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1kook · 3 years

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ZOOM CALL

⇢ meeting one

jeon jungkook x (f) reader

⇢ series masterlist

summary: In a sea of black screens and faceless names, there’s one smiley boy that beams back at you through the dimly lit screen of your laptop, a tiny Jeon Jungkook (he/him) tacked to the corner of his window. genre: fluff, slice of life, smut (tags tba) warnings: jk is a ditzy lil nerdy sweetheart, college crushes, social distancing -_-, use of the zoom app, 1kook Builds a Healthy Relationship (Version 2.0) ratings: M (18+) wc: 3.2k

notes: well. here we are. as always i have to thank common sense (coincidentally named rumu @kigurumu ) for reading this over and pointing out little details <3 after much deliberation, i have decided to post our beloved zoom jk (see origin story here) in the form of short ‘drabbles’ depicting diff zoom calls with this being The Beginning™️ so please... bare with me </3 ty to all the nice ppl who have been excited for this, luv u very much 🥺

There are times in human history where words captivate their audience; times when single words or phrases wrap around the listener, melt into their bones and radiate warmth from within. But rarely does one word manage such an impact, rarely is it as revered and as cherished as the word cancelled is to most college students.

Class is cancelled, group meetings are cancelled, the stupidly big semester final project was cancelled. You could cancel nearly anything, and in most cases, it would be beautiful. Cancelled meant more time to sleep in the morning, an afternoon free of pesky project partners, a pleasant reprieve from having to socialize with anyone. It was a glorious word with heavenly connotations that brought tears of joy to your eyes whenever you saw it appear in an email preview.

Except this one.

Spring Semester 2021: On-Campus Classes CANCELLED — Social Distance Measures as per State Regula…

Your last semester as a student in university… online? You couldn’t believe it. All these years of studying rigorously, cramming for exams, attaining a near perfect GPA— just to sit in your bedroom and stare at your computer screen for the last 15 weeks of classes? Had your friends not been there to mope with you, you’re certain a part of you would have gone on a rampage and cursed every bacteria known to mankind for doing this to you.

It was your last year, you whined in private (never in public; your friends had always considered you the mature one, the studious friend who kept everyone in order), yet here you were, setting up your desk for your last ever first day of classes with quite possibly the biggest pout on your face.

Zoom, your school had raved in an email a few weeks into the break, the desktop application that will keep us united in these trying times! As if, you huffed, giving the stupid application permission to connect to your computer’s camera and audio systems. What even was proper Zoom etiquette? Did you have to enter the meeting and greet every student cheerfully? You had always said hi to your classmates before, but something about saying it over a computer mic felt awkward.

The feeling doubled when you finally entered the meeting, only to be met with a sea of black screens save for your professor, who seemed to be clicking around his computer in a rather confused fashion. This was going to suck, you thought bitterly.

You had entered the room ten minutes earlier because, well, you always showed up to class a few minutes earlier than the scheduled meeting time. But was there any point to doing that here? Usually, the time before class was spent making small talk with said classmates, discussing the readings or the assignments, talking mindlessly about whatever came to mind. But something in your gut said it would be weird to do that now.

So you sit in silence for the next ten minutes, nervously tapping your pen against your desk as you wait for the professor to launch into whatever introductory monologue he had planned. You toy with your phone, scrolling through your twitter feed only to see a brigade of tweets from students all over the nation suffering the same fate as you. It was a trending topic.

Two minutes before the class starts, you hear the tell-tale ping of someone entering the meeting. You wave it off just like you have your other 41 classmates thus far, but then there’s the clearing of a throat, and a sweet, “good morning” filtering through your speakers. Lifting your head from the hunched over position you had assumed while glancing at your phone, you’re startled by the sudden handsome face that appears before you.

In a sea of black screens and faceless names, there’s one smiley boy that beams back at you through the dimly lit screen of your laptop, a tiny Jeon Jungkook (he/him) tacked to the corner of his window.

He’s nothing short of a dreamboat, soft and doughy cheeks that catch the hue of the screen light, highlighting his cheekbones in a faint blue color. Imploring doe eyes blinking widely at the screen as he clicks around, narrating his confusion in a low mumble (mic still on, how cute). Dark hair— was it brown? black? the pixelated screen made it hard to tell —messily pushed away from his face.

And his voice, oh his voice. It matches his gentle appearance perfectly. A soft snort. “Am I the only one here?” he says, thin lips pulled to the side in a bashful grin.

The professor laughs with him. “No, but you are the only one with your camera on,” he responds.

You’re not sure if it’s the professor’s teasing jab at literally everyone else or the need to support the cutie who smiles softly at screen, but suddenly, a handful of windows come to life. Your classmates fill up the screen, dressed in an array of styles with bedrooms (and, on the rare occasion, dorm rooms) to match. You nibble at your bottom lip, finger hovering over the button that will expose your appearance to the rest of your classmates

Eventually, the wordless peer pressure, the need to be a good student, and the supportive face of Jeon Jungkook (he/him) have you inhaling sharply before dutifully clicking the camera on. Your face appears on screen, nearly lost in the now overwhelming sea of faces. You’re one of the last ones to turn your camera on, both pages of your zoom meeting participant windows filled with the contrasting images of your classmates joining from their bedrooms. The professor claps in delight, and finally dives into the mandatory first day of classes spiel.

Syllabuses, group work, asynchronous lectures. You’ve heard these words all before, have practically memorized this class’s syllabus like the back of your hand. The pros of being an overachiever. The cons are, however, that you think every question your classmates ask is stupid. Read the syllabus, you want to scream. But it’s the first day of class. You don’t even know who your assigned study group partners (as mentioned in the syllabus) are and you certainly don’t want them to dislike you so soon. They can do that after the third meeting, but not today.

You’re not entirely surprised when your attention drifts away from the professor and the endless sea of stupid questions he’s left to answer. Even when you realize you’ve stopped paying attention, you don’t bother forcing yourself to tune back in. No, instead your focus drifts across the windows of faces.

Some of your classmates are as bored as you, glaring at the screen with disinterest, or glancing off to the side probably at their phones. So you start looking at their rooms, analyzing their decorations and posters as if you’re a professional critic on some house design show.

Jeon Jungkook (he/him) is in a rather plain dorm room. Plain light gray walls— or maybe it’s white —free of decoration. He’s sitting at the provided desk, just like you. The only reason you focus on that is because there’s a multitude of your classmates lazily sprawled across their beds, slumped over a couch. Hardly anyone is sitting at attention like you. Well, except for Jeon Jungkook (he/him). He’s practically exposing the entirety of his living accommodation with the way his camera is set up.

Above eye level, reaching just below his chest, with the room all laid out before you. A neat twin bed, sheets meticulously made. It almost looks like the decorative set at a furniture store with the way the comforter and variety of pillows are placed. He doesn’t seem to be in the crappy dorms you remember, which leaves you wondering where exactly he’s been assigned. You know certain sports clubs get fancier dormitories. Anyway, there’s a door off the side of the bed, a black guitar standing in the corner just behind it. You wonder what’s behind the camera, if maybe his desk is as organized as the rest of his room. Maybe his closet is his weakness, you muse, imagining poor Jeon Jungkook (he/him) with a tornado of a closet. But the thought doesn’t make that much sense, so you discard it quickly.

Anyway, his dorm room. It’s neat and orderly, makes you tilt your head curiously as he swivels from side to side before you. As for himself, he’s dressed in a plain white sweater, hoodie strings perfectly even. His hair has long since fallen over his forehead, but he’s pushed it over this time in a fluffy side part. He was adorably soft.

He’s paying attention to the professor like he genuinely treasures every word that comes off his tongue, nodding along understandingly. He’s even got a pencil in hand, leaning forward every few seconds to scribble something down hurriedly. Not like this is all on the syllabus or anything, you think.

But as soon as the thought crosses your mind, it’s dispelled just as fast. He’s only trying to be a good student, you scold yourself, feeling oddly mean for wanting to make fun of this sweet boy. Especially when he raises his hand a second later and asks the first good question of the day. Something about the grading scale for group projects and how much is determined by the group members themselves. You’re not too sure, the words get a little fuzzy when he starts speaking and his pink lips pull down into an endearing pout.

A couple minutes later and your professor finally wraps up the questions, telling everyone to email him if any other questions arise throughout the semester. Just as you’re sighing in relief, he utters those dreaded words: “Ice-breakers!” he exclaims, and the whole class grimaces, much to his amusement. He says something about feeling the excitement through the screen, but then changes gears. “Since it’s a little hard to talk to your neighbor, I’m going to test out the Breakout Rooms and see how that works, okay guys?”

You frown. Breakout Rooms? What on earth was that? Like most of your classmates, this is pretty much your first rodeo with the Zoom application. He was sending you all into small groups, where? The answer presents itself a few seconds later, a message box appearing on your screen.

The host is inviting you to join a Breakout Room: Group 4

Your professor is still chattering in the background when you nervously accept the invitation, his voice suddenly cut off as your computer jumps to a new loading screen. It takes a while before you’re suddenly dumped into a new room. And then you’re staring at your own face, blown up on your own screen in a rather uncomfortable way. Jeez, did you really look like this?

As soon as you get to picking at your appearance, your mirrored reflection jumps to the side, once, then twice more to fit the three new guests in your room. Silence fills your bedroom as you and your classmates all stare at each other nervously for a couple seconds, unsure of what to say. This was, after all, your first meeting.

Just as you’ve gathered all your courage to click your microphone on, the screen jumps around once more and suddenly Jeon Jungkook (he/him) is in your Breakout Room. Immediately, his surprised face melts into the most reassuring grin you’ve ever seen, and he’s practically jumping forward to turn his mic on.

“Good morning, everyone,” he says, smooth and low. It’s like the awkward tension melts away under the pressure of his pretty smile, your classmates responding back with polite hellos and good mornings to him. You barely get yours in before Jeon Jungkook (he/him) starts talking again. “So… how are you guys?”

His words, sweet and caring as they are, send the five of you into a rather mindless conversation. Talking about nothing really, just whatever comes to mind about the class, about the semester, about the remote learning. Then Jungkook— “just Jungkook is fine!” he tells the other four of you with that same too pure look on his face after someone refers to him by his whole name —starts talking about some movie he had seen on Netflix the other day, something his friend recommended to him. Truthfully, you have zero interest in the type of plot he is describing, and you can tell some of the other people in your group don’t either. But he’s absorbed in his storytelling, features lit up as he details every last plot point of the film like his life depends on it. There’s a wordless agreement to let him ramble on.

By the time Jungkook has finished his novella recapture of whatever movie he was talking about, a green message bubble appears at the top of your screen. It’s a message from your professor, who is telling you the small group meeting will end in a few more minutes.

“Aw, that sucks,” Jungkook laughs, rubbing at the back of his neck sheepishly. And then, “oh! We haven’t answered our icebreaker question yet!”

Ah, yes. The reason for this small group was to get to know each other, not for Jungkook to recount an entire two hour movie for you all. “Oh, right,” you agree, probably the first words you’ve said in the past five minutes. You navigate to the chat box, where your professor had hastily dumped the question before sending you all off. “What’s one thing you miss most about being on campus?” you read aloud, glancing back at the screen.

Your group mates are all in various states of blissful comfort, the gaps of their nervousness smoothed over by Jungkook’s bubbly personality, and the hesitation they’d shown at the beginning is practically gone. Someone steps forward and says something about the campus dining hall. Jungkook laughs, loud and airy, claps his hands all cute too. Someone else says the library because it was a good place to study. There’s a lull and you jump in quickly. “I think I’ll miss the couches by the gym in the student center the most,” you confess, though you doubt anyone knows which ones you mean. They were a set of brightly colored couches tucked into a cranny behind the Starbucks just outside the campus gym, avidly avoided by the gym rats who were determined to ignore the sugary drinks and snacks.

Apparently, the hiding spot isn’t as secretive as you thought. “Oh, the ones by the Starbucks?” Jungkook exclaims, excitedly looking at his screen. You have this fluttery feeling that he’s looking at you for the first time. You nod, and he quite positively beams. “I love those!”

“Yeah, I spend a lot of time there,” you say, though it’s a little stilted because you’re not exactly sure how you’re supposed to react to Jungkook’s enthusiasm. Though his outgoing personality cloaks you in comfort, his pretty smile has your heartbeat acting a little funny.

Jungkook’s got these huge eyes, blinking owlishly at you. “Really? So do I!” And then you both seem to have the same realization. His head tilts to the side cutely, an amused smile on his face, “I’ve never seen you there.”

“I’ve never seen you there,” you shoot back, a little snarkier than necessary, but Jungkook doesn’t seem to notice. His smile turns goofy.

“Woah,” he says in a rather dreamy tone, “isn’t that so cool? We spent so much time in the same place, but never crossed paths before,” he babbles. He’s stopped looking at his computer, leaning back in a sort of dazed manner with this sparkly look to his eyes, much to everyone’s amusement. Except yours, because frankly, it sounds a little bit like he’s describing— “fate!” he says suddenly, like it’s truly an aha! moment. He pauses, taps his finger against his chin. “Or anti-fate? I’m not sure. But it’s like— we could’ve met so many times before and we didn’t.” Doe eyes return to the screen, flickering around until they presumably land on you again. “What do you think, __?”

And he’s just so cute, makes the rigid shield around your chest soften for the slightest moment as you nod meekly. “Uhh, yeah. Fate,” you agree, and then get to hear him laugh and giggle for about three seconds before you’re suddenly thrown back into the larger Zoom meeting.

Weirdly flustered, you hurriedly click your microphone back off, and nearly contemplate the camera too. But then the professor is asking you all to share what you talked about and you’re resigning yourself to a few more minutes of screen time while the class wraps up. By the looks of it, not everyone had as an enjoyable time as you did. Part of you is thankful you didn’t get stuck in an awkward small group. The other part recognizes wholeheartedly that it’s all thanks to one smiley boy at the bottom of your screen.

“And group 4?” the professor asks, and you blink yourself back into attention. Before you can unmute yourself and answer for your group, Jungkook is beating you to it.

“We talked about a lot of things,” Jungkook answers cheerfully. From your view, you get a front row seat to the sheer power of Jungkook’s magnetic personality, watching as all your listless classmates suddenly snap back from their daydreams to zero in on whatever Jungkook is saying. He fills in the professor about what you talked about, from the movies to the couches, and you feel weirdly mushy when his eyes flicker across the screen before settling with a soft smile.

He can’t possibly be looking at me, you tell yourself. Your hand jerks forward to turn the camera off, but in your haste, end up knocking down the water bottle on your desk. You scramble to straighten it, thanking the universe for the fact you actually remembered to screw on the cap. You glance back at the screen, and nearly die when you catch sight of a giggly Jungkook, smile hidden behind an adorable sweater paw as he laughs at something on screen. Oh no, was he looking at me? you panic.

“Alright, everyone,” your professor says in that “I’m about to wrap this class up” voice. Too close to the screen, voice a little too loud. “Good meeting today, I’ll see you all again on Wednesday. Stay safe.”

“Bye!” Jungkook sings sweetly, and everyone else follows as they all bid adieu to the professor. Still a little frazzled from the possibility that Jungkook may have watched you flail around like a total loser, you take a second longer to turn your mic on. Your classmates quickly leave the meeting, leaving only a few stragglers until the very end.

Surprisingly, Jungkook is here too, brown eyes focused on the screen. You unmute yourself. “Um,” you stammer, eyes unwillingly flickering over to Jungkook who smiles at the sound of your voice. “Goodbye. Thank you,” you rush out, and then quickly leave the meeting as well.

With the meeting over, you’re left staring at the home page of the Zoom app, heart beating a little too fast to be normal. Your face feels warm, and your fingers tremble from some unfamiliar, giddy feeling in your chest. You exhale slowly, hand coming up to rub at your chin as if that will somehow explain the weird excitement from your Zoom meeting. Maybe it was just adrenaline, or nervousness, you try to convince yourself. After all, the first day of classes is always nerve-wracking.

Except when you navigate to your class page and begin to mindlessly scroll through the class roster, there’s a weird stutter to your heartbeat when you catch sight of that Jeon Jungkook (he/him) that appears halfway down the list.

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hongjoongtrasher · 3 years

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ATEEZ FINAL PART : when they said something to hurt you.

I'm glad you've liked the previous part (part 1 and 2 here if you haven't read it yet), so here is a final to all this angsty reactions (if it is a reaction). Sorry if there are a lot of grammar errors, English not being my mother tongue -

Gosh this is going to be LONG please, bear with me ugh.

Hongjoong:

After this stormy episode of him totally lashing his stress out on you, he spent some time alone to think and reflect upon his trashy behaviour. He was genuinely aware of the massive efforts you were doing for his ass. Literally be patient and taking everything on you so he didn't have to feel more stressed. But today was different. He obviously went too far, saying those words horribly. Furthermore, he knew how hurt you've been because of him and now he didn't really know how to be forgiven. He always have been busy, always considering his work first and thought you were in an equal part of this, but seems he considered you taken for granted. The leader sighed heavily, rubbing his eyes not seeing any solutions at the moment. It's at this moment that Seonghwa entered the place. "Erm...Joong ?" he didn't answer, only Seonghwa could see how much his leader was in distress. "I heard from Y/N, mh I mean she told San who told me but anyway-" began the oldest before Hongjoong asked simply: "Have you come to scold me ?" A silence then. "No, I came to check on you." Seonghwa was always worried about his leader, since he knew the best how hardworking and diligent Hongjoong was, but today he felt like he was wrong. "You've acted like a real idiot this time" Hongjoong let a sarcastic laugh be heard as he slowly turned to face his friend. "Yeah, I know. Do you think she will forgive me ?" "Probably not easily." he answered honestly before continuing. "She told San she was tired of this, always being a shadow to you, erm...and nowadays she's been really stressed at work" A shadow ? Is this how you were seeing yourself as ? And on top of that, he was completely unaware of your work, how life has been going for you. This made the leader felt more guilty as he bite his lips. "So...What should I do ? Kneeling and beg her for forgiveness ?" Seonghwa sighed and put a comforting hand on the leader shoulder. "Sometimes actions are better than words".

And he left the studio, putting Hongjoong in a more difficult situation than he was already. What did he mean ? He thought about it again and again, watching without really watching his screen before it tilted inside his head. "THE SONG !!" he yelled at himself, feeling now very dumb. He had almost forgotten this track, a very secret one he composed for a long time. This song was special for him, it was a song which were written for you, and was conveying all of his feelings. He had to make you listen to this. A glance at his phone indicated it was already 3am in the morning, but sleep could wait. He spent the rest of the night finishing this track, or actually checking it before he saved a copy and directly sent it to you, praying you'd see it in the morning.

You'd spent the most horrible night of your life. Crying and turning under your blanket as you felt useless, no one. San proposed to come with Yunho, but you insisted to be alone, so they let you be, though they were worried. You only found sleep around two in the morning, tired for having crying most of the night. You woke up at six, your eyes hurting, puffy and red as fuck. Anyone could tell you've cried your eyeballs out. First you went to the bathroom to clean your face with cold water, your stuffy nose not helping in the process. After a while you returned to your bedroom and took your phone, not expecting to see a message from your boyfriend, or was he still yours ? At first you hesitated to open it, but finally did. No text, just an audio file. What was this ? Taking your headphone, you put them into your ear before clicking on the file, closing your eyes. At first, you were confused. You've never heard any melody like this one, so...calm, bubbly and soft. Soon Hongjoong's voice appeared with lyrics he surely had written and...you broke in tears again. This time not from sadness, but ...it was like a dream. You could heard his feelings, how much he loved you. You were ready to forgive him, but...it wasn't easy. Reconciliations were always difficult for both of you. Brushing this instantly aside, you rushed out from your apartment for going directly to Hongjoong's studio, in home wear, messy hair and "after crying faced" only to find him asleep on the couch. Panting, you rushed to jump on your boyfriend, sobbing again . This caused Hongjoong to wake up in surprise, confused. "Y-Y/N ?" why ? Why were you crying again ? After a while of you crying heavily on his shirt, he realised you probably came after hearing his song. His arms softly hooked around your tiny waist as one hand rubbed your back. "Shh...don't cry" he said, heartbroken to see you like this. "You dummy !" you yelled between two sobs. "I know." "I - I love you" "Me too, I'm sorry for being a huge dummy" he said with a gentle smile, holding your face to wipe your tears.

