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nanamicide · 4 years

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A life of her own - chapter 5

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Dear me,

I realize this is a weird way to start a diary entry, but since I’m writing for myself and in order to have a clearer picture of what’s going on in my own head, I feel this is fitting. I am writing to myself and for myself.

Anyway, I’ve hung out with Naegi-kun a few more times these past two weeks. It’s been nice and it’s helped with a few things. I guess he had a point the first time I took me to lunch – I was lonely and could use a friend. Now that I have one, I actually fully believe things are going to get better. He’s given me hope, which is something I didn’t even know I needed. He’s similar to the sun somehow – if you’re close to him, he’ll shine his light onto you which will, in turn, make you look and feel brighter.

Yet, as easy as it’s made things, it’s also made things difficult. It’s brought back a few painful memories, and the more I try to think it through, the more confused I am. I haven’t really been able to tell Gekkogahara-san about any of this because it feels embarrassing.

I think I might like Naegi-kun. But maybe I don’t like him. I’m not sure. (That felt oddly good to write)

It’s hard to tell what the feeling really is. Part of me thinks I’m just getting a little too attached to him because he’s the only person who’s been kind to me since Junko died my parents died. In that case, the feeling will fade away soon. So, the most logical thing to do would be to just wait it out. But I can’t do that. I know he’s about to come get me so we can go our daily walk – we made them daily occurrences because he thinks it’s good for me to get some fresh air every day. They don’t necessarily last long every time since he usually has things to do with other classmates and classes to attend, but I enjoy all of them nonetheless. It’s… It’s nice to be able to talk to someone. But I think I’ve digressed. I’ll probably digress a lot. This is even harder to write about than it was about Junko’s death.

So yes, we’re about to meet up again, and I want an answer before he gets here. I haven’t been acting normal around him ever since these thoughts started popping up in my head, and I’m pretty sure he can tell. No matter how naïve and kind-hearted he may be, he’s not stupid. And maybe I’m being obvious about these things. And I don’t like not being able to open up to him. I started enjoying spending time with him because he let me talk about Junko, and about all the doubts I’ve had – and because he’s been able to reassure me in ways Gekkogahara-san couldn’t. No offense to her, of course. She’s doing a great job with me. But there is something about Naegi-kun’s warmth that just makes things different and so much better for me.

But it’s not only that. Like I wrote earlier, this is also bringing back some pretty painful memories. I never thought I’d write about this, but here goes: Junko used to tease me about having a crush on Naegi-kun. I never took it really seriously. I just thought it was her being ridiculous and trying to hurt me. Besides, there was no space in my head for such feelings back when she was still alive. I was dedicating my entire being to her. There was no way I could have liked Naegi-kun. And yet… And yet Junko, on top of her ultimate fashionista and ultimate despair talents, had ultimate analyst talents. She used to tell me about how frustrated I was with how much time Naegi-kun was spending with Maizono-san and Kirigiri-san. She had also pointed out that I sadly looking at him hanging around with the rest of the class while she and I were trying to find out more about the Kamukura project. There’s been other comments like this that I can’t seem to remember now. But it doesn’t matter. My point is that even though I didn’t think much of it back then, she might have been right. Wouldn’t it be ironic that she’d be right about the one thing I didn’t believe but wrong about everything I believed?

Still, it’s confusing. It’s confusing because I have no idea how these relationships are supposed to work. The only example I have of these is what was going on between Junko and Matsuda-kun. And I don’t think this was a good example of what this type of relationship is supposed to be. Maybe it was when we were kids, but the more I think about this, the less I am sure. The other day, Sakakura-san brought me a box with her belongings, and let’s just say I’ve found out some very hurtful things by digging through them. But this is something to be discussed in therapy, though. Not here. I don’t wanna think about them when I’m alone. They are things that are genuinely emotionally heavy.

So yeah, I guess I could take my parents’ relationship as an example, but I barely remember it. They died when I was too young. Besides, they both were very hard-working people, so as far as I remember, I barely got to see them together, let alone affectionate or anything like that.

It’s also confusing because I can’t tell how Naegi-kun feels about me. I honestly think he’s just being friendly towards me, just like he is with everyone he knows. On the other hand, it’s hard for me to imagine that anyone would hang around with a murderer just because they want to be friendly. There has to be something more to this. Otherwise, this doesn’t make sense. But this is probably wishful thinking.

The truth is, even if I do like him, he probably doesn’t like me back. He’s been telling me a lot about Kirigiri-san. There has to be something going on between them. For all I know, she might be telling him to be friends with me as part of some sort of investigation at Munakata-san’s request. This would actually make more sense. And I would fully deserve that.

Which brings me to my next point – even if I did like him, and he did like me back, I wouldn’t deserve this. Not after everything I’ve done to other people. And especially not considering what a wonderful person Naegi-kun is. I don’t even think I deserve all the time he’s been giving me lately. So, for him to reciprocate romantic feelings I may feel towards him? Yeah, that just wouldn’t be right.

So this is it. This is what has been taken up most of my brain for the past two or three days. And I haven’t been able to shake it off. Not even for a damn second. I’m starting to think I should have talked to Gekkogahara-san about this instead of keeping it all to myself. But it’s just… It hurts. It’s not like me to feel this way over someone else. So this feels… Flustering…? Frustrating? I’m not sure. All I know is that regardless of how much I enjoy being with Naegi-kun, there is something about it that is arousing something new within me.

And it sucks. It also sucks thinking I just spent thirty minutes trying to write this without being able to come up with a conclusion. It sucks that Naegi-kun is gonna knock on my door in five minutes and I won’t know how I feel yet.

I have no idea what I’m supposed to do.

I’m such an idiot. Just who do I think I am, whining like this over such a mundane thing? I’ll finish this when I come back. I can’t be wasting any more time.

Mukuro quickly got off her chair to put her shoes on, leaving her journal open on her desk. She figured that didn’t matter anyway – no one would be walking into her room to read it. She rushed to the door and unlocked it, feeling her heart thump in her chest. This had become quite a regular occurrence whenever she thought about Naegi-kun, which always grew in intensity when she was about to see him. Anyone with a normal childhood would have no doubt as to what she was experiencing and feeling towards him.

“Good afternoon, Ikusaba-san,” he greeted her as she stepped outside.

“Hey, Naegi-kun.”

She smiled at him, and the two of them walked towards the spot where they usually hung out. It wasn’t anything special, but Mukuro had grown to enjoy it. It was a small patch of grass behind the main building of the academy, which meant that it was relatively secluded compared to other places on campus. Besides, with the way Naegi-kun usually leaned against the wall when they were sitting, the sun always ended up hitting his big, bright hazel eyes when the clock struck five – that was Mukuro’s favorite part of it all. She wasn’t too sure why – although this was obvious to anyone who walked past them – but there was something about the golden hue the sunlight added to them that captivated her.

Mukuro sat across from Naegi-kun as a soft breeze hit her face, cooling her down. She crossed her legs and rested her hands on her knees, glancing at her classmate. He was always the one to start the conversation. She often wished had the ability to do it herself, but she always felt too nervous and awkward. After all, she had never really had any normal interactions with other people after her parents had died. Sure, she had had to pretend to be friends with people in the past, especially when she was still in Fenrir, but pretending had been much easier than being genuine.

“How was your day?” He asked her, snapping her out of her thoughts.

“Not much happened. I’ve mostly been wondering what I’m supposed to do with Junko’s belongings.” She frowned. Talking about her sister, especially to Naegi-kun, felt wrong. Besides, she didn’t want to burden him with that. She hadn’t even gone through all of them because of how painful it had been.

“It must be hard… I mean, I can’t pretend like I know what you’re going through because I’ve never lost anyone close to me but like, I can’t imagine this being easy. Especially since, well… Y’know.”

“Since she’s the reason most people at the academy hate seeing me walk freely?”

Naegi-kun nodded in response, chuckling. There was something about how happy and carefree he seemed at that moment that made Mukuro’s heart skip a beat. She couldn’t grasp just how he could accept her like this and believe in her growth. She knew he didn’t condone what she’d done in the past, but his ability to fully believe that it all was in the past made her heart soar.

“You’re right, it’s not always simple,” she admitted. “But I think I owe it to people like you and Gekkogahara-san to deal with it.”

“Do you mean that?”

“I think so,” she said softly, blushing as she felt him stare at her. “Is it wrong?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “I think Gekkogahara-san is better suited to answer this type of question. But I guess it means you care, and I can’t say I’m unhappy about that.”

He flashed her another smile and Mukuro swore her heart melted at that moment. She couldn’t believe what he’d just told her. She pinched her thigh lightly, if only to make sure she was actually awake.

Naegi-kun is… Happy with something I’ve said?

She smiled back and thanked him before asking him about how his day had been. As he went on about how awful his physical education class had been because of how excited and energetic Asahina-san was, Mukuro thought about her sister.

I’m able to make someone happy and to enjoy their company, does that make you despair, Junko?

Dear me (again),

I supposed it’s pointless pretending like I don’t know what’s going on anymore. I clearly like Naegi-kun. I think I just didn’t want to admit it when I was writing earlier, because I feel like I don’t deserve any of this. By any of this I don’t mean that he likes me back or anything like that, but that I don’t deserve what he’s been giving me so far. So why would I deserve, or even want, something more than this?

And yet, I do. It feel stupid to say, but I want to spend more time with him. I want to get closer to him. He makes me feel good about myself in ways I didn’t think were possible for me. I like listening to him talk to me. I like it when he laughs. I like it when he makes me laugh. Now that I think about it, I hadn’t laughed in so long…

But despite all of this, it’s obvious that he’s too good for me.

I hate to admit this, but if it hadn’t been for Junko, I probably would have been worthy of his time. Hell, I might have confessed to him already, if Ultimate Despair had never been a thing. I guess that even in her death, she still gets to make me despair.

Well, I don’t know if I’m despairing right now, but feeling unworthy of someone and the knowledge that one has very little to no chance of being with the person one likes are part of the things she used to used to drive people to despair. Now I understand why she kept pointing out all the signs of my feelings towards Naegi-kun.

And my heart aches. Again. And I won’t even be able to bring this up in therapy because I’m so embarrassed about this. What type of Ultimate Soldier am I if I develop feelings for the first boy who gives me more than five minutes of attention?

I’m the Ultimate Pathetic.

#naekusaba #naegiri

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metatiki · 5 years

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Favorite Passage Written 2018

Tagged by the magnificent @opal-bee! Thank you so much! <3

I don’t know how many words I wrote last year, honestly, but for me it was a low output year. Most of the writing I did was for my Inquisitor Dorian fic, and most of it isn’t published yet and will be later, so I couldn’t use it here.

This scene, however, ended up not fitting the overall pacing and tone of the next Act, so it got cut. But I still really like it, so I thought I’d share it here. I might put it up on AO3 as part of a ‘Deleted scenes’ archive someday (I am keeping quite a few deleted scenes) but for now, it’s a Tumblr-only thang.

This was originally written for Act III of Don’t Worry, I’ll Protect You, my Cullrian fic where Dorian becomes Inquisitor after a terrible accident befalls his dear friend Inquisitor Lavellan (see my AO3 profile under tklivory for more). This scene occurs while everyone is travelling back to Skyhold after Adamant and the confrontation with Nightmare in the Fade. Cullen is recovering from injuries received there. NOTE: I’m presenting it with minimal editing.

I’m tagging whoever else wishes to do this! Enjoy!

Fic: Don’t Worry, I’ll Protect You Pairing: Cullen/Dorian Game: Dragon Age: Inquisition (AU) Rating: T (This scene, anyway)

The next day proved to be no less tortuous than the first in terms of boredom, but at least Cullen had a bit more physical freedom now that the healers had worked their herbal and magical magic. The bandages were gone, and the heavy casts on his knee and wrist were reduced to far thinner versions supplemented by a spell. He no longer felt as if he were dragging large stones around whenever he moved. A horse still wasn’t possible, but at least he was able to get some real work done on the post-battle summary and recommendations for bonuses for the soldiers in the battle.

Of course, to decide on those awards, he had to speak extensively to the other leaders on the field. Blackwall was straightforward and brusque in his recommendations, and had high praise for several members of the Inquisition Forces. After a similar conversation with Ser Barris, he settled in for a good long session of list making and recommendations. He found himself frequently glancing at the door even as he worked, however, or pausing every time the carriage changed speed, hoping the door would pop open to reveal a familiar smile.

