#Cat asleep on wicker chair

[nobrashfestivity]

Kyohei Inukai 1913-1985

Cat asleep on wicker chair

charcoal drawing on paper, unsigned, ca. 1978-1984

11 by 8 5/8 in., 28 by 21.8 cm

Scholten Arts

#Kyohei Inukai #Cat asleep on wicker chair #charcoal drawing on paper #cats #japanese art

[pencil-to-paper]

vienna

The first time you deep cleaned your room, you stumbled through the steps

Wax cleaner on a mirror, your desk was so cluttered that your parents joked you couldn’t even see it was there

It took you a few days, but eventually you made room for homework and a plant pot

Now, you have a cleaning routine that’s become second nature

Start with the miscellaneous things - the clothes piled up on the chair, that random piece of paper you’ve been meaning to clean up

Then shelves, smaller surfaces, mirror and windows, but the honor of being second to last is reserved for the desk

Move everything off, dust, wipe, dry

Count the items you put back on one hand

Lastly, sweep the floors, go no further than the boundary of your doorway

Beyond the wooden frame there are disorganized papers, cabinets with forgotten contents, old toys that should’ve been donated years ago

Sometimes, when the boxes stacked in the living room become too much to bear, you hide in your sanctuary of white furniture and bright yellow walls, everything you’re not allowed to throw out hidden in wicker baskets and side drawers.

Imagine a future where you’re 25 with a fully developed brain and a clean kitchen. Reread those three lines on page 217, there will come a day when you too will have a small house that you can unabashedly call your own

The air free of dust, only peace and the scent of lemons

Mornings are slow but not boring, if you stay in bed another five minutes to pet your cat it’s not the end of the world

The house is warm, you can let yourself have a cup of tea before you go

In the evenings, when you come back from a day well spent, you leave your shoes and stress at the door

Go through the motions you love so deeply, daily patterns that are just flexible enough to keep you from going mad

Dance in the hallway on silent wooden floors, music as loud as you want because nobody’s asleep or working

When the weekend comes, sleep until the birds outside sing for your company

Pick berries from the garden to top your pancakes, sit and eat with your toes in the grass

You can clean or rest or create, whatever you do will be fulfilling because you chose what to devote your energy to

Look at yourself, your home, your life, and all you can say is “I love you, I love you, I love you”

#tfw you went from being super messy to a bit of a neat freak but you still live with messy people #i got the word “yearning” in my spotify wrapped one year and this does a very good job of showing why #the line about page 217 is about dodie's secrets for the mad book #also partially inspired by mxmtoon's quiet motions and billy joel's vienna #original content #original poem #poetry #poets on tumblr #writing #writers on tumblr #writeblr #creative writing

[mrcleanheichou]

Wolves are (NOT) Scary Chapter 7

Pairing: Werewolf!BTS X Female human reader

Genre: Fluff, smut, angst

Warnings: mention of toe socks... yes those deserve a warning

Word count: 1,888 (so close to 2k but I gotta stay on brand. can’t let anyone think long chapters are possible here)

Summary: All Y/N wants to do is find her creativity and motivation but she finds 7 werewolves instead.

Author note: I’m Back! I’ve been putting in work the past 4 days at the coffee shop. My house is 15 minutes away so I make the pilgrimage for good coffee and writing since i can’t write at home for some reason.

Tag list: @dustyinkpages @thickemadame @moonlitehunter @thedarkwinterrose @momoriki @iistrangers @openup-yourmind @sinceritythatcouldntbedelivered @lovelyseokjinnie @scuzmunkie @bjoriis @maddypool31  @tfkp0p @blubearxy @stealth-liberal

 Chapter 6 // Chapter 7 // Chapter 8

Present Day

“Jeez, it’s raining cats and dogs out there.” Yuna remarked moving one of the many potted plants to be able to look out the bay window. The rain hasn’t let up for the past three hours. In order to keep him calm the witch gave Jungkook a sedative which had him quietly snoring in human form curled up on the sleeping mat. A black comforter that had a white half moon and gold stars on it was placed over him. Ryujin said she got it from her bed so he better be grateful. That was the last thing he heard which brought a small smile to his face which broke your heart before he fell asleep.

Taehyung still hadn’t comeback to the shop for hours. He ignored your multiple calls and texts trying to see if he was okay. It had you pacing outside on the covered front porch. You tried following him when he first left but almost as if she could read your mind Yuna waived her hand at you. Saying ‘Oh no you don’t’ stopping you from moving an inch by using her magic to wrap you in the vines that covered the handrails until you promised you wouldn’t go.

“Can you please sit down,” Ryujin sighed sitting in a wicker chair. “I’m getting tired just watching you.”

“I can’t just sit down! I need to find him, he’s all alone out there and who knows where he went.” You say exasperated hugging your arms to your body shivering from the adrenaline coursing through your body and the slight chill of the rain.

The cat shifter’s gaze softened and her big black ears drooped slightly. She does feel bad but she’s not very good at the whole comforting thing. So she gets up, taking off the orange hoodie she had on and offers it to you. “Here, I’ll go get you some sweatpants from upstairs.”

When she was gone you were finally all alone with your thoughts. You don’t care what Tae said, you feel it in your heart Namjoon wouldn’t get rid of Jungkook over this. This had to blow over. Was Jungkook dumb for doing this? Yes, but everyone makes mistakes. This shouldn’t be held against him. Yoongi isn’t the type to hold a grudge, you just know he’d forgive him if he saw how bad Jungkook felt.

It had finally stopped raining around 6 pm and Taehyung still hadn’t comeback. You couldn’t stop the tears from springing forth for what felt like the millionth time today. You stared at the leftover Galbitang that Ryujin made yesterday sitting in front of you on the small dining table. The soup gave off a comforting warmth that you were too sad to appreciate. Feeling Yuna’s concerned stare you grab your chopsticks and pick up a piece of radish slowly chewing it. You had no appetite at all but if eating kept Yuna off your back you’d do it.

The second story of the shop is where Yuna and Ryujin live. The whole upstairs has two bedrooms one bathroom, a small kitchen and a door to an upper porch sitting area. It smells like warm apple cider all year long due to Yuna’s cider addiction and her constant need to make it.

Jungkook was still knocked out downstairs due to the sedative’s strength being twelve hours. The stress of the day’s events were finally starting to catch up to you, feeling emotionally exhausted you just wanted to sleep but you knew that sleep would probably elude you. You didn’t want to rest while Taehyung was still out there, you held onto hope that he’s just at the bakery and didn’t listen to you when you said go back to the pack.

Pack pov

“Namjoon, you can’t be serious!” Jin exclaimed horrified by his alpha’s decision. Although he knew it was the right call deep down he couldn’t imagine what life would be like after.

“Do you care that little about the fact that Yoongi, or any one of us, could have died today? For something so childish and immature. This won’t hurt just you, I have emotions too!” Namjoon slammed his hand against a tree. “You think I don’t love and care about them? That this doesn’t make me feel like I failed as an alpha? I won’t let anyone hurt this pack even if it means sacrificing members for the greater good.”

Jin opened his mouth to say something but he was cut off by a dangerous sounding growl.

“You can join them if you want,” The alpha growled menacingly at the older wolf, “But I can no longer tolerate insubordination. They both have to go and that’s final.”

The next day

The feeling of a heavy warmth covered your body. It made you feel overheated and you tried to get away from it.

“Please don’t go.” A small voice said in your ear. Turning around in the tight grasp you saw it was Jungkook. You don’t know when he got into bed with you, looking at him he looked small and closed in on himself. Almost like a young boy who snuck into his parent’s bed after having a nightmare.

“Is Tae back?” You ask hopefully.

Jungkook avoids your gaze and shakes his head. “He’s not coming back.”

“What?” you say loudly sitting up. “What do you mean?! How do you know that?”

Sighing before he breaks the news with a shakey voice. “Yuna got a hold of him on the phone. He went back to the pack. He said he’s sorry but he can’t be here.”

A sinking feeling set in your stomach as you put your head in your hands.

“I’m sorry Y/N...”

“I know Kookie. I know.”

3 years ago

“C’mon in!” a cheerful voice called from the back of the store. “Go ahead and take a look around and I'll be right there. Ryujinie can you come help me please?”

The girl in the bucket hat held the door for you, then walked past you to a doorway where the woman from yesterday must have been. That left you to your own devices.

Nothing could have prepared you for the inside of this shop. It literally felt like a shop straight out of Diagon Alley. There was a certain buzzing feeling emminating from all corners. Vines just like the ones outside ran along the walls  leading up to a wall that looked like it was covered in four leaf clovers. They looked almost real but you knew they had to be just a plastic sheeting decoration. There was rows and rows of isles that stretched to the back of the shop with hanging signs at the end that announced what was contained within like you would see at a grocery store. The closest one you could see had ‘Pain relief’ on it in gold cursive lettering that looked like it was etched into the wood instead of just painted on. There was a sales counter in front to the right of where the aisles started. There was a floor to ceiling wall of cubbies that had jars containing what looked like different herbs.

If you had to describe it you would say that it looked like a pinterest aesthetic board threw up. The crystal collection on a table by the window and numerous ‘mystical’ paintings that lined some of the walls really set that feeling in stone.

You headed to the ‘Pain relief’ section and found glass bottles filled with colorful liquids. You could tell they were made in the shop because there were hand written labels adorning each container. Some of the bottles were oddly specific, an orange colored fluid said ‘Left side tooth ache relief’ sat next to a green fluid that said ‘Right side tooth ache relief’.

Walking through the rest of the aisles brought more of the same. The allergy relief aisle had what looked like black gummies in the shape of cat heads, that said they help with black cat dander allergies while another package of red gummies in the same shape just said cat dander protection.

As you moved to the back of the shop there were medications for things like the common cold but also for things like ‘General uneasiness located in the abdomen’ and ‘Recurring sleep paralysis blocker.’ That last one was in a bottle that was shaped like a little demon. That definitely had to be a gag gift you thought chuckling to yourself.

“Would you like some tea?” The woman’s voice sounded in your right ear causing you to jump back in surprise. “Oops, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Feeling your heart pounding in your chest, the thought of there being a specific medication for that feeling somewhere too almost made you laugh out loud. “Yes, please.”

If you had to guess Yuna’s style was definitely intertwined with the subject matter of her shop. Today she had on a pair of skinny jeans and a red long sleeved button up blouse that had black skulls in printed pattern on it. It looked like something straight out of hot topic. You also noticed she didn’t have shoes on, her socks were neon green and they were those ugly ones that went on each individual toe like a glove. More power to the people that can wear them and not be uncomfortable.

Pulling yourself out of your thoughts you followed out to the porch where there was a black iron patio table set. Placed on top of it was a glossy black tea kettle in the shape of a cat. It looked exactly like Jiji from ‘Kiki’s Delivery Service’.  There was two mugs, a white one with an orange witch’s hat and the saying ‘Resting Witch Face’ and the other was black that said ‘Big Witch Energy’ with a white pentagram, it was the closest one to you.

“So Y/N how are you liking it here?” Yuna asks sitting down and reaching for the kettle.

You looked at her a little shocked, “H-how do you know my name?”

You didn’t even realize it but even the other woman knew your name. You haven’t really interacted with anyone outside of the bakery and the cashiers at the grocery store.

“Oh dear, Yeji didn’t tell you? I’m her sister. She told me you were coming.”

“She never said anything about having a sister.” You frowned.

The woman just sighed dramatically and said “She’s too busy for her own good, she’d probably forget her name if someone didn’t remind her every once in a while.”

Meanwhile

“I can’t do it anymoooooore”

“Will you stop complaining that’s all you’ve done all day!”

“Because this sucks.” Jungkook sighed putting his head on the counter, subsequently getting leftover frosting on his left cheek. Why did he have to be stuck with Jin hyung? He’s Mr perfectionist and made Jungkook redo the same batch of red velvet three times already. He didn’t know what he wanted to do more, pull his hair out or choke out the older man. He’s too much of a good boy to do the latter, although its very tempting. At least Hobi hasn’t been on his neck for things too. In fact he hasn’t said much of anything today. Wait…

“Hyung?”

Jin just hummed in reply not paying attention.

“Where’s Hobi?”

#bts werewolf au #bts werewolf reader #poly!bts x reader #ot7 x reader #bts reader #bts reader angst #bts reader insert #namjoon reader #rm reader #seokjin reader #jin reader #yoongi reader #suga reader #jhope reader #hoseok reader #hobi reader #jimin reader #v reader #taehyung reader #jungkook reader

[an-actual-angel]

Pairing: Connor (RK800) x Reader, Collin (RK800-60) x Reader, Richard (RK900) x Reader

Summary: The year was 2082. 44 Years after the android revolution. Things have turned south for humanity. Androids now rule the world, leaving humans to be considered as mere animals. While some Androids still have a general disdain for humanity some have taken to the idea of keeping them as “family pets.” You, born in captivity, specifically bred to be the perfect pet happen to get adopted by the RK brothers.

(If anyone wants to be added to the tag list, either dm or reply to this post <3)

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Chapter 36 -  Running away is easy, Its the leaving that's hard

It had almost been two weeks since you last saw Connor and Collin. It had been tough, to say the least, you missed them like crazy. You would constantly check your phone for messages that would never come. Perhaps it didn’t take them long at all to forget about you. You couldn’t let yourself get too upset about it though, this was your decision. Maybe it was easier for them to keep their distance. It would probably work out better this way in the end.

Danny was right when he said that life in the settlement wasn't going to be glamorous, it was hard work, something you weren’t used to, coming from living cushy in a penthouse. You mostly helped out with farming the land and tending to the chickens, feeding them, cleaning out their coop, collecting eggs, etc. You also got stuck with the job of babysitting some kids from time to time. It was good to keep busy though, to keep your mind away from androids.

When you had free time, you spent it mostly with Emily, catching up, attempting to look after her, although insisted she didn’t need the fuss.

You had been staying in Emily’s shack, it was just you her and her cat Pepper, but you made a good little family. You wondered whatever happened to the father of Emily’s child, she didn’t want to talk about him too much, whoever he was. She’d just say he was away.

You didn’t want to push her but your overbearing curiosity would not sit at peace. Some other ladies around the settlement had told you he had been taken by androids.

What Emily did tell you about the child’s father was that his name was James and he was the one that saved her from the adoption centre. Well, he’d been one of the humans in the midst of the one of the riots in the city who also happened to help some of the humans escape the centre.

“Took down two androids right in front of my eyes, that how I knew he was the one.” She laughed.  

“He took down two androids? On his own?” You spluttered out, not believing her.

“Yeah, with one of these,” Emily smirked handing you over a baton.

Taking it in your hand you examine it, slightly confused until you see a button near the bottom. “Is this one of the electric ones the cops use?”

“Yep, can take out an android with a few quick buzzes.” She points her chin at you and smiles. “That’s my man, always got the good weapons.”

“I’m quite surprised you settled on a man honestly.” You smirked, “Last time I saw you, you were giving puppy dog eyes to Olivia.” You cock your head to the side, raising your eyebrows.

“Yeah, I did have a thing for her, until she got adopted and you know. Kinda couldn’t see her anymore.”

“Liv got adopted?”

“Yeah.” Emily shrugged plainly and looked away.

“I’m sorry Emily.” You reach out your hand to touch hers.

“Why are you sorry?” She shakes her head, pulling her hand away from yours to rest on her baby bump.

“It just must have been lonely for you, without me and Liv.” You bite at the broken skin on your bottom lip.

“Yeah it was a bit, but then I met James.” She smiled a little but it faded fast. “He’ll come back you know.” She said quickly, more telling it as a way to convince herself, rather than you.

You nod back to her, not wanting to hurt your friend. “Of course Emily.”

Her hand wipes at her eye a little. “Best be getting to bed.” She stands to her feet. “You should as well” she smiles placing her hand on your shoulder.

“That’s probably a good idea.” You nod. “Big day tomorrow.”

___

You woke to the sun shining through the thin material of your makeshift curtain, with a rub of your eyes and a quick stretch you were up to start your day. Making breakfast for yourself and Emily was first on the list and then feeding Emily’s cat Pepper was second. The next few hours would be spent outside on the farm tending to some of the plants and vegetables, you would do this until lunchtime when you would have a quick bite to eat and then on to the ‘town’ meeting, a quick impromptu one that had been called by Danny.

They had received word from another settlement, one not too far from them that they would aid them in their next city raid.

“City raid?” You whispered to Emily, not understanding what he had meant.

“Yeah, we’d been planning this one for a while.” She whispers back quickly. “It’s how we get more weapons, people, stuff like that.”

“Does Connor know you guys have been doing this?” You ask.

“No. but he doesn’t need to know.” She shrugs. “We send our doughboys out with masks anyway.”

“Doughboys?” You asked even more confused than before.

“Yeah, our fighters.” She snaps as she furrows her brows. “Don’t you listen?” realising how quick she was with you she apologises “Sorry, I forgot that you’re still new around here. We call our ‘recruits’” she says with parenthesis. “Doughboys, and they get shit done. I was one before, well before y’know.” She rubs her bump.

“Never pegged you as a fighter.”

“Well, I guess there’s a lot you don’t know about me then.” She laughs.

“Ladies,” Danny calls Emily and your attention back to him.

“This time it’s going to be the big one.” Danny looks around at everyone’s faces. “There are people from other settlements in the city as we speak. It’s almost our time to join them. Three days. Three more days!” His weathered hand hits the table he was standing in front of. “And we're getting our boys back.”

You notice Emily nod to Danny, her lip wobbles as she turns to you.

“James.” she half-smiles half whimpers as her hand grabs yours.

You give her hand a tight squeeze and whisper a silent prayer that they will indeed find him alive and well.

As the day goes on most of the camp seems in a mixture of excitement and fear about the upcoming raid.

The ‘Doughboys’ as Emily called them, coordinating their plan of attack, parents ensuring their children that everything will work out, farmers, bakers, and medics in a tizzy to prepare the needed supplies.

As the evening settles in you begin to worry for Emily, what if they can’t find James? what if he’s not even alive?

Poor Emily has been through so much. She doesn’t deserve any more grief.

A part of you wants to tell her to not get her hopes up but saying that would be cruel. You just nod along and try to keep her comfortable. After dinner Emily ends up falling asleep on the recliner chair she had been sitting on. As you wrap a blanket over her shoulders you realise that you're almost out of firewood and the fire its self is beginning to dwindle down.

Grabbing one of Emily’s cloaks from a hanger, you drape it over your shoulders before heading out on your quest to seek out more wood.

Wooden logs were usually kept in an area just west of the settlement, it was a little walk through the trees but not too far. You usually preferred going out when it was brighter. The light from your phone only made the place look creepier. The quietness of the area didn’t help either, if it wasn’t for the noises made by nearby animals the place would be downright eerie. At least you could still see the warm glow of the settlement in the distance through the trees.  

You knelt down on dry dirt to pick up some of the logs from the bottom of the pile to put in the wicker basket that you had brought with you. After you make your selection you stand back to your feet and dust off the dirt of your clothes. Just as you are about to reach down for your basket again you are abruptly stopped by a large hand being placed over your mouth as well as an arm wrapping around your front holding both your arms in place so that you cannot struggle from the grasp. You try to wrestle your way out of the grasp in a fit of fear but a familiar voice sends you into shock.

“Please calm down.”

Is that?

Your body is frozen.

“I only grabbed you like this in case you screamed. Sorry, it was a bit abrupt, I know.”

Your heart begins to thump harder in your chest but this time not from fear.

“When I let go, please don’t scream.” The voice pleads.

You manage to nod your head, still, in your state of shock, the hands and arm loosen from you and you try to steady yourself on your feet before turning around.

You take a deep breath as you slowly move on your feet towards the person whose grip you had just been in.

“Richard.” You exhale deeply.

His tongue wets his lip before he attempts to speak, however, you cut him off.

“What are you doing here!? If anyone sees you!” You shout in a whisper at him.

“Look, I know, I know.” He lifts his hands in defence. “I was just lucky that you happened to be out here so I didn't have to go in there.” He gestures his head towards the settlement.

“Don’t dare step foot in there.” Your eyes widen as if he’s gone mad.

“I won’t, I won’t… If you come back.”

“What? No.” You shake your head.

“No?”

“I can’t Richard. I belong here.”

“Y/N, Look at this place. It’s disgusting.” He shakes his head as he scans his eyes across the poorly put together ‘town’. “Surviving on scraps, like an animal. You have a nice home, come back.” He reaches out to hold your hands.

You lift your brows to look up at him, your mouth becoming straight as you shake your head and slowly pull your hands away.

“I can’t, I just can’t.” You pick your basket off the ground and turn to walk away from the android.

“I’ll give you anything!” He shouts out. You turn your head to him.

“I’ll do anything.” He moves towards you again. “Just say the word. Please.”

He reaches his hand towards yours once more, his other caressing your cheek.

“I’ll even help with the rebellion.” He whispers.

“The rebellion?” You look up at him, your face plagued with even more confusion.

“Whatever it is the humans are planning. I can help, I can be of use just, please come back.” He begs his forehead now resting against yours.

“Wha- I don't understand. Why?” You whisper to him, closing your eyes as you press your forehead back against his.

“Because I love you.”

________________________________________________________________

Chapter 37 -  Alrighty Aphrodite

You had entered the settlement on your own again. Going back to your shack, you had to explain the situation to Emily.

“If he can get James back.” She stopped for a minute to steady her breath. “Then I’m on board.”