Seonghwa:

How rude he's been with you. It's only after hearing your answer that he realised you didn't deserve this. He wanted to chase after you, saying he was sorry, but too late, you slammed the door. Hongjoong came to their shared room before leaning at the door's frame, arching a brow at the oldest. "Can you explain to me what did just happen ?" he asked calmly before Seonghwa bite his lower tier. "I've been a jerk with her" he mumbled, not proud of himself this time. "Yeah, we saw this. You know, she only wanted to cheer you up. We all know you're having bad times because of vocal things, but you didn't have to lash out on her." His leader wasn't wrong, only himself was. "Hwa, go after her. It's not too late" said Hongjoong. "Now ?" Hongjoong sighed. "Yes now, not tomorrow or later" Seonghwa blinked, overthinking before his own body stood up and carried him outside the dorm, chasing after you desperately. He shouldn't have had been this way, he should have been thankful to have you by his side, always being cheerful and bright although sometimes you were hiding your own demons. But being a couple meant for the good and the worst right ? After running for a while, he stopped, panting his lungs on fire. He started to think. Where could you be now ? He remembered when you were sad or stressed, you used to go to Starbucks and get a drink full of sugar and whipped cream, that's how he thought you'd at the nearest one. Not minding people watching him when he opened the door, he eyed the room quickly before seeing you at the table across the entrance. He stepped inside and directly went to your seat as you were still sniffing with tears, your drink between your hands. Not expecting to see your boyfriend, you gasped when you finally realised he was standing here without saying anything. "Y/N.." You tried to gain composure, not wanting to appear fragile in front of him. "What are you doing here ? I thought you didn't want to see me" you croaked, looking away coldly. You heard him sitting before you and took your cold hands. "Y/N I'm sorry. I've been a jerk, you didn't deserve this- I know my work isn't an excuse for acting this way, I understand if you don't want to talk to me or-" "Shut up..." you mumbled, suddenly feeling embarrassed as more people were staring at you two. "I will do everything for you to forgive me, really." he said seriously, not quitting your face from his gaze. Some people were whispering and gossiping, and the more they did, the more you felt ridiculous. You stood up quickly and went straight to the exit with your double cold latte with whipped cream, your boyfriend following you closely. "Are you crazy Park Seonghwa ??? Did you forget you're an idole ? Huh ?? What are you going to do if they recognise you ?" You began to yell but Seonghwa stopped you by taking your free hand and said clearly. "Then I will just say you're my girlfriend and that I don't care, cause you deserve way more than this. Beside being an idole I'm a man, and I love you, there's nothing wrong with this, and if they don't like it, screw them !" you were shocked by his fearless answer, and you felt your heart melt again. You were definitely madly in love with him.

Yeosang:

He was aware of his jerk attitude, and as much as he felt guilty, he didn't know how to ask for your forgiveness. The members already scolded him for what he had said earlier but he knew better than anyone that you weren't ready to talk with. You were the type to be angry for a while, not letting space for any peaceful conversation until you'd calm down. He overthought for a while, thinking you'd probably dump him now and he wouldn't see you ever again, or you'd be so mad at him you'd just beat his ass. Tormented, Yunho looked at his friend before saying, not really sure to mingle in his friend's love problems: "Yeosang, I'm not sure about her being mad, I think she's ...sad ?" he said cautiously, nervous about Yeosang's answer. Sad ? He was really dumb. Of course you'd not be mad, or at least not as much as sad. After all he saw you crying when you left, and his motto was all ruined at this moment. "You're right...I should go see her." he said flatly, feeling really bad. "Huh, yeah I don't even understand why you're still here to be honest" said Yunho with a smile. Thanks to him, Yeosang found the courage to go to your apartment, with your favorite pastry from the bakery you both liked to go, and...flowers. Yeosang wasn't the type to make such lovey dovey stuffs, but this time it was important. Inhaling deeply in front of your door, he knocked once, shyly, not sure if you'd hear it. Then he knocked more frankly before hearing footsteps from behind the door and before he knew it, you were standing in front of him as much surprised as he was. "...What are you doing here ?" you asked, rather coldly. He cleared his throat before handling you shyly the flowers. "I...I came to apologise. I've been a real jerk to you earlier...I even promised myself I'd never make you cry, but I failed miserably" he said in a go, probably too embarrassed to say it confidently. There is a silence, as you fix your eyes on your shy boyfriend. Suddenly you wanted to laugh. How laughable it was to see Yeosang acts like he never did before. You can't bear it anymore and just burst out of laugh, laughing so much that you have to hold your hurting belly. Visibly confused, Yeosang frowned a bit. Why were you laughing ? "Oh my god...You're really something else" you said, calming down slowly before taking the flowers. He suddenly lifted his head in hope. "Does it mean you're forgiving me ?" You faked you're still thinking about it, humming in an exaggerate way. "Well, only if you let me eat this" you nudged your chin to the box he was carrying and which you spotted immediately before he gave you the flower. He smiled and shook his head. "Alright, it's all for you then"

San:

He had definitely crossed a line he shouldn't had. After you slammed the door at his nose, he tried to make you open it for a while, but you never opened it again. So he left, defeated. It was supposed to be a romantic moment for both of you since a while, and yet he ruined everything with his mouth. Sometimes he wished he just could rewind and change every thing. Even if he didn't like the dress, he could have accepted it since you were happy, but his selfishness and jealousy got over it and now he was alone, in his car without you. He took his phone, sending you texts. "Babe, I'm sorry, please, you know I didn't really mean it right ?" or "Please answer me, I'm really sorry." etc, but you didn't even open them since they were still on sent. Instead of going back to his dorm, he tried to call you this time. On the fifth time, he let a voice mail, taking a long breath before the beep. "Y/N, I'm really sorry, I didn't want to ruin our date like this, or just ruin it at all. The truth is...you were so pretty in this dress, so sexy that I don't want other men to see you in this, I wanted to be the only one to see you with. You're not a whore, you're not any of this. I'm selfish I know, but please, it's been so long since we went on a date...If you still want to see me...I'll be waiting in front of your building." And he locked his phone, leaning his head on the top of the steering wheel. He didn't know how long he waiting again but he suddenly heard the door of the passenger side opening, making him look at the person who opened it. It was you. With the same dress. He felt his heart stopped as you sat next to him, putting your seatbelt without a word. "Y/N ?" You looked straightforward you, and said simply. "Let's go, I guess the restaurant is still open" you muffled. He couldn't help but smiled happily as he turned the engine on, taking your hand in his before driving and said. "Thank you Y/N, thank you" and kissed the back of your delicate hand.

Yunho:

Since the incident at the practice room, Yunho didn't hear from you for a while. Hongjoong particularly scolded him about how rude he's been on you while you just wanted to wish them good luck for their performance. He knew it right, but at the moment he couldn't have helped but get angry at you. He knew as well it wasn't so like him to get carried away for nothing, so that's why he didn't really know what to do to make amend for you. He made his mind he would apologise right after their stage for Kingdom even if they boys thought it would be better to do it before. He knew you'd definitely watch them, root for them so he put all of his mind and body in this performance, hoping it would bring him luck. And it did since they snitched 1st place although they started low in the classement. When the MC asked Yunho how he felt about their win, the giant boy just shyly smiled before saying with a trembling voice. "I...It meant a lot for us, and to be able to be first is huge honour. We always want to show our best to our fans, Atiny. But today I...wanted to surpass myself for a certain person." Others groups were chatting among themselves, surprised by Yunho's declaration. Changmin, though he was as surprised as the others still asked professionally. "Oh, who would it be ?" Yunho smiled brightly and said confidently. "Y/N, my girlfriend." Some screams and gasps from shock could be heard in the giant room after Yunho pursued: "She's always been by my side and supports me with the best way she can, but lately...I've not been a good boyfriend to her, that's why I wanted to win, for her, and saying that I love her."

Right after the diffusion of this week episode which you've been watching with your friends, you sobbed like a little girl. How proud you were for your boyfriend, and the only thing you wanted now was to take him in your arms, feeling his arms around you. With shaking hands you took your phone to try to call Yunho, but he wasn't answering your call. That's at this very moment you heard the bell of your door and went for it, not expecting to see your boyfriend at your door. "H-hi" he said shyly. You dropped your phone and jumped directly in his arms, crying again. "You're an idiot Jung Yunho...But I love you". He nuzzled the top of your head as he hugged you back tightly. "I love you too, little one."

Wooyoung:

wede Wooyoung always said honestly what he was thinking, and everyone's used to it, so he thought his remarks about your skill about cooking would pass easily, but he was wrong. At first he didn't understand your reaction, why you left like this as he was only joking, or he thought so. Seonghwa nagged at him after you left, saying how rude he's been and at least he could shut his mouth. He felt really guilty. He was the one who made you loose confidence about you, when he knew you're always trying your best. And this time, he really screwed things up. Worst than this, when he ate the cake you'd made, he realised it was really good, and his unfounded claims were really mean. Gathering his courage, he showed up at your workplace, waiting for you at the exit. At first, you didn't want to see him, you haven't digested yet what he'd said to you. But with an expressionless face, you finally appeared in front of him. "Y/N- listen, I'm really sorry, I shouldn't have said those horrible jokes. No, I mean, I didn't mean what I said, the cake was really good." he tried to say quickly, afraid you'd just brush him away. After listening to his words, you just sighed and said "You're really a jerk sometimes you know that ? Maybe I'm not good at some things, but it doesn't give you the right to bash me out like this in front of everyone. Do you understand Wooyoung ?" he looked down at his feet and nodded, muttering "I'm sorry". "Fine, if you're really sorry, you better cook something too" you smirked, a sign from you that you're half forgiving him. "What ? Wait-" he looked at you astonished. "I don't know what to cook" "Huh, well not my problem" you sticked your tongue out to him and caught his arm in yours.

Mingi:

Mingi's been aware that his words probably upset you. But he needed to find himself again, to get right on tracks by himself even if he was thankful towards you, taking care of him for so long and everything. But he felt like it was his duty to make his comeback to the team his, from A to Z. He hoped you would understand, but after you left him alone, he felt guilty to suddenly reject you. The first day of his comeback into the team, Mingi felt really nervous. He wished he could call you and talk to you as he used to, but since that day he didn't dare to contact you. Instead he sent you a long message, saying how much he missed you and felt really nervous. That he was sorry for what he's said and how much you counted for him. He knew deep inside his mind that you had understood his reasons to act this way, and he was right. After reading his text, you couldn't help but fall in love all over again for Mingi. He was so sweet and pure that you couldn't hold grudges against him. You texted back saying "Everything's gonna be alright. Fighting ! I love you" which reassured the rapper.

Jongho:

Although Jongho was the youngest from the team, he was really mature and hated childish behaviour when it comes for his relationship. The fact you got jealous and as a result, acted this way got him angry. For him, the fact he was dating you was a proof of his choice, and love. Things weren't bad with his ex, so he didn't see why he would cut the rope from her, and he expected you to understand his point of view. After calming down on his own, he also realised his reaction must not have been mature as well. He took more time to think about how he was going to reconcile with you, but things shouldn't stay this way. He expected you to be at your place, and directly knocked at the door, feeling nervous. "Y/N ?" he called out for you. It took a moment before you opened the door, clearly still furious about what happened earlier. "What ? Aren't you with Mina yet ?" you spatted out, maybe too agressive than you wished. Jongho took on himself not to react to this again, instead sighing softly. "Baby, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have reacted this way." he began, trying to be the most sincere he was. "You're the only one for me, you know it right ? But you see, Mina is indeed my ex, but it doesn't mean I'm on bad terms with her, and it also means that nothing will happen with her anymore. Because I love you so much and no one else"

#ateez angst #ateez fluff #ateez smut #ateez reactions #ateez imagines #hongjoong #seonghwa #yunho #yeosang #mingi #Wooyoung #Jongho #san

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obsidiancreates · 3 years

Text

Freezer Duty (Part Two)

"Okay, okay!" Cheyenne shouts. Everyone is gathered in the warehouse, shouting and holding money. "Guys, settle down! This is simple, okay? If you think Jonah is a vampire put your money in this stupid fedora-"

She holds up said Fedora, a hat that Jonah has tried many times to wear and has been relentlessly mocked for each and every time.

"-and if you think he isn't a vampire, put your money in this crazy big mug!" She holds up a novelty mug that says 'My hair is as slick as my moves'.

Bets are placed, and the games truly begin.

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Jonah looks at the customer and nods as they drone on about... something. He's trying very hard to focus on what, but it's just impossible. His lunch was completely unsatisfying, and he's still tired as hell.

"-so then the bagel caught fire-"

He just feels groggy and sick. And he's freezing! He even put his jacket on under his vest, and he's still cold! If only he had one of those cardigans from college with him...

"-and anyway, I just hope this won't turn out the same way."

Jonah nods along for a minute more before registering that the "conversation" is finally over. "Okay, well, good luck with that, ma'am," he says with a tired smile.

"Thank you, um... Joe-neh.”

“It-it’s Jonah, actually- and she walked away. Okay.” Jonah sighs and yawns, stretching his arms. He accidentally swings then out too wide, and knocks something over right onto the ground.

He jumps at the sheer volume of the impact! “WHAT IN THE-”

A barbell in a box smashes against the ground, denting the floor.

“How did- who- where-” Jonah looks around, trying to spot someone who would misplace a barbell into grocery!

He kneels down to take a look. It’s cracked the floor significantly.

He looks at his hand. It’s not even red where he accidentally punched the absurdly heavy weight. He struggles with grocery bags more often than not, and yet this- whatever this even is- happened?!

“Gotta be at an angle,” he mutters to himself. He puts his hands on the shelf, rubbing it, crouching down and examining it closely. “Just slid off at the lightest touch, clearly.”

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“Wow.” Mateo looks at Brett. “How did you even get that over there? It must weigh like, a million pounds.”

Brett gives no reply. Nor any indication that he heard Mateo at all.

“Fine then,” Mateo says, offended. “Well, that’s a point for the ‘vampire’ better for sure.”

“Totally.” Cheyenne is already marking it down in her notebook.

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Dina watches Jonah on the security cams. “Let’s see how you like this one.” She pulls out her walkie-talkie. “Do it now, Garrett.”

“This is crazy. You know that, right?”

“Just do it!”

At the customer service desk, Garrett sighs and pulls out his phone. He taps an audio file, and holds it up to his mic.

Dina watches Jonah like a hawk.

First his head lifts up, clearly confused, and then after a moment he claps his hands over his ears. Over the camera she hears him shout, “What the hell is that?!”

Customer turn and looks at him with bewilderment, and looks around.

Jonah looks around too, somewhat distressed.

“Ha!” Dina stands up a little and points at her monitor. “Superhuman hearing!”

“Hey, Dina?” Garrett says over the walkie. “What is this supposed to be doing, exactly?”

“That’s a frequency human ears can’t hear, but Jonah just did,” she says happily.

“Are you serious?”

“Always. He’s freaking out in the middle of grocery,” she says with a laugh.

“Okay, turning this off now.”

“No! I want to see how long he can handle it first, for future reference.”

“Yeah, well, I bet against him being a vampire so this doesn’t benefit me at all.”

Garrett lowers the phone and turns it off. Dina watches Jonah drops his hands from his ears with a small gasp of relief. She plops back into her chair with a disgruntled sigh.

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“Hey, Sandra? Um, so, we got a complaint,” Glenn says, trying to get Sandra’s attention, “Someone said that a bunch of bats flew out of the hole in the ceiling and started trying to rip their hair out? Anyway, uh, we can’t call animal control without corporate approval, so I need someone to handle that...”

Glenn waits for a moment, and then clears his throat. Sandra is still focused on something else. He clears it again, more insistently. Still nothing.

“SANDRA!”

The shrill shout make Sandra jump. Glenn smiles pleasantly when she turns around. “I need your help with something- ... wait a minute...”

Sandra is holding a spray bottle, garlic powder, and real garlic. “Um, I’m... restocking,” she clearly fibs. Glenn raises an eyebrow.

Sandra deflates. “We’re playing a game,” she admits. “To see if Jonah’s a vampire or not. Since garlic might kill him Dina and Marcus are making me wear garlic perfume, which is just garlic in water, to see if it makes his nose bleed or anything.”

“What?”

“I know we shouldn’t be playing a game at work-”

“Who cares?! Jonah might be a vampire?”

“Um... yes?”

Glenn shouts fearfully. “But-but vampires are damned! Jonah’s soul might be damned?!”

“... Yes?”

Glenn quickly runs away. Sandra waits, shrugs, and goes back to spraying garlic-y water on her neck.

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“Jerusha? We’re gonna start up a new savings account! ... Well, Jonah might be a vampire, so I think we’ll need to pay a heavy fee to get him into Heaven! ... Of course we have to do it! He probably can’t even think of Heaven now! OH! I prayed for him this morning, what if that hurt him?! Oh, god... I need to call Pastor Craig about this! Oh- hmm? Oh, yeah, I can bring home Italian, what do you want?”

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Jonah leans away from Sandra. “Yeah, uh, it’s-it’s certainly... pungent.”

“A good signature scent?” Sandra asks meekly.

“It... leaves a strong impression,” Jonah assures. And a strong headache...

“You don’t think it’s too strong?”

“Well, um... now you mention it, it... might, be a little... much. Uh... garlic-ish. Kind of.”

“Oh. Do you not like garlic?”

“I love it! I love garlic, just... not as a perfume.”

“You’re not allergic?”

“I just said I love it, so... no.”

“Okay. Um, thanks.”

Sandra walks away, leaving Jonah thoroughly confused.

“What was that about?” Amy asks, walking up.

“I think Sandra got garlic on herself and is trying to convince everyone it was on purpose,” Jonah says, slightly distracted sounding. He looks at Amy. “That or she genuinely wants to smell like garlic all the time.”

“Huh. ... I bet it was Carol.”

“Oh, that’s a good guess!” Jonah exclaims with a smile. “Why didn’t I think of that one?”

“Mmm, you’re off your game today. Anyway, I asked Glenn and we think insurance will cover a basic checkup if you think you need one.”

"Good, good, because I had another thing happen.”

“You did?”

“Yeah, I started hearing this like um, this-this ringing sound, kind of? But I don’t think anyone else heard it. ... Everyone sort of looked at me like I was that guy from last Halloween...”

“Oh, yikes.”

“... Anyway, I’ll call at the end of the day.”

“You’re sure you don’t need to go home?”

“Well I’d like to but our insurance is so bad our boss thought I might die, so.”

“Right.”

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“Alright, Garrett-”

“Whoa, where the hell did you come from?!”

“The cafe. Here.” Dina tosses a pack of toothpicks to Garrett. “Hold one of these up around Jonah’s heart and see if he panics.”

Garrett looks at her skeptically.

“It’s the closest thing we have to a wooden stake! I mean, I could carve one, but we’d lose a chair or two.”

“Yeah, Dina,” Garrett pushes the toothpicks back over to her. “I’m not doing that.”

“Why? Scared you’ll kill him by accident? You can’t trip, it’ll be fine.”

“No, because this is stupid. And because if he is a vampire, I don’t want him to think I tried to murder him!”

Dina considers this. “... Alright, fair game. I’ll find someone else to do this.”

“Wait, really? Just like that?”

“Yeah. Any idiot could hold a toothpick to someone else’s heart.”

Dina walks away, huffing, as Garrett is left with an odd feeling of dejection.

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Jonah pauses as he walks past patio. He doubles back, and spots Marcus using one of the grills.

Marcus looks up and grins. “Hey! Feeling peckish?”

“Um, are you allowed to be- isn’t that kind of dangerous, actually?”

“No, no, it’s fine. I uh, get special treatment after cutting off my thumb,” Marcus brags.

“Oh... kay. Um...” Jonah looks at the steaks, mouth watering. “I guess... I could use a snack.”

“Great! How rare do you want it?”

“... Do you mean how well-done? Just- usually people don’t start with the assumption of rare...”

“Well, a lot of my friends like their steaks bloody.” Marcus laughs, and then looks at Jonah very seriously.

“Oh, um, that-that’s... cool.” Jonah looks at the steaks sitting on the plate, in a pool of red, metallic-smelling, warmed blood...

He wipes his mouth. “Um, medium rare,” he says quickly. “And I’m just- I’m going to head over to the um, I think I saw a spill! In isle, uh... yeah.”

Jonah quickly walks away, and Marcus pulls out his phone to text Cheyenne.

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“Hey, Glenn, I was thinking and I think we should send Jonah to- whoa.” Amy stops in her tracks, standing in Glenn’s doorway completely still as her boss tries to quickly hide the fact that he’d been crying.

“Um, go on, Amy.”

“Glenn, are you okay?” Amy closes the door and sits down.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine,” Glenn waves off. “Just worried about Jonah, you know?”

Amy sighs. “Yeah, I am too. He said he heard a ringing in his ears, so I think maybe we should send him to the doctor and just use the jar method-”

“NO!”

Amy startles at Glenn’s shout. “Why?”

“Because he’s a vampire now, and-and who knows what the scientists will do to him!”

Amy closes her eyes and shakes her head, trying to process that. “I’m sorry, he- what? Why do you think that?”

“Everyone does!” Glenn swings his arm out for emphasis.

“... So... there’s no evidence, just people spreading rumors?”

“He had the two holes in his neck!”

“Okay, but, vampires aren’t real. You know that, right?”

Glenn shakes his head. “The Devil can do terrible things to good people! And-and one of those things, is turning best friends into vampires!”

Brushing past the fact that Glenn believes Jonah to be one of his best friends, Amy stands up. “Okay, Glenn, how about we go out there and look at Jonah.”

“... I’m scared to.”

“Just come on.”

Amy drags Glenn out of the office and runs into Justine. “Hey, Justine, where’s Jonah?”

