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heyidkyay · 8 months

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Havin' to be human |

As it's October and Halloween is by far one of my favourite holidays, I thought I'd write something a little different than usual! This is another Matty fic, not sure how long it'll be but if it's well liked I'll post a second part? Happy October, hope you enjoy it:)

Summary: There's a fine line between the living and the dead. I realised that at a very young age and still have yet to escape it- even after forcing myself to move miles away from home. It seems that you can't escape much though in Wilmslow either, not the dead, not overly-involved flatmates, and certainly not the curly haired lad that stands hanging about in cafe's. But when have things ever been easy for me?

“Would you like another biscuit, deary?”

I glance up from my slight daze and draw my eyes away from the staircase sat just outside the living room door to meet the older woman’s weary smile. I’m fine with the six she’s already handed me but I can’t find it in myself to deny her, so I just nod minutely and give her another quiet thank you.

“Sorry about all this, I’m sure he’ll be in any second now.” The woman, Mrs O’Donald, tells me, still fiddling with the biscuit tin. It's one of those metal ones you usually find in old people’s houses, full to the brim with either shortbread or sewing needles. Always one or the other.

“It’s no worry. I don’t mind waiting, I’ve nowhere else to be.” I assure her but she just nods quickly and then starts rearranging the table for the seventh time. I leave her to it, knowing it must bring her some sense of comfort. She seems the type, the many figurines littering the shelves are all in perfect position and the cushions on the sofa look practically untouched.

But while she does that, my gaze ultimately drags its way back over to the doorway, to the bottom step of the staircase where I can still see a tiny hand gripping the banister bar, the rest of the body hidden behind the living room door’s wooden frame. It's eery but I can't keep myself from looking.

I cough lightly after a moment and rest my teacup back on the coffee table, making sure to use one of the many coasters offered, “If you don’t mind me asking, Mrs O’Donald-”

“Rosie, please.”

With a polite smile, I nod. “Rosie.” I correct myself and don’t pay attention to the light tremors in her right hand as she refills my cup once more, I say nothing about it. “I was just going to ask if you had any more children, other than Andrew, of course.”

I’m a little startled then by the way her entire demeanour seems to shift then, as though my question has triggered something deep within her. Gone are the faint tremors and stuttering pleasantries, she’s now sat deathly still, the fidgeting and the strained smile she’s worn since the moment I’d arrived have vanished.

“Just one other.” Mrs O’Donald, or rather Rosie, answers me, her eyes caught on the fireplace mantle now, where a plethora of neatly arranged photo frames crowd together, all of them silver and very detailed.

“Oh,” I reply quietly in return, deciding now to tread with a little caution after having witnessed her previous response, “Are there many years between them?”

The older woman seems to swallow then, her throat bobs and her thin lips tighten, before her eyes dart back to me. I try not to outwardly react, not to still under their sudden scrutiny, their coldness.

“Why? Who told you to ask that?” She immediately quizzes me, hunching further in her armchair now that it takes a great strength in me to keep from cowering back in my own.

“No one.” I hurry to reassure her, and I can hear the tight pitch of my voice, how bewildered I sound. “No one, Mrs O’Donald. I just, I just wanted to know a little more about Andrew. That's all.”

Mrs O’Donald nods then at my lie, but my assurance seems to ebb her sudden worries, which gifts me no reprieve. At all. I’ve often gotten myself into some odd situations, some even more strange than this, but the woman’s reaction to such a simple question is so peculiar that it instantly sets me on edge, not to mention that the little hand on the staircase has vanished now.

Fucking Frankie and all her meddling, I could wring her neck right about now! I think to myself helplessly.

Frankie’s my roommate, you see, we’ve been friends since I’d first moved to town, since I’d left London and got on the first train that had been leaving the platform. I’d seen her ad in the newsagents outside the local train station, all bejewelled and with this ditzy font, and had headed into a nearby cafe to give her a call. She’d been two months behind on rent and had been desperate enough to tack up her spare room on the bulletin board there for a couple hundred quid a month. Then along came me and well, I’d had nowhere else to go.

We’ve been as thick as thieves from the get go though, she’d actually been one to arrange this rather impromptu excursion, having set me up with a lad she knew from secondary that was apparently ‘my exact type’. Not that she really knew what that was, in truth, Frankie knew nothing of actual importance about me, even though we were dead close. She had no idea why I’d even left home, or why I’d come to Wilmslow of all places, and had never once bothered me about it.

My sex life, on the other hand, was something she loved to bug me about to no apparent end. Enough that I’d finally relented and agreed for her to set me up with this mate of hers after having seen a picture of him on Facebook, if only for the reason she’d let this whole thing go. I was perfectly content being on my own, preferred it actually, even when it sometimes grew harder having to keep everything to myself all the time, scared to let people near. But that was just life, wasn’t it, and life was so much easier when everyone around me was none the wiser to my… situation.

Mrs O’Donald appears to have softened a bit now and I try to return the gesture when she gives me a shaky smile. “Sorry, it’s just. It’s hard, even now, to talk about, you know.”

Fuck. I struggle to keep my smile.

“I didn’t mean to pry.” I’m quick to tell her, my chest tightening as I draw in another slow breath. I can see that the small hand is back now, there, just out of the corner of my eye. “We can pretend that I didn’t even ask, hey?”

The woman just shakes her head at me though and for the millionth time today I wish I’d never stepped foot through that fucking door.

“It’s fine. I’m fine.” Mrs O’Donald says, although I’m pretty sure she’s only doing it to reassure herself. “It was a long, long time ago. Gary says it does me no good to linger on the memory. And our Andrew’s the same.”

I have zero fucking idea as to who Gary could possibly be, her husband maybe? But I don’t even ask, just willing myself to pop out of existence then and there. Or for her pink puffy chaise longue to eat me whole.

“Right.” Is all I can bring myself to say, and it’s then that my mind finally relents in its stubbornness and allows my eyes to wander back over towards the staircase again, only I’m not fully prepared for what I see. The hand is still there, only now it’s joined by another, the pair of them bracketing a wan head with unrelenting eyes.

I jump on instinct at the image and send the teacup I’d taken to cradling again soaring through the air. Mrs O’Donald jumps too, though her reaction is solely down to me, and I find myself so surprised that all I can really do is ramble, “I am so sorry. Honestly, I don’t know what came over me. I’m so, so sorry, Mrs O’Donald. Here let me-”

The woman, who appears to be in better shape now that she has something to occupy herself with, is waving my apologies away freely, a tea towel already in hand as she pivots around to wipe up the spilled tea. “Not to worry, dear. I’m the same somedays, just one of those things, I suppose.”

“Yeah,” I breathe out, though my stare is still stuck on the staircase and the tiny little boy staring back at me through its wooden railings. “Just one of those things.” I murmur.

To say I made a clean break for it after that, would’ve been an absolute lie, seeing as how the second I tried to say my goodbyes to Mrs O’Donald, claiming that I suddenly felt a bit under the weather and apologising once again for the spillage, did Andrew walk through the front door.

“Oh Andrew! You’re just in time.” Mrs O’Donald all but beams, a total contrast to the woman who’s been serving me tea and biscuits in her living room for the past twenty minutes. She hurries over to the front door to properly welcome him in whilst I linger in the hallway, only a foot away from the bottom of the staircase, trying incredibly hard not to concentrate on the soundless feet kicking at the skirting-board.

So before Andrew could even utter a word to me, or simply breathe in my direction, I was slipping between the pair of them and out the front door before you could say ‘goodbye’. I practically legged it down their street, even as Andrew called out after me in obvious confusion, and didn’t stop running until I was far too winded and amongst the noise of the high-street in town.

I wasn’t always like this. I swear.

It had started out with whispers, mostly soft and indistinct, but occasionally a single voice would stand out amongst the others. I’d be on the motorway in mum’s car and suddenly hear ‘Look out, oh God, look out!’ in a frenzied voice that would quickly cut off, or ‘Such a fucking slag, knew she’d move right on-’ on the walk home from school, and even ‘Are you sure I locked the front door before we left?’ whenever I bypassed the house at the end of this one street.

They’d drift in and out of oscillation like a poorly tuned radio. Sometimes the voices are fuzzy, almost silent and barely there, whilst other times they can be so real and immediate that they have me spinning around in a circle trying to work out who’s talking.

It quickly grew from there though, the voices went from being carried on a nonexistent wave to falling from faintly drawn lips caught in a blur of movement. I’d see them just out of the corner of my eye, whenever I’d turn a bend or glance over my shoulder. The visions also made me pause abruptly, stop to catch the breath that had left me, they were like trails of smoke caught on the wind, like wisps from a candle freshly blown out. But even after that, with the seeing and the hearing, things still changed. The blurry images adapted, became more evident, more vivid. They went from hazy chance glances to people crowding busy intersections or sitting by a bridge. Had little girls with snapped necks living in my childhood bedroom and the neighbours lost dog sniffing around my ankles.

