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enigmalynne · 3 years

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Something to be Thankful For - Chapter 2

Title – Something to be Thankful For Pairings – Jensen/Reader Word Count – 1,459 Warnings – RATED R FOR LATER CHAPTERS: Violence in the form of a mass bombing/shooting, injuries both explained and detailed, cursing SPNMixedBingo Square filled – Thanksgiving

Jensen Ackles’ life changes when he walks into his favorite coffee shop and meets Y/N, a Florida girl making a new start in Austin, Texas, as a Sheriff’s Deputy with the help of her sister. The two hit it off and quickly become an item that even the tabloids can’t tear apart. Jensen is excited to show his girl off at Thanksgiving dinner with his family, but she has to work the parade that morning first. What starts out as a normal event filled with balloons, clowns, and cheery faces soon turns deadly as one of the floats explodes and gunfire fills the air. Soon, Y/N is in a fight for her life as she and the rest of the deputies fight back against whoever it is trying to take over Downtown Austin.

Is Jensen doomed to watch the woman who brought love back into his life perish in a tragic mass attack, or will he have Something to be Thankful For after all?

Chapter 2

I don’t want it to be Thanksgiving yet. Wasn’t it just Halloween? Y/N read on her mobile phone as she stood in her bathroom, getting ready for work. She smirked at the text message from Jensen and typed out a quick reply.

What are you complaining about? You get to stay in that warm bed and sleep in. I’m the one who has to go stand out in the cold for like 6 hours. Carefully setting her phone down, Y/N focused on making sure all the strands of her hair were tucked up in the French braid she styled her long locks into and off the collar of her shirt as the uniform code required. She was carefully checking her make-up one last time when her phone chirped a reply.

I’m lonely in this warm bed. You should have stayed the night, he replied promptly. Her smirk grew into a full-on grin. Gently shaking her head, she replied.

If I did stay the night, then I would end up late to call. Again. That was a glorious morning, and she would have been happy to repeat it. Instead of spending the 45 valuable minutes getting ready to leave, she willingly spent them in the shower with Jensen. She invariably ended up showing up 15 minutes late to the briefing with wobbly legs, still wet hair, and a few beard burns on the inside of her thighs.

I’d be happy to make a repeat performance of that morning anytime you want, sweetheart. Just get that tight ass back here in my bed, he replied eagerly.

Maybe I’ll stay the night tonight after Thanksgiving dinner with your parents. How’s that? Y/N responded before setting her phone down to make sure her shirt fitted correctly across her bulletproof vest. Grabbing her phone and walking out of her bathroom, she felt the buzz of his reply.

It's a date, he sent. Y/N felt herself smile widely before sliding the phone into her back pocket. Their first date was the day they met at her sister’s coffee shop. Their second date was the next night. It went on like that for a few days before they shared their first kiss. It was a few weeks later when a photographer caught them. The next day, a celebrity rag ran the photo of them sharing a kiss in front of a fountain in Austin with the headline “Jensen Ackles Post Divorce Fling!”

Feeling wrecked, Y/N waited for the inevitable to come. She was certain he was coming over and telling her that he couldn’t be with her because of the publicity. She was genuinely shocked when he shrugged the article off as no big deal.

“So they ran the story before I could formally ask you to be my gorgeous girlfriend. Nothing they wrote changes how I feel about you,” Jensen said with a shrug that afternoon when he showed up at her place. Y/N looked at him in surprise, making Jensen stare at her. “What?”

“I just… I expected you to tell me you had to stop seeing me is all,” Y/N said quietly, staring off into the distance, trying to wrap her head around what was happening.

“Do you want to stop seeing me?” Jensen asked, suddenly very nervous. Y/N shook her head sharply, snapping out of her reverie.

“No!” she exclaimed fiercely, causing Jensen to let out a startled chuckle. Y/N instantly closed her eyes, intentionally took a deep breath, and looked at Jensen. “No. I don’t want to stop seeing you. I was just afraid the unfavorable publicity was causing you or your… publicist… or… whatever stress. I mean, it’s only been a few weeks and suddenly there’s a big deal about how a TV show superstar shouldn’t be dating a cop,” she said quietly, her voice sneering a little when she mentioned her occupation. Jensen took Y/N into his arms with a soft smile and rested his forehead on hers, forcing her to look up into his emerald eyes.

“I may have only known you a short while, Y/N, but I already know how I feel. I want to see where this goes. I don’t give a rat’s ass what any celebrity magazine, publicist, or whatever has to say about it. And I don’t have a problem dating a cop. I appreciate your concern about this, but I actually want to make this official, if you’d have me,” he breathed. The radiant smile that graced Y/N’s face lit up her y/e/c eyes.

“Really?” she asked tentatively. Jensen gently pressed a chaste kiss to her mouth.

“Really,” he confirmed.

“I can’t imagine us being anything else than together,” she whispered tenderly to him. His delighted grin widened before he pressed his lips against hers again, deepening the kiss that left them both breathless. When they broke apart, they were panting.

“You know, I…” Y/N started, her eyes wide as they stared up at Jensen. She never finished her possible declaration, but Jensen nodded slowly in agreement anyway. He knew what she was about to say because he felt the same way.

“Yeah, me too,” he replied eagerly. That was precisely four months ago, and they are still going as strong as ever. Now it was Thanksgiving, and Y/N was heading out to work a security detail at the annual parade while Jensen got to sleep comfortably in his warm bed. Jealous, party of one.

Glancing at the clock as she walked out of her bedroom, she noticed that it ticked close to 4:15am. That gave her just enough time to grab her gear, grab a coffee, and head downtown to be at the meet location at 5am. She picked up the key to her safe and unlocked it to pull out her service weapon, two extra magazines, and her agency-issued taser. Sliding them into place, she turned and grabbed her radio and earpiece to do the same with them. Snagging her agency-issued laptop and her jacket, she walked out her front door, then skipped down the steps to the door that led her to the café.

“Got your coffee ready, Y/N!” she heard Holly shout at her as she carefully locked the private door to the stairs. Y/N snagged the paper cup out of her hand without missing a step.

Holly was already in the café with one of her employees, getting it ready for the onslaught of parade watchers who were sure to be heading downtown in just a few hours. She planned to take full advantage of all the people heading out in the cold weather thanks to a freak cold front by graciously offering discounted coffee and tea.

“Thanks, girl! Love you, Holly!” Y/N called out as she walked toward the door.

“Love you too! Be safe!” Holly yelled back.

“I’m on parade security, what’s there to worry about?” Y/N said, laughing. Holly promptly stopped what she was doing, turned at her sister, and glared fiercely. Y/N held her hands up in surrender and nodded understandingly. “You’re right, I’m sorry. Anything could happen. I’ll do my best to remain safe, I promise. I’ll call you when I’m done and heading back.”

“You had better,” Holly said, pointing a knife in her direction before she went back to cutting whatever she was cutting. Y/N shook her head with a smile as she left the café and walked over to the side lot where her patrol vehicle was. Reaching into her pocket, she pushed the button on the key fob that unlocked the doors. At the beep, she opened the front door.

She placed her coffee into the cup holder and pulled her phone out of her back pocket. She dropped into her seat and set her laptop up on the stand before opening it and turning it on. As it booted up, she sent out one last text.

About to head out to the parade. Stay warm for me, okay? And go back to sleep! Why are you even awake?? She tapped out on her phone to Jensen. She looked over and saw that her portable computer was up, so she logged in. Once it was set up, she pulled the car radio up and turned over the engine.

“3888, Travis,” she properly said into the portable radio.

“3888,” she heard back. Her mobile phone buzzed at the same time. She reached over to grab it as she called back.

“3888, I’m 10-8. Heading downtown for parade briefing but available if necessary,” she responded as she opened her text messages.

I’m awake to see my favorite girl off to work. Stay safe out there, love. I can’t wait to see you later today.

“3888, 10-4,” the distinctive voice said. Y/N let herself swoon to the new nickname Jensen had taken to affectionately calling her: pressing her phone to her chest, letting her head fall back against the headrest, and smiling herself silly. After her moment, she focused on the job at hand. Today was going to be a breeze.

Taglists:

Supernatural:

@akshi8278 @vicmc624 @agirlwithdemonblood @flamencodiva @hobby27 @mimaria420 @compresshischest09 @kkrivers

Jensen/Dean Taglist

@deandreamernp @siospins @sacriceria @sexyvixen7

Something to be Thankful For Taglist:

@wayward-gypsy @stoneyggirl2

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peeterparkr · 4 years

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perfidy;tom holland|6

chapter 6: the frame

enemies to lovers au/enemies with benefits

story summary: Tom and you have been sworn enemies since you were young. However, you happened to be best friends with the twins. When one of your friends challenged you to break Tom’s heart, you immediately accepted to get back at him for all the times he’s hurt you. Old feelings might come back, while both of you try to go past your pride and your lies.

chapter summary: how do you make someone fall in love with you when they’ve hated you their whole life?

pairing: tom holland x y/n

warnings: swearing, timmy, mentions of sex, didn’t proof read

word count: 5.8k

here’s a playlist

TWEETS: read them before you read this.

previous chapter next chapter series masterlist

wanna be tagged?

No one should ever have sympathy for the devil. They’re the devil for a reason. But somehow, you understood a lot of things about Tom. Going through his schedule had you already on your feet, no wonder why he was always tired. You had been avoiding any kind of confrontation with anyone as your hands were hovering through the mouse as the light from your laptop was washing white through your whole room, you hadn’t slept and you had a cup of coffee as you waited for your alarm to go off so you could officially start the day.

Your first day as an assistant, it didn’t sound exciting but it had you on the edge. That wasn’t the reason why you hadn’t slept, though.

Timothée and you hadn’t solved anything, both of you needed to think things, you’d asked him for more time to go through and about everything. Because honestly, you didn’t know if you wanted to go back to a relationship where you knew you weren’t the same. But you were still in love with him. You knew he loved you, too. You can easily tell, you know? when someone is in love with someone else. Yet it seemed like he had been so distant, even if he had only been 3 feet apart.

.And it was hard, because you couldn’t be thinking about it, but you had the right to cry about it, didn’t you? But you knew that at some point you’d break. You didn’t have the time to think about it, not now. You had already opened the document, the script you so feared of writing. So banal and stupid and typical, a script that had no meaning. And you were wondering if you really wanted to do that, you could easily just text Alessandra you were not up to write something as vain and stupid, especially because you knew you’d end up hurting yourself. This meant emotionally investing in something, and although there was no way you’d ever wake up past feelings, you knew you could end up hurting more people than planned.

Besides, you were certain it was impossible, Tom wouldn’t fall in love with you. So you maybe needed to change this, seduce him? But you felt so dirty.

It had been good, though, relieved some stress, some tension. But then, you’d seen Timmy. And everything had tumbled down. Because you were proving his point. Though the conversation had gone very normal. Timmy had understood that you needed time, you hadn’t told him what for.

It was wrong, it felt like cheating. Cheating on your heart, at least. But you looked at the little annotations you had for the script.

You hadn’t slept because you were wondering if you could ever make someone like Tom fall in love with you. Because really? What makes people fall in love? It had you thinking. And maybe you could turn this into a guide, how to make your number one enemy fall in love with you. Was there really only one fine line in between love and hate? Can one fall in love with someone you know so well?

How does one make the devil fall in love with you?

And you’d asked Timmy, “What made you fall in love with me?” As if it was a question like “what’s your favourite colour?” or “what have you been doing these days?”

He hadn’t answered, not really. Only gave you a smile.

You closed the script, maybe the answer was in between your past, and you scrolled through your files until you found them, your old videos.

You stared at the names, and randomly clicked on one.

“Okay, Y/N… Want to dance with Tom?” Nikki said behind the camera. The movie was messy, and she was trying to focus on both of you. A young y/n was on the floor, her mouth covered with chocolate ice cream. A bow on her head, and a very nice white with cherries dress, now all covered, too with chocolate ice cream.

You chuckled as you watched yourself, you had the rest of the ice cream on your hand.

You were barely 3, it seemed. Your brother, probably 8, was sitting on the couch as he was too busy nibbling on his own popsicle. A young Tom was giggling to the camera, covered in ice cream too, as he danced to the music playing in the background, ABBA, your mother and Nikki used to play ABBA all the time.

“Y/N you don’t wanna dance with Tom?” Your mother walked into the view, as baby y/n looked up to her and shook her head. However, your brother, James walked over to you and helped-forced you to stand up. He took your hands and made you dance with him, you grinned.

Your mother and Nikki started to clap as you danced, and Tom, of course, wanting to get back the attention, pushed away your brother and took your hands instead, dancing with you.

The video was rather something quite adorable and stupid, you were both dancing to the song.

You laughed to yourself, because there was probably a similar video when you guys were older, but now drunkenly dancing to ABBA.

The kids were dancing, and you ended up kissing his cheek.

“Adorable!” Nikki said.

Of course, the sweetness ended as Tom pushed you back, making you fall to the floor. Tom laughed and then you cried.

“Thomas! Don’t do that!” Nikki said.

“Y/N, love it’s okay, don’t cry,” your mother said, as she rushed over to you.

The video ended.

You rolled your eyes, that video was the perfect definition to your relationship nowadays. Except you didn’t like him. But you had to, for your own sake, you had to put up with him. With the devil.

He was the devil in disguise, you could see it. Even when he was younger, little devil, disguised as an angel, with a beautiful smile and angelic eyes. This was wrong, so wrong, you knew he could hurt you more than you could hurt him. How could you ever make him fall in love with you? If you hadn’t succeeded before what made you think that you would win now?

It made you feel guilty, even, because you were playing with something where you knew you had a lot to lose. You were risking your heart, and you knew that this was leading to your doom. It was no secret that you had once wanted him.

And even with everything, you didn’t want to hurt him. And you had circled around it, how you could try to ruin him. But you really didn’t want to. But how did you make anyone fall in love with you? Because it was written in the stars that you were both destined to hate each other.

Or maybe you had only been destined to love him once, or twice but he was meant to hurt you. You couldn’t rewrite destiny, no matter how good of a writer you were, you couldn’t rewrite the stars.

Was there an answer? Did you have to dress a certain way? Did you have to sing? Maybe makeup. And you started to think about it, maybe you couldn’t rewrite it but you could write a new story.

What had made you fall in love with anyone, really? And you thought about Tom, the first person you’d ever been in love with, the chaos he was. Like a busy rainy morning in London, with hopes of the sun finally coming out. And it didn’t make any sense. Maybe that was you needed to figure out how to make something senseless turn into something important. Falling in love with the devil. And you’d already sinned.

But you started writing, and before you knew it, you were already waiting for him with a coffee and a tea and a printed schedule. Tom would be picking you up.

“Morning,” you said but he hadn’t answered.

And there it was, the long-expected cold shoulder he’d be giving you. You hadn’t expected any less from him, of course he was now pretending nothing had happened. A black t-shirt and a pair of grey sweats.

“Here’s your tea—And-are you excited?”

“We don’t have to talk,” Tom said. “It’s too early.”

You raised your brows. “Alright.”

He remained quiet. But you watched him, the sun was making him a favour. The freckles on his skin were perfectly placed on his nose, it seemed like they were stars poured over. The damn boy was perfect, at least you could get something out of that.

You didn’t know if he had noticed your staring.

He was too good to be true, honestly. He was very attractive, too bad he was such an asshole. Why had he never liked you back?

And there it was, that feeling you’d always be feeling. The feeling of not being enough, or the feeling that you’d done something so wrong. But you’ve learnt better. You knew this was Tom being whom he was. Probably Haz had heard something and Tom had denied it and then he was giving you the cold shoulder to not raise any concerns.

This would be difficult, having to deal with him and try to make him fall in love with you when he clearly didn’t like you at all. It was good you didn’t like him either.

But you did look at the mirror and wondered if you looked bad, or ugly, or if it had been your voice, or maybe he didn’t drink tea when he was going to film, or what had you done wrong? That feeling would never go away when you were with Tom. What did you do wrong?

However, you needed to go through the Schedule, even if your thoughts were messing with yur brain. “We will go straight into makeup and—“

“You think I don’t know that?” Tom rolled his eyes.

You rolled your eyes. “Thomas I’m simply doing my job, alright? And if we want to work this out—And I’m just trying to be nice, okay? I don’t like you, I really really can’t stand you but I’m doing my best effort to try and be nice, and decent. We are gonna be doing this for two months and you know what? If you don’t get your shit together I might just quit right here right now and good luck finding an assistant in ten minutes, so you better not be pulling that attitude with me right now.”

He blinked as he cleared his throat. “Sorry.”

“Good, now I need—“

He smirked. “That was pretty hot, though.”

You closed your eyes with desperation as you turned to glare at him. “What?”

He grinned as he turned his head just slightly to wink at you. “I’m sorry after that night—Apparently that kind of stuff turns me on.”

“That night didn’t happen,” you cleared your throat.

He clicked his tongue. “But it did, and we were very chill after that, and that was hot.”

“You’ve got some weird kinks going on there, first the praise kink and now this?” You sassed with poison.

“The praise?—I don’t have a praise kink,” he frowned.

You laughed. “We’ll see about that, now we need to—“

“Oh we will see?” He smirked. “So you’re saying you will prove it to me?”

You fumed red as you glared at him. “You’d love that, wouldn’t you? I’m sorry to inform you but I’m a professional and that will never happen again.”

He grinned. “Oh c’mon, y/n.”

“What now?” You crossed your arms.

“You can’t… you can’t pretend it didn’t mean anything.”

“It didn’t feel anything. Did you feel anything?” This could lead somewhere.

“No. Well… I’m not saying that I felt anything, but it does mean something.”

You sighed. “I’m… No, I’m sorry I got caught up in the moment, that’s it.”

He laughed. “Hm, bummer, and here I was thinking about bringing yellow flowers.”

You looked away. Yellow flowers. ��You wouldn’t even if you’d felt something,” you said with poison, not even wanting to think of yellow flowers. “And if you dare to mention that night again, I’m gonna quit for that too.”

“Nice, I love it when you talk dirty to me,” he snickered, but then quickly regretted it as you smacked his head. “Ow! Hey! I’m just messing with ya, y/n.”

You frowned, feeling your empty stomach slowly pulling down.

“I hate you,” you stated.

“I hate you more, boo,” he grinned. “I’m sorry, y/n, it’s just pretty early…”

“And? I hate waking up early too, I didn't even sleep last night.”

“Why not?”

Because you were broken-hearted, because you had to write a script, because you had to work for him, because you needed him to fall in love with you. But you wouldn’t tell him that.

You shrugged, not giving him an answer.

“I saw your tweets,” he pointed out. “What happened with Mr. Boring?”

“He’s not boring, and it doesn’t concern you.”

“Y/N, he is like actually super boring,” he pushed. “Like what did you even see in him?”

A lot, a lot of things. He was charming, fun, nice, intellectual and he supported your dreams. And he never got into your nerves.

“He was dreamy.”

“Dreamy?” Tom frowned. “He is boring.”

“He’s not.”

“That’s why you broke up, right? Don’t tell me you got back with him? He’s so boring y/n and he’s—“

“That doesn’t—Look, don’t even—This is strictly professional and we shouldn’t be discussing any personal matters okay?”

He chuckled. “Fine, let’s get into professional matters.”

And there you were, walking behind the big movie star as people boarded him, the director, other actors, everybody wanted to speak to Tom and you were only following after him, writing stuff down that you thought would be important for later, as you tried to follow up with everyone. You had made sure the catering had gotten Tom’s snacks right, and the water, and then the menu for later, and everything that Harry had told you to, and then you were leading the way towards his trailer, and then after setting up you’d go to makeup.

The set was big, and you felt butterflies just thinking that someday maybe you’d be writing or directing something of this sorts. The film world was fascinating to you, sure, television was amazing, too but this was just where you needed to be. Not exactly as an assistant but it got you closer to wherever you wanted to be.

You were approaching Tom's trailer, as you were trying to explain to him the schedule that would be going on down today, while your mind was going places as you tried to come up with times where you could be alone with Tom so you could at least start your investigation on knowing what made him fall in love with anyone, and you had to start flirting with him, although, he had already started on that. Very unprofessional. If you were honest, that was the least that concerned you, you were too busy imagining the day you’d finally direct your own film, but before you could even continue with your film fantasy, you saw….him.

Timothée.

You’d never had a heart attack, but you were sure you had just experienced one.

Timothée.

With some headphones around his neck and a pencil behind his ear, just outside Tom’s trailers as he was leaning over to read something on the person beside him.

Timothée.

He looked calm, and unaware that you were there. A white t-shirt, pair of jeans, and his curls flying.

Timothée.

You stopped abruptly, as Tom bumped against your shoulder. You froze, everything was getting blurry. This jeopardized everything you’d planned.

“Y/N--What?” Tom frowned as he followed your gaze and then he saw him. A frown appeared upon his face. “Is that mister boring?”

“Yes shut up I’m freaking out,” you snapped.

Tom scoffed. “You’ve got to be kidding me. What were the odds?”

“Sh.”

Tom watched you, and mockingly laughed. “What?”

“Oh my god, I can’t…”

“God look at him, he looks so boring,” Tom pointed out.

This was life laughing at you. “Can you please stop calling him boring?”

“You can do so much better than Mister… ,” Tom rolled his eyes. “Timothée,” Tom poisoned, accentuating each and every letter.

“Shut up.”

This was chaos. And Timmy finally looked up and directed his sight at you, those caramel eyes glazed right upon you, and you saw him, and there was that smile, perfect smile that had made you fall in love with him. He looked so divine, so fresh, as if he was floating. An angel.

How the fuck were you going to flirt around with the devil if your angelic ex boyfriend whom you still loved was going to be around?

“Y/N?” Timothée mouthed as he dedicated another smile at you.

You finally breathed in some courage and smiled at him, approaching him.

“Y/N, what are you doing here?” He asked, softly, as his eyes were only on you. He had his ways making you feel like you were the only person in the whole world.

“I-”

“Timmo! Hello,” Tom intruded. “Hey, she’s my assistant, the real question is what are you doing here?”

Timothée finally looked up at Tom. “Thomas,” he said calmly. “Oh, really?” He turned his sight back to you. “Why didn’t you tell me, love--” he cleared his throat. “Y/N that uh, you’d be working with him.”

“I..”

“She doesn’t have to tell you everything, man,” Tom interrupted you for the second time. You nudged him.

“I just… didn’t think it was a big deal, but what are you doing here?”

“I’m kind of… an assistant of someone’s assistant, but hey, I’m part of the crew,” Tim grinned at you.

Tom watched between you both.

“Hey um, but what about your script?”

“She’ll have time to write it,” Tom pushed.

“I can talk for myself Tom, uh, here,” you handed him the keys to his trailer. “Why don’t you freshen up before we go over to makeup?”

Tom frowned. “Um, no, actually, I need you to come with me, I need to discuss some things,” Tom crossed his arms.

“Really? Even if we went through all of it?” You frowned.

“Yes, something just came up,” Tom smirked.

You wanted to hit him.

Timothée cleared his throat. “Maybe we can… talk later, okay? Later on a break?” Tim offered.

“Yeah, for sure,” you smiled at him but then Tom motioned to the trailer.

He walked in and you were quick to close the door.

“What is wrong with you?”

Tom scoffed. “I’m doing you a favour, y/n.”

“A favour?” You were about to kill him, but you didn’t. You remembered it. You were supposed to start liking him. “You know what? Whatever. Hurry up. We need to go straight into makeup, I’ll wait for you outside.

You were about to storm off before Tom stopped you.

“What?”

“Give me a smile,” he grinned.

You raised your middle finger at him and then stormed out. This wasn’t going to be easy.

However, he was rather decent after it, you went through makeup, wardrobe and eventually you were there, watching him walk into the set. You had a bottle of water waiting for him, along everything else he’d asked you.

He had been asking for a lot of things, every time he was sure that Tim was somehow close, Tom would bring up the most stupid request, and then add ‘please y/n, dear.’

He was terrible.

But you sat down, now ready to watch the scene. The director was giving him notes, and Tom was nodding, listening to him as he was getting ready. One of the things you had to admit that you loved about him, was his commitment, and even if you hated him, you knew he was very good at his job. Even the adorable facade he pulled to the world. You were very aware he was nice, and there were things that made you genuinely smile about him, but of course, he had a whole different persona when it came to you, and that’s when the magic simply stopped.

But you watched him as the light was falling to him, the frame was him and only him, even if he was not really doing much, you loved how he would change from whatever he was being and turn into an actual professional. And he looked attractive, even if the makeup he was wearing now covered the freckles you loved. And your mind wandered, a spring frame, maybe even beginning of summer, of strawberries and the sun shining, a turquoise bike and a race towards the ice cream parlour. Memories, memories, memories.

But you cleared your throat, not wanting to stare too much, even if the tight clothes he was wearing had you thinking. You thought it was ironic, even, 80’s type of clothing they’d chosen, and he… Had you thinking thoughts. Sins. But, honestly who wouldn’t sin with a devil like him?

But you looked away because you knew yourself, you knew the effect Tom had on you, and hell after that night, the effect had grown stronger.

You decided to look around, as you were trying to look up for Timmy.

Someone tapped on your shoulder.

“Hey,” someone whispered in your ear as you jumped in surprise, but finally turned your head to see Timothée standing right behind you.

“Hi,” you whispered as he grinned.

“Sorry for… scaring you,” he cleared his throat. “I didn’t mean to-”

“No, no you’re good, it’s okay, I just didn’t expect to see you here,” you admitted, your voice lowered as you finally laid your attention back on him.

“Yeah, it’s weird,” he chuckled. “Usually after a breakup, you don’t have to see your ex working with… Well,” he bit his lip, as he motioned for you to walk away with him, further from the cameras and mics.

“Yeah, with one of the reasons for the breakup,” you clicked your tongue. “But I mean.” You dug your hands into your pockets. Another reason as to why you hated Tom was that he’d been so delicate on trying to push you and Tim away from each other.

“You saw it, didn’t you? What I meant,” he sighed.

You looked away. “Tim.”

“He’s obsessed with you,” Tim scoffed as he shook his head. “And I can’t blame him, honestly, I am completely obsessed with you, too,” he grinned and you just smiled to yourself. “But… Well, it’s not exactly comforting to… you know.”

“He’s not obsessed with me, he doesn’t even like me,” you shrugged as you turned to see Tom as he was still listening to the director, too focused to know. “He’s… only trying to find ways to bother me.”

“Don’t you think that’s…” Timmy licked his lips.

“I can’t blame him, I kind of do the same,” you confessed, chuckling slightly. “Anything to see him angry.”