“Oh, I think he’s at the grills-”

“Kay, thanks!”

She takes Glenn to Jonah despite Glenn’s protests. “See? Jonah is perfectly norm-”

She stops, and Glenn shrieks.

“Not what it looks like!” Marcus assures, fumbling with a napkin to wipe the blood off of Jonah’s chin.

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*minutes earlier*

“Why do I need to be blindfolded for this?” Jonah asks nervously, fidgeting with his hands in his lap as Marcus covers his eyes.

“I want you to guess which one is cooked right without seeing it.”

“Wh-why, though?”

“Because... it’s a game!”

It’s to see how sensitive Jonah is to blood.

Marcus cuts a slice of steak, and holds it up. Jonah hesitantly opens his mouth, and Marcus shoves the steak piece in. Jonah coughs. “Very aggressive.”

Marcus shrugs, and waits.

“... Medium well?”

“Yes! Noice! My friend knows his steaks. Okay, here’s another one.”

Jonah chokes a little. “You really don’t have to shove it, in, um, you almost stabbed me.”

“Just tell me the steak...”

Jonah chews. “... Medium rare?”

“You are on fire! Okay, one more.”

Marcus shoves the fork into Jonah’s mouth. Jonah hisses in pain, biting down on the very rare piece of steak. Blood dribbles down his chin, both from the meat and his own mouth.

“Oh, shit, I am so sorry! Let me help, um-” Marcus grabs a napkin, and starts trying to unfold it.

Amy and Glenn round the corner at that exact moment. Marcus looks at them with slight fear. “Not what it looks like!”

Jonah coughs, spitting out the steak onto his lap. “This game went horribly wrong!” He takes off the blindfold and grabs a napkin himself, pressing it to the roof of his mouth.

Glenn looks like he’s about to faint. Amy holds her hands up. “What the hell happened?!”

“I was seeing if Jonah could tell different steaks apart and I kind of, uh, stabbed his mouth.”

Jonah looks at Marcus with an incredulous glare (that almost seems to have concern mixed in, but all of Jonah’s expressions look like that).

“Okay, Marcus, go back to the warehouse! Jonah, let me see- dammit, okay, lets go find some kind of antibiotic mouth spray or something-”

She leads Jonah away as Glenn and Marcus are left behind.

Glenn looks around for a moment, swinging his arms. “So, um... how did he do?”

Marcus smiles. “Awesome,” he chuckles. “That guy is totally a vampire, I’d bet my windshield.”

“Oh.” Glenn’s voice is weak. “I-I think I need to sit down.”

Marcus holds up a plate. “Want a steak?”

“... Sure.”

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Amy takes the plastic off the spray and holds it up. “Okay, take away the napkin.”

Jonah takes it out of his mouth, and Amy shines a light in so she can aim the spray. “Where did he get you? I can’t see any holes.”

Jonah points. Amy squints. “No, there’s nothing. Not even any bleeding.”

They both look at the very bloody napkin.

Amy’s brows furrow. “... Sure healed fast.”

“I-I guess it felt worse than it was.” Jonah runs his tongue over the roof of his mouth. “You’re sure there’s nothing?”

She checks again, and her eyes drift to his teeth. ... Are those two actually sharper, or is she just imagining it?

“... Yeah. Nothing.”

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Jonah heads back out onto the floor, stomach rumbling. He got two bites of steak, which just made him more hungry really.

He passes by the grills. Glenn and Marcus are gone, but a steak remains. The rare one.

He stares at it for a moment, and then gives in. He walks over, picks up the plate-

And the next thing he knows he’s holding the steak in his hands, and it’s bone-dry. He blinks, and looks up and around as though he thinks someone else could have come in and dried out the steak.

He has a metallic taste in his mouth, and he does feel marginally less hungry. Still at a stomach-growling level, but it had been starting to hurt.

He looks down at the now inedible steak. He sets it back down and walks away, trying to figure out what the hell happened and why he had blacked out again.

He passes by Sandra, who’s texting something to someone.

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“Another point to Vampire.” Cheyenne smugly marks it down. “Told you.”

“Alright, alright, I shouldn’t have doubted you,” Mateo admits. “So what do we do? I mean, we can’t keep working with him now, right?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, what if he tries to bite us?”

“Ooooh. ... I guess I hadn’t thought of that. ... He’s probably going to be a nice vampire, though.”

“Sure, for now. But what if someone like, eats his lunch?”

“Wouldn’t his lunch be people now?”

“Okay, so then, what if someone becomes his lunch? ... Should we carry garlic on us?”

“Ew.”

“Super ew, but I think I’d rather stink than be dead. Which is saying a lot, when I run out of cologne I use Febreeze.”

“Which kind?”

“The sea breeze one.”

Cheyenne nods approvingly. “Well, maybe we can get some holy water? I bet Glenn could get us some.”

“Oh, I think there’s some at my house, actually. Tita uses it when we get ant infestations.”

They both smile at their foolproof plan, and keep working.

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Amy watches Jonah from a distance.

He can’t be. It’s just not possible. Vampires aren’t real, they’re just in books she swipes from Emma (and reads herself) sometimes. And besides, Jonah doesn’t look like one!

Well, he kind of does, but he looked like that before this morning. Although he does look a little paler than usual...

No, no, it’s winter, of course he looks paler than usual, everyone looks paler than usual because there’s no sun.

... It was weird how his mouth was completely fine... and he has been acting weird today...

...

She plasters on a smile and walks over. “Hey, Jonah.” She wraps him up in a big hug.

“Oh! Um, hi, Amy.” He hugs back, and Amy shivers a little.

He is freezing.

She pulls away. “Just restocking the freezer?”

“Uh, no, why?”

“Oh. You just, feel really cold.”

“Yeah, I’ve had a chill all day.” He rubs his arms. “Not even coffee helped. But I don’t think I have hypothermia, so I’m not sure what’s going on...”

Now Amy feels a chill. “Well, um, how about we go sit by that heater display, then?”

“Yes, thank you, I need that.”

As they walk, Amy tries to get a good look at his teeth. He rambles on the whole way over, but she can’t get a good, clear view.

They sit down, and Jonah sighs. “Oh, that’s so much better. Feel less like a walking corpse now.” He laughs at himself.

Amy laughs too, forcing it out as she eyes his smile.

Those two teeth are definitely longer.

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The sun sets over the Cloud 9, and Jonah sighs in relief. Finally, almost time to go home. He’s going to sleep right awa-

He pauses his mopping (someone chugged three giant sodas and did not have the stomach for it).

Where did that sudden burst of energy come from?

“Must be the relief,” he mutters. He finishes mopping up, and is immediately approached by a customer.

“Excuse me, but there’s a section back there with broken lights. Can you help me find my way around?”

Jonah sighs, hands on his hips, but nods. “Sure! Sure, no problem.”

He hadn’t even noticed the broken lights earlier, he could have sworn he could see perfectly. He follows the customer over to the dim, isolated area.

And blacks out.

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“Hey, Cheyenne?” Amy walks up to the cosmetics booth. “I heard you guys did a betting pool about Jonah?”

“Oh, yeah,” Cheyenne chuckles. “It was super fun, everyone was sending me stuff all day and some of the tests were super silly-”

“How about we shut it down?”

“... But, it’s almost the end of the day...”

“Yeah, I know, I know, just, it seems in poor taste.”

“How?”

“Kind of feels like it’s making light of what happened to Jonah, right? And I mean, I don’t know how I feel about gambling about someone who has a gambling problem, you know?”

Cheyenne considers, and nods. “Well, we won’t keep it up, it was just for today. We all know the answer anyway, he’s totally a vampire.”

“No! No, uh, he isn’t, because vampires don’t exist. So he can’t be.”

“Um, he totally is.”

“But he is not, because that’s fantasy.”

“No, really! Look at all this evidence everyone sent me.” Cheyenne pulls out her phone and shows the group chat to Amy. “We would have counted you in but... well, this.” She gestures to Amy, and the current conversation as a whole.

A crowd has begun to gather. Amy turns and looks at everyone. “Okay, guys, it was a fun day but this, vampire betting pool thing is over!”

There’s disgruntled chattering. “So there’s no payout?” someone shouts.

“Nope, everyone should take their own money back and let’s leave this to rest!”

“Like Jonah?” someone else jokes. The group chuckles.

“Not like Jonah, because Jonah is alive and well!”

“Well, vampires aren’t technically alive-”

“Sandra!” Amy snaps. “He is not a vampire!”

Dina scoffs. “Come on, even I think it’s obvious, and I’m not prone to thinking stuff like that. Unlike Glenn.”

“Where is Glenn, actually, he should be putting a stop to this-”

“He went home early. Something about needing to start a fundraiser to buy Jonah a new soul. His pastor is a con artist, but I respect his convincing marketing.”

“... Okay, then, Dina you put a stop to this.”

“Why?”

“Because Jonah! Is not! A vampire! There are no such things, and-and he just can’t be one, okay? Because he is a-a nervous, stuttery, sweet little man and it’s just not possible!”

Sandra glances over into the isles, and stiffens. “Uh, guys?”

“It could all be a ruse,” Dina says with a shrug. “He’s a creature of the night now. Can’t trust him anymore.”

“No, he is not!”

“Why are you so insistent about this?” Mateo asks.

“Why are you wearing a cross choker like you’re a teen going through a phase?” Amy fires back.

“This is to protect my bodily fluids from your ‘sweet little man’.” Mateo makes a sassy face at her.

“Guys,” Sandra says again, a little louder.

“He’s not my sweet little, I just meant he is in general a good guy!”

Garrett, highly amused, joins in the teasing. “Good looking?”

“No! I mean, yes, kind of, he’s not bad I-I guess- how did this turn into a thing about me? Stop saying Jonah is a vampire when he is not!”

“Guys!” Sandra’s shout finally draws everyone’s attention. “Look.”

A blank-eyed customer shuffles out of the isles, a worried Jonah following. “Ma’am, please, are you okay? Do you need me to walk you to your car? What happened?”

She doesn’t reply, which seems to make Jonah more frantic. As she walks past, everyone gets a clear view of her neck.

Two little holes, slightly bleeding.

And Jonah seems to have more color in his face.

“Ma’am, please, what happened in the isle? Did you trip? Did I trip and fall into you? Whatever happened I am very sorry-”

They both disappear out the doors. Cheyenne lowers her phone. “I’m texting that to Glenn.”

Everyone is quiet for a moment, the only sounds those of Cheyenne typing on her phone.

Finally, Dina pipes up. “I think Amy lost the pool.”

#Superstore #superstore nbc #superstore tv #superstore jonah #superstore amy #Amy Sosa #jonah simms #Vampire!Jonah AU #garrett mcneil #glenn sturgis #sandra kaluiokalani #amy dubanowski #Dina Fox #mateo liwanag #Cheyenne lee #blood tw #stabbing tw #fanfic #my attempts at fanfic

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kazarinn · 4 years

Text

Digimon Adventure LAST EVOLUTION Kizuna commentary trivia

The Blu-ray and DVD for Digimon Adventure LAST EVOLUTION Kizuna contains audio commentary with producer Yousuke Kinoshita and director Tomohisa Taguchi. While I don’t currently have plans to translate the full commentary, I’ve written down some of the more interesting trivia facts from it.

Please note that there are major LAST EVOLUTION Kizuna spoilers.

The one who came up with the idea of using Parrotmon as the first enemy was Hiromi Seki (producer for the original Digimon Adventure and Adventure 02, and supervisor for this movie) -- everyone else had been fussing over what Digimon to use, only for her to quickly chip in “what’s wrong with Parrotmon?”

Taichi’s faulty prototype goggles were based off the original draft design by Katsuyoshi Nakatsuru, causing them to think “well, we have to use this!” But they wanted to use the actual original pair of goggles in the story, so they weren’t sure what to do with said VR goggles, and in the end the VR goggles became a faulty prototype (after all, it’s a little early for VR goggles to work in 2010).

The evolution sequences are close to the original because Director Taguchi wanted you to feel “this is Digimon after all” (he particularly feels the rotating feeling is inherent to Digimon).

The part in the opening where Angemon rescues a potential victim is because “a real hero” would properly try to ensure that there were no victims (and in the end, there are zero deaths from this incident).

This is the Toei Animation building. They had to get permission from the owner to blow it up. Said owner was also a fan from the Digimon generation, so they were very happy to see it blown up.

Yamato's bike was one the director particularly liked and wanted to ride once.

The Japanese morning glory in the opening, according to Japanese flower language, represents “bonds” (kizuna), but also “I am entwined around you and will never let you go”, representing Menoa’s story.

The Digivice in the opening is Sora’s.

The woman sitting next to Yamato in class was actually the original concept for Yamato’s friend Abe (who discusses job prospects with him in the final version of the movie) -- it was changed because they were concerned about what Yamato’s closest friend being female would imply.

The real-life model for the izakaya Taichi and Yamato eat at in Asagaya apparently advertises that they were used in the movie. (The food there is also apparently very good and priced reasonably.)

The two women in the izakaya (Ayaka and her companion) are voiced by Miho Arakawa and Yukiko Morishita (the voices of Meiko Mochizuki and Meicoomon in Adventure tri.), who were brought on because they just really wanted to have them participate in some way.

Miyako and Hawkmon’s “Adiós” wasn’t in the original script, but ad-libbed by the voice actors.

The initial cyberspace fight with Eosmon was something Director Taguchi wanted to do in 8-bit (Famicom style), but it was too difficult to pull off in the actual animation. The final aesthetic used was the Virtual Boy.

Menoa’s reaction to seeing Omegamon is genuine -- it’s meant to reflect someone who’s heard about him in rumors, but never actually seen him.

When the ring is about to appear on Taichi’s Digivice and the voices are blocked out, the scene originally had voiced lines recorded for it (”Go!” “Take it down!”), but they were taken out at the very end.

This shot is meant to be foreshadowing that this is the fragment Koushirou would later analyze, resulting in him pinning down Menoa.

The countdown ring effect was apparently a huge load of trouble to make (both in terms of design and in terms of continually getting it in the shots). It’s not made with CGI, but with cinematography effects.

In the original storyboard, Daisuke’s ramen was a “normal”-looking bowl of ramen, but the animation director went all-out and made it “delicious-looking”.

In the script, the Digimon accompanying Daisuke, Ken, and Iori to the ramen shop were originally supposed to be Child-level, but they wanted them to sit on the their laps, so they became Baby-level in the final version.

Producer Seki was the one who came up with the idea of the pay phones and prepaid phones, advising them that if they’d used their normal phones they’d be found out (thus making it come off as more like a spy movie).

Gennai mentions “then it’s possible...” to imply that there’s hope, but the shot being on the window here is meant to indicate that Taichi was so in shock that he didn’t hear that part.

The Digimon greeting each other in the background is something Director Taguchi wanted to do -- he wasn’t particularly focused on doing so, but he felt that it was something Digimon would do if in a situation where they hadn’t seen each other in a whlie.

The idea with Sora’s first scene with Piyomon in the movie is that she does, in fact, know what’s going to happen.

#Digimon #Digimon Adventure LAST EVOLUTION Kizuna

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hankwritten · 3 years

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Long Time Listener, First Time Caller

Demoman/Soldier, 2k

Request for @tokyotrain, Music

1. Reveille

There had never, ever, in the history of time or space, an instrument Demo hated more.

The bugle reverberated through the open window that someone had conspicuously left open, just in case the man in bed wouldn’t have been awakened by its bellows piercing through the glass. Not that that would ever happen. Demo was pretty sure he could’ve heard that damn instrument all the way in Hell, and grasped blindly for the pillow he could smother his own face in. It didn’t help. He shouldn’t be able to taste the cacophony the bugle was making, but there was the sting of copper on his tongue, as though his gums were bleeding in revolt.

“I’m going to kill him,” he muttered into the three layers of feathered pillows.

By the time he stumbled down to breakfast, there were bags under his eye, diluted homicidal intent on his face, and his fluffiest robe around his shoulders.

“And he’s finally up,” Mum said, and sipped her tea. Usually she’d be giving him an earful about his lazy behind tarrying in making her morning cup, but since she was smirking at his disheveled state, Soldier must have brewed it for her.

“Grrnn…” her son replied.

Coffee was the only thing that would make this morning better. Thankfully, there was a pot already brewing; Soldier wasn’t that heartless.

“I see you have acquired your morning cup of Joe!” Soldier said when he finally retired from his routine, sweeping into the kitchen on a wave of wholly unwelcome cheer. Beyond him—since the mansion didn’t have a flagpole, he’d found ways to make do—a rake was shoved into the lawn with a Stars ‘n Stripes bandana tied around it. This he erected every day at dawn. “Excellent! Now that you are refreshed and full of energy, you are capable of participating in post flag ceremony drills!”

Demo skipped the not on your life and went straight to, “I’m going to take that bloody thing and re-twist it until you can hang yourself with it.”

Mum laughed, and Soldier grinned jubilantly, confident in the knowledge that he would always win mornings.

2. Taunt

“Whomp whomp whaaaa,” the stupid bloody trombone played at him.

Half delirious from blood loss, Demo bared his teeth at the smug BLU above him who, as soon as he finished taunting, promptly executed his unwilling audience with a shotgun blast to the head.

This was the fifth time this had happened today, and Demo was pissed. Where was Soldier even keeping that thing? Every bloody time there was no sign of the instrument whatsoever, then as soon as victory was assured he reached into hammer space and pulled out five feet of tubing! It was ridiculous to drive a man crazy under the best of circumstances—but having it be your partner was something that garnered a certain degree of necessary revenge.

Demo had had enough. It was about time he did some stooping to Soldier’s level.

The next day, Demo managed to shove Soldier off Upward’s scaffolding with a well-timed shield bash. He couldn’t have hoped for a better opportunity, perfectly executed so Soldier hadn’t even gotten a kill on him that day, which might have ruined the ‘surprise’. He stood, one foot on the Soldier-shaped hole in the wood, and leaned on his knee.

“Nice of you to drop in!” he called.

“Eugh,” Soldier grumbled, impaled haphazardly on various bits of wood.

“As long as we’re both taking a breather, mind if get a bit of piping practice in?”

Not waiting for a reply, Demo pulled out the bagpipes that had been eagerly awaiting their time in the sun. Sitting as they had been for the past five years in the attic, derelict ever since he’d purchased them on a lark, he didn’t blame them. When he flexed the bag, dust came out the mouthpiece.

“Oh no,” Soldier said.

“Oh yes!” Demo disagreed, and began to play.

Soldier was in a very unfortunate situation, arm broken the exact wrong way to keep him from covering his own ears. Thus he was forced to listen as Demo played out a belching and eardrum-bleeding anti-tune, rippling the open air above the drop off with painful ineptitude.

“Never played a day in me life,” Demo said cheerfully as he ceased blowing into the bellows.

“And you should never do so again!” Soldier accused. “The only positive thing I can say about your first attempt is that thank God it is over!”

“Over?” Demo smirked. “Nah, there’s another four movements to get through.”

Soldier’s head flopped back in defeat, helmet rolling off into the abyss and eyes pointing at the sky. “Jesus and Thomas Edison, please give me strength.”

This was not heard over the resuming of what only the foolish and the damned would refer to as ‘music’.

3. Radio

“Do not touch that dial, maggot!”

“I’m shotgun, I get radio privileges.”

“Guh,” Soldier complained as Demo flipped until the NMDX began to flow from the box, polluting the airwaves with its electronic beats. “What even is this hippie garbage?”

“It’s disco, laddie!”

Demo was already grooving in his seat, dead set on enjoying the new wave in direct defiance of his partner’s annoyed twitch. Or, perhaps, maybe because of it.

Soldier grumbled. “Doesn’t make any damn sense! What’s a duck doing at a disco in the first place?”

“He wasn’t a duck when he went there,” Demo scoffed. “It’s like you’re not even listening to the song.”

“I’m trying not too.”

“Fine then! What do you like to listen to in the car?”

Soldier hummed quietly for a second, the fading carols of Rick Dees and His Cast of Idiots catching on the notes and escaping into the hum of the highway. After a moment of contemplation, Soldier peeled his eyes from the road and began to rummage about in the center console. This caused him to swerve wildly along the highway, other cars blaring their horns as the blue Camaro glided over the dotted line. Demo watched these events with mild interest.

“Aha!” Soldier exclaimed, emerging with an 8track clasped triumphantly in one hand. “This’ll get us to Springerville without all that play-it-backwards-to-alter-your-brainwaves nonsense!”

He slid the track into the Camaro’s player.

“…Welcome to the audio edition of the Farmer’s Almanac, for the year of our lord, 1972.”

“Oh god…”

“Hah!” Soldier brightened. “Now this is what I am talking about!”

It was going to be a long four hours.

4. Folk

Demo didn’t mind Soldier’s record, to be honest.