After a quick hug and farewell, you had a bag packed and you were off.

“I’ll be back.” You said once more to Emily before leaving.

“I know.” She nods.

Richard had been waiting for you just outside the gateway, you had told him to wait there so he wouldn’t spook the residents.

“I can carry that” Richard insist, taking your bag from your hands, before you could say anything he had it thrown over his shoulder. You bite at your lips not really knowing what to say but walking through the forested area with him in silence.

“It’s not too far of a walk to the car,” He said. “I did try to park as close as I could.”

You just nod and continue to walk. After another while of insufferable silence, you finally speak up to him.

“So, is it true?” You turn towards the Android. “Do you really love me?”

His eyes fall to the ground for a moment as he continues on. “Yes.” He fell quiet again for a moment before continuing on. “I think I first began to realise when Collin got in that accident. You stayed with him.” He let out an artificial sigh. “I started to think about if something had happened to you and-” He shrugged.

“It took me a long time to come to grips with my feelings as you could probably tell. I never experience this type of emotion before.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” You tilt your head attempting to make eye contact, his gaze still avoiding yours as he trudged forward.

“I was an idiot. A scared fool.”

“You are an idiot.” You stop for a minute causing Richard to stop as well, he moves closer to you, to see if you are alright. Taking him by surprise you lean up to press a kiss to his cheek. Richard hums for a second moving away slowly, he looks into your eyes before he tries to kiss your lips.

You however hold your hand out and say “I can't do that, I have boyfriends.” Before walking on.

“Yeah, ones that left you behind.” Richard sighs moving again to walk beside you.

“They did that to protect me.”

“Connor in his twisted reasoning. He probably did it more to protect himself. He is selfish. You have no idea what your leaving has done to Collin.” Richard grumbles.

“So you’re guilt-tripping me now?” You roll your eyes.

“I’m just saying.” Richard grunts, re-adjusting your bag against his back. “Why’d you not bring your suitcase?”

“This is just temporary.” You shrug.

“I see.”

“How’s Connor doing?” You change the subject before Richard tries to convince you to stay forever.

“He’s stressed about all of the attacks that have been happening in the city and he’s stressed because Collins current mental stability is not too fun. I think it would cheer him up to see you.”

“Yeah and he might murder you for bringing me.” You quip back.

“True. I guess we’ll just have to see.” He retorts as you notice Richard’s car parked in the distance. He did park quite close. Something Connor would also be pissed about.

“How did you find me anyway?” You ask the question that’s been on your mind since you first saw him.

“I’m afraid the truth of the matter might unsettle you a little.” He explains as his car beeps at his arrival.

“Go on.” You encourage him. “You can’t stop now.”

“I am one of the most advanced androids in existence.” He explains whilst throwing your bag in the back of his car. He then opens the passenger side door for you to get in. When you do he leans down to your ear to whisper, “I’m everywhere.” And with that, he closes the door.

You sit for a moment in contemplation as he gets into his side of the car to sit down. As he puts his seat belt on you turn to him with confusion on your face. “Did you hack my phone?”

Richard rolls his eyes as he starts up the car. “I was able to tap into the journey history of Connor's vehicle. I knew he was behind all of this.” He begins to explain as his own car sets out.

“When I got to the location of the factory I was able to scan for signs of nearby technology. Your settlement stood out like a beacon. Didn’t take too long for me to tap into some phones that were being used yes, and then I saw you.”

“Can other androids do all that?”

“Not a lot can. And definitely not to the extent that I can. As I say, I’m everywhere. Any piece of technology, I can tap into if I desire so.” Richard explains proudly.

“So, do you ever use it to spy on people?”

“Only if necessary.”

“You ever watch people naked?” You smirk a little.

Richard’s brows furrow as he blushes slightly. “No, I would not do that.”

You burst out in laughter at his defensiveness. “I’m just teasing.”

Richard adjusts his shirt collar in discomfort. “Indeed.” He replies dryly.

You smile and rest your head against the back of the seat.

“You know you can lie in the back if you want, it’s a long drive and you could do with some sleep.”

You swivel your seat around to look at the back seat, assessing it. Swapping your seat with your bag that had been put in the back and lay down on the cool leather.

“You don’t have any blankets do you?” You ask Richard as you attempt to find some level of comfort on the cold seat.

“No, sorry. I can turn the heat up if you like?”

“hmmpf.” You think for a minute. “Isn’t this car self-driving?”

“Yes,” Richard replies, not really sure at what you’re getting at.

“Why don’t you just put in the destination and then come back here and lie with me?”

His LED begins flashing red. “I think Connor would definitely try and kill me if we sleep with each other again.” Richard stammers.

“I wasn’t suggesting we have sex, oh my god!” You smack your hand over your mouth to not laugh.

Richard's face began to turn in cringe, “oh I just thought-”

“I meant so we could cuddle.” You explain, smirk still present on your face.

“Do you think Collin and Connor would be okay with that?”

“I think they’d be angrier if you let me get sick from the cold.” You tease.

“That is a fair point.” Richard raises a brow as he puts in the location for the car to self-drive. When he has it tapped in, he too swivels around in his seat to move to the back with you.

Richard is a little awkward at first as he clumsily shifted to lay down in the backseat with you, eventually pulling you into his chest. The thrum of his thirium pump makes you grin in triumph as he settles his head to rest on top of yours. Richard then changes his body temperature to a comfortable setting so that he could be your personal radiator for the next few hours.

Was this weird? Absolutely. Was this wrong? Maybe. Was this comfortable? YES.

But you allowed yourself the brief comfort of being in Richard's arms, even if it was just for this one night. Maybe you felt like you deserved it, you were entitled to some amount of comfort after all the crap you’ve been through.

A part of you was angry and Collin and Connor for not reaching out, even to send a measly little text message. Your more rational mind told you to drop it, something might have come up, you didn’t know the full story, and maybe it was too hard for them. Although that didn’t stop it from stinging your ego any less.

You managed to drift off to sleep rather quickly, that was one of the benefits from all the hard work you had been up to at the settlement, sleep found you a whole lot quicker. Richard had stayed beside you for the majority of the journey as well, cherishing the feeling of having you in his arms once again. Deciding to himself to never be without this feeling anymore. His face snuck its way between your neck and collar bone to take in your scent and to delicately place his lips against your skin just for a sweet moment of indulgence. He had to wiggle his hips away from yours so you would not awake with his growing hardness against your ass.

Feeling a little guilty for his body’s response he decided to give you some space, sliding his form out from the side, slowly as not to wake you. He couldn’t help but smiling down at how comfortable you seemed as he made his way back to the driver’s seat, the seat still swivelled around to face the back.

Richard did eventually wake you up as the car pulled into the private garage area for the RK’s apartment building.

“We're here, little dove.” He coos to you, brushing his knuckles down the length of your arm.

Your eyes squinted open, feeling blinded by the violently bright fluorescent lights of the garage you had found yourself in. Looking down you had noticed one of Richard's coats had been draped over you. You rubbed your eyes briefly before reaching down to it to hand it over to Richard.

“You put it on.” He insisted, pushing it back towards you. “At least until we get inside. It gets cold in the garage, at least that’s what my sensors tell me.”

You didn’t object you just nodded in silence, still in that groggy half sleep-like state. Throwing the oversized coat onto yourself you open the car door and hop out, Richard grabbing your bag soon follows behind, hand on your shoulder as he directs you towards the elevator.

It felt strange being back in the city, even stranger to see the apartment building again.

When you entered back into your old home, it had felt different somehow, a little bit eerie even. Suppose it didn’t help that most of the lights were off.

“Collin and Connor are both out at the moment.” Richard finally spoke up again, leading you by the shoulder into the dark living room, with a flash of his LED the lights were on.

You squinted again at the harshness of them before Richard had dimmed them to a more pleasing brightness level.

“Why don’t you go and get a nice hot bath and I can put your stuff away.” He awkwardly half-smiles over at you.

“Are you sure?” You ask skittishly.

“Of course.” He tilts his head in confusion, it’s not like having YOU here was any bother to him, he was bloody delighted. “After that, I can go get my brothers?”

“Right now?” You stuttered out the question, fidgeting with the large sleeves of Richard’s coat that you had forgotten to take off.

“Do you want some time before?” Richard asked, head tilting once more, exposing his pale neck to you.

You shook your head and looked back down at your hands. “I don’t know, maybe. It’s not that I don’t want to see them. This is all just a little overwhelming.”

“I understand.” Richard nods. “Just one thing at a time.”

You look up at him once more, catching his cool eyes in a stare, you nod. “A hot bath sounds good.”

________________________________________________________________

Notes:  I lowkey called Emily's love interest James after Bucky Barnes (cause for some reason I imaging him looking like Bucky lol)

Sorry I'd been gone for a while, just been really busy with work and general life stuff.

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Taglist: @connorsdimple @clussysposts @iris-suoh​ @jellicorn05​

(Let me know if  anyone  need added or removed from the tag list!)

#fic: pretty baby #My writing #connor x you #connor x reader #rk900 x reader #rk800 x reader #rk800-60 x reader #detroit become human #dbh fanfic #dbh au #rk900 #rk800 #rk800-60

[mandolovian]

behind the console

pairing: din djarin/the mandalorian x reader

warnings: none! lots of fluff! (sleep what’s sleep)

word count: 1.7k

A month or so after you had joined the Mandalorian on the Razor Crest, the baby had taken a very strong liking to your dangling earring. Just the left one - the one he would chew idly on whenever you carried him in your arms. The Mandalorian had long since stopped trying to get him to stop, and instead watched with a curiously tilted helmet as the baby slowly fell asleep, the earring firmly held between his teeth.

It only took a few days for the baby to slowly slip the earring out of your piercing, and his big plaintive eyes made it extraordinarily difficult to ask for it back (to which the Mandalorian chastised you later - ‘You need to hold your ground! Who knows how many earrings you’ll lose like this.’)

The baby’s little ball was long forgotten, and had slipped down the console to rest against the glass of the cockpit windshield. You leaned over the controls to pick it up, intent on screwing it back onto the gear shift, but the Mandalorian’s gloved hand wrapped around your wrist, holding you back.

(and you try your best to control your breathing, to lower your heart rate, but there was no way he missed the way your pulse rose at the touch.)

‘It’s okay,’ he murmured as he shifted his gaze back at the stars. You held your arm against your chest, rubbing a little absentmindedly at your wrist. Behind you, the baby snuffled a little in his sleep. 

‘You don’t want it back on the gear shift?’ you asked, and didn’t receive a response in return. 

Taking that as an affirmative, you let the small ball roll against the console, and left the cockpit for the night. 

---

You were surprised that it lasted as long as it did. 

An unfortunate combination of a Twi’lek with impressive combat skills and Mando’s flamethrower had resulted in his fleece cape being burned beyond repair. With the ship safely in hyperspace and stoically on autopilot, Mando sat on a crate on the hull to sort through the damage of the day. 

It was rare to see him without much of his armour. Hunched over, the fabric of his simple shirt stretched over shoulder blades, and his sleeves were dutifully folded up to his elbows. A sigh escaped the reaches of his helmet, quietened by the static, and he turned the scraps of the cape over in his hands.

‘Nothing you can do?’ you asked as you climbed down the ladder, and he just sighed again in response. He inclined his helmet in invitation, and you took the cape from his hands. There truly wasn’t much left - the remaining salvageable fabric was scarcely bigger than the length of your forearm, and the edges had somehow been melted down. You frowned at the fabric, and Mando let out a dry laugh at your pout.

‘A lot of my weapons were damaged,’ he said. He tipped his helmet side to side, stretching the cords of his neck with a soft groan. ‘We might have to stop for supplies sooner than I thought. Could you put in the coordinates for Dantooine?’

You rested your hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently. Mando hummed, and you suppressed the urge to press your fingers harder against the muscles, just to hear him groan again. 

‘Of course,’ you whispered.

Later, when Mando joined you in the cockpit, you kept your eyes firmly on your datapad. You definitely didn’t see him running his fingers over the fabric of his cape, nearly folded into a small square, tied with scrap of ribbon, pressed between the edge of the console and the windshield. 

---

‘Have you ever been here before?’ Din asked, his boots making soft crunching noises against the sand. 

‘Never,’ you said. ‘Well, definitely never here, on this planet. But I’ve also never seen water like this before.’

The beach was lined with activity - little marquees of pop-up markets, and vendors selling the most eclectic of goods. Here, a young girl sat at a wicker table under a blue tarp, painstakingly applying paint to the face of a toddler squealing with glee. In another stall, several hangers displayed scarves in a dizzying array of colours, and a portly woman, wearing several scarves herself, was arguing passionately with a customer. 

You shifted the baby against your hip, and he cooed at the sites of the sea. ‘See there, adi’ika?’ you said, pointing towards the glittering reflection of the horizon. ‘Water!’

The baby looked at your hand, and waved his own in an imitation of your pointing. He giggled, tapped your cheek with his waving hand, and babbled against your shoulder.

You laughed a little. ‘That isn’t how you say water,’ you teased gently, pinching his cheek, ‘but we’ll get there eventually.’

It was peaceful. A momentary reprieve from the nomadic lifestyle of planet hopping, and you allowed yourself to idly daydream of a small beachside cottage and quietly furnished it in your mind - a front garden with rows upon rows of vegetables. A sunroom with a loth-cat lounging lazily on a wicker couch. A bed, half-covered in plump pillows and patchwork blankets. 

A framed crayon drawing in the front doorway. Maybe a pair of boots outside the front door. 

Din lowered himself to sit cross-legged next to you on the sand, leaning back on his hands behind him. He tutted at the baby, who was puttering around happily in the shallows, squealing in delight at every small wave. 

‘It’ll be difficult to get him back on the ship,’ Din said quietly. He nudged your shoulder with his, urging you to lean back, and you do just that, resting your bodyweight a little against his. 

‘He’ll tire himself out,’ you replied gently.

It was an odd appearance, and you knew that. You, dressed in one of Din’s old tunics, leaning against a fully-armoured Mandalorian on a lively beach, watching a little green baby wrinkle his nose at accidentally swallowing salt water, and you were loathe to think of what the beachgoers thought of the combination. 

‘I found some sea glass,’ said Din, and he held out his hand for you. Three small pebbles sat on his palm, light blue and translucent, faded by the wind and the sea. The light of the suns flickered off the surface of the glass, and they knocked against each other with soft clinks. 

He found some sea glass. You couldn’t really explain why your eyes became watery.

Din kept his visor trained on the baby, who was now sitting in the water. ‘We can put them behind the console,’ he continued, not noticing your sniffles. ‘I think we still have space there.’

---

Ground protocol had been activated, and good thing too, because the dust storm on Er’Kit was all but tipping the Crest over. The hollow low whistling of the wind was not the most comforting and, given that the power had somehow been knocked out, you only had the dim emergency runner lights to keep you company. 

The side ramp of the Crest opened slowly - manually, you gathered, given the creaky clunks of the hydraulics. You sat in the pilot's seat and stared ahead into the sheets of dust battering the windshield, counting the heavy footfalls in the hull. Eight to get from the doorway to the ladder, and four up the ladder. 

He sounded tired. 

The smooth beskar helmet pressed against the top of your head, and you heard the soft rustles of gloves being removed before Din wrapped his arms around your chest. You leaned down and pressed a kiss against his forearm.

‘Sand is stupid,’ Din mumbled, and you hummed in agreement. ‘Anyone who lives on Er’Kit is stupid. Whatever made the wires on the Crest so friable is stupid.’

You let Din grumble a little more, rubbing his forearm absentmindedly. 

‘As soon as we get enough credits, we’re buying a house.’

That brought attention sharply back into focus. You spun yourself in the chair out of Din’s grip, frowning at the visor. ‘A house?’ you said incredulously. 

Din took off his helmet with a soft grunt, frowning when a steady stream of sand fell out of it when he tipped it over. He had already removed the rest of his beskar, leaving behind a man in dusty blacks. He was so beautiful, you thought, admiring the lines adorning the corners of his eyes, and the way his hair had flattened against his scalp. You stood to face him, reaching up to brush your fingers through his hair, returning volume to it. Din shut his eyes at the action, and leaned forward to press his forehead to yours. 

‘A house,’ he said. ‘One with the garden that you want. And all the loth-cats you want. You don’t have to spend another day on a ship if you don’t want to, and especially not on a desert planet like this.’

He leaned back to look at you, and pressed a sandy kiss to the corner of your lip. ‘If anything, we’re running out of space for our trinkets.’

The walls of the cockpit were covered in paper artworks of shaky crayon handprints - some five-fingered, some three. Small beaded bracelets hung from almost every control on the console, and a little clay pot of dried flowers sat right in the middle of the console. 

To the right of the pilots seat, your earring hung off the unscrewed gear shift - the metal hook bent into a loop so it wouldn’t slip off. The baby held the other firmly in his little hand while he slept in his pod. 

‘We do need more space, don’t we,’ you said finally, and Din kissed you slowly in response. You could feel his smile against your lips, and you tugged gently at his curls. 

‘Nowhere with sand, though.’

‘Of course not.’

#dev talks #AAAAAAAAAAAA #im so sleepy but this idea just like #consumed me #and who am i not to indulge the Urge To Write #the mandalorian #mando #din djarin #mando x reader #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #mandalorian imagine #mandalorian blurb #din djarin blurb #fluff #mywriting #blurb #lfjwejiweofjoiwjfiojewfioejwiof #ok im going to bed #nanite

[authorialarcanist]

Gracidea Blossom Chapter 3: Measuring Up Against Meditite

(Pokémon Diamond, Pearl, & Platinum x Little Busters!)

Mirror Links: AO3, Pokécommunity, Spacebattles

---

Previous - Next

---

A world of total darkness. No touch. No sound.

The only thing reminding him he exists is the pressure, like a vise clamping down on his head.

Even his thoughts stall as he falls through this endless void. He doesn’t dream.

He never dreams.

…

Time passes, and eventually the throbbing in his head begins to fade. The ability to think returns to him. He becomes aware of his senses again.

Touch, first. He can feel of his hands pressing into smooth sheets.

Then hearing. After that void, even the soft sound of breathing feels like a salvation.

His head still feels heavy, but he can move his fingers now. He’s regaining control of his body.

Riki opens his eyes.

He’s in the guest room of the Natsume residence. Rin is asleep in a nearby chair, her body curled in on itself as she slumbers. A glance at the clock tells Riki that it’s 9 in the evening, but after his narcoleptic spell, he doesn’t feel tired enough to sleep properly.

Quietly, so as to not disturb his friend, Riki slips out of bed and pads to the hall. When he reaches the living room, he finds Kyousuke sitting there.

“Ah, Riki. So you’re up.” Kyousuke turns in his seat. “Masato and Kengo have gone home for the day, but I have a list of what preparations are left. There were a couple of things we needed you for.”

“Oh. Um…” Riki doesn’t meet his eyes. “Are you… really sure that me going with you is going to be okay? I mean, I didn’t speak up before, but…”

“…But what if you fall asleep on the road?” Kyousuke finishes for him. “Don’t worry, Riki, I knew about this when I made the offer. When that happens, we can just make camp and wait for you. We don’t have so little time that we can’t afford to cut a day’s travel early here and there.”

“Oh. Well, if you’re sure… I do still want to stay with all of you,” Riki says.

For a moment, Riki thinks he sees a shadow pass over Kyousuke’s face. It’s gone so quickly, though, that he decides he must have imagined it.

“Right. Just think of it as another one of our adventures, and I’m sure you’ll have fun.” Kyousuke gets up from his seat, and shows Riki a list with most of the items crossed off. “If you don’t want to go back to sleep just yet, we can try and take care of the last preparations right now.”

Riki nods. “Yeah, I don’t feel tired. Oh, but you should probably get Rin to bed before we leave. That chair doesn’t look too comfortable.”

And so the night goes on…

——

The next morning, the friends gather by a fountain at the west end of town. Here, the bricks of Hearthome slowly give way to grass and pine trees, and a stone path leads the rest of the way out of the city. Most people leaving the city use one of two gate buildings: A small one to the east leads towards Solaceon Town, while the west end has a larger building with exits to the south and west.

The western gate is a three-story building, with a rest area on the second floor. Along with being a place for exhausted trainers to rest their legs, the second level also has souvenir shops and a food court. The top floor is a small hotel with fairly cheap rooms, for travelers who come in at night and don’t want to search for a place in the city.

The ground floor is somewhat more utilitarian, with a few stalls selling travel supplies. Stretches of empty wall are covered with large maps, some showing the travel routes of the Sinnoh region while others detail the layouts of Hearthome, Route 208, and Route 212. The maps are broken up by wall-mounted TV screens, turned to weather and news channels. Travel advisories scroll across the bottoms of the screens. ‘If traveling south, be sure to bring waterproof gear!’ ‘Never attempt to climb Mt. Coronet without a buddy!’

Riki and his friends pass by these sights, stopping to check the weather - apparently, there’s a northeasterly wind blowing in fog from Route 210 - and make sure their backpacks are secure.

When they reach the split between the way south and the way west, Riki speaks up. “So, um…” He scratches his head. “…Where are we going?”

Kyousuke stumbles, a bead of sweat rolling down his forehead. “D…didn’t I tell you?” He looks at Rin, who shrugs. “…Right… Well. Ahem. Our current destination is Jubilife City, to the west. Jubilife TV requested that the Champion appear for a talk show, and I already had plans to visit Lake Verity, so it’s on the way.”

“A talk show? Really?” Kengo gives Kyousuke a flat look.

