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christinepanas · 11 months

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The Dinner Pail

(a short story)

“Don’t forget your dinner pail,” her father said as she was leaving.

“Don’t worry,” she replied as she picked up her handbag. “I have it right here.”

Her father was in the late stages of dementia or Alzheimer’s or maybe the effects of his runaway scar tissue-relic of wartime. They wouldn’t know until the autopsy. And that could be weeks or years away. Memory loss was a no man’s land, where time was as elastic as the band she wore around her wrist.

She kissed him goodbye, and he asked her where he was.

“What hotel is this?” he asked.

“It’s a rehab, Dad,” she replied. “You’re here until mom gets out of her rehab.”

“My mom?”

“No, Dad, my mom. Your wife, Maeve.”

“I have a wife?”

Conversations with her father, had become difficult over the past year and a half. He was no longer able to form new memories, not exactly. It all seemed random. Somehow, he could remember one of the young women who worked at the memory clinic. “I like that Lakeisha,” he would say. “She’s a good girl. She makes good coffee and toast.” Other people never registered.

Everyone in the family knew that he could no longer recognize her brother Alex, the eldest of the four. No memory of him at all. He often thought that Pete, the youngest, was his brother, not his son. Sometimes he remembered Andreas but not their relationship. For reasons no one understood, he always remembered Sophia and would say, “Why Sophia, how nice to see you. Thanks for stopping by.”

On the surface, his greeting was sweet. But it was unlike anything her father would have said to her, pre-Alzheimer’s, or whatever it was. He would have said, “Daughter! What are you doing here?” He almost always called her daughter. And she would reply, “Father, I’m here to see you.” It was a little thing they did. She missed it now, despite the sweetness of his current greeting.

“Yes, your wife is Maeve. See there?" She pointed to a bedside photo in a silver frame. That’s a photo of you both, at the wedding.”

He stared at the photo for a long minute and then smiled. “Oh, that’s Maeve. Maeve McDonnel. She was really pretty. I think we danced once.”

He sat smiling at the photo as Sophia slipped out the door with her dinner pail handbag.

In the parking lot, she sat in the rental car and cried. Buckets. A nurse passing by tapped on the car window.

“You okay?” the nurse asked through the glass.

Sophia nodded and pulled herself together as she rolled down the window.

“I’m fine, thanks.”

“I know it’s hard,” the nurse said. “It’s just hard. Anything I can do?”

Sophia shook her head. “Not unless you have created a miracle drug that will restore my father.”

“I know, hon,” the nurse said. “Just have a good cry if you need to.”

Sophia turned the air conditioner on full blast and let the cool air bathe her forehead. It was hot in Oklahoma City. Too hot. And it was only May. She reached into her handbag for a tissue and then blew her nose.

Dinner-pail.

It was a word that her father had used a few times twenty something years ago when she was home from college. She had found it charming when he asked her if she had packed her “dinner pail.” Antiquated words and phrases were not just the stuff of literature. They were alive in the family home.

Thinking about it now, it had been a sign of things to come. Dinner pail. An obsolete object, but one that his immigrant family had learned to use when they arrived in the country. His was a past filled with working class men who stopped work at the sound of the twelve o’clock whistle. They called lunch dinner and dinner supper and they carried their lunches in dinner pails. Her father had been a child, watching his mother pack the dinner pails for his father and the children old enough to work on the farm. Ten siblings, seven of them boys. He was youngest. He once said that the thing he remembered the most about his childhood was always being hungry.

She thought about her father’s brain, what was happening to it, how it interpreted her handbag as a dinner pail. Where was he in time and space and what did he see there? In some ways, she was jealous. He was living in three or four time periods at the same time. Time traveling. Nothing bothered him anymore. No aches and pains. No anger towards that one sister-in-law. No regrets about retiring from the military. All that seemed to have vanished. Also gone was his love of flower gardens, a fresh salad, reading the Sunday paper, afternoon drives, going to the gym.

As she drove away, she found herself praying to a god she didn’t really believe in, asking for a merciful end for her father. Yes, he got up every morning at the same time, brushed his teeth, shaved his head, took his shower, and dressed himself before heading to the dining room for breakfast. He called it the “mess hall” and the head nurse the “CO,” Commanding Officer. He saluted anyone in uniform. He answered “yes, sir” and “no, sir” to almost anyone. And every day, after he was done eating, he would ask, “what I am supposed to be doing now?”

She reviewed the things he had said over the past few years. “I’m a good soldier” was one that stuck with her. She wondered what had happened to him in Vietnam. Four years in the jungle. A post war country that didn’t want him. What had he seen there?

Her mother’s family had been cruel to him when he returned from the war. They called him a baby killer and imperialist stooge. The words had left a deep, unresolved wound. She wanted to hug him and tell him she loved him. She wanted to finally heal that wound, those hurts that had colored their family life long after the war and his retirement from the military. Without knowing it, she had carried his pain and anguish all her life. She bristled, thinking about what he had suffered. Slapping her aunts’ faces would have little meaning now. But that was what she wanted to do. She wanted to make them feel the pain that they had inflicted on him, on his family, on her.

“Stop it,” she said out loud as she pulled into the driveway of her brother Alex’s house. “Stop it. Think about how much he loved us and we loved him. And no more crying. Just stop it.”

A few deep breaths. Eyes closed. Micro meditation. She turned off the car and stepped out into the hot, humid air.

Her brother’s house was palatial and featured a swimming pool and a beautiful deck and garden. She couldn’t imagine what it was like for four people to live in four thousand square feet of space. Her apartment in New York was barely four hundred square feet. It was a kind of nest from which she would never fledge. She knew that. And it was enough for her.

Inside, the cool central air conditioning made her shudder. Her nephew Max greeted her. He had just graduated from Oklahoma University. He was so very tan.

“How was the visit?”

“Heartbreaking,” she replied.

“I know,” he said. “He thinks I’m Dad now.”

“How about Andreas?”

“He thinks Andreas is Uncle Costas.”

“Well, you guys do all look alike.”

“He seemed … happy,” Max said. “So polite.”

“I know,” she replied. “It’s weird, right?”

“He can’t really joke anymore.”

“I know.”

He’s losing objects,” Max said.

“What do you mean?”

“He asked me what the television was. I switched it on to show him, but it seemed to agitate him, so I turned it off.”

Her father had always loved television. He had been content to be the paterfamilias who ruled over the household via the remote control. Westerns, war pictures, slapstick comedies, nature documentaries, the nightly news, the odd romance or mystery. And now the television was something he couldn’t understand.

“He can’t use the phone, either,” Max said. “He thought it was a Norelco electric razor.”

“I know,” she replied, with a smile. “I hate to laugh.”

“We have to laugh,” he replied. “It’s too hard if we don’t, at least once in a while.”

“I don’t think he would fault us,” she said. “He always liked a good laugh.”

“Yeah,” he said. “And pranks.”

“When he stopped pranking, I knew something was wrong,” she said.

Max nodded his head and the two of them sat in silence for a few seconds before one of the dogs began barking at a squirrel that was hanging out by the patio door.

“Do you have Wi-Fi here?” she asked Max.

“Yeah, I’ll get you set up,” he replied.

Sophia took her things to a guest bedroom that had a large desk positioned at a window overlooking the back garden. It seemed that her brother had inherited their father’s green thumb. But beyond that, the two men were not that much alike. Alex was reserved, business-driven, always on the move. Business lunches, trips, golf, political fundraisers.

As she gazed out the window, she saw Max letting the dogs out onto the back deck. They were eager to chase the squirrel. Instinct. It drove them. It drove everything. And everyone. Her father. His morning routine was instinct-driven. How long would that remain true, as his superstructure of self, the who of him, began to crumble as his memories disappeared? The doctors never had any good news. Any day now, ten years from now.

She set up her laptop, logged in to her company email, and spent the next hour and a half reading, vetting, and answering messages of varying importance. She didn’t want to return to New York with five hundred unread emails and a team that had forgotten who she was.

But the thought of the dinner pail nagged at her. What was it? Why was it now an object that he recalled? She googled it. Galvanized tin, most likely. Three compartments. A bale handle. There was a story posted online on the American Heritage website. It had been written in 1996. Fall River Massachusetts, dinner pails, and weaving. Working class. The author was not credited but gave a fine description of dinner pails and the working-class folk who waited in hunger for the noon whistle.

Later, when her sister-in-law, Alicia, arrived home from work, dressed in a business suit and sweaty with the heat of the day, Sophia asked about antique stores in the area. Alicia, in addition to being a corporate lawyer, was an expert in early twentieth century farm American life.

“Do you know any good antique stores that carry farm-related items?” Sophia asked.

“Are you kidding? This is farm country,” Alicia replied as she kicked off her taupe-colored, closed-toed pumps.

“I’m looking for a dinner pail,” Sophia said.

Alicia paused for a second and then took off her blazer. “Have you looked online?”

“I want to see it in person,” Sophia said. "I need the tactile."

“There are three places I can think of,” Alicia said.

An hour later, they were at the Old Farmer’s Barn, an antique shop that focused on farming implements, weathervanes, tools, and the occasional rocking chair for the porch. The owner was a wiry octogenarian with grey stubble and a ballcap that read “Farmers Do It In The Dirt.” He was wearing overalls. She noticed that his hands looked strong and nimble.

“Well, let’s see,” he said when she asked him about dinner pails. “I know I had some back here. Got ‘em off old man Reichardt, back when he sold off those forty acres to the university. Said he was done. I bought the lot.”

He rambled on about Reichardt and how he had survived not one but three F-4 tornadoes. “Not a scratch, on him. Nothing. But his roof got it bad. Bad enough to end up in Enid." He laughed at his own joke.

On a shelf in the back room, where he triaged his finds, there were three dinner pails. Two were aluminum, the other was tin.

“Which one of these,” Sophia asked, “would have been found in say, Nebraska in the 1930s?”

The old farmer scratched at his stubble, then at an ear canal.

“I’d say this tin one here,” he said. “It’s got some dents in it. See this here wear?” he asked as he ran a finger along the old wooden dowel that formed the handle. “This here dinner pail was used by generations. You didn’t throw these out. You kept ‘em. And they kept you fed. We had ‘em. My own grandmother used to fill these up good. Fried pie on the top. Cherry was my favorite.”

The man’s memories began invading his present. He smiled to himself.

Sophia purchased the dinner pail for ninety-four dollars.

“What are you going to do with that?” Alicia asked. “Take it back to New York?”

“It’s for my dad,” she replied.

“Oh,” Alicia said. “I see.”

“I think he’s back on the farm now, when he was a kid. That is, when he’s not in the eighties or nineties.”

“How is he doing? I haven’t been there in a few months. So busy.”

“He seems,” she paused and looked up at the ceiling for a second, noticing for the first time a discreet but distinct Greek key pattern in the crown molding. “He seems happy, or content, somehow. Nothing bothers him.”

“Does he recognize you?”

“Yes, but he’s so polite.”

“He doesn’t recognize Alex anymore,” she said. “He thinks Max is Alex and Andrew is Costas.”

“It’s the hair,” Sophia replied. “Well, Alex’s lack of it.”

The next morning, Sophia got up and set about stocking the dinner pail with foods from the past. It took a few hours, but she was able to find freshly baked bread, hard boiled eggs, feta cheese, a nice portion of spanakopita, tomatoes, cucumbers, and a nice baklava.

At the memory clinic, her father greeted her with “Well, hello Sophia, it’s so good to see you. Thanks for stopping by.”

She snapped the elastic band on her wrist a few times and then placed the dinner pail on the table that held the obsolete television.

“I brought your dinner pail,” she said. “Mom packed some good food for you.”

He sat smiling as he stared at the dinner pail.

She wondered where he was in time and space, if he even knew what the dinner pail was.

“The whistle just blew,” she said.

He nodded and smiled as she offered him a piece of bread. He didn’t notice her tears. For that she was glad.

#short story #fiction #alzheimers

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3dfangs · 2 years

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jfc realizing how much money were gonna be spending for the mcr concert.... cheapest flight is like 300+ dollars on top of the over 2k tickets and THEN we also have to probably pay for a rental car and a hotel for a bit well were in [redacted].... got mf damn 🤦‍♂️

#kai.txt #gonna be even more broke after this... will it be worth it? will find out!#neg #im excited but the money part of it is STRESSING me out LOL #i maybe able to work out stuff with family to get out of the rental car stuff but will still need a hotel for the night of the concert+#after before we get back to [data expunged]#you know? pain and agony? all to see your fav band who will never come to your city?#so you have to go to lower 48 and spend fist fulls of money just for the chance LOLOLOL #no rewblwogy uwu #- _ - sorry this is so neg im just grrr bark bite #im very luck this is split between 3 people and my parents are willing to help #but its STILL stressful

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fraks · 2 years

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i hate making posts like this, but i am honestly at a loss as to what to do, and maybe someone here has an idea. for the record: i live in germany, so solutions that might work in the united states probably won't work for me.

i'm the child of a mentally ill mother and a neglectful father. growing up, i was systematically abused, both psychologically and emotionally, by my father's girlfriend while he stood and watched, and still to this day denies it ever happened. i developed c-ptsd and social anxiety disorder as a result. i had two rounds of cbt years ago, which, while good for me, didn't "cure" me, and all the meds i tried didn't help either.

that's not even the problem though, only necessary background info. in august of 2020, my partner of 13 years suddenly up and left me for someone else. unable to sleep or eat, i was put on sick leave for a few months, which cost me my job and, subsequently, my apartment. with the housing market being what it is, plus the covid situation, i wasn't able to find a new place and have been officially homeless since march 2021. i stayed with my little brother for a bit, but my "family" eventually abandoned me, too, when i didn't get better fast enough, and threw me out.

none of my "friends" were able or willing to help, either, until i reconnected with an old internet buddy on the other side of the country who, without any hesitation, offered me her guest room for however long i needed it. i hate having to rely on near-strangers (we hadn't been in contact for years), but i was in no position to refuse. so i am currently staying in said guest room. the problem? my friend and her husband are ultra-religious evangelical nutjobs. as in, if they knew i was queer, i would be thrown out immediately. and as in, they hit their toddler when she doesn't obey them because proverbs say it's okay to hit your kids. and of course my friend isn't vaccinated, just to complete the picture.

i don't know how much longer i can survive being here. my friend lives in a tiny village (population of 720), so there's no public transport and i'm stuck inside this house (and mainly this one room) nearly 24/7. my social anxiety disorder makes it impossible for me to just apply for unemployment benefits—i'm trying, but the system isn't meant for people who are unemployed and homeless at the same time, and i'm falling through the cracks. i need to get back to my hometown of berlin (so i can finish my engineering degree), but to get an apartment there, i need to prove i have an income, and to get an income, i need a proper place to stay. i also need to prove i've paid my rent for the past three months, but as i haven't lived in a rental place of my own since march, i don't have that proof, which means my application for apartments automatically gets thrown out for being incomplete.

and amidst all this chaos, my brain has decided now is the perfect time to relive all the childhood trauma and i get at least one major panic attack per day. i don't remember when i last spent a day without crying. and ofc i can't see a therapist because i need to know where i'll be staying for a few months before i can be put on any therapist's waiting list. oh and i'm about to lose my health insurance cause unless i get unemployment benefits or find a new full-time job, i'd have to pay nearly 300€ a month, which i simply do not have, especially given that i'm already paying 500€+ a month from my meagre savings for a storage unit that has all my stuff in it.

until now, i've survived by talking to online buddies like @justplainsalty and @leliesblou and @cminerva and others in the mfmm+leverage fandoms in particular, and reading posts by @wilwheaton and @furiousgoldfish on abuse and trauma to reaffirm i'm not crazy, but i am so profoundly lonely in this place, and i honestly don't see myself surviving long beyond the new year.

so if anyone has any ideas or advice on what to do, please reach out, and feel free to reblog or share in other ways if you know anyone who might be able to help.

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unrestedjade · 3 years

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More baseless Ferengi headcanons no one asked for: LATINUM EDITION~~~

- Almost every home is a rental, as almost all usable land is corporate-owned. Might as well daydream about owning a moon, it's no less realistic than owning the house you grew up in. (No I'm not frustrated with my $1500 rent at all, no I'm not miserable watching 40-year-old trailer homes selling for $250k to a property management firm that's going to rent it out. Surely a place like Ferenginar wouldn't be equally ridiculous, hahahahahahahahHAHAHAHA. Ahem.) - Latinum as religious fetish. We see Quark offering slips of latinum while he prays to the Blessed Exchequer before bed. He even has a little shrine. What's unclear is whether you're meant to reuse the same slips each day or if you have to actually "give up" the latinum over the longer term for the offering to count. You can break a piggy bank, but it's probably bad to break an image of the Exchequer, unless he's very chillaxed compared to the majority of gods. - Assuming really giving up the latinum is better, is destroying it extra good? Or are you sinning by removing it from the Continuum? Are there Ferengi extremist sects that sink latinum into bogs or launch it into a star?