When the carriage did finally slow to a halt, he quickly tucked his lap desk to the side, not wishing to seem distracted from his visitor, especially if it was who he’d been expecting all day.

Dorian’s head pushed into the cabinet. “You’ll need to move your-- Oh, you already have. Capital. One moment.” And then he disappeared again.

As Cullen blinked in confusion, something was pushed into the carriage, floating without a hand touching it: a round, flat piece of decorated wood. As Dorian poked his head in again, Cullen asked, “Ah… What is it?”

“Sit back just a little further,” Dorian said in answer, waiting until Cullen had done so before making a little gesture. “There should be enough room, if my measurements are correct.”

Despite the questions hovering on his lips, Cullen managed to restrain himself until the piece of wood lay flat, allowing him to see the other side. His eyes widened. “A chess board?”

“Indeed!” Dorian exclaimed as he climbed into the carriage with Cullen’s chess set in hand. Settling into the seat across from Cullen, he said, “I had to scour the entire encampment to find one. Apparently, one of the Templars serving under Ser Barris is a fiend for chess. I had to promise some excellent wine from the Skyhold cellars to acquire this.” He rapped the board with his knuckles. “Still, well worth it, don’t you think?” Setting the box on the board, he pushed it across to Cullen. “I’ll let you do the honors, since they are your pieces.”

Cullen smiled. “You stole them from me last night, didn’t you?”

“Well, I couldn’t let them get packed away again, could I?” Dorian replied. “It’s much better this way.”

“It’s fine. It’s been a long time since I last played chess, actually,” he said, reaching for the box at last and working at the clasp. “Not since I played with-- Oh.” He frowned as the box opened, revealing something he’d forgotten until now.

“Commander?” Dorian asked, an expression of concern on his face.

Mutely, Cullen turned the box around so that Dorian could see its contents, knowing he would understand immediately.

“Oh.” Dorian reached out and lightly touched one of the dried flowers of the wreath which lay within. “She always did love embriums.”

“It was our stake,” Cullen explained softly as he turned the box sideways so he could retrieve the wreath. “Whoever won got to wear the wreath in the next game, and she would just make a new one when the old one withered.”

“So you won your last game with her,” Dorian guessed in a quiet voice.

“Mhmm.” Cullen’s fingers moved over the flowers gently, not wishing to disturb the desiccated petals. “She was improving, but I still tended to beat her most of the time. She was a sharp learner, but sometimes she would get overeager, and I could-- I would figure out what her game was. She insisted I not let her win, but--”

“But sometimes you did,” Dorian guessed. “And she figured it out.”

“Apparently I have tells,” Cullen said with a soft chuckle. “She’d reprimand me, of course.”

Dorian smiled. “She could have a sharp tongue when necessary.”

“Yes.” Cullen took a deep breath, letting a smile come to his lips. “I’ll have to figure out how to preserve that. It’s a special memory.” And, he realized, it truly was just that: a memory. Not a pain. Not a loss. Simply a poignant reminder of a happy time in his life.

Leaning forward, Dorian lightly placed his hand on one of Cullen’s. “If you wish to keep these memories of her to yourself,” he said quietly, “then I will find some other pursuit to bring here.”

“No.” Cullen sniffed, then straightened and focused on Dorian, tearing his eyes from the wreath. “No. She’d prefer us to play together, I think. To remember the good times with her, and not… not those last moments.”

Dorian smiled. “I do believe you are correct.” Squeezing Cullen’s hand, he sat back in his seat and began to pull the pieces from the box. “Though I’m not very good at weaving flowers together, I’ll warn you. They’d probably fall off if you so much as sneezed at them.”

Cullen chuckled. “I’ll keep that in mind.” Looking down at the wreath one more time, he brought it to his lips for a gentle kiss, then set it onto the table where both men could see it. “There. Now, which side do you want to play?”

“Does it matter?” the mage asked airily. “I’ll defeat you either way.”

As he started to place the pieces on the table, Cullen gave him a look. “We’ll see what tune you sing after the game is over, Inquisitor,” he said with a grin. “I daresay it will be different.”

“You’re on, Commander,” Dorian said, then sat back to contemplate the board, fingers steepled. This game was long overdue, after all.

After that, the chess game became a daily occurrence for as long as he was confined to the carriage. Given that he was the Commander, however, his healing sessions continued morning and night to great effect. The first time he was able to walk - albeit stiffly, and with the aid of a crutch - he had to be forced back into the carriage so that he didn’t overexert the healing knee. And, a couple of days after that, when he was finally allowed onto a horse, he spent the next few hours riding to inspect every last inch of the Inquisition forces.

The cheers that greeted him raised not only his spirits but, he hoped, those of the soldiers as well. He spent as much time leaning over his saddle to shake and touch the hands of his troops as he did actually riding along their lines, but everywhere he went, the men and women of the Inquisition rushed to meet him, to make sure he was all right.

It wasn’t until the evening after an extensive healing session and a light dinner - eaten one handed, since his wrist was still wrapped securely in a thin cast - that he realized there was one particular face amongst his troops that he hadn’t seen. As a frown came to his face, the tent flap opened to allow Dorian entrance, chess board and pieces in hand. He paused there, regarding Cullen with a raised eyebrow. “Is something amiss, Commander? Is this a bad time?”

“What? No, no,” Cullen said, gesturing to the table. “I’m glad you came. I did miss our game earlier, but…”

Dorian chuckled as he tugged the table closer to Cullen and proceeded to set the board. “You were enjoying your mobility. I quite understand, Commander. But why the frown, hmm?”

“Oh.” Cullen blinked. “I didn’t see Jim while I was inspecting the troops, that’s all. I can’t remember the last time I didn’t see him when there was work to be done. Once he started pulling his weight, anyway.”

“Ah, Jim,” Dorian said with a nod. “Yes. He’s been sent ahead to Skyhold on special assignment.”

Cullen’s eyebrows rose. “Special assignment? What’s this? I hadn’t heard about any special assignment.”

Dorian grinned at him. “That’s because I didn’t want you to.”

“Oh, now that doesn’t sound suspicious at all,” Cullen drawled as his eyes narrowed.

“You’re right. It’s not suspicious at all. Wine?” Dorian moved to Cullen’s storage chest and pulled out the goblets. “I’ve been assured this one is a bit better than the last, so we can hope it doesn’t taste like vinegar.”

“Inquisitor,” Cullen groaned. “You’re avoiding the question.”

Dorian gave him a wink as he poured the wine into the goblets. “And quite on purpose, I assure you.” As he handed the goblet to Cullen, his face softened. “Don’t worry, Commander. I care about them, too. It is a special assignment, and no, I’m not going to tell you about it, and yes, the men are perfectly safe while they perform it. I suppose you’ll just have to trust me.”

Cullen’s gaze traveled over Dorian’s face, a habit that was becoming routine, until he finally sighed and reached for his drink. “If you insist.” A faint chuckle rose to his lips as he settled back into his chair and lifted his leg to rest on a stool as the healers had insisted. “I suppose if I trust you to take me out of the Fade, I’ll have to trust you when you say my soldiers aren’t in danger this time. Of course, now I’m just bloody curious.”

“As you should be,” Dorian teased him as he sat down opposite Cullen. “Now. I do believe I won yesterday, did I not?”

“I was distracted, you remember.” Cullen reached down absently and rubbed his knee gently. “All that infernal itching before they removed the cast.” And definitely not because he’d found himself staring at Dorian, no. Definitely not.

Dorian laughed as he quickly set up the chess pieces so that he got the first move. “You keep telling yourself that, Commander. I think I’ll go with my superior skill, hmm?”

With a grin, Cullen leaned forward in anticipation. “All I can say is you’d better think of something to blame your distraction on tonight. I know your play style now, so I know how to plan my assault.”

“Oh, do you?” Dorian asked. When Cullen glanced up from the board, he caught the amused expression on Dorian’s face when one curl of the mustache rose ever so slightly.

For a bare moment, Cullen stared at it, then quickly dragged his gaze back to the board. “Your move, Inquisitor,” he said in an oddly strained voice.

“Perhaps we should dispense with the formalities in private,” Dorian mused as he drew his finger along the board in front of his neatly arranged pieces. “We do have names, after all, and it seems a trifle odd to keep using our titles when we’re alone. Do you call Cassandra Lady Seeker?”

Cullen thought about it for a moment, then chuckled. “Only when I’m irritated with her,” he admitted.

That made Dorian laugh softly. “Maker forfend you are ever irritated with me! Besides, we already know how you deal with that, hmm? Especially if there’s a wall handy.”

WIth a wince, Cullen reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Inquisitor…” When he heard a little clunk, he looked at the board and saw that Dorian had made his move. “Oh, is that your strategy this time? Provoke me into distraction and then move when I least expect it?”

“Would I do that?” Dorian asked with a flutter of his eyelashes.

“Definitely,” Cullen groused as he considered the board for a moment. Granted, Dorian’s first move was fairly standard, but he could at least eliminate some of the possibilities of where the game could go from the outset. As he moved his piece, he said, “Were you serious about the name thing?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Dorian asked, surprised. His hand tapped one piece, then moved to another, then another as he hummed thoughtfully. He glanced up, waiting until Cullen brought his drink to his lips before adding, “Although when you are irritated with me, I give you full permission to press me against the nearest wall as a consequence. That should get my attention quickly enough.”

The spray of wine from Cullen’s mouth was followed by a coughing fit and a long breath for much-needed air. “Dorian!” Cullen gasped finally.

“Was it something I said, Cullen?” Dorian asked, lips twitching. He had, Cullen noticed with a flick of his eyes, made his move on the board while Cullen was coughing, in keeping with his new strategy.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice that,” he muttered as he finished wiping the wine from himself and mopped up as best as he could.

“I would never assume your keen eyes miss anything,” Dorian told him. He remained silent while Cullen’s fingers drummed on the board, speaking only when he reached for another piece. “They are such a lovely shade of brown that I would not mind looking into for a while, either.”

Cullen blinked, then looked up at Dorian. His eyes narrowed suspiciously at the completely innocent look the man affected. “You’re up to something.”

“Winning, I hope,” Dorian said as he lifted his cup to drink.

Trying to turn the trick back on Dorian, Cullen said, “I wasn’t referring to anything above your waist, Dorian.” Though Dorian didn’t quite do a spit-take, he did suffer from enough of a coughing fit that Cullen was able to move his piece without being noticed. It wasn’t a brilliant or unexpected move, but it was made using the tactics Dorian had established. When Dorian recovered enough to glare at Cullen, it was his turn to affect innocence. “What?”

“You know exactly what you did,” Dorian grumped as he set his goblet down and looked at the board.

“Truce, then?” Cullen offered.

Dorian sighed. “Oh, very well. Truce. I’m running out of wine, anyway.” With a sigh, he moved his next piece without drama, then set about refilling their cups in silent apology.

After that, they fell into a companionable silence as the game progressed, with only an occasional comment or murmur to break it. Eventually they found themselves down to the last few moves of the game, with both men’s brows furrowed in concentration. Familiarity with the other’s tactics and strategies had settled in, and now they were at the stage of trying to outwit each other in unexpected moves. As Cullen reached out and moved a piece at a diagonal, Dorian’s eyes narrowed slightly.

“Are you sure about that?” he asked. “That sets you up for defeat in five moves.”

“Does it?” Cullen asked, leaning back in his chair and steepling his fingers.

Dorian glanced up at Cullen’s face, then back at the board, and his eyes narrowed further. “I must be missing something,” he muttered. He shifted in this chair, moving so that he could view the board from one angle, then another, and sipped thoughtfully at his wine in between, all in an effort to understand what, precisely, Cullen was trying to do. “You’re being sneaky,” he accused the other man.

“It’s called strategy, Dorian,” Cullen said. “You should try it sometime.”

‘Oh, ho ho!” Dorian said, pressing a hand to his chest. “Are you mocking me?”

“No. I’m twitting your vanity,” Cullen said with a grin. “Go on, make your move.”

“And how can I play when you make such a bold strike with that rapier wit of your tongue against something so very personal?” Dorian protested.

Cullen sat back in his chair and sipped from his drink. “I’m sure you’ll find a way. From what I’ve seen, you usually do.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?” Dorian demanded, even as he reached forward and flicked a piece forward.

The motion brought a frown to Cullen’s face. “Wait. Why did you do that?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Dorian said airily. A lazy grin came to his face as he held his goblet by the rim, letting it swing gently back and forth as he moved his hand. “And here I thought you had me all figured out.”

With a snort, Cullen glanced at him for a moment, then focused on the table again. “I daresay that is beyond my poor capabilities.”