“Hey, anything that pays! I won’t be able to coast on being Champion forever, I need to build a varied resumé!”

“…Right…”

The Little Busters pass through automatic doors into Route 208. Just west of Hearthome City is a small hilly area, with well-maintained grass and berry patches scattered through it. The area gets wilder the further you go from the city, but young aspiring Trainers can usually practice here without too much to worry about as long as they turn back rather than climbing when they hit the rocky base of Mt. Coronet. Normally the mountain is visible from the gatehouse, but today the route is already partially hidden by a light mist. The world feels smaller under the grey sky and close horizon, like it’s been cut into manageable pieces.

A shout stops the group. “Well, if it isn’t our young Champion and friends!” An old man with white hair waves them over to where he’s tending a patch of berry plants. There’s a wicker basket at his feet. “And where would you be off to this fine morning?”

“We’re heading to Jubilife,” Kyousuke replies.

“Ah, these two finally starting out to see the world?” The old man looks Riki and Rin over. “That’s good. Everybody should travel with Pokémon sooner or later. There’s nothing like a journey for figuring out what you really want to do with your life, even if that doesn’t turn out to be battling.”

“Ah… right.” Riki looks away, unsure how to tell him that he’s just following after Kyousuke.

“Kyousuke gave you starters, I presume?” The man glances at Riki and Rin’s waists, where each now wears a belt with two Pokéballs.

“That’s right,” says Kyousuke. “Show him.”

Lennon and Terra are sent out, and the two Pokémon nose at the berry plants before wandering back to their trainers’ legs. The old man looks on in approval.

“They look like a good choice. I can tell they like you already!” He leans down to offer Terra a berry, and after a moment of hesitation the Turtwig extends its neck to take the fruit from the old man’s hand. “Now, then. You remember what I taught you, right, Riki?” At Riki’s nod, the man turns and procures something from his basket. “Well, if you’re setting off, I think you deserve a present. Here!” He hands Riki a pair of firm, speckled blue berries. “Those are Yacha berries. If you give one to your Turtwig, it should help her resist an Ice type attack. And for the young lady, Passho berries. I can’t say I recognize that cat’s species on first glance, but it looks like a Fire type, so a berry that helps protect against Water types can’t hurt!” He hands Rin a soft blue berry, dotted with air bubbles. After another moment of looking through his basket, he also gives them a paper bag of mulch. “That’s two berries each - one for your Pokémon, and try and plant the other one, okay? It never hurts to give nature a hand!”

“Thank you.” Riki stashes the berries and mulch in his bag, and bows slightly in gratitude. “I promise, I’ll find someplace nice to plant this.”

“Good, good! Well, I shouldn’t keep you for too long, but when you’re in the area, remember that the Berry Master’s door is always open!” The old man waves them off, and the group moves on, their Pokémon following behind. Occasionally a wild Pokémon seems like it might investigate them, but Kyousuke, Masato, or Kengo always calls out one of their own Pokémon to scare it away.

The terrain grows rougher as they head west, until they reach a rocky cliff with stairs carved into it. This is the base of Mt. Coronet, with rocky plateaus of various elevations stretching out for a short ways around the foot of the mountain before the ascent proper begins. A river has carved its way through this area of the foothills, running below the elevated paths and necessitating a series of wooden bridges between raised plateaus. As the morning stretches on, the mist grows heavier, wreathing the badlands in gray and obscuring Mt. Coronet above them. The group continues to walk towards the mountain, weaving between rocky outcroppings and crossing bridges, until they reach a wide plateau rising from an island right in the middle of the rapids. A short ways to the north, they can see a waterfall where the river drops from a higher elevation.

Kyousuke suddenly throws an arm out in front of Riki. “Wait. Look over there.”

Riki follows his gaze to a spire of rock in the middle of the plateau, and after a moment he registers a Pokémon levitating just above the tip of the spire. It’s vaguely human-shaped, with a short blue body and a white head shaped like the bulb of an onion aside from two large swirly ears. It also has a white segment connecting its torso with its legs. It’s hovering cross-legged with its arms out to either side. This is a Meditite, a somewhat common mountain Pokémon in the Hoenn and Sinnoh regions.

Riki glances at Kyousuke. “Are you going to scare it away?”

Kyousuke shakes his head. “No. It’s on its own, and this is a reasonably open area. Rin! Capture this Meditite!”

“What? Do it yourself!” Rin bristles.

“No. You need experience fighting wild Pokémon, and this is a safe opportunity to practice.”

“What about Riki, why aren’t you making him do it?”

“I will, but you’ve been in a trainer battle already. It’s on you to show him how it’s done.” Brooking no argument, Kyousuke gives his sister a light shove forward, pushing her towards the Pokémon. Its eyes snap open, and a moment later Lennon is standing in front of Rin, hissing at the Meditite. “Now, Mission Start!”

The Meditite leaps from its perch at the apparent challenge. Its eyes flash, and Lennon rolls on the ground, smacking into rocks as the mental attack disorients it.

“Lennon, use Ember!” Rin’s Pokémon shakes off the attack and spits weak flames at its opponent. Although the Meditite dodges around most of them, a few make contact and burn its legs. It redoubles its own attack in response, pelting Lennon with what Riki recognizes as Confusion attacks.

“Kyousuke, are you sure about making her do this?” Riki glances at Kyousuke, worried.

“It’ll be fine, Riki.” Kyousuke doesn’t take his eyes off of the battle. “The two of you need to learn how to handle things yourselves. Rin!” He suddenly shouts, and Riki’s head snaps back to the battle in time to see the Meditite stagger back as Lennon scratches it. “It looks weakened, this is the time to throw a Pokéball!”

With a wordless acknowledgment, Rin snatches an empty Pokéball from her bag and winds up to throw it. Riki marvels for a moment at her total concentration as she steps forward, brings her arm around for the throw, and…

…the ball slips from her fingers, soaring in a perpendicular angle from the battle until it slams into an outcropping and falls into the rapids below. The Meditite takes advantage of the opening as Rin scrambles for another Pokéball, and torments Lennon with a barrage of attacks.

“Okay, that’s enough. Scyther, use False Swipe!” Kengo’s voice rings out as a new Pokéball soars into the midst of battle, opening to release a large, bipedal mantis. The newcomer has a green head, thorax, abdomen, and pair of legs connected by smaller cream body segments. It has a pair of insect wings on its back, and a pair of scythes on the ends of its arms. Lennon finally collapses as the Scyther steps up in its place and harasses the Meditite with a series of light slashes, holding back from hurting it too badly. “Rin, you have no control at all. Watch my form, and maybe you’ll learn something.” With a series of deliberate, practiced movements, Kengo pulls a Pokéball from his own bag and tosses it overhand at the Meditite’s center mass. Still disoriented from the Scyther’s attacks, the Meditite doesn’t have a chance to dodge, and it gets sucked into the ball in a flash of red light. The ball shakes once, twice, three times, and then emits a click and lays still.

Kengo walks forward to pick up the Meditite’s Pokéball before turning back to the others. “Kyousuke, this is just a thought, but just maybe, it might work better if we teach them before you throw them into the deep end?”

Kyousuke sighs. “Fine. It’s nearly noon anyways, and this looks like a good place to stop and get some training in before we eat.” He looks at Rin, who is spraying Lennon with a potion bottle. “Rin, once you’re done with that, come with me. We’re going to work on your throwing technique. Masato, Kengo, can you two help Riki start training?”

Masato and Kengo look at each other.

After a moment, identical grins appear on their faces.

——

“I get that Kyousuke… asked you to help me train,” Riki pants, “But I don’t think… this is what he meant…”

With a gasp of effort, Riki pulls himself to the top of a large slab being held up by Masato’s Machamp. He reaches down to grab Terra by the shell and hoist it up after him before staggering back to his feet and jogging along the slab. Once he reaches the end of the path, he jumps down to a lower boulder, pauses to let Terra try and hop to his head - catching the Turtwig when it falls short halfway to him - and hopscotches across a series of rocks.

“A truly great trainer must train their body as well as their Pokémon,” Kengo says, pausing each time he makes a practice swing with his bamboo sword. His newly-caught Meditite is hovering beside him, watching his swings.

“Besides! Training alongside your Pokémon brings you closer together!” Masato lifts a boulder - smaller than Biceps’ slab, but still large for a human to be holding - as he speaks, muscles bulging.

Riki finally sways and topples over, Terra collapsing beside him.

Masato surveys the two, lying in almost identical positions. “See? You look closer already!”

“No… more…”

“Endurance is important, Riki. Even aside from keeping up with fast Pokémon, you have to travel on foot a lot.” Kengo hardly misses a beat as he continues his own training. “Still, if we want you to be able to walk any further today, that’s probably enough physical training.”

Riki lets out a sigh of relief.

“It’s time to work on strategy, instead. Let Terra rest, and send out your Bonsly.”

Riki pushes himself to his feet and switches Pokémon. “Now what?”

“Meditite, let’s battle.” Meditite snaps to attention. “Riki. Try to battle my Pokémon. And be careful; I’ve taught it some moves already.”

“Sly, use Flail!” Riki shouts, and the Bonsly waddles forward to try and get in range of Kengo’s Pokémon.

“Rock Smash!” Despite Kengo giving his command second, the Meditite easily outpaces Sly’s approach, hitting it with a measured strike designed to crack defenses. It knocks the Bonsly away, and leaps back before it can retaliate. Sly tries to chase the Meditite, but no matter what it does it can’t get a hit in. The Meditite runs in for another Rock Smash, and Kengo shouts “Stop! Match call! Riki, do you understand what went wrong?”

“Um…” Riki ponders for a moment. “…You had more experience than I did?”

“Not exactly.” Kengo shakes his head. “The trainer’s experience is important, but aside from my teaching Meditite a physical attack, this was a battle against a freshly-caught Pokémon. Riki, what are your Pokémon good at?”

“Well, they’re both good at taking hits, right?”

“That’s right. They’re both strong defenders, and solid attackers as well. However, as this battle showed, that doesn’t mean anything if you can’t land a hit. As your Pokémon’s trainer, it’s your job to understand their strengths and weaknesses, and to come up with a plan to work around those weaknesses when they arise.” Kengo pats a nearby outcropping. “That can mean finding ways to turn your opponent’s strengths against them, ways to turn your weaknesses into strengths, or ways to use the battlefield to your advantage.”

“I see…” Riki considers the match. “…So… what should I have done in that battle?”

“Oh, you were doomed from the start.” Masato puts down the rock he was lifting to rejoin the conversation.

Kengo glances away. “…Well… Okay, yes, your Bonsly’s skillset will need to grow before you can really plan around him. But the demonstration stands!”

“In the end, some things just can’t stand against overwhelming force!”

“Oh? Shall we show Riki whether that’s really true, then?” Kengo pulls his Scyther’s Pokéball from his belt and spins it on one finger. “Two Pokémon each, first elimination?”

“Bring it on! Riki, just watch and learn!” Masato grabs Beenikku’s ball, and another battle begins.

#Little Busters! #pokemon #fanfiction #Naoe Riki #Natsume Kyousuke #Natsume Rin #Inohara Masato #Miyazawa Kengo #Sinnoh #Gracidea Blossom

[dresupi]

O-o-h Child - Wintershock Drabbles

#1

Bucky rolled over in bed and coughed when more than a small amount of Darcy’s hair ended up in his mouth.  He smoothed her unruly curls and smiled fondly at her sleeping form.  She was curled up, her legs extended and entwined with his.

Even though they’d fallen asleep angry at each other, sometime in the night, they’d come back together.

She sniffed loudly and blinked awake, jumping when she saw him looking at her. “What’s wrong? Is it Steve, where--”

“It’s nothing, babe…” he murmured soothingly. “Just lay back down.”

She sniffed, jerking her legs back to her side. “I’m still mad at you.”

“I know, but put your legs back so we can both sleep…” he whispered.

“Stop it with your bedroom voice, Barnes. Not fair.”

“I love you,” he rumbled, lowering his voice and brushing her hair out of the way to kiss her neck.  She melted against him, reaching for him.  “I’m sorry.”

“Me too.”

#2

Bucky awoke violently, nearly falling out of the stupid wicker chair he’d gone to sleep in.  The sound felt deafening, even if it was just a bunch of wicker creaking.

Darcy sighed from the bed. “Just come over here and get in bed.”

“No, I’m fine… I’m good,” he reassured her. The last thing he needed to do was fall asleep beside the one woman who reached past all his armor and made him go soft. He couldn’t be soft when they were supposed to be on a mission. 

“You sound like a two-hundred-pound drunk cat trying to get comfy in a basket. Get over here and shut up.”

Sighing, he got up and crossed the room, slipping into the only bed.

“There, was that so hard?” she asked, already falling back to sleep.

“Not yet,” he muttered, rolling over to stare at the ceiling.

#3

A hand tapped her shoulder.  “Wanna dance?”

Darcy locked eyes with Bucky Barnes, who cleaned up kind of well now that she was noticing. He gave her a little half-smile as she held out her hand. He took it and pressed his lips to the back of her knuckles, making the most sexually charged eye-contact Darcy had ever been on the receiving end of in her entire life.

“Does a bear shit in the woods?” she countered, standing beside him and allowing him to pull her into his arms.

“You’re my favorite,” he mumbled against her hair as he pulled her into a twirl.

#4

Every kiss with Bucky was easier than the last. Considering all of Darcy’s kisses with Bucky had happened in the last five minutes, this was quite a feat.

Also, the first one hadn’t been all that hard anyway. The only slight difficulty came from the fact that he had not shaved that day and his stubble was rough.

But she could go for that freshly sandpapered look, right? 

Honestly, Darcy didn’t care.  She wanted all his sandpaper kisses. Right now, if possible. Yesterday even.

“You sure this is okay?” he mumbled against her lips.

“Buck. Have I stopped you?” she asked.

“No.”

“Do you want to stop?” she asked.

He paused for a moment, gulping before answering. “Hell no.”

“So don’t stop, then…” she tugged him back.

#5

Why don’t you give it a shot?” Darcy asked. “Maybe you can do it and you just forgot.”

“I’m pretty sure I’d remember ice skating,” Bucky said with a smirk.

“Hey, you said the same thing about ballroom dancing,” she reminded him.

And when both of them were sliding on the ice, feet splayed and butts very cold, Bucky turned to her. “Nope. Don’t think I can ice skate and I don’t think I ever knew how.”

#Wintershock #Darcyverse #darcylanddrabblerace #Team Howlies

[inclineto]

So various, so beautiful

(1700 words, which are mostly introductions)

“No other captain will sail with her,” the Chamberlain had said, “but I am certain you will be obliging.” And so the sorceress came aboard her own Cygnet without ceremony, passenger and baggage swung up so quickly that the pilot’s cutter was pulling rapidly away before Elisabeth had set her pen aside and gone above to welcome her.

The sorceress was shaking out her crumpled skirts on the main deck, surrounded by chests and boxes and a canary fluttering in its wicker cage. The crew watched her warily from a distance of several paces, while they pretended instead to pay close attention to nearby ropes or the direction of the wind or the ship’s cat perched on the rail or any of half a dozen other unnecessary occupations.

“It cheers me to hear him,” she said, seeing Elisabeth’s wary look at the bird. “Did you think I meant to enchant - oh, goodness, no! I only cast my spells on the willing.” She beamed, a roundly bird-like creature herself: brown-haired, blue-eyed, rosy-cheeked as a china shepherdess. “We’ll share your quarters, I presume? I wouldn’t wish to turn you out of your own bed.”

Elisabeth had agreed to be enchanted, but she refused to be charmed: not by the sorceress’s smile, nor the well-turned ankles she’d revealed in setting her clothes to rights. She took up the birdcage and offered her arm. “This way please, my lady.” 

“Margaret, please,” she said, giving Elisabeth’s elbow a confiding squeeze. “Or Peggy, if we’re friends.”

“Madam,” Elisabeth said, and led her into the cabin.

The canary’s name was Ambrose.

Throughout the afternoon the sorceress chattered and bustled around the great room, supervising the delivery of her trunks and the arrangement of a second bed, draping a piece of grey silk over the pier glass, whistling - Elisabeth winced - to Ambrose perched on her fingertip. Elisabeth looked over her charts and ignored her. With the fleet away south beyond recall, the eastern coast was vulnerable. If she were in command, she’d harry the fishing villages and set her forces to gain a foothold against the defenses at Heston on Marenwash and the open roads to the west. 

Settling at last with teacup in hand the sorceress turned her attention to Elisabeth and stared at her without speaking until she lost her patience and stared rudely back.

“Let me see if I have you to rights,” the sorceress said. “Elisabeth Katharine Lukasdottir, merchant’s child, a respectable family, not politically connected, careful with their funds and their ships. At sea since you were eight and captain on your own merits by twenty-two. Noticed by the government after your work in the western islands, your reputation secured by six raids against shipping out of the port at Colward. Feted around the dockyards for your skill and your bonny brown eyes, and now commissioned to be at my service, but you don’t play the gallant, do you?” She looked serious, the flirtatious pose set aside. 

“Madam, was it required,” Elisabeth said. Twilight had fallen, only dim light shining in from the gallery windows. The canary was asleep.

“No, only, it might help if I could like you just a little. As you might like me.” 

Elisabeth thought of the other captains who would have been asked before the council turned to her: Lacey, red-nosed with drink. Hasse, striking a boy, off-duty, for dozing in his sight. Arnaud, pleasant enough, devoted to his wife. What she could see of the sorceress’s - Margaret’s - expression seemed pleading. She nodded. “I don’t...dislike you,” she said.

Margaret smiled, more gently. “It will have to do,” she said, and set aside her cup, locked the door and came back to stand behind Elisabeth, resting her hands on her shoulders.“You’ve been at your charts for hours. Are you resolute? Do you understand what I will ask of you when you work this spell with me?” she asked.

“Yes, my lady,” Elisabeth said. She was not ready, but she was prepared, and since she had agreed for love and duty she could give no other answer.

“Then let us begin. Close your eyes, and think of a barrier, anchored all along the coast, letting us pass through but keeping out anyone who ought not to pass it,” Margaret said, and in her mind’s eye Elisabeth saw all the ocean - cape to harbor to rivermouth, all the cliffs and currents of the country pulled from her memory. As she pictured each anchorage, it began to glow as if a shining net had been cast over it, and Elisabeth felt a strange tugging at her heart, as if the line played out of her own breast. “Good. Oh, that’s just marvelous, you’ll do my work for me. On maps the coast is fixed, but for you it breathes, doesn’t it? Elisabeth. Breathe.” 

Margaret’s voice was urgent, no longer the dreamy wandering murmur Elisabeth had been chasing. Elisabeth gasped, choked, and the glimmering scene vanished. The blood roared in her ears as she dropped her head between her knees, shivering when Margaret put one cool hand to the back of her neck and rubbed her fingertips gently through the base of her sweat-soaked braid. 

After a time Margaret spoke. “Do you often forget yourself during this sort of work?” she asked.

“I don’t know. I’ve never tried - I’m sorry,” Elisabeth said. She lifted her head tentatively, and then sat up, Margaret’s hand still resting comfortingly on the clammy linen between her shoulder blades.

“Oh, darling, don’t be. I ought to have realized - if you’d been practiced at it, I’d never have allowed myself to miss a mind like yours. Tell me, what did they promise you for this service?”

“Any prize I wished to pursue,” Elisabeth said hoarsely, staring into the darkness. “That any door he knocked at would be opened for my brother. That I could endure it.” 

Margaret stooped beside her with a rustle of lavender-scented skirts, arm thrown around her shoulders in a bracingly friendly embrace. “You shall have it, and he shall have it, and I promise you, you can do much more than endure.” Her breath on Elisabeth’s ear made her shiver again, and Elisabeth thought that she could easily turn into Margaret’s touch in the darkness, catch the words as they escaped her lips - 

“Let’s have a bit more light, shall we?” 

“Mind sparks,” Elisabeth said automatically, only to blink as Margaret blew a kiss toward the lamp and it flared to life. The canary woke and chirped. “Convenient, don’t you think?” said Margaret. “Now, look at the flame. I shall pull the hassock up here just beside you, where I can see your face. Look at the flame, and feel my hand on yours, and breathe.”

The lamp swayed gently back and forth on its brass chains. Elisabeth watched its path, and thought about turning over her hand to clasp Margaret’s. She wore no rings - no jewelry at all, that Elisabeth had seen, even the combs in her hair plain horn. Everything had grown quiet around them, as if they were aboard a phantom and not a working ship at all, and Elisabeth felt as though given the slightest urging she could fly up from her seat, up and aloft to look out from the highest masthead at the ever-changing sea. “That’s lovely,” Margaret said, “You’re lovely - such things I could teach you.” 

Elisabeth made a small noise in her throat, and let the muscles of her shoulders relax.

“Oh, you enjoy a compliment; that’s three more things I know about you, then,” Margaret said.

“Only one,” Elisabeth said. The chair’s carved wing supported her head so securely, now that she had let her weight fall back against it, and Margaret’s hand was soft and sure on her own. “Tch. Three. First, you are lovely, darling; don’t contradict.” Elisabeth felt her lips twitch. “And you like it when I tell you so. And third, you know the shape of these shores better than anyone else they could have sent me. Would you like to try again?” And at Elisabeth’s nod, she said, “Good. Close your eyes, and this time think of the harbor we’re in now-” 

“It’s Clearhaven Bay,” Elisabeth said.