- What do they think and feel about latinum with regards to the Exchequer? What does a god need with it? Is it meant to be his lifeblood, figuratively? Or literally, via transubstantiation? (Catholic Ferengi. Cathipitolists.)

- How was latinum treated in the days before they knew to process it with gold so it could be handled safely? It's very pretty and ethereal-looking in its raw form, and also very, very toxic. Depending on the symptoms of latinum poisoning, I wonder if it had anything to do with it gaining religious significance? Ancient Ferengi priests seeing visions and going a little funny in the head from handling raw latinum for years and years?

- The way Quark and Brunt talk about taxes in S7 suggests there's not a lot of taxation in Ferengi society (officially, anyway. idk what else you'd call their ubiquitous bribes/tips than unofficial taxation). In any case, since one of the major purposes of taxation in modern economies is to control inflation by removing money (governments create/destroy money; they don't really keep a little checkbook register of surplus/deficit the way a household does) offering latinum to the Exchequer as an act of worship could be a good way to take money out of circulation for a while. - Latinum vs fiat money? Latinum is canonically used as coinage by multiple species. (It would seem like Ferengi are putting themselves at a bit of a disadvantage by also attaching a spiritual importance to it, but who knows, and this is a tangent on a tangent.) Is all their money backed by latinum? It can't be, right? Just conceptually, their stock markets and banks can't possibly be tying every value in every account to a real, physical measure of latinum, that's horribly inefficient. Can "latinum" also mean any legitimate liquid asset? Or does the Exchequer insist on the real thing? Much to ponder. - Brunt implies in Family Business that Ferenginar has houseless people and beggars. There's no point in begging if no one ever gives you anything, so some people must give charity to beggars. What's that look like, is it something kind-hearted Ferengi do in spite of the RoA explicitly stating that charity is only acceptable when you come out richer than you started? What's their rationalization in that case? Are they left feeling shameful about it? (Obviously the people stuck begging feel shitty, by design. Ironically, they might feel less shitty than we would, since the Exchequer doesn't appear to care how you get money, only that you get it.) - If you're moved to give money/material aid to a needy person, you'd probably do it quietly. Here in the good ol' US of A a common view is that "hand-outs" hurt the needy person in the long run because you're removing their impetus to stop being lazy sponges. And that's from people who follow a religion that commands them to care for the needy! So it's gotta be even harsher under a religion that's completely mask-off in its worship of individual prosperity. - (You just know Keldar was one of those people tossing a few slips of latinum for someone sleeping under a shop awning each morning. His business sense sucked but Ishka made him sound like a warm person. Folks gotta eat.) - Reincarnation... Alright, so if you were a dude and you die broke it's implied you can't reincarnate/are damned to the Vault of Eternal Destitution. Cool and fair, nothing to unpack there. What about women? They're half the population but seem to have been overlooked on this point in this here 10k-year-old religion. Which is telling in itself, of course, but you'd think someone would have addressed this? Who reincarnates female? Is the accepted understanding that females reincarnate female and are totally removed from the requirement to bid on their life? But that still doesn't solve the problem, because even if reincarnation were assigned-sex-segregated (god what a shitty idea, compels me tho) you're still losing X number of men to the Vault each generation. - I want to see what Ferengi religious debates look like. Pel is shown to be a serious scholar of the RoA as they've dug into not only the text itself but all the commentaries and refutations and deep-dives others have published about it. That's gotta fuel some spicy convo around the tongo table once everyone's a few drinks in. - Are there multiple sects? People arguing whether this or that rule is meant to be taken literally vs as metaphor? Everyone can't be in lockstep on this stuff. Quark seems to have been raised within the currently-hegemonic sect, but surely there's others.

- There don't appear to be any clergy or equivalent persons, so I wonder if there's different sects how they organize themselves? Do they host different subs on Ferengi Reddit? (Ferengi Reddit...shudder) - Ferengi atheists slacking at work or living as drifters because there's no point saving money for a next life that's not real. Life must drive them to drink. That's when you go out into space to live with the sane people and never call home.

- Is the rest of the population chill with atheists, or is that a no-go? I guess it would depend on how loud the person is and whether they follow the Rules or not.

- You know who they're definitely not chill with: socialists. Do they have Satanic Panics about this or that media turning the youth into commies? If you're an outspoken socialist, are you looking at exile? Arrest? An unexpected date with an Eliminator? - Conspicuous consumption seems to be a thing, and it's interesting in light of the whole "needing a good high score for a good reincarnation" idea. It still boils down to showing off how much you can afford to waste, but the stakes are undoubtedly higher for the faithful. - If something happens and you're at risk if losing everything, is it safer to just off yourself while you still have money? What if you're going to lose more than you'd ever be able to make back? (In economics this is called a perverse incentive lulz)

- The Great Monetary Collapse must have suuuuucked. It's the Great Depression x100, and also your god is mad at you, maybe??? And your next life is totally screwed now, too. Fuckin' dire, man. When Quark mentioned it in the show, it was with this flippant air like he was waiting to see how Miles and Julian reacted. He might have elaborated more if they hadn't reacted...the way he probably assumed they would. (Partially a self-fulfilling prophecy given the way he primed them to treat it as a joke, but I digress.) - Suicide rates are measurably higher in societies that elevate achievement and work ethic (see the Protestant vs Catholic divide on this, it's interesting and very depressing as a lapsed protestant in a protestant-dominated country). Just saying. - On this same bummer track: hedonic depression could be very commonplace among Ferengi. Every minute not spent working is spent on distraction because life is just such an exhausting grind, and a lot of factors determining whether you're a good/successful person are out of your control. Booze, porn, and gambling are all very distracting, and thus very popular. If a lot of this just sounds like regular degular capitalism: yes. It's actually proving difficult to push the fictional society further out because we're already living beyond satire. Maybe that's why I like these awful little guys so much. (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)

#star trek #ferengi #meta #meta being a generous term for me making shit up because that's just how i party #i got halfway through the virtue of selfishness for the first time since i was 14 just for this #couldn't make myself power all the way through but i think the depth of my ardor should be proven anyway #suicide mention #because their society is an ancap hellscape

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menofcolorswitchbodiestoo · 3 years

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Episode:

-Body evicted-

In the UK, rents are skyrocketing. Many landlords run into problems when their tenants are no longer willing or able to pay. Some tenants have thousands and sometimes tens of thousands of pounds in debt. Some of these tenants leave with the horizon even before the eviction. And the debt was rarely fully recovered. To stop this, the government has passed a controversial law for a few years now that allows affected landlords to claim the tenant’s body. This is a means of pressure to actually repay or partially remit the amount owed if the tenant hands over his or her body to the landlord.

-Case: Han P. (Landlord) & Zayed A. (Tenant)

''Good morning, I'm Andrew Wilson, I'm the bailor.''

''Good morning, my name is Han I'm the landlord'', Han said as he looked at the bailor and the two large security men behind him.

''Before we start the eviction is there anything you can tell about your tenants that could maybe important for us to know?''

''The names of my tenants are Zayed and his wife Daneen. He and his wife are very active on social media leading a very luxurious lifestyle: fancy restaurants, expensive cars, clothes, and suits, etc. That attitude just annoyes me so much, I'm funding that lifestyle! I don't even like that lifestyle. This excessive consumption conspicuous consumption I find untasteful. His Instagram presents an image of a wealthy businessman but he nothing more than a crook. I’m done with it I just want him out of my property and out of my life.''

''Zayed broke my nose the I first asked him about the rent and after that whenever I try to make contact with him he either doesn't answer or threatens to snap my neck. That man is built like a bull! So yeah I'm a little scared for him, I really am.''

''Let's call him first there is a chance he has left the property already. If not we go in'', the bailor said.

''I already know the answer... he won't answer his phone'', Han said.

''This is the voicemail of Zayed...''

*Sigh*

''Goodmorning Zayed this is Han, sadly I can't reach you. As you know the eviction takes place today. So I hope you have packed your stuff and you are ready to go because you have to leave within an hour.''

I walked with the bailor and the security guys to the apartment and knocked on the door. The door opened standing in the doorframe the ''bull'' called Zayed.

''What are doing here?! It's early! Zayed said in his deep dominating voice.''

''As you know, the court has issued an expulsion order. Due to the £ 10,000 rent arrears and refusal to vacate the property after the court ruling. We are here today to see you and your wife leave Han's apartment today and collect the amount due.''

''I didn't receive a letter for this eviction, you can't do this!'' Zayed shouted at the bailor.

''That's a lie and you know it Mr. Zayed we have evidence that the eviction order was served here 2 weeks ago, meaning you and your wife will leave this property either way today. Now if you excuse us'' We walked into the apartment the bailor taking the lead and me between the two security guys.

''You don't have the right! This is trespassing!'''Zayed became more and more aggressive by de minute we were there.

''No, it's not the lease you have on this property has been ended by Han and the eviction notice became active yesterday, meaning YOU have no right to be here anymore. Now, where is your wife, Mr. Zayed? She has to leave as well.''

''My wife is not here, she's with her family.''

''Then I advise you to call her and tell her she has to come back within an hour to pick up her most essential items. Because after that she will not be able to access her property without permission from your landlord Han.''

'' HAHAHAHA I'm not going to call my wife because we will not leave, UNDERSTOOD!'' Zayed growled in his deep voice, while he contracted his great muscles making them even bigger than they already were.

''NOW GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE! OR I WILL KICK YOU OUT MYSELF!!!'' Zayed was furious raging against the bailor, the two security men were already standing between him and the bailor to prevent an escalation while I stood quietly in the corner.

''What did we ever do wrong?! My wife is a hard-working woman. I'm a hardworking businessman. We're just trying to live a normal life. You are just some racist white ass low-life fuckers! Now get lost!''

''Oh shut the hell up Zayed! You're not a hardworking businessman, you're a sad profiteer! And you and Daneen are not living a ''normal life'' you immerse yourself in luxury, you can't pay for that lifestyle! I pay that lifestyle Zayed, me not you! But not anymore! You're one thing... a LOW LIFE CROOK!''

Did I actually say that to him? I've never said something so angry in my life. I was just overstressed by the whole situation. The whole room became silent for a moment. Zayed looked at me, his eyes filled with rage.

''What did you say about me, Han? Zayed said calmly.''

''I...Uhm...''

''YOU LITTLE MADE-IN-CHINA-BITCH I WILL BREAK YOU INTO PIECES!!!'' Zayed shouted as he rushed toward me!

''No, you won't! ''The bailor said. As the two security men gripped Zayed and hold him still. ''I see you are not going to be cooperative Mr. Zayed well that's fine we have other options. Are you ready Han?'' The bailor placed a small round silver disc on Zayed's neck.

''UGH WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO ME?! LET ME GO!!!''

At that moment I placed the one I got earlier from the bailor on my neck. ''I'm ready'', I said to the bailor. We both activated the discs.

''Just a quick question how long does this takeeeeee..... ''

''Oh Wow!'' I said now in a deep rich baritone voice. ''It worked this is so strange! Why do I feel a little foggy? Is that normal? Damn, look how hairy my arms are!''

''Yes, that is completely normal. It may happen that you are not yet completely settled in your new body. We see that more often. Especially if there is a big difference between the two parties such as gender, age difference, or, as in your case, a completely different body type. Don't forget that in just a few seconds you have grown a lot taller and gained a lot of weight. Zayed's body is a huge difference from your own body, it takes some time to get used to it.''

''My goodness, you can certainly say that. I see you had no money to pay the rent or a razor Zayed. Damn, you've practically got a fur pelt Zayed! I mean I'm now stuck with this sweaty fur pelt. You should have kept that shit in check, oh man who wants to be so hairy? This body certainly needs a lot of proper grooming.Like I good shave.''

Han took a whiff under his new hairy armpits. ''An a bath! Wow, that's intense.'' Han knew he now had the stench of a real manly man but there were limits to how musky a person should be. Think it's because of the huge amount of testosterone rushing through this body. ''Oh, fuck I feel so horny! I'm sorry I said that out loud? I've never had such strong sexual impulses.''

''Han, try to stay calm and close to yourself. I know this is all a lot at the moment, but try not to drown in that new body of yours. I'm going to talk to Zayed in your body about a payment agreement for the overdue rent. Can you stand there calmly while I talk to him?''

''Yeah, well, I try..'' Han said with a grin, posing and flexing in the mirror. Admiring himself with his buff muscles. Han took his time to inspect his body. It was also surreal, the feeling of his beard and his pecs covered in itchy hair as he scratched his hairy chest. '' I have to admit I kind of starting to like this all this hair. Hair everywhere except on place.'' Han said as he swept his large hand over his naked scalp. ''I don´t even miss my hair, it always took me hours to style my hair.''

Han stroked his beard, ''Oh man this feels good I'm keeping this one for sure but maybe the body hair is a little bit too much for my husband. Wait why do I even care so much about what my husband thinks of my hairy buff body. If the body hair is a deal-breaker, then that's his loss. It doesn't bother me. I'm now a manly man after all, and men have lots of body hair. Besides, it would grow back as quickly as this beard if I did shave it, and I'm not willing to deal with that daily struggle.

Han gave his new crotch a subtle grope and shove his hand inside his slip. ''Oh, damn Zayet has been circumcised!'' Han was intrigued to find out his new cock was considerably larger than his hand. If my lovely husband doesn't like my hairy glory, I can probably convince him to accept it and bottom for good in exchange for these Arabic crown jewels. Han smirked at his reflection in triumph as he played with his large balls inside his pants. Taking in his overtly manly body.

''Han when you're done admiring yourself in the mirror do you have time to wrap up this case?'', the bailor said.

Han turned around seeing the bailor standing next to his old body. I was still getting used to this out-of-a-body-experience but Zayet in my body seemed pretty relaxed under the circumstances, like it seemed to care him little.

‘’I talked to Mr. Zayed about the outstanding rental debt. The amount due consisting of £ 10,525 rental arrears including legal fees. Mr. Zayed has indicated that he and his wife will not be able to immediately repay the amount owed. But is willing to give his body to you in exchange for the cancellation of the entire debt. Han, if you accept this proposal from Mr. Zayed it means that Mr. Zayed can no longer make any claims on his previous body and vice versa. That body will be your property. Han for you it means you can't recover any costs anymore from Mr. Zayed. Do you both understand this?’’

‘’I accept the proposal’’ I said while stroking soft belly hair. ‘’I'm sorry it had to get to the point where I had to claim your body Zayed. But in retrospect, I'm glad you caused all of these problems because I love this body. I really do. You really lost something great Zayed.’’

''Yes, I know. It's a big transition for both of us. It's strange to be so small, slender, and above all hairless. And I can't help but touch my hair with every mirror I see. Is this an Asian thing or something? Because you really spend a lot of time on it.'' Zayed said while fixing his hair and suit.

''Nah it's more of a Gaysian thing, the urge of checking your hair is probably just muscle memory.''

''Oh that's great'', Zayed said with a light sarcastic tone.

''Okay now that we agree on that, we still have to arrange it on paper'', the bailor said. ''Yes of course give me a minute, said Han as he walked into the bedroom of Zayed. 5 minutes later Han walked out of the bedroom wearing a full suit.

''You're wearing my suit?''

''Yeah. I didn't think you'd mind... under the circumstances. Because all your clothes are way too big for you now. But for me... it's a perfect fit. You got some nice stuff in your closet. Now I understand where my rent went. Not my style, but for now it will do.''

''Now let's sign this contract and end this nightmare.''

We both set our signatures under the contract making it official. I may didn't got the money but this body was I good alternative. I walked to Zayed, again checking his hair in the mirror, ugh did I really did that for all those years?

''Zayed I'm glad we have settled the problem of the debt but think you still understand that doesn't change anything. I still want you out of this property today and you and your wife will leave with your stuff do you understand me.''

''Uhm yes... of course I will take the most essential things and will collect the other stuff later'', Zayed said.

''Good.''

Oh my God, the poor little fellow is shaking. Can't blame him who wouldn't feel intimidated by a man who looks and sounds like me. This huge hairy body with its deep baritone voice and masculine musk will be a good advantage for me at the firm. This body naturally demands respect and it radiates dominance. I always had a boss mentality but now I also have a boss body. It just works. I tried to take a selfie to send to my husband which wasn't easy with these fingers or to fit into the frame. And send home the following message:

- Han :

We made a deal. We may have lost £ 10.000 but I will give you 10.001 Arabian lustful nights babe! Waiting for you at home you know where ;)

Zayed had left and the keys were handed over. Han finally got his property back and went home to surprise his husband and to take a bath.

The nightmare called Zayed was finnaly over ... right?

*Outside the apartment complex*

''Zayed is that you? What have they done to you ?!''

