#vacation wiped me out bleh | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kareofbears · 3 years ago

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plainly in truth, chapter 1/5

“Without you around, it's sorta like stuff is just kinda...bleh."

—

Or: hiding, confiding, and misguiding.

read on ao3 or below the cut :)

The sweat on the back of Ryuji’s neck is thick as he climbs the stairs to his apartment after a lengthy run.

It’s hot for spring, mild for summer, and now that it’s late June, it’s finally starting to teeter into real heat. He escalated slowly, gripping the guard rail like an old man to make sure his legs don’t give out, in no rush to head back to an empty apartment. His mom’s been doing back to back shifts, businesses booming like it does during this time of the year.

Normally, that would make him miserable. Nothing worse than hopping back from a day of fun shit only to come back to an empty living space with laundry piled to the nines and the TV left running. He doesn’t blame his mom because he’s not an asshole, but he never dealt well with being alone. But nowadays, he’s actually starting to like it. Crave it. Maybe a little too much.

It’s easier to deal with being alone than getting that sinking feeling he gets whenever he talks to his friends.

Shoving his hand in his basketball shorts, he pulls out his keys when something makes him pause. The plastic plant beside the entrance had been moved. Ryuji squints. Quietly, he grabs the knob and turns. It’s unlocked.

“Hey.”

Ryuji lets out a frustrated sigh, tension leaving his shoulders as he kicks the door closed. “Fucking hell. How’d you get in here?”

Seeing Ann sit primly with her legs crossed in a dining table that’s barely big enough to put two plates down evokes a feeling of nostalgia in him. She holds a key between her fingers idly. “Spare key hasn’t changed since we were thirteen.”

He walks to the fridge, pulls out a carton of milk and drinks it straight, ignoring her grimace. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he offers it to her.

“Hard pass.”

“Suit yourself,” he shrugs, putting it back in the fridge. “I’m gonna shower. I think we might have some chips in the cupboards if you want some. Might be stale though.”

When Ann speaks again, her tone is flat. “You haven’t been hanging out with us. Or even talking to us.”

He tries not to let the annoyance show in his face too much. “Yeah, well, what part of ‘I need some alone time’ was confusing to you?”

Wood creaks, and he can feel her presence right behind him. “Cut the crap, Sakamoto. Something happened, I know it did. It’s not like you for your big mouth to be shut like this.”

Shaking his head, he strides to his room, praying that Ann will take the hint.

She doesn’t. “Okay, so I’ll just keep talking until something happens.” She leans against his door frame as he rummages for a change of clothes, listing off with her fingers. “It’s summer vacation, so it’s not a school thing. Phantom Thief stuff has been done for a while, so it’s not that either. I saw your mom last week, and she’s doing great. Congratulate her on the promotion for me, by the way. And the only other thing in your life that’s important is—” he hears her pause suddenly. “Are you and Akira doing okay?”

The sudden sharpness in her voice is enough to make his irritation ebb away for a second. “We’re fine,” he answers, pulling a probably clean shirt from the bottom of his drawer. He knows just how much she’s invested in their relationship. She’s pretty much a third member given how desperate she is to make them work. “I would’ve told you if we weren’t.”

“Thank god,” she breathes. “So what’s going on?”

“Nothing,” he rolls his eyes. “A big fat load of nothing with nothing sprinkled on top. You want me to say it again?”

“If it’s nothing, then why aren’t you over the moon that Akira’s finally visiting tomorrow?”

His stomach does a weird flop inside of him. He can’t tell if it’s a good flop or a bad one. “I’m over the moon,” he defends. “I’m crazy excited.”

“Then show it!”

“Okay! Damn, sorry I wasn’t happy enough for you.” Giving up on finding clean shorts, he picks one up from the floor and hopes it isn’t too gross. “I’m headed to the shower.” He rounds on her, giving her a glare. “And do not tell Akira that anything’s going on with me, ‘cause there isn’t anything going on. You’re just gonna make him worry for no reason and he’s gonna be all—” he frowns, overexaggerated. “—About this, so cool it.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. He won’t hear about it from me.” Ann gives him a long stare, and he refuses to look away. “You sure you’re okay?” she asks, softer this time.

“Never been better. Now scram.”

“Good. See you tomorrow, and don’t be late!” she calls as she marches through his apartment, foot out the door. “Noon! Leblanc!”

“I got it!” he yells back.

When the lock clicks back into place, Ryuji leans his back against the wall, letting his eyes slide shut. Is he that obvious that Ann would notice? He rubs his eyes with palms, frustrated. If Ann noticed, Akira’s definitely going to notice, and that isn’t allowed. He’ll just have to do better.

Going into the bathroom, flicking on the shower, he realizes he forgot his towel in his bedroom. Stupid Ann, distracting him.

Padding back to his room, he nabs it from the side of his bed, refusing to look at the letter collecting dust on his desk as he flicks the light off once more.

—

Akira came home to a face-full of streamers, two pots of curry, and six arms tackling him. Smiles and hugs were passed like a bottle of wine after a war has been won, and Akira shrugs it all off like he isn’t soaking up each and every exclamation of how much they miss him for a rainy day. Morgana gets his fair amount of head scratches, Akira gets enough noogies to warrant a concussion, and even Ryuji somehow manages to forget his problems for approximately three minutes.

It’s evening now, and while everyone had already left (not after slamming down two plates each and Yusuke brazenly asking for tupperware after the fact), Ryuji decided to linger.

“So,” he starts, sleeves rolled up as he washes the dishes while Akira dries. It might not look like it, but he doesn’t mind doing his chores; especially not with the way they both purposefully knock their knuckles against each other whenever they pass a plate between themselves.

“So,” Akira repeats. “I’m home. That’s cool, huh?” Even with eighteen layers of nonchalance layered on top of each other, there’s no hiding the lilt in his voice.

“Pretty damn cool,” he rinses a mug and hands it to him. Ryuji pauses as he watches Akira dry, lip quirked up. “I like seeing you like this.”

“Cleaning?”

“No, you bastard.” He reaches forward, unable to help himself as he pinches his cheek. “Smiley.”

Akira slaps his hand away. “I’m always happy,” he says, voice fond.

“I didn’t say happy, now did I? I said—” Ryuji wipes both hands on his jeans before pinching his cheek with both hands. “Smiley!”

He doesn’t fight back this time; instead, he lets Ryuji knead his face. “Your hands are wet,” he complains, slightly slurred.

“Suck it up.” His skin is mesmerizingly soft. Probably softer than even a girl’s. He would hold him like this all night if he’d let him. “This saves you from washing your face tonight, so you’re welcome.”

With one last tug, he reluctantly sets him free. Akira’s face is red and blotchy from the assault, but somehow he pulls it off because of course he does. “Thanks,” he deadpans.

“Don’t sweat it, dude. You know I got you,” he laughs, and for a second, he feels good. Light. Being with Akira does that to him, a pendant that wards off all evil. The pendant must’ve had some fine print in the contract though, because his stomach drops again when he remembers again. Ryuji turns around and starts scrubbing the pan harder than he needs to. Chill out, chill out, chill out.

Arms encircle his waist. “Sojiro’s gonna smite us if we don’t finish these before he opens tomorrow,” Ryuji says.

“I know.” A chin hooks around his shoulder blade, sliding in place. A perfect fit. “We’ll get to it.”

Ryuji leans back, far enough to smell the shampoo in his hair. He breathes in deep. It’s not what he’s used to, probably different brands in his hometown, but it still smells nice.

With the water still running, a group of businessmen’s laughter booming from just outside the cafe, Ryuji nearly says it. To take that weight off of his weakened knees and share some of the burden with someone who’s never complained about carrying some of his baggage. It would be embarrassing, humiliating, fucking mortifying, but it would be better than this, right?

He opens his mouth. “Missed you,” is what comes out instead.

“Missed you more, I think.” A beat passes, and then Akira continues, quietly: “You don’t know how good it feels to be back.”

That was all it took. The final piece, the last lock. The words he needed to convince him that this was the right thing to do. If he was on the fence of whether or not to tell Akira, this was the tug that took him over the edge. Because Akira came here for one reason: to have fun. To feel good again. To feel like Akira again. Is Ryuji really going to be the one to shit all over that? To fuck up his summer vacation with his problems again?

Yeah. Fuck that.

He wishes he can pull Akira impossibly closer. “Welcome home.”

It can wait until he leaves. After that, the world will just have to explode, taking him with it.

—

Ryuji’s in bed that night, tossing and turning, blanket tangled in his legs and head underneath his pillow, when he finally caves.

Smacking around for his phone, he pulls it to his face, squinting against the bright light.

SR: futaba

The response was immediate.

SF: what SR: that was fast. whatre you doing up SF: im always up. why are YOU up SR: just wanted to talk SF: ok

He waits a few moments to see if she’d continue the conversation. She doesn’t.

SR: hows school? SF: ?????? who cares, its three am SR: i care SF: ugh, go to sleep. we’re meeting tomorrow anyway SR: yeah but you dont talk about school during group meetings much SF: alright weirdo SF: schools cool. people mostly leave me alone, and i think akira must’ve tipped off kawakami cause she is wayyyy too nice to me even after bullying her in front of the class SR: what did you do lmfao SF: she said that whoever could recite pi to ten decimal points can get a bonus ten percent in the final SF: and i kept going until the bell rang SR: damn! SF: its mostly okay though. better than i thought it’d be for sure SR: and how about actual school stuff SR: like classes. Math, science, english, all that shit. SF: sheesh, easiest part no doubt. could do all that stuff in my sleep SR: really? even though youre a year behind? SF: uh yeah? i could be eight years behind and still dunk on these clowns with one hand tied behind my back and watching a live stream

Ah, right. Futaba’s a literal genius. As in ‘Make A Documentary Of Her In Twenty Years In A Movie He’d Never Watch But Makoto Would Love’ kind of genius. He forgot.

SR: nice SR: thanks, im gonna sleep now SF: kk see you SF: (¯﹃¯)

—

“Okay, this is getting a little ridiculous,” Ryuji says when he opens the door to his apartment.

Ann is sitting in his dining chair once again, this time donned in hot pink shades and a comically big sun hat. He tries not to let annoyance and panic flare inside him. He loves her, because of course he does, but he was banking on stocking up some energy and alone time before they hit the road. Maybe even shed a couple of frustrated tears, who knows? As long as he’s alone, it’s fair game.

“Hey, don’t give me any of that,” Ann says. “You and packing your luggage is like mayonnaise and my flawless complexion—it’s not good, buster. Remember Hawaii?”

He feels his skin heat up, and slams the door harder than he should. “How the hell was I supposed to know I’d get randomly checked? ‘Sides, I didn’t do anything illegal.”

“A backpack filled with condoms and a toothbrush might as well have been illegal.” Ann reaches into her pocket, whipping out a wrinkled piece of paper. “You can’t pull that kinda crap now, and if I know him as well as I do, I’m sure Akira’s already packing for that.” She laughs at her own joke and raises her hand enthusiastically. He can’t help but grin as he high fives her. Hey, even if his life is falling apart, at least he’s still getting some, right?

“So I’m here to help,” she continues, shaking the sting from her palms. “I finished packing a day early and everything, so I better get some thanks after this.” Before he can complain, she holds up a finger, expression stern. “I know you don’t need help. Yes, I’m still worried about you. Yes, I’m doing this because I’m worried about you. Let me do this stupid little thing, okay? It’ll make me feel better.”

His stomach churns, more intense than usual. “You’re still worried about me?” he asks, breath hitching. What? No. Did he fail at that too? Does she know? That must mean Akira knows, right? And if Akira knows, then—

“Whoa, hold on!” A hand grips his shoulders. “Deep breaths, Sakamoto. Don’t spiral on me now.” Gently, he’s led to a chair. He sits gratefully and waits for his heart rate to drop. The entire time, Ann stays quiet.

Eventually, when the room stops closing in on him, he sighs and leans back against his chair. “Sorry,” he says, feeling really stupid. Damn, what happened to him keeping this on the down low?

She slaps his knee. “Shut up, don’t apologize for that,” she scolds, and he almost smiles. It’s easy to forget how good Ann is at this sort of thing. For better or for worse, she’s had plenty of practice while talking to Shiho. The grip on his knee tightens. “Ryuji…”

He shakes his head. “No.”

And, for better or for worse, she absolutely does not let things go.

“Look, buddy.” The grip is starting to hurt, and it means business if her red acrylics are anything to go by. “I just saw you have a teensy little panic attack two damn minutes ago, and you’re expecting me to just leave you to it? Are you a clown? Are you a clown in a circus, Sakamoto? Is that what you are?”

“I just don’t want to fucking talk about it.” He shoves her hand off his knee, and before he knows it, his voice is raised. “Christ, can’t you just leave me alone? All you do is get up in my business when I clearly didn’t ask you to. Just cause we did this whole Phantom Thief crap together doesn’t mean it gives you the right to everything going on in my life.”

He loathes the ringing in his ears from his own voice. He hates it when he yells in the apartment, but hates the silence that follows more. Too much like his dad, too much like his exhausted mom.

Ann is staring up at him, hard and unwavering. “You’re such a piece of shit sometimes.”

“Huh?”

“If you want me off your tail, you’re gonna have to work harder than that.” She gets on her feet, glaring at him. “‘Piss me off and make me leave in tears’ was your tactic, right? Boring. Overdone. Try again.”

The way she’s standing, shoulders pushed back and chin jutted out like she’s ready for a shoot in some kind of army magazine, means she’s dead serious.

“Ann, just get the fuck out of my house. You’re really starting to get on my nerves.”

“Ooo, classic 'angry and make me storm off’, right? Better, but not good enough.”

“What the hell are you even saying?”

“I’m saying that you could say whatever pops into your bleached head—” she flicks his forehead, viciously sharp nails digging into his skin. “And I wouldn’t go anywhere. You could call me names, or threaten me, or try to hurt me, but I am not going anywhere.”

Her eyes are bright blue, but he can still feel the heat of it like Carmen was inches in front of him. His throat quivers when he swallows. She’s really not going to give in.

“My knee’s been real bad lately,” he relents, making a fist and lightly knocking it against his thigh. “Normally it acts up during bad weather, but the sun hasn’t left in weeks and it still sucks. I didn’t wanna tell anyone, ‘cause I hate talking about…” he trails off, but she doesn’t need him to continue. They both know damn well who he’s referencing.

Ann’s face crumbles. “That’s horrible,” she says, absently rubbing the red mark on his forehead. “I’m sorry I was mean.”

He waves it off, the same way he does whenever his mom asks him if he’s getting enough sleep. “Don’t sweat it. I know how crazy you get.”

It’s a real testament to how worried she must’ve been when she didn't take the olive branch. “I know you probably don’t want to worry the group, but you should tell Akira.”