“-the bay we’re in now, and then slowly pull your mind away, as if we were sailing north down the coast-” 

“Up.” 

“-up the coast, then, and you’ve sailed by every league of it, haven’t you? Don’t do anything more, just lead us along and show me the land as we go by.” Elisabeth imagined how the Cygnet would slip out with the tide, rounding the headland and carrying them along past the furzy bluffs spooling away to larboard, while she listened for the distant ringing of church bells and watched for the girls who sometimes ran down to the shore to wave their scarves to passing ships. Distantly, she thought she heard Margaret laugh to see them.

“That’s enough for tonight,” Margaret said at last.

Nothing had glowed in her vision or tugged at her breath, but she found when she opened her eyes that her head spun and her sight was fuzzy with exhaustion. “Did it work?” she asked, almost beyond caring, save that Margaret would be disappointed if they were forced to make a third attempt. 

“Beautifully. Everything from here north to Leaftonness, secure as houses. I’ll show you tomorrow. Now. Sip of wine, glass of water, boots off, and into bed with you,” she said briskly, turning down the blankets as she spoke, and pulling at Elisabeth’s boots herself when her fingers proved too clumsy. Elisabeth watched dreamily as she slipped out of her bodice and pulled the combs from her hair, realizing that Margaret intended to ignore her own bed only when she turned down the lamp and shouldered in beside her with a few soft jabs of her elbows. “Shift over,” she ordered, “with all I’ve heard about sailors, I’d have thought you’d do better at two to a bunk.” 

“Not so many clothes, usually,” Elisabeth mumbled, but she obediently gathered Margaret closer, right arm light around her waist, heads side by side on the pillow. “Smells nice, though.” 

“Stop talking, darling,” Peggy said. “You’ll make yourself blush in the morning.”

#writing: bits and pieces #when in doubt add magic #plot is for other people #and then. and then i don't even know. and then they kiss! #queer theories #her noblest work she classes o

[freelandscribe-blog]

I am a Cat, listen in

    The name’s Hector. You may have heard of me, Hectorious Arelius Maximus. What sort of name is that, you ask? Well, my owner is a moron. As foolish as the man is, he does supply me with everything I need. I’m not a particularly picky cat, but I have my requirements. However, my owner is simply ONE of the things on my list of problems. I have much more to complain about. I am here to share with the world my complaints on absolutely every-damn-thing there is. EVERYTHING. As a cat, there is a lot to complain about.

    So, introductions are out of the way, that’s fantastic. I started with my owner, so I might as well continue on with him.

The Owner Problem

    Have you ever met someone who, even when you’re clearly asleep, has to do, or say, something? I could be lounging, majestically as I do, over the wicker rocking chair in the living room. The sun rays filtering through the window, with a cool breeze settling on the low air. A lovely feeling, I tell you. Out of bloody nowhere, like the oaf from Jack and the Giant Bean Stalk, my owner stomps in. His face glows upon seeing me, as all human’s do, and the repetitive ‘pshpshpshpsh’ gurgles from his lips. My God, (The God of Cats, of course) he thinks I am some sort of performing mutt. Before I can wobble my way back to my feet, he’s upon me, arms around my fur and my escape from his attention sabotaged. Don’t get me wrong, I am a cat after all – I love attention, when I want the attention. I do not know where in the history of mankind and catkind did the change in dynamic occur, where human’s believe they have some sort of right to cat-handled us as they please, but somewhere in our twisted history, something went terribly wrong.

The Word, Owner

You may have noticed I used the word owner a few times. I imagine that to be quite confusing, considering I have my own independence, my own home and my own life. Why would I, the Majestic Hector, have an owner? Well, I can let you guys in on a little secret. Owner has several meanings. For you lot, humans, it means to own something, to be in control, and so on. For me, and my kind, it is a little different. Most of us cats are fairly sarcastic and ironic creatures. The word owner is nothing more than an ongoing joke, for about 1000 years by now. That’s right people; you’re a joke to us.

So, what’s the point?

    There is a lot for me to talk about, a lot for me to claw at and hiss. Luckily for you, and me, I can post here as many times as I like. This is just the beginning. Cats have had enough of your nonsense, every single one of you.

    My owner, he is an idiot, to the highest degree. Whilst I may have a lot to complain about with him, as many times as he interrupts my naps, or my relaxing time, or my slumbers, or my rests and so on, he isn’t all bad. Just mostly.

    Welcome to, Hector Hates Everything.

#cat #catlife #peoplesuck #grumpy #complaining

[ladyhearthkeeper]

In my mind, I live in a small cottage at the heart of the forest. The fire is burning bright, the cats are asleep and a husky guards the door.

I have a small garden in the back where I grow food. Books and other things I need magically appear on my wicker chair.

Only those who are seeking answers find my door, and of course, my lost knight.

#the witch #forest witch #wild woman

[scaryscarecrows]

Garden of Stone

He doesn’t sleep, he doesn’t sleep because he’s still hearing that gunshot and seeing that dog only sometimes it’s not the dog, it’s Kitty (what’s left of her) and-

Yeah. There’s a reason he’s sitting on his bed, shivering in the cool night breeze and watching the clouds vie for coverage of the moon.

Granny took something for her aches and pains-some bitter concoction the doctor makes for her-that’ll keep her asleep tonight. He takes advantage of this to get dressed and go outside for a walk.

It’s heavy outside. The breeze is pushing the clouds around, but there’s a weight to it. Rain’s coming again, he can feel it in the air.

He takes a path more on muscle memory than any real intention, and ends up at the old cemetery. The gate hangs on rusty hinges, more for show than anything, and he lets himself in and heads to the back, to the Grey Lady.

The Grey Lady probably used to be The White Lady, but she’s been here longer’n anything else, since before the civil war. He likes her. She’s quiet. Friendly, almost, for a grave marker.

He settles cross-legged at the base of her skirts and leans his head against the cold stone. She’s lifelike, apart from the blank gaze-it’s always a little surprising those skirts aren’t soft.

The moon manages to make itself visible, at least for a moment, and the crosses and tombstones gleam under its weak light. A barn owl, silent as a ghost, makes a sudden dive. There’s a squeak, and then it rises with a gently-swaying tail dangling from its talons.

Crunch, crunch.

Footsteps?

Crunch, crunch.

Yep, footsteps. And whistling, which is surprisingly creepy this late at night.

Doo-doo-da-da-dee-dee-dee-doo-doo-dee…

What is…wait. He knows that tune…what is that…kookaburra. Weird.

Crunch, crunch.

He scrambles behind the Lady and waits. Probably just someone out for a late-night walk, or maybe a tramp passing through. They get those sometimes, but it’s awfully late…

He pokes his head around the Lady. The moon’s still out, illuminating the path with surprising clarity. And, more importantly, the walker.

He doesn’t know that silhouette, which is strange in and of itself. Maybe it’ll come to him…nope. He has no idea who that is.

Whoever it is opens the cemetery gate and now he’s starting to get a little nervous. Late-night walkers he can understand, but he’s never seen anyone else here this late at night.

Crunch, crunch.

And no one ever comes this far back, ever.

The moon seems brighter than ever and he presses up against the Grey Lady, clinging to some childish fancy that she’ll protect him. Which is silly, there’s nothing to be protected from-

“I know you’re here.”

He catches his breath, pinching his lips shut to keep from making any sound. That voice is unfamiliar to him. It’s a genderless voice, not from around here.

“Come out. I want to talk to you about earlier.”

There’s nothing he can use for a weapon. He’s going to have to run for it and hope whoever this is doesn’t have a gun.

“About what you saw.”

He didn’t see anything.

“Don’t be frightened.”

He’s not.

He takes a deep breath and mentally gauges the distance between him and the gate, factor in clusters of tombstones to avoid, add in potential gun…

“Don’t run.”

Joke’s on them! Ask anyone-good luck catching Jonathan Crane if he’s really decided to ditch you. Call it a side effect of ‘I don’t want to be thrown in the pond again’, whatever.

He dashes out from behind the Lady, dodges a cross, and promptly flings himself behind a tombstone when a shot rings out.

“Stop.”

This isn’t the same thing as ‘get off my lawn’ or even ‘the book or you, Scarecrow?’ This isn’t even close. His heart’s going a million miles an hour and he doesn’t remember seeing anything with this much clarity-every little crack on the stones, every speck of dust, it’s all so vivid.

He doesn’t want to die. Not like this.

Like hell like this. He wants out of this goddamn town, and not in a pine box. He wants to get out and see the ocean and go to university and-

Crunch, crunch.

He’s going to have to risk it. It’s dark-the moon’s ducking back behind a cloud already.

He bolts for the gate, trying to keep low and not run in a straight line, and there’s another shot that whizzes too close for comfort.

The gate looms up, still partly open, and he squeezes through the gap and takes off down the road.

Crunch-crunch-crunch-crunch!

There’s another shot and he veers off-path, hoping they’re not familiar with the area. Okay…turn here, mind the tree root…

They’re not familiar with the area-the crunching has slowed. He can’t see them anymore, but that’s all right, he can hear them trying to feel their way.

Why does this tree have to shed so many leaves? Doesn’t it realize that the noise it’s causing could get him killed?

He inches back towards the main road, freezing every half-step, until he feels plain dirt under his shoes at last.

Crunch-cru-FUCK.

A nervous grin flits across his face. They’ve found the tree root, sounds like.

He backs away until he’s pretty sure they haven’t seen him, then turns around and runs for home.

* * *

Kitty’s not at school.

He doesn’t notice until second period, because they don't share a first and he presumed she was running late. But no, she’s not here and there’s a sinking feeling that says something’s wrong.

Nothing’s wrong. That’s ridiculous. She’s probably sick or something, that’s all. This has nothing to do with…whatever they’ve stumbled into. Nothing.

So he collects her homework assignments and pretends he’s not relieved when she answers the door that afternoon.

“Hey.” He’s never seen her this pale, or in pajamas, and it’s weird. “You can come in.”

He shakes his head.

“I-I brought your homework.”

She grimaces but takes the folder.

“Thanks.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Stomach flu.” She lowers her voice. “I needed a day, but Mum thinks it’s a bug. Y’know.”

“Did you tell her what happened?”

“She’d never let me out again!” That would be ideal. “M’fine. Just…this never happened at home.”

“Don’t…just…be careful.” Mrs. Richardson’s not around, is she? He doesn’t hear her… “I ran into someone last night, I don’t know what they were doing, but they, ah…they thought I’d seen more than I did. I guess. I don’t know.”

“What are you on about?”

“They shot at me and chased me down the road. I’m fine.”

She hugs him and oh god what does he do? Hug back? Stand still? Pat her head?

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t know-”

Yeah, well, too late now.

He hugs her back, stiffly, and wonders if she’s going to let go. She doesn’t seem so inclined.

“Kitty?”

“Sorry.” She steps back. “I didn’t…there wasn’t much to see.”

“They thought otherwise. So just…just be careful.”

“What’s going on?”

He shrugs.

“I don’t know. Anyway. Um. There’s a test on Friday in math, just so’s you know.”

“Ugh.”

“It’ll be fine. Math is easy.”

“Maths is a fucking nightmare!”

“Watch your mouth!” Mrs. Richardson warns and Jonathan jumps. How much has she heard? When did she get here? “Hello, Jonathan.”

“Hello, Ma’am.” She frowns. What? It’s been ingrained, he can’t just turn it off! “I was just dropping off Kitty’s homework.”

“Thank you.”

“Thanks a lot.” Kitty grumbles. “I’m dying and you bring me work.”

“Go back to bed, sickie.”

“Mu-um…”

“Don’t you take that tone.”

She pulls a face.

���See you tomorrow.”

“Feel better?”

“Can I get you anything, dear?”

“No, I need to be getting home. Good-bye, Ma’am.”

“Mary!”

He tries a smile and turns around before she can try to make him say it.

* * *

He’s not nosey. That trait is reserved for his less enlightened neighbors. He is, however, annoyed that someone felt the need to shoot at him. He takes offence to that sort of thing. That’s a reasonable feeling, in his opinion.

So it’s for that reason alone that he’s sitting at his desk with a piece of paper and a pencil, drawing up a list of everyone in town.

He knows the person last night wasn’t a local, but there’s something about that property they’re interested in. A little too interested in-shooting at trespassers, okay. Hell, he can see some asshole losing their temper with the dog, even. (Griggs once chased a stray cat with a razor blade, boasting that he was gonna skin it alive. Jonathan has no idea how a black widow found its way into his backpack. None at all.)

But tracking him down? That’s weird. If he’s going to be shot at, there’d better be a good reason. Or at least a reason he can understand.

He jots down Wicker’s name, pauses, and makes a note that Wicker’s probably dead. Or at the very least incapacitated. He certainly wasn’t the one chasing him last night. He doesn’t love his property that much.

Who else…that’s everyone.

Why did he bother? He made a list. Wow. So productive. He already knows it wasn’t anyone from town, what good does this do?

He scrunches the paper up and slumps down in his chair. This is pointless. This is pointless and he’s just going to give up and when he sees Kitty tomorrow, he’s going to tell her to do the same. Hell, she’s probably going to drop it without his input. She was rattled this afternoon.

It’s bugging him, though. Nobody cares about Wicker-for all he knows, the guy’s been dead for months. So why the paranoia? What’s out there to find?

He frowns, un-scrunches his paper, and flips it over. The house had looked how he imagined it always had-bed, table, trunk. Nothing of value. If someone killed the old man for money, they probably weren’t getting much.

He sketches out a little diagram anyway, trying to remember if he saw anything else. Kitty might’ve-she’d said there was someone inside, had gotten a look through the window.

Hmm.

There’s a low rumble outside and he glances up. The sky’s black-rain. Rain is here. He’s not going out tonight, that’s for sure.

Well…maybe those rumors about gold are true. Why the place looks as bad as it does remains a mystery, but that might explain…

Forget it. He doesn’t want to know.

#Eyes Unable to Dream #Jonathan Crane #Kitty Richardson #reckless baby Crane #well #reckless by his standards #he's a small-town boy after all

[translightyagami]

sleeping dogs, Lawlight

all i can write rn is rlly fluffy stuff. this is in the same universe as constricting which is to say L and Light are married and hv a house together and also solve crime.

The kitchen was quiet except for the kettle boiling. L saton a stool and dangled his legs, unable to sit in his usual position because ofhow small the seat was. He swung his legs back and forth. His feet were whiteshutters in the dark of six a.m.

He enjoyed having mornings to himself. Light never woke upbefore seven and even then it took a cup of coffee and a shower for him torejoin the waking population. In the morning, L could have his tea and think byhimself. Not that he didn’t enjoy Light’s company or didn’t find it stimulatingbut. L had been alone for most of his life, baring Watari’s constant presence,and the brief return to solitude did him good.

The kettle started to make a peeping noise to indicate itwas done. Hopping off the stool, L went to retrieve a box of tea. He selected avanilla flavored black tea and used a tea cup with cats painted around thesides. It was a gift from Matsuda, who often sent both L and Light cat relatedgifts. L wasn’t sure how he kept getting their addresses but he suspected theSoichiro was to blame. He did have a hard time saying no to Matsuda.

Hot water slopped into the cup and the tea bag darkened astea swirled out of it. While the tea steeped, L rummaged for a spoon, hopingthe clatter wouldn’t wake Light up, and then found the sugar bowl. After threeminutes, he heaped four large spoons of sugar into the cup and stirred. Then hetook his tea to the patio.

Two wicker chairs with red cushions faced out into thegarden. L climbed onto the one on the right, his usual seat, and took a sipwhile watching the first peak of sunrise. Sometimes he thought about how niceit might be to watch the sunrise with Light. To hold his hand and see him bebathed in the slowly growing orange and pink glow of a new day. Curls of steampushed outward as L exhaled and hummed.

They’d been on a break from cases for a week now and hismind twisted around free time bizarrely. He started a lot of three thousandpiece puzzles all at the same time and they littered their kitchen table. Inbetween lounging and reading all the books they said they’d promised otherpeople they’d read, he and Light fiddled with half done pictures of landscapes.L’s current favorite was a picture of a deep forest with a little cabin. He hada small fantasy about running off to live in a cabin in the woods and writingsome long obscure novel. Light still didn’t know about it and L didn’t plan totell him. Light liked being near the city too much to ever hide between pinetrees.

L never learned how not to keep secrets. He suspected therewould always be things he wouldn’t tell Light—always shut doors between them.His heart and mind were big old houses with dozens of locked doors as well asunlocked ones. For a few, he handed over the keys gladly to Light and let himair out the quiet truths inside. But others gathered dust in the dark, heldback shrieking ghosts who made slime ooze form the walls. He knew Light keptsome doors closed to him too. When they looked at each other, it was throughthe windows of their different bodies. Someday, though, L imagined they mightbecome one large haunted house with hallways that lead into each other’sthoughts.

Until then, he’d let sleeping dogs lie and keep what secretshe could. Cold morning air snapped at his cheeks until pink rose on his skin. Ltook a deep breath and closed his eyes. He was at home. He was in a place hecould always come back to, looking at a garden that he made with a person whowouldn’t leave. If he made a mess, he would have to clean it up himself. If hewanted to fuck, he could go into the bedroom and ask. Things were good.

A tapping at the sliding door broke his thoughts and Llooked over his shoulder. Light stood with a Garfield coffee mug in one handand the other holding the newspaper. In an oversized To-Oh university shirt andblue sleep pants, he appeared still half asleep but smiling. He slid the dooropen and stepped outside, socks softening his footfalls on the wood patio.

“Morning.” He leaned and kiss L’s forehead. “What are youthinking about?”

“Houses.” L slurped his tea and grinned behind his cup atLight’s disgruntled face. “Open doors. Do you ever think about buying anotherhouse?”

“Do you not like the one we have now?”

“I think we should get another one,” L said. “Along withthis one. Maybe one in the woods.”

“Maybe.” Light dropped into the wicker chair across from L’s.He took a sip of his coffee as L did the same with his tea. The mirror actionmade L’s skin roll with affection. A final puzzle piece snapped into place forhis morning and he reached across the divide to tap Light’s hand. Withoutlooking, Light turned his palm up and they locked fingers.

“I’ve been thinking of writing a mystery novel,” L said.Light snorted.

“You should.” Light squeezed his hand and gave him anindulgent look. “Make it an erotic one. That’d be fun.”

“An erotic mystery novel.”

“Yeah. Why not?”

“You might be onto something with that, Light.” The steamblurred L’s vision until he only saw smears of green, orange and pink. “I’llhave to think about that.”

#death note #my fic #keeping it as sweet as i can #Anonymous

[fox-and-benedict]

[Fanfic, 100% OJ] Awkward, part 2

Series: 100% OJ / Suguriverse Words: 2372 Characters: Sora, Nath, Suguri, Hime Originally posted: March 31 2017 (link here) A/N: Sequel to Awkward. I commissioned Coffgirl for some cover art, and this was the first story that used it. Unlike on blogspot, I won’t post the cover art every time (since it takes up a lot of dash space and I don’t know how to format it very well yet), but it’s lovely art.

It was morning in the Suguri household. Birds were singing, eggs were frying, and Hime was as close to dressed as she was going to get. Suguri had surprised her earlier in the week with a gloriously fluffy pink dressing gown; Hime had very quickly decided that an existence spent wrapped in luscious softness was better than the alternative, and resolved to wear it at all points in time.

Suguri herself was still very much asleep, draped diagonally over the bed. When they ‘acquired’ Sora, Hime had been banished from her bean-bag sleeping spot and installed in Suguri’s bed, with a pillow wall for propriety. She had quickly discovered that Suguri was a very mobile sleeper, who tossed and turned until she finally came to a rest, star-shaped, with her silvery hair fanned out underneath her. The pillow wall, it turned out, was a meaningless formality; one way or another, Hime usually woke up with her friend snoozing on top of her.

Sora, on the other hand, was as still as a mountain when she slept. Whatever position she was in when she dropped off she would keep, and she occasionally settled in some very odd positions. Currently, she was kneeling on the floor with her head thrust face-first into the pillowy centre of her beanbag, snoring soundly. For the first few mornings after she arrived, Hime had tiptoed around her when making breakfast, but it soon became apparent that Sora woke up when she was good and ready, and no amount of noise or prodding would get her up any sooner.

The eggs were just about ready to be dumped out onto plates and married with thick, toasted bread when a knock came at the front door. Perhaps ‘knock’ was overly generous; it was more of a thump, which seemed to reverberate around the walls of the entire house. For a moment, Hime thought it might have been a visit from the postman, which to her was akin to being visited by the stork. It simply never happened. They lived too far off the beaten path, and whatever authorities were in their district were either friends of Suguri’s or were smart enough not to bother her.

“Yes, yes! I’m coming. You don’t need to kick the door down,” she called as she plated up breakfast and trotted through the living room, lightly balancing Sora’s plate on her back as she passed. Sora continued to snore, no doubt exploring the mysterious space inside her own head.

Hime didn’t know what she had been expecting when she opened the door. A lost traveller, perhaps, whose car broken down on the road, with whom she would embark on a wonderful adventure into the world of automobile repair, or potentially a misguided religious missionary who, like a sunflower turning its face towards the sun, would gratefully drink in her attention. She hadn’t been expecting Nath.

“I apologise for kicking your door,” Nath said. She had, unintentionally, begun to loom. She was tall, and habitually stood with her back perfectly straight, a look of careful neutrality stuck like glue to her features; looming was something of an occupational hazard for her.