''Calm down, babe. It went as I expected that faggot of an Asian claimed my body. You should have seen him cultivating for himself when he got into my body. He's probably sticking my big dick up that husband's ass right now. It's like I said when I offered him my body, he was more than willing to take it in exchange for our debt. I mean I get it my body is the wet dream of every man and woman. Just look what I got now, it's a huge downgrade especially down there.''

''But why did you do it, Zayed?!''

''Don't you understand babe. My head was increasingly known as a con man. People just didn't trust me that quickly anymore and therefore didn't buy it anymore. A tall, bald, bearded, strong, hairy, masculine man is descriptive of a scammer these days. So I had to get a new appearance a look that makes people feel safe... and vulnerable. Our former landlord Han was just the perfect target. Who would ever suspect a little gay Asian man of scamming them? Hahaha, it's a brilliant plan and those idiots fell for it!''

''So you're gay now Zayed? What does that mean for me?!''

''Nah Babe I'm still straight as an arrow, only a shorter arrow. Luckily the sexuality stays the same. But with this annoying hair, it's not hard to convince people otherwise. But first, we need to start a new business. It's time to cash in babe.''

"What kind of business Zayed?"

''Let me check something out first.''

...

''Yeah just what I thought seems like Han hasn´t changed his bio on the rental sites he uses, like his old profile picture. I can even see which properties he rents out, some nice stuff babe. So what would you say to play landlords for a little bit of time? Now let´s pay a visit to ''our'' tenants first. Because when they open their doors all they see is their sweet little gaysian landlord Han, telling them to pay the rent to a new bank account... ours.''

#male body swap #Asian x Arab #menofcolorswitchbodiestoo

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oliviayamaoka · 3 years

Text

The Roseville Murders

Danny “Jed Olsen” Johnson x Female Reader

After getting yourself into a rather tragic incident, you are reassigned to work elsewhere to protect your young career as a detective.

Your life would sure but slowly change when you meet a bright journalist named Jed Olsen, always looking to get inside information from you regarding the murders in Roseville. Seeking Jed Olsen’s help in finding the Ghostface, a spark ignited between the two of you.

Chapter One: Roseville

Y/N rubbed her eyes, tired from the long car ride you just endured. It was a long car ride from your old home but at least the day was nice. It wouldn’t be long until dusk came. In a way, you were glad. You often thrived in the nighttime and took it as an opportunity to wind down and finally rest. It was a large rental truck that you had taken on your journey to your new home, Roseville. You didn’t necessarily choose the location; you were assigned to go there. After the incident, you were assigned to help in the investigation regarding some gnarly murders. This piqued your interest since you had an interest in crime and journalism, more so crime.

It was quite the strange time, being a junior detective, or that’s what they called you anyways. Your time in the police academy was short-lived, it didn’t take long to become a detective in the nineties. Even so, you managed to impress some detectives and officers. You also had an eye for stuff that would normally slip other people’s mind, the small details were more or less important to you. Admittedly, your interest in detective work stemmed from the fact you loved horror movies and shows. Even books. It would be a silly idea in the eyes of others but you figured you could do some good. You were also extremely annoyed at how incompetent other officers could be, not writing reports in detail or straight up refusing to do a full investigation. It was ridiculous and you figured you’d try and change this.

Johnathan Stevens was the name of your supervisor, an older gentleman. He formerly investigated murders and unsolved crimes in the fifties and sixties, his prime. Some would even consider his work to dabble in the supernatural. You weren’t sure if you believed such things, not that you were a skeptic since there were small things you couldn’t explain growing up. His work was great nonetheless and he saw the potential in you. You admired him and he gave a good word to others on your behalf. He was the reason you got a job in helping the investigation in Roseville. Ah yes, Roseville.

You were excited in a way. Johnathan was able to get you a role in the investigation of the Roseville Murders. The prime suspect was a man in a costume who went by the name Ghost Face. They ultimately branded the series of murders as the Ghost Face Murders. Y/N read the files and you began to think of your own theories on who this mysterious murderer could be. The murders were premeditated and were always executed in a similar fashion. Y/N saw some photos left behind by the Ghost Face, he enjoyed posing and took pride in his work. Your train of thought suddenly ended when you saw the town’s sign.

“Welcome to Roseville.” You subconsciously mumbled. There was a slight feeling of regret and worry that itched at you from the inside but you brushed it off. No going back now, you wanted to be a good detective and help those in need.

Your hands brushed towards your turn signals. The apartment you rented wasn’t too far and you didn’t have too many things you brought with you. Roseville seemed like a quiet little city, very peaceful and tidy. A part of you had trouble even imagining that such grizzly murders could take place in what people would consider a perfect town or city. This seemed like a place where somebody would want to raise a family or live a quiet life, it pretty much had everything you needed. You didn’t blame them, the big city life was horrendous, as were the crimes there committed. Y/N sighed deeply as you pulled into the parking lot of the apartment building. It was red and looked somewhat old. Not that it mattered, you were happy with anything at this point. You rubbed your eyes again before resting your forehead on your steering wheel, putting your car into park.

It was about 6:00 PM, you didn’t have to be at the station until 7:30 PM. Much to your dismay, it was enough time to talk to your landlord. You had met prior on a phone call and you got the apartment rather easily. You saw pictures and were instantly keen on getting a lease for it. You checked your mirror to quickly fix your hair up and refresh yourself. After a moment or two, you got out and walked towards the door. Y/N pushed it open and caught a glimpse of the lobby. It was well-furnished and tidy. It was a lot better than your old apartment building in the city. Your mood lightened up, looking forward to a somewhat quieter life. You figured you had your share of the city bars and nightclubs, other shenanigans you encountered when you were slightly younger. You took a few steps in and walked towards the main office. Your shyer tendencies made you hesitate but you knocked lightly on the door, pushing it open.

“Hello?” You called out as you made eye-contact with a blonde woman.

“How can I help you?” The woman asked you, putting away some papers into a filing cabinet.

Her hair was actually kind of long and seemed natural. Her skin was fair and her eyes were a darker shade of blue. The woman’s dark eyebrows helped in bringing out her beautiful features. She was a thin but tall woman. Her attire consisted of a white turtleneck with a cardigan, dress, and black dress shoes with long, white stockings. It was a healthy mix of coziness and business. Y/N smiled kindly and extended her hand out.

“I’m Y/N L/N. I assume that you’re Deborah?” You asked as she quickly returned the smile, a more charming one. She shook your hand, her touch felt welcoming, something that was needed in Roseville.

“Yes, I am. Lovely to finally meet you! How was the trip?” She asked as you shrugged slightly.

“A bit boring but I made it.” You replied as she giggled a bit.

“Take it from me, Roseville is happy you decided to come. The rumors and murders have driven a few people away. We’re happy to have another officer to help.” Deborah said to you.

“Yeah, well, if anybody ever gives you trouble then you’ll know where to find me.” You said as she perked up. Deborah quickly walked towards her desk and grabbed a set of old, somewhat rusty keys. With a sweet smile, the woman planted the metal in your palm.

“Thank you, Y/N. I appreciate you choosing here to live. If you need help unloading your stuff, my brothers are one call away.” She said. With that voice and attitude, the woman would have made an excellent commercial woman.

“I should be fine.” You assured the woman before exiting the office space.

You swiftly walked out towards the parking lot. It was a rather nice evening so far. The sky was a mixture of pink and red with a nice breeze. You held your forehead for a second, having small flashbacks of a man grunting and swearing. You shut your eyes tightly for a moment before sighing stubbornly. Y/N didn’t want to waste anymore time remembering what happened, it was pointless. A part of you felt gross and weird. Your eyes narrowed in an annoyed manner, looking at the stuff you had to bring in.

Maybe you didn’t want to bring in that stuff anymore. You looked around, there was a bakery and a coffee shop nearby on the beautifully constructed sidewalks. Each shop had a small garden or some sort of plant in the front. Roseville was old in an industrial sort of way but the shops, houses, and plant life made it have a rather beautiful aesthetic. Not only that but you enjoyed the weather. You sighed softly, deciding that you should just walk to the police station. Ignoring the lazy and depressing feeling you had, you decided to just walk to clear your head of the memories. And so, you locked the doors to the rental truck and began your little adventure.

“You realize what you’ve done, right?” Jonathan questioned you, his nostrils flaring slightly. In his eyes were a deep stare of concentration. You felt numb but remorseless, you kept your head down.

“He was going to hurt me, Jon.” You mumbled to him, your eyebrows tightly knitted as you looked for any sort of agreement within his eyes. The man sighed deeply, rubbing his eyes with his fingers. Jonathan seemed tired.

“I know he was, kid... but you shot a man. You took a mans life. I understand you did it to defend yourself but the court might not see it that way.” He said.

“Well, I’m glad I did. He would’ve hurt more women. Innocent women.” You replied with bitterness in your voice. He sighed before sitting down, taking a moment to collect his thoughts. His eyes met yours as you looked away.

You thought about the incident a lot. You replayed your own screams in your head before the distinct sound of a gun fired in your ears. Before you even realized it, you were staring dead ahead, reliving it with intense focus. It’s not like you wanted to, it was automatic and you still didn’t process most of it. In fact, it felt like a dream. Y/N shut her eyes, exhaling sharply before looking at the man in front of her. Your eyelids rested, the numbness overcoming the raw feeling of the flashback you had just endured.

“There’s... a case in a city. A smaller city. If I talked to the others and reassigned you somewhere far, would you do it? We’ve known you for years and we care. I know that man could’ve hurt my wife, my daughter, my sister... we understand. Not many people know about this. We could help you.” He said.

“What do you mean? Won’t I be charged for it?” You asked him.

“Np, not if we... sweep this under the rug. But, if we do this then you have to do something in return. Do you want this?” He asked you. Your eyebrows lifted in surprise as you pondered his offer for a moment, you looked around the room.

“I-I do, but... will they actually do this? For me?” Y/N asked as he nodded. He seemed a bit gruff, just tired from the paperwork.

“We’ve discussed it but listen to me. You can’t tell anybody about this. We’re doing you a big favor, a huge one. The director said that more officers and detectives are needed in Roseville, he said they’d be glad to accept you. This will be a lot better than telling the court what happened.” He said.

“I, yeah, yeah.” You said, nodding in slight anticipation. Nonetheless, you were very grateful for this opportunity.

“Whenever you’re ready then but it might have to be in the next week or two.” Jonathan said to you as he looked around, somewhat nervously.

“Thank you...” You replied a bit awkwardly, not sure how to display your gratitude for him. He only nodded with a small smile, patting your head.

“Go home, kid. I’ll handle the guy.” He said as you nodded.

You sighed as you looked upwards, the sky was a mixture of purple and blue. This was your favorite type of weather. It brought peace and calmness. A small smile curled onto your lips when you thought of the old times, when you first experienced freedom and happiness. Your hands slid into your pockets as you continued to walk down the sidewalk, your gaze averting to the large building ahead. The Roseville Police Department, your future workplace.

The building looked rather strange for a police department. It had gates and vines around it, it almost looked like a school. Then again, school was indeed prison. You didn’t think about school much, in fact, you hated it. You never could relate to the other teens. Aside from writing and art, you really enjoyed watching horror movies. Anything horror intrigued you, books and movies alike. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that you were a horror fanatic. Strangely, it sort of inspired you to pursue this career. You were always pretty tough, blood and gore never bothered you. Even when you went to a morgue, it brought a small feeling of peace knowing the deceased were at rest.

You got closer and closer to the station, quickly since you were so lost within your own thoughts. The doors to the station were wooden yet grey, very large. Y/N looked around, there were very few police cars. Maybe being understaffed wasn’t the problem, it’s the fact that they seemed to be very poorly funded. You pushed the large door open, looking around the inside of the station. It was very eerie and quiet but seemed very cozy. A perfect image of the nineties. With your arms crossed, you walked up to the front desk. There was a cup of coffee, you assumed it was cold and took another look around. There were medical beds and tons of chairs stacked together. Not only that but there were statues and paintings. The paintings seemed old but the faces were creepy. Upon staring at them, you soon found inspiration in their haunting gazes.

This was going to be an interesting job, you thought.

Jed Olsen sighed deeply as he looked through different piles of papers that were piled together. It was rather stressful to have to proof-read his coworker’s work. Some of the work he looked over was really badly written. No wonder somebody of his talents got that job really easily. Ever since he arrived at Roseville, he thought he made a good impact on the city. Roseville lived in fear and that’s how he liked it.

As the young man’s thoughts turned towards his other line of profession, he smiled widely and rested his eyebrows. His name wasn’t actually Jed, it was Danny Johnson. Jed Olsen was the alter ego that Danny created when he came to this place. Aside from killing, writing was one of his professions. Danny was good at it and he even got to write about his own murders. It was exhilarating, to say the least. It brought excitement to this city, it brought excitement into his own life. The journalist façade was a great gig, he needed a job anyways. It was very convenient nobody questioned him or invited him to the bar. Then again, he was a bit younger so his coworkers didn’t bother to hang out with him much.

Danny looked around cautiously before pulling his bag towards him. He only carried around his camera. In his office, there weren’t any cameras and his door actually had a lock. There wasn’t anybody around since it was the evening and he decided to stay late to proof-read papers. His camera was black yet worn out and scratched up. Still, he chose to ignore it since that thing was his prized possession. Danny pretty much checked on it everyday to make sure it wasn’t broken and to just simply admire his work he did on it.

“Hmm...” He hummed to himself as he clicked through the photos on it. He smirked looking through his work.

His next murder was going to be perfect. Danny planned on getting more photos of Ghostface doing his heinous crimes. Jed Olsen managed to get photos of the serial killer taking pictures of his murders in rather cocky ways. And of course, the police had no idea that it was him who did it. The police here were amateurs that didn’t do their job right. It was incredibly easy getting away with the murders and surprisingly, the FBI didn’t get involved. Oh well, the law enforcement probably had other things to deal with right now.

As he clicked through the photos, thinking about his next murders, his thoughts were interrupted when he heard the familiar chime of the front door open. Maybe it was his boss? Danny quickly put his camera away in his desk drawer and rushed to unlock his door. The Roseville Gazette was usually a quiet place. He looked up as he noticed a young woman at the front desk of the gazette.

“Hey, how can I help you?” He asked, immediately switching to his Jed persona.

“Hi, I’m Y/N. I was wondering if there was a Jed Olsen around here? I didn’t realize it was quiet here.” She said with a smile.

For a moment, Danny focused on her smile. It was a beautiful and genuine smile. Strange but not everybody was as shallow as his victims or the people he met. His gaze averted to her eyes and then her face. She was indeed a very beautiful person. A pleasant surprise, not that Danny ever indulged in romance.

“You’re speaking to him.” He replied with a playful shrug.

Y/N stared at him for a second before raising her eyebrows in surprise.

“Oh. well nice to meet you, Mr. Olsen.” You said as you extended your hand.

“The pleasure is mine.” Danny replied as he shook your hand.

The touch of your hand was rather soft. He didn’t know it yet but he felt slightly flustered. Danny never really met anybody that he considered attractive. Maybe he did but he never paid attention to that sort of thing.

“Do you have time right now? Or wanna schedule a date to quickly go over your work?” You asked him.

“A date?” He asked blankly. Danny didn’t know what you meant but his brain took it in a romantic way since he thought you were pretty. Your eyebrows furrowed awkwardly in confusion as you nodded slightly with a small smile.

“Um, yeah... I can come back sometime or we can meet at a coffee shop. I’m a detective so... yeah.” You say, automatically getting awkward around people your age. Danny nearly facepalmed himself but his mind quickly went to darker places.

A new detective? A detective who wanted to talk to him one-on-one? None of the detectives decided they wanted to question him. Did this woman find something? Did she suspect him? She looked like she could be a psychologist or something so maybe she wanted to see how he’d react when explaining the Ghostface articles he wrote? He’d have to get her last name and see where she lived. Y/N looked like she’d be easy to kill.

“Jed?” She asked in concern.

“Oh, yeah. Definitely... I have time right now. Sorry, I just get zoned out when I think of the murders and the sick photos he took.” He apologized.

“Don’t be sorry, that type of stuff is something nobody can get used to.” You reassured him. Jed was actually quite handsome.

“Yeah, you’re right. Come into my office.” He said, signaling with his head where his office was. You followed him in.

The office was old. It seemed rather boring at first but that’s what office jobs are for, anyways. His desk was quite clean. Jed seemed to be a very organized person. It would make sense considering his work on the Ghostface murders. You took a seat across from his desk and smiled a bit as he sat down. You were a pretty diligent worker so got straight to the point.

“So, Jed... as you know, there’s an ongoing investigation on the Ghostface Murders that I was assigned to.” You began. Danny nodded, leaning back in his office chair comfortably. He stared at you intently, watching your expression as he worried.