“Ann—” he starts wearily.

“You know I’m right about this. Now that the Metaverse is back and we’re going to be running around more, he can’t not know about this. Your boyfriend aside, he’s our leader. Something really nasty can happen if we’re not thinking straight.”

“...Sure.”

Ann gives him a weird look. “That was surprisingly easy. I thought you’d complain more.”

She’s getting way too sharp. “What, you wanted me to be a dick about it?”

“I guess not.” Leaning against his kitchen counter, she chews her lip like it’s bubble gum. “Can I do anything to help?”

“Yeah.” Ryuji stands to stretch, ready for this conversation to be over. “You can keep this between us—”

“—Except for Akira,” they say in unison, Ryuji exasperated and Ann insistent.

“Fine. I’ll back off if you think you have it under control.”

“Hallelujah, she’s finally giving me space.”

“But,” her gaze is harder than steel. “Never, ever keep secrets from me again, got it?”

Ryuji rolls his eyes. “Gotcha. Can we get started now? I’m over talking about my horrible past so that we can finally have a straight-out-of-an-anime summer vacation.”

Her eyes brighten up. “Yes! Okay, I made this huge list and I know for a fact we’re gonna have to go for a quick shopping trip—”

“Quick? So, like, three hours going by your standards?”

“Don’t interrupt me. We need to pack some swim trunks, toiletries, and I know you’re worried about your mom so we’ll go grocery shopping for her before we leave in the morning.” Feet tapping excitedly, “This is gonna be so fun. You start packing, I’ll go shopping. Rendezvous in an hour.”

Before he even gets a chance to put a word in, she’s already out the door.

—

Later that night, when everything is messily thrown into one oversized backpack and a rucksack and the fridge is chock full of groceries for his overworked mother, he gets a text.

TA: i know you said not to bring it up but i dont care TA: i searched it up and apparently cold and hot compresses can help with the pain on your knee TA: also getting shoes with really good support would help too. i modeled for some shoe brands, i can def get you some discounts!!! TA: like, i know this is all base level stuff and you know this already, but i bet you we can ask sophia for more help. maybe she can access top secret doctor stuff for knee injuries?? :O

Ryuji stares at his phone for a long moment, before shoving it under his pillow.

Great. Add ‘guilt’ and ‘keeping up with a lie’ to the list of shit he has to worry about.

—

“A lake!” Yusuke cries, kneeling in front of the body of water like a man discovering a desert oasis. Gently, he cups the clean water and cradles it against his cheek. “You are nothing like the garbage-infested sewers in Tokyo. You are crystal clear. You are divine. You are salvation. You are—”

“Akira, Inari’s being a weirdo again,” Futaba points an accusing finger at Yusuke, who’s shirt is slowly absorbing more and more of the water. “At this rate, he’s gonna have to change.”

Makoto grunts as she lugs out the grill singlehandedly, a loud clang ringing out when she nonchalantly sets down a family-sized piece of machinery. “Alright, here it is.” She catches the look of awe that Ryuji’s giving her. “Does it still shock you that I can probably bench press you twice over?”

“I’m just trying to figure out where you’re hiding all that muscle, prez,” he snorts, and it’s the truth. Her and Akira must be the same breed, considering they’re both way too lithe to be this strong. He’s seen the way they throw a punch in the Metaverse—they could probably disintegrate a dude in real life if they really wanted to. Like yeah they workout, but not that much. Maybe they’re dieting too? He’s tried dieting, but ramen is just way too good, even at the expense of muscles.

“Ryuji, when you’re done spacing out, can you grab the ingredients?” Akira calls out.

“Ugh, cut the mind reading dude, it scares the hell out of me.”

He shoots him a signature Kurusu Akira smile; small yet disarming all the same, and it never fails to get Ryuji’s heart to do weird flips. “It’s not mind reading once you realize that I’m just obsessed with you.”

Instead of answering, Ryuji grumbles as he stalks off into the RV. Damn him and his genuine words and compliments.

He pulls out their luggage from underneath the table. Akira doesn’t need to say what ingredients he needs to grab—he’s helped out enough times during Leblanc’s afterhours to know the curry spices by heart. Ryuji might be a failure, but hey, he can do this no problem.

Grabbing bottles and shakers and balancing them on top of his arms like an overworked waiter, he glances left and feels his heart dropped. The envelope from his room—dust-free from rubbing against the rest of his luggage—is sticking out of his backpack. After a quick adjustment, he uses his free hand to shove it deep in his bag, hearing the paper crinkle in on itself.

It was a spur of the moment decision to bring it along with him, one that he’s still half-regretting. Why’d he do it? Maybe he was worried that he might enjoy this trip a little too much? Maybe he was some kind of masochist that likes having his problems and anxiety follow him literally everywhere he goes? Maybe he was scared to hell and back that his mom would find it before he had a chance to tell her himself? Fuck if he knows.

Poking his head out of the door, he yells, “Heads up!”

Throwing a bottle of black pepper, Akira catches it without looking. “Thanks.”

“Don’t sweat it.”

“Too late, I already sweat a little bit.”

Ryuji squints. “It’s sweated. Right, Ann?”

“Don’t look at me. I went to America for modelling, not a spelling bee.”

“I won all my spelling bees in middle school,” Makoto says, chest puffed out in pride.

“Were you the only one who joined?”

“That’s not important.”

Akira’s phone beeps enthusiastically, and Sophia’s voice rings out. “Got it! According to the internet, ‘sweat’ and ‘sweated’ are both grammatically valid. Technically, both Ryuji and Ann are correct.”

“Can we all just shut up for a second about sweating, for the love of god,” Futaba fans her face weakly. “It’s already sooooo hot. I feel like my skin is melting. Yusuke, is my skin melting?”

He looks at her for a moment, peering closely. “Yes.”

“How about we go in for a quick dip in the lake?” Haru offers, and Ryuji suspects that she can feel the same energy that he’s feeling when the group gets like this. “We were all talking about how beautiful it was, and it would cool down Futaba-chan no problem.”

She leans down, swirling her hand in the water. “It’s a little chilly, but it’ll definitely take care of the heat.”

“Good idea!” Futaba jumps up and throws off her shoes, ready to march in. “This is gonna feel so good.”

“Socks!” Akira reminds her.

“I know that!”

Haru and Yusuke follow suit, eager to get away from the heat, Makoto going in to change to shorts. Ryuji guesses it’s probably not an easy feat to roll up leather pants. Probably makes it either to ride motorcycles, or whatever people with leather pants do.

He feels a poke in his side. “You hopping in with them?” Akira asks.

No. The answer is already at the tip of his tongue, ready to roll out. Given how cramped the RV is, keeping up the trademark Sakamoto energy while lugging more baggage than an airport employee is brutal. It’s barely been a day since they started the trip, and he’s not sure how much longer he can keep this up. Already his chest feels heavy with something, and whenever all the windows are rolled up, it gets weirdly hard to breathe. But if he says no, Akira would definitely know something was up.

“Uh—”

“Actually, I think we’ll take over the curry for you,” Ann cuts in.

Ryuji turns to her, startled and wide eyed.

“Why?” Akira asks, just as confused as he is. They both know how much Ann loves being in the middle of things, especially in group hangouts.

“Because you look like you could use a break. I know for a fact that you had to pack Yusuke’s stuff for him, or else the van would’ve had fifteen canvases and an easel, and you had to grocery shop for everyone, and talk Haru out of a guilty spiral because she wasn’t confident enough in her driving. And all this before—” Ann looks down at her wrist to peer at a non-existent watch. “Five o’clock.

He frowns. “Sure, but I’ve done twice as much during our prime. This,” he gestures at the pot. “Is a walk in the park. Thank you, though.”

Ann sighs, heavy and contemplative. “I didn’t want to say it out right, but since you’re being difficult…” She places a hand on his shoulder. “You should hang out with Futaba more. Being gone from her for that long has been rough, and yes, we took care of her while you weren’t there, but you’re different.” Her hand tightens. “You know, Wild Card and all that.”

“That’s not what that means, but I appreciate the effort,” Akira says. Despite his words, it’s clear that what she said bothered him. Eyes flickering to Futaba, enthusiastically kicking the water to see how far the droplets would go, he directs his gaze to Ryuji. “Is it okay if…?”

Ryuji rolls his eyes, pretending like relief isn’t crashing through his body. “Go.”

Akira kisses his cheek. “Thank you.” When he pulls away, he gives Ann a hesitant look.

She grimaces. “Thanks, but no. Go hangout with the gremlin.”

He gives her a salute and saunters off, rolling up his jeans to wade through the water, making sure to splash Futaba on the way there.

After a moment of silence, he sighs. “Fine, I’ll say it. Your acting classes are actually doing you some good.”

“Ha!” she points at him triumphantly. “And you said it’d be a waste of time!”

“I didn’t say that.” Ryuji slouches into a nearby camping chair, the one that Sojiro forced them to lug along, hoping that some of his fatigue would seep away. “We both know that Futaba’s never been better, so what’s up? Why’d you throw out Akira like that?”

“It’s not for me, stupid,” she scoffs, but he can’t help but feel the weight in his chest get even heavier. He sinks even deeper into his chair. “The water was cold, right? That would make your knee even worse.”

“Yeah,” he blinks, having already forgotten the whole fucked-up knee story. “Thanks.”

“I won’t chew you out for not telling Akira, even though I should. But like I said,” she ruffles his hair. “I got your back. I know it must be hard, but you’re still acting all normal. We’re lucky that it’s only affecting you in the real world, too.” She had come up with that one herself, and thank god she did, cause he wouldn’t have known what to say if she had confronted him on how he could easily do flips and sprints in the Metaverse. “That just takes a lot of guts, and even though I know for a fact this would make you feel so much better once you tell him, I trust that you know what you need better than me.”

“Quit trying to look all cool,” he says, and prays to fucking god that the red on his face comes off as embarrassed gratitude rather than earth-shattering guilt. “And aren’t you supposed to be cooking, curry master?”

“Hey, he asked you to do it, not me. I’ll help you get the ingredients, but no way I’m doing the whole cooking shebang.”

“Ugh, fine,” he says, as if he doesn’t secretly love the idea of getting to cook for Akira this time instead of the other way around. Pushing himself up, Ann reaches out to help him. “You don’t gotta baby me, Takamaki.”

“I’ll baby you for as long as I need to, and then eventually Akira will be the one babying you. We come in shifts.”

“I hope you’re unionized.”

Makoto pokes her head out of the RV, wearing a showercap. “Did someone say unionized?”

“What the hell?” Ryuji staggers back in shock. Crap. “How long have you been there?”

“And why are you wearing that?” Ann gasps.

“Not long, and I don’t want my hair getting wet in case I fall in. We have no idea what’s been in here.”

“Were you going to fall in a bathtub?”

“Did you want me to push you in?”

“No, ma’am.”

—

There wasn’t a problem initially. Well, not one in Palaces, anyway. Wait, they’re called Jails now, which is really confusing. Ryuji’s just gonna have to avoid using those words so he doesn’t make himself look like an idiot.

Back in Shibuya, it had been...fine. Attacks landed, punches were dodged, Batons passed like his life depended on it (and it did). Like clockwork, instinct came to him and the weird nostalgic normalcy of fighting Shadows made it bearable.

Ryuji was off his game, and he could tell.

But he was barely off his game. If anything, he still had a foot on his game. Maybe even an entire leg on the game if he was being generous. He was still enough on the game that even Akira doesn’t notice.

But the weird part was, he doesn’t mind the fact that he’s off his game. In an even weirder way, he’s never been more on his game in his entire life.

“There!�� Futaba’s voice crackles through the comms. “Uncle is open wide!”

“Her name is Ante, Oracle,” Makoto responds, brass knuckles jammed into the throat of some poor Shadow. “It’s open, but it’s vicious.”

Ryuji calls for Kidd just as she pulls away, wiping out the rest of the weaker ones with ease. “This thing’s like a goddamn mousetrap.” Ante’s serpent body slithering on the cool tiles so fluidly that it gives him the creeps. Her tail has tiny spikes etched into it, like mini knives hot glued onto a tetherball. The minute any of them even come close, she strikes outwards. “How vicious is vicious?”

“Depends on how fast you are.”

Akira’s head jerks up, and when their eyes meet, cracks a smile. “Fast, you say?”

Ryuji grins wider than he has in days. Joker relying on him? How can someone not feel a little giddy at that? “Say no more, leader.”

He stretches quickly, and feels eyes piercing the back of his head. Ann, probably. Shrugging it off, he sprints low towards Ante. As long as Ann doesn’t say a word, there won’t be a problem.

She’s taken hits from where Akira’s been concentrating on her. A mixture of bullet holes in its scales mixed in with cross slashes from where his bless attacks hit had left her delirious and pissed off. When he’s close, she bares her fangs and strikes, only for him to skid on the smooth tiles, rugged hands touching his mask.

“Come on out, Captain!”

His blond hair ruffled from Kidd’s attack, a crack of lightning came down from his Persona’s mangled hand, and a split second later her tail had been sliced clean through. And another crack comes, her neck landing on the tiles with a muffled thud. An attack that should’ve just been enough to incapacitate Ante had instead completely decapitated her.

A beat of silence passed as everyone processed what had happened. Ryuji’s mouth drops open, but he can’t muster any surprise.

He doesn’t know how, or why, but for some reason his attacks have been at least five times as strong as they had been back before the Metaverse was still intact. Moves that he didn’t even know are on the tip of his tongue, as if he had practiced them all his life. Normally this would only happen after rigorous training for months, adding up in tiny increments.

Now it happens every day.

“Well, looks like someone woke up on the right side of the gym today,” Futaba laughs awkwardly.

“What on earth was that, Skull?” Haru asks, eyes wide. “I had never seen you do something like that.”

Morgana’s tail swished. “She makes a good point. When’d you learn that one?”

“I don’t know.” He calls back Captain Kidd, eyeing the drop that Ante had left behind, but doesn’t move forward to snatch it up. “But whatever the reason is, it’s awesome as hell. I mean, did you see that? Sliced that thing open like a stuffed bear.”

“Let’s not bring stuffed animals into this, please,” Makoto frowns.

Akira’s giving him a look again, and it leaves Ryuji unsettled. “What is it, dude? I got something on my face?”

“No,” he steps closer, and his voice drops. “Are you alright?”

“Am I alright? I’ve never been better, man.” He flashes him a grin, hoping that it’s bright enough to distract Akira’s ever-searching eyes. “Come on, let’s get moving. Natsume’s heart isn’t gonna change itself.”

After one last glance, he nods, and Ryuji can see the minute Calculating Joker comes back. “You heard him. Let’s get moving, everyone.”

They all follow him up the stairs, eager to get moving past the eternally bleary and uncreatively written setting of Natsume’s Jail.

