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tobiosmilktea · 4 years

Text

casual catastrophes — sakusa kiyoomi

2.6k words | genre/s: uni!au, fluff | warning/s: kinda nsfw (i tried lol) | pairing: sakusa x f!reader

↪︎ in which his jealous actions spoke louder than his words

a/n: request for @study-milk, sorry for the long wait! i still hope you enjoy it overall

also i cant write smut for shit so i turned it into something poetic instead LMAO like honestly i have no idea how people write this so casually i couldn’t stop laughing the entire time

you were an untamed disarray in the morning. you looked at the world through a lens of thunderous fatigue as you finally managed to get some sleep in the past couple of days of nonstop assignments and projects. you loathed the hour at which you were forced to wake, from the tweeting of morning songbirds to the chattering of voice of the morning news droning through the placid dewy air of the new day.

your slender fingers slithered through your knotted hair, pulling the linen sheets of of you as you groaned honey through your teeth. you stretched up high until you could practically touch the clouds through the tips of your fingers until it lulled you awake rather than knee-jerk movements of the daily routine of getting out of bed. it was finally the weekend which meant no classes for a couple of days and you were eternally grateful. despite the short break between weeks being only two days, it was surely enough for you to have fun and relax, not to mention that your best friend had just arrived last night from travelling abroad.

you and your best friend, kaito, had been close ever since you had punched him square on the nose in elementary school after he made fun of you. you supposed that the impact had hurt him enough to think he would like to be best friends with you forever.

kaito had been on your side for as long as you could remember. you would always attend the same middle and high schools, helping you through your darkest days, your highest of highs, and even the lowest of lows. hell, kaito was even there for you when you were head over heels for sakusa. if anything, it was your best friend you had to thank for you to even be with sakusa kiyoomi in the first place. you two got together your second year of high school and have been going strong even now that you both were in your last year in university.

it was honestly quite the shame that you and kaito ended up following separate paths after graduating high school. you decided to stay in tokyo with sakusa while kaito travelling abroad and living his best life.

as if your body was on autopilot, you found yourself already making your way out of your shared bedroom of your shared apartment with sakusa, sighing to yourself as you gently shut the door behind you. following the sound of the television’s soft chattering from the small living room, you glanced upon your boyfriend making breakfast and cooking his morning away tot he smell of chamomile tea and eggs.

“morning,” he muttered, quickly flickering you a glance before focusing his attention back on the eggs. he was in the process of making yours and he was well aware of how picky you were with how your eggs were cooked.

“good morning,” you greeted with that smile he always liked seeing. you settled yourself atop one of the bar stools as you waited for him to finish, “we got visitors today.”

sakusa’s brows arch as he plated your breakfast and making his way towards you. “visitors? who? what time are they coming so i can clean properly?”

you shook your head with a light chuckle left your lips, “you don’t have to do that, you know as i think you know who’s coming.” you say, thanking the boy before you as you stabbed your fork into your eggs. “besides, we’re probably going out to hangout.”

a hum of acknowledgement emitted from sakusa as you could’ve swore he made a strange look when you mentioned visitors. you didn’t even mention kaito’s name, but you knew that he knew who you were talking about.

shaking the thought out of your head, you and your boyfriend ate breakfast in the serene silence. your eyes hadn’t even meet each other as your gazes were both locked upon the television screen.

sakusa found himself waiting, sitting on one of the bar stools at some random pub in downtown tokyo that you had dragged him to in order to meet kaito. he let out an inaudible sigh as he pulled his white face mask higher up on the bridge of his nose as he watched your honey drenched eyes scan the crowds every five minutes.

sakusa had a terrible habit of staring at you in the midst of the silence between you two. he often thought of his gazes to be of a nuisance, but he was well aware that you would’ve called him out on it if you truly found it annoying. trust me, he learned this the hard way when you two first started dating. if anything, he took it to his own advantage to memorize every feature upon your face. the volleyball player’s face seemed to light up the same way yours did as your eyes widened at the sight before you—kaito and a friend of who decided to tag along.

“kaito!” you called out to her best friend, pulling sakusa from his trance and towards the arriving pair.

“feels like i haven’t seen you in eons, (y/n).” kaito laughs as he pulls you into a tight hug. sakusa’s eyes flickered down to how dangerously close your friend’s hands were wrapped around you.

a curt smile melted upon your lips, “well, this is the longest we’ve been apart.”

“true, but i’m honestly surprised you haven’t gone insane without me keeping you in check all the time.” jests kaito, a tone lacing his words with a raised brow upon his face.

you scoff, “as if! i though your expected between from me.” you mused before gesturing to your boyfriend that your best friend had failed to even greet, “besides, sakusa has taken over that job.”

it was then kaito had finally nodded towards the masked individual as you were too occupied introducing yourself to kaito’s plus one. eventually the four of you found yourselves sitting on the bar stools in a row, with you being in the middle of kaito and sakusa.

with only two hours into the night, numerous topics had already been talked about—mostly between you an kaito as they were of reminiscent memoirs that refused to wither into oblivion or stories of his travels.

“so when are you leaving japan?” you asked, casually sipping on your cocktail.

a hum of thought emitted from kaito as his eyes focused on his glass, “in two weeks, i think.”

“where to?”

“probably australia and new zealand,” kaito answers between sips of his drinks, “so far, i’ve been to most of the continents besides australia, so i’ll most likely spend a month in each country.”

a light chuckle escaped from your lips, “must be nice.” you commented, suddenly feeling a large, warm hair grip at your thigh. eyes widening slightly, you look back towards sakusa whose face mask was resting below his chin in order to take a sip of his drink. he wasn’t even looking at you, but his grip on your thigh tightened. you squeezed his hand back.

your best friend downed the rest of his drink, his breath finally catching up to him as he felt a pair of eyes staring holds into his skull. he decides to shake it off, “well, i’m just really fortunate enough to have a job that lets me travel. maybe once you graduate you can come with me and travel for a couple months.”

it was then sakusa wove his fingers though yours and gripped your hand tightly. as if he was suddenly afraid to let go, he rudely cleared his throat as he downed a shot.

“besides,” kaito continues his ramblings without noticing any of sakusa’s tense actions towards you. “i was supposed to go on that australia trip right now, but i decided to stop by japan cause i wanted to see you before i leave again. couldn’t last another couple of months without seeing your ugly face.”

a playful scoff emits from you, rolling your eyes. “dickhead.”

“oh, come on, i know you miss me.” he teases, his hand raising to possible touch your face, but before he could do so, sakusa swiftly pulls your face away to quickly peck you on the lips.

“sakusa?” you muttered upon his soft lips as you pull away.

he cleared his throat, “sorry that i interrupted, but it’s getting late and i just remembered that atsumu asked for our help for his move.”

that was a lie. sakusa quickly made it up as he couldn’t bear for his anger and jealousy to brew within him for any longer as he would physically combust if he were.

“really?” you questioned as confusion rang over your face.

sakusa nods, “yeah, he texted us earlier this morning, remember?”

you tilted you head slightly, trying to recall the memory but failing to do so. but it wasn’t like you questioned it any further as it was probably lost in the busy saturday endeavors of cleaning up around the house that it possibly flew over your head. besides, it was sakusa who usually remembered this types of things so you trusted his judgement.

“oh,” you sigh, looking over to kaito and giving him a pitiful look. “sorry we had to cut tonight short, kaito. maybe next time we can hang out for longer.”

“don’t worry about, (y/n). there’s always next time” your best friend waves his hand as if to say it wasn’t a big deal. he watched as you hopped off the bar stool and gathered your things, “oh here, let me walk you guys out.”

kaito, along with his tag along left their seats at the bar as well and followed you and sakusa out. your best friend noticed the way your boyfriend was tensed with his arm draped affectionately over your shoulders. kaito’s brows slightly furrow as he looked at the sight before him. jealous, he thought as he feigned a laugh. being the germaphobe he is, he was well aware that this was super out of character for sakusa and it was all because of kaito. perhaps there was a smug look on your best friends face that immediately dissipated the moment you all stepped out into the cold night air.

“i swear it got colder,” you mumbled as a cheeky idea popped inside kaito’s head. perhaps he would do you a favor as he was aware of how stressed you had been in the past week, maybe if he pushed a couple more of sakusa’s buttons that you would be in for a treat.

“here, let me give you my coat.” kaito was in the midst of taking his jacket off his shoulders when sakusa had already place his own coat over your shoulders in one swift movement.

the tall volleyball player flickered a look over his shoulder, giving a harsh glance towards your best friend. “i got it, thanks. we’ll be leaving now.”

“bye, kaito!” was the last thing you said to your best friend before you and sakusa walked towards his car.

you hadn’t expected the night to end like this—stark naked under the pale moonlight that bled through the windows of your apartment, laying beneath sakusa who was in the process of taking his shirt off.

all you knew was that this was entirely sparked off his stupid jealousy towards kaito for no reason whatsoever. the thing is, the only reason why you knew was of all the backhanded comments sakusa had made on the car ride home after he had locked the car doors and confessed that helping atsumu was a lie. that having you alone and all his was the only reason why he wanted to leave the pub so badly, to have you in his arms and in his embrace, to feel your skin against his. whatever jealousy he experienced earlier in the night, he wanted it to disappear once he showed you that you were his.

you tried to be indifferent about it. that his uncalled for actions wouldn’t let him succeed in having him take you, but your senses seemed to swell and pulse against your skin at each waking moment that passed. you did end up melting into his arms as he carried you to the bedroom.

he knew you so well that he was aware that the moment his lips touched your neck, all of your defiance would deteriorate. he knew that just a few light brushes and strategically placed touches against your skin would do all of his bidding without much thought.

sakusa sighed into your lips and that burst of serendipitous spark of lust and desperation radiated throughout your bodies. as if all of his rising envious antics melted away, withering along with everything else in the world—the sounds, the questionable best friends, the alcohol coursing through your veins—it dissolved into nothing but you and him.

all of sakusa attention was on you and you only. nothing else in the world would break him out of his trance of love and infatuation for you as he savored the familiar taste of your lips.

you clutched at him with the aching of fervor and reincarnation. you yearned for his touch, clinging to his shoulders, pulling at his hair, and wrapping your legs around his hips to drag him harder into you.

sakusa kissed his way down your neck, to your collarbones and eventually down to your breasts as the deep growl that emitted from his lips lit your skin on fire. he breathed vehemence and desire as he adjusted himself in front of your entrance, watching as there was some sort of unwavering and steadfast hunger and avidity that melted over his face.

you let out a moan as he stretched you out, the sound bouncing off the walls as he didn’t even hesitate and let you adjust. you held onto his shoulders tightly at each of his movements, all strong and powerful at each buck of his hips. there was an ignited salacity in you and sakusa’s tangled greed of limbs and skin had pressed together.

your nails dug into his skin, hoping it would leave marks for his friends to see due to your boyfriend’s guttural sounds of pleasure. even the lewd whimpers leaving your lips caused sakusa to make his movements harsher and deeper, for his lovebites to darken upon your innocently clean neck, and to his hands leaving red marks from his grip on your thighs.

you both hoped your marks for each other would last for days. as if they were the reminders of the night a casual catastrophe of jealousy eminent in your love was something you both could memorize the reminders for days. that instead of you remembering the fun memories of your antics with kaito, you instead remembered the way sakusa looked beneath the blue hues of the midnight stars. of how he looked absolutely breathtaking by the moon’s silhouette.

to remember the taste of lust and ardor, of the way his lips tasted, of the way his body felt pressed up against yours. it was truly something to remember as the only reason why you and sakusa were nearing each other’s edges was all because of kaito himself. the man who set you two up in the first place and the man who purposely made sakusa jealous just because you were stressed, kaito was aware that your boyfriend was the only one who could make you feel like this. to unravel and have you in a trembling mess under his own body, you had dragged him with the tide of pleasure with the sudden downpour of mumbled ‘i love you’ was muffled against each other’s bodies.

your phone then buzzed on your bedside table once you both rode out your highs:

from: kaito :))

hope you had fun tonight, homie, i did the best i can ;)

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu oneshots #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa x reader #sakusa fluff #sakusa smut #sakusa scenarios #sakusa oneshot #sakusa imagines

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dyehuty · 4 years

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Fire

After walking for hours and hours, he saw a cottage in which rings of smoke were coming out it, so he decided to try knocking on the door to see if someone would open.