“I took on the liberty of reading your work on the murders. You write about him in a very peculiar way... admirably, almost.” You said to him. Danny tried to hide his worry but he was trying to figure out a way to kill you quickly. Maybe you were FBI? You were already sharper compared to the other officers/

“Anyways, I really love your work, Jed. I’ve taken a personal interest in the Ghostface. And as a detective, I’d like to get to try and get to know him as best I can.” You said with a hint of excitement in your eyes.

“Get to know him…?” He replied, slowly reaching for the knife taped under his desk.

“With your work and your input, I could put together a psychological report on him. If we want to catch him, we should figure out what type of person he is first.” Y/N said.

Danny’s fingers stopped right above the knife. His hand slowly backed away from the bottom of the desk. So, she didn’t suspect him? Danny almost laughed out of relief and at her. He was stupid for thinking she could’ve found out he was Ghostface. Y/N only seemed to be interested in his work.

“Oh, I see… yeah, that would make sense.” He said to you as you crossed one leg.

“I’m glad you agree. I’m determined to catch him and maybe even see his motivation.” You replied to him. Danny’s eyes sparked for a moment as he stared at you.

“His motivation?” He asked as you thought for a moment.

“Probably sounds strange, I know but… he must have a reason, right? And I find it so interesting how he goes about his murders. I actually have a theory about him.” You explained.

You seemed to trust Jed Olsen. The other officers and detectives said he liked to bug and probe them all the time for more information regarding the murders and what their progress was like. And truth be told? There was very little they could go off of. Ghostface was too methodical and careful, left absolutely no trace of himself besides the pictures Jed retrieved. He was a hard-working journalist and you had a good feeling about him, anywyas.

He was also pretty cute.

“I don’t think it’s strange, at all. I’ve never seen any of the detectives so passionate about the case. They always brush me off… so, what’s this theory?” Danny asked you, watching your expressions.

“Well, I only just saw your work today but I thought about it when I walked here. Ghostface seems to be rather cocky, a common trait in younger men. But, since we never caught him or anything, I know he’s really careful with what he does. The murders are also premeditated. They’re too… clean and carefully executed even if it is a bloodbath.” You sort of rambled on.

A weird feeling tingled inside of Danny as you continued to explain your theory.

“He’s really cunning and methodical. And based on my other observations, I think he uses the murders as a way of expressing himself. I’ve read about other serial killers caught… they usually leave marks, take trophies, and know the victim in some ways. Or they’re just cold-blooded but not in his case. I think he sees the murders as a form of art or something along those lines.” You said to him.

His eyebrows raised in surprise. Who the hell was she? Danny thought for a moment. She was right, he did see his murders as art and something beautiful. Did she see it that way too? This woman was strange, indeed. As as young detective, he admired her naive nature.

“That would actually make sense… he does seem to make an unnecessarily big mess when killing and yet, the police can’t find anything on him? It makes total sense.” Jed replied.

“Right? Anyways, I was going to ask if you can type of a report or something along those lines. Give me every single detail you know about him and your analogy. Your input could be vital to solving this case.” You said, standing up.

“If you don’t mind me asking, detective, why are you so interested in him? You’re really passionate about this.” He said to you.

“I wanna understand him and see more of his artwork… it’s pretty fascinating. Also, you can just call me Y/N. Have that report ready in a week?” She asked him.

“Yeah, definitely.” Danny replied to you.

“See you then, Jed.” Y/N said as she nodded with a confident smile.

Y/N was indeed young and naive. Although, she didn’t share anything confidential, she placed a lot of trust into the journalist. Then again, why should she be untrusting of him? The young woman was so passionate, intelligent, and seemed to have a very strong sense of independence. Danny assumed she came here without any authority, taking matters into her own hands. A by-the-book cop? Maybe, maybe not. Danny found that strangely attractive. However, she might even hinder his efforts and catch him. He couldn’t let that happen, yet…

There was something so intoxicating about her. Danny never met anybody that was so compassionate and understanding to his cause. Maybe, he saw her motivation in his own twisted way. This woman wanted to understand him, to see things as he does. Nobody has ever went to that length for him. Not only that but, she had no problem talking about such grimey things in a way that she didn’t get disgusted. The man had a bit of a crazed stare in his eyes as he began to recall her features.

Detective Y/N, just who were you?

And so, the obsession begins.

#dbd x reader #dead by daylight #dead by daylight fanfic #dbd fanfic #ghostface #ghostface x reader #jed olsen x reader #danny johnson x reader #dead by daylight x reader #danny johnson #jed olsen #the ghostface

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marvelgurl · 3 years

Text

Off-Limits: Part 1

Characters: Tom Holland X Reader Osterfield, Harrison Osterfield

Word Count: 2005

Warning: language, fluff (I think that's it...)

A/n: This is the first of many parts. I want to apologize now, this part is a little on the boring side (well that's what I think) but I needed to set a lot of things up in this in this one. It gets better I promise.

Also Feedback is more than welcome, the good and the bad.

Tumblr Masterlist. Off-Limits Masterlist

Today was a hectic day for you to say the least. You had to make sure everything was set for your move back home tomorrow. You have been living in the states for the last four years. You had left home to pursue dancing. You had gotten into Juilliard. It was something that you had dreamed of since you were a little girl. Your mother had signed you up for dance when you were about 4 and you just never took off your ballet slippers. When you had gotten accepted, you were in shock. Only 7% of applicants are actually accepted. With the support of your amazing family, you were able to follow that dream. You had left home at 17, now here you are 21 and a Juilliard graduate.

*Ring

“Hello?”

“Hey Y/n!”

“Harrison, how are you?

“I’m good, Are you ready for tomorrow?��

“Well since you called me in the middle of me packing, I’m going to say no, I’m not ready at all Haz.”

You were so excited to hear from him. It felt like you haven’t talked to him in ages. When in reality you talked to him almost every day. You were looking forward to seeing him tomorrow. It has been hard on you not being able to see him. You guys were super close before you left. Which made you try that much harder to keep in touch with him. There were nights where you were up extremely late, because of rehearsals, and you still wanted to talk to him. So, you would call, and every time without fail, he would pick up. Some nights you guys would just sit on facetime and not actually be talking. You have fallen asleep on the phone with him many times, but you wouldn’t change those moments for anything.

“Well maybe you should have started earlier.” The sass coming from him made you chuckle.

“I started three days ago. I just get sidetracked easily remember.”

“With what? Have you collected that much stuff in the last four years?”

“No, it’s just I have tons of photos and things that bring up memories. Mostly it’s the stuff that I brought with me that keeps distracting me.”

“Oh well, soon you will be back home, and you won’t have to look at my adorable face through photos anymore.”

“Bold of you to assume that they are all of you.”

“Well who else would they be of?”

“Hold on.”

You switched to facetime. After Haz popped up on your screen you propped up your phone on the table. You walked over to one of your bags and pulled out a box. Bringing it over to the table before opening it. The first photo was of you and Harrison. You were about 6 and he was 5. You had your hand on your hip, you were also kind of glaring at Haz because he was making fun of you for being shorter than him.

“I know this one has you in it, but I absolutely love it. Do you remember when mum took us to that studio to have professional photos taken?” You flipped the photo around for him to see.

“Yeah, I looked good in those photos.”

“Haz, I’m in those photos too.”

“Sorry, my eyes went straight to me.” He gave you a little smile.

“Of course, they did.” You picked up the next one. “This one is of me and my favorite Holland boy.”

You showed him a photo of you and Paddy. It was from the day before you were leaving for New York. He was super upset that you were leaving. He was hugging you and didn’t want to let you go. You asked him if he had a photo of the two of you, would it help him. He of course said yes. So, you pulled your phone out and took a photo. Later you had two of them printed, and you gave one to him and kept one for yourself.

“Aww Paddy. Okay I will give you that one. He’s my favorite too. Next one.”

“You do realize that this isn’t helping me get any packing done.”

“I know but would you rather be doing this or packing?”

“You got me there. Moving on, this one is of Tom and I.”

You show him the photo. Tom had picked you up and had you hanging off his shoulder. You were laughing pretty hard at his sudden movement. You remember being too far back, you thought that he was going to drop you. So, you had wrapped one of your arms around his waist to make sure you had an anchor if you slipped out of his hands.

“If I remember correctly, I took that photo.”

“Okay, I am so done with you.”

“No, wait what else do you have in that box?”

“Umm, a bunch of little things. Like movie stubs, a small notebook that has drawings, concert tickets, some old jewelry that is too small for me now, my first pair of ballet shoes, some cards, figurines and a few other things.”

“Wow, I didn’t know you were so sentimental.”

“Well I am. This box is basically my life. Everything in here has a memory or a feeling attached to it. Whether it was mine, someone gave it to me or even just one of the photos. I would be absolutely devastated if something happened to it”

“That’s a lot of pressure to put on a box Y/n.” This caused both of you to chuckle, you could tell he was trying to lighten the mood.

“I guess it is, but it is literally my world in a box.”

You started hearing talking in the background. Harrison looked off to the side and started talking.

“Oh, sorry mate I didn’t realize you were on a call.”

“It’s okay, she won’t mind.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.” Harrison turned his phone slightly to the side so that half of his face was still on screen. The other half was to dark to make out a face. You started looking around at how much you had left to do.

“Y/n?” The voice sounded familiar, but you looked around for a few more seconds.

“Yeah. Hey Haz, I think I should…” When you finally looked back Tom’s face was next to your brothers. “TOM!!”

“Hey! How are you?” He seemed genuinely excited to see you.

“I’m doing alright. I have a lot of packing to finish up in the next few hours though. How are you?”

“I’m good. I’m on holiday right now. I must go back to work in a few months. So, I’m enjoying the time I have at home.”

“That’s great. Soon you will be back to saving people around the neighborhood, right Spiderboy.”

“Oh, now that hurts. It’s Spider-Man Darling.” He put his hand on his heart like you had really offended him.

“Umm… I like Spider-Boy better.” You had a cheeky grin on your face.

“Wow… I didn’t realize how much of an accent you had gotten from being over there.”

“I don’t have an accent.”

“Yes, you do. It would be weird if you didn’t though. You have been there for four years.”

“I personally don’t think I have an accent, but I guess I can’t really hear it while I’m speaking.”

Harrison was just looking between the two of you. He didn’t like the fact that you were flirting with each other, but he didn’t say anything. They have been friends just as long as he and Tom have. He decided to let the two of you talk for a little bit longer.

“I would love to keep talking but I really do have a lot of things left to pack.”

“That’s okay, I will see you when you get back.”

“Absolutely.”

“Bye Y/n. See you tomorrow. Love you.”

“Bye Haz, love you too. Bye Tom.”

“Bye.”

-The Boys-

Harrison ended the call he looked over at Tom, who was looking at his phone with a large grin on his face. Tom quickly noticed that Harrison was looking at him, and his facial expression changed.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” Tom had a confused look on his face.

“Nothing.”

“It’s not nothing, what’s wrong man?”

“I’m fine.”

“I have known you long enough to know when something is wrong. So, let’s just skip this and tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong.” He paused for a few seconds. “How long have you liked Y/n?”

“What?! I don’t, we are just friends.”

“Then why are you flirting with her?”

“I wasn’t. Like I said we are just friends.”

Harrison got up and started walking to the door to leave. “Let’s keep it that way Tom.”

-Back to Y/n-

After the call ended you got back to work. You were able to get the rest of your things packed with little to no distractions. Once that was all done you started on the cleaning. You also made sure to lay out everything on the counter that you would need for the morning. After going through your mental check list, you packed it all into your backpack.

Once everything was done, you looked around the empty apartment. Thinking about all the memories that you have made here. You were going to miss it, but you couldn’t wait to go home.

You remembered back to when Tom and Harrison were in New York. You had been able to see Tom in action. Harrison brought you to set a couple of times while Tom was filming. You had an awesome time seeing how all the things on set work. How even though there are a million different moving parts, they worked like a well-oiled machine. You were also able to meet a few of the cast members while you were there.

In return, you had taken Harrison and Tom with you to a few rehearsals and then your final showcase. You know that it wasn’t as exciting as watching a Marvel movie being made but you wanted to show the guys what you had been doing. They were excited to go with you. After the showcase you had found them, they were telling you how awesome you had done. They also told you how proud of you they were. Tom had gotten you a bouquet of flowers, which was another thing you had in your box. You had taken a couple of the flowers and pressed them until they dried. Then you sealed them so that they would stay like that forever.

The next day, you were up early enough that it didn’t seem like you had gotten any sleep. You packed your rental car with all your bags before going to return your keys to the landlord. Then you were off to the airport. After the car was returned, bags were checked and you were on the plane, you finally felt like you could relax. You had a 7-hour flight ahead of you. You had plenty of things to distract you for that time. You would be getting to London around 20:00 (8pm) Due to the time change.

Once you landed, you had to get a trolley for your luggage. Your Mother had dropped off a car for you. Thankfully she had given you a spare key before leaving. You packed the car and drove home. You had so much anxiety built up from the last few days. Now as you were getting closer, you could start to feel all of it melting away.

You pulled the car up in front of your childhood home. You decide to sit there for a few moments. You couldn’t believe after all this time you were finally home. You loved America, but nothing can compare to being back in London. You took a deep breath before getting out of the car. You decided to unload all your bags and carry them up the stairs to the door. After you had everything there, you were finally ready to opened the door.

Off-Limits Tags:

@aidinniram @houseofflufff @justafangirlduh @shrutipatel08

#tom holland x reader #tom holland #harrison osterfield #reader osterfield #mcu imagine #mcu cast #rpf #rpf tom holland #fan fiction #fanfic #off-limits #new series #fluff #angst #part 1 #holland brothers #Tom holland X Reader osterfield

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arambleaway · 3 years

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Okay, so like Ace Attorney recently ate my brain. And I have never played any of the games. This is the true potential of the internet at work people. Anyway.

I keep thinking about my very specific images of Phoenix Wright, Miles Edgeworth, and the relationship therein. This is gonna be a long one because I can't be assed to make it more coherent than the mess it is in my brain.

So. Phoenix is obviously from a very loving and supportive family except they absolutely loathe the law and law professionals. Phoenix is trans and his family is super supportive, allowing him to express himself even from a young age. Unfortunately, Phoenix's new teacher isn't so great. Is actually a bit of a piece of shit and has been isolating Phoenix and so the poor boy has spent the first couple months of being out being harassed by his teacher and classmates. And that is part of why the trial sticks with Phoenix so much. Because Miles stands up to not only the students, but the teacher and all of the vitriol they've been leaking as well. And he doesn't just drop Phoenix after. He still wants him around and as a little kid that shit sticks with Phoenix far longer than it does with Larry and Edgeworth. Also, unfortunately, if you've got one asshole teacher, you've likely got a few nearby, so Phoenix's family does their best to support him and they offer to transfer him and do what they can, but Phoenix as a child is afraid to move and never see Edgeworth or Larry again so he doesn't. And then when he starts writing letters, he finds he can't stop because they become confessionals of a sort and a place where he doesn't have to be on guard and can know that the person he is writing to is accepting of his identity even if he does wonder from time to time if maybe Edgeworth no longer accepts him.

Anyway, then canon, yada yada. Lets talk about Miles now. Miles is depressed, okay. And he writes that note (you know the one) completely literally. But here's the thing: Miles knows the trauma of finding dead bodies. Has probably seen the mess they leave, and doesn't want to cause more harm than he already has. So he writes the note and packs the pills/blade/etc into a suitcase and takes a flight to Europe where no one that knows him will have a chance to stumble upon him. The turnabout is this: on the plane over he gets into an argument with his seat buddy. Its no one important, but the key info on him is that he is in therapy and sort of off hand brings it up and Miles, who was not raised with a pleasant idea of therapists and such starts an unholy row with him, blatantly projecting his own insecurities and perceived weaknesses on this poor man. The flight attendants have to separate the two and the man spends the rest of the time in first class. Miles spends the rest of the flight getting dirty looks from everyone else. By the flight's end he is frothing at the mouth and the man's assertion that therapy is not something for the faint of heart has been burrowing under his skin. He gets off the plane and rather than immediately commit he thinks he might as well make the source clear and winds up at the empty von Karma estate. He spends the night with a blade on his wrist and voices in his ears. But he doesn't move.