“Psst!” Ryuji hisses at Ann, who turns to him with a question in her eyes. “Panther! Get your ass over here!”

“What?” she whispers back.

He rubs the back of his neck. “I fucked up my knee when I rushed her, and I still haven’t told Joker, so do you mind…?”

An expected look of disapproval emerges from her expression, and Ryuji hurries to beat her to the punch. “I know, I know! But I can’t tell him in the middle of all this, now can I?”

“Fine,” she grumbles before calling Carmen. “I’ll cover you for now, but only ‘cause I’m a good friend and I’m super cute.”

“Yeah, the cutest, prettiest, whatever.” He glances over to Akira, swooping down to grab Ante’s drops before heading up. “Quick, before he looks back.”

Diarama washes over him, and even though relief floods through his body, he can feel a bead of sweat running down his temple. He’s not sure if it’s from her inherent heat or from the stress of lying to her again.

“Better?” Ann asks.

“Way better. Thanks.” He catches Sophia looking at them curiously. “The kid’s watching us. You better move ahead before she starts analyzing our personality types or something.”

Her eyes light up. “You think she’d do it if I asked? I really wanna know.”

“Just go!”

Ann hurries to catch up to Sophia, and while she’s distracted, Ryuji gently rolls up sleeves—he had gotten nicked by Ante as he slid. Normally that wouldn’t have been a problem; he had gotten thrown through walls, been hit by mini hurricanes, been blown up by a boat, and walked away from all that still swinging.

Yet lately, any tiny, fractional, miniscule injury is enough to shoot unbearable pain throughout his entire body. It’s as if he was back in Kamoshida’s Palace, where every punch thrown at him had been life or death.

Glancing down at his forearm, he sighs. The cut was gone, but he can’t keep asking Ann to heal him in secret every time.

“Skull?”

Hurriedly pulling down his sleeve, he glances up to see Akira standing in front of him.

“Everyone’s waiting for you,” he says casually, as if those words don’t mean the entire goddamn world to Ryuji. “You ready to go?”

“Yeah,” he answers, shaking his head. “My bad. Let’s go.”

They clambered up the staircase, and Ryuji decides that all of that stuff—getting injured and having it hurt like hell—just isn’t too important.

That just means that he’ll be fine as long as he doesn't get hit, and he’s had plenty of experience dodging punches that were thrown at him before.

—

“Cheers!”

All of them raise their red plastic cups, clinking it against each other in a way that they see adults do all the time on TV. Apple juice and iced tea slosh as they gulp it down eagerly, excitement so prevalent that they can hardly taste the cheap, convenience store-esque quality of their drink.

“This isn’t too bad,” Makoto muses, leaning against the faux-leather seats of the RV. “Though it would probably taste better if it wasn’t room temperature.”

“Does it look like this place has a mini fridge?” Futaba says, legs swinging down from her top bunk. “That’s a good idea though. I should’ve bought mine from home. Can you imagine we’re halfway through a six hour road trip and you want iced coffee and boom! Two feet behind you is Futaba’s Ice Cold Cafe, one hundred yen per use.”

“I hope you’d be ready to sleep on it, because this place is cramped enough as is,” Akira slaps the wall a few times, the way a rancher would a sturdy horse. “We’re lucky with what we have.”

“I know that! Without this thing we never would have been able to conquer Natsume’s Jail.” She reaches down to muss Yusuke’s hair. “I’m sure Inari feels good about that.”

He smiles, hair sticking up in all directions. “Of course I feel satisfied. Though I understand his struggle, being able to stop a fellow artist into becoming a true monster is always something that will bring me joy. Justice will never stop feeling good.”

“Cheers to that!” Ann raises her drink. “And you know what? This wouldn’t have been possible had Ryuji not kicked some major ass in that Jail.”

The group whoops and hoots loudly, and Ryuji can’t help but scoff when Ann winks at him. “Aw guys, you’re making me blush. I’m fucking awesome, sure, but we’re all pretty amazing.”

Haru shakes her head. “She’s right, Ryuji-kun. WIthout you, defeating dragon Natsume would’ve been much more difficult.”

“Even I can admit that you’ve gotten much stronger, Skull.” Morgana leaps onto the table, licking up the bowl of apple juice that Haru had left him. It feels wrong to let an animal drink that, but he’d never say anything about it. “Have you been training?”

Ryuji shrugs. “Yeah, a little.”

“Ooo, look at Mr. Humble all of a sudden,” Futaba jeers.

“I’m always humble!”

Ann grimaces. “I don’t think so. Remember when you finally got Akira to go on a date with you—”

“How dare you. He was begging me to go on a date with him—”

“And you wouldn’t stop telling us about how you had nabbed the coolest guy in Tokyo—”

Ryuji nearly jumps over the booth to put a hand on her mouth. “Quit yammering, Takamaki, I’m begging you.” He feels something slimy on his hand, and pulls back quickly. “Ew, did you lick me?! That’s so effing gross.”

“You’re gross.”

He feels a hand on the small of his back, warm and familiar. “I don’t think you’re gross, Ryuji,” Akira says. “I think you’re very clean.”

A harmonic beep rings through the air. “Sorry to interrupt,” Sophia’s clear voice cuts in. “But Akira, you got an email.”

“Thanks Sophie.” He points to where his phone is perched on the windowsill, propped up so she can see them celebrate their victory. “Can you…?”

Ryuji wordlessly passes it to him as everyone breaks off into smaller conversations, chatter blending into each other until it sounds like the kind of white noise he would queue up when he’s desperate to get some studying done. Immediately, Akira begins scanning through his phone, gray eyes focused.

He props his head against his shoulder to read alongside him and makes a noise of interest. “You signed up for cram school?” he asks, surprised.

“I did,” he replies, thumbing through the details of his admission.

Ryuji stares at him. “But you’re so fucking smart. Why are you paying who knows what to learn shit you already know?”

“Because Tokyo U barely cracks a 30% admission rate, and chemistry is hell incarnate.” With one last few clicks, he sets his phone down with a wince. “Sure is expensive though. We might have to reform the heart of someone in the education committee.” When he continues to stare at him wordlessly, Akira turns to him. “Don’t worry, I’m still leeching off of the Thieves' money from last year, so it’s not too bad when you take into account my part-time back home.”

“No, that’s not—I’m just—” he shakes his head and forces himself to start over. “Since when did you decide on Tokyo University?”

It’s Akira's turn to look taken aback. “What do you mean? You’d never leave Tokyo, especially if it meant leaving your mom.”

“That’s not the point. The point is I’m making you choose between me and your hometown!” he exclaims, but he already knows in his heart what Akira’s choice is going to be. It’s stupidly obvious. For some reason, the longer this conversation goes on, the tighter his chest feels.

The feeling doubles when Akira’s eyes, always focused and always sharp, subdued at his words. “Are you really comparing yourself to that place? You know I’d choose you over anything.” He reaches forward and combs through Ryuji’s hair, hushed and gentle in a way that only Akira can manage. “I’m so excited to live life with you again.”

The white noise, so comfortable before, abruptly turns overwhelmingly loud—grating and unbearable and painful to be around. Ryuji stands abruptly, barely reacting to Futaba’s yelp when he backs into her.

“Hey! What gives?”

“I…” his eyes dart around, flinching when he accidentally makes eye contact with Akira, and again when he locks eyes with Ann.

The sudden silence from the group is somehow worse than the noise from before, and if the tightness in his chest gets any more painful, his lungs are gonna burst into a million pieces and he’s not gonna be able to pick it all up from the ground if everyone’s watching.

“Trash,” he blurts out.

“What?” Makoto blinks, glancing up from her map.

“This place is disgusting and it’s way too cluttered and it’s bad to leave such a big mess so I’m gonna—” Ryuji grabs the plastic bag filled with garbage, haphazardly tossing empty cans and plastic cups into it. “I’ll be back. Don’t wait up.”

Before they can question him, he’s already out of the RV, towing trash and leaving his friends behind him.

—

“What the fuck was that?!” Ryuji screams into the sky.

He was far enough from the trailer that he knew they couldn’t hear him even if they had strained their ears, and it was late enough into the night that even the tourists weren’t poking around to look at the shrines or the Great Masamune himself.

“Keep it a secret’, my ass! That was the second dumbest thing—no, the third dumbest thing you’ve ever done in your entire life. Do you know how high that threshold is, Sakamoto? High! Higher than you can see with your own two eyes! Higher than Yaldabaoth’s goddamn crane-sized spine!”

Swooping down, he grabs a fistful of pebbles and throws it as hard as he can. “You are so selfish! What happened to keeping ‘Kira happy, you effing asshole?” Relishing in how far it went, he takes another two more. “You are so annoying. You are—” he throws, the rocks landing with a little plink. “Insufferable. Stupid. Selfish. A fucking—” this time, he doesn’t even know where it lands. “Gah!”

Turning on his heel, he glares up at the statue and grits his teeth when he sees Masamune’s stoic expression. “Don’t give me that look—you’re dead. You ain’t got nothing to complain about. Everyone’s remembering you as the guy who saved Japan, or whatever. But guess what? You’re probably a loser. A dumb, stupid loser who convinced everyone that you’re good for something when you’re worth jack shit!”

Before he can stop himself, he takes the garbage bag full of cans, glass bottles, and crumpled chip bags and hurls it at Masamune. It hits the base of the statue, far below damaging the One-Eyed Dragon himself, but the glass cracks under the force of being thrown, tearing through the plastic and causing trash and shards to explode all over the steps. Ryuji’s chest is heaving as he stares down at what he’s done.

“Impressive.”

He whirls around at the voice behind him, stomach lurching straight to the ground when he sees who it was. “In his years of war, I doubt that anyone’s ever tried throwing waste in his direction in order to defeat him.”

“Yusuke,” he breathes, feeling his frustration draining away to make room for even more guilt, if that was even possible. Ryuji cannot possibly look any more of an asshole than he does right now—tearing his throat raw in a public space, surrounded by the garbage he had thrown at a national monument in front of a guy who clearly worships and respects art that’s old as hell. “Sorry, I’ll clean it up, I promise. I was just…” he hesitates. “Talking to myself.”

Yusuke hums, unconvinced, and carefully approaches the mess in front of him. Ryuji waves him off. “No, don’t. Broken glass is a bitch, especially the little pieces. If that gets in your skin, it’s game over. You’d have to go into the hospital for sure.” He grimaces. “Trust me. My dad used to throw beer bottles at our place like he was in a ball game, and that ain’t fun, I promise you that.”

“I see.” Turning around, Ryuji hoped that he was magically going to head back to the group and not mention this to anyone there, but instead Yusuke stopped in front of a water fountain. “You’re right. If you’re not careful, it could be very easy to hurt yourself when dealing with broken glass.” Pulling out a handkerchief from his breast pocket in a way that only Yusuke can, he soaks it in water before crouching down at the shards glimmering under moonlight. “But if you use wet fabric to dab it on the shards itself—” he pats the concrete and flips the fabric over, revealing the moist and glistening pieces stuck on its side. “You can clean up the pieces with little to no danger.”

“Huh.” After a moment, he realizes that he’s making Yusuke do the dirty work for him. “Pass me that. Thanks for the tip, but I can take it from here. I mean,” he rubs the back of his neck. “It’s totally my fault that the glass is here anyway.”

He doesn’t look up from his task, eyes focused and movement meticulous. “No need. If you’d like to help, you can start picking up the non-dangerous litter around us.”

Ryuji does as he’s told, wincing as he has to pick up sticky, pop-soaked wrappers with his bare hands but he doesn’t complain. Karmic retribution has never held back against him. “The glass thing,” he starts, squatting down and picking up empty cans and plastic utensils with curry remnants still stuck to them. “They teach you that in Kosei?”

“No, from one of Madarame’s past pupils actually.” Yusuke shifts over to dab at another glass-covered section, concrete looking clearer with every pat. “Sensei had a rather violent habit of hurling canvases at the wall if they do not meet his standards, and his actions had led to many of our more fragile belongings being shattered when he did.” His tone doesn’t change, but Ryuji can see his shoulders tighten. “At least it allowed me to move away from that house very quickly, considering I had very little to pack away.”

Ryuji opens his mouth to comfort him. Instead, he finds himself speaking in a low tone. “Glad that bastard is rotting in jail,” he resists the urge to spit on the ground. “Then afterwards, I hope he rots in hell, just to really cover all of our bases.”

That pulls a chuckle out of Yusuke. “Thank you,” he smiles, and all Ryuji can do is nod. There isn’t much you can say after that without making it weird. But how weirder can it possibly get when the two of you are off towing around someone’s perception of the world on a daily basis?

They continue to work in silence; the wind is gentle, but it’s enough to rustle the leaves and allow Ryuji to feel some relief from the summer heat. He’s picking up wet paper tissues, and it’s gross, but it’s nice to be doing something with his hands.

He’s just about done his part of the clean-up when he can’t take it anymore. “Aren’t you gonna ask?”

“No,” Yusuke answers without looking up. That’s another thing that Ryuji really appreciates about him—playing dumb has never been something that he’s done to get out of an awkward situation. To be fair though, Yusuke himself is an awkward situation.

“Why not?”

“Did you want me to?”

That question makes him pause, and Yusuke doesn’t wait for an answer. “You’ve always been the most vocal in the group, and while many a time it has been our downfall in terms of secrecy, I have always considered it one of your strong points. And if you, Sakamoto Ryuji, are indeed struggling with using your words,” Yusuke’s eyes turn to him. “Then it must be very difficult to talk about.”

A beat passes. “No,” Ryuji mutters. “I don’t want you to ask.”

“Then I won’t,” he says easily. “But I do have a question.”

“Lay it on me.”

Yusuke shuffles to crouch down next to him, and it’s kinda weird seeing someone as elegant as him pose like some kind of hoodlum. “Does Akira know about your struggle?”

His mind flashes back to the confused look back in the RV and he scratches his neck roughly. “I bet he does now.”

Yusuke leans back, shocked. “He doesn’t know?”

“I’m getting there! Don’t pressure me, man. You said it yourself, I’m fucking struggling.”

“Well, yes, I did say that, but it’s Akira,” he says the name almost reverently. “I’d be surprised if he doesn’t sense that something is askew.”

“I just said that, didn’t I? Goddamn, you and Ann are just two of the same peas in the same freaking pond, aren’t you?”

“It’s ‘pod’, Ryuji,” he corrects. “Ann is aware?”

“She—” Ugh, how does he explain that she thinks she knows, but really he had lied about what he told her? “She basically knows.” And because his fat mouth just keeps getting fatter, “She’s sort of part of the problem.”

