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crescentsteel · 3 years

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Keeping a Secret - Part 2

pairing: Tsukishima x f!manager of Sendai Frogs genre: sexual tension/crack/fluff/slow burn warnings: lots of swear words, tsukki being a a closet softie wc: 6k (lol no chill as always)

[a/n]

Sorry for the delayed update. I added almost 1k words just to solidify the characters to give depth even more to the story. Feel free to reread. (It's totally not because I started a different series altogether.)

When I say this is slow burn, I meant sloooooooowww burn.

Let me know if you want to be part of the taglist. :)

AO3

Part 1 || Part 3 || masterlist

What were you even thinking? Actually, why weren’t you? Had you used at least two brain cells of yours, you wouldn’t have momentarily lost your mind and kissed Tsukishima. You could’ve justified your actions if you were drunk, but you ingested not even an ounce of alcohol that night.

History will remember yesterday as the day a a sober you and a very displeased Tsukishima who found yourselves smooching publicly in the middle of a club. You’re just glad that no other member of the team goes to the same university you both go to. Else, you'd run the risk of getting seen.

Were so touch-deprived that you couldn’t resist even Tsukishima? And what about him? Why did he get along with it? You don’t think he actually hates you. Hate is such a strong word. He just exceedingly dislikes you. So why would he make out with you? Maybe he thought of it as a way of finally standing up to you?

Ugh.

You’re thankful that you didn’t have training yesterday. You were a mess the whole day trying to make sense of what happened. Not that you’re any better today; you’re still baffled as fuck. But you’re glad you had that day off so you wouldn’t have to face him immediately.

For the first time ever, you’re dreading going to the gym. Even if you’re tired or you lack sleep, you’ve never felt distressed as the manager of the Sendai Frogs. All this because of Tsukishima. But can you really put the blame on him when it was you who initiated it?

“Good morning, y/n,” Eiji, the captain of the team greets you.

“Morning, Eiji,” you say back. Even though he’s older than you, you dropped the salutations already, same with everybody else.

“You okay?” he asks worriedly.

“Oh! Yeah, absolutely! When am I ever not okay?” You toughen it up and erase the troublesome kiss in your head. You are their ever shining manager, first and foremost. Anything outside of that has no place in this gym.

“Never. It’s almost scary actually,” he answers with jest.

“Right? ‘Cause I’m a freaking goddess.”

He gives you a noble bow. “Indeed, you are, my lady.”

You giggle softly. Your players really are the best on and off the court (except for Tsukishima). “Go do your drills instead of buttering me up, ‘captain.’” He gives you a mock salute then jogs off towards the net.

“Y/n!”

You saunter off to your coach after you were called. “Yes, Coach?”

“Can you help tape the blockers?” You nod willingly, quickly discarding unnecessary thoughts of Tsukishima.

“Tsukishima’s free. Go start with him.”

You almost flinch upon hearing his name.

‘Great,’ you groan internally as you get the wrap from your kit and drag your feet toward the source of your uneasiness. But what did you expect? Of course, you’d have to deal with him sooner or later.

“Morning, Tsukishima,” you greet him with forced normalcy, acting like nothing’s wrong. As you take his left hand and you’re instantly reminded of what happened the other night -- how this hand gripped your waist while his mouth moved against yours… how his skin felt against the palm of your hand as he towered over you, body against body in a dance so dangerous and so hypnotizing that you lost yourself in the moment.

You tried your best to calm down yesterday, but seeing him right now makes you want to smack yourself from your momentary insanity that led you to kiss him.

Instead, you give him the nicest, brightest smile to channel your frustrations as you start taping his fingers. You just hope and pray that he doesn’t bring it up.

“Morning, manager .” It was an indirect jab at you. Even when he says it with a dead tone, you know he’s taunting you by addressing you as manager - a tortuous reminder that what happened last Saturday night wasn’t forgotten.

Instead of yielding to the provocation, you respond with your own. You might have messed up, but you’re not letting him get the upper hand. “How was your weekend, Tsukki?”

“Horrible,” he quickly answers without even thinking.

“Ditto. What happened to yours?” you ask with fake curiosity, already knowing why. Even if you didn’t kiss him then, he was already acting up like an angsty teen forced by his mom to attend a children’s party within the neighborhood.

“Went to a disgusting party.”

You nod pretentiously. “Mine’s horrible too. I got g-”

“I didn’t ask,” he interrupts.

“Well, you’re still going to hear it,” you respond just as distastefully as he cut you off. “I got groped by some perv, but I kinda punched some good manners unto him.” You release his left hand and take his right one to tape it as well.

“And?” He asks.

You shrug your shoulders. “That’s it. After that, I just went home from how horrible the experience was.”

You look up to him, meeting his sardonic gaze paired with a raised eyebrow from what you just said. You know that he understood that you were referring to something else other than the perv incident as horrible.

“How about you? What happened to that disgusting party of yours?” you press on.

“I bumped into someone I didn’t really want to see.”

“And?”

“Do you really wanna know how horrible it was for me?” A smirk creeps up on the corner of his mouth as he asks. There were many times before that you’ve wanted a taste of Tsukishima’s vile sarcasm, just to know what he’d say to you. Today is not one of those times. You don’t want him using that reckless kiss against you.

“Actually, no. I don’t really care.” You let go of his hand you just finished working with and look around to look for anyone you could use as a distraction from Tsukishima’s attempt to retell the kiss from his perspective.

“Kogane!” you brightly call the setter as you bounce cheerfully towards him.

Even if you don’t show it, Tsukishima knows he’s gotten under your previously impenetrable thick skin. He detests what happened last Saturday. The more he remembers it, the more he abhors it. The only reason he’s not totally hating himself for getting swept along with your shit is because he knows you hated it too, probably more than he does since it was you who kissed him first.

His smug grin only spreads when you march to Kogane with that cutesy act you only show to players from opposing teams to unsettle them before matches. You take both Kogane’s hands and beam at him. “Do you want me to tape your fingers?”

“Y-you don’t have to, y/n. I can do it myself!” Kogane blurts out, panicking at your sudden closeness and physical touch.

“But I love taking care of you guys,” you pout at Kogane, which only makes the setter blush a shade almost close to red.

Tsukishima follows you to help his babbling, flustered teammate.

“You’re going to kill him, y/n,” he says as he passes by you and Kogane who now looks like he stopped functioning.

You blink at Kogane, realizing what you’re doing to the poor guy.

You must have been really bothered by Tsukishima and unknowingly projected it to someone else.

Tsukishima sneers as he sees you try to ease Kogane from his severe fluster but only make it worse by rubbing his shoulders.

A dash of pride and satisfaction swells on Tsukishima’s chest as he watches you get agitated with the situation you, yourself caused. Getting back at you feels even better than he imagined it would be.

Even though you and Tsukishima are in the same class, you don’t really notice his presence. Sometimes you’d even forget you’re classmates. Now, though, you are more aware of the fact that he’s actually there than you ever have.

“Alright, class. For your main project this semester, I’m going to have you partnered up. You need to come up with a comprehensive report on mating behavior of reptiles. I’ll randomly generate your assigned reptile.”

You groan. Another collaborative work in the same subject. You don’t like working with others because you don’t want to adapt to anyone’s schedule. You like to get things done ahead of time. You hate procrastinating because you don’t want your uni requirements getting mixed up with potential tasks from your managerial job, especially whenever tournament seasons come.

The last collaborative work you worked on is a group project where you did most of the work yourself. You wouldn’t have minded if you didn’t have fucking freeloaders as groupmates. The little shits made you do 90% of the project because you wanted it done early.

You just pray that this time, you get to be paired with someone responsible. You tap your pen on your desk while you wait for your name to be called.

“L/n and Tsukishima.”

You drop your pen at your professor’s announcement. It bounces twice on your desk before rolling to the floor, but you don’t move to pick it up. Your gaze immediately flies to where Tsukishima is seated and find him glaring at you already. You almost want to laugh at how ridiculous this entire situation is.

Seriously? Were you a serial killer in your previous life or something? Did some higher power decide to punish you for your grave sins like this?

Whatever. You’re not having any of this shit.

You wait until the class is over and approach your professor. “Sir. I’d like to do this project alone.” Or at least with someone else.

He continues to type something on his laptop, not bothering to look up at you, as he asks, “Why is that?”

“I just feel more comfortable doing things on my own, Sir. Please.” You try to give him your nice student smile but his eyes don't leave his screen.

“Then what? Have you increase my workload?”

Shit. You forgot that this particular professor of yours is known to not budge to anyone. You scramble your brain for another excuse.

“Sir. Can I do this project alone?” you suddenly hear Tsukihima’s voice behind you.

Finally, your professor closes his laptop and eyes you two unenthusiastically. “My answer is no to miss Y/n, so my answer to you, Mr. Tsukishima, is also no. I don’t know what the deal is between you two, but you’re doing this together.”

You can’t help but scowl despite being right in front of your professor. If it wasn’t for that darn kiss, you would’ve loved working with Tsukishima. Even though you don’t have the same classes, his schedule won’t be that hard to match up with because you two have the same training days. Secondly, he’s smart. You won’t have to carry the whole weight of the project.

“You know what, I’ll reconsider.” A glimmer of hope lights up in your chest as you hear your professor’s words. “I’ll allow you two to work individually — but with an automatic ten point deduction for this project.”

“No,” you and Tsukishima respond at the same time.

“Great! You’re already getting along swimmingly.” Your professor picks up his stuff and stands up. “Enjoy,” he waves a dismissive goodbye and leaves.

You slowly turn around to face Tsukishima and find that you share the same lour that he has. You cross your arms and lean on your professor’s desk. “Guess we’re together, Tsukishima.”

You allowed yourself one week to compose yourself before you agreed to start the project with Tsukishima. You still saw him at training days, and even then, you tried to have the least amount of interaction with him so the ‘incident’ wouldn’t be brought up again. Meeting him for a project where it’s just you two is different and you needed time.

As much as you don’t want to be with him, you told yourself that it’ll be over soon. You just pushed the kiss in the back of your head and convinced yourself that it was just a stupid kiss. It didn’t mean anything. He probably just went along with it out of spite, so it’s best you think of it as a spur of the moment madness. That way, you won’t be bothered if he sordidly brings it up again. At least now, you can go back to your usual, cheeky self around him.

You’re about to text Tsukishima that you’ve arrived at the station you agreed to meet up at but you already see him there standing while he’s scrolling his phone with his usual white headphones on.

Unfortunately for you and him, the reptile assigned to you two are crocodiles. It’s the worst possible assignment you could get among the roster of reptiles assigned. You need to travel all the way to Wakabayashi for a legitimate crocodile farm to observe, compared to other reptiles which are easily accessible with nearby zoos in Miyagi. You just pray that you’ll only need this one trip to get all the data you need for your report.

You walk towards him and instantly regard how he looks. Despite being in the same university, you don’t see him around much. Even in your sole class together, you’re seated way too apart from each other to even look at each other’s direction. Not that being seated beside each other would’ve made a difference. You’re not friends. There’s no need to talk to him since everything that’s volleyball-related is relayed through line. To you, he’s just one of your players. As far as you’re concerned, the only Tsukishima you’re aware of is the one sweating his white shirt and training shorts during practice.

To have this much involvement with him outside the gym is throwing you out of your usual loop. You continue studying him at a distance. Today he’s wearing white plaid pants, black turtleneck (probably long sleeves) with a lighter shade of black coat on top, and a brown wool scarf. He also has a gray bonnet that makes his blonde locks frame his face nicely.

What the heck? Did he always dress like this even in class? How come you never noticed?

He finally notices you. He puts down his phone and removes his headphones. “How long have you been there?”

“Wow, Tsukishima. You look kinda hot,” you blurt out without thinking.

His eyes expand at your statement that came out of nowhere. “Huh?!”

“Oh, sorry. That must’ve been random. But you look really good though. I kinda feel like I’m meeting a date,” you say with objective candor as you continue to stare at him.

That catches him completely off guard. The other day you’re on the edge around him. You weren’t even paying much attention to him during training, but now you’re back to being a headache whose mouth knows no bounds as you faze him with your unfiltered thoughts. Now, it’s him who is uncomfortable again with your thorough eyes scanning him approvingly.

“As if I’d ever date you,” he snaps back at your remark to which you scoff at.

“I didn’t say you would. Maybe you’re forgetting, I’d never go out with a member of the team.”

“Right. But kissing one is totally fine, huh?” he retaliates in an instant with a condescending look. He waits for your reaction, eager to see you distraught and bothered by it. To his dissatisfaction, you don’t behave in such a way. Instead, you sigh defeatedly.

“Yeah. Sorry about that. I got a little crazy that night,” you say casually to a degree that you sounded like it was just a petty accident. “You kissed me back, so I’m sure you were too. Right?”

The last word is conniving, and he can tell why you phrased it that way. You’re leaving him no choice but to disregard what happened or else it’s going to seem like it meant something to him. The hell it does. It simply resurfaces back on his mind sometimes because of how unpleasant the memory is.

‘Devious woman,’ he snarls in his head.

It should be okay. Your reason for what you did can also be his excuse for how responded to it. What he didn’t like is that he hasn’t even managed to make the most out of that incident, while you immediately found a way to undo the grave you dug for him to bury you into.

Plus, the only advantage he sees out of partnering with you for this project is the possibility of being able to pester you the way you pester him during practice. Obviously, that’s already thrown off the window. Now, there’s nothing in it for him for the duration of the project. He is left with nothing but the fact that he has to endure your company. To think that he’s already so miserable when this afternoon has barely even started.

“Yeah,” he answers with contained resentment. “Can we go on the bus now?” He asks to deviate away from the topic already. He was hoping he could still use the incident to unnerve you, but it’s for naught now.

He enters the bus first and assumes you’ll follow him, which you do as you take your seat beside him. You get your shoulder bag and take out a notebook.

“Can you take a look at this outline I made for our report?” you ask while you hand him your notebook opened at a certain page.

“I can’t read while the bus is moving,” he says then waits for a lame comeback from you. But you don’t comment about it. Why must you keep on being such a wildcard?

“Ah, okay. I’ll just tell it to you then,” you smile at him. “This trip is going to take long. It’d be a waste of time to not make use of it, right?”

He groans internally. Why must you be right all the fucking time?

He also made an outline last night, but he didn’t tell you because he thought it’d be better if he just did the data-gathering himself and let you take the pictures the report should have. He forgot that you’re not as irresponsible and carefree as you present yourself to be.

He listens to you explain your outline, looking for flaws in it for the sake of his grade and also for his self-satisfaction. And he does find a few.

“You should have separate discussion points for mating characteristics for male and females. I’m sure they have distinct traits. Also, I think we should include more than just one species, preferably three if the farm has it.” He continues, “Maybe we can note certain unique behaviors per species. It would be inconclusive, but it would still be nice to include it as a commentary.”

He hopes to extract even just a tiny hint of embarrassment from you for he’s thought of it better than you did. But you just stare at him for a good few seconds before you break into a dazzled smile.

“Oh my God. Yeah, you’re absolutely right!”

You open your notebook and scribble the changes in your drafted outline. “Is there anything else?” You consult him genuinely. You accept his criticisms with an open mind, which vexes him even more.

“Nothing,” he grumbles.

“Alright. Let’s just revise it again once we see what’s on the farm.”

He doesn’t bother replying anymore since you’re once again right.

He puts on his headphones again to drown out whatever chatter you plan to have with him since you’re done discussing the project for now. Instead of bugging him, you take out a bunch of readings and focus on them intently, completely ignoring him.

With nothing to entertain him aside from the music on his ears, his peripheral keeps going back to you and how hard you’re concentrating with the papers in your one hand and a pen in the other.

He removes one muff of his headphone from his ear and asks you, “Don’t you get motion sickness?”

You really must be into what you’re studying because you flinch when he speaks, causing you to drop your pen.

He feels responsible for it so he leans down to pick it up, but you also do the same. As you both reach down to grab your pen, your temple collides with his.