He falls asleep and he wakes from a nightmare he can't recall and it is noon the next day. He doesn't eat, he doesn't move. He just lays there and thinks. He thinks about Phoenix, Franziska, His Father, von Karma, all the lives he's sent to prison after measuring them against a false scale, and he thinks of the man on the plane. He thinks of the things he said, the ring he noticed on his finger, and the husband that was brought up at some point in their altercation. He thinks a lot about what it means to be and Edgeworth and what it means to be a von Karma. He picks up the blade and he puts it in his suitcase. He starts to research Therapists. Because he is going to have the best therapist in the business if he is going to do this. (He just kinda goes for the one with the most academic accolades that is willing to do home visits or move of some shit, anyway) Miles Edgeworth starts therapy and it goes horribly. Miles hates it viscerally and he doesn't feel like his therapist understands. (Which they don't. They keep trying to convince Edgeworth to see and actual trauma specialist and find someone that he clicks with rather than coming back to them). His therapist is worth their name though, and Miles is actually hospitalized due to being a danger to himself. For all that he loathes this, it does eventually allow him to meet with an actual trauma specializing therapist and finally maybe understand what the big deal is. He still hates it, but he finds the therapist that actually suits him and things get a little better.

The first thing is he stops living in the von Karma estate. He admits its a bad place for him to be at the moment and so he moves closer to his therapist and gets a rental flat. Second he gets a new wardrobe. He's been using his stuff left at the von Karma home and all of it is his flashy very "von Karma" wear. So he goes and gets new suits tailored in his preferred style and he pays for them and wears them because he realizes he likes them and not because he is trying to emulate his Mentor. This step is especially a big deal because it is the first moment where he is able to really define who "Miles Edgeworth" is outside of the confines of the courtroom. In all this, of course, he is also figuring out who he is within the courtroom as well. After committing to his therapist and recovery, he goes back into Law in Germany and really tries to define why he still wants to be there. I like to think he spends some time in small courts as a defense attorney assistant while trying to redefine his place. Anyway, eventually Miles decides he wants to remove his old stuff from the von Karma estate. He might move in his new stuff but for now it is merely removing the old, giving him the space and option of a new start. In clearing his stuff he winds up in the storage space on the household and there he finds an old suitcase.

The suitcase is Miles's from when he first came to the household. Von Karma had told the staff to pitch it when they first arrived and apparently whoever was on duty that day was kind enough to save it for later. Miles has a bit of a breakdown on seeing it and has a rather sharp set back in his improvement. He finds himself staring at the knife again. Because he never put it away. He still doesn't. But he doesn't touch it, just looks. Miles fights his way back out of the hole and in doing so removes all of his things from the estate except that little suitcase. Its the last thing and he opens it to slowly deal with the contents. Most of it is children's clothes, some expired toiletries, but buried in the deepest part of the case, wrapped lovingly in an old bowtie is his Father's defense attorney badge. Miles doesn't have a breakdown this time (yay!) but he does spend the next week unable to sleep for the sheer intensity of his nightmares. He carries on though. He slowly and surely patches together who exactly Miles Edgeworth is and what he wants to stand for. And that little gold badge stays folded in the bow tie and tucked in the deepest corner of his latest suitcase. He throws out the knife.

Once again back to canon, he returns doesn't tell anyone shit, and slowly relearns Phoenix Wright and what that man means to him. Hazakura temple, all the gay vibes, until the disbarment era. Lets stop by Phoenix again, shall we?

Phoenix is disbarred and for the first so many years he is genuinely friends with Kristoph Gavin. None of this "oh i always suspected shit", he believes in Kristoph, because that's who Phoenix is. At this point Edgeworth is still in Europe and a large part of that is so that he can continue with his therapy. But he does drop everything to talk to Phoenix once he hears the news. He immediately knows that something is up because Phoenix would never and he believes in him more than anyone else and he is offering to do everything in his power to make this better because Phoenix is worth it and Miles love-- woah. that's a new emotion. what the fuck is up with that. So anyway Miles realizes that he has some less than platonic feelings and he wants to run back to Europe and his therapist and figure out what it all means, but above all Wright is his Friend dammit and he owes him so much. But on Phoenix's side, he sees how far Edgeworth is offering to go and he turns down all of the things that would cause Miles's life to be disrupted. He does accept the knowledge and shoulder to lean on that Edgeworth offers, but Edgeworth doesn't need to move continents or anything. Besides he has Kristoph here to help. And Miles kind of hates all of this situation, but he knows that he truly doesn't have the kind of knowledge and pull to really be of service not to mention his new discovery is not doing his health any favors. So he goes back to Germany and Phoenix stays with Kristoph.

Now Miles is in Germany figuring out how to manage complex emotions and romantic relationships, while Phoenix is working with Kristoph, who becomes Kris, who could maybe be more except Phoenix isn't sure it would be fair to him since he has become more than a little hung up on Edgeworth since he came back from Europe. And because when Edgeworth asks him to Europe he jumps with no forethought. He gets Kris to watch Trucy and jets off to spend time with Miles. They do their amazing duo routine and Edgeworth comes away from the encounter knowing that yes, he very much would like a romantic relationship with Phoenix. Okay. Now how to go about it. Meanwhile Phoenix gets back and sees Trucy and this is when he realizes that Kristoph is dirty. Trucy tells him about something she saw while she stayed with him and something clicks and Phoenix has a mild breakdown because of how much danger he just realizes she might be in. He calls Miles at some point during this and Miles talks him down. He falls asleep and in the morning he doesn't shave. He smiles and gets Trucy to school, then sits in the office and tries to figure out where he goes from here. That afternoon there is knock at the door.

Miles Edgeworth does nothing half way and has flown to Phoenix just to be able to help him figure out the next steps and comfort him. Phoenix is officially gone for this man. The two talk and scheme and eventually hatch their mad plan to rebuild the entire fucking system. Miles will use his distance to research and provide information, Phoenix will keep an eye on Kristoph and start building what he can here. In all of this Trucy's safety comes up. Phoenix actually considers sending her with Miles. Miles puts that idea to a stop real quick, though he does mention doing more visits and such. Trucy is very happy to hear about this and demands to go every time. Phoenix says something along the lines of it being more expensive for two people to fly and joking that it would be cheaper if they just let him keep her in his suitcase. This is how Miles Edgeworth returns to Germany with a solid plan for the future and one Magician more than planned. Trucy obviously sneaks into his luggage and somehow makes it with him to Germany. In doing so she finds the badge in his bag, and despite the intense scolding she gets, the two are finally able to really connect and bond as Miles opens up to her a bit about his Father and what he has gone through.

Eventually Trucy gets back where she belongs and despite a few more hijinks over the years things progress via canon. Edgeworth and Phoenix have both accepted their feelings but have yet to act on them as neither is in a position to properly be with the other as they wish. So they flirt and argue and love each other intensely as only the best of friends and trauma buddies can. It all pays off and Kristoph is arrested. Phoenix is innocent, but he is unsure about going back into law. In this case, Kris was kinda the last proof of where blind belief will get you and it isn't just a façade, Phoenix is a lot bitter at the larger world and himself. So he isn't in the greatest place mentally, and Edgeworth sees it. And for the first time he thinks about reaching out to someone. Especially because this is Phoenix not just a random stranger on a plane. Then he finds he has the option to take the Chief Prosecutor position, and he finds himself staring at his Father's badge. He thinks on the years and his growth, and he talks with his therapist. And he decides to move. He takes the new position and seeing Phoenix struggle so close he finally shares about therapy. Not all of it. Nothing really just that he goes and has since the year-they-do-not-speak-of and that he is looking for a new one in the city and maybe Phoenix would like to help him. Because he values Phoenix and his opinions. Phoenix does eventually wind up in a therapists office and it is a mess, but it helps.

The two reconnect more strongly than ever and shortly thereafter Phoenix agrees to take the Bar again. Miles supports him in this and watches as he struggles and groans but makes it through. And at the same time he watches him heal a bit from the atrocities of the past 7 years. When Phoenix passes he is over-joyed and that night finds him holding his Father's badge and slowly thinking. Turning the idea over and over he can't bring himself to ignore it. He walks up to Phoenix in the office the next day and with all the drama of a marriage proposal give Phoenix his Father's badge. Apollo starts to realize exactly what sort of shit he signed up for. Especially when Miles turns up a couple weeks later and attempts to strangle Phoenix with his own tie and demands having the badge back because What The Fuck. An Orca. You Absolute Dumbass.

This is the point where my ideas dry up. Because where I leave them is pining idiots that are actually doing pretty ok. I figure they eventually get their shit together, but only after inflicting immense suffering on their co-workers and the legal system as a whole with their obvious pining and flirting. I barely know Apollo but watching him suffer is just more amusing than it should be. Also Miles is Autistic and it actually is part of what allows him to bond with Trucy.

#ace attorney #narumitsu #wrightworth #holy hell #what the actual fuck.#this was just like #bouncing in my brain for a few weeks and wouldn't leave #why is it so much #maybe #i feel like i blacked out #seriously #what the fuck #miles edgeworth #phoenix wright

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lovecanbesostrange · 3 years

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Welcome to another installment of random RRCAU fic, from the big, big universe that lives on the Ruby Lucas Harem Discord, because konako got that one random ask that time. (ask us about the insane College AU now, I dare you, we have answers you don’t even want)

So, if you follow that, have another scene. But this one is, heavy, because it’s all about the big dramatic death around the end of the second year. konako made me cry with the short snippet, so I will now repay that favor with the aftermath in a bit of a long form.

(this is towards the end of Ruby’s sophomore year at college, Granny has just died)

Ruby felt numb. If she could even call it feeling. But it’s either this or crying. And this is more helpful to get through tasks on auto-pilot. Sometimes there was the anger, now like an old friend. But it’s snapping at her friends, pounding the sandbag at the gym, running like mad on the field (Coach is a human after all, didn’t even make her do laps after clearly running the wrong plays). The last few days were a hazy blur. Food, hugging, a bit of sport, people, asking for an assignment extension.

And the phone call with Anita.

She was numb during that, too. And it was for the best. They both knew Granny wanted to be cremated. Just like her husband. But Ruby knew that she also wanted her ashes to be scattered like his. And Anita had said no. She had made arrangements for the urn to be buried. A small service and a burial. Ruby had said she’d be there.

“Whatever.”

A response Ruby knew well.

Regina and Mary Margaret had brought her to the airport. She was using up Regina’s miles again. But she didn’t argue. When she landed she thought she’d get herself to the trailer park somehow, maybe a car rental. Ruby hadn’t thought about that. There was something though. And yes, there was, Mary Margaret had told her - Eva was already waiting at the exit.

Another hug. Long. Warm. Welcoming. It brought Ruby out of the haze a bit, so new tears fell. Tears for Granny. Dead. The last bit of happy memories tied to that place her mind kept insisting on calling home.

“... you can sleep in Mary’s room and I’ll take you to the airport day after tomorrow of course.” Eva already had it planned out, telling her in the car. “Ruby? Is that all okay with you?” Ruby tore off her gaze from the scenery outside, pulling her head away from the glass of the passenger’s window.

“Can we go to the Terrace?” Suddenly the name sounded hollow. “I’d like to get a couple of things.” Maybe she would be too late. Maybe Anita had thrown everything out already.

“Right away?”

“If you don’t mind, please.”

“Of course not, honey.” Eva held the steering wheel with her left hand and put her right on Ruby’s knee, squeezing. Comfort. Reassurance. “Tell me what I can do and consider it done.”

The hint of a smile pulled on the corners of Ruby’s mouth. This was Eva. This had always been Eva, even when she didn’t understand it. She got things done for her.

Pulling up at the trailer park felt strange. For one it was because Ruby was sitting in a nice car. Not rushing through the side entrance on her bike. It was also because Ruby could count the times she’d been here in the almost past two years and every time she got away from it, the place seemed smaller and further away. But mostly, without Granny this was just a glorified parking lot with a bit of green.

Eva parked and waited. Ruby unfastened her seat-belt, but she couldn’t get out. She looked over. Ruby didn’t know if she wanted to go in alone. If she could. Was it better to have Eva there as back-up? Or was that disrespectful?

“I… would you… can you maybe come with me? I don’t know if…” She didn’t know if she could even step a foot inside or would crumble at the front door the way she had days ago in front of her dorm.

“I’m right behind you.” Eva smiled. The warm mom-smile.

Ruby didn’t know if Anita would be here now. She didn’t bother knocking though and didn’t need a key. Nobody needed a key to get in, when you knew the lock wasn’t working properly and all you needed to do was lift the front door at the right angle and push hard.

Ruby opened her mouth, but closed it immediately to not say hallo into the void. Everything looked mostly as expected. There were a few empty alcohol bottles stacked next to the kitchen sink, Anita had been digging in. But she still got herself together to not let them lie around. Maybe that was good. Maybe that was something to care about.

Suddenly her home - the trailer - looked depressing. More than usual. Granny wasn’t sitting outside or lying in bed. The tiny tv was not running. That specific background noise missing was a big deal. Sure, Granny had been in and out of the hospital, but the finality was felt.

Ruby breathed in, the hitch alerted Eva and she touched her on her back, steadied her. The smell. Oh the smell was home. The mix of the cheap laundry detergent, the sharp air freshener, the lingering scent of Granny mixed with Anita’s aggressive perfume. It smelt a bit different than she remembered, but that was probably herself missing from this equation for a long time now.

Slowly Ruby stepped towards the bedroom. The smell of Granny got stronger. Without thinking about it she sat down on the bed. The linens crisp and clean, waiting for someone to sleep here again. There were pills on the nightstand. The little tub with daily doses already in order. Ruby picked it up. Monday and Tuesday were empty, she looked at Wednesday and the morning was missing. Right, after that Granny had called an ambulance. Thursday’s pills were untouched. Thursday had been the last time she had seen her. Ever.

Anita hadn’t touched anything in here as far as Ruby could tell. It was a surprise. Maybe she didn’t know what to do with all the stuff. And maybe, just maybe, there was more emotional baggage inside of her and she couldn’t let go of her mother. She had never left either. She could have. She could have let Granny rot alone in here and not just disappear a few days at a time, but forever. And yet Anita had always come back. Despite everything.

Ruby put the pill box back down and grabbed the framed photo. It was Granny’s wedding picture. She had never stopped loving that man that barely had time to get to know his own daughter and who never knew that his memory lived in a granddaughter he never met at all. They were a handsome couple. This was one of three pictures she knew she wanted above all else.

Her hand was already under the bed, searching the shoe box stashed there. Yes. She opened it and was greeted with all the letters she had sent home the last two years. It felt like so little, but she knew it had meant much. Granny had taken the photos from some of these out and put them on the wall next to the tv. But the pictures Ruby was searching were underneath it all.

An old black and white photograph. More brownish actually, genuine sepia, grainy, worn on the edges. It was Granny as a child with her three older brothers. It was the only thing Ruby knew of, that even proved they once had been alive. Before that fateful accident. Three brothers and their father, all gone in one go.

This family was cursed. Mothers and daughters left. And Granny’s mother hadn’t made it much longer on her own. Maybe Granny and Ruby got along, because they skipped a generation between. Mothers and daughters gave each other plenty of resentment.

And then there was the third picture. Granny with her dear husband and a fancy new car. The red Camaro had been out of their price range, but on their anniversary they had gone to the dealership, got a long test drive out of it and made that a date. Granny had talked about that day a lot. Grandfather promised them a brighter future where they would be able to afford a car like that. Not just stealing fake moments, but creating happy ones for real.

That had never happened.

Granny had deserved more and yet life had rejected her. But she had held on. Despite her heart condition, the many losses of family members around her, the slipping into poverty. Granny had always held on. For over 80 years. Nobody had thought that would even be possible. So maybe it was okay to say goodbye now. Now that Ruby understood how Granny could look at a picture of her dead husband for hours and feel nothing but love.

Ruby put the frame into the shoe box, then her gaze fell onto the chair. Granny’s knitted cardigan hung over the back. She’d always worn that grey monstrosity, though it was unflattering even on her. Ruby got to her feet and picked it up. She buried her face in the fabric. Granny. Yes, she wanted this. The pictures, her own letters, the cardigan. It meant something.

Tears began to fall again. Ruby wasn’t numb at all. Breathing in all the memories came rushing back. Sitting on Granny’s lap during Christmas story time; teaching her the sacred lasagna recipe; listening to unimportant happenings at school; the encouraging words when Anita’s indifference turned into vile insults; daydreaming of long trips with fingers on the maps of an old atlas; sitting in front of Granny’s bed, eating something from the microwave and letting Granny catch her up on her soaps. There had been love.

Eva had been silent all this time and given Ruby space. Now she stepped closer and wrapped her up in her arms. Ruby hugged the cardigan and felt Eva kissing her on the head. This was goodbye. But she wouldn’t be alone.

The service was lovely, but what really got to Ruby was seeing people attending. She had thought she’d be there alone with Anita, maybe Eva in the back. But there were a few neighbors. Mrs. Johnson even gave her a quick hug, she had come by like once a month to do Granny’s hair for free, but really it was about the conversation. Nurse Wilcox had retired herself three years ago, but before she had worked at the doctor’s office Granny got her subscriptions from. She had seen the tiny ad in the paper and wanted to pay her respects, remembering one of her favourite patients.