Yusuke’s eyes widen and Ryuji hurries to cover up for his mistake. “She’s not a problem, it’s just that I didn’t explain…It’s really my fault, and how I deal with internal shit, you know what I’m saying? And Ann’s just kind of in the crossfire, so what ended up happening is when I talk to her about what I’m feeling, I end up just feeling worse.” He winces. First he lies to her and now he’s shit-talking her? “I did not say that. What I really mean is that, uh, feelings...and actions...are complicated,” he finishes weakly.

“I see,” he says finally.

It seems that even Yusuke has a threshold for uncomfortable moments, because he rises to his feet. “Thank you for sharing all of that with me.”

“Uh, yeah, for sure. Thanks for the glass trick.”

“No need to mention it. It’s much easier to clean up a mess when you have someone helping you.” He points vaguely behind himself, “Would you like to head back together? I’m sure by now the festivities are winding down, and the trash you were so keen on disposing of has definitely been thrown away.”

Ryuji blanches. It grossed him out that he forgot he was holding an armful of garbage in his hand. “You go ahead. I just need to,” he rocks his arms, almost cradling the wet garbage. “Throw this out.”

“Very well. I’ll see you when you get back, then.”

He waves at him, and Ryuji wiggles in response (unless he wants it all hitting the ground and restarting that whole process again, which, no thanks.) After dumping it all into a nearby trash can, the process of which lasts several minutes since he still had to sort out the recycling, he feels a buzz in his pocket.

KA: come back when you can KA: i miss you

He takes a shaky breath.

SR: on my way

#p5 #p5s #ryuji sakamoto #akiryu #mine #fic tag #plainly in truth #akira kurusu #pegoryu #happy birthday ryuji this ones for you

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chilling-seavey · 4 years ago

Note

Family beach day blurb with the pics of Daniel on the paddle board as inspo!!

Bro…my literal favourite kind of ask yesss 🧡

For those living under a rock, or have yet to follow me for my daily Seavey updates, these are the pictures used for inspo:

Thursday, July 22, 2032

I’ll be working on another ask about more details of this little vacation (now that I kind of have my inspo for a vacation I can answer that one that’s been in my mailbox for ever lol) but basically what you need to know is Daniel often was sent on weekend/three-day business trips to LA once in a while – maybe once or sometimes twice a year - just to work with the main office down there and some other clients. So when another trip lined up with summer break, Florence and Daniel took that opportunity to pay extra to stay an extra week and bring the whole family of five down to LA.

Daniel had to work for the first bit of their trip – they arrived on the Sunday morning and he worked Monday-Wednesday – and then the rest of the week they all had free. LA heat was no joke compared to Toronto summers and the family hit the beach all together as soon as they could.

Clementine was thirteen and was more than ready to show off her brand-new bikini to the California guys. Daniel would have stapled a cover up on her if he could have. Penelope and Lucy were just excited to go swimming in the ocean. They set up their stuff in an empty space of sand on the beach, laying out towels and their bags and passed around the sunscreen.

Penelope hated sunscreen and she had the hugest cringe on her face as Daniel slathered her up, making sure to get her shoulders and nose until she was squirming away, “Okay, okay, okay, that’s fine!”

“I wanna lick it.” Lucy giggled, sticking her tongue out and trying to squirt a bit of sunscreen out from the bottle.

“Oh my gosh, do not do that.” Daniel laughed, snatching the bottle from her. “Hair up.”

Lucy scrunched her hair up off her shoulders to let him apply her sunscreen, nearly bouncing on her toes with excitement. At freshly eight-years-old, she felt like a whole grownup and the idea of swimming in the ocean without direct parental supervision was revolutionary to her.

Clementine had put her own sunscreen on and dropped her cover up incredibly dramatically, making her parents glance at each other as they held back their laughter at their barely-a-teenager.

“Turn.” Daniel said, the youngest doing a little spin to face him and she scrunched her eyes closed to let him apply sunscreen to her face. With a poke to her nose she was done and Daniel tossed the bottle of sunscreen onto the towel, wiping the excess cream from his hands onto himself.

“Can we go now?” Penelope asked, trying to rub off the sticky sunscreen from her skin.

“We have something planned first.” Florence said.

“What?” Clementine frowned, having already secured her spot on the towel to ‘tan’.

“You and your underage self are going to do some paddle board yoga with us.” Daniel said with a smirk at her glare.

“What’s that?” Lucy asked as they made their way down the beach.

“It’s like a class where they teach you yoga on the water!” Florence explained, taking her hand as they walked.

“So…like…something for old people.” Penelope mumbled.

“Not really.” Daniel snorted. “I have not seen a single old person doing this.”

“Your dad did it once.” Florence said.

“A while ago but, yeah, I guess you’re right.” Daniel laughed. “So, yes, I have seen an old person do this.”

They got checked in at the booth, the parents signing a few forms first before they got their boards and the girls waited impatiently with them. Florence slipped her arm around Daniel’s back and rested her chin on his shoulder to whisper a little, “Why do you always have to look so hot?”

His little smirk made her smile and he passed the clipboard back to the lady at the stand and then looked to his wife, pulling her close by her waist with a soft, “Wondering the same thing about you, baby.”

“Can we get a move on?” Lucy grabbed Daniel’s other hand before he could even lean down to kiss his wife and pulled him off towards the water.

They all got their boards and paddles and the instructor led them out into the water. The main goal was to not fall off the board which honestly was easier said than done and as Florence already had fallen off twice just trying to paddle out to deeper water. Honestly Penelope was no better and she could barely get standing without wiping out.

Daniel was doing just fine and Clementine managed to get standing beside him on her board with reasonable ease, Lucy standing on wobbly legs with her arms outstretched and bum stuck out to try not to fall.

“With your arms raised, we’re going to balance on one foot, like so.” The instructor imitated the pose from the centre of their little circle.

“Yeah, no, that’s not going to happen.” Florence snorted to herself, making Daniel laugh from her left as he adjusted the board with the paddle.

“Gotta try, Flora.” he said, raising his palms together above his head. “Trying new things today.”

“Come on, Mommy!” Lucy grinned, shaking like hell on her board with her terrible form, looking more like an excited puppy wagging its tail than a calm yoga student.

“Lucy-” Clementine laughed just as the youngest sister completely wiped out with a huge splash and the board nearly went flying.

“Oh my God, I’m gonna pee my pants!” Penelope shrieked with laughter, barely able to catch herself before she was stumbling into the water too, making Daniel wobble a little through his own laughter before steadying himself.

“What is with you guys?” Clementine whispered through her concentration, her hands above her head as she slowly raised her right foot to her opposite knee.

“Geez, Clem, look at you.” Florence said with a small applause.

“Why are you making it look so easy?” Lucy grumbled, climbing back onto her board, her blonde hair plastered over her face and shoulders with sea water.

“Because it is easy.” Daniel whispered through his perfect pose.

The group held it for a moment before the instructor moved onto the next pose, “Now carefully get on your knees.”

Daniel glanced over at Florence with a cheeky smirk as he sunk down, “Come on, baby. I know you’re good at this.”

“Daniel James.” Florence gaped, throwing a wave of water at him.

The instructor continued, “And you’re going to anchor your hands on the side of the board, spread your weight between your arms and your head and push into a handstand.”

Daniel took a second to watch the girls try first; Lucy getting too excited and doing a complete back flop right off the board and into the water, Penelope being too nervous to even push herself up with enough power to make a solid handstand. Clementine managed a little but her legs were off and she ended up falling sideways into the water, pulling herself back out with heavy coughs.

“I inhaled sea water! Bleh!” she pushed her hair out of her face as she climbed back on the board.

Daniel could only laugh at his sweet girls trying their hardest.

“Your turn, Daddy.” Penelope said.

“It’s not easy, thank you very much!” Lucy added.

He could only smile to himself as he set his hands tightly on the side of the board and leaned forward, carefully and slowly raising his legs up to keep his weight centred before finishing in a perfect handstand on the board.

The four girls simply gaped at him.

“It’s perfectly easy, Luce.” Daniel chuckled, his form earning a round of applause from the rest of the group as well as the instructor.

“Show off.” Clementine nudged his board with her paddle enough to get him to topple over into the water. His impact splashed Florence completely and nearly took her down with him, the whole family erupting in laughter as he surfaced again with his hair plastered over his forehead.

“You look like an egg, Daddy!” Lucy shrieked, laughing so hard she fell off her own board again.

Even the rest of the group laughed at the eight-year-old’s comment and Daniel ruffled a hand through his hair to try and give it some sort of volume.

“Not gonna work, baby.” Florence teased. “Not until it dries a little.”

“Come here.” Daniel swam a few paces over to her board where she sat with one leg on either side. He grabbed her arm and puckered out his lips for a kiss.

“Go away!” Florence laughed as he tried to pull her down to him.

“Pull her in the water!” Clementine said.

“No! Don’t you dare! Daniel!” Florence shrieked as he pushed himself out of the water just enough to wrap an arm around her waist and yanked her right off the board. She tried to stay on by linking her thighs tighter around the board, pushing her hand against his chest to try and keep him away from her. “Daniel James-!”

He cut her scream off by just flipping the board with her on it, taking himself down with her, submerging them both under water. Daniel pulled her to the surface, arms tucked around her waist to keep her from getting away, pressing a strong kiss to her lips as she pushed her hair out of her face.

“Oh my gosh, baby.” Florence flushed with embarrassment as the rest of the class looked on, her arms around his shoulders and their bodies pressed up tightly together in the water, but he just hid his proud smirk into her neck, leaving kisses over her wet skin.

“Oh my gosh is right.” Clementine rolled her eyes. “Get a room.”

#daniel seavey #daniel seavey imagines #why dont we #why dont we imagines #anything but mine

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motleecrue · 6 years ago

Text

Brothers Best Friend

Hi guys! this is my first attempt at a motley fic, i hope it’s not too horrible! Feedback is always welcome, and let me know if you guys would like more parts!

Warnings: Language mostly

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“Is this what you guys really want?” The officer looks between you and your brother, and the decision was made for you. The two of you were alone, together on the streets of LA.

•••

“Nikki! Tommy! What the fuck!” You scream, looking in the mirror at the sharpie littering your face. You run your finger over the skillfully drawn penis, anger boiling in your blood as your hear their signature laughs from the front of the bus. You burst through the door, searching for the two culprits, but only see Doc reading at the table, Mick sleeping on the couch, and Vince laughing in the corner. “What happened to your face?” Vince asks between trying to stifle his laughter. “Nikki and Tommy fucking happened! Where the fuck are they?” You hear quiet shushing, then run out of the bus, finding the two ducking next to the side of the bus.

“You assholes..” Nikki walks up to you, holding his hands on your shoulders. “C’mon Y/N.. It was all Tommy’s idea..” Tommy holds his hands up in defense, then walks over, attempting to engulf you in a hug. “You both fucking owe me.” You snarl, giving in and leaning against Tommy’s chest. “I’m letting you tour the world with my band and I, debt paid.” Nikki teases, earning a punch from you. “I can think of a couple ways to repay you..” Tommy says with a smirk, earning a punch from both you and Nikki. “That’s my fucking sister dude! Gross!” Nikki yells, and Tommy just pulls you closer.

“I’ve got to go get ready for this show tonight, Tommy, please don’t fuck my sister.” Nikki pleads as he walks back towards the bus door. “Hasn’t yet Nik.” You joke, pulling away from Tommy. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” Tommy smiles, grabbing your hand and leading you into the bus. He sits you on the toilet, then grabs a washcloth and begins scrubbing at your face. You try to protest, saying you could clean yourself, then Tommy gets soap in your mouth. “Bleh! Tommy!” You wipe your mouth, which causes him to laugh.

“Are you two done flirting yet? It’s almost time for soundcheck!” Vince yells, banging on the door. You open it, flipping him off as you walk back by the bunks, changing into something a bit more concert-esque. You decide not to watch soundcheck this time, instead clean up the mess the boys left behind. Beer bottles, liquor bottles, and empty glasses litter the entire bus, which you pick up and wash, making sure they’re stocked up for when they inevitably party again tonight.

After cleaning up, you decide to head into the venue and help the boys get ready for their show. You go into the huge dressing room, which the four of them would share for tonight. Alcohol was lined up on a table, along with makeup and hair products littering the vanities. The boys enter, all of them extremely amped up from the rush the sound check gives them. “Okay, which of you is first with hair and makeup?” You question, holding a comb in one hand, your other resting on your hip. Mock volunteers, sitting quietly in the chair as you apply his makeup. The other boys occupy themselves with booze and drugs.

“Y/N, You’re the complete opposite of your brother, ya know?” Mick comments, striking up conversation. You nod with a giggle, looking over to where the boys were watching Tommy smoke a cigarette through his nose. “I just don’t see how you don’t go crazy with all of them around you, I know I feel like I could use an asylum after certain nights with these lunatics.” Mick laughs, then thanks you for your help. He gives you a small pat on the back, and vacates your area. Vince jumps up next, and being the diva he is, decided he was going to direct you through how he wanted to look tonight.

After applying all of his makeup, and teasing his hair, he returns back to the couches to continue drinking. Nikki comes up to you and allows you to do as you please with his hair and makeup. “You guys are going to do great tonight.” You smile, applying the black lines across his cheeks. “Thanks, you gonna party with us tonight?” He asks, watching you tease his hair up. “I mean, getting shitfaced and high isn’t really my scene, but I may show up to keep you guys on track.” He sighs, then stands up and looks you in the eye.

“No, you are Y/N fucking Sixx. You’re going to get all dressed up and you’re gonna party with us for once in your life.” Before you could protest, he kisses your cheek as a thank you for helping, then runs out of the dressing room. Tommy comes up to you next, sitting down with a huge smile on his face. “What’s got you so happy?” You question, making him smile more. “My favorite Sixx is going to party with us tonight!” You roll your eyes, leaning against the counter as you reach for his comb.

“Not by choice, so don’t expect too much from me.” He flashes you his signature smirk. “I’m sure I can get you out of your shell..” His hand makes it’s way to your thigh, rubbing small circles into it. “That charm may work on the groupies, but it’s gonna take more than that to get me falling for you, Lee.” He sighs, pouting like a toddler as you fuss with his hair. “Could you at least try to have fun?” He asks, silently pleading with you through the mirror. You nod as you finish, allowing him to stand up. “Awesome. Now, looks like the rest of the boys have left... good luck kiss?” You chuckle and shake your head. “In your dreams, drummer.”

#motley crue #the dirt #colson baker #mgk!tommy lee #tommy lee #nikki sixx #mick mars #vince neil #x reader #tommy lee x reader #mgk x reader #colson baker x reader #the dirt fanfic #motley crue x reader #hair metal #imagines #headcannons #mötley crüe

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queertazsecretsanta · 6 years ago

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A gift for @infernal-violinist, created by @jocelyncade!