“Ow,” your fingers go to massage the spot, failing to notice as he does that your faces are too close for comfort. He watches you wince for a quick while before looking at him, finally realizing that he’s within a proximity familiar to you both.

It’s reminiscent of that night except this time, the natural light affirms that it wasn’t just the ambiance of the club that made you attractive enough to pull him in and share that heinous kiss. With your well-lit features, he can see that you’re thinking about the same thing he is.

Your eyes fall on his lips and for some illogical reason, he does the same.

Like last time, you’re the first to act on it. The major difference is, instead of leaning in, you retreat. You sit up straight with your fingers still on the side of your head and smile graciously at him. “It’s fine, Tsukishima. I’ll get it,” you say, which he finds half-witted because he’s still bent down and he can already grasp the pen.

He sits back up and hands you your pen. You use the hand on your temple to get it.

“Oh, thanks.” You stare at the pen for a second, then tuck it in your pocket. “Anyways, yeah. I don’t have problems reading in a moving vehicle.”

You dive back to his question and disregard what just happened. It works for him. He’d rather not think about it as well.

“Have you not seen me scrambling paperwork on our bus rides to and from tournaments?”

“No.” He prefers not to pay attention to you. Hell, he pretends you don’t exist when he can. So naturally, he doesn’t know what it is you do when you’re not being your pestering self. It pains him to admit it, but you do get shit done -- efficiently, too. He should be glad because at least, you won’t be like his previous groupmates.

Still, just you being … you, ticks him off.

You laugh out of nowhere. “For someone who doesn’t speak much, you’re so fucking transparent.”

He frowns, not being able to grasp what you meant.

“Okay, look. I like pissing you off. I really do. And you, you don’t like me a lot. But for this project. Can we pretend that I’m not your annoying manager and you’re not the nasty Tsukishima I know?”

“How the fuck can I do that when we see each other almost everyday as such?”

You roll your eyes and smirk. “Right. What was I even thinking? Go ahead and be emo with your music over there while I study here, yeah?” You pat him on the shoulders twice with that patronizing grin you always give him before pulling your pen back from your pocket and focusing once more on your readings, completely paying no attention to him for the rest of the trip.

—

As soon as you reach the crocodile farm, Tsukishima suggests that you two roam the area separately to cover more ground. In reality, he just wanted to get rid of you even for just a few minutes. He needed a break from you.

He does so by taking his time strolling around the place, observing how the area is situated. It looks like a park with its vast lush green environment and man-made waters to habituate the crocodiles. There are four main areas: the museum, the hatchling house, the zoo, and the breeding pens. He first goes to the museum, looking at the skeletal structure of some crocodiles. It isn’t really significant to the project but he can’t help admire it.

When he realizes that he’s taking longer than he initially thought, he starts looking for you. He sends you a text, but you don’t reply. You had gone to the zoo’s direction so he assumes you’re somewhere around that area.

When he does find you, you’re not alone.

There you are near a crocodile pen, getting friendly with a guy he’s sure you just met.

It’s so familiar. The only difference is that you’re not wearing the Frogs’ jacket and you’re not in the Sendai gymnasium. He walks towards your direction, not caring if he’s going to cut off your little chat. You’re there for the project, not to snag some random bozo.

As he closes in behind you, he hears your conversation.

“Actually, birds are more closely related to dinosaurs than crocodiles. You couldn’t tell, right?” you explain with zeal.

Tsukishima stops in his tracks at the foreign feeling in his chest. Wait a minute. Is he actually impressed? Moreover, what the heck is he impressed for? You should know that. You are both in a higher herpetology class. Even though it hasn’t been discussed during lectures, it’s natural that you know that. However, the guy you’re talking with isn't as enthusiastic.

“Can’t blame you though. Crocs and dinos share the same sexy vibe with those chill eyes and scaly skin. Also, look at those smokin webbed feet. Fucking work of art, dude. You feel me?” you press on fanatically.

The stranger looks at you with a forced smile, obviously weirded out by your ‘passionate’ description of the reptile. “Yeah, sure. I have to go now. Bye,” the guy bows and storms away from you.

You turn your attention back to the lowered pen in front of you with a satisfied smile and shudder when you see Tsukishima already there beside you.

“Gah! You scared me. Why didn’t you say anything?” you ask with your hand still on your chest.

“I didn’t want to interrupt you creeping out that stranger.”

You tither at his answer. “Glad you didn’t. It was fun seeing him all freaked out.”

He finds it weird. He thought you just had an aversion towards athletes. That’s why you keep driving away anyone who’d approach you during matches. Apparently, that’s not the case.

“He looked like he’d follow you back to Miyagi if you didn’t go all freaky nerdy on him.”

You jeer at his comment. “He could follow me to the ends of the Earth and I still wouldn’t give him my number. I’d rather date Mr. Crocodylus siamensis over here than boring dum dums blinded by how hot I am.”

“Then why do you entertain them?” he follows up.

“Caaaauuusse it’s fun to see them squirm,” you declare cheerfully as you veer your gaze at him. “Why the sudden interest with the way I handle men, Tsukishima?”

You raise an eyebrow, the corner of your lips tugging up to form a playful smirk. “Don’t tell me you suddenly find me interesting?”

You really do know how to push the right buttons to provoke him. He grits his teeth from your audacity.

“I’m joking for fuck’s sake! My god. I already know that even if it’s just the two of us on this planet, and we’d have to procreate to restart the world population, you’d rather choose to doom humanity than have anything to do with me.”

Among all the correct things that came out of your mouth, that was the only thing he could verbally agree with. “Good you know,” he retorts.

You don’t seem to take offense though. You still keep your unwavering smile as you get your phone out and take a picture of the Borneo crocodile.

“Should we go see the breeding pens now?” you ask nonchalantly, dismissing the previous conversation like it was nothing.

You both decide to hire a designated tour guide to assist you while you observe the crocodiles, particularly the ones for breeding.

“Hi, Ms. l/n. I’m Sara and I will be your guide for today,” she introduced herself with a dedicated smile.

“I’m so thrilled that you and your boyfriend decided to learn more about crocodiles for your date,” she adds.

You and Tsukishima glance at each other before turning back to her.

“She’s not my girlfriend.” “He’s not my boyfriend.”

You both say simultaneously, except yours sounded like a friendly correction while his sounded like a dead announcement.

“We’re just classmates for a project,” you correct her.

She bows apologetically with embarrassment and worry. “I’m so sorry for assuming that.”

“No worries, Sara,” you reassure her before Tsukishima says something unnecessary. “Can you lead us on the breeding pens? We’d like to observe the whole thing.”

“Of course. Right this way.”

Aside from the mishap earlier, you find Sara competent at her job as she fills you in with details not included in the sign boards in the pens. She gives you information about the mating process that you didn’t find when you researched about the subject. You assume Tsukishima’s thinking the same because he doesn’t say anything out of the blue.

“By any chance, will we see a pair mating today?” he asks after a while.

“I’m not really sure, Mr. Tsukishima. It’s really up to the animals.”

You tug on Tsukishima’s sleeve when you catch sight of one crocodile latching himself on top of another.

“What?” he asks irritatedly, but follows your line of sight.

“Oh, lucky. There you go.” Sara announces with a pleasant smile.

You get your phone and your notes. You multitask listening to Sara, taking photos, and scribbling notes on your paper pad.

On the other hand, Tsukishima multitasks observing the crocodiles in action and observing you.

You’re asking important questions to the guide while juggling other tasks. Yes, he doesn’t like you and loathes being partnered with you. However, that doesn't mean he won’t cooperate with you. He won’t mind if you ask him for help, but you seem to have even forgotten that he’s there.

He grabs your phone from your hand, garnering a confused look from you.

“I’ll take the photos. You take down notes.”

You flash him an honest, grateful smile. “Thanks, Tsukishima.”

Then, you proceed with the things you’re doing more at ease.

He can’t tell who he’s more pissed at, you or himself. Something about that display of productivity and wit unnerves him. It’s as if it’s telling him that his chagrin over you is unreasonable because you’re actually reliable when it counts. What’s worse is you’re completely oblivious to it. In fact, you’re almost ignoring him.

Goddamn it. What’s he doing? He’s completely distracted now from the project and is solely focused on you. He quickly shakes it off and calms himself down. His attention should be on the reptiles, not you.

He turns his attention back to the crocodiles, but the mating act only lasted a few minutes. After that, you both barrage Sara with an array of questions that she looked too overwhelmed by the end of your tour.

You’ve covered almost everything for the day and it’s already around 6 in the evening when you get on a bus on the way back to Miyagi.

“That was fun!” you comment ardently with an abnormal shine on your face when you sit down on the bus on the way back. He wears his headphones on before you start a conversation he’s not willing to have. From his peripheral, he sees you turning to him and as he predicted, your mouth begins moving while you animatedly narrate words he could not hear.

He’s already acting as if he can’t hear nor see you, but you still don’t stop. Knowing you, you will not stop until you make sure he notices you. He wearily removes his headphones only to see you not saying anything and only mouthing words with hand gestures.

“Seriously?” He scowls at you. He’s already exhausted at having to deal with you even for just half a day, but you still have the energy to mess with him.

You cover your mouth with your hand as you snicker but it erupts into a hoot of laughter shortly. You gasp ridiculously after you ride out your stupid amusement from poking at his patience. “Tsukki, I swear to God. You make the best faces,” you say while wiping away your joyous tears.

“Were you even going to say something worth listening to?” he questions sourly.

You study him then shake your head. “I think you’re tired, so let’s just discuss what we gathered next time. You can go ignore me now,” you tell him with an understanding smile despite the slight banter.

You tilt your body in his direction and hoist yourself up a bit to put his headphones back yourself like it’s no big deal.

You settle back into your seat while he stills on his seat, stunned with what you just did while you get your readings again and shrink to your own bubble. You don’t seem to make anything of it, so he doesn’t as well. It was very you to mindlessly get on anyone’s — particularly his — personal space anyways.

He increases the volume of his headphones and tries to relax. Yet, his attention keeps swerving back at you every now and then. You’re really concentrating hard with your brows burrowed while you stare at your hand-outs. After a while, he notices you bobbing your head from the corners of his eyes.

He can tell you’re as tired as he is and trying hard to fight the sleep that’s taking over you. The bunch of papers you previously held are now clutched on your lap.

On the last bob of your head, you snap out of it. You blink repeatedly and return your eyes to your readings again. To no avail, you’re shutting down with your eyes fluttering when you try again. You look like you decided to give it a rest and put your papers back in your bag. You cross your arms and lean back to your seat.

He feels relieved that you finally yield to your physical exhaustion. He doesn’t need an additional bullet point to his list of why he can’t fully hate you. Also, you won’t run your mouth at him if you’re asleep.

He feels the soft thump of your head on his shoulder. You probably did too as you suddenly bolt up and tell him ‘sorry' which he only understands based on how you mouthed the word. You lean back again and try to settle back to sleep. But when you start dozing off, you sway to the other side of your seat which is the aisle of the bus.

He grabs your shoulder to prevent you from tumbling down to the aisle. Your disoriented self looks around, alarmed at his sudden touch.

“Just fucking lean on me,” he spits out, irked that he has to say it out loud. It’s not like he pushed you away. You could’ve just stayed as you were and he would’ve turned a blind eye at it out of recognition of the effort you put in today. He’d just consider it one of those times that you do something annoying and he just ignores you as a response.

You regard him with dazed eyes. You open your mouth as if you’re about to say something but decide against it as you shut your eyes again and you let your head rest on his shoulder. But even then, your head still falls forward from time to time. He puts a hand on your forehead to settle you back on his shoulder and slides a bit downward on his seat to accommodate you.

Jesus Christ, you can study in a moving vehicle but can’t even do a simple thing like sleep properly on it. Why does he even have to adjust for you?

He heaves furiously in contrast to your steady breathing, letting him know that you’re easing deeper to your sleep.

He distracts himself by looking at the window, witnessing the unmoving dark sky and the changing scenery below. He lets out a sigh.

Maybe he should’ve just accepted the ten point deduction.

Part 1 || Part 3 || masterlist

taglist (those crossed out can’t be tagged - pls check your settings?)

@ameliaxo @suikrem @akaashisslave @tsumurai @celestialarchiveshq @loving-unicorns106 @flairlust @geektastic84 @anaiss97 @berna-dette @just4readingfics @suteorra @xxekitten69xx @simp4tsukkii @music-is-all-i-need @keshinslittlegirl @raspberrysunshinebby @iminlovewhaikyuu @pdiddy11 @lightyagamami @sailorscout1902 @lovershaikyuu

#tsukishima x reader #haikyuu fluff #tsukishima fluff #tsukishima angst #tsukishima smut #haikyuu smut #haikyuu angst #tsukishima kei #for the love of kami-sama #pls let the tags work

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miraithislife · 4 years

Text

Miraith Part 3 <3 (little long oop)

“Did you...ever have a family...?” She asked in a soft, curious voice. Wraith had been nestled warmly by the fireplace in Mirage’s private condo. It was filled with pictures, collectibles, and posters of him, of course, along with all of his trophies and medals from the Games, fan mail, fan art, comics, and practically anything else related to him.

“My family?” Mirage repeated in surprise, not really expecting her to ask that of him. He was in the kitchen, making them both some warm mugs of hot chocolate to treat the increasingly bitter cold from which they’d just sought refuge. “Well, yea. I have a family. I’m the youngest of four. Four boys. Had to screw around to get attention, you know.”

Wraith scoffed, “Bet that wasn’t hard for you to do.” She brought the blanket (with a full length Mirage printed onto it) more snugly around her shoulders, having replaced Mirage’s coat, which was hung neatly in the closet by the front door.

Mirage grinned, “Nope.” He laughed. “We were definitely a handful for our parents.”

Wraith bit her lip embarrassedly and looked to the crackling flames when realizing she had no idea what those were. She knew everyone had them, she’d heard the term before. Something about it was vaguely familiar. She wanted to ask, but the words stopped in her throat. Would she sound weird for asking such a ridiculous thing?

What would he think of her if she did?

What if he thought she was joking?

What would he think when realizing she was being serious?

A pit grew in Wraith’s stomach as her anxieties grew, and she began to get a headache from overthinking.

It’s Mirage. He’ll understand. She self-consoled.

Wraith took a breath and asked (after conjuring up the bravery) in a voice soft as silk, “What are parents?”

Mirage looked over at her. The look in her eyes told him she was being genuine and serious. “Uh,” he began, not wanting his surprise or delay in response to come off judgemental or make her feel bad. “Well...parents are the people who take care of you. Claim you as your own, cause, uh. They gave birth to you? Well no your mom does that part...the dad just--ahem.” He shrugged. “Yea they take care of and love you, basically. Raise ya. All that fun stuff.” He picked out two mugs from the cupboard.

Well, that wasn’t so bad. She thought.

Did she ever have parents...? She wondered.

“You have parents?” She asked.

“Well, yea.” Mirage replied, setting them on the countertop and closing the cupboard. “Everyone has parents, right?”

Wraith solemnly averted her gaze to her hands, saying quietly. “Right.”

Mirage winced. “I’m sorry...I didn’t mean--”

“It’s alright.” She said, rather shortly.

Mirage rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. “I mean, not everyone has parents.” He said in an attempt to make it better. He shrugged and said in a tone to play it off, “Besides, it’s not like having parents make you cool or anything.” He removed the pitcher from the stove once the water’d heated to the perfect temperature.

“At least not mine, heh. I mean, what kind of parents tell you you were an accident baby and try to sell you online?” He began pouring the water into each of the mugs, “OnLINE.” He stressed. “And for FREE?” He passionately continued, still holding the steaming pitcher, waving it along with his animated hand gestures and story retelling. Wraith raised the blanket to her mouth, she couldn’t help but softly giggle at his increasing annoyance as he recalled the memory.

Mirage was too enraged to notice her adorable little laugh. “I mean, hell. Like okay, I was an accident and you wanna sell me, but for free?” He gestured to himself. “I mean, look at me, I’m amazing! I’m handsome, I’m smart, I’ve got fans--I’ve gotta be worth a nice rack of pork chops at the very least. And I was the cutest little thing, too.” Mirage set the pitcher down, crossing his arms and leaning against the refrigerator. He shook his head, confused as to why he was so unwanted, “I had chubby cheeks...I had curls…”

“What were your parents like?” Wraith asked. “Aside from wanting to sell you, of course.”