He knock on the door three times a little louder, there were a lot of wind and heavy snow. As it is used to be in the tundra’s winter. Winds, which used the leafless trees as instrument, using each slender and naked branch as a key that conjures sounds that are transformed beautifully into music between the trees and the wind.

It wasn’t long before he heard and saw the wooden door moving heavily. From the other side of the portal there was an old man. He was heavily clothed and with glasses that were just lens and silvery temples. The old man saw him from feet to head in a strange way and inquisitive. Of course, this wasn’t shocking to him; after all, he saw the old man in the same way, both with good reason, the same reason, what are you doing here?

-Hello! – He started – I was wondering if I could come in, as you know the wind blows ferociously and icily.

- Of course – answered the old man kinda insecure, but denying refugee in such winter to someone was inhuman, the old man could say but yes – come, come in. You can put your backpacks here in the entry and don’t worry about the boots just get in quickly that the wind comes in and pulls out the heat.

He entered, quickly. And immediately took off the heavy backpack that was all cover in snow, he put it right next to the door and while he took off his boots that now weren’t black but white because of the snow. He gaze and saw at the little cabin, the living room and the kitchen were one, there was some furniture, a big red carpet in the center of the living room, he saw a breakfast table with beautiful cedar chairs and a wood stove, after all in such place there could not be any electricity

And suddenly he saw it, at the end of the living room, working on the chimney, red glowing fire and with bustling heat, his mind forgot the rest and all his attention focused on the dancing fire and hypnotically he walked to the chimney. He just fell to the ground next to the fire and brought his hands close to the fire so he could caress the heat from the fire, he saw the fire through his fingers, he was seeing his hands reflecting the light of the fire in the chimney, his eyes reflect the dancing fire, his whole mind at that moment was just the fire and its heat.

In all this time he hadn’t took off his balaclava, he took it off and immediately put his warm hands over his cheeks and he started to remember, he remembered the heat has never before, he recall the hands of his mother caressing him, he recall the hands of his grandmother pinching his cheeks, he recall the sun lights on a summer day touching his face while he walked in the park, he recall the long forgotten heat.

His eyes started to get watery, it has been a long time since he feel what it is heat, it has been long since he knew what fire is and his benefits, like a warm smile upon his soul. He sat down with the legs folded against his chest and his legs hugging them and behind those watery eyes; he saw the fire as someone who sees his newborn child or his god.

The old man, went to tell his wife. Now both gaze upon this stranger observe the fire as if there were any other truth but its dance. The old lady went to the kitchen. The old man holding a blanket decided to interrupt the obstinate meditation to the fire of him.

-young man, here, a blanket – said while lending the blanket to him and he grab it with his hands and put over him – long time without any sensation of warmness, I see.

He did not answer just nod with his head

- How long have you been out there on the tundra? – inquired the old man.

- I don’t know, but enough to forget the sensation of warmness – he said, in melancholy fashion.

- is dangerous, you know not just because of the cold, many nights we heard wolves howling and also foxes, one is no problem but a pack can give more than a thrill, especially in this time of the year were the food is scarce.

Again, he did not answer, but the old man was not annoy by the silence of his guest.

- If you don’t mind, what are you doing here?

- I – said him, he pause cause many answers came to his head – I, came from up there, I was staying, way up there in the mountain, way way up there.

-well, if the cold here is bad, up there must be even worse, but why were you up there?

-hiding, running for my life, for my freedom.

- The old lady came with a glass of hot milk-chocolate and gave it to her guest.

- This! Thank you, this is very nice. – said why observing the steam form the hot coco going up.

- Why you say that, young man? - Said the old lady while she sat in one of the sofas and tuck her-self up with some blanket that was there on the sofa.

- I am a criminal and I am running from my punishment

Both elders look at each other intrigued and kinda worry

- What kind of crime did you commit?

- Nothing bad, at least from my point of view, but for them I am a criminal, and I had commit crimes against humanity and the dogmas of their gods.

- You look tired, how did you survive all this time up there? – ask the old lady.

- I, I, at the beginning I had some supplies but has been long since that. There was a lake, so I could ice-fish. There were also some berries. But the Winter started to howl stronger and my supplies started to scarce. But with the fishing, I hold for a long time. Then the winter became impossible to stand and the bonfire couldn’t keep fire up. I decided to resist as much I could, I had a lot of jackets and blankets, but this was just enough for me to not freeze. So I decided to came down, no because I fear for my life but while I was holding against the freezing cold I started to get lost in my mind in some trains of thoughts, thinking about my “crimes” and then I knew, I could not hide forever, I could not freeze there and disappear, I had a work to do I have to finish my “crimes. When I lost the fire I did not just lost the heat, but on the contrary I won, now I see it all clear. When I lost the fire, I also lost the heat. As I cannot feel, as I cannot think straight, as everything is darkness and wind. I appreciated more the benefits of the fire, the benefits of controlling it in order to get heat, to cook food. I knew that my “crimes” were like the fire if is off the cold and darkness will take over. So I decided to come down and keep the fire alive.

Again, the two elders look at each other.

- but Young man, what kind of crimes you did? – asked the Old man.

- my crimes- said him while he looked down – are, but being me, thinking by myself, to question, of using methods to justify my thinking and doing, to see beyond what is taught and to put in trial their dogmas. To looked in their eyes and pointing their wrong thinking.

Both old man and old lady looked at each other again

- don’t judge me for how I am, is my nature, always has been, to observe and to wonder.

- Young man, we think that you walked a lot. We don’t know what are you talking about. Nobody would judge you for your actions; on the contrary, we would encourage them. You said that you went to the top of the mountain and said that you wanted to go down, but we think that you got down by the other side of the mountain, young man, for a moment you scare us when you said that you were running because of your crimes, you sounded as if you were dangerous.

- oh! No, I would never hurt another person, no matter how much they point at me.

- young man, don’t know where you came from but I wouldn’t recommend you going back there, clearly you are someone who is truth to yourself, that follow you nature, and they judge you for that, that’s beyond stupid, if you keep walking down by this road you will get to a small village where nobody will judge you for being you.

He look up at the fire again and then two the old people, going to a place where people encourage his experiments, a place where no oppression for those who love the fire. But he look at the fire and its dancing again.

-No – said without that melancholy voice, said in a strong tone while he rise and put on his feet again – high, up there in the cold and darkness I had a vision about the vision, up there my mission was pointed. To give the fire to those who are in the cold and darkness, to help them to enjoy this wonderful smile that is put upon my soul by the fire, I have to go back and finish my mission, even if that means death, I have to give them the warmness of reason and science

He grab his balaclava, thanked the two elders, put his boots, put back his backpack, he knew where to go, he knew his mission. He went out and felt the whipping cold of the wind but this did not discourage him, so he went on with his mission.

.Source image: https://s0cialgram.tumblr.com/

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phinnsyreads · 5 years

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This was stupid. It was a stupid idea, thought up by stupid people, in stupid, safe offices. Agent Two looked around slowly, letting his flashlight play over the walls, one of the only items the Agents were allowed to carry inside SCP-015. Agents Six and Lon were standing just behind him, doing the same. The idle chatter and joking had died off about thirty seconds ago, each Agent slowly realizing that this was no simple little milk-run. Go in, find the observation unit, pull the data and recover the unit. Cake. They'd laughed, Lon asking if she should find a Mario hat to wear, them being plumbers now and all. Now, however…seeing the dim, cramped tunnel yawning before them, the only joke was them being there at all.

Two stepped forward, slowly, fixing his flashlight on the ground. It was a hard mat of pipes, more or less level with the floor. A few small tubes stuck up here and there, snaking around like tree roots, or suddenly turning up in the middle of the floor like a pillar. The walls, the ceiling, every inch of the original structure was coated in pipes. Some researcher who led them up to the main door said that there wasn't anything left of the old warehouse really, except for the outer shell. He pushed away that whole line of thought, pointedly following the pre-mapped course they'd had to memorize, stepping around a pillar of tightly woven hair, the glossy surface steaming gently.

Six plodded along, taking the rear and keeping a close eye on Two and Lon. Skittish kids. Lon was jumping at every sound, and Two looked like he was ready to drop and run if he saw so much as a mouse. Kids. He sniffed in the dark, playing his light forward, smelling heat, sewage, and God knows what else. They needed a good military hand to lead them, but damned if Six was going to mollycoddle grown adults who were going to jump at shadows. They were going to get this goddamn job done, and get the hell back out. Fuck that bullshit SCP slip, they were just security blankets for eggheads and flakes. “Semi-sentient” my ass, they just didn't want people denting their pet horrors. He wanted out of this dripping nightmare. He was going to get this mission done with or without them.

Lon tiptoed over a thick, thorny mass of pipe, the surface like braided thistles, trying not to whimper. She kept close to Two, keeping the light at her feet so she wouldn't step on anything nasty. She hadn't wanted to seem like the little, weak girl…but she had a terrible fear of tight spaces…and this place was like walking around in someone's slowly closing arteries. Lon shook her head, hard, breaking off that whole train of thought. She was the tech, Six and Two were the safety. All she had to do was stick by them, pull the data cards out of the MRV, and then leave. She tried hard not to look back at the sealed doors in the distance behind them. Only a couple turns to the MRV, a little work, and then out. In and out, simple as pie. She ignored a softly throbbing pipe of leathery flesh near her arm with a focus that was almost physical.

They found the MRV after what felt like an hour of walking. It was hard to keep your bearings. The rampant growth of the pipes had cramped some areas down to crawlways, and snarled others in to random, claustrophobic mazes. Six had nearly gotten stuck twice, and had looked like he was about to murder Lon when she made a comment relating to Winnie the Pooh. Lon was talking again, at least…but it was brittle, whistle in front of the graveyard chatter. Two kept trying to follow the directions…but even with them being less than a week old, they were little more than a guideline. When they'd finally found the MRV, it'd been a momentary relief. At least they were at the half way point. Then they'd looked at it in the light.

It had been speared, for lack of a better term. Pinned against a pipe of some kind of dense fabric, a smooth, black pipe had docked itself to the camera lens of the observation vehicle. It wasn't smashed or damaged, it just…connected, as if it was made for it. It had lifted the little treaded robot nearly a foot off the ground, and it looked like other, smaller pipes had started to connect to other open spaces on the vehicle. It just sat there, the wheels slowly turning as the battery died, like a bug on a nest of pins. Some clear, foul-smelling fluid was dripping softly from the camera housing.