Title: Chamomile

Summary: Angus McDonald was hard at work last night during a stakeout, but unfortunately, fate doesn’t seem to want to let him get his paperwork done the next day. Tag: Angus McDonald, Sick Fic, Taakitz as Ango’s Dads, Auntie Lup and Uncle Barry, Blupjeans, Taakitz

The rain buffeted heavily on the windshields around Angus, tucked betwixt the parked cars as he was.

The sound was almost deafening, but he could still make out the gruff voices of the two men mere meters from his hiding place.

“We’ll gather ‘t all up and meet 5 miles south of Refuge, got it?”

“Yes Boss.”

Their brows slick with water, Angus was confident he wouldn’t be spotted, between the frequent wiping, and blinking, and not looking for a small eleven year old boy behind a car.

He pulled out a notebook, shielding it the best he could from the inclement weather, and taking as many notes as he could. Shorthand - disguised as schoolwork, no one would look at a child’s math homework and expect it to be a code hiding the plans for these despicable men.

Angus eyed the warehouse behind them. Could he make it inside? Surely they were hiding some choice evidence in there. Just maybe…

He waited. And waited, until a little past 2AM, for the guard to switch out. The new one, jumpy, angry at the pouring rain, didn’t think twice about scaring off what must have been a raccoon fight, and definitely not a well-placed minor illusion in the alleyway. Best to scare them away, right sir? Can’t have them be attracting any attention.

Angus creeped, quiet as a mouse, channeling every roguish tip Mrs. Carey had thought to teach him, as he approached the heavy door.

“Damn…” He swore under his breath. Locked.

Looking around to ensure the guard wasn’t on his way, he quickly step up another illusion, this one louder and longer. A car crash would be perfect, just the sound of one - to cover up the sound of a quick cast of Knock.

The screeching of tires and crashing of metal and fibreglass echoed loudly over the comparably quiet CLACK of the spell, and the latch let him inside easily.

Shutting the door behind him, and reaching up to lock the door behind him, (if it was unlocked they’d become suspicious, after all) he quickly took cover behind some unfortunately damp crates. The roof, tattered and worn, was no protection from the elements, even inside. A light rainfall splattered atop his cap, and his clothes getting somehow even damper than before.

A short patrol passed him right after he hid, perfect timing. He studied their movements.

To be frank, Angus wasn’t sure what they were doing, just that they were moving very large trucks in and out and a warehouse that didn’t belong to them. But reports didn’t show an increase of drugs, or any kind of weapon or contraband in the area. Quite the opposite, actually. There was less on the streets than was to be expected, even with the increased levels of social services in the city. It was strange, to say the least. Though, who better to be on a strange case, than a strange little boy?

He watched the patrol pattern once more. They seemed to ignore the small boxes. Examining the one he hid behind right now, he could conclude that they seemed to be empty.

What were they guarding??

A rustle from beside him startled him. A large crate, larger than himself was the only thing to his right.

No..? Angus tiptoed over, shining a flashlight into the holes in the crate and-

A soft whispering into his Stone of Farspeech, quiet as he could possibly be without alerting the patrol.

Within minutes, he was on the tail side of a raid.

No one expected fireballs from behind when the militia came at them from the front.

No sooner than they had arrived, had they suppressed the gang of thugs.

Angus pried the lid off his previously examined crate, reaching inside, and helping a tall dryad stand up from her crouched position.

Achoo!

“Gesundheit, kid.” Said a lilting voice by his bedside, holding out a tissue.

“Thanks Auntie Lup.” Angus said gratefully, blowing his nose as hard as he could, leaving him dizzy, with spots in his vision.

“Oogh.” He groaned, his head spinning.

Lup placed the back of her hand against his forehead, frowning.

“Still running a fever… At least it’s not as bad as last night, Taako was full on freakin’.”

Angus didn’t say anything to that. It was his fault he got sick, he didn’t take care of himself after his late night stakeout for the case.

Why should they be worried when he made this mistake himself.

“It’s ok, I feel much better already, I’m sure this will pass soon enough.”

“At least you’re on Candlenights Vacation. Knowing you, you’d be freaking out for missing class, nerd.”

“I’m still missing my tutoring sessions.”

“You need a tutor?! I guess you aren’t such a giant nerd after all.”

Angus raised his eyebrow, giving her a pointed look.

“Obviously you’re the tutor, kid.” She laughed, ruffling his hair. “I’ll grab you some lunch. Any requests?”

“Something warm.”

“Vague as hell, Angus, thanks so much.” She winked, closing the door gently behind her.

Angus slumped back into his absolute mountain of pillows. A half dozen was far too many for a little boy, but at times like these, when he felt particularly ‘bleh’, he was grateful for the comfort.

He felt much worse than he let on. There was no point in getting fussed over - after all, Auntie Lup, Uncle Barry and Kravitz were incredibly busy, and Taako… Taako does what he wants, so it was hard for Angus to gauge how ‘busy’ he was at any given moment. But he knew that Taako had better things to do than worry. Like Magic Day. Just because he was sick didn’t mean Magic Day had to be cancelled.

Angus sunk even lower into the mess of pillows.

At the very least, he had done something good last night. It didn’t take a boy detective to imagine what kind of plants they wanted to make the dryad grow.

Eventually, the comfort of the feather-stuffed bedspread got the better of Angus, and he let his eyes flutter closed for a moment.

A slow rumbling echoed through the small of his back. The soft warmth of fur on the skin beneath his hiked up pajama shirt didn’t help rouse him from sleep, rather trying to keep him well and firmly under the veil of a good nap.

But even the little furball that is Charon, Taako and Kravitz’ Siberian baby of a cat, could keep him from eavesdropping.

“-it’s probably Pneumonia, if I’m readin’ him right.”

“Well shit. Was it the fuckin’ stakeout or what? There’s gotta be some fucking labor laws or something about a kid being out in the rain for that long.” Taako sounded worried, which Angus knew he was more often than he let on.

“Well it sure didn’t help, but nah he was already sick yesterday. Just exacerbated those symptoms. I’ll check him over once he’s awake to see if he’s viral or not.”

“Kay, cool. Anything I can do?”

“Fluids… Let him cough, manage the fever. Basic stuff. If he gets worse, call me.”

Taako said nothing in response to that.

“Oh, and lots of rest. He’s got to relax. None of that detective shit, school can take a break. It’s not like it’s going anywhere for him.”

“Is magic ok?”

“Nah, he should keep all his energies up.”

“Damn. Alright, thanks Merle. I’ll wait here until he’s awake and give you a shout.”

Angus laid still, keeping his breathing as even as he could. It wasn’t too hard. Charon hadn’t moved and was still vibrating rhythmically.

“I know you’re up, Ango.”

Angus shifted slightly. “How could you tell, sir?”

“You snore.”

Angus grumbled softly, pushing Charon off his back. He sauntered over to the pillows and settled in there.

Angus sat up, adjusted his pajamas and squinted at Taako, unsure of where his glasses were.

“You feeling ok?”

“Yes.”

“No bullshit, Agnes, you’re pretty fucked up.”

“I feel like crap.”

“There you go. You cold?”

“A bit. Did Auntie Lup make lunch yet?”

“Hoo boy, lunch was hours ago my man. You were out.”

“Oh. I could have sworn it was just a moment or two.”

“She did, but she made a ton of stew. We can heat it back up.”

“Is she really that worried about me?”

“Hm?” Taako seemed confused.

“Auntie Lup over cooks when she’s worried about something. You do the same thing with baking, right?”

“I forgot you notice shit like that… Yeah kid, she is worried. I am too, but you already figured that out right? But you’ll be fine. You got a crack team of overbearing adults and Merle who sort of knows what he’s doing. You’ll be fine.” He repeated the last phrase quietly, not quite to convince just Angus of the fact.

“Yeah, I’ll be alright.” Angus stifled a cough.

“Let it out bro, don’t hide it.”

Angus nodded, standing up, and pulling a blanket around his shoulders.

“Can Merle check me out now? I want to know if I should take antibiotics or not.”

And they headed downstairs.

The stew was awesome, as per the norm, and warmed Angus up quite a bit.

He was slowly feeling, not better, but more comfortable.

Merle determined it was viral, which meant it wasn’t as severe. Angus felt relieved at that, he didn’t want this to impede him any more than it was going to already.

Taako grabbed a large blanket and wrapped it around Angus, leading him to the living room.

“You tired, kid?”

“Not really. Can we watch something?”

“That’s the plan.”

Angus was nestled into the corner of a couch, wrapped in the plush fabric, feeling warmer than ever.

Taako set up Fantasy Netflix and put on one of Angus’ favorite picks; the TV adaption of Caleb Cleveland, Kid Cop.

It didn’t hold up to the novels, but it was solid on it’s own. He liked having it on in the background while he did paperwork. Or, while he dozed off, only half paying attention to the screen, while several episodes played through.

A distant sound, like paper tearing, interrupted Angus’ hazy musings.

Auntie Lup, Uncle Barry and Kravitz, slightly scuffed from work came to join them in the living room.

A gentle hair ruffle from Auntie Lup was happily received, and Barry gave him a smile, letting him have his space. They sat down on the loveseat on the other side of the room, Barry leaning onto Lup’s shoulder and sighing peacefully. Kravitz, meanwhile, brought Angus and Taako drinks. Something fancy, with a garnish of spiralled orange peel for Taako, who exchanged a kiss for it, and tea for Angus, a soothing chamomile lightly sweetened with honey. He gratefully accepted it, sipping slowly, and softly blowing on the hot surface.

Surrounded by his family, Angus relented. He would be better soon. He may as well stop worrying about everything he was missing, and focus on where he was right now.

Warm. Safe. Happy.

And he remained those three things as he quietly fell asleep on the couch, not even waking while he was carried back up to his bedroom.

#infernal-violinist #jocelyncade #queercandlenights #taz #the adventure zone #angus #taakitz #lup #fic #submission

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thecharlester77 · 6 years ago

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Suspicion - DH AU Short

It’s been a while since I’ve written a short! Here’s another DH one; enjoy!

Suspicion - DH AU Short He quietly enters the kitchen and makes his way over to the coffee machine. Apart from the Sad One, he's completely alone in the kitchen. He places his cup down on the side and reaches for the sugar. As he goes to tip a little into his mug, a small amount of sugar spills on to the counter top. He stares blankly at it, before a sudden surge of frustration grips him. Letting out an angry shout, he violently tips the contense of the entire sugar packet all over the floor. It's not enough. He grabs his mug and smashes it recklessly on the side. Almost as quickly as the rage came, it abandons him, leaving him feeling empty again. He becomes aware of a throbbing pain in his hand...It's bleeding. Silently, he turns to leave, but is immediately confronted by the Nice One. "Sit down," the kind one orders, blocking the kitchen doorway. He expects a rebuttal, but doesn't receive one. Instead, the Scary One silently obeys. Sighing, he scans the mess made on the kitchen counter top. "Look at the mess you've made!" he scolds, "I warned you about breaking things!" "I know where this is going, and I don't want to be a part of it," the spiteful one mutters as he exits the kitchen. The kind one rolls his eyes before turning his attention back to the crazy one...Who is sat there in silence. He suddenly notices blood trickling from a cut on the violent one's hand. "Did you hurt yourself?" he asks, gently taking the other's hand. There is still no reply as the Scary One looks at the floor. He sighs, frustrated by the psychotic one's sulking. "Wait here," he says, "Don't move." Hurriedly, the kind one goes to the living room and grabs a first aid kit off the bookshelf. He then returns to the kitchen, finding the erratic one exactly where he left him. He hadn't moved...As instructed. "...Good," he mumbles, trying not to be unnerved by the Scary One's uncharacteristic obedience, "Give me your hand, please." After a couple of moments, the crazy one holds out his hand. "Thank you." In silence, the kind one quickly disinfects the cut and bandages it. "Alright, your hand's fine now." The Scary One returns his hand to his side, still averting his gaze. "So," the Nice One pulls up a chair and sits across from his crazy-self, "Ya wanna tell me what all that was about?" Still, there is no answer. The Nice One sighs frustratedly. "There's no point in sulking," the kind one snaps, "I just want to know what happened." After another long period of silence, the crazy one looks up. "...I spilled sugar...So then I spilled all the sugar. And broke the cup..." "You did that just because you spilled sugar?" the Nice One sighs, "What are you, five?! I am constantly having to clean up after you and-" he cuts himself off, suddenly noticing how...empty the other looks. He feels a pang of guilt for having snapped at him...He should have known something was wrong sooner. "Are...Are you okay?" The crazy one nods, saying nothing. "Are you sure? You're...being very quiet. This isn't like you." "I'm fine," the other mumbles. "I...I'm going clean up the mess," the kind one sighs, "Stay there, okay?" "...Alright." "Okay, good..." The kind one quickly grabs a broom and heads over to the other side of the kitchen. Being wary of broken pottery, he begins cleaning up the mess. He steals a couple of anxious glances back at the crazy one as he clears up; he's sat quietly at the table, staring vacantly at the wall. The silence feels strange. Especially from him. A couple of minutes later, he returns to his seat opposite the crazy one. "I've finished cleaning up your mess," the Nice One mutters, breaking the awkward silence, "How's your hand?" "Fine," the violent one answers quietly. "Why are you being so quiet?" the kind one asks, "You usually won't shut up." He receives only a shrug in reply. "Is something wrong?" The Scary One eventually looks up from the floor, meeting his calmer-self's eyes. Hesitantly, he nods. "What's wrong?" He quickly looks back at the floor. "If you're not going to tell me what's wrong, I can't do anything a-" "You can't fix it anyway," the psychotic one interjects quietly. "Do...Do you want to talk about anything?" the gentle one asks. "I don't know..." the violent one mumbles. The Nice One sits quietly for a moment, pondering over a solution. "How about we play the question game?" he suggests. "Is that the one with the 'yes' and 'no' questions?" the Scary One asks, still looking at the floor. "Yes," the kind one replies, "Want to try it?" "...Alright." The gentle one smiles a little, glad to be getting somewhere. "Okay. Is something wrong?" he begins. The other nods. "Is that thing bothering you?" "...Yes." "Do...do you feel sick?" he asks, trying to account for the psychotic one's strange silence. "No." the crazy one mutters. "Alright. Are you upset?" "...Maybe..." "Was it an event that upset you?" Slowly, the psychotic one nods. "Did the event happen recently?" "...No...It happened ages ago," he says quietly. "What's upsetting you?" The Scary One stares at the floor. He takes a shaky breath before responding, his voice hardly above a whisper. "I...I j-just-" he chokes on his words as tears well in his eyes. He quickly attempts to wipe them away, sighing angrily. "It's n-nothing," he mutters harshly, "I'm f-fine!" "You don't seem fine." The psychotic one suddenly rises out his chair, glaring down at his calmer-self. "I just miss Evie, okay?!" he snaps, "I miss...I m-miss her." He quickly sinks back down into his chair, his hands covering his face. The Nice One looks back at his crazier-self in silence for a moment...His strange behaviour adds up now. "It's okay," the kind one says softly, "It's okay to grieve." The Scary One doesn't respond to the other's statement as he once again attempts to wipe the tears from his eyes with frustration. "I-I'm fine," he mutters stubbornly. He doesn't want to feel like this...It's embarrassing. It's too abnormal. It's too...weak. "Howzabout I make a cup of coffee for us both?" the gentle one suggests. After receiving a brief nod from his distressed-self, he rises from his chair and makes his way over to the coffee maker. Carefully, he prepares two mugs of coffee and brings them back to the table. "Here ya go, man." He slides one mug over to the crazy one, before taking a sip of his own. "Thanks..." the psychotic one mumbles a reply, but doesn't touch his cup. "Don't you want it?" "I do...Just...gimme a minute, Shoulder Angel..." "Take a couple of deep breaths," the Nice One suggests. Following his sane-self's suggestion, the violent one takes a deep breath before eventually sipping his coffee. "Feel any better?" the kind one asks. "...Kinda..." The gentle one gives a sympathetic smile before setting his cup down. "Do you want to talk things out?" he asks. "No," the crazy one replies, "I...I don't wanna talk. I'm fine. Thanks for the coffee, Shoulder Angel." Before he can even reply, his psychotic-self takes his coffee cup and vacates the kitchen. "People deal with grief in their own ways," he mumbles to himself, "I'm sure he'll be fine..." ....... A couple of hours later, the kind one decides to return to the living room. He's done all the cleaning up he can... Upon entering the room, he spots one of the girls sat on the sofa...It's the Scary One's kid. She appears to be wrapping herself in bandages. "You okay, sweetie?" The child in the dark grey jumps, startled by the Nice One's sudden appearance. "I'm fine," she mutters, returning her attention to her task. "What...what happened, sweetie?" the gentle one persists. "Nothing," she snaps, "It's non of your business!" "Sweetie...You're not in trouble, kid. I just want to know what happened." There's a long moment of silence before she slowly turns around. "I...I tripped," she says, "N-nothing else!" The Nice One gives her a concerned look. She's lying, and he can tell. He doesn't want to push her too far to tell him...but he's worried. "Are you sure, kid?" She nods. "...Okay then, sweetie...If you need me for anything, just come and find me, okay?" "Okay..." He gives a quick nod, and then heads upstairs. He needs to talk to the Scary One; he has a sickening suspicion as to what...really happened. The crazy one looks up from his desk, hearing a knock on the door. "Come in!" Almost immediately, Shoulder Angel enters the room. He doesn't look pleased. "Hey, Shoulder Angel...Something up?" The Nice One forces himself to take a deep breath; he doesn't want to just accuse the other...Even if he is right. "Your kid's in the living room," the gentle one begins, "She's wrapping herself in bandages." "...Is she?" The kind one nods before continuing, "Do you know what happened to her?" "Did you ask her?" the psychotic one countered. "She said she tripped," the Nice One sighs. "Well, there ya go then!" the crazy one gestures dramatically before returning to sit at his desk. He takes a sip of coffee and then recoils, "Bleh! Cold!" He heads for the door. "I'm gonna go get a fresh cup of coffee. Coming, Shoulder Angel?" The gentle one nods and then follows him back downstairs. The two pass the Scary One's child again on the way to the kitchen. "Hey kid," the crazy one greets his kid, "Shoulder Angel told me you tripped?" The kid in the dark grey nods slowly, continuing to bandage her arm. "Ya gotta be more careful, sweetheart," he adds with a small grin. "Yep," she mutters. The two men then carry on to the kitchen. "Gonna be careful with the sugar this time?" the kind one remarks. "...Maybe you should make the coffee..." The Nice One sighs, taking the erratic one's coffee mug, and goes to make the coffee as requested. "How are you feeling?" he asks. "...Better," the crazy one replies, sitting down at the table, "Better than this morning anyway..." "Good," the kind one places a cup of coffee in front of him before sitting down opposite him, "What changed - if you don't mind me asking?" The psychotic one takes a sip of his coffee and smiles. "And what if I do mind?" he retorts with a smirk. "Then I suppose you don't have to tell me," the Nice One shrugs, "I'm just...curious." "Why?" "I guess because you're not really one to...have a breakdown in the kitchen." "You made me stay," the Scary One mumbles, trying to hide his embarrassment, "A-anyway, what's it matter?! I'm fine now." The kind one hesitates for a moment, unsure of whether he should press the issue. "If you wanna talk about anything, ya can talk to me," he says softly, "I don't want you - or anyone else - to get hurt." The crazy one laughs. "Thanks, Counsellor Shoulder Angel," he laughs, "I'll let ya know if I do." The Nice One watches as his crazier-self up and leaves the room. He catches a glance of him saying something to his kid, but can't quite make out what, before he leaves the living room. Alone, he takes a sip of his coffee and sighs. He steals another glance at the Scary One's child, who is still bandaging herself, it appears. She's scowling and muttering to herself. "Poor kid..."

#tsats #thesubjectandthescientist #thesubjectandthescientistfanfiction #fanfiction #tsatsdhau #DHau #DysfunctionalHouseholdAU #Suspicion

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animationnut · 6 years ago

Text

Uncle Trap: Chapter 2

Summary: Parent Trap AU. Huey, Dewey and Louie were raised separately, believing that they were only children for twelve years. When fate reunites them at a camp, they realize that they are triplets and that they know very little about their family history. Determined to reunite Donald, Scrooge and Gladstone and make their family whole again, as well as find out what happened to their mother, the triplets decide to switch places. Chapter Rating: K+ Note: Inspired by @adamarinayu Family Trap AU, which I highly suggest you check out.

Chapter List

Louie tuned out the string of names being called through the megaphone as the head camp counsellor directed each kid to the cabin they would be staying in for the summer. There were hordes of them swarming the main lot just after the entry gates, surrounding piles of duffel bags that were being tossed off of buses and unloaded from cars and taxis.

He tried fighting to keep his luggage but the teen duck who intercepted his taxi upon arrival said every bag needed to be checked for safety reasons. Louie sent a scornful luck at his surroundings, muttering under his breath, “Yeah, this is so efficient.”

He was already dreading the next two months he would have to spend in this Wi-Fi-less, video game-less zone. But he managed to plaster a smile on his face when saying goodbye to Gladstone at the airport. For some reason his uncle believed this would be a good experience for him, and whether or not it was motivated by a need for some alone time, Louie figured he might as well give Gladstone the benefit of the doubt. He hadn’t let him down before.

Shifting his green-framed designer sunglasses to rest on top of his head. Louie took a quick, surveying look at the haphazardly created mounds of duffel bags and backpacks. He eventually found his stuff but as he approached his duffel it was buried under another half-dozen bags.

“Seriously?” he groaned, hovering at the edge of the pile. He bent down and reached into the middle, jostling strange bags until he revealed the gold strap of his duffel. He gave a few hard tugs but it was stuck tight. Collapsing to the ground, Louie panted and wiped the sweat from his brow. “Ugh. This is too much effort.”

“You must be new here.”

Louie swivelled his head upwards to see a boy with thick red glasses peering down at him. “That obvious?”

“Most of us regulars know to keep a sharp eye on our luggage once it’s taken out of our hands so we can get to it as quickly as possible.”

Louie raised a skeptical brow, for he could spot nerds a mile away and this was a full-blooded one. “You come to Camp Adventure every year?”

“Some years,” he corrected. “Other years I go to Math and Science Camp, which I prefer.”

“Camp Adventure is severely lacking in books and equations,” said Louie in amusement. “What brings you here?”

“My best friend, who can be very persuasive. And stubborn.” He raised a wing towards his beak and called, “Gosalyn!”

“Yo!” In an instant a red-haired duckling appeared, her purple backpack slung over her shoulders. “I was wondering where you went to, Honker. What’s up?”

“Can you get his bag?” Honker pointed to the middle of the pile.

“It’s stuck pretty tight,” warned Louie, climbing to his feet and brushing the dirt from his pale green button-up shirt.

“Pfft. No problem.” In one smooth motion, Gosalyn reached into the pile and pulled out the green duffel with gold straps. She tossed it to Louie, who caught it, eyes wide at her display of effortless strength.

“Thanks,” he managed.

“Anytime. What’s your name?”

“Louie. This is my first and hopefully last year at Camp Adventure.”

“Sent here against your will?” asked Gosalyn in sympathy.

“Yeah, something like that.”

“I hear ya. I feel that way whenever Dad sends me to summer school. Bleh. But I avoided it this year!”

“By copying off of me,” pointed out Honker.

“Aw, I passed the tests, didn’t I? I did some work. I’m Gosalyn, and this is my best friend Honker,” she introduced. “Stick with us and we’ll show you the ropes.”

“Uh…sure.” Regarding the girl with some wariness, he asked, “Do you know who I am?”

Gosalyn sent him a weird look. “You just said. Louie.”

It never occurred to Louie that in Oregon there would be kids who didn’t know his uncle was Gladstone Gander, the famous luckiest duck in the world. In his first ten minutes, he had made friends—friends who didn’t want to get to his uncle and just wanted to get to know him.

“Louie Gander!” The megaphone projected voice echoed across the grounds. “Red Robin Cabin!”

“You’re with me!” said Honker.

“Cool,” said Louie and meant it. He had never really bothered with nerds before but he thought he wouldn’t mind this one.

“I gotta drop my stuff off at my cabin, so I’ll meet you guys in the mess hall,” said Gosalyn. She bumped wings with Honker and held it out expectantly to Louie, who grinned and also knocked wings with her.

“See you later, Gos!” said Honker. Turning to Louie, he said, “Come on, Red Robin Cabin is near the middle of the boy’s row.”

They began down the path towards their home for the summer, bags slung over their shoulders. A sharp horn blast caused Louie to peek over his shoulder, staring at the gleaming black limo that eased its way into the drop-off zone.

“Wow,” said Honker in awe. “I wonder who that is.”

Giving a shrug, Louie said dismissively, “I’ve seen better.”

The limo barely came to a complete stop before Dewey jumped out, taking in his surroundings with a wide grin. Duckworth stepped out of the limo, sending Dewey a disapproving frown. “However excited you are for this little excursion is no excuse to leap from still-moving vehicles.”

“It was hardly movin’, Duckworth,” returned Dewey, though he offered an apologetic smile. “Ah’ve waited all summer for this moment. Ah do nae want tae waste a second.”

One of the camp counsellors approached them with a bright smile. “Welcome to Camp Adventure, sport!” he greeted Dewey. “If you hand me your luggage, I’ll do a quick inspection and then in a few minutes my colleague will assign you your cabin for the summer.”

“I’ll take care of the luggage,” said Duckworth pointedly, popping the trunk and pulling out the dark blue hiking pack.

“I’m afraid it’s part of camp policy, sir. We have to check all bags that come through the gates.”

“Fine. Then you can do so here.”

The camp counsellor opened his mouth, perhaps to argue, but Duckworth thrust the bag into his wings, making sure that Dewey’s name (and more importantly, his surname) was in clear view. Eyes widening at the white thread that spelled out McDuck on the front pocket, he realized that perhaps it wasn’t worth hassling this particular guest, considering the powerful and wealthy name attached.

“Right,” he muttered. He did a quick scan of the bag, finding nothing dangerous or anything that violated camp rules and scurried off to give Dewey’s name to the check-in station.

Rolling his eyes, Dewey set his wings on his hips. “Duckworth, Ah always appreciate your help, but Ah’m trying tae be a normal kid.”

“A McDuck doesn’t have random teens rifling through their personal possessions,” sniffed Duckworth. “And at least now you don’t need to worry about searching for your items in that mess.”

Dewey turned to where Duckworth indicated clusters of kids who were digging through piles of bags. Having to admit it was nice to avoid that particular chore, Dewey accepted his backpack and strapped it on. “Ye have a point,” said Dewey with a smile. “Thanks for flyin’ down with me, Duckworth.”

“It’s my duty. And it will put your uncle at ease to know you were dropped off safe and sound.”

Dewey felt a pang in his chest at the thought of his uncle and their goodbye at the airport. Scrooge had been gruffer than normal when saying his farewells, which meant he was feeling emotional but didn’t want to show it. “Ah’ll write every day.”

“You better or none of us will get any sleep.”

“Dewey McDuck, Canary Cabin!”

“That’s me!” Excitement swelling within his chest, Dewey stepped forwards to embrace Duckworth, “See ye in eight weeks!”

“I’ll enjoy my vacation,” quipped Duckworth, patting his head. “I do hope you enjoy yours.”

“Ah will.”

Dewey raced through the gates and Duckworth watched after the boy for a moment before sliding into the limo and departing. It was fifteen minutes later when an old station wagon, squeaking and puffing exhaust, rolled into the spot the rented limo just vacated. Daisy threw open her door and stepped out, stretching her wings and legs.

“Donald, I’m flying back to Maine,” she said with a groan.

“Fine with me,” said Donald in slight annoyance. “At least there won’t be anyone nagging me the entire trip.”

“I was not nagging!” snapped Daisy, glaring at her boyfriend. “I was advising you!”

“Yeah, to break the law.”

“Going the speed limit on the highway when everyone around you is going at least ten miles faster is a safety hazard!”

As they bickered, Huey took his red bag out of the trunk. A camp counsellor approached him for a safety check and he willingly handed it over. “Uncle Donald, Aunt Daisy!” he called, getting their attention. “It’s been really great listening to you fight for hours on end, but I think it’s time for me to go.”

“How would you know we’ve been arguing? You were plugged into your music the whole time,” teased Daisy.

“You and Uncle Donald make the same face whenever you’re fighting,” replied Huey. “It looks like this.”

He twisted his features into an irritated expression, with his eyes narrowed and a deep scowl on his beak. Donald rolled his eyes and lightly swatted the back of his head. “Smart-aleck. One last run through before you go. Vitamins?”

“Check.”

“Sunscreen? Bug repellent? First-aid kit?”

“Check.”

“Paper, envelopes, stamps, pens?”

“Check.”

“Surplus of sweaters, shirts, socks, underwear?”

“Check.” Crossing his wings over his chest, Huey said in a mock-disappointing tone, “I’ve been a Junior Woodchuck for years. I didn’t get all those badges for nothing, you know.”

“I know.” Knowing it was finally time to say goodbye, Donald could feel tears welling in his eyes and he hastily turned his head, blinking hard.

A lump growing in his throat, Huey stepped forwards and hugged Donald tightly. “I’m going to be fine, Uncle Donald. I promise.”

“I know you are.” Donald knelt down and squeezed him. “I’ll be fine too.”

Resting his forehead against Donald’s, Huey said sternly, “Don’t worry.”

“I’ll try,” said Donald with a soft chuckle. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” When Donald relinquished him, Huey went over to hug Daisy. “Make sure he eats and sleeps and stays sane, okay?”

“I can promise the first two, but not the third, because I’m pretty sure he wasn’t sane to begin with.” Daisy grinned when Donald sent her an unimpressed look. “Love you, kiddo.”

“Love you too, Aunt Daisy.”

Huey went to stand at the edge of the drop-off zone as Donald and Daisy pulled away. He waved wildly after them until the station wagon was out of sight and he hurried through the gates. He located his luggage in little time, easily wrangling it out of the pile.

“Huey Duck, Woodpecker Cabin!”

Grinning broadly, Huey pinpointed the path that led to his cabin and joined the swell of kids moving towards their summer homes.

“This is going to be the best summer ever!”

#ducktales 2017 #ducktales au #uncle trap #huey duck #louie duck #dewey duck #donald duck #daisy duck #duckworth #featuring darkwing duck character cameos by gosalyn and honker #ducktales fanfiction #byanimationnut

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thedappleddragon · 4 years ago

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haha here we go again

there's a lot of dumb ranting and 3 days worth of logs and a dream in here so im gonna spare evryone’s dashboard and just put it all under the cut.

tw bad memories, talk of unhealthy relations with food, and dreams about dead animals

I realized I kind of entirely forgot to write about what I did yesterday? I kind of did a lot. I know my mom wanted to work on getting tile laid out in front of her bathroom, so we worked together to scrub the concrete and wipe up all the dirt and dust and whatever was under the carpet and remove some of the nails in the floor and bring up a spiky metal strip between the bathroom door and where the carpet was. The other main thing I remember is deciding to continue work on my dress, sewing up the outer bodice, checking that the bodice and lining would fit together, deciding I’d rather have no different colored front panel, and working on the circle skirt. At first I tried cutting the fabric on my bed, but it wasn’t big enough and too lumpy. I contemplated asking my friends if I could borrow their dining table, but I ended up clearing off my own. After I traced and was in the middle of pinning, I accidentally knocked over a glass bowl that I had set on the chair. My mom heard it from the other room and had me come to her room to tell her what it was. She got angry at me, which I thought was fuckin stupid if it was an accident, but after some reflection while cleaning up the glass pieces, I kind of understood why. Mostly I got a little upset about 2 ceramic pieces I made during school breaking a little from the drop. One was a mushroom house from middle school that always makes me remember feeling like an asshole during peer review when I told my person to smooth their project more because I didn’t know “no improvement needed” was an option until I got back to my desk and saw my person saying it was good in all categories because everyone thought my project was great for some reason. The other was a bunch of flowers on a circle. It was the last project we did before quarantine hit, I think. That one is in less tough shape, just a couple flowers knocked off and a chip on one of them. They can both be glued back together, I guess. Then my mom called me back into her room to listen to her talk about wanting to eat huge amounts of food, because she’s clinically depressed with BPD and PTSD and DID and several other acronyms and her favorite coping mechanism is food, but her doctor put her on a diet so she can get her knees replaced, but recently she’s been getting into a zone where she talks about wanting to eat entire cakes and pizzas and buckets of kfc and a gallon of queso or whatever the fuck and she goes “doesn’t that sound GOOD?” And I have to laugh along and say “haha no that sounds bad actually” and get her a piece of ham or something. And every time she goes on her spiel the only thing I can think of is the greedy from the raggedy Ann and Andy musical. It’s just this horrible undulating orange blob that eats everything in sight and seeing it for the first time just made me think of mom and it made me very uncomfortable, with all the orange goo and hurling noises. Also reminds me of this horrible video game boss fight where it’s the apocalypse and a fat lady on a scooter took over the buffet and eats so much during her boss fight, during the defeat cutscene she projectile vomits everywhere and dies. My brother Greg showed me that thinking it was funny. I hated it, and I still do. He showed me a lot of things he thought were funny as a shitty little kid, and I remember several of them being very upsetting. It’s ok. I don’t want to dwell on it. But after cleaning the glass and talking to mom I brought my fabric to my room and called it a night. Oh wait my dad also helped me with some paperwork my coworker handed me so I could get on the payroll.

Today I woke up differently than I have in a long time. I set an alarm for 10 am so I could be at work by 11, but I woke up at 9 from a heavy sleep with dreams about hanging out with my friend in my room, worrying about my dirty house. I wanted to sleep longer, so I got up at 10 to have breakfast and get ready. I spent my shift changing the price tags all around the store, making everything more expensive. I’m gonna work again on Tuesday where I’ll learn how to use the register. I hope I don’t fuk it up, but I have a couple days to relax until then. Maybe I’ll work on my dress. My friends all want to go to prom together, so my new deadline will be March 2nd or a little before. I still need to buy a ticket, but I don’t have access to the link to buy one :( bleh I’m too tired right now to worry about this shit. I only worked 4 hours again today, but after I got home I felt like I could have worked longer if they gave me something else to do. The only price tags left to change were a bunch of grills and stuff I don’t know about but I don’t know if they had any other work for my to do. But I’m glad I went home tho because I was hungry and my feet hurt from standing lol. I did laundry and made myself dinner and washed my hair and drew a little bit and made the table and tbh the pacing of today has been so weird I don’t remember everything. It’s only 1am but I think I’m just gonna go to bed. my friends started talking about going to prom, and I really want to join them, but I can't figure out where/how to buy a ticket. my brain started being really mean to me, syaing that I was being annoying and pushy and that they didnt want me at prom for some reason, so I low-key almost made myself cry until my friend offered to let me be their platonic date since their partner couldn't go.

last night I had a dream about a hard video game where when you played it, the black shadow enemies would fight you in real life, and one of them left imprints on my arm in the shape of lego bricks. they could only attack you so long as you played the game, and they tried to capture people and you were supposed to save them. I decided it was my time to play, and I walked into my garage that had turned into a cave with bat-people fused into the wall. I paid them no mind as I rescued a girl who was my irl brother, grabbing her hand and pulling her into another versoin of my garage which was uncorrupted and normal looking. she thanked me, and I said it was no problem. then I tricked her, telling her not to trust so easily, as I became one of the shadow enemies and engulfed her in a black sack, trapping her and leaving the room. I came back a couple minutes later, letting him free (now my brain told me he was my brother) telling him I just wanted to know if I was capable of tricking him, and didnt actually want to kill him or whatever. another big chunk of my dream was taken up by me, my sister, and my dad visiting a run down petting zoo/gamestop. the petting zoo barn was very dark with low ceilings with lots of rabbits and pigs and hay. one of us accidentally killed either a pig or a tiger right next to the exit door, and I had to slink around the gamester trying to distract the owner and keep him from going in the barn and escaping at the same time. I dont remember how it ended, other than me waking up with a sore throat from breathing so deeply through my nose. I had slept on my stomach wit my pillow in my face so I could hardly breathe, and even after I woke up I felt like I wasnt getting enough air. I HATE that feeling, I always felt like I was suffocating in middle school for some reason. I thinkk somethings wrong with my airway but im not gonna do anything about it. im gonna continue to spend 80% of my day laying down so my resting heart rate and breathing speed is slower than an goddamn sloth. whatever.

right now as im laying in bed typing this I feel utterly unpoductive but I KNOW I did SOME shit today. but yeah mostly I relaxed. I worked on my dress, removing and replacing the blue front panel. I lost my exacto knife somewhere so I went to dollar tree to get a knockoff, along with snacks for mom and my sister. the blades aren't as sharp as exacto, but I still know where the name brands blades are so maybe Ill try and see if they're compatible. when I open the package everything was oily and gross, so I washed everything off with soap and water before I used them to cut the threads of the panel seams. I could have used my seam ripper but I wanted to get a replacement craft knife anyway. its kinda neat that it came with 6 different shaped blades for different crafts :) but uhh I also cut out the other half of the circle skirt of the dress, and I have a bunch of extra fabric left over. probably enough to make a whole other bodess if I wanted too. I used my sewing machine to attach the new front panel, and I was hoping to get more sewing done tonight, but when I asked my sister if it was ok for me to use my sewing machine (it right next to the wall between our rooms so she can hear it from there) she said she was going to bed soon so I just attatched the front panel and called it a night. so that kinda sucked. I still have another day tomorrow before I have to work again, and I can still work on my dress on Tuesday after work. idk why my brain thinks that one 4 hour shift is gonna take up my entire day lmao. I just have to get the whole thing done by may 2nd. GOD that reminds me, im gonna be so busy next month. I have six events back to back happening like every other day, plus work. oof. I'll have to let my boss know, but idk If that's gonna make him mad. I've already got pretty comfortable with the lady in charge of the garden center who’s taken lead position while the manager is on vacation, but I dont think I;ll every understand my boss. he’s a sarcastic busy old man and NOT AT ALL approachable. whatever. really the only other tings I did today were drink a shit ton of water play harvest moon, spend too much time on tiktok, and sraw a couple dum things for my friends’ princess au. I fucking HATE the drawing I did for Anna, so I designed her a secondary outfit more inspired by sky pirate bohemian vibes, since she rules over the floating islands. idk if I'll replace her old outfit with the new one in the lineup or just re-draw her old one with better shapes and composition and match the style better or what. I just need it changed eventually becasuse it looks like ass. tbh now that ve taken a little bit of time away from the princess au, there are a couple designs im not 100% satisfied with. but I know that if I go back and make them more detailed or whatever the’ll be more of a hassle to draw and aslkdfhalksdf I dont know anymore. I'm still tied up about color pallets and trying to give everyone a distinct color, and im a little upset it doesn't quite work, and FUCK dude the edgy one’s lore and character are weird and I kind of want to revise it to make it a little nicer but its not my character and I need to stop shoving my dirty little mitts into everyone’s ocs and AHAGHRGHGARGHHG idk man. her power is necromancy and she has a skeleton army, which I think I kinda cool, but I also think it would be neat if her powers extended beyond just that to communing with the dead, helping them find rest, and THEN maybe it can branch into helping fallen soldiers fight again to help them with unfinished buisness. and then if she goes feral and starts abusing her powers, she ignores all the communication and concent with the dead and instead magically rips them from thr ground to do her bidding and they’re uncontrollable and violent and aimless, just like her mind slipping from the magical blight infecting her. idk man we’re till working on a lot of lore. her concept could be SO COOL with just that little bit of extra thought, but so far it’s just MY POWER IS DEATH IM SO EDGY. ugh I know its fuckin rude to bash your friends oc ideas and I might be too overbearing and controlling of this au but dammit im tired and im mean sometimes and my ego is through the goddamn roof and im so sexy and im always right and my meat is huge. ah shit I rpomised my friend I would help her with character design for the dead king but I was busy when she firat asked me and now im not busy but im not doing it ugh. im just frustrated right now because I spent wayyyy to fuckin long just laying in bed watching tikotks and youtube and playing harvest moon an doing jack shit all day. but hey at least I attempted to get a new social security card again today. and them promptly gave up when they said my adress was invalid. again. I feel like im in an uncomfortable medium between having no plans and worrying about the future and having too many plans all the time oh my god. ive been so focused on getting a job and then having a job and making this dress I completely forgot about college shit. thankfully there's no hard deadlines coming up that I haven't already finished. whatever I dont really want to worry about all this hit right now, im just gonna take it one day at a time. (haha it feels like my angel oc just stepped in. how nice of him :) )

#thanks for coming to my ted talk #April 2021 daily #2021 daily

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naomi-lafleur · 8 years ago

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A Series of Unfortunate Dates

A/N: School has been a pain in the butt lately. That’s my excuse for this fic. @viola-smithin We shall write that wonderful story one day ;) Mention of @aileen-hollingsworth @niara-aldaine @haidenschreave Sorry I changed the order of some messages bc I had the whole thing written and it’d take a lot of time to change all of it.

Yeh sorry about Friday. We’ve been holding that in for weeks and we broke (just like how Naomi did)

I woke to the sound of water droplets gently tapping the window. I was taken aback when I encountered a tray full of needles beside my bed. Suddenly, a sharp pain struck my shoulder. Memories of guns and ukuleles started flooding back into my mind. My heart started beating faster and faster as I pieced all the information together. How long was I out for?

I heard a soft humming coming towards me. The door slightly cracked open for a moment and a nurse walked in. I stared at her as she swiftly strolled right past me. After a five second delay, she turned around in awe. “Lady Naomi! You’re finally awake! Everyone has been worried sick about you.” Before I had a chance to respond, she ran out the door, calling for a doctor. Turns out that I had been in a coma for a week after Felix brought me to the hospital wing.

I was bedridden for another few days after I woke up. My arm was feeling much better than it had previously. Another round of elimination had gone by so fast. I received the news that Niara, Adriana, and Delphi had been let go from Aileen, who was visiting. We screamed (of joy) at each other for what felt like hours after revealing her dirty secret. Smh why didn’t she tell me earlier?

That little carrot stick. At least one of us would be royal.

I got up early in the morning and hobbled to Niara’s room to say our farewells. It was quite an emotional morning. Eager for some fresh air, I headed to the roof with my sketchbook.

Finally some peace and quiet. I leaned against the ledge and started drawing the flock of birds in the sky

How am I still here? Hadn’t I already been rejected? … Don’t worry, Naomi. You still have a chance in this!

So, date ideas…. I could bring him up to the roof and watch the sunset. Bleh, too cheesy.

I had really been longing to leave the palace. Maybe go into town? Imagine all the people swarming around you guys for the whole day. Okay, scratch that idea.

I glanced up for a second and noticed a chickadee that landed right in front of me. It reminded me of home, which was just what I needed to cheer me up. After a while of thinking, I checked my watch.

Already 1PM? Maybe I could catch Haiden right now and have our date.

Luckily, I found him in the hallways just as I was heading to the kitchen. “Hey Haiden! Are you free at the moment?”

“Namoi Laflour. Of course I am. What’s up?“

“Well, I’m taking you to the beach today, so change into some comfy clothes and meet me by the door in 15 minutes,” I said confidently.

“Um, okay.” He got changed and met me downstairs a while later.

“It’s so weird not seeing you in a suit and tie.”

He shrugged. “Weird good or weird bad?”

“Definitely weird good.”

“Well, I’m flattered”

“I like the casual look. You should do it more often,” I said grinning. “Okay, we should head out now.”

“Okay, uh, so what gave you this idea?”

Ah, I see we’re back at the awkward phase.

“Well awhile ago, me and some of the selected were planning on running off to the beach, but we never got around to it and now all of them are gone. So I thought, who do I know that owes me a date and would enjoy a relaxing vacation?”