He pushed back a lost strand of hair. “Hm, maybe this is for the best, maybe right now we can finally spend time together.”

But you knew that the distance in your relationship hadn’t really come from actual space, you’d been emotionally distant to each other. However, when you looked into his eyes, maybe everything was forgotten. How could you not get lost into the way he looked at you?

But you couldn’t think about it now, you had something very important to do. Yet you couldn’t forget it, an autumn frame, with leaves falling down, as you ran towards him and you laughed as the night was fading in, eating cherries, and kissing him, once, twice and forever.

You coughed, as you avoided his gaze, coming back to normality.

“Tim, I…” You cleared your throat. “There’s something.”

“Why do I feel like I won’t like that something?” He scrunched his nose.

You licked your lips as you turned away, and you noticed Tom, you caught him staring. He quickly turned back to the director.

“I just really meant what I said, I need time right now,” you gulped. “I don’t think I can emotionally commit to anything, can we… please be friends?”

Timmy bit his lip but then grinned. “I’ll have to live with that,” he sighed. “But please don’t mind if I stare too long, I can’t help it, y/n. I’m an Icarus, remember?”

You nudged him. “Don’t fly too close to the sun,” you warned him.

He smiled. “C'mere, I’ll show you something cool,” he said as he led the way close back to where they were filming. They hadn’t started yet, but you saw Tom.

Tom gave you another glance and then ignored you.

You felt guilty, and weren’t sure why. But then you turned your attention to Timmy, who pointed out the lights on the set, and then to some props and explained what they meant and how it revolved around the story, and it was fascinating, knowing that little things that didn’t seem important would turn out to be so important.

“The story is hidden between the little details,” Tim said. “Like that flower pot, you see it?” He pointed to it.

“Yeah.”

“It’ll change through scenes, the pot will get darker as…” Timmy explained.

“Right,” you grinned.

But everyone started to shush everyone, they would start filming.

You had been quiet for the rest of the day, you had received Tom’s lunch and hadn’t even said any words to him. You’d been thinking about… a lot of things, really. But mostly Timothée, and how this was wrong. Very, very wrong. But there were worse things you could do, right?

Tom had decided to have his lunch in his trailer, and he’d invited you over with him. Of course, it probably was only because he didn’t want you around Timmy.

“Y/N?” Tom called. “Aren’t you going to eat?” He asked as you were biting on your cheek, nervously staring at the food.

“Hm? Oh, yes, sorry.”

He watched you. “So… I saw you talking to…” Tom cleared his throat. “Timothée,” he pronounced his name dragging his tongue and pitching his voice.

“Yeah.”

He blew his cheeks. “Hey, I can… I can get another assistant if you’re uncomfortable being near him…”

You chuckled. “Trying to get rid of me already?”

“No… I’m just… I don’t want you feeling sad,” he pointed out.

“I’m not sad.”

He shrugged. “Well, you look sad.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Tom shrugged. “And it bothers me.”

“Does it now?” You questioned.

“It’s my job making you sad and I’m angry he’s doing it,” he grinned.

You rolled your eyes. “Of course.”

“What happened then?” He pushed.

You looked away. “Nothing, Tom. We broke up, I told him we had to be friends for now, and that’s it.”

Tom watched you, he seemed calculated. He probably wanted ways to make you feel bad, that was Tom. Amazing memory when it comes to annoy you.

“Why did you break up?”

Distance. Him. Harry. Timothée knowing you got tired of waiting before and thinking you’d settled with him. Dreams that had to be changed for plans, and plans which involved being away. Timothée pointing out you had had feelings for Tom. You probably did. Timothée pointing out Harry was probably in love with you. You, being aware of it, but deciding to ignore it, or not accept it. Selfish conversations. Jealousy. Long conversations that turned into small talk. Because you felt like strangers. Intimacy was gone. No more sparks. Secrets that you both held. Tom. Because you’d gotten drunk once and said something about Tom that one shouldn’t say when you’re dating someone.

That was a summary.

“I… well, it’s too complicated.” A summary he didn’t deserve to know.

Tom shrugged. “Why?”

There was a part of you that was thinking about how you could make someone fall in love. You thought about Timothée, you loved how sincere he was. Maybe being sincere could help you. Being vulnerable helps.

“I think we fell in love very quickly and we didn’t stop to see if there was… anything else going on with us, like myself I—he just I dunno, we changed and we were so into the idea of who we were at the beginning.” You didn’t even know what you were trying to say.

“I’m not following.”

“I feel like,” you sincered yourself. “At least with me, it started out as… as me escaping from something else you know? I was trying to avoid other problems and it came as a simple solution but in the end I fell in love with him.” You didn’t regret falling in love with him.

“Meaning?”

“It was kind of a—getaway,” you licked your lips. “Escaping, but not really. I had too many feelings just trying to explode and I— I just let my feelings explode into him, I guess I wanted to love someone and he walked in.”

“A rebound?” Tom questioned.

“Not really.” Besides, you hadn’t talked about this with anyone, not even with Harry, or Sam. It felt wrong.

“So you were looking for a fling?”

“Well, no, it’s complicated,” you admitted. “But I just… really loved him, you know? But he’s very observant, and he caught up on it.”

“Observant, huh.”

“Yes and he pointed out things which I’ve been oblivious to, or maybe not oblivious but I was too dedicated to avoiding them that I forgot about them,” you sighed.

“What kind of things?”

“Stuff, I dunno,” you ran a hand through your hair.

He watched you, carefully. “What do you see in him anyway? He’s boring.”

You chuckled, slightly. “He’s brilliant, and besides, I can say more about him than that short skirt who asked you out today.”

He smirked. “Jealous?”

“What would I be jealous for?” You rolled your eyes. “If anything I’m thankful. I’m hoping she’ll be able to calm you and your horny ass down,” you bellowed.

He laughed. “She won’t be, I won’t go out with her.” He shrugged with fake shame.

You frowned. “Why not?”

Tom clicked his tongue. “Because, she’s…”

“Dull? Yeah, I noticed that too,” you chided. “Don’t date someone like her.”

Tom grinned. “I wasn’t going to,” he surmised. “But, please do tell me, what kind of people should I date?”

You bit your lip as you gave it a thought. “Someone with layers,” you began. “Fun, and who can put up with all your shit.”

He raised an eyebrow with a smug smirk. “Hm, sounds like someone like you?”

You laughed. “No, no, sweetheart,” you rolled your eyes. “Someone who can actually stand you”

He laughed as he moved his chair to be closer. “Since when do you care about who I date?”

You watched him with curiosity. “I don’t,” you cleared out. “What? Did you want me to care?

He coughed. “I love how you manage to change the subject to avoid talking about how boring your ex is.”

You nudged him. “He’s not boring, he’s amazing.”

“He’s not, I saw him explaining bloody props to you,” he laughed. “Props. God, he is boring, why did you date someone like him? He’s literally… Look, I remember this one time when he was rambling about some boring shit, see I can’t even remember what he said? And gosh, everything he says is so poetic, and it’s like bro calm down,” Tom said disgusted.

“I like that,” you laughed. “Maybe he’s just too smart for you, your little brain cell can’t handle it.”

He glared at you as he brushed his hand against your leg, you coughed looking at it. “Ha-ha, no, but really y/n, you should date someone fun, someone who can make you laugh.”

You smirked. “Hm… Since when do you care about who I date?” You said, walking your own fingers through his arm.

He shrugged. “I’ve always cared about that, don’t be silly,” he looked at you, as his hand stopped your fingers, and then played with your hand instead.

“Oh, really?”

“Yes, y/n, because you’ve paraded around with assholes, man, you’re really bad at choosing boyfriends,” he chuckled as his other hand landed on your knee.

You laughed. “I do have a tendency to crush on assholes, I used to have a crush on you, remember?” You stated with pride as you lifted his chin.

He laughed as he bit his lip. “Point proven.”

You gulped and looked away. “But Tim is different.”

“But he is boring,” he scooted closer, you were barely an inch far away.

“He’s not.” You looked away

“What did you see in him?” He pushed again and turned your head to him. “Okay, was he good in bed?” He chuckled.

You blushed. “Oh my god, you shouldn’t ask that.”

He snickered softly as he leaned over closer. “All I’m asking, y/n, is…”He lowered his voice, you felt his hot breath against your lips. “...if he’s able to get you all flustered only by… playing this kind of game and,” he glanced down at your lips, as he placed a single peck upon the corner of your lips.

You didn’t even flinch. “Are you sure you’re not the one losing, though?”

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iam93percentstardust · 4 years

Note

buckytony for the ask game?

1. Coffee shop AU: Who is the barista, and who frequents the coffee shop?

Tony frequents the coffee shop. Bucky has been working at Bean True to Yourself (the owners are hipsters) for the last three years, trying to put himself and Steve through college because while they both got scholarships, it wasn’t enough and Steve’s health doesn’t let him hold a study job. Bucky has gotten pretty good at latte art actually. Only Natasha knows that it’s because he’s got a crush on the cute brunet with the messy hair and Bambi eyes that comes in sleep-deprived every single morning and probably doesn’t even notice the hearts Bucky puts in his lattes.

Tony definitely notices and it’s only because he’s spent so much time in the spotlight that he doesn’t blush every single time he sees the new art. Besides, he remembers when he first started coming here and the latte art was terrible. Bucky’s probably just testing out his artistic skills on Tony cause he knows he won’t judge him. There’s no feelings involved, right?

2. Highschool/College AU: Who is the straight-A student, and who’s the backrow slacker?

Tony has come to the conclusion that the only way to get Howard’s attention is if he puts absolutely no effort into anything at all, which is why he’s currently taking graduate-level courses as Edward Carbonell but Tony Stark is failing out of high school. Any attention is better than no attention, right?

And maybe it helps that his teachers come to him after class and suggest that he find himself a tutor and did you know that Bucky, Mr. Gorgeous himself, works in our tutoring program? I’m sure he’d love to help you, Mr. Stark. Okay, so maybe they don’t call Bucky gorgeous, maybe that’s just Tony’s own mind, but it’s not like he’s wrong. But Tony gave up on school a long time ago and Bucky has a motorcycle and wears leather jackets and is super popular all while having straight-A’s. There’s no way he even knows Tony’s name, let alone would ever like him.

3. Rivals to lovers AU: Who takes their rivalry seriously, and who is half in it just to push the other’s buttons?

Bucky isn’t entirely certain how he ended up as a supervillain’s sidekick and he definitely isn’t sure that he really wants to be there but he won’t deny to himself that the best part of the job is facing off against Iron Lad while Captain America and the Black Widow are fighting each other for control of the Deathstick of Destiny or whatever it is this week.

Iron Lad’s just so cute with his sense of justice and his wit and the conviction that he and Bucky are destined to be nemeses for life. And one time, a building fell on top of them and Bucky got to peel him out of his compromised suit and that was the best thing ever because he got to see Iron Lad’s flight suit, which accentuates the most perfect ass ever. Seriously, Bucky just wants to reach down and squeeze but he’s pretty sure that then Iron Lad might actually use the unibeam that he’s been threatening to use for ages.

4. Enemies to lovers AU: Which one switches sides?

Oof, Bucky does. He comes back from HYDRA to find a world that’s absolutely a bigger mess than he remembers it being and maybe that’s those rose-tinted glasses Sam keeps accusing him and Steve of wearing but he looks at Iron Man, taking out the ultra-wealthy and distributing the money back to the people, and then he looks at the Avengers and how they keep causing more property damage than they can fix and decides that he knows what side he wants to be on.

He slips out of the compound in the dead of night, unnoticed by all except Natasha who just wishes him luck, and tracks Iron Man across two continents and an ocean back to his secret hideout - in Latveria of all places, who knew that Doom could share? - knocks on the door and when a man with the prettiest brown eyes Bucky has ever seen answers the door, Bucky announces, “Hi, I’m here to be a villain.”

In retrospect, he decides as he’s dragging a fainted Tony inside, that might not have been the best way to introduce himself to his future employer.

5. Soulmate AU: Who is eager to meet their soulmate? Who absolutely does not want to meet their soulmate?

The thing is, Tony knows that soulmates aren’t always perfect. His parents were soulmates and they absolutely hated each other. But Ana and Jarvis were soulmates too, and so is Aunt Peggy and Uncle Daniel, and they loved each other very much, so even though he’s been alive for almost 40 years and never once met his soulmate, he still has high hopes.

Bucky fell from the train without knowing his soulmate and the only thing he can thinks is Good. They won’t wind up with someone like Bucky, someone who has nightmares from his time as a lab experiment, who kills people without even blinking, whose main purpose in life is to be the shadow that dogs Steve Rogers’ heels. But then he wakes up.

And then he forgets he ever even had a soulmate.

The next time Bucky remembers anything, it’s 2014, he’s in a glass room (cage, really), and there’s someone standing with their back to him outside of the cage, doing something on a tablet.

“What’s it gonna take to let me out of here?” Bucky asks.

The person jumps, turns, and then a slow smile spreads over his face. “I don’t know, how about dinner?”

Fuck.

6. Single parent AU: Which one is the single parent? (Alt. if they’re both single parents: Which one is open to starting a new relationship from the start? Which one is never planning on finding love again… Until they meet the other and are instantly smitten?)

Harley’s got a protective streak a mile wide (Bucky thinks he’s learned it from Uncle Steve), which is why Bucky isn’t surprised when Harley comes home with a black eye and immediately proclaims that it wasn’t his fault, there were these two big kids picking on a younger girl on the playground.

“Oh yeah and here’s this, I guess,” Harley mumbles and shoves a piece of paper with a phone number on it in Bucky’s direction.

Bucky holds an ice pack up to Harley’s eye and asks, “What’s this?”

“Mr. Stark’s phone number. I said I wanted it in case Peter wanted to play but he seemed nice and looked like your type and I’m tired of you going out with jerks who don’t like me so I got it for you.”

Well, leaving that aside, “Who’s Peter?”

“Morgan’s brother. He’s in my class and he helped when he saw I was helping her out.”

Right, like that explains anything. He dials the number, intent on seeing if this Peter can tell him the full story, only for someone to say, “Stark residence, can I help you?”

Bucky doesn’t believe in love at first sight (er, voice) but whoever it is has got such a pretty voice and he kind of wants to hear them moaning his name so he purrs, “You sure can, doll.”

Maybe he shouldn’t be so surprised when they make an offended sound and hang up.

7. Doctor AU: Which one is the longsuffering doctor? Which one is the patient?

“Mr. Stark, please, I’m begging you, wear PPE when you’re working in your lab.”

“But then when would I get to see you?” Tony chirps, seemingly uncaring that Bucky is setting his fingers.

“At dinner,” Bucky says before he can think better of it.

They both freeze. Then Tony slowly says, “And that’s okay?”

Honestly? Probably not but Tony has been coming to the ER for months for his lab-related injuries and Bucky is always his doctor and they always end up flirting and he’s tired of this back-and-forth. So when he’s done splinting Tony’s fingers, he raises his hand to his mouth and brushes the softest of kisses over the back, smiling when Tony gasps.

8. Bodyguard AU: Who is the bodyguard? Who are they protecting? Which one is secretly pining for the other?

Howard Stark is convinced that someone is out to get him, his wife, and his son. He can easily take care of him and his wife but Tony recently moved out of the mansion, insistent on making his own way in the world so surreptitiously, Howard hires Bucky to keep an eye on Tony by moving into the apartment next door.

It’s probably the easiest job Bucky has ever had because Tony almost never leaves their building, too caught up in his projects as he is. He gets food delivered and sometimes, he has friends over but otherwise, he’s pretty much a recluse.

And that’s a damn shame that is because Bucky has really only seen Tony twice so far and both times have about knocked him flat out on the floor.

9. Pirate AU: Who is the pirate? Who is the member of the royal family who did not sign up for this?

Crown Prince Anthony Edward Stark, first of his name, heir to the throne, would like everyone to know that he absolutely did not sign up for this, no way, no how. Just about everyone on the ship though, sees it when he gives Captain Barnes what he obviously thinks is a secretive wink. And they all know that they’re going to hear it when the captain and his “captive” go below the deck that night.

Sam scratches his head awkwardly and looks over at Admiral Rhodes on the other ship. “You want to come over?” he calls. “They could be down there for a while.”

Rhodes sighs and crosses over. “Chessboard still set up?” he asks.

“Nope, Nat had to move it for one of her poker games. But I remember where the pieces were.”

10. Childhood best friends AU: Which one was super obviously in love with the other the whole time? Who was oblivious until they were older?

Everyone knows that Tony and Bucky are going to get married someday - except for Tony and Bucky themselves. Steve has been trying for ages to get Bucky to see that Tony is pining just as hard for him as Bucky is and Rhodes has been doing the same for Tony but they’re just...so oblivious. It makes Natasha want to bang her head against the wall - or maybe just lock them in a closet.

Except Clint tried that, right after Tony gave Bucky his first kiss when they were fifteen and Bucky just thought it was because they were friends. They’d been in that closet all night and when Clint finally opened the door in the morning, they were snuggling but still not together so he thinks they’re just too oblivious. There’s a school-wide betting pool on if they’ll get their act together before graduation.

(It’s okay though because Tony and Bucky have been dating since they were freshman. They’re just waiting to see how long it takes everyone else to notice.)

#winteriron #alle writes #alle answers #angxlsgrxce

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drshojo · 4 years

Text

The World, My Childhood And My Hero Academia: Vigilantes

Hello friends!

Its Dr. Shojo coming at you with a post that will be divided into three parts!

Part One: The world as we know it!

The world has changed a lot since we last connected. For starters, TOILET BOUND HANAKO KUN HAS NOT ONLY A PHYSICAL RELEASE BUT A GORGEOUS ANIME! And not only that, but MY NEXT LIFE AS A VILLAINESS: ALL ROUTES LEAD TO DOOM! IS GETTING AN ANIME AS WELL! The last time I wrote about Katerina there wasn’t even an official English translation of that long-ass light-novel-title. And now?

A WHOLE ANIME. A BISEXUAL HAREM AWAITS! I am JAZZED!

Do you think it’s my fault? No matter, I’ll take all the credit. All the manga I talk about are getting anime adaptations. I’LL DO MY DUTY AND TALK ABOUT SOME MORE!

But first. Let us address the Covid-19 shaped elephant in the room

I deeply regret that it took a whole-ass pandemic to get me back to writing. In my defense, I bought an iPad and started drawing like 900 kokichi oumas. I was really busy with that. And then I started reading fanfiction. Then that got me thinking about how fanfiction such an interesting look into how people interpret fandom, use it for wish fulfillment and escapism, and good god is everyone OK cause that bulimia fan fic was super detailed....and I am officially on a tangent. Off track. Ahem.

We are all staying inside a whole lot more which means y’all probably need some reading material and Dr. Shojo has your back! Go read “Horimiya”! It’s amazing! Ahhhh, my work here is done! I'm serious, if you’re here for a Shojo rec, that’s it! There's also like 8 million more Otome Isekais to check out now. It’s like they’re multiplying like rabbits..............

As a Doctor, I must advise you to stay inside and read some manga and practice social distancing. Embrace your inner hikikomori.

Allright? All good? Okay now one final disclaimer:

This post is going to be talking about something a little different than usual and I want to start by giving you some context about who Dr. Shojo is in real life.

Part Two: Dr. Shojo Exposed

You see, when I was little I was obsessed with Japanese media. This doesn't surprise you at all I can tell. Probably because I walk around calling myself Dr. Shojo and shout about manga that you should read.

Anyways, the reason why I was obsessed wasn’t because of the big eyes or the spikey hair or the interesting new culture. It was because it tended to have more character development and overarching plotlines than the media I was used to in Canada. Dexter’s Lab, Magic School Bus, pretty much everything I saw on TV was episodic in nature, so imagine how much my mind was blown when I saw Naruto and Card Captor Sakura, heck, even Pokémon had the Indigo Plateau! Here were kids that were learning more and more each day and got to see enemies become friends and vice versa. They lived and grew older just like me. Except they were cooler than me. And had more interesting lives than me. I gotta tell you, I was so sad when I was 12 and Kero didn’t tell me I had latent magical powers. But there was magic in my life and it was the magic of a complex narrative story. And not only that, it had a sense of movement and had cool costumes. I was hooked immediately.

Also, fun fact, at that age I happened to be a complete and utter tomboy! I loved pretending to fight my friends in the playground and was really worried that puberty would ruin my life because being a girl sounded so CUMBERSOME.

Which leads me up to my confession. Before I became Dr. Shojo, I was in fact......Dr. Shonen.

Bleach? Naruto? One Piece? I've read every single chapter there is.

Hundreds of hours of watching fight sequences. Another fun fact, I only got into shojo because my aunt bought me volume 7 and 8 of Fruits Basket thinking “all mangas like the same right? Kids love comics?” It’s a tribute to how episodic western media was back then that she thought buying volume SEVEN and EIGHT was a REASONABLE PLACE TO START READING.

Now you might also say, Hey! Dr Shojo! Cardcaptors was a shojo! And you are right! but back then the anime was marketed to boys over here in the west and they actualy like, edited out episodes that they thought wouldn't interest boys?! Second fun fact, Once when I was in Grade 3 I was told I was not allowed to join a club under the stairs cause I was a girl and it was BOYS ONLY. The point of the club? To talk about how great Cardcaptors was! I Kid you not!

So anyways, your pall Dr. Shojo loves Shonen manga to this day!

The only reason I made this Dr. Shojo blog specifically about shojo is because, being a tomboy with no female friends, reading shojo manga was the first time I really thought about what it meant to be a girl and fall in love. And y i k e s. Shojo manga, like most media, fails miserably most of the time in displaying real world relationships. Or at least, it doesn't prepare you for how disappointing everything can be. When I had my first kiss, I was thinking about how it didn’t feel at all like how I felt reading Zen and Shirayukis kiss in Akagame No Shirayuki Hime. Those were formative years, and shojo was one of the only places I saw romance being talked about for younger audiences. I liked reading romances where no one had any sexual experiences and were figuring out what love meant to them. But let’s shelve this topic for now.

The point is that gender roles are dumb and if you have an open mind there's a world of stories out there for you. Take this time inside to read something you wouldn’t normally. Critically think about the ways that the worlds you see in stories and how you experience the world differ. What are the messages a story is trying to tell you? And why do you like the stories you do? Reflect on how the stories you tell yourself color your view of the world. Even mindless entertainment leaves an impression on us. Anyways.

Whilst you're doing that, I'm going to absolutely lose my hecking mind over the Shonen Jump series MY HERO ACADEMIA: Vigilantes!

WARNING: SPOILERS AHEAD!

Part Three: I downloaded the one month free trial of the Shonen Jump app and made you read all that, so I can tell you that today Dr. Shojo is going to rant about a spin-off of a shonen manga

THAT’S RIGHT, OF COURSE I READ HERO ACA AND YES I DID PICK UP THE SPIN OFF SERIES. SHONEN JUMP LETS YOU READ ALL THE NEW CHAPTERS FOR FREE ON THEIR APP. KIDS, IF YOU LIKE SHONEN AND YOU’RE PIRATING ON A SCANLATION SITE STILL GET OUT BECAUSE YOU DON’T NEED TO SEE THOSE WEIRD PLASTIC SURGERY AND DENTISTRY ADDS ANY MORE.

SHONEN IS HERE AND ITS LEGAL AND ITS FREE FOR YOU. GET OFF MANGA FOX OR MANGA ROCK OR WHATEVER THE KIDS ARE USING THESE DAYS.

OK, so by this point in the article you have learned two very important things about me: 1) I love Shonen manga and 2) I read a lot of fanfiction.

Specifically, I read an absolutely biblical amount of My Hero Academia fan fiction and let me tell you, A solid chunk of it is vigilante/ Deadpool / criminal with a heart of gold themed.

So when I saw Hero Aca had a spin off, and it was about vigilantes, I was NOT SURPRISED IN THE SLIGHTEST. Ao3 sure is powerful.

Now, if you will permit me a tangent in a post full of tangents—HOLY CRAP, THERE ARE TOO MANY VIGILANTE AUS. I CAN'T KEEP TRACK OF EM. IT’S THE ISEKAI PROBLEM ALL OVER AGAIN. I GET AN EMAIL A FIC HAS UPDATED AND I’M LIKE IS THIS THE FIC WHERE DEKU HAS AN ABUSIVE MOM OR THE ONE WHERE HE HAS SPLIT PERSONALITY DISORDER OR THE ONE WHERE HE’S VIGILANTES WITH HITOSHI. OH WAIT, nvm, it’s the one where deku has a healing quirk.

OH WAIT WHICH OF THE 6 DEKU WITH HEALING QUIRK VIGILATE AU FICS IS THIS ONE?! ARGH WHY DIDN’T I WRITE A DESCRIPTION IN THE BOOKMARK FOR THIS!

My gripes aside, there's a reason why there's such an abundance of vigilante story telling—

Deadpool made like an absolute buttload of money and people love sass and memes.

People have a desire for a story in which they see themselves. Or, how they think of themselves.They like a story about someone who maybe came from nothing. Someone who has less money, maybe someone who is unlucky and had some bad breaks. Someone who never learned they had magic, never got their Hogwarts letter, never saw Kero, someone who never got that God-level quirk from All Might. And if your on Ao3 They want someone who also has seen a lot of memes and kind of wants taco bell and is also questioning their sexuality a bit?

Enter our new hero VIGILANTE DEKU.

But the cannon can't do this, cause hey, Deku is the chosen one. Albeit, chosen by All Might, He’s got his own thing to do. But how can we still cash in on a vigilante story?

And thus enter our New-New hero KOICHI HAIMAWARI—code name Nice Guy and then later The Crawler. True to his relatable roots. He’s just a dude in an hoodie who can go about as fast as a bike.

First off, I love Koichi. He wants to be a hero and fight crime, but most of the time he has to run away because at the end of the day he's just a dude.

He’s cute but not wildly good-looking, A bit of a nerd but not like an extreme okaku. He’s got a part time job and hates violence.

And this is where Koichi really shines—in every day stuff. He helps out wherever he can. Often, that just means listening to people complain and maybe helping his friends out with whatever they’re going through. He’s the kind of guy who smiles, not because he's especially brave, but because he just takes things one at a time and doesn't sweat the past. I think it’s really telling that he missed getting into hero high-school because he skipped the entrance exam to help someone. He’s the kind of person who lets us experience the superpower of human decency and empathy. And you know what? That’s something the world need desperately.