“You say that now, Cullen, but then… No. No, you’re right.” Dorian gave him a smirk. “You’ll say that after you go down in ignominious defeat as well.”

“I’m the Commander of your Forces, I might remind you,” Cullen said. “You’re not supposed to enjoy trouncing me quite so much.”

“Ah, but it will be such a sweet, sweet victory,” Dorian mused, watching avidly as Cullen moved yet another piece. “Wait. That’s not--”

“That’s not what, hmm?” Cullen said, raising an eyebrow as he leaned back in his chair. “Not what you expected?”

“Oh, hush,” Dorian commanded, hunkering over the table once more.

With a soft chuckle, Cullen raised his glass to his lips and drank from it slowly, watching Dorian try to puzzle through the game as it had been set up for him. His gaze moved slowly over the man, noting that the normally impeccable hair was just a bit out of place. Those few hairs made his fingers itch, and before he knew it, he reached forward to smooth them out.

Dorian looked at Cullen in surprise. “What was that for?”

“Ah…” Cullen coughed and leaned back quickly. “Your hair was mussed.”

Looking amused, Dorian said, “You could have told me about it. Or ignored it.”

“Perhaps, but I’ve gotten so used to you looking perfect that it was a bit disconcerting.”

“Perfect, am I?” Dorian asked with a grin. “I don’t suppose you’d be willing to vouchsafe that to other parties? It seems that my perfection seems to elude some.”

Cullen laughed, and tried to ignore the fact that his fingertips tingled slightly. “At any rate, you’re sorted out.”

“My vanity thanks you,” Dorian said, flashing him a brilliant smile before returning to his scrutiny of the game board.

Which brought Cullen right back to his own contemplation of the man across from him. With Dorian’s hair restored to its rightful place, Cullen admitted that he did have a preference for the man’s appearance, which was a startling thing to realize. In fact, he had more than grown accustomed to the man’s presence, he had come to look forward to it in a way that he did with very few others.

And only now, in the depths of his own mind as he sat and studied Dorian, could he acknowledge that it went a fair bit further than that. As Dorian raised his cup for a sip, Cullen found his gaze lingering on that perfect mouth for a bit longer than the motion warranted, and when Dorian’s tongue emerged to lick a bit of wine from his lips, Cullen bit the inside of his own. Surely I can’t… No, he isn’t… Shaking his head, he cleared his throat and quickly gulped his wine.

“Trouble, Cullen?” Dorian asked, looking up at him with a grin as he finally made his move. “Back to being scared of losing again? I think I see what your gambit is, you know.”

“Oh?” For a moment, Cullen could only stare at him. Finally he cleared his throat and asked, “And what might that be?” Maker knows, I’ve forgotten.

“You’re trying to be clever and use the Tevinter Reverse, aren’t you?” Dorian asked. Tapping his temple, Dorian then waggled his finger at Cullen before settling back in his chair. “But I’m on to you, now. I can reverse it.”

“Reverse a Reverse? Are you sure?” Cullen asked, forcing his eyes to drop to the table.

“Well, it is a Tevinter Reverse. I’d besmirch the honor of my forefathers if I couldn’t counter it,” Dorian said airily.

Now Cullen frowned. He didn’t think such a move was possible, but if Dorian said it was… “You’re bluffing,” he said finally, after staring at the board for a few moments. “There’s no way out of this.”

“Care to make a wager on that?”

Cullen looked up at Dorian, eyes narrowing ever so slightly as he saw the sly expression on the man’s face. “I left my purse back at Skyhold.”

Dorian’s eyes twinkled. “Well, thankfully, we’ll arrive there tomorrow so that you can pay me. But, if you don’t want to bet money, there are other options.”

Now that was a bit too intriguing. “Like what?”

“You’re a creative man, Cullen. Surely you can come up with something,” Dorian sallied back.

And, try as he might, Cullen simply could not dredge up a single idea that didn’t go straight to a place which seemed, to put it mildly, inappropriate between the Inquisitor and his Commander. At which point, his mind happily supplied just what had gone on between the last Inquisitor and her Commander.

“My dear Cullen,” Dorian said, eyebrows rising. “Are you blushing?”

“What? No. I’m, ah…” Cullen reached for his wine and gulped it down. “Perhaps we could wager for an undeclared favor? That way if you need me to pay your gambling debt to Varric, I can.”

“Clever,” Dorian mused. “You don’t have to come up with something on the spot, and I can decide at any time what to ask of you.”

“Or the reverse,” Cullen reminded him.

Dorian scoffed. “If you win. And that yet remains to be seen. Very well, I accept the wager.” He held out his hand. “A favor owed by the defeated to the victor.”

“A favor,” Cullen agreed, reaching out to shake on it.

The next few minutes were tense now that something rode on the outcome, nebulous as that stake was. With so few pieces left, and each man trying to outwit the other within the narrow path for victory or defeat for each of them, each move took longer than the last. The wine bottle ran dry and the goblets set aside before Cullen finally smiled and looked up at Dorian after the mage lifted his hand from his piece. “Got you.”

Dorian’s eyebrows lowered as he frantically looked over the board. “What do you-- Oh, veshante kaffas, how did I miss that?”

Cullen simply smirked as he moved his piece into position. It wasn’t that it would take Dorian’s linchpin piece, of course, but that the maneuver prevented Dorian from moving his own pieces to defend that piece. The ending was a forgone conclusion in three moves. “Do you concede, Dorian?”

“I see no other option,” Dorian said with a sigh as he leaned back in the chair. “You have your victory.”

“And your favor,” Cullen reminded him.

Dorian tilted his head and smiled. “Oh, you already have that.” After a moment, Dorian blinked and then looked away. “Ah. Pardon. The wine, you understand.”

“Of course. The wine.” Cullen cleared his throat and reached up to awkwardly rub his neck. “It must be quite late by now. I should to bed.”

“As should I,” Dorian said, rising to his feet. He did sway ever so slightly, but the bow he gave to Cullen was impeccable. “I shall leave you to your slumber, Commander.”

“I thought we were using names,” Cullen said mildly.

Dorian chuckled softly. “Do forgive my lapse. Cullen, then.”

And somehow, just hearing it spoken in Dorian’s hushed, deep voice made Cullen’s mouth go dry. To distract himself from that, he lifted his foot from the stool and forced himself to his feet.

Unfortunately, his body wasn’t quite ready for the change in position. Hours of sitting had stiffened his knee enough so that when he did put weight on it, a surge of pain shot through him and it buckled. With a yelp, he fell forward, avoiding an embarrassing fall flat on his face only due to Dorian’s quick reaction.

It took a moment for Dorian to do more than simply support Cullen, during which their faces were mere inches from each other. “Close call,” Dorian said with a bit of strain in his voice. “Don’t put any weight on that knee, all right? I’ll get you to bed.”

Cullen nodded, not quite ready to trust himself with speech given the way that his heart was racing in a way that he couldn’t entirely blame on his near-miss with a face full of dirt. As it was, he kept his eyes on Dorian as the man shifted his grip and slowly lifted them up. He found himself fascinated not only by the intensity of the man’s expression, but also by the play of muscles on his bare arm and the feel of his strength. When Dorian tugged Cullen’s hand over his shoulders and wrapped an arm around his waist to help him to bed, Cullen found that hand splayed on warm, firm skin and swallowed harshly.

“Painful, is it?” Dorian asked solicitously. “Don’t worry, it’s only a few steps. Come on, now.” With gentle coaxing and more than a bit of sheer strength, Dorian managed to get Cullen to the bed and swing him around so that his head was mostly on the pillow. “Hold on, I’ll check your knee.”

Cullen nodded, staring up at the ceiling of the tent as Dorian’s hands ran over his leg. A gentle warmth much like that of the mage healer stole over his leg, but the greater cause of warmth was, he realized, his reaction to Dorian’s touch. Closing his eyes, he wasn’t aware that he’d tensed his face until Dorian asked, “Does that hurt? I’m sorry, I’m not a healer. Perhaps I should fetch them.”

As the man moved to rise, Cullen’s hand shot out and grabbed his wrist. “No! Ah, no. The pain is fading, thank you. I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?” Dorian asked as he sat on the side of the bed and searched Cullen’s face, then pressed his hand on Cullen’s forehead. “You’re flushed. Are you sure you’re not coming down with some sort of fever?”

“Quite sure,” Cullen said, then cleared his throat. “I’ll be fine, I promise.”

“You don’t have a history of being the most forthright of patients, but… very well.” Dorian withdrew a kerchief from one of his many pouches and used it to remove the sweat from Cullen’s brow. “There we are. Perhaps it is the wine. Some people do tend to get overheated when they are inebriated, after all.”

“That must be it,” Cullen agreed, relieved to have an excuse.

Dorian smiled as he put the kerchief away. “Then sleep is the best course for you, my friend. Here, let me adjust you a bit.” Leaning over, Dorian worked to get Cullen’s pillow in a more comfortable position.

Cullen’s eyes closed again as that subtle musk in Dorian’s hair flooded his senses once more. Maker, what was it about this man? Their relationship had shifted so gradually that he couldn’t pinpoint when acquaintance had become friend, and then most trusted confidant, yet that is what they had arrived at by the time the Inquisition had marched on Adamant. But now, with the scent of the man hovering around him again, he couldn’t help but wonder if the possibility of more had slowly crept from faint embarrassment to alluring ideal.

When Dorian suddenly froze, his eyes snapped open to find the grey eyes staring at him. Mouth dry and heart racing, he licked his lips and croaked, “What is it?”

“Your hand, Cullen,” Dorian said oh-so-softly, and Cullen could tell the moment that Dorian’s eyes dropped to his lips before rising to lock with his gaze again. “It is…. not what I was expecting.”

My hand. Cullen swallowed and concentrated, and finally glanced down to where his hand had come to rest on Dorian’s hip. Well… mostly Dorian’s hip. Actually, in all honesty, it wasn’t even mostly there. Slowly he looked up at Dorian again, his breath catching in his throat as a muscle very deliberately twitched under his grasp. “Do you wish it gone?”

“Oh, I am quite content,” Dorian murmured. An odd play of emotions shifted his features, too swiftly for Cullen to even begin to understand. Ultimately, though, his face settled into a small smile as he asked, “Do you wish it gone, never to have ventured there?”

Maker. Cullen felt the blood pounding in his ears as he licked his lips again, staring into Dorian’s eyes for so long he almost forgot to breathe. Could he admit the truth? “No,” he whispered at last in confession. “I don’t.”

For a long moment, Dorian simply searched his face, brows drawn together ever so slightly. Then he raised his hand to cup Cullen’s cheek as his thumb lightly stroked Cullen’s lower lip. “I’m glad,” he murmured, then leaned down.

Cullen’s eyes fluttered shut as he felt the caress of Dorian’s lips on his, the tension so great in him that even that barest of touches elicited a moan. When the man didn’t press further, though, Cullen’s hand rose from where it rested to sink into Cullen’s hair, drawing him into a more fervent embrace. In answer, Dorian seemed to melt into him, his response to Cullen’s insistence every bit as eager as Cullen could have hoped for.

The need for air finally pulled them apart, and Dorian hovered above Cullen as he panted to regain his breath. “I see you enjoy playing with fire, Commander,” he murmured in a husky tone.

“You could say that,” Cullen replied, his hand still caught in Dorian’s hair. He felt his injuries even more keenly now, or rather the immobility they imposed on him, but that didn’t matter nearly as much as the sight of Dorian’s flushed cheeks and darkened lips.

Dorian smiled, his thumb again stroking Cullen’s lip. “I have to ask… if the wine is a factor.”

Cullen’s brow furrowed, confused by the half-question more than anything. “No,” he said. “No, I am certain. It just… took me a while to admit it.”

A subtle tension left Dorian’s face, and he relaxed with a smile. His second hand rose to lightly trace the line of Cullen’s jaw and stroke through his hair. “Good. I have a… bad history of wine making decisions for myself and those around me.”

After a moment, Cullen ventured, “Hawke?”

Dorian nodded. “Among others, but he was the most foolish one, yes.”

Shifting his hand to cup Dorian’s face, Cullen finally let himself tease the curl of Dorian’s mustache as he had wanted to for so long. “That is not what is happening here, I promise you,” he said, trying to convince Dorian with every fiber of his being. “And we don’t break our promises to each other, remember?”

“No,” Dorian said, his lips curving into an almost tremulous smile.