Luckily, Hime was not a girl to be loomed at. She looked up at Nath’s impassive face, at her armless shoulders, and favoured her with a glittering smile. “I suppose I can forgive you, this once. Do you need a hand? Or two, as the case may be?”

Nath blinked. The number of people in the world who were brave enough to steal her joke right in front of her was very low. “I’m looking for Sora,” she said. Then, after a pause: “She has my nose.”

“I… see. Well, you’re certainly missing something, but your nose is still very much attached, as far as I can tell. I suppose I’m not an expert on the matter, though. How do you two know each other?”

Nath found herself caught between conflicting emotions. On some level, she realised that this was how other people felt when she made jokes about her limb deficiencies: they didn’t know quite how to respond to the joke. But on the other hand, she couldn’t help but like somebody as charming, fearless, and therefore dangerous, as Hime was proving herself to be.

“We tried to kill each other ten thousand years ago. Then we met again the other week. I told her where to find spoons. She stole my nose.”

Hime nodded, wondering privately if everybody from the past used the same strange type of dream-logic that Sora and her friend seemed to function on. “I see. She is here, but she’s asleep at the moment.”

“When are you expecting her to wake up? This year, or later?” Nath asked, concern worming its way onto her face.

“Well, I was rather hoping she’d be awake in the next ten minutes, or her else her breakfast will get cold.”

“Acceptable.” She paused. “I’m Nath.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Hime,” the blonde said, her smile still sparkling. “Tell me, Nath. If I were to – on a whim – poke your cheeks right now, would you be able to do anything about it?”

“I suppose I couldn’t stop you,” Nath replied, her eyes narrowing, “but I might hurt you afterwards.”

“Hmhmhm. You might try. Come in, some in,” she said, beckoning with her hand. “We have eggs and toast and cocoa, the breakfast of gods.”

Inside, Nath found the house as confusing as she had found Hime. There was a barstool upside down on the kitchen table. A wicker chair had been colonised by some strange, fabric monster nested in the corner of the room. There was what appeared to be half a door with a table leg glued on, resting by near the kitchen; Nath assumed it had led to the pantry, but had been replaced with a bookcase on rollers. On closer inspection, the books contained seemed to be split evenly between the subjects of pirates and baking.

From deep within the heart of her beanbag, Sora moaned. “Himeeeeeeee. There’s something on my back.”

“Oh, you’re awake! Good morning, Sora. It’s a plate of food. How will you get yourself out of this predicament with your breakfast intact, I wonder?” Hime teased cheerfully.

“Uuuuuuuuuu.”

Nath watched incredulously as Sora began, slowly and carefully, to shimmy the plate down the length of her own back, until it was perched neatly on her bottom. With a quick jerk of her hips, she sent it skyward; then, like a cat righting itself in the middle of a fall, she flipped herself over and shot her hands up to catch the plate before any of the precious breakfast had left it. “Safe.”

“Bravo,” Hime said, and threw a knife and fork at her underarm. Sora plucked them out of the air with barely a thought, and began to munch on some toast. “You have a guest, by the way.”

Nath stepped forward, considerably less sure of herself than she was. She had intended to drop by, ascertain Sora’s location, engage in a little small talk about times past and then leave the girl to her own devices; still, she clung resolutely to her excuse for being there. “I have come to take my nose back.”

Sora stood up and looked at her. There was a peaceful smile on her face, but Nath had no idea what was going on inside her head. Her eyes gave no indication; they were like black holes that sucked in logic and spat out mystery. After a moment of thought, she held out a bite of fried egg on her fork. 

“Ahhhhhh.”

“Wh...ah. No thank you.”

Sora gestured impatiently with the fork. “Yes.”

“No.”

A moment’s pause. “I’ll wrestle you.”

“…Ugh. Fine,” Nath said, and rolled her eyes. Sora gently pressed the fork to her lips.

“Good?” Sora asked as Nath began to chew.

“Ish good,” Nath mumbled, grudgingly. She fought the urge to blush.

“My goodness,” Hime giggled. “That was magical. It was like seeing a unicorn.”

Nath had a glare that could weld steel girders, and she focused it directly on Hime’s forehead. Hime continued to smile, utterly unfazed. Meanwhile, Sora held out another bite of egg on the fork. “This is getting out of hand,” she muttered.

Her saviour came in the form of slippers on the stairs, an incomprehensible mumbling that came down from on high. Suguri had descended, warm and happy, one foot in the waking world and one still in the world of blissful sleep. She peered around the living room with bleary, half-closed eyes; details were lovely, but they could wait. Important things needed her attention, and one thing was more important than the rest.

“Hug.”

Nath watched, dumbstruck, as a silver-haired girl she didn’t know shuffled towards her, arms outstretched. Nothing that had happened today had made any sense. Hime wasn’t afraid of her – her, a former ultimate weapon. Sora operated on strange rules that were never explained. Now she was going to be the victim of an arbitrary hug attack. Luckily, Sora stepped forward to intercept her assailant. Gently, but firmly, the blonde-haired soldier turned Suguri around until she was pointing in Hime’s direction, and set her loose.

“Fluffy,” Suguri mumbled as she collapsed into her morning hug.

“Yes, yes,” Hime replied, nuzzling the top of her friend’s head. “You know, I sometimes wonder if you bought this dressing gown for my benefit, or for yours.”

Nath looked at Sora, who had long hair and made no sense to her, and at Suguri, who had long hair and made no sense to her, and then at Hime, who seemed to be thoroughly enjoying herself. “You have two of them?” she asked.

“For my sins.”

“It’s as if you collect girls with long hair,” Nath remarked coolly.

“It’s not that I collect girls with long hair. It’s that this one collects blondes,” Hime chuckled, motioning at the girl in her arms. “Or perhaps Sora is collecting the world’s strongest women?”

Sora neither confirmed or denied it, which raised a lot of possibilities that didn’t bear thinking about. Instead, she turned to Nath. “Are you okay? You look confused.”

Nath frowned, and tried to marshal her words in a way that wouldn’t ignite a conflict. “Well… I do find the situation a little disarming,” she said. Suguri snorted. Good. It was enough. “I came because you invited me, but I don’t really know what I wanted. Other than my nose back, of course. I’m missing enough body parts.” This time, it was Hime’s turn to snort. “I… don’t really know how to react to this.”

Sora put a finger to her lips, allowing the words to turn over in her head. “Maybe you wanted to talk about the war?”

“Maybe. But I also don’t want to talk about the war. Or think about it,” Nath frowned. “I don’t know. When I look at you, Sora, it’s so obvious that you’ve changed. But I don’t feel like I’ve changed at all.”

For another moment, Sora was silent. Then she brought her gaze level with Nath’s. Such green eyes. Deep, and unfathomable. Oceans, unexplored. Didn’t humans once believe that above the sky there was an ocean, the boundary of heaven? But they weren’t blank. They had been, in days gone past. “You make bad jokes. That’s one change.”

“One change in ten thousand years is fine for geology, but not for people,” Nath said ruefully. Her own eyes were still the same as they had been in the war. The view in the mirror had not changed.

Whether Nath was right or wrong, she didn’t get far in her thoughts. Sora crossed the room in two quick strides, quietly and without warning; one moment she was clutching a plate of breakfast, and the next she was throwing her arms around Nath’s shoulders, pulling her into a clumsy embrace. She was strong, and warm, and closer than anybody had dared to come for thousands of years.

“Nath. We should be friends,” Sora said, with the certainty that runs through dreams. “We didn’t get to be friends during the war. That can be change number two.”

Something deep inside Nath was trembling. Wobbling, like a top that had been spinning for far, far too long, supporting itself through momentum and nothing more. The feeling was terrifying. The future was terrifying. But it was inevitable, and inevitably, she fell.

“I suppose that is acceptable,” she said, and buried her face in Sora’s hair. She didn’t want Hime to see her expression. This moment was private, for them alone.

The hug lasted half a minute more before Sora’s arms slackened, and she set Nath free to muster some dignity. She turned towards Hime and Suguri, bubbling with excitement. “Suguri, Suguri. It worked. I hugged her and we’re friends now. It’s like magic.”

“Ahahaha… Sora, please don’t take Suguri as an example of how to make friends. Her methods are unique, shall we say,” Hime replied, although the look on her face made it clear she would have it no other way. She caught Nath’s eye, and brushed her hand over her mouth: I shall say nothing, for now.

“Ahem. Well. I should probably go now. I have some errands to run,” Nath said, abruptly. She could feel the warm blood rushing to her cheeks. “We’ll meet again, Sora.”

“I still have your nose.”

“Keep it, for now. If I can get along without fingers, a missing nose should be fine,” Nath replied, rolling her eyes.

“We should meet at your house next time.”

“Although you’re more than welcome to visit us again,” Hime chimed in. “That said, it might be an idea to come later in the day next time. The house makes a little more sense in the afternoon.”

Nath shook her head, laughing. The idea that anything about this house could make sense seemed unlikely. Bookcase doors, breakfast acrobatics, green-eyed girls who didn’t say what they were thinking and left you to fill in the gaps. It was chaos, but a very peaceful kind of chaos. A smile played around her lips as she said, with what she realised was total honesty:

“I suppose I’ll get used to it.”

A/N: Nath didn’t use many contractions at first, huh? Obviously it’s character development that she uses more of them as time goes on. She’s getting comfortable with the people around her. It’s not that I entirely forgot about it. Not at all.

#fanfic #100% orange juice #Suguri (series) #Sora #Nath #Suguri #Hime #sequel

[finding--cat]

I really can’t release this to the world without paying homage to a few people who are absolutely crucial to the reason I’m able to share The Longest Sky today. 

To Marisa/@marisa-writes for being my writer-friend for 8 full years, for talking me through the trials and tribulations of writing and sharing, and for always believing in me; 

To Nadia/@justnadia for reading an earlier draft and lifting my spirits about this piece, for talking me through my reservations, and for sending me photos and quotes that reminded her of the story;

To Rachel/@ramblingrachell for becoming my instant friend and volunteering so heartily to look over this huge chunk of work, for being so enthusiastic and for warming my heart every time we speak;

To Kari/@justcloseyoureyesandseee who offered me, by far, the most comprehensive constructive criticism I’ve ever received and who continues to blow me away with her thoughtfulness and intelligence;

And to Steph/@ilivemydaydreamsinmusik, in small part for teaching me weed vocabulary and fixing all my little mistakes, and in much larger part for her unending support: the encouraging cartoons reminding me to write, the music that helped to inspire the story, offering to read it again, and her general aura of coolness and kickass-ness that I aspire to embody in my own writing someday--

Thank you all so much. I hope you know how much you’ve done for me and how grateful I am to have had you be a part of this. I dedicate this to all five of you.

There are so many more of you who spoke words of encouragement to me and/or who expressed interest in what I was working on, and I am forever grateful to you for that. I hope you enjoy the product of your kindness to me! 

Part I: The List

I’ve dreamt in my life dreams that have stayed with me ever after, and changed my ideas; they’ve gone through and through me, like wine through water, and altered the colour of my mind.

Emily Brontë, from ‘Wuthering Heights’

1.1 

No amount of fidgeting with the lever or pushing at the ledge with her hands will open the window. It’s only a little opening; a dated semicircular pane no bigger than the surface of her nightstand, but it’s the only way to let in fresh air. And it won’t budge.

“Just use the ceiling fan for air circulation,” Rosen suggests from the doorway. She’s armed with a box of childhood personal items curated by Mom. Ari carried the box in her second suitcase – it put her over the weight limit for the flight as it housed a stack of books from Rosen’s bookshelf, two high school yearbooks, and Polaroid pictures that once hung on a laundry line across Rosen’s bedroom wall arranged into an album. Rosen balances the heavy box on one raised knee as she wipes her sweaty brow and pushes a damp strand of chestnut hair from her face. “That’s what Jacks and I do.”

“I want to open the window,” says Ari, leaning her body weight against the pane without success. “I won’t be able to sleep without it.”

Rosen raises a brow. “Air outside’s no cooler than the air in here.”

August in West Virginia is muggy and damp, but the air conditioning in the house is on the fritz – has been since June, according to Jackson – and Ari doesn’t think she can sleep without fresh air, no matter the humidity. It would be like sleeping in a coffin. Suffocating in a stale box.

It took her an hour in the morning to fix the broken blinds in order to let the light in. She has to let the air in, too.

Rosen sighs. “We can look at it tomorrow. Jackson’s dad repainted the trim outdoors when we moved in; window’s probably painted shut now.”

Ari tries one more time to shift the pane. Without success, she slumps against the wall.

Rosen pauses, still bracing the box on her knee as she peers into the room. “When are you gonna unpack?”

Perhaps she’s confused by the suitcase on the floor that doesn’t fit in the closet or under the tiny twin bed. But the luggage is empty, all the clothes stored snugly into a small chest of drawers and personal products tucked into the drawers of the nightstand.

Ari looks up. “I already did.”

“Oh.” Rosen raises her brows. “I just thought…”

“What?”

She shrugs. “I thought you’d bring your photos, like mine. Or your textbooks – Mom says you’re trying to get into U of R for your master’s. Hell, I even thought you’d bring that ratty old lamb you used to sleep with.”

Ari blinks. For some reason, it surprises her that Mom didn’t tell Rosen about the time Ari threw Lamby away like a candy bar wrapper. It was last winter, right after Louis left and Ari moved back home to Massapequa. Mom cried when she went to take out the garbage and saw Lamby sitting amongst the refuse, his buttoned eyes staring up at her beneath a banana peel and coffee grinds.

“No,” Ari says. Her voice takes on a high and unnatural pitch in her attempt to sound sympathetic, but she has to try. Dr. Sodhi made her see how it frightened her loved ones when she acted too blasé. “I have everything I need.”

Rosen nods, though her lips purse together in a tight smile. “Okay. Just looks a little bland, that’s all.”

It does look bland, Ari notes. The room is cozy, only big enough to house a bed, a dresser, and a nightstand. The wall above the bed features a framed landscape photo of Sutton Lake, West Virginia, snapped in 1987 according to the print. All in all, it’s not unlike a motel room. And a motel room is not unlike Ari: impersonal and vacant, nightstand varnish peeling and wallpaper fading.  

Rosen takes her box down the hallway and wishes Ari goodnight – Ari’s first of many in Tillson City, West Virginia. She’s called her parents to let them know she arrived safely. She’s made her bed with linens Rosen brought in, fresh from the laundry. She’s unpacked her scant few belongings.

This is it. The start of something new in a different state. No parents, no friends, no former flames, no therapists. Just Ari. It’s been Just Ari for a while, but now there are no pretences. Nobody to burden or inconvenience. Nobody to cast her sad smiles or give her pity hugs.

Except for Rosen.

With a gulp of stale air, Ari smoothes her palm over her shorts, feeling the list crinkle in her pocket.

. 

Come one in the morning, Ari’s still not asleep. She tosses and turns on the unfamiliar mattress, a little bit too soft for her liking, with a sheen of sweat dusted across her upper lip. The sweltering temperature of the room isn’t lessened at all by the ceiling fan, which rocks back and forth as it spins and squeaks like it’s on its last legs.

She needs air. She needs it to breathe.

Ari cringes when the hardwood creaks on her way down the stairs, freezing in place in fear of waking Rosen and Jackson. After several seconds, when no sign of movement or change in breath comes from their bedroom down the hall, Ari steels herself and continues down the stairs in a flurry, with stealthy, cat-like steps.

She hasn’t had a chance yet to peer in the garage, though Jackson proudly told her that’s where he intends to store his Harley once he gets his license. She uses the light of her phone to guide her out the front door and across the driveway to the garage. The garage door is new and slides up easily with a quick twist of the latch, though the rest of the structure is so old it seems tilted to its side.

Her light comes in handy again while searching the garage. Rosen and Jackson use it for storage rather than parking space, as is apparent by the couch and dining room table covered in a tarp, all its chairs hanging upside down from the table’s surface. They dragged a U-Haul behind their little Honda from New York full of furniture from their apartment, but the Hawleys had even more to give when they arrived and the garage is where most of it ended up.

Ari climbs over a microwave stand and nearly knocks a floor lamp to the ground, but she makes it to the ladder leaning up against the wall. With a great deal of struggle but very little noise, Ari drags the full ladder out of the garage and onto the driveway. Then she stands it on its feet, rung by rung, and leans it against the side of the house.

She shines the light of her cell phone toward the second storey window. It’s a long way up to the sky, and probably not advised to ascend to the second floor in total darkness. But Ari has to feel the fresh air sweep past her in order to sleep. And what’s more, she can do this.

After steadying the ladder against the house and testing its sturdiness, Ari begins to climb. On the third rung, her foot slips – just for a moment – but it’s enough to encourage her to tuck her phone back into the drawstring of her pajama shorts, using only the light of the moon to guide her.

It’s so dark here. Even on Long Island, city lights brighten the streets at night, casting the sky grey instead of black. In the middle of West Virginia, Ari can look up to the sky and see stars.

Stars, motherfucker, she thinks triumphantly to herself, which nearly causes another ladder accident. With regained footing, she blinks to adjust her eyes to the darkness and continues to climb.

Mom and Dad registered Ari and Rosen for ballet classes when they were young. The instructor staged five-year-old Rosen front row, centre for the final performance, and Rosen pirouetted to perfection even with a wicker basket prop in her hands. Meanwhile, seven-year-old Ari was nestled somewhere on the outskirts of the back row, fumbling with the basket caught on her tutu and ultimately spinning herself into a heap on the floor. There was no ballet class for Ari the next year.

Needless to say, Ari’s lack of balance was never quite rectified, and standing on the tenth rung of a ladder in the darkest part of the night while using her cell phone as a flashlight with one hand and her other hand digging in her pajama pocket for an Exact-o knife puts her well outside the boundaries of her comfort zone.

Then again, Dr. Sodhi suggested more than once that venturing outside her comfort zone could offer opportunity and renewal. That’s what the temporary move to Tillson City is about, after all – separation from the comfort zone. At least, that’s what it means to Ari – to Rosen, it means a helping hand to assist with wedding preparations.

Using the Exact-o knife, Ari applies pressure to the trim, cutting around the ledge where it’s been painted over. The navy-coloured trim doesn’t help with visibility, and she may accidentally cause a few scratches and scrapes during the process, but she figures neither Rosen nor Jackson is likely to haul themselves up here anytime soon to get a close look at the damage.

Her knees shake only once, and she retracts the knife before slowly bending down to grab hold of the ladder to steady her balance. Whoever needed ballet?

With the window trim carved to her liking, Ari slides the blade of the knife underneath the bottom of the window and tries to pry it open using leverage. She’s able to wiggle it around, and with a small crack, she feels it budge. Once she slowly maneuvers the window toward her, she can slide a finger underneath and pull it open the rest of the way, though not without nearly knocking herself in the face first.

And that’s it. She did it.

She climbs down the ladder with more enthusiasm than she had when climbing up. She skips the last rung and hops to the ground, blowing upward to get the hair out of her eyes as she fixes her hands on her hips and stares up at progress. An open window: a doorway to the summer breeze and the song of the birds.

She did that.

Back in her new bedroom, Ari picks up her denim shorts, folded carefully across the top of the dresser, and digs into the front pocket. She removes a crumped piece of paper and unfolds it slowly, wary of tearing the edges. The paper flattens when it’s pressed against the wall, though its creases have been fixtures for weeks now. She uses Scotch tape to adhere it above the light switch. A central location, one she’ll be forced to look at every day.

Mom and Dad knew about the list. They thought it was advice from Dr. Sodhi that Ari was taking to heart.

But it’s not. It’s Ari’s idea. All the ideas on the list are hers. And she is the one who abides by it diligently, her own code to living, because if she doesn’t – if she strays from that self-imposed path – she could go back to Before.

Tillson City is not the place for Before. Tillson City is not the place for After, either. No, Tillson City is very specifically a place for Now.

. 

In the morning, Ari wakes to the sun shining through the small window. The room is still hot, but at least it’s not a stale, muggy heat. She could bask in it for hours if she wanted to. But after a few blinks when her vision comes into focus, she eyes the list taped to the wall.

And she gets up.

She joins Rosen in the kitchen while throwing her uncombed hair into a ponytail, the laces of her gym shoes untied. As Rosen whirls around with a smile, Ari takes a seat at the kitchen table and leans over to take care of her shoes.

“How many eggs? Two or three?” Rosen asks. “Jacks always asks for bacon and eggs on Sundays. Pancakes are on Saturdays – sorry, you missed that one yesterday.”

“Oh.” Ari straightens. “I was just going to eat something small. Maybe a banana. I’m thinking of exploring the area a bit.”

“A banana? What are you, a monkey? That’s not enough,” Rosen counters.

Ari tries to hide her smile. “You sound like Grandma.”

“Well, she’s right. At least have one pancake.”

Ari sighs.

“And I was gonna take you around today. I’ll show you all the local digs – well, the ones that matter, anyway – and we can check out a couple of vendors for the wedding. If we have time, maybe we can go to Charleston so I can stock up the freezer.”  

“Charleston? Isn’t that an hour away?”

Rosen shrugs. “Forty minutes or so. Drive’s not too bad.”

“You drive forty minutes to do your grocery shopping? There’s nowhere close by?”