This theme of human decency is really the driving force of Vigilantes—it’s a manga about how the laws are there for a reason but sometimes they unfairly impact the poor and vulnerable. It's about how a lot of criminals are just people who fell into bad social circles or on bad times. People have the capacity for cruelty and violence but that’s never all they are.

Now, speaking of crime, the entirety of Hero Aca falls into some murky water when it comes to its evil doers. Much of the fandom has a huuuuuge problem with how much the franchise is willing to sweep under the rug in the name of redeeming their baddies. RE: people getting mad about forgiving Endeavor’s child abuse, or Bakugo’s suicide baiting. Or Mineta’s blatant sexual harassment.

But this theme is in Vigilantes even more than it ever was in the main series. To start off with, there’s this guy who tries to rape Pop Step early on, and the later he later winds up befriending everybody. It becomes a running gag that each new villain winds up befriending the other villain guys and then they all open a cat café together.

Using jobs as a way to lift people out of lives of crime is great and all but in the story there is no nuance or consequences for past wrong and well.....it feels very weird. It's like Vigilantes plays at having an opinion about moral ambiguity and the complexity of human existence and then just.......lets everyone get along because who has time to get into all that. Make of that what you will but it sits weird for me personally.

Anyway, let's move on and talk about POP STEP our main girl!

I love pop stars and I love vigilantes and a guerrilla performer is defiantly a character I could get behind. And I think they do a good job with Pop. She is actually kind of shy, but has this secret edgy persona she puts on when she performs. She is every girl on tumbler in the early 2000s. I also looooove that they make her not that great a singer. SHE’S GOT PASSION AND CHARISMA and maybe not born talent but like why should that stop you! Talent can be earned through practice and this is a great lesson to show people.

Unfortunately, Pop is also a great example of everything wrong with romance in Shonen.

It’s established early on that Pop loves Koichi because she is the girl he rescued all those years ago and yada yada yikes we’ve heard this one before. Many times before.

Sure, it's fine that they’ve met before, but gosh am I sick of damsels in distress. It's like she can't love him just because she respects what a great guy he is in her life and in the community at large, no no, she just needs to be rescued on top of that. And LOLOLOL isn't it funny he never noticed she was a girl because she was a child with short hair?! Once he realizes she has boobs now they will for sure fall in love! That’s how love works!

She's just with him all the time—nothing romantic ever happens she just gets a little tsundere.

I am never ever going to believe Koichi likes Pop because he spends like sooooo much time with her and they never have like, a moment. The first time he considers her is when Makoto is like, ‘hey I would love to get together with you, but have you thought about if you are crushing on Pop’. (Also this entire plot point is suspect—she's arbitrarily falling for Koichi cause he.......is the protagonist?)

Say what you will about shojo, they give you the emotional conversations, the moments where you think.....ahhh I can see why she is falling for him. They give you context! Shonen likes to just say HERE’S A GIRL YOUR AGE. YOU CAN DATE LATER WHEN THE ADVENTURE IS DONE.

Just when they might get together, Pop suddenly turns evilllllll. The evilllll beeeees made her eeeevilllll (and more sexy).

*Siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiighhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh*

Because why on earth would they get together if Koichi didn’t get to rescue Pop one more time?

I’m tired. These troupes are tired. I’m sure you are too. HOWEVER! If your still with me, Let’s move into why I'm really writing this post. Let’s get to the part that got me screaming to my friends, who by the way, don’t even care bout Hero Aca….but listened anyways. May you all find nakama like these my friends.

Anyways,

HOLY FUCK ERASERHEAD’S ENTIRE BACK STORY IS IN THIS AROUND CHAPTER 60 AND IT IS WONDERFUL AND ABSOLUTLY HEARTBREAKING AND IS ONE OF THE BEST CHARACTER BACKSTORIES I HAVE EVER SEEN AND IS THE REASON WHY THIS SERIES IS A MUST-READ FOR MAIN SERIES FANS.

AND BY ALMIGHT.

WHY. IS. IT HERE.

I present to you my late night text messages to my friends

ALSO, AIZAWAS TEACHER IS PRINCE?!?!?!

AHEM, so as you can see, I kinda lost my shit.

And now, I would like to formally defend my claim that DESPITE HOW AMAZING IT WAS, ERASERHEAD’S BACKSTORY HAD NO BUISSNESS BEING IN THE VIGILANTES SPIN-OFF MANGA.

Eraserhead, aka Aizawa Shouta, is a side character who is working with the police on some crime stuff. He is not a main cast member in this spin off. He’s a guest character that fans of the main series will be like OH COOL. GRUMPY CAT MAN LIKES CATS ON HIS OFF HOURS TOO. LOVE THAT FOR HIM.

So, my imagine my absolute surprise when Aizawa runs into Koichi and the following happens:

It starts to rain, so, like in any good manga, this means some great FORCED BONDING TIME

Except no. It doesn't because rather than start talking, Aizawa JUST STARTS REMEMBERING—ABSOLUTLY SILENTLY TO HIS OWN PRIVETE SELF—HIS ENTIRE TRAGIC BACKSTORY.

AND THIS GOES ON FOR CHAPTERS.

THIS GOES ON LONGER THEN ARC ONE IT FEELS LIKE.

I LOVE IT, BUT KOICHI IS ABOUT TO JOIN ATSUSHI NAKAJIMA IN THE DUBIOUS CATEGORY OF “PROTAGONISTS THE SERIES FORGOT ABOUT IN LIEU OF COOLER SIDE CHARACTERS”.

AND LO IT HAS NO BEARING ON THE REST OF THE PLOT, CHARACTERS, OR STORY

What the ever-loving-just WHY?

WHY?

WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY?

SURE, IT’S A COOL TIE-IN.

YES, OF COURSE I LOVED IT. I SHIP ERASER MIC, I DREW THIS FOR HECK’S SAKE:

AND YET I AM ANGRY.

I AM ANGRY BECAUSE MY FRIDAY WAS RUINED BECAUSE VIGILATES SUCKER PUNCHED ME WITH AN AMAZING STORY THAT REALLY WASN’T PLOT RELEVANT AND PROBABLY SHOULDN’T HAVE BEEN THERE.

IS THIS WHY THEY TOOK LIKE NEXT-TO-NO CARE WITH POPS ARC?!?

I mean its ongoing, so it’s too early to say but—

In conclusion—

Excuse me one more,

AIZAWA WAS TAUGHT BY PRINCE!?!??!?!?!?!? PURPLE RAIN PRINCE!?!??!?!?!? WHAT!??!?!?!

It’s so ABSURD that I HAD TO WRITE SOMETHING ABOUT IT. I HAD TO WRITE PARAGRAPHS TO JUSTIFY YELLING ABOUT THIS ONE THING. WHAT THE ABSOLUTE—

Ahem,

Anyways, I hope you liked this weird rant/personal-story/random-diatribe in three parts.

If you’re reading this, thank you, stay safe, and I’ll be back with more shojo manga next time.

Ciao!

Dr. Shojo

(aka Dr. Shonen)

#my hero academia vigilantes #koichi haimawari #pop step #my hero academia #erasermic #Cardcaptors #Shojo manga #Shonen Manga #Dr Shojo #read Horimiya

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avery-foxglove · 4 years

Text

FrodoSam Moments in The Lord of the Rings (Books): The Return of the King

Sam shuddered and tried to force himself to move. There was plainly some devilry going on. Perhaps in spite of all orders the cruelty of the orcs had mastered them, and they were tormenting Frodo, or even savagely hacking him to pieces. He listened; and as he did a gleam of hope came to him. There could not be much doubt: there was fighting in the tower, the orcs must be at war among themselves, Shagrat and Gorbag had come to blows. Faint as was the hope that his guess brought him, it was enough to rouse him. There might be just a chance. His love for Frodo rose above all other thoughts, and forgetting his peril he cried aloud: ‘I’m coming, Mr. Frodo!’

He ran up again, and sweat began to trickle down his face. He felt that even minutes were precious, but one by one they escaped; and he could do nothing. He cared no longer for Shagrat or Snaga or any other orc that was ever spawned. He longed only for his master, for one sight of his face or one touch of his hand.

With a cry Sam leapt across the floor, Sting in hand. The orc wheeled round, but before it could make a move Sam slashed its whip-hand from its arm. Howling with pain and fear but desperate the orc charged head-down at him. Sam’s next blow went wide, and thrown off his balance he fell backwards, clutching at the orc as it stumbled over him. Before he could scramble up he heard a cry and a thud. The orc in its wild haste had tripped on the ladder-head and fallen through the open trap-door. Sam gave no more thought to it. He ran to the figure huddled on the floor. It was Frodo.

He was naked, lying as if in a swoon on a heap of filthy rags: his arm was flung up, shielding his head, and across his side there ran an ugly whip-weal.

`Frodo! Mr. Frodo, my dear!’ cried Sam, tears almost blinding him. `It’s Sam, I’ve come!’ He half lifted his master and hugged him to his breast. Frodo opened his eyes.

`Am I still dreaming?’ he muttered. `But the other dreams were horrible.’

`You’re not dreaming at all, Master,’ said Sam. `It’s real. It’s me. I’ve come.’

`I can hardly believe it,’ said Frodo, clutching him. `There was an orc with a whip, and then it turns into Sam! Then I wasn’t dreaming after all when I heard that singing down below, and I tried to answer? Was it you?’

‘It was indeed, Mr. Frodo. I’d given up hope, almost. I couldn’t find you.

‘Well, you have now, Sam, dear Sam,’ said Frodo, and he lay back in Sam’s gentle arms, closing his eyes, like a child at rest when night-fears are driven away by some loved voice or hand.

Sam felt that he could sit like that in endless happiness; but it was not allowed. It was not enough for him to find his master, he had still to try and save him. He kissed Frodo’s forehead. `Come! Wake up Mr. Frodo!’ he said, trying to sound as cheerful as he had when he drew back the curtains at Bag End on a summer’s morning.

He crawled back into the brambles and laid himself by Frodo’s side, and putting away all fear he cast himself into a deep untroubled sleep.

They woke together, hand in hand.

Sam began to wonder if a second darkness had begun and no day would ever reappear. At last he groped for Frodo’s hand. It was cold and trembling. His master was shivering.

‘I didn’t ought to have left my blanket behind,’ muttered Sam; and lying down he tried to comfort Frodo with his arms and body. Then sleep took him, and the dim light of the last day of their quest found them side by side. The wind had fallen the day before as it shifted from the West, and now it came from the North and began to rise; and slowly the light of the unseen Sun filtered down into the shadows where the hobbits lay.

‘Now for it! Now for the last gasp!’ said Sam as he struggled to his feet. He bent over Frodo, rousing him gently. Frodo groaned; but with a great effort of will he staggered up; and then he fell upon his knees again. He raised his eyes with difficulty to the dark slopes of Mount Doom towering above him, and then pitifully he began to crawl forward on his hands.

Sam looked at him and wept in his heart, but no tears came to his dry and stinging eyes. ‘I said I’d carry him, if it broke my back,’ he muttered, ‘and I will!’

‘Come, Mr. Frodo!’ he cried. ‘I can’t carry it for you, but I can carry you and it as well. So up you get! Come on, Mr. Frodo dear! Sam will give you a ride. Just tell him where to go, and he’ll go.’

Sam knelt by him. Faint, almost inaudibly, he heard Frodo whispering: ‘Help me, Sam! Help me, Sam! Hold my hand! I can’t stop it.’ Sam took his master’s hands and laid them together, palm to palm, and kissed them; and then he held them gently between his own. The thought came suddenly to him: ‘He’s spotted us! It’s all up, or it soon will be. Now, Sam Gamgee, this is the end of ends.’

‘Well, this is the end, Sam Gamgee,’ said a voice by his side. And there was Frodo, pale and worn, and yet himself again; and in his eyes there was peace now, neither strain of will, nor madness, nor any fear. His burden was taken away. There was the dear master of the sweet days in the Shire.

‘Master!’ cried Sam. and fell upon his knees. In all that ruin of the world for the moment he felt only joy, great joy. The burden was gone. His master had been saved; he was himself again, he was free. And then Sam caught sight of the maimed and bleeding hand.

‘Your poor hand!’ he said. ‘And I have nothing to bind it with, or comfort it. I would have spared him a whole hand of mine rather. But he’s gone now beyond recall, gone forever.’

‘I am glad that you are here with me,’ said Frodo. ‘Here at the end of all things, Sam.’

‘Yes, I am with you, Master,’ said Sam, laying Frodo’s wounded hand gently to his breast. ‘And you’re with me. And the journey’s finished. But after coming all that way I don’t want to give up yet. It’s not like me, somehow, if you understand.’

‘Maybe not, Sam,’ said Frodo; ‘but it’s like things are in the world. Hopes fail. An end comes. We have only a little time to wait now. We are lost in ruin and downfall, and there is no escape.’

‘Well, Master, we could at least go further from this dangerous place here, from this Crack of Doom, if that’s its name. Now couldn’t we? Come, Mr. Frodo, let’s go down the path at any rate!’

‘Very well, Sam. If you wish to go, I’ll come,’ said Frodo; and they rose and went slowly down the winding road; and even as they passed towards the Mountain’s quaking feet, a great smoke and steam belched from the Sammath Naur, and the side of the cone was riven open, and a huge fiery vomit rolled in slow thunderous cascade down the eastern mountain-side.

Frodo and Sam could go no further. Their last strength of mind and body was swiftly ebbing. They had reached a low ashen hill piled at the Mountain’s foot; but from it there was no more escape. It was an island now, not long to endure, amid the torment of Orodruin. All about it the earth gaped, and from deep rifts and pits smoke and fumes leaped up. Behind them the Mountain was convulsed. Great rents opened in its side. Slow rivers of fire came down the long slopes towards them. Soon they would be engulfed. A rain of hot ash was falling.

They stood now; and Sam still holding his master’s hand caressed it. He sighed. ‘What a tale we have been in, Mr. Frodo, haven’t we?’ he said. ‘I wish I could hear it told! Do you think they’ll say: Now comes the story of Nine-fingered Frodo and the Ring of Doom? And then everyone will hush, like we did, when in Rivendell they told us the tale of Beren One-hand and the Great Jewel. I wish I could hear it! And I wonder how it will go on after our part.’

note: This is the second time that Tolkien calls into attention that he’s paralleling Frodo and Sam’s story with the tale of Beren and Lúthien (his favorite romatic power couple.)

Sam stayed at first at the Cottons’ with Frodo; but when the New Row was ready he went with the Gaffer. In addition to all his other labours he was busy directing the cleaning up and restoring of Bag End; but he was often away in the Shire on his forestry work. So he was not at home in early March and did not know that Frodo had been ill. On the thirteenth of that month Farmer Cotton found Frodo lying on his bed; he was clutching a white gem that hung on a chain about his neck and he seemed half in a dream.

‘It is gone forever,’ he said, ‘and now all is dark and empty.’

But the fit passed, and when Sam got back on the twenty-fifth, Frodo had recovered, and he said nothing about himself. In the meanwhile Bag End had been set in order, and Merry and Pippin came over from Crickhollow bringing back all the old furniture and gear, so that the old hole soon looked very much as it always had done.

When all was at last ready Frodo said: ‘When are you going to move in and join me, Sam?’

Sam looked a bit awkward.

‘There is no need to come yet, if you don’t want to,’ said Frodo. ‘But you know the Gaffer is close at hand, and he will be very well looked after by Widow Rumble.’

‘It’s not that, Mr. Frodo,’ said Sam, and he went very red.

‘Well, what is it?’

‘It’s Rosie, Rose Cotton,’ said Sam. ‘It seems she didn’t like my going abroad at all, poor lass; but as I hadn’t spoken, she couldn’t say so. And I didn’t speak, because I had a job to do first. But now I have spoken, and she says: “Well, you’ve wasted a year, so why wait longer?” “Wasted?” I says. “I wouldn’t call it that.” Still I see what she means. I feel torn in two, as you might say.’

‘I see,’ said Frodo: ‘you want to get married, and yet you want to live with me in Bag End too? But my dear Sam, how easy! Get married as soon as you can, and then move in with Rosie. There’s room enough in Bag End for as big a family as you could wish for.’

10.

‘Well, Sam,’ said Frodo. ‘I want you to see Rose and find out if she can spare you, so that you and I can go off together. You can’t go far or for a long time now, of course,’ he said a little wistfully.

‘Well, not very well, Mr. Frodo.’

‘Of course not. But never mind. You can see me on my way. Tell Rose that you won’t be away very long, not more than a fortnight; and you’ll come back quite safe.’

‘I wish I could go all the way with you to Rivendell, Mr. Frodo, and see Mr. Bilbo,’ said Sam. ‘And yet the only place I really want to be in is here. I am that torn in two.’

‘Poor Sam! It will feel like that, I am afraid,’ said Frodo. ‘But you will be healed. You were meant to be solid and whole, and you will be.’

11.

‘Where are you going, Master?’ cried Sam, though at last he understood what was happening.

‘To the Havens, Sam,’ said Frodo.

‘And I can’t come.’

‘No, Sam. Not yet anyway, not further than the Havens. Though you too were a Ring-bearer, if only for a little while. Your time may come. Do not be too sad, Sam. You cannot be always torn in two. You will have to be one and whole, for many years. You have so much to enjoy and to be, and to do.

12.

Then Frodo kissed Merry and Pippin, and last of all Sam, and went aboard; and the sails were drawn up, and the wind blew, and slowly the ship slipped away down the long grey firth; and the light of the glass of Galadriel that Frodo bore glimmered and was lost. And the ship went out into the High Sea and passed on into the West, until at last on a night of rain Frodo smelled a sweet fragrance on the air and heard the sound of singing that came over the water. And then it seemed to him that as in his dream in the house of Bombadil, the grey rain-curtain turned all to silver glass and was rolled back, and he beheld white shores and beyond them a far green country under a swift sunrise.

But to Sam the evening deepened to darkness as he stood at the Haven; and as he looked at the grey sea he saw only a shadow on the waters that was soon lost in the West. There still he stood far into the night, hearing only the sigh and murmur of the waves on the shores of Middle-earth, and the sound of them sank deep into his heart.

13.

Bonus from Tolkien’s Unpublished Epilogue, found in Sauron Defeated:

Elanor was silent for some time before she spoke again. 'I did not understand at first what Celeborn meant when he said goodbye to the King,' she said. 'But I think I do now. He knew that Lady Arwen would stay, but that Galadriel would leave him. * I think it was very sad for him. And for you, dear Sam-dad.' Her hand felt for his, and his brown hand clasped her slender fingers. 'For your treasure went too. I am glad Frodo of the Ring saw me, but I wish I could remember seeing him.'

'It was sad, Elanorelle,' said Sam, kissing her hair. 'It was, but It isn't now. For why? Well, for one thing, Mr. Frodo has gone where the elven-light isn't fading; and he deserved his reward. But I have had mine, too. I have had lots of treasures. I am a very rich hobbit. And there is one other reason, which I shall whisper to you, a secret I have never told before to no one, nor put in the Book yet. Before he went Mr. Frodo said that my time maybe would come. I can wait. I think maybe we haven't said farewell for good. But I can wait. I have learned that much from the Elves at any rate. They are not so troubled about time. And so I think Celeborn is still happy among his trees, in an Elvish way. His time hasn't come, and he isn't tired of his land yet. When he is tired he can go.'

'And when you're tired, you will go, Sam-dad. You will go to the Havens with the Elves. Then I shall go with you. I shall not part with you, like Arwen did with Elrond.’

'Maybe, maybe,’ said Sam, kissing her gently. 'And maybe not. The choice of Luthien and Arwen comes to may, Elanorelle, or something like it; and it isn’t wise to choose before the time.’

Note: This is referring to a segment in The Return of the King where Celeborn says this to Aragorn (in reference to Galadriel leaving without Celeborn): ‘Kinsman, farewell! May your doom be other than mine, and your treasure remain with you to the end!’

14.

The Return of the King’s Appendices B:

Death of Mistress Rose, wife of Master Samwise, on Mid-year's Day. On September 22 Master Sam-wise rides out from Bag End. He comes to the Tower Hills, and is last seen by Elanor, to whom he gives the Red Book afterwards kept by the Fairbairns. Among them the tradition is handed down from Elanor that Samwise passed the Towers, and went to the Grey Havens, and passed over Sea, last of the Ring-bearers.

#tolkien #the lord of the rings #lotr #sam gamgee #samwise gamgee #frodo #frodo baggins #books #book quotes #frodosam #frosam #frosam 3 #lord of the rings #ships #f/s #frodo baggins/sam gamgee #frodo baggins/samwise gamgee #sauron defeated #the return of the king

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princecupcakee · 4 years

Text

Park Bench | Reddie

Read on AO3

Rating: E

Pairing: Richie Tozier/Eddie Kaspbrak

Word Count: 3,112

Chapter: 6/8

Past Chapters: Chapter 1 (AO3), Chapter 2 (AO3), Chapter 3 (AO3), Chapter 4 (AO3), Chapter 5 (AO3)

Next Chapter:

Summary: Recently divorced and ‘incapable of love’, Eddie Kaspbrak moves to Los Angeles for work and a small, small hope of a fresh start. Broken up and never dated again, Richie Tozier tries to get back into love with help from his love of music. Quickly meeting eyes and one concert later, they think that maybe love isn’t that bad. So they try it one more time.

Chapter 6: Eddie Kaspbrak Gets Hurt, Richie Tozier, Stan And Patty Uris, And Ben and Beverly Marsh Buy A Ring & Eddie Kaspbrak, Bill Denbrough and Mike Hanlon Plan A Leave

Tags/Warnings: Angst / Unhappy Ending / theres only one sex scene but this is explicit anyway / Bisexual Richie Tozier / Gay Eddie Kaspbrak / Post-Divorce / Implied/Referenced Cheating / Inspired By Remembering Sunday (All Time Low) / Inspired by The Book Ninja by Ali Berg / Implied/Referenced Child Abuse / Implied/Referenced Abuse / Implied/Referenced Manipulation

Tag-list: @richietoaster, @s-s-georgie, @mikeuris, @gazebobullshit, @that-weird-girls-blog, @tozierking, @thoughtfullyyoungduck, @s-onora, @bellarosewrites, @lermanslogan, @ambitiousskychild, @ghostnebula, @vanillaredvelvet,

(Ask if you wanna be on the tag-list!!)

Chapter 6

Eddie Kaspbrak Gets Hurt

Richie was out getting… something (he didn’t tell Eddie), he said it would take a while. Which left Eddie in an uncomfortable state. He didn’t want it to happen again, he didn’t want to lose something as important as this.

“How could you do this? You cheated on me, Eddie! With a man! I thought you cared for me, you didn’t want to hurt me!”

“Myra, I’m sorry. It was a mistake-“

“How was that a mistake? You’ve been dating for three months, Eddie. And you just pass that off as a mistake?”

“None of that was supposed to happen, Myra! I didn’t know what I was doing!”

“The texts seem to say otherwise.”

“Fine! Lets get a divorce!”

“What?”

“I’m done! I can’t do anything here. You’re always saying that I’m hurting you, then I’ll stop! This marriage was headed for doom the moment it happened.”

“Are you hearing yourself, Eddie? This is crazy! This is what that man has done to you!”

“None of that was him, it was me! I don’t want this marriage, I don’t want this life! I’m sorry, I know what I did was wrong and I should’ve just told you before this got out of hand, but I didn’t. So, I’m sorry. This is how we fix this.”

Eddie, feeling incapable of love, takes a safe seat on the couch. ‘What the hell am I doing here?’ He thinks to himself, bringing his face into his hands. He didn’t want to hurt anyone, but he’s been thinking about this the whole time. He’s been thinking of leaving, this whole time. He’s been so happy with Richie. Of course, he was. But his past is taunting him, following his every move and making him afraid.

He doesn’t want to hurt Richie. The best thing to do is to leave. Just as he did with Myra. That is how you fix it, right?

Fuck. He needed a drive. Now. Richie took his car out though, and talking to yourself at the train station isn’t a thing he would really want to do. Run. That’s it. Thats what he’ll do. He’s always been good at track; this should be fine. His mother wasn’t here to stop him this time.

So he put on his shoes and stepped out the door. It was never that cold in Los Angeles, people casually went out on runs. But when he bolts away from Richie’s place, ran straight onto the road with his eyes closed from pushing back tears then getting hit by a car, he thinks maybe running was a bad idea.

He woke up in a shaking ambulance. His eyes shut, he should’ve expected this. Its not like he hasn’t woken up in an ambulance before. ‘I thought the point was to help people, I feel like I’m gonna throw up’ he thinks bitterly. He closes his eyes again, he didn’t need to be asked questions, or checked on, just needed time to think. ‘You wanted a drive now you got one’ his mind laughs at him. He was tired, but he did need to think. He could make a run for it, leave without a word. But that wouldn’t be fair to Richie, would it? He’d do anything to keep Richie. Keep him happy, keep him in his life, whichever he meant, it still fits his description. He could pick a fight. He was good at that. He cheated on his wife, he would know how to cause problems.

If Richie were to see him at the hospital, which was likely, he could pick a fight. A quick, simple, small fight that he would enlarge, ruining every smile he received since the divorce. He wants to deserve Richie. He needs it. But he can’t just be that person. Plus, Richie would find out sooner or later, that he’s truly incapable of not fucking up love. The love in his marriage wasn’t real. He tried to remember if he ever thought it was. Hell, if he fucked up a love he only created in his head, how could he be capable of real fucking thing? He knew it sounded stupid, but his heart felt like it was being thrown into an incinerator, maybe that meant it wasn’t.

Its too much for him to handle, thats easy to admit, but to admit to himself that he’s so in love would be a little harder. He knew where this was headed before it even started, he was too much of a mess. He shut his eyes tighter. Richie has the perfect job for him now, he’s got his friends, he’s got a place, he should be fine without Eddie. Eddie was just scared, and incapable, and destructive, and defensive, and nothing that Richie would need.

He promised himself that night, seeing Myra cry and beg for him to stay, that love was too much. That he couldn’t handle hurting someone like that. He hurt his mother so much as a child, she would always say so after Eddie would leave the house for longer than she’d said to. Was she really hurt? Eddie couldn’t tell anymore, he just knew that she didn’t like it. Myra was mostly the same, was hurt when ever Eddie would do something that he wanted to without telling her first. Seemed as if most of what he wanted wasn’t allowed.