And that smile then was so tender, so… beautiful, that Cullen couldn’t resist the man any longer. He pulled him into another kiss, ignoring the protest of his knee as he twisted his body to lean into Dorian more strongly. In answer, Dorian’s hand ran down his side and cupped an entirely different sort of cheek, pulling them as close as they could manage despite the awkwardness of the cot and Cullen’s injuries. Since he only had one working hand, Cullen kept moving it between Dorian’s hair and either of the man’s cheeks, or at least the ones he could reach. Finally they parted once more, gasping for breath, and Cullen finally had to admit that he was going to pay for their passion as he hissed in pain.

Dorian immediately grew contrite. “I pushed you too far, Cullen.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I definitely helped,” Cullen told him with a throaty chuckle. “And I don’t regret a single instant of it.” He rubbed his knee. “Well, except the whole being injured part.”

“This cot really isn’t big enough for the two of us, anyway,” Dorian replied. “Perhaps we should discuss a more primal version of this activity later, hmm?”

Cullen nodded, though when Dorian moved to pull back, he wrapped his arm around the man’s waist. “Where are you going?”

Dorian’s eyebrow raised. “I thought we were--”

“Done?”

“Or at least for the night,” Dorian admitted.

“Not yet,” Cullen said, trailing his fingers up Dorian’s bare arm to come to a rest on the man’s chest. “Not as long as we can still caress the other’s lips with our own.”

Dorian’s expression softened. “Is that what you wish?”

“Yes.” For a moment, Cullen let his frustration show as he said, “At least until we’re near a desk that can hold you weight, and I have a knee that can hold mine. But I don’t want to end this conversation quite yet. Our lips still have far more to say to each other, I think.”

Dorian smiled as he took Cullen’s hand and brought it to his lips for a gentle kiss. “Perhaps they do at that,” he murmured. Twining their fingers together, Dorian leaned in, passionately claiming Cullen’s lips with his own once more.

Time melted away around them as Cullen lost himself in the taste and feel of Dorian’s lips. Nothing else really mattered right now. Nothing but Dorian mattered.

And that was the way it should be.

#Cullrian #Cullen Rutherford #Dorian Pavus #dragon age inquisition #dai #dragon age #deleted fic scene #my writing #Inquisitor Dorian

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torisfeather · 7 years

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Dina's journey to the Fourlings' planet (people called it Fourland, astronomers called it Tetraterra), didn't go without incidents.

When all the excitement of having a human mascot for the trip finally calmed down, most of the tourists went back to their daily routine. They would talk or work. Some would go back to their compartment to rest a while. The crew took care of navigation. From time to time, as they walked by on the visitors' deck, a fourling would stop to cuddle the tiny human, but apart from those occurrences the child was alone. Yoga was keeping an eye on her, but they had to organize documents and lessons for when they got back to the department, and they also had to write a report about their visit for the agency responsible for the trip.

They didn't know how humans generally spent their free time, they knew even less about human children. They wondered if she was going to need something but she quickly proved to them that little humans could be very independent. When she didn't have anyone to play with, she'd sit down on the floor and take some books from her school bag to entertain herself. She'd read some of them, look at pictures from other's, and the last ones were blank. She'd use small graphic tools to write or draw in them. Generally, when she was done coloring a page, she'd jump up, the tool still in one hand, the book in the other, and run up to Yoga to show them the result. They weren't sure what she was drawing was pretty by human standards, drawing wasn't exactly common among the fourling species, but they made sure to repeat "yes, pretty", to encourage her – they really didn't want her to lose a part of her culture because they weren't capable of judging her.

A few hours after the beginning of the trip, Yoga felt hungry and suggested going for a meal. Dina agreed vigorously, gathered her stuff and climbed up Yoga's leg before they took her in their tentacles to walk more easily and brought her to the feeding greenhouse.

Fourlings have a strictly vegan and not very diversified diet. They mostly eat ekufaga leaves and fruits, ekufagas being the most common tree on their planet, as well as majoihe, some sort of brown root vegetable that are a little like sweet carrots, harder to get because harder to grow. Because of this diet, every spaceship from Fourland carry a greenhouse to cultivate trees and feed the passengers.

At first, Dina refused to even touch the leaves Yoga would pick. The problem was there wasn't anything else, and if she couldn't eat that, feeding her was going to be a problem. The leaves were of a dark shade of bluish green, thick with water and round like cabbage leaves. Yoga was eating theirs, unfazed, and as she watched them, Dina was growing hungrier.

After several long minutes of sulking, she decided to try and put a tiny little piece on her tong. Yoga was amused with her surprised look when she didn't taste anything bad, just the fresh taste of water and a slight bitterness. She took some more, and then, reassured, dug right into the leaves Yoga was giving her.

This was the day Yoga realized just how much food a human, especially a young growing human, could eat. They might have been three times Dina's size, but she ate three times more than he did. Fortunately, the variety of trees the ship was carrying was particularly leafy. They even found a small round green fruit, the size of a big walnut, for Dina who seemed to love the sweet taste.

As she ate, she asked Yoga something, but they had left their dictionary on the visitors' deck. The only word they understood was "where", and they deducted she wanted to know where the trees came from. They said the name of their planet. She shook her head with a slightly frustrated look but didn't repeat her question. It could probably wait.

As they walked back towards the visitors' deck, she asked her question again, and Yoga still didn't understand. She wanted to know "where" was something, but what? She repeated the last word of her sentence, and Yoga felt like they heard it before, but they didn't know what it meant anymore. "Be patient, alright? I need the dictionary to understand," they explained, hoping to appease the child.

Dina smelled like impatience, and a little like fear too, and said her question again, waving her arms into signs, trying to make them understand, but Yoga still didn't have any idea of what she wanted. They tried to hold her close and pet her hair as they walked as fast as possible towards the deck. But as much as they tried, Dina couldn't wait.

After a few more minutes, she let out a small frustrated cry and wiggled her way out of Yoga's tentacles to quickly slip to the ground. Before the fourling could react, she ran away through the closest door and disappeared into the next corridor. Yoga tried to call her back but she was already far, and even though they were much taller, humans were a lot faster and more agile than their species.

They started to panic and frenetically searched for the human through the ship, asking everyone on their way if they had seen her. Those who answered by an affirmative told them she was trying to open all the doors in the ship and refused to stay in place long enough for anyone to approach her. Yoga followed their directions, anxious. What had gotten into that human?

They finally caught up to her at the end of the compartments' corridor, as she was trying to open one of the door.

"Tinga!" they called with a voice they hoped sounded authoritative.

Dina jumped and turned around. She looked afraid, angry, and her smell suggested she was hurt somewhere. Yoga noticed she was leaning forward a little and she had a hand over her abdomen. Did she hurt herself? They tried to walk closer, slowly so that she wouldn't be more freaked out than she already was. But before they could get to her, her eyes widened from horror and Yoga smelled her mix of emotions being tainted with an acrid scent.

So this was also the day Yoga found out what "Where is the bathroom?" meant.

The accident was quickly forgotten by Yoga and most of the fourlings, despite the persistent smell of urine that was a pain to get rid of for the maintenance team. At worst, Yoga was the one mocked for their little pet's hiccup. But convincing Dina to let go was another trouble. The little girl had started to cry from shame and remorse and seemed incapable of stopping. Even after a little stop by the hygiene room where she could clean herself and her dirty clothes, she kept sniffing sadly and sobbing from times to times. She refused to look at anyone, kept her eyes down and didn't ask for anybody's attention.

The unpleasant smell of her shame and uneasiness weren't tolerable. Yoga put his work away and brought the little human back to his compartment. The little empty rooms were certainly not as comfortable as the houses you could find on Fourland, but at the very least they offered some privacy. In the little space bathed in soft light, Yoga cradled Dina carefully, for as long as necessary, trying to sooth her, to remember how Wiki would calm their own unease crisis when they were just a child themself. Baby fourlings were always very emotionally unstable, compared to adults. Humans probably had a similar development. At least they hoped so, even if some things they had seen on Earth made them doubt it.

Dina let herself be cuddled, incapable of forgetting the accident. She would have liked to apologize correctly, to tell how sorry she was, but she was too ashamed, and nobody in the ship would understand her anyway. Yoga smelled like lavender at the moment, and she was tired after so many events. She fell asleep on them, snuggled between three tentacles as the fourth one softly pat her hair. When they realized she was asleep, Yoga leaned against a wall, legs folded against them, and closed their eyes as well, promising themself to always have their dictionary from now on, and to at least tried to learn the language's basics.

After several hours of sleep and a good breakfast at the feeding greenhouse, Dina looked a lot better and the accident was soon just a bad memory. Yoga and their little human settled into a comfortable, yet provisional, everyday life for the rest of the trip to Fourland.

All the passengers and crew of the Yayemagagimora 400 had quickly accepted the clandestine passenger. It wasn't like they had a choice anyway, but Yoga was glad they hadn't smelled any bitterness against their little pet. The captain, a small lunar fourling named Hou'ieh, had called them out a little more vivaciously than Wiki had when they found out about the human, but without any bad intentions. They were just righteously worried about what they could be accused of if a human heard that there was a little girl on their ship. But Dina only had to walk up to them with her shy little smile for them to forget about lecturing them, as they preferred to lift the adorable being up closer. When they saw this, Yoga thought that humans, especially children, must have some sort of hypnotic power that could coax other creatures as a defense mechanism. They should send their theory to the department research institute.

There weren't many windows in the ship. There was a big one in the command room, for visual navigation, and several smaller ones one the visitors' deck, but it had been considered useless to have any other. The deck windows were all identical, circular windows, about a two meters diameter, with a sill that was actually mostly just a frame reinforcement. Dina loved to sit on that sill to watch space, outside, but for some reason, there was a window she liked to sit at in particular; it was the last window on the left, the closest to the back wall, not far from the landing that led to the command room, and at the opposite side to the communication screen.

Every time they brought her to the visitors' deck, she'd run to the corner near that window and let go of her school bag, and then she would jump and climb up that windowsill and watch space for a long while, as if she was looking for something in there. Yoga didn't get it, the ship was way too fast after the first twenty-four hours to see anything outside. To them, she was only watching the void. But that void must have been very interesting, because when her brown gaze would dive into it, she would go completely still and silent for several minutes, sometimes exhaling a subtle mix of emotions, never the same and never logical. At first, they had thought she was sick. "I'm just daydreaming," she'd always answer if they asked what she was doing. They hadn't found the translation in their dictionary and doubted there was one. They imagined it was the same thing as what foulings would call ertyu, some sort of trance, of awake sleep in which they'd fall whenever they weren't doing anything, and that could last for hours. Except they didn't emit any emotion when they were in ertyu.

The problem was Dina never "daydreamed" for very long, and when she wasn't she needed to be entertained. The books she had in her schoolbag soon weren't enough anymore, and she wasn't always feeling like drawing. When she'd get bored, she would try to play with Yoga. The fourling tried their best to give her as much time as they could, but the notion of "game" was a little difficult for them to understand. Dina tried to teach them to play tag, but she was naturally too fast for him and the game lost it interest. Then she wanted to teach them to play hide and seek, and that worked pretty well. Yoga didn't quite understand the use of letting the human hide if the goal was to find her but they had to admit the finding process was fun, especially when they had to pretend they hadn't seen her in order to surprise her. But Dina soon realized there weren't that many places to hide in on the visitors' deck.

That game triggered a thirst for exploration in her, and she asked Yoga to go and explore the ship all by herself when they were too busy to play with her.

The ship was safe, but built for fourlings. Dina was tiny and often had to jump to reach the opening system of most doors, when she could find it. Automatic doors would detect her half the time, and she forgot how many times she found herself trapped because the door wouldn't open again. Sometimes, she had to wait for someone to open it for her, and if it took too long she would knock on the door and call for help. Some of the first words she learned in fourling language were "open" and "closed".

The different rooms on the ship were generally quite empty. Fourlands didn't have a lot of furniture, except for storage, and they were always too big. Fortunately for her, Dina was good at climbing and loved to get as high as she could wherever she went. That was also how she found out how to climb into the aeration system, and from that moment and on she could appear in any room without any warning. Soon, nobody was even surprised to see her smile, sitting up a shelf, when she was in the next room minutes ago.

When she was tired, there was always someone to delicately take her into their tentacles, cradle her, cuddle her, and bring her back to the visitors' deck, or to Yoga's room. She liked to sleep in her fourling friend's arms, but sometimes, since there was no bed, she would just lie down on the floor, in a corner, and take a nap. Yoga worried about how much she had to sleep but they reasoned that human's natural cycle must be shorter than fourlings'.