“My mom was the sweetest woman you’d ever meet. Beautiful. Smart. Funny. She was great.” Mirage began, the selling incident instantly leaving his mind. He stood and resumed finishing the hot chocolate, adding the cocoa powder. “She was crazy smart. My mother was an engineer. She’d make things, design things, build things, break a few things.” He laughed. “That was always funny.” He laughed again. “She makes me, well, me.” He said, raising his arms to bask in his glory. “Mirage.”

He plopped a couple marshmallows into each of the mugs. Carefully, he carried the mugs to the living room and set them on the glass coffee table. He moved the gold and red accent pillows on his sleek dark gray couch to allow himself a seat next to Wraith. “She introduced me to illusion-creating tech. And...well, long story short I got obsessed and addicted, went to school and learned about mechanisms and doohickeys and whatchamacallits, and, well, yea, here I am.” He handed her her mug first.

“Then we made some pretty cool stuff together. My favorites were all the holo tech, I mean come on look at this baby.” He said proudly with a smug look on his face, gesturing to his outfit. “Worked at the bar for who knows how long, heard about the Games and wanted to join, sounded pretty fun. But I didn’t want to leave my mother alone, you know, since everyone else was gone.” His face fell.

“Until one day she came up to me after a long day of work and gave me a set of customized holo devices and told me to follow my dream.” He looked at her and smiled. “So, I did. And I promised to give her some money to help her get out of some long overdue debts and out of the slums and dirt we’d always lived in. I can finally say I’ve helped make her happy, now. I make sure she’s taken care of before going off to compete, cause you know, never know if that’s my last time seeing her.”

Wraith failed to suppress the warmth that washed over heart. “She sounds amazing.” She took the mug graciously. “Thank you.”

Mirage smiled, “Yea, she really is. Everything I do now in the Games is for her.”

Wraith couldn’t help but feel her heart warm her chest. She’d always seen Mirage as silly and rather self-centered, but it turned out, to her pleasant surprise, that there were things that truly mattered to him more than just women, fans, or having the spotlight on him. “She’s lucky to have such a great son like you. I’m sure you two have always been really close.”

Mirage blushed at her compliment, “Thank you.” He wrinkled his nose and shrugged, “Nah, not always. We didn’t really get along that well at first (which was entirely my fault), and we kinda just bonded after my three older brothers died in the Frontier War, so all she had was me by default.” He laughed wryly. “But honestly with the engineering thing, it helped make it work. Now I can’t imagine life without her.” He took a sip from his hot chocolate, only then realizing Wraith hadn’t.

“Don’t like hot chocolate?” He asked.

“Oh, no, that’s not it.” she replied. “I’ve just never had it.” Her eyes didn’t move from the chocolate tainted white blobs floating in her mug. “What are those?”

Mirage scoffed, “What are those? Only the best things ever!”

Wraith smiled, “What are they?”

“Marshmallows. Soft, squishy, sweet thingamajigs...I don’t really know what they are, but they make everything a million times better. Especially in hot chocolate.” Mirage replied. “Try it.”

Wraith looked at him, then back to her mug. Slowly, she curled her full, rounded lips, silently blowing away the steam that arose from the mug, watching it dissipate into the air. She closed her eyes and inhaled the heavenly, chocolatey aroma, exhaling a soft hum of content. Mirage, adorably, watched her place the mug’s rim to her mouth, but couldn’t keep his eyes off her beautifully shaped lips. Keeping her eyes closed, she took a sip. She sighed through her nose in content as the soothing warmth made its way down her throat and through her body, reveling in the cocoa’s richness and the marshmallow’s delicately sweet touch.

“Mmm.” She opened her eyes and met his. Her heart skipped a beat. The look in his eyes scared her. But...in a good way. There was no doubt he was in total awe and completely enamored of her existence. Mirage couldn’t hide anything from her even if he wanted to, and the throbbing in his chest that burned so fiercely out of love, longing, and desire began to grow to a point at which he couldn’t control or suppress for much longer.

Her heart raced.

There was so much she wanted to tell him.

So much he needed to know.

So much she wished she had the strength to tell him.

So much she wanted to share with him...in every way possible.

A blush touching her cheeks, she smiled warmly. “It’s delicious.”

Mirage beamed. “I’m glad you think so. And that looks good on you, by the way.”

Wraith slightly furrowed her brow, “What does?”

Mirage replied dreamily, “That smile.”

Wraith quickly averted her gaze as her blush deepened, she cleared her throat in attempt to change the subject, “What about your fath--”

Mirage’s mood changed quickly. “My dad was an absolute scumbag. Was never there. Hit and cheated on my mom. Abused and overworked us boys. Cursed us out. Destroyed the house. Kept us poor and put us down. Drank his life away and took his problems out on us. List goes on and on.” He said with a wave of his hand.

“Disappeared one day and never came back. Left us dirt poor and starving and took everything my mom owned to sell for money but you know, it was prolla-prabob-parlabol--” He threw his hands up in frustration. “WORDS.” He hastily stood up and made his way to the wall, punching it vehemently. He grabbed his wrist and gasped sharply in pain. He kicked the wall in frustration and sat on the side of his bed, facing the wall. “His leaving was the best thing that ever happened to us.” He ended in spite, fiddling with the straps on his glove.

Wraith didn’t know what to think.

She had never seen him like this before.

The saddened and angry little boy inside of him was waking up, and she knew that feeling all too well. To feel trapped. To have emotions suppressed and not worked through. To feel resentment and revenge. To want answers. To want to just know why.

Without a sound, she arose from the cushions and to his side, the bed bouncing a little as she sat. Mirage’s body swayed a little from the movement, his head hung low. Wraith reassuringly laid a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Mirage. I know that must’ve been very hard for you...to not have someone there when you needed them most, let alone cause so much pain...and to not understand why.”

Her hand gently turned his face to hers, and the look on his face nearly broke her heart. His face fell, his head hung low, and his eyes were full of sorrow and pain. Angry tears pricked his eyes, and several had begun to make their way down his cheeks.

Wraith continued, gently cupping his face with her hands and using her thumbs to wipe away his tears, “To have things happen out of your control and suffer from it. Whether it’s you or loved ones. Then you question what you did wrong and what you should’ve done right, as if it’s your fault...taking on that burden.” She lifted his face so their eyes met, and with a gentle motion, she brushed his hair from his face and behind his ear, then caressing his cheek in the same manner he had to her earlier. “But that doesn’t make you wrong in how you feel. Your emotions are valid. It’s okay to cry. It’s okay to be sad. It’s okay to feel hurt. It’s okay to be angry. Just don’t let them define or change who you are.” She smiled.

Mirage stared at her, speechless.

How did she know what to say? And how to say it? So elegantly and well put?

“That’s...exactly how I feel, Wraith.” Mirage said. He never doubted her past experiences, but the level to which they could relate was so touching it made his heart feel so much lighter. He now knew, finally, at 30 years old, that he wasn’t alone.

Wraith scoffed through a soft laugh. “Well, I know a thing or two about loss and pain.”

Mirage gently took her hands from his face and cherished them in his, pressing his lips to her knuckles several times, not breaking eye contact. “Well, you’re not alone anymore.”

#miraithislife #part3 #fanfic #mirageandwraith #miragexwraith #mirage #wraith #randomfluff #randomfluffs #love #cute #relationship #aww #miraith #fanfiction #apexlegends

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cowboyshit · 4 years

Note

OKAY EVERYBODY BOUTTA COME IN HERE AND BE LIKE WHAT'S YOUR FAVORITE HANGMAN MOMENT NO NOT ME what is your favorite moment in that monologue he did? Your analysis slaps SO HARD and I just want to know which part made you keysmash irl

( ask me what my favorite anything is! )

oh FUCK okay. okay. alright. I’m fine I can talk about this like a normal person and not scream and keysmash into oblivion. I’m totally capable of that.

I’m going to digress for just a second before I talk about my favorite part because the part that made me go “...oh” was in the very beginning, and it’s the way he delivers a line. when he first starts retelling this story of watching the bald eagle he says “[I] watched this eagle settle down in her nest and I couldn’t help but have the feeling that maybe I should go home.” and then he pauses. and then he repeats this line after a little pause and a glance away from the camera, sucking at the back of his teeth, clearly showing he’s somewhere in his head and this isn’t JUST a little funny skit about his physical, actual home. He says, "Maybe I should go home.” and there’s almost a quality to it like he’s... laughing at the thought without laughing. Like he can’t believe after all the times he’s been kicked down at home, he’s thinking that he needs to go back. Especially because he follows up by comparing the thought to a ballooning, malignant tumor that’s unwanted and unwelcomed, but essentially unavoidable.

ANYWAYS that was the first part that made me :eyes emoji: you know? And I could say him talking about the “Man of the House” award, how he promised he’d have it since day one and that he feels the momentum for it is gone struck me hard as fuck in the chest because that’s been one thing (how passionate he was to earn the championship, how he PROMISED he’d have it and failed anyways) that strikes me right in the fucking heart with him, because when he’s driven by his fear at not being successful enough, by his fear at letting the people he loves and cares about down, him not achieving that championship like he so passionately promised eats away at him inside. It’s why he didn’t feel any different on the cruise after he won the tag team championship, the way he thought he was going to feel - because it wasn’t the thing he promised he was going to get.

Uh. shit. I’m so sorry I haven’t even actually answered your question yet I JUST!!!!! that monologue makes me FERAL man. I can’t.

OKAY. Let me just answer your question before I ramble for another thousand words. on a personal level, the last little bit is absolutely my favorite part: “But honestly what I want to do is climb back on my horse and ride off into the sunset and just say the hell with it. [...] I’m just throwing my leg over a saddle with a broken tree, kicking a horse I know has long been dead, and the horse just collapses... and I’m sitting right back here in this same spot.”

Obviously as a horse girl I am going to go apeshit any time he ever mentions horses no matter the context, but this metaphor is so... painful and deep? and it just hits me somewhere personal, because I can see a lot of my own struggles in him. Countless times all I want to do is get on my horse and ride off into the sunset, say fuck everything and just leave. But I know I can’t do that, just like he knows he can’t. The saddle is broken. The horse is dead. He’s stuck in an endless loop if he doesn’t break the cycle and push forward, no matter how painful it’s going to be. If he just keeps running away he’s going to wind up planted back on his ass right where he started, tangled up and lost. So no matter how painful it is, even knowing that things are going to fuck him over like they ALWAYS do, he has to appreciate that he’s had this opportunity to take a breath, look it in the eye and march forward and hope to god he can hold on to himself enough to make it through it.

ANYWAYS AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

#merchfreak #hangman page #long post #aiosdhjsdfkj DONT TALK TO ME ABOUT THE MONOLOGUE BUT ALSO DO BUT ALSO PREPARE FOR THIS SHIT #im just so emotional #also asjkfdkjdflkdfg thank you? for saying that about the analysis akjdskjsdfkjsdfkjdfg #ashley answers

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pozolegirl · 5 years

Note

I'm sure you've probably gotten this before, but do you have any webcomic recs?

Sorry it took so long to reply!!! I’ll make a list for you!

Disclaimer now though, this blog is totally SFW but some of the webcomics I read have language or slightly more nsfw elements to them.

1. I Love Yoo

So fantastic, a good drama with a hilarious and amazing main character. I really love this one. It’s got angst and drama and romance, all really well made!

2. Boyfriend of the Dead

HILARIOUS, I love the idea for it, and I’m excited to see where it goes. I really enjoy this zombie story. (I usually can’t handle them haha) (Also, the art style is simple enough that any ‘gore’ in it, isn’t hard core and pretty safe for anyone)

3. Love Advice from the Great Duke of Hell

Another comedy that is really funny. Not a ton of episodes so far, but really great.

4. Hooky

I’m not done reading through this one yet! I was originally drawn by the cute and beautiful art, and I thought it was just going to be a cute happy go lucky comic, but DANG it’s getting more and more intense and it’s a cool mix of fairy tales and witchy folk lore. I really enjoy it.

5. True Beauty

This one is hilarious. I know it’ll get more serious as it goes on, but honestly, the use of memes and expressions are amazing. It’s about a girl who is a slave to makeup basically, and I have a feeling she’s going to become more comfortable with herself as it goes on. :)

6. The Strange Tales of Oscar Zahn

Absolutely incredible, very spooky but still heart warming and interesting. The art work is phenomenal, and the stories are amazing. I highly recommend this one.

7. Cat Loaf Adventures

To be perfectly honest, I can only handle this one in small doses because I... am not a fan of pun humor. But the art is super super cute and it’s a very sweet comic that is fun.

8. Lore Olympus

Absolutely gorgeous art, a very interesting retelling of Hades and Persephone, that is semi modern based and IDK just very very artsy. I adore it with all my heart. It does deal with sensitive subjects though, beware.

9. Tales of the Unusual

Alright, I actually read so many horror comics, I love them so much. This one is probably my favorite that I’ve found besides Junji Ito’s work. The short horror stories in this comic are more psychological based, and it really comes across as Twilight Zone-y to me. I really enjoy it, and I’m not finished reading it all the way through. (The story with the old man seeing his dead wife’s memories made me straight up sob for like an hour while reading it, LOL) (Most of the stories are creepy though)

10. Siren’s Lament

I’ve been following this one for years, it’s always been beautiful and exciting. If you like mermaid stories, COME READ THIS.

11. Miss Abbott and the Doctor

THIS COMIC IS LIKE CHICKEN SOUP FOR THE SOUL, IT IS THE SWEETEST MOST LOVELIEST LITTLE ROMANCE YOU’LL EVER READ, EVERYONE IS SO CHARMING AND THE MAIN CHARACTERS MAKE ME SO HAPPY, AND THE ART STYLE IS SO CUTE, PLEASE READ THIS COMIC.

12. My Boo

Despite the less encouraging title, (it’s a pun) this comic is such a beautiful, thoughtful, and sweet story about a girl who falls in love with a ghost. It is completed, and it’s so wonderful.

13. Bastard

An absolute masterpiece, one of my all time favorite comics, and AUUUGH IT’S JUST REALLY GOOD. Super sketchy though, please be wary. This comic is about a boy who’s father is a serial killer. He has to protect the girl he has a crush on from becoming the next victim. Lots of gore, a very intense thriller, I’ve read it twice now it’s amazing. (And completed!!!)

14. Third Shift Society

I found this one awhile ago, and it’s really cute! I mean, it’s kind of horror, it’s about ghost hunters and stuff, but I love the main two characters. One of them has a jackolantern for a head. :)

15. STAGTOWN

Another fantastic horror comic. It’s only gone through one arc of story and the new one is starting (and looks even more horrifying than the last one) and I’m SO READY. It’s very creepy and very good.

16. Edith

This one is currently being edited and will be posted as a featured comic sometime soon, so it’s kind of on hiatus? But I’m really excited for it, I love it so much. It looks like an exciting romance, and I relate to the main character on an almost uncomfortable level sometimes. >_>” It does deal with more adult themes, FYI. I love the art style so much, it’s so cute.

17. Unlucky as Lucky Does

This one is hilarious. It’s a comedy and the art is done by such a talented artist, who mixes simple random styles with gorgeous detailed work, it always makes me laugh. I love the main group of characters and I hope I get to read their adventures for a long time.

18. Dazer and Eleanor

I found this beautiful (SO BEAUTIFUL AND DETAILED) comic awhile ago, it’s a sweet little slow burn romance, and since then I’ve become friends with the author! She inks everything traditionally, and it’s mesmerizing to see how detailed all of her panels are. She works really hard, and it pays off, definitely check it out!

Alright now time for some webcomics that are not on webtoons.

1. Mias and Elle

I’ve followed this artist for A VERY long time, and her art is just gorgeous. I love this little comic so much, and I hope I get to read it for a long time! Definitely has some adult themes in it, nothing too crazy yet, but eeehhhhh I feel like it might get there, haha.