“Well.”

Two's voice echoed in the dark, a monument to pointless speech. They all stood, for a few moments, then Lon started to, carefully, look over the MRV. Six was looking around with an increasing restlessness, starting to mutter quietly. Lon was reaching for the data cards, before stopping, looking over at Two.

“Um…Two…since it's grown in to the MRV, do you think it…counts?”

“What do you mean counts?” Two kept the light on her and the machine, a hiss of steam behind him making him flinch.

“I mean as damaging 015. If I take out the data cards, do you think it will…react?”

Two looked around slowly, shining his light along the floor, a pipe as wide as a car and seemingly made of compacted lint.

“…this suddenly seems like a bad-”

“Oh shut the fuck up.”

Both Agents turned to stare at Six. He'd stepped up to the MRV, flexing his hands and reaching in to his coat with one hand. The other pushed Lon away none too softly.

“Move it. Reaction, for fuck's sake…they just say that shit to fuck with people and keep their toys safe. It's a bunch of weird pipes. Beginning and end, there. Maybe it grows or whatever, but the damn thing sure as shit isn't going to take offense to people. I'm grabbing this goddamn thing, and we're getting out of here.”

As he spoke, he stepped forward, flipping open the dataport cover. More of the clear, scummy liquid had pooled inside. The other two Agents froze, staring in shock a moment…and the building seemed to do so as well, the whispered sounds of venting steam, sliding materials, and soft pinging had all stopped. The heartbeat in Lon's ears sounded like gunshots. Two started forward, reaching for Six.

“Jesus, Six, what the fuck are-”

Six ignored him, slipping out the thin data cards. It felt like old, nasty water over them…bad, but they were built to resist it. He slipped them out, then put the bundle in his pocket. He prodded around the edge of the camera lense, shifting the MRV a bit, trying to see if it would work free as Two and Lon backed away, slowly, the silence around them seeming to crush inward. Six gave up, turning away from the helplessly trapped MRV and shining his light on the two white-faced Agents.

“Fucking kids. I don't know how you guys survive.”

The pipe under him opened with the soft sound of tearing felt.

Two and Lon didn't even have time to react, before he slid in to the widening gap up to his armpits, and started screaming horribly. Six's flashlight went tumbling away as the two Agents, galvanized by the big man's wretched screaming, ran to help him. A blast of heat and light was pouring up from under the man, as the two Agents grabbed his arms and looked down. He was submerged in a mass of thickly flowing molten glass. His clothes had already started to smolder and burn, the stench of seared flesh almost more overpowering than the reverberating screams. They pulled, and dragged up half of a man, with a ruined, seared mass of flesh and cloth where his lower body should have been.

They panted, trying to drag him, Lon starting to scream along with Six, Two's eyes wide and fixed on some point far away from there. There was a horrible swell of sound rising all around them, pinging, hissing, clicking, cracking, a pipe to their side bulging alarmingly and causing them to nearly fall. They regained their footing just as a wooden pipe above them burst open in a spray of splinters and clear, stinging dust.

Two and Lon spun away, gagging and choking, Two spitting out a sudden mass of blood. Glass. It was powdered glass. It poured over Six, muffling his screams, shifting as he struggled a few moments, then stopped, the glass quickly covering the body and spreading. Lon blinked, eyes red and puffy, looking over at Two. He nodded, and they bolted down the hall, trying to ignore the rising cacophony of sound, sounding like an approaching subway train. A mass of oily, reeking chemicals boiled up behind them, a jetting surge of rose thorns nearly cutting off their forward progress, forcing them to crawl along a bone pipe that was shuddering like an old man in the cold.

They ran, keeping just ahead of…whatever it was, hearing splintering explosions and shivering cracks all around them. They finally came to a snarled crawlway, barely a few feet wide, that was the only way forward. Two dived in, doing a low crawl, trying to will himself forward like a snake, knowing the passage was only about fifteen feet long, easy, wouldn't take any time. Lon hesitated, that tiny, black gap looking like a mouth, before a sudden burst of steam behind her sent her shrieking forward, sobbing as she started to crawl, calling after Two.

Two ignored the growing vibration all around him, the creaking ping near his head, and slid free of the opening, he turned…and saw nothing. No Lon, no sudden bursting…just the empty hole. He looked around, hands twitching, thinking, then slid back inside, trying to find Lon and physically drag her out. He could hear her, muffled, probably behind the next turn…and his flashlight revealed a solid wall of three thick, flaking white pipes. This was it, he was sure of it, the tunnel was right here…and then he heard the pitiful scream behind them. Lon begging, pleading, screaming for him. Two stared, eyes wide, then slammed his flashlight against the pipe. It burst, sending a reeking, corrosive slime over his hand, making him reel back down the crawlway, screaming as it ate in to his flesh. He stood outside the opening, holding his steaming hand away from him, trying not to look at the exposed bone.

“Oh…oh Jesus…Lon…Lon, I'm sorry, I'll get help, I'll get someone, just sit tight, I swear…”

He bolted down the hall, his flashing seeming to dim in time to the rising sound.

Lon panted, screaming for Two, hearing the hard bang on the other side of the pipe and his sudden, shrieking retreat. She sobbed, her whole body shaking, and slowly started to work her way backward, crawling on her belly, crying as she muttered some half-remembered prayer.

When her feet pushed against a sold wall of pipe, she couldn't even muster a fresh scream.

She was trapped, the space not much bigger than a coffin, helpless. She sobbed, face on the ground of warm, fuzzy pipes…and noticed the silence. Aside from her cries, there was nothing. No pinging, no cracks or explosions…nothing. She raised her head in the barely illuminated dark, looking around. She was alive. It was calming down. They'd come for her, Two would get help. She was getting out of here. She fought back her growing claustrophobia, looking along the walls. She noticed a small gap at the ceiling, and started shifting to get a better look, twisting back…and finding only the open end of a pipe. Lon sagged back, closing her eyes, tears leaking down her face.

The first sticky drips she simply assumed were the same tears. Then one fell on her mouth…and it was sweet. She opened her eyes, and saw a thick, quivering mass of amber goo splatter from the mouth of the pipe, coating her and the floor as it surged out. She coughed, shifting back…it was honey. Honey, or something like it. At least it wasn't molten lead or acid…then she saw the level rising. It wasn't draining. The pipes were packed too close. She looked around her tiny chamber with horror rising much faster than the honey oozing up her sides. Lon beat on the walls the floor, the ceiling, trying to block the pipe with her hands, heedless of provoking the thing more…as the honey rose and rose, as cloying sweet as a school age lover.

Her last, gasping breath was sweet and stale with honey and screams.

Two ran, totally lost now, his flashlight dimming by the moment, the sound of cracking and bursting pipes starting to trail off. Maybe it was done, finally. 015 was protective, but it didn't seem vengeful. People had gotten hurt before, and gotten out fine. It happened. They'd find a way to get Lon out too. She might even be out already, just found another way to get around the blockage. That was probably it, she was out of this stupid place. Six was a shame…but why had that lunatic opened the case? What the hell had possessed him?

He was still musing on this when he tripped over an unseen pipe in the dark around his feet.

He pitched forward, yelping a half-surprised, half-terrified bark as he went sprawling. Or he should have went sprawling. Instead, he fell past the floor, in to a yawning, open pit of a pipe, the slick, oozing sides plunging down at a sharp angle. He screamed, trying to grab something to stop or slow himself, but the walls were oozing and thick, his downward slide gaining speed. His dimming flashlight showing a seemingly endless tunnel stretching off below him. He slid, and slid, a scum of stinking, smooth ooze sticking to his clothes and skin.

The tube twisted, banging him against the wall as he followed it, his flashlight jittering and starting to flicker. Panic slammed down like a fist, Two grabbing the light and trying to keep it still, pleading with it, staring at the lamp bulb as it dimmed more and more. It surged a moment, then flickered out, the darkness pressing to his eyes like cloth, the Agent slipping down faster and faster, screaming until he was hoarse, screaming until his throat bled, screaming even as he passed well beyond the physical boundaries of that tangled web of pipes.

Days later, when his skin started to shred off, it was almost welcome.

SCP-015 Recovery Report

Agent Two: MIA Agent Six: MIA Agent Lon: MIA MRV-889236 Status: Unrecovered

Data deemed non-vital in light of lost staff. SCP-015 classification level review suggested.

#phinnsy #scp foundation #scp tales #scp 015 #storytelling #fiction #reading #voiceover #sci-fi #horror

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heelturntoo · 6 years

Text

Tread Lightly, She is Near

Summary: Tim spends his first night as a real Robin

Next you're going to tell me how simple it all is."

"Well, yeah. It's pretty basic math."

On his first night living in Wayne Manor, Tim lies, unable to sleep, staring up at the roof of his bedroom.

He had stayed in The Cave, curled under the weight of his cloak, until four AM, pretending to work as he monitored Batman from the cave and then watched him go through his warm down and debrief. The truth is he hasn’t retained more than a half-dozen data points all night about the villains he had been tasked to study.

When even Batman was ready to finish up for the night, he had asked to stay down in the cave a little longer, to more fully accustom himself to the computer’s system. But Batman had been stern. “We sleep when we can. That’s as important a part of the job as any other if we want to maximise operation at peak capacity.” He had said, not unkindly and sent Tim to go change.

It was easier to be Robin. As Robin, he felt tougher, safer. He could keep the pain at arm’s length. It was all harder to deal with when he was just Tim. The pain felt sharper, more immediate.

At the foot of the stairs, Bruce, now in sweats, had reached out and, when Tim gave a tiny nod, placed his hand on his shoulder. “You’re doing very well.”

“T-thank you.”

Bruce had walked him to the door of the guest room – no, not the guest room any longer – his room now, Alfred had said, for as long as he needed it, but hadn’t come inside. “I’m just down the hall. You know where to find me?”

“Yes.”

“Good night.”

It’s a nice room, if impersonal. His duffel bag and boxes of belongings still sit on the floor. Alfred had wanted to unpack them, but Tim had asked him not to, preferring to do it himself.

There had been a tray sitting on the table by his window when he came in; a glass of milk and a sandwich. Alfred had gone to bed as soon as Bruce had jumped out of the car and proved himself not in need of stitching up. That was, apparently, his custom, but he had left the snack for Tim before retiring. Tim just hadn’t been able to summon up an appetite.

Now he is lying in bed, staring straight at the ceiling, willing himself to sleep.

Bruce will be disappointed with him if he doesn’t sleep.

He has been released from school this week, in deference to his father’s illness and his mother’s death. The funeral will be Thursday. There was no family to help organise the fine details of the memorial, so his father’s lawyer had looked after the legal side, and Alfred had looked after the personal details. Alfred is good at that sort of thing. Tim is beginning to realise that Alfred is good at everything.

So, it doesn’t actually matter if he doesn’t get any sleep. It’s okay if he wastes the rest of the night thrashing, or lying, gazing up at the roof. He doesn’t actually have anywhere to be.

Except, if he does not sleep now, he won’t be sharp come tonight and there is no excuse for that.

Nightwing had promised to come over later today too and play video games with him. Tim had told him thank you, but that his aerial work was still weak and could they practice that instead, please? They had compromised on Dick taking him to the track and showing him how to do pin turns on the bike as long as Dick could take him out for burgers after.