Even then though they tended to loop, to say the same things, and follow the same path. The little girl back home would often climb the stairs at night and I’d hear her footfalls, never a step mistook, always the same pattern, the same beat. Always repeating, apologising, crying. Enough that it started to drain me, enough so that I could no longer sleep in that house at night. Enough to force me out and away.

Only recently have they started to interact more, see that I truly am there, that I can see them as much as they can see me. They don’t appear to forget as much either. Don’t repeat like they did for so many of the years before. When I ask them questions, they can choose to answer, they differentiate from their previous paths, follow me about with a questioning gaze instead of continuing the same cycle.

That little boy back at the O’Donald’s house, he was one of them. He knew I’d seen him too. From the second I’d sat down. But he’d been reluctant to come any closer than the staircase, why I don’t know, but I chose not to dwell too long on it.

I finally breathe a sigh of relief when I see the front door to our flat, all pretty with the wreath Frankie had adorned it with, not to mention the brightly coloured paint that set it vastly apart from the rest of the street’s. I don’t think I’d ever been more thankful to see it, in fact, not even after that first time when Frankie had invited me inside and let me call it home.

“Oi, and there you are! Honestly, what do you think you’re playing at? I’ve just had Andrew on the phone, ranting away! Said he just got in through the door when you all but bolted your way out of the house to run like a mad man on a mission down the street! I mean, what on Earth were you-” I’ve just slipped into the warmth of our little two bed and Frankie pauses the second she rounds the corner to the hallway, catching the gaunt face I’m sporting. “Oh, shit. You alright?”

I can only chuckle as I struggle to remove the coat I’d thrown on earlier. “Oh me? I’m fine!” I huff sarcastically, all but chucking the leather jacket up onto one of the hangers we have in the hall, “Fucking brill, me!" I add, but I’m still fighting for breath as I slump against the wall slightly to cast her a narrow-eyed glance, “Why the fuck didn’t you tell me Andrew had a dead little brother?”

“He what?” Frankie shoots straight back, eyes as wide as bowling balls and bleached eyebrows practically hitting her hairline.

“Andrew. Dead brother.” I repeat, forcing myself back onto steady feet so that I can slip past her and head into the kitchen, “What is there not to get about that?”

“No I definitely got it, just… processing?” She replies in that familiar twang of hers, voice carrying its way through the flat.

“How could you not think to tell me, of all people, that tiny little detail?” I complain in a whiney groan as I set to sticking the kettle on, I'm still struggling to wrap my head around the whole ordeal and sitting honestly feels like the worst thing I could possibly do.

I hear her footfalls follow shortly behind me and when they stop I glance up to find her stood in the doorway, eyes still wide as ever.

“I didn’t know.” Is what Frankie settles on, her arms hanging limply by her sides, “I didn’t know.”

I pause immediately. Her words well and truly hitting me like a truck.

“Oh, oh shit, Fran. God, I’m so sorry.” I hurry to apologise, a hand covering my mouth as she slowly makes her way across the kitchen tiles. “I didn’t even think. I had no idea. Fuck."

A startled laugh escapes her at that, but I know there’s no real humour in it. “Yeah, me either.”

We just stand there staring at each other for a long while, both in obvious shock. Me trying to get over the experience, her coming to terms with the newfound information I'd all but thrown in her face.

It’s the kettle whistling that sets the two of us back into motion. I look over to it and then back at her, we both seem to just move on instinct then, her heading to the fridge for the milk, semi-skimmed for her, almond for me, and I grab two mugs to fill with the usual brand of tea.

A quiet settles after that, until we’re both curled up on the sofa at least, tele on low and a brew in hand. Fran’s taken to sprawling herself across her end whilst I crowd myself up against the sofa’s back, knees touching my chest.

“So, dead little brother?”

I hum lowly at the cut in the silence, watching Fran's expression from over the rim of my cup, steam hazing the view.

“How dead we talking here?”

I roll my eyes but can’t help the breathy laugh that escapes me as I grip my mug a little tighter, mainly just wanting the warmth. There always came an unrelenting cold whenever dealing with the dead, and I was almost always cold these days.

“Pretty dead.” I tell her, pursing my lips when the image of his little face comes to the forefront of my mind, “He had these dark circles around his eyes, big and blue. He looked so,” I draw in a breath, “I don’t know, he just looked so small and bony. Wasting almost.”

“Cheers.” I snap myself out of it and look back over when I hear Frankie’s voice, I wince at the expression she now wears, all pale and pensive, though trying her best to cover it up.

“Sorry.” I mumble, but she merely waves me off, shaking herself out of it before she takes a sip of her milky brew.

“Don’t matter, just, can’t believe I never knew of it.” She exhales heavily, “He was young though, yeah? So like maybe he died back when Andy were a kid or summat.”

My eyes narrow in thought, “I don’t reckon so, when I asked whether she had any other children Mrs O’Donald got all weird about it, she just changed all of a sudden, and then when I wondered the same thing you just did, I questioned how many years were between them- the boys, I mean. She switched up, Fran. Like, gone was the wobbly old woman and there was this massive fuckin’ viper ready to strike me down.”

“Weird.” Frankie comments and she pulls the face she makes whenever something doesn't sit right with her. “Never seen her act like that, was always so skittish whenever we saw her out. Her husband never let her leave the house much though, my mum reckoned they had a bit of a domestic going on.”

I find myself glancing out the living room window, mulling her words over as well as the entire situation. “Maybe. The kid seemed withdrawn too, didn’t move from off the staircase the whole time I was there.”

“They usually move about then?” I hear Fran ask me and I hum as I blink, “These ghosts of yours...”

A small smile graces my lips and I roll my eyes once more before turning back to her, “They’re not my ghosts. And yeah, typically. Sometimes they’re stuck in a loop-”

“What, like reliving their death?” She grimaces at the very notion.

“Yeah,” I admit a little reluctantly, because it always seems to make me feel uneasy whenever I linger too long on it. “But then they sort of become more animate once they know I can see them too.”

“Oh, so you’re sort of like a battery then?”

“Pardon?” I snort, unable to help myself.

“A battery!” Frankie parrots a little livelier this time, smiling over at me as she pushes herself to sit up properly. “You like power them and crap, give them the energy to step off the path, you know?”

I wrinkle my nose, “Never thought of it like that.”

“‘Course not! But that’s why you have me, in’t it?” Fran snipes back, settling her tea down on the coffee table to give me her full focus. “Tell me more about Andrew’s brother then, did he say anything, do anything?”

I sigh whilst shaking my head, saddened by the fact that I now feel as though I have to set my cup down too. Frankie seems to get like this sometimes, where she gets overly excited by the things that intrigue her. When I’d first mentioned all this seeing spirits thing to her- it was only after I’d taken a trip with her to her nan’s house and seen her grandad mowing the grass- I’d still been getting used to the whole change in sight thing and had waved to the old man in the garden as we’d walked by, only realising just after that Frankie's grandad had been dead almost ten years. Fran had been eager to learn more once she’d pestered me enough into coming clean about the whole thing. Not once has she made me regret telling her though.

“He didn’t say anything, just kept looking. Watching.” I tell her truthfully, thinking back to the boy's empty eyes.

“Creepy.”

I chuck a cushion at her for that, which she only narrowly avoids by ducking, it skids across the living room floor and bumps against the tall cabinet we brought home a few weeks ago. “Not creepy, just, he’s dead, Fran. It’s all, well, it's all a little bit creepy but they're still people.”

She just shrugs and gestures for me to continue.

I sigh, “He wouldn’t leave the staircase, even when Andrew came home. Most times ghosts will just carry out their tasks, but sometimes when loved ones are near they’ll deviate and track them instead. This kid just sat there though, watching his mum and brother as he kicked his feet off the skirting-board at the bottom of the stairs."

Frankie hums as she listens, but then pipes up with “Did he die there then, on the staircase maybe?” when I’ve finished and it breaks me from my own train of thought.

“‘Spose so, bit grim to think about though. Could’ve just tripped and fell, hit his head, died instantly.” I reply, chewing on my bottom lip as I fight not to think of any other scenario that could’ve occurred. Fran, on the other hand, is not like that though- meaning, I wouldn’t be surprised if she came home one day and told me she was going to become Wilmslow’s next big detective.

“Could’ve been pushed too, by the dad maybe? He wasn’t much of man, bit too short, too hefty, and had the ugliest mug you'd ever seen- me and mum always wondered how he’d managed to score a pretty thing like Mrs O’Donald.”