He knew that it was trauma. That it was built into his head that he’s always hurting people. But he’s still scared. Its one thing to know what happened, its another to know how to deal with it. Eddie didn’t know the latter. He’s been trying, really, but in the early hours of the morning, when Richie would be sound asleep beside him, he’d wonder if he hurt Richie. He probably would. So, the best plan would be to leave, where Richie could forget about him, and go on as if he never existed, maybe then he couldn’t hurt Richie.

So, when Richie sees him in the hospital, worried and almost in tears, his heart twists.

“Eddie, what happened? Are you okay?” Richie rushes, Beverly, Ben, Stan, and Patty following behind. Eddie doesn’t bother to ask why.

“I'm fine,” he says stubbornly.

“What happened to you?”

“I went out for a run, got hit by a car, I’m fine though.”

“You aren’t fine, you got hit by a car,” Richie says loudly. Eddie wonders if this hurt him.

“So? I’m still breathing, Richie.”

“You’re still- you’re still breathing? So? Your fucking hurt I thought you were a risk analyst!”

“What? So you’re gonna get mad at me for getting hurt? It was an accident, I can do everything just fine. We can go back now, I’m not in any pain,” Eddie waves off. He really was in pain though, a throbbing headache, his sides feeling like they’ve been stabbed.

“We’re not going back, you have to stay here and heal, from… that!” Richie gestures to Eddie in the hospital bed.

“You can’t just tell me to stay here, I’m fine, this is my body anyway.”

“You’re being a dick, man.”

“Do I look like I care?”

“I’m trying to help you!”

“You’re not doing shit!”

Silence followed after that, Richie with tears in his eyes and Eddie trying to hold his back. ‘This is how to fix it’ he reminds himself, turning his head to face away from Richie.

“Well… how can I do something?” Richie asks softly.

Another minute of silence, “You can’t,” Eddie chokes out, “can you please just leave?”