He tries shutting his eyes. Whenever he does, he sees his mother’s body on the slab in the mortuary when he had been taken by Bruce to legally identify it - her. He hears the beep of the respirator doing his Dad’s breathing for him. When he thinks about those things, his stomach bucks and his breathing quickens. All the control, the mastery over fear he had maintained during their kidnapping, is slipping through his fingers like smoke. To his mortification, he realises he is crying.

He buries his head in his pillow and bites down on it, trying to stop himself from making a noise. God, please let Bruce not have heard that. Please.

After a while of quiet sniffling, he throws the covers off himself, pulls the throw from the end of the bed and wraps it around himself like it is Robin’s cap. He discretely wipes his eyes on the corner. Then he slips out of his room.

The mahogany panelling makes everything in the manor’s upstairs corridor seem darker, but dawn is starting to slide through the eastern window, enough to see by. Alfred had told them that the floorboards are designed to squeak, a nightingale floor to act as an extra layer of security if someone dangerous makes it as far as the manor. He hasn’t learned the trick to walking silently across it yet, but he does the best he can. He reaches the top of the stairs, wonders about the likelihood of being able to get into the cave without Bruce or Alfred being alerted and decides it is not very likely. He keeps walking.

Eventually, he comes to a door and eases it open.

The room is spotless. Alfred wouldn’t abide dust. There is a copy of The Big Sleep thrown down on the bedspread, as if the room’s occupant has just left for a moment and will be right back. But things are too tidy, and the air is thick, undisturbed. After less than a year, the room is already turning from a bedroom into a museum.

He walks a circuit of it once, afraid to touch anything in case it would be seen as an intrusion. It’s just an ordinary room, books, a sleek laptop closed on the desk and a closet full of clothes that will never be worn again. There is a big bay window, east facing with a window seat set beneath it. Outside, the woodlands are a riot of autumn colours, red and gold and deep green. Silver mists gird the lawns. Beyond the forest, the city lies, handsome and unthreatening at this distance, like a lounging apex predator.

Wrapping his blanket-cape around him he sits down, curling into the deep pillows of the window seat.

Ives had called yesterday, and the day before that and there had been a card sent over signed by all the kids in his homeroom. People know how to do these things properly in Gotham. He has signed a couple himself in the past. One for Cecily when her sister had been hit by joker venom. One for Mark after the fire that had killed his dad.

There had been one for Jason too, or for Bruce and Alfred. It had been passed diligently around the classroom and Tim had felt unable to sign it. Anything he could have written would have felt too much like a lie.

“What was he like?” He had asked Dick about Jason once, and Dick had squirmed and said, “You’re nothing like him,” and quickly changed the subject.

But lately, Tim has realised that Dick didn’t really know Jason at all. They had been legally foster brothers for almost three years, but Dick had managed it so their lives were kept carefully separate. Tim thinks about it from time to time, when Dick’s helping him with his rapelling or teaching him capoeira or they are just sitting on the couch, scoffing popcorn and playing videogames. He wonders if Dick’s doing this because he enjoys Tim’s company or because of an obligation to the dead boy for whom he didn’t have room in his life.

It occurs to him sometimes that even though he only knew him through a lens, he might have known Jason better than anyone alive except for Bruce, Alfred and maybe Barbara. That this is true, that this will always be true and that there is no way for him to fix it, sits like a small stone in the pit of his stomach.

He has missed his chance. He will never know Jason better than he does now.

Just like he will never know Mom.

He blows on the glass and traces geometric shapes with his finger. Up and down. He tries his breathing again, tries to put all the raw, broiling emotions back on the high shelf, not gone but... removed.

When every window pane has a hexagon or a tetrahedral drawn on it he instead switches to tracing the loops and eyes of the window seat’s wooden panelling.

...And sees the knot.

It’s an imperfection in the wood just where the wood panels become window frame. Close enough to the window to be well camouflaged, but not so close it will interfere with the sensors. You would have to be sitting precisely where he is sitting even to notice it.

There is something squeezed inside.

After a minute and a couple of wooden splinters beneath his fingernails to get it out. It’s a piece of ordinary copybook paper, rolled up like a cigarette. He can see the faint blue copy lines.

He unrolls it and holds it up to the light. On the side facing him is just the letter “R”, simple and un-stylised. He turns it over. On it, in neat cursive script are five lines of text.

He reads it. He reads it again. He reads it a third time. He rolls it back up into a cigarette.

He is crying again. He’s not sure why. He longs absurdly, pathetically for his mother, as if she had ever been the sort to hold him and rock him to sleep.

Outside, sunshine is starting to line the distant skyscrapers in gold. He presses his head against the window. The glass is cold against his cheek.

The next thing he knows, there comes a gentle knock on the door and he realises he has fallen asleep. “Master Timothy?”

He lurches up, remembering where he is, remembering what a violation it is to be in here, let alone sleep here.

Alfred looks around the edge of the door and seems entirely unsurprised. “Ah, there you are. When you weren’t in your room I began to worry.”

“AlfredImsosorry. Ididntmeantobeinhere. Ididntmeanto –”

Alfred waves this away. “Calm down, lad. It’s alright. I just came to see did you want your breakfast and when I couldn’t find you I was worried.”

“You were?” Tim is confused.

Alfred crosses the room and joins him at the window. Tim expects him to sit, but Alfred is not the sort of person who sits. “Shall we say, it would not be the first time a grieving young man left this house to go do something... impetuous.”

“You mean Jason?” He glances around the room as if the ghost will be sitting cross-legged on the bed or over at the desk.

“Not exclusively, no. Grief is, I’m afraid, this family’s constant companion.”

Tim realises that ‘this family’ includes Tim himself and doesn’t quite know how he feels about this.

“At least,” Alfred’s eyes sparkle a little, “You are not dangling from the chandeliers.”

Tim smiles a watery smile. “I could dangle from some chandeliers. Would it make me feel better?”

Alfred returns his smile. “Perhaps. It often worked wonders on Master Dick.”

“And Jason? What worked for him?”

Alfred would never do anything so gauche as to flinch, but there is a definite loosening of his hold of his sang froid. “The roots of his pain had grown rather deeper. He was alone for a long time before he came to us. I sometimes wonder...” He trails off

“Bruce says he was angry.”

“Often, yes.”

“Bruce says that it made him reckless, that that’s what got him killed.”

Tim realises he was mistaken in his assessment, because this time Alfred does flinch. “Ah,” he says, “Yes.”

“Alfred?”

“Yes?”

“I want to be Robin but... I don’t want to die.” His face burns with shame at saying it and he wants to bury his head in his hands.

But Alfred smiles and says, “I am glad to hear it. I don’t want you to die either.” He hesitates and then says in a kind tone. “Do you want to stop being Robin.”

“No!” It comes out much louder then he meant and the depth of emotion, of alarm that it might be taken away from him, surprises him. He never wanted to be Robin, not truly. He’s an understudy and when the time comes he will step aside. But now, just now, having Robin, having this life makes him braver. When he feels better, when the pain faids, it won’t be hard to give it up. “No thank you, I mean. I still want to be Robin. I just have worries, sometimes.”

He shoots Alfred a nervous glance. “You won’t tell Bruce?”

“On my honour.”

“Thanks.”

“Perhaps you would like to come help me prepare breakfast in the kitchen?” says Alfred. “I could certainly use the company.”

“And Bruce doesn’t like people in this room?” he guesses aloud.

This time Alfred makes a show of irritation. “Well, you know him. Something of a hoarder. Cards and pennies and dinosaurs. “ And glass cases, neither of them say. “He likes when things remain as they were.”

Tim’s hand must have tightened on the roll of paper, because the movement attracts Alfred’s attention. “What do you have there?”

“Nothing.” Tim crumples the note he found in the knothole up in his hand. “Just a message someone sent me.” He looks around the room again. “Alfred, were we anything alike? Jason and I?”

“What did Master Bruce tell you?”

“He said we were nothing alike.”

Alfred nods. “Then I suppose it must be so.”

EARLIER PART HERE

#Tim Drake #Jason Todd #Alfred Pennyworth #Robin #Bruce Wayne

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captainsbabysitter-blog · 6 years

Note

McKirk?

McKirk ahoy!

who hogs the duvet

Jim is an octopus who attaches himself to Len the second he dozes off, so neither of them really has a chance to steal the blankets.

who texts/rings to check how their day is going

Bones starts putting his personal messages on silent during the day because if it’s a slow day on the bridge, Jim entertains himself by liveblogging the interactions of the bridge crew to his boyfriend.

who’s the most creative when it comes to gifts

Jim has to be more creative because Len always just says he doesn’t want anything. He finds weird, obscure medical equipment or even old paper manuscripts and books for Leonard’s birthdays.

who gets up first in the morning

Len’s up bright and early. He’s not happy about it, but he knows Jim won’t wake up until he absolutely has to and someone has to make coffee.

who suggests new things in bed

Jim presents more ideas because he sees some video or reads some article and becomes curious. There are few things Len just straight up won’t do, and is usually willing to oblige Jim’s curiosity.

who cries at movies

Leonard McCoy will never admit he cries at movies. If you ask Jim, however, he’ll gleefully tell you about the time they watched some classic romance movie and Bones was quietly sniffling by the end of it.

who gives unprompted massages

Len has the magic hands and when they’re laying together will occasionally just start deftly working out any knots he finds in Jim’s neck and shoulders. Jim suffers from tension headaches, and helping him ease that tension is something Len does without ever really mentioning it.

who fusses over the other when they’re sick

You can tell Len that it’s just a cold, but he’ll still obsessively check Jim’s temperature, make sure he’s eating, getting him water and making sure he’s warm enough, has enough pillows, and everything else under the sun.

who gets jealous easiest

If asked, they’d both insist they don’t get jealous, but Jim is always worried that Len will realize he deserves better so when he sees someone flirting with the doctor, he feels little twinges of mine.

who has the most embarrassing taste in music

Len will never understand Jim’s love of the Beastie Boys.

who collects something unusual

Leonard has a collection of strange, ancient medical devices. Most of them Jim doesn’t really dare ask what they were used for because they look nasty.

who takes the longest to get ready

On the rare occasions when they get dressed up, Len takes far more time getting ready. Jim will never complain because the end result is hot as hell.

who is the most tidy and organised

Len needs things organized. He needs things put away and in their place or else he has a hard time concentrating. It’s in direct odds with Jim’s need for creative chaos.

who gets most excited about the holidays

They both get equally excited. Early on, holidays were just kind of another day for Jim, but the McCoy tradition of going all-out during the holidays is contagious.

who is the big spoon/little spoon

Jim loves how secure he feels with his back tucked against Len’s chest when they’re cuddling and Leonard loves to be able to wrap Jim up in his arms and know that Jim’s there and he’s safe.

who gets most competitive when playing games and/or sports

They’re both so competitive. Jim is the one who is outwardly, loudly competitive, but if someone watching them play against each other pays attention, they’ll notice the quiet concentration and tension Len carries until after someone has won.

who starts the most arguments

They’re both incredibly passionate people, so they’re both equally likely to start an argument on any given day.

who suggests that they buy a pet

Jim begs for a pet once they’re dirtside for good, but Leonard doesn’t fight him at all about getting a dog.

what couple traditions they have

They have weird traditions with each other. They have a single glass of bourbon together on Jim’s birthday, always leaving a third glass as a silent toast to Jim’s dad, and they have this almost game they play where during diplomatic functions, whoever is the center of attention plays up the accomplishments of the other. Jim gushes about some new surgical procedure Len pioneered during some captain’s gala and Len lavishes praise on Jim’s maneuvers when he’s rubbing elbows during some medical convention.

what tv shows they watch together

They love watching documentaries together. They trade off who gets to pick which one they watch next.

what other couple they hang out with

They spend a lot of time with Ben and Hikaru, and they also spend a decent amount of time with Uhura and Spock. Jim and Spock play chess while Len and Nyota sit around drinking and chatting about whatever.

how they spend time together as a couple

They spend a lot of their joint downtime (of which there are precious few moments) just laying together and talking. About anything, really. Some new medical journal Leonard’s excited to read or some book Jim’s reading and loving.

who made the first move

Jim, but Len thought it was just Jim being Jim. It took a while for him to figure out that Jim wasn’t just playfully flirting and was genuinely trying to get a date.

who brings flowers home

Neither of them are big on flowers because of Jim’s allergies. Instead, one of them will randomly come home with the other’s favorite takeout.

who is the best cook

Len is an excellent cook. Mama McCoy taught her boy well, and Jim should probably be relegated to pouring milk over cereal and baking.