I purse my lips and inhale, “Could’ve been any of them if we’re going down that route.”

I feel more than see Frankie still then. “What, you reckon Mrs O’Donald could have done it?”

“Maybe,” I shrug a single shoulder, picking up my mug again. “I mean, she changed so quickly when I was there and I’d only been with her twenty minutes. Never know what could’ve happened behind closed doors.”

“Shit.” Fran murmurs and I almost feel bad when I add, “Could’ve just as easily been Andrew too.” Because her head snaps up so quickly she actually winces.

“What? No. Not Andrew, he’s far too lovely! Even in school he was well liked, everyone wanted to be his mate.” Frankie argues, adamant as she shakes her head. “There’s no way.”

“Okay, didn’t mean to upset you, babe, but I was only mentioning it. Everyone has a story, Fran, have things that they hide, that they don’t want other people to see.”

Frankie shakes her head and releases a heavy breath, sat cross-legged now, “No, I’m not upset. Well I am, but only ‘cause I set you up with him- and what does that say about me if he’s a killer!”

I pause entirely at that, before I can’t help the laugh that bubbles up out of my throat, throwing another cushion that does actually hit her this time. “You’re such a fucking self-obsessed twat.”

“Oi!” She immediately retorts, chucking the pillow straight back at me. “I’m not, but just- could you imagine? I’d have to rethink my entire life!”

I roll my eyes, “You’re such a drama queen.”

“And you, my dear, are in dire need of a good shag. So I apologise that I’m the only one here with their head screwed on straight.” She stretches over the settee to grab at her cup, wrinkling her nose when she finds it to now be cold, though she still drinks it. “But at least we can rule Andy out now, even if he didn’t push his brother down the stairs I don’t think he’ll be wanting to see you again.”

“Oh ta, Fran. I’m a catch, thank you very much.” I snark, all bark and no bite. “But yeah, glad we can put all this shit behind us now.”

“Um, no. That is not what I said. Now it just means that we can move onto the next guy on the list!”

“List?!” I squawk indignantly, Frankie just grins all shark like.

“Huh, I figured you would have worked that out by now. You’ve been here seven months, babe, so that means I’ve had thirty something weeks to work out a catalogue of people who might have yet to catch your eye.”

“Frankie.” I warn.

But she just keeps on grinning, the cow. “You can thank me for it later.”

And she leaves it at that, pushing up off the sofa to stand and make her way back into the kitchen, “Fancy another?” She asks me with her raised mug in hand. I huff but ultimately nod, not looking forward to this charade she’s been apparently been planning in her head for months now.

It’s a couple days later and the dust has barely settled when Fran asks me to meet up with her in this local coffee shop just off the main street in town. It’s her absolute favourite, she used to frequent it all the time up until her ex from college got a job there, but according to the rumour mill he apparently just got the sack after having been caught selling on the side- “coffee and a baggie, please and thanks.” Anyway, Frankie had been over the moon to hear about it and had popped in first chance she got, came home grinning that same afternoon with a latte in hand and a lemon loaf to share in the other.

The loaf was to die for though, so I couldn’t blame her for the ruthlessness and understood why she was so keen to meet up there. I only wished she’d given me a bit more notice, I’d been halfway through researching a little more into the O’Donalds- because I could never seem to let anything go- that I’d barely even had the chance to run a brush through my hair. Still, I managed to make it in time and found myself smiling as I pushed through the door to the shop, a warmth wafting over me.

My eyes scan the crowd first, it’s not busy, only a handful of people litter the open space, but the cafe’s really welcoming, makes it feel like a place you can come to hideaway, what with all the dim lighting and wood furnishing. I step in further but can’t seem to catch sight of Fran just yet, so I pull out my phone to shoot her a text, figuring I can just order while I wait. Only, she’s apparently already beat me to it, texted I mean, telling me that she won’t be able to make it, that something came up, and then practically demanding me to stay and try the place out.

It’s a heavy sigh that I let go of as I send her off a quick reply and tuck my phone back into my pocket, feeling a little miffed about the fact that she’d forced me out of the flat only to bail at the very last second.

“You alright?”

I blink at the sudden voice and instinctively glance up to find its owner, a curly haired male leaning against the shop’s counter looks me over with the beginnings of a smile.

My brows shoot up on their own accord and I glance over my shoulder to make sure that he’s actually talking to me, which seemingly makes him laugh.

“Yeah, I meant you there, Dottie.” He says and when I look back over he’s sporting a proper grin.

I frown at the gifted name and tilt my head down in confusion to peer at the outfit I’d chosen, “What?”

“Your scarf.” He tells me with a jerk of his chin, gesturing towards the silk square I’d used to tie my hair back only half an hour earlier. Instantly I reach up to touch it whilst he merely smirks, sharp eyes still trained on me.

“Oh, um. Yeah I’m alright, why?”

He simply shrugs and it’s with that gesture that I catch sight of the guitar case behind him, it’s a similar colour to that of his eyes but covered in an array of stickers and pins. “Look like you’ve been stood up or something, face is all... sad.”

I can’t help the airy chuckle that escapes me, he’s hit the nail on the head there. “Not sad, more like pissed off.” I shoot back and step closer to the counter to get a better look at what they’ve got to offer. I’m already here, so who would it hurt if I grabbed myself a treat?

“Ah, so you were stood up then!”

I turn my head towards him now that we’re standing more in line with one another, his hip resting against the display case, me facing the chalked boards. “Could say that. Was meant to be meeting my flatmate here, but turns out she couldn’t make it.”

He hums, pursing his lips a tad as he watches me and I just let him, looking back up towards the menu- only, it’d be much easier to see if I was wearing my glasses. Hated the things though, made me look all square, like my head was too big for my shoulders or something. Stupid, I know. But I suppose I was just that vain.

Frankie would laugh about it if she were actually here, I think, already knowing about the blur I’d been met with.

“You work here then?” I quiz the guy, figuring I could either just get a simple breakfast tea or… “Know what’s best to get?”

At my question, he seems to shift so that he’s truly facing me and I note the wooden stirrer he’s holding between his teeth, as well as the way his eyes flitter across my face. “Don’t work here, no. Just waiting for my mate to finish up with his shift, though I am in here enough to know that the honey bee cortado is an actual, honest to God, blessing.”

“That so?”

That smile of his widens, his stare relentless even as a tall, curly haired boy clad in a green apron wanders in from the back.

“G, make this girl one of your specials, will you?” He says to the barista, or ‘G’ rather, who doesn’t even bat an eye at the ask, so I’m guessing that this is a usual thing. “That’s George, by the way,” The stranger beside me states, “And I’m Matty.” Weirdly he extends a hand out to me with that and I feel mostly amused as I reach out to take it, shaking his with a smile that can’t be helped.

“Y/n.” I return.

Matty hisses between clenched teeth, looking as though my name has actually injured him somehow, my hand still cradled in his. “Nah, sorry, can’t get behind that. Don’t suit you.” He flashes a quick glance over his shoulder at the barista or well, said mate George, “Doesn’t suit her does it, G?”

“Don’t suit her.” George answers with a minute shake of his head, fiddling away with the coffee machine. His tone’s gruff, matches his stoney exterior a bit, but I can see the small curve of his mouth as he flicks a lever.

“See?” Matty practically beams, extending the hand not holding mine outwards to further exaggerate his point. “Dottie though, I like that.”

“Makes me sound like an old woman.” I huff, wrinkling my nose enough that my brows crowd towards one another.

“And still, you set my heart racing, darling.” He swoons theatrically and I can’t not roll my eyes at him before glancing downwards once more.

“You gonna gimme my hand back anytime soon, or?” I ask and Matty seems to realise then that he’s still in fact got my hand held in his, but that revelation only has him grinning harder and he moves to swing the joint pair between us both. He’s far too sure of himself, I deem.

“Nah, been chilly all morning, ain’t it? So I reckon I’m doing you a favour by warming you up.”

I raise a single brow- yup, what a cocky little shit. “Could always order yourself a brew if you’re cold.”

He pulls a face at my suggestion, “Wouldn’t feel the same though, would it?”

“Well, it looks as though you’re times up anyway, seems George here has just finished with my drink.” I reply, smiling as I move to step away, but Matty holds strong, leaving his guitar case to lean against the counter alone while he follows after me. I chuckle, shaking my head at him, “You always this needy?”

Matty hums but he’s nothing if not persistent, “Might be. Why, would that put you off?”

I narrow my eyes at him but turn to grab at the mug George has pushed onto the counter. “Might do.” I say, unable to help myself, “But sweaty palms do, and I also need my hand free to pay for this.”