It seemed to be about something at least, more than he was used to the things Soldier liked being ‘about’ anything that wasn’t unquestioning patriotism. Sometime he wondered why, of all the folk records in the world, Soldier had decided to settle on Dust Bowl Ballads as his fixation in the realms of music. Americana of all kinds of blended together in Demo’s opinion, but despite the repetitive twang of the banjo and the stifling trite melody, even he could tell there was a story of deep melancholy to be found between the harmless little tunes.

So it wasn’t the fact that Soldier had a record. It was the fact that Soldier had a record, singular.

The idea that a person might purchase multiple albums over the course of their life and play them at different times when the mood struck them never seemed to have been explained to the Soldier. His concept to the record player was this: play the first side. When it was finished, flip it over and play the second side.

Repeat.

For hours.

No matter how sweet Woody Guthrie’s crooning was, having it repeated over and over again day in and day out could give anyone’s otherwise delightful performance all the dulcet notes of prison moonshine. It didn’t bother Soldier one bit it seemed—he would hum to himself merrily as he sat on the chaise, perfectly content to dissemble his shotgun on the coffee table while the same fifteen songs played.

“Y’know love,” Demo tried. “The reason records don’t come glued on to their players is because you can put other ones on. Look.”

He delicately switched out Ballads for something from his own collection, setting the needle so it could fall where it willed.

Soldier eyed the player dubiously as an entirely different style began to fall from the trumpet’s maw, grease rag in hand.

“I don’t get it,” he said as the first refrain came to a close. “You can’t understand a word she’s saying. What’s the point if you don’t know what’s going on?”

“You can’t understand it because it’s in Gaelic, lad.”

Soldier furrowed his brow. “Are you being vulgar at me right now, maggot?”

“Ach, no! I…” Demo sighed. Sometimes why he wondered why he even bothered. “Gaelic’s the language. It’s rare that anyone’ll make records in traditional tongues, but I had a few and I just thought…ah never mind.”

Gently he slid the record back into its sleeve and put Ballads back on.

“…Okay,” was all Soldier said, still frowning as Demo exited the room.

Demo wasn’t so callous to admit he hated the damn thing aloud, not when he could tell it made Soldier honestly, genuinely happy. They’d rib each other for their interests all the time, but not for something this important, and he resigned himself to having Woody as an unwanted houseguest for the rest of time.

That was, until a dreadful cold found him alone in the living room and unwilling to move.

The sickness (and Mum) had demanded he get plenty of bed rest, but he was just so bloody tired of spending all his time between the same four walls and occasionally the bathroom. He’d thought, well, there’s no harm in a quick trip downstairs, only to discover that once he’d gone horizontal on the couch, he lost all motivation to go back up those stairs.

That was how Soldier found him, cocooned in every blanket in the living room, blinking up pitifully as sniffled at his partner. To his credit, Soldier didn’t chastise him for sneaking out of bed; he simply sighed, moved the tissues box closer, and got Demo a cup of tea.

This was all unsurprising, if sweet. What was surprising was—as Demo lay with his back to the majority of the room—the sound of a record sliding into the player. A moment later the room was reendowed with Fear a Bhàta, the song flowing over his senses as he huddled for warmth under his blanket pile. He lifted his head to look at Soldier, who merely shrugged. That was all. Then he sat down on a chair near his Demoman and opened up an issue of Guns & Haircuts.

After that, sometimes Demo would come home to find a piece from his library playing, wafting through the mansion’s halls with no objection from its audience. If Jane had truly changed his mind, or was just doing it for Demo’s benefit, Demo couldn’t tell, but he appreciated the gesture all the same.

5. Piano

“Nothing?” Demo asked as his hands stilled across the keys, the last notes echoing in the music room to the resounding absence of symphony. The only thing left to fill it was the painfully normal sounds of two people simply being alive. “Not a single word of complaint?”

Soldier grinned, and shrugged. “Maybe we found something we can agree on.”

“And that something so happens to involve me doing all the work.” But despite that he grinned, taking Soldier’s hand and rubbing a thumb across the bones along its back, a private concert undergone and concluded. “You should help out. Grab a microphone, lay sultrily across my piano. That’d jazz up the performance.”

“Sounds like a good way to break a piano.”

“Excuses excuses.”

Soldier leaned down, capturing Demo’s mouth in a kiss, knees pressed against the back of the bench, hand still in Demo’s. When he they parted, Demo thought of how he always tasted like gunpowder, no matter how long it’d been.

Soldier smiled against Demo’s lips. “Play us another?”

“So demanding,” Demo smiled, and put fingers back to ivory.

#demosolly #boots n bombs #tf2 fanfiction

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derireo · 3 years

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rooftop talk ↦ itaru & izumi

Maybe Izumi was glad that the gamer nerd ended up being the person who discovered her hideout on the rooftop.

It's been years since she last talked to someone like this.

「 2.1k words 」

cw: mild hurt/comfort, family complications. can be connected to the workaholic.

Izumi wouldn't say she was depressed but going back to an empty home probably wasn’t the best feeling. She’d rather admit she was lonely.

Her father disappeared when she was fourteen, never leaving a note of any sort. He was a good father, that man, so it was like a punch to the face when Izumi and her mother woke up to his things no longer in the house and the car no longer in the community garage.

His disappearance left Izumi's mom to take care of the bills of the house, the groceries, and her school tuition.

This meant working multiple jobs. This meant coming home for a couple of hours and then leaving again. This meant blaming Izumi for something she couldn’t control. Her mother even had the audacity to glare at her whenever they were in the house at the same time, but Izumi could only choose the option to ignore it.

That was all she could do if she was living in her mother's house and so to lessen the chances of running into her, Izumi got a job at the convenience store at the young age of fifteen. She was given shifts on the weekend at first, but she begged for graveyard.

If working late into the night ‘til morning was what was going to reduce the risk of running into her mom at home, she’d take it. She'd even rather sleep at the school.

And Izumi’s manager was reluctant in giving her the shifts, knowing that she was only a child in tenth grade, but the desperation in her eyes had him yielding. He couldn’t say no if that was really what she wanted. She had told him that her mother had given her permission after all, and they needed someone to work the graveyard shift anyway.

So, years passed, with Izumi working nearly every night until morning only to then go to school afterwards, taking her naps during lunch break and then another nap at home when she had the day off. Each second, minute, hour, and day was spent in silence. The only sound that would fill her ears at home would be the scratch of her pencil against paper or the whistling of the rice cooker.

She grew accustomed to this silence that lived inside the house alongside her and absolutely hated the noise at school. The laughter behind everyone’s eyes as they talked with their friends, the bullies who would pick on the sickly boy in the corner of the room, to the stampeding of students running down the hall drove Izumi crazy.

They were the reason why the rooftop was her home now.

She didn’t have any friends, nor did she enjoy having fun at the expense of others, so when Izumi discovered the doors to the rooftop, she knew she had hit the jackpot.

It was a breezy spring day when Izumi visited the rooftop for the umpteenth time.

Students weren't allowed to visit the rooftop as the place was used as a hideout for those who wanted to skip their classes and for those poor victims who were dragged here to get beaten down by their cruel bullies. The doors had been barricaded indoors by the teachers, a large, rotting plank having been slipped through the handles while old desks and chairs sat in front. It was like what you would see in a horror movie set in a high school.

It was spooky looking enough to steer naughty students away, but not enough to scare Izumi. The school wasn't known for ghosts, after all—not that she believed in any, and she needed a place to kill time. She threw that wooden plank to the side and dragged every single piece of abandoned furniture out of the way when she first came across it.

And so, here Izumi was. Sitting on the ground with her legs dangling on the edge of the roof with an old, iron railing keeping her safe from falling and going SPLAT.

Quiet. She thought to herself, sliding her arms through the barred railing with her fingers outstretched. The breeze slithered through the cracks between her fingers as it blew her light brown hair back, cooling her already chilly skin.

The silence is stifling.

The sound of the door clicking open made Izumi pause her thoughts, arms still held up in the air as the wind blew at her uniform skirt and the sun kissed her skin.

She turned her head to see a boy, probably her age, frozen in his tracks. He wore thick rectangular framed glasses and had messy blond hair that covered them. She noticed the bento box that was tucked under his arm as well as the small gaming device in his hand. Pursing her lips, she took a chance and guessed that maybe she wasn’t the only one who knew that the rooftop had opened again. Albeit secretly.

The boy took a flustered step back in order to leave the rooftop, but Izumi shook her head and waved her hand. She didn’t mind cutting her break short if he needed time to himself.

“It’s cool.” She said. “You can stay.”

She scooted back and bent her legs to release herself from the railing, skin dirty and grey with dust. The breeze had made her hair all tangled and cool to the touch, and she dragged her calloused fingers through the strands while her other hand pushed her body off the ground. Her black sneakers picked up an ugly ashen hue too, but she decided not to care too much about it as she looked at the boy again and nodded.

His lips parted in surprise when her brown eyes focused on him, and he waved his hand that held his device to keep Izumi from leaving.

“Sorry, I didn’t know someone was up here. Don’t go.” He apologised.

His stiff body was blocking the doors, preventing her from leaving like she had planned. His shoulders were hunched forward as he stood with terrible posture and his glasses perched right on the tip of his nose.

The silence between them was uncomfortable as Izumi struggled to come up with an excuse to leave. She didn’t know it, but her face was terribly expressive, and the boy was able to tell that she was conflicted.

He spoke before the silence drew longer. “We can share the rooftop together… I was only planning on eating my lunch here.”

The suggestion held no ill intent, but Izumi was still reluctant. She crossed her arms over her chest with pursed lips and raked her eyes up and down the person’s body. She’d never seen him around before, that’s for sure. He probably (hopefully) didn’t have any interest in her.

“Itaru.” The boy piped up again, voice meek. “My name’s Itaru Chigasaki. I’m a senior like you.”

Izumi uncrossed her arms and took a step back. She had most likely heard of his name before, but rarely paid enough attention in class to remember. Izumi’s feet were careful as they brought her back to the spot where she sat not too long ago and waved Itaru over with her hand, beckoning him to join her.

“I’m guessing you’ve seen me around if you know that we’re both Grads.” She spoke quietly, pushing her legs through the spaces of the railing again as the boy reluctantly shuffled to her side.

He nodded to confirm her guess and kept his distance away from the rooftop’s edge.

“We share Homeroom together.” Itaru said, popping open the lid to his bento box. “You’re always half an hour late.”

Izumi pressed her lips into a thin line and looked out into the city, going silent. The sunshine painted the buildings with a shimmery gold as the wind whipped through her hair. The cool but sunny weather was great on a lonely day like this, and Itaru gazed at Izumi with curiosity as he shoved a piece of sausage into his mouth with some rice.

He would never admit it but Itaru had come up to the rooftop today in hopes of catching Izumi here. And boy, was he glad to have swallowed his anxiety and pushed open the rooftop doors.

The last time he had seen her here, she was in tears, letter in hand. He could barely see the writing on the envelope that she had dropped on the floor, but he recognized the black scrawl spelling out ‘From: Papa’.

There were crystalline beads rolling down her cheeks then, sleeves stained with tears and dirt as the paper in her angry hand crumpled. Itaru remembered how she cried out into the roaring wind that day, and how her voice was drowned out by the school bell.

Itaru’s reminiscing was abruptly interrupted by the clearing of Izumi’s throat. She made it seem like she was going to say something and the audio cue reminded Itaru to chew his food.

“Yeah. My job ends in the morning.” She answered him, resting back on her palms.

The blond glanced at her through his fluttering fringe. “Don’t you get tired at all?”

It was an innocent question, but Izumi still laughed. How would you respond if someone asked you the same thing?

She turned her head in Itaru’s direction and sent him a kind smile. He paused in the middle of shoving rice into his mouth to patiently wait for her answer.

“Don’t you get tired at all?” She asked.

Itaru fish mouthed. “Well. Sometimes. When I study a little longer than usual, yeah—”

“That’s not what I meant.” Izumi laughed. The corners of her eyes crinkled and she gave Itaru a genuine smile, knocking her fist into his shoulder as if she’d known him for years. “You knew what I meant, right?”

Her tone was full of warmth despite the fact that she was laughing at him, but Itaru didn’t seem to mind. Her amusement wasn’t at his own expense, and Itaru felt comfort in that.

“I do get tired.” He sighed softly, biting at the ends of his chopsticks.

Years of trying to blend in to the crowd and avoid those who only caused trouble for him wasn’t the easiest thing to do. Plus, someone had found out that he was a total gamer nerd and people decided that that was good enough of a reason to push him around. That meant Itaru had to give up on hiding because of the rumor that quickly spread, and he didn’t have the heart to ask his mom for another transfer.

“Then you’ve got the answer you were looking for.” Izumi shrugged. She took a glance at the gaming console he had resting in his lap and went back to looking at the city. “I’d feel the same way if I was the kid who got bullied for liking video games.”

Her voice was gentle, but the last statement felt like a punch in the gut. Itaru put down his lunch box while swallowing the food in his mouth to defend himself, but Izumi kept talking.

“What’s wrong with having a hobby? Wasting money on games is so much better than wasting time hurting somebody's feelings.”

Itaru felt his throat tighten. “...Exactly.”

The bell rang just as Izumi gave Itaru a comforting pat on the shoulder, signifying that their lunch break was finally over.

The corners of his mouth lifted up into a smile and Izumi let out a pleased hum at the new expression. She removed her hand from his shoulder and heaved herself up from the ground, brushing off the dirt on her legs and skirt.

“It was cool meeting you, Itaru.” She said casually, holding out her hand for the boy to take.

Gratefully, he quickly packed his stuff up and tucked it under his arm before taking her hand, hauling himself up with the help of Izumi.

“You too.” He exhaled, out of breath for some odd reason. Itaru’s heart felt like it was going to burst with joy at (hopefully) having made a new friend.

He watched as she pulled her hand away from his and started her own trek towards the rooftop doors, her hair and skirt flowing behind her prettily as the gentle breeze picked up again.

Itaru called out to her before she left. “Uh. Izumi.”

She turned around, walking backwards this time.

“...I’m sure you’re doing so much more than you think.” He said awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. He didn’t want to say that he knew how hard she’d been working, so he was just going to leave her to wonder what he meant.

“If you need someone to talk to… I’ll be around.” Itaru coughed.

“Sure. I’d love to take you on that offer.” Izumi chuckled. She waved her hand goodbye and waited until Itaru waved back to exit the rooftop first, the sound of the wind blowing cut off by the shut of the door.

The cold atmosphere that filled the top floor of the school blanketed Izumi and she sighed at the loneliness of it all.

Maybe replacing the silence in her life with a friend wasn’t such a bad idea.

#a3!#a3! act! addict! actors!#a3! fic #itaru chigasaki #izumi tachibana #itaizu #?

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vs-redemption · 4 years

Text

Crime is Common. Logic is Rare. (Ch 16)

Chapter Sixteen: Deduction (HawksxGN!Reader)

Plot summary: You thought your hands were full as a regular quirk geneticist, but then you meet Hawks and things get even more exciting!

Warnings:

⚠️This story contains spoilers from the manga.

⚠️Some events and plot points have been altered from the original manga

Tag List: @ gayforkeigo/ @marshmallow-witch/ @redflannel/ @toyo-shiro

Next Chapter : Chapter Guide

The very last place you wanted to be at the moment was stuck in the creepy underground laboratory with Dr. Garaki under Jaku Hospital. But now that Hawks’ loyalty to the League of Villains was being tested, it was more imperative than ever that you keep up appearance at the lab. You weren’t supposed to know anything about Hawks’ secret activities with the league, and taking a day off at the wrong time might attract suspicion. The villains had informed Hawks that something significant had happened for them during their attack on Deika city, and Dr. Garaki claimed to have some big news for you today as well. After the past twenty four hours though, you weren’t sure if you could take any more surprises.

“There’s something I need to tell you about your quirk,” the doctor folds his hands in his lap after you sit down across from him. “I noticed it pretty early on in our experiments, but I was worried it would affect our results if you knew about it.”

“What changed your mind?” you ask him wearily. You chose to go along with the conversation even though you already had so many other concerns consuming your thoughts. You had forced Hawks to stay at your place after he’d had his breakdown the night before, and he’d thankfully seemed a bit more composed after a full night of rest. You both had spent the morning trying to think of a way to fulfill both the wishes of the League of Villains and the Hero Commission without Hawks having to actually murder Best Jeanist. You’d managed to come up with a plan, but it was risky. Going through with it would mean Hawks deceiving both the League and the Commission. It was not a decision to be taken lightly, but unfortunately there wasn’t much time to sit around and mull it over. Hawks was currently out completing his part of the plan, and once you were finished with the doctor you’d have to go out and complete yours.

“Well, you’ve reached a plateau in your improvement,” Dr. Garaki explains even though you already knew that much. “And if you we want to keep you progressing forward, I think it might be necessary to fill you in on what I’ve discovered.”

“I’m not satisfied with what I’m currently able to do either,” you admit. “I want to be able to see more when I use my quirk.”

Hawks had been against involving you too much in his new situation at first. However, after debating the issues extensively, he agreed that it would be smarter and safer for you to be the one to drop by Best Jeanist’s home tonight. And by no means did the word ‘safer’ mean ‘safe.’ You weren’t even sure if you’d be able to get into the number three hero’s apartment yet. Best Jeanist had been missing ever since the horrible incident in Kamino Ward. There had been no reports about his condition after facing off with All For One, or news about if he’d be able to return to hero work eventually. The Hero Commission had kept him out of the media completely.

Hawks had connections though and seemed fairly confident he’d be able to get in contact with the missing hero and arrange a meeting. The problem was that Hawks couldn’t be seen visiting Best Jeanist before he “killed” him. Plus, his wings were still bugged with audio recording devices. It’d be really hard for Hawks to deliver any hidden messages. That’s where you came in. Hopefully Hawks could convince Best Jeanist that you were trustworthy enough to be alone with him. If anyone saw you going there though, and it got back to the doctor, it could be really bad. In addition to that, you and Hawks had to trust that Best Jeanist would go along with everything. He could easily turn you both in to the Commission. You really doubted he would since the Commission had approved his termination in the first place, but it was still something to be cautious about.

“Well, that’s the thing,” The doctor adjusts his large glasses on his face. “It turns out you’re not actually picking up information in the way you thought you were. Many of the details you are able to give after using your quirk are not simply things you saw or heard, they are things you have deduced.”

“Uh, what?” you let out a short laugh.

“In our experiments,” Dr. Garaki elaborates. “I control as much about the situations as I possibly can. Of course, the extent of things you pick up with your senses are often incredible, but there are things I add that you should not be able to know at all. Your quirk isn’t just noticing details, it is also analyzing them and making very accurate assumptions.”

“Oh,” you understood why he wouldn’t want you to know that now. If part of your quirk was simply just inferring information, it meant you might not always be collecting correct data. Knowing that could make you second guess yourself and corrupt the gathered information even more.

“Yeah,” The doctor nods his head. “For example, when you hear a sound behind you, it really could be anything. Through experience though, you’ve learned to distinguish different sounds you’ve heard before. And let’s say there’s a shadow or some other change in lighting at the same time as the sound. You can combine all this information and tell me with confidence that a pair of small birds flew by behind you.”

“Wait,” that was kind of exciting. “So, the more I use my quirk the more efficient it becomes at collecting information?”

“It seems that way,” The doctor confirms your guess. “We were able to extend the length of time you could use your quirk with the almonds, but we wanted you to actually gather more information about your surroundings. I don’t think we’ll be able to increase the amount of information intake, but we can probably find a way to help you process the details in order to infer more about the things going on around you.”

“Isn’t that dangerous though?” You ask. “If I’m actively trying to make connections, it seems inevitable that I would make false correlations.”

“Yes!” Dr. Garaki actually smiles and claps his hands. “But your deductions are always going to be more accurate about things you’ve experienced before or things you know a lot about. And because you are an expert in the field of genetics, I think it might be okay to let your imagination run a little wild when making assumptions on the subject. We could always test your theories after the fact to make sure.”

“Yeah, I suppose that is true,” you agree. It was hard to know how to feel about this new development, and you wished you could take a beat to process it. Your life was too fast paced now for luxuries like that. You’d have to adapt and press forward as best you could.

“So, for the next part of our interesting journey,” the doctor reaches into his coat and pulls out a vile of blood. “I’m going to need you to get very familiar with this sample.” He hands you the vile and you hold it up for inspection.

“Why?” You ask curiously, though you already had a hunch.

“Because you were right about me,” he shrugs casually. “What you’re holding is a sample of All For One’s DNA. I can’t tell you how I got it, but with your quirk we could certainly use it to accomplish great things.”

You weren’t surprised that you had been right, but it was interesting that he finally seemed to trust you enough to tell you. You hand the vile back to Dr. Garaki and smile. You’d been wanting to get your hands on All For One’s blood for a while so that you could figure out how the nomus were created. The problem was that Dr. Garaki probably already knew how to make them. He was genuinely excited about using this new information about your quirk though, so he must be planning something even more extravagant. You’d have to figure out his agenda as soon as possible. It was just another thing to add to your list of concerns that day.

“All right then,” you tell the doctor with false enthusiasm. “Let’s get to work then.”

#Hawks x reader #Keigo Takami x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader #Hawks #Keigo Takami #Boku no hero academia #my hero academia #My Writing

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sunsetinmyvein · 4 years

Text

The Radio Station - Chapter One - Think About How to Think

"I’m still not quite used to these proper radio interviews.” He said as he reshuffled the headset over his clean shaven mohawk. “It all… feels so professional.” She laughed in response to that, “Well, it’s nice to know I’m doing my job right, then!”

Eyyyy, I’m back! A sort of different story compared to what I've done in the past. Small snippets in time, across quite a bit of time, focused around radio interviews. Almost all of Matty's interview answers are verbatim transcribed from various interviews, but it's what happens around those answers that's the important stuff.

Taglist: @dot-writes @imagine-that-100 @robinrunsfiction @tooshhhy and feel free to give me a shout if you wanna be added :D

6th of December, 2012

Adjusting the microphone in front of her, she watched while the last few seconds of the song played out. “You ready?” She asked the man sitting in front of her. He looked up from picking at the sleeve of his jacket, nodding apprehensively as she switched the microphones back on. “That was Sex by The 1975 - and as promised, we have here Matthew Healy of The 1975 with us in the studio this morning.” She spoke, turning on the radio presenter voice.

He leaned towards the mic slightly before speaking, “Hi.”

“How are you doing?”

“Yeah, erm… good?” He said with a small laugh, sounding unsure of himself. “A bit nervous.” He admitted as an afterthought.

“About your show tonight at Barfly?” She asked, remembering her conversation earlier in the day. Her managed warned her not to drag the interview out too much as they had a gig later that evening to prepare for.

“Uh, yeah, that, and I’m still not quite used to these proper radio interviews.” He said as he reshuffled the headset over his clean shaven mohawk. “It all… feels so professional.” He shrugged, looking around the studio for the millionth time. When he’d come in, the process of actually having to check in through a receptionist and wait before he was ushered through was fairly intimidating.

She laughed in response to that, “Well, it’s nice to know I’m doing my job right, then!”

She figured it would be best to just get the ball rolling to try and give him something better to talk about than his nerves, “So, you guys have two EPs out now. How many more are there on the cards before an album?” She questioned, glancing down at the sheet of question prompts in front of her.

He appeared instantly more comfortable as soon as the topic switched to something that he had better familiarity with, straightening up in his seat and looking more engaged, “There’s probably another couple to come out before we bring out the full album.”

“It seems that the band is getting some good traction with what you already have out.” She pointed out with a nod. Over the last few weeks at the station she’d had a chance to hear the EPs in passing, and she thought that they were pretty decent. But the station itself had been receiving a fair number of requests for them and pretty good feedback whenever they were on the air.

“Yeah! We’re really humbled that we’ve been given the opportunity to live this past year, and we’re only getting closer as a band.”

“Is there a strategy with how you’re releasing things?” She asked. “Is this all part of some grand plan,” She saw him smile at that, “or a secret to getting your name out there?”

He thought about that for a second, “Kind of a bit of both? When we wrote the first EP, shortly after we’d written the majority of the album, we kind of… I dunno, we just wanted people to…” He paused, taking a short breath as he recomposed his thoughts. “If we were gonna do it, it’s such a personal endeavour, this band. If people are embracing the music, we wanna do it properly. We want people to fall in love with a band the same way you fall in love with a person – the more you know about somebody over a longer period of time, the more you both invest in the relationship.” She was taken aback somewhat by his statement. For a band just starting their career, that was a pretty profound thought process. “That was kind of…” He continued, clearly debating over his words slightly. “We had ideas for a lot of material. We wanted records that went against the grain of most EPs nowadays that are just a single. We wanted to release these little records that kind of almost culminated in a debut record.”

“That all sounds pretty well figured out.” She noted, still rather surprised at the extent of his answer. It was intriguing watching him stumble over his choice of words to try and get across exactly what he meant. “Does that mean that the tracks from the EPs are going to be on the full album?”

“There’s a lead track off each EP on the album, yeah.” He nodded eagerly as he leaned forward in his seat. “I think there’s been a misunderstanding that our material works chronologically. We wrote the album pretty much before we wrote the EPs. We took singles off the album and wrote EPs around that to take a bit of the story and embellish it a bit. Create a feel for what the album is gonna be like.” He explained, his hand motions getting more enthusiastic the more he spoke.

She made a soft noise of understanding at his answer. Thinking back to the vibe of the two EPs she had listed to, what he was saying made sense. “From what we’ve heard from you so far, it seems The 1975 has a knack for creating upbeat music with fairly deep lyrics in comparison. Is there a reasoning behind that? Is the album going to be similar?” She asked as she flipped her notepad over.

He let out a sigh as he stared up at the ceiling of the studio, “I dunno… we’re just a band… for ourselves? We just wrote music for ourselves and have since we started when we were kids.” He started, leaning back into his seat. “Because we grew up in punk and pop punk playing around, we were kind of a bands band? Our music just became very, very personal and very, very kind of…” He made a vague gesture with his hands, “I suppose, it’s our only expression? It’s the only thing we’ve ever known how to do. It’s the only form of honest expression we’ve got. A lot of the time it’s quite self-deprecating for me – lyrically. I kind of find solace in it. But I suppose now it’s been romanticised a little bit.”

She wasn’t entirely sure if that answered her question, but pressed on. “Certainly songs like Sex seem to have a lot of girls romanticising you.” She threw in with a laugh. He cracked a grin at her remark.

“I think that is a reflection of our music – coming across as sexy. Not just because of, y’know, all this.” He shot back with a wink as he held a hand proudly on his chest. Any awkwardness he had been carrying at the start of the interview seemed to have dissipated now.

“All right, we are gonna play another 1975 song and then we’ll be right back. This one came off of the first EP. This is The City.” She announced, happy to segue away from having to discuss whether she thought Matthew Healy was or wasn’t sexy on live radio. As the track started, she lowered her headphones to sit around her neck, the man across the desk from her following her lead. “You’re killing it.” She reassured him.

“Yeah?” He smiled.

“Yeah.” She chuckled, his enthusiasm now that he was on a roll was contagious. “You obviously know what you’re about.”

“Well, I’ve been fuckin’ thinking about it all for long enough.” He laughed loudly. “We spent ages working out what to do before stuff finally started happening for us.” He added for clarification.

“You’ve been the same group since you were kids?” She asked out of genuine curiosity. He looked like he was in his early twenties now, which would mean that they’d already been a band for quite some time. It seemed odd if that was the case, that they’d only had these two releases.

“Yeah, the four of us since we were fourteen or something. Just messin’ about trying to work out what sounds good.” He confirmed.

“Fourteen? That’s pretty young to start a band.” She said in astonishment.

“Yeah, well… I’d just moved to Manchester; I grew up in the very north of the country…” He started, looking like he was about to launch into another story. Part of her wished she had saved this line of questioning for the interview, but another part of her was secretly mildly honoured he was only giving this information to her. “But I went to high school and there was this kind of thing that was going on where the council were letting old people’s kind of bingo halls be used by kids to start bands. And after a couple of weeks it became this scene and everyone started making punk bands.” He explained.

“So, you got dragged into it by your mates?” She asked.

“Well, in the end our whole social group oriented around that scene.” He shrugged. “We started there at fourteen just because of how fun it was. The fact that we realised we could be genuinely creative but also really indulgent? It was the most fun we could have.” He had a fond smile playing on his lips as he spoke.

“Plenty of time to experiment and work out what you want to be as a band.” She nodded in understanding.

“Exactly.”

“And clearly it’s starting to pay off.”

“You reckon?” He had a genuine look of disbelief.

“I’ve liked what I’ve heard,” She admitted, “and we’ve had nothing but good things coming in about the EPs.”

He scoffed as he ran a hand through his hair, “That’s a lie and you know it. I’m not oblivious to the critics.” He rolled his eyes, but was still smiling. “Thanks, though.”

They had some more casual chit chat between them until the song came to an end and she switched the audio back over. “And we are back!” She said into the microphone, pulling her headset back on. “Still here in the studio with Matthew Healy, the lead singer of The 1975. Now, I believe that you guys had a few name changes before you finally settled on this one?” She asked as she crossed that prompt off of her list. In an effort to be prepared, she’d tried her best to find out as much about the band online as she could to form some half decent questions. She hated feeling like her interviews were just the same as everything else out there.

“Yeah, we did, but that was when we were just a live band, really. We didn’t really wanna put any music out officially until we were really ready. There were also issues with the old names that we had picked. One of ‘em there was another band called that already, Big Sleep, in America, so we couldn’t call it that. Another we didn’t really like, The Slow Down…” He said with a shrug. “People like to idealise quite a lot of things… in the end, it kind of became our thing? Changing our name. We didn’t really think people cared about our band, anyway.” He laughed softly.

“They certainly do now.” She smiled across at him, earning what appeared to be a delighted look in response. “So, is there any importance to what you finally settled on?”

“The date doesn’t have any, no.” He said as he shook his head. “It’s this story, that’s been quite over dramatized, to be honest. When I was like… nineteen? I was on holiday with my family. There was an artist who lived in the village who was kind of a local drinker who befriended everybody. I spent a couple of days with him at his house, and he gave me loads of literature to leave with, like Kerouac and beat poetry, you know. Basically one of the books I ended up readin’ six months later, and it had kind of been treated as a diary by the previous owner. And it was dated ‘first of June the 1975’. The use of ‘the’ I felt was quite interesting.” He answered. “It just stuck with me as a kind of… why? What made them write the 1975? I don’t know, but I think it really works with the fact that we were discovering a lot about ourselves, and we weren’t really sure who we were.” He gazed off into the middle distance for a second, looking like he was zoning out. “George felt it was a bit long at first, because you know, seven syllable band name. But once a band name becomes a band name it’s just there. It’s like that Pavlovian reaction. But I think when we went in for a meeting with our publisher, we’ve always liked to pitch things left of centre, we said ‘we’re gonna call the band The 1975‘ and they said ‘absolutely no way, it’s too long and there’s never been a big band that’s just been numbers.’ And then we looked at each other like ‘that’s the name.’ so I went and got it tattooed on my arm that day.” He laughed loudly. “Sent them a photo of that-” He held out his arm to emphasise the numbers inked there, “-like ‘that’s the name of the band now!’ As soon as they said there’s never been a big band that’s just numbers, we just thought… excellent.”

“The impulsivity worked in your favour, then.” She noted with her eyebrows raised in surprise. To go out and get something like that tattooed as an act of defiance to your creative project was impressive. “Good thing you’ve not had to change it again since.” He just chuckled.

“It seems to fit in quite well, though, the name. What with the whole black and white aesthetic that you guys have created.” She continued, eager to hear what he had to say on this image that they had surrounded themselves with. Everything she had been able to find out about their ‘look’, how they presented themselves, it all seemed highly thought out and planned. But thinking back to what he had mentioned before, if they’d been a band since they were fourteen, it probably had been.

“If you’re quite altruistic in personality, that’s normally twinned with a certain amount of self-awareness. Because you’re exposed to many situations where you’re putting yourself out there a lot.” He started as he fiddled with the cord of his headset. “I think if you’re an artist and you’re like that, you find solace in maybe… detaching yourself from reality a bit? Because you’re not as exposed as normal. We find a lot of comfort in everything being in black and white, because… Yeah, that’s it, you’re not fully exposed.” He explained as if he was mostly talking to himself, or trying to sort out his answer as he said it. “But it really works for our band because it makes it… a bit out of reach?”

“How do you mean?” She frowned.

He hummed thoughtfully to himself before speaking, “There’s a great quote by Kafka, which is that ‘a camel is a horse designed by a committee’…” He said with a pointed look. “Which is like… one person’s vision is always going to be a lot more concise than something that’s been diluted or compromised by a committee. If you want to project a certain image it needs to be an individual’s own vision in order to be really palatable and really concise and really consumable. So, it’s all about creating something that isn’t that accessible, because we live in an industry where accessibility is paramount.” She was starting to realise that this man truly had very roundabout ways of answering questions. However, it was fascinating listening to his unfiltered thought process as he tried to work out what he wanted to say. She couldn’t say she’d had a lot of interviews with people are interesting as Matthew seemed to be.

Taking a quick look at the time, she could see that they had to wrap this up shortly. Between the long-winded questions and the songs, her twenty minutes had gone by quite fast. She’d better start winding this down. “What’s next on the agenda for you guys?” She asked, looking back over to him.

“Uh, let me think…” He racked his brain for what their immediate plans were for the near future. “We’re heading out on tour after Christmas, and then pretty much we don’t stop ‘til sometime next year.” He confirmed.

“Sometime?”

“We’re in high demand, what can I say?” He said with a laugh.

“That’s not surprising, I’m sure it’ll only get harder to get a hold of you guys in the future.” She concurred. “Well, it’s been a pleasure chatting with you, Matthew. All the best for the tour and for the next EP.” She nodded. He looked caught off guard for a second. Glancing down at his phone, he was surprised to see how much time had gone by. “Thanks for coming in.”

“No, no. The pleasure’s all mine, truly.” He grinned. “Thank you for having me on.”

“I’m sure we’ll be hearing again from you soon.” She finished up, switching his microphone off as she did her outro spiel. He took his headset off, stretching his arms up above his head before standing up and heading towards the studio doorway. It took her a second of seeing him linger in her peripheral vision to realise that he was waiting to say goodbye. As she started the next track, she slipped her headset off and spun her chair to face him.

“Erm, thanks.” He said as he scratched at the back of his neck. “I’ll see you around?” He asked hesitantly. It was curious to see him go from charismatic interviewee to nervous guy in her studio so fast.

“As I said, I’m sure we’ll be hearing from you soon. You’ll be back here in no time.” She assured him. He nodded to himself, looking pleased as he headed back outside.

It was another twenty minutes after Matthew stepped out before her shift ended. Thankfully, she was able to get out of the office pretty quickly. Sometimes she ended up being held back for up to a couple of hours if there were meetings and such that required her attention. And today wasn’t a day that she wanted to deal with any of that. It had been a pretty shitty Thursday to start with. She’d had terrible traffic on the way in, couldn’t find a parking space, had to trudge her way to work in the cold, dropped her coffee when someone ran into her on the way – she just wanted to end a long day. It was approaching evening as she stepped out into the brisk winter air, letting out a sigh as she looked around the street. She started making her way to her car only to catch sight of a familiar mohawked man standing at the side of the station building, smoking with a few other guys. As soon as he spotted her, he shouted her name and waved her over. She debated whether she should go over and talk to a group of more or less strangers or not, but he seemed pretty keen on her joining them. He turned briefly back to the guys he was standing with and as she approached she heard the tail end of him explaining what had happened in the interview.

“This is the band!” He said excitedly.

“Oh!” Instantly, that made a lot more sense than him larking about with a bunch of random people. She took in the other three men he was standing with, noting that they were all quite a bit taller than he was. “You guys could’ve come in to the interview, you know.” She said as she wrapped her arms around herself to try and block out some of the cold threatening to seep in through her jacket.

“Nah, it’s fine.” One of them with somewhat of a beard shrugged.

“We’d rather let him do the talking.” Another quietly agreed.

“He’s loud enough for all of us.” The last one, that also had a kind of mohawk thing going on, spoke up.

“Hey! Fuck off!” Matthew shoved the last one with a loud laugh.

She stood around with them for a bit while they smoked, listening to Matthew talk about the interview and answering the odd question that the band members had for her. This man seemed far more sure of himself than the uncertain one she kept seeing in the interview. He prattled on excitedly about tour and the next EP and just generally seemed more confident. The band only spurred him on as well, encouraging him and getting into in-depth conversations about the tiniest details. She could see where those long-winded answers had come from in their interview. If he held this level of passive confidence and enthusiasm in a casual environment, it was only a matter of time before that started shining through in his career. And it was truly no surprise after speaking with them that this band was getting popular at the rate that they were. They were obviously talented, and had enough drive and direction to push themselves through whatever challenges they faced. She could tell that The 1975 were only just beginning their music industry journey. It was after about fifteen minutes that she figured she had better excuse herself and actually go home – she didn’t really have any reason to hang around here, even if it was nice to chat with such an interesting group of people.

She waited for a lull in the conversation (which wasn’t very forthcoming) before finally making her move, “I might get going…”

Matthew’s face fell a little before he recomposed himself. “Why don’t you come down to the pub with us for a bite?” He suggested.

“Ah, thanks for the offer but I’ve got places I need to be, and I don’t usually mix business with pleasure as they say.” She chuckled lightly. “Nice to keep things separate.”

“It’s also nice to make exceptions sometimes.” He shot back; a challenging eyebrow raised. “But it’s cool.” He said with a shrug as he dropped his cigarette onto the ground, snuffing it out with his shoe. “For real, though, thank you for all the kind words about the band and the music in the interview. A station with as many listeners as yours… your words mean a lot.” He nodded, looking pensive about whatever was going on in his head.

“It’s really no problem. I meant everything I said.” She smiled back at him. Before she could get on her way, he pulled her into a tight hug. She hadn’t overly expected that from the man she’d known all of about an hour, but she hugged him back regardless, happy for the brief warmth after standing in the icy street. “I’ll, uh,” She cleared her throat, attributing the heat she could feel in her cheeks to being in the cold for so long, “I’ll see you at the next interview.” She said as she finally headed towards her car, leaving Matthew staring after her before heading back to his band mates.

Next Chapter

#Sunsetinmyvein #Matthew Healy x Reader #Matty Healy x Reader

46 notes · View notes

vannahfanfics · 3 years

Text

Before you read, here’s the previous chapter. New? Start from the beginning!

Crimson Butterflies

Ao3

Chapter 3: Gotten Lucky

Touya awoke with the sunrise, as he often did. He groaned as the spears of light flowing through the moth-eaten curtains played over his face, eyes fluttered as they tried to adjust to the sun. He leaned over the arm of the couch, inadvertently pushing the throw pillow to the ground, to see the light puddling across the dusty wood like slowly-spreading spilled milk. His back cracked as he arched it, and then he flopped back down against the couch, running his hand over his face. When he pulled it away, he found a smear of blood across his index finger that he’d apparently missed when showering last night.

He’d given Moe the one bed in the apartment, because he wasn’t a dick. She’d passed out as soon as her head hit the pillow, filling his bedroom with quiet, peaceful snores. As he stood over her, marveling at how young and innocent she looked while she slept, he wondered yet again how she’d ended up beaten and bloodied in an alleyway. It was a question only she could answer, and if Touya had learned anything in his years on the streets, it was that you didn’t exactly gain much information trying to force people to talk.

He’d just have to wait and see, if she stuck around long enough.

Touya scrolled through the news feed on his phone, then, after finding nothing of interest, tossed it on the coffee table and reclined his arms behind his head. Damn, that was a sweet ass Porsche. That dickwad definitely didn’t deserve it, nor the drunk honeys he was sweet-talking into it. Touya’s mouth soured at the thought of how much money he could have made off the car. The worst part wasn’t the loss, really, it was that with Moe here, he couldn’t go out and make up for it. There was no way he was leaving a stranger alone in his apartment unsupervised, especially one with some sketchy past.

Ugh. I don’t want to have to borrow money from Tomura again, he thought with disgust. There was no telling the amount of interest he would charge, and Touya hated being in the guy’s debt. Last time, he’d made him transport something he was ninety percent sure was a dead body, and Touya wasn’t keen on repeating the most stressful two hours of his life. Unfortunately, the creep was pretty well-off, probably from pawning all the shit he nabbed off dead people.

Touya had some questionable acquaintances, okay? That shit came with being a deadbeat.

Touya looked up when he heard the tentative pitter-patter of feet. Moe came creeping down the hallway, looking furtively around the room, but she couldn’t see that Touya was awake from her vantage point. He remained still, a smirk playing over his lips. After a second, the girl tip-toed across the room into the kitchen, disappearing from sight. As quietly as he could, Touya slowly sat up to peer over the back of the couch, where he found her sitting on her knees on his counter to rummage through his cabinets.

“Yellow polka-dot panties? Cute,” he called, and Moe nearly fell off the counter in surprise. Scowling over her shoulder at him, she jerked the back of the tee-shirt over her rump, holding it there with one hand while she continued to rifle through his stores. Touya just crossed his arms over the back of the couch and watched her, amused. She’s a little feistier today.

“How do you live like this?” she huffed, throwing up her hands in defeat when she found nothing to suit her tastes. “You don’t have shit.”

“Beggars can’t be choosers, honey.”

“Well, it looks like you didn’t choose anything,” she countered, turning to hop off the counter. The tee-shirt swished around her legs as she stomped towards him, stopping at the back of the couch to glare at him with her hands pushed primly into her hips. “I’m starving! Don’t you have anything to eat?”

“Well, I’m afraid I didn’t have time to do my grocery run because I was tending to your sweet ass,” he replied matter-of-factly, and her cheeks darkened, probably with a mixture of anger and embarrassment. She snorted and crossed her arms, looking away with a dour pout. Touya languidly rose from the couch, flicking a bit of her blonde hair from her face and causing Moe to gasp in affront. “Don’t be mad, sweets,” he purred. “Let me getcha somethin’ halfway-decent to wear, and then we’ll go out and get some food, okay?”

“And just where am I supposed to get clothes?” she shouted after him as he walked to his door, and he just gave her a dismissive wave before stepping out. He walked across the hall and knocked on his neighbor’s door, and he wasn’t two raps of his knuckles in before Himiko was swinging it open, causing him to nearly knock on his forehead.

“Hiya, neighbor! What can I do ya for?” she grinned brightly, and she could almost be mistaken for a cute, nice next-door neighbor if Touya didn’t know that she practiced arcane rituals and summoning spells on the weekends. To each their own, he always said, and Himiko always assured him that no bad spirits would find their way into his apartment.

“Hey, Himiko. I got a lady friend who’s in need of some clothes.”

With wide eyes, Himiko peered around his tall, lanky form to find Moe standing in the doorway, blushing while she fisted the hem of the tee-shirt. Himiko gave him a sly look, and with a blush, he hurriedly lied, “Look, she lost her luggage at the airport and I had to make do. Until they find it, she’s shit out of luck and I don’t got the money for a shoppin’ spree, so can you just loan her a few outfits for the time being?”

Either Himiko bought the fib, or she wasn’t in the mood to pry for once. Dabi didn’t care as long as she didn’t look at him like he had just gotten lucky with Moe.

“Sure thing, Dabi, dear <3 I just so happen to have a bag of goodies I was about to give to donation. She can help herself!~” Himiko grabbed a garbage bag from the entryway and passed it to him, and he grunted a “thanks” while he turned to pass it to Moe. Himiko giggled and blew them a kiss before flouncing back into her apartment, and Touya planked against the opposite wall with a groan. Even just a five-minute conversation with the girl was exhausting.

“She’s a bit weird, but she has good fashion sense,” Moe commented, and he peered through his bangs to see her holding up a tube top. “Lost luggage, huh?” she then sneered, and Touya scowled. “How long do you think that cover story will hold up?”

“Long enough. Now get dressed, I thought you were starving?”

Her stomach growling answered that question and sent her skittering back into the apartment with a shy squeal. Touya remained outside, smiling despite it all. At least she livened up the place.

There was a spring in Moe’s step as they walked out of the apartment together. A pair of dark blue skinnies hugged her legs, and her white cardigan ruffled in the breeze, along with her hair, which was piled into a bun atop her head. She flitted about, commenting about how nice the sunshine was, while Touya just strode along behind her in silence. It was nice to see her in good spirits, at least, but it was a little migraine-inducing for her to be so cheery at eight in the morning. He needed at least another four hours before he was ready to consort with such an optimist.

They walked to the supermarket, and Moe’s demeanor instantly underwent a change. As they strolled through the aisles piling TV dinners, chips, cereal, and other things into the cart, she clung to Touya like glue. Literally, she had her hands curled into the back of his shirt while she peered around him, hiding behind his frame whenever somebody walked by. It was pretty obvious that Moe didn’t want to be seen, but by whom? Well, probably whoever beat her ass in the alley and anyone associated with them.

Sensing her anxieties growing, Touya shoved a lollipop in her face.

“Eh?” she blinked, looking up at him in confusion.

“Stop worryin’,” he huffed. “I’m not gonna let anythin’ happen to you while you’re with me.” She blinked, then smiled shyly, her posture melting like butter in a pan. She popped the plastic off the lollipop, keeping it so the cashier could scan it when they finished, and began sucking on it happily. Just like a kid, Touya thought, but more endearingly than irritatedly. She even climbed in the basket, sitting among the food items sucking her lollipop and demanding to be wheeled around.

Touya wasn’t sure why it was so easy to give into her childish demands. Perhaps it was her smile, the first genuine smile he’d seen grace her lips since he’d come across her in the alleyway, as she stuck out her arms while he pushed her around the supermarket.

Once they’d gotten home with their haul, Moe smashed two bowls of cereal before crashing on his couch, laying on her belly with her heels kicked up over her back. Bored, Touya booted up his old Nintendo to play Super Mario World, and Moe watched him for about half an hour before piping up.

“So what’s your story, Dabi?”

Without looking away from the screen, Touya offered her a smirk.

“We all got secrets, toots, and my ‘story’ is one of them,” he quipped. Out of the corners of his eyes, he watched her lay her cheek on her arms, her expression thoughtful while she watched the pixelated Mario run around the screen stomping Goombas.

“Sorry,” she murmured. “I didn’t mean to offend.”

“You didn’t,” he reassured her, moving the character with one hand while he leaned down to grab a beer from his cooler. He popped it open and took a swig, then continued, “Don’t sweat it.”

“Mm,” was all she said, and they fell back into silence, the only noises being the clacks of the controller and the audio of the videogame. She probably didn’t mean anything by it, but he did just meet her, after all. Maybe she’d stick around, and maybe she’d catch him in a divulging mood one day. But today was not one of those days; today was one of those days where Touya pretended his life wasn’t the shit pile it was and he beat the only game he owned for the hundredth time.

“Hey, um,” she spoke up again sometime later, and from her tone of voice, he thought she was going to apologize again. He turned around, mouth open to tell her not to worry about it, but she cut him off with a shy, “Thank you.” He clamped his mouth shut, the viable skin on his face turning a bit pink. “I never thanked you, you know, for saving me.” Her red-orange eyes stared at the floor as she traced patterns into the dust. “So… Thank you. I’m sure it was a pain.”

He blinked, then smiled wanly.

“Most things in life are, toots. You just gotta roll with it.” She looked up at that, smiling slightly, and he gave her a kind look. “Don’t worry about it. It wouldn’t been a dick move for me to leave you like that. Contrary to what I look like, I’m not a monster.” She laughed, genuinely, and it made him feel kind of floaty and light inside, like maybe things weren’t all bad.

Maybe he’d gotten lucky with this girl after all, fluttering into his life like a butterfly on the breeze. He supposed he’d just have to stick with her and find out.

Enjoy this story? Here’s the next chapter! Please consider perusing my Table of Contents.

#dabi #touya todoroki #todoroki touya #moe kamiji #kamiji moe #burning #dabi x burnin #burnin x dabi #my hero academia #mha #boku no hero academia #bnha

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ghstandpucks · 4 years

Text

Misguided Ghost Ch. 8

A.N.: Hey everyone! So this chapter is a little shorter than usual, it just flowed better that way though! In other news, I have finished writing my thesis and presented it! All that I have left for the program is my student teaching. But as of now, I basically have two masters degrees :)

Anyway, enjoy and let me know what you think!

Cheering Up

I helped the guys load up the van, just following what Billy told me to do. I was feeling a bit drained emotionally, and upset with myself for losing it. I hoped that the guys weren’t going to hold it against me. They all checked on me while we packed and seemed genuinely concerned, but I was still worried that they would think I couldn’t investigate with them. I had since put on Zak’s jacket, letting the sleeves dangle over my finger tips in a comforting way. Climbing into the back of the van, I let myself sink further into the jacket. “You ok?” Aaron asked as he sat in front of me, turning around so he was facing me. I smiled lightly and nodded.

We got back to the hotel and headed to our rooms. The plan was for everyone to wash up and change really quick, then meet in the continental breakfast room. The first thing I did when I got back to my room was take my contacts out and wash my face. I didn’t even bother with putting make up back on as I changed into a pair of black leggings, an oversized knitted light pink sweater, and my white converse. I put on my large framed grey glasses and threw my hair up in a ponytail. I grabbed Zak’s jacket and walked over to his room, knocking lightly in hopes that other guests wouldn’t wake up. He answered the door rather quickly and smiled at me. “What’s up?” he asked.

“I’m just bringing back your jacket. Thanks for letting me borrow it,” I said holding it out to him. Right then though I got a chill and shivered slightly. Zak caught it and chuckled softly.

“Keep it for now, you seem cold,” he said, walking out of his room so we could go get some breakfast. I slipped it on and internally sighed as I felt its warmth. “Nice glasses,” he smirked at me.

“Thanks, they have glitter in them,” I giggled. “Same to you.” I had noticed Zak had the same idea as I did and put his glasses on once we got back to the hotel. He chuckled.

“How are you doing?” Zak asked me. I could hear the concern in his voice.

“I’m fine. A little emotionally exhausted, but I’m ok,” I answered him, looking down. “I’m sorry about that. I hope you don’t think that I can’t do this. I don’t know what came over me.” I began fiddling with his jacket sleeves.

“Y/N, it wasn’t your fault at all. You were being affected. Honestly all the information you were able to give us was impressive and I have no doubt that you’re a benefit to this team,” Zak reassured me. Who would have thought two weeks ago he would be the one to comfort me. I looked up at him and nodded.

When we walked into the continental breakfast room, Billy and Aaron were already sitting with plates of food in front of them. Zak and I went through the buffet line, thankful there was not a ton of people in the room with us. Once we sat down Nick came in and tapped Zak on his shoulder. He whispered something to him quickly, and it seemed like I was the only one who was actually curious at what he said as Billy and Aaron were stuffing their faces. Breakfast was quiet, with little remarks of how good the food was going back and forth. When we all finished eating, it was around eight in the morning. “I know we are all tired, but I want to go over a few EVPs that we captured,” Zak announced. Billy nodded while Aaron groaned and went to fill up his coffee. Nick agreed, and we set off to Billy’s room. Nick grabbed two chairs from the balcony for him and Zak, while Billy sat at the desk and went to work on the digital recorders. Aaron sat on the edge of the bed and I plunked myself down beside him, leaning my head on his arm. I could see out of my peripheral vision Zak glancing at me from time to time. I couldn’t really read the look on his face as he was a bit stoic. He could be worried, I thought. After about an hour of going through some audio evidence, and me falling asleep for about five minutes, Nick stood up.

“I can’t sit here anymore, do you guys want to go into town?” he questioned, and everyone agreed a little too enthusiastically for my sleepy state of mind. I could sense all their attention on me as I stood up, and I raised my eyebrow.

“Are you guys planning on leaving me somewhere or something?” I asked. They chuckled.

“No. Let’s go sleepy head,” Aaron said, leading the way out of the room. We all climbed into the van, the guys quietly talking along the way. I remained quiet, still feeling the emotional drain from the investigation. The van came to a stop outside a cute brick building. I climbed out of the back and looked up, seeing a used book store sign. A small smile graced my lips. I looked over at the guys who seemed to be judging my reaction. “Surprise!” Aaron did little jazz hands. I let out a breathy laugh as I pieced together what just happened.

“Wait, did we come here for me?” I asked.

“I found it this morning before breakfast and told Zak. Figured you had an emotional night and this might cheer you up. We got used to your smile over the past few days. Seeing you cry was just sad,” Nick stated. I walked over and gave him a hug.

“Thank you. I’m about to start crying happy tears cause I’m tired, but I swear it’s all good!” I said, wiping my eye that started to blur. Billy walked over to the door and held it open.

“After you miss,” he said in a posh accent. I giggled.

“Why thank you kindly sir.” I walked in with the guys behind me. The store had two floors and smelt of dusty paper, I smiled. All the newer, more popular books were down stairs. I wondered around a bit, until I reached the stairs at the back of the store. The guys had all gone into their own sections to look around as well, so I slipped upstairs peacefully. They had remembered what I said about loving to go to used book stores when I would travel, and I thought that was so kind. The upstairs held the discounted classics, mythology books, and ancient writers, aka, my favorite section. I slowly walked from section to section, picking up and flipping through titles that piqued my interest. There was no one on this level, so it felt nice and peaceful. With an armful of books, I settled on the floor in one of the back rows. There was a window letting in natural sunlight and it warmed my skin nicely, nothing like the coldness I felt last night. I ended up lost in my own literary world until I heard someone clear their throat. I looked up quickly to find Zak smiling down at me. The look in his eyes though were something else, like he was trying to be gentle, like he was staring at a wounded animal and wasn’t sure how to approach it. I don’t know what is worse, him giving me a hard time, or looking at me like I could break any second so he had to be soft. “Stop looking at me like that,” I spoke quietly, returning my attention to my books.

“I’m not looking at you in any certain way,” he copied my tone, moving over a chair to sit in front of me.

“Yes, you are. You’re looking at me like I’m a wounded animal who needs help. You have been since everything happened in the lockdown. I…”

“You aren’t smiling. Not really at least,” Zak cut me off. I furrowed my brows.

“What do you mean?” I asked, confused.

“Over the past two weeks that we have known you, you always seem to have a smile on your face. Seeing you that upset last night was unnerving. And even now when you smile, it’s not the same,” I could feel by face start to flush at his words. I looked down hoping I could hide it. Zak sighed audibly and continued. “Look Y/N, we help each other out in this group. We aren’t just work friends, we’re family. And when we see a part of our family hurting, we try to cheer them up. The moment you accepted the position, you became our family. So accept the fact that we’re trying to cheer you up. It doesn’t make you seem weak, if that’s what you are worried about,” I nodded and smiled softly, a real smile.

“What book did you find?” I asked him. Zak shook his head in disbelief at the topic change, but smiled anyways.

“A hardback Dracula. Only $5” he chuckled.

“Aren’t used book stores the best?” I questioned, motioning to my stack of growing books.

“How many do you have there?” Zak asked, getting up and offering his hand to help me off the floor. I took it and he pulled me up easily.

“Only seven,” I shrugged, picking them up. Zak grabbed a few to help me since a few were large volumes on ancient Greece and we walked downstairs to meet up with the others and pay for our finds.

#ghost adventures imagine #Ghost Adventures #ghost adventures x reader #zak bagans #zak bagans imagine #zak bagans x reader #misguided ghost

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dontasktheradiodemon · 3 years

Text

Radio Host & Radio Ghost - Nov 14

Alastor meets a ghost possessing a vintage radio.

He’s absolutely delighted.

Valera

Valera hums, rubbing their hands together. What a lovely day to bring demons into their home. Not a single consequence could possibly result from this! With Alastor's okay, they could finally get around to opening a portal for him, whatever water he'd decided was sufficient rippling and turning into an inky void before his eyes. On her side, Valera plops back on the couch and awaits his arrival.

Alastor

And Alastor’s more than ready to jump through the inky void he’s been promised is a portal!

He has not, however, been informed that the portal he just jumped DOWN into is VERTICAL on the other side.

He lands on his back with a blurt of confused mixed frequency crosstalk. What.

Valera

A laugh track plays from across the room, and Valera leans forward to get a good eyeful of the poor, confused fellow. "My dear, if I'd known you were falling all over yourself to get here, I'd have invited you much sooner! Come now, pick up those sorry spirits and have some spirits with me." Funny way to talk about spiked tea, but alright Val.

Alastor

Disoriented by the 90° shift in the angle of gravity, he blinks up at the ceiling for a moment. “What, was the repeated pleading to come see it not obvious enough?”

As his head sorts itself out he abruptly registers the laugh track—SOMEBODY ELSE’S laugh track—and he immediately sits up and looks toward the source of the sound. “Well!!” He’s on his feet in a flash and crossing the room, heading like an arrow toward the authentic, vintage, genuine, incomparable 1931 Philco 90 Baby Grand Cathedral Radio. “Oh my goodness, what a beauty! Look at this! Oh, this is the only cathedral I’ll ever worship at.” He kneels down to get a better look at the front of it. “The wood needs a little love and care—walnut, isn’t it? I don’t know wood but I know my radios, I could swear Philco used walnut—but it’s in fantastic condition!” He presses the side of his head to the front, eyes closed like he’s trying to listen to it. “All nine tubes sound beautiful, just beautiful!” Apparently that’s something you can hear, at least if you’re Alastor.

He sits back and turns to the man sitting next to the radio, beaming. “Listen to me, gushing away without even—Hello! May I compliment you on your lovely home, sir!”

Valera

Whatever Valera was planning to say is forgotten immediately, Alastor's enthusiastic response to her latest acquisition more than entertaining enough to distract her from her train of thought.

The radio flicks on and off like its fluttering its lashes, dial twirling playfully in a reflection of the Ghost Of The Hour's own beaming grin. A waggle of his fingers, and he speaks, voice emanating from the radio and rather garbled as the dial flicks back and forth.

"Compliment taken and appreciated, you beautiful stranger! Aren't *you* all the candy and then some? Lovely to meet a man who knows his stuff, you're right on all counts! Walnut, hand rubbed finish, this is a genuine type two article straight from the production line of late 1931! Updated with AVC and the beautiful addition of type 47 power pentode tubes for the finest and most reasonably priced audio on the market!" A pause to "breathe" as the radio's light flickers, and he shrugs, still beaming. "I'd offer to shake your hand, my good man, but I find I left my tangibility back home. Though I'm happy to try!"

Alastor

His invisible studio audience oohs and aahs appreciatively at each new technical detail. “Reasonably priced, oh, boy—I’d barely paid off a ‘32 when I died! Eighty bucks, if I remember right! Well with the price but good golly if I wouldn’t have loved to enjoy it a little longer.”

He gets to his feet, leaving one hand lingering on top of the radio affectionately. “Oh, I’d give it a shot! Typically, the dead can touch the dead.” He offers his hand. “The name’s Alastor! I’m a radio man myself—on air from ‘24 to ‘33, you might have heard me if you were in range of New Orleans! And what do I call you, my friend?”

Valera

"Oh! A fellow dearly departed? And so close to my own time, give or take a few years! I'd offer my condolences on your departure from the mortal realm, but it seems to me that you're doing rather well for yourself! PLEASURE to meet you, Alastor!" He takes the offered hand in his own, grinning even wider when he realizes he can actually touch the red newcomer. He's got a handshake like he's going to sell you something, firm and eager. "New Orleans, you say? KTRD? Well I never! I do believe I played your station in my old shop! Your broadcast helped me sell quite a few radios back in the day."

A delighted chuckle, and he gives Alastor's hand a last squeeze before dropping it to mess with his suit lapels. "My friends called me Al, but my name is Alexander! I had some other names too I'm sure, but they haven't found their way back yet."

Alastor

He shakes back just as eagerly and his grin stretches wider. “Yessiree, that was me! *Your Pal Al, first voice you hear in the morning and last voice you hear at night!* Why, if I’d known that I was doing free advertising for Philco, I would have written them a letter and asked them to give me a Baby Grand on the house. Still, probably the best eighty bucks I ever spent.”

He takes a step back, giving Alexander a bit of his own space. “I’d catch you up on what you missed, but I’d probably only be able to offer you a couple of years—were you ‘31, or did that just happen to be the model you had nearby when you shuffled off the mortal coil?—and I’ve spent my time since then down in Hell—hope that’s not too off-putting, you know how it is, make a few little mistakes and forget to say your Hail Marys before you kick the bucket and suddenly you find you’re serving an afterlife sentence without possibility of parole! I expect you’ve had a better chance to keep up with the news than I have!”

Valera

"I'd have sent you one myself if I hadn't bought the farm! But your business was appreciated, I'm sure. A radio broadcaster with your chops has quite the eye for quality if I do say so myself, your radio was in the best hands possible!"

"This beauty was a gift from my parents, got it new and died within the month, if memory serves! Damn shame, but it all worked out. I'm sure my mothers would be charmed that I was so attached!"

He waves off the news of Alastor's new home with a scoff. "Oh, pah to that! I was never much for religion before I bit the dust, God always struck me as a terrible sort of man. If you wound up in Hell, it's probably for the better! I'd hate being in close quarters with the kind of parent who thinks tossing his children into fire and brimstone was the best teaching method!"

Alastor

A studio audience laugh at “attached”; attached in more senses than one, apparently. “They must have been women with exquisite taste! Quite a pity about the timing, but at least you’ve had plenty of time to enjoy it! Amazing how well it’s held up, can’t tell you the last time I saw quality like this. Of course,” he arches his eyebrows, “that might just be a side-effect of the neighborhood I’ve been living in, eh? Lucky you latched onto this beauty—otherwise you probably would have ended up living there too, considering your personal leanings. Fair enough if you don’t want to move into that big gated community in the sky, but I wouldn’t recommend the alternative, either.”

He glances over at Valera—wow, look at that, he actually does remember that they’re in the same room. “Speaking of which...” He nods at the spot of the portal he so gracelessly stepped out of earlier. “You probably don’t want to take this with you the next time you spend the night at your fiancé’s. I’ve never heard of a ghost voluntarily walking into Hell so I’m not sure if they’d immediately notice, but I do know that imps conducting business topside are charged with keeping an eye out for rogue spirits that ought to be down below. You take him in, they might not let him back out.”

Valera

Alexander rolls back on his heels, happy to peek around Alastor and back at Valera. Ah, his unexpected rescuer who he's trying very hard not to be wildly rude to by screaming at over the existence of actual aliens! Thumbs up!

As for Valera, she looks at Alastor with raised eyebrows. "Good to know! I hadn't made any plans yet, but it would be a damn shame to get this fellow stuck in a new prison so soon after getting him out of the previous one." A sip at her cup, and she curls her tail politely around her legs. "Either way, I brought you here to help with repairs! Bring your friend over here and lets start getting the cobwebs out of his home, hm?"

Alastor

“Why, of course! Pardon me—“ And up it goes. As he carries the radio over to Valera he’s cradling it half like it’s a heavy sack of groceries and half like it’s a baby. “I didn’t have an opportunity to look around the back, what all needs doing?”

Valera

Valera opens her mouth, and is immediately cut off as Alexander practically flings himself forward to 'sit' on the floor next to the cleaning supplies. "There's almost no damage to the internals, lucky for us! My lovely little number's managed to hold up beautifully despite the.. Unideal conditions. This sweet faced dame here scraped off most of the wax from my previous landlord's attempt at what I assume was an exorcism, but a gentle wash wouldn't hurt! Aside from that, it's largely dusting and polishing! Mindless, really."

He chuckles, the dial on the radio tapping back and forth like a metronome. "Though the lady here took one look at the bottom of the chassis and said she'd rather call an expert, poor thing. From what I saw, it's just a bit of rust and dirty wires, nothing even a child couldn't handle! I'm sure a man like yourself wont even break a sweat!"

Alastor

“So I see.” He leans forward, arching an eyebrow as he inspects the remaining wax. “What kind of ‘unideal conditions’ are we talking about, here? And how *did* this end up here?” He directs that question to Valera. “Of all the places I’d expect to find a ‘31 Philco, you have to go pretty far down on the list before I start listing locations off of planet Earth. And even at that ‘the moon’ and ‘Mars’ would have been my next guesses.” SPEAKING OF WHICH, he leans toward Alexander and gives him an excited look. “Did you know we put ROBOTS on MARS?”

Okay, exciting news shared, back to business. He carefully inspects the bottom of the chassis himself—nothing too bad down there. “I’m as good an expert as you’ll need! I’ve lovingly cleaned off enough fine old radios in my time—although I’m hard-pressed to think of one as fine as THIS!” He looks over the selection of cleaning tools.

Valera

Valera's attempts to speak are once again completely drowned out by Alexander's crackly voice. "Oh she got me on Earth, rest assured! I was in one of my.. grand nephew's attics, I believe? And yes, I DID hear about the robots on Mars! I had nothing to do but listen to the radio while I was up there, and as much as they like to pretend they've murdered the art of broadcasting, there certainly are still plenty of stations out there sharing the news! Nothing compared to your own, of course, but still." A dip of his head towards Alastor, and he scoots closer to watch him work.

The standard tools are available. Wood cleaner, a few soft rags, a small steel wool brush, and rust removing solvents, along with a little pack of cloths for polishing brass. Val side eyes Alexander and deliberately doesn't speak as she picks up a rag to offer to Alastor.

Alastor

He's starting to detect a pattern here. "Say, my phantasmal friend!" He leans over and slings an arm around Alexander's shoulders. "I realize you haven't had much experience with conversation in a while—but let's let our friend Valera get a couple of words in edgewise from time to time, shall we?" He winks, then returns to studying the radio, this time inspecting the innards. He takes the rag and starts brushing out the worst of the dust, just a rough pass to get out the easy stuff. "Ah, of course you would have heard! Naturally. What kind of a state is radio broadcasting in these days, anyway? I've heard some dismal things."

Valera

There's a flash of confusion on Alexander's face as he looks between Alastor and Valera, but he nods without any protest, obligingly leaning in until Alastor releases him from the casual half embrace. "Of course! Terribly rude of me, I'll curb the enthusiasm. My manners could use as much dusting as my radio, it seems!" A light chuckle, and he props his chin on his hands, watching Alastor's movements intently.

"Miserable! It's atrocious the kind of programming they think passes standard these days. Once they broke the stations into specialties, the bar dropped straight past hell! Why, if you have a grave, Alastor, I'm sure you were rolling in it. Half the contents is advertisements, and the other half replays the same songs every few hours with no shame!" He heaves a dramatic sigh, shaking his head. Valera rolls her eyes.

Alastor

“Oh, Hell hasn’t fared much better, I’m afraid—although I’ve helped keep things interesting on the AM band, at least!” A weary sigh. “And to think in the twenties we were butting heads against the regulations that discouraged specialization. Who would have thought the alternative would make so many stations so bland?” His tone darkens. “Although I blame the networks more than anything else, truth be told.”

He’s got a bone to pick with networks.

Valera

Valera finally has a chance to speak? Good. "Well, I'm glad you two have so much to talk about! I'd say you should exchange numbers or find a way to talk in DMs, but I haven't had a chance to try and explain texting or tumblr blogs to Alexander yet." And she is NOT looking forward to it!

"Though, Alastor, if you'll indulge my hypotheticals while we tidy this fellow up. What do you think would be the best way to deal with his current state? I've thought about asking Pentious to make him some kind of automaton frame around his radio, or find a way to separate him from the radio entirely and... Force him to manifest some form of body."

Alexander shrugs, flipping a dismissive hand. "I've got no knowledge of the supernatural, and barely any on the normal natural either, so this is all Greek to me!"

Alastor

“I wonder if it would be possible to get a radio signal through to Hell! I’ve never picked up a radio broadcast from the living world before, but as far as I know none have been sent out by the dead. At any rate, if Internet can get between here and Hell, radio should be able to just as easily—it’s all the exact same stuff, just traveling through the air on different frequencies.”

Alastor considers the issue of Alexander’s body for a moment, glancing over at him. There’s a brief quiet humming noise like microphone feedback from the radio’s speakers as Alastor stretches out with his own energy field, prodding around Alexander’s, measuring it.

Then he snaps it back in and continues working. “Automatons are all well and good, but if you want to know how I’D do it—the easiest thing would be to get him trained up as a poltergeist! There’s three parts he’d have to learn: drawing more energy from his environment than he’s currently getting through passive processes; focusing it so he can telekinetically affect his environment; and finally, focusing it to visually and physically manifest a form for other people to see and touch. It’s essentially what I’m doing any time I step out of Hell, although I’m cheating: coming straight from Hell means I’m carrying enough Hellish energy with me that I don’t need to gather or focus any more, I’m fully solid from the outset. But it’s a skill that can be learned!”

He beams at Alexander. “You’re lucky you’ve got a focus for your energy, here! I’d hazard a guess that all this time you’ve been using what ambient energy you’ve picked up to help power it—but I bet it wouldn’t be too hard for you to use IT to help power YOU!”

This is all too exciting. The study of the interactions between spirits and electricity had only been going a few decades when Alastor died, and the topic is obviously irrelevant in Hell; what he’s proposing was supposedly possible even in his own time, but he can’t imagine what information might be available today.

Valera

Alexander twitches as Alastor's field brushes against his. It's an almost ticklish sensation, like almost but not quite touching something charged with static electricity. The moment passes, and he rubs at his arms. Could ghosts get goosebumps? It sure seemed so! Weird! Everyone he's met has been so strange and colorful, he'd hardly even thought about his own appearance. Immediately distracted, he starts looking for a mirror to check his hair in.

"Hm, I don't have any experience with poltergeists.." Valera's at a bit of a loss, narrowing her eyes as she squints at the two radios. Three radios? Does Alexander count as a separate entity from the radio? Gods, she should have taken the Mortals and Their Souls elective in school. She heaves a sigh. "Well! I hope you're willing to help teach him, Alastor, because otherwise I'm going to have to start doing _research_."

Alastor

“You and me both! Ha! Most of what I learned about poltergeists in life was how to get rid of them, imagine that. But! You know where ghosts end up once they’re got rid of! I’ll inquire around, see if there are any ex-poltergeists interested in sharing their tricks of the trade. If not, I’m sure the imps will know all about it.”

He beams at Alexander. “Oh, this is going to be fun. I haven’t had a reason to dip this deep into the occult since the sixties!”

Valera

"Oh that's marvelous. Thank the gods, the less I have to try and muddle through human focused occultism the better, it gets damnably frustrating trying to find books that aren't full of teenage angst and garbage." She sighs, taking her tea in hand and busying herself with draining the glass. That's ONE problem out of the way.

Alexander glances over, feeling eyes on him again, and offers Alastor his sunniest grin. He wasn't really following the conversation, but that doesn't matter when there's an obvious opening. "Don't leave us hanging, my good man! What happened in the sixties? Inquiring minds, and spirits, want to know!"

Alastor

“The first step is to get book recommendations from actual occultists.” Where is Valera picking up teenage angst?

Oh, Alastor is going to love this new guy, he follows up on the topics that Alastor leaves dangling. “A deep dive into angelology! Researching what sort of defenses Heaven has aside from being ridiculously high in the air—this was before rockets, you see, so we couldn’t just fly up and check—and trying to deduce any of the angels’ vulnerabilities.”

Valera

"Fair enough, I assume you knew a fair few back in your day?" Meet enough overly young heroes and some of them are going to write about their experiences while unfortunately being teens. Combination diary and field guides are the _worst._

Alexander BEAMS as Alastor speaks, the light on his radio dial glowing like a little beacon. "Fascinating stuff there, Alastor! I never even knew that was a field of research, shows what I know! Did you learn anything useful in your forays?" A pause. Wait. " You have rockets in Hell?"

Alastor

“A decent amount! I had a healthy circle of pen pals. None of them quite as successful as me, if I do say so myself—but that had less to do with their occult knowledge and more to do with their heads for business. All the symbols, herbs, and precious metals in the world won’t do you a lick of good if you don’t know how to make a deal with a demon.”

He’s gotten the inside about as clean as he feels safe to while the radio is still clearly *on*—there’s probably no way to fully turn it off as long as Alexander is connected to it, is there?—and starts on the outside. “In the living world, it probably isn’t one! Angelology in general, sure, but penetrating the gates of Heaven? Maybe in an ‘astral projection’ way, but certainly not a ‘breaking and entering’ way! I can’t say I picked up much of practical use, but...” He falters a moment before rallying. “The project I was researching it for fell through, so I abandoned it early with several research avenues unexplored.” Shrug.

For a moment he’s tempted to let Alexander think they DO have rockets. But then he bursts out laughing. “No, no, hah! I only meant that humanity in general has rockets, don’t we—and enough people with the know-how to make ‘em are in Hell by now. We *could* have rockets if we decided to. But we don’t have our act together enough for that—put together a list of everyone who could make it happen, and even the person at the very top of the list has priorities pointed very firmly elsewhere. Anyway, where would we go with them?”

Valera

"You can say that again. Though of course, my experience is decidedly _not_ from the mortal's side." A hum, and Valera leans in to take a peek at Alastor's work. "I knew you were the person for the job, that little darling is looking almost as good as new." A grin for his efforts, that's more than payment enough. That and getting to work on such a nice radio. Probably.

Alexander snickers, pressing a hand to his chest in mock dismay. "My goodness, you really had me going for a moment there, Alastor! I suppose there wouldn't really be anywhere to go, you're right! Though that does beg the question. How *does* Hell compare to all the biblical stories? I can't imagine it being all fire and brimstone if you're as well dressed and decidedly not prodded by pitchforks as you appear to be!"

Lowering her empty cup to the table, Valera flicks her eyes over to watch as Alexander quickly turns to try and pick up the teapot to offer a refill. Bless his dead little heart, he gave it a good shot even if all he managed was a slight rattling.

Alastor

Getting to work on such a nice radio is *absolutely* its own reward. “A professional could do something about the scuffs. And you definitely want somebody else to do something else about the last of the wax.” He rubs a thumb over the last little bumps stubbornly stuck on the wood. “I don’t think I can get the remains off without scuffing the wood.”

He tries to think back to what he was taught Hell was like before he saw the real thing. What had his first impressions been like? “Picture Dante’s Inferno. So you’ve got your rivers bile, your fields of icy mud, your endless hurricanes—but then dump a bunch of humans in it and assume they’re going to do what humans always do. We build cities and civilizations in scorching deserts, frozen tundras, and smothering jungles—and we do just the same in Hell. Sure enough, fire and brimstone is Hell’s natural, untrammeled state—but we’ve been trammeling all over the place for thousands of years by now! The native demons and fallen angels in charge are largely content to ease up on the pitchforks as long as our labors improve their standard of living, too.”

Alastor watches Alexander attempting to manipulate the teapot, then puts his hand on top of the radio and focuses on channeling as much of his own energy into the cathedral case as he can. “Try again now.”

Valera

Alastor

Valera

"Fixing the wood? Not a problem. I just didn't trust anyone else with the internals!" She shrugs, seemingly content to lay back and idly listen as he explains the inevitable human nature of settling even the inhospitable lands of Hell. But the moment Alastor's powers are channeled, Valera stiffens, head swiveling to stare at where his hand at the radio meet as her fins flare out.

Alexander looks between Valera and Alastor, then down to his radio. You know what that reaction sounds like? None of his business! He nods, then carefully, carefully, picks up the teapot and pours a single cup of tea out with a look of utmost concentration. Once the teapot is safely back on the table and the cup is delivered into Valera's hands, and ONLY then, he shuffles back a few feet, looks around to make sure there's nothing breakable near him, and finally throws his arms in the air with a cheer. "Alastor! Whatever you did got me back on the trolley!"

Alastor

The motion catches Alastor's attention and he meets her gaze. Oh, hello? What's all *that* about?

But he doesn't get a chance to ask before Alexander is celebrating his triumph. Alastor switches his attention back to him, beaming. "Back on for the time being—although I'm afraid this trolley company makes you pay by the block and I essentially gave you one nickel. Still, it's proof of concept! You're powering your radio—and your radio can power you. This expands our options immensely!"

Valera

Scoffing while grinning ear to ear isn't something you see often, but Alexander is quick to wave off even minor pessimism with the cheeriest dismissal. "Bah, who cares about that! That's more interaction with my environment than I've managed since I died, I'll take this nickel as far as they'll let me." He pushes the teapot to the left, then the right, and then picks it up once more for good measure before moving to start carefully prodding at Valera, who tolerates it with the face of the family dog tolerating bratty kids yanking their fur.

Alastor

“I suppose five blocks is exciting if it’s the first time you’ve been allowed on the trolley,” he says dryly; then, while Alexander is distracted, he gives Valera an inquiring look. He’s not going to ask Valera about their reaction to his magic while Alexander is around, but he wants them to know he *noticed* and he’s *going* to as soon as he has a chance.

Valera

Valera looks at Alastor, giving him the most innocent stare they can manage with those big ole eyes... And then snorts, shakes their head, and gives a thumbs up. Yeah, yeah. Quiz them later, radio deerman.

Looking back to Alexander and his prodding hands, Valera finally hauls herself up to cheerfully clap her hands together. "Well! This has been lovely, but I think that's enough excitement for the day. We've both got new projects to get to, and the sooner we sort this fellow out the better!"

Alastor

“I think you’re right! Happy I could offer my assistance.” He offers a hand to Alexander. “And a pleasure to meet you, my good sir!”

Valera

Alexander pauses in his prodding to take Alastor's hand in both of his, giving it a firm shake. "I hope I'll see you again, Alastor! Even if we can't figure out how to help me, meeting a fellow radio enthusiast of your caliber is more than worth being stuck in an attic for so long!"

Alastor

“Oh, I’m sure we’ll find a way!” And a firm shake back. “And even if not, I’ll be visiting from time to time anyway, never you fear.”

Valera

Val would ask if that was a threat or a promise, but she isn't really sure she wants to know. A portal is prepared in short order, one wall of the sitting room turning a familiar inky black as she rises from the couch. She does, however, make a point to look Alastor dead in the eyes as she speaks her goodbye. "I'll see you in Hell, Alastor."

Alastor

It’s only a threat if Valera finds his presence threatening.

“Imminently, or eventually?” He *does* still want to find out what that Look was about.

Valera

She grins, ignoring Alexander as he quietly oohs and aahs over the portal. "Eventually! I'll be there tonight or tomorrow, depending on wherever Penny decides to sleep, but who knows when you'll actually _see_ me there."

Alastor

“Well, track me down to talk when you can.” An unnecessarily dramatic half-bow and he steps through the portal.

Carefully. He doesn’t know what angle he’s going to emerge at.

#chat log #autokrates

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allywrites360 · 4 years

Text

Falling Snow.

“if you meet somebody and your heart pounds, your hands shake, your knees go weak, that’s not the one. When you meet your ‘soul mate’ you’ll feel calm.” - Monica Drake

Written for the prompt ‘Road Trip’ for Sukka Week 2020!!

Suki drummed her fingers impatiently against the steering wheel, lightly tapping her boot against the gas pedal as she forced her car inches further. The car behind her danced against the trunk of hers, causing her to angrily slam her gloved fist against the horn, the loud noise raising far above the faint music trailing from the speakers.

She squinted ahead onto the highway, sighing. The snow was so thick she could barely see the faintly glowing taillights from the car in front of her. She wasn't going anywhere tonight. Suki could probably count on one hand the amount of feet she had travelled in the past hour. She shifted the pale green coat around on her lap in an antsy manner, rubbing at her tired eyes as they blearily remained on the road before her.

What a way to end Christmas break. At this rate, it’d take her all semester to make it back to the University. She kept her foot grazing lightly over the brake as she sat there, annoyance greatening as the thick snow flakes seemed to swirl around one another in an even faster manner, taunting her frozen status.

She tugged off one of her gloves, reaching for her phone from where it had been discarded on the passenger seat. The metal was cool against her skin as she flicked open her navigation app, long route back to the school etched onto the screen. Ice warning possible. Yeah. No kidding. The characters that had read ‘five hours remaining’ a few miles ago were now raised much higher due to road closures. Near double.

She tossed the device back where she had retrieved it from, not bothering to shut the offending thing off, glow contrasting the dark car. Suki caught a hint of a reflection from a sign to her right, squinting her eyes harshly in hopes of making out the characters. The car in front of her moved a few feet forward, Suki exhaling slightly as she pulled up behind it, sign now mere feet away.

It was an exit for a single cafe that she could barely make out just off the bustling road. In fact, the only discernible sign a building was there at all was the chipped neon sign baring the name of the establishment standing in the midst of a small sea of cars.

Flipping her turning signal on without a second thought, she edged her car closer to the boarder where the concrete met the grass, now buried beneath a heap of snow, hoping to slip into the exit along with the many others who had also grown sick of being stuck in the blizzard.

——

In hindsight, Suki probably shouldn't have been surprised to find the small restaurant completely filled. After all, everyone was searching for a way off of the rapidly closing roads. She glanced around the building, the heat much too high for a room with so many people as it pressed uncomfortably into her cheeks. A Christmas song that sounded vaguely familiar rang faintly from a cracking speaker in the corner of the room, clearly as exhausted as most of the customers.

She quickly scanned the room as she took a step in from the door. Every table was packed as waiters skated between them easily, barely wasting the energy to cast her a tired glance as they passed by. Finally, her gaze landed on a booth on the far side of the cafe, filled by only a single occupant. A cool relief hit her at that. Sitting in her freezing car or forcing her way back onto the highway didn't sound like the most pleasant ways to spend her night.

He looked to be about her age, dark brown hair tied back into a messy ponytail as he buried his face into his laptop. He typed quickly, faint blue glow lighting up the way his brow furrowed in concentration. Suki sat down on the seat across from him.

Sokka looked up from his screen, slightly startled by her sudden appearance. “Uh… hi?” he offered, raising his brow towards her.

“Look, I’ve been driving in that storm for the past four hours, and I really just need a coffee. If you haven't noticed, every other table is full.” She gestured out into the room, “Can I sit here? Please?” There was less of a question in her voice than a statement, but she was too tired to pay much mind to that.

“You already did,” he said, tossing her a playful wink as he turned back to his work for a moment, making a few errant clicks on the screen.

Suki blew her bangs away from her face as she pulled off her thick winter hat, tossing it haphazardly onto the portion of the cracked plastic seat lying next to her. “Maybe I should've picked another booth,” she said, sarcasm underlining her tone.

“Hey, you're the one who chose to share, not me. I humbly allowed you to take that seat. I could’ve had friends coming, you don't know,” Sokka said, every bit as snarky as her. He shut his laptop, pushing it to the side of the table, alongside a few discarded paper cups, as he looked over to her.

Suki raised her eyebrow at him. His worn sweater, crafted from a dark blue fabric, jostled slightly as he chuckled silently.

“I said I could’ve. I didn't say I did.” He laughed at the deadpan look she flashed him at that, loudly this time as his grin poured over into his crystal blue eyes.

It felt familiar somehow. She could've sworn she’d heard that obnoxious sound somewhere before. “You’re in college right?” Suki didn't wait for him to answer, “What school do you go to?”

He crossed his arms as he leaned relaxedly onto the small table. “The University over in Republic City, why?” he asked, clearly not having recognized her in return.

“I knew I’d seen you on campus before! You’re… friends with Aang, right?” she asked, smiling slightly as she peeled her coat off of herself, the room much too warm to warrant the layer of clothing.

He nodded, “I’ve known him since high school. I’m Sokka.”

“Suki.” She gave him her name in return, letting her annoyance slip away as they settled into their seats. After all, it looked like they’d be stuck there a while. A quick glance out the dark window confirmed that the storm had gotten even worse - something Suki hadn't really thought possible - the snowflakes growing larger as they mixed in with chunks of hail.

His next sentence cut off by a waiter appearing next to them. “What can I get you?” the woman said, not bothering with formalities as she slowly tapped the pen she held against her notepad.

——

“Sorry for taking your seat,” Suki said, hands cupped around her steaming cup of coffee, heat comforting as it bored into her skin through the cheap paper cup. She took a long sip, any remnants of the chill the storm had painted on her falling away. “Actually, you were really annoying at first, so maybe I’m not that sorry.” She smiled at him as she set her drink aside.

He laughed breathily in response, only half committing to rolling his eyes. Pausing for a moment, he shrugged. “S’not a big deal. Believe it or not, it gets pretty boring sitting alone in a cafe for…” He pulled his phone from the pocket of his hoodie, tapping it awake with one swift motion. Sokka audibly groaned; “Six hours.”

“Yikes. What happened?” she asked, watching as he buried himself in his phone for a moment.

“My dumb sister just had to visit her boyfriend, so now I’m stuck here,” he said, clicking on the voicemail glaring across the screen.

Suki raised her eyebrow at him, returning to her drink as she waited for his explanation. In response to her silent prompt, Sokka hit the speaker button, allowing Katara’s voice to crack through into the buzzing restaurant, barely loud enough for both to hear despite their closeness.

“Hey Sokka. Roads are still shut down here so I’m stuck overnight. Sorry you're still waiting at the restaurant… are you sure there isn't anyway you can get back to dad’s?” The audio cut out slightly before the message ended; a tribute to the still raging blizzard outside.

Suki winced in sympathy at that as he slid the device towards the corner of the table, right next to three empty cups resembling the one she held at the moment.

“She was meant to pick me up here, since it’s on the way back to school, but apparently couldn't be bothered to leave before the storm hit,” he explains, piecing together the missing info of the situation.

“How’d you get here then?” she asks, genuinely curious.

He loudly sipped his hot chocolate before he spoke. “Bus, but clearly-“ Sokka gestured towards the wall of white pressed firmly against the small window, inside lined with fog, “- they’re all shut down by now. I don't have a chance of getting home tonight even if they do open the main road.”

“The highway is open; not that it matters with all the traffic stopped outside,” she sighed, rubbing her fist against one eye, “Guess we’re stuck here for a while, huh?”

Sokka surprisingly smiled back at her, “Could be worse.”

——

The next few hours were a blur, and honestly, Suki probably wouldn't have been able to remember the specifics the next morning. She couldn't forget how it felt though, both throwing their heads back in laughter as the stars stretched across the sky outside, far beyond the steady beat of the snow. It felt warm, and not just from the constant thrum of the heater somewhere outside the booth that temporarily served as their own private world.

She couldn't help but notice the way Sokka’s eyes would light up every time he got excited about something; which she was learning was quite often, nor the way their conversation flowed freely, jumping from one topic to the next and never dulling, never fading. He made her laugh and roll her eyes more times than she could count, her sour mood carried away with the whipping winds of the storm.

Loud as he may have been, he would always fall silent to listen to her intently, quick to counter all her arguments as their discussions brimmed with banter over more hot drinks.

“Wait wait wait,” Sokka said, his voice bringing her wandering mind back to the present, “You mean you’ve never seen The Incredibles? It’s a classic!” He put too much inflection into his voice for the simple statement, making Suki bite down on a laugh as she shook her head.

“It came out like ten years ago! You can’t call it a classic,” she returned, barely a breath passing.

She snorted at the outright offended look that passed his face. He reached into is backpack, silent as he dug around one of the dark pockets for a moment. Fishing out a pair of earbuds, he moved to grab his laptop, headphones making a clicking sound as they lightly tapped against the device. “You can say that after you’ve seen it,” he declared, “And then you can humbly apologize for being absolutely incorrect.”

He stood, crossing the booth to sit next to her so they could share the small screen. As he queued up the movie, Suki grabbed her own headphones from her coat’s pocket, roughly shoving them into the splitter poking out the side of the computer.

“Comes with having a sister,” he said, mimicking her motions as he pressed play.

The opening theme filled their ears, much louder than it should've been, and Suki settled in to the film, leaning slightly into Sokka’s side. Their sweaters brushed against one another as they both intently watched the movie begin to unfold, surroundings fading away from them like melting snow as they did.

——

The screen faded to black as the final frame of the movie played. Suki’s mouth fell open slightly as she slowly tugged her headphones away from her ears. It took her nearly a full minute of aimlessly watching the credits scroll across the screen before she finally managed to turn to face him.

She was met with an expression so snarky she couldn't help but elbow him in the side, shock fading away as she slowly returned to the small cafe.

He laughed, halfheartedly rubbing at his side where she’d attacked. “I was right. You loved it.” Sokka’s smile was subtler now, more genuine as he shut the film off.

She let out a breathy sigh. “Yeah, okay. I’ll admit it; it’s a classic.”

Sokka stood to return to his seat set across from her, excited expression still dancing over his features as he shoved his computer back into his stuffed backpack.

The space next to Suki went cold as he moved away, despite the constant heat pouring from the building. She found a small part of herself missing the warm, comfortable way they had relaxed together.

“If we ever actually make it back… you should come to my dorm sometime to watch the sequel. I think you’d like it,” he said, stretching his arms tiredly behind his head.

“I’d like that.” Stifling a yawn, she turned her gaze over to the small window to her right.

The snowflakes now danced slowly downward, freezing midair for a fleeting moment on their path. They no longer created a picture made of solid white. She noticed she could see all the way out to the highway now, the rows of cars now thrumming in constant motion.

She dragged her eyes around the room, the quick gesture confirming that their table was one of the last ones filled, everyone else having filed back out into the cold long ago. Suki couldn't for the life of her recall if it had been before or after the movie started.

Sokka’s gaze followed hers to the window, his smile cracking slightly, “You should probably get going, huh?” Neither needed their devices to tell them it was long after midnight.

Suki nodded, standing to pull her coat back on, the melted snow long dried by now. “Yeah. Still a few hours back to campus. Thanks, Sokka.”

He turned back to his phone as he spoke, “Hope I see you around then.”

She frowned, feeling slightly guilty about just leaving him stuck there the rest of the night. After a moment of hovering next to the booth, Suki wanted to smack herself for taking so long to speak her next sentence; the obvious solution. “Come with me.”

Sokka smiled after a moment, looking up to meet her eyes, “You sure?” She nodded. “Thanks, Suki.”

He slung his bag over his shoulder, quickly packing up his things as they began to exit the building. The remaining staff cast them tired glances on their way out; evidently glad to have less customers to deal with as late as it was.

She shivered as the harsh winter air slammed against her, wind picking up in her ears as they stepped out of the warm light. She cast Sokka a look out of the corner of her eye, “You really don't have a coat? Aren’t you freezing?” Her voice was louder than intended as it cut through the silent parking lot.

“We used to live pretty far up north, guess I got used to the cold.” In contrast to his words, he shrugged deeper into his sweater. Suki rolled her eyes as she opened her car’s door.

The second they escaped the frigid air into the small car, Sokka snatched the aux cord from where it was tangled on one of the seats, quickly plugging it into his phone.

Suki snorted at that, “Way to takeover my car,” she said, flicking on the heat as she started towards the highway.

Sokka didn't miss a beat with his reply; “Way to takeover my booth.” They both laughed softly at that, silence falling over them for a moment as he searched for ‘the perfect song’.

As they merged into one of the lanes, headlights cutting a path for them through the night, the all too familiar chords made their way through the air. “No. You are not playing this song.” Suki was glad it was too dark for him to see the smile she was fighting off her lips.

Sokka merely smirked in return, beginning to jokingly sing along to the male vocals of the song, “Baby it’s cold outside,” he started, elbowing her to join in.

“It’s not even Christmas!” She talked over the radio as she forced herself to keep from laughing at the way Sokka dramatically mimicked holding a microphone.

“I’ll hold you hands, they’re just like ice,” He couldn't keep a straight face to hit the right note at the end of that lyric. “C’mon Suki, you know you wanna.”

She sighed halfheartedly, turning up the volume as she joined in, the pair laughing every bit as much as they were singing (something neither of them were particularly skilled at). The notes poured through the car, making the long journey before them seem a little less tedious as they lost themselves in the rhythm.

——

The song came to a close, and honestly, Suki had lost count of how many they had flipped through, a portion of their journey already behind them. She coughed into the silence as Sokka searched for the next one, throat tired from belting out the familiar lyrics to old Christmas songs.

“Suki, look!” His voice startled her slightly after the few minutes of fragile quiet. He eagerly gestured out the window to a vibrant neon sign splashed bright against the darkened sky, snow lightly grazing the letters boasting the name of the cafe; not unlike the one they had just parted from. “We have to stop there for hot chocolate!”

“We’ve only been driving for, like twenty minutes! We’re not stopping.” She laughed breathily as she shook her head.

“But they make the best flavours! Please? Dad used to take Katara and I there all the time growing up,” he countered, eyes still locked on the passing building.

“Sokka, it’s two thirty in the morning, do you really think it’s still open?”

Sokka’s mouth fell open, a protest dying on his lips as he took in the darkened windows. She was right. His mouth fell shut into a frown as he sighed slightly.

The building disappeared into the night behind them, and vast fields took its’ place to their side as they continued silently biting into their journey. The roads were mostly empty now, a few blips of light only crossing their paths inconsistently; most were wisely home by now.

After a few minutes of driving quietly, Sokka finally smiled, turning to fully look at Suki. “I’ll just have to take you there next year then.”

——

The sun spilled over the edge of the horizon as it rose, bathing the parking lot in a soft glow as it crested against the mounds of snow shoved to the sides. The familiar buildings that made up their university towered on all sides of them, now lying completely silent at the early hour as Sokka pulled into a free spot.

He reached over to the passenger seat, gently shaking Suki’s shoulder to wake her. “Suki? We’re here.”

She slowly forced herself to sit up, stretching her neck as she did so. Turns out sleeping curled up in a moving car isn't the most comfortable thing in the world. She yawned, “What time is it?”

“Too early to be awake,” he muttered, still smiling regardless of how exhausted he felt. Sokka slung his backpack over his arm, stumbling slightly as he stepped outside, cool air refreshing as it sent a jolt of energy through him.

Suki grabbed her own things, not bothering to put her winter jacket back on as she fell out into the morning air.

“Thank you,” Sokka said quietly, “For everything.”

Her lips turned up into a smile, “Never thought I’d have that much fun getting stuck in a blizzard.”

Their eyes remained locked for a long second that seemed to freeze time for a fleeting moment. Blue met violet and swirled together in a beautiful painting.

Sokka cleared his throat finally, ducking his head as he turned to head towards his building, footsteps echoing loudly as he did.

Suki did the same, after a few paces calling out, “I don't want to wait till next Christmas for our first date though!” She didn't have to turn around to see his goofy smile.

#atla #sukka #sukka week #Sukka Week 2020 #sokka #suki

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writingpuddle · 5 years

Note

The foxes and Andrew reacting to Neil with a British accent?

Hey anon im p sure you sent me this like a million years agobut I found it again when going thru my asks yesterday so here goes myattempt at a bulletpoint fic:

Neil grew up in the states, sohis default accent is American, but he is ridiculouslygood at imitating. Like give him a ten second audio clip and he canextrapolate basically an entire dialect from it

The Foxes discover this aroundHalloween when watching a spooky movie and Neil goes into a perfect deadpanmockery of the Dracula character’s terrible Transylvanian accent

It becomes a thing

The Foxes will give him an accentand just set him loose

Neil is kind of surprised bytheir enthusiasm but also secretly very pleased to have found a way to amusehis Foxes

He likes making them happy so henever denies them

Except Kevin, but that is mostlybecause the team gets more amusement from watching Kevin get frustrated and trynot to show how annoyed he is over Neil being such a petty little asshole

Also they discover that if Neilputs on an Irish accent when Kevin isn’t paying attention he will absolutelyJUMP

Give him an order in an Irishaccent and he just instantly starts to follow through before he wakes up,blinking in disorientation as he realizes what he was doing

It’s funny at first, then theyrealize it’s because he associates the accent with his mother, and then itskind of sad, and then Kevin starts telling more stories about his mum and someof the few good memories he has of her, and then it gets funny again because Foxesare Foxes and they do love a good roast

Kevin complains outwardly but itsactually kind of cathartic to talk about his mother

He tells Andrew this inconfidence and Andrew just glares at him like no shit dude, you need fuckingtherapy

Anyways

That summer is going to be thesummer of the girls graduation

So they’re all determined to dosomething big to celebrate

And they get it in their heads todo a Eurotrip

Neil isn’t really payingattention at first because he’s more concerned about whether Andrew will bewilling to do a transatlantic flight

(Andrew is obviously going tocome. Flights suck, but there is no way he can cope with his whole family beingthat far away. He does not feel the need to explain this. It should beobvious.)

That’s when the Foxes pause, alldevious.

They’ve been plotting

“So, Neil,” Allison says. “At what point are you going to introduce usto your British uncle?”

Neil does not see where this isgoing

In fact he is largely baffled bythe suggestion.

“You realize my uncle is agangster, right? Like, literally a crime boss. Possibly the most dangerousperson in Britain.”

“Mm-hmmmmm.”

Neil is ???

“But he saved you Neil,” Nicky says emphatically. “We need to thank him.”

“Uh, kind of by accident, butyeah, technically.”

“You should call him. Just toask. You know, at least give the guy some warning that you’ll be in the area.”

Neil is still kinda confused butokay, fine.

Now here’s the thing

The Foxes have heard any numberof accents from Neil by this point

Including a magnificent Godfatherimitation

And probably half a dozendifferent British ones

But those were always for the laughs

He always picked a terribleaccent or would mock the living hell out of a posh one

Neil isn’t used to being thefunny one so he’s trying his best okay

And it’s fun and all but Neil can’tbe seductive to save his life

Even if you made him speak theFrench, the language of love itself,he’d just sound like he’s talking about the next game because he has zeroflirtability

Face it his and Andrew’sflirting sounds kind of like death threats to outsiders

They deserve each other

SO the Foxes convince Neil tocall up his uncle and they huddle around the phone

Only to be utterly disappointed

Neil talks with Stuart for all ofa minute and a half, just normal voice

He hangs up and tells them thatStuart will meet them in London in May and that they’re going to get him inshit with the FBI for this

The Foxes retreat, mutteringmutinously

Andrew is well aware of what’sgoing on, but it’s halfway amusing so he doesn’t say anything

As the months pass the Foxesbecome increasingly desperate in their attempts to make Neil say something sexy

They make him quote movies, TVshows, read out flirty text messages

One memorable time they even gethim to read out a page from Fifty Shades of Grey in a stuck-up British accent

They almost die laughing

It’s like a fucking superpower

Neil can say absolutely anythingand make it come across totally non-sexual

The Foxes have pretty much givenup by the time the summer trip comes around

Neil spends the plane ridepretending not to fuss over Andrew so by the time he arrives he’s totallyexhausted

And here is what he didn’texpect:

He is totally used to listeningto the local accents and then blending in naturally

It’s very disorienting beingamong the Foxes and their various Americanism, but hearing British accents allaround him

And his instincts are snarled upin knots

Plus he’s fucking tired

So he keeps slipping

First it happens when they passthrough customs, just a little lilt to his voice to put the officer at ease

But then it keeps happening

Stuart sends a couple cars topick them up and take them to this massive place he owns right in centralLondon

Being a crimeboss comes withcertain perks okay

Neil slips up again when he’stalking to the driver, his accent washing back and forth

Everyone else isn’t really payingattention because as excited as they are about Neil’s accent they’re in London and they’re all exhausted and fora lot of them it’s the first time they’ve been outside of the States, ever

Andrew notices

But he doesn’t say anything

They get to the apartment andfind a note there from Stuart saying he’ll pick them up tomorrow for a tour

Everyone splits off into theirrooms to sleep

Neil falls into bed exhausted, but sleep doesn’t come

And Andrew knows this but is tooexhausted himself from the stress of flying to deal with it right away

So he just wraps an arm aroundNeil’s stomach and holds him there as he drifts off

And it’s not enough for Neil toreally relax but it’s enough to make him feel grounded

The next morning Stuart shows upand everyone blinks at him bleary eyed and suspicious

But he’s charming and most ofthem find it kinda disarming

Which is how the Foxes end up takingwhat is probably the most expensive tour they’ve ever had (Allison excepted),lead entirely by a crime boss

Neil is lagging behind a bit buteveryone is so caught up in it that they don’t really notice

Except Andrew

That boy is always attuned to Neil

So he drops back with him andthey have a brief intense staring contest which ends in Neil looking away

They’re standing in Trafalgarsquare watching some street performers so no one is listening

Neil is obviously chewing onsomething and Andrew waits him out

He would wait forever

Finally, Neil just says, “I’vebeen here before.”

Which isn’t much but Andrew’smemory has never failed him before

I couldn’t live there again. I couldn’t retrace my steps to any ofthose places

Andrew knows what its like to feelsick at things that other people would love

So he nods and stands next toNeil the whole day

Not quite touching but closeenough that they can feel each others gravity

At the end of the day Stuart andNeil have a very cordial goodbye and then Stuart leaves them back at theapartment

Everyone is gushing about how charismatiche is and Neil doesn’t bother to correct them

His uncle has always been a bitof a snake-charmer but at least he knows he’ll never hurt his Foxes

They’ve still got a few days inLondon and Stuart’s secured them tickets to an underground dungeon tour thingthat usually has months worth of waiting list

Neil’s a little leery of goinginto a dark underground space, but with his Foxes there he’s sure he’ll beFine™

The team breaks out drinks aftersupper but Neil doesn’t have the energy

(Honestly according to thistimeline they’ve been in London for twenty-four hours they should be jet-laggedto hell and back, but w/e)

So he retires to their room andAndrew follows him like he always will

He sits next to Neil on the bedand waits

God there’s so much fuckingpointed silence between these two dear lord guys learn to communicate

Eventually Neil sighs. “I thoughtit would be okay. With all of them here.”

Andrew mulls that over

He doesn’t know how to admit thatit bothers him too. Seeing Neil reverting back to old habits, trying to blendin like its second nature

But he knows Neil is here to stayso he just slips a hand around the back of Neil’s neck and tugs him in untiltheir foreheads touch, breathing in the same air

Gradually the tension eases outof Neil

“We can go home,” Andrew says

“No,” Neil says. “I want to stay.I want to learn how to…do all of this, as Neil.”

Andrew squeezes the back of hisneck one more time. “Okay.”

It’s a silent promise, one he’sbeen keeping for over a year now: that any time Neil drifts too far, Andrewwill keep him anchored.

Neil knows it and he can’t helpbut smile a little, watching Andrew’s hazel eyes disappear into the shadowbetween their faces.

“Yes or no?” he asks

Andrew draws back a little

“You’ve been dissociating allday.”

“I’m here now.”

Andrew scowls and let’s go ofhim, standing up to go dig out his pajamas from his luggage

Neil flops down on the bed andadmires the view while Andrew changes

(That’s a nice thing. Andrewbeing comfortable enough to change in front of him. Sure, he’s always partiallychanged out in the locker room, but in private it’s different. It’s more. And Andrew is willing to give thatto Neil.)

(It’s very nice.)

“Staring,” Andrew grunts

“Can you blame me?”

“Yes.”

Neil sits up again and tugs onthe front of Andrew’s shirt until he gives in and steps up close, betweenNeil’s legs

His hands go to Neil’s sideswithout conscious decision

“Nicky wants the genuine Europeexperience,” Neil murmurs, toying with Andrew’s hem. He still hasn’t been givenpermission to touch, so he doesn’t. “We’re going to be staying in hostels.Might be the last time we have a room to ourselves.”

Andrew bites down on a thousandimpulses, reflexes to shut Neil down, cuthim out

Instead he just kisses Neil, goodand slow, a reassurance that they’re there,they’re real, and that this isn’t going away

“Andrew—”

“Yes,” he says, and pushes Neilback onto the bed.

You know what happens next

They love each other deeply andprofoundly and all that but they also like each other’s butts ya know

So afterwards they get cleaned upand curl back up in bed to sleep

Andrew climbs over Neil andnearly knees him in the balls and Neil’s laughing a little and Andrew scowls inannoyance as Neil scoots closer

And with the most obnoxious chav accent that’s ever been heard says, “Any chance a bloke could get a bit of a snog before bed?”

It is quite possibly the worstthing Neil has ever said and Andrew does not hesitate in slapping a pillow overhis face to try and smother him

Neil is laughing his ass off andit devolves into some pretty stupid wrestling before Andrew gets Neil pinneddown, straddling his hips

“Bloody wanker,” Neil says, unable to contain his grin

“Shut the fuck up,” Andrew says,and kisses him so that he does.

#i dont think this is what you asked for but its what my brain spat out lol #anon #writing prompt #have i been sitting on this for months?#probably #aftg #andrew minyard #neil josten #andreil #accents #fic #my writing #Chav!Neil #the foxes go on vacation

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