One day, as Yoga brought Dina back on the deck after a meal, the human ran as usual to her favorite window, where her school bag was now permanently staying, and froze, speechless. The ship had slowed down and you could now see very clearly, floating in space, surrounded by a myriad of faraway stars, a planet and its moon.

The planet seemed to be divided into two halves. The half the sun didn't reach was completely white, covered in a thick layer of ice. The other half was green, with some blue spots here and there, and a bit of red where the sun was the strongest. If was difficult to see from so far away, but many ships were orbiting over the sunny side. Dina, astounded, couldn't look away from the pretty planet.

Smelling her surprise, Yoga walked up to the window and took a look outside. A warm sweet smell emanated from their feathers. "My Tinga, this is Yayemagag. My planet."

#my work #original fiction #tumblr inspired #sci-fi #tinga #humans are weird #humans are space australians #humans are space orcs

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lucya-dthings-blog · 7 years

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The people behind the yellow door.

I want to tell you a story, a story about some people in a world only a little different from our own, so please read, and enjoy;

Angie is Angry. Both physically and literally, she’s anger personified, that might be a better way to describe it. The effect she had on the people around her was similar to that of a smell wafting through the wind, everyone nearby would smell it and be affected in one way or another. Angie was like that, she made the people around her angry just by being in the near vicinity of them. If someone were to witness a bust up or a shouting match in the middle of the street, they’d probably be shaken up for a while, but not Angie, it was almost a daily occurrence for her. The way the person reacted would depend on their personality if they're aggressively angry, or loudly angry, or calmly angry. You know, the types of people that would sit there and say ‘I’m angry’ whilst they stare at you solemnly. Those are Angie’s favourite because they cause no trouble, and it’s almost as if she doesn’t affect them at all.

However, right now, as she stands over a man who her colleague Ron had just taken to the ground and arrested, she’s angry. She’s angry because he had only been pulled over for speeding, but upon meeting her, he’d gotten angry and now he had been arrested, he should have just paid a fine. She was lucky that Ron was one of those people that were calmly angry because it meant that he could still focus even with the unwanted emotion that had been cast on him.

Angie didn’t know why she made people angry, it’s just the way it seemed to be, she’d made observations and worked out the effect she had, but she hadn’t worked out why. She watched as Ron pulled the man to his feet and opened the door, allowing Ron to sit the man inside, she shut the door and sat in the front seat. “ Are you alright Ron?” She asked. “I’m a bit angry if I’m honest Angie.” He replied with a sigh. Ron was 50 something, bald and wore glasses, the back of his neck layered a little over his shirt collar and his stout figure meant he couldn’t run as fast as he used to. He didn’t come out as much as he did in his golden days and spent a lot of time in the office, but he’d join Angie when she did community work. He was still strong, just not as fast anymore.

“Oh, I see.” Angie turned to look out of the window, it had started to rain and her eyes focused on following the trails that the raindrops had left behind. Angie often wondered why she made people angry, or if she didn’t and actually just found herself working in a career with a lot of angry people. She wasn’t sure.

It was early evening when Angie finally got to leave the station, her large camel coat covered her uniform and she pulled the checkered scarf from around her neck and stuffed it into her pocket. She didn’t stop walking until she reached the bus stop, and then she stopped and waited, leaning against the glass screen because she was tired now, the day was taking its toll on her.

The bus pulled up, she paid the fair, and she sat down, some of the strands of her black curly hair fell over her face as she pulled it out of the tight bun. She put her bag down on the seat beside her so that nobody could sit there, she didn’t want company on this journey home. She shut her tired brown eyes and rested her head against the cold glass of the bus window.

There was another important person on this bus, and by important I mean a key person in this story.

Henry was stood up on the bus, stepping forward and backward to stabilise himself with every jolt of the vehicle. His thick arm stayed above his head as he held onto one of the swinging bus handles. His chunky stature filled up a large space.

Henry was happy, and everyone else seemed to be happy too until the last stop, now they all seemed a mixture of emotions, more so than normal. Henry knew exactly what he was, or who he was. Henry had always known, that’s what he would say anyway, but of course, he didn’t really always know. At 10, after he’d accidentally smashed a window at school with his football and hadn’t gotten in trouble, the other boys he was playing with got shouted at but he just got a few mere harsh words.

He got his job at the amusement park in his early twenties, his reasoning was work somewhere where people are happy, and make them happy, make them primarily happy the entire time they’re at the park, and he’d worked there ever since. It made Henry happy that people were always happy around him, he thought it was a gift, you know, how some people are gifted with humour, others with a beautiful singing voice. It wasn’t until the theme park fortune teller had stared at him with such a look that he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up that he realised it could be more than that, all the fortune teller muttered was;

“You are happy.” She put such emphasis on the word ‘are’ that Henry thought the word 'happy' to be his name rather than his emotional state. The fortune teller had watched Henry leave her tent and she continued to watch him as he walked away through the crowds at the amusement park. She watched him with complete awe in her dark eyes. Henry had avoided her ever since.

Now, Henry’s blue eyes pierced his surroundings, looking around the bus trying to work out who exactly was enhancing another emotion, it should be happiness. He looked around the moving vehicle his eyes trailing over the features of the passengers, some were smiling, some were frowning. Then Henry’s vision landed on a woman who sat alone, she looked tired, not happy nor angry.

Henry thought in that moment that perhaps she was who he was looking for. The most difficult part now was how to introduce her to a world she’d most likely never even thought could exist. It was difficult to start a conversation with someone when you know that what you’re going to say will change their life.

He slowly made his way toward her, his hands grabbing the back of seats and poles as he moved closer to the tired lady who was resting her head against the window. “Excuse me, sorry, can I sit here? My legs aren’t quite what they used to be.” He chuckled softly and the woman smiled, nodded and moved her bag on the floor, allowing him to sit next to her.

Henry twiddled his thumbs waiting for an appropriate moment if there was one. “So how was your day?” Angie asked, smiling at the stranger beside her, she hadn’t wanted to talk to anyone at all on this journey, but this bald happy man seemed sweet and gentle. Her starting the conversation with Henry almost took him by surprise.

“Hmm? Oh, it was good, I went to the library, read some psychology books on emotion and things like that.” He breathed heavily as he spoke, his voice wheezy from the extra weight he carried on his bones. He hadn’t read books on emotion at the library, he’d actually spent the day at work, but it felt necessary to start the conversation that he so desperately wanted to take place. It didn’t, the conversation didn’t take place naturally, and at the stop before his own Henry found himself blurting it out. He said, as loudly as he could without drawing attention;

“I know how you make other people feel, everyone was happy before you got on the bus and now, well the mood has changed.” His wheezy voice whispered.

“Excuse me? Are you saying I made everybody on this bus mad?” She scowled and stared at him.

“No - well yes but you can’t help it- it’s just the way it is.”

Her scowl got harsher, but then it softened. “If it’s not my fault how do I make people mad? She asked as Henry reached up to press the bell.

“It’s what you are, it’s- it’s like it’s your job, you aren’t alone, me, I’m happy and then my friends they’re all the other emotions.” He stood up from his seat and grabbed the pole to help him stabilise himself.

“Wha- you can’t leave now, I have so many questions to ask you.” She stood up herself, picking up her bags. "I want to know more.”

“Well, you’re welcome to come back for a cup of tea.” He smiled.

The two acquainted strangers climbed off the bus together. Angie had thought that perhaps it was strange of her to go home with someone she barely knew, but the fact that he had answers to all the question she had was reason enough for her to go with him.

“It’s just around the corner,” Henry reassured her, his breathing was shallow and his voice husky from the walking. Angie nodded and held her bag in front of her, kicking it with her legs every time she took a step forward.

“How did you know it was me?” She asked quietly as the pair turned a corner and started walking down the street.

“You were neither happy nor angry.” He smiled. “I thought that it must be you.” He turned and walked up a set of 3 steps towards the house, the lights turned on as he neared and he unlocked the yellow door. “Please, come in.” Henry smiled and held the door open for her.

Angie sat in the kitchen on the wooden chair, her hands wrapped around the steaming cup of tea watching the 4 unfamiliar faces that watched her in return. Henry had gone into the garden to water his roses and so now the strangers and Angie were waiting for his return.

When he did return, he pulled the gardening gloves off of his hands, hung the back door keys on the hook and poured himself a cup of tea. He then sat down and took a sip.

“I suppose I should introduce you all.” He pointed to the only other man in the house. “This is Andy, he’s anxious.”

“Oh about what?”

“No, no he is anxious.”

“Ohhhh I see,” Angie responded, smiling at the man.

Andy smiled back, the sides of his wide green eyes creasing a little as he did so, his dark features would trick you into thinking he was braver and more powerful than he actually was, appearance does that sometimes, tricks you into assuming things without even realising you’re doing it. Andy had spent, and would always spend his life as a nervous wreck, he worried himself senseless over the smallest of things, and that caused others to worries too. That was his reasoning for why everyone was always nervous around him, but obviously, that wasn’t the right reason.

He preferred silence, that’s why he took on the job of exam invigilator during exam season, walking up and down in the silence was bliss to him, but of course he still worried about everything, whether it would be tripping up or needing to sneeze. He didn’t like disrupting things, just in case, he couldn’t deal with the consequences.

When it wasn’t exam season, Andy was an Agony Aunt for a teen magazine, most of the time he wouldn’t know how to answer the questions they asked him in the fear that his answers would ruin their life, so he’d usually say something along the lines of;

‘Hey there (insert name),

It is very normal to worry about things, in fact, I worry about absolutely everything. If I were you I would think up every single possibility that could possibly occur as a result of your problem. After that, I’d just hope for the best I suppose.

Best of luck, A :)’

He was pretty close to losing that job when Lou spotted some of his responses in the back of her copy of the magazine. She’d thought it odd that an Agony Aunt would choose a solution that would resolve in more worrying rather than less so she showed the magazine to Henry, who decided to follow up on ‘A’, just in case.

After much research, Henry found Andy and then, after much persuasion, Andy moved into the house with the yellow door. He felt better knowing that he wasn’t really alone anymore. However he constantly worried about all the people he had made anxious in his lifetime, and for the first 3 weeks, he wouldn’t leave the house, just in case he made some poor soul too nervous. He soon figured out that it was okay to feel nervous, it was up to the people how they responded to it. So really Andy was helping people to learn a lesson and after he realised that. He didn’t feel so bad.

Now Andy had settled in wonderfully, still anxious, still both an exam invigilator and Agony Aunt, but now he had a home too, a place where he belonged.

“Then this is Su.” Henry continued, pointing to a woman who had her hair wrapped in a pink towel, a few brown hairs escaping from the wrap, a cardigan covering her scrubs. “She’s a midwife, her shift starts soon.” Henry clarified, whilst Su smiled and stuck her hand out to shake Angie’s. The skin was rough and Angie assumed it had something to do with the fact that her hands were a primary tool in her trade.

“Nice to meet you,” Angie said softly, beginning to get slightly overwhelmed.

“I’m surprised.” Su piped up. “My emotion I mean.” She smiled.

Su was surprising. At least that’s what she was always told, and that’s the way people always seemed when they were around her. Whenever they found out her name, age, job, anything and everything was apparently surprising when it came to Su. When she was at work the parents always seemed surprised when they actually got to see their baby, even though they almost certainly knew the child was coming. It wasn’t just her job that helped her to surprise people, it was her, it was everything she was.

For a long time, she just assumed people underestimated her and that the phrase ‘Oh that’s surprising’ was just a reflection of that. Of course, it wasn’t, it was her effect on the people around her, her presence emphasised how surprised they became. She didn’t find out until she discovered the existence of the others and moved into the house with the yellow door.

The next person in the room was a woman with short hair dressed in a blue sweater. The colour complimented her skin tone and matched her blue socks, which were peeking out from under the ends of the legs of her trousers as she sat on the kitchen counter. Henry pointed to her and then looked at Angie. “This is Sam, she’s well… sad.” Sam was always sad, and in her world, so was everyone else, smiles and laughter were something only people with great distance from her got to experience. She got a job as a funeral director when she was 23 after she moved into the house with the yellow door. Originally she’d lived down the street in a house with 3 other people. However, the three people decided to move out, thinking the house had negative energy or something. That left Sam alone and worried about exactly how she’d afford the house. One day Sam sat on the front step and cried, as if by coincidence, although it was obviously fate, Henry walked past after purchasing the weekly newspaper from the corner shop and asked if she was alright. Sam was surprised that he wasn’t sad and Henry was surprised that he hadn’t ever noticed her before. He sat with her, and she didn’t feel quite so sad, so they talked and to solve her problems she moved into the house with the yellow door. She was the second to move in, after surprised, who was the first.

