honestly I should be working on my stupid paper for English class for Lancer. But what stoy could story can I possiblytell that isn’t less ridiculous than my actual life? or whatever the phrase is. My life is everal way too wild, more than anything I could imagine up.

Like… I’m a half dead teenager. I’ve been dead for nearly a year and no one’s noticed. I fight for my life everyday. I’m a superhero with a secret iedentity and best freind/sidekicks - though if I eevr called them sidekicks to their faces again I’m getting side-kicked in the face. I’ve even got extra bonus points! My parents want to dissect me, I’m failing school. Hell, I’ve even got an evil alternate timeline version of myself that caused the fucking end of the world.

The TV shows make it look so easy. so do th e comics. I’m so tired. I’m only 14, I’m not supposed to be atri sk atrisk at risk of getting murdered daily. Well, not this high of a risk. I don’t want to live like this. But if I stop fgihting, trying, I’ll be dead within a week.

It isn’t fair. Life isn’t fair and neither is death.

Still, might be a cool story idea.

A teenage slacker who gets electrocuted by his parents invention, dies, and get brought back halfway. Turns into a ghost and saves people while his human life seems to wither and die around him. Is constantly hunted and villified when he just wants to help.

Yeah. My life as Phantom would make a hell of a story, wouldn’t it?

Lancer stared at the paper in confusion. It certainly sounded like a wonderful fictttitious story… but somhow it didn’t seem like fiction. It seemed more like a journl entry.

Lancer turned to his computer, pulling up the local news website. It wasn’t hard to find an article about Phantom, he was in the top three stories.

PHANTOM SAVES 13 FROM OFFICE FIRE

Lancer studde studied the article, blowing up the picture of Phantom’s dace. Of Danny Phantom’s face. He opened up another screen, pulling up the student files (complete with pictures). He pulled up D. Fenton’s file, several alerts coming up about truancy, tardis, tardies, absences, missed assignments n fa and failing grades. Lancer enlarged the human boy’s photo and sat it side by side wth the one of Phantom.

Change the coloration… and these two were identical.

Oh no.

Ohno.

Oh no.

#grace writes #danny phantom #dannymay2023 #Dannymay #Challenge: no backspace #Ya girl tried #She rly did

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fragaria-imagines · 1 year ago

Note

I want to see first kiss hcs with kurode and wilmesh 🩷🩵

Decided to switch things up and portray this in the boys POV! Hope you like it!!

——————

Willmesh is a simple man, first and foremost, he enjoys the everyday simplicity of life, like drinking tea, reading books, and staying at home. His life heavily relies on routine and order, for he is never one to shake things up and do something out of the ordinary. And while this simple and somewhat ‘boring’ way of life has gained him the reputation of being a hermit and a homebody amongst his peers, he’s perfectly fine with that.

The fact of the matter is, Willmesh does not do well with change, he’s a creature of habit, a homebody, a hermit crab, whatever word or phrase that you can think of that describes someone who likes to live in solitude and spend time in the comfort of their own homes, without the need or want to be spontaneous and outgoing, that’s him in a nutshell.

So what the hell was he doing going out on a date with you?

It was completely out of left field for him to ask someone on a date, let alone wanting to be around someone’s company for too long, yet he can’t deny, something about you was different.

Whereas most people would give out any excuse and bolt out the door if they were asked to stay with him longer than what was necessary, you gave him a bright smile, and enthusiastically agreed to it. Didn’t even have to think about it, you just immediately agreed to it like this was the best question someone has asked you, like you were actually happy to be in his company.

It was strange to say the least, he’s not used to this type of attention, his quiet nature is a turnoff to most people. Many won’t even try to start up a conversation with him, knowing they won’t get a response in return. And whilst Willmesh does feel conflicted with the way people perceive as nothing but a cold quiet giant, he has long accepted that there was nothing he could do about it.

So when you not only accepted his offer but also was just as enthusiastic about it as he was. Just the thought of it, made his heart flutter.

"Are you alright, Willmesh? You look kind of pale" You asked, furrowing your eyebrows in concern. You placed your hand on top of his and gently caressed your thumb over his hand in an attempt to comfort him.

The mere gesture was so small and you probably weren't thinking much of it, but it made him blush all the same. "A-ah yes! Sorry about that Y/N, I must have dozed off..." Willmesh stammered out an apology.

You let out a soft laugh at his sheepish display, and while he didn't love the fact that he just embarrassed himself in front of his long-time crush, he'll do it again in a heartbeat if it means hearing your joyous laugh one more time.

"It's fine Will! And if it's any help, I'm kind of nervous about this too" You admitted sheepishly. A faint blush appeared on your face as you admitted it.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

"O-oh....really! W-what do you mean by that Y/N?"

“I just mean that when you asked me out it kinda made me nervous, you know? But not in a bad way or anything!” You quickly clarified. “I just mean it caught me off guard because I didn’t think you liked me”

Thump. Thump. Thump.