#mckirk #ask the tia #otp questions #bookcaseninja

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jonsa-creatives · 7 years

Photo

Jonsa Summer Challenge - Day 1 - Food & Drink or Travel

Entry by @lathwell55

Inspired by a prompt from @qinaliel (thank you my lovely)

The life of Sansa Stark would be a strange one to walk for the majority of people on this earth. Being born into one of the country’s top political families and then becoming a shining star on stage and screen might seem perfectly ideal (and Sansa herself would admit, she’s more than lucky with most aspects of her life) but it really does hit home that her life is not her own one balmy summer night.

Joffrey, a fellow actor and very, very recent ex fiancé had recently started dating Margaery Tyrell. It was all over the media, making it desperately difficult for Sansa to escape his smug wormy face wherever she went. Not only could she not escape them, but the paps seemed to want to know exactly how many tears she had shed for her asshole ex, and precisely which note of bitterness was left on the tip of her tongue.

They’d follow her wherever she went - there was no escape, whether it be at a quiet lunch with a friend or simply popping to the convenience store to grab some milk. But that wasn’t the worst of it - it was the questions and insults that would spew from their rancid mouths behind the incessant flashes of their bulky cameras.

“Sansa! Sansa! Did Joff dump you because you wouldn’t blow him often enough?”

“You gonna get your tits done like Margaery’s?”

“That’s a short skirt Sansa - are you looking to get fucked tonight?”

She knew it was all to get a rise out of her - for the chance to be the ones to capture the very shot of when perfect Sansa Stark took a running leap into the pool of curdled anger and lash out at one of these idiots. She very nearly did once. She had been stopped by a group of fans in the street one ordinary Wednesday afternoon, when, whilst distracted signing autographs and taking selfies, an unknown man growled loudly beside her.

“What are you doing?! Get up you perverted fucker!”

Sansa turned to see a pap on his back on the floor, the lens of his camera pointed upward as he was apparently attempting to take a snap up her pale pink floaty skirt. She watched with a gasp as the man who had called the perpetrator out heave him up off the ground and manhandle him away in a blur of dark hair and denim shirt. She thought that there were a few fists flying but couldn’t be sure as she was quickly enveloped once more by a sea of smiling faces as her fans waited for the chance to talk to her.

It was then that she decided that she needed a break.

There weren’t that many places that Sansa Stark could go and be unnoticed, but she could rock the standard disguise ensemble of hat and big sunglasses with the best of them and she desperately wanted some form of retreat. With that in mind, Sansa decided to book a couple of weeks away in the sun. Nothing too flashy, maybe a Greek Island or two.

So here she was, toes curling in the slowly cooling sand of a quiet beach in Mykonos, enjoying watching the evening sun melt into the sea. Going on holiday alone had been a strange prospect at first, but she soon found the experience to be strangely releasing. She could do as she pleased and she needn’t think of anyone else before herself.

And so far no one has recognised me, Sansa thought with a blissful sigh as she listened to the gentle lapping of the waves as they licked the sand and retreated back to the depths of the ocean.

Click wirr.....click-click wirr....click wirr...

Shit.

Sansa turned her head to peer over the shoulder towards the unmistakable sound of a camera shutter and scowled at the perpetrator.

The man in question was a decent distance away and a little behind her, he was crouching on his haunches, his huge camera obscuring his face.

“I wondered how long it would take one of you lot to find me” Sansa huffed and turned back to face the reds and oranges that burnt into the sky.

“Err...I’m sorry?”

Sansa twisted her body to face him, narrowing her eyes when she recognised his face. She often tries desperately to ignore the existence of the paparazzi as they follow her in and out of buildings or cars, but there’s the odd few that she knows by sight; there’s the large one who’s gut has a dangerously unhealthy girth (he’s normally the first to say something salacious or down right insulting), then there’s the short one who uses far too much gel in his hair and likes to get uncomfortably close with his camera lens....and then there’s this guy.

On the odd occasion that his camera leaves his face, Sansa has been slightly taken aback by how handsome it is, with his warm grey eyes, his full lips framed by a scruff of dark facial hair and his head of inky curls. Whenever she notices that he is amongst the throng of nudging elbows and flashing lights, she notes that he doesn’t shout or holler, he doesn't push and shove to get the perfect shot of her as she’s getting out of a car with a skirt on....in fact, he’s probably not a very good pap at all. But he is normally there, clicking away with the rest of them.

“You heard me” she huffs “I can’t get away can I?...One way or another, one of you will find me.”

The man’s eyes widens as he scans her face. “Sansa Stark!” he exclaims in a breath, like he’d never seen her before, or like he hadn’t known it was her.

Oh.

“I....I was just..” he stutters and gestures from his bulky camera out to the setting sun “your silhouette....as you sat there...with the sun setting..I’m so sorry, I’ll-” he stands, letting the heavy camera fall to his torso as it clings around his neck with wide black straps. “I’ll leave you be, I’m sorry, I didn’t realise it was you.”

“You didn’t realise?”

The man shakes his head bashfully in response as he wipes sand from the back of his shorts.

“Make a habit of snapping photos of random girls on holiday then do you?” Sansa asks, unable to stop the small smile from painting her lips with amusement at this awkward exchange.

“Not normally, no” he says, taking a tentative step forward in the sand. “I normally stick to scenery or wildlife, but you-....it looked beautiful the way you were gazing out to the ocean.”

“Scenery or wildlife huh? That why you were there last week when I was clothes shopping in Oxford Street?”

“Ye-yeah, well, I wasn’t far away when I got the call that you were in-in the area, so...” the dark haired man started to rub at the back of his neck nervously as he stared down at the sand “You...you noticed me?” he asked, peeking up at her through his lashes.

“Well you were right behind the guy who asked me what colour underwear I was wearing.” Sansa said, throwing Captain Awkward a smirk.

“Terry’s a jerk...I’m sorry that you have to put up with that kind of thing...the shouting and all.”

“I’ve had worse” Sansa shrugs. It doesn’t excuse the fact, but it’s the truth. “Besides, I’ve never once heard you shout a thing at me....or barge your way to the front of the crowd and shove your camera in my face.”

“It’s just rude, I guess.”

Sansa laughs softly as her fingers rake patterns into the cool sand. “Then you can’t be very good at your job.”

“I’m not....not really” he agrees “I only got into it through a friend, my heart’s not in it....but I need the money.”

Sansa nods in understanding and shifts her gaze back to her hands as she starts pushing a small pile of sand to cover her feet where she has her legs tucked under herself to one side. Mr polite pap seems to take this as his cue to retreat as he takes a couple of steps backwards. Just as he’s about to twist his body to face the promenade behind them, he stops and strides up to Sansa instead.

“I’m Jon by the way, Jon Snow” he says, thrusting out his hand.

Sansa looks up at him and his offered greeting. The friendly nerves clear in his eyes and the quick lick of his lips, it spurs her on to shake his hand and pat the sand next to her. “Take a pew Jon Snow.”

Slowly, but surely as they talk amiably, Jon’s nerves melt away not unlike the sun into the horizon. They talk about their lives back home and her crazy career. Sansa learns about his friend Sam who apparently had booked this holiday with Jon as a lads get away, only for him to bail when he found out that his girlfriend was pregnant. It’s nearing pitch black when Jon helps Sansa to her feet and they make their way back towards the lights of civilisation.

“Baby blue.” Sansa says, her feet kicking up sand as she walks.

“I’m sorry?”

“The colour of my underwear that day in Oxford Street - baby blue.” Sansa grins to herself at the little throat clearing noise she hears from Jon’s direction. It’s dark - so dark that she can’t see the blush on his cheeks, but she’s pretty sure that it’s there as she laughs softly at the little glaces Jon throws at her all the way back to the promenade.

Two days after meeting Jon, it was the last day of her holiday and Sansa was sat alone in the al fresco area of a quaint little restaurant, big floppy ‘holiday hat’ and large sunglasses firmly in place as she waits for her food to arrive.

Should have bought a book with me, she thinks, her fingers skimming the petals of the single vivid orange gerbera sat in a little vase on her table. With a sigh and another glance over the menu, Sansa decides that a good session of people-watching is in order.

With her glass of crisp, cold white wine pressed to her lips, ready for the occasional sip, she gazes out to the people passing by on the cobbled pavement. A faint and slightly pained smile graces her lips as she realises that the majority of people milling about are couples. Happy ones.

“Erm...Sansa?” comes a voice, bringing her back to the present. She blinks up at the origin of said voice and can’t help the genuine smile that comes once she realises who it belongs to.

“Jon.”

“Hi” he says, returning her smile with his hands stuffed in his pockets. He shuffles his feet a little awkwardly as neither of them break the strange heady atmosphere between them.

“Is this man bothering you Miss Stark?” a waiter says, appearing out of nowhere and bursting the bubble. Sansa frowns, she hadn’t realised that anyone had recognised her.

“No, no” she smiles “he’s with me....sit down Jon” she says, pushing the opposite chair out with her foot.

“I can’t believe I’m kissing Sansa Stark.” Jon muffles into her neck between presses of lips and swipes of tongue.

“Shut up” Sansa giggles in response.

“You shut up - I’m ecstatic! Nothing this good ever happens to me.” he responds making Sansa laugh and then gasp when he hooks a large hand behind her thigh and hitches her leg over his hip as he presses her against the wall of her holiday villa.

“Wine makes you funny.”

“Wine makes me horny.”

“Mmmmm...me too.” Sansa responds, rocking her hips against his and burying her fingers in his hair.

“YOU SLEPT WITH A PAP?!? ARE YOU INSANE?!” Arya hollers down the phone, so loudly that Sansa has to hold it away from her ear.

“Yeah” she says, worrying her lip as she walks past her still packed luggage and throws herself down on the sofa back home in her London townhouse “and that’s not the worst part.”

“There’s a worse part?! Was he terrible?”

“No” Sansa smirks to herself “quite the opposite.” Her smile turning into a full beam when she remembers just how Jon had practically worshipped her body, layering her with pleasure upon pleasure and then holding her tight afterwards. Her grin disappears as quickly as it appeared “No I-......I may or may not have posed for a few....explicit photos” she winces at her words and starts to bite her thumbnail waiting for her sister’s response.

“You posed for-...WHAT THE ACTUAL EVER-LOVING FUCK SANSA?! THIS COULD RUIN YOU! THIS COULD RUIN THE FAMILY”

“I know! I know! Don’t you think I know that?!”