Matty’s chocolate coloured eyes drop down to my mug and then back up to George, who’s stood waiting patiently by the till. “I’ll get it.” He suddenly tells me and then immediately starts riffling through his coat pocket. I blink, look between both him and George, who still appears as though this is nothing to be surprised about, and it’s only when Matty withdraws a crumpled fiver from his back pocket do I find my voice.

“You’re fine! It’s alright, I can get it, honest. But thanks.”

Matty waves me off, awkwardly what with him still holding both my hand and the newly acclaimed five pound note, then rolls his eyes at my rambling, “Nah honestly, I’ve got it. Least I can do for forcing you to put up with G’s crappy coffee.”

George just snorts, snatching the fiver from his mate’s hand, while I purse my lips slightly, “I thought you claimed it to be an honest to a God blessing? If this is shit, I’m holding you accountable.”

“Ignore him, it’s instinctual for him to be a twat.” George sighs as he closes up the till, Matty’s brow furrows.

“Oi firstly, you’re the twat. And secondly, where’s my change?”

“In my tip jar.” George is quick to retort, forcing a pleased grin for his friend before he’s walking his way back through the door he came from, “I’ll be two minutes, yeah? And you’d better be ready to leave ‘cause I’m not dealing with Adam’s bitching again.”

Matty just tuts and I realise that now it’s just him and I in a shop full of people who’ve been watching this entire exchange. “Ignore him,” He tells me, “Well, don’t. Adam will definitely be pissed if we’re late, but a couple minutes for you won’t hurt anybody.”

I just shake my head, hoping to hide my smile as I pick up the recently brewed coffee to take a sip. It turns out that as well as being an arrogant prat, Matty is also a liar, because the drink is heaven sent and I prove it with the soft sigh that falls from my lips. “Fuck, that’s really good.”

When I glance back up I’m only a tad embarrassed by my reaction when I see Matty’s cheeky smirk, even more so when he wets his bottom lip and I have to force myself to look away.

“G’s known for his coffee around here, should see the Yelp reviews from the yummy mummy’s that stop in after dropping their kids off at playgroup- we actually spent an entire night reading through them once, taking shots every time G cringed.” Matty reveals with a conspiratorial grin and he seems to delight in hearing me laugh.

“I can almost imagine it.”

He hums, this low thing that resonates from deep within, “Should join us one time.”

“Us?”

When Matty nods his whole body moves with it, as though the rest of him disdains the thought of being left idle, the thought makes me smile. “Yeah, got this band. Four of us, me and a few mates. Should come see us rehearse, if you’re up for it.”

I squint back at him, not refusing the offer but wondering over it. “We’ve only just met, what if this is all a plan to lure me into your music obsessed cult?”

“Well, if it’s a cult, it’s a fucking small one. But I don’t think we’ll be Britain’s next Manson family so I reckon you’ll be alright.” Matty quips back and I just nod, taking another sip to hide my growing grin.

“You do this a lot, don’t you?” I can’t help but say, and at the tilt of Matty’s questioning head I carry on, “Flirt and hope you can rope some poor girl into bed by saying you’re in a band. Play ‘em a few chords and flash that smile, not that I’d blame them.”

Matty appears to take it in stride though and doesn’t even comment on the assumption, “And why wouldn’t you blame them? Is it the charming smile, or am I just that fit?”

I snort, then cover my mouth to keep myself from spitting out the sip I’d taken, only a little ashamed by the noise I’d just made. “No, think it’s more down to the fact that you’ve still to let go of my hand. Reckon even if I say no, you’ll still find a way to drag me along with you.”

“Ah, how you wound me, darling!” And our connected palms start swaying again, I realise in the next moment, after having looked down, that Matty’s closed the distance between us even further. I startle only slightly when my eyes lock right onto his. “So, how about it then? You coming or staying?”

And just as I’m about to reply, biting back the smile that wants to overwhelm my face, do I see him again. Just out of the corner of my eye. The flicker of a face pressed up against the shop’s window. I still instantly and the cup slips from my hand.

The boy, it’s the O’Donald boy and he's staring right back at me.

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samshogwarts · 3 years

Text

My review of 2020

Or: I say thank you.

First of all, sorry for the long post 😅. You guys know I don'tike long posts without a "read more under the line". But I nade the post with my mobile phone.... Aaaaaaaanyway. Also sorry for all the tags. I hope I don't annoyed someone with it <~<. So let's continue:

I think this year has been a particularly difficult year for everyone. As 2020 is drawing to a close, I mentally let the year pass again.

The bottom line is that I have to say that 2020 was turbulent for me, but not necessarily bad. Much good, but also bad, has happened. And I want to start with the bad things right away.

At the beginning of the year, my depression and eating disorder relapsed. I've always had trouble talking about it because I know my friends can't handle this issue. I felt pressured because they wanted to do things with me, but I couldn't. So I withdrew completely, hiding my emotions and wearing a mask.

At that time I created this blog. At first I didn't want to create my own content, just follow the content of @ladycibia, @hogwartsmystory and @kyril-hphm. Incidentally, that is also the reason why I call these 3 blogs the Big Three. So it's their fault that I'm here. Lol.

And then the first Hyops message came at the end of March. A very good friend of mine got Corvid-19 and lost the battle against the disease a few days later. I still remember how the news pulled the floor from under my feet. It feels like I completely lost faith in everything and I started to realize how dangerous this year could be.

But life goes on and so I visited a friend and her family in early July. It was the anniversary of her husband's death, who was also a very good friend of mine. He died of cancer last year and I couldn't go to his funeral. So I wanted to stop by on the day he died. I actually thought I could do it. But when you read a friend's name on a tombstone for the first time.. Guys, that's a punch in the stomach like no other and I can't really describe how it feels. I had made up my mind not to cry in front of his wife or children because it was hard enough for them. Didn't work.

And of course this year meant to go one better.

Another friend of mine died of the virus in mid-August, leaving behind a wife and a child. Again, I was unable to attend the funeral. And to be honest, it still bothers me way more I want to admit. In two years I lost three wonderful people who meant a lot to me and I couldn't say goodbye to any of them. When I see the three of them again after my death, you can be sure I'll kick their butts for it.

But August was the worst month for me in many ways. In addition to the death of my buddy, my father's family also volunteered. And that means only one thing - trouble. And properly. I haven't had contact with this family for over 12 years for good reason. Now one person from this family has passed away. And first of all, I don't really care if anyone of them would die. I don't even know the person who passed away. But I wasn't told either by my grandmother or my father. So my deadline to cancel the inheritance has expired. Of course it was debts. You have to know that the inheritance rights of my country are very complicated. The reason my father or grandmother didn't tell me about it was because they didn't want to bother with the paperwork. They always had the opportunity to contact me via Facebook or my half-sister. But that would mean work for them. And while I was walking from lawyer to lawyer to court to court, I was allowed to hear sayings from my grandmother that I apparently have achieved nothing in my life. Nice to know that some people never change. I'm still struggling with this matter to this day and will probably not be able to fully clarify this until the beginning of 2021.

At the end of October everything seemed to be taking its revenge and I passed out at a friend's house. Nobody knows exactly what happened until today, but my friend took me to the hospital where I had to stay one night. That was Halloween. And I'm such a big fan of hospitals hahahaha hahahaha. After that I was allowed to wear an ECG for 2 weeks and it turned out that my heart values had deteriorated. Why not. Let's just take everything with us this year!

Rounding out the negatives this year was my (as a teenager) best friend's suicide. I have to say that I haven't had any contact with this person for 9 years. However, it is the one who cut herself in her youth and then called me afterwards because she didn't know what to do. It was also the one I tried to get into therapy for 2 years. But her mother was always against it. And it was exactly this mother who was standing in my mother's shop, telling her about her daughter's suicide and that I was probably in the farewell letter. I don't know exactly what it said, but the mother now blames me for her daughter's suicide. And do you know what's craziest about the whole thing? I agreed with her! I really thought it was my fault because I knew how sick my former friend was. Yet I was the one who ended the friendship (for many reasons that had nothing to do with her depression). And I still wonder what would have happened if I had acted differently.

But enough of the negative things! A lot of nice things happened this year too. Among other things, I have found a new job within my group, earn more money and have pleasant working hours. I've renovated my apartment and I've started saving money on a new one. My two nieces are now going to school and I am a proud aunt. My male best friend and his girlfriend (my best harry potter friend) are pregnant and are expecting their first child soon and my mother's health is better.

But one of the best things that happened to me this year is this blog.

I already mentioned that I actually only created this blog to stalk the Big Three. I didn't want my own content at all. But I discovered more and more blogs and these incredibly great MCs that I thought I wanted to do whole too. And so Samantha O'Connell was born.

I received so much great support and encouragement on this platform. I don't think many people even realize how much that means to me. Especially this year.