A part of Ruby wanted to scream, because she knew burying the urn in the dirt was wrong. Even though Anita had picked a nice little headstone. Ruby knew this was money she couldn’t really afford to spend. But causing a scene in the cemetery was the last thing she would do. She’d rather run away and not attend at all, while more than a dozen people paid their respects.

There wasn’t much said between Ruby and Anita. Who cared about one more argument and hollow questions about their current living situations? Ruby would remember the way Eva kept holding her hand, let her ramble through incoherent memories and tugged her into Mary’s bed. (Something Ruby rejected by getting up at night to sleep in the treehouse, the cardigan close to her chest.)

And when summer came around, Ruby would clean a whole week out of her schedule. No summer class, no work, not anybody around. Maybe it was irresponsible to blow through a portion of her savings, but she found a car rental that could get her that red 1975 Chevrolet Camaro. And maybe it was called grave robbing, but she dug up Granny’s urn and put her on the passenger’s seat. A week on the road right up to the beach where Granny had scattered her husband’s ashes.

That would be Ruby’s last goodbye. When she finally could let go of the woman, who had mostly raised her. The road trip they had talked about in giggling voices.

Turning into the parking lot was hard. And just when Ruby doubted she could scatter these ashes alone, she spotted Regina waiting for her. She had send so many texts to her friends and called to let them know she was okay, that Regina knew when she would arrive at her destination. Regina, who had been there when Ruby had last spoken to Granny. Fitting. Granny’s final blessing.

#OUaT #I mean it is fanfic - in free form - and for a limited number of people... I could explain it all to you!#Ruby Lucas #let me flood that character tag to show my love for this character (I can't stop hurting)#konako #she has to be tagged because it's all her fault anyway #RRCAU #(the football AU where we surprised ourselves when it was about football that one time)#the trigger warning here would be major character death - even though the content warning needs to read grief+memories

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anyu-blue · 2 years

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I should probably stop comparing myself to my friends 😅

I always get so mad at myself and look down on things and such... But I honestly keep forgetting that... They had/have parents who supported them... Friends and/or family they did or are living with that don't charge them to live there- or at least not huge amounts or anything other than, like food and stuff they might need help with once in a while...

And me?

I started working around 15/16... Sooner.. like 11 if you count watching/helping to raise kids (different household, and I did get paid a tiny bit). I was required to pay an even portion of the bills when I did. Like half of everything. More when my mother's ex decided he needed us to pay for his health insurance. And get my own food/food to cook for everyone. Any savings I had was unfortunately attached to my mother's accounts and got pulled from whenever her account overdrafted... Even after I thought I removed the connection.

I want to yell all of a sudden. Throttle those responsible.

*sigh* I did almost escape. Once. I almost did better for myself by getting into and going away to college for a year... And I often wonder if I had chosen to stay then... If I had cut contact with my family then.. if I could have made it on my own/done better for myself by this time... I have a nagging feeling I would have starved every day I wasn't working, and I wonder if I would have been able to pay bills at all on a rental had I found one.

I honestly don't know. I know I was scared out of my mind... And I had no way to rescue my cat/bring him over to the town I was in had I succeed... And had no furniture- just clothes and whatever I had in my dorm otherwise I'd brought from home...

*sigh*

I'm happy for the friends I have that are... Living in other cities.. are married and engaged. I'm happy nearly all of them have careers and many have completed some form(s) of higher education. I'm so glad to see people thriving or at least loved and not alone.

I think I had another opportunity to get away 😅 a friend offered to bring me into the home of her parents... I know it's on me that I got scared by all that moving states entailed then too.

And yeah I guess right now if I was willing (see able) to tough it out and work harder than I ever have before and deal with a lot of things I'm uncomfortable with for the sake of the possibility of something better... I could move down to the desert into my biological father's tiny home and work my way up from a gas station crew member to a manger...

*tosses stuff aside*

One of the brightest students. One of the hardest workers.

All for naught and 9-5 Dead end, miserable jobs.

I'm still mad I was so trusting/easily fooled when I was younger and that it screwed me over too... Like maybe the threats to kill my cat were just jokes/unrealistic... The fact that I should have asked someone (ANYONE) besides the counselor who told me there were zero scholarships for the college I went to (the fact that he got to my little sister too makes me SO pissed. I'll because we didn't play sports so weren't worth his time).

Urgh...

I know. I complain a lot.

I feel envious of my friends too much, and sad for myself too much.

And I know if somehow I could force myself to work two full time jobs I probably wouldn't be so poor (as long as my health didn't start deteriorating like it was when I was working 1 full time...) Because I'm really really good with money and saving and such....

And I know that hey... I've got a roof over my head, cat's still alive... Even two extremely expensive pieces of metal in my face... I know... I'm just... Sad I'm so far behind that I feel I'll probably never catch up.

#personal #random #life in general #negative #friends #i love my friends #I'm trying to be brave and grateful and do better ebery day #doing what I can to work on the bitterness

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multifandomfanfiction · 3 years

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Beauty and the Genius Chapter 9

TITLE: Beauty and the Genius Chapter 9 PAIRING: Spencer/OC RATING: T CHAPTER: 9/? SUMMARY: When David Rossi joins the team, so does his daughter Gwendolyn. But what happens when she and the resident genius start developing feelings for each other? How will it affect Rossi and Reid’s team dynamic?

[A/N - Longer chapter this time.]

“After my parents died, I…kind of went off the rails for a while. I dropped out of Cal Tech. I lived underground, basically. But I kept teaching myself code. It was like the one thing that kept me together. Of course, my skills got me put on a list. Of people who could potentially do very bad things,” Penelope explained.

“So they offered you a job?” Spencer asked, “Like Frank Abagnale. The Bureau figured if you can’t beat ‘em, hire ‘em.”

“Yeah, something like that.”

“Garcia, what’s on the encrypted file?” Morgan asked.

“I’m required to keep a record of everything the team does. And after my system got hacked and Elle got shot, I just didn’t want anyone else to be able to get at you.”

“I’ll talk to the doctor, see if he’ll clear you to leave,” Spencer said and left the room.

Gwen went with Derek and Penelope, but not before doing her usual ‘goodnight’ with Spencer. Of course Penelope teased her all the way back to the apartment.

There was a police officer stationed out front. “Hi. I’m Mike Fleming. I’m on till midnight. Officer Cranbeck will be here after that, okay?”

“Thank you,” Penelope told him.

“You’re welcome.”

Morgan led her to the entrance of the courtyard. “Come on, let’s get you inside.”

Penelope stopped to look at the bloodstain on the steps.

“Come on. It washes off. I promise,” he reassured her.

They entered Penelope’s apartment and Morgan looked around and laughed. “I, umm…I would expect nothing less.”

Penelope laughed. “You should be flattered. Not many people are invited in off the grid.”

Morgan spotted a film player on an end table. “Super-8?”

“Yeah.” Penelope walked over to it and turned it on. A film of a younger Penelope started playing. “I always imagined myself fighting crime. My parents were hippies. I think it horrified them.”

“Now why does that not surprise me?” Gwen teased.

“How old were you when you lost them?” Morgan asked.

“18. Drunk driver.” Penelope turned off the projector.

Morgan picked up a piece of paper and examined it.

“I volunteer once a week to counsel family members of murder victims.”

“Baby, you don’t get enough of this stuff at work?”

“I look at those crime scene photos all day long. I can’t know that those families are out there trying to cope and not do something to help.”

Gwen rubbed Penelope’s back and said, “You’re a good woman, Penelope Garcia. Far too precious for this world.”

“Thanks.”

“You do know it was stupid to encrypt that file?” Morgan asked her.

“Yes, I know. Old habits, I guess.”

“You need some rest. You both do.”

“You’re right.” Penelope hugged Morgan. “Go. Be free, my love.”

“Hey, I’m not going anywhere.”

“I’m fine. I got my goon squad parked out front and a badass witch on my side.”

Gwen giggled at the comment.

“Goon squad or no goon squad, that couch right there is gonna be my best friend until we find this guy. Now leave it alone.”

“Okay.”

Penelope looped her arm around Gwen’s and started to head to her bedroom. “But if you’re thinking of trying to take advantage of me, let me call my doctor so he can revive me afterward.”

They both laughed.

“What about me?” Gwen asked.

“You’re hot, Sabrina. But I know a certain doctor would beat my ass if I tried anything with you.”

Gwen blushed furiously as Penelope pulled her into the bedroom.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

They woke up to gunshots.

“Garcia!” Morgan yelled, running into the bedroom.

“What’s going on?” Penelope asked.

“Stay right there. Stay there!” Morgan looked out the window and then walked over to the two women. “Come here. Come with me.” He dragged them both into the corner. “Get in the corner. Get in the corner. Gwen, your gun.”

Gwen pulled out her gun.

“Were you sleeping with that?” Penelope asked.

“Downside of having an FBI agent for a father.”

“If somebody walks through that door, you shoot okay? Shoot first, then ask questions,” Morgan told her.

“I got it Derek!”

Morgan walked out the door and fired a shot.

“Morgan!” Penelope yelled.

“Stay there!”

They heard Morgan running down the stairs.

“It’s okay, Penelope. I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.” “But what if something happens to you?”

“Don’t worry about me.”

There was movement in the doorway and Gwen cocked her gun.

“Rossi. Rossi. Woah. Woah. Don’t shoot. Don’t shoot.”

Gwen lowered her gun. “Call me Rossi again and I will you shoot you.”

Penelope ran into Morgan’s arms crying as they heard sirens in the distance. “Why is this happening to me?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know.”

The ambulance arrived and the BAU team followed shortly after.

Spencer rushed to Gwen’s side. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Spencer. Really.”

“I should have never left you alone.”

“Okay, first off, I can take care of myself and second, I wasn’t alone. Morgan was here.”

“Thank god he was.” Spencer sat down once he was convinced that Gwen was unharmed.

“What’s going on?” JJ asked, walking up to Penelope.

“I don’t know. This guy’s gettin’ seriously bold and I can guarantee it’s not over.”

“You okay?”

“I don’t know what he wants from me,” Penelope said.

“Could you know something about him?” Spencer asked.

“I don’t know.”

“Maybe you have something he wants?”

“I don’t know who he is. I’m so scared.”

“I know,” JJ told her.

Rossi, Hotch, and Emily came into the apartment.

Rossi looked at his daughter, who nodded. She wasn’t hurt, so there was no need to fuss over her.

“Hey, did you get a look at him?” Emily asked Morgan.

“Nothing solid.”

“Garcia, we need to get you back to the hospital,” Hotch told her.

“No,” Penelope said.

“You know what? You should still be there. We need her someplace safe,” JJ agreed.

“I feel safe with all of you.”

“We can take you to the BAU.”

Penelope nodded, staring off into space.

“Garcia?” JJ asked.

“You okay?” Spencer asked her.

“When we were at dinner… They wanted to seat us by a window, but he insisted on sitting at the worst table in the place. And he sat with his back to the corner.”

A couple of detectives walked in, talking quietly.

Hotch turned to them. “Detective, can you clear the room for just a minute?”

“I got a dead cop downstairs. I consider this part of the crime scene.”

“I know. Just a couple of minutes.”

“Do what you gotta do.”

“Thank you.”

The detectives left the apartment.

“Tell us about the car,” Spencer told Penelope.

“Why?”

“Just go with him,” Morgan said.

“You said it was white, 4-door, American. What else?” Spencer asked.

“That’s it. It was just a car.”

“No, come on, think. Anything. Go back,” Morgan told her.

“The seat belt was buckled behind his back.”

A look dawned on everyone’s face.

“Why does that matter?” Penelope asked.

“It wasn’t a rental. It was for surveillance,” Morgan explained.

“Agents don’t wear seat belts. They need to get out in a hurry.”

“All right, let’s cut the crap,” Rossi said, storming over to Penelope.

Gwen knew what was about to happen.

He sat down across from Penelope. “You need to be straight with us. Right now.”

Penelope looked over at JJ for help

. “Look at me, not them.”

“I’m not hiding anything,” Penelope told him.

“You got shot. Most people get shot for a reason.”

Penelope looked at Morgan.

“Eyes here!” Rossi yelled.

“Ease up, Rossi,” Morgan said.

“Derek, he knows what he’s doing,” Gwen reassured him.

“You got a roomful of people here willing to believe that an FBI agent is trying to kill you. We need to know everything you do on company time that we don’t know about. Come on. Spit it out!”

“It’s nothing bad! It’s just…I counsel victim’s families and they know where I work, so sometimes they ask me to look into cases for them.”

“What does that mean?”

“It just means that the cases, the unsolved ones, I tag them, so whoever’s investigating them knows that the FBI considers them a priority.”

“You’re not authorized to do that,” Hotch told her.

“I know. I was just trying to help.”

“But whoever’s working those cases thinks you’re watching them,” Emily explained.

“I just wanted to put pressure on them so that they don’t slide.”

“How many cases are we talking about?” Hotch asked.

“I don’t know. 7, 8 maybe. I need to get into my system.”

“You can’t. You’re suspended.”

“Wait a minute, Garcia. On your date, you said this guy was pressing you to find out if you were working murder cases,” Morgan said.

Penelope nodded.

“Hotch, we gotta look at those files.”

Hotch sighed and looked at Rossi.

“I told you, I’m sick of this jagoff being in front of us.”

“Dave’s right. We’ll go back to the BAU. Morgan, Reid, Prentiss, Gwen, you stay here and make sure no forgets to log out of the system. Garcia should not have access,” Hotch told them.

“Understood,” Morgan said.

Gwen shared a smirk with her father.

Taglist: @imagining-in-the-margins , @subhuman-queer, @anotherr-fine-mess and anyone else who would like to be tagged!

#spencer reid #dr. spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagines #dr. spencer reid imagines #spencer/oc #spencer/gwen #david rossi #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #Penelope Garcia #Jennifer Jareau #emily prentiss #Criminal Minds #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #criminal minds imagines #beauty and the genius

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creativenostalgiastuff · 4 years

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Butterflies

Summary: Virgil made Roman promise that he wouldn’t fall for him. Virgil never made the same promise. And as they get ready for the High School Theater Awards, Virgil is left not quite sure what he thinks. Pairings: Prinxiety Warnings: homophobia mention, theater mentions, falling mention, stress, worry, awards, kissing, flowers Word Count: 5853 Author’s Note: I was watching Phineas and Ferb and Isabella says a line that was my springboard for this story. It takes place after Locked and before Last Words. I guess it's kind of forming its own Prinxiety Human AU because I keep adding more to this set up. Anyway, again this can be read as part of that or separately. Up to you. Just lots of feelings that were fun to explore.

Virgil lays on the stage, a foot dangling over the side as he places his head down on his knee, waiting, amongst the confetti scattered across the floor. The lights are up in full, the castle backdrop that had been used in at least twenty different productions before this one swaying slightly in the breeze from the open backstage door.

He closes his eyes, listening to the commotion in the vestibule outside of the theater. All of the families, friends, teachers, and other students gushing over the cast of the show, congratulating them for their performances and hard work. It will still be a bit before the cast comes in to turn in their mics, not that Virgil minds. He knows his family isn’t out there (he didn’t tell them when the show was… or even that he was in another show) and he doesn’t like crowds anyway. He is happy to just sit there and calm down from the show hype.

Virgil takes a deep breath, shakily letting it out as he looks around the theater. Admittedly, Virgil can’t quite figure out why his chest feels so tight. Maybe it has something to do with the release of all the pent up stress from his role as Prop Master. Running backstage had been stressful enough when he wasn’t in a leadership role, but lord help him when it came to being put in charge of the props.

Or, maybe, it had something to do with the impending high school theater awards nominations. The student critics had been attending the show all weekend. Their reviews would come out by Wednesday, nominations for awards announced Friday, and then two weeks until the Gala where the winners would be announced.

“Oh, Virgil!” a sing-song voice rings as the door to the theater opens. “You have visitors!”

Virgil smiles as his eyes find his friends. Patton skips down the center aisle towards him, a flower tucked behind his ear, probably from a cast member’s bouquet.

“It really was a great show,” says Patton, his grin large and genuine. “And you did a great job backstage! Everyone is talking about it. Best Junior Senior show in the history of the program! I can’t wait to take a turn at it next year with you guys!”

“It is regrettable that we were not able to participate in this show,” Logan nods. “You designed a fantastic, functional carriage and your props organization system was highly regarded by both the cast and crew.”

Virgil laughs dismissively as he stuffs his hands into his hoodie’s pocket, “Right. System. Or, you know, excessively fussing over items to the point of annoying the cast into submission.”

“You did well, Virge,” Patton reassures. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you get a nomination.”

“Yeah, nominations,” Virgil blinks as he thinks about the upcoming city awards for the different high school theater programs. Cinderella was the last show before nominations were announced. “I don’t know. It's a talented city.”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Patton encourages. “Go to the cast party and just relax. What’s done is done.”