“Then why did you-”

“He was so sweet and genuine and caring and adorably awkward and.....and fucking hotter than the sun.” Sansa can’t help but let the fear crack her voice. This could ruin her. This could ruin her whole family. If Jon sends those photos to the press-

Just then, a knock comes from her front door, interrupting Arya’s frantic speech about contacting their lawyers and forcing Sansa to bite back the sob that was forming in her throat.

And then there, on her doorstep, was Jon. Roll-along suitcase behind him and big bulky camera in hand.

“Jon” Sansa breathed in surprise. His smile falters when he looks in her eyes.

“Sansa? Are you alright?”

“I...um...how do you know where I live?” she says, changing the subject and sniffing back her panic.

“I may be a useless pap, but I have some connections” he smiles softly before shifting on his feet, clearing his throat and fumbling with the camera in his hands. “Here” he says, handing over a small blue memory card “as much as I would like to keep those photos for myself, I....well, I figured that you’re probably loosing your mind over what I might do with them.”

“Oh” Sansa says, staring at the little piece of technology in her hand “thank you Jon.” She narrows her eyes and looks back at him “how do I know you haven’t made copies?” she half-teases. Jon shoves his hands in his pockets and shrugs.

“Trust?” He suggests.

Now there’s a novel concept.

Somehow, she can’t help it - the way Jon makes her feel - like none of the shit of the past few months matters anymore, or that perhaps it was all just a nightmare she had to endure to be able to stumble into a pleasant dream.

A small, tinny voice breaks the silence between them and Sansa quickly realises that she’s still holding her phone.

“Hello? Hello? Sans? You still there?” Arya calls out.

“Yeah, I’m still here” Sansa replies after lifting the phone back to her ear. “Listen, Arya, don’t call the lawyers, I think we’re good.”

“We’re good? Sans? Who are you with? What’s happened?”

“It’s that guy I was talking about” she explains whilst maintaining eye contact and a smile with Jon.

“The pap?!”

“Yeah...he’s-” Sansa looks down at the little memory card as she rolls it around in her hand “he’s given me the photos.” Looking back up at Jon, she can’t help the little flutter in her tummy at his smile and raised brow.

“Well thank fuck for that!”

“Yeah....look, Arya, I gotta go, speak later ok?”

“Alright, but - at the risk of sounding like our mother - don’t you ever do anything like that again!”

Sansa lets out a musical giggle as she grabs Jon by the wrist and all but yanks him inside her home. “I can’t promise anything” she laughs down the phone at her sister before ending the call, pocketing her phone and pushing the worst pap in all of London up against the wall.

#JOnsa #Jon x Sansa #JonsaS7Summer #fanwork challenge #famous!sansa au #paparazzi!jon au

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arrowsshootyouforwards · 7 years

Text

The New Kid

James T. Kirk took a big lung full of the crisp late November air as he pulled off his motorcycle helmet. Locking it in the bike shed at the back of the store he opened his biker leathers as he entered through the staff entrance to sign in. The rest of the workers he assigned to his shift wouldn’t be arriving for a while, but he liked to arrive early to settle in after a couple of days off. He relieved his night manager who oversaw the Monday 00:00 to 7AM shift of restocking the shelves, signing off on the deliveries so the guy could go home to his family early, he was moving his oldest daughter to University that day, so Kirk wanted to give him the extra time with her, even just a few minutes.

Kirk made himself comfortable at his desk by the large windows, watching as one by one his employees arrived and left. “Mr Kirk,” Spock, his second in command, as he liked to say, brought him out of his daze. Kirk and Spock had a strange friendship. Spock’s main duties involved keeping Kirk in line with his crazy ideas and promotions. But they had clear respect for each other, even if it was hidden by what appeared a strained working relationship.

“Spock I’ve told you before, casual, it’s Jim.”

“Jim,” Spock rephrased.

“Better now what’s up?”

“The demo company is training a new recruit today; they need you to approve their ID. He’ll be working with Uhura later this afternoon after his orientation.”

“Hmm,” Kirk acknowledged nodding as he scanned over the recruit’s paperwork. Curly hair, green eyes and a baby-face, he would do well in the product demonstrations.

“Something the matter?”

“Nah, you just don’t work many shifts with Uhura, since you guys started… Not even sure what the appropriate term for it is,” he teased.

“Relationship, Jim.” Uhura spoke from the door, “it’s this thing grown-ups do when they like each other.” She said walking into the office to drop off her bag and sign in, kissing Spock on the cheek to make a point as she did so.

“When will you let me use your first name?” Jim asked.

“You and I both know if you wanted to know it that bad you’d look in my records,” she replied scribbling her surname.

“And where would the satisfaction be in that?”

“Well I’m not telling you.” She left the office to find her kit in the warehouse and set up her stand. Jim rolled his eyes, he and Uhura had met in their sixth form and he’d done nothing but flirt with her, her mother, like many of the parents of their classmates and his parents, was RAF (Royal Air Force) and so second name usage was common. She only used his first name to tease that he didn’t know hers.

The woman from the demo company arrived next, to set up her health and safety talks with the new kid. After her came Jim’s closest friend other than Spock and his daughter who was on mid-term break from school. Leonard ‘Bones’ McCoy, who worked on the butcher’s counter. His background in surgery made his cuts of meat close to perfection, the only thing keeping him from working in hospitals again was an old injury meaning his hand could tremor under pressure, rendering him unable to perform surgery safely.

He was accompanied by his daughter, 8-year-old Joanna, who adored Jim a little too much. It didn’t really bother anyone, just made them laugh a little. Joanna was barely awake when Leonard set her down, during school holidays Leonard let her stay up later and sleep in. On her back rested her Stitch bag probably containing some homework and colouring books to entertain her in the children’s centre. Something Jim had set up when he noticed a significant number of staff required childcare and saw no reason they should pay a fortune for it. The remainder of his staff arrived in small groups, car-poolers and bus goers mainly. He greeted all of them as he got on with his paperwork for the morning. Then he began his rounds, checking the demo company rep was getting on OK with the new kid and introducing himself.

He found Spock standing, directing people to the appropriate checkouts on the shop floor. At the pharmacy counter Chapel was helping a man check for allergies in the medication he wanted to buy, and Bones was cutting meat for a woman asking for a suggestion for wine for a dinner party she was throwing. He checked how Uhura’s sales were going and restocked the product she was showing, taking a sample as he passed. He and the demo crew thought that if customers saw the staff trying and buying the samples it looked good for the store, the rep from the company didn’t always agree so he made sure not to get caught.

When he had done a second and third walk around he checked in on the children’s centre. The kids loved him because he was basically just a big kid himself really, and he wasn’t afraid to join in their games and get messy with the paints. The staff loved it when he dropped in, especially recently as they had a teething baby in their care who required constant comfort at the minute. Kirk took the little guy off their hands for ten minutes, the kid gumming on a teething ring in his arms.

Someone knocked on the door to the centre and came in, it was Spock. “Sir, Mr Pike is here,” he informed Jim privately.

“Alright buddy time to go back to the girls,” he said to the baby handing him over and straightening his tie. “Have a fun day kids,” he waved to the children. “Sir,” he greeted Pike, the area manager.

“Working hard Kirk?”

“Always Sir.” He said, he knew that Pike didn’t actually care if he messed around a little so long as he got his work done, but he liked to mess around with Kirk from time to town. Pike had been the person to hire Kirk when he was a teenager desperate for a job and took him in when his step-father kicked him out. “Just helping in the kid’s centre, they got a teether in there.”

“Poor kid,” Pike said, “how’re sales?” He asked getting right to business which Jim dove into his report.

Meanwhile the demo company rep had just finished giving Pavel Chekov a tour of the warehouse and was searching for Uhura before she went on her lunch break. She was sampling frozen desserts that were more frozen than defrosted as they were just back-up products. “This is Nyota, you’ll be buddying with her today.”

“Pavel,” he stuck out his hand which she shook.

“Hi, you can all me Nyota except in front of the boss, Kirk, we’ve been friends for years and he still doesn’t know my first name and I like to tease him over it.” Pavel laughed and nodded. The rep left them and Nyota showed Pavel what she was doing before packing away for her lunch break.

In the break-room they sat by the windows and got to know each other. “So what’re you doing at the University?”

“I’m studying Physics and Engineering in a joint honour degree, both as majors. I needed the work to help pay for my accommodation.” He explained, “it’s flexible, I can work it around my studies.”

“Do you have any shifts lined up?” She asked, as they set the stand back up after lunch.

“A couple for next weekend.” He said.

“Hey Uhura, what’re you sampling today?” Asked an employee Pavel did not yet know.

“Cheesecake, a still defrosting but people seem to like it,” she shrugged holding out a plastic fork for him. He ate the square.

“Mm- cold,” he laughed wishing he’d have bitten it in half.

Uhura smiled, “I warned you,” she teased. “Hikaru, this is Pavel Chekov, he’s new.”

“Hikaru Sulu. Nice to meet you,” they shook hands.

“You as well.”

It was Pavel’s first solo shift and he arrived nice and early with a hand scribbled check-list of things to do so he didn’t forget anything. Uhura was in but had her own demo to worry about and he didn’t want to be a bother. He’d practiced over and over on the bus the order he was going to do things to set up. Step one, locate the stand and all he needed. Step two, clean everything and locate where his product was. He was offering tasters of smoothies in tiny shot glasses so he set up at the end of the milk aisle in the large counter aisle where all the store made stuff was. It was a nice first demo to have, he thought as he served people, remembering to ask kids if they had a parent with them first. It was awkward at first but it was the law and he had to follow it. He’d just got this job; he didn’t want to lose it his first solo day.

At some point, when he, really, couldn’t tell how old some guy what he IDed him to find out he was a year older than Pavel himself. He apologized but the guy didn’t seem to mind that much. Pavel was still blushing by the time his lunch break arrived. Uhura was in the break room, with the deputy manager, Pavel couldn’t remember his name but he was sure it began with and ‘S’. “May I join you?” He asked shyly and Uhura invited him to sit before Spock, he read the name tag, had even opened his mouth.

“Having a good day?” Uhura asked him.

“Yes, I’m doing smoothies. Quite a lot of them have gone from the shelves. What about you?”

“I’m doing Christmas chocolate, always a big seller, the companies sent me free stock to use.”

“I think I have that one next week. Thursday,” he recalled.

Their conversation was interrupted by loud sobbing as Kirk carried a young girl into the breakroom, heading straight for them, “Uhura can you watch her a minute, Spock I need your help, Joss is down there breaking her restraining order, tried dragging Jo out of the day care. Hikaru has gone to get Len but-” He explained as he and Spock walked towards the doors, the sobbing girl hugging Nyota who was rubbing her back and whispering to her. Pavel watched, unsure what to do. Should he leave them? Should he try to help? He didn’t know.

“It’s OK Joanna, she’s not here,” Uhura whispered to the sobbing child. “You’re right here with me and Pavel,” she said, Joanna hugged herself closer to Nyota, eyeing Pavel with a nervous yet calculated look. Pavel helped calm the girl down to the best of his abilities. The doors opened again and Spock and Jim returned with another man who called Joanna’s name.

“It’s alright Jo, I got you,” he whispered hugging her. “I’ll take her home,” he said to Jim.