“There’s the Piggly Wiggly in town, but it’s small. Kroger’s in Charleston’s much better, I think. Don’t tell Jacks, though; he’s sensitive about that kind of stuff. Wants to inject into the Tillson City economy as much as we can. But I feel like I’ve been pretty generous to the local economy in planning the wedding so far, so I don’t mind taking my business elsewhere once in a while.” Rosen finishes whisking the eggs and turns back to the stove, where a pan sizzles with meat and grease. Over her shoulder, she asks, “How many strips of bacon did you say you wanted?”

“None,” Ari replies. More hesitantly, she adds, “I don’t eat meat anymore.”

If there was a record player in the room, now would be when the music came to a grinding halt. Rosen stops stirring and freezes, only her pupils moving as they dart toward Ari. “You don’t eat meat anymore? Like, all meat?”

“All meat.”

From Rosen’s throat bursts a laugh Ari’s never heard from her before: it’s short, harsh, guttural. “Since when?”

“Since three months ago.”

“What?”

A beat passes, and Ari calmly repeats, “Since three months ago.”

“So, like… not for that long.”

Ari shrugs. “I guess not.”

“So…” Rosen struggles to reason, “it’s not like it’s a long term thing.”

“I plan for it to be,” Ari says slowly, “if it goes well. So far, I like how I feel. I’d prefer not to eat meat.”

Once chatting eagerly about her plans for the day, Rosen now regards Ari across the kitchen with an arched brow of skepticism. Then she returns her gaze to the stove, using tongs to flip strips of bacon in the pan, as she mutters, “You didn’t tell us you didn’t eat meat.”

Jackson enters the kitchen in a pair of pajama pants and a rumpled white t-shirt, stopping mid-yawn to observe the exchange between the sisters. His dark hair sticks up in almost every direction, curling well past his ears and down the back of his neck, and Ari half expects Rosen to go after him again about cutting his hair to a reasonable length for the wedding. 

But she doesn’t – her stare is fixed on Ari.

“Sorry.” Ari avoids Jackson’s gaze as she finishes tying the knot on her shoe and lets it fall from the chair to the floor. “I didn’t think it would come up too often. I thought I’d mostly be making my own food.”

“You thought I’d make meals for me and Jacks, but not think about you?” Rosen’s face scrunches in disbelief.

“No, I just… you don’t cook,” Ari admits. Rosen exhales sharply, blinking as if she misheard, and Ari quickly adds, “At least as far as I remember. I thought I’d be doing my own thing most of the time.”

“Uh… okay.” Clearly upset, Rosen gestures to the bacon and eggs heating on the stove. “You’re right, I guess I don’t cook.”

“I didn’t know,” Ari says with a shrug. Her last memory of Rosen attempting to cook in their family home in Long Island, she burned the rice, confused hoisin with soy sauce, and severely undercooked the chicken. It was a miserable stir-fry to swallow and resulted in the Pate family fighting each other for access to the house’s two bathrooms to be sick with food poisoning throughout the night. After that, Rosen declared she was no good at cooking and would rather spend her time outside of the kitchen. “If you’re cooking more now, that’s great.”

“Well, if you won’t eat what I cook, then I guess I don’t cook so much anymore.” Rosen waves a hand through the air.

“I don’t mean for you to have to change anything,” Ari stresses with a huff. “Eat what you want. I’ll fend for myself.”

“We have a tiny enough kitchen as it is without three of us trying to make two separate meals.”

“I’ll wait until you’re done, obviously,” Ari fires back. “I’m not doing this to inconvenience you, Rosen, I—”

“It’s fine.” Jackson inserts himself into the discussion with a nod to Ari. He has a hand on Rosen’s forearm before she can raise it to point a finger. “Rosie. Hey. It’ll be fine, all right? We can all eat together; Ari just won’t eat the meat. We can cook everything separate. Not a big deal.”

Rosen fixes her stare on Ari for another couple of seconds before Jackson’s touch reminds her he’s there. She glances at him and dons a soft smile of gratitude. “Fine. Not a big deal.” Before she returns to the eggs and bacon, she mumbles under her breath with arched brows, “Just wish you’d told us, that’s all.”

.

Dear Ms. Ariana Pate, We regret to inform you that we are not able to offer you admission to the Master’s program in Biology at the University of Rochester. Each year, we receive a large number of applications for this program from highly qualified candidates. Based on a composite of information including your academic performance record, comments from referees, relevant professional activities, and proposed research statements, your application, considered as a whole, was not as strong as others we received. Though we regret delivering you an unfavorable response, we wish you—

“I said, do you want me to take you around the Hawley house? Ari!”

“What? Whoa!” Ari looks up from her phone to a churning flip in her stomach as Rosen takes a quick turn around the winding West Virginia road. She grabs onto the handle, abandoning the phone in her lap.

“It’s beautiful there – they’ve got a wraparound porch with white pillars, wooden boxes of impatiens on window ledges and everything. True Southern charm. We’re actually thinking of having the rehearsal dinner there. Well, we’re about ninety percent certain, it just seems a bit much to have the wedding reception next door in the barn, too.”

Ari gulps, her head rushing as the car whips around another curve. “What?”

“Jackson,” Rosen declares, ripping her eyes from the road to spare Ari a harsh look. “His family home here in Tillson City. I said: do you want to go?”

Ari shuts her eyes. The world keeps spinning. “Doesn’t matter.”

“Do you want to see it or not?”

“Uh… if you want me to, I guess.”

At her sister’s sigh of annoyance, Ari knows Rosen’s lost her patience with her. Ari’s been distant all day, ever since that final email came in from U of R. It was her last hope – and a long shot, at that – but the deflation she feels is proof that somewhere within her, perhaps just beneath her skin and ready to escape, there still existed some form of hope. Now that it’s gone, the numbness remains.

Everyone promised Ari the lush, rolling hills of West Virginia were the most breathtaking sight her eyes would ever behold. Breathe in the clean air, they said. Open your eyes to nature, they said. You’ll feel your mind and body heal instantly. Old gaping wounds will stitch back together. Aches and pains will dissolve like morning dew in the sun. You’ll stand taller. Raise your chin higher. Feel like a real, human person again. That’s what they said.

Well, they were fucking wrong. As Ari hunches over in her seat and bile rises in her throat, she bitterly thinks that no one bothered to mention the sharp, winding roads and the constant uphill-downhill travel. Rosen’s pointed out the quaint details of Tillson City as they’ve passed by during the day: a charming red farmhouse over here, hunter green woodlands over there, yellow deer crossing signs because they graze everywhere in the winter – but Ari couldn’t follow her gestures, and now she’s on the precipice of very real vomit spilling from her throat all over Rosen’s beige, ancient Honda she lovingly calls Old Man Earl.

“You don’t have an opinion?” says Rosen, unimpressed. “If you want to stop hanging out with me so badly, might as well just say it.”

After a full day of tagging along on Rosen’s errands, passively accompanying her to pick up Jackson’s blazers from the dry cleaner’s and meet a woman from Craigslist one county over to purchase secondhand lanterns to create do-it-yourself centerpieces for the wedding, Ari feels the kind of heaviness that only follows unproductivity; an exhaustion born from listlessness. The kind that sinks into her bones and drags her to the ground.

Staring straight ahead and not sparing her sister a glance, Ari calmly replies, “I’m just tired. But if you want to go to Jackson’s parents’ place, that’s fine.”

“I don’t need to,” Rosen stresses, “I just wanted to show it to you. But if you don’t want to—”

“That’s not what I’m saying.” Ari sighs, long and deep. “Let’s go. I want to see it.”

Her enthusiasm is lackluster at best, but Ari thinks she’s being conciliatory until she catches Rosen’s expression out of the corner of her eye: solemn, pained.

“Sorry,” Ari offers. The word comes out in monotone even though she drummed up all the sympathy she had.

“You know, it wasn’t Mom or Dad who suggested you come out here to stay with me and Jacks until the wedding,” Rosen says.

“I know.”

“It was me.”

Eyes fixed on the flat stretch of road ahead, Ari nods.

“When Mom called me after your accident, I was so scared. She said you were fine, probably wouldn’t even need to stay in the hospital overnight, but I couldn’t stop sobbing. Jacks had to come in and take over the call for me; I couldn’t even talk. I knew things had been bad for a while, Ari, but that night it finally hit me… I realized I could lose you.”

The road whips by, fields of yellow and green. “Rosen…”

“I know we haven’t been close lately. Not since I met Jackson and you moved in with Lou and everything just got… busy. And I didn’t realize that I missed you until that night – until the night I learned I could have lost you forever. So I called Mom first thing the next morning and I told her, when Ari’s ready, I want her to come here. I want her to get away from all that shit in the city and all the people who fucked her over and just… start over. Reset. Tillson City’s not much, but it’s a good place for that.”

Running her tongue along her front teeth, Ari nods.

“It wasn’t just about you,” Rosen’s quick to add. “I wish I could say it was. I wish I could be that selfless, but I’m not. It was about me, too. I wanted you here with me. I wanted to get to know you again. I wanted to be close with you again, like when we were kids. When we had each other’s backs and we told each other everything.” As the car slows in front of a long driveway lined with a canopy of trees, Rosen turns on her blinker and pulls off to the side of the road. She glances at Ari. “I know you’ve been lonely. And, I mean, I’m getting used to a new town, to a new way of life… it’s nice to have someone familiar with me who knows where I’m from. That’s why I’m glad you’re here.” She shrugs, offering a soft smile as she pushes her side bangs behind her ear. “I think we’re supposed to be together right now. I think we need to help each other.”

Mustering a small grin, Ari reaches across the console to pat Rosen’s hand. “Okay,” she agrees. “We can try.”

Rosen’s eyes brighten, but she’s careful not to display too much emotion. She pokes her thumb in the direction of the driveway and says, “This is the Hawley place.”

Ari leans forward to examine the surroundings, though the house is covered by such thick forest it’s impossible to see beyond a bit of evergreen trim.

Sitting back in her seat, she says, “Looks pretty impressive. Let’s check it out.”

.

The Tillson City economy isn’t exactly booming. Originally a coal mining town, the population spiked following the first World War and then slowly trickled down beginning in the eighties as the country relied increasingly on alternate fuel sources. These days, a good portion of its residents – Jackson included – work outside of town.

“New businesses are pretty rare,” Rosen tells Ari as they wander downtown on a Wednesday morning, “and if one opens, it usually closes shop within six months.”

That’s why, she explains, she wants to scope out the newly established Kalene’s Garden, across the street from a business called Sherman’s that Rosen claims is Jackson’s friends’ ‘favourite piss-stained hole-in-the-wall dive bar.’

There are plenty of florists in Charleston, forty-five minutes down the road in Kanawha County, but Jackson wants the wedding arrangements to be local, both to benefit the rural economy and to eliminate stress and unpredictability. Kalene’s Garden, according to Rosen, opened only last year after the owner’s husband was dishonourably discharged from the U.S. army and fled the state, leaving her with two young kids and a mortgage.

“I figure she’ll need our money,” Rosen tells Ari with a smile, “so she’ll give me whatever I want for the wedding.”

A little bell jingles overhead as they enter the shop. If possible, it’s even more humid inside than out, but Rosen is the only one who complains. Ari’s immediately taken by the hanging plants in every corner, long vines spilling out from pots and tangling underneath, bright bouquets of lilies and bluebells crowding the counters, and the line of small potted trees leading to what Ari believes to be a greenhouse. In the air is a scent so fresh and sweet that Ari could bottle it. In fact, she finds the whole place charming and serene, even more so because they’re the shop’s only customers.

They’re directed to a small, cluttered office off to the side, where a petite woman in rounded glasses named Sherry presents them with a binder of wedding fodder. Rosen prattles off the details that Ari’s heard over group text or phone or in person a thousand times – the wedding is December sixteenth, to be held in Jackson’s family church, and the bridesmaids are wearing taupe – and she’s looking for the perfect wintry centerpieces to compliment her DIY lanterns and the perfect bridal bouquet, frosty yet soft.

When they get stuck on whether white roses are too bridal or not bridal enough is when they lose Ari completely. She removes herself from the room without either woman batting an eyelash in her direction. Then she roams the shop by herself and finds a small table of succulents that captures her attention longer than any bridal discussion ever could.

Tiny little succulents, unassuming shadows in the background, will outlive all of their floral counterparts. In the right soil, their roots flourish, widening and stretching to absorb the most amount of water in a flood. In a drought, the water storage in their roots is what helps them survive. Ari likes that about them, these smart little plants. They’re planners who take care of themselves, always stockpiled in the event of a waterless apocalypse. Dr. Sodhi kept one in her office, and Ari often stared at it when she went in there and was expected to speak. No matter how she fluctuated up and down, Dr. Sodhi’s succulent was always the same.

“Lookin’ for a friend?”

Ari gasps at the sudden voice, spinning around to face its owner. A woman in a sleeveless white blouse waters a ficus near the cash register. Her lips curl into a small smile, her tight black curls framing high cheekbones.

“Um… my sister’s in the office talking to Sherry about wedding bouquets,” Ari explains.

“What about you?”

“Just browsing.”

“Lookin’ for a friend?” the woman repeats.

Ari blinks. Does she really look that lost and lonely? Her eyes dart around the room before returning to the woman’s sharp face, and she replies tentatively, “Are you… offering?”

The woman laughs heartily, without mocking or scorn. She sets down her watering can and joins Ari at the circular table. “They are friends to us, you know,” she says, grazing her index finger across the top of thick succulent leaves. “Plants of all kinds, really, but succulents especially – they’re so versatile, so adaptable. People can rely on them. They fill a room with company even if a person lives alone.”

“Yeah,” Ari murmurs. Her eyes follow the woman’s long, nimble fingers as she spreads tiny pebbles in the soil surrounding the succulents. “So, um… how many friends do you have?”

The woman chuckles again, deep and warm in her throat. “Well, this is my shop,” she answers, “so I s’pose you could say I’m never without.”

While Rosen leaves the shop that day armed with several printouts and magazines to flip through, Ari pays $3.99 in change for a mini foxtail agave, leaves a brilliant green and opening like a flower. When she gets home, she finds it a nice, heated spot on her window ledge where it can bask in the humidity right under the sun. She spends a long time watching it there. It doesn’t grow, it doesn’t change, it doesn’t move. Maybe it feels that it’s stuck with her for good.

Either way, Ari gives it a couple of tablespoons of water to drink, gently touches its leaves, and mentally ticks off a box on the list above her light switch: Take care of a plant. 

.

A few days later, Rosen is abuzz with excitement because her wedding dress, shipped from Manhattan, is ready for its first fitting with a seamstress in Charleston. When Ari agrees to accompany her as Maid of Honour, Rosen decides they should make a day of it. She packs water bottles in the cup holders of Old Man Earl and loads snacks in her purse as if they’re on a true cross-country voyage instead of spending less time in the car than Ari has spent travelling six blocks in Midtown during rush hour.

But it’s nice that Rosen’s excited about it, and truthfully, Ari doesn’t have anything else to do. They cross a wide bridge to enter the city, and as Ari looks out the window and stares down to the water below, she feels it’s almost like re-entering New York. Almost.

She hasn’t lived in Tillson City for much more than a week, but already she feels overwhelmed by the amount of people outdoors and the number of cars on the road in Charleston. It’s a glamorous riverfront metropolis in comparison to the arid and mountainous Tillson City. It has a movie theatre and a mall and food trucks and an actual skyline – albeit a pathetic one. Adorable, not pathetic, Ari corrects herself.

The sisters wander through the Historic District, where Rosen points out the white-pillared colonial homes that seem to be the inspiration for the Hawley family home back in Tillson City. According to Rosen, she and Jackson aspire to build the same kind of home –“not until after we’ve had two kids, though, or at least not until I’m pregnant with our second”– and they ogle at the beauty of a downtown core embedded in an awning of leafy trees. Ari extends their walk several blocks, despite Rosen’s complaints, in order to log a full ten thousand steps for the day.

They drive to the only mall in town – in fact, the only mall Rosen knows of – and Ari picks out a new pair of yoga pants that are stretchy and cheap, but good enough to get the job done. Rosen finds two cushion covers in JC Penney that perfectly complement the living room set, so they both leave the mall in good spirits.

It’s as they sit on a patio along the waterfront, Ari with an ice water and Rosen with a white wine spritzer, that their pleasant outing turns sour. Ari is content to people-watch along the boardwalk, amused by the amount of people clothed in apparel from West Virginia University – “Take Me Home” and “Forever a Mountaineer” splashed across their chests and the WVU logo embroidered on their ball caps – but Rosen’s got wedding fever and has a hankering to discuss the design for the invitations.

“I don’t really get why wedding invitations are such a huge thing when I could just send out a mass email to all my guests and have their replies instantly,” Rosen muses, scrolling through samples on her phone. “But whatever, they’re pretty.”

“So if the designer gives you his final copy by Thursday and the invitations are printed by Labour Day weekend, when will you send them out?”

“Two months before the wedding,” Rosen answers robotically, having planned these details down to the minutiae. “The deadline to RSVP is two weeks from the wedding date to get the final numbers to the caterers. They’re upset that we’re pushing it that close, actually, since the kitchen at Jacks’ parents’ place is limited and they need to know in advance if they need to rent extra prep space.”

“Why not ask everyone to email you their reply rather than send it back through snail mail?”

“Well, Grandma doesn’t use email,” Rosen points out.

Ari rolls her eyes. “Pretty sure Mom and Dad would send along her RSVP.”

“This is the way wedding invitations are done.”

“Yeah, but people set up wedding websites these days to cut printing costs on RSVP cards and postage. Receiving replies by email would make it so much more efficient and environmentally friendly—”

“The invites are already pretty set in stone,” Rosen cuts her off, adding matter-of-factly, “so.”

Ari shrugs, leaning back in her seat. “All right.”

Rosen takes Ari’s recoil as invitation to lean forward, ensuring the space between them isn’t compromised by an inch. “What about my bachelorette?” she asks with a sly grin.

Eyes on a middle-aged woman lovingly feeding her partner a corn dog with all the high cholesterol fixings, Ari takes a large swig of water and then deigns Rosen a glance. “What about it?”

“What have you planned?”

“I thought it was a secret for the bride.”

“Yeah, but you eventually have to let me know the date, and what I should wear, and if I need to bring pajamas and a toothbrush…”

“Oh.” Ari takes another sip of water, knowing full well that her prolonged silence drives Rosen up the wall. “I’ll let you know, then. So far I’ve only seen that one bar in Tillson City – Sherman’s, I think? – so I don’t think it’ll be much of a surprise.”

Rosen’s spine stiffens as she straightens in her chair, brows turning downward. “Tillson City? My bachelorette is in Manhattan.”

“What?”

“I told you in April that when you plan my bachelorette, plan it in Manhattan.”

“But I thought the bachelorette party took place a week before the wedding.”

“It does.”

“And I thought, with you living here and all the guests travelling here, it might be less stressful to just… have it here.” Ari finishes slowly, the last few words quiet as the creases in Rosen’s forehead plateau into valleys.

“But all my friends are in New York…” Rosen trails.

“You said you had friends here.”

“Those are Jackson’s friends.”

“You said they were your friends, too.”

“Ari!” cries Rosen, her knee jerking into the table and causing two elderly women nearby to look over in shock. “Obviously I want the rest of my bridal party to be at my bachelorette, and the rest of my bridesmaids live in the city. And I want to go to a strip club, like I told you, and I want to do that bachelorette bingo game I sent you that just can’t do in a small town where everybody knows everybody.”

“What game?”

She huffs. “I sent it to you. It’s from Pinterest.”

“Oh.” Ari sips on her water even though her thirst is thoroughly quenched. “I haven’t had the time to look at it yet.”

“You haven’t had time.” Rosen repeats this in monotone, her voice dangerously low.

“No.”

Rosen smacks her lips together. “But you don’t do anything. How can you run out of time when literally nothing is on your schedule?”

Ari pales, but quickly gulps down the sting. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Nobody would understand! That makes no sense. Honestly, Ari, I gave you this responsibility, like, three months ago, and so far you haven’t done a single thing, which is like…”

Rosen trails off, too frustrated to continue. Ari shouldn’t prompt her, but she can’t help it. “What? It’s like what?”

When Rosen’s eyes lock with hers, they’re hardened and sad. “Do you even want to be a part of my wedding?”

The stare of the elderly ladies one table over fix on her again. Under the spotlight, all Ari can do is nibble on her lower lip.

“Everybody cares about you,” Rosen says, softer now. “I can’t have a conversation with Mom or Grandma without you coming up, even when it’s about my wedding. It’s all Ari’s acting like this or Ari’s off Zoloft again and we all brainstorm ways to help you. God, I even asked you to move out here with me! But you have to do something sometime, Ari. Sitting around waiting for something to happen to you – that’s stupid. Get a job, go on a date, plan my bachelorette! Whether it’s for yourself or for someone else, just do something.”

Ari doesn’t reply.

Dr. Sodhi once told her that in situations where she feels so misunderstood she doesn’t know where to begin, it’s sometimes best to let the yeller do the yelling and not say anything at all.

.

Ari’s alarm sounds at precisely 7:30 a.m. She spends five minutes listening to the gentle rustling in the house: footsteps up and down the stairs, the coffee grinder buzzing in the kitchen.

Must go on a hike. Hiking today. Today is about hiking.

Focused repeats of the day’s purpose help her throw off the covers and sit up. It’s easier to get out of bed this way. It’s easier than it used to be, anyway. Ari squeezes her eyes shut to forget the days she’d get out of bed at four in the afternoon, showering in just enough time before Louis got home to spare herself his groaning about how she’d done nothing since he’d left for work in the morning.