I have also found great and lovable people here, some of whom I also call my friends. Even if we come from other countries, speak other languages and may never see each other in real life, you are my friends and I am grateful to know you.

@annabelle-tanaka-official : I'll start with you of course! XD on tumblr you are just my best friend. I don't write as much with anyone as I do with you. You are such an incredibly talented person and so warm hearted! Over the year we have invented so many insiders that soon nobody will know what we mean. Be it the monster hug, or that my cats are your spies or our many RP scenarios, which I really enjoy and which always make me laugh. I thank you for that!! I love you so much and I am so glad that we are friends! *minster hug*

@lunasilvermorny / @lunasilvermore : you are next to you !!! XD the next person I write to almost every day. What started with a little conversation about among us has turned into a friendship. I can't tell you how much I'm looking forward to streaming with you next year (and this year)!!! You are such a good listener that strengthens me. Your support is so nice of you too! Just the fact that you have subscribed to my YouTube channel xD (because of the language I even have an idea). I'm looking forward to the next year with you! Thank you so much for dealing with my craziness and still likes me!

@kyril-hphm : muahahahaha. You can't escape me !!! Yes, what should I say? One of my big three even made friends with me. One of my Senpais noticed me! And then it's a lovely fluffy marshmallow! I still think it's funny that we have such similar circuits and hearts! Nevertheless you are an incredibly honest, loving and talented person. I've never told you before, but sometimes I stare (for 20 minutes +) at your drawings to improve my style (just not working so far). You are an honest person and I am happy every time we talk, or when you react to my content. I would like to say thank you for that too! You are great and you can trust yourself more.

@carewyncromwell : my Chinese fireball, my Disney princess. Yes, for me you exude the aura of a Disney princess and nothing can change my mind. So! You were one of the first friends I made here on tumblr and one of the first to write with me! I still remember how proud and nervous I was back then! Just when I was in the hospital on Halloween and couldn't sleep that night, you kept texting me and distracting me from my fear. That means a lot to me. You are such a creative and lovable person too. Ah, that's just amazing. Your comments or hashtags always make me grin or laugh. Thank you for all your support and help!

@catohphm : my fluffier Ravenclaw brother!!! Of course you can't be missing either. I also write with you almost every day and I thank you from the bottom of my heart for all your kind words and your support. I just love the energy between Samantha and Cato. And it's always fun to write RP with you! Thank you for being such a lovely and kind person!

@mira-shard : MIRAAAAAAA! It's kind of funny how long we've basically walked next to each other without talking to each other. And now I don't want to miss you anymore! You are such a fun and happy person. Writing with you is just fun! I also love your cosplay photos. Someday I'll come to visit you, and then we'll do cosplay shootings together until the camera bleeds! I would also like to thank you for your support and your kindness.

@sirfluffig : ha. I hope you didn't think you were escaping me! Where should I start with you? Maybe that you were one of the first to give me such lovely feedback on Samantha? Or this super funny stream and that you helped me to stream in English? Or just like that, when we talk about our MCs or pen and paper. It's definitely always fun. I want to thank you for that and I'm looking forward to playing together again soon (get Among us)

@nightrhea-hphm : * run into you in slowmotion * Night! My wonderful supportive Gremlin! I've grown very fond of them over the years. And your support and feedback are just amazing. I also love the friendship between Night and Samantha. I think it's very similar to ours, right? You are also such an incredibly creative and lovable person. You make you feel like it's ok to be who you are. Thank you!

Of course there are many, many more like @rosievixen, @wangxianforever000 , @mollydarling-hphm , @morningstarinwinter , @hogwarts9, @hphm-brooke , @raymondhope-writer , @nikyiscreepy , @immagrosscandy , @mizutoyama , @ariparri-hphm and many many more.

I want to thank you all for your encouragement, support and feedback. You are the reasons why I am adding more and more details to this blog, why I dared to start with the fan comic and many more.

It's still so amazing for me to meet so many talented, creative, kind and funny people.

This year showed me again that life isn't just black or white. Life is Grey. Good things and bad things happen. Sometimes one side more than the other side. But as long we are taking the next step, life wl continues. Just keep in mind, as like you support me, I want to support you. So if you ever wanna talk, no matter what, remember you guys can always contact me.

I'm really looking forward to next year and already have so many plans. I can not wait any longer. Enjoy the last days of the year, stay safe and most important: they the way you are guys!

Love you all so much.

#My end of the year thank you #Personal #Ooc #My year 2020 #God my heart beating so fast #Don't know why but these post makes me nervous #Very personal #Cry counter while writing this: 4 #Yeah so adult xD #Like I care #Hope you all enjoyed the Christmas holidays #Love you all #Such a great community #Never saw this before #💙❤️💚💛

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themoonsbeloved · 2 years

Note

Hello! The same anon here as before

First of all, I’m sorry for making it look like I expected you to do the research for me regarding the “blackwashing” as it was more meant to be me not yet understanding how to navigate tumblr efficiently and not finding the info I wanted on my own + I think you are very eloquent and explain your thoughts well in a way that is coherent and enjoyable (the same way a neat handwriting is - you can appreciate how thought out everything is) I asked you in particular because I wrote with poc in mind - I think the topic of whitewashing vs the nonexistent blackwashing has been explained well and thoroughly , it’s other races that I was curious about whether there are different rules since some people treat it like a weird gray area. However, I assume it’s not any different since it is the same action . Personally I’m not an artist of any kind so I’m stumbling a bit through the topic in an attempt to learn but I’m again grateful for your kind, not bashing my ass for being unable to search, answer. Also, I wanted to add that I agree with the comments and I think the photos you posted are lovely and that colour is very flattering :) Have a lovely day

Hey sorry for such a late reply, its just such a big question I had to give myself a few days to figure how I wanna answer this. And its no bother, thank you for the kind words. Half the time I am that person googling if I'm using a word correctly in a sentence and even then I feel I'm not the most eloquent/trying too hard lol...

So basically you mean when people change the race/facial features of a character of colour to look like another? I haven't come across this myself as far as I'm aware, so my take on it might not be credible, but I assume it's complex and depends on context and intention of the artist, I think. We already know there is no sets of physical features attributed to only one 'race' or 'ethnicity' (e.g monolids and straight hair only attributed to East Asians, or curly/coily hair attributed to only Black people, or all South Asians are brown) because realistically human beings are extremely diverse, despite the invention of race introducing the idea to categorise, and ultimately justify the oppression of, certain groups of people based on geographical location and external traits. I mean literally mixed-race people exist, we just can't be confined to one group of physical characteristics. This was really highlighted when doing my final year empirical project, that not everyone identifies themselves by race/ethnicity the way we expect them to.

But on the other hand of course 'skinwashing' can be rooted in power, and historical power over certain people and cultures plays a role in the way we may further enable that erasure of marginalised identities altogether in our art. I do believe that an artist actively and purposefully trying to erase a character of colour's canon race/ethnicity is inappropriate when the context suggests it was done so (whether out of ignorance but privilege or direct hostility) because they did not like the character's canon identity and have underlying biases. But also the artist's identity plays a role too. A Black artist drawing their fave Japanese character as Black doesn't erase East Asians/Japanese people, Black Japanese and EA's exist, and are in fact the ones marginalised and erased. Basically its context and level of appropriateness, like I would be alarmed if a White artist was taking one character of colour and turning them into another race that's not white because I don't trust that shit from them for obvious reasons lol.

Idk, like for me personally I haven't come across an artist of colour intentionally trying to erase a character of colour's identity like that (but again there can be very obvious acts of erasure like antiblackness), we know what it's like to be on the receiving end, and unless you hold power and privilege over them (e.g non-Black artist erasing a Black character's blackness) the need to change their race doesn't pass our minds, I would like to believe that we are mindful and respect their identity. We should take care not to unintentionally contribute to the erasure of marginalised groups as people of colour, but we also may not necessarily hold historical oppression over others like that for it to become a really unneeded debate as everything becomes on tumblr dot com lmao.

#i am open to hearing what other artists have to say obviously #i've never had to think about this because i thought we all just know when not to erase a character's race lol #but its fine the more knowledge we know the better i guess #also i wanna say I'm not the expert or authority in these issues and fanart is already such a niche thing where the character's race #says a lot about how people approach such issues #i personally don't believe its that deep we all kinda know #but again if others have other opinions do express #people of colour only tho

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satanschild01 · 4 years

Text

No All Might? That’s Alright Prt3

Izuku Midoriya Fanfiction

A/N: In all honesty this took me way too long just to finish writing this chapter, but I pushed through so I guess it’s fine. I’ve created a AO3 account recently and I’ve posted all of my previous fanfictions there so if you want to check me out, you can find me as SatansChild

Hope you all stay safe and wear a mask if you can't physically distance.Hope to update soon!