“Okay.”

~~~

Richie, seated on a hard cold chair in the hospital, tries to breathe. Calling him a dick was probably unnecessary, he was hurt after all. That was probably his fault. Yeah, he was trying to help Eddie but he wasn’t doing it right. He did feel as if he was a bit controlling. Thats always what Connor would say. Every time he asked him where he was going, who that girl he was with was, why he wouldn’t come home at night. He was controlling.

He should apologize, he really is in love with Eddie. Mike and Bill are in Eddie’s hospital room right now, he should just go in there. A normal apology might not do it. He grinned. Everything fits into place. He just hopes Eddie says ‘yes.’

Richie Tozier, Stan And Patty Uris, And Ben and Beverly Marsh Buy A Ring

“I’m horrified,” Richie mumbles walking into the store. They were buying a ring now. Richie’s plans all fitting into place. He had told Eddie that he went out to buy something, though, he doubts Eddie was really listening. Patty, Stan, Ben, and Beverly were here with him, they were the only ones who knew about the proposal.

He had the perfect plan. He’d replay the day they first kissed. Well, without the date of course. And seeing Walter and Maddison. (He still wonders how to fill that gap.) Pulling Eddie out of bed to take him to a different restaurant with a similar view to the one before. He didn’t want Eddie to exactly notice his plan so a normal too-early-watch-the-sunrise breakfast would do. He would take Eddie out around town, anywhere the wind took them, by sundown, they would be back, seated on the bench a ring in Richie’s hand and one knee on the ground. He had checked the weather for that day, it was most likely to rain that night, which fit perfectly to his plans. And, if not, it would work either way.

Maybe he’d play a game again, ask Eddie to marry him as they talked. He was still debating that part since Eddie talked about his divorce to Richie that day. Well, he mentioned it. Eddie wouldn’t really tell him things. It wasn’t something he really liked to do. He told Richie nothing about his divorce, his family, it's almost like it didn’t happen. But it affected Eddie, Richie could tell that. It slightly worried Richie. Eddie wouldn’t really let him in. Anything about his past seems to be missing, something long gone and thrown away. If Eddie didn’t want to talk about it, that was fine, sometimes Richie just hoped he would tell him sometimes. Richie just hoped that he could help.

“Don’t worry about it, Richie,” Patty says, smiling.

A quick thank you to Patty, “remind me again how you know Eddie’s ring size?” He asks Beverly.

“I helped him look for rings when he got married.”

“Oh God that makes it worse. What if he doesn’t wanna get married anymore? Did his divorce suck? He didn’t tell me much about it-“

“Richie,” Stan says, walking over to a jeweler. Richie walks over to a different one with Bev.

“You should ask him yourself, Rich. About his divorce. All I really know is that he loves you,” Beverly smiles after asking to see three different rings (which Richie thought was a bit extra.)

“I guess thats… yeah, thats a better idea.”

“I know you’re doing this again but, I mean, I’m really believing in this one, I’ve known Eddie a long time.”

Richie appreciated the comment in silence. He believed in this too. “You’re marriage has been perfect, how?”

Beverly was surprised by the question, “I guess, love? It isn’t that easy to explain, and everything I’m going to say would be cheesy as fuck, but yeah, I guess love would be it.”

“You and Ben are such sappy assholes,” Richie laughs, earning a playful punch to the shoulder from Beverly.

“When are you proposing anyway?”

“Saturday,” he smiles confidently.

The jeweller brought up the box of rings set inside the glass box. Beverly had chosen three. Two golden bands with matching circular diamonds embedded into it, a pair of golden rings with three blue diamonds, and the third, a silver ring with a large square diamond in its centre. Richie hated the last one for sure. He debated it for a few minutes, the first pair or the second.

“I’d say the gold one with the blue ones,” Stan says, coming up behind them.

“Yeah,” Richie smiled, “could you carve something on the inside of that?”

“Of course,” the jeweler replied, “just write down what you want,” he pulled out a piece of paper that Richie was sure wasn’t there and wrote ‘R + E’ The jeweler then explained the prices and the ring in words Richie would only dream to understand.

He was buying a ring for Eddie. He was going to try proposing, he was going to ask Eddie to marry him. The thought alone made Richie’s heart race, but he smiled. This love is worth a shot. This would work. Eddie wouldn’t do want Connor did to him. Eddie is kind, and brave and caring, and everything Richie could ask for. Richie wondered if the cheesier something sounds, the more true it is. It seemed to fit the definition.

“Hey, Rich?” Stan says beside him. Bev was off somewhere with Ben now, Patty was looking at a few necklaces, leaving Richie and Stan together.

“Yeah?”

“I’m really proud of you man,” he pats Richie’s shoulder.

“Thanks,” he smiled fondly.

“I was worried about you, man. After… Connor, I didn’t think you’d want to keep with it.”

“Eddie’s really amazing.”

“I can tell,” he smiles.

“Don’t take him from me. If you got that hot shit, Mike, you could probably get Eddie too.”

“Who- who told you that?” Stan asked punching Richie’s arm.

“What is it with people punching me?” He rubs his arm exaggeratedly.

Stan laughed, “‘cause you’re a dick.”

His phone rang, echoing around the store, gaining looks. ‘Eds Spaghetti’ flashed on his screen. “hey!”

“Sir, I have Mr. Edward Kaspbrak’s phone with me and you were on the emergency dial. He is in the hospital,” the woman on the other line gave an address, and Richie shut his phone to head to the hospital.

Eddie Kaspbrak, Bill Denbrough and Mike Hanlon Plan A Leave

“Eddie, are you sure about this? This is the one time its working out for you, we both think so,” Mike says sympathetically gesturing to him and Bill.

“I’ve made enough fucking mistakes I don’t wanna keep fucking shit up.”

“B-but you aren’t!” Bill argues, he opens his mouth to say more but Eddie cuts him off.

“I will, Bill. You know me just as well as I do, I can’t do this,” it hurts when he says that. He’s about to burst into tears, he knows it, so he breathes slowly.

“I haven’t seen you this happy, Eddie. This is… new. This is something thats good for you,” Mike has always been rational. The one to make decisions and the one to ask for help. But Eddie doesn’t need help. He doesn’t want to change what he thinks, he doesn’t want to be persuaded away, leading to what he knows will happen.

Bill and Mike are talking again, but he doesn’t want to hear anything else. He tries not to blink, the tears will probably fall the second he does. ‘This isn’t a mistake’, he thinks. He wants to think. There’s nothing for him here, nothing that can fix him. He’s going back to New York City, he’ll find an apartment, he’ll go to work, thats all. At this point, he doubts he’ll fall in love again. Richie might. Richie will, he likes to think. Someone better than he is. Someone who can give Richie what he deserves.

Richie told him about Connor. All the things he did, all the horrible words he said. Eddie hated it. He only wishes he could be with Richie for that long, Connor just wasted it. Sometimes he would wonder if Connor regrets it (or if he could make Connor regret it) and wondered if that would happen to him. When he leaves, would he regret it? If he was being selfish, probably. But he was doing this for Richie. This would be good for him. This is how you fix things.

“I’m going to do it,” he whispers, “I don’t care if you don’t think this is a good idea, sometimes I don’t think it is. But thats just me wanting to make things worse. I’m going.”

The tears were bursting out now, but Mike and Bill didn’t move (as much as it hurt them to do so.) “You c-can change y-your mind, Eddie. Y-you can change. I th-think you already have,” Bill says softly.

Eddie just sits there, his breathing is still mostly still steady. People always said that, that you could change. And most people can. He knows he can. But the risk of hurting someone while still just trying to change. That in-between point where your still figuring out what and how to change from the way you were before to the way you want to be. There is always a risk. Nothing is ever easy. He learned that.

Richie is someone he didn’t want to hurt. He’s gone through being hurt before, and its effects were pretty clear. Eddie could do that, Eddie probably will. This was inescapable. If he couldn’t hold himself back then, how would he do it now? With the ‘power of love’? Love exists he’s sure of that, but what would it be able to do? What would it be able to fix?

When Eddie’s in tears, all his anger goes away. All of the fire inside of him leaves. All there is the pain it has left. “I wish I thought the same as you, Bill,” he weakly laughed.

Bill and Mike didn’t protest anymore, knowing it would be useless. Eddie’s going to leave Los Angeles on Saturday, and there’s no stopping him. They wonder if there ever was a way to. But they doubt it.

#reddie #reddie fic #it #it chap one #it chap two #remembering sunday + the book ninja au #*evil laughter*

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thekitchensnk · 4 years

Text

and the spider lilies bloomed in the fall (chapter 19)

Rating: T Warnings: Violence Pairing: Gin/Ran Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 18, Chapter 19

“They say that lovers doomed never to see each other again still see the higanbana growing along their path, even to this day.”

A girl collapses on a dusty road one day. A boy takes her home.

The girl lives.

—

(The boy doesn’t.)

Rangiku leaned over and scrubbed viciously at the table under the window.

She was good enough for the academy. She was more than good enough- she was brilliant. Then why could she not bring herself to leave?

She bit her tongue and it poked out from between her teeth slightly as she cleaned. There was a recalcitrant water ring marking the table’s surface. She paused for a minute, and, casting a glance around her to make sure no one was watching her slacking off, ignored it and craned her neck to look outside. The sun was shining high in the sky, and the shadows of nearby buildings were short. They were still in the shadow of the walls of Seireitei; they stood like pale grey giants in the distance.

He was out there somewhere, out there in the big wide world, clothed in black, learning magical spells and sword fighting techniques to fight monsters.

That could be her too if she wished it. She was strong enough.

Then why did she resist?

She stared out into the distance, rag clenched in her hand.

Three square meals a day- good ones too, she had heard. She would make as much as a shinigami in a month as she currently did in almost a year- all the sweets she had once dreamed of, the fancy silk kimono given only to the highest earners at the Floating Moon, they could be hers with money like that. She was strong already, she knew, but she would become stronger still with a bit of training, and the thought appealed to her. She would be able to put her strength to use, protecting innocent souls in the world of the living and banishing monstrous creatures.

She would be brilliant.

She could imagine herself in black. Now that she’d thought about it, had pictured it, she wanted it. She wanted it badly.

She’d look good in black.

Then why did she resist?

We don't need you. We made it through before you came, and we'll be alright after you're gone. We don’t need you, Rangiku.

How could words spoken so gently have hurt so much?

It had been a week since Ayame had confronted her, but the truth still stung.

Rangiku bit at her lip as she looked out.

Maybe it doesn’t matter if they don’t need me if I need them, she thought.

(But really, she needed them to need her, so that they would never abandon her.)

How could she leave them?

Sayaka with her raucous laughter and her dirty jokes; Rin with her dignified, aristocratic manner and her endless tendency to indulge her; Yuki, with her sad smiles and her soft, lined hands; Ayame, fussy, ferocious, beautiful Ayame with her impeccable aim and her scathing comments, those scathing comments which she never truly meant. They were hers now.

She had just found them; how could she leave them now? Did it matter if she wasn’t needed when she wanted so badly to stay?

(Would it hurt, she thought, to give up that brilliant future?)

She sighed, and her shoulders sank as she did so. Her eyes were downcast and unseeing, and her cloth made vague circles on the table-top.

She’d be alone if she left; alone again.

But-

(He’d be there.)

It was a whisper in her heart, a small and furtive thought which she tried to pretend she wasn’t thinking. She could only bare to examine it if she looked at it from odd angles, from out of the corner of her eye, if she refused to acknowledge the full weight of the thing.

But there was no way that she could avoid thinking of him, not on this day of all days. The trees were putting on their autumn finery; the world was painted in shades of auburn and gold; the autumn mists were descending.

It was her birthday and it had been almost three years since he’d left.

What was he doing? What was his life like now? Did he wake late with messy hair and have to run to his lectures, like she’d heard all the students did? Did he go out and drink with friends, and did his cheeks glow pink when he was drunk? Did he still play pranks, and did he still hustle at go with a hidden gleam in his eye? Did he drive his teachers crazy? Were they smart enough to see through him?

Had he grown, as she had? Did he still smile widely and inscrutably, as he always had? Had he learnt to cut his own hair, or was he stuck with it stupid and lopsided? Had he grown stronger, more skilled, more powerful? Was he still stupid and annoying and mocking, and brilliant, so brilliant?

Could he possibly be standing right now, as she was, and be looking at the same rosy sky? Could he be eating the autumn-harvested persimmons he had loved so much, and which he had once shared with her, had once fed her hand to mouth?

What would he say if he could see her now, with her long hair and her wide hips?

Would he-

(Would he look at her softly, as he once had?)

Her heart squeezed like a vice at the thought, and she had to steady herself.

Or-

Would he still feel whatever it was that had made him leave her? Hatred, boredom, contempt- whatever poisonous thing he had felt which had inspired him to leave?

She balled her hands into fists, and her nails carved semi-circles into her palms. Shaken, she faced up to what she had suspected all along.

She was frightened.

She was scared to go to the Academy because she was scared to see him.

She was scared because she would see him. They were drawn together, he and she; it was inevitable. She would see him, and the moment would come when it would all be confirmed anew.

She was not sure she could survive being rejected again.

Maybe she’d prefer it if she never saw him again. It would be safer that way.

(She frowned. The thought did not sit right in her mind.)

She’d never hurt again.

(Except for want of him.)

The sun, just beginning to set in the sky, was painting Seireitei’s grey walls pink. She stared into the distance blankly, her mouth a grim line. Pink, as far as the eye could see.

Something banged suddenly on the window, rattling the frame loudly. She yelped and stumbled backwards.

“Could you help me?” a baritone voice called plaintively. “Are you open? Do you have any sake?”

Rangiku shrieked.

“Ow!” the voice whined. “No loud voices, okay? Can I get a drink? I’ve got money.”

“Ayame-chan!” Rangiku hissed loudly, her eyes darting to the amorphous skein of pink at the window. Now that she paid attention, she could see that the pink was embroidered in a floral pattern. A woman’s haori.

Not the walls of Seireitei then, she thought sheepishly. Just some creepy drunk.

Ayame walked over to the window and squinted out. “Some weirdo in a woman’s haori and a straw-hat, Rangiku-chan. He must have been day-drinking and gotten lost. No one would wear that get up together otherwise.” She nodded to herself, convinced of her logic.

Rangiku sat up from where she had lain sprawled on the floor, and rubbed her shoulder.

“Helloooooo?” the voice said morosely.

“Should we let him in?” Rangiku asked, hoping that Ayame would say no so that she could continue to shirk work. “Opening’s only an hour and a half away.”

Ayame’s mouth twisted as she ran calculations. “Could you manage him alone? I need to get ready for tonight.”

“I guess so,” Rangiku sighed. “Extra work.” She glared at Ayame, as if it was her fault the man had turned up.

“Stop being lazy, you,” Ayame huffed guiltily. “You know you would just have spent the time in the tub anyway.”

“I like my baths!” Rangiku muttered in protest. “It soothes my aching bones from all the scrubbing you make me do.”

“You talk like you’re Chiyo-san’s age, Rangiku-chan. Stop being lazy.” Ayame rolled her eyes, and moved to let the man in.

“Hello, sir!” she said brightly, putting on her best and most enthusiastic customer service voice. “I’m afraid we don’t officially open for another hour and a half, but of course we’ll try to accommodate you. My name is Ayame-chan, and it is my pleasure to introduce you to my colleague, Rangiku-chan, who will be serving you whilst I make preparations for opening!” She rattled the pre-prepared spiel off perfectly, as if it has been engraved on her eyeballs, having given it a million times before.

The man looked delighted.

“Ayame and Rangiku! Will there any other lovely flowers joining us?” he said, casting his eyes around hopefully.

A vein pulsed in Rangiku’s forehead. Such an original joke; no one has ever been creative enough to make flower jokes based on our names, Rangiku thought sarcastically, internally throwing her hands up in the air

Ayame lips quirked upward as they shared a look, doubtlessly aware of what was running through Rangiku’s head, having heard the old complaints countless times before.

“I’m afraid not, sir! Not until opening!” Rangiku said with feigned cheer. “What can I get you to drink?”

She slid behind the bar, rolling her sleeves up as she went. Her hands flew with precise and automatic movements to a cleaning cloth, which she threw over her shoulder. Her working nights were already long; this was going to be a tough evening.

“I’m going up to get ready,” Ayame said. “If you need help…” she trailed off, and mimed ringing a bell.

Rangiku cottoned on quickly, and gave a thumbs up. “Don’t worry, don’t worry,” she said, genuine cheer starting to enter her voice. She was sure she could handle one drunkard in a straw-hat by herself, no matter how massive he was. “We’ll be fine.”

Despite her complaints, she did enjoy the perks of the job, and getting to meet new people ranked chief amongst them. She had spent many nights listening to tall tales and gossip, getting genuinely invested in her customers’ complaints, periodically letting out an outraged “No!” or “You’re joking!”.

She was particularly intrigued by her customer’s interesting choice of dress for the evening, and was looking forward to getting that story from him.

Ayame trod steadily up the stairs, leaving Rangiku alone with the customer.

“Sake,” the man announced grandiosely. “Sake. Gimme the good stuff. The good sake. Rangi-Rangiku-chan.”

She was mildly impressed that he had managed to keep hold of her name in his sorry state. He looked as if he had been dragged through several hedges backwards and had slept on someone’s roof. The stranger’s warm, brown eyes seemed to have trouble focusing, and he seemed insistent on giving her his dopiest, drunkest smile.

But his seemed to be a well-intentioned face. And he seemed like he liked a bit of fun, which made him alright in Rangiku’s book.

She played along, pouring him their second best sake. The real good stuff was for special occasions, and she was hesitant to let a dubious pink-robed stranger have some without sign off from Chiyo.

“One of our finest sakes coming right up for you, sir,” she said in the stuffiest impression she could muster of a noble.

The stranger heard her, and guffawed so loudly that his straw hat fell across his face. She handed him his sake, and added the amount to his tab, and the man plonked his hat down on the counter.

“I am glad to see that I have found my way to an establishment of quality,” he said with the same feigned pomposity.

“Everything here is quality, sir,” she assured him. “Booze, music and tits.”

“Now you sound like a true noble,” he grinned.

“What?” she said with lazy disbelief, “You can’t be saying that the nobles go around talking like that? They’re not that rude. How would you even know anyway?”

The stranger ignored her and stretched his large limbs across the bar, his bearded cheek pressing against the cool wooden surface.

“Ahhhhh,” he sighed in pleasure. “So nice and cold.”

Ayame had polished the bar earlier, but it irked Rangiku know that the facial imprint of a drunken eccentric would be smudging it all evening after her efforts. She resisted the urge to poke him in the offending cheek. A vein twitched in her temple.

“Hey!” she said loudly instead, “What do you mean, ‘like a true noble’?”

The man rumbled and vaguely waved his hand in the air. “You meet the Shibas, and they’re all vulgar, the whole lot of them- riding boars and screaming, shooting off fireworks into the sky, swearing. The Shihoins aren’t much better.” His liquid brown eyes took on an amused gleam. “And the Kyourakus- well, they’re a bunch of ingrates. The less said about that lot, the better really.” He grinned, seemingly entertained by his own jokes. Rangiku was lost. “Once you’ve got enough money, you can afford not to have manners,” he informed her, and he sloshed his sake around in his cup as if to prove his point.

She digested this, and then nodded vigorously. “That makes sense,” she said sagely. “I was talking to a-“ rival? Antagonist? Pain in the ass? “-guy here one night who’s in Seireitei at shinigami school, and he said that the students from noble families are stuck-up pricks who look down on everyone from Rukongai.”

The man scratched sheepishly at his hair and twiddled with one of his hairpins. “It does happen,” he admitted, “but usually they get over it by the time they graduate. By that point a shinigami is a shinigami and you’ve got to trust your comrades when you’ve got a Hollow breathing down your back.” The man changed the topic quickly. “It’s quite rare, isn’t it? A shinigami coming from fourteenth?”

For a drunk man, he spoke very cogently. Rangiku was impressed, and wonder what that spoke of- a long and practiced history with alcohol, or a tendency to try and get people to underestimate his abilities.

“Yeah,” she said with a shrug. “Not that rare though. It’s far harder making it to Seireitei from a district out in the thirties or fourties. If he was from Inuzuri, then I might be more impressed. I kicked his ass.”

The man laughed, and Rangiku flushed in self-righteous embarrassment. “I did!” she protested hotly. “I kicked his ass.”

“No, no,” the man said placatingly. “I was laughing at the fact that it would take coming from Inuzuri to impress you. Those are some pretty high standards that you’ve got there, Rangiku-chan. I’m sure you did kick your poor boy’s ass.”

Rangiku considered the man’s justification for a moment. “Okay,” she said grudgingly, a suspicious look on her face. “I can buy that. Anyway, my friend made it to Seireitei, and I think we were from around that number, though it’s hard to tell- we didn’t live in a village or a town.”

“Makes sense,” the man said reasonably. “Guess you would have high standards if that was your experience.” His warm, dark eyes filled with pity. “That must have been pretty rough. We don’t do enough for the poorer districts.”

Rangiku felt uncomfortable; she had never liked to be pitied. It made her feel as if she was being singled out, exposed, and for all the wrong reasons. The increased scrutiny of the man’s gaze felt like worms wriggling on her skin.

She changed the subject quickly.

“Why were you out drinking? What’s the occasion? Did you lose your friends? What sort of a party costume is a woman’s haori and a straw hat?” she asked rudely.

The man looked affronted. He shifted his head, with all its dark curls, onto his arms, and gave her a pained look.

“It makes no sense to say something like ‘woman’s haori’,” he complained. “Why can’t it just be a haori? And even if you insist on calling it that, it’s no big deal. I suit it.”

A slow grin crept across Rangiku’s face as she realised.

“It’s not a costume,” she said gleefully.

The man pouted at her. “I wear this every day.”

“But a straw-hat? Really? ‘S not very stylish” she asked dubiously.

He looked wounded. “It stops my pretty face from getting sunburn if I fall asleep on a rooftop,” he said plaintively. “My friend told me I should wear it because I kept getting silly sunburn marks. He’s more sensible than I am.”

He had fallen asleep on a roof! Her first impressions had been bang on. Pleased, she hummed to herself.

“So what’s the occasion then? What brings you out tonight?”

The atmosphere turned in a moment. The man’s eyes were suddenly stony serious.

Rangiku reeled from the mood whiplash.

“Eh?” she said in shock.

The man held her gaze intensely for a few seconds, and his eyes bore down into her soul. It was transfixing and a little frightening. He looked at her, and then-

He could not help but sputter in laughter. He took a sip of his sake.

“Hey!” she said in alarm. “That was just plain creepy! Watch it before you stare like that at a pretty lady!” In spite of herself, she leaned over to refill his cup.

“I’m sorry for giving you a fright. I’ll tell you why I’m drinking.” There was something there, something tight about his eyes, which she had not noticed at first, and she looked at him in concern. “But…” he trailed off slowly, and sudden merriment danced in his eyes. “I’ll only do it if we play a game!”

He winked at her.

“Eh?” Something about the man was thorough disorienting. He was serious one moment, morose the next, and then his eyes would twinkle and he would joke and laugh and offer to play games. The constant feeling of disorientation reminded her of someone. “What sort of game?”

“Quid pro quo. I ask you a question, you ask me a question.”

That seemed very reasonable to her. It could even be quite fun. She grinned. “No. I ask you a question, you ask me a question." She paused, and sighed melodramatically. "But if we're going to talk all evening, my poor throat will get all dry and sore and my voice will get raspy..." She looked at her customer with big, blue, beseeching eyes.

He leapt on the opportunity. "A drink then!" he cheered with a wide smile, "For my lovely, attentive barmaid. And another one for me!"

"You're my new favourite customer!" she enthused.

She poured their drinks, and raised her cup. "Kanpai!" she said, before knocking back the drink. It certainly beat staring at the ceiling gloomily in a bathtub, as far as birthdays went.

She wiped at her mouth with the back of her hand, and bent over the counter, her weight resting on her arms. "Right," she said with determination, looking over him. "Right. Let's get this started. First question. What's your name, mysterious stranger?"

He blinked balefully at her. "That's a boring question!" he whined.

She stuck to her guns. "Name!" she demanded, banging her cup on the bar-top.

The man pulled a face. "Kyouraku Shunsui."

"Kyoura-" she paused. "Wait! You said that name before! You're a noble? You?"

He moved a hand lazy hand in the air. "That's circumstantial evidence! Immaterial to the case at hand!" He protested. "I'm innocent, I swear! And anyway, that was two questions. You’re cheating already," he said accusingly. "Wait your turn. It's my turn now. What," he paused dramatically, "is your name?"

Her palm came up to smack her face before she could help it. "You already know my name! I told you earlier! How drunk are you?"

"Oh yeah," he said with drunken cheer. "You're like the flower. Rangiku-chan. Whoops."

She sighed weightily and sipped her sake with a scowl. It was going to be a long night if the man insisted on asking questions like this. "Ask another question."

"Hmmmmmmmm," he extended the sound for a comically long time. "Okay. Right… How long have you worked here?"

"Almost three years now."

He looked at her expectantly, as if expecting more detail.

"What?" she said. "That was your question!"

"Booooo," he drawled childishly. "This game won't be any fun if you don't give any details."

"There aren't any details to give on that question!" she argued hotly. "It was a bad question. You want good answers? Then ask good questions! It's my turn now. Why do you wear that haori?"

He looked taken aback, and he ran his fingers through his tousled hair. "Yare, yare," he sighed wearily. "I wear it to commemorate a woman I loved." His eyes took on a strange gleam and a smile twitched at his lips. "Or I wear it because it's the only socially sanctioned way of wearing something as comfy as a blanket outside my bedroom. One of those two things- you figure it out."

Rangiku was annoyed. "You're supposed to tell the truth," she complained to him.

"I was!” He smiled mysteriously. “Maybe. It's my turn anyway."

"Go for it."

"How did you beat that shinigami student?"

Rangiku perked up. "That's an easy one. We went out into the street behind the bar. I concentrated my spiritual energy into my hands, and bam!" She punched the air ferociously. "Just like that. I got him smack bang in the chest and he went twirling through the air. It was brilliant,” she informed him.

He nodded slowly, and as he did so, sake sloshed out of his cup. She moved to refill it.

"So you have spiritual power. That makes sense."

"What about you?" she asked. "You're a noble. Don’t you high and mighty folks usually have powers?" Thinking about it, he had seemed to know a lot about the academy and how students treated those from Rukongai. That should have tipped her off.

He seemed to find the question hysterically funny for some reason. His shoulders shook with barely suppressed laughter, and he kept making sputtering noises.

Her eyes narrowed. "Hey!" she said hotly. "It's rude to laugh at a beautiful girl's heartfelt questions"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." His eyes shone with humour. He did not look sorry in the slightest. "Yes- yes, I have spiritual power. Y’know- just a little bit."

"Are you a shinigami?" she demanded.

"Not your turn!" He wagged his finger at her, and she huffed at him. "If you have spiritual energy, why aren't you at the academy?"

It was a question she had been asking herself all week, put to her by a complete stranger.

"Was that a bad question?" he asked, not unkindly. "You don't have to answer if you don't want to. Who even says that you want to go?"

She looked at him, and sighed, her previous melancholy washing over her again. His eyes, warm and brown and full of compassion, looked at her with genuine curiosity. "I do want to go," she said firmly. "A lot, actually. It's a two-sake cup question.”

"Would you like me to buy you another cup?"

"Go on, and I'll give your question my best shot."

She poured herself more sake, and began to piece together an answer.

She did not know what it was that compelled her to answer him.

She had always avoided expressing her worries and her fears to people that she knew. It was not a rational or thought out thing, as far as she could tell. It was just that it was... Safer. In her experience, if you became too much effort for someone, they would just leave you behind. It was best to show the world a smiling, happy face, to laugh and to be merry and beautiful; there would never be any reason to leave behind someone who was no trouble.

A stranger though- there was no reason to hide from a stranger.

She'd likely never see him again, and so she took the plunge.

"At first I didn't think I was good enough. Or at least, that's what I told myself for a long time." She told him with a side-long glance. "I think… That it was just an excuse I was using, so that I wouldn't have to think too hard about anything difficult. It was easier just to say 'Oh well! I can't make it, so what's the use of trying? Guess I have to stay here.'" She took a deep breath. "But that was a pile of shit! It turns out that I'm actually amazing. But actually... I think knew that all along. I was just lying to myself because I didn't want to leave. Do you get me?"

He looked at her, and his gaze was soft and serious. Was this really a drunk man? For a moment, she doubted it.

"I think so," he nodded, and almost to himself, he said, "Sometimes the person we're best at lying to is ourselves." He paused, and addressed her directly. "What is it that's keeping you here then?"

A small, shy smile crossed her face, and when she looked at him then, it was like she was looking past him, to something that only she could see. "My job. My friends,” she said warmly.

But then her smile faltered.

“They don’t need me though,” she said quietly. “Not like I need them. Ayame-chan is desperate for me to leave. She'd kick me out the door with my bags tomorrow if she could. She doesn’t want me to waste my talent. She doesn’t want me to get ‘trapped’.” She looked at him earnestly. "It's difficult, because I want to go! I do! So much! But I don't want to leave either."

Kyouraku hummed in sympathy.

Rangiku could not stop. “But I don’t want to be alone. Not again. Not ever.”

The man pulled himself up from his drunken sprawl across the bar.

“I don’t think loneliness would be a problem for you. Look at us! Nattering on like fishwives! And we’ve only known each other for what, an hour? You’re a charming girl. I don’t think that would be a problem.”

He paused.

“Just for the sake of argument here,” he said, “why couldn’t you visit them? You’ll be very busy for your first few years, but of course, you’ll get plenty of vacation time from the academy. It wouldn’t be a hard thing.”

She had gone still, very still, and his sharp eyes had noticed it immediately. He inclined his head towards her slowly. “There’s a gap here…. You knew that you would be able to visit. So why not go? You knew that you could always visit.”

He was very sharp, for a drunk man.

She swallowed, and closed her eyes slowly.

There was a beat of silence, and then he spoke.

“Is it a boy?” he asked with mischievous delight.

Rangiku squawked loudly, and glared daggers at him.

“It is a boy!” he crowed.

She could not even deny it, so she just fumed uselessly at him. “It isn’t like that! Not at all!”

He was obviously very entertained. “Isn’t it?”

“No,” she gritted out, and he grinned. “He left me behind.” Her heart was sickeningly tight. “I didn’t even know he was going to leave, and he abandoned me. I should have known. He was always leaving, but I’m stupid and didn’t even suspect a thing.”

To her horror, there were tears in her eyes, and she tried furiously to blink them away. She felt a kind of writhing anger. She had never told anyone before, and it was shaping up to be every bit as intrusive and bruising as she had thought it would be.

Kyouraku noticed the tears, and was shame-faced.

“I’m sorry,” he offered quietly, and she gave him a fierce look. “I didn’t mean to pour salt on old wounds. That must have been very difficult. It’s tough, being left behind.” He paused. “I know I may not seem it, looking as virile and handsome as I do, but I’ve been round the block a few times. There’s not much I’ve not heard in my time. You should talk to me about it and I’ll see if I can give you some advice.” He was obviously trying to make up for his insensitivity by extending an olive branch.

Rangiku sniffed, suspicious, but she took it anyway.

“You say ’Talk about it’ like it’s an easy thing… Where would I even start?” she said accusingly.

“How did you meet?” Kyouraku prompted gently.

She was silent for a long moment, pulling together her thoughts. It did not all come flooding back. It was not an easy thing. She had to reach fiercely for every word, to fight down the reluctance to speak, to strain and grasp to pull the sentences together.

But she did it.

“I’m not sure how long ago it was, now. Time had a way of blurring together, back then, so that days could go by and feel like hours and months could pass in minutes. But this is the way I remember it, and that I’ll never forget,” she said.

“There was a day, a day a long time ago, when I was stumbling along a dirt road in my old, worn out shoes with the sun burning the back of my neck. It was the kind of dry heat that you occasionally get at the end of summer, before the mists set in- the sort where your throat dries up with the heat and your eyeballs itch, where the cicadas buzz so loudly that the noise feels like it will never stop bouncing around in your brain.

“I hadn’t eaten in almost five days. I just knew that I had to keep moving, because if I didn’t, it might just be the day I finally collapsed and never got up again.”

Kyouraku’s expression was a grim line, and his eyes were dark.

“As it turns out, I did collapse.” She laughed but it was an odd, soft thing. “But it was okay.

“When I opened my eyes, he was there. He had a dried persimmon in his hand, and he put it to my mouth, and I chewed it, though I don’t know how I could have, my mouth was so dry.” Her gaze fell to her hands, her expression was gentle, but she didn’t see them. She was too far off, lost in some distant, untouchable memory.

“I don’t know how it tasted, that first persimmon. I don’t remember. I was too out of it, too light-headed even to stand. But it must have been the sweetest thing in the world.” She looked up at him. “I don’t remember what happened, but when I next woke, I was in his bed. I had stolen his only blanket.” She laughed brightly at the memory. “I was so panicked! I thought he was going to throw me out! But he didn’t- he told me to stay. That’s how we met.”

Kyouraku looked troubled, but captivated nonetheless.

“I don’t know whether that’s beautiful or incredibly sad,” he admitted to her.

“A bit of both, maybe?”

“Maybe. The most beautiful things are usually a little bit sad.” He said the words with such sincerity that she knew in her gut that he had to be speaking from experience. She looked at him askance, but he motioned at her to continue on.

“We lived together for a long time,” she said after a beat.

“I have a bad habit of only remembering the good bits- the times when we laughed, the times when he tried to push me in the river and I managed to slip him up instead, or the one time I ever managed to beat him at go, when he had stolen a bottle of sake on my birthday. I remember the songs we sang by the river, the made up lyrics he added, the times when he held my hand the first time we went into town, or the way he kept me safe. What I remember most is the way he never let me starve again after he found me.

“I forget that he was a pain in the ass, that he pissed off everyone he ever met, that he would leave all the time telling me where he was going, that he made me feel so lonely, that people were scared of him, that they all hated him. I even hated him sometimes, I think.”

Her voice trailed off.

“I was so stupid, to think that all of it- any of it- meant anything at all. In the end, he left me, and that’s what I keep coming back to. He just… left. And I was alone.”

She paused, shame-faced. Something she had buried deep and secret within herself was rising from in her, something so fragile and so powerful that she could barely face it in the light of day. But she was tired, too tired to keep it back now. She had kept it to herself for almost three years, and now she could bear it no longer.

She looked at her hands, at skin that had been made rough and worn by the endless work of cleaning. Her hands, which had never been soft.

“He didn’t love me,” she said quietly. There it was now, out in the world. There could be no turning back. “If he’d loved me, he would have stayed.” She looked Kyouraku in the eye. “I think I might have loved him though.”

There was a heart-rending beat of silence.

“Anywa-“ she tried to rush out.

“Is that why you’re scared?” Kyouraku asked compassionately.

She bit her lip, and she nodded mutely. “I keep wondering what would happen if I were to see him again,” she confessed quietly.

“Would that be such a bad thing?” he asked reasonably.

“What if he hated me?” she mumbled pathetically.

He held her gaze, suddenly very serious. “And what if he didn’t?”

“What?”

“What if he didn’t?” He repeated. “What if he was just being stupid and insensitive when he left, Rangiku-chan? What if you’re throwing away your shot at a comfortable future on a groundless, misplaced fear- a misinterpretation of the situation- when things could actually work out? When you could be friends again? I don’t know the odds- I don’t know the boy- but wouldn’t you want to at least try?”

He paused, and he sighed.

“The time you have isn’t infinite. Not even here. Trust me, I know what it’s like to be working on a timer. That friend I mentioned earlier- he’s really not well. Time is precious. Don’t waste it.”

She bit at her lip, uncertain, but he continued.

“And consider this- what if it’s worse than that? What if he is such a bastard that he really didn’t ever care? Why would you let fear of a bastard like that rule your life?” He looked at her intently. “Don’t let fear ruin your life.”

He paused, and he grinned then, and for a moment, she could remember that he was supposed to be nothing more than another drunken fool.

“Or bastards. Don’t let those ruin your life either. Or fearsome bastards for that matter. They’re probably the worst of all. It might even be the case that you don’t even see him at all for a very long time. Seireitei is a big place. So why worry? Be merry. Drink. Party. Have fun. Don’t let it get you down. Forget him, even if only for now.”

He knocked back the rest of his sake, and gave her a hopeful look. “Did that help?”

She looked down, her brows furrowed in thought.

“Actually…” she said, “I think it might have.” She paused, her face twisted. “Weird!”

It felt suddenly like a massive weight was beginning to lift from off her shoulders. All of a sudden, she could not fathom how she had managed to struggle for so long in silence.

She smiled shyly at him, with such heartfelt gratitude that he was taken aback. His brown eyes widened, and his hand flew up to his hair self-consciously.

“Thank you,” she said. It was as simple as that.

She looked around furtively, and reached up to the top shelf.

“This is the best sake we have,” she whispered to him in a conspiratorial fashion. “I think you deserve some after that speech.”

The change in track allowed them both to circle back to less emotionally fraught ground, and they both seized on it.

“Rangiku-chan!” Kyouraku whispered in a betrayed voice. “You were holding out on me the whole time! You said the other sake was the good stuff!”

“This is for emergencies!” Rangiku whined, glad to be back on familiar ground. “Chiyo-san- my boss- measures how much is left in the bottle with a ruler, I swear. I’m taking a serious risk just showing this to you. She’ll kick my ass if she finds out that I let you have some on the house.”

She poured him a generous helping, and looking around to make sure that no one was watching, sloshed a little into her own cup.

“Kanpai!” she cheered in a hushed voice.

He raised his cup to hers, and his haori sleeve dragged in some spillage. He groaned lowly. “I’m going to have to ask Lisa-chan to get this cleaned for me tomorrow and walk around naked until I get it back.”

She tasted the sake and she moaned. “This is the good stuff. I’m ruined now,” she informed him dramatically. “Now that I’ve tasted this, I’ll never be able to go back to the cheap stuff.”

He grinned. “You can get better stuff than this in the mess halls in Seireitei, I’m pretty sure.”

She knocked him with her hand. “You’re just making that up. No way you can get such good sake there so easily.”

“I’m not kidding! Even on an unseated shinigami’s wages, you would be able to drink nothing but sake of this quality every night, I reckon.”

Her head went back and she laughed joyfully. “Now that should have been their sales pitch. Do you think I would have worried for a moment about joining up if I’d known that? I’d have left years ago.”

She hummed to herself as the sake curled warmly in her belly. “I’ve forgotten- whose turn was it to answer a question? Was it mine?”

He looked at her hopefully. “We’re still playing?”

“Don’t see why not. It’ll keep me entertained until we open,” she said with a shrug.

“I think it’s your go to ask a question.”

She hummed again, this time in thought.

“Who were you drinking with this evening?”

Kyouraku smiled a lazy grin. “I started off with some of the higher seated officers, but they couldn’t keep up. No one else wanted to keep going, and so I marched the long march to drunken glory by myself after they all left.”

Something about that sat wrong with Rangiku. “It’s no fun to drink on your own!” she protested. “You should have gone with them.”

“I’m not alone now,” the man pointed out quickly. “I’ve got you to keep me company.”

But he had been before, Rangiku couldn’t help but notice, and her eyes narrowed keenly.

Kyouraku whistled innocently to himself and gave her a dopey look. “My question. Who’s your favourite co-worker?”

Rangiku stumbled. “I can’t answer that!” she protested hotly.

“That’s my question, so you have to answer it,” he said, pointing his finger at her in triumph.

“That’s too hard! I can’t choose between them!” she whined pathetically.

“That’s my question!” he sang at her and she pouted.

“They’re right upstairs- they could hear me,” she said desperately.

“Rangiku’s a chicken!” He grinned.

It was a blow to her honour, and she pulled herself up with a kind of clumsy haughtiness. “Fine!” she said with a bang of her fist. “Fine!” She scowled. “Yuki and Rin are the nicest to me, but they’re older than I am, and so they treat me like a child. That can be nice, but it means that they’re less fun, and they’re less willing to mess around.” She mulled it over. “Sayaka is the most fun, but she doesn’t always think about what she says, and it’s her fault that I had to fight the shinigami student in the first place, so she’s in my bad books at the moment. Ayame is a pain in the ass.” She paused. “But it’s so much fun to wind her up. She gets so angry and she stomps around in a huff, even though she likes to pretend that she’s so above it all. It’s fun when you get her to join in.” Rangiku paused again, and a small smile crossed her lips. “It’s probably Ayame,” she confessed.

Kyouraku had a devilish look on his face. “I’m going to tell the rest of the girls you’re playing favourites,” he announced.

Rangiku glared. “No you’re not. I’ll kick you out before you can.”

She suddenly felt the pressing need to come up with a good question, to get revenge for his stupid prodding. “My go!” A devious look crossed her face. “What was so bad that you had to go on drinking alone?”

One eye looked at her from under a heavy eyelid. “What makes you think that?”

This was what he did, she realised. He equivocated and changed the subject and artfully wrong-footed her to keep her away from topics that he did not want to discuss, and he had been doing it all evening. Rangiku was young, and, she admitted to herself, occasionally quite self-absorbed, but she was not stupid. She knew what avoidance looked like.

She gave him a level look. “I’ve stood behind this bar for almost three years. Give me some credit. No one drinks on their own unless they don’t want to be sober.”

“I’m not drinking on my own,” Kyouraku insisted again. “I’m drinking with you.”

“You were wandering the streets alone before, looking for a drink.”

“Because I knew I would find someone to drink with,” he said firmly.

Rangiku was not convinced. “It’s not very fair to avoid the rules of your own game just because you’re afraid to answer. I answered your questions, and it was painful. If it’s a bad question, you should tell me and I’ll ask you a different one.”

He had a haunted expression in his eyes. “I’m not afraid,” he said, but the look in his eyes gave lie to his words.

“Sure,” she said sulkily. It stung a little that she had spilled so much of her soul to this stranger, only for him to refuse to do the same. Her heart clenched with the unfairness of it. Her lips curled in a pout and picked up a cup and began to clean it with quick, agitated movements. “I told you everything,” she said intensely, refusing to hold his gaze.

“You didn’t have to,” he pointed out sharply.

“But I did anyway.”

He sighed deeply. She took a chance, and glanced up quickly from her busy hands, but he caught her eye. His brown eyes were dark and heavy, and focused on her. She fumbled with the cup and glared at him fiercely.

He was silent for a moment, and when he spoke, it was slow and reflective.

“My niece has applied to the academy this year. I saw her application letter with my own eyes last night.”

Rangiku halted. His expression was fragile- vulnerable- and he could not meet her eye. It moved something in her. She put the cup down slowly, and rested her arms on the bar, leaning forward so that he face was only inches away from his own.

“Is that so bad?” she asked gently, her eyes wide but searching.

“Yes,” he said, swallowing. “No. But also yes.”

“Why?”

He was silent for a moment, and could not hold her gaze. “She’s so young,” he said finally.

That was not it, and Rangiku knew instantly, but she was hesitant to say so.

“I’m young,” she said, her heart fluttering oddly. “My friend was young when he left.”

Kyouraku’s mouth twisted, and something in Rangiku twisted in response. He was a stranger; he should have meant nothing. But here she was all the same, reluctant to say the thing that would upset him.

“Too perceptive,” he said quietly. “Too perceptive by half.”

She took a deep breath, then, and said what she had suspected all along.

“You’re like me,” she told him quietly. “You’re scared too. Scared like me.”

Something lit in his eyes, a wariness or a fear- that he had been seen and seen so easily- but he said nothing.

“It’s alright to be scared,” she said, and she drew in a deep breath. “But ‘don’t let fear ruin your life’. Right?” They were his own words, offered back up to him tentatively, and her forget-me-not eyes were bright and blue and earnest. “Right?”

His eyes widened. His mouth was dry.

When he laughed, he laughed and laughed, and it sounded hollow.

“Can’t even take my own advice,” he said bitterly, and she caught the self-loathing in his voice.

Rangiku’s mouth formed a small ‘o’. “Hey…” she said hesitantly, leaning forward. “Hey-“

He stood suddenly, and did not wobble at all. It was hard to believe that the man had ever been drunk. He grabbed his hat as he rose. She had not realised before how tall he was.

“It’s late,” he announced blithely, ignoring her. “And I should be off. Lisa-chan will be out looking for me, and I don’t want to make my adorable Lisa-chan any angrier than she is already. That wouldn’t be nice.”

He was running, Rangiku realised- running away from the truth and the pain of confronting it. “Hey-“ she said sharply.

“It was a pleasure, Rangiku-chan,” he said. He paused, and as had so often been the case that evening, Rangiku found herself wrong-footed once again by his emotional turns, these strange games he always seemed to be playing and always seemed to be winning. He grinned at her, and she could only blink back. When he bent down to push a hair behind her ear, she looked at him with wide eyes. “I’m looking forward to seeing you in Seireitei,” he told her warmly, as if he wasn’t running away in a bid to avoid confronting his problems. “Maybe we can do this again.”

She stumbled. “Y-yeah,” she said uncertainly.

He placed a generous amount of money on the counter, and Rangiku’s eyes went wide. He beamed at her. “A smart, pretty girl always livens up a party! We’ll definitely see each other.”

He left so suddenly that had Rangiku looked away, she would have missed it. One second he was there, and then next, he had vanished as if he had simply melted into thin air.

She blinked owlishly for several seconds after, alone behind the bar. She wondered what it was that frightened him so much that he had felt that he’d had no choice but to leave.

The last thing she had seen of him had been a flash of white as he had turned on his heel, where his pink haori had lifted with the speed and turn of his movement-

A flash of white, and the number eight.

#Bleach #GinRan #Rangiku Matsumoto #shunsui kyoraku #gin ichimaru #so when I first watched bleach #many moons ago #kyoraku was probably my favourite character #shunsui and rangiku #lives and souls of the party #desperate aching melancholy #i think they could be so similar that they scare each other and run from one another #his bankai is a lovers' suicide pact

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wordssplatteredoncement · 4 years

Text

The World Is On Fire (and So Am I)

There are times in your life where you experience things that you know will become a memory that lasts a lifetime. Several of those moments have been pleasant in my experience. A shared moment with a friend where you realized you both inched your bond towards something more. Various parties thrown where you watched the weeks worth of thought, time, and effort payoff in a night that will be talked about for ages. A concert where the band’s connection with the crowd transcends the usual “musician/ audience” role play, and a melding of minds makes the show something unforgettable. This year has been one most won’t soon forget, but for all of the wrong reasons.

“FUCK 2020!!” A sentiment uttered by many, and one I’ve said more than my share. The reality... 2020 isn’t the problem. The issues that have arisen have occurred due to years of neglect. The change of a calendar isn’t going to bring back the lives of hundreds of people of color who have died at the hands of those pledged to “protect and serve”. The turn of a year won’t suddenly erase a pandemic that has killed a half a million people worldwide, and shows no sign of slowing it’s destruction on any semblance of normalcy we’re yearning for. And, on a personal level, 2021 brings no promise that my body will stop feeling as though it’s trying to burn from the inside-out. Instead of leaning hard into this notion that the turn of the next 365 will somehow cure our sorrows, why don’t we take some responsibility for the moment and do our part today to ensure tomorrow is aimed in a direction of correction and healing?

I’m going to start by reflecting inward. The last time I touched this blog was nearly a year ago. I wrote about the horrible pain I’m experiencing on a daily basis. My asshole feels like Satan decided to relocate Hell inside of it. I truly feel as though like I’m on fire from the inside out. Today marks the 2 year anniversary of this pain that has completely upended up my life. Earlier this week, I had my 4th procedure in hopes of finding some reprieve from this pain and, for 2 days, I thought maybe I was healed to a level I could cope with. The pain had largely subsided... and then yesterday happened. I didn’t really see any fireworks on the 4th, but I felt them. My body ignited from beyond my balloon knot and the pain has lingered to this very moment. I spent a good portion of the day on my couch, partially in hopes of reprieve, but mostly in wallowing over another disappointment. I peeled myself off of the couch and decided to splatter a few more words in hopes that I could inspire those who give the blog a gander, but also to help myself out of a seemingly hopeless situation.

8 minutes and 46 seconds. My 2 years of asshole-aflame don’t hold a candle to the suffering the neglect, hurt, and tyranny 5 dickheads wearing a badge made to an entire race in our country. In those near-9 minutes, we all witnessed a man completely prone and in constraints, cry out for his mother as he suffocated in cold murder. Immediate responses from cop-defenders shot out with “All Lives Matter”, “Blue Lives Matter”, and “not all cops are bad people”... Here’s the problem with all of those statements, this isn’t a one-off occurrence. This isn’t a singular police officer who went rogue. In this very instance, 4 other cops watched, with hands in pocket, as this man, George Floyd, had his life taken from him. The uprising that came in the wake of this atrocity was a natural response to the oppression of a culture long held down by those in authority. Peaceful protests over the mistreatment of African Americans have existed for years, each met with hostility in the way of thinly veiled racism and clearly falling upon deaf ears, all while more instances of death at the hands of oppressors pile up. Breonna Taylor, a 26 year old black woman, was shot in her sleep when three police officers, in plain clothes mind you, broke into her home with a no-knock warrant... erroneously... AS THEY WERE IN THE WRONG HOUSE. In both of these instances (two of hundreds, I must add), the police were not arrested until met with the pressure of the public in the form of protesting. Sure, some protests have been met with opportunists. Buildings have been burned. Statues brought down by force (and I stand that these statues dedicated to slave-owning southern leaders should have never been erected in the first place), but PEOPLE ARE DYING AT THE HANDS OF THOSE IN AUTHORITY. And yet, I hear more about these buildings and statues from our “leader” on down to people I come in contact with, than the human lives taken. White privilege at its finest, folks. I’d love to hear an “All Lives Matter”-crier, shout “All Cancer Matters” at a breast cancer awareness event to experience the absolute ignorance of that statement. Everyone matters, you dumb fucks, but there are times that call attention to a specific group... this isn’t your time. “Blue Lives Matter!!”.. you aren’t born blue.. you choose that life. You don’t choose to be a person of color. Let’s take a fucking second to recognize that there is a disparity in this world in how we are treated and figure out how we can correct our ways.

So that brings us to the last bit of “2020″, the year is “cursed and doomed”. COVID-19, aka coronavirus. A pandemic that was written off as nothing more to be worried about than a flu by our “genius” leader. Trump compared this pandemic to the number of lives that are taken yearly by the common flu and thus created the great divide in America. Half of our country decided that everything was cool.. our president said “we’re good”. The other half, listening to the CDC, and other health experts, whose literal job is to track and control the spread and containment of disease, followed advice from those who have dedicated their life to the education of well-being. Trump slowly had to cater to those health experts when it became very clear this was something far more serious than a “flu”, and we were ordered to stay indoors. People went into bat-shit-crazy-survival mode. Toilet paper, hand sanitizer, and canned goods became the new gold as the masses flocked to stores in droves to ensure their asses were wiped, hands were.. sanitized.. and goods had a shelf life of several months. Hospital ICUs were strained as the number of people needing to be treated met new highs. We were asked to wear masks in public and keep 6 feet away from those we don’t live with. And the response from a wide number of Trump’s supporters.. “THIS IS CRAZY.. YOU’RE INFRINGING ON MY FREEDOMS.. THE ECONOMY!!!!”. As stated earlier in this blog.. human lives > businesses and the economy. Due to this outcry, backed by the moron-in-chief and his plethora of tweets (seriously.. what job have you ever had where you can sit around and call people names through social media all day long??.. certainly not mine..), the shelter-in-place orders were lifted, just as we were starting to see a leveling out in the number of cases our country was dealing with. And Americans, being as stubborn as they’ve proven to be over the years, went out en masse. With this, the number of cases has risen to absurd levels. The president, always one to find a way to suck his own cock, daily gives praise to this being accredited to the great testing he has imposed. Even taking it so far as to say we might be testing “too well” and that if we just test less.. the numbers will go down.... I’ll take a minute to let the absurdity of that statement, which he has doubled down on, sink in. I work in health care. This isn’t a joke. This isn’t a farce. This isn’t the flu. This isn’t a conspiracy. 533,000+ deaths isn’t a joke. Wear a fucking mask. Stop going out for the sake of killing boredom. Start thinking and do your part. Your parents, grandparents, and neighbors count on it.

So there you have it. 2020 hasn’t been kind but, as I’ve stated, this isn’t the problem of a singular year. This is years of neglect and a current state of ignorance. January 1st will come and go. It changes nothing. The only thing that will cure the issues we’re facing is recognizing there is indeed an issue and taking action to improve our current state. Nothing is solved if we don’t accept reality and inflect on how we can do our part to make a change. Stating “Make America Great Again” is a stupid way of saying we’ll revert to a past laced in hatred. Instead of looking over our shoulder the days that we’ve progressed from, let’s focus on a future that provides equality for all. Instead of crying about our freedoms being removed over having to stay indoors or wear a mask, let’s think about those we might be saving by stopping the spread of disease. As for my butthole.. I got off the couch to write this, all while in a fair amount of pain. I can reflect on a time I didn’t feel this, or I can accept what this is and do my part to seek improvemnt. I opt for the latter.

#wordsspatteredoncent #fuckdonaldtrump #covid #coronavirus #fuckpolicebrutality #killignorance #thinkforyourself

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alexsfictionaddiction · 4 years

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12 of the best feel-good books

I think we could all do with a pick-me-up right now. We’ve been in some level of isolation for over a month and we’re perhaps being forced to accept a new normal. However, we’re still seeing frightening and tragic headlines all day every day (ration your news time, if you’re not doing so already), so of course, fear and hopelessness is going to set in. If you’re not used to spending time alone, loneliness is also a huge possibility but we know that books are a great source of solace in times like this.

Maybe you want to do your own research and discover how far into the realms of science-fiction we’ve got. For you, I have compiled a list of the best books that pandemic fiction has to offer but if you’re looking for something more light-hearted, I’ve got the perfect tonic. Whether you need a laugh, to be comforted or to simply remember what life used to be like, here are some books that will help you escape the current face of reality. Above all, remember that it’s perfectly natural for your mental health to be suffering at the moment. Do whatever you can to look after yourself and stay safe.

1. The Flatshare by Beth O’Leary

Remember when you could just move in with a stranger without worrying about keeping two metres apart at all times? Tiffy and Leon share a flat and even a bed but due to entirely opposite work schedules, they manage to not even meet for months after Tiffy moves in, only communicating via texts and notes left on the fridge. But Tiffy’s controlling ex-boyfriend and Leon’s innocent prisoner brother ignite a connection that is fuelled by basic human kindness and a touch of romantic attraction, of course! This quirky rom-com has been a bestseller for over a year now and it’s not hard to see why. It’s a celebration of love, friendship and the unexpected happiness that can come from taking calculated risks. Beth O’Leary’s second novel The Switch has also just been released, so there has never been a better time to read her debut!

2. Wonder by R. J. Palacio

A beautiful story of empathy, kindness and acceptance, Wonder has fast become one of the most popular and widely read contemporary middle-grade novels. Auggie Pullman was born with a facial deformity and he’s attending mainstream school for the first time but of course, kids can be staggeringly cruel to those who are different. Wonder kickstarted a global kindness campaign and spawned a film adaptation, which is one of the best and most faithful I’ve ever seen. It has already given so much to the world and I know you’ll get a lot of joy out of it too.

3. The Long Way To A Small Angry Planet by Becky Chambers

Of course, not all sci-fi is doom and gloom. This is the first instalment in Becky Chambers’ Wayfarers series and it’s laugh-out-loud funny. It follows a misfit crew of space travellers and their wonderful smile-inducing relationships. Celebrating the coming together of a variety of races, sexualities and personalities, it features a lot of loveable memorable characters who begin to read like dear loyal friends. If you’re looking for quirky, light-hearted sci-fi in a similar vein to Star Trek and Firefly, you’d be wise to start here.

4. Less by Andrew Sean Greer

Arthur Less is a struggling writer about to turn 50 and the love of his life is engaged to someone else. To say that he’s not feeling too hot right now would be an understatement but he has been invited to a range of literary events around the world, so he does the logical thing and accepts them all. We can’t travel right now but with Arthur, you’ll visit Paris, Berlin, southern India, the Moroccan desert and Japan. You’ll also go on a journey of self-acceptance, learn how to love the life that you have and appreciate the time you have left.

5. Hot Mess by Lucy Vine

It’s rare that a book makes me guffaw out loud in public but Hot Mess did exactly that, when I read it a couple of years ago. Ellie is a single woman who hates her office job and is absolutely nowhere near having her life together. However, she does have some great friends and a lovely relationship with her dad Alan, whose drafts of a romance novel are truly side-splittingly hilarious. We see Ellie through terrible dates, trauma confrontation and a quest for true happiness that is hugely satisfying. It has been described as a modern-day Bridget Jones but I found it much more relatable and actually quite a lot funnier!

6. The Rosie Project by Graeme Simsion

It’s the first in a trilogy of novels that explore the trials and tribulations of finding romance when you’re genetics professor Don Tillman. Don likes facts, logic and reason and he applies all of these things to his latest endeavour, The Wife Project. He knows exactly the kind of woman he wants to marry but then he meets Rosie, who ticks none of his boxes and he’s forced to accept that perhaps true love doesn’t always follow the rules. Don and Rosie’s relationship is such a heartwarming, mutually beneficial one that will make you laugh and leave you with a big bag of warm fuzzy feels.

7. The Hobbit by J. R. R. Tolkien

There is a huge chance that you will have read The Hobbit but what better time to revisit a funny, charming favourite? Re-embark on the quest to retrieve Smaug’s treasure, take back the Lonely Mountain and make a plethora of fantastic friends along the way. As well as relating to Bilbo’s personal growth throughout the novel, I think the idea of facing epic threat and mortal peril in unknown environments and yet still returning safely home to a quiet comfortable life is the reassurance we need that this too shall pass. Of course, it will also be an intoxicating nostalgia trip, so there’s really no reason to not pick it up again!

8. The Bromance Book Club by Lyssa Kay Adams

I read this over the Valentine’s Day period and was so enchanted by it. Gavin is a top baseball player for the Nashville Legends and he has recently discovered that he has never given his wife Thea a genuine orgasm and it’s threatening the relationship. So he does the logical thing and turns to his team mates, who actually double as a secret romance book club. They suggest taking a leaf out of a smutty Regency paperback to save his marriage -what could possibly go wrong? Funny, heart-warming and touching, it’s a great choice if you’re looking for a rom-com with a difference.

9. My Pear-Shaped Life by Carmel Harrington

If you’ve spent a lot of self-isolation being wholly unproductive and perhaps not looking after yourself too well, you may be feeling that you’re simply not good enough. Especially if your social media is full of happy healthy people doing just about EVERYTHING. Meet Greta, a struggling actress who is used to playing the role of the funny, overweight girl in all areas of her life. That’s ok as long as she laughs with everyone else, right? But things have been pretty rough lately and it’s only when she hits rock bottom that she begins to realise that maybe things need to go a little bit pear-shaped sometimes. With joy and despair in equal measure, this new novel, populated with an array of wonderful characters, will teach you that true happiness comes from simply being you.

10. A Boy Made Of Blocks by Keith Stuart

Eight-year-old Sam is autistic and struggles to make sense of the world. His dad Alex has also lost himself somewhere along the way and needs to change. Minecraft offers a place where father and son can rediscover their bond and put the family back together, block by block. I reviewed this incredibly moving, uplifting story when it was first released a few years ago. It’s actually inspired by Keith Stuart’s real-life experiences, which I think give it an extra dollop of heart-warmth!

11. The Black Flamingo by Dean Atta

The entire focus of this fantastically written YA novel is on embracing your own personal uniqueness and on not being afraid to let it out. Michael is a mixed-race gay teen who has grappled with his identity for his entire life. On arriving at university, the idea of becoming a drag artist causes everything to begin to slot into place. Told in verse, The Black Flamingo will show you how your boldest brightest colours can shine through the darkest of times. Highlighting the power of words and challenging all forms of homophobia, whether it be external or internal, this is a book that I’m sure will become a staple of LGBT+ literature in years to come. As for now, it will simply inspire you to live your very best life, regardless of who tries to prevent it.

12. Reasons To Be Cheerful by Nina Stibbe

As the title may suggest, there is plenty to smile about in Reasons To Be Cheerful. It’s chiefly a coming-of-age novel about a young woman called Lizzie living in 1970s Leicestershire. She has just got a job as an assistant to a work-shy, racist dentist who is desperate to join the freemasons. Navigating this new position alongside a relationship with her alcoholic writer mother, a boyfriend who doesn’t seem terribly interested in her and a few unlikely friends, Lizzie’s life makes for some pretty amusing anecdotes. Whether it’s the simple retro setting or small cast of eccentric caricatures, there is something quite other-worldly yet familiar about it. There is a lot of detail that is relevant to the period it’s set in, including the blatant social prejudices that were so rife at the time. I am too young to have experienced 1970s Britain but it certainly feels authentic to what I know. I have no doubt that those that were there will get even more enjoyment and nostalgia from Lizzie’s life than I did.

#feel good #books #recommended #recommendations #uplifting

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marshmallow-phd · 5 years

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Sins of the Father

Genre: Mafia Au

Pairing: Junmyeon x Reader

Summary: Soon after your second birthday, your parents were killed and you were adopted by your father’s best friend, taken away to their home country where you lived your life in peaceful ignorance. As far a as you knew, your parents simply left you large fortune to be released to you once you reached your twenty-third birthday. At least, that’s all you thought you were inheriting. When a famously ruthless mafia boss discovers your existence, you are left at his mercy. While under his roof, you learn more about your father than you ever wished you had, including the part of your inheritance that made you the most valuable person in the underworld. Hidden in a bank in New York City were files that held the darkest secrets of the mafia families and everyone in their pocket. With another terrifying leader’s eyes trained on you, you’ll learn to watch your back… and guard your heart, before your father’s past becomes your doom.

Part: 1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5 I 6 I 7 I 8 I 9 I 10 I 11 I 12 I 13 I 14 I 15 I 16 I Final

All night you tossed and turned, unable to shut your brain off from every possible scenario that could be waiting for you the next morning. You were too anxious, too worried about what could be happening to your adoptive parents that you didn’t know about. At point, Minah threw a pillow at you for all the noise you were making flipping from one side to the other.

The conclusion you settled on as the most likely was that you were going to be asked to move out in order help ease the expenses. And that was understandable. Taegun had always been able to provide well above the necessities, but if the company was suffering lately, then it could mean his paychecks were feeling the impact of it. You wouldn’t fight if they asked you to move out. There was plenty of money in your bank account and you had a steady job that kept you busy. Besides, maybe having your own place could be good for you.

You’d come to terms with it by the time you woke up the next morning. To make things easier, you wouldn’t get upset and would quickly agree to start searching for an apartment. There were plenty of places for you to go where you could still be near your family.

The smell of bacon was the first thing you brain registered as your eyes slowly cracked open. Stumbling out of bed, you didn’t bother to freshen up before walking out into the hallway. Since you didn’t have a shift to prepare for, you stayed in your oversized t-shirt and sleeping shorts that you had slept in.

Hyunmin was in the kitchen by herself, listening to old trot songs while she kept an eye on the bacon and pancakes she was cooking. That within itself confirmed your suspicion. It must really be bad.

The delicious combination was your favorite breakfast. You loved it so much that Hyunmin would only cook it on special occasions such as birthdays and graduations in order not to spoil you. No rice and seaweed, no marinated meats or healthy kimchi; just pure fluffy batter and sweet, sticky syrup. After racking your brain just in case, you confirmed that there was nothing special about today’s date to explain away the meal.

You greeted Hyunmin with a kiss on the cheek. “Good morning.”

She stopped singing and patted you on the head. “Good morning, (y/n). Did you sleep well?”

“Yup,” you lied, giving her a smile so she could be reassured.

Hyunmin smiled back halfheartedly, turning back to the pancakes to sprinkle in a few chocolate chips. The twins soon shuffled into the kitchen, confused at the breakfast set out on the table.

“What’s this for?” Mingyu asked.

“It doesn’t matter,” Hyunmin snapped, causing her son to drop into his chair hastily. “Just eat so you can get to class.”

“I don’t feel like going today,” he whined.

Hyunmin slammed the pan down on the stove. “You are going to school! Do not argue with me!”

That shut him up. Usually Mingyu had two or three helpings of every meal, but today he scarfed down his two jacks and ran to his room to get ready and to get away from the fired up Hyunmin. Minah didn’t eat quite as fast, but she eyed you curiously, knowing the rarity of this. When she was finished, she too went back to the bedroom to get dressed.

You forced yourself to have a second helping to not offend Hyunmin even though your stomach was in too many knots to really want that amount of food. When you tried to help her clean up, she simply slapped your hands and shooed you out of the kitchen. By half past eight, the twins were practically running out the door. You had moved over to the couch to continue reading your book, careful not to let Hyunmin see that it was new.

Fifteen till nine, Taegun walked through the front door. From the look of his attire, he hadn’t gone into work this morning. Where had he gone to? The bank, maybe? You kept your eyes down, hoping to possibly put off the conversation just a little while longer by staying invisible.

“(Y/n)?”

Reluctantly, you looked up from the novel. Both of them were standing in front of you, their eyes giving off a glossy look. You started to stand up in order for them to have the couch, but Taegun gently pushed you back down as he sat on the edge of the coffee table. Hyunmin didn’t scold him - she hated anyone even putting their feet on it - instead simply sitting down beside you on the couch and taking your hands in hers.

“(Y/n),” Taegun started. He ran his hands through his salt and pepper hair, tapping his foot against the rug. “I’m sure you know what it is I do for a living?”

However you expected this conversation to start, a quiz on Taegun’s job was not it. “Of course. You’re a corporate lawyer.”

“Yes, I am.” He cleared his throat. “However, the company I work for– they aren’t exactly the most… golden of companies. Their CEO, Mr. Jung, has a gambling problem, causing him to rack up debts. Debts I can’t even begin to fathom. In order to pay off those debts, he tried to cut corners and sever contracts that would make him a hefty profit.” Taegun pulled at the collar of his shirt nervously as he paused in his confession. “Unfortunately, his clients found out and they sued. And I… I lost the case.”

Reaching out to him, you patted his knee. Perhaps this was leading up to the financial issues. “That’s not your fault. All you can do is state your case. It’s up to the judge to decide the outcome.”

“I lost on purpose.”

“Oh.” You withdrew my hand, unsure of what else to say. Hyunmin started to rub circles on your back. You could understand the morality issue and why he might have lost on purpose, but actions like that can have dangerous consequences. “Did they fire you?”

If he lost his job… maybe they weren’t going to ask you to move out. Maybe they were going to ask for your help. And of course you could help with the bills and other money issues. It was the least you could do after all they’ve done for you. They could have it all, if they needed it. You wouldn’t sacrifice your dreams for most people, but for them – absolutely.

“No,” Taegun sighed. “But the CEO knows that I did it. He blames me for not securing him the win he thought he deserved and making him pay back the clients. The man he is in indebted to is powerful and doesn’t forgive easily. While his men were beating up Mr. Jung, he told them that I was the one who lost them their money but that I could pay back the debt.”

You scoffed. “How are you supposed to pay back his debt? Maybe he should sell one of his houses or a few of his cars. I’m sure he can live without them.”

Hyunmin started sniffling beside you. She covered her mouth to try and silence it, but you could still hear it clear as day.

“It’s not that simple,” Taegun corrected. “As far as the debtor is concerned, when I purposefully lost the case that would have settled the money, I took on the debt myself. After mentioning me during the beating, Mr. Jung also told them about you.”

“A-about me?” you stuttered. There was no way you heard that correctly. How could he even know anything about you? You’d met him once, at a Christmas party a few years ago. Why would a single mention of you ever leave his mouth? How could you be of any value?

A tear spilled over from Taegun’s eye. “Yes, you. (Y/n), your father was not the saint I led you to believe he was. The inheritance you set to gain in a few months was because of your father’s dealings with people like this. He profited by covering up their crimes and defending them.”

“What do you mean ‘people like this’?” you asked hesitantly, already having a feeling as to what the answer could be.

Neither of them could look at you when you tried to meet their eyes.

“People who deal in organized crime.”

You jumped up, not believing a word of it. “No! My father did not defend the mafia! Besides, he didn’t even live in this country! How could he defend them when he wasn’t even around?”

Hyunmin pulled down on your arm, forcing you to sit back down. “You won’t remember, but your father was gone most of the time, making several trips back and forth. And, he didn’t directly defend the members in court, but he consulted for them, found the loopholes and backstreets they needed to be acquitted.”

“Cover ups were your father’s specialty,” Taegun growled.

You threw your hands in the air. “So, what? They want to use my inheritance to pay for the debt? Fine! They can have it! I don’t want it anymore!”

“It’s not the money they want anymore. This man who’s owed the debt is the son of the man whose greatest enemy was the group your father worked for.” Taegun moved forward, cupping your face in his palms. “When I took you in, I hid you from your father’s group. The head had hoped to marry you off to his son, but I didn’t want that life for you. I wanted you to have a happy life, one that wasn’t surrounded in death and crime. It seems that my effort was pointless in the end.”

You wrapped your fingers around his wrists, unable to fully understand. “I don’t get it. What do you mean it was pointless? What else do they want if not the money?”

Taegun pulled you into his arms. He was crying now, heavy broken sobs vibrated his chest against your cheek. “If there was any other way, I would have taken it. But it was either this or they would kill us all and take you anyway.”

“What?” I whispered. “What are you talking about?”

“Soon, they will be here to take you,” Taegun sniffed back. “To marry their leader.”

Everything stopped. There was no way you heard that correctly. Marry? They wanted you to marry the leader of a mafia group?

No. No, you refused.

You tried to shove Taegun away but he held on tight, denying your escape.

A pounding knock came from the front door.

Finally releasing you, Taegun stood up to answer it. It was Hyunmin’s turn to wrap you up into her embrace as her sobs filled your ears. Three strangers in suits walked past Taegun and into the apartment without a word. All of their faces were void of any emotion, almost as if this tasked bored them.

“Is she ready?” the tallest one sniped. He had blood red hair and wore a long overcoat that stopped at his knees rather than the traditional suit jacket the others were clad in.

“We just told her,” Taegun replied quietly. “She didn’t even know until just now.”

The one with white blonde hair scowled. “Well, hurry up and pack something. We’ll have someone come tomorrow to pick up the rest of her stuff.”

You jumped up out Hyunmin’s arms. “No! I’m not going anywhere with you!”

“(Y/n), please!” Taegun stared at you with pleading eyes. In all your years, you’d never seen him cry - not at this magnitude - but right now it seemed like he would never stop.

Your jaw dropped, unable to believe that the two people who raised you were giving you away just like that. To marry not just someone you had never met, but a criminal who threatened and killed people for his own personal gain.

The shortest of the men stalked up and grabbed you by your upper arm, dragging you down the hallway.

“Which one’s yours?” he asked roughly. When you didn’t answer, he stared you down to let you know patience was not a virtue he possessed. “Which one?”

The fight slowly dying out of you, you pointed to the door that led to you room. Opening the door, he shoved you inside.

“Just pack what you can for now,” he ordered. “We can get the rest later.”

You may not have had a say in your life anymore, but you were determined to fight in any way you could. So, like the brat you never got to be, you followed his order, but slowly.

Taking your time, you heaved the suitcase down the shelf of the closet. You could feel his silent scowl burning holes in the back your head, but you refused to look at him. Laying the suitcase open on your bed, you packed away the things you could immediately think of. You shoved in your underwear and bras along with your small toiletry bag after you’d grabbed your favorite clothes. Wondering which books to take with you, you stared at your shelves. It was like trying to pick a favorite child.

“Hurry up!” the man barked. His black hair was starting to fall onto his forehead from its previous, slicked back position. He leaned against Minah’s vanity, not caring if he knocked a few of her precious items over.

With your suitcase as full as you could get it, you zipped it up and placed it down on its wheels. Then you crossed your arms, glaring at the intruder.

“You done?”

“Packing? Yes.” You sat down on your bed, being as defiant as possible. “Do you mind leaving so I can get dressed?”

His eyes raked you up and down, making you sick to your stomach. “Nope. You’re fine as you are. Let’s go. The boss doesn’t have all day.”

Gripping your wrist in a suffocating vice, he hauled you out of the room, barely giving you enough time to grab your suitcase he’d forced you to pack in the first place. The wheels kept catching on the back of your heels, tripping you up. All that earned you was a few glares that didn’t resemble anything close to sympathetic.

Back in the living room, the two other men stood near the door as Taegun and Hyunmin sat on the couch. Hyunmin’s face was in her hands, her shoulders shaking from the sobs she couldn’t hold back.

“Ready?” the tall one asked.

Your handler nodded. The blonde opened the front door and started to head out.

“Wait,” you begged, looking desperately back over your shoulder at the people who’d raised you. Ignoring you, the short one kept going. “Wait! At least let me say goodbye!”

“We don’t have time for this,” he growled. With one last glance, your eyes met Taegun before the door closed on that part of your life forever.

The elevator ride was silent, not even music playing to break it. You refused to cry in these men’s presence, no matter how much you wanted to crumble and break down. The grip on your wrist never loosened and you were sure that there would soon be bruises.

Out in front of the building was a fourth man leaning against a black Cadillac and checking his watch. He was on the shorter side as well, a permanent smirk on his mouth. He, too, looked you up and down, his eyes lingering on your exposed legs.

“Not bad,” he commented.

“Keep your thoughts to yourself,” you growled.

All that did was make him laugh. “This is going to be fun.”

He popped open the trunk and took your suitcase, throwing it carelessly in the deep space. The back door was opened and they shoved you onto the seat when you didn’t enter quickly enough for them. Smart-Mouth slid into the driver’s seat. With the tall red-head climbing into the front passenger’s side, you forced to sit between the blonde and your handler.

You hugged your arms around yourself, trying to make your body as small as possible. No one spoke on the way to wherever it was that you were going. Too nervous to do otherwise, you kept your eyes down, wondering what you ever did to end up here.

It was all planned in your head. The day after your birthday, you were going to say a proper goodbye to your family and then hop on a plane to America. Once all the accounts were properly transferred in your name, you would go back to the airport and pick a random plane that would take you anywhere, a place that was new and foreign. You thought of your photo album that was hidden under your bed, filled with travel brochures and pictures you’d cut out of magazines, displaying the different places you wanted to experience. Now you never would and those pictures would remain as distant dreams.

Now, being forced into whatever this was, you could only see two possible ends. Either you ended up dead and your fiancé just pocketed the inheritance, or he kept you around for amusement, locked away forever. Whatever he decided to do, you would fight him the whole way. No matter what, you would not just lay down and be submissive. Even if it might seem ridiculous or insignificant, you would give yourself little victories.

“We’re here.”

You barely acknowledged any of your kidnappers as you were pulled from the car. The dimly lit parking garage was filled with six-figure cars that you would have never dared to even go near. Your bare feet slapped against the cold concrete as the group headed towards the elevator. The driver kept a tight grip on your suitcase while your handler kept a tight grip on you. The one time you dared to look over at the driver, he wiggled his eyebrows at you teasingly.

The elevator doors opened up into a small hallway with a large wooden door on the other side. The tall red head scanned his thumb on a pad next to the door before opening it and ushering everyone inside. The driver disappeared with your luggage down a hallway to the left while the tall one and the blonde drifted off to who knew where.

Glancing around as you were forced through the different rooms, you concluded that you were in a very expensive penthouse in the part of town that you’d always avoided. It was the kind of district reserved for multi-millionaires and celebrities. From abstract paintings to canvas photographs, large artwork covered the walls, but nothing personal. Nothing that gave a hint to what the owner – your future husband – looked like.

Finally arriving at the hellish destination, your handler knocked on a door at the end of a long hallway.

“Come in.”

Still not letting you go even though there was nowhere for you to run, he pushed open the door and led you inside.

The office was dark. Not due to lack of lighting – a large window that overlooked the surrounding skylight gave more than enough to fill the room - but because of the hues and shades of all the décor. The carpet was a deep gray, the walls a heavy navy blue. Even the wooden desk and chairs out in front of it were made of a dark wood. But the layout and furnishings of the room only held your attention for a few seconds. At the desk sat the real surprise.

You only ever saw him twice, but you knew that face. It seemed life was playing one last little joke on you. Behind the desk was no GQ model or fairy tale prince, but a mobster. Staring him down, you imagined jumping across the desk and landing a punch on his sharp cheek, but you were never that brave.

“Hello, (y/n),” he greeted with a smile. But this smile wasn’t friendly at all. It was calculating with a hint of victory. He motioned to the chair in front of him. “It’s a pleasure to see you again. My name is Junmyeon. Please sit.”

You didn’t move. A pair of hands on your shoulders that you were too weak to fight against made you take the seat. Your fighting spirit seemed to just amuse him.

“Do you know why you’re here?” he asked teasingly.

Through gritted teeth, you replied, “Someone - who has nothing to do with me - used me as a bargaining chip to clear away his debt.”

Junmyeon clicked his tongue. “Only partially true. Your adoptive father lost that case on purpose, which then led me to not get my money. But I hardly care about that.” He stood up and walked around the desk. Leaning against and leaving hardly any space between the two of you, he crossed his arms. “What I really want is the daughter of the Closer.”

You scoffed. “Excuse me?”

“Your father was famous among the families,” he explained. “He could close any case, get anyone off without stepping into a courtroom or a jail cell. Of course, that kind of quality work came at a hefty price.”

“What does that have to do with me?” you argued. “I didn’t know my father. My parents died when I was two. I didn’t know him as anything but a corporate lawyer until an hour ago.”

“As the daughter of the Closer, you were promised to Lee Junko once you were old enough.” He leaned down until you were nearly nose to nose. “While everything else that comes with you will be sweet indeed, the greatest prize will be to see Junko’s face when he learns he will never have you.”

How petty. You rolled my eyes. “There’s no point in having me. I know nothing of my father’s business. Sure, you’ll get your hands on a big inheritance. Big whoop.”

Junmyeon laughed. “You don’t even know, do you?” Taking his hands out of his pockets, he placed them on either arm rest, trapping you in. “When you turn twenty-three, you won’t just get a big check. Hidden in a bank somewhere in New York, there is a large safe deposit box with your father’s files on all his clients; their dirty secrets, their setups, who they have in their pockets. Whoever gets their hands on those files will have the entire underground world at their fingertips. You are the only one that bank will give the key to. You are the most valuable human being to any of the families right now.”

You wanted to join him in his laughter but for a different, more ironic reason. Being insignificant was your way of life. You didn’t want any of this. This wasn’t your life. This wasn’t your world. But maybe….

“If I get you those files,” you murmured, eyes trained down on your hands before looking up at him, “if you get what you want, will you let me go?”

For the first time, that smile faltered. Something soft flashed in his eyes, but it was gone before you could interpret it.

“No, I can’t do that.”

“Why not?” you screeched. There was no point in keeping you prisoner here after he got what he wanted.

Straightening up, Junmyeon walked back around his desk, opening a drawer and throwing down a stack of papers half an inch thick and held together with a clip. It landed with a hard thud, making you flinch.

“That,” he pointed to the papers, “is a contract. They might not have told you, but your adoptive parents were in debt to us, too. Nothing too big and they always made their payments on time, never any problems. But this contract they signed cleared it, along with his boss’s debt. The stipulation in it is that we get married and you stay with me. If for any reason those two things are not followed through, the contract is null and void and the debt is due in full immediately.”

With a shaky hand, you picked up the contract, flipping through its pages. The words were all legal jargon, nothing you could understand. What you could absorb, however, were the little water stains that dotted the pages. They were even more collected on the final page where the signatures were. Each little drop was a stab to you heart. You knew they didn’t want to give you away, but they did. You weren’t a human being anymore. You were property.

Angry, you threw the contract back at him. “Fine. You win. Whatever. I’ll be your little pawn in your stupid game so you can be the reigning king. But it’ll be in name only. I refuse to be your trophy.”

Junmyeon nodded. “Deal. I didn’t actually want to be tied down. It’s all just legal maneuvers. You don’t have to worry about that.”

You stood up, just wanting to be alone. “Are we done here?”

He nodded and motioned to the other man in the office. “Show her to her room.”

This time you were allowed to just follow the man out of the room and down the halls rather than being dragged like a disobedient dog on a leash. Stopping in front of the the last door on the right, you were relieved that it sat on the opposite side of the penthouse, far from that snake.

“You’ll stay here,” he informed you. “Better get used to it.” He opened the door, shoved you inside, and shut it again with a slam.

Your new resting place was the kind that people dreamed of. The walls were a dark blue, somehow making the room feel bigger than it was, although you were sure two of your old rooms could fit comfortably inside here.

The décor just added to the extravagance of the room. A queen-sized bed sat in the middle of the far wall, flanked by matching nightstands on either side. Corresponding to the color scheme perfectly, the comforter looked fluffy and soft, resting without a wrinkle on the silk sheets. The empty walk-in closet housed a round ottoman and built in drawers. Martha Stewart couldn’t have designed it better.

You hated it.

Without a second thought, you would trade it all just to go back home. How would you sleep without the soothing breaths of Minah just five feet away? No longer would you be waking up to Hyunmin’s singing as she cooked breakfast. You would never again be interrupted in your reading by Taegun yelling at Mingyu to take his school work seriously. Little things that used to annoy you or drive you insane were suddenly things you wanted to be bombarded with again.

The weight of the situation finally baring down, you collapsed onto the floor. Pulling your knees in close to your chest, you cried harder than you ever had before, cursing the father who brought this upon you.

#exo #exo fanfiction #exo fanfic #exo mafia au #exo mafia!au #junmyeon x reader #kim junmyeon #suho #exo gang au #exo gang!au #exo series #exo scenarios #sins of the father

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dpargyle · 4 years

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am i allowed to express some negativity? i kinda need to vent. 1/9

everytime it starts getting dark & cold and starts to snow i feel the walls of my mind close in and i start PANICKING and HATING everything like MYSELF and my stupid shoulder muscles that SEIZE UP everytime the weather changes & & &... 2/9

and like i haven't produced anything of worth in months and it shouldn't matter capitalism is for suckers but if i don't produce i'm going to be working tech support at my dad's co. till the day I die in fuckin utah 3/9

where like i don't have any friends really & how do you get friends when it snows from now until the end of may and I can't drive my wheelchair through the snow & the shit so I just sit inside all day working from home in my apartment and i'm gonna die here in this 4/9

theocratic hellscape and I'm never gonna be who I want to be and I still look like A DUDE and i still feel like a DUDE but when I close my eyes and dream, I am free - but only then. Only then. The rest of the time... 5/9

I am like a turtle in her shell. & I'm going to die alone cuz who wants to love a crip anyway? who could ever love a creature such as me? who produces nothing of any monetary value. who cannot even get a real job who cannot even get married b/c the gov. will take insurance. 6/9

sorry I really hate the winter. can't even move to Cali anymore cuz I cannot find a job there and even if i could it's half on fire/quaking all the time. I'm.... like... 7/9

i just wish i could find my people. a pretty lover. & b super pretty myself. also be able to earn money with my art. but maybe I am being unrealistic. maybe i am just doomed to unhappiness and dissatisfaction. 8/9

sorry for complaining. will switch back to regularly scheduled positivity soon. or not. 9/9

#tales from the wasteland

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prettywordsyouleft · 5 years

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The Sex Contract - Chapter 10

Genre: friends to lovers au / friends with benefits / mature content / romance / angst

Characters: Shim Changmin x Kaia Ashton (OC)

A/N: Due to the overwhelming request I have followed your encouragement to bring back one of my older stories. This was back in a time where OCs were everything and writing one chapter in each main’s point of view was the trend. I hope that even though I have edited this drastically, that you can appreciate this story comes from my older style of writing. I definitely still read this often and find it enjoyable so I hope you will too.

Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 - FINAL

Chapter 10 – Kaia’s POV.

Kaia was officially sick. She missed work for the following two days, feeling as if she had been hit by a truck. After the third day however, Kaia had endured more than enough of being in bed and sleeping it off that she hauled herself off to the nearest pharmacy and bought more cold medicine before heading off to work. She was shivering in her warm clothing despite everyone else on the train being in their summer outfits and by the time she arrived at work, Kaia wondered if she had made such a wise decision.

“Woah, Kaia!” Keith stared at her wide-eyed as she walked into the office, and he rushed to my side. “Should you have come in today? Sungra said when she visited you that you were quite sick but I didn’t realise just how much.”

“I’m fine,” she assured, waving off his concern and heading to her desk. Her eyes had already locked on another person in the room, the girl smiling sympathetically. Kaia smiled back, flashes of the other day returning to her mind. Despite being ill, Abby’s behaviour had stuck out the entire time. Kaia knew she needed answers, and hoped she could get some alone time with the girl during the day.

She turned away from her thoughts as she heard her name and smiled at Sungra who now stood beside her. “I told you to stay at home until you were better!”

“I’m not contagious, so don’t worry. I have plenty of medicine too,” Kaia assured, reaching into her bag and pulling the medicine bag out. Shaking it a little, she smiled again. “Besides, Korean news never stops. I can only imagine the backload already.”

Kaia sat down and settled into her work, her mind now focused on the task at hand. She enjoyed her job so much that she almost forgot she was sick until a cough racked through her chest.

“Not that sick huh?”

“Sung, it’s just a cough, I’m not dying,” Kaia retorted and heard a chuckle come from one of the junior members.

“No, but after what I just found, I believe Changmin is,” Hyurin mentioned and Kaia snapped her focus to the girl. “He apparently is sick over in Japan.”

“Really? Oh no, the poor guy, how untimely!”

Sungra nodded at Minah’s exclamation. “I hope it doesn’t interfere with his promotional work. Where on earth would he get a cold from?”

Kaia could feel her cheeks burning and she swallowed roughly, which caused her to struggle with another loud cough. When she looked up again, Kaia noticed a set of eyes were focused on her.

Abby smirked. “Colds just must be making their way around, right Kai? You must sympathise with Changmin right now.”

“Uh sure,” she managed to squeak out, gulping down some of her water and then cringing at how hard it was to swallow it all. She cleared my throat. “Must be the upcoming season.”

Looking back at her computer screen, Kaia tried to settle herself down and then thought back to the statement Changmin had made regarding his health that night. Smiling, she made a mental note to contact the idol on her next break.

“We really need to stop meeting like this,” a voice said after the toilet flushed behind her and a sense of déjà vu coursed through Kaia’s veins as Abby stepped towards the sink. She smiled brightly at her as Kaia placed her phone back into her pocket. “Are you feeling any better?”

“I am, thanks.”

“Good.” She started to wash her hands. “Funny how Changmin’s sick too right now. He must know your friend Max, right? Or perhaps he’s the same guy?”

“E-excuse me?!” Kaia spluttered out, watching as Abby’s face broke out into a grin.

“I KNEW IT! You know Changmin!” she exclaimed and Kaia placed her hand over Abby’s mouth, darting her eyes around the area. She struggled to remove Kaia’s hand. “Don’t worry; I checked the cubicles before when I followed you in. I can’t believe you’ve kept this from me!”

“Says the girl who is dating Kim Junsu.” It was Abby’s turn to let her features flood with colour, and Kaia smirked as she poked her playfully. “How could you keep that from me?!”

“It’s not like I wanted to, he told me if we wanted this I had to remain silent about it! We work in the business, you know as well as I do if anyone catches wind of this, we’re doomed.” Abby then poked her back. “But you have a lot to answer for, now I know where you disappear off to. Is it friendship or something more?”

Kaia blushed lightly. “I’m an English teacher at SME in my spare time.”

“You devil!” Abby exclaimed and Kaia giggled, the pair both smiling at one another. Kaia could tell Abby felt as relieved as she did now having someone who knew her secret.

They went to step out of the bathroom, still laughing together until they found someone standing in front of them with wide eyes. Keith pointed at them both and tilted his head, unable to bring himself to speak. Exchanging a look with Abby, Kaia lurched towards him, her hand going over his mouth.

“If you tell anyone what you just heard you’re in big trouble, got it?” Abby hissed and he nodded his head, and Kaia loosened her grip.

“Your secrets are safe with me, as long as you tell me everything.”

“Ah, I felt like I was dying to the point I wanted nothing more than to sleep forever! I couldn’t even eat, Kaia! Why did you have to get sick?!” Changmin complained as she came into his room with the bowl of popcorn she had just prepared. Rolling her eyes, Kaia placed it next to the Korean who immediately started shovelling the snack into his mouth.

“It appears your appetite is fine now,” she observed and he shot her a look as she sat down and picked up the controller. “And besides, what happened to you being in top form huh? I told you I’d go home so you didn’t get sick.”

“It was a very powerful strand of illness, clearly,” he stated strongly, and then motioned towards the screen. “Hurry up and choose a car to drive.”

“I just sat down,” Kaia spoke back in the same tone he’d just used, but did his biddings, hitting the x on the controller when she had decided. They started to race and became focused on that for a while before taking a break. Her fingers hurt from not playing videos games in a while, though it was tradition for Changmin and Kaia to have a games night whenever he returned to Seoul from his jet setting schedule. Although he had been back for two days from Japan, this was the first time either of them had enough time to dedicate to the ritual.

“So, did you miss me?” he asked with a smirk as they watched the animation front page to the gameplay across the large television. He shifted closer. “With Oppa gone, you must have been so lonely.”

“Oppa?!” Kaia screeched and grabbed his pillow to beat him with it. “You sickening bastard! I’m only two months younger than you and you use Oppa on me?! Ugh!”

“I thought you liked the whole Oppa talk since you are addicted to them dramas,” he teased and Kaia growled, beating him some more. He fell back on the bedding and she used it to her advantage, climbing over his waist and continuing to beat him with the pillow.

“I am not one of them whiny girls who cry out Oppa at men. Have I ever called either you or Yunho that? I’m not Korean for one!”

Changmin chuckled underneath her, finding the situation amusing. “Like I would ever want to you to call me that. This is me you’re talking to. I get enough Changmin-oppa from my fans, let alone needing it from you.”

“Oh really?” Kaia said and leaned down to his face. “Oppaaa.”

“Quit it. Ugh, why did I start this?”

“Oppaaaa,” she repeated with a giggle and Changmin groaned heavily. “Oppa, this is so much fun. I just love playing games with you.”

“Let’s play a different one then,” he urged, grabbing her wrists and yanking them so her body fell on top of his. Kaia’s eyes widened as his laugh vibrated against her body. “What? Aren’t I playing my role right? You say Oppa and I’m meant to fall for it.”

“Yunho’s home you fool, that’s why I reacted like that.”

“So? Yunho is a man, he understands the carnal desires very well,” he pointed out and Kaia closed her eyes as Changmin’s mouth found the side of her neck. He kissed a trail down to where her shoulder curved into her neck and Kaia let out a deep breath before snapping her eyes open.

“No.”

“No?” he repeated against her skin, his lips spreading into a smile. “Your body is saying yes.”

“I can’t with Yunho in the house Min, it feels wrong!”

He let out an annoyed groan. “Come on Kai, I haven’t had any in well over a week now.”

“Maybe it’s good for you to learn how to pace yourself,” she told him and he thumped the bed in irritation. Propping herself up, Kaia climbed off his waist and picked up her controller. Changmin didn’t move. “Besides, I thought you had the company of a great female whilst gone, Minnie. Or is Kaori Kimura not to your tastes?”

“How did you know?!” He sat up at her piece of information and then shook his head. “That woman is a witch.”

“How so?”

“She might be one of Japan’s leading models at the moment, but she’s very dominant. I tried to escape her attention four times, but she just wouldn’t relent. There’s only so much superficial bantering that I can muster and she wore me out.”

Kaia smirked. “Not what the pictures show.”

“In case you aren’t aware, I’ve been a professional for a very long time Kai, it’s my job to make things appear like magic.”

“Ah, is that what it’s meant to be? Well, couldn’t you magic me up a handsome man that makes me see stars when we kiss, oh great Wizard?” Kaia asked with a laugh and Changmin grabbed her and then leaned down to kiss her.

“I’ll make you see stars once I’m done with you,” he murmured and she knew her previous concern for Yunho was now out the window, though she pouted and hit his shoulder playfully all the same.

“I said someone handsome!”

_________________

Part 11

[TVXQ Masterlist] | [Main Masterlist] | [Request Guidelines]

#shim changmin #changmin #tvxq #tvxq imagines #tvxq scenarios #tvxq fiction #changmin imagines #changmin scenarios #changmin fiction #changmin romance #tvxq romance #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #kpop fiction #kpop romance #pwyl; the sex contract #prettywordsyouleft writes

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clacolu95 · 6 years

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Don’t Want to Let You Go Chapter 8: Chad Wellington

Previous Chapter: Chapter 7: Wicke Knows

Next Chapter: Chapter 9: Mixed Signals

17 hours and 28 minutes.

That was how much time had passed after the unrequited kiss between the President of the Aether Foundation and the Champion of Alola, the time being so clear in his mind as the scene of the female trainer running away from him repeated itself over and over in his mind. The mental picture of the simple white clock on top of his office door marking 6:37 p.m. was permanently stuck in his brain as the time stopped for him after the clear rejection.

She had ran away from him. There was no doubt about that. And after her quick confession the day before... he couldn’t really understand why.

17 hours and 28 minutes. That was how much time it took for his mother to burst into his office uninvited with an envelope in her hand, managing to take him out of his thoughts as the glassed door was smashed against the wall, not shattering into a million pieces only by pure miracle.

“What is this?!” His mother snapped as she threw the yellow envelope on top of his desk. A mad expression pretty clear in her face.

Ever since she resigned to her job as president and started working on the department of public relations of the company his mother had been taking care of the foundation’s public image. She never appeared on public, as she knew there were still people that didn’t trust her in Alola due to Nihilego’s incident, but that didn’t keep her from handling the department from the shadows.

She was good at what she did, and she was his mother, after all, that’s why Gladion had kept her working for the foundation’s interest without minding her occasional rampages about his public appearances and relations with potential associates. Even though she was hard on him her intervention had helped him develop social skills he didn’t have when he started as the CEO of Aether.

“What is it now?” he asked her tiredly not long after he recovered himself from the shock of her sudden outburst.

“You tell me” She answered in a calmer voice as she signaled the yellow envelope, inviting her son to open it.

He took the piece on his hands as he saw Wicke come inside the office muttering an apology, clearly embarrassed by her former boss behavior. As soon as he took out the photo from inside of the envelope his body froze. His grip on the paper grew tighter as he turned his gaze away from the picture and towards his mother.

“Well?” She asked him expectantly “Are you going to explain to me why you suddenly lost interest in keeping away from gossips and maintaining your professional image?”

He covered his face with his left hand as his lips let out a long sigh.

A single picture.

That was how much it would take for his well-cared image of a dedicated president to go down the sink.

The picture of him and Moon kissing inside of his office rested on top of his desk as he silently regretted not closing the blinds of the office that day. Both of their faces focused through the office’s glassed walls at just the right moment.

“Wicke go find the snitch, please” He silently muttered as the purple haired woman looked at him startled.

“Yes Master” She quickly replied as she retired from the room quickly, ready to have some serious conversations with the employees in order to find out who had done it.

Wicke closed the door behind her, leaving just Lusamine and her first and only son to debate freely.

“I was careless”

“No kidding!” The tall blonde complained to his vague answer “I need you to fix this. Now”

“How did you even get this picture?” He asked as he looked at it with the corner of his eye, a light blush slowly heating his face by the memory.

“After all the bad press you got after your first ‘incident’ with the champion I made a friend at the edition department of that stupid gossip magazine…” She explained with an angry glare “He says they’re publishing this tomorrow. So I only really see two options” She crossed her arms over her chest as she looked at him, disappointed, angry at him.

“I’m listening…” The young president muttered. His public image did matter to him, after all. His mother and him had worked so hard to achieve the respect that the foundation now had at his charge, and that careless moment was about to ruin everything.

“We can bribe the magazine into not publishing the article. A practical solution, though a very expensive one as well…”

He couldn’t keep himself from looking at the photo. If that was really going to be the cover of some gossip magazine he was going to be in so much trouble with his sister. The media had talked and theorized about him and Moon for a month last time, if that picture really became public he was sure there would be no stopping them this time. He was doomed. They were doomed.

“What’s the other solution?” He asked the former president as he massaged his temple with two of his fingers, already feeling stress taking over him.

“You could make your relationship public before this gets out. You’ll kill the article and it won’t look so bad for the media if you’re actually a couple…”

That last option stung Gladion like a million needles, but he forced himself to keep calm in front of his mother, dismissing her comment.

“Can’t do that” He spoke with a one-sided grin “We’re not into a relationship”

“What do you mean by that?! I didn’t raise a player!” The woman snapped at his apparently carefree comment. “I need you to fix your little mistake Gladion. Now. I swear I never thought you’d get involved with that girl again… After all that you went through last time…”

His head stung and his heart ached at his mother’s comment.

She was right. He should have been more careful. But the fact that he finished his friendship with the Champion so many years ago didn’t mean he didn’t feel anything for her.

He’d buried his feelings on work. Covered them with documents that needed to be read, contracts that needed to be signed. Locked them up and shoved them aside as he busied himself with meetings and partnerships with other associations.

She had always meant something. He just couldn’t admit it.

“Get out” He muttered with his fingers still on his temple, Lusamine’s comment resonating in his head as he tried to think of a solution to his newfound problem. He had been an idiot for breaking up with Moon, yes. But he was surely not playing with her.

“I sent you the contact information of my friend. Talk to him” She commented, though it sounded more like an order than a recommendation.

“I said get out” He repeated, feeling his headache grow more and more intense with every word that came out of the blonde’s mouth.

Having exposed her wishes, Lusamine retired from his office. Leaving him alone to think about his options, though in reality, everything he could do was look at the photo.

It was troublesome, a threat to his public image and an unnecessary risk for the company, but as he saw the Champion’s eyes closed, the light red tint on her cheeks and her clear enjoyment of the moment, he couldn’t help but smile a bit to himself.

He would have to pay her a visit.

It had been so long since he last visited Mount Lanakila.

He regretted not bringing gloves as he shoved his hands into the not warm enough pockets of his white Aether coat.

He looked at his surroundings as he sneaked towards the back door of the Elite Four building, hiding from the ace trainers that guarded the main entrance of the edifice.

He needed to get to the emergency door for two reasons: The first being that he wasn’t used to battling anymore, and, even if he was, he hadn’t brought his team with him.

As for the second one...it was related to Nanu not being in there with him.

After he had ended his relationship with the Champion he had came back to the Elite Four lots of times, always with the intention of seeing her, but never managing to take the step towards the elevator that would get him to the Champion’s throne.

It wasn’t that he wasn’t able to beat the elite four members, cause he did everytime he visited. It was more of a matter of courage: He couldn’t bring himself to look at her in the eyes and confess he had hurt her for the foundation’s sake. It wasn’t right, as much as he regretted it.

He couldn’t bear to look at her eyes and remember how watery they were that day at the conservation area. He had hurt her so much… And being with her was now a completely selfish thought for him to have, after all, he had heard from Lillie how much time it had taken the Champion to go back to battle.

She had retreated to her house for one month: One whole month without filling the Champion’s Duties, one month conveniently situated after his mother’s press conference, one month in which media knew nothing about her.

He wanted her to be happy. And if she had already forgotten about him… Then maybe he needed to respect that.

He only visited the building when Nanu covered for that girl Lillie had introduced him at the party, Acerola. The old kahuna had always understood the young Aether boy, covering him with the rest of the elite four members after seeing his failed intentions to visit Moon the first time. He always told them he’d beaten him, even when that was far from the truth most of the times, as he knew he probably didn’t want Moon to find out about his occasional appearances.

“Please be the same” The blond murmured as he exhaled hot breath over his hands in an attempt to warm them a little before typing the password the kantonian girl had set for the emergency door the first day she started as Champion.

The password was one of their inside jokes, so the odds of her still maintaining it were pretty slim after their separation. He sighed as he entered the words and waited for the device to load, preparing himself for the imminent rejection of the entry and turning around towards the rocky path that would take him to the base of the mountain when he suddenly heard a click.

He looked back, surprised, as he watched the emergency door open in front of his eyes. The young president proceeded to enter the building as he looked around, making sure no one noticed his entrance. With the media already on the edge, he needed to be as discreet as he could be.

“Cause I’m not interested in a boyfriend, that’s why” The champion stated, trying to terminate the conversation with the persistent challenger in front of her.

“Well, I’m not asking you to be my girlfriend…” The curvy haired ash blond stated as he focused his blue eyes on her “Let’s go out together… have some drinks, maybe more.” He insisted “I mean I know you’re just playing hard to get”

The kantonian girl’s body felt tenser with every second she engaged in the conversation, her head aching as if it was being pierced by a million daggers at the recurrent trainer’s perseverance. She called back her pokémon and stored the pokéballs in her bag, ready to leave the scene and the annoying challenger with it until she felt a grip on her arm.

“Come on Moon, I know you can’t resist me”

His stare was heavy, and his grin grew larger with every inch his face got closer to hers, making her shudder at the sight of his lips nearly locking with hers.

“Stop it Chad!” She screamed, releasing the boy’s grip and standing steadily on the ground, her hand already reaching for her bag to grab her pokéballs if needed.

She wasn’t a weak woman, and she was already fed up of that loser.

“How many times do I have to tell you I don’t like you!?” She asked clearly irritated as she reached for her Decidueye’s pokéball.

The trainer’s cocky smirk turned suddenly into an offended expression, annoyance clear in his factions as he steadied his expensive tie and tried to pull himself together again.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, my Champion” He stated, closing the distance between them again, careful not to make it as abruptly as before. “We’re perfect for each other. I mean I’m perfect, and you are perfect” He spoke, connecting his blue eyes with her gray stare. He extended his hand, nearly touching her face as he spoke “Let’s go now, it’s getting late”

The girl backed off, her rejection completely ignored by the pedantic challenger that had only gotten worse since the day he started pretending her. She readied her arm to throw her pokémon towards him when suddenly the ash blond was thrown towards the ground.

It took her a fraction of a second to realize what was going on, her stare focusing on the tall blond pinning Chad to the floor, his green eyes radiating with fury.

“She told you she didn’t want you” He spoke as Moon recognized his voice as Gladion’s “So get the fuck out”

Continue Reading on AO3

#gladion x moon #lonashipping #mahinashipping #gladion #moon #protagonist #hay x lillie #snowlilyshipping #pokemon #pokemon sun and moon #pokemon fanfiction

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dork-empress · 6 years

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Life, Love, and Death

Part 1 (here), Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8 (coming June 3rd)

Read on Ao3

Telling of the myth of Hades and Persephone based on the interpretation that Hades did NOT kidnap her, with a few twists of my own sprinkled in there.

Hades is a pragmatic God who takes his duties too seriously. Persephone is a relatively new Goddess trying to find her place in the world. When Persephone unexpectedly falls, the two learn from one another what is the real meaning of life and death.

Thanks to @nerdy-cait05 for inspiration and beta-ing

Note: Hey, so, I did do SOME research for this fic, but I am NOT a greek mythology expert or an expert in ancient Greece in general. If I messed up, you are welcome to tell me as long as it's in a "hey, actually they did THIS" kinda way and not a "you fucked up" kinda criticism. I'm always curious to learn, but this is a) totally for fun and b) taking a lot of creative license.

Hades had no favorites among his siblings. This would have surprised many people, had they thought to ask. People thought he had ill will towards his brothers, that he had been short changed into taking the underworld, while they took the sea and sky. Hades knew, though, it had been chance. They thought he was bitter that he did not receive a seat on Olympus, the only one of the children of Chronos that didn’t. He was honestly grateful not to have to deal with all they went through up there.

No, he had no strong feelings for or against any of the siblings. Although, if he wanted to hold to his life drama free, there was only one of his siblings he could interact with, and that was his sister Hestia.

Hestia didn’t have a distaste for anyone either, it wasn’t in her, but she did prefer a quiet life, not unlike himself. “Why don’t you have a hearth, brother?”

“It doesn’t fit the decor,” he answered blithely.

She laughed at him, her warm energy entirely out of place in the dark cavern of the underworld. “But it would be such a nice thing to keep you warm, and to gather around with your visitors.”

He shrugged, “I don’t get many visitors.”

“Well maybe you’d have more if you had a hearth!” She said, her light chuckles bouncing unnaturally. He would have offered her a beverage, but both he knew and she knew that was impossible, so he didn’t bother. Instead, they just sat awkwardly staring at each other.

“Hestia why are you here?” Hades asked.

She sighed. “Because I had the time.” She said wisely, “And I know you don’t get many visitors.”

Hades pursed his lips. “I don’t particularly mind being alone.”

“You like it?” She asked.

He frowned, “I neither like it nor dislike it. It’s a part of my job.”

She shook her head just a little. “You take your job so seriously,” She laughed.

“It’s a serious job,” He answered, getting just a touch annoyed. He took pride in what he did.

“I did not mean to imply otherwise,” she said, watching him closely, a sparkle of something in her eyes, “But even Gods who do their jobs so well enjoy the many pleasures life gives.”

“Sometimes too much,” Hades thought. If he had a coin to spare for every soul that passed into his realm because of something his brothers had done, he’d be rich enough to buy all the kings in the land twice over.

She laughed again. She was full of laughs, it started to grate on him. “Yes, that is true enough. But still, a little indulgence of your desires once in a while surely wouldn’t send the underworld crumbling.”

“I have no desires I wish to indulge,” Hades said curtly, “I have everything I need. I have purpose to fill my days. I have no need to frolic among the mortals and even less among the immortals.” He sighed, his rant starting to have more heat behind it than he meant. “I don’t have any longing for anything beyond what I have.

She sighed, as though she had failed in some quest. “Alright, brother. If you are indeed satisfied, then I shall leave you alone.”

She stood and headed for the entrance. “Sister,” he called after her. She waited. “I did not intend to imply that visitors were unwelcome, should they wish. Especially not yourself.”

She smiled, “Then I shall endeavor to drop by every millenia or so.” With that, she was gone.

-----------------------

“But mother--!”

“Don’t you ‘but mother’ me,” Demeter said, busying herself, “I have a great deal that I need to do, so you may help, or you may go, but I cannot argue right now.”

She passed through field after field, trying to keep ahead of the wilting. The plants were dying faster than they could be re-grown. The people prayed for Demeter’s blessing, offering as much as they could spare, but even then there was only so much a goddess could do, not that anyone dared say it.

“I’m trying to help!” The young goddess Persephone trailed after her mother, green grass growing in her footsteps, “I’ve been watching some of the plants. The soil is tired, that’s why the plants are dying.”

“Its soil, dear,” Demeter said, “It doesn’t sleep and it doesn’t wake.”

“But it does, in a way,” She said, “There’s life there, under the ground. If we could just give it some time to rest, it could replenish and the plants would spring new again.”

“How much time?” Demeter asked, not looking up as she struggled to pull the plants into life.

Honestly, Persephone was surprised her mother was listening to her at all. “A few months, maybe?”

Demeter barked a laugh, cutting her daughter sharper than any sword, “Months? Child, humans cannot survive months without food.”

Persephone sighed, “I know that,” she said, distressed. She wasn’t some child, she knew how humans worked, “But if we give them some warning, perhaps they can save up the food, store it when the food is plentiful so they’d have some while the soil rests.”

Demeter shook her head, “The food is best when it is fresh.”

Persephone shut her eyes and clenched her teeth to prevent herself from screaming. “But they’ll survive even if it’s not! Mother, how long can you keep this up?!”

“Enough!” Finally, Demeter turned on her daughter, the tall, broad woman dwarfing her petite child. Persephone shuffled back and away, ducking her head below her mother’s gaze. “I am the GODDESS of the Harvest. This is my duty. You have no duty yet.” Persephone flinched, “Now. If you will not help, then go and pick some wildflowers. They are weeds out in the field, preventing my crops from growing.”

Persephone opened her mouth to argue but her mother was already on her way, leaving Persephone alone in her wake.

“‘Preventing my crops from growing,’” she muttered angrily, going out into the field and taking hold of the small flowers and yanking them from their home in the ground, “‘weeds.’ They’re no different from her precious garden flowers.” She yanked another, “Except they grow all by themselves. Out of her control!” Yank, yank, yank.

She fell back onto the ground, the grass below marred with holes. She sighed, looking at the handful of flowers left in her hands. “Why do they have to die? What do they have to prove that they’re good enough?”

Instead of continuing her search she began weaving the flowers into a type of crown, a ringlet of dying flowers doomed to wilt away, but still had enough life to make something beautiful.

She was so distracted it took her a long moment before she realized the ground around her was rumbling, shaking low and deep. By the time she felt it, the soil beneath her feet had already begun to crack.

She stood, trying to run out of the way for safety, but the crack in the Earth seemed to follow her, expanding until she tripped and lost her footing. “Mother!” She called out with all her might as she clawed at the sudden cliff. She lost her grip, sliding until she could only grab the very edge, dangling over the abyss below. “MOTHER!”

With a final vibration, her hands fell free, chunks of dirt flying with her. Her screams fell away as she fell, down...down...down…

-------------

“Persephone?” Demeter called out, looking in the field where her daughter had run off to. “Persephone!”

Beyond a few missing weeds, nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

--------------

Persephone ran out of voice to scream before she hit the ground. As a goddess, she didn’t fear for her life, but...there were other things that could happen to a God.

She crumbled on cold stone, too far down for any light to reach her eyes. She felt around, trying to stand. The first thing she noticed was her bare feet. Her feet had never felt cold, as grass had been growing every step of her life since her very first. “Hello?” She called out into the darkness. “Is anyone here?”

She felt around the wall. Her feet hit something. Reaching down, she picked it up and felt it. Her flower crown! Well, at least she had something familiar.

A sound bounced off the cold walls, too distorted by the vibrations for her to tell what it was. “Hello?” She felt along the wall towards the source, or what she hoped was the source. She’d heard of echoes bouncing off walls and confusing people in caves until they were lost and driven mad. But, she figured, she was already lost, so she may as well do all she could to stave off the madness.

The sound echoed again, something low and rumbling. At first she was scared of another earthquake, but the walls and floor didn’t shake. “Is someone there?” She asked, hurrying forward, ”please, an earthquake knocked me off my feet and I fell, can you help me?”

The sound steadied into something regular. It sounded...it sounded like breathing. The cool air warmed into something hot and humid...with a rather terrible odor. “Who’s there?” She asked again. The breather didn’t respond. If only she had some light, or a fire or...fire!

Sure, she couldn’t summon the element like some gods, but if she knew anything it was that life always managed to find a way. She reached to the ground and summoned everything she had, until she felt the stone ground crack and a tiny sapling brush her palm.

It was like hauling a mountain itself, but as she pulled, a small tree came up, no taller than herself, but it was all she needed. She felt along the branches, surprised not to find any leaves, but she didn’t need that either. With a crack, she broke off the largest of the branches, and struck it against the stone wall. Sparks flew, the first bit of light she’d seen down there. She tried again, and again, until the end of the branch caught fire, and she beamed at the makeshift torch she had created.

Ecstatic at her own resourcefulness, she wheeled around to face the breathing….and instantly her good feeling vanished.

High above her was a monstrous sized dog, teeth as long as her entire body, all bared and facing her. Globs of saliva the size of bushes dripped from it’s mouth. “Oh,” was all she said in her surprise, “h-Hello. Um. How are you?”

A second dog peered into the torch light, and then on the opposite side, a third. As she stared up at them, she realized with a sinking feeling they were all attached to the same body. “Well,” she said, taking half a step back, “what a...unique creature you are.” It was unclear as to whether the creature understood her, but as it glowered, the low rumbling noise she had heard before started again. Now she recognized it as a growl.

Her eyes flickered down the tunnel where she’d come from. It was nothing but dark emptiness, and there was no way of telling how far it went. Even if it didn’t stop, there was no way she could outrun such a beast.

She turned back to the dog. “I...I don’t suppose you’re a nice dog, are you?” She lifted a hand up, offering it for him to sniff. He took a step forward, three sets of teeth all bared. She yelped, pulling her hand back. “It’s ok, it’s...it’s ok…” she took a shuddering breath. “You’re a guard dog, arent you? What an excellent job you’re doing.”

She slowly stepped forward, trying not to startle him. Gently, she put her torch on the ground, letting it still burn a circle of light, but she was unable to see more than glimmering eyes from the dog. Taking a shuddering breath, she put her hands on the tree she had grown in the entryway, breaking its dried trunk with a large crack until she held the small tree in her arms.

The dogs didn’t like that. The one on the left barked at the sound, and the dog stepped forward again, their breath hot on her skin. “It’s ok, it’s ok,” she reassured. “I’m sorry I don’t have any meat for you, but...maybe you like playing fetch?”

She lifted the tree up for the dog to sniff it. He did, giant nostrils fluttering as he took in the scent. Persephone took a deep breath wishing she had more strength. “Fetch!” She shouted, tossing the tree down the tunnel with all her might.

There was a flurry of movement as the dog leaned into the air. Persephone closed her eyes, prepared for the feeling of teeth tearing into her, but instead, there was a large thumping that started, and faded behind her. Opening her eyes, she saw the dog was gone, and only the glimmer of his back claws remained in the light as it retreated away from her.

Quickly, she picked her torch up again and made her way through the arch the dog had been guarding.

--------------

Hades had a strict routine he kept to. Without the passage of daylight so far beneath the Earth, it was the only way to tell one day from the last.

It had been an easy day. He had heard from Hestia that Demeter had been having difficulty with the crops recently, so that explained the incoming starvations. Those that starved were not surprised they were dead, and some were in fact grateful they no longer had to go hungry. There was plenty of food in the underworld, for the doomed.

So, overall, it was pretty peaceful, and he didn’t have to listen to any petitions or deal out any judgements. But this was the time he had put aside for specifically that purpose, and so he sat on his throne, idly tapping his fingers on the arm. His hall was awfully empty, now that Hestia had him thinking of it. He couldn’t possibly think of what to use to decorate it, though.

Most gods had symbols of their provenance filling their halls and temples. What symbols of the dead could be use. Skulls? Corpses? That sounded terribly depressing. Though, perhaps it would frighten away the potential petitioners, for whom he ceaselessly refused to return their life to. But then, he would continue to be alone in this throne room. With skulls. The thought wasn’t incredibly appealing.

“Hello?”

A bright woman’s voice echoed through his chambers. He frowned. Did he have a petitioner after all?

A light entered the chamber, a torch nearly burned out, being held by a young woman. This was no ordinary young woman, that was clear enough.

“Please, isn’t there anyone here who can help me?” She begged, the flames on her torch nearly licking her hand as they burned down the wood, “I'm afraid I’m terribly lost.”

“You aren’t dead,” Hades said, standing from his throne and soundlessly stepping down the long stairs to his chamber floor.

The woman twirled around, and Hades was struck motionless as he looked into her eyes. He had seen the great beauties of the world. His sister, Hera, Queen of the Gods, stood regal and glamorous. Aphrodite, the goddess of love and beauty, was overflowing with lustful energy, one that drove his fellow Gods mad with desire. Even Apollo was known for his great beauty, seducing mortals of any gender that suited his fancy. As for the mortals, more than one had begged for their lives, saying with reason that they were too beautiful to die in their prime, and offered him sexual favors ranging from the obvious to intensely creative.

And with all of these, he gave less than a second thought. He could appreciate aesthetics, but never had he felt a desire for more. Even now, he felt none of the stirrings that the poets talked about, but there was something….something so soft yet vibrant, gentle and fierce all rolled into one in her eyes, that was so different than anything he had seen before, that held his attention for a longer moment he had previously thought possible.

It was only when her eyes roamed, probing the dark corners of the empty chamber, that he realized she couldn’t see him. “Is that such a surprise?”

He was confused, until he realized she was responding to his own statement he’d forgotten he’d made. “For here? Yes.”

“What is this place?” She asked, still turning as she tried to find the source of his voice.

“It goes by many names,” Hades said, calmly, “the afterlife, the land of the dead, the Underworld….although some name it after me, though few say it aloud.”

She pointed what remained of her torch at him. He saw her flinching as the flames touched her skin. “And….who are you?” She asked. He could see the goosebumps on her skin.

With a single step, he stepped into view of her torchlight. “Hades.”

She gasped in surprise and dropped her torchlight. It went out as soon as it touched the ground. “Sorry, Sorry!” She said, “oh goodness, I didn’t mean to seem so frightened, you just surprised me is all.” She reached for the ground, looking for her torch. “I’m terribly sorry, Lord Hades, my mother has told me about you, oh—!”

She tripped over her own feet, nearly face planting on the hard ground. He dived for the ground, catching her by her elbows. Her skin was warm, but not hot. Like a calm day out in the sun. “Thank you,” She said, “I’m sorry, I’m afraid I can’t see you.”

“Close your eyes,” he instructed.

“What?”

“Close them,” he said, as gently as he could. Slowly, she let her eyelids relax looking so serene she may have been sleeping.

Hades lifted a hand and covered her eyes taking a deep breath. “Alright,” He said, “you can open them now.”

Her eyes fluttered open, unveiling a magnificent green of freshly sheared grass. The focused in on his own dark eyes. “Hello,” she greeted warmly, then remembered herself and bowed her head, “Lord Hades, thank you for finding me and returning my sight.”

“Only the dead can see in no light,” he said, “that is why they belong in the Underworld.”

She gulped. “Am I dead?”

Her earnest nature actually amused Hades. He may have laughed, if he were a laughing man. “No,” he reassured her, “I’ve given you the sight of the dead for the moment, so that you need not wander blindly.”

She bowed her head again, this time briefly. “Thank you, Lord Hades,” she looked around, “I...I would give you a gift in return….”

“That’s not necessary,” he said. He just didn’t want to be guiding her everywhere.

“No, it is!” She protested, thinking quickly, “my mother always told me never to abuse a stranger’s kindness, by accepting and not offering in return...oh, here!” She unhooked a ring of flowers from her arm, “please, accept this gift.”

Without waiting for him to accept or not, she reached as high as she could, placing the ring of flowers atop his head in a makeshift crown. Hades stood, stunned, as the flowers dropped down over his eyes. She flinched, trying to jump up and adjust it, but he took the duty himself, pushing it up to rest on his head. At his touch, the flowers instantly dried and blackened, but remained intact. “Thank you,” He said, more than a little befuddled, “Lady…”

“Persephone,” She said, giving him a small curtsy, “Daughter Of Demeter,”

He nodded in understanding. “You’re a goddess,” he said.

“Mm,” she said, “technically. I mostly just help my mother, I don’t have a domain of my own yet.”

“I see,” he said, “well then, Lady Persephone, come with me and I’ll lead you back to your mother.”

Hades walked forward, but it was clear within a few steps that he was not being followed. He turned back. “Well?”

“The thing is…” Persephone said, clutching her arms close to herself, “when last I saw, my mother and I...got into an argument,” She looked down in shame, “no doubt this latest blunder will be blamed on my own clumsiness as well and...I am not ready, quite yet, to face that.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What would be your alternative?”

“Can’t I stay here?” She asked, eyes imploring.

He blinked. Of all things he thought she might say, that was not it. “What?”

“Please, Lord Hades,” She said, stepping up, “I promise I won’t interfere in your affairs or be a bother at all. This place is just, so different than anywhere I’ve ever been, I’d love to see more of it.”

“I…” he stuttered out, unsure of how to respond. “I don’t—“

Just then, a barking sound echoed around them. Hades looked down the hallway. As though this day hadn’t been strange enough, Cerberus was stampeding toward them through the hallway, having left the post he so often stood resolute in. “Cerberus! Yield!” He instructed.

The giant dog did not do as requested, but jumped into the chamber. Now that he could see better, Cerberus was holding...a tree? The center head held the center of the trunk well in his grip, the left head with a decent mouthful of the base, though he had to lean awkwardly. The right head was desperately trying to hang onto the end branches, but they continually snapped in his jaws, leaving him struggling.

All 6 eyes landed on Persephone, and the dog lurched forward. On instinct, Hades threw himself between them, guarding the young goddess with his body.

Cerberus stared down at them, and then...lay the tree at Hades feet.

There was a moment as Hades, and Persephone peeking out from behind him, stared silently at the fallen tree, Cerberus panting above them. Then, Persephone gasped in delight. “You DO play fetch!” She cried in her highest pitch voice, diving out from behind Haded to pick up the tree, “good job! What’s his name?”

Hades was so taken aback, it took him a moment to realize she was addressing him. “Uh...Cerberus.”

Persephone beamed up at the dog. “Cerberus...what a good name!” The dog...actually preened at the praise. “May I pet him?”

“What?” Hades asked. She turned back to him imploringly, and even Cerberus lowered all three of his heads to her. “I...I guess?”

Persephone needed no more permission, jumping forward to practically lay on the middle head’s snout, no care given to his wet nose or slobber. “Good boy, good boy! Oh, what a good boy!” The side head’s gently nosed at her, seeking attention for themselves. She scratched one of their noses, then the other, trying her hardest to give equal attention to each. “Hey! Hey Cerberus, look what I’ve got!”

She jumped off, getting the tree again. All sets of eyes focused in on her, head’s and front paws lowered, while butt and tail wiggles in the air, ready for what came next. “You want the stick? Oh, you want it?” Cerberus might have nodded, his tail wagging more insistently to the point it was practically creating its own wind.

Carefully, Persephone climbed on top of the middle head, using the stick to keep them focused where she wanted, “Alright, back into the hall! Into the hall! Good boy!” She used the stick to lead him out of the chamber, “and FETCH!” She threw the stick with all her might, then clung to the dog’s fur as he took off after it.

Hades was left in silence as the dog and laughing girl padded away, wondering what, in his own name, had just happened.

#greek mythology #fic #Hades #hades and persephone #persephone #laura writes #tell me what ya think!

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cromulentbookreview · 6 years

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Binge!

It makes sense why we use a term normally associated with food like “binge” to describe that day where you do nothing but watch every episode of that one TV show. You don’t really hear someone say that they’re going on a book binge, though. When referring to a media “binge,” it’s usually always TV, and, to some extent, movies (I once binged all three Extended Editions of Lord of the Rings - it took a day and a half and it was amazing). I think we need to have more book binges in our lives. In fact, there’s even a book review site way more organized and put together than mine will ever be that’s actually called Book Binge.

Anyway, for me a book binge is when you pick out a series that already has several books out and you read them all, one after the other. I did this earlier this year with Naomi Novik’s amazing Temeraire series. I’m pretty sure it’s why I had to get new lenses for my glasses this year. I’ve been on a historical mystery kick lately - I think it has to do with the season changing from Summer to Fall where I immediately go “get me some 19th Century British Detectives!!”

Which was how I ended up tearing through all 10 of Will Thomas’s Barker & Llewelyn books.

I’d never heard of the Barker & Llewelyn series until I was traipsing around Goodreads looking for some 19th century mystery fiction. Like my strange obsession with 19th century British dudes on boats, I loves me some 19th century British mystery stories. Initially, I didn’t start out to binge the entire series. 10 books is a lot. I had a hard time with Temeraire, which is also kind of 10 books (9 and a bunch of short stories). There were times with my Temeraire binge where my attention wavered, where I wanted to just put the books down and go read something else, but I pressed on. And I discovered one of the great joys of a true book binge: no agonizing wait for a sequel. No having your interest piqued by book one and then sitting and waiting for a year and a half for the next book. With a book binge, you can put down book two and immediately pick up book three because BOOK BINGE.

There are a few 19th century British mystery series out there that I’m almost too afraid to start with because they consist of roughly ten thousand books and counting (looking at you, Anne Perry) and there’s no way I’d be able to focus on (or care about) a single series for that many books. So when I saw that the Barker & Llewelyn series consisted of nine books, like Temeraire, (plus a tenth book I’d gotten on Netgalley), and that all of them were under 350 pages, I was like “OK, I’ll give the first book a go, and see what happens.”

Yeah, I may have immediately gone from the first book to the second one. And then the third. And then the fourth and the fifth...I couldn’t stop.

The series is all about our audience surrogate, Thomas Llewelyn, and our substitute Sherlock Holmes, detective private enquiry agent Cyrus Barker. At the start of the series, Llewelyn is 22 and a widow who just spent eight months in Oxford Prison for theft. He’d been set to go places, having gotten a scholarship to Oxford, but the whole prison-sentence thing derailed all his plans. So he ends up in London (where else?) looking for work. After months of failed attempts to get a job (not a lot of job opportunities for ex-cons out there, even in the 1880s), Llewelyn decides to try for one last job before throwing himself into the Thames: an assistant position with a prominent private detective enquiry agent, Cyrus Barker. Barker, like all Great Detective Private Enquiry Agent types, is a Scottish eccentric with a mysterious past who knows everything about anything and anything under the sun. He’s got all sorts of weird scars and gang tattoos. He grew up in China and speaks like, eleventy-one languages. He wears sunglasses all the time. Like, all the time. Apparently he does so even when he sleeps. (Yes, they had sunglasses in the 19th century. No, they’re not called sunglasses in these books, but they’re referred to as his “dark spectacles”). Barker is, of course, filthy rich, and upon hiring the poor, unfortunate and 1000% broke Thomas Llewelyn, immediately provides him with room, board, and a whole new suit of fancy clothes. He also sets about correcting Llewelyn’s behavior and manners, a pretty tall order since Llewelyn is a super snarky Welshman. As far as Watsons go, Llewelyn is definitely one of the more amusing, which makes these books so goddamned fun to read.

Also, Barker has a butler called Jacob Maccabee, who rivals Llewelyn in his deadpan snarkiness. I ship Llewelyn/Mac so hard - every time they’re in a scene together they just have so much chemistry. I don’t care if Word of God is they are both straight. I just want them to be together and snark at each other all day long..

Uh.

Ahem.

Anyway.

Yes, this series is very much your standard, buddy-detective private enquiry duo present in basically all movies, TV and books, but they’re fun. And you know what we all need right now? Fun. Pure, unadulterated fun where the good guys triumph over the bad guys, where the mystery is solved and you’ve got your Sherlock Holmes and your Dr. Watson. Because have you seen the news lately? Yeah, I need some stories where pure good triumphs over evil, where people freak out at the concept of rubber tires and the telephone, and where the story of the day isn’t doom and gloom and horror. Just, you know, murder. But fun, because it’s not real. And because it was the 19th century. In Britain. And not real. Well, except Jack the Ripper, those were real but...you know.

Here’s a summary of the first nine books in the sereies:

BOOK 1 - Some Danger Involved: Your average detective enquiry agent-duo origin story featuring brilliant detective and his new snarky Welsh sidekick!

BOOK 2 - To Kingdom Come: Barker & Llewelyn go undercover and build bombs for the Irish!

BOOK 3 - The Limehouse Text: Barker & Llewelyn face big trouble in London’s 19th Century Chinatown!

BOOK 4 - The Hellfire Conspiracy: Barker & Llewelyn fight human traffickers, secret societies and such!

BOOK 5 - The Black Hand: Barker & Llewelyn fight the Italian mafia!

BOOK 6 - Fatal Enquiry: Barker & Llewelyn fight Barker’s almost comically evil arch-nemesis!

BOOK 7 - Anatomy of Evil: Barker & Llewelyn fight Jack the Ripper!

BOOK 8 - Hell Bay: Barker & Llewelyn Present: Agatha Christie’s And Then There Were None!

BOOK 8.5 - An Awkward Way to Die: Barker & Llewelyn solve a case in, like, 20 minutes!

BOOK 9 - Old Scores: Barker & Llewelyn Present: Japonism in Late-19th Century England!

BOOK 10 - Blood is Blood: Barker is put temporarily out of commission by an explosion! Llewelyn must solve the case himself! Who should show up to help but Barker’s long lost brother??

A little more about Blood is Blood:

So Thomas Llewelyn is only a couple of weeks away from happily marrying his lady love, Rebecca Cowan née Moccatta. Everything is hunky-dory. And then someone tries to blow up his and Barker’s office. Barker is badly injured, leaving Thomas to investigate who tried to kill them by himself. Oh, and, same day the offices are blown up, Caleb Barker, Cyrus Barker’s long lost brother, first mentioned way back in Limehouse Text, I think, shows up. Caleb had been a major plot point in Fatal Enquiry, but then was never mentioned again until this book. He’s been living in the lawless American West, acting as a Pinkerton agent. But can he be trusted? Also, Rebecca’s family is super against her marrying a detective private enquiry agent who isn’t Jewish. Upon seeing just how dangerous the job can be, Rebecca starts having doubts. Will Thomas be unlucky in love yet again? Tune in November 13 for Blood is Blood, same bat-time, same bat channel.

Yes, this series can, at times, be formulaic and tropey, but...fuck it, I love it. Sometimes there’s comfort to be had in a story where you know the good guys will solve the mystery, maybe picking up a few scrapes along the way. I tore through all of the books of the Barker & Llewelyn series in about two weeks, and finished Blood is Blood in about a day. I should’ve gone slower, because I need more. I need at least five more books, Will Thomas, and I needed them YESTERDAY. Aaaackgh. This is what I get for binging. How long until book 11? Will we be getting another novella soon? And when are we going to meet Thomas's family?! 10 books and we've never met his parents or any of his nine siblings! I want a whole book dedicated to Thomas reconciling with his family and he and Barker and Mac running all around Wales. I NEED IT.

Write faster, Will Thomas.

Predictably, after a book binge such as this, my eyes now hurt pretty badly. Time to invest in those fancy eye drops my optometrist keeps telling me to buy.

RECOMMENDED FOR: Anyone needing an escape from the awful world we live in now.

NOT RECOMMENDED FOR: People who think everything’s fine for some reason. You know. This guy:

OVERALL SERIES RATING: 4.5/5

TOTALLY UNBIASED VICTORIAN MYSTERY / MURDERINO FANGIRL RATING: 5/5

BLOOD IS BLOOD RATING: 4/5

RELEASE DATE: November 13, 2018

ANTICIPATION LEVEL FOR NEXT BOOK IN THE SERIES: Olympus Mons

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