2. Countdown to Countdown

WOW this art is absolutely incredible and I the story is engaging and exciting so far. I’m really excited to see where it goes. Please check it out, just LOOK AT THE ART, IT’S SO BEAUTIFUL. It inspires me so much. The artist is on tumblr too, @velinxi , you may have seen some of their beautiful fanart before.

3. Anacrine Complex

A gorgeous comic by @lightlybow, I’ve followed it for years now. (You’re amazing Sae) The panels are always so beautifully built, the art is exciting and beautiful to look at, and the story is very interesting! I love it!

So I know there are some I missed, and there are a ton of comics I didn’t add to this list, but here’s a little compilation for now! :)

#recs #rec #webcomics #meeskanese

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fyrapartnersearch · 5 years

Text

Searching for a long-term RP partner!

About me

Hi, I’m Phoenix! I’m female, 18, a forensic psych student from the UK. Though I’m a major night owl, so don’t worry about timezones, I’ll usually find a way to make it work. I absolutely love writing, most of the time, and I’ve dropped out of the RPing scene for a while now, but I hope to come back. I’m kind of a history buff – as well as majorly into the psychology of crime, it all sort of interests me, especially when those two obsessions overlap (1920s is my jam, for basically those reasons).

I love worldbuilding, so much, as well as coming up with random headcanons – I adore plotting OOC, and generally just chatting about our characters and what might come next for them, as well as what their pasts may be.

What I do

As mentioned before, worldbuilding and character crafting. I don’t expect constant lore or anything, but I’ll usually start bursting with ideas once I get the ball rolling.

Moodboards, I’ll probably make them. Lots of photoshops, too.

I usually write paragraphs, but I tend to mirror whatever my partner is doing, so it’s depending on the scene.

Plot and plan quite a bit OOC. Sometimes I just want to chat a little.

I’m mixed about smut, it really depends if I feel comfortable enough to write it or not in the moment. I am however, totally fine with (in relation to the characters) discussing it as well as kink, ect.

I can respond multiple times a day to posts, but it may drop to less once my studies resume. But I’ll typically always be available on discord.

I do ocxoc and (occasionally) canonxcanon.

I’ll write male or female characters, and M/M, F/F and F/M, I’m really not picky.

I mainly focus on OCs – I’ve rarely taken part in fandom RPs, it just hasn’t been my jam. But there are a few I’d consider.

What I’m looking for

At least over 16, preferably. Absolutely 18 if you’re seeking anything more NSFW/Darker.

Someone who’s okay with me doubling – and maybe doing so themselves. (I’m flexible on this)

Someone who’s alright with mature themes.

We’ll have to be able to talk OOC! I love just discussing things and brainstorming together.

Someone who’s okay with me suddenly sending them ideas, plotbunnies and worldbuilding out of nowhere because I suddenly got an idea. I will also send you songs, memes and aesthetics that make me think of our characters.

Be honest with me and let me know if you’re not interested, I’d like to work together on something here :]

Types of role-plays

I roleplay on discord, but I’m also open to google hangouts, docs or even email. I just prefer to talk OOC on discord (or the tumblr chat if needed).

I mainly do OCs, and there are quite a few plots that I’m itching to do, and several genres that I’m into.

Urban fantasy (street magic, everyday life with the supernatural twists)

Western (I love some wild wild west, a lot)

Victorian-based (either realistic or with a fantasy twist)

1920s-based mafia stories (again, realistic or with some fantasy)

Regency-era drama

Medieval-era drama

Post-Apocalypse stories (any kind of apocalypse)

Mermaids, selkies, sirens and pirates (and basically any other mythical pirate crew)

Retellings of Arthurian legends, Robin Hood, or other fairy tales

Superheroes

Greek or Norse gods, idk, anything involving them,

Super dark plots with strained or problematic relationships (recognised as such by both of us) can also be fun sometimes.

I’m open to any other suggestions, too! I’m flexible to get hyped up for most ideas.

There are a few fandoms I might be open to RPing as well.

Last Airbender (OCs in the universe only)

Marauders era (depending on the ships/relationships involved)

Six of Crows (I don’t even know if anyone even RPs this but ey)

Game of Thrones/Song of Ice and Fire (Preferably OCs)

Contact

Here on tumblr at phoenix-the-write-thing

Or at my discord, which is Phoenix#5607

Alternatively, you can also contact me at my email at: [email protected]

#indie rp #indie roleplay #independent roleplay #oc rp #multiple paragraph #para #semipara #long term #messenger #marauders rp #submission

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scarletraven1001 · 6 years

Text

Besties

32 – “I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified.”

An AU Vegebul one-shot for prompt #32 on this post, requested by @heeyyy-macarena and @tsukisilverwolf.

Chapter Warning: Slight Angst; Fluff.

Also on Ao3.

All Fics in this Series: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9

8-8-8-8-8

Note: This will be the last of my prompt fics for this particular set of prompts. I will probably add to this if I find other interesting prompts, but for now, this is the end. I hope you enjoyed all of the stories!

Please do watch out for my next fic, a multi-chapter story, that I will start posting very soon. Thank you for all of your kind words and support!

8-8-8-8-8

Besties

8-8-8-8-8

It hit Bulma so suddenly, that she actually gasped.

She was retelling a stupid joke that nobody else had ever laughed at, and Vegeta had looked strangely at her, shook his head, and started laughing.

He looked so relaxed, unlike his usual, stern self, and she realized that she had been holding her breath as she gazed at the way his cheeks had flushed with his glee.

And just like that, in less than the time it took for her to blink, she came to the unwelcome realization that she was in love with Vegeta.

She was in love with her best friend.

They had met when she was a freshman in university, and he a sophomore. She was sitting under the shade of a large tree in the square, and he had shown up, his dark, narrow eyes and shock of spiky dark hair considerably more threatening than his rather short stature. He unceremoniously dumped his things beside her and told her that she was in his “spot”.

He was surly but cute, sarcastic but extremely intelligent.

He was an Accounting major and she had been in Engineering, and they somehow bonded over their shared hatred for their General Education and Cognate courses.

They graduated in the same year, as Bulma had blown through her courses with ease, and both found work in the most prestigious robotics and automation firm in the country.

Right then, as they sat in the company cafeteria eating lunch, Bulma found herself facing the biggest dilemma she had ever faced since the day she met Vegeta six years ago.

“Oi. You alright?” he asked, taking in her ashen face as Bulma felt all the blood drain from her face.

“Oh, uh… yeah,” she lied, even as she truly did begin to feel lightheaded. She pushed her short blue hair back from her face, her sky-hued eyes dim with her unease. “Yeah, I just, uh… it’s hot. I feel woozy.”

“Do you want me to bring you to the clinic?” he asked, brows lowered in concern.

Her heart clenched.

It was exactly this sort of thing that had made her fall in love with him without her noticing.

“No, it’s fine, thank you Vegeta,” she whispered, shakily getting up as her mind tried to process what her heart had known for a very long time.

“Are you sure? You do not look well, Bulma. I could-”

“No, really, it’s ok,” she said, taking her purse with her s she decided to head back to her office. “Finish your lunch. I’ll be fine.”

He looked at her with naked worry in his eyes as she walked away, and she wanted to cry.

She… wasn’t ready for this.

It was a terrible thing, to be in love with Vegeta.

Not because he was a bad person, but because she knew that if she told him, and he did not feel the same way, her most cherished friendship with him would be over…

And she couldn’t lose him… that was the last thing she would ever want.

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Bulma had never been good at being subtle, and she knew that sooner or later, Vegeta would catch up to her, corner her, and ask what was really bothering her.

She had been avoiding him.

It was extremely obvious.

It was so obvious, even her oblivious trainee, Chichi, had asked about it.

“Are you mad at Vegeta-san, Bulma-san?” Chichi asked innocently, and Bulma stiffened, raising her head to stare at the younger girl.

“Why do you think that, Chichi-san?” she asked, even as she roiled at the implication.

“Well,” Chichi said, eyes still on the stacks of reports that she was sorting for Bulma. “You both haven’t hung out here in the past week, you always leave just as he comes knockin’. Also, you’ve been out to lunch with the guys in Mech more often than him this past week. And you hate them.”

Leave it to Chichi, to put it so bluntly.

Bulma tried to quickly think of a way to divert the discussion. “Well, you and Goku from QM seem to be getting along fine.

Chichi blushed scarlet, and Bulma cheered internally as the demure young woman placed a hand against her chest, stuttering slightly as she answered.

“Yes, Bu-Bulma-san,” she smiled. “He-he asked me to dinner. We will go out on Saturday.”

“Oh, that’s great!” Bulma cheered, a genuine smile on her lips as she watched Chichi blush even redder. “I think you will make such a cute couple!”

“Ya think so, Bulma-san?”

“Yes! Absolu-”

“Bulma?” a rough, throaty voice cut her off mid-sentence, and Bulma turned startled eyes at the door, seeing Vegeta standing there with his hands crossed across his chest.

“Vegeta!” she exclaimed, flustered, as she worked to put a fake smile on her face.

“I need to talk to you,” he said without preamble.

“I’m busy right now-”

“At lunch?”

“I’m going with Chichi,” she said, startling the said girl, who looked up at her in surprise.

“After work, then,” he said, raising a hand to stop her as she stuttered out another excuse. “And do not even try to tell me that you have plans. It is Tuesday. You never go out on Tuesdays.”

He turned around and left without giving her a chance to speak, and she turned helplessly to Chichi, who just looked at her with sympathetic eyes.

Bulma sighed, slumping down into her chair, wondering how on earth she could avoid the inevitable confrontation.

8-8-8-8-8

It had become abundantly clear, that the confrontation was going to be unavoidable.

Bulma left her desk half an hour earlier than usual, only to run right into Vegeta a she tried to sneak out.

Her bestie of six years simply smirked, gesturing to let her through, as he calmly herded her out into the parking lot.

She groaned as she drove out into the road, watching his sleek, white sedan tailing her mercilessly, until she finally drove up to her small home.

Bulma took a deep, shaky breath, calming her nerves, her brilliant mind racing as she tried and failed to come up with an excuse as to why she had been so clearly running away from Vegeta for the past week.

A demanding knock on her car window woke her from her desperate musings, and with a final, hapless sigh, she left her car, heading into the house with Vegeta a bare few inches behind her.

She didn’t even get the chance to sit before her door slammed shut, and she jumped, turning to face the man whose mere presence had been wreaking havoc onto her senses.

“What,” he ground out, eyes narrowed in irritation, “is your problem?”

She tried to blink innocently at him. “Nothing!”

“Don’t you lie to me, woman!” he snarled, a hand reaching up to grasp her upper arm, and she nearly flinched even though his hold remained strangely gentle on her skin.

“I don’t have a problem, Vegeta, I swear!” she squeaked, only serving to infuriate him.

“You don’t have a problem?” he demanded. “Bulma, the whole damn company has been asking me why we are fighting, and if we are, then I am the last to know.”

“I’ve just been busy lately-”

“Bulma!” he shouted, and she stood stunned, staring into his furious, and strangely melancholy dark eyes. “Stop it! If I have done something to offend you, I need to know.”

“You didn’t do anything,” she said softly, a hand reaching out to touch his arm. “I swear.”

He gritted his teeth. “Then why,” he forced out, “have you been avoiding me.”

Her shoulders shook as she took a deep breath, mind in abject chaos as she tried her best to talk her way out of this situation.

She had just about come up with something, when he spoke again.

“I can’t have you running away from me, Bulma. You are my best friend...”

Best friend.

His best friend.

The words struck a painful chord within her, as she remembered the reason why she absolutely cannot tell him what her issue was.

However, her wounded heart worked faster than her brain, and before she could stop herself, she heard herself snarl out.

“Yes. We are total besties, aren’t we?”

He suddenly let go of her, hands raised in midair as if he had been burnt by the feel of her skin.

“Bulma… what?” he asked softly, voice hoarse in confusion. “Why are you doing this? I do not understand. What have I done wrong?”

Tears began to gather at the edges of Bulma’s eyes as the pained look in Vegeta’s finally dug deep into her heart, and she realized that she cannot… cannot, keep silent anymore.

He deserved to know.

And if he chose to abandon her after he learns of how she truly felt for him, then that was entirely his choice.

But Bulma had to tell him.

He was her best friend.

Her best friend, who had stuck with her through every frustrating exam week, listened to her rant about each failed prototype and every impossible experiment…

Who had lent her his shoulders and ears as she cried about her heartaches, breakups and self-doubts, and cheered her up by reminding her that she was worth much more than she often gave herself credit for.

He was her dearest friend… the man she loved…

He deserved nothing less than her honesty.

“Vegeta,” she said, and his eyes zoned into her hesitant eyes as she twisted her fingers together in her consternation. “I am going to tell you… something very important.”

He nodded, and she felt her eyes grow wet as her heart pounded in her ears.

This was it.

“I… I… You… You haven’t done anything wrong,” she choked, and she watched his eyes narrow in concentration, filling with worry as he began to realize the depths of her distress. “This… this is me. My fault. I’m sorry.”

“Why? What is the matter?”

She felt her throat seize up, every cell screaming at her to shut up, but she pushed on.

“I’m scared, Vegeta.”

He kept looking at her, unmoving. “Of what?”

She took a deep breath, gathering all of her strength into her voice, as she brokenly whispered.

“I am afraid, of how I feel for you,” she said. “I think I’m in love with you… and I’m terrified.”

He stiffened, and she closed her eyes, not willing to see the look on his face as he let her know of his rejection.

“You think you’re in love with me?” he rasped. “Well… that makes just one of us, then.”

The tears she had been valiantly holding back finally began to fall, and she shuddered as she felt the weight of her despair fall upon her shoulders.

“I knew it,” she thought. “He sees me as a friend… nothing more.”

Vegeta spoke again. “Because I do not think that I am in love with you.”

She clenched her eyes tighter, unable to believe how cold he was being.

It was too much…

She wanted to run from him, and she felt her feet begin to lift to turn away, when his voice stopped her dead in her tracks.

“I know I am.”

Her eyes popped open in shock, and she stared disbelievingly at him, as he moved forward, taking her numb hands in his as he tried to catch her eyes.

“I know I am in love with you, Bulma. And I am not terrified,” he said, gulping audibly as he spoke to her heart. “Because the woman I love is my best friend, and I know you would never hurt me. I am determined, now more than ever, to make you mine.”

Her tears fell faster, a shaky smile making its way onto her lips.

“Vegeta…” she whispered. “You mean it?”

He nodded. “I have always wanted you. Why do you think I even spoke to you that day under the tree?”

She laughed. She had always wondered about that as she grew to get to know him. He was never the type to initiate contact, and she had always found it strange that he approached her that time.

It finally made sense…

He grinned at her. “You need to stop fearing what you feel for me, woman. Because I am here for you. And if it were up to me, I always will be.”

And with those words, he leaned forward, taking her trembling lips with his, in their very first kiss…

The first, of what she knew, would be their eternity of kisses.

8-8-8-8-8

End

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mrevaunit42 · 6 years

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Butterfly, Star Butterfly (Kingsman Au part 1)

hello everyone, Mr.E here after a seriously long time of not writing full stories. Sorry, life has been pretty chaotic for me and draining. I’m fine but it’s been hard to sit down and actually write a story but here I am with my newest story and letting you know despite the fact Halloween is over, I am still going to write a few stories for starcoween (a totally silly event I made up forever ago) After that i might do a part 2 to this, might give out some birthday gifts I owe. Not really sure yet but we shall see.

Story Prompt: Star Butterfly is a young woman that works for Disney, a humble yet successful shop located in her hometown of Mewni that sells various merchandise based on their popular retellings of classic fairy tales. At least that’s what they want you to think. In truth, they are an agency operating at the highest levels of discretion, protecting the world from any and all threats but this time Mewni’s the target and the secret organization is going to need some help.