Catch you on the flip side ~ Em

Photo used in this fic was referenced from original picture from anime, I did draw this photo jtlyk

Tags:

@random-fandom-girl-24

Tags for some wonderful feedback😘: @trashys-things @pink-imagines @marvelmymarvel @shikigami-the-paper-spirit @spaced-out-imagines @marvelmymarvelmain @writingfreakk

Trigger warning: Talk about death

Word Count: 2633

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

After making sure all of the blood was no longer on his uniform, Closing his eyes, Izuku steeled himself to walk into the All Might shrine that was his room. Sure, he still wanted to be a hero, and he admired All Might’s strength, but he couldn’t stand to be surrounded by posters and figurines of a man who couldn’t offer any sort of encouragement to a child who clearly needed it. Izuku pulled some cardboard boxes out from his closet and started filling them with everything All Might. Oboro didn’t make a sound during the time he cleaned out his room, which he was grateful for. Even though he could just feel Oboro wanting to ask questions.

“So what are you going to do about all this stuff?” Oboro asked as Izuku changed his All Might sheets with regular black ones “You seem like such a big fan...it just seems like a waste just to keep it all in boxes.”

Izuku shrugged his shoulders.”I’m not much of a fan anymore.” he lied to mostly himself rather than to Oboro, “I guess I’ll just donate the stuff later.” Once his walls were finally bare, Izuku stuffed the now full boxes to the back of his closet and flopped onto his bed. The room stayed silent for a moment until Izuku broke the ice, “I don’t want to intrude on your personal life…but can you tell me about yourself?” he asked

“Well for the fact that I witnessed and helped you with some pretty deep stuff, it sorta would be rude if I didn’t tell you something about my previous life,” Oboro said cheekily

“H-how long have you been...you know…” Izuku paused not really wanting to complete the question.

“...dead?” Izuku nodded “I was in my second year of high school when I died and I would be 29 by now so...close to 12 years I think?” Izuku sat there on his bed frozen

‘12 years is a long time to be a ghost or spirit to not have passed on, that is if people actually pass onto another place once they die’ Izuku thought to himself

“I was patrolling around Tasomiya Ward with one of my best friends when there was a villain attack...I was working on saving some kids when debris fell on top of me...when I woke up I was like how I am now, I couldn’t find my body anywhere so I just...travelled around…” Oboro seemed to quiet down at mentioning that he never found his body to move onto another life, so Izuku thought of ways to change the current mood of the room.

“So you were a hero in training or something?” he asked, face full of wonder, Oboro hummed in affirmation “What school did you go to?”

“I went to U.A”

“Wait really?!” Izuku exclaimed excitedly, “that's so cool!”

They continued talking and asking questions back and forth, before falling into a comfortable silence. A few minutes past before Izuku took a deep breath

“I...I’m sorry,” Izuku said quietly, slowly curling into himself

"Why would you be sorry kid?" Oboro’s voice was full of confusion. But Izuku only curled in on himself further.

"If it wasn't for me you wouldn't be stuck here." As if anyone wanted to be bound to some stupid Deku...like him. And here he thought it was a whole coincidence that Oboro was with him. But instead, he just took whatever type of freedom he had to begin with.

"Hey, no! Stop that. Izuku that's not true! I'm here because I want to be!" The warmth spread all over him and he couldn't help but lean into it. “I said I'd make a hero out of you and I still plan on it."

Izuku looked up only to see the ceiling of his room, lifting his arm up to the sky and let it just float there (like what every kid does while laying on there bed contemplating on what to do next). "I wish I could see you again."

Oboro hummed. Seeming to think something through. "I don’t think there’s much out there since I was only a second-year when I died, but there could be some photos of me with friends or an article"

Izuku seemed to take that as a challenge as he went to his computer. "What did you choose to be your hero name?"

"Loud Cloud."

After scouring the web for a couple of minutes nothing showed up except for an old article from the Nikkei Shimbun newspaper, reporting the death of hero-in-training Loud Cloud. Izuku quickly exited that site choosing to search for something different. “What’s your full name Oboro?”

“Oh that’s right I didn’t tell you my full name, it is Oboro Shirakumo” Oboro replied

“Oboroshirikumo...oboroshirikumooo….here!” Izuku exclaimed pointing at the monitor’s screen. “This photo was tagged saying ‘Curry eating competition at U.A’s School Festival. Winner Hizashi Yamada from class 2-A!’ it also says the names of the people in the photo are; Shota Aizawa, Hizashi Yamada, and Oboro Shirakumo.”

“Oh, I remember that!” Oboro cried out laughing “The curry was soo spicy I was freaking out because I couldn’t find anything to soothe my burning throat!”

“So that’s you in the back then?” Izuku asked pointing towards a teenager who seems to be freaking out.

Oboro chuckles “Yep, the other two were my best friends!”

“Yamada looks sorta familiar what’s his hero name?” Izukku asked, curious on why the 16-year-old looked so familiar to him

“Unless he changed it before becoming a pro, which he probably would not, his hero name is Present Mic.”

Izuku sputtered “W-wait you were close friends with THE Present Mic?!” Oboro hummed in agreement while Izuku had his miny freak out “

“Oh my god that is socool!Ilistentohisradioshoweveryday,andhe’ssuchanamazinghero,likeevenifheisdeafduetohisquirkhedoesn’tletitbotherhiman-” He stopped hearing the sound of laughter coming around his room and his lamp flickering

"Aw jeez, that’s amazing Hizashi got to get that radio show he wanted." There was a quick blast of warmth flooding around his back and chest resembling a hug. "Well anyway, you should probably head to bed. You have a busy day ahead of you tomorrow and a long way to go before you can have a chance at being accepted into UA!"

"What are you going to do while I sleep?" Izuku asked, eyes slowly drooping.

"I'm going to see how far I can go without being next to you, and have a look around and exploring a bit. No need to worry. I'll make sure to be careful and be here in the morning." He seemed to pick up on his anxieties. Izuku felt warmth as Oboro slowly pet his hair back. "Goodnight, Izuku."

The next morning Izuku woke up to warmth pulsing on his right cheek. "Hey kid it’s time to get up! You have training to do! Up and at ‘em!" Oboro’s voice was overly joyful and Izuku felt very unwilling to get out of bed.

"Mm...just a bit longeeeer." He groaned turning himself over facing away from where he guesses Oboro is standing (floating?).

"Fair warning Izuku my jokes are terrible, everyone at school would always runaway once I started and I haven’t been able to talk to actual people in so long! If spaghetti were to have it’s own action movie, what would it be called?.... Mission im-pasta-ble. What did the pot eat on it’s birthday?....pancakes. What do you call a camel in a drought?....A dry hu- "

Finally, Izuku jerked up, covering his ears. “Okay. Okay, I’m up! No need to finish that.” His face started to burn a light pink across his face, (knowing what the end of the joke was) as he started to kick the blankets off only to turn towards the window and see barely any light outside. "Wha- Oboro!! The sun isn’t even out yet!"

He turned glaring into thin air hoping to make contact with him.

"Yes, it is, Izu. It's just reeeally early in the morning. There is plenty of time for you to get ready and eat before we go out for a morning run!" He was being weirdly energetic about the whole ordeal, but Izuku knew he wouldn't take no for an answer.

Heading to the bathroom, Izuku ran a brush through his wild curly hair and brushed his teeth. Going back to his room, Obroro pipped up. "It's a bit cool outside so I suggest you wear some long sleeves."

The entire way to his closet Izuku muttered incoherent things. In the end, he opted to wear a plain black shorts and a long-sleeved shirt with written kanji saying 'tank-top' with his old dusty sneakers because his red sneakers were still on top of the roof.

Before heading out Izuku ate some toast and an orange. If he got hungry later on their run he could always eat more when they got back. As Izulu started to leave the apartment Izuku tripped over an unmarked box that was just left in front of the door.

"Ooo I wonder what it is!” Oboro seemed quite enthusiastic as Izuku went to open the box revealing his faded red shoes and yellow backpack.

"Wai-how-who found my stuff?" Izuku asked immediately putting the bag by the door and quickly changing between uncomfortable and comfortable shoes.

"I don’t know, when I got back from wandering around the package was just...there."

"Maybe someone found it and found out where I live from my contact info and address was written inside…?” Izuku wondered out loud.

“I guess so,” Oboro said looking to the bright sight of things.

‘But what if it was...All Might. Yeah, I’m glad that I don’t have to go back up there to collect my things but...I don’t want to have to depend on All Might to help me with my own problems.’

“Hey don’t think like that Izu! I know you’re not a huge fan of the guy, but you don’t have to beat yourself down like that. I know you’re better than that” Oboro spoke sternly trying to make a point, but that soon backfired as warmth spread through his body.