“Bones you gotta wait for the cops to get here, you know that.” Jim replied. “Security have Joss in the office, she’s not going anywhere, but do take her home afterwards.”

“I’ll go clean up my station,” the man, Bones, said and he made to move but Joanna wouldn’t let go. “Sweetie I gotta go clean up.”

“I wanna go,” she mumbled.

“Sweetie you can’t behind the counter, you know that.”

“Pavel’s stand is right across from you, maybe she could stand there and watch?” Uhura suggested. “He was good at helping me calm her down,” she said.

“The kid?” Bones stared him down a little.

“Well, um, I do not mind,” Pavel stammered.

“I’ll even stand close-by,” Kirk rescued him.

“OK, I guess, when’s the end of your break?”

“Five minutes ago.”

“Great, let’s go” Jim clapped his hands together, Pavel jumped a little. On the walk down, whatever brief impression he’d made on Joanna became apparent when she slipped her hand into his and wouldn’t let go until he had to start pouring samples. Even then she took hold of the hem of his shirt and hid practically behind him so she could only just see her dad. Pavel had a feeling, that he hoped was wrong but was probably correct that this wasn’t the first time this had happened and he doubted that it would be the last.

“Thanks for that,” Leonard said approaching after cleaning his station.

“It was no problem.” Pavel assured him.

“Say goodbye sweetheart.”

“Bye,” Joanna said softly and reached for her father to lift her. He did and she held tightly onto him as he walked away.

“Goodbye Joanna,” Pavel said giving a small wave.

Uhura arrived to help him pack away having cleared up ahead of time when all her product ran out on the shelves. “Is that a regular occurrence?” He asked about the events of earlier.

“No, thank God, but Leonard’s ex-wife lost custody in the divorce, he made the argument that he didn’t want her setting an example of cheating for his daughter. The judge agreed. Combined with Joss’ lack of interest in anything except how she can use Joanna, she didn’t have a chance. Hey did I introduce you to Scotty last time?”

“No,” Pavel said confused.

“Come on, you’re gonna love him.” She led him through the stores into the warehouse. “Scotty, you in here?” She called.

“Aye lass, just a minute,” a Scottish voice called. A man appeared from behind some shelves.

“Pavel this is Scotty, Scotty this is Pavel he’s our new demo guy. Scotty is the person to ask about stock for your demos. Ask nicely and he hides stock so you have lots of it on your day.”

“Aye, for a small price, laddie,” Pavel began to stammer but Uhura stopped him.

“He means save him the leftovers,” she smiled and he laughed.

“Ah, right, no problem, Mister Scott,” he said.

“Let me introduce you to my leading lady in the warehouse. Jaylah, come meet the new recruit, Jaylah is brilliant laddie, can’t find something go to her, she’ll make it appear.” Pavel met Jaylah then excused himself before his last bus left. The walk back to his accommodation would take an hour at least and it was pouring outside, so he really couldn’t afford it.

Pavel arrived back at his noisy dorm, it was Friday and most of the first years were planning to go out clubbing. Pavel however had another shift in the morning so put on his headphones and paired them to his alarm wirelessly and went to bed.

He was back at the store the next morning for his second demo, same product as the day before. He was clearing up for lunch when a hand clapped him on the shoulder making him jump. “Chekov, just the kid I was looking for. Good job with Jo yesterday.”

“It was nothing sir,” he stammered.

“None of that, call me Jim, or Kirk, the only person I don’t let call me Kirk is Spock, but that’s because he needs to relax a little. Anyway, we’re having a get together tonight, you’ve made quite the impression on some of the others, wanted to invite you to join us.”

“Very kind of you, but my buses don’t run after a certain time,” Pavel told him.

“Don’t worry about it we can arrange something,” Kirk said smiling.

“Jim if he doesn’t want to go you can’t make him,” Nyota said making Kirk jump a little.

“Are you ever not here?”

“I’m not working, I’m shopping,” she told him gesturing to her cart.

“But still, think about it, someone will be able to give you a ride,” Kirk assured him.

“I’ll think about it,” Pavel promised.

Pavel went on lunch and for the first time realised he knew nobody in the breakroom. He sat at a window seat watching over the parking lot and idly eating his carrot sticks and drinking his soda from the cafeteria downstairs when he felt the bench move as someone placed their bag across from him. He turned, surprised to see Hikaru. “Mind if I join you?” He asked.

“Not at all, please,” Pavel said, relieved to see someone familiar.

“Did Kirk invite you to his party tonight?”

“He did but I don’t think I’m going.”

“How come?”

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to get back home, I live in dorms near the University and busses don’t run up there after 8 in the evening.”

“You live in dorms? I live in student apartments up there, I can drive you,” Hikaru offered.

“You’re a student too?”

“Yeah, I’m doing a Master’s in Education, I want to teach, I just realised that later than most people. It’s no problem, I was driving myself so I’m not drinking much. They’re not really parties to be honest, just get togethers, but they’re usually really fun.”

“If you’re sure I suppose I can go, I don’t have class tomorrow so I have nothing to wake up early for.”

“Great, what building are you in? I can come get you about 7? 7:30?”

“7 is fine,” Pavel replied. “Excuse me, I must get back.”

“See you later,” Hikaru said.

Pavel smiled as he went back to work, he’d never been invited to other people’s parties at the University, he was somewhat of an outsider in his building and on his course.

Pavel read the text from Hikaru telling him he was outside and checked that his curls were under control. He was wearing jeans and a light button down shirt. He was relieved to see Hikaru was wearing something similar, he had agonized over what to wear for way too long before giving in and skyping his sister. He slid into the passenger seat and put on his seatbelt, greeting Hikaru. “Thank you for taking me.”

“Don’t worry about it, the building is on my route and we’re friends,” Hikaru shrugged.

“We are?” Pavel asked, “I mean, sorry, I’m not very good at social interactions.”

“Well I consider us friends, we talk, we see each other at work.”

“Yes I suppose we are.” Pavel smiled.

Soon they pulled up in front of Kirk’s place. Pavel recognized three cars from work. Hikaru lead him in, not knocking before opening the door. Everyone was in the large open kitchen and living area. It was a small affair, Kirk, as host, Spock and Uhura were present, also Scotty, Jaylah and McCoy too, though he probably wouldn’t stay late.

“Guys great timing, Jaylah and Uhura are kicking our asses on this thing,” Kirk told them gesturing to the screen where Mario Kart was being played. “Beers are in the fridge; pizzas are on their way.” He added turning his attention back to the screen.

Pavel sat beside Uhura on the couch, sipping a beer from the fridge, he wasn’t really a beer drinker so he was taking it easy so as not to embarrass himself in front of his work friends. Other than Uhura he spent the evening talking to Scotty, who he discovered shared his interest in Engineering and Physics and Hikaru who he already knew he had a great deal in common with.

Having only limited encounters with drinking beer Pavel tried to stay alert, beer was not his usual beverage and it often left him feeling tired and sleepy. Hikaru caught him hiding a yawn and made his excuses to leave. He had class at 11 the next day so now seemed a good time to leave anyway.

“You did not have to do that,” Pavel said as they climbed into the car.

“I know, but I have class at 11 in the morning and you looked ready to curl up in the armchair.”

“Beer makes me sleepy,” Pavel told him.

“I noticed,” Hikaru smiled. “Don’t worry about it, falling asleep from beer is probably the least scandalous thing that’s happened at one of Kirk’s parties.” Chekov smiled shyly.

They pulled up outside of Pavel’s building and neither made to move right away, in fact Hikaru turned off the engine. “Thank you for taking me. I had a good time.”

“You’re welcome.” Hikaru smiled and Pavel made to climb out of the car. “Would you- Um, would you like to hang out sometime, I’ve seen you around Campus, you seem mostly on your own. I think you’re pretty cool to hang out with.”

A smile pulled at Pavel’s lips. “I’d like that. Message me tomorrow?”

“I will,” Hikaru said smiling.

Pavel let himself into the building and paused at the door to wave. He was glad he’d gone to the party, he liked the people at his work, they were fun and interesting and he had more in common with them than he had expected. He looked forward to going back into work. He looked forward to hanging out with them again, talking and getting to know them more. But most of all, he looked forward to hanging out with Hikaru.

#star trek au #star trek aos #chulu #pavel chekov #hikaru sulu #jim kirk #Leonard McCoy #nyota uhura #scotty #takeyourfandomtowork

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academersatz · 7 years

Text

Travelogue: Kazakstan 2: Electric Boogaloo!

Let’s dance!

Ew, gross, don’t dance on that. Thankfully, there’s no bloody blisters to report this time. I know, I know. Bodily injury is why you keep coming back to read about my exploits. If I’m not snapping, freezing, cutting or maiming something, it’s just not as funny.

Well, tough shit.

In a nice bit of parallel structure, I was invited back to Astana, Kazakhstan for the closing ceremony of Expo 2017. Like last time, I had three flights spread out over what would normally be my bed time, and I arrived incredibly tired. Unlike last time, I didn’t have 5 hours of free time to burn on a nap. After one hour of pretending to sleep, I was dragged out of bed and into the street and shot. (Just seeing if you’re still with me here.)

Much like Kazakhstan - Day the Best, I spent the first part of the day wandering around the expo. We started in Nur Alem, the giant glass testicle at the center of the expo park. But I had already seen it, and I was given leave to visit pavilions.

Let’s talk Japan real quick, and compare it to the lazy American pavilion. Expos are corporate things--I know that. Japan’s expo was sponsored by car companies and wind turbine companies and other companies, all making things they want you and your government to buy. But Japan’s expo began with a video about how Japan has no traditional natural resources--none of that delicious oil that dictates much of American foreign policy. So instead of giving in and buying it from a neighbor such as Russia, Japan began MacGuyvering its way into the future. Their second video had an actual point! (The gall of those crafty Asians and their brain-thinking!) Hydrogen is the energy source of the future, and Japan wants to make and sell you the technology to make it the energy source of today. That’s it. No stock video of Japanese cities and cherry blossoms and waterfalls and that one painting everyone knows.

Instead, they crafted a fine video promoting hydrogen.

The future’s gonna be ... interesting.

The last part of the pavilion had something to do with VR, but there was a huge line, and I was getting hungry. I wandered down the sidewalk to the Korean pavilion, and there were hundreds of people in line to see it. As I walked away, I noticed a sign for a Korean restaurant, and suddenly I was a cartoon character.

I climbed the--frankly--too many goddamn stairs to get to the Korean restaurant above the pavilions, and I had kimchi kimbap and soup.

The kimbap was a little plain (no carrots, no green slime, no brown things, no pickled stuff), just rice and kimchi, but it was genuine. The whole staff was made up of Koreans, so that probably helped.

After lunch, I had second lunch, yes, just like a bearded hobbit, but my experience last time in Kazakhstan had taught me to always eat whenever I had the opportunity, because I often didn’t have that opportunity. My official lunch was one of those times--the menu was about 75% meat. No exchanges, no substitutions. So Korea saved the day. Again. Kamsamnida, bitches!

There were a couple boring press conferences, and I did my actual work, writing an article and embellishing what I had seen and experienced with things from my previous journey (fake news! fake news!), and then I rushed over to the awards ceremony. I really wanted to be there in case Finland, you know, the country that sent me here, won an award. But the award was so stuffed with pomp that they barely gave away anything, before I had to leave for dinner.