I absolutely love the film Kingsman. For those who don’t know it is a British spy film that’s kind of a mix of my fair lady, James Bond and some playful satire of genre. and I couldn’t resist making an au of it. that being said, it is a rated R film so don’t watch it if you’re not supposed to! Seriously just read this story and wait. Oh btw there is some cussing in this story but that’s it really I didn’t follow the plot of the movie one to one and it’s more on a personal level than it was in the film. and Yes I totally poked fun at the codenames and Disney.

so that’s it for me. Have an amazing week! I will try to finish either Monster Hunter Marco or the corpse bride au this week along with the next two nova chapters. I was also thinking of putting up some au ideas I came up in case somebody needed some ideas or inspiration for drawing or writing and the spiderman homecoming au notes that me and my good friend @hains-mae came up with if anyone is curious. Not sure yet. oh btw she’s taking commissions if anyone is interested. I hope you enjoy the story and have a good one!

notification squad: @nerdymetalhead @hipster-rapunzel @artgirllullaby @ladyxgilex @thefandombytes @minthia-ren @burstingamerworld @isolated-frequencies

“and in other news, Lucitor electronics is proud to present….”

Click. Silence filled the void left behind the radio.

Star Butterfly stared longingly outside the cab window, the soft pitter patter of the rain echoed dully against metal was a soft, relaxing music to the 25 year old.

When was the last time she simply drove for the sake of driving? When did she last roam the streets of her beloved Mewni without the constraint of staring at minutes tick away? When was the last time she wore something she chose of her own free will rather than an obligated, yet admittedly stylish, uniform.

She was wearing her usual outfit for work: black blazer jacket with a white long sleeved collared shirt underneath, an elegant pink tie alongside practical black work pants and matching brogues loafers.

“Miss?” her cabbie driver called to her softly “Miss, you have phone call from your mother.”

“Oh!” Star slipped out her self imposed dazed and reach into her jacket pocket “Thank you John, I’ll take it….”

Star blinked quizzically upon realizing she was staring at her own reflection who held an equally surprised face: Her driver had already rose the divider between them so she could take the call in private.

“What a considerate bloke” Star murmured to herself, unfolding the thick black rimmed square glasses and slipping them over her eyes “I suppose I should give him a raise.”

“Give who a raise dear? The driver?” A familiar yet controlled voice called out to her as a ghostly image appeared in the center of the spacious vehicle.

Even the cartoonish greenish blue tint of her mother’s image did nothing to dampen the woman’s rather imposing stature: Full black coat, collared shirt, vest and tie. A long business skirt given her old fashion tendencies and unnecessarily high heels. Her periwinkle blue hair wrapped in a practical braid.

“I assure you Agent Rapunzel he is well paid for his services” Moon blinked in confusion, her eyes narrowing at Star’s surroundings “You’re not at the shop?”

“Well mum…” Star began only to falter when Moon rose a stern finger.

“Names Agent. You never know who could be listening.”

Star rolled her eyes, earning her a scowl from her mother.

“Headmistress Aurora, we’re on highly secure channels. I highly doubt anyone is currently listening.”

Moon shook her head disappointingly “Spoken like a true agent. When you get to be in my position and age, you’ll find some caution is wise.”

“Yes Mu….Headmistress. I apologize. I’m running late to shop on the count that I took a bit of a nap. Just came in from America you know. Lovely town by the name of Echo Cre…”

“I’m aware where you have been Agent Rapunzel” Moon cut in “I’ve read your mission report. Excellent work.”

“Thank you”

“Try not to be late from now on. Grumpy is a bit on edge lately.”

“Lately?” Star rose an eyebrow.

Moon pursued her lips “More than usually. Do not antagonize the poor woman love.”

“Swear on my honor she won’t hear a word out of me gov.”

Moon frowned, torn between chastising her daughter once more or simply leaving it at that.

With a flick, her mother’s image vanished from view and Star was left with her once again empty cabbie. Star remained silent, rubbing her eyes tiredly as the rain filled the void with its melody once more.

Star wasn’t too surprised the shop was still fairly busy despite the less than ideal weather conditions. Everyone near and far wanted to buy something from the humble yet widely successful Disney store.

Not that Star could blame them: Stunning outfits, well crafted toys and high quality items based on their fairy tale inspired line of merchandise. It brought in a pretty penny and was a convenient cover for the memory of a single person to blur among the countless people that could be found within on any given day.

Star patted the tired cashier reassuringly on the shoulder as she made her way past into the break room which was empty save a lone, still steaming mug of coffee sitting on the table.

“We need to really cut back the hours” Star muttered to herself, sliding the cup off to the side and gently pressing the underside of the table “Poor dearies are running themselves ragged.” A small compartment hidden within frame flipped into existence and began to boot up its programming.

“Please remain still” a smooth, calming robotic voice asked politely while a soft green hue softly basked Star in its glow. Star complied with the machine’s request, sitting as unmoving as stone as the sensor began scanning the room with a near invisible beam.

“Identity confirmed” The voice spoke cheerily “Agent Rapunzel, please stand by”

Star rolled her eyes as the entire room slowly descended into further into the earth, the flimsy painted walls of the break room becoming smoothly elegant granite sides.

“This is so bloody unnecessary” Star muttered to herself, waiting patiently for the elevator “Whose bright idea was to turn an entire room into an elevator? A closet would’ve suffice. Typical spies.”

“I know right? It’s almost like they were overcompensating for something” a familiar voice jokingly teased “Spies, right?”

“Spies” Star nodded agreement, rising to her feet and enveloping her fellow, similarly dressed agent in a firm hug “How are you Jackie?”

Jackie clicked her tongue “Agent Rapunzel, did you just break protocol?”

“Only if you sell me out Agent Ariel” Star replied with a grin.

Jackie gave a good nature smirk “Like I would Agent Rapunzel. How are you?”

“I’m alright” Star lied “And yourself? How was Japan?”

Jackie gave a noncommittal shrug “You know how it is: No time to see the sights and there on business only.”

Star felt the twinge of longing and for a moment, the mask fell.

“Star?” Jackie asked quizzically “Are you okay?”

“Jackie….” Star began slowly “Do…you miss it?”

“It?” Jackie was confused what Star was getting at “I’m not sure I’m following….”

Star let out a defeated sigh “Don’t worry about. Just a rouge thought. Shall we pop in and see what’s bothering Grumpy?”

Star brushed past Jackie, ignoring her friend’s concerned gaze.

Grumpy was not grumpy at Star’s tardiness: She was furious about it.

Margaret Skullnick, codename Grumpy, was an older, trollish woman who never smiled in a day of her life. Unlike the more traditional Headmistress, Grumpy was far more lax with her appearance: overly bright red hair, two golden hoops on her ears, built like a muscular tank and had unnaturally pointed teeth.

“You are late Rapunzel” she glared deeply with growl.

Star rose her hands defensively “Ariel was here, you could’ve started without me.”

Jackie shook her head “Don’t drag me into this, I just work here.”

“Sit. NOW” Skullnick snarled, barring her teeth viciously.

Star and Jackie practically dropped into their seats.

“We have a problem” Skullnick began, making her way over to the monitor hung over the fireplace.

“Don’t we always?” Star jested

Skullnick ignored her “The criminal underworld is murmuring. Loudly I might add.”

Jackie and Star shared a worried glance. While both knew what the code-phase meant, neither had ever expected to ever actually hear the word spoken outloud. The two women straightened up in their seats at once

“Murmuring?” Jackie leaned closer “What could possibly cause that?”

“We don’t know” Skullnick answered truthfully “But the fact remains that every single mole, sleeper agent and informant has been relying the same information to us is troubling. Someone is preparing for something big and for the first time in recorded history, we haven’t the foggiest idea what it could be.”

Skullnick tapped at away at the tablet in her hands. Mewni, in all its splendid glory, appeared before them.

“What we do know is many of the murmurs repeat Mewni over and over again. It is more than possible this is the target.”

“Home?” Star rose to her feet “We need every available agent on the case! If the underground murmurs, I cannot imagine what horrible plan someone has set in motion.”

“That’s just it Agent Rapunzel” Skullnick stared directly at Star “I’m looking at all available agents.”

Jackie and Star looked at one another.

“No matter how serious the situation is” Skullnick explained “The fact remains we still have other operations that must be done. Threats to national and international security do not just come one at a time you know and all we have are rumors. Until solid proof is obtained, we cannot simply pull agents from actual credible threats.”

The girls nodded grimly.

“Go to the ground” Skullnick told them “Use every resource we have available. The informants are scouring the city for clues but so far no luck. If this threat is real, then someone is going to an awfully lot of trouble to ensure no one has all the details. And once you have a lead, no matter how small, contact me. I rather be safe than wrong. Understood?”

“Yes Grumpy” The two spoke in unison

“Dismissed.”

“Mewni under attack?” Star muttered to herself in a daze “That’s a lot more terrifying than I’d like to admit.”

“Agreed” Jackie nodded “Do you think the threat is real?”

Star pursed her lips “I don’t know. I want to believe mother is simply overreacting but I’ve never been through such a short briefing before. We don’t even have leads”

“Admittedly that is highly concerning” Jackie scratched her chin “We better work quickly. The sooner we discover or debunk this, the sooner we can have a strategy ready.”

“Alright, I’ll head over to the informant’s house” Star began as stepped towards the exit “A fresh pair of eyes may be needed in case they missed anything…umm do you remember where they live? I swear they keep changing addresses every other month. It’s so….”

Star turned back to her fellow agent only to find Jackie fidgeting uneasily, guilt dancing in her eyes.

“You know” Jackie spoke softly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear “Maybe I should go to the informant? I mean I haven’t seen them in such a long time and it’s pretty rude of me….”

“Jackie….”

Jackie bit her lip as she rubbed her sleeve anxiously.

“I…might know a guy who could help us” she murmured uneasily.

“That’s great!” Star felt a wave of relief wash over her “when can you meet up with him darling?”

Jackie remained quiet, her eyes downcast and forlorn.

“Jackie?” Star placed a comforting hand on her shoulder “What is it love? What’s the matter?”

Jackie took a deep, calming breath “He’s my ex. A bloke by the name Marco Diaz….”

“Oh….” Star muttered dumbly before the familiarity of the name hit her full force “….oh…”

Star remembered now where she heard the name before: Marco was Jackie’s boyfriend back from a few years ago when the two of them were aspiring Disney trainees. He ran with some troublemakers and did some odd jobs for unsavory people but on the whole meant well and was trying to leave his checkered past behind him. As far as she could tell, Jackie was rather happy with him. If everything had gone according to plan, Jackie might’ve married him one day…..

But fate had other plans in store. Being a Disney agent came with a heavy cost and that cost was a personal life. Marco grew increasingly suspicious of Jackie’s absences and trips but telling him the truth was out of the question so Jackie was left with no choice but to break up with him, claiming college was just too overwhelming for her to handle both it and a steady boyfriend.

Jackie used to lament how painful it was to watch his hurt face twist into a stony indifference and while she finally moved on from him, she couldn’t shake the guilt she felt about breaking his heart. He hadn’t deserved it but Jackie was left with no other choice.

“I can’t see him Star” Jackie admitted, tears lightly forming in her eyes “I’ve done far too much to him already, asked too much of him….I can’t put him through anymore…..”

“It’s alright. I’ll speak to him, alright? Do you know where I can find him?”

Star frowned at the locationn before her, eying the half cracked windows and the faded brick exterior warily

“Drunkard’s Haven” Star read the sign distastefully “I should’ve hazard a guess it would be a dive. I reckon I’ll run into an unruly lot. Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Star held a firm grip on her umbrella as she took a deep breath in and pushed open the door.

The interior of the bar was dim while a light hazy smoke wafted through the air. The illuminations of various signs promoting drinks, teams and other goods. Empty mugs and half slumped, dazed drunks filled the tables. While certainly not the best pub Star has ever been in, she had seen far worse.

Star strolled up to the counter confidently, ignoring the shuffling of drunken zombies who were slowly taking notice of her disturbance.

“Hello!” Star gave a cheery wave.

The bartender awkwardly returned the greetings.

“I don’t usually get your lot around here” the bartender spoke bluntly.

“What, pretty ladies?”

“No, posh folks.” he gruffly replied.

“Ah….” Star gracelessly replied “Well your lovely pub is tucked away in some off beaten street, bit hard to come by.”

“What will you have miss?”

“Information actually. I’m looking for someone.”

It was amazing how a simple sentence could alter one’s environment: What was once a relaxed stupor became tense and suspicious as the drunks slowly shook themselves awake.

The bartender’s eyes narrowed distrustfully “And why would a pretty thing such as yourself be looking for someone?”

Star beamed “An old friend of mine. Heard he was wondering around these parts. Figured he might fancy a bit of stroll for old times sake.”

“And who…” the bartender rose an eyebrow “are you looking for specifically?”

“A bloke named Marco Diaz.”

Star fought the instinct to simply strike at the now fully awaken drunks, their eyes wide with anger and greed as they mindlessly shuffled to their feet.

“It seems I’ve said the magic words” Star mused, glancing over the other occupants of the building carefully “Bit in trouble is he?”

“You could say that.” The bartender murmured with a glare “The local patron is not happy with the quality of his services. Mr. Diaz owes him a bit of scratch which is not including the product he was told to deliver. The fact that Mr. Diaz hasn’t been returning our boss’s phone calls is a bit concerning. They had a previous agreement that your friend has not been honoring.”

“Ah” Star gave a strained smile “I can see how that could certainly paint him in such a negative view. Well I rather guess I should be off no? I didn’t mean to so rudely awaken all your customers.”

“Actually” the bartender spoke with a menacing edge as the others closed in “Do you mind if we have a bit of a chat about your friend Marco?”

Star sighed dramatically as the dull thud of the door’s lock being clicked into place echoed through the now quiet pub.

“I rather not” Star grin charmingly

“You don’t have a choice love.”

Star shook her head disappointingly “Not respecting a lady’s decision? Rather brutish of you.”

“Sorry darling. We’re not much on manners here.”

Star clicked her tongue “Manners maketh man. Ever heard that before?”

Silence was their answer.

“Well then” Star cracked her fingers “Let me show you how to be proper gentlemen.”

It was satisfying to watch the bartender’s face slip from cocky smugness to full blown panic as Star lashed out, gripping the back of his head tightly and smashing it against the counter. Bartender staggered backwards, a river of blood dribbling down his face and staining his clothes as he weakly clutched at his now broken nose.

“Rule the first” Star began, pivoting on the balls of her feet and driving her fist into the nearest unsuspecting throat “Always respect people. It’ll get you further in life than if you’re an arsehole”

One of the drunks lunged at her but the seasoned agent hooked the handle of her umbrella over his wrist and dragged his fist into another of his comrades and sent them both reeling to the floor.

“Oi what’s the matter with you bitch?!” the nearest drunk rambled at her before pulling back his fist.

“A true gentleman never curses at a lady” Star replied with a cocky grin while she dug her knee as far as she could into his stomach “in fact a true gentleman never would need to curse. Much more colorful ways to express your anger and frustration darlings.”

Star stepped back, narrowly avoiding the knife that swung into view as she twirled her umbrella upright like a sword.

Her foe stumbled uneasily, brandishing his deadly weapon in a rather unimpressive fashion.

“A true gentleman” Star went on, effortlessly dodging an unfocused stab sent her way

“also carries himself with grace and respect not only for himself but for others as well”

The drunkard’s attack were wide and too far to actually threaten the secret agent who playfully batted the blade away with her pseudo-sword. Her opponent growled furiously but Star’s laidback defense proved too much for the inebriated man.

Star rolled her eyes before delivering a solid whack to his skull and rendered him unconscious.

“Well then loves” Star said with a smug satisfaction “I best be off. Nothing here but a waste of time and effort.”

Star’s ear twitched as the dull sound of metal scraping wood filled the air and for the first time since the battle began, her instincts took hold.

Star flung her umbrella wide open, clutching the hilt as tightly as she could while making herself as small of a target as possible. The video feed sprung to life in a strange muted tint. She noticed the bartender lifting something to eye level but Star had little time to hazard a guess when she heard a deep click and a deafening bang.