Before Virgil can respond, the doors open and a blob of bright, glittering blue fabric fills the doorway. An arm emerges from the blob followed by the torso of a girl shouting, “Ay, yo, Prince! Push me through!”

“Dude, I’m trying. Your hoop is stuck!”

Virgil sprints up to the stuck Cinderella, “Woah, wait, stop! That hoop is a rental! Alana, back up, fold the hoop and then come through.”

Alana does as directed and gets through the doorway easily this time, “Yeah, I think the costume department would cry if I tore this dress. How many hours did it take?”

“It was a semester project for Talyn, so more than you want to know,” Roman answers as he follows his princess through the door, straightening the golden crown on his head. Virgil can’t help but notice the confidence that was almost glowing around this Prince: his posture straight and tall, a smile that could stop traffic, a sparkle in his eye that made them seem bright and full. Snapchat wished it could make a filter to make people look like Roman did after a great performance, thought Virgil as he took in the sight of his friend.

“Virgil?”

Virgil shook his head, snapping back to reality, “Sorry, yeah?”

Alana turned around and pointed at the battery pack hidden on the hip pocket at the back of the dress (did Virgil say how amazing the dress design was for student work?), “Take my mic? I need to get out of this monstrosity.”

“Right,” Virgil says as he helps Alana get out of her mic, trying to ignore Roman; a task which was getting harder for Virgil as their friendship grew. Roman was such a big personality he seemed to demand attention. That meant that the more time Virgil spent with him, the more attention Roman took.

“Roman, Alana!” Patton calls as he bounces up and wraps the two leads in a big bear hug, “I am so proud of you two! That was such a good show!”

Virgil finally untangles Alana, “You’re good to go.”

“Thanks,” she responds as she turns to face the group, “And thanks, Patton. It was a good last run. Only thing that would make it better is if we can at least get a nomination my senior year. It’d be nice to leave a legacy.”

“What is a legacy?” Roman immediately starts asking, striking dramatic poses. “Its leaving seeds in a garden you never get to see.”

“Come here, Mr. Legacy,” Virgil quips back with a roll of his eyes. “Before you pull a wire with your dramatics.”

“And I’m going to get out of this,” Alana says as she grabs as much of her dress as she can.

“Need help with doors?” Patton asks, already headed towards the door.

“That’d be great,” answers the princess. “Logan, can you help grab more of this?”

“Yes ma’am,” responds Logan as Alana hands him an armful of dress. “How did you do this for the production?”

“Mice,” Alana answers flatly as she picks up more dress. She takes a moment to pointedly make eye contact with Virgil, as if trying to send a secret message. Whatever the message is, Virgil doesn’t catch it, but it does make his ears red as the three of them maneuver her out of the theater and down to the green room to change.

Virgil returns his attention to getting the mic off of Roman. The costume strategically hides his mic pack in his red sash, the wire running along it up to his shoulder before it blends into his hair. Easy enough to free. Without a word, Virgil gets to work fishing it out of the sash as his friend works to free himself from the mic in his hair.

They are friends, right? After the events in the locked choir room, Virgil doesn’t really know what is happening as far as their relationship, if you want to call it that, is concerned.There was a time where Virgil couldn’t stand the sight of Roman Prince. But things change. Roman has been true to his word, not telling anyone about Virgil being gay. They are fine doing things without Logan and Patton with them, which hadn’t always been true.

Throughout the run of the show, Roman had gone out of his way to ensure that Virgil was included when the cast and crew did things; extending invites and offering rides. And Virgil realized he didn’t mind the large social gatherings with Roman. Something about Roman was almost calming, reassuring in those situations. Virgil almost found himself waiting for the next party, just so that he could hang out with Roman when he was in his element as Mr. Popular. Wanting to spend time with friends was normal, right?

“So, Virge,” Roman asks quietly, pulling Virgil from his thoughts, “you are coming to the cast party with me, aren’t you?”

“Uh…” Virgil begins, stuttering. With me?

“I mean, I’m taking Logan and Patton in my car, so it just makes sense you’d come too,” Roman explains as he hands the mic over his shoulder to Virgil, his words fast. “Sorry, I shouldn’t assume you’re going. It’s totally up to you. Just, you know, you always have a seat in my car if you want it. ”

It takes Virgil a moment to steady his voice, aiming for his signature indifference, as he takes the mic and checks the battery is turned off, “Sure.”

“Perfect!” Roman turns, a smile beaming before he starts walking towards the door. “Give me five to change and then we’ll head out!”

Virgil waits until the door to the theater clicks before he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He takes a steadying breath as he heads towards the sound booth, his face burning up and heart fluttering.

~:-:~

Virgil sits in his last period class, his leg bouncing as he watches the second hand on the clock make its rounds, counting down the minutes. Why does the last period on the last day of the week always feel like the longest? He knows he isn't the only one anxious for once.

The whole Cinderella cast had been a mess since Wednesday when they got their reviews from the student critics. They had been overwhelmingly positive, showering them with praise for everything from their costume design to their ensemble to their leads. Virgil found it hard to stay realistic, getting swept up in the hope of his fellow cast and crew. The energy had been undeniably infectious and Roman was definitely the patient zero of the group. As soon as that bell rang, the whole theater department would take off running to check the board.

“They do realize the stampede of students will be worse than when they post the cast lists, right?” Logan inquires to Virgil, turning in his seat to face him.

Virgil shrugs, chewing absently on his thumb nail, “Will that stop us from doing it?”

“No, I would think not,” Logan smirks as he turns back and folds his hands on his desk. Virgil rolls his eyes at Logan’s quiet patience.

“What are the odds we get nominated again?” asks Virgil, leaning forward so that he could talk softly to Logan’s ear.

“As I have told you, it depends on the category,” answers Logan while still facing front, his hands folded on the desk. “North Valley had a well recieved My Fair Lady, Mount Battenhorn’s stage for Les Mis was all anyone wanted to talk about in the forums for months.”

“Right, right,” sighs the emo as he sits back in his seat. His eyes flit back to the clock and the remaining few minutes before they would be dismissed. His class was about as far from the theater as he could get. Virgil would have to push upstream of the students if he wanted to check the board. Fast, too, if he wants to catch his bus.

Virgil can’t help the burning question from bubbling out, “But like, what are the chances that Roman…”

“Roman will get nominated?,” Logan finishes the question in unison with Virgil. He sighs as he pushes his glasses up his nose. “As I have told you the last three times you have asked in this class alone, I am optimistic of Roman’s chances. As I am sure you would agree based on your personal experience, he makes a very convincing Prince Charming. ”

Virgil stops, not quite sure what Logan is trying to insinuate. Was that referring to Virgil’s experience of Roman as an actor, a friend, or something else?

“Excuse me,” a voice comes over the PA system, cutting off Virgil from retorting. “Teachers, please command a presence in your classroom.”

There is a pause before the voice continues, “As many of you are aware, our theater department just wrapped up the Junior Senior show last weekend, Cinderella. Ms. Martin, the director, is here with some big announcements.”

“Well this is unprecedented,” comments Logan, loud enough for Virgil to hear. Virgil can feel his pulse skyrocket, adrenaline flooding the system. This can only mean something big. They wouldn’t announce publicly no nominations, right?

“Thank you, Principal Arthur,” the director’s high soprano voice said. “I am here to happily announce that this year’s show set a new school record for nominations, with a total of four nominations!”

“What?!”

“We have nominations in best costumes, best supporting actor in a musical lead actress in a musical, and best musical!” Ms. Martin rattled off quickly, her voice getting squeakier with each word. “The awards will be given out at the Gala in two weeks. Congrats to everyone on a job well done. Oh, and I need to meet with you all in the theater immediately. Thanks and congrats!”

Virgil doesn't remember standing up. All he knows is that he is looking down at Logan, still sitting in front of him with a smirk, “I guess the odds of nominations were pretty good.”

“We were nominated.” Virgil states, not quite sure he can believe the words coming out of his own mouth.

The teacher motions towards the door, “I believe your presence was requested in the theater, Virgil?”

“Right,” Virgil says as he picks up his backpack and hurries out the door. When he gets to the doorway, he sees fellow cast and crew members in the hallway, running and jumping, whooping with excitement. Virgil can’t tell if he wants to join in for a moment as he takes in what they said. The cast is nominated. Roman is nominated.

Roman. God, he would be so excited.

A cast member runs past him, “Come on, Virge! They’re waiting!”

Virgil takes off after the rest of the cast, joining in the growing group of theater kids as they get closer to the theater.

Once in the theater, he follows his fellow techies to the back of the theater as the cast fills the stage, just as they always did for full rehearsals. The whole room is loud with whoops of excitement and genuine joy. Someone hits the lights for the house, leaving the lights for the stage on from the drama class that had just been in there before the cast had taken over.

“Can I get a mic?” the director yells from the stage, hardly audible over the excitement. She’s a short woman, blending in easily to the small ocean of high school students. One of the sound kids finds a mic and runs it up to her. “Thanks, is this thing on?” the director asks.

“Someone get the spotlight!” shouts one of the actors.

“I’ll get it,” Virgil yells back. He honestly had missed being in the lighting booth for this show, having gotten his start in the technical side as a spotter. Quickly, Virgil scrambles up the ladder to the lighting booth tower. It takes him a second to turn the nob on the light to turn it on, his hands shaking from the excitement. Finally he gets it, turning on the spotlight and hitting the director.

“Ah, thank you,” the director calls. “Okay, quiet down. I know we’re excited, but I have a few things we need to cover before dismissal.”

The chattering continues until a “Quiet on stage!” is barked by a familiar voice with a demanding presence. Virgil’s eyes follow to the sound of the voice over the others and smiles at Roman. The cast quiets down at the request of their Prince.

“Thank you,” Ms. Martin says. “First of all, congratulations to everyone for everything you have done. We wouldn’t have gotten the Best Musical nomination without each and every one of you.

“As you are aware, the Gala is in two weeks. We have been asked to perform a song from the musical at the Gala. I would like to suggest we honor our fabulous leads by going with ‘Do I Love You’. Any objections?”

There’s silence before someone yells, “Give it up for our Prince and Princess, both nominated in their category!”

Virgil finds Alana in the crowd as people turn towards her and hits her with the spotlight quickly while flipping the other one on and spotting Roman too. Both of them laugh as they try to block the light to see who is spotting them.

“Let’s not forget our behind the scene’s nominations too,” Alana calls, finally giving up trying to see Virgil on the spot. “Talyn for that beautiful blue mammoth of a dress, as well as the rest of the costume department!”

Virgil finds Talyn in the group to spot them too and swinging the light from Alana to Talyn.

“And to our beautiful director for all of her hard work,” Roman shouts as the kids break into applause and cheers. Virgil swings Roman’s spot back to Ms. Martin who has tears in her eyes. “We wouldn’t have set the school record without her!”

A student starts blasting music through the sound system to the cheers of everyone in the theater. Virgil takes a deep breath as he watches the stage, all of the students are hugging one another and dancing in celebration. The room truly feels electric. Virgil can[t help but watch Roman as he make his way through the entire stage, congratulating everyone, before jumping off the stage and making his way to the tech crew, continuing the celebration with them. A few of the other cast members follow him, with a few techies climbing on the stage until it was just one sea of celebration. Virgil is happy to watch from his place on the tower, feeling part of the joy while being comfortably separated. He never wants this moment to end.

The bell rings, causing all of the students to scramble to find their discarded bags. Virgil watches, mesmerized by the movement below him.

“Okay, Alana and Roman, I need to see you first thing Monday so we can set a schedule to rehearse before the Gala,” Ms. Martin shouts into the mic and the students start to rush for the door. “Great job, everyone! I’ll let you know more details as I get them. Thanks and have a great weekend!”

Virgil sighs, resigning himself to miss the bus after seeing the rush for the door. He needs a minute to calm his shaking hands and falling from scaffolding was not something he plans to do. He sits on the ledge, swinging his legs and waving to the other techies as they head out of the theater.

Ms. Martin points at him from her spot on the stage, “Virgil, aren’t you going to miss the bus?”

“Yes, ma’am, but its okay,” he waves to her. “I just need a minute to wrap my head around it all, if that’s okay.”

“Well don’t take too long,” she calls back, her eyes drifting to the bottom of the tower where the sound equipment was kept. “I’ll be in my office doing paperwork. Holler if you need me?”

Virgil nods and watches her exit the stage. He takes a deep breath, continuing to swing his legs back and forth. The adrenaline in his system was finally starting to calm back to what Virgil would consider an acceptable level now that the others had left. Virgil pulls out his phone and checks the time. He curses under his breath when he does the math in his head; if he leaves now he might walk in before his parents. Maybe.

It's not that his parents are bad. They just don’t get Virgil, you know? They are always fighting over really dumb things, like his hoodie or his hair or why he wasn’t dating. After his coming out to Roman, Virgil just didn’t want to deal with questions his parents might ask. He could never tell them that he was gay.

Virgil rubs his eyes, telling himself to stop sitting here thinking and go home. He gets up on the platform and quickly hits a few buttons to turn back on the lights to the house and the stage lights out. He scrambles down the ladder when an unexpected voice says, “Hey, Virge.”

Startled, Virgil’s feet slip and he falls, “Shit!” He feels his body tense as he readies himself for the inevitable contact with the ground.

Instead, he is surprised again by a pair of arms catching him from the fall.

“I guess the promise was that I wouldn’t fall for you, not the other way around,” Roman’s amused voice came. Virgil feels his heart skip a beat having nothing to do with the fall he just experienced.

He opens his eyes and lets out a laugh of relief, “Roman, warn a guy next time, will ya?”

Roman winces at Virgil’s point, “Sorry. Still excited I guess.”

“Yeah, the cast did great,” Virgil responds as he places his feet on the floor. “Best Musical and all. I’m sure it wouldn’t have happened without you and Alana getting your own nominations.”

“That’s kind, but it was a group effort,” adds Roman as he helps Virgil get steady on his feet.

“I’m sorry,” Virgil teases, “But is the great Roman being humble? I never thought I would see the day.”

“You wound me, sir,” Roman retorts, bumping Virgil with his shoulder. “I’ll have you know, humility is the least of my many redeeming qualities.”

“Oh, right, my apologies,” Virgil laughs as he rubs the back of his neck, “I forgot who I was talking to.”

Roman picks up Virgil’s backpack from where he had unceremoniously thrown it on the ground, dusting it off, “I wanted to ask, some of us were going to go get ice cream to celebrate. Logan and Patton are coming.”

“Oh,” Virgil responds. As soon as he says it, he wants to smack himself in the face. Really? All of that clever banter and now all you have is oh?

Roman extends his hand to Virgil, still holding the backpack in the other hand, “You up for it, or do you need to get home?”

Virgil swallows hard, trying to ignore the somersaults his stomach was doing, as he takes the offered hand. The simple touch is like flipping the switch in his head that made him worry and panic. For Roman, he has all the time in the world.

“Yeah, ice cream sounds nice.”

“Sweet,” Roman slings the backpack on his own shoulder, keeping a hold of Virgil’s hand.

~:-:~

Virgil stands backstage at the High School Theater Awards Gala, fidgeting with the sleeves on his borrowed-from-the-costume-department metallic purple jacket. Talyn had insisted he wear it due to how it matched his purple Converse he had insisted on wearing. He didn’t mind the look it gave him with his black dress pants and button down shirt, only it was a bit impractical given his task of helping Alana manage the blue sparkling dress that had earned the nomination. He wasn’t sure why it was him helping and not one of the other techies who had the job during the show, but he didn’t ask questions.

On stage they are announcing another award, a technical award. The school had won for best costume already, thanks to Talyn’s beautiful and practical designs. They had taken everything into account, such as Alana’s nervous fidgeting with the beading on the dress, a habit she often showed backstage as she prepared for this section of the show. The costume department had reinforced the beading to allow her to fuss without breaking it.

Virgil checks on the single flower he had placed in his pocket earlier, ensuring it is still okay. His breath catches at the sight of the red petals against the black lining of the jacket. He swallows hard and closes the jacket, nodding to himself. Now is not the time to think of that. Roman would win his award. He returns his attention to Alana, walking up to her spot in the wings.

Virgil bites at his thumb as he looks across the stage from his current place. In the other wing Roman sits on a box, staring at the floor, blankly. His body reads as tense, folded up on itself more than Virgil is used to from the man.

Roman had been acting weird the few days leading up to the Gala. He was more argumentative, more withdrawn, and refused to listen to reason. He insisted on using all of his free time and energy to work and rework the song for the Gala, ignoring their pleas for him to take care of himself. They had all tried to distract him by watching Disney movies or playing board games. Patton had baked cookies and brought him food whenever he refused to stop working. Logan had made a schedule to help Roman optimize his time to take care of himself.