“I liked you for so long but I never thought my feelings were ever going to be reciprocated. I thought at most you’ll only see me as a friend, which is fine but I’m so glad that, that’s not the case!”

Thump. Thump. Thump.

“Oh man, I’m rambling again aren’t I? Sorry about that, I guess I got too carried away haha” You joked, sheepishly rubbing your back in embarrassment.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Willmesh could have sworn that at any given time, his heart was about to be ripped away from his chest and dance in joy on the cafe's table at the sound of your confession.

And the more you spoke the more his heartbeat got louder and louder.

“You alright there? Willmesh—!!”

Thump. Thump. Thump.

A rush of adrenaline took over his body because one minute he was sitting across the table from you silently. And the next minute he was pulling your body closer to his and capturing your lips in a captivating kiss.

After a moment of shock, he felt your hands wrapped around his neck, pulling him downwards to your shorter frame. He knew he was going to have serious neck pains once this was over but that was a problem for another day.

Regrettably, the kiss had come to an end as he felt you pulling away from him, in an attempt to catch your breath.

It wasn’t until after the kiss broke and saw your flushing face that he realized what he had just done.

“Oh god! I’m so sorry Y/N! I shouldn’t have done that, please forgive me! I’m really sorry…!” Willmesh blabbered on with endless apologies, his face flushing red from shame and embarrassment.

“W-willmesh it’s fine! I’m not mad at you…!” You said, still dazed from the aftermath of the kiss.

“R-really?” Willmesh muttered, not believing his ears.

“Really! I actually really l-liked it…!” You admitted sheepishly.

Like a lightbulb on Christmas, Willmesh’s face quickly lit up at your reassurance. Overjoyed at the notion that you took great pleasure in it.

“Then if it’s alright with you…. Can I kiss you again?” Willmesh asked shyly.

You chuckled at his sudden bashfulness, already knowing the answer.

——————

Second fiddle.

Second best.

Not good enough.

Kurode has heard these words all before, whether it be from classmates, fellow knights, strangers, friends, it doesn’t matter.

And for a while he accepted that was just who he was, that his only role in life was to play second fiddle to his older brother. And for years, he played the role to a T, never stepped out of his comfort zone, never drew attention to himself, never questioned the status quo, acted nice and obedient just like everybody expected him to be.

It wasn’t something he particularly liked doing but what can he do about it? It’s not like anybody cared, not his friends, not his family, and certainly not his brother.

He can’t remember what exactly was the straw that broke the camel’s back that drove him to leave and never look back. All he knows is that he hasn’t looked back since and has no desire to.

He thought after he ran away he was done with everything from his past life, done with Merold, done with being an underachiever, done with being hidden from the world. He thought he left his inferiority complex behind and started anew.

But then he met you and saw how kind you were, how patient you were, how caring you were. Suddenly, he felt his eyes lit up every time he talked to you, he noticed whenever you weren’t around how much he was longing to be with you, he noticed that he smiled more when you’re around, and how much he had skipped out on knight training just to be with you.

He had noticed that he was starting to fall in love with you and that realization terrified him to no end. It felt like every single insecurity and emotion that he has repressed for so long has finally come into the light and he has no idea how to deal with it.

What if you were disgusted by him? What if you saw him as inferior to his older brother? What if you realized just how weak he really is and wants nothing to do with him?

No, deep down inside, he knows that you’ll never see or think of him as anything less. He knows you’re too kind-hearted for that to be the case.

What he’s most scared of is that one day you’ll see him the way he sees himself.

Before he could get inside his head even further, a knock at the door interrupted his thoughts from diving deeper into unwanted territory.

“Kurode? Are you still there?” You called out from behind the door.

Kurode immediately closed his diary entry and quickly got up from the desk that he was writing, before answering the door.

“Oh, Y/N..! I’m sorry, I wasn’t expecting you” Kurode apologized, solemnly rubbing the back of his neck.

“No worries, I was just in the neighborhood and thought I’ll stop by! I hope I’m not interrupting anything because I can just come back at a later time and-”

“No, no, no, no, you’re fine! Really, you just caught me off guard that’s all. Why don’t you come inside?” Kurode hastily interrupts, scooting away from the doorway so you can have space to enter.

You gave him a small embarrassed smile before entering his home, making sure not to step on or break anything.

“Wow, Kurode, your house is so nice!” You complimented, staring at awe at the futuristic technology decor.

He blushed brightly at your compliment, and turned his head away so you wouldn’t see. Truth be told, he didn’t do much of the decorating for it was actually Lord Kuromi who did most of the planning and decorating, but hey, he’ll take the credit nonetheless.

“Tch… t-this is nothing, seriously!” He spat out in embarrassment, his ears now starting to turn red.

“You know you’re so easy to get riled up, Kurode?” You teased, giggling at how easily flustered he was.

“H-hey!”

“Alright, alright, I’ll stop teasing you!” You playfully winked at him, which only made his face redder.

Luckily for him though, you didn’t seem to notice as you casually plopped yourself onto the couch, casually swiping through the tablet that he had gifted you for your birthday.

He sat right next to you, careful to put some distance between the two of you, yet every so often you would lean on him to show him a better view of your screen. And every so often his heart would flutter from your simple touch.

His heart warmed at the sight of how domestic and simple it all looked. He found himself wondering if he could ever have a lifestyle like that with you.

“Hey look at this video! You won’t believe what happened, there’s a video circulating around of Willmesh and the Stella Twins, and apparently Klarkstella…” You chattered endlessly about the latest bouquet news. He didn’t care much about the latest gossip or news that was going around in his continent, much preferring to keep to himself instead of paying attention to whatever else was going around him. Yet, you were so enthusiastic and animated when you were telling your stories that he couldn’t help but indulge you.

“Y/N, I love you…” He thought to himself.

“….Y-you what?!” You exclaimed in surprise, quickly getting up from your comfortable spot next to Kurode, to look him in the eye in disbelief.

Correction, what he thought he thought to himself.

Kurode’s whole body froze when he realized what he had just said out loud. His heart beated in chest so loudly that he could have sworn he heard his ears ringing.

Did he really just say that?

“N-nothing! It’s nothing! What I said was a mistake. I meant nothing by it, I swear!” Kurode backtracked, desperately trying to take back everything he had just said.

“Wait so you don’t love me then? You lied?” You asked, the sadness and confusion were evident on your face.

Kurode wanted to gut himself when he saw your crestfallen expression, the sadness and confusion that you were feeling was clear as day.

But wait— why were you so disappointed about his confession being a lie? Wouldn’t you be happy to not have someone as inferior and weak like him falling for you?

Or do you actually like him?

Inwardly sighing to himself, he chastised himself for being so stupid and naive. He may have completely ruined any chances of getting to be with you, but still, just like every other aspect in his life, he’ll prove himself to be worthy of you.

“No, Y/N I didn’t lie… god, this wasn’t how I wanted it to go but I guess the truth is already out there. I like you a lot, more than a friend but I know you want nothing to do with me romantically, so I’m okay with us just being friends. As long as you’re happy then that’s all that matters to me” Kurode confessed.

You stared at him with wide eyes, not knowing how to respond to his bold and sudden confession.

After a few minutes of silence, Kurode was thinking of excusing himself out of his own home and leaving, but before he could do so, you regained your voice.

“What makes you think I don’t like you more as a friend also?” You retorted back.

Kurode widened his eyes at your proclamation, such a thought never even crossed his mind. He was preparing for everything else, rejection, disgust, awkwardness, uncertainty, humiliation, the whole nine yards, pretty much anything that could have gone wrong, he was prepared for. But acceptance? Now that was a shock to him.

You rolled your eyes at his stunned silence, already knowing where his mind was going.

“I love you too, Kurode, the only reason why I acted so surprised when you said it wasn’t because I didn’t return your feelings, it was because I was caught off guard! I mean one minute I was talking about Klarkstella getting electrocuted by an android and then the next thing I know you’re telling me you love me! Next time, you decide to randomly spring a bomb onto me, mind giving me a heads up first?” You explained.

“Wait….you love me?” Kurode repeated back in disbelief.

“You didn’t listen to a word I said afterwards, did you?” You retorted in annoyance, though you had to admit, it was kind of cute at how shocked he was.

Kurode didn’t hear what you said, still way in over his head at the thought of you even liking him back?

He’s not shallow enough to ever admit it but he knows he’s a decent looking guy but there’s so many good looking guys out there, so what makes him so special that you specifically chose him?

Did he even deserve your love and attention, there’s still so much that he needs to improve and work on that he can’t possibly give you the time of day and attention that you certainly deserve?

You deserve better, he was sure of it, but does that mean he wants to let you go, not all. But is this just another example of him being selfish and putting his needs above someone else’s? Is letting you-

Before he could even finish that thought, he felt a pair of lips pressed against his. He gasped into the kiss when he realized the lips on his were yours.

Oh shit, he’s kissing you!! Or more specifically you’re kissing him. Whoever is kissing who doesn’t matter as he hesitantly yet eagerly returns your kiss.

The kiss was short and fleeting, it was more to snap him out of it more than anything else, but it made him breathless nevertheless.

The sight of your flustered face made all of the doubt that were running through his head quickly disappear. And as he leaned forward towards you for a second proper kiss, he finally realized that this might not be so bad after all.

#🍓: memoria #sanrio #fragaria memories #fragmem #willmesh #kurode #fragaria memories imagines #fragaria memories x reader #willmesh x reader #kurode x reader

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