She uses a small spray bottle to spritz her succulent, just enough until its leaves are dewy and hydrated. It basks in the sun, and Ari imagines that if it had a face, that face would be smiling.

When she descends the stairs, Jackson is hopping into the car on his way to work with Rosen sending him off at the door. It’s enough time for Ari to slip around the corner unnoticed to pour a quart of water into her bottle from a pitcher in the fridge. She refills the pitcher with water from the faucet and is halfway through her water bottle when Rosen enters in her fluffy bathrobe, wisps of hair sticking out of her messy ponytail.

“How do you not get sick chugging that much water on an empty stomach?” she asks, upper lip curling in revulsion.

“It kickstarts my system,” Ari replies after a loud gulp. She stands with a hand on her hip. “Flushes out toxins. Improves blood flow to my brain, keeps me in a good mood.”

Standing stock still, Rosen uncurls her lip but says with a shrug, “Whatever.”

“You should try it.”

“Not interested.” She pointedly moves across the kitchen to the hot pot of coffee left for her by Jackson. “Two cups of Joe is what mama needs.”

Ari doesn’t bother arguing. She finishes the rest of her water bottle while Rosen pours herself a steaming mug of coffee, and then she turns her attention to the weather. It’s a beautiful summer day, eighty degrees and clear. Ari’s wandered the neighbourhood and figured out the roads close to home, but she hasn’t tried any of the woodland trails yet. She aches to be sheltered by a rooftop of trees, golden rays poking through the leaves.

Plenty of sunlight. That’s an item on her list, and she should start paying more attention to it while the August sun is still here.

“Do you want to hike with me?” she asks Rosen. “I think I’m gonna go through the forest at the end of the road. Jackson said it’s a nice walk.”

“Um…” Rosen trails, focused on pouring the milk, “what time?”

“Ten minutes? Fifteen?” Ari suggests.

“Oh. Then no.”

Ari’s shoulders slump. “We could go later this morning if you want.”

“I have those paint samples from Benjamin Moore to try on the bedroom walls,” Rosen replies with a cavalier shrug.

“This afternoon, then?”

“Well, hopefully I’ll be able to find a swatch that I like and then go back to the store to get them to mix it.” She looks to Ari with a gasp, stumbling upon a great idea. “You should come!”

“To Madison?”

“If they have the paint colour I want. Wanna come?”

Ari definitely didn’t coax herself out of bed this morning to sample paint chips. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

“What do you mean? What else are you doing?”

“Hiking.”

“You said you were gonna do that now.”

“I was trying to find a time we could go together!” Ari speaks through a laugh, though her lips don’t curve into a smile. “Sorry – backing up – are you interested in a hike or not?”

“Not,” Rosen says simply.

“Fine. That’s all you had to say.” Ari refills her water bottle from the pitcher in the fridge, adding on her way out, “See you later, then.”

.

Ari packs a couple of snacks for her hike and stays outdoors until early afternoon, when her quads ache in the most accomplished way from the uneven terrain on the hills. After she showers, Rosen has only just begun to swatch paint samples on the walls of the bedroom she shares with Jackson, so Ari lets herself out onto the back patio, barefoot, and finds herself dialling home. Nobody picks up.

It’s a couple of minutes before her cell rings, Home alight on the screen.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Ari, hi,” gushes Ana Pate. “I heard the phone ring but I was outside watering the plants. I forgot how long it takes!”

“That’s because I always do it for you.”

“I know. You do my weeding, too. I’m missing that.”

“That’s what you miss, huh?” Ari says dryly.

Ana chuckles. “Of course not. Miss everything about you. How are things going? Rosen says you’re developing a routine.”

“Yeah.” Ari stretches her legs in the sun and tries to ignore the icky feeling that Rosen’s been speaking to their mother about Ari’s schedule. “I’ve been doing okay. Keeping consistent, I guess. Which is good – for me, at least.”

“For anybody,” Ana insists. Ari’s not quite so sure.

“How are you and Dad?”

“Oh, fine. He’s out right now picking up a few things for dinner. I’m sure that man will come back with a steak even though I told him no red meat until the wedding. Do you know how much it costs?”

“Red meat or the wedding?”

“Both. We’re on a diet, both of us. At least until the cheque’s cleared.”

“Hmm, yeah. It’s all about Rosen’s wedding.” Ari cringes, instantly aware that her attempt to sound lighthearted has miserably failed.

“Well, it is exciting. And just remember: she’ll be excited for you, too, when the time comes.”

Ari clears her throat. She has to hear enough about the fucking wedding now that she’s living with Rosen full time.

“So, um… has any mail come for me?”

“Mail? You mean like a letter?”

“Yeah. Maybe yesterday or late last week?”

“I don’t think so. Maybe a credit card bill. Why?”

“Nothing,” Ari says quickly. To Ana’s expectant silence, she caves. “I was hoping to hear back from Fordham about that continuing education course.”

“Oh, honey. This late in the summer?”

“Yeah.” Ari casts her eyes down. “It was a long shot, I guess.”

“Well…” Ana sighs – a sigh Ari knows far too well. A sigh of sympathy, of sadness, of surrender. And Mom only uses it with her. “It’s probably for the best, don’t you think? You don’t want to be doing too much too soon. You should rest.”

“I can’t rest, Mom,” Ari says. “I can’t just do nothing anymore. I need to be busy; I need to keep my mind active.”

“You need to heal,” Ana says firmly. “You’ve been through a lot. Your mind needs a break.”

“I need to have purpose,” Ari insists. “Otherwise, I—I’ll sink into that dark place again.”

Another sigh. Then Ana says, “Well, I’m sure Rosen will keep you busy the next couple of months with the wedding. That should help.”

Ari rolls her eyes. “You might be shocked to learn that devoting my life to her wedding doesn’t exactly give me a lot of purpose.”

“Oh, Ari!” Ana snaps. “You have purpose, and you know that. That’s what you and Dr. Sodhi spent so long talking about. I’m sorry you didn’t get into a school this term, but I have to be honest, I really don’t think that’s what you should be focusing on right now. I don’t want you to get bogged down in an intensive program that you’re not as interested in as you thought you might be. If you go back to school, it should be because you have something in particular you want to study, not because you want to keep yourself busy. That’s running from your problems, honey. You know better than that.”

After a long pause, Ari gulps. “That’s not what you said to Rosen when she got into NYU Law.”

“Well, those were different circumstances. Rosen had a clear path for her future.”

“Was dropping out before the end of first term part of her clear path?”

“Don’t do that, Ari. Don’t be unfair. She followed her heart. Now she and Jackson are about to get married, so I think she’s happy with her decision.”

Ari says nothing.

“You know, you are doing something meaningful,” Ana adds softly. “You’re there for your little sister when she really needs you. She’s juggling planning a wedding and becoming a homeowner in a strange new town – she’s just as overwhelmed as you are.”

At this, Ari shuts down. The ‘just as [insert adjective here] as you are’ measure of relatability is, in fact, the opposite of relatable.

But it does remind her why she’s here, six hundred miles from home and cut off from everyone she’s ever known other than immediate family. It’s not just to get a grip on herself. It’s not just to help Rosen prepare for the wedding. It’s to give her parents a break. To let them pretend, for a few months, that their daughters are both happy, healthy, functioning adults who are making progress and being independent in the world.

The truth is that they only have one of those daughters, and she’s not Ari.

.

In the afternoon, Ari declines Rosen’s second invitation to join her in Madison to pick up a gallon of Palm Desert paint, which is “richer than Sepia but not as dark as Café Royal���, in favour of returning to the Tillson City downtown core. She takes Jackson’s bicycle, which is a little rickety and not adjusted to her height, but it carries her safely to town. She parks outside of Kalene’s Garden, where there is not a bike rack in sight. Ari  hopes against all New York City hope the bike has little chance of being stolen.

Inside, she runs across the same woman who helped Rosen with her wedding flowers.

“I remember you,” says the woman whose eyes peer over thick bifocals. “You were here for the Hawley wedding.”

“I remember you, too,” Ari says. “You’re Sherry.”

“That’s right.” The woman holds out her hand to shake over the cash register. “And what’s your name again, dear?”

“I’m Ari.”

Sherry pauses with a slight frown. “Ari? I remember Jackson Hawley’s fiancée having a floral sort of name…”

When the ladies in the Massapequa hair salon used to mix them up, Ari used to joke that she hoped they didn’t give her Rosen’s ridiculously-shaped bangs. Lightheartedness doesn’t come easily anymore, so she replies evenly, “That’s my sister, Rosen.”

“Oh, of course. Rosen! What a pretty name.”

Ari blinks. “Yeah.”

“Well, what can I do for you, dear?”

Ari slips her backpack off of her shoulders and begins to unzip it. “Actually, I was wondering if Kalene is here? I wanted to speak with her if possible. It won’t take long.”

“I’m sure she can spare a bit of time,” Sherry says with a smile. She leans over the register again to point down the aisle. “She’s just in the office. She won’t mind if you give a knock on the door.”

Ari thanks her, but still she approaches the office on light feet, wary of disturbing the peace. She doesn’t want to be a bother. She doesn’t want Kalene to think she’s entitled or overbearing. She should just go home. She should just save everyone the grief.

She knocks on the door.

“Come in.”

Knuckles white, Ari pushes open the door and sticks her head inside. When she spies Kalene at the desk, her hair tamed in a low bun and her ruffled military green blouse complimenting her skintone, she pastes a smile on her face. Even when she spots a toddler seated on the floor with building blocks surrounding him, Ari can’t hide her smile.

Kalene holds up her head, her impossibly long neck elegant and straight. “You’re back,” she says warmly.

“Yeah—yes,” Ari stammers. She clutches the papers in her hand, certainly creasing them but too nervous to care. “I can come back, though, if this is a bad time—”

“Come on in. Take a seat.”

Ari obeys, lightly closing the door behind her. The office is humid, a little box of a room stuffed with binders and papers, a computer, and potted plants on every surface: the desk, the bookshelf, the window ledge. There’s just enough room on the floor for the toddler – a little boy, no more than a year old – and his small lunchbox full of toys.

“This is Mekhi,” she says, gesturing to the boy, “my youngest.” She reaches out to pet the back of his head. “Sometimes he comes with me to work when his auntie falls through on babysitting – don’t you, Mekhi? Hmm?”

He stares up at his mother adoringly, wooden block in his mouth and molten brown eyes blown wide.

“He’s adorable,” Ari says with a laugh, “and very good at building blocks.”

“The civil engineer of the family,” Kalene jokes. “So,” she continues, closing the binder in front of her, “what brings you back?”

Ari sucks in a breath, and just as promptly exhales. “I just—um,” she starts, glancing down at the resume in her hands, “I have a—I wanted to ask if you…”

She shakes her head, inwardly cringing. With another short breath, she looks up.

“I was looking for a friend,” she blurts out, “the other day, when you asked. I’m looking for a lot of things, I think.”

She pauses, wincing at Kalene’s possible reaction, but the woman is straight-faced, listening intently, and scrutinizing Ari with a thoughtful expression.

So she goes on, “I make myself these roadmaps—lists, really—to help me get through each day, but they don’t mark with an X what I’m searching for, so I’m really going on nothing. I realize this is really not a convincing preamble, but I just wanted to tell you that… I really like it here. In your shop. It makes me feel, um… warm? Not physically, but, like, inside of me. I feel warm when I’m here, and I feel in good company, and… that means something to me.” She hesitates. Then, swallowing her fears, she finishes, “I know what it’s like to not feel anything at all, so when I do feel something – anything – I latch onto it. I don’t want to forget it. And, um… I want to work here. Volunteer, even. If you’ll let me, even for just a few hours every week. I just want to spend time, if that’s okay.”

When Ari takes a breath, Kalene is smiling again. Maybe it’s not the shop, but Kalene herself who emanates warmth.

That’s a new thought. Ari hasn’t felt warmth from another human since Louis, and that was long, long ago. It was the sort of warmth that dulled over time until one day, she convinced herself she’d imagined it was ever there in the first place.

“What’s your name?” Kalene asks.

“Oh. Sorry.” Ari thrusts her resume into Kalene’s hands. “I’m Ari Pate. Rosen’s sister. She’s marrying Jackson Hawley, if that means anything to you.”

“It doesn’t,” Kalene confirms. With a quick look at the very top of Ari’s resume, Kalene promptly hands it back to her. Ari’s heart sinks. “Ariana,” she reads.

“That’s my full name, yes. Um, I—I have a degree in Molecular Biology with a minor in Environmental Science, and I know that seems heavy, but I think if you look at my experience, you’ll agree that I—”

Kalene holds up her hand, effectively sealing Ari’s lips together. “Would you like to come back tomorrow, Ariana?”

“For an interview?” Once again, Ari offers her resume.

Kalene declines. “For a training session. An orientation, let’s call it.”

Ari’s breath comes out in a gust. The blood drains from her head in a moment of surrealism. “Really?”

“Of course.”

“You don’t want to see my resume?”

“If you want me to look at it, then I will. But we’re a small shop, as you can see, and this is our passion. So it bodes well, to me, that it gives you a good feeling to be here. Those are the people I want to work with – not the ones with the most impressive resumes. At the end of the day, all those words on paper mean nothing. It’s what you put forth in action that carries weight.”

Ari nods slowly, more in awe of this beautiful woman than ever. Is she going fucking crazy, or was that the smartest thing anyone’s ever said to her?

“I’ll be back tomorrow. Count on it,” says Ari, rising to her feet. She nudges a few stray blocks at Mekhi with the tip of her sole. He reaches for one particular block and looks up at Ari with a sloppy, saliva-coated grin.

“Ten o’clock,” says Kalene, opening her binder as Ari takes her leave. “We’ll put you to work.”

.

Ari volunteers at Kalene’s on Wednesday and Thursday, five hours each day. Her shoulder-length hair curls and frizzes in the humid shop, and for the first time, that’s the biggest of her concerns. Kalene shows her how to water the irises in the plant basket, and in return, Ari tells Kalene what she knows about the structural biology of roses.

By Thursday night, though her thighs hurt from crouching to tend to the plants, Ari feels satisfied to near delirium. She’s come home with two new succulents: a beautiful kiwi aeonium with deep pink, outlined leaves, and one called a jelly bean, whose leaves look like just that. She arranges them next to the foxtail on her window and admires them with pride. Pride – a swell in her chest she’s not felt since that A in organic chemistry in junior year, all those years ago.

When she finally leaves her room to steep a mug of sleepytime tea – for a better, more peaceful sleep, it promises – voices filter up the stairs. She descends slowly, wary of disturbing Rosen and Jackson in the living room but unable to boil water in the kitchen without passing them.

“He’s single right now; he’s probably looking for someone,” Rosen says.

“I think you’re confused. Luke doesn’t look for someone, he finds someone,” Jackson chuckles.

“So maybe he could find her.”

“It’s not a good match, Rosie.”

“Why not?”

“You know why.”

“I don’t see what the problem is. He’s a nice guy, he’s a longtime friend of yours, and I don’t see why it would be crazy to introduce him to Ari.”

Ari’s ears burn at the sound of her name. On high alert, she speeds her pace to the bottom of the stairs. Cuddled on the couch, Jackson and Rosen meet her eyes.

“Hey!” Rosen exclaims, using a hand on Jackson’s thigh to stabilize herself as she moves to the edge of the couch. “Great news: I ran into Jacks’ friend, Luke, in town and told him my sister was staying with me for a while. We chatted about you a bit. He seemed really interested.”

Blankly, Ari says, “Interested in what?”

“In you, of course. We thought it would be fun if you two met.”

Ari blinks. “What?”

“Tomorrow night. At Sherman’s – you know, that little dive bar downtown.”

“It’s not a dive bar,” Jackson interjects in offense.

“Then what is it?”

“It’s a local establishment.”

“It’s a dive bar.”

“No, it’s a neighbourhood pub,” he argues. “The owners keep it clean, and yeah, sometimes it can get rowdy in there, but in general folks go there for a drink after the game, to listen to some live music, to socialize.”

“I still think it’s a dive bar,” Rosen says with a shrug.

Jackson rubs a palm over his forehead. “People ‘round here don’t think of it that way, so you best watch how you speak of it in front of them.” Redirecting his attention to Ari, he adds, “It’s charming, don’t worry. It’s a lot of fun there.”

“I didn’t say it’s not fun, Jackson,” Rosen snaps. “I know it’s fun; I always have fun there.”

“You mean the one time you came with me?” he deadpans.

Rosen huffs in annoyance and promptly looks away from him, maintaining eye contact with Ari. “Luke’s really great,” she gushes. “He’s been working full-time at the DMV since high school and word has it he’s got a lot saved up. He wants to buy a plot of land and fix up a house right here in town to be close to family and friends. Oh, and he was on the football team in high school with Jacks. He’s really built.”

Jackson stares expressionlessly at the back of Rosen’s head.

Ari looks from Rosen to Jackson and back to Rosen again. Rosen might very well be holding her breath until Ari gives a definitive answer, so after prolonging the torture another few seconds, Ari slowly says, “He sounds… great.”

With a triumphant exhale, Rosen shoulders slump with a satisfied smile. She softens, tipping her head to the side in that telltale display of sympathy Ari knows far too well. “It might be good for you. You and Louis broke up, like, a year ago—”

“Six months ago.”

“—and I’m sure you’ve been lonely. I mean, I know you have, and that’s why you’re here. And you’re trying all this new stuff lately, like yoga and vegetarianism and whatever, so why not try a blind date? Honest, I think you’ll have fun.”

Ari groans internally. It’s times like these when having no one who cared for her would be easier to manage – there would be no one to disappoint, no one to have to humour. Even though Rosen’s arrangement sounds like absolute misery, Ari knows she’ll still end up doing it. For Rosen. And that’s a fucking kicker.

“Can’t he come here instead?” Ari asks. “That way there’s less pressure, especially if you guys are here to help if the conversation gets slow.”

Rosen scrunches her nose, repulsed. “You don’t invite someone to your house for a blind date,” she says, as if common blind date etiquette is written in stone. “How is that less pressure? You meet in a social setting so if they turn out to be a murderer, everyone hears your screams.”

“That is comforting,” Ari says dryly.

“Okay. Rosie, stop,” Jackson says, nudging Rosen in the back. He leans forward to take control of the conversation. “Luke’s a good guy. He’s not a murderer, for Christ’s sake. He’s the one who suggested meeting at Sherman’s, so it’s probably best to follow through with that. Besides, Rosie and I are out tomorrow night – it’s Sawyer’s birthday in Charleston.”

Rosen sags with the event reminder, seemingly not too thrilled to attend the birthday celebration of Jackson’s older brother, who lives and works as a corporate lawyer in Charleston.

“Oh!” Rosen cries. “But we can drop you off on our way there!”

It’s not quite the consolation prize Ari hoped for. Her eyes shake as she fights not to let them roll. “Great.”

“So you’ll go?”

Rosen’s lips form a pleading pout. Jackson sighs in defeat. As for Ari, well, she was doomed from the moment she walked down the stairs.

“Fine. I’ll go.”

Photo Credits: Anton Darius, Jesse Summers

#tls #my writing #fic #1dff #thank you for giving this a shot :)

[17cafe]

a morning with wonwoo

note: I’ve been thinking so much about this ok ok oko kokkgm

in a house

a small house with lots of windows to let sunlight in during the day

but at night the blinds go down and the curtains close bc the lamps come on n ya don’t want ppl seeing in

but getting off track this is supposed to be about mornings oops

ok so small house with lots of windows

and even though it’s small it feels spacious because everything is light colours and happy mood 

your two cats run around and lightheartedly play around with each other all the time, sometimes hopping up on the bed you and wonwoo share while you’re both sleeping

even though u fall asleep cuddling it never stays like that bc he moves around in his sleep and ends up on his back with an arm across his stomach and the other hanging over the side of the bed lol

but this particular morning the dang cats woke you up !! nice

and the curtains in the bedroom are really more like sheers and the blinds behind them weren’t closed and the sunlight was hitting u perfectly right in the eyes

even though you were sleepy those 2 seconds of light rlly distracted your brain and you couldn’t really sleep again

SO you roll over and see the side of sleepy wonwoo’s beautiful face

and like always ur like ..wowoaahhhhhwoowwohwhahoo

so u just look and smile to yourself for a while

but then give him a tiny peck on the cheek before getting up slowly so you don’t wake the sleeping beauty

and you walk to the kitchen to get a glass of water and the cats mew up @ you and follow u and you’re like yeah yeah ok

and give them some food before getting your water then go sit in this white wicker chair with a light green cushion thats in a corner of the kitchen

and just drink your water while watching the cats eat 

and they nudge against your leg when they’re all done and u give them pats on the head

and soon enough you’re actually pretty awake and able to function properly and your head isn’t all sleepy foggy any more

and you don’t even put on a coat or shoes or anything before heading into the yard and get some fruits from the big garden all around ur cute lil house and get some other things too before coming back inside

and you put everything on the countertop beside the sink

and wonwoo has a habit of keeping things neat and clean

by clean I mean like sanitized and stuff not just wipe clean

so u know the sink is clean so u wash everything and leave it in the sink until u need it

and you get a lil cutting board where one side looks like a watermelon and the other is plain white

and put it on the countertop and soon enough ur chopping up fruit and taking stuff from the cupboards and beginning to make a hearty breakfast for mister facial structure

and you start to hear little mews coming from the cats but ignore it bc they’re quiet and they seem calm

and mister glowy skin is awake

but u don’t know that yet

you just hear the blanket rustling and think hes rolling over or something bc sometimes he stays in bed all day so u never know

but wonwoo gets up!! he hears the cats meow and wakes up with a smile and pats their heads too

he used to pet them like normal but picked that up from you

and just like that… he fell asleep again lol

you hear silence again and grin a lil because yes that is what he does and sometimes he thinks that you think he’s lazy but no it’s cute

so when you’re at a point where u can pause your food preparation you go over back into the bedroom and smile seeing the kitties curled up in your spot together and wonwoo in the same position as before

and you come beside him and bend over to kiss his cheek and nose and forehead and lips and chin and cheek again before whispering a little

“get up sleepyhead”

but you say it in the sweetest voice

and you turn around not noticing the smile creep up on his face aWWWEEEGK

and you go back to the kitchen not bothering to wait because tbh he never gets up the first time you wake him up

but he?? sits up and ? pulls the blanket off of him

and stretches feeling little cracks in his back and yawns really big

and smacks his lips a little before reaching for his glasses on the bedside table which has some colour fading off but he likes how it looks

his eyes are still closed as he puts them on and stands up, smoothing out his shirt and shuffling his feet out the bedroom door and towards the kitchen 

and he’s walking so quietly for someone half asleep and you don’t even really notice him near you until you hear him yawn really big

and you look over and there he is

up after the first time you went to wake him up

hair messy but not cute messy tbh it doesn’t look good LOL 

you smile and say another sweet good morning and rinse off a little knife you were using

and he comes up behind you as you’re wrapping a dry fluffy cloth around it to dry it off and wraps his arms around your waist and mumbles into your ear a good morning 

but it sounds more like “mmmmgoonmornm”

and the cats are falling asleep on the now empty bed

and you emptied your hands in order to hold onto wonwoo’s arms 

and he goes to kiss your cheek and his glasses kinda push against you and they move to sit on his face weirdly but he’s still too tired to rlly care

and you’re just so content in the moment and everything feels perfect and wowowwhha h

#p.bullet scenarios #seventeen #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #seventeen reactions #seventeen fluff #seventeen angst #wonwoo #jeon wonwoo #seventeen wonwoo #wonwoo scenario #wonwoo imagines #wonwoo fluff

[saintmccann]

31 - love will tear us apart

request Bondy asks the reader to visit him on tour. 

note I am sorry it took me forever to post this but I hope you enjoy it!