“Hold up- could you always hear my thoughts?” Izuku questioned as he started to jog away from the apartment.

“So far I can heat some things. Like your thoughts that way heavily on you emotionally. But it could possibly work to talk to me through your mind. So you don’t look like a freak talking to themselves.” Oboro quickly informs Izuku as to not worry him.

Sighed Izuku. That was true. Though he kept thinking about it as he jogged. As they passed Dagobah Municipal Beach, the sun had started to rise. Taking in a deep breath was the wrong reason as Izuku cringed from the awful smell of garbage. Despite the smell, Izuku took a break, taking a seat at the entrance.

"Oh gross. What is this place?" Oboro asked with a clear sound of disgust in his voice.

"Well," Izuku started."This is Dagobah Municipal Beach Park. It has accumulated trash coming from the sea for years, turning it from a beautiful beach spot into a trash heap for everyone's unwanted or broken belongings." It was really a shame. As a kid, Izuku recalled going to the beach. Lie under a beach umbrella, making sandcastles. But by the time he was tall enough into the water, it was already flooded with trash by then.

"That's terrible." Oboro seemed deeply upset about this actually. It made Izuku want to do something about it. But before Izuku could voice his thoughts Oboro spoke up.

“Hey Izu, could we make a quick visit to a convenience store?”

“Sure...what exactly do you want me to get?” Izuku asked, despite having an idea what Oboro was thinking.

“Well...you’re going to need to get some garbage bags and some gloves.”

Izuku then dashed towards the nearest convenience store with determination in his eyes. A frail-looking lady turned the key to open the doors as he walked by. Causing her to recoil in slight shock, Izuku realized that with his rapid approach he had frightened her. "I'm sorry, ma'am. I'd just come to purchase some garbage bags and some gloves.

The older woman seemed to soften something about his face as she smiled and opened his door. "Sure thing, they’re both in the last aisle on your right."

Before she went inside, Izuku thanked her and smiled back. He quickly found what he was looking for and brought a box of trash bags and a pair of workers gloves onto the counter.

"What's the hurry, son? Why do you need trash bags this early in the morning? You aren't trying to cause trouble are you?" the old woman pointed to Izuku with an accusing finger, and he shook his head quickly.

"Oh no, ma'am! I thought that I could just try and clean the beach up! I passed it while I was on my morning run!" Izuku assured, voicing Oboro’s plan

At this, the elder woman gently smiles while scanning the items. “Wow, is that right?” she said astonished, “ You know how long that place has been a mess? What makes you believe you can do it all by yourself?"

Her words weren't really painful, she was just being realistic. He knew she was right. He certainly had no obligation to clean up the beach. He could have just ignored it and easily went about his day. But he knew if he wanted to be a hero then he would need to start off the roots of how heroes came to be. How they used to work. Heroes in the beginning didn’t do what they did for fame. No. They didn’t care for the recognition they would get. They did it because they just wanted to help.

“That’s the thing, ma’am. I thought that it wouldn’t hurt to try. It’s also a great way to work out, instead of having to buy workout equipment or get a gym membership!” Izuku brightly smiles towards the lady as he handed her the money to buy his items.

“Well, I wish you luck, kid. I’m guessing that you’ll need a place to put the trash you collect.” She stated, Izuku smiling sheepishly at her rubbing the back of his head she continued, “There are two dumpsters in the alley behind the store, they get taken every Monday.”

"Thank you, ma'am!" Izuku said genuinely as he headed for the door. He didn't think too much about how he would dispose of the garbage, so it was good to have one offered.

Oboro began to laugh as Izuku jogged back towards the beach. "Cheaper than having to buy workout equipment or get a gym membership! Man, how true that is nowadays!”

The first garbage bags were packed very quickly. broken bottles, cans of beer, old and rotting newspaper, all of it was poured into the trash bag. Plastic, paper, glass, etc. Izuku could take them to a recycling center! He was already pumped about this new project when Oboro spoke up.

“Hey, Izu, before you toss that into the bag” placing his hand on Izuku’s making him feel warmth blossom closest to the soda, can packaging he was holding in that hand. “make sure you cut each circle so if they end up in wildlife again then animals won’t get their heads stuck inside.”

Izuku's eyes lit up as he started to tear apart each loop before placing it in one of the bags used for recycling. Soon Izuku had used up a quarter of the box of trash bags gone and only had 6x5 feet rectangle cleared of the beach.

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citrinekay · 4 years

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Modern setting. They have been together for a long time now but they haven't come out to the bureau. Holden wants to, but Bill is more reticent. It's not the right time, what if something happens to one of us, what if you don't like me anymore? Holden can't convince him but they love each other so that's more important. There's some company dance or gathering (or something) and Bill decides it's time and has the dj play one of Holden's fav songs and takes Holden's hand and they dance and kiss x

wah this is such a great prompt!!! Also, I’ve never done a modern setting with them before so this was fun! Hope you enjoy :) (and here’s the song I picked for them to dance to.)

“Do you think the tie is too much?” Holden asks, fiddling with the knot as he gazes critically at his reflection in the mirror.

“It’s business casual, Holden.” Bill says, uttering a sigh as he leans back against the headboard of their bed. “Nobody else is going to be wearing a tie.”

Holden groans in frustration and yanks the tie from around his neck.

Taking a drag of his cigarette, Bill suppresses the urge to not roll his eyes. He’s been dressed for fifteen minutes while Holden is still agonizing over what to wear to their department chief’s retirement party. They have this same conversation anytime they go anywhere together whether it’s dinner or the movies. Holden is wildly indecisive about unimportant things like which t-shirt to wear while being unimpeachably decided about a number of other things.

“Just wear a polo.” Bill says, motioning to his own navy blue shirt. “It’ll be fine.”

Holden takes off his button up as he goes back to his closet to consult his choices. He drags his fingers across the row of shirts while he contemplates aloud, “I wonder if Wendy is bringing Kay.”

Bill draws in a deep breath as he dusts some non existent lint from his pant leg. There’s a pointed note in Holden’s voice, a question underlying the innocent pondering. A question they’ve been over only about ten times in the past week. Once Holden gets an idea in his head, it’s difficult for him to let go.

“Probably.” Bill says, “Everyone got a plus one.”

“Including us.” Holden mutters, toying with the sleeve of a black knit sweater.

Bill smashes his spent cigarette in the tray on the nightstand. “Are we really going to have this argument right now? While we’re trying to get ready to go? You’re gonna make us late.”

“Yeah, then everyone would notice that we’re arriving together.” Holden says, turning around to cast him an unperturbed glare.

Bill longs for the days when a gruff tone of voice was enough to smother Holden’s simpering. No longer. They’re in a relationship now, and Holden is unbothered by his frustration, well aware that his bark is worse than his bite.

Not too long ago, he’d been a sergeant in the Army. Where had all his authority gone to?

Bill swings his legs over the edge of the bed and stands with a sigh. “Come on, let’s go. I’m not fighting with you about this right now.”

Holden’s petulant gaze follows him out of the room before cutting back to his closet.

Ten minutes later he’s dressed in a gray pull-over sweater and black slacks. Bill motions him out the door, checking his watch with a flare of annoyance.

Holden scrolls through his phone while Bill drives them to Quantico. Pushing aside his frustrations, Bill reaches a tentative hand across the space between them to touch his knee. Holden laces his fingers through Bill’s, but he doesn’t look up from his cell.

Bill squeezes his fingers around the wheel. He feels like he should apologize for being short, but a flinching part of him hides fiercely behind prickly armor. He’s never outed himself to anyone. While Holden has been out and proud to most of their co-workers since the day they met, Bill has always kept his sexuality a secret. Even after a failed marriage to a woman, it’s difficult for him to look at Holden’s gay friends, a community of proud, loving individuals, without wondering if he’s some kind of fraud. He’d spent the first half of his life trying to live up to antiquated ideals set forth by his family, by the military, by the Bureau, and the idea of identifying to everyone around them that he’s just as gay as Holden and Wendy scares the hell out of him.

But he can’t tell Holden that. He can’t say aloud that he’s scared more than anything else. The relationship is too new and fragile. What if they made their relationship public, and then realized how incompatible they really are? Bill’s cover would be blown forever, and for what?

Bill glances across the car at Holden whose face is illuminated by the blue LED of his cellphone screen. For him.

Holden looks up from his phone. “Wendy just posted on Instagram she’s bringing Kay.”

Bill clenches his jaw. Social media. Yet another affirmation by fire.

“They’re adorable.” Holden observes, holding out the phone so that Bill can see the photo of Kay kissing Wendy’s cheek while Wendy gazes blissfully into the lens.

“Yeah.” Bill says, averting his gaze back to the road.