After discovering the effect she had on people, Sam wasn’t sure what to do with herself. So Henry suggested she get a job, and that’s how Sam ended up as a funeral director. She helped people feel what they were supposed to feel in that moment, and life for Sam wasn’t so bad anymore.

Sam slipped off the counter and looked at Angie for a few moments before giving her a small smile before her head dropped to look at the floor like a wilting rose.

"Then the last person I have to introduce you to is Lou, Lou is lust." Henry pointed to her and smiled.

“Hi.” Lou grinned at Angie

Lou was the youngest, you could tell by the youthful glow of her clear skin and the way she styled her hair into large voluminous curls. However, she was not the most recent newcomer to the clan of the emotionally gifted. She worked in a bar to make her living after moving out of her parent's house, almost immediately after becoming an adult. It had been Sam who had found her there, Sam had walked into the bar and been completely perplexed by the lustful atmosphere of the bar. Now, of course, Sam knew that bars were lustful places, but there was something about this one. It was the fact Sam didn’t feel sad there, and that’s when she knew she had to find exactly who was causing all this behaviour.

So Sam hung around for a while and eventually she caught on that it was the pretty girl behind the bar, so Sam waited, all night until Lou’s shift was over. She didn’t mind too much, Lou’s presence meant her emotional effect wasn't quite as strong.

Lou’s shift ended and she walked towards Sam, Lou was a gutsy character and had noticed Sam watching her since the moment she’d arrived, so obviously, she had to confront her. The pair talked for a few hours, Sam explaining everything to her. Lou didn’t believe a word of it and got up to leave pretty hastily, but not before Sam managed to slip her business card into Lou’s pocket. Sam knew Lou wouldn’t be able to go long without wondering or even figuring it out for herself.

Sure enough, a week later Sam got a phone call from a particularly bewildered and confused Lou. Sam showed her everything, the house with the yellow door, all of the other people and then waited for her response. Lou only smiled, everything that had ever happened, now made sense, and soon, Lou moved in too.

“So Angie are you moving in?” Lou asked her, tilting her head to one side to peer at the pleasant stranger.

“Moving in? Why would I -” She trailed off and looked at Henry

“Well there's a room for you, here, you don’t have to stay here forever, but if you want to stay so that you can learn more tomorrow,” Henry answered, his eyes looked hopeful for her answer.

Angie nodded “I just have one more question.”

“What is it?” Henry asked, he looked at her, both kindly and with a puzzled expression on his face.

“Will it always be like this?”

“Yes.” Henry smiled. “You will always have an effect on people.”

A story like this is a simple one and a pleasant one. However, it is a real story, well not the characters but the story. The way these characters affect others is not as absurd and unrealistic as one might think. Each of you has the same powers as the Henry, Angie, Lou, Sam, Andy, and Su. Admittedly it’s not quite as unusual and exciting as their gifts. However, you can affect everyone by something as simple as a facial expression. You can change someone's mood with a sentence. You can change someone's life with your presence. You as an individual have power and influence to change the minds, hearts, and lives of anyone and everyone around you, but perhaps you just haven’t realised that yet. You don’t know what is going on in a stranger's life, and you don’t know the effect that you will have. Always think.

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When planning the production of this story I created a survey to help me.

The information I found told me that planning characters can be useful for helping to create depth as the background you have created for them can feed into their characteristics as you write the story. I decided to actually include the backstories in my story because I felt like it created a connection between character and reader. I also decided to do this to prove my point that all people had a life before they met you. There seemed to be some disagreement between the authors and writers on how much of a character should be left to the reader’s imagination. I decided the pick out a few key features of the character and then leave the rest to the reader’s imagination. However, my characters have been painted so room for imagining them yourself may be lost if the mural is seen first. Another piece of advice I received was to make sure I didn’t describe something every time it was mentioned. So for example when describing the door I Had to make sure not to write ‘yellow door’ every time. These writing tips helped to make my piece more fluent and readable so I am really glad I put the time and effort into making the survey as overall it did help me immensely in the end.

#production

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surveys-at-your-service · 7 years

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Survey #50

“i did my time, and i want out.”

where is your dad from? michigan where is your mom from? new york what're you listening to? "psychosocial" by slipknot when you put on makeup, what do you usually use? if i'm being lazy, just eyeliner. if i'm being more fancy, black eye shadow and black lipstick. do you enjoy teaching people, particularly about subjects or skills you are passionate about? HELL YES has your anxiety alone ever prevented you from doing something you wanted to do? that's like... a daily occurrence. do you enjoy reading stories and novels that are heavily stylistic, poetic, or unconventional or do you prefer your prose to follow a familiar grammatical structure? the first, by FAR. extend my vocabulary for one, but more importantly, just make shit poetic-sounding. be as descriptive as possible. what do you think matters more: individual happiness and satisfaction or entire group benefit? can you give an example for your rationale? i mean... i guess i believe in a balance. make sacrifices to benefit the group, but be considerate of everyone else's opinions, too. does media rhetoric about millennials tend to get it way wrong or do you find some of the criticisms and observations about this generation to be fair? both, really. do you tend to read reviews before you watch a movie or read a book? what do you hope to get out of doing so? nope. i tend to find reviews to be SO overly-critical. do you find that visiting certain websites can put you in a bad mood? have you ever taken a break from a website? not really. when you go to a concert, how far must you travel for the most usual venues you visit? i've only ever been to one concert, but most in nc happen in raleigh or charlotte. i'm pretty sure alice cooper was in raleigh... and that's an hour away. charlotte, i'm not sure how far away it is. if you feel that a friendship or new relationship is not going to work out, how do you handle that situation? do you allow it to continue in hopes of improvement or do you have any strategies on how to make it end? wait until it improves or, more accurately, work to improve it. i, generally, don't support ending any kind of relationship unless it is TRULY necessary. what is a personality trait you possess that you consider to be negative and positive (ex. you are a good judge of people but sometimes you judge others too quickly)? idk... tough question. what was the last sporting event you watched? who were you rooting for and who ended up winning? probably a hockey game with dad. i was rooting for the hurricanes, but i don't believe they won that game. have you ever created a fake internet persona for yourself? nope. what was going on in your life at this time last year? would you rather your current life be as it is right now or as it was then? i was the same, pathetic mess. i was grieving over jason, but i guess more heavily than i am now, so i assume i'd rather be how i am now? how similar is your current life to what you once imagined it would be at this moment (e.g., "i never imagined that i would have children at this age, but here i am!")? i... didn't imagine myself like this at all. i thought i'd be in a steady relationship, if not engaged. i thought i'd be living on my own. i believed i'd have my diseases under control. i assumed i'd have a happy job. i guessed i wouldn't be failing my college courses. i... pictured it very differently. in any of your areas of interest, is there a certain theory, viewpoint, or scholar that you tend to disagree with, even if it is popular among others? if no fields of interest come to mind, is there a line of advice that you disagree with, but is popular with others? ummmm... i'm not sure. i mean, i guess in interest of good mythical morning, i actually like how the weekend episodes focus on mike and alex. what is something that you feel is lacking in your life? are you working to achieve this or is it something that's more up to happenstance? i want... friends. if not someone more. i mean i only have one, maybe two people, who really act like my friends. and she's always busy. i'm ALWAYS on my own, and despite being an introvert... i've had enough alone time to last my ENTIRE life. being alone is like an abyss to me now; depression, anxiety, every negative emotion just fully envelops me. it's terrible. i miss jason so much, guys. we talked every day. i practically lived with him. he was just... such a pillar to me, he kept me upright, and then he just vanished. he was my everything. is it easy for you to get stuck in prolonged bouts of sadness or do you tend to bounce back very quickly? i have clinical depression. guess. do you enjoy going to weddings or showers? what is it that you like or dislike about them? i have such mixed emotions about them now. like when i was in ashley's and megan's... i just think of jason. that was supposed to be us. so basically, it's a ptsd trigger, yet i nevertheless find them absolutely holy and beautiful. think about your favorite thing to do. how easily would you be able to cope if you were physically non longer able to do that thing, or had to dramatically cut down on time spent doing it? what would you do instead? my favorite thing to do is take photographs. i... wouldn't be able to cope without it. it is the ONE THING i do that still brings me joy. i don't know what i'd do. what do you predict will happen to humanity in the future, with the imminence of global warming's destruction of the planet? e.g., there's no hope or we will leave the planet, etc. i personally think a different catastrophe will occur before global warming kills us. is there a person in your life whom you support by showing up for the sports games, concerts, or other performances? not anymore. i used to go to some magic games with jason, 'cuz that was his passion, but they always tampered with my anxiety, so. when you revisit some of your old favorites, whether music, films, or something else are you ever surprised at how much you dislike it now? yep. what does your favorite shirt look like? uh. idk. what kind of underwear do you prefer wearing? bikini, though i'm fat so i really shouldn't wear them. what are your favorite kind of jeans? skinny how many video games do you have? *cackles maniacally* how many does your dining room/kitchen table seat? we don't have a dining room table anymore. we had to sell it for the money. what kind of cookie do you like best? just chocolate chip do you get the meat from the deli? sometimes do you own a bike/scooter/skateboard/etc.? no, but i need one. i have GOT to lose weight. ever played on a sports team? yeah, i've done soccer, basketball, baseball, cheerleading, and dance. are you listening to any music? yeah. "now that we're dead" by metallica \m/ why did you take the last pill you took? it's for depression are you happy with your looks? honestly i think i would be if i was way skinnier. which was worst for you: freshman year of high school or of college? FUCK my freshman year of college. absolutely awful. do you prefer your men/women to have light hair or dark hair? dark. do you wish someone would call or text you right now? i'm constantly waiting for a call or text from jason, honestly. idk if he still has my number. who was the last person you laid in a bed with? colleen has a girl ever stayed up with you all night? a guy? girl, i don't think so. guy, yeah. it wasn't exactly uncommon that jason and i would be up all night fooling around, being dumb kids. the last person you kissed treat you right? more than that. he just didn't support me as well as he should've, so... who is someone who puts up with you no matter what? mom do you have trust issues? happens when you're constantly fucked over. if you could find one long lost friend of the past, who would it be? i guess mini is now considered a "long lost friend of the past." :/ i miss her so much. she was like my sister. she never talks to me anymore. when was the last time you colored with crayons? at the hospital do you sunburn easily? too easily what’s your favorite filling in chocolates? peanut butter omg what breed of dog do you find the most annoying? the stereotypical chihuahua. very yappy. what would you name your first born son? either vincent or luther. what is the most you have ever weighed? what i weigh now, which i'm really not comfortable sharing. girls, how old were you when you first learned how to put in a tampon? i'm not sure, but i was SO scared. i was afraid of putting in the "wrong hole"??? would you ever attend a gay pride parade or festival? no. honestly, i just don't feel strongly enough about the issue to do it. i should, though. have you ever had sex? oral sex, yeah, never actual, penetration sex. do you like oral sex? ha ha speak of the devil. i like receiving it, but i don't like giving it, as the whole concept is just really gross to me. i don't care how often you clean, it's just very gross. thus, i don't like to receive it because i don't reciprocate. do you think guys look good with make up? sometimes. have you ever pierced yourself? no, and i never would. i care too much about my piercings being clean and accurate. did you ever have a retainer? i have a metal one behind my bottom teeth, and the typical plastic one is... somewhere, lost in the abyss. i don't wear it. were you/are you popular in school? hell no. pretty sure everyone thought i was weird. have you ever 69'ed? back at it with the oral sex, jesus. anyway, no. are you a wrestling fan? ugh, no. jason was into it, and i've no idea why?? like, wrestling just seemed so far out of his aesthetic?? but he would watch it sometimes while gaming, and i'd have to drown it out. do you/did you like high school? overall? best time of my life. how long would you wait to become sexually active with someone you're dating? i'm waiting until marriage; i, in general, think you should start pondering marriage maybe like, three years in? so i guess that. when did you last make up a baby's bottle? never. really should learn these things before i have kids... ever been addicted to a video/computer game? which one? lmaoooo world of warcraft, bro. what’s something you should throw away, but can’t? what value does it hold to you? explain. i should reeeaaally stop holding onto the picture from jason's and my first prom. it's framed and all. it just... means too much to me. do you enjoy a good debate or prefer keeping the peace? I!! AM!! TERRIFIED!! OF!! CONFRONTATION!!!!!! where did you last stay overnight other than your house? i stayed two nights at colleen's a couple days back. can you ever see yourself and your ex back together? realistically, yes. i just KNOW i'd have major trust issues for a while, however. who is the funniest person you know? girt what would happen if you had a baby with the last person you kissed? that's kinda like my ultimate life goal, soooo...? are you going to any concerts or festivals this summer? i WISH. :( i particularly wanna go to carolina rebellion. when was the last time you went to the movie theaters? what movie did you see? colleen, chelsea, and i saw "trolls" for a buck. it was SO cute. did you ever go to a mental hospital? oh, y'know, only four or five times now. are you a person that enjoys re-reading books? no. i've only ever re-read "because of winn-dixie." what do you think of country music? UGH. it's just not aesthetically pleasing to me, but it's also SO predictable and the singers whine about the same shit. when you apply your make-up, do you do it in a specific order? yeah. eyeliner, eye shadow, mascara, lipstick. do you like a partner who is clean cut or rugged? a mix of both? new tats in your near future? fuck yeah, man! i'm starting a half-sleeve on my birthday! how about piercings or re-piercings? mom said i can also get my lip re-pierced for my birthday. (: do converse look/feel uncomfortable to you? not at all. love them bitches.