______________

“Can’t believe you paid for in-flight wifi to send me that meme.”

“I know,” you said, laughing, as you embraced him, hoping your plane hair and wrinkled clothes weren’t phasing him too much. You were itching to get to your hotel room. The leggings and t-shirt you’d worn on the plane were sticking to you, and you were desperate for a shower. He could tell you weren’t keen on being touched after being cramped in the cabin for a few dreary hours.

“Your haircut looks amazing.” You pulled back from the hug a little and surveyed how he’d changed. He was tired, but his eyes were still bright and warm. He hadn’t shaved in a while and his beard was starting to get unruly. You smiled as his cheeks went a slight shade of pink.

“Thanks,” he replied bashfully. He wasn’t used to outward praise.

“It’s been too long, John,” you told him, leaving his arms. He smiled back at you, eyes crinkling while replying, “It really has.”

The taxi ride to the hotel he’d arranged a room for you in was a blissful game of catch-up. How you’ve been, what you’ve been doing, how he’s been, what he’s been doing. It was nice to just talk in person. The calls and texts between you and your childhood best friend had been less frequent lately, and you had both regretted it.

“Pick anywhere in the world and we’ll make it work,” he had said to you over the phone one night. And so, a trip to Japan to see Bondy perform at the Fuji Rock Festival was born.

“Is this where I’m staying?” you asked, plopping your luggage down in the little foyer of the hotel room. It was modern, but with obvious Japanese influences, because, well, you were in Japan. The far wall was paned in glass leading out to a balcony with wicker chairs. Traditional paper room separators divided the room into habitual spaces for cooking, sleeping, and lounging. “I love it. So quaint. You can definitely tell we’re not in Newcastle anymore. There are two beds in here! Wait…. and….. your stuff too?” Your eyebrows raised at him.

“I couldn’t tell management you were coming, they said earlier that they wouldn’t pay for any rooms other than the regular band and crew’s. So I asked for a room with two beds because now, I’m a daft cunt who sleeps in one bed the first night and another the next.” He winked.

“Gotcha,” you laughed, putting your duffel on the bed. You sorted through your clothes and readied an outfit for the day. “Where we goin’?”

“Firstly, I was thinking lunch out in Tokyo. You’re probably starving from the plane ride. We can even hit the shops if you like.”

“Yes!” you exclaimed. “I’m also dying to get my hands on some Japanese makeup.” You took out your makeup bag and rifled through the cosmetics you brought. A bright red lipstick would go perfectly with the long black and white striped dress you’d brought. You stepped up to the mirror and let your lips fall into an O-shape to apply it.

“Well isn’t that a shade of ‘I’m getting fucked tonight’ red.”

“Bondy!” you slapped his arm hard. In a mock-country accent, you rebutted: “That’s no way to talk to a lady like me! All my suitors are going to hear you and take back their marriage proposals.”

“As if they’re all standing right outside the door,” he scoffed with a laugh, and fixed his hair under his hat in the mirror.

A knock sounded at the door shortly after.

“No fucking way!” you yelled, both of you looking into each other’s bewildered eyes. He pointed and laughed at you with your lipstick still only half on, and then giggled and practically ran to the door.

“Hello boys,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows at them as they filed into the room. You quickly rubbed your lips together so you wouldn’t look like a Hex girl with one lip not matching the other.

“Ahh! Hi! Hello!” You greeted each member of the band, and Larry, with a big hug in succession.

“She’s gotten cuter since the last time we seen her,” Van joked.

Bondy rolled his eyes with a smile before continuing the conversation he’d started with you before they arrived. “I know a really good record store not far from here. The festival doesn’t start until tomorrow so we have a whole night to ourselves.”

“Alright, hope you guys have fun today. Let’s go boys,” Bob ushered everyone out of your room as quickly as they’d come.

“Sweet.” You walked around through the rest of the room, surveying everything one more time before leaving to make sure you had what you needed, and then walked into the bathroom. “No fuckin’ way! What’s this toilet do?” you called to Bondy, who was still in the great room. You noticed the white bowl had knobs on the sides and pressure sensors on the seats. You fiddled with one knob, and it sent a stream of water onto your dress as you squealed, half surprised, half in delight.

He laughed from in the other room, and muttered, “I fuckin’ love Japan.”

****

Lunch was hot, filling and delicious, so you were both ready to head out to the shops with full bellies and hearts from catching up. Bondy walked with a little spring in his step, and you were happy to see he’d found his bliss in this country. The first time he’d traveled to Japan when he was a member of Detroit Social Club, he’d called you from his hotel room the first night --- “I promise I’ll pay for this phone call on both our ends, I know it’s going to be expensive but I don’t fuckin’ care” --- and spoke to you for two hours afterward, racking up more than three hundred pounds in the time it took him to tell you how mesmerized he was by the country. The neon lights in a language he didn’t know how to read, the people bustling by with a million stories, the wine culture, the food…. He was utterly fascinated.

Still, today, he was enthralled.

“I want to take you to this music shop near Shinjuku Station, it’s incredible. They’ve got all those obscure records we used to have to kill for back home. They’re just sitting on shelves here out in the open. Lezzgo!” he grabbed your hand and held it steady as he pulled you along. You wanted to tell him that in Japanese culture holding hands in public was a really really big deal, but also, it didn’t matter because he wouldn’t care about that significance or do anything contrary to what he wanted to do anyways.

The sky was overcast and looked as if it were going to pour soon. You both hurriedly made your ways down side streets, Bondy navigating with a mental map. The buzz of excitement flowed through your veins.

You entered the dimly lit shop just behind him; he had to duck under the low doorway.

“Watch your head,” he called behind him. He never let his hand fall away from yours. You stepped up carefully.

The shop was full of records, from top to bottom. Vinyl covers and CD jewel cases were pasted to the ceiling, and were up and down the walls as well. A sign hung in the corner by the register, and in big black letters and characters it said “EVERYTHING FOR SALE.”

“Have a look at this,” Bondy said into a pile of records after nodding once to the man behind the counter. The man stepped aside to look through a bin, and set a vinyl to play on one of the shop’s players.

“Oasis,” you laughed in amusement as Wonderwall played over the speakers.

“They always do that,” Bondy smiled, showing all his teeth. “Told ya.”

You with your big bag of records in hand, all paid for and basically hand-picked by Johnny Bond himself --- “I’m not going to invite you on a trip across the world and expect you to pay for your own souvenirs,” he’d said with a blush on his face as he paid --- padded out to the darkening street. Bondy guided you back to the subway, but this time he walked more relaxed now that he didn’t have anywhere to be. His hat received funny looks from passersby.

Once again at the station, you both hopped on a train headed back to the hotel. The festival was tomorrow and you knew he needed a good night’s sleep to perform well, so you both silently opted for a night in.

“It’s almost dinner time, John,” you told him, laying your head on his shoulder. The air was stale in that compact space, and you were exhausted. “I’ve no idea how we can spend so much time in there together and not get tired of each other or the scenery.”

He chuckled, and it was a small chuckle meant only for you to hear. He’d always had a special laugh reserved just for you, and it made you feel a little special stuffed among the people in the train car alongside you. His scarf looked warm and soft, and you let your nose rub it a little before you realized people were staring at how close you were to him. Definitely a different culture here.

“Sleeeeeeepy,” you whispered in his ear, and let your eyes close, head resting on his lapel. The jet lag was taking a toll, finally. The imminent excitement of seeing your best friend after months of being apart had finally worn off, and you were content on the train. Sandwiched between someone you’d never met and someone you’d known since you could remember.

The walk back to the hotel was a bleary one; not only was it misting coldly, but you were half asleep. You weren’t happy about having to move off of him to exit the train, and he smiled at how groggy you were. You didn’t tell him, but the cat nap you’d taken on his shoulder was one of the best bouts of sleep you’d had in months.

“Can we get a coffee or somethin’?” you asked him in a small voice. His arm was around you, trying to keep you warm as he guided you back to the hotel. His navigation skills despite a lack of GPS were incredible.

“How about some tea?”

“Yes. Please. God. I need something warm.”

After stopping at a tea shop, and with a hot brew in hand, your morale had improved greatly. The sleepiness was gone, for now.

“Where do you want to go for dinner tonight?” he asked you, hands wrapped around his mug of tea. He looked like a little boy again, shivering every so often every time the door to the cafe opened.

“I figured you’d want to eat room service at the hotel since you’ve got an early riser tomorrow morning.”

“That would be ideal, but you’re here on holiday.”

“So? Doesn’t mean we have to be fancy or anythin’. It’s just you and me.”

“I guess.” He breathed in the steam from his tea, and took a long sip. “Want to go out after the festival?”

“Don’t you want to drink and party?” you questioned. He sat there with an unreadable expression on his face.

“Maybe we can go somewhere the day after. Can you stay an extra night?”

“Uh… yeah, I think I could work it out… well, except my plane ticket, but I guess I could get a new one?” You asked him, and he still looked at you with hopeful eyes. “Why’re you so keen on this, John?”

Just then, his phone rang. Van’s name popped up on the screen. Bondy took the opportunity to dodge your question.

“Hello?”

“Oi mate, we’re gonna do a big feast in the hotel with a roast, maybe. Or some pies. Or even some fancy ice cream. Wanna join? Where are you?” his voice crackled through the receiver to your ears. Van always spoke loudly on the phone. You could hear every word.

“I’m out with Y/N, close to the hotel now.”

“How’s ya sweetheart?” Bondy cleared his throat as Van asked the question. You smiled. Van was always a dear.

“She’s well. A little cold, but we’re working on it.”

“Good. Come on then! We’re orderin’ soon.” He hung up. You laughed.

“Well? The boy said come, so let’s go,” you exclaimed, standing up with renewed energy.

****

Mouths stuffed full of garlic bread, Larry and Bondy attempted to recite their ABCs backwards. Bread crumbs were falling all over the table as they tried not to laugh.

“That’s absolutely disgusting,” Bob declared, taking a big gulp of water.

“Oh, you haven’t seen anything,” you quipped. “You’d be surprised at the stuff this one has been able to pull off over the years. When he was a wee lad ---”

“I know what story you’re gonna tell. You better not go there,” Bondy interrupted, mouth clear of bread now.

“And what would you do if I did?” you asked, eyes sparkling.

Benji’s eyebrows knitted in disbelief. “What could he possibly have done that warrants this much attention?”

“Well, ---” you began, but you only got as far as the L’s before Bondy pounced and leapt into your lap. He started tickling you, and you squealed as his hands were digging into your sides and arms and legs. You couldn’t control the laughter, and you cackled loudly as everyone watched, laughing too. Your arms and legs flailed in your chair, but his weight kept you from moving out from under him.

“Stop!” you breathily screamed between inhalations, “Stop! I… Oh my god I can’t breathe,” you laughed into his face. He finally stopped, and rested on your lap. His weight was heavy, and the backs of your legs pressed hard into the wood of the chair you were sitting in. His face was mere inches from yours.

“You done now?” you asked him, moving the hair out of your face that had fallen in the attack.

“Only if you swear not to say anything.”

“You got it, boss.”

He made his way back to his chair as if nothing had happened, and Bob snorted. The conversation resumed normally.

Benji pulled a bottle of Tito’s out of his luggage, and everyone guffawed with wide eyes at how he’d managed to smuggle an entire handle across the Japanese border. Bob rolled his eyes. “We’ve got a show tomorrow, Benj.”

Within an hour, everyone was smashed.

“Royal flush!” Larry cried. “First one in my life!!” He raised the playing cards above his head and let them fall across him in a shower as he collected the petty cash on the table. Bondy mumbled something about a wanker from his spot where he’d spaced out on Van’s bed, and Larry shot him drunk dagger eyes.

“I can’t believe I just lost to Larry with this hand,” Bob giggled. Benji looked over at his cards and sniggered.

“I’ve got a fuckin’ good hand as well,” you laughed.

“And Y/N!” Van yelled half-unintelligibly, flinging his hands in the air, letting all the cards fall to the ground while almost knocking over a shot glass.

“Y/N….” Bondy’s drunken slur rang out from the bed. “She’s an angel…... and I want her to drown in my cum.”

The boys all stared, stunned, looking back and forth from Bondy to you, no one saying a word. Eyes rimmed red were bright with surprise, Larry’s cheeks were puffing out red from holding in laughter.

“My god,” Bob whispered, breaking the silence. Van giggled.

“Oh, I’m desensitized to his drunken comments by now. Known the lad for forever it seems like,” you said, laughing off the uncomfortable feeling their glances were giving you.

Larry decided it was time for everyone to sober up after that raucous comment. After chugging a few glasses of water each and taking an aspirin, all of you felt you’d be sort of fine in the morning.

Slowly, after everyone finished their food and trickled out of the rooms, it was you and Bondy’s bedtime and you walked down the hall back to your own room, only slightly tipsy now. The hardwood floors creaked in the silence that descended upon the both of you.

When you reached the door, he stopped and turned to you before inserting the key.

“Today was good,” he pointed out. He seemed completely sobered up by now.

“Yeah,” you breathed out. “I’m exhausted. I’m glad we did this though. The lads are still a right laugh.”

“Me too.”

He took a step forward and leaned in delicately, kissing your lips gently. It was soft, and only for a moment. He smiled, and opened the door, walking inside the room you shared. You stood there rooted to the spot, dumbfounded.

Then, Van came around the corner with an empty ice bucket.

“What you doin’ standin’ out here pale as a ghost?”

You pulled him aside and ducked your head to speak quietly to him. “Dude, what’s gotten into John? He just kissed me on the lips. Like a fuckin’ weirdo. All gentle and shit.”

Van turned to look at you squarely. “Whad’you mean?”

“He… kissed me. At the door. Before we walked in the room.”

“And you’re mad about that?”

“Uh....No…. just… confused?” Van’s eyes widened at your comment. He knew something you didn’t.

“Y/N… why’d you come out here?”

“To catch up! He’s my best friend and I missed him!” you whisper yelled in the hall. Frustration was seeping into your pores due to your confusion. Van noticed your distress and placed a hand on your shoulder. He sighed heavily.

“Y/N, I don’t know if I should be the one tellin’ you this, but… Bond’s dead in love with you.”

Your eyes filled with tears.

“He won’t ever stop talkin’ about you after you call. He thinks of buying things for you when we shop around. Always asks us, ‘will she like this,’ an’ that. Wants to get a house somewhere.”

“Stop.” Your voice broke.

“I thought you felt the same way, we all did. When you came all the way out here, we thought, it’s settled then. Let’s pick the baby names.”

“Van, shut the fuck up,” you cried, tears threatening to roll down your face. There was too much to process. It filled your lungs with horror. A whole lifetime of loving him as a friend and it wasn’t reciprocated in the way you thought it was. The double beds, the record store gifts, the hand holding, the late night phone calls --- all of it, so he could woo you. Not because he genuinely cared. Your friendship, ruined. You turned away from Van, walking back to your room you unfortunately shared with Bondy the whole time you were here.

“Where you going?!” he shouted after you.

“To bed,” you said dejectedly, leaving Van and his empty ice bucket to their own devices in the hall.

As if he’d already known your reaction, Bondy had set up the paper separators between your beds so you didn’t have to see him. You toed into the bathroom and started the shower.

Under the hot stream, you cried hard for everything you thought you’d known. How much of his friendship was real? Or just trying to get in your pants? How long had he felt this way? Why hadn’t he said anything? Were the brash comments really jokes, as you’d interpreted them?

The questions pelted your mind as frequently as the water drops landed on your back, easing your sore muscles but not your mind. You shut the water off, having accomplished next to nothing other than magnifying the pain you felt at having a facade for a friendship, and pulled your pajamas on. Disheartened, you padded over to the bed and fell into its soft sheets, willing yourself not to think about the sound of his soft breathing just a few feet away.

****

The room was empty when you stirred half past noon. You checked your phone. Only one text from Larry. “If you decide to come, we’ve got a train ticket and a festival bracelet for you. Xxx.” Van had relayed the news, then.

The heartache of last night steadily grew back into your heart as you brushed your hair. You were upset not only for yourself, but for him. You knew him inside and out, and he the same to you. You knew he’d be devastated. He’d probably never forgive you for standing outside the door, dumbstruck, and then going straight to bed instead of telling him how you felt straight away. But what were you supposed to do?

When you scrolled through Tumblr that night, after spending the whole day lamenting your loss by watching high school coming-of-age movies and ordering expensive ice cream pints, you pulled up the #catfishandthebottlemen tag.

A myriad of photos and messages regarding the festival show they’d played popped up. “Is he okay? He looks ill?” was one person’s response to a photo of Bondy looking sickly playing the guitar. Loads of people were concerned about him, and rightfully so; he looked awful. His hair wasn’t fixed, he had a five-o-clock shadow, his eyes were droopier than usual and he looked as if he were in pain. His facial expressions betrayed his usual debonair act. You found fan videos of a few of the songs. During Fallout, he looked as if he were crying.

You curled up on the bed, wrapped yourself in the soft duvet, and did the same.

****

By nightfall, you’d moved the paper separators to behind the bed, and cleared the room. You sat on his bed, waiting.

The jingle of keys in the lock made your heart seize up.

He opened the door slowly, and threw his keys into the bowl in the foyer. He removed his coat, and hung it on a hook.

“John,” you whispered. He turned to look at you. His eyes were bloodshot and glassy, and he looked worse than the photos you’d seen this evening. Bedraggled, he walked over to you and took your outstretched hand. He sat down next to you, and the bed dipped with his weight. He sat facing the dinner table and the wall, where he could only see you in periphery.

“I’m sorry.” You couldn’t muster more than a whisper. “I didn’t know.”

“Y/N….” he began, shaking his head a little. “I’ve loved you since we were in school.” The blow hit hard, but it was expected. You’d spent all day remembering little things he’d done for you, like bringing you flowers he’d picked from the side of the country road up to his house or dancing with you in your kitchen. He was the only boy your parents ever let in the house.

“I just thought after all this time, if you wanted me, you’d come, and that would be it.”

“I thought it was just a friends’ trip…”

“I know. Van filled me in earlier.”

Silence. You could almost hear your heartbeat drumming in your chest.

“I thought I was clear,” he started again. He still stared straight ahead, studying the legs of the table.

“I didn’t realize….”

“Do you love me?” he interrupted, turning to face you now.

“I… John, I’ve always loved you, like as a ---”

“Do you love me like I love you?” he interrupted again.

“I…”

“I’m begging you, Y/N.”

“John, I just…”

“Please.”

You thought it over. You’d been friends since the nursery. You went through school together, always at each other’s sides. There was never a moment where you’d ever doubted his trust in you, his companionship, his friendship. When you crashed your bike, he was there picking gravel out of your knee. When you had your first boyfriend, Bondy threatened to beat his ass if you ever got hurt. When you got your first car, he was the one you drove to so you could pick him up and show it off. When you lost your dad, he let you cry on his shoulder, and he shared your grief. When you rented your first apartment, he called all his friends and worked them to death moving your furniture so you wouldn’t have to lift a finger. The undying love was underfoot, drawing you two together, always.

“Y/N, do you love me like i love you?” he repeated, breaking the silence one last time.

“I can try.”

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