“You know,” Holden says, after a moment, “Wendy already knows. And probably so does half of the department.”

“What’s your point?”

“My point is that nobody is judging us.” Holden says, “It’s 2019, Bill. People are getting more progressive, believe it or not. All it would really be is signing the consent form and-”

“I don’t want my relationship to be a matter of FBI record.” Bill says, “Is that too much to ask, Holden? That I don’t want to sign some paper saying we’re sleeping together?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t see what the big deal is.” Holden says, “It’s just to avoid sexual harassment law suits. It’s just a precaution. It’s not some big declaration of your love for me.”

Silence settles on the car, and Bill disentangles his hand from Holden’s. His fingers are itching for a cigarette, but Holden complains every time he lights up in the car.

“Okay.” Holden mutters, sounding wounded. “Maybe love was too strong of a word.”

“It isn’t, it’s just-” Bill says, the protest cutting off as his throat knots around the magnitude of honesty.

Holden’s eyes are glazed blue in the flash of streetlamps speeding past them. His mouth purses softly as realization settles across his expression. For once, he shuts his mouth and turns his gaze back to his cellphone.

When they reach Quantico, they walk across the crowded parking lot together. Bill checks his watch, noting that they’re five minutes late.

The party is located in the dining hall where the fully stocked bar is already flowing with a variety of wines and cocktails. Bill makes a beeline for the whiskey while Holden immediately gets pulled into a lively conversation with some of their co-workers about the merits of psychology in horror films.

Bill sips his whiskey in the corner while Holden mingles. He’s better at these shindigs than Bill, and it’s probably for the best that they mostly keep their distance tonight considering the conversation they just had.

Bill swallows back his first drink and goes back to the bar for another. His stomach knots as he replays the discussion in his mind, every word marinating in the pit of fear opening up in the back of his mind. Watching Holden’s animated gesticulating from across the dining hall, he suddenly wonders whether or not he’s being ridiculous. Two other men in the discussion with Holden have their arms wrapped around each other. He wants to know what that feels like, holding onto Holden like he’s a prize deserving of being shown off rather than cowering in the corner for fear that someone might judge him.

“Hey, Bill.” Wendy says, jolting him from his thoughts as she approaches.

Kay is on her heels, fingers wrapped loosely around Wendy’s.

“Hey.” Bill says, “How are you?”

“Good.” Wendy says, leaning in to give him a hug. “You look awfully lonesome standing over here by yourself.”

“They’re discussing horror films.” Bill says, motioning at Holden’s group of friends. “I’m not exactly up to par on the subject.”

Wendy chuckles, “Not a horror film junkie? I’m a little surprised.”

“I was in the Army.” Bill says, “I know what real horror looks like. The fake stuff is just … fake.”

Wendy nods, “I see. Still, I’m sure you would have something to contribute.”

Bill narrows his eyes. “You know I’m not a social butterfly, Wendy. Did Holden say something to you?”

Wendy cocks her head to one side curiously. “About what?”

“Never mind.” Bill says, cutting his glance away.

Half an hour later, the catering service brings out dinner and bottles of champagne. The director makes a speech before wishing everyone a good night. Upbeat pop music thuds over the roar of conversation while the dinner plates are cleared away, and all the party attendees slouch over their cups.

Bill leans back in his chair while Holden braces his elbows on the table, leaning into the conversation with other agents at their table. Bill watches the back of his head, the curve of his spine, his mouth smiling wildly as the alcohol is quick to get him tipsy.

Something warm and humming wraps itself around his ribs, smothering whatever withering fear he’d carried into this evening. Maybe it’s the whiskey or the champagne. Maybe it’s the candlelight, and Holden’s hair gleaming like bronze in the low, yellow light. Maybe it’s his joy and radiance, everything about him that had drawn Bill in like a moth to the flame, forcing him to lay down his insecurities at the threshold of their relationship and plunge ahead with nothing but each other to hold onto. Now all that’s standing in the way is Bill’s stubbornness of a piece of goddamn paper. A signature, a declaration - because truly, that’s what it is.

Across the table, one of the other agents, Jared, is vividly recounting him and his boyfriend’s weekend escapade at the gay strip club. Holden doubles over the table in laughter as the story gets more and more wild, perhaps embellished a bit.

“You should come with us next time.” Jared says, “I know you would be a lot of fun.”

“Ah, I don’t know.” Holden says, running anxious fingers through his hair. “I don’t think my boyfriend would like it.”

Bill shifts uncomfortably in his chair, wondering if the rest of the group can see his face getting unbearably hot.

“I didn’t know you were seeing anyone.” Jared says.

“Yeah, um, it’s kind of new.” Holden says, his tone dwindling. “It’s not like … official or whatever.”

Jared raises his eyebrows. “But he’s already telling you what to do.”

“What, no.” Holden says, sharply. “I’m just being respectful of boundaries.”

“Okay, sure.” Jared says, shrugging. “But you should really come with one of these days. It’s a helluva lot more fun than this party.”

Bill clears his throat. “I’m going to step outside for a cigarette.”

Holden’s gaze cuts sharply over his shoulder, eyes speaking a number of racing questions even as his mouth purses anxiously.

Bill shoves his chair back, and escapes the stifled atmosphere of the party. Outside, the bassline of the music thuds a distant vibration while the blue sky lapses into melted purples and pinks of sunset.

Sliding a cigarette to the corner of his mouth, Bill lights up and draws in a deep breath. Nicotine floods his strung-out veins while Holden’s voice echoes in his mind. It’s not official. Well, that makes it sound like some kind of quick and dirty hookup. Bill flinches at the thought.

He takes his time smoking his cigarette, thinking and vacillating, shivering and pushing aside his fears.

He has a lot to lose. His pride, for one. His standing as a military veteran. His position as a father trying to co-parent with his ex-wife. His own self-identity. It’s all at stake while Holden, already out to the world, has nothing to lose.

The only thing they both stand to lose is each other. The thought strikes him as if it had dropped out of the clear blue sky.

Dropping his cigarette to the ground, Bill turns and marches back into the dining hall.

The music has quieted down as couples migrate to the open floor at the middle to slow dance in muted, half-drunk intimacy. Piano notes tinkle across the speakers just before the Penguins begin to croon “Earth Angel.”

Bill scans the room for Holden, quickly picking him out of the crowd. He shoulders his way past clusters of agents and department heads, muttering apologies in his haste. As he approaches, Holden glances up from his conversation, and their eyes meet from across the room.

Holden’s wide blue eyes regard him with a faint frustration that quickly melts into hopeful longing when he sees the look on Bill’s face. His mouth slips partially open, tongue running anxiously across his lower lip.

Bill jolts back into motion. Closing the few yards of distance between them, he shoulders his way into the circle of Holden’s friends.

“Excuse me.” He mutters, ignoring Jared’s glare of disbelief as he grabs Holden’s hand.

“Bill-” Holden begins, his tone colored with surprise.

“Can I have this dance?” Bill asks, nodding at the floor where half a dozen other couples are wrapped in warm embraces.

Holden blinks in shock for a moment before a smile creeps at the corner of his mouth, quickly evolving into a excited grin.

“Yes.” He says, fingers wrapping around Bill’s. “Yes, you can.”

Grasping tightly on Holden’s hand, Bill leads them away from the group, all of whom are standing still with their mouths open in growing disbelief. As they reach the dance floor, Bill hears one of them break the silence with a shout of encouragement.

“Are you sure about this?” Holden asks as Bill pulls him around against his chest.

“No.” Bill says, reaching down to grab Holden’s hand, and bring it up into position.

“I don’t know how to dance. Do you?”

“It’s slow dancing.” Bill says, tightening his palm against Holden’s lower back. “Here, just lean against me and sway. That’s all there is to it.”

“That’s all there is to it?” Holden echoes, his mouth tipping with mild amusement.

“Hey, you can gloat later.” Bill says, “Just let me have this.”

“Okay.” Holden says, leaning in closer.

He nudges his nose hesitantly against Bill’s, asking for yet another boundary to be crossed.

Ignoring the stares of people around them, Bill leans in to place a chaste kiss against Holden’s questing mouth.

Holden closes his eyes, humming a sigh of relief.

Bill chuckles a small, choked laugh. He buries his face in Holden’s neck, hiding the sting of tears in his eyes. Holden’s body leans into him, so close that he can feel the beats of their hearts connecting. The music swells over the speakers: Earth angel, earth angel. I’m just a fool in love. In this moment, Bill doesn’t care whether he looks like a fool or not - to himself, to their co-workers, hell even their bosses. Maybe he’ll wake up tomorrow still afraid of what signing some silly relationship disclosure form means, but for tonight, this dance is declaration enough.

#bill x holden #mindhunter #my writing #rominatrix

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