Star was nearly knocked off her feet as her shield violently shuddered, the image blurred and static for a moment before resuming its live feed of what was occurring in front of the weaponized rain deterrent

The muggy feed showed the bartender giving a condescending smirk her way, pumping the shotgun in his hand for another shot.

Star held on as the metal joints of the umbrella groaned under the next volley, the smooth clothed surface becoming tattered and worn as an empty cartridge hollowly clattered against the floor.

“You” Another shot, the umbrella began to bend inward “Bitch” half the feed froze “You think you could come in here” Star could hear the fabric being ripped to shreds “and just knock us around silly? Well you got another thing….”

Star was saved by the most unlikely of sounds: The gentle rapping of a fist against the bolted pub door.

The bartender jumped, spontaneously aiming toward and pulled the trigger without remembering he hadn’t loaded the next shell into the gun. A satisfying hollow click was the most beautiful noise Star could ever imagine.

Star wasted no time: She flung her near useless gadget to the side and made a mad dash directly towards the fumbling bartender, his hands nervously attempting to load more ammo into his useless weapon.

His eyes went wide with fear as Star approached and in a last ditch attempt to protect himself, he held the barrel tightly and howled in agony as he recoiled from the still burning hot metal.

Star tried not to enjoy herself too much as she clobbered him with a solid hook, sending the dazed bartender sprawling into the wall of alcoholic drinks. He, along with his products, tumbled to the floor and remained still.

“That” Star murmured softly, wiping the nonexistent dirt from her suit “concludes today’s lesson.”

Star blew a strain out of her hair, picking up her discarded umbrella as she strolled towards the door, body tense for whatever lay on the other side.

She undid the bolt slowly and calmly opened the door

“Oi Ralphy, about time you open the door mate, was near freezing my arse out…you’re not Ralphy.”

Star’s heart leapt a little without warning as she found herself face to face with her target.

The police photos did not do the young man before her justice: In his mug shot he wearing plain clothes, his brown hair disheveled as his brown eyes glared angrily at the person photographing him. In person, his brown hair was a little longer and tucked under his black beanie. He wore a white undershirt which was covered by a red hoodie which was further covered by a simple black jacket. Laid back jeans and poorly choice sneakers for the current weather rounded out his attire and while Star was certainly unsure if this was the very same Marco Diaz from the photo, her glasses compared the two images and confirmed a match.

Marco shifted nervously under Star’s silent gaze “Umm…sorry luv, I was confusing you for another bloke.” he scratched his neck sheepishly “A-are you lost? Because I’ve never seen any woman willingly come in here before. The environment is a bit toxic and stale of piss ale, misogyny and outdated ideals.”

The soft pattering of rain was the only response Marco received

“Listen darling” Marco whispered with a hint of concern in his voice “These aren’t exactly good people. I reckon it’s best if you move along and pretend you didn’t see nuthing.”

“Mr. Diaz I assume?” Star asked with a preppy edge.

Marco’s jaw twitched anxiously “….maybe….depends on whose looking.”

“I would like to have a bit of sit and chat with you. If that’s alright.”

Marco shook his head, unable to keep the displeasure from his face while he chuckled “Yeah, see about that…Umm I’m a bit unfamiliar with you and you are pretty but you’re a bit too posh for my taste. Look, I just need to pop in for a sec and talk to Ralphy about an extension.”

“Don’t worry Mr. Diaz” Star replied with a matter of fact tone “You have your extension.”

Star noticed Marco’s frame tense, his jaw locked as Star gently pulled open the door all the way through, gesturing inward in a playful manner.

“Oh that’s not fucking good.” Marco stared dumbfounded at the bodies that littered the floor, the low pained moans that wailed from within.

Marco locked eyes with Star, completely unnerved by her cheerful smile and relaxed posture.

“Well Marco?” Star gave him a flirty smile “Fancy a bit of a date?”

Marco bit his lip, queasily swaying from side to side before breaking into a run.

“I’m pretty sure what you did qualified as assault.”

Star clicked her tongue disappointingly, her eyes rascally as Marco squirmed uncomfortably in his chair.

“I am hurt you didn’t want to take me out Marco” Star’s tone was conversational yet amused

“Well you’re a bit 6’s and 7's” Marco replied in a tense tone, rubbing his sore arm as his eyes darted around for anyone who could help but the cafe’s patrons were preoccupied with staying warm and what delicious meal did they want to try next than noticing the hostage situation before them .

“Hi!” Marco nearly jumped out of his skin as the waiter greeted them “What will we be having today?”

“Usual for me” Star grinned happily “and you honey, what would you like?”

Marco looked at Star, glanced at the waiting waiter then back to Star once again.

Was this a trap? A joke? Was the waiter in on whatever this was? Was everyone else? What the hell did he get himself caught up in? Was Ralphy going to blame him for crazy face’s actions? How the hell was he supposed to pay off his debt now? He was in some serious sh…

“Sir?” The waiter politely interrupted his train of thoughts “Your order?”

Marco stared blankly at the waiter “The usual….I mean her usual, I don’t usually come in to places like this. No offense.”

“None taken” The waiter rolled his eyes before disappearing into the kitchen.

“So whose on your payroll?” Marco asked breathlessly, hands clutching the edges of the table tightly “These your people? Gonna bloody kill me without a second thought? I don’t what you think I’m caught up in but I didn’t mess with no one.”

“Really?” Star seemed unmoved by Marco’s claims “Because according to your file, you’ve been arrested several times for assault, trespassing, breaking and entering and disorderly conduct.”

Marco pursed his lips “Yous with the bobbies or something? Look, I haven’t done anything. Whatever you think I did, I didn’t. After the last time, I got the message loud and clear: Stay on the straight and narrow or go to jail and I ain’t doing hard time because some crazy got me mixed up for someone else.”

Star leaned back into her seat “What did you need extension for?”

Marco’s mouth tightened “That’s a bit of personal business I’m afraid luv. And if you ain’t a cop, I’m not saying a bloody word.”

“Marco, I’m trying to help you.”

“Help me? By getting a confession out of me?” Marco snarled quietly “I ain’t going to jail just because you mixing up crooks and me.”

“Marco” Star whispered gently

“….” Marco remained silent, torn between fact and lies.

“Look” Star brushed her hair behind her ear “I’m not a cop. I need help with something but if I can help you out too, I don’t mind.”

Marco shifted anxiously, his voice low and subdued “Alright. So there’s a local….sponsor who likes to trade money for favors…..take this here, drop that there, move this across town, just….stuff.”

“Mhm” Star nodded but said nothing.

“As you can no doubt tell by my outstanding record” Marco went on “I’m having a bit of trouble coming up with the scratch I need for college. So I figured one…tiny little…delivery wouldn’t hurt….”

“Except it never made it, did it Marco?”

Marco gulped fearfully “I tried. I swear I tried but I was running out options. You high and mighty types judge us effortlessly without a care why we do what we do. I just wanted a clean life but evidently it was too much to ask for and now I’m up shit creek without a boat. I owe money I don’t have to a person you don’t want to be owing to and I got no way to pay it back. And college?”

Marco scoffed dismissively

“That’s more of a far off dream than seeing Jackie again.”

“Jackie?” Star asked curiously.

Marco’s face flushed red “Don’t you worry about that. Look, I don’t know what you were expecting looking for me but I ain’t got anything for you and I doubt you got anything for me.”

Star felt a surge of panic as Marco began to rise from his chair, his defeated weary face tugging at Star’s heartstrings and before she could help herself, the words came tumbling out of her mouth.

“I can get you the money!”

Star mentally smacked herself for blurting it out but it had done the trick: Marco stood there, a mixture of disbelief yet intrigue etched onto his face.

“You? You don’t even know how much I need bruv.” Marco scoffed yet remained still

“Take a seat and find out.”

Marco bit his cheek, unable to choose between the sweet temptation of the door and the alluring of the pretty stranger.

“Alright” Marco relented as he slowly returned to his seat “let’s say I do buy into this whole your my way out of this shitstorm I’m in cuz. If you ain’t a cop and you ain’t a crook, just what are you?”

“A Disney agent” Star replied with the smuggest of grins.

“A what now?” Marco shook his head out of its stupor “Hang on, you taking a piss? You ’re telling me you work at that glorified fairy tale shop what sells those cutesy little knick knacks and thingamajigs to fawning tourists?”

“Yes.” Star straightened in her chair “We belong to a secret organization that operates at the highest levels of discretion. Our mission is to ensure the safety and safeguard the well being of international security and stability of our planet.”

“You….are…mental” Marco rubbed his eyes tiredly “A'ight I’m done. I don’t know what sales pitching you trying to sell or if you’re having a bit fun with me but I’m done. I got far bigger problems than a mental polish girl and her make believe…”

“Here Mr. Diaz” Star gently removed her glasses and slid them over to him “Take the red pill. It’s a real eye opener”

Marco raised an eyebrow “Really? Outdated jokes luv? You’re lucky yous cute or else you wouldn’t be getting fa….”

Marco’s jaw slackened, his eyes wide as he gazed at the world through Star’s lens but he didn’t see the beautiful 25 year old woman sitting across from him, knowing smirk and gaze but rather a series of complex codes, phrases, jargon that made no sense to him. In the upper left hand corner was a live video feed of someone narrowly avoiding gunfire and next to that the glasses focused on Star’s face, zooming and enhancing as they began to run a facial recognition scan.

“Agent Rapunzel?” Marco murmured dumbfounded before blindly groping the air as Star snatched back her glasses.

“Proof enough Mr. Diaz?”

Marco stared blankly at the secret agent, unable to wrap his mind around what just occurred.

“……why do you need me?” Marco asked bluntly “If you these James Bond types, why you gotta go looking through the gutter for help?”

“Simply put” Star sighed anxiously “Something big is going to happen here on Mewni. Soon but aside the fact we’re getting reports indicating Mewni is the intended target, we have nothing else.”

“So you need crooks who’ve got their ear to the ground to help you” Marco nodded in understanding “Why me though? I ain’t exactly the most thuggish and my record isn’t the worst compared to some other blokes.”

Star pursed her lips, conflicted between telling a lie or revealing Jackie had sent her his way.

“Never mind”

Star blinked, unsure what just happened.

“It doesn’t matter” Marco told her “Either you did your homework, someone just told you I was the biggest loser in town or you just lucked out…..so what do you need from me?”

“Well Marco, heard any big scores coming in?”

“Big scores?” Marco rolled his eyes “You spies are really out of touch with reality. No one calls them that. You might as well be running down the streets screaming how you got your life savings in your pocket! See how long that’ll last you.”

“Ooookay” Star frowned “Have you heard anything big coming in?”

“Nah uh princess, that’s not how this works.”

Star frowned “Then how does this work Mr. Diaz?”

“…I want out.”

Star stared at Marco, unsure what exactly he meant by that.

“Mean…” Marco coughed hesitantly “I don’t want…this…” he gestured to himself pathetically “…Anymore. I….I don’t want none of this. I don’t want to be looking over my shoulder in case some thugs happen to stumble on me. I miss visiting my parents. You know how hard it is not to drive their street and check up on them outta fear some nasty blokes are casing place, waiting for you to show up?”

Star thought of her mother and how often she was tucked away in some sort of secret location that only she and Miss Skullnick knew. She thought of the last time she actually saw her mother, hugged her, talked to her more beyond the scope of business.

Star gave a short but understanding nod.

“The money I’ll figure out” Marco told her gently “This ain’t the first time I’ve had to make up some scratch I ain’t got but college….they’re ain’t going to let me in, not without some recommendation and if you being them cloak and dagger companies.”

“Wait a minute” Star cut in immediately “You can’t just…”

“Whoa, chill princess” Marco waved his hand “I didn’t mean make me one of them types or nothing. Shit, I doubt I’d be kept alive two seconds during your job. But you gotta have some pull right? Ways to make them posh academic types look the other way?”

Star shifted anxiously in her seat: She did in fact have a way to grant Marco’s request. However, it wasn’t as simple as calling the school of his choice and waving her I’m a secret agent privilege but rather…

“Do we have a deal?”

Star bit her lip. This was the closest lead she was going to get and while she would normally play for the country card, she had a sneaking suspicion Marco wouldn’t care if something happened to Mewni. Too many bad memories….

“Well do we have a deal?”

Star took a deep breath “Deal: You help stop whatever is going to happen and I’ll help you get a better life.”

“I felt like we’ve done this before” Marco muttered under his breath before offering his hand to Star.

Star stared at the gesture, unsure what exactly Marco wanted from her.

“Handsake? Ever heard of one miss posh?”

“Oh….oh” Star nodded in understanding “Of course I have Mr. Diaz, I was just confused why…”

“I don’t want you double crossing me” Marco interrupted hastily with a nervous tinge to his words “Promise me.”

“…Marco…”

“Promise me.”

Star felt guilt shift uneasily in the pit of her stomach at his plead, the vulnerability in his voice. He was at the end of his rope and he was literally taken a leap of faith on a complete stranger.

The wrong stranger.

“Okay Marco…” Star whispered softly “I promise.”

Marco’s eyes were no less guarded but his body visibly relaxed upon Star shaking his outstretched hand.

Marco took a deep calming breath “Okay. Rumor is Lucitor Electronics is looking for extra workers.”

Star raised a puzzled eyebrow “I’m sorry? I don’t quite follow…”

Marco shifted uncomfortably under Star’s gaze “Of course not, that’s the point. You see luv Lucitor Electronics have been known to….push certain products into the town. If they’re looking for extra workers then that’s street speak for we need something moved and we’ll pay great money for you to keep your moth shut.”

“Do you mean…?”

Marco gave a short nod “They’re asking for 2 dozen workers. That’s the largest amount of ‘help’ they’ve asked for in years. Only means one thing.”

“Whatever they’re moving” Star concluded “It’s big and probably dangerous.”

“Exactly. Next shipment comes in two weeks. Give me your number and I’ll contact you when it comes in.”

Star frowned at that idea but quickly scrawled her number on a napkin and gingerly handed it to Marco.

Marco seemed pretty unsure of himself. He rose to his feet quickly, his mouth opening and closing a few times before giving a curt nod and disappearing into the water veil that blanketed Star’s beloved Mewni.

Star carefully placed her glasses back onto her face, trying to ignore the sinking of her heart as Grumpy whispered quietly “She’s not going to be okay with this you know?”

“I know…..”

#star vs au #my story

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sciencevillain · 7 years

Text

I just finished reading Lacuna by @johnandsherlocks and now I absolutely have to write a fix-it for the ending -- which was a fine ending, by the way -- I just need to make the scene I’ve been waiting for all along actually happen. You guessed it. The memories are coming back.