Virgil, admittedly, didn’t really know what to do. He had spent most of his time just sitting with Roman as he worked through the song, not saying much except the occasional reassurance that Roman knew what he was doing. Virgil wanted to do more, but he just didn’t understand. The performance had nothing to do with who won the award. This performance was supposed to be for fun.

Yet Virgil is nervous too, isn’t he? Maybe because he was worried of what would happen if Roman lost the award. Or maybe for other reasons. Now wasn’t the time to worry about it.

He looks at Alana, acknowledging her own anxious energy as she messes with the reinforced beads, “You okay? You know you already won, right?”

Earlier they had announced her win. She had been crying in relief and excitement as they had been getting set up for the performance, but now she clearly seems on edge. All that was left out of their nominations were Roman for Best Supporting Actor in a Musical and Best musical.

“I just don’t want to let anyone down,” Alana admits. She turns slightly to look at him without moving the dress, “Yeah. Can you do me a favor though, before I go on?”

“Yeah, what is it?”

She nods across the stage, “Go calm him down. He’s making me nervous looking that pale.”

Virgil snorts, “You say that like I haven’t been trying to all week. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Go talk to him?”

“You think I’m your best bet for talking?”

“Just try. You always have an effect on him. I think he needs you right now.”

Pushing the knot in his stomach down, Virgil agrees he has to try, “Alright. Just don’t move until you step on that stage, got it?”

Alana nods again, so Virgil slips around the backstage, avoiding all of the moving people and props, until he ends up behind Roman. Virgil stops and tries to think of something to make Roman laugh. He could just say hi, but that could scare the guy if he wasn’t careful.

He could say what he was thinking: that he would never get tired of Roman in the Prince costume. That Roman had nothing to worry about. That he would make them all understand why he was nominated in the first place. That everyone was so proud of him, that Virgil was so proud of him. That he was glad they got locked in that choir room. That he was glad they were friends. That he, maybe, wanted… No, it wasn’t time to worry about the gift in his pocket and the words he might end up saying.

Virgil takes a deep breath before choosing his words, “I was going to say something clever, but honestly I got nothing.”

Roman keeps staring absently at the floor, “Hey, Virge.”

A stagehand passes them, placing a hand on Roman’s shoulder as he does so, “Two minutes, your highness.”

“Thank you two,” Roman mumbles as he stands up.

“I’m here, Ro. What do you need?” Virgil asks in a rush, wanting to help before it is too late.

Roman’s head snaps up to look at Virgil and the use of the nickname. Virgil swallows the lump in his throat as he realizes he had never actually said that name before, only sending it in group messages with Logan and Patton before. He isn’t sure if its okay or not with Roman.

Roman gives a small smile, “Honestly? You won’t hate me?”

“Not possible,” answers Virgil as he crouches down so that he can be eye level with Roman. “Whatever it is, I got it, promise.”

“Just… hold my hand?” asks the Prince in a small voice.

Virgil takes Roman’s hands in his own, his heart hammering hard inside him. He looks over the actor, not saying anything as Roman holds on and closes his eyes. Virgil can’t help but watch in awe as Roman takes deep breaths, seemingly breathing in confidence with each breath.

“One minute,” the stage hand comes back and informs them. “Mic is going live now.”

Roman stands, nodding, pulling Virgil with him, still holding his hand while he takes his position in the wing. Virgil can’t help but notice the almost electric feeling in his hand in Roman’s. He’d be lying if he didn’t say it was intoxicating, standing in the wings next to Roman Prince about to go on stage.

The music comes in under the MCs voices, helping to set the tone for the love song. Roman gives a final squeeze to Virgil’s hand before he lifts it up and kisses it softly, causing Virgil’s brain to go crazy with bells and alarms. Virgil reaches up and straightens the crown on Roman’s head before giving him the thumbs up and a smile.

Roman and Alana enter the stage and sing the song, “Do I Love You Because You’re Beautiful” like they were born singing it. They hit all of the notes, the staging is natural, and they both look absolutely stunning. Virgil just watches from his place in the wings, like he had every time the song was done for their show. He just adores how Roman sings the song, so full of meaning and emotion. He would never admit it, but it was his favorite moment in the whole show. He ignores the lump in his throat that forms when he realises its the last time he will watch them perform this song together.

They end the song to the roar of applause at the kiss. Roman and Alana take their bows before Roman escorts his princess off stage towards Virgil. The two of them are beaming, knowing that they nailed it. Virgil can’t help but beam with pride for the two of them.

Not saying anything, Roman lets go of Alana’s hand and takes Virgil’s. He doesn’t stop as he pulls Virgil through the crowded backstage, taking his mic and handing it to the techie waiting for it without breaking stride.

“Roman?” Virgil finally asks when he finds his voice. “Where are we going?”

“Need some air,” Roman answers breathlessly as he pushes on a door marked with an exit sign. “Come on.”

“Wait,” Virgil says as he stops. He takes off his shoe and places it in the doorway, preventing the door from closing completely behind them. “We don’t want to get locked out.”

Roman nods and walks a few steps away from the building into the alleyway, letting go of Virgil’s hand, “You’re always looking out for us.”

Virgil leans against the brick wall as he watches Roman pace in the alley, just trying to catch his breath and calm himself down. Roman’s hands are on his hips as he walks the nervous energy out, causing Virgil to grin before saying, “You did it, Roman. You guys killed it.”

Roman shakes his head, a smile spreading across his face, “Yeah? You think so?”

“Obviously,” Virgil adds as he crosses his arms to try and stop them from shaking. “They’d be crazy to not have you win your category. Anyone with eyes can see you deserve it.”

“That… means a lot, coming from you,” admits Roman.

“Uh, I’ve been trying to tell you that all week!”

Roman laughs as he approaches Virgil, staying on the bottom stair, “Well, you know, I never do listen.”

“Oh, I’m well aware.”

“Hey, Prince!” Alana’s voice comes as she leans her head out the doorway, working to put her earrings back in her ears. “Get your butt back in here. They’re getting ready to announce your category.”

“Coming,” Roman responds as Alana disappears back inside. Virgil grabs Roman’s hand as he starts to pass, “Ro, wait, I almost forgot.” He pulls out the single rose from his inside coat pocket and extends it to Roman, his hand shaking. “For good luck, not that you need it.”

Roman takes another step towards him, “You shouldn’t have. I didn’t get you anything.”

Before Virgil can say anything, Roman kisses Virgil softly, gently, yet electrifying. Virgil is caught off guard and tense for a moment before he relaxes into the embrace, closing his eyes and accepting the moment.

“Roman!” barks Alana.

Roman pulls back, causing Virgil to come back to reality, at the separation. “I’m sorry. I…” Roman mutters as he hurries past Virgil and heads inside before Virgil can say anything.

Virgil stands there, stunned for a moment as he tries to process what just happened. Roman Prince had just kissed him. And Virgil had wanted it to keep going. It's the most alive Virgil remembers feeling. He hears a commotion inside the theater and snaps back to reality. Roman.

Virgil grabs his shoe and heads into the theater, and hears the MC read all the nominees in Roman’s category. He starts running, sliding into the wing as they read off, “And the winner for Best Supporting Actor in a Musical goes to Roman Prince.”

Roman walks on stage, radiating at the announcement, waving to the crowd. Virgil knows Roman needs the validation from others when it comes to his creative work. And now he had it. Virgil joined the cheering as tears started filling his eyes. He can’t help the pride welling up inside of him for his friend.

Roman accepts the trophy and waves it in the air, signing thank you to the audience as the MCs start ushering him back towards the wings to keep the show going. Virgil isn’t thinking, he just starts moving towards Roman coming off stage. His Prince’s eyes find him, tears of joy shimmering, as Virgil offers him a hand and pulls him further off stage and out of the way.

“Virgil, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have...”

Virgil leans in and kisses Roman to stop him from talking. Virgil is gentle, but pushes all of the things he hasn’t said to Roman into it. All of the longing, the pining, the quiet hoping. Roman melts into him, wrapping an arm around him to pull them closer together. Virgil pulls back and wipes away a tear that had fallen down Roman’s cheek with a soft smile. “Butterflies,” he says in response to Roman’s statement earlier. “You give me butterflies. Always.”

#sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides fanfic #prinxiety fanfic #virgil sanders #roman sanders #roman prince #logan sanders #patton sanders #thomas sanders #human au #theater kids #theater awards #kisses #homophonia mention #kiss #fall #awards #butterflies

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chubbyreaderchan · 4 years

Text

Technically No | Jacob Black x witch!Reader | Twilight/Buffy the Vampire Slayer Crossover| 1

jacob is over 18+ in this as well as reader! It's also a slight modern au because technology makes life easier man. And no I don't know what timeline this is. It's after Jacob phases and before Buffy dies again. So you might see Glory in this. Also it’s under a cut because this introduction/beginning is super long.

"Did you make it okay?" Buffy asked over the phone.

"Yes, Buff. I'm in my new house. I am going to my new job Monday" (Y/n) said with a soft sigh as she leaned against her new counter, having just moved from one small town to the other.

Sunnydale to Forks.

"Good. I'm glad you are safe." (Y/n) smiled a small yet sort of sad smile at the prospect of leaving the scoobs but there was a job offer in Forks that was just to good for her to not take and she was damn lucky to find a house for rent. She wondered if it was haunted. Not that was a big deal for someone who went to high school on top of a literal hellmouth.

"How's Dawny?" (Y/n) also knew that Dawn's first day back to high school was coming up as well as Buffy's first day of college for the year. "And did you get your course schedule yet?" She stated sitting in the empty living room floor eating her favorite fast food meal. Her moving truck wouldn't be there with her stuff for at least another day or two.

It wasn't exactly a house full of stuff yet, of course. She had just gone from living with her parents to on her own within a flash it seemed. It was as if the universe was pulling and placing her right in the middle of now where Washington.

"Yeah but I didn't get some of the courses I wanted. Have to try next semester." She sighed over the phone. Was it normal to talk to someone you had just left the day before as if you hadn't seen them in months? Maybe not but a lot was happening as the end of summer was coming to fruition. "Dawn is excited to go back to school"

"Interesting... She wasn't yesterday." Buffy sighed over the phone as her friend teased her. "Oh! So I'm going to try to get some essentials tomorrow!" She said suddenly remembering what she called Buffy about in the first place. "What color do you think I should decorate my kitchen in? Green? Red?" Buffy almost laughed again at one of her closest friends.

"You'll know when you actually go to the store. It's not like I can see the house." "Not yet! But you all are going to come visit me some day!" She laughed a bit. Her phone buzzed at her to charge. "Hey... Buffy. I gotta go. Phones is dying. Tell Willow and everyone I miss them."

"Will do." With that, the phone was hung up and placed on its charger.

(Y/n) sighed picking up her trash and began the work to make the floor as comfortable as possible until she could actually buy a decent bed.

The next morning, (Y/n) woke up at a fair hour for a Saturday and took a shower. It was nice to wash out some of the travel and sleep stink off before she slipped on her clothes for the day. Then she went to grab her phone as well as keys and her wallet. There was no way she could sleep on the floor for one more day and eating fast food everyday wasn't exactly a healthy option even if she did just arrive in town.

Sure she was still tired from the plane ride but she would stay tired. She need to find at least an air mattress. The car ride was short, it was nice. Familiar. It wasn't a huge change from one small town to another... Minus the demons and vampires. She hoped. It was simple enough to find the small plaza that had a few small shops and even a diner within walking distance of each other.

It was not even remotely difficult to find the things she oh so desperately needed. It was wonderful. (Y/n) was even able to add to her growing collection of magical artifacts when she stumbled into an antique shop. She thanked the gods that her family had loaned her a bit of cash to help her get by until she was fully working again.

Her day was going great... That was until she was hit with pangs of hunger. 'Did I even eat breakfast?' she asked herself before glancing at the time and gasping. She had been out a lot longer than she had realized.

Didn't she see a diner? She walked to her rental car and started a vague drive. Ah-ha! There was a diner.

She pulled in and was seated quite quickly. It wasn't long before her meal was ordered and her attention was drawn to her phone as she waited. There was a text message from Anya complaining about an argument she and Xander were having. (Y/n) laughed softly before responding with her opinion.

While she was distracted she didn't notice the small group enter. Especially a young man who had a slight staring problem. His eyes were locked on (Y/n) as she fiddled around with her phone. The young man was known by most as Jacob Black. A good kid who was madly in love with Bella Swan, his childhood friend.

"Jake... You okay?" Bella another member of the small group asked with concern on her face. An older man in a wheelchair who was previously chatting with the other older man in the group looked at the one named Jacob. A small knowing smile flashed over his features as he looked at his son.

'It's about damn time' Billy the man in the wheelchair thought. "Jake!" Bella's voice called him again, finally snapping the dark haired young man from his thoughts.

(Y/n) who was finally served food sat her phone down finally not even noticing the set of eyes on the back of her head.

"Is she-?" Bella whispered to Jacob just low enough for her father to not hear. "I... Think so... I think..."

"Son..." It was Billy who joined the conversation. "If you don't go talk to her... I will." Jacob's eyes went wide. How embarrassing would that be? His dad talking to his imprint before he could.

Jacob looked at the girl happily eating her dinner and playing around with her technology. Then she giggled. Oh God.

How could it be that just the day before he was trying to convince Bella not to turn into a vampire? That he was so madly and so deeply in love with the vampire girl that he defied Sam his pack leader for turn into dust and be replaced instantly by a young woman he hadn't even spoken to?

Jacob was so distracted by his thoughts he barely caught his father moving to go introduce himself. "No, wait. Dad. I'll go." He quickly stood up and wandered over to the table nervously. What was he going to say? What if she didn't like him? What if he said something dumb?

"Hey I'm Jacob." He said awkwardly, causing her to jump from what she was doing. Her face scrunched up in confusion before she finally looked up. Their eyes locked and it felt like everything stopped. Her heart beat hard against her ribcage at the very tall and dark haired man before her. "You looked lonely. Uhm. I know we just got here. But..." What was he doing? Inviting her to sit with his dad and his dad's best friend for dinner? That's weird isn't it? Especially since he was going to have dinner with a girl he was in love with.

"I'd love to join you." Why did she just agree to crash someone else's dinner? It looked like a family affair of sorts. "I'm (Y/n)!" She suddenly remembered her name. It felt like her face was on fire. He shifted from slightly nervous to having a large smile on his face. How sweet.

He even helped by carrying her stuff to the table. "This is my dad Billy. His friend Charlie and his daughter Bella." Jacob introduced allowing her to sit down. Something in the back of her mind told her that this was weird.

Something was off.

It felt... Magical. She knew magical.

But then Charlie began to talk about how he was a sheriff and the weirdness seemed to disappear. "So...where are you from?" Charlie asked trying to judge if this new girl was going to cause him trouble later. "Oh. Sunnydale," she paused. "California. Also graduated from Sunnydale high." She explained with a small smile.

Maybe it wasn't so bad joining their little dinner. It was nice having people to talk to, especially when one was so new. "What do you like to do Jake?" She said looking over at him before taking a bite of food.

"Oh, uh. I buy and flip cars right now. It's more of a side hustle really." He smiled at her. "Really?" She said with a smile on her lips. "Because the car I'm in is just a rental... If you find anything good will you think of me? I can't pay the rate they are wanting forever." She joked, gently and playfully touching his arm.

It was like fire. Both literally and figuratively. If it weren't for the people she could almost throw herself at him. But then his skin was so hot that it almost burned. "Absolutely." Jacob smiled. "What's your phone number?" He looked almost like a puppy who was just given a treat. She took his phone and put her number in and he sent her a text. A wolf emoji.

Her eyes looked him over again. Then the phone in her hand began ringing. She answered it quickly, it was the moving company.

Jacob watched as she excused herself to talk to whoever. Her once happy self was instantly deflated. Jacob did not like that at all. He felt it. He actually felt the sadness in her. Is this what it was like to have an imprint? Actually feeling their pain? She walked back in and sighed.

“Are you okay?” Jacob asked with what (Y/n) could only describe as genuine concern.

“My moving truck is going to be late. On Monday while I’m at work instead of on Sunday.” She shouldn’t be so easy to talk to someone she had only known for 20 minutes. Jacob didn’t like the look on her face one of distress.

Jacob looked her over again, hardly getting tired of looking at her face. “I have some friends on the Res. Maybe we can meet them. Help you out..” Jacob offered without a second thought.

“Really?” she looked at him unsure at first.

Jacob nodded, a bright smile on his face.

“O-okay” She agreed.

a/n: Stopping this one here and writing part 2 next. If I didn’t this would be 3000 words. Don’t worry I’m literally going from posting this part to writing the next bit because I already know what I’m going to do. Then I’m going to write a Paul version of this.

#twilight reader insert #jacob black x reader #Buffy The Vampire Slayer #btvs reader insert #part 1

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