And Finland won a goddamn award. And not just any award, the goddamn gold goddamn medal. My article has two sentences about Finland, and one of them I cribbed from the pavilion designer’s website. Go Finland.

Dinner was another stand up smorgasbord, but this time, oh this time, I didn’t have a blister, didn’t have a fresh article to write, and I drank myself stupid. It didn’t take much, as I was already running on fumes. I remember ... pasta? And salad in tumbler glasses. And cognac. Lots of cognac. Or maybe bourbon. At that point, it was just whiskey-flavored sleepy drink.

The second (and last) day began with me semi-rested (I slept like the dead for at least 7 hours), going on a tour of the city. I thought it would be a repeat of last time, but it was entirely new places, with one exception. But I didn’t have to take all the pictures, so I’m actually in some of them this time.

We started at an ethnic fair, and I realized halway through that my lens hood was screwed on wrong.

This next one reminds me of something, but I can’t quite put my ... ah, finger on it. Our tour guide explained that hunters used it to store a warm, white fluid.

Horse milk. What were you thinking?

Inside a yert. Yurt. Jurt. Goddamn it, Finland, you’ve made me forget how to spell. It’s a fancy Jabba the Hut tent.

Hun. Whatever.

There were falcons. They were huge and terrifying. I haven’t actually felt afraid of an animal in a while, but Kazakhstan fixed that for me.

Next up, we went to the tree ball egg statue building in the center of Astana. I got a picture.

Look at that jolly motherfucker there. #SantaInTraining #AmishChic

Next we briefly visited the National Museum. We had less than an hour to visit allegedly one of the ten largest national museums in the world. Let’s begin.

Who’s that? No idea. Probably a Kazakh.

Do you like modern art? Contemporary art? Too bad, no time.

Are these terra cotta warriors, like real ones? From China? Probably.

Who’s this asshole? Why is he covered in gold?

Are those metal-as-fuck horse bones? Possibly.

I cut the trip at the museum short by 5 minutes so I could check out the gift shop. But there was just handmade knick-knacks and what-not. No museum branded stuff, little Kazakhstan-branded stuff, and WAY too expensive for a poor bastard like me.

Onto the closing ceremony. And the free cola. So much free cola. My poor poor body. Hey, there’s your bodily harm. It may take a few decades, but it’ll get there.

First, just a word about organisation. Zation! Dammit, Finland!

We arrived at 15.00 and were told that the ceremony began at 17. In a few minutes, that became 18. Then we were told in a Whatsapp blast, that it was now 20. Coffee at 18. Hey, do you want some coffee? Come on! (Time 17.20, literally two minutes after I received word of the coffee break at 18.)

A poor DJ began flipping tunes (that’s what DJs do, right?) at 18, but it started raining immediately, because God hates dubstep. Even traditional Kazakkh-inspired dubstep. The audience melted away, and I started reading Cracked. Or watching YouTube. Something. Anything to whittle away the time. See, I could have written my article, but I had no information. The livestream wouldn’t tell me who the DJ was. And the announcers spoke only Russian (or probably Kazakh, which sound the same to me.) The DJ became a pop girl group, then a live band with a rain-drenched female singer, then a jazzy pop band. It all stopped when the actual ceremony began. There was some interpretative dance bullshit, lazers, lots of people on wires pretending to do stuff like scuba dive and fly around on hoverboards, which was admittely awesome. Then some speeches by some guys, a flag got folded up and handed over, and the President of Kazakhstan, who probably approved banning tumblr from his country, forcing me to use a VPN, which has slowed my internet down so much that I can’t upload pictures of any of this crap until I get back home to the corpse-like embrace of my adoptive home Finland (gray, cold, clammy) ... uh ... what? Necrophili--

You might wonder why I don’t have pictures of any of this. This is because we were locked inside the media building with absolutely no way out, and even if we did get out, our badges had their access revoked, so we wouldn’t be allowed back in. We watched all of this on big TVs.

Anyway, the show was pomp and ended with a sky-shattering display of fireworks. Again. Directly over the building (with skylights) that we were stationed in. You could hear the fireworks casings hit the roof after the last huge explosion, and the hall filled with the stink of sulfur.

Finally, we were transferred back to the hotel, which required our driver to navigate the labyrinthine security cordons, and even then, he just told us all to get out and walk a couple blocks in the end. That Kazakh tradition of hospitality apparently doesn’t extend to bus drivers.

The next morning--the same night really--I had to leave for the airport at 4 am. Which turned into 5.30 am, because some other reporter was drunk or sleeping or something. My last moments in Kazakhstan were standing in line at the airport for over an hour, at our gate, while the sign above the gate claimed we were boarding. We were not. It was like Kazakhstan saying, “No, don’t go!” Or possibly Aeroflot saying, “Ha ha, fuck you and your sore feet!”

Probably the latter.

Dasvidahnia, Kazakhstan!

#expo 2017 #blisters #press tour #national museum #Bayterek

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cwebberphotography · 7 years

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We took a short cut to the bus stop and had some food, curry and fried donut and black tea with a lot of sugar. Everyone loaded the local bus, first it stopped to pick up bags of cement then went off pavement and bumped along for maybe 45 minutes. I hit my head once on the ceiling and once on the back of the chair while taking out my camera.

Nirmal and I are now 2000 metres up and looking over the Himalayas. The sun set over India in the West and the mountains in the East glowed pink for an instant. As the rain falls on my tin roof I’m staying warm with tea by the fire. After the bus we walked the same type of slate steps until I was very tired. Almost fell asleep at our first break in the shade and we could still see Pokhara. And hear a farmer far below yelling at monkeys stealing from her. Another hour in the steep hills under the noon sun and we passed a sign for a restaurant and went the other way.

Two people were clearing a field in flip-flops wearing mismatched clothes like they shopped at Frenchie’s with a blind fold on. Nirmal speaks to them in Nepali and tells me we’ll eat here. A young lady in an apron is at the house and she gives us buffalo yogurt which is more like milk, I have one and he has two big glasses. I start putting my layers back on because it’s colder the higher we get. An older woman shows up out of nowhere, she must be the mother. We’re isolated by miles of wilderness and a single lane road that no one can drive up. It’s nice and quiet here. The mum smokes a lot, has missing teeth and wears lots of gold. Everyone seems to be wearing red with gold jewelery. They convince me to have some local wine made on their farm and when she comes out with two glasses it looks like water and tastes like vodka. It takes me the whole hour to finish it. I haven’t had a drink since September 2016. We eat the best dal baht I’ve ever had. Being hungry and watching the pretty lady pick and wash the cauliflower and greens and potatoes was fascinating. I got a spoon and one helping of rice was enough. After we ate the people working sat with us and all laughed at my plain black t-shirt being inside out. That’s the second time I’ve worn it that way due to unconcern and each time at least five people feel the need to point it out. Then they asked if I wanted to marry one of them. I said maybe.

My room is a good size, there are two beds and an outlet. Shelves, two windows, which are just open frames with shutters, and lots of heavy blankets. This is 300 Nepalese rupees per night. The very top of a mountain. First thing I saw here was two white guys and that’s all since. White guys and girls. My host and his two cats and some noisy neighbours who came and overstayed their welcome. It’s cold out. And the stars are clouded over. I came here for silence and views. Sounds like some people came all the way here to hear themselves talk. The neighbour has now talked for 30 minutes straight while I watch the interaction between the cats. One is pregnant and keeps her eyes half closed. Yawns and stays by the fire. She let me give her a back massage, the other is afraid of his own tail and jumping around a lot.

This is one of the most isolated beautiful places I’ve ever been. Nirmal encouraged me to try the wine by saying you know, when you travel and stay with local people you see how they live, you should try something new while you’re here. So I did and when I was offered smoked buffalo meat I tried some as well. The power flicks on and off. Arjune, our host, has a TV on in the other room with a Hindi comedy and is laughing a lot. He put about a cup of sugar in the tea-pot. No wonder I liked it so much.

Without paying Nirmal as a guide I would never have discovered this place. I may have got here eventually but not had the same in-depth experience. Still I’m having a time forgetting about all the Nepalese rupees. Reminding myself that he is very poor, I’ve seen his house, and he takes care of his entire family. And it’s only day one. Paying for more experiences. Gathering new memories. Why? I knew it before and now I’m full of amazing sights sounds smells and feelings. All for the low cost of money I earned and saved. My sweat and tears in exchange for visions of India and Nepal. The idea was to see what my dreams were made of and go home. This is the part where I’m supposed to be planning for my future all the while living purely in the moment. And my eventual return home to Canada will be an end to my new foreign sights and a new chapter of my life will begin. Is that too much pressure to put on myself?

I didn’t even want to go on one trek let alone two. I’m supposed to be at vipassana now not shelling out money on guides and blankets and coffees and hotel rooms. I still have a month in Nepal. If I could stay longer I would. Just keep me away from the tourists. Maybe a house in my parents backyard is the right place for me now. It’s actually quieter than the top of a mountain. It’s got ocean. Trees. Deer. Home. Silence. Beauty.

The next morning, sitting alone watching the sunrise. The girl I saw yesterday started photographing the buffalo behind me. Then took my photo from behind, I turned to talk to her and she just said ‘Look at the mountains’. We sat together and talked about how people talk too much. (Her choice of topic) She didn’t like her group much. She is here volunteering at a school. And on her way to vipassana in Kathmandu. Soon she left me there and I went back to my room and changed my lens. After she intercepted me and said her group was discussing popular baby names in the U.K. I didn’t get to use my other lens just sat on the edge of the mountain and looked at the Himalayas and talked. She went and got her breakfast and brought it back and we continued to talk about Belarus and its closed mind and borders. About future about meditation and family and marriage and Bella and Canada and her leaving home at 17 going to Prague and now Poland. Then she left and I ate a pancake and coffee looking at the most mountains I’ve ever seen.

This place could be B.C. or many parts of the world. The Alps, the Rockies, the Himalayas. The paths in the woods, the trees, the sky and bugs and birds all different but the same. Everywhere I go the sound of wind in my ears is the same. Highlight of travel so far is meeting like-minded people. After a long walk to the Shiva Temple 2500 meters up, we passed a Buddhist temple and walked to a small lake, more like a pond this time of year. Then to a look out where I clipped my finger and toe nails leaving a small piece of myself scattered into the mountains. At this point my bag tipped over and my phone fell out. We walked maybe 20 minutes in tough terrain before I realized it was gone and sure of where it was. We did that over again and back and my legs feel like when I almost drowned from exhaustion in B.C., just about ready to give out. When we got back I chugged water and had a cold shower. And ate dal baht for the millionth time.

The Chinese man at the Hotel Yeti said he would give me a shitty map to look around. There is a paraglider far above me. Hovering with the eagles. The mornings sunrise and evenings set are clear to see the mountains. In between is cloudy. Today I watched as the highest one formed its own cloud. Wind brushed up snow and cold and warm created cloud and so on. I can see Pokhara from here but it’s still far away. Sun set and rise are the main tourist attractions. My name for the last month has been pronounced Krishna.

Arjune’s aunt came home. After watching the sun set barefoot she got me some chappals so I’m in long johns pants sweater tuque scarf and flip-flops, like everyone else. I sat with her in the traditional Mongolian kitchen and she made us tea. Then cleaned a pot which had maybe pancake batter dried inside. She chipped some off and ate a piece then offered me some so why stop here, I ate it.

When in Rome We took a short cut to the bus stop and had some food, curry and fried donut and black tea with a lot of sugar.

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