#survey #quiz #questions #asks #answered

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schemesanddreams · 7 years

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Part Four – “I Pray For the Souls of Your Favorite Dead Bodies…”

For a time, unsure of how to handle David’s nearly daily onslaught of communication (mostly by e-mail) , I tried to befriend the crazy man. By that point, Lee was out of my life and I was still digging into the Kilgallen case, trying to figure out what had really happened to her. Befriending David, in and of itself, sounds insane – but bear with me. Perhaps, I thought, if I were to try to identify with him and listen to his harebrained theories, he would lay off.

The operative words of that being “tried to befriend the crazy man.”

I simply couldn’t deal. The dude was fucking nuts. Every e-mail was written in a creepy, intense-yet-spastic tone with way too much unimportant, non-Kilgallen related information. He was so matter-of-fact and disconnected in his writing that it was, for lack of a better term, scary. Additionally, he always wrote with a tone that implied he was privy to information about me that he shouldn’t have been – most often, my location.

By that point, I was living in rural Virginia with my fiancée. It had been eight years since I had begun my research and one would think that after nearly a decade, David would have left me alone. Instead, he picked up the pace.

Most likely, the onslaught of correspondence was due to the website I had begun. Aptly named “The Kilgallen Files,” it was a compendium of information on Dorothy. I had scanned every document I had on her, including the most pertinent pages from her FBI and CIA dossiers. I had spent a multitude of hours selecting, cropping and posting newspaper articles about her death – from the stories that first reported it as a heart attack to the later stories that covered her overdose. I found everything I could that she wrote about Kennedy and put that up there as well.

The point behind the website was not for notoriety. Hell, nobody really knew about Kilgallen in 2011. Nobody really cared. She was an antiquated name in the annals of history and whatever it was that she likely uncovered during her private interview with Jack Ruby (being the ONLY person allowed to privately interview the man) was probably already published knowledge in between the time she’d passed and the present.

The point behind all of my work became to educate those who gave a damn. If, for whatever reason, somebody cared, they would be able to access the knowledge I had amassed without going through the same dark, weird and fucked up channels I had to wade through to get said information. If anyone was interested, they wouldn’t have to go to Lee to beg scraps of information from her. They wouldn’t have to end up on David’s radar as seemingly everyone involved in the case ended up.

By that point, my research had led me to a conclusion that I refused to make common knowledge – Ron Pataky had murdered Dorothy. Instead, I asked readers of the website to make their own conclusion about her case, based on the evidence I had presented. I will say that the evidence was completely objective, too – I made it a point to do so.

To dive into the case briefly, Dorothy died of “acute alcohol and drug intoxication” – meaning, quite simply, that she died of drinking too much and taking too many pills. This is where things get really hairy, though. The amount of pills in her system were far too few for suicide and far too many for accident. They were precisely in the range enough to kill her yet didn’t match up with either accident or suicide.

Fifteen pills seems like a lot but take into consideration her husband’s suicide. Richard Kollmar exited the earth in 1971, after downing everything in their once-shared medicine cabinet. Considering both Kilgallen and Kollmar were heavily habituated to barbiturates, they had quite the stock of drugs in their townhome. Kerry recalled there being pill containers “large enough to pickle rats,” which gives you an idea of the sheer amount of drugs the couple had at their disposal.

While Richard favored Tuinal, Dorothy’s favorite was Seconal. Richard had an exorbitant amount of pills in his system, as is the case with a majority of pill overdoses. Yet, Dorothy had roughly 15 pills in her system. Add to that, the pills found in her system were not only Seconal but also Nembutal and Tuinal, which is a combination of both amo- and pento-barbitol. (This becomes important later, in relation to the case, when considering the circumstances of her death.)

It’s highly unlikely that if she had wanted to end her life, she would have only taken 15 pills – when she was afforded the opportunity to take many more. Similarly, it is unlikely that she “accidentally” took five pills thrice. Something was most definitely fishy about the results of the toxicological report and, considering the eyewitness accounts of her evening, she finished out the night holed up in a booth in her favorite haunt (P.J. Clarke’s) with a young, attractive man – Ron Pataky.

More on the circumstances surrounding Dorothy’s death later. For now, we are focusing on what a nutjob David was and how he made it his mission to terrify me in an attempt to get me to back off the case...

Certainly, my website angered Lee. She had made me promise to never release the documents and I specifically – and spitefully at the time – went against her will. While I didn’t flaunt the fact, I know she was aware of the website and also of what I had scanned and posted. It was only after the site debuted that David really amped up. Convenient, right?

Casually mentioning personal information that neither he nor Lee should have known at the time was one of his favorite antics. As if he had a trace on me – which is entirely possible, considering it was obvious he spent most of his time in front of a computer – he seemed to know where I was, which really freaked me out the most.

Still, I persevered.

Then, the comments started. I had a long list of IP addresses he had used and blocked each one from commenting on the website but he continued to find ways to post exceptionally David-esque comments to my page. Always, a different identity. Always, the same writing style. Did he think I was stupid?

Finally, I had enough of his bullshit and crafted a few scathing paragraphs, acknowledging his mental illness, asking readers of the site to recognize his posts and to ignore him as responding would only further his delusions. I wrote it as if it was from him. I replaced every comment he had made with the admission of his multiple-personality disorder. I shamed him, as if he were shaming himself. I changed the name of every comment from whatever alias he was using to his own name.

Eventually, he stopped posting there as his attempts were futile but the e-mails continued. I had incensed him and it was apparent, by his tone – which was the text equivalent of spitting fire.

Multiple times, he e-mailed me, impersonating an FBI agent, asking me to call a number – in an attempt to get my cell number, which he had been unable to find. (For those wondering, the FBI was notified and they did not seem to care…)

Eventually, he truly became too much for me to deal with. A point which I had expected to come eventually but once it happened, I felt unprepared.

Newly pregnant, I was looking forward to the addition to my small family. I was in full-blown maternity-mode. He talked frequently of my pregnancy – which, I suppose he found out through Facebook (since he had made fake profiles attempting to get me to friend him and once that failed, he started befriending my friends to take advantage of the friends-of-friends security setting which I ended up fixing).

I traveled cross country yet again, changed my address – which was unlisted yet again – and had my daughter. I hadn’t heard from David in a while and I finally felt free. I was focused on my baby and my family and Kilgallen had taken the backseat, completely. Until one day, my sister received a Facebook message talking about coming down to the city I lived in.

I was purposefully deceptive on Facebook about where I lived, never changing the city, but he discovered it anyway. He then e-mailed me from yet another false account, inquiring what type of diapers I used and mentioning my child directly.

Panic set in. I had long since given away all of my Kilgallen material, determined to drop the case completely. (I had scored an interview on Coast to Coast which caused a whole different set of problems – more on those later, I promise.) After that, I decided nothing more was to come of my research. I had come to my conclusion, found out what happened to Dorothy and why and I wanted to start my life over, without David over my shoulder.

So, even after I had ditched everything, when he cropped up again, I went ballistic. He was never going to go away. He was stalking me – truly stalking me – and now I had brought this other person into this world who he was stalking, too. I wanted to kill the man. Had I ever encountered him (he was a faceless entity for years up until that point, in which I had found a really weird YouTube video featuring him), I would have beat the living shit out of him. He certainly deserved it.

It wasn’t until I crossed the country two more times, moving (he located me every step of the way), that he became truly, unequivocally violent in his words and intentions. He had e-mailed me yet again (a regular occurrence at this point) and I was feeling a bit chippy that day. I don’t know what possessed me to do it, but I e-mailed him back. I hadn’t acknowledged him in years (which angered him) but my finally e-mailing him back did more damage than ignoring him had ever done.

The return e-mail was one line which opened a whole can of worms:

“Fuck off, David.”

His response proved to me, yet again, that the identity in which he’d e-mailed me under was a farce. Had it been a case of wrongly identifying, the response wouldn’t have been so vitriolic…

He went on a tirade, threatening to kill my child in a similar way that the Lindbergh baby was murdered. He didn’t spell out his intentions but in his very unique and strange way, he completely got his intentions across. He finished up the e-mail by saying quite tritely “I pray for the souls of your favorite dead bodies…”

That was enough for me. To threaten me? Fine, bitch. Bring it on. But to bring my baby into the fold? He could eat shit. I was done.

I promptly deleted every social media account I had. My facebook was deactivated, causing me to lose connections with friends I had. My tumblr – which I had been posting to religiously for years, including my pregnancy diary – was deleted, unable to be retrieved. I deleted the website entirely, losing years of work and thousands of thoughtfully crafted sentences. Since I had given all of my files to a friend who wanted to write a book on Dorothy, I had nothing left once I deleted the website. I knew that my concession meant that both he and Lee had won. They finally got me to drop the case. At that moment, I didn’t care. I had discovered all that there was to discover. I no longer needed the case around and what I needed most was to drop it completely and to have zero connection to it, whatsoever.

I changed my e-mail address, became obsessive about locking my doors and windows… His threat felt real. His threat was real. It was more real than anything up until that point. For 11 years, it was child’s play until that moment. I had no idea what he was capable of and while I wished he was all talk, part of me didn’t want to test him.

David escalated things quickly and firmly and I knew that if he found me in my new location, something bad was going to happen. I had pissed him off badly enough that he was for real and he was intent on coming after not only me but my daughter…

#cc

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nanamicide · 4 years

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Red butterflies - chapter 11

Read on AO3

A week went by and nothing changed. As Nanami was involved, Izuru felt he needed to be patient and careful. Still, he was growing restless as the days went by. Every evening spent with her was bringing him peace, but it wasn’t enough. Whenever he woke up from the few hours of rest he got at night and started checking on everything through the security cameras, he got annoyed.

Gekkogahara met with Hope’s Peak’s former headmaster, Kirigiri Jin, three times in the past week. He understood that she was trying to turn on Munakata-sensei and help the other man become headmaster again, but she had hit a wall. Her suspicions were not wrong, though. Munakata-sensei was hiding the fact that his girlfriend had been brainwashed by Enoshima before her activities as Ultimate Despair were stopped. There were two problems with that: Gekkogahara didn’t know this was what was really going on, and even if Izuru told her, she would have no way to prove it. Yukizome would be able to put on a good enough act to clear herself from all suspicions.

Sakakura, once he’d finally realized that Munakata-sensei was using him, had been investigating the situation as well. He’d managed to meet with Yukizome once. During their encounter, he’d told her about what had been going on between he and Munakata-sensei, hoping this would be enough for her to betray her boyfriend. But the redhead did no such thing. Instead, she cried to Sakakura about how hurt she was and how she’d be there for him if he needed her, since they were going through the same thing. Sakakura believed her. He was that gullible.

How boring, Izuru thought, almost angrily shutting his laptop. This is what I get for trusting them with this, isn’t it? This is just like with Enoshima. They promised me things that will never end up happening. He sighed, lying down and closing his eyes. Well, at least Gekkogahara escorts Nanami here every night. That makes seeing her a little simpler.

He put his hand in his pocket, his fingers brushing against cold photographic paper. He gently got the photograph out of his pocket, looking at it. Two nights ago, Nanami had insisted they tried photography. Out of all the things they’d try to do together thus far, taking pictures had been Izuru’s favorite. In spite of his ultimate memory, there was something comforting about being able to look at physical memories of a past moment.