(Wordcount: 3,000)

~~~

John walked by the Lacuna clinic every once in a while. Not on purpose, heavens no, purely by chance.

Every time he did, he thought about what he’d done. About the pieces of him that were never coming back. Sherlock could tell him over and over again how they’d first met, really first met, and he could close his eyes and try to imagine it, but it would never be the same.

He’d written quite a few blog posts since they’d gotten the blog set back up. He really shouldn’t have worried about it. But the idea of missing any memory with Sherlock, even if he said it was fine, even if he... well, he still had a lost look on his face whenever it came up. Sherlock still wanted him to remember. They had talked for hours trying to trigger memories, and he would get them back in dreams sometimes... but never enough.

They were happy. They were so perfectly happy, he hated to dwell on the loose ends. Everyone’s life had regrets. But every so often, he’d walk by Lacuna clinic, and have half a mind to barge in there and demand they do whatever brain-mapping thing they’d done in the first place, and reverse the process. Give him his memories back. He didn’t really need them, but they were like jewels -- every memory so precious, every moment even better than the last. And he wanted all of them. Not just the new ones.

Other times when he walked by the clinic, he was afraid. What if he hadn’t wiped his memories? Would they have ever gotten as far as they did? Or would he have ignored and denied and justified things until it was too late to confess how he felt?

If he had his old memories, would he feel the same? Or would it wedge some distance between the inseparable; he and Sherlock? On those days he felt lucky to have lost them. Because he couldn’t imagine things working out any differently than they had. Even if it was a painful path to walk down, it was worth every kiss.

One day when he walked up the stairs to 221B Baker Street, Sherlock caught him reminiscing. Their eyes met, and he could tell immediately that Sherlock knew what he’d been thinking about.

“Alright?” Sherlock asked. Usually he’d be working on some ridiculous experiment, but in the past week or so he’d taken to waiting in his armchair for John to come home from the ER. He’d told John that he sat down at precisely the time he knew John was leaving the clinic, and devoted that time to sorting out John in his mind palace.

“Oh really?” John had asked, amused. His eyes glimmered with and what are you sorting me out for in that head of yours?

Sherlock had smirked and glanced downwards, blushing a little. He’d glanced back up to meet John’s eyes and said, “I spend an inordinate amount of time tending to my mind, John. When I think of you, I’m tending to my heart.”

John had grinned with the sheer delight and surprise of yet another of Sherlock’s eloquent, heart-warming platitudes that he insisted were sheer expressions of the truth, without so-called “embellishments”.

In the here and now, John blinked. “Alright? Yeah. Yeah. I was just-”

“I know,” Sherlock interrupted, standing. “I’m sorry.”

John shook his head. “It’s nothing. I’ve-- We’ve made more than enough memories. I was just... being...” he shook his head again. “It’s fine.”

Sherlock touched the side of his face. “I must be honest with you.” He looked so serious, John tensed immediately.

“I’ve been researching memory loss. Cases, of... loss, and recovery.”

John raised his eyebrows. “You have?”

Sherlock smiled. “I thought, if you’re still searching for those memories, I might as well help.”

They smirked at each other. “Damn you, I tried to keep that a secret,” John said playfully.

“Oh, please,” Sherlock rolled his eyes. “trying to hide it made it that much more obvious.”

John simply shrugged. When you lived with a detective, you lived with a detective.

Sherlock cleared his throat. “And... I think I might have found something.”

(what are you waiting for? keep reading the story!)

John’s heart went cold. He could hardly dare to believe it. “What?”

“It’s a long shot, I’ll warn you... but there are a few cases of success. After 20 years of business, Lacuna inevitably had unhappy customers, and a certain process was developed to reverse it... by one of the patients themselves, in fact...”

~~~

He’d taken the day off work. His heart couldn’t shut up. It wouldn’t hold still. He imagined each of his dreams -- the good ones -- and tried to picture them coming back as memories. Real memories. Not just Sherlock’s retelling, but the emotions and smells and tastes and reactions attached to them. The exact position of each object in every room in every memory. The exact tone of voice, and feeling of terrifying lightness whenever he looked at Sherlock’s face. He had to know what it felt like the first time. He had to know.

Sherlock squeezed his hand. They walked down the street. By now, it was common knowledge which bed each of them slept in. The press had rumor mills, and these turned into facts once Sherlock confirmed them, with that totally unconcerned and bored face that greeted any press member who so much as snapped a picture of them. John grinned at the memory. Nowadays, he had a lot of memories to smile at.

But not all of them.

once at the building, they rang the doorbell. A mousy woman opened the door. “Is this John Watson, here for the reversal?”

“It is,” John said, stepping forward and shaking her hand firmly. “Let’s get started.”

The woman spoke with a slight lisp, and had fingernails that curved downwards instead of growing straight out. “I had my memories removed once.”

John followed her into the building. It really was quite small. He coughed. What smell was this? All of them? He could count at least twelve differently-scented candles burning in this room alone. He turned back to look at Sherlock, just to see his face wrinkle in disgust. “Lovely,” he whispered. John grinned.

“Oh?” John prompted.

The woman nodded, leading them into a room that looked as white and sterile as any dentist’s office. “Not through Lacuna. It was only an accident. Caused by trauma, or whatnot. I searched for years for a solution.”

She patted a machine that looked like an upside-down bowl attached to a chair, roughly speaking. If the bowl were a piece of highly expensive machinery. “This was my solution. Turns out, I hadn’t forgotten much. It was only my absence of memory making me imagine new things I might have forgot.”

“I had lost people, you understand.” She waved for John to sit down in the chair. “People I didn’t want to lose. Memories like that make you do anything.”

Sherlock was examining the machine with keen interest. “...even the impossible.”

She nodded. “They told me it was impossible.”

“Who?” John asked politely.

“Everyone.” She lowered the bowl around John’s head. He looked down at his hand and realized it was trembling. Just like old times. He realized he didn’t want to lose any more memories of Sherlock. And what if this went wrong? Then how would they possibly--

No. He couldn’t worry. He didn’t need to worry. He’d already lost everything once, and hadn’t they gotten back together, even better than the first time? In any place or time, no matter what memories he did or didn’t have, he would always, always be with Sherlock Holmes. Perhaps this knowledge was what made Sherlock look so calm as the woman fastened the device to his head.

They both knew what they meant to each other. On a level deeper than any specific memory, they knew they would never leave each other, even if they became strangers, even if they died, they would always be inseparable. After all, Sherlock had come back to life for him. For him.

“Yes, I even thought it was impossible myself. But then I realized, no memory can truly be erased. All you have to do is connect the mind to the heart.”

Sherlock winked at John. “Lacuna took a piece of your mind. But everything related to love, and people, and emotions, is connected to a deeper part of the brain, apart from your frontal cortex.”

“Your heart,” the woman clarified. “They are buried in your heart. How else could you remember in dreams, and feel familiarity where logically there should be none?”

John nodded.

“I am Dr. Corazon. To do this process properly, we must put you in a hypnotic state. I will connect you to your subconscious. Are you ready?”

John nodded again.

She did some hypnotic techniques -- not the bull of sensational stories, but the few proven tactics that simply relaxed a patient into a sort of almost-asleep state of calm.

“Do you feel comfortable?” Dr. Corazon asked.

“Mm,” John murmured.

“I want you to close your eyes, John Watson, and forget Sherlock Holmes.”

A jolt of panic flew through hs body. “No!”

“It’s part of the process. You cannot truly forget him. Remember that.”

John clenched his fists. “No!”

She sighed. “Alright. Remember that this is to bring you closer to the place beyond memories. To remember him, you must forget.”

He bit his lip.

“Do not forget Sherlock Holmes. Instead, forget everyone you know.”

John tried. It was odd, because in order to actively attempt to forget a person, you had to remember that the person existed, and think about the memories you had of them, and by then it really was like trying to tell someone not to think of a pink elephant...

“Let your mind think of feelings, and not of people. Not of experiences. Only of your deepest self.”

John furrowed his brow, feeling a bit silly. Sherlock seemed to believe in the tactic, but it sounded more like some kind of bizarre therapy tactic than true science. Then again, most science sounded like that when it was first introduced to the world.

He felt so distant. His eyelids slipped shut. As if from across a street, he heard Dr. Corazon tell Sherlock, “He’s going to fall asleep now. He has the best chances of accepting the treatment when his brain is most relaxed.”

And then darkness.

~~~

John woke up slowly. He hadn’t had dreams, or at least, he hadn’t remembered any. There was a kink in his back and neck from sleeping in an odd position.

Hang on... he was at the memory-retrieval place. That’s why his head was cool from the touch of metal, and he could smell thick scents of too many candles all at once. And Sherlock -- where was he?

The first face he saw was Dr. Corazon’s. “I traced your neural pathways and located the damaged portions. If you don’t already remember, the healed neuron pathways should be firing up soon. I simply re-connected the places leading to Sherlock Holmes.”

Simply. Simply. Simply. John tried to remember, but he couldn’t. Sherlock’s stories -- memories -- might as well have never happened.

Dr. Corazon was unhooking the device from atop his head. “Of course, there is no full guarantee. Lacuna has always worked to make their process more and more infallible. They do call it permanent.”

John couldn’t help but feel crushing disappointment. He smiled tightly at the doctor, and thanked her. For what? He paused. “Sherlock?”

Dr. Corazon nodded towards the room with too many candles, and too-soft couches. “He’s been waiting in there.”

When John came in, Sherlock sat bolt upright. His face said it all. Those wide eyes, his nervously clenched jaw...

John shook his head.

Sherlock deflated. “I’m sorry.”

John shrugged. “I’ve still got that memory of the first time.”

“Oh John,” Sherlock protested.

He smirked. “I don’t care what you say. It was perfect.”

“It was perfect. I simply... you still didn’t know. I hate to dwell on the dishonesty that took place in those weeks.”

John pulled Sherlock closer by his belt as they walked out to the car. “Remember that James Bond movie?”

Sherlock looked at him sideways. “Carrying you upstairs beforehand was the worse of the two.”

John pecked him on the cheek. “Whatever happened beforehand, the second time over was much more satisfying, as a beginning.”

“You mean you got into my pants faster?”

“I seem to remember you telling me you never got into my pants the first time ‘round.”

They arrived at the car and got in. “Shut up.”

John stroked his hair. “Let’s forget about the old memories, Sherlock.”

“I can’t.”

“No, I mean... don’t try to bring them back for me anymore. Please. We’ll forget what we have. We’ll obsess over the things we don’t.”

Sherlock was quiet. “That was only one attempt, John. Surely you agree that there’s no point in starting something only to give up at the first notion of discouragement.”

John sighed. He’d said the wrong thing. Now Sherlock would be more determined than ever. “I just don’t want to lose you again.”

Sherlock tightened his hands on the steering wheel. “Of course not.”

“To the other me, I mean. I don’t want you to fall in love with him more than me.”

“John, for all the ridiculous things you’ve said, that by far wins the gold medal. I love all of you. Every single one of you. Back then... we didn’t know each other. Not enough to realize how we felt. Do you really think I would want to go back to pretending to be just friends?”

John, in turn, was quiet for a moment. “No, but... if you’re doing this for me, then shouldn’t you give up if I ask you to? For me?”

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “I suppose that resembles some form of logic.”

Phew.

John tried to squash the disappointment of the missing memories for ther est of the ride home. He knew Sherlock knew he felt disappointed, no matter what he said. But searching for some past self felt dangerous, somehow. Like in mental patients who ruminated over and over certain past events until they became distorted and larger-than-life. He didn’t want their love to be like that. He wanted it to stay in the here and now.

That night, he couldn’t sleep. Things kept running through his mind, running and running and running, until sometime in the early morning hours -- and then he slept.

~~~

The name is Sherlock Holmes, and the address is 221 B Baker Street.

Heart Palpitations.

Swish. The scene changed. Not even truly a scene... just a dream of a story. Not a true memory. His mind trying to reenact Sherlock’s memories until they became his own.

This time, he was standing in a dark place. It crackled and sizzled softly. He turned his head, and saw a dying fire, flickering just enough to see shadows cast on the dark, cold woods around him.

A machine gun rattled off in the distance. Immediately John leapt to the ground, tasting dirt as he screamed.

The sound didn’t come out. In dreams, in nightmares, it rarely did. No one could ever hear him except his attackers. Not even himself.

So now he knew a sniper was coming. Not through any true intuition... only through that strange dream logic. He knew. He just knew.

The sniper’s footsteps echoed like metal clanking. It made no sense, out here in a forest...

He tried to find safety, a place to hide, anywhere to escape... but when he dove into a child’s hide-out made from planks of wood nailed together and a shoddy blanket tossed over it, the footsteps only grew closer. He pulled a phone out from nowhere and flung it into the blackness. The sniper was tracking him through it. He knew that too, for no reason other than that he was dreaming and he knew. It was a strange phone. A blackberry, with the tedious keyboard and little scroller ball in the center. Well worn. He tried to remember details of it, but couldn’t. Suddenly he could. It was a phone with a cartoonish heart as the lock screen. A piece of clipart reminiscent of early computer programs.

Suddenly he wasn’t in Afghanistan anymore. He was standing in a dark hallway. Clipart hearts rotated around and around him, flickering like TV static. He felt fear rise up uncontrollably in his throat. The sniper. The sniper.

A gun emerged from nowhere. No -- a joint corridor. From around a corner he hadn’t known existed. Handling the gun was a man with a mad looking grin. A man he had never seen before. He had black hair and a pale face, and an oddly high-pitched, taunting voice. “Got youuuuu, John Watson. Got. You.”

He raised his eyebrows and widened his eyes. They didn’t stop. The eyes grew to monstrous proportions. John backed away, but couldn’t move. The man reached out and grabbed him by the shirt. “You don’t even remember him.”

John looked around the room at the spinning animated hearts.

“You don’t even REMEMBER HIM!” The man yelled, dissolving into hysterical laughter. “But you remember me.”

A name flickered into John’s mind. Moriarty. The man who escaped the law’s grasp. He and Lestrade had... no, Sherlock had been involved... he just didn’t remember... how had he been involved? the memory was so clear! He and Lestrade poring over evidence. But then that made no sense. He wasn’t a detective. He wasn’t clever. He was just a doctor. An ordinary, bumbling doctor. He didn’t fight crimes. He wasn’t like that. Only Sherlock could have done what he remembered doing all by himself.

“I killed him,” Moriarty whispered in his ear. It felt intimate, and sent a shudder of repulsion down John’s spine. “I’ll kill you. I triiiiied to.”

John tried to run away once again, but his feet wouldn’t lift. It was just a silly leg-movement like some kind of dance, or like running through taffy. Moriarty lifted his gun. He could feel the aim of the gun on his back. The back of his shoulder. The bullet struck, and he felt white hot pain sweep through him so potent, it blinded him. He fell to the ground, and tasted mud before he could close his mouth. The surroundings became unbearably loud. He had fallen into the old memory. The terror-inducing flashback. That was all. That was all. No Moriarty. No Sherlock. Just the old fears.

A fellow soldier turned to John and screamed for him to keep moving. Keep moving. Keep moving. He couldn’t lift a single finger. He was trembling too hard. The soldier knelt down, panting from adrenaline, and lifted John with a little heave. His shoulder screamed with pain. He blacked out.

A voice. Remember me? No. No. But I wish. I wish I could.

You do. No I don’t. You don’t understand. I erased you. I’m sorry. I am so sorry. How could I ever. I don’t know how I ever-

Shut up. What? Shut up. You’re not listening. Why? Listen to me!

There was a rattle. The sound of a car driving in the rain. It was a cab. He watched as if in third person, yet at the same time from directly out of his memory self’s eyes. John looked down, and realized he was holding that same blackberry phone. The one he’d never seen before. It had a lockscreen that said “I am _ _ _ _ locked”. SHER. He typed in the letters, and the screen caught fire.

“Huh?” John turned to notice Sherlock was beside him in the cab. Talking very very fast. Deducing something. He looked at the phone in John’s hands and deduced his sister. His relationships. His superficial details.

Then Sherlock looked him directly in the eyes. “You found me.”

“What?”

“Come.”

They took each other’s hands and walked into Angelo’s. But not Angelo’s. It didn’t look like the place he knew, but through his dream self, he simply knew this was Angelo’s. Albeit with film flickering, projected against walls upon walls where the dining tables should have been. So many different films, he-

He stopped dead.

“This place doesn’t exist.”

Sherlock kissed John’s hand. “It’s your memories.”

“No. It’s a dreamscape of my memories. An imaginary... an...”

His gut churned. John collapsed, clinging to Sherlock with all his might. It hurt so much, his eyes watered. Sherlock crouched down. “Do you remember the last thing you said to me?”

John almost drifted into unconsciousness within the dream. But he did remember. “I said we had to hide you where the mappers wouldn’t find us.”

“Correct. And you did. Everyone always does.”

John shook his head, uncomprehending. “But-”

“To hide from the mappers, I had to hide from yourself. Deeper than your conscious thought, deeper than your subconscious thought. In all respects and for all purposes, dead.”

John sat bolt upright, screamed with pain, and flopped back down to the floor again, shuddering. “My head-”

Sherlock grimaced. “It’s going to hurt. But you brought me back. My John, my conductor of light, my source of light, like the sun beaming against all darkness... you found me.”