“I don’t know about enjoy, but I’ll do it.” He said with a laugh, as if he wasn’t being negative and ruining my spirit.

I sighed deeply, frustrated already, within the first few minutes of the date. “Do you have to do that? I just wanted to do something fun before you send me home because you obviously can’t stand me.”

“What, I… What?”

Come on.

“You just give off the feeling, Haiden.”

“That I can’t stand you? How’d I give off that feeling? Was keeping you here not a tell-tale sign that I like you?”

Well, you rejected me a while ago… I think that says a lot. Aren’t I still here because it couldn’t be the final two?

I glanced at the distance, doing anything I could to avoid his gaze “You just seem very… distant. I don’t know.”

“You should be more confident in yourself. No one could possibly hate you.” He said, like it sounded easy.

Be more confident, Naomi. Always be happy, Naomi. Do this, be that… What if I can’t? What if I’m already broken on the inside? What if I go insane one day? What if… I can’t take it one day and I do something I’ll regret?

Softly I replied. “Maybe not other people, but definitely myself.”

“Naomi…” he begins.

I gave a deep sigh, wiped the tear that was forming in my eye, and did what I was always raised to do. Apologize. “Sorry for ruining the mood… This may be our last date, so let’s just have a fun day at the beach, alright?”

In return, I got an awkward, wary look. “Works for me. Let’s go.”

See, Naomi? Haiden doesn’t care. He just wants The Selection to end and run off with Sophie. Leave you in the dirt, where you belong.

“Okay, off to the beach we go then.”

More awkward silence. Why did you ruin this? Can I just wallow in a hole? Is it too early to head off to my ranch with my army of Japanse Russian ninja cow children?

“So, uh… you come here often?”

“Well.. seeing as before this I’ve never been to Angeles, I’ve got to go with no, I don’t come here often.” I grinned.

“Yeah, that sounded like a cheesy pickup line. You’d think I’d be better at this by now”

“Yeah, I would think you’d at least have some grate pick up lines by now… Grate… Get it? Like a cheese grater? Haha I’m pretty bad at jokes, not going to lie.”

“You’re bad at jokes, I’m bad at pick-up lines. Guess we’re even”

“It’s the perfect match”

“Definitely”

We ended up heading off to the beach, making small conversation the entire way, like we had just met. Everything was painfully awkward.

“C'mon, let’s build a sandcastle,” I said, trying to distract myself from the hypnotic ocean. He agreed even though didn’t seem all that thrilled.

“God, it’s been forever since I was here”

“When’s the last time you came?”

“When I was little. I was never one for Sandy fun and salt water.”

“I don’t get to go to the beach often, living in Waverly.”

He shrugged. “It’s overrated. I mean, who even enjoys sand? It’s course and rough and it gets everywhere.”

“You don’t seem to like anything. Not sand, not me, not even the water.”

“I never said I didn’t like you. I do like you.”

Nice joke.

“Do you like me enough?”

“Enough for what?”

“Just… Am I good enough for you?”

Haiden looked directly at my eyes and shook his head. “Don’t talk about yourself like that. You’re not something that I can look at and give a grade or rating to. And whether or not I choose you isn’t a measure of your self-worth, Naomi. Remember, boys are trashbags.”

“You should be a counselor,” I said as I hugged him.

“A trashbag counselor”

“So, um… How is your family holding up?” I asked. Despite the depressing mood I still wanted to be a good friend and be there, after all his mother had just been brutally assassinated by his psycho ex girlfriend, and a girl once known as my friend.

“Well, we’re doing as well as can be, I guess.” He said, looking off, being distant again.

Such an interesting conversation.

After that we were quiet, sitting, soaking in the sad atmosphere we had created. It felt like I was drowning in sappy backstory.

The beach was surprisingly empty on such a nice day. I had to wonder if some calls were made to ensure safety or whatever, clear off the beach, just had it be us.

That would be so romantic if it weren’t because his mom had died.

I went out to where the waves were crashing against the beach, took my shoes off, hiked up my skirt a bit, and felt the cool water touch my feet. It felt so nice that I just wanted to be engulfed by the cold water, and be swept away with the current, but I knew if I did that, I wouldn’t be able to have my ranch, and I wasn’t about to give up all my life dreams to become an ocean goddess. I could stick to being a meme queen for now.

As I was standing in the water, feeling the waves crash over my ankles which were showing (so scandalous), Haiden joined me, and we had a sort of therapeutic experience of just letting our legs be soaked. It was oddly calming, I now understood why people found the ocean a nice place to clear your mind because as I stood there with my feet in the water, overlooking the horizon, I felt everything that seemed so confusing and difficult to understand fade away.

I must’ve stood there for at least half an hour before Haiden led me away, telling me my feet would fall off from the cold, I realized the ocean didn’t have the same effect on Haiden as it did me.

He thinks I’m crazy. Who am I kidding at this point? I am crazy. Everyone knows it, Naomi, you’re the weird girl again, just like back home. The weirdo obsessed with cows, or fire, or almonds. They’ll all leave you… One by one. Just like always. He doesn’t want to spend time with you. Why would he? You’re nothing but a freak and a crazy girl. You’re worthless. A piece of trash, waiting to be thrown out.

I tried to build up another sandcastle, and the outcome ended up looking like how I felt. A pile of lumpy sand thrown together, trying to look put together. Needless to say, it wasn’t cute.

I got so frustrated with my lack of ability to make a sandcastle that I smooshed it and insisted we just leave. Rage was filling my soul and I needed to be alone so I could get rid of it effectively, rather than squishing sand castles and punching something.

Haiden was able to call back the car and we left immediately. The beach date had been an utter disaster. My feet, still wet and sandy, pulled into the car and we drove off. I didn’t even bother trying to grab my shoes, they would be a nice present for whoever came to that beach next.

I was so angry that I just wanted to cry or react in some way to get that pushing feeling out of my chest.

Mila or Sophie would make a much better queen. Haiden actually likes them. You’re here out of pity. If Cressida hadn’t assassinated his mother, she would be here instead of you.

My head couldn’t seem to shut up, spouting insults at me like there was no tomorrow. There was a battle going on inside my one being. If Haiden had noticed this happening, he didn’t make any indication he knew.

The car pulled up to the palace and I felt a rush of relief knowing I would be able to burn something soon. Before I was able to get out of the car and start sprinting to my room, Haiden grabbed my hand.

“Are you okay? You don’t seem like yourself today.”

I laughed bitterly. “People can’t be happy all the time Haiden, you should know that better than anyone.” And with that I flung open the door, not bothering to wait for the chauffeur and made a b line for the front door.

How do I get to my room? How long have I been here, yet I still didn’t know how to make it to my own room. God Naomi, you’re pathetic. This is not the time to be clueless! You’re trying to make a dramatic exit and storm out of here.

I turned left once and then right twice and then I realized I was lost and couldn’t take it anymore. I stopped where I was, in the middle of an empty hallway and sunk to the floor, crying. I couldn’t take it anymore. All the anger, all the depressing thoughts, and sadness I bottled up since coming to the palace… since papa died, spilled out of me all at once.

You aren’t good enough. You’re never good enough, you’ll never be. Why. WHY CAN’T YOU DO ANYTHING RIGHT? It’s your fault papa died and it’s your fault Queen Alize died. It’s all your fault! Why can’t you be normal? Why… must you exist?

Amidst my sobbing I hadn’t noticed footsteps coming closer to me.

“Naomi?” I heard the familiar voice say.

Oh God, this is exactly what I was trying to avoid. Could I lie my way out? I just got a letter saying my cat died. He probably won’t even know it’s a lie. I don’t even have a cat. Why would he bother knowing that about me?

“No, my name is Namoi. Naomi is busy at the moment. Y-You could leave a message.” I said, not trying to stop the tears from falling but rather trying to hide them.

“Is that so?” He said, amused with my antics.

“Yeah, actually I should probably go find her now. Nice seeing you again.” I said, trying to push past him before he stopped me in my tracks.

“Wait, just… just wait.” He said as if I had a choice of leaving while he was holding my arm.

“What?” I said begrudgingly. Why didn’t he understand I just wanted to be left alone. If he was allowed to deal with his issues alone, then so was I.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” I said, tears still flowing down my face.

Aurora is going to be so angry that you ruined her nice makeup. Why do you ruin everything in your vicinity?

“Naomi.” He said sternly.

I broke. I was tired of trying to be the goody two shoes. I was tired of everyone stepping all over me like I was worthless. I was tired… of letting everyone think I was fine with everything. That I don’t get upset. That I don’t care. News flash, I do. After all, I am human. (No, yer a witch, Naomi HA Shut up Vivian)

“It’s… It’s just been a bad day.” I said in between sobs. “My cat just died.” I said as an afterthought.

“When did you get a cat?” Haiden asked, which I responded to by sobbing harder.

“I-I got him… before I came to the palace.” Haiden didn’t question my any further, instead pulled me in for a hug, letting all my tears drain out of my face.

After I finished crying, I wiped my eyes once again, pulled away from Haiden.

“I need to tell you something.” I said after a bit of standing and cleaning my face up. Surely I had mascara all down my cheeks.

“What?”

“I don’t have a cat.”

“I know.”

I nodded, laughing, despite the mood.

“Hey Naomi, what you said about not being happy all the time. What did you mean?”

“Sometimes I just feel like I always have to be the happy person people think I am. It’s stupid but-” I was interrupted.

“It’s not stupid.”

“Thanks.”

“And it’s fine to have bad days, but please don’t just go about them without telling someone, okay?” I nodded, wondering if he was speaking from experience, but not wanting to pry.

“I won’t, thanks Haiden.” I look up and stare at him, wondering whether or not I should tell him about the incident that has been bothering me. “Haiden… I-I need to tell you something. I’ve been bottling up everything bad that has happened to me since… god knows how long… a-and,” I feel the tear forming in eye. ”I just broke.”

I paused for a second, contemplating whether or not I should continue.

“You should know that… that day of the first attack,” I paused again. “I-I saw Cressida. I thought I was hallucinating b-but I wasn’t. I could’ve saved Queen Alizé… I could’ve prevented this whole damn situation… but I didn’t, and I can never, ever, ever, forgive myself for that. Kick me out now if you want to… this has just been eating me up and I’m sorry for everything.”

The tear rolls down my cheek as my mind throws every insult it could think of at me. He stares at me silently for a moment before he wraps his arms around me.

“There are a lot of things we regret in life. There are a lot of things we wish we could change. Don’t… don’t worry about it.”

This makes me sob even harder for some reason. It was an unpleasant sight to see. Realizing that I was bawling into his arms, I calmed myself down and apologized a million more times.

“I-It’s alright. Just… Don’t beat yourself up over this, Naomi.”

“I’ll try not to…” There was a long moment of silence. “Now, I think I should go and find Naomi, don’t you think?” I said, trying to lift up this depressing mood and referencing the lame excuse I tried to use earlier.

“Go ahead, Namoi.” I laughed and started walking before again realizing I was lost. How could I have forgotten?

“Hey Haiden.”

“Yeah.”

“…I don’t exactly know how to get to my room from here.”

He laughed and led the way.

Today was a bad day…. but I’ll be okay.

CRACK FIC TIMEEEEEEEE by: @niara-aldaine @viola-smithin and moi

I sincerely apologize for this

You ruined it Naomi, again. Why do you always have to do this? Why do you mess up everything you touch? Remember that expensive ass lamp that grandma gave us? WELL, YOU BROKE THAT SHIT TOO BLOODY HELL M8

(I’m tempted to say trash but i cant) GARBAE LIKE GARBAGE BAE

IM A GENIUS

YOU NEVER CEASE TO AMAZE ME

GARBAE

BAE WHO IS GARBAGE

CALL URBAN DICTIONARY

START A NEW TREND

I FORGOT ABOUT HAIDEN CUZ LORD KNOWS THAT BITCH IS CONFUSING. I SAY HE’S DISTANT HE SAYS WHAT??? THEN IGNORED ME FOR 4 MILLION YEARS AND THEN EATS MY FUCKING EAR. WHAT THE HELL?

I hadn’t realized but at some point in my contemplation of becoming a salty Barbie ocean goddess who can fucking salsa like SHAKIRA SHAKIRA with a 70’s headband, Haiden the fat-hoed 6-toed shark ass pork nibbler, snuck up behind me and SWALLOWED MY FUCKING EAR. WHAT THE HELL DUDE. WHO THE FUCK DOES THAT TO A PERSON, MUCH LESS A PERSON THAT CAN FUCKING SALSA LIKE SHAKIRA SHAKIRA WITH A 70’S HEADBAND, THAT IS NOT OK, BROCHACHO. I MEAN, I CAN FUCKING SALSA DUDE. I decided that Haiden needed a bag of fucking Doritos to calm his titties down and a good hair shave. His hormones were WAY out of control. Why didn’t I win then? Maybe he liked someone mild and bland, just like himself. But then again, it wasn’t MY fucking fault that Haiden, the guacamole egghead whisk couldn’t handle such SPICYNESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS. I mean, I am pretty caliente.

After I managed to get my slobbered on ear back because Niara was very generous and blasted his stomach open with nuclear rice bombs made in Japananananan, I got to a professional donkey egghead whisk hospital and the very caliente police arrested Haiden for being a hormonic teenager nutzo who only guacamoled. He couldn’t calm his saggy raging titties so then Niara also blasted those off for him. Then I became the default queen because me la died from some mysterious reasons (cough Russians) and sophie went to the mountains. All was well. I invited a cow named Hachangchangchang to the redecorated Pepe meme palace to rule alongside me on SHAKIRA SHAKIRA thrones, at which point we had 50 japanse RUSSIAN kids all starting with the letter B. My favorite twins were BABANGBANG and BABANGBANGBANG. Viola and her girlfriend Sofika changed their names to Kakangkang and SHAKIRA SHAKIRA because they loved me that much. The oldest of them, KeekeeKomKikKokKeKikKokKakKue (Try saying that 5 times) took over and ruled with a fair hand full of chicken nuggets (all organic, courtesy of Mika Vladmska, the rice farmer) and her husband, Steve. (No one better fucking eat him this time, MULA) It was a peaceful rule (when Niara wasn’t bombing all the countries with her faithful pet polar bear, Dorito Nachos, and that dude, Feliz Navidad). All was good, all was right.

We pulled a Abby Schreave

“Thanks, now I’m gonna GO NIBBLE ON AN EAR LATER LOSER” THEN I STOLE HIS EAR AND RAN OFF MUAHHAAHHAHAHA FABULOUSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

ALL DONE ENDO WHOPPPIE THIS IS SOME GOOD QUALITY CRAP.

Dr Phil voice: “You’ve got a problem”

#selectionoc #i apologize for this #naomi #vivian #crack fic

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