Izuru closed his eyes again, reminiscing about the night he’d taken that picture.

‘I asked Koizumi-san advice about this, and she said Polaroids are the most fun,’ Nanami said, beaming like she always did when she was talking about whatever activity they would partake in for the night. ‘Oh wait, you don’t know who Koizumi-san is, do you?’

He shook his head. He assumed she was the Ultimate Photographer – there was no other reason why Nanami would have asked her specifically about cameras – and that was all he really needed to know about her, but he liked listening to Nanami talk about her classmates and other things that were going on in her life when she wasn’t with him.

‘She’s the Ultimate Photographer, one of my classmates. She’s such a good friend that she’s the only one who can really get along with Saionji-san.’ Izuru remembered Nanami complaining about Saionji’s constant bullying of others, which had hurt several people on different occasions. ‘I wish I were as good as she is at handling her, sometimes. It’s okay if I’m not, though. Even if I’m class rep, it’s nice to let everyone do whatever they’re good at.’

Nanami paused for a bit, apologizing for boring him with her stories. He reassured her that she wasn’t – that even though he could predict most of what was happening to her and her classmates, he enjoyed hearing about it. She thanked him and carried on:

‘Well anyway, Koizumi-san always takes pictures so we can have nice memories of the moments we spend together as a class, and I always thought that was cool. The only problem is that the only good pictures I’ve ever taken in my life were on Pokémon Snap, so I asked her about what she’d recommend for beginners, and she said these cameras are nice because they print the pictures out instantly. It’s more fun than having to keep them stored on our phones or on a digital camera, I think.’

There was another pause in her speech as she handed him the camera she’d brought for him. Their fingers accidentally touched – this had become such an usual occurrence after the first time they’d held hands to get her back to her dorm that Izuru wasn’t sure it was entirely accidental, but he didn’t mind. Nanami’s face still turned a pastel shade of red every time it happened.

‘Ah, sorry,’ she mumbled, looking down at the floor. ‘I said the cameras are good for beginners but I didn’t mean you. I know you’re probably a lot better than Koizumi-san at taking pictures. I just wanted something easy for myself.’

‘I know, that’s fine.’ He still wasn’t too keen on physical contact, but he placed his hand on her shoulder anyway. ‘I understand.’

She smiled at him, and they started taking pictures of random objects in the room. There weren’t that many things to take pictures of, though. Nanami quickly ran out of ideas, but Izuru had something in mind.

‘Nanami, can I take a picture of you?’

‘Yes, but only if I can take a picture of you too,’ she replied before striking a pose for him.

He managed to take what he considered the perfect picture of Nanami on the first try. He knew for a fact he wouldn’t be getting rid of it any time soon. Nanami, on the other hand, needed three different attempts to fit his hair in the frame. She didn’t seem like she’d be discarding the final picture either.

He was glad the idea of taking a picture of Nanami had come to his mind. It was a nice reminder of the peace and comfort Nanami was bringing him. He was trying to use it as a reminder that he should not try to do anything nor interfere with what Sakakura and Gekkogahara were working on. Yet, when he was getting as bored as he had been yesterday, he wasn’t sure he would be able to stop himself from acting on his own.

XXXXXXX

When Gekkogahara-san was busy carrying out her daily check-up on Kamukura-kun, Chiaki usually just sat in a corner of the room, playing a video game. She did care about what was going on around her, but being present felt like she was stealing part of Kamukura-kun’s privacy. That was why she generally tuned their conversation out until Gekkogahara-san left the room. Tonight was different, though. Her friend was being strangely silent and responded to the former Ultimate Therapist’s questions in a much drier manner than he had ever since she started witnessing their daily sessions. His answers were short, sometimes a little cut-throat, and the tone he was using was nothing like his usual nonchalance. Instead, he sounded like he was angry. Chiaki made a mental note to ask him about it later. She was no therapist, but she was his friend. They could talk to each other if they needed to.

She refocused on her game, ignoring Usami-chan’s questions. They weren’t meant for her, so she didn’t have to listen to them. She wanted Gekkogahara-san to be done as soon as possible. She didn’t like the way Kamukura-kun was reacting, and it was hard for her to ignore it. She wasn’t scared per say, but she had a feeling that his change in attitude meant that he could very well do something he wasn’t supposed to. She wasn’t entirely sure, though. There was just something in his he voice that reminded her of the last time she’d seen Hinata-kun. Knowing what he’d done after that, she wasn’t exactly at ease with what was happening right next to her.

A good twenty minutes later, during which Chiaki had turned up to volume of her game as if to drown out the sound of their conversation, Gekkogahara-san finally left them alone. The Ultimate Gamer stood up, took a few steps towards Kamukura-kun and faced him.

“What was that about, Kamukura-kun?” she asked, her voice making her sound a lot more worried than she’d intended to show.

He looked back at her, blinking. She still hadn’t fully gotten used to how intimidating he looked, especially when his bright, crimson eyes were staring into hers. It always sent shivers down her spine, and warmth throughout her cheeks. She had felt something similar when talking to Hinata-kun, but this somehow was more intense. This was probably due to Kamukura-kun’s higher level of charisma. Waiting for him to answer, she took a few deep breaths in an attempt to regain, and hopefully keep, her composure. With how long he was taking to speak, she knew she had to brace herself for a difficult, and probably uncomfortable, conversation.

“Aren’t you tired of this, Nanami?”

“No, I enjoy spending time with you.”

“You know that’s not what I meant.” He was firm, confirming her intuition that something was up. “Don’t you wish you could tell people about me? Spend time with me outside of this room?”

“I do, but…” She frowned, unsure what to say because she didn’t want to mess up the way she had unknowingly messed up with Hinata-kun. “It’s fine like this, too. I promise.”

“What if there was a way for me to change things?”

“I don’t understand. I thought Gekkogahara-san and Sakakura-san were going to expose Munakata-san’s secrets and that it would enable you to be a normal student at the academy. That’s what you told me, right? I didn’t imagine that.”

“You didn’t. I just know it’s not going to work out. Deep down, I always knew. I only chose to believe in it because if it worked, this would be the only way to get things to change without possibly hurting you, since I wouldn’t actually be getting involved.”

There was a long pause – or at least, it felt like an eternity until Kamukura-kun spoke again. She wasn’t sure what to say to him. In a way, she felt like she was letting him down again; like no matter what she did, or how close they got, she’d always be unable to help him.

“Nanami,” he called. “You should sit down.” He patted a spot on the bed next to him. She did as told, noticing her legs were feeling too weak for her to keep standing much longer. There was another pause. She didn’t have the strength to look at him.

“I know you’re smart enough to understand that I’m going to do something and that you can’t convince me otherwise. I know that once you’ve processed everything I’m about to say, you’ll think I’m selfish. You’ll be angry at me. I accept it. I know you’ll have it in your heart to forgive me. If not now, at least once everything goes back to normal.”

“What are you even thinking of doing?”

“Do you remember how Enoshima brainwashed Tsumiki?” She nodded, and he took her hand. She wasn’t sure why he would do that – he wasn’t the type to initiate physical contact unless it was absolutely necessary – but it made her feel a little stronger. She squeezed his hand. “This is going to be hard for you to hear because you care about that person, but Tsumiki isn’t the only one who was brainwashed.”

“Is it Komaeda-kun? He’s the only one in my class who had seen her during that period of time when the brainwashing took place, I think.”

Izuru winced, confusing her. She’d never seen him have an emotion show this clearly on his face.

“It’s not Komaeda, no. His luck protected him.” He paused again. She wished he would just tell her who he was talking about. This was painfully slow. “It’s Yukizome, your teacher.”

“No… That’s not… She’s the one who rescued Komaeda-kun and Tsumiki-san! If she had been brainwashed she wouldn’t—”

“Nanami.” She felt him squeeze her hand. “I know because I was there. I can tell you what happened, if you want, but I believe this is hard enough to process as it is. When Sakakura told Munkata-sensei what he’d found out about Enoshima, they rushed to where she was hiding. And they found me, Ikusaba, Komaeda, Tsumiki, Enoshima and Yukizome.”

The more he spoke, the more light-headed she felt. He had no reason to lie to her, she knew it. Despite that, everything he was saying was hard to accept. It felt like he was crushing her heart with his own hands. Ever since she had found out about what the academy staff had done to Hinata-kun, she had stopped admiring the institution – this still seemed way worse than anything she’d imagined.

“Nanami, stay with me,” he instructed, laying her head on his lap and stroking her hair. His hands felt warm and soothing, contrasting with the words that had been coming out of his mouth since she’d decided to confront him. She couldn’t grasp how someone could make her feel two completely opposite things at the same time.

“Enoshima went on a long rant about how they’d both feel despair, regardless of what they would do. They proved her wrong. They captured the 3 of us – Enoshima, Ikusaba and me. Enoshima was sentenced to death. This is what they mean when they say they terminated her. Ikusaba was put in Gekkogahara’s care to be rehabilitated. From what I know, she started going back to class two weeks ago. I was also put in Gekkogahara’s care, but hidden from public records. You already know all these things, don’t you?”

She nodded again, too weak to speak. She actually didn’t know what exactly had happened to Enoshima, but she didn’t care. She had never met her, and given what she had done to Tsumiki-san and Yukizome-sensei, she couldn’t care less.

“As for Yukizome, Komaeda and Tsumiki,” Kamukura-kun continued, “Munakata-sensei let them go, telling Yukizome to make sure her students get the care they needed. He even praised her for putting herself in danger for them. However, he only understood that his girlfriend was brainwashed after Enoshima’s execution. He caught her crying when she gave her last breath. He decided to hide it, though. He couldn’t have anyone know that he would fail to notice such a thing from the get-go. He would have lost some of his legitimacy as headmaster.”

Chiaki closed her eyes for a few seconds, fixating her attention on Kamukura-kun’s fingers running through her hair. This hadn’t been easy to hear, but he was done. He’d told her what he knew. This was another blow to her, but somehow, it didn’t seem as difficult to process as the story of how he came to be who he was. She could do this. It would be okay. Or so she thought. It didn’t take very long for her to realize she didn’t know why Kamukura-kun had been there when Enoshima was stopped.

“Why were you with her?” She asked, but her voice was so weak and faint that she wasn’t sure she’d actually spoken.

“I was on her side. She promised me despair was something I wouldn’t be able to predict. I know this is no excuse, but as bored as I was, I decided to give it a try. She didn’t brainwash nor threaten me.”

Kamukura-kun punching her in the face would have probably been less painful than hearing this. Yet, Chiaki didn’t move. Instead, she looked up at him and for the first time since she’d seen him, she saw his lips turned into a frown.

“I was able to predict despair and its effects. I was able to predict her impending failure. I admit I tried to help her, if only to turn the odds in her favor. I didn’t want to tell you about any of this, but I think it’s better if I come clean.”

There was another blank. She didn’t want him to keep talking about this. At the same time, she felt as if she absolutely needed to know everything about this. So she remained silent. She didn’t have any thing to say about what he had explained to her that he wouldn’t have been able to guess. It was pointless to speak.

“There’s only thing I haven’t been able to fully analyze and accurately predict,” he suddenly spoke again, and she turned her attention to him, bracing herself for more pain. “It’s not despair. It’s not Enoshima. It’s not anything about this academy. It’s you, your reactions, my reactions to your presence and actions. I have a slight hunch about what this all means, but I know it’s too early for that. And the situation we’re in isn’t right for this, anyway. But Nanami, you changed things in my life. I’m grateful you decided to stick around, even if it hasn’t been that long. So please believe me when I—”

“I do, Izuru. I believe you. I’m not sure why, but I can’t think of a single reason why you would try to lie to me, or even hurt me. So I trust you.”

The expression on his face changed – Chiaki swore she’d seen a smile creep up on his lips and one of his eyes turn green, if only for a second. But she was tired, so she wasn’t entirely sure she could trust her perception of things. She yawned, and Izuru moved her to his bed.

“You’re too tired to go back to your room, or to even keep talking, so I’ll let you sleep here. It’s been hard enough on you for now. I’ll watch over you.”

“Okay, just don’t try anything weird on me while I’m asleep,” she chuckled.

“I won’t, you’re safe here.”

“I know. Goodnight, Izuru.”

“Goodnight, Chiaki.”

It was with a smile on her face that Chiaki drifted off to sleep in a bed that wasn’t hers.

#kamunami #izuru kamukura x chiaki nanami

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