Moriarty lurked in the background, knocking rapidly on the door to Angelo’s. He kicked at the door. He slammed his hands against it. John’s heartbeat quickened. “It’s just in my head. I won’t remember. I never-”

Sherlock, with all the urgency in the world, leaned in and gave John a firm kiss on the lips. The pressure felt like electric shock.

John sat up. The covers scrunched back, and Sherlock sat up beside him. “You alright?”

John pursed his lips, unable to reply. He tried to fight it. He tried- and he yelled out, quivering all over. Sherlock jumped out of bed and switched the lights on. John shied away from them. “OFF!” he bellowed.

Sherlock complied instantly. “Dream?” he asked.

John moaned like he was dying -- it felt like he was dying -- and dug his fingers into the sheets, goign back and forth between clenching his entire body into a tight ball and twisting side to side with discomfort.

Sherlock reached out through the darkness to hold his face firmly. “John!”

He tried to hold still amidst the head-splitting pain.

Sherlock let go of his face and sucked in a gasp. He began pacing back and forth while John struggled against the urge to claw his nerves out. His breathing was so heavy, but he tried to breathe faster, as if more air would alleviate this... this...

“ER,” Sherlock said at once, and started dialing.

John couldn’t say anything one way or the other. He simply blacked out from the intense pain.

~~~

Beep. Beep.

John opened his eyes. A heart rate monitor. Beep. Beep.

Sherlock.

His brain felt like collapsing into a million shards and fragments. A distinct image flashed through his head. He knew exactly when and where, although Sherlock had never told him the story of it. Another and another. Flash. Flash. Flash. I’d be lost without my blogger. Flash. Baker Street would be in shambles without Mrs. Hudson. Flash. Dull. Tedious. I say, could you pass me a pen?

John sat bolt upright in bed, and laughed. The pain increased with the movements, but he couldn’t have stopped himself if his life depended on it. The laugh was loud. It died out, and then came the tears. He was sobbing. Sobbing into his hands out of sheer relief. He was laughing again. Or, no -- both. He was shaking, whimpering intermittently from the pain -- but so, so alive.

How had he gone for so long without these memories?

~~~

Sherlock had to force himself not to run into John’s hospital room. He hadn’t gotten one ounce of sleep the night before, and walking beside the decidedly elderly nurse taking him there was so excruciating, he found himself unable to breathe.

Something was building in his chest. Was John alright? Or had Mycroft somehow bribed the entire hospital into pretending John was alive so that Sherlock could “found out for himself”? Or was John alright in the relative sense, such as “he’s not dead, he’s merely in a deep, irreversible coma”.

They arrived at John’s room, and Sherlock burst through the door.

John had been crying. It clearly hurt to sit up, but he was sitting up anyway. His entire face structure seemed... different, somehow.

“I remember.”

Sherlock’s brain shut down.

Impossible.

He stared blankly. He felt his enormous brain go completely quiet for once.

No. They failed. It couldn’t have worked.

He couldn’t get his hopes up. It would kill him all over again to hope....

But.

John’s face said it all.

“Sherlock,” John said. Tenderly. But like addressing someone new. Someone lost, and then discovered. “When we first met, I reached into your pocket and I swear you were flirting, but then you said you were married to your work, but you’d winked at me, but you were a social imbecile, and I loved you, but you would never love me back, you didn’t work that way, you wouldn’t accept me that way, and I didn’t want to lose you, I didn’t want to... you... you saved me.”

Finally, Sherlock snapped out of his stupor. An inexpressible feeling swelled in his chest.

“Sherlock. I remember how lost I felt without you, I remember walking into that clinic and oh, oh, oh, you’re alive, you, I am so glad- ah- ow!”

Sherlock touched John’s forehead. “Shh.” He kissed John’s forehead. “Shh.”

“But SHERLOCK!” John wrapped his arms around Sherlock’s neck, dragging him closer to the hospital bed.

“There are cameras in here!” Sherlock protested.

John held him tight, looking deeply into his eyes, and his face, and his very soul. Those eyes searched him like seeing a dead man resurrected. Like seeing the Christ for a Christian, or a long lost piece of himself. In me? Sherlock stared intently back, memorizing this new John. No. No.

This wasn’t new John. He had always been and will always be the same John.

“You will always be my John,” Sherlock whispered tenderly. To make sure he knew.

“You will always, always be my Sherlock,” John replied in a whisper of his own.

Suddenly he felt a pang of anxiety. “Do you remember me differently now?”

John laughed. “No. I just have a thousand more moments to remember why I love you.”

Sherlock relaxed. “Then-”

He was interrupted by the ping of a text message. It was Lestrade.

“Triple murder,” he read with a smirk. “Like old times.”

“No,” John said fervently. “Not like old times.” And he pulled Sherlock in all the way for a kiss.

#johnlock #lacuna #johnandsherlocks #fanfic #sherlock #ficlet #in which I spend WAY too much time writing an increasingly too-long story based on a story based on a TV show based on a series of stories b #and stay up way too late writing it too! and don't bother to spellcheck or ANYTHING!#but it was fun to write so #yeah

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jogood-reads-blog · 5 years

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Bridge of Clay by Markus Zusak: Review

Note: I’m starting this with a quick little note because I know I said that my first review would be Lord of Shadows by Cassandra Clare, which is coming, but I absolutely HAVE to talk about this book. Markus Zusak never fails to amaze me and I’m going to be diving into how I feel about this book. I’m breaking this review into two parts, the first part is a non-spoiler part for those who are thinking about what to read next, and then a spoiler part for those who read the book and want to discuss it with me! This is my first review (the word review is starting to lose meaning now don’t you think?) so I am completely open to constructive criticism. Let me know what you all think and talk to me about Markus’ books!

Non-spoiler: I want to spoil this book so much, but I will resist so we can all discuss together! First, let’s talk about what this story is about. There are five brothers, the Dunbar boys, and the eldest, Matthew, is the one narrating the story. While Matthew is the narrator, he is not the star of the book, he is telling the story of the fourth Dunbar brother. This novel follows the story of Clay Dunbar rekindling the relationship with his estranged father, but the novel also simultaneously tells the story of Clay’s parents. The first part of the book tells how his mother comes from Soviet Russia to Australia, and the second part is about his father’s childhood in Australia, and then it’s about how their parents meet and get married and have their children. I know this all sounds complicated, and in some way it is, but trust me when I say that it’s worth the complexity. I love all of the characters. There are five brothers like I mentioned earlier, Matthew is the oldest who looks after his brothers after their mom dies and dad leaves (this is mentioned pretty early on, so I don’t count that note as a spoiler). Then there is Rory, I love Rory with all of my heart. He loves to fight, and drink, and women, but most importantly, he loves his family. Doesn’t really love to admit that he loves anyone because no boy really does, but oh my gosh the way that he shows his love is so amazing and it makes me so happy. Then there’s Henry, who is a lot like Rory, but money-driven. He isn’t greedy though, and I think he’s my favorite. Henry reminds me of William Herondale or any Herondale. Lots of Herondale energy from my sweet Henry. Then there’s Clay, the smiler, he’s very quiet and is always running. At first, when I was reading I thought he might be on the spectrum but as the novel progressed I was able to figure out why he is so quiet and to himself. After Clay is Tommy, he’s the youngest and has a love for animals. All of his animals are names after people, or hero’s, from Greek mythology, it’s so great. This book is so much, and it will hit home in so many different ways for everyone, but it hit home for me as a sibling story. Sibling stories always get me because I’m one of five and I have a very different relationship with all of my siblings. To see this beautiful relationship with these five brothers is so heart-warming, but also heart-wrenching. If you’re on the fence about reading this book I promise that you won’t regret it. I absolutely adore this book. Markus Zusak has yet to disappoint me. I was actually nervous about reading this book because The Book Thief holds such a huge place in my heart, but I am so glad I picked up Bridge of Clay. I hope you all chose to read it and love it just as much as I did.

SPOILER: Alright, if you’re reading this then it means that you finished Bridge of Clay and want to talk about it with me. Which I appreciate because I love talking about books that I’ve read. If you haven’t finished the book please do not read this section, I want you to enjoy this novel in its entirety Thank you, go now if you haven’t read the book, stay if you have. <3

Okay! First thing I want to talk about is Penelope’s luck. I just feel so bad for her, I mean Marks really did her dirty when he thought of this character. When father put her on the train out of soviet Russia my heart broke. Her dad was never really great at showing her that he loved her, but he really did love her so much. When we finally see her in Australia working as a custodian, I felt pretty angry, and I think I felt this way because I cared for her so deeply. She really was a beautiful character and the way Matthew narrates the story and retells everything Clay had told him about his parents, was just beautiful. And when her father dies, again, my heart broke for Penelope. She couldn’t be there with her dad and he had sacrificed so much to get her the hell out of this communist country, but when he died, she finally bought her piano. Which of course lead her to meet the one and only, Michael Dunbar.

Learning about Michael’s past was very interesting to me because we get insight into this character that is called “The Murderer”. Believe me when I say that I was theorizing throughout the entire book as to why he kept being referred to as the murderer. It was interesting seeing his childhood with his mom, going to work with her and sitting in the waiting room of the doctor’s office. While he’s in the waiting room we see a redheaded girl step on something he’s building, which by the way, did anyone else have a feeling that they were going to get married or at least some relationship? I thought they were going to have some relationship, but I had no idea that they would get married. That was kind of crazy to me, but I feel like I totally should have seen it coming. Anyway, I actually enjoyed the relationship that Michael and Abby had. While I was reading it though, it felt like something was missing. Yeah, they loved each other but I didn’t feel any chemistry, honestly, it felt like he really only stayed with her because he was so good at painting her. I think he was scared of change and anything that wasn’t a part of what he was already sure of. When he met Penelope though, I was excited.

I thought this relationship was beautiful. At times I was worried that it also didn’t have a spark, but the more I read the more I felt the love that they had for each other. How much they supported each other and wanted nothing but the best for one another. When Penelope saw the paintings of Abby, she didn’t want to throw them away, sure she was jealous, but she didn’t let that jealousy consume her. To me, it felt very healthy way to respond to a scene like that. If I saw my boyfriend’s garage was covered in portraits of his ex? I might be pretty jealous. Honestly, the love that I had for this relationship was overwhelming. When she was sick and on death's door, he said that he was so lucky, and you could see how much he loved her, and how much she loved him. It made so much more sense to me then as to why he left, and I’m not making an excuse for Michael abandoning his children, but he loved her so much that when she died, he was absolutely destroyed.

The next thing I want to talk about is the relationship the entire family had together. I thought this relationship was beautiful too because it was so authentic. Their family was messy and anything from perfect, I only grew up with two brothers and the house was a mess so I can’t imagine what a house of five boys would look like, and Markus does such a good job at telling that story. He gives the reader insight into the messiness of the house, but also with life in general. He showed the fights, the arguments, the battles, but he also showed the makeups, the love, and the care that this family had for each other. When they all laid in Penelope and Michael’s bed just comforting their mom I cried. It was so heartbreaking but at the same time so heart-warming. And even when all of this was happening, they all still would manage to laugh and make fond memories through the bad ones.

I loved the interactions between the brothers. They all compliment each other so well, and even when they were on their own, they always managed to laugh and stick it out together. My favorite scene I think it the monopoly game. I was on the beach and when Matthew said, “I ate it”, it being the iron, I lost my mind. I was laughing so hard the people next to us kept looking over and my parents pretended they didn’t know me. Then you see how well Penny knows her boys when she tells Rory that it’s in Matthews shirt pocket. When he says, “what are we going to do without her?” *I started crying again. Markus has this thing about making me laugh and then burst into tears and I think that says a lot about his writing.

*I want to talk about Rory for just a second- I fucking love him. He is so tough and hard on the outside that when he said, “what are we going to do without her?”, I cried. I cried because you forget he’s a child. He was about thirteen when all of this was happening, and he felt like he had to be the strong and tough kid that he’s always been. It was heartbreaking.

I mentioned earlier that Henry is my favorite character. Similar to Rory, Henry is very much a tough guy but in reality, he’s a huge softy. He loved Clay so much that he went and got the absolute crap beaten out of him so when Clay did come home, Matthew would be distracted and not beat up Clay. Who does that? A Herondale, that’s who, and like I said earlier, Henry radiates Herondale energy. I just needed to dedicate a little paragraph to Henry because I love him so much.

When Matthew beat up Clay when he got home, I don’t really know how I feel about that. I think because I’m not a boy I don’t understand why boys have to fight whenever they feel emotion. I understood to an extent, but it felt like it was a really bad fight and also didn’t seem like a fair fight since Clay is so much younger. How did you guys feel about it?

Time to talk about another beautiful relationship, Clay and Carey. I loved that they weren’t “boyfriend and girlfriend” but they were in love and best friends. I loved that they had those unspoken rules and when Clay tried to stop seeing her so she could focus on being a jockey, they had their spot every Saturday. She was so supportive of him going and building the bridge and he was also so supportive of her passion. Markus did such an incredible job at conveying the love they had for each other, and having Matthew tell their “love” story was extra special because when an outsider can feel and see, the love two people have for one another, I think that’s amazing. Can you imagine what I did when she fucking died? I died a little bit. That really sucked. And I didn’t even think it was the epic death that it should have been. She was such a cool character and then she just fell off the back of a horse? I had to read that several times because I didn’t comprehend what happened. Part of that thought is because there’s jockey lingo used a lot around that time, and I don’t speak jockey.

Was anyone else uncomfortable that the oddly graphic way told her parents that they had sex the night before she died? I mean, he wasn’t really graphic, but in a way, it was pretty graphic. I also was hurting because every woman Clay has loved, dies. No wonder he thinks he’s bad luck.

I did like seeing the beginning of their relationship though, which is why I liked the going back and forth to the “present” and the past. I put that in quotations because it’s not the present but it’s also not the past-past, you know? Anyway, the way their relationship starts is so wonderful and sweet, made me so happy. Carey was such a comfort for him. They saw Abby together, and it was so sweet that she went with him and was there for support.

As the bridge-building continued, I liked that Clay and Michael were getting closer. When Clay quoted the Quarryman and Michael knew that he had seen Abby (I think that was a little unclear to me) it was like this weight was lifted. I liked that they had something in common, a shared interest. When Clay said that they had to finish the bridge for her, I didn’t know if he meant Penelope or Carey, and it didn’t matter because it had to be finished for both of them. Then when Tommy gave Clay Achilles, oh my goodness, that was emotional. I don’t even know how to talk about that one. And then when the boys came and they all played football, and Matthew almost called Michael dad, I was crying again! It was so beautiful.

I’m almost done but there are two more big things I want to touch on before I wrap this up.

The first one, the scene where Penelope dies. Michael brings her to the backyard to kill her, well help her because she begged him to, and Clay sees that. No wonder he’s so quiet, and the nickname “murderer” had a whole new meaning now. The last thing Penny saw, or what Clay believed, was the clothespin, which is why he carries it around with him. I loved that so much and I can’t even really say why. It just was an insight into Clay’s mind and I really enjoyed that tidbit.

The last thing I want to talk about is when Clay leaves. He tells Matthew everything, all the stories that their mom shared with him, about him and Carey, about the backyard, and then he leaves. He travels the world and all of the boys go off and do their own thing and it’s really cool, but Clay doesn’t come home. Matthew ends up having kids and marrying the boy’s teacher, Claudia. Which by the way, whenever Matthew and she talked and Clay would grin, it was so cute because Matthew got so defensive. Clay had been gone for years, Michael went to find him, and they weren’t sure if Clay was going to come to the wedding. When he showed up and Matthew walked over and hugged him so hard, it reminded me of the years before when they met in the front yard and Clay was met with punches instead of hugs. But Clay and Matthew hugged and then all of them were hugging, and guess who was crying, ME. The last line really got me though. “A Dunbar boy could do many things, but he should always be sure to come home.”

It was such a beautiful ending. Markus Zusak never fails to amaze me with his story-telling. This story was raw and real, but also transcending and beautiful. I feel like beautiful is the most used word in this review, but it’s the word that fits this novel so well.

Thanks so much for taking time out of your day to read this! If you want to talk about the book, please message me because I would love to!

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