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moonjuicewiththepresident · 2 months ago

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whatsername/can't stop

Being the part-owner of a small business had its perks. Atsumu took full advantage of it.

Free coffee whenever he wants, trying new pastry ideas (courtesy of Osamu), making his own schedule, you name it.

Being alone with your thoughts for hours on end was, decidedly, not a perk. In between customers, which were far and few between, especially with how early it was into the shop opening, Atsumu would clean, restock, everything he was supposed to be doing. When he ran out of menial tasks to do, however, he would sit at the counter, staring out the window onto the street, watching people go by, watching as the world turned around him.

Opening up a coffee shop with his brother was fun. It was expensive, yes, and definitely had taken a toll on their relationship at the beginning, with arguments about the stupidest shit making Atsumu reconsider signing the lease to the building (many croissants were thrown those days). But it was fun. They got to spend their days together, albeit for a few hour, while their shifts overlapped because they, quite frankly, didn’t have the money to hire another employee.

It was fun. He kept telling himself that. Atsumu had no other choice but to keep telling himself that.

Was it what he had envisioned for himself in his childhood? No. Was it something he was passionate about? Hell no. Working food service was hell on earth, and Atsumu would argue to the ends of the earth that it was harder and more taxing than restaurant food service. Not that regular food service jobs weren’t hard, it’s just that a McChicken thrown at you is usually a softer blow than a piping hot latte with “11 shots of caramel instead of 15” (it’s funny if you laugh and don’t think too hard about it, right?)

But whatever.

He was happy.

Osamu was happy, happy when Atsumu agreed to help open the shop, happy when he cooked, happy when people came through the door.

Most of their business came from their regulars, who had enough love triangles and relationship drama to fill a season of Love Island. Atsumu rarely had many joys, but the gossip and drama around everyone in that small strip of city spiced up his lonely days, enough so that Osamu and he had nearly decided to come up with a whiteboard and red string, trying to tie everything and every relationship together. Many relationships, failed and successful, many left pining and unrequited. Everyone told the twins everything, and the twins told no one but each other.

So it was fun. Everything was fine.

The days passed, and more and more new faces popped in, and more and more faces left.

And it continued that way, up until mid April.

It was almost cliche, how the day was. Like, almost hilarious.

It was sunny, but not hot, like you could wear a jacket and be slightly on the edge of sweating, but not uncomfortable to anyone used to the weather in their town. At least, that’s how Hinata described it to Atsumu, before he took his usual order.

“Same as always, shrimpy?” Atsumu asked, eyebrow raised as he punched the order into the register.

“Yup,” Hinata bounced on the balls of his feet, popping the ‘p’. “Two large iced peanut butter and mocha lattes with oat milk and an ube glazed donut.”

Atsumu shook his head, grinning. “Y’know, that caffeine is gonna kill ya, kid, if the sugar doesn’t get ya first.”

The redhead’s grin widened. “As long as I’m writing, that’s all that matters.”

He snorted.

Atsumu knew the kid was a writer on his way to getting his book published. Hinata sat in the corner damn near every day from nine to noon, sipping on his more-sugar-than-coffee coffee and tapping away at an old MacBook covered in Pokemon stickers. Atsumu had once asked what he was writing, and the redhead lit up, delving into a spiel about wizards and knights and dragons, something that Atsumu chalked up to a fantasy book with so much lore he was surprised Hinata’s head didn’t explode with all the information and world-building. Atsumu didn’t have the heart to tell him that he wasn’t a fan of fantasy, not with the way the kid’s eyes shone as he explained the plot, like no one had ever asked him about it before.

“Yer gonna burn yerself out one day, kid,” Atsumu said, grabbing the pastry from the case. “Take it easy, have a life while you still can.”

Hinata peered at him from over the espresso machine. “Says you, you’re always here and doin’ the same thing.”

He snorted. “That’s because I have no friends and therefore no life. You,” Atsumu jabbed a finger at Hinata. “On the other hand, are young, there’s no excuse to be here doin’ nothing and sitting in this ol’ place.” He gestured at the store.

Hinata pulled a face. “Dude, you’re twenty-five, how is that old?”

“Not the point.”

Hinata pulls that face again, but (thankfully) goes quiet as Atsumu makes his drinks. “Did you hear about next door?”

“Ya mean the space that can never keep a business goin?” Atsumu asks. “Yeah, I know it. Is there another victim movin’ in?”

The storefront to the left of the shop, the one Hinata’s apartment was above could notoriously never keep full. Businesses went in and out, with fronts never lasting more than a couple of months. In the two years the Miya brothers had rented out the space, they’d seen a smoke shop, travel advisor office, hair salon, sex shop and ice cream parlor (Samu was particularly sad to see that one go).

Truly, Atsumu was terrible at paying attention these days. He hadn’t noticed anyone moving shit in, but usually, by the end of his shifts, he was too exhausted to notice his surroundings. Osamu always joked about being terrified of driving on the same road as Atsumu, and while he’d like to argue, it was kind of scary the way he’d blink and he’d be in his apartment after work.

So no, he had not noticed construction or anything else.

He was tired, sue him.

“Yeah,” Hinata laughed. “But this time,” He leaned over the counter, grinning wide. “I heard this time, it’s a tattoo shop.”

Atsumu rolled his eyes. “Kid, ya have no tattoos or piercings, why are ya excited about this?”

“‘Cause we don’t have any shops near us!” He exclaimed. “Besides, don’t you ever want to get a tattoo?”

“Not really.”

“You’re no fun.” Hinata pouted.

“And that’s why ya love me,” Atsumu said in a sing-song voice, sliding his iced drinks across the counter. “Now here, caffeine goblin, consume.”

Hinata frowned. “You’re weird.”

“Never said I wasn’t, scrub.”

With more people coming in, and Atsumu rushing around by himself, he forgot about the conversation. Well, kind of.

Atsumu never considered getting a tattoo. Not that he was one of those purists where everything had to have meaning, no, he’d get something if it was funny enough, but it wasn’t like he was craving a tattoo or nothin’. He liked the look of them well enough, especially on his partners. He loved the flow, and it fascinated him how truly in the skin the tattoo was. He loved tracing his fingers up and down the lines, gliding across the contours of the lines that curved with the body.

But nothing particular came in mind when it came to getting a tattoo, and while he loved to make irresponsible changes to his body (the shitty bleach job did not count, however much Osamu would argue otherwise), that was a little… too permanent.

So the conversation floated to the back of his mind, where it stayed until thirty minutes after two that same day.

Hinata was long gone, and the lunch rush over, but Atsumu was stuck there, at least until he was off in half an hour. Osamu was in the back, presumably making more pastries to go in the case.

It was quiet. His fingers drummed against the counter Atsumu leaned on, humming along to whatever american pop punk album Osamu had decided on for the hour. The sunlight streamed in through the large windows in the front, and Atsumu stared out them longingly. People walked by, chatting with one another, most of which Atsumu recognized.

It wasn’t until a stranger paused in front that Atsumu was dragged out of his thoughts.

With the sun shining through the windows, it was hard to make anything out about the man, more just a blob than anything, but he was able to make out pale skin peeking out from above the collar of a black jacket and what must’ve been a black surgical mask strung over his face. Atsumu squinted, trying to get a better look, when the blob started moving towards the door.

Of course, Osamu chose that moment to emerge from the back.

“Heya, idiot, where’d ya put the mochi flour?” Osamu peeked his head out from the doorway to the kitchen.

“I didn’t touch yer shit, Samu,” Atsumu barked. “It’s back there in yer mess of a kitchen.”

“My mess of a kitchen? You,” Osamu pointed at him. “Were the one who was supposed to clean as you go, ‘Tsumu, it’s a goddamn mess back there.”

He rolled his eyes. Yeah, it probably was a mess back there, but Atsumu would love to see Osamu open by himself, that’d be fuckin’ hilarious. Osamu always wanted to close, and Atsumu was always left to open. It worked out better that way, with Osamu’s sleeping habits being horrific, and Atsumu being semi-friendly in the morning.

He had only just started coming up with an insult back when a voice came from behind.

“There’s two of you.”

Atsumu turned around and startled back at the man at the register. “Jeez,” He said, pointedly ignoring Osamu’s laughter. “Ya scared the shit out of me, man.”

The man shrugged. “Sorry.” Dark eyes squinted at him from below the brim of a baseball cap. “Are you two twins?”

Atsumu stared right back. “Uh, yeah…” He thought it’d be obvious. “Yeah, I’m stuck with that moron for life.” Osamu let out an undignified cry from the back. He cleared his throat, trying to suppress a grin. “So what can I get ya?”

He scanned the menu, craning his neck to look over Atsumu’s head, and his hoodie slipped down, revealing a sliver of black ink on pale skin.

Atsumu furrowed his brow, letting his eyes wander to where the man’s hands were, thumbs tucked into the pocket of his black hoodie. Twin tattoos sat on his hands, a panther and a tiger, curled towards each other, climbing down his wrists, towards the letters on his knuckles, reading ‘STAR DUST’ in hollow traditional lettering.

His sleeves were pulled down halfway over the cats on his arms, but if he had hand tattoos, Atsumu reckoned his arms were filled with art as well.

“Excuse me?” The man’s voice snapped Atsumu out of his (admittedly) rather creepy staring.

“Sorry,” He awkwardly laughed, shaking his head. “Got lost for a minute, what did ya decide on?”

“A large iced…” He squinted at the sign again. “Taro and vanilla latte, coconut milk, and two extra shots of espresso.”

Atsumu snorted. “Caffeine problem?”

“Comes with the job.” He said curtly.

Atsumu slid down the bar, grabbing the cold cup. “And what job would that be, sweetheart,” (Atsumu cringed to himself, WHY would he use that name?!) “With all those tattoos? Ya gotta be either rich or stupid.”

It was the man’s turn to snort. “Definitely not rich.”

An awkward pause.

Atsumu cleared his throat, clearly he didn’t want to talk about his job.

“Well, ya might be interested to know, I heard someone’s gonna open up a shop next door,” He jerked his head to the left. “No idea if it’s good or not, but worth checkin’ them out.”

“I’d hope they’re good.” He said dryly, and Atsumu laughed.

“I reckon they’re good enough to open their own shop, yer right. Ya should still check them out, small businesses and whatever,” He waved flippantly. “I dunno how that shit works, really, not into that kinda thing.”

Dark eyes studied him. “You don’t have any tattoos?”

“Nah,” Atsumu shook his head, sliding the drink across the counter, and leaned on it. “Why, ya think I’d look pretty with one?” He grinned at the man, waggling his eyebrows.

He grabbed the drink, sighing with such disdain Atsumu had to suppress a laugh. “What a weird thing to ask a customer.” He said cooly.

“Aw,” Atsumu whined, throwing his hands up in surrender. “It was funny, c’mon!”

The bell jingled, the door slammed, and it was quiet again.

Damn.

“Samu,” He shouted. “I’m funny, right?”

“Fuck no, ya moron!”

Kiyoomi, so far, was not a fan of Kobe.

He knew that as they signed the lease to the shop, he knew it as they started painting the walls a deep green (Motoya and he argued about wall colors and decor for a while, all while Rinarou laughed at them from afar), and he knew it as he left the Fox Burrow, the coffee shop they would be sharing a wall with.

That man was… annoying. In the few minutes Kiyoomi was in the cosy coffee shop, the piss-colored-bleach-blonde managed to press a concerning number of Kiyoomi’s buttons.

Don’t get him wrong, Kiyoomi loved his tattoos, and he didn’t normally mind people commenting on them, but then that would get them to asking about them, then he would have to explain that no, he didn’t pay thousands of dollars for them, he either traded or got them for free, and then he would have to explain that yes, he is a tattoo artist and that opens up a can of worms that Kiyoomi is never excited to talk about.

Because whenever Kiyoomi would mention his profession, the other person’s eyes would light up, and start explaining all of their ideas, asking his prices and cringing when they heard his hourly rate, all while standing in the frozen section of a grocery store while Kiyoomi is just trying to buy frozen pizza.

He digresses.

He now lies, or wears a lot of long sleeves and pants and masks (it doesn’t every quite cover the traditional dagger on his left temple, an impulsive tattoo from when he graduated his apprenticeship that effectively killed his chance at getting another job) to cover the tattoos and piercings that Motoya had given him when his cousin was first taking clients in his apprenticeship.

Kobe’s weather is making it hard, though. It was warm for mid-April, as he was told by locals who were nosy enough to come visit them while they were getting the shop set up.

His breath was hot, almost suffocating under his mask as he walked back over to the shop, where Rintarou and Motoya were attempting to hang a vintage neon sign in the window that Kiyoomi insisted was a fire hazard. When he had tried to argue, however, Motoya pushed back, urging that ‘the vibes had to be right’.

And the “vibes”, as Motoya described them as, was a cosy, vintage shop. His cousin had spent a long time searching for furniture, either at consignment shops or Facebook marketplace while Kiyoomi and Rintarou had spent months, close to a year outlining and painting flash to put up on the walls, even before they had announced to the shitty shop in Kyoto that they were leaving.

He had at one point wished that they were going for a cleaner, more minimalistic decor, but once they signed the lease on the small storefront with dark wood flooring in a small strip of downtown, Kiyoomi changed his mind.

When it came to the “vibes” (God, Kiyoomi was well aware of how stupid that sounded, he’s sick of it too) Motoya knew best. Kiyoomi learned, and Rin was never one to argue with his husband on that.

It was a joint decision, opening up their own shop.

They were all stuck in a shitty street shop in Kyoto, with only each other to trust. Kiyoomi often had to lock up his tool chest when he wasn’t there to watch it, out of (rational) fear that another artist would steal his supplies. He had caught the owner too many times skimping on their paychecks, and the man still owed Motoya a large sum of money that he was sure would never see his bank account.

Frankly, Kiyoomi was surprised they made it out without Rin breaking anyone’s nose. And, frankly, between all the obscenities and threats thrown from both parties, Kiyoomi was surprised no one had called the cops on them.

He savored the blast of air conditioner as he opened the door, hearing the quiet chatter of the two up on the ladder in the window.

“What’d you get?” Motoya asked. Kiyoomi caught a glance of his cousin on the third rung, doing something with the wires that made Kiyoomi look away, choosing peace over yelling at the brunet about fire hazards again.

“Coffee.”

Rin snorted. “Yeah, no shit,” He nudged Motoya. “A little higher on the left, babe, it’s still crooked,” He muttered. “What kind of coffee, asshole?”

Kiyoomi hummed, peering at his cup. “Taro and vanilla latte, I think.”

“Fancy.”

“Is it good?”

Both eyes turned to him.

He rolled his eyes, pulling down his mask and taking a sip from the straw. “Huh.” Kiyoomi frowned.

“That bad?” Rin snickered at him. “How much did you pay for that?”

Kiyoomi shook his head. “It’s… it’s actually very good. Not too sweet.”

Damnit.

He grimaced.

That meant he would actually have to go back and talk to the blond.

He wasn’t lying when he said the caffeine addiction came with the job. While Motoya wasn’t that bad, Rintarou and Kiyoomi couldn’t say the same. Kiyoomi had to have at least two RedBulls in the morning to function.

“Isn’t that good news?” Motoya asked. “That means we have good coffee next door!” Kiyoomi glared and his eyes widened. “Right?” He asked uncertainly.

On one hand, his cousin was right. Good coffee next door was dangerous for the three of them. Their old shop used to have a convenience store nearby that the trio would walk to buy (with what little money they had) energy drinks a couple times a day, and considering none of them had health insurance for heart attacks (worst part of the job. No fucking benefits), it was playing a dangerous game. Motoya loved coffee, Kiyoomi loved caffeine, and Rin just loved feeling jittery to the point of unbearable productivity. Apparently.

Don’t ask Kiyoomi, Rin was still an enigma to him.

Kiyoomi sighed. “The man running the counter was irritating.” Rintarou snorted and he shot him a glare. “More so than you, somehow.”

“You wound me, Sakusa.”

Motoya, who was very used to ignoring their bickering, just hummed, climbing down the ladder. “To be fair, Kiyo, were you nice to them?”

Rin actually laughed out loud at that.

“I have half a mind not to fling my goddamn coffee at you, Suna,” Kiyoomi seethed, jabbing a finger at him. “How Motoya puts up with you is beyond me.”

“His impossibly good looks.” Motoya crooned.

“My huge dick.” Adds Rintarou helpfully.

Kiyoomi considers prison time.

In his late teens and early twenties, Kiyoomi had developed pretty bad habits.

Some of which, like smoking, he had kicked, but others, like his horrendous work-life balance and his ability to bury himself in work instead of facing his actual feelings, he had definitely not gotten rid of.

His apprenticeship was hard.

No sob stories or anything, but it sucked. According to most artists that Kiyoomi had talked to before landing his spot, every apprenticeship sucked.

Long hours, bitch work, constant moving and constant working effectively killed his social life at eighteen. His only friend was his cousin, Motoya, who forced him out every Sunday on his day off to get lunch. Even then, he felt dead most days, just going through motions, hardly feeling joy with his art anymore.

When talking to his mentor and shop owner, he was told it was normal, and he just had to push through the hard times, and burnout wasn’t real, he was just being lazy about work.

So he did.

He pushed.

He worked his ass off. Kiyoomi drew every day, practiced his lines, cleaned the shop top to bottom every day, everything a good little apprentice should do.

And pushed.

The passion was slipping away.

He kept pushing, pushing until he broke down one afternoon.

He remembers it clear as day.

It was November, almost a year after he started his apprenticeship and almost to his “graduation” day. Everyone knew he was quiet, more reserved than most artists in the shop, but he hadn’t said a word all day. His exhaustion was clear, the bags under his eyes a deep purple, almost the color of a bruise. It must’ve been a Monday, because the day before, Motoya had commented on how tired he looked, with a glint of worry in his eyes that Kiyoomi didn’t have a snappy comeback to.

To this day, he can’t even remember what had set him off.

All he knew was that he was sitting at his usual spot, the only good rolling chair at the front desk, doing his stupid fucking worksheets of tracing lines and circles that he had to complete every day before appointments. He had transitioned on to real skin (or as you would call them, people) at that point, and he couldn’t be prouder of himself.

Motoya had texted him, asking how he was doing, and Kiyoomi unlocked his phone to respond.

And then Kiyoomi was hyperventilating, spots dotting over his vision, and tears and snot dripping down his face. He distantly could hear someone, one of the artists, Moriko, asking if he was okay, but he couldn’t respond.

He couldn’t breathe.

He couldn’t breathe, he was going to die, and oh my god, everyone was looking at him-

Crack!

A stinging pain erupted in Kiyoomi’s left cheek, a high pitched ring echoing in his ears.

“Sakusa!” His mentor barked, and he dragged his eyes up to his face. “Snap out of it!”

His breathing stilled.

Kiyoomi blinked back tears, feeling raw embarrassment thrumming in his body.

“God,” The man in charge of Kiyoomi’s education, his career, ran his fingers through his greying hair, sighing in frustration. “Useless fucking apprentices, what a goddamn pussy.”

And all Kiyoomi felt in that moment was rage.

Anger clouded his mind, clouded his judgement as he stood, pushing past the accumulation of people gathered around him (too much pity, too much judgement, too much, they’re all looking at you), clouded his mind as his hands shook, packing his bag and grabbing his keys.

“Where the fuck are you going?” His mentor snorted.

And rage clouded his judgement as he spat out a response, slamming the glass door (that he had spent an hour, an hour cleaning that morning, having to re-do the entire goddamn shop front windows countless times because he had missed spots) behind him.

The anger dissipated, though, as he screamed into his steering wheel, as he drove home, radio firmly turned off, to his shitty apartment that he could barely afford.

And panic once again took hold of his mind as he collapsed into his bed.

He remembered how his hands shook as he typed Motoya’s name into his phone, how unsteady he felt as he called his cousin, body wracked with sobs.

And he cried to his cousin about how he had ruined the chance to pursue his dreams, his passion. And then the panic receded as Motoya asked, hesitation clear in his voice, asked “Do you even love this anymore?”.

He didn’t.

And that scared him.

He didn’t leave his apartment for a while. How long, Kiyoomi didn’t know, but knew it was at least three seasons long of some trashy TV show about housewives of some random city in America.

And when he finally felt like a human being those days later, he knew what he had to do.

He showed up at his shop, hands and knees, begging for his apprenticeship back.

Because it was what he knew.

And he was scared.

And lonely.

And he had no fucking future. So he begged, and he got it back, and he worked.

And worked.

And graduated. Albeit a few months later than agreed on, due to Kiyoomi’s “tantrum incident”. Not his words.

But he did it.

And Kiyoomi was so goddamn proud of himself.

He ignored how sad Motoya’s eyes looked when he told him the news, when he talked about his future at that shop.

And he blew off the attempts from Motoya to get him to go to therapy, to talk to someone.

Because if he kept working, and kept pushing, he would be okay. If he threw himself into work, he wouldn’t have to think, he wouldn’t have to breathe.

He eventually moved out of that old shop, where he met Rin, where Motoya started piercing (his cousin promised it wasn’t to keep a closer eye on Kiyoomi, but the artist knew the truth), where everything happened that caused them to move to the small strip of shops in a small part of Kobe where Kiyoomi was forced to just sit and think.

He took a drag from his cigarette (the ones he had promised Rin and Motoya to throw away weeks ago, he was making those motherfuckers stretch), leaning against the wall behind the shop, pointedly not looking at the dumpster, because if he looked at it, his mind would race about the biohazards, the bacteria, gross things that were growing, multiplying inside.

It was quiet out, almost midnight.

Honestly, the two weeks in between appointments was probably the longest break he’d ever taken in his career. He didn’t know what to do with himself, with all the time.

Yes, things were busy trying to get the shop open and decorated, and getting all the liscenses and certifications done, but even that was dwindling, every day inching them closer to their “grand opening”.

Kiyoomi was never one to just sit around and do nothing. He quite literally did not know how to do nothing. Even on his days off, he’s drawing for appointments, responding for emails.

Rin and Motoya were inside, organizing and sterilizing jewelry, sitting criss crossed on the hardwood floor, giggling like they were at a slumber party.

Kiyoomi loved them, though he would never admit it that to either of them, but it was hard to be around them sometimes, to see the two so deeply in love that they never noticed anyone else around them. Especially when Kiyoomi was right fucking there.

Not that he was jealous. No, Rin was not his type, and he was very happy for Motoya, hell, was best man at their wedding.

But it sucked to be in the same room as his only friends and for said friends to act like he wasn’t even there.

He threw the cigarette butt on the ground, long dead, and stamped the embers out with his heel.

The creak of a door sounded.

A man emerged from the door next to theirs and tossed a trash bag over the side of the dumpster, landing with a squelch that made Kiyoomi cringe.

He turned to go back inside, but stopped, like he had just noticed Kiyoomi standing there. His eyes flicked down to the ground, at Kiyoomi’s feet where the butt was.

“Ya got a light?” His voice was low and tired.

Kiyoomi nodded.

“Ya need another?”

Kiyoomi snorted. “Yeah.”

The man fished a pack out of his pocket, fingers plucking two cigarettes out from the red cardboard. He shuffled next to Kiyoomi, offering one of them to him.

Kiyoomi lit them both, taking a drag off his own.

“Ya were gettin’ a drink earlier, right?”

Kiyoomi nodded. “Good coffee.”

He hummed, pushing back his dark hair with one hand. “‘Tsumu’s good at coffee, yeah. He always has fun makin’ the combos on the board.”

A silence fell over the two.

Kiyoomi cleared his throat. “And what is it you do?” He asked. Not that he was really interested, just felt a little too assholish to not say anything.

He chuckled dryly. “Don’t sound so excited.” Taking a hit, exhaling the next breath. “I make all the bullshit in the cases.” He looked pointedly at Kiyoomi. “The ones ya didn’t order.”

He grimaced. “They didn’t look good.”

The man (Kiyoomi really should’ve asked his name by now) full on laughed at that. “‘Tsumu was right, ya really are kind of an asshole, eh?”

“So I’ve been told,” Kiyoomi shrugged. “Not a fan of super sweet things.”

He stamped on his cigarette.

“Y’know, next time, ask Atsumu to make ya somethin’ special,” He put out his own on the damp asphalt. “Makes him happy.”

Kiyoomi frowned, about to ask what the hell he meant, but he had already pulled his door open.

“Kiyo, what are you doing- oh!” Motoya stuck his head out the back door, blinking at the two men. “Hello!”

He paused, looking back at Kiyoomi. “We’re all just tryin’ to live out here. And we care ‘bout each other.” Dark grey eyes studied him. “Don’t go fuckin’ things up around here.”

The door shut with a metallic thud.

And it was quiet again, but he could feel the weight of Rin and Motoya’s eyes on him.

“Okay,” Rintarou said slowly. “Why was a man giving you riddles in the back alley?”

Kiyoomi shook his head, pushing himself off the brick.

He took one last look up, past the buzzing orange lamps illuminating their alley.

“Let’s just lock up for the night. We could all use the rest.”

#sakuatsu #haikyu #hq #skts #miya atsumu #sunakomo #suna rintarou #komori motoya #sakusa kiyoomi #whatsername

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seeminglyranch87 · 2 years ago

Text

Taylor & Travis Timeline

October 2023 - part 2

October 16 - Travis and Jason attend Game 1 of NCLS in Philadelphia

People Magazine release an article (x)

"Taylor's unlike anyone Travis has dated before,"

"It was very unexpected for his friends, but he's so into her and very, very happy."

The insider continues, "Some people thought he was just joking around about the bracelet and having a crush on her earlier this summer, but he was serious about it," referring to Travis' attempt to give Taylor a friendship bracelet with his number on it at her Eras Tour in KC

They are "having a great time getting to know one another"

"They make a very cute couple."

Another People article is released the same day (x)

"They've been texting and talking on the phone between the pockets of time they get to spend with each other,"

"[Travis] knows what he signed up for with this attention, but they've spent time under the radar too. They're giving things a real try,"

Rumours circulate that Travis and Taylor have looked at a house up for sale together (x) as reported by Jenna Bush Hagar on the NBC talk show; Today with Hoda & Jenna.

“A friend from Kansas City texted me there might be news they’re buying a house,”

October 18 - New Heights Podcast episode 59 (x)

Travis & Jason talk about security (timestamp 5:30)

Jason Kelce asks his brother Travis "Have you had to enact any security of your own? Do you feel like you're a security guard when you are with Taylor?"

Travis responded, "I feel like whenever I'm on a date, I'm always having the sense that I'm a man in the situation. I'm protective, yeah, for sure. You always have to have that feeling or self-awareness, I guess."

Travis is trolled by intern Brandon (see photo below)

Travis and Jason have a laugh about Taylor meeting their dad Ed and wondering what he would talk to her about? (45:10)

Travis reveals that he and Taylor’s cameos on SNL were not planned. They had attended the recording of Season 49’s premiere episode in support of good friend and feature musical guest Ice Spice. (1:14:05)

Taylor releases "The Cruelest Summer" playlist which includes Cruel Summer live from the the Era's Tour and Cruel Summer - The LP Giobbi Remix in a bid for Number 1. (x)

ET publishes an article (x)

"They have a lot of fun together and [Taylor] loves how chivalrous [Travis] is," the source says. "Taylor feels at ease with Travis and they are already very comfortable around each other."

ET's source notes that "it's been easy" for Taylor and Travis "to connect because they have similar values and goals when it comes to their personal lives and careers."

Rumours continue to circulate that Travis has bought a $6 million home in Kansas City that provides more privacy and security and that he took Taylor to view the property. (x)(x)

October 19 - ET is informed that the duo is fully committed to their relationship and the future (x)

"Travis and Taylor are all in. The two are very into each other and are enjoying their time together but are also planning for the future. Taylor starts her international tour in November, and Travis is planning to be there to spend time with her," the source says. "Travis and Taylor are very serious about their careers, and the two bond over that and want to show support for each other whenever they can."

During week 10 of the NFL season, Travis and the Kansas City Chiefs enjoy a bye week, providing him with a brief respite. Coincidentally, during this very week, Taylor is set to take the stage for three consecutive nights in Buenos Aires, Argentina, from Nov. 9 to 11, marking her debut international Era Tour performances. This fortunate scheduling overlap grants Travis the opportunity to be in attendance.

Taylor papped in LA dining at a sushi restaurant with Zoë Kravitz, Selena Gomez & Keleigh Teller

October 20 - Travis Kelce answers questions at the Chiefs press conference (x 3:50)

When asked about his appearance on SNL Travis replied (8:00)

"it was funny, obviously I didn't know what was going to go down and just decided to hit SNL last second and they asked if I wanted to end the skit that was about me and Taylor's take over of the NFL games which was hilarious, I loved every bit of it and I was laughing my tail off during the skit, to be honest I don't even remember saying anything..."

Travis was also asked what he recommended people wear to dress up like him as a halloween costume, he suggests a moustache, 87 chiefs jersey and a friendship bracelet. (8:44)

Travis reveals

"I had [a moustache] when I first met Taylor"

US Weekly article (x) a source says about Travis and Taylor

“They’re really happy. They’re not saying they’re in love yet. But it’s obvious to her friends they’re heading in that direction,” noting that their loved ones see Swift, 33, and Kelce’s strong connection when they are together. “Friends think they’re in love.”

“He’s going to see her when she’s back on tour. That’s already planned. And when she gets a break, she’ll see him,” the source adds. “It’s going so well because it’s easy and nothing is complicated.”

“Taylor is really happy and excited about Travis. She’s at the relationship stage where she looks forward to seeing him, getting calls from him, spending time with him,” the source continues. “She has butterflies in her stomach and she hasn’t had that in a while. She feels safe and comfortable around him physically and emotionally.”

The insider notes that Kelce has surprised Swift with how “in tune” he is with her needs. The athlete has also been “a gentleman” toward Swift since he revealed in July his attempt to make a move on Swift while attending her Eras tour concert. “Travis is someone who is so different for her. With him it’s easy. She doesn’t have to worry about anything,”

He has his own career and money. So he’s not with her for the wrong reasons. He has his own successful career and understands the demands,” the insider concludes. “There’s no drama and they’re happy. He’ll visit, she’ll visit. It’s working for them.”

October 22 - Chiefs v Chargers, Arrowhead Stadium, Kansas City. Taylor flies into KC to cheer on Travis and the Chiefs as they take on the Chargers at Arrowhead Stadium.

Taylor is photographed with Bernie Kosar at Travis home pregame (x).

Taylor appears to have had a brilliant time supporting Travis at the Sunday afternoon game joining Brittany Mahomes and others. The Chiefs defeated the LA Chargers 31- 17 with Travis scoring a touch down to cement the win. Taylor wore a "87" friendship bracelet in support of Travis.

Chiefs coach Andy Reid addresses the press commenting on the Chiefs win (x 2:16)

"Kelce keeps getting better with time, Taylor can stay around all she wants"

Taylor and Travis leave Arrowhead Stadium together in Travis' Rolls Royce (x)

tay and trav in the getaway cart

Taylor and Travis celebrate the win at Travis KC home photographed with Chiefs teammate Mecole Hardman Jr. and Chariah Gordon (x)

Taylor changed shoes to be part of a group of teammates, WAGs and close friends of the KC Chiefs wearing custom red nikes. It's so nice to see Taylor be included in this way! (via @taylorswiftstyle and Aric Jones on instagram)

The Messenger reports (x)

" [Travis and Taylor] are both smitten and can't keep their hands off one another when they are together," the source said. "They aren't scared to be affectionate in public."

October 23 - Cruel Summer hits No. 1 on the Billboard Hot 100! Cruel Summer hits this milestone 5 years after it was released from the 2019 Lover album. Taylor and Jack Antonoff (who helped produce the song and long time friend) celebrate with a post (x). Notice they are in a recording studio in LA (last week) and are being way too cryptic holding up 11 fingers... TS 11 anyone?

People speak with Ed Kelce, Travis' dad (x)

Ed tells PEOPLE that the “Karma” singer is “a very, very sweet, very charming, down-to-earth young woman."

His initial impression that Swift is “very genuine" was proven right upon his first meeting with the singer.

“I’ll tell you something very special that I noticed about Taylor the first time I met her,” Ed shares. “We're sitting in the suite, she gets up and in the front room, she gets up to go get a drink or something and she starts picking up empty bottles, cans, plates that are scattered around. Because in the suites everybody gets stuff and you empty it down wherever you can.” Ed continues, “And I'm just thinking, I don't think she got the diva memo. She didn't get the spoiled musician. She doesn't know how to pull that off. And that really to me said a whole lot.”

Travis and Taylor are papped hand in hand heading out for dinner Monday evening at Piropos, an Argentine Steak House. Travis is seen opening the car door for Taylor. (x)

Victor Oladipo believes Taylor Swift makes Travis Kelce better (x)

October 25 - Ed Kelce speaks with ET (x)

"I think they are two very, very driven professional individuals," he says. "I think they're very supportive of each other, which is key. This is a rough time for either one of them to have a relationship. She's in the middle of this ginormous tour, he's knee deep [in the NFL season]. At least he takes his just as serious as she takes hers as far as commitment to their craft."

Ed believes that Taylor's pre-concert ritual of preserving her voice -- which Travis claims is the reason he was unable to present her with a friendship bracelet -- shows how dedicated and understanding she is when it comes to her career.

"I think she's very committed to that," he says of the "Anti-Hero" songstress. "And I think Travis supports that. And I think she realises how committed Travis is to sleep, 10 hours a day, when your body is going through this kind of thing. So I think they're both very supportive."

And should the Chiefs make it to the Super Bowl...

"Without a doubt," he says about saving a seat for Tay. "She'll be in the middle of the Eras Tour so..."

And if Ed himself should ever make it to the Eras Tour, he'll be singing "You Belong With Me," as he revealed that it's his favorite song of hers.

"Being genuine with your feelings," he tells ET of the dating advice he gave Travis and Jason. "Being respectful of a woman, and that's taught from a young age. Be yourself, be honest with someone's emotions. But these are all things that they've understood growing up just being the norm."

Episode 60 of New Heights airs, part of the episode title is "Travis Reacts to “Swift Stats"" (x 56:20)

In response to whether National Tight End day is a real holiday, Jason tweets

October 26 - Taylor is seen out in NYC. She is at Bradley Cooper's apartment with Shawn Levy, Blake Lively, Ryan Reynolds and Hugh Jackman. That night, Taylor goes out for dinner with Alana and Danielle Haim at Holiday Bar, NYC (x)

Patrick Mahomes says that he wants to have a secret handshake with Travis after his wife Brittany and Taylor went viral for theirs (x)

“I need to talk to Travis, because me and Travis don’t even have a handshake yet,” Patrick, 28 said during a radio interview with Kansas City’s KCSP (610 AM) on Thursday, October 26. “So I mean, they’re ahead of the game on us. So we’re gonna have to get on the whiteboard, and we’re gonna figure out a handshake so that we can try to one up theirs.”

Go to previous update -> October 2023 Part 1

Go to next update -> October 2023 Part 3

Return to timeline

#taylor and travis #taylor swift #travis kelce #87 and 89 #taylor swift and travis kelce #traylor #killatrav #seemingly ranch #timeline #T&T #tayvis

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red-winter-is-coming · 1 month ago

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Cookie Run Kingdom OC / AU masterpost!

Because dear god we have so fucking many

(Always considered a Work In Progress! If it's been more then a week and we haven't updated it despite posting new shit, feel free to send us a message lol)

A Game of Life and Deceit AU (2/9 designs posted)

Four overlapping worlds, all filed with suffering. Two soldiers continue their escape from their prison of a 'Home'. Three Angels, set on very different paths of revenge. A small army, careful to keep themselves safe. Two children of different homes, trying to escape their very similar parents.

Void Starling Cookie - they/them

Choco Wolf Cookie - he/him

Forget-Me-Not Fox Cookie - he/him or he/they

Parrot Ice Cream Cookie - he/him

Shattered Soul Crystal Cookie - he/they

Dark Syrup Cookie - they/it

Sour Apple Angel Cookie - he/they

Cherry Angel Cookie - he/him

Charred Angel Cookie - they/he/it

PokeCookies AU (6/18 designs posted)

You didn't think the roles of Earthbread's Guardians were only filled by so few cookies, did you? No, the truth is, the world is filled with more guardians then it knows what to do with, but they sure as hell are trying their best.

First Sugar Cookie - it/its or he/him

Bitter Sugar Cookie - they/he/it

Onion Faerie Cookie - he/they

Wishing Star Cookie - he/him

Rotten Space Cookie - it/its

Eternal Nightmare Cookie - they/them

Crescent Moon Cookie - she/her

Skye Bloom Cookie - they/he/she

River Unicorn Cookie - she/her

White Chocolate Dragon Cookie -

Black Chocolate Dragon Cookie -

Life Fawn Cookie - he/him

Dark Falcon Cookie - they/he

Duel Snake Cookie - they/them

Forgotten Sword / Silver Sword Cookie (FS - they/it, SS - they/he)

Lunar Citrus Cookie - he/him

Solar Spice Cookie - she/her

Sour Lightning Cookie - it/they

Crystal Tortoise Cookie - they/them or he/him

Non AU specific OCs (can be slotted into pretty anything with some minor tweaking) (5/??+ designs posted)

--Plant based Cookies of dubious morality--

Yew Berry Cookie - she/her

Milkweed Cookie - she/her, she/they (Yew Berry only)

Dandelion Cookie - she/her (preferred), it/its (by home village)

--Twin Lights-- (note: the closest to an AU, however they don't really affect anything plot related)

Blue Raspberry Light Cookie - they/them, he/xe/they

Lemon Light Cookie - he/him

Sour Sunset Cookie - they/them

--Celestial Tree--

Star Deer Cookie - she/her

Space Dragon Cookie - He/they

Shooting Star Cookie - she/they

--AUs not focusing on OCs--

Thorn-Strangled Milkweeds:

An AU (and fanfic!!!!) centered around the idea of Vanilla being the only healer within his wing of Dark Enchantress's army, and also a twelve year old in charge of other child soldiers.

(Spoiler alert: it goes horribly)

Children's Record AU:

Vanilla, Golden Cheese, Stardust, Prune Juice, (and two others I never got around to choosing) set out on a mission to fight Gods and the education system. they're also all 14-15.

(featuring Plural!Pure Vanilla as written by us, a plural collective :3 )

Graveyard Awakening AU:

Something went wrong, and the Ancients never returned from the Dark Flour War.

Now decades later, Pitaya is stuck in a dragon graveyard, betting their life on the hunch that their captor doesn't know they've been hiding the Light of Passion ever since it's holder vanished.

CRK DnD AU:

A (mostly) silly goofy AU where the cookies are high school/collage students who have parent issues, no sense of self preservation, and a shit ton of found family

Garden of Floral Delights AU:

Pavlova Cookie gets Hanahaki-ed by Eternal Sugar to prevent him from leaving the garden. That's pretty much it. (A newer AU, and we're mostly waiting for the June update to get more info regarding ES and Pavlova!)

Shared Souls AU:

Basically, back before the Dark Flour War, Hollyberry, Golden Cheese, and Dark Cacao gave small shards of their Soul Jams to trusted allies. Later, after the events of World Exploration episode 10, Pure Vanilla gives Black Raisin and Strawberry Crepe their own shards as a peace offering.

And then everybody who had these fragments of the Soul Jams experience Awakening at the same time as the Ancients. To varying degrees of chaos.

#crk #crk oc #crk ocs #cookie run kingdom #cookie run kingdom oc #cookie run kingdom ocs #cookie run oc #cookie run ocs #oc masterpost #long post #crk au #cookie run kingdom au #cookie run au #au masterpost

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jade-of-mourning · 1 year ago

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i just really want to see mako & bolin dragging korra around her first night market after a game. every tacky vendor of metal-wire walls and flappy colorful canvas is an entire new world to her, draped in cheaply-made clothes chasing the latest fashions and carefully-wrought jewelry made by the hands of their sellers, trinkets and magnets adorning spinning racks. there are so many voices and smells overlapping, not a unified din like the arena tends to become, and bolin is bargaining the price of a hat for her that she didn't ask for and mako is shoving paper bags of greasy foods into her hands. bolin drops the hat on her head and when she steps off into a dark space between buildings where motorcycles are haphazardly parked, trying to find air again, he returns wielding sticks of tanghulu and sweet potato balls. mako slips after them and asks if she wants a drink, and she says sure, anything you think is good; you're the expert here, and he flashes her a rare smile before weaving back into the crowd with the ease of someone used to navigating faceless armies. bolin stole her bag of fishcakes on sticks and is eating them noisily to remind her of the company she has, and she tries the sweet potato balls fried just for her, soft and chewy and sugar on her tongue. korra doesn't know these snacks — she's a child of the south, nurtured by ice and storming whiteout, bannock in fish stews of carefully stored spices, wooden sweetness on her tongue in akutaq of cloudberry — but she thinks she'd like to learn to know them.

it's an odd drink that mako brings back for her by the haphazardly-parked motorcycles, drowned in jelly more than liquid, and korra savors every cool swallow sliding down her throat and the sweetness filling her heart. the brothers are pouring copious amounts of hot sauce packets into a plastic tray of noodle and offer her the splintered chopsticks, and she takes them in calloused hands and it burns the spaces between her teeth like fire against the celestial lights. what sort of insane would you need to be to enjoy this? she demands indignantly and mako just shrugs and shovels a large portion into his mouth. bolin scowls and adds more hot sauce, taking his own dig at the increasingly reddening dish, and it goes on back and forth like that until korra can't hold back her laugh. it fills the city horizon, the night market, and korra thinks beneath the glowing red signs screaming their wares that this is where people must come alive.

and she would like to feel so suddenly alone, to let her isolation swallow her up whole as a child to jelly drinks; but she doesn't, not in the company of mako and bolin sharing with her the city they lost and gained everything from — from the city that can now be hers.

#lychee's brain trash #korra #lok #tlok #idk what this is i was just like. hm. i miss the night market #and i also miss the fire ferrets. they were a team of all time #i'm juggling a lot of thoughts in my drafts sorry lol #s1 korra means the world to me tbh #off topic but s1 is actually the most beautiful thing ever #i should remember how to draw better hmm

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tayfabe75 · 1 year ago

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"That was mostly through management. I was talking about how I was watching Taylor's documentary 'cause I just wanted to really take notes as an artist and stuff like that. Just like how the lifestyle is for such a big artist like her. My manager heard me talking about that and had like reached out to her team and then they had a song for me and everything just played out real good."

September 28, 2023: Ice Spice recounts how she came to collaborate with Taylor Swift. (source)

#year: 2023 #september 2023 #quote: ice spice #people: ice spice #topic: collaboration #song: karma #topic: ice spice #overlap: ice spice #podcast controversy #source: variety

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andromedaskies · 11 months ago

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Nine People I'd Like To Know Better

Thank you to @run-for-chamo-miles for the tag!! Super fun to read all your answers and see how we overlap! <3

Currently watching: The new Five Nights at Freddy's movie; not my thing at all usually (I'm actually the WORST at horror) but my sibling is obsessed and I would do anything for Josh Hutcherson...so. I'm actually enjoying it a lot more than I thought I would. Also, Bottoms! Started watching with a friend, can't wait to finish.

Current obsession: RWRB of course, but I'm also falling into a bit of a nostalgia pit recently and have been thinking a bunch about the Descendants franchise. The original three were just 🤌 chefs kiss. Also, always and forever this video.

Spicy/sweet/savoury: I wish I had a better spice tolerance, because I love spicy food. Feeling sweet more recently; warm weather calls for all the best ice cream flavours (mint choc chip & strawberry, if you were wondering)

Relationship status: Single and wishing I wasn't. One day, y'all

Last song I listened to: “No Longer You" from Jorge Rivera-Herrans's EPIC: The Underworld Saga (highly recommend!!! Jorge is ridiculously talented!!)

Tagging the moots!! (sorry if you've already played 🫡 and yes I'm a little low on people mb I never know who to tag) @theplayfulfairy @priincebutt @onthewaytosomewhere

#thank u for the tag!!!#i loveee these tag games and i love reading other peoples answers #tag game #nine people i'd like to know better

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umbralsound-xiv · 1 year ago

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Confide.

He'd sent me a letter not all too long ago. He's a surprisingly flowery person, on paper. He's been training his aether, and... ...Well, needless to say i was intrigued about what he'd achieved, if anything.

The small rap of gloved knuckles on wood rings out through the apartment. Bexy, waiting patiently on the other side of the door, holds a basket in the crook of her arm, no doubt holding something pleasant within.

The door parted through sweet smoke, spice, wood, and leather clung tight to the air. Regardless of how wide the window swung, it did not seem to help the potent fragrance from escaping though the scar torn Elezen had little care or notice. “Oh, Bexy.” While his letter called for her, he seemed almost surprised though he opened it wide for her and leafed a hand as invitation.

Mattisaux Baschet: “Would you like anything to drink or some random bit of snack?” A stubbed cigar lie in its tray smoldering beside a few bottles, a variety of the same mind-numbing sort.

Bexy Amalaryssia steps in at the offer, giving a warm smile as Mattisaux pulled into view. "After a letter like that, you wouldn't think to expect me?" She questions in that usual playful tone of her own, raising the basket. "So kind of you to offer, though i've brought my own offerings. I wouldn't want to look like a poor guest, hm?"

...Judging by the assortment on the table, i'm assuming not well. He seems okay, though. No new scars that i can see since the last i saw him this way. ...Unless this is usually the company he keeps when he's alone, then....

Her smile lead him to do much of the same though in a far lesser magnitude. “You ought to know I am not the type of person to care. Though I am the type to not want to be a terrible host, not unless to my enemies, of course. You can place that anywhere over the table to free yourself.” As he mentioned it, he stepped over to clear a space for her basket, his arm merely sliding the bottle aside. “And I expected you, I have just grown lazy and forgotten the time.”

Taking a few measured paces to the table, the basket is settled in the cleared spot, a few steps backwards as she took in the general appearance of the room. "I care. And besides. Your words were…" She doesn't quite say what she thought, but the way she looked over him in that concerned sort of way spoke enough. "Are… You well?"

Mattisaux stepped away from the table and into the space behind the counter to fetch a lowball glass and some water to fill it. Only one. “I am fine,” he answered with a raised brow from afar before making his way back in the main area. “Was my letter so alarming? I suppose it might have been…”

Bexy Amalaryssia: "Not that you're the unflowery sort when it really comes to it, but it was just… Unexpected." Slow steps take her to a seat, where she carefully sits. "It sounds like your trip was fruitful. How goes the training?"

Mattisaux Baschet: “It was a success for the most part…” His eyes narrowed as she moved, clear in suspicion though it did not stop him from planting himself on the couch. There, he made his lounge to lean back against the couch arm while one leg lifted over to rest on the cushion. The Warden’s gaze spilled through the window over him as the afternoon carried on.

Mattisaux Baschet: “I was able to cast fire plainly in the snow with a what looked like a treant as target practice. I have never seen one outside of those cursed woods before but, there it stood only a few yalms away.”

Bexy Amalaryssia: "…But you managed it all the same?" Her gaze traces his frame for new scars; she'd seen him like this before, albiet only once. "And.. What of your grasp on ice? It seems you've been doing much thinking, besides. And contrary to the words you send me, i don't get tired of hearing such things."

Naught else was too askew on the surface of his frame but a few shallow scraps; overlapping gnashes with far too many memories were already healed and blended together. Hearing that she would never tire of what he had to say produced the smallest grin at a corner of his mouth though it died fast to make room for a stifled sorrow. “My grasp on ice remains the same… I do not think I will ever be able to cast it after all. Not now that I understand a few things more.”

Bexy Amalaryssia: "We make the most of what we have. The powers given to us. I can cast ice, and only ice. Nothing more." She leans forwards to pull a bottle out of the basket; some dark coloured spirit with a label so elaborate no one could read it without squinting. "What do you understand now, that you did not before?"

Mattisaux’s drifted his gaze outside at the unremarkable scape of dry mountaintops. His mouth pressed before his answer came. “I can never forgive Her. I can never forgive myself. Ice is where affection and love lie, its foundation, and while I understand it, I can never shake my past and the hate I hold deep within my heart of hearts for our Fury.”

Defeated eyes cast down to his lap. “I should have known from the start but… I thought I could do something about how weak I am with magic.” Hesitation held fast to him before he continued. “I do not want to lose myself because of such a silly weakness.”

Bexy Amalaryssia: "Knowing a weakness is a strength in and of itself. You know how to better compensate. How to better guard. Even if it's not the progress you're looking for, it's progress none the less." Her icy gaze settles on him, calm and steady. "Even if you cannot forgive yourself now, perhaps you will, one sun. Or not. You are more than capable either way."

He did not respond right away, what was there to say? His own chilled regard glanced up at her for the quickest moment until he leaned on the main back of the seat. One heaved sigh later and his pout intensified. “I suppose I should say I appreciate your consoling words. You are right in some sense but not quite entirely.”

Bexy Amalaryssia: "Then… Do elaborate, should you wish to, hm? I'm listening." Her expression is a little softer, leaning back in the chair to sit a little more comfortably. She could have conjured a glass for what she wished to drink, but opted to hold off on that, for a moment.

...He's wallowing. Some impasse he came to during his travels. I know he doesn't take failure well; not a sore loser, exactly... But the frustration of it all must weigh heavy on him...

Mattisaux Baschet: “I mean to say that knowing my weakness helps me very little; knowing that an element eludes me means that I will be susceptible to worse. Umbral magic has always been a thorn in my side, I cannot count how many times I have been put to sleep or one time I remember being silenced though, of course, not for the purpose of my casting a spell.”

He shook his head and ran his free hand up through his hair, entirely absentminded of the one that had the glass he meant to offer. “You must remember how I succumbed to the worst and attacked you, of all people, under the weight of my crystal on my mind. Now, I simply -know- it might happen again.”

Bexy Amalaryssia: "So it is not necessarily the inability to use umbral aether -- Not only, at least… It is for what might happen, should the worst take you again." Lips pulled to a line, her gloved fingertips slowly drum on the side of her knee. "…You don't want those close to you to be hurt. Least of all, by your hand. I know how highly you value loyalty, and to you… This would be a betrayal?"

Mattisaux Baschet: “Pray, do not mention those words; the last time still stings me… I might as well have betrayed myself.” His next thought reminded him of the glass enough to place it on the table, push it Bexy’s away, and grab a transparent bottle with just as clear liquid. A dark blue labeled across it and the instant he popped the corked, a sharp stench mixed with the cigar smoke.

Mattisaux Baschet: “I need to learn this or I can never trust myself again. It’s simple when I say it though I can’t comprehend going through the motion.” His speech flowed, suddenly not caring too much in sounding so practiced.

The glass is plucked up between her forefinger and thumb, the cork on the bottle she brought popped to fill just a measure in the bottom of the vessel. "I know it's likely of little comfort. But if you attack me again, and you are clearly not yourself, i won't hold it against you. I'll defend myself, of course. But… You're right. Looking for a solution is perhaps more pragmatic than simply waiting for it to happen again." A small sip of her drink, mulling over her words. "We start at the source. though, it's not down for me to tell you who you can and can't forgive, least of all yourself. Do you think there's even the faintest possibility you might be able to? What would it take, do you think?"

As Mattisaux was about to pour the vicious liquid down his gullet, her question halted him. “What would it take?” His face promptly wrinkled, appalled at the suggestion though he said nothing to it in the moment. Between his legs the liquor sat over the cushion in silence. “Nothing,” his voice faltered. “I haven’t a single clue what could be done to wash away years of a hatred born in injustice. In more blood that could fill a full house.”

Bexy Amalaryssia: "Then if there is no way through here… You find another." She glances over the rim of her glass, eyes settling to his. "You're not one to give up easily, if ever. Even if we don't… Quite know how to approach it, yet…"

His brow scrunched with a quizzed stare at her gaze, unable to reason for a moment. “You mean to say there might be something else…? But what than the obvious?”

Bexy Amalaryssia: "That… I don't know. My aether came to me in less natural ways. A gift, or a curse, it's hard to tell which some suns. But, just because something hasn't been done before doesn't mean it's not possible to do it." She eyes him with all the determination that she usually held in such moments. "You're not a quitter. Rest, take your time, think. But don't give up searching for an answer. Perhaps i'll even make some inquiries of my own."

I can always ask Q'kura while i have him, i suppose. Whether his word would be worth trusting or not on a different subject, i'm unsure. Mattisaux went about this perhaps the same way i would. But just because he found no answers, does not mean there's no answers to be found.

It was at her last idea did he finally drink the pungent thing casually. “Pray, do -not- tell that disgusting Shroud witch my problems. She toyed with me once and never realized that she sicced you on me the first time. And don't tell that other scalekin either; your company is filled to the brim with freaks, I swear. If you must confide in someone, be it your sister.”

Bexy Amalaryssia straightens at that, eyes narrowing. "It's because of Adelle i'm able to visit you this sun, and Neoma hasn't a bad bone in her body. -Do not- speak poorly of them. I had other things in mind, anyway." A brow lofts, then. "I know you spoke. An amicable conversation, she told me."

Mattisaux bore his eyes into Bexy, tightening them quiet in bitterness. That she knew something without his knowing straightened him as well with a few adjustments in his seat. “I will speak however I wish about them; you did not bind me to that. And whatever that scalekin told you, her words mean nothing, though I know you will refuse to listen for the sake of a false friendship.”

Bexy Amalaryssia: "I'd be dead without either of them." Bexy is quick to remark, taking a long drink of her glass. "---And i had meant Sayuri. Not Neoma." A small curl of her lip compliments her lofted brow. "I hadn't known you and Neoma spoke."

...Interesting. Curious that Neoma hadn't mentioned anything either, but suppose she just doesn't want me to worry, or hadn't thought it important to. I knew about the one meeting where she found trouble, but... Hm.

Immediately he kissed his teeth and took a long swig. It was apparent how annoyed he was, eyes lidded with a faint stream of groaning. “Then forget I said anything. What did your sister have to say?”

Bexy Amalaryssia: "Mostly that you spoke, and it wasn't an unpleasant experience; even after your altercation with her husband." She takes another long drink. "Yes, i know about that, too."

Mattisaux Baschet: “Of course,” he sighed again though it was not particularly bothered that time around. “Your Sayuri actually took me by surprise. When I approached her she seemed utterly irritable about something though it faded before long. I think she might actually be a treasure for you.”

Bexy Amalaryssia: "She -is-." Her words were defiant, giving a small nod. "…There are not words in the world to describe the bond i have with her. She understands me on a deeper level than most, for all we've been through together and our similar aether. Aside from tearing through swathes of people to get her back… I am now trying to fix her aether. I know how important it is to her…"

Mattisaux Baschet: “Even without explicitly knowing how important it is to her, I am aware that she has had her ice since as long as she can remember. Imagine yours vanishing or perhaps both your legs. She also told me why she was at Bronze Lake to begin with. You miss my point though I hardly want to bother in telling it.”

Bexy Amalaryssia: "Then tell me. I know well how much it means, and what it is to lose it. It happened to me, once."

Another belabored sigh loosened, rolling his lidded eyes to the window for a moment before taking another drink of the now half than half bottle. A warmth spread worse throughout him in the dry heat of the land.

Mattisaux Baschet: “I already told you I do not feel like it, dear. Ease yourself. It isn’t a bad thing. Now enough of that before we sour this moment too much. I wanted to say that I truly do appreciate that you came here to listen to my complaints, my whining of how terrible I think I have it. I am at a loss and I do not know who else to tell so freely.”

Bexy Amalaryssia: "Then, as ever, i am here to listen. Give advice and observations where necessary, even if i might not always be able to help." She falls quietly for a little, considering. "…You understand this piece of me too, now. It… Brings a strange sort of comfort."

Mattisaux Baschet: “Only until now? Dear, you have a bleeding heart no matter how frozen to the touch you might feel; it is as plain as the sun is blinding. You display it any chance you get and are ever quick to jump in front of a fire for others. Handling confessions ought to be the easiest thing you have done.” He spoke in a matter-of-fact lilt, stating what he sees as if known to all.

Bexy Amalaryssia: "Sometimes." Bexy reminds. "…Sometimes words are worse. Wounds are just… Pain. Words can come with all kinds of apprehension and dread. I know which i'd prefer to endure, though will endure either for the sake of a select few."

Pain is simple. Straightforward when it is a mere affliction. Pain at least allows me to know i'm still living. It hurts, but there's a... Comfort to it, at all. The few times i've come close to death, i've barely felt anything at all, when the moment drew close...

Mattisaux Baschet: “Words hurt you so, more that you would favor pain?” The thought paused him and left his eyes running over her for a short while. “I think they are both terrible and are prone to getting people killed. I prefer neither though that is hardly realistic. And I thought you had open ears for everyone.”

Bexy Amalaryssia: "Almost everyone. It's when i stop listening that someone is truly lost to me; when i don't care for them to the point of indifference, neither friend nor enemy both. I can't think of anyone who currently sits in that category, mind."

Mattisaux Baschet: “I can think of a few myself though I list them as enemies or your company members.” His mouth curled enjoying what seemed like a joke before he finished his drink and slapped it back on the table. He shuffled to lay down and rest his head over the arm and peered ceruleum eyes over at Bexy, scrolling up and down. “But like I said, bleeding heart, especially from any who become a member, even to -me-.”

Bexy Amalaryssia: "You speak of yourself with such… Disdain." Her painted lips curl into a frown, then. "I have my reasons. Even if i elaborated, i wouldn't expect you to understand. But yes, Mattisaux. Even to you. Besides… It was you who sought me out in my most difficult suns. When i was a shell of myself. Was it not?"

Mattisaux Baschet: “You neglect to mention the things I have done. Even if you can look the other way, I… cannot..” A long breath huffed from his nose while he paused. At first he reached for one of the many other drinks of his table, until he lost heart. “You wonder where this disdain comes from,” he scoffed.

Bexy Amalaryssia: "…I know. Or, at least i think i do. You told me, once." A sigh, then. Not quite pitiful, but one that a frown soon accompanied. "You spend so long looking at that bad that you forget to see the good. You could have left me to fend for myself so many times. Refused to raise a blade to help me. You have seen me lose myself in near-madness, and offered your support. The sun i told you of the time i had left, you held me as i wept. You're important enough that i sent you a letter after my supposed demise, and you cared enough to read it. Whatever people say about you-- Be it true or otherwise, does not change the fact that i do not think you are a bad person."

Mattisaux quieted; he struggled to think of what to say, not that there was much to comeback with. In a way, his next movements were awkward, looking away suddenly and clearing his throat. That was, until he suddenly spoke, grumbling all the while with his hand sifting through his hair again. “Gods, your soft heart. Do -not- say things like that when I’ve already drank so much…” Whatever he meant, he opted not to elaborate.

Bexy Amalaryssia: "Only because you can't contend it. I don't care how much you've imbibed or not. Gods, Mattisaux, there are people who give a damn about you. You know this…" That icy gaze melts into something more sorrowful, then. Her eyes move to his, as her voice lowers. "…You know this, yes?"

I care. He's done terrible things, and so have i. Yet he values loyalty as much as i do. Sure, he may not be perfect in the execution of it, but i see the pain and how much it affects him when he falls short. He understands that little part of me that would quite happily pave a road with blood if it meant those dear to me had a safe place to walk. No judgement. Nothing. And that isn't... Something i can easily explain.

Meeting her eyes was, perhaps, the last thing he thought to do. Rather, he settled his gaze at his lap once more. However, her last question left him raising his voice to say, “Yes, I know that. I know,” shortly quieting after. “Any more from me and you will hear naught but a pitiful self-loathing. I will not subject you to that.”

Bexy Amalaryssia: "You had best not, else i'll soon drown it out with far more flowery compliments than these." She warned; it was playful, but sincere. "…You ever need someone to talk to, i am but a letter or pearl call away. You know that, too."

Mattisaux Baschet: “Compliments, gods…” He shook his head and closed his eyes to everything, soon coming to a lean against the couch back again. “I do know. I doubt that I will however. My pride would never allow it; how I’ve confided in you already was a painful blow to it though my tongue has loosened considerably even now. Pray, leave before I regret more than I do as is.”

Bexy Amalaryssia: "…As you wish. Just… Don't forget what i said." Her raising from her seat is a careful affair, straightening up once she'd found her footing. With a small frown, she looks over him, then.

His busy hand visored over his brow, covering most of his view and his face, while the other hand waved her away. “I won’t… You don’t have to worry.” He groaned but to himself and his jaw clenched before he added, “You have my thanks… again for coming over.”

That gratitude is met with the smallest of smiles. Moving for the door she only utters her departing words of, "Be well, Mattisaux." Before she slips through the door again, leaving him to his own devices.

...I hope my presence helped him in some way. Maybe he just needed someone to talk to, or listen, but... ...At least he knows i care. That aught to count for something, yes?

#Muse: [Bexy]#Chapter: [A Taste Of Their Own Medicine]#FFXIV #IC #Screenshot #Writing #Textlog

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laspocelliere · 10 months ago

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Day Eleven: Surrogate

The bundle was warm, and it unsettled her.

The room was warm, too, but that was secondary. People filtered in and out, voices overlapping with hurried, anxious chatter. A heavy pan bubbled merrily over the fire, and occasionally a passing guest would drop a handful of spices in, heedless of whomever might have already done it. Flatbreads were passed, but wines were passed quicker, careful hands sent shaking and fearful, spilling onto the bare floor in scattered droplets as the clouds roiled purple and red outside, thundering with an unseen storm.

She seemed to have been forgotten where she’d been left.

And that was a problem, because for all that everyone kept talking about her, there was no one left to hold the baby.

The Warrior of Light was the last person who should have been holding a baby.

She didn’t know how to, for one. There was something awkward about her limbs, something that could never have been said when she had a sword in hand instead. The child was relatively still, and it made her nervous; she had no idea if that was normal in infants. She’d seen other, more capable women rocking and soothing their children, but she felt no desire to replicate the motions. She held the swaddled child, frozen as though carved from ice, and sat where she’d been left, and waited for a decision to be made.

What to do with her?

That was the main point of conversation, and had been for the past hour or more. Who could serve as a surrogate, now that the parents were gone? The child, asleep now (she assumed, she hadn’t actually dared to look down and see if that was the case, for fear of jolting her), had only hours before been pulled out from the bottom of a pool, cold and dripping and struggling to breathe.

Pulled out by the very hands that held her so uncertainly now.

It was strange that the bundle was warm, because she clearly remembered when it was cold, and wet. If she thought about it long enough, sitting there, she was back in the water, green-filtered light swirling around her, grasping at the cold hand of a dead woman.

She fingered the blanket gingerly where it was wrapped around the infant, feeling out strange phantom touches of damp and algae. The babe was well enough, so said Alphinaud – who had conveniently gone missing – but the Warrior’s hair was still wet where she’d braided it back, and she didn’t know how she ended up holding this child she’d saved, but she knew she needed to give her back.

She wasn’t a motherly type. Could never be a motherly type; it was a lesson she’d learned more than her fair share of, and one that she kept locked carefully in the dark recesses of her mind, never to revisit.

(Sometimes, late at night, when she was alone and couldn’t sleep, she could still smell the blood.)

She had no right holding this child. Saviour or no.

In her swaddle, the child stirred, just enough. Enough to get the warrior holding her to risk a glimpse down.

The babe was all rose petals and feather down. Her cherub cheeks were already regaining a healthy pink glow from the meal she’d had and the warmth she was soaking in. Her tiny lashes fanned across her unblemished skin, and her tiny upturned nose wrinkled just slightly as she fussed her way through the other side of a dream.

Above her, the Warrior of Light stilled; enchanted or horrified, she couldn’t be sure which.

Who are you, little thing? What are you doing here?

“There’s nothing for it tonight.” One of the many bustling women who’d been moving in and out of the sitting room was suddenly there, scooping the child out of her arms with an expertise that the warrior couldn’t have mimicked even with years of practice. “She needs a warm bed for the night, safe with us, and in the morning we’ll talk it over further.”

She bounced the child comfortably on her shoulder, a natural, soothing motion that she’d never had to learn. She looked down at the warrior, and something almost soft unfolded in her eyes. “You should get some rest. You’ve done so much for us today.”

Moments later, the warrior was out on the street again.

That, she reminded herself, was the natural order of things. Alone, where there should have been stars. Alone, where there should have been peace. Alone, when the world was crashing down around them, and none but her to stand in the way.

Alone, when there never should have been children, and therefore there were none to miss.

Pulling her collar tighter around her throat, she ducked out into the night without a backward glance.

She never thought of the child again.

#ffxivwrite2024 #ffxivwrite #endwalker #endwalker spoilers #I have such lore about my WoL and children #this is just the tip of the iceberg

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lgcmanager · 2 years ago

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AGITO MISSION 003

SCHEDULE TYPE: TRIMESTER ( PART 1 OUT OF 1 ) SCHEDULE RESTRICTIONS: cannot be paired with another trimester schedule, unless stated otherwise. for reference as to whether your muse is eligible for this event, please click over HERE.

before the AGITO members are about to start their training for the day, their manager, KYUWON gathers all of them together in a meeting room to talk about their schedule for the next few months.

JAPANESE DEBUT

as mentioned in the previous mission, all of the AGITO members would have started working on their debut preparations since JUNE. the information mentioned below is already known to the boys ic, but for ooc here it is:

AGITO will have only one song for this japanese debut and that song is ‘SCENT OF YOU’. the lyrics distribution document for this can be found over HERE. they will be releasing this song on JULY 24 and for lgc family concert 2k23, they will be singing the KOREAN version of the song.

due to their individual schedules and future dreams season 7, AGITO will be working and filming a lot of their content while they’re in korea rather than in japan.

LGC CHARMS JAPAN

“i’m not sure if any of you have watched LGC GIRLS CHARM JAPAN, but we were able to get a renewal for the second season. Because it’s been a while since the show was aired, the team decided to make this season rather special. originally the girls from the new LGC GIRLS JAPAN subunit would be the main stars, but since AGITO’s japanese debut promotions overlapped with theirs, both of you will be making an appearance on the show.” KYUWON smiles innocently before he continues on with explaining the premise of the second season. “both groups will be challenging each other to be the PERMANENT group on the show and that will be decided through an array of challenges and games that might be familiar to you if you’ve seen the first season.”

each episode will be 20 minutes long and the comedian duo, NON STYLE, will act as hosts of the show, being in charge of deciding the winning team for most games. while the filming date are specified, airing dates are to be announced:

EPISODE 1 & 2 [ JULY 17 ]: show introduction, competition explained to the participants. mini-profile of all 9 participants and personal talent display contest ( winning team: lgc girls )

EPISODE 3 & 4 [ JULY 24 ]: iconic japanese idol songs battle. the contestants hear short snippets of each song and must guess the title and artist of the song and then sing it. song examples; love machine by morning musume, heavy rotation by akb48, ponponpon by kyari pamyu pamyu, mayonaka no door by miki mutsubura, sakura by ikimonogakari, choo choo train by exile, love rainbow by arashi ( winning team: lgc girls )

EPISODE 5-6 [ JULY 31 ]: spicy eating competition. each group is presented with SUKIYAKI, enough for four for agito, and five for lgc girls japan. however, the broth has been spiced up to level 7. one by one, each member will have to eat as much as they can from the hot pot to be the team with the least food left after they've all eaten once. each person is only allowed one glass of milk. ( winning team: agito )

EPISODE 6-7 [ AUGUST 7 ]: team spirit battle. on a real life game board, the teams throw giant dice to be the first to reach the end. however, on each square is a team challenge to accomplish. challenge examples; eat lemons, do a position challenge (like a pyramid), say corny phrases at the camera ( winning team: agito )

EPISODE 8 [ AUGUST 14 ]: best moments recap and last chance to sway the vote of the hosts one way or another by shamelessly and brazenly appealing to them and explaining why their group deserves the show the most. season winner is announced to be LGC GIRLS JAPAN.

YUJIWON’S POD

“with so many youtube shows and podcasts aired in the lgc studios, they have given JIHO, YUSHIN, and fellow VERSUS member, YEONWOO, a chance to host a short podcast. this is an experiment seeing that V&A has so many international fans and with the rise of podcasts, we thought it would be a good idea to give you a chance to be a part of one.” KYUWON explains happily, thinking about how it was a good opportunity for them to do in the meantime.

for YUJIWON’S POD, the episodes will be assigned as follows:

EPISODES 1 & 2 ( LEE JIHO, LEE YUSHIN, WON YEONWOO ) - introduction of the podcast, answering debate questions ( ex. pineapple on pizza or no pineapple on pizza, scary or funny movies, vanilla or chocolate ice cream, putting milk or cereal in first, would you rather stay up late or get up early, pencils or pens, etc. ). with the debate questions, the goal is to get the majority on one side, so if two people support different sides, the third person would be the determinator. it would be a bit similar to THIS ( pentagon’s jack pod ).

EPISODE 3 ( LEE YUSHIN ): getting to know LEE YUSHIN. since it’s a solo podcast episode, it would basically be an episode about getting to know him, his interests, his legacy audition, concept(s) you want to try, show that you want to be a part of, etc. it would be similar to THIS.

EPISODE 4 ( LEE JIHO ): getting to know LEE JIHO. since it’s a solo podcast episode, it would basically be an episode about getting to know him, his interests, his legacy audition, concept(s) you want to try, show that you want to be a part of, etc. it would be similar to THIS.

EPISODE 5 ( WON YEONWOO ): getting to know WON YEONWOO. since it’s a solo podcast episode, it would basically be an episode about getting to know him, his interests, his legacy audition, concept(s) you want to try, show that you want to be a part of, etc. it would be similar to THIS.

EPISODE 6 ( LEE JIHO, LEE YUSHIN, WON YEONWOO ): finale episode. reflecting on the episodes that they recorded and any last words they would like to share with the listeners.

for the SOLO episodes, the other two members will be present there ( behind the camera ) and give any commentary or ask any questions for the one hosting.

V&A LOG

KYUWON turns his attention towards KEEHO and HARU. “as for you two, you will be joining JAESUN, ALEX, and TEE in an upcoming youtube series called ‘V&A LOG’ where you will be filming or documenting anything special in your day to day life. for this we are recommending that you pair up with another V&A member for these videos and try out different activities that you’ve never done before.”

as KYUWON mentioned, the remaining V&A members will be filming youtube vlogs for their channel. they will be filming the videos starting from today all the way until SEPTEMBER 1. the list below denotes when the episodes will be AIRED on the youtube channel.

EPISODE 1 ( JEON HARU & AHN JAESUN ): AUGUST 29

EPISODE 2 ( PONGSAK TEE ): SEPTEMBER 5

EPISODE 3 ( KIM ALEX ): SEPTEMBER 12

EPISODE 4 ( HAN KEEHO & PONGSAK TEE ): SEPTEMBER 19

EPISODE 5 ( AHN JAESUN ): SEPTEMBER 26

EPISODE 6 ( JEON HARU ): OCTOBER 3

EPISODE 7 ( HAN KEEHO ): OCTOBER 10

for the theme of these vlogs, the V&A members are asked to film themselves doing an activity that they have never tried before. if any of the V&A members decide to do an activity that is outside the legacy building, they will be accompanied by their manager and/or the assistant manager to supervise them during that time. the activity also has to be something that can be filmed in one day, so they CANNOT do any activities where they will be traveling to a different location outside of seoul. the videos typically last around 20-25 minutes.

HARU’S BIRTHDAY LIVESTREAM

since HARU’s birthday is on JULY 15, HARU will be given permission by KYUWON to host a birthday livestream. the livestream will be hosted in his studio room, so the fans will get a glimpse of his studio and a chance to interact with him as well! it will last around 30-45 minutes, depending on when the livestream is aired.

SURPRISE PROJECT

before the meeting concludes, KYUWON shifts his attention to JIHO as he stares at him. “everyone else can leave but JIHO.” when it’s just the two of them alone, KYUWON begins, “we know how your schedule is going to be in the next few months but you’ve been invited for something else related to lgc’s family concert, so we’ll start working on it right now.” and as the two begin to discuss the project, KYUWON makes sure that no one else could eavesdrop on their conversation.

ooc wise, the project will be revealed with the lgc family concert 2k23 post, so stay tuned for that!

WRITING REQUIREMENTS

YUJIWON’S POD: write a 300+ word solo or a 6 replies ( minimum 8 lines, 2 posts per person ) with the hosts ( so a three way thread with jiho, yushin, and yeonwoo ) about the podcast for +6 MCING/HOSTING and +6 NOTORIETY ! ** only for JIHO and YUSHIN **

LGC CHARMS JAPAN: write a 4 replies ( minimum 8 lines ) with another participant ( so anyone in AGITO or LGC GIRLS JAPAN ) about anything related to the filming of the show for +6 VARIETY OR JAPANESE and +5 NOTORIETY !

V&A LOG: write a 300+ word solo or a 4 replies ( minimum 8 lines ) with your assigned partner about the vlog episode for +6 VARIETY and +5 NOTORIETY ! do note that what will be written is what will be appearing in the videos. ** only for KEEHO and HARU **

BIRTHDAY LIVESTREAM: write a 250+ word solo about the livestream for +5 POINTS TO DISTRIBUTE ANYWHERE and +3 NOTORIETY ! ** only for haru **

BONUS: write a 4 replies ( minimum 8 lines ) with a non-V&A member for +10 POINTS TO DISTRIBUTE ANYWHERE ! ** this cannot overlap with any of the events **

make sure to use the hashtag lgc:agitomission for the task. you have until SEPTEMBER 16, 2023 at 11:59PM EDT to complete the requirements and validate your points. please submit the following form ONCE on the points blog.

MUSE NAME ∙ AGITO MISSION 003 - YUJIWON’S POD: +6 mcing/hosting, +6 notoriety [ LINK ] ** for jiho and yushin ** - LGC CHARMS JAPAN: +6 ( variety or japanese ), +5 notoriety [ LINK ] - V&A LOG: +6 variety, +5 notoriety [ LINK ] ** only for keeho and haru ** - BIRTHDAY LIVESTREAM: +5 ( skill points distribution ), +3 notoriety [ LINK ] ** only for haru ** - BONUS: +10 ( skill points distribution ) [ LINK ]

#lgc:event #lgc:q32023 #lgc:agitomission

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gayboy-memoirofanaddict · 3 hours ago

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Chapter 26 - My December

Winter in the desert wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t the picturesque snowdrifts of postcards. It was a raw, biting cold that seeped through cracks you never knew existed, turning the dusty yard into a moonscape of frozen ruts and the chain-link fence into a skeletal ice sculpture. Snow flurries, relentless and fine as ground glass, swirled outside the tall windows of the shop, blurring the view of Jeremy’s kingdom and the silent Pink House beyond.

Inside my half of the shop, the cold was a living thing. It crept up from the thin floorboards, gnawed at the poorly sealed door, and leached the feeble warmth generated by the single, whirring electric space heater Jeremy had grudgingly allowed. Margaret, Jeremy’s wife who resided in the warmth of the actual house, had made her feelings clear: minimal electricity. Out of respect, and a healthy dose of not wanting to piss off the landlord of my fragile sanctuary, I was trying.

Trying looked like desperation made manifest.

I’d nailed thick, musty-smelling blankets over the interior doorframe, creating a heavy, lumpy curtain. My masterpiece, however, was the floor. Scavenged from the forgotten debris behind the Pink House’s back fence – a landscape of cinderblock mountains and collapsing sheds, I’d laid down a giant, blue plastic tarp. On top of that, meticulously salvaged asphalt roofing shingles, their edges brittle with age and cold, were arranged like grotesque, overlapping scales. My meth-fueled logic was impeccable: Shingles keep cold and water out of an attic. Therefore, they’ll keep cold out and heat in here. Physics. Never mind that attics had insulation under the shingles. Details. I stepped back, shivering despite the layers I wore, and admired my handiwork. A mosaic of tarpaper and plastic, a fragile shield against the blizzard howling outside. Jeremy, peering in earlier, had just shaken his head, muttered "Crazy fucker," and retreated to his porn-and-heat-filled shed. He didn’t get it. This was the best I could do.

A heavy knock rattled the makeshift blanket-door. Jeremy stood outside, bundled in a thick parka, snow dusting his shoulders. He held a covered bowl steaming gently in the frigid air.

"Dinner," he announced, pushing past the blanket curtain, bringing a gust of arctic air with him. He surveyed the shingle floor, the pathetic heater, the general cave-like ambiance, his expression unreadable. "Chili. Got crackers and cheese too."

"Thanks, Jer," I said, the gratitude bone-deep. The smell of meat and spices cut through the cold and the lingering scent of gasoline and plastic. He handed me the bowl, the heat radiating through the ceramic. I set it carefully on my small table, then rummaged in a drawer, pulling out a folded piece of notebook paper. "Here. Wrote this last night." It was a letter, rambling but sincere, thanking him for the space, the bed, the chance. For seeing something useful in me when no one else did.

Jeremy took it, glanced at it, and stuffed it into his coat pocket. He watched me eat, his gaze lingering on the shingle floor again, then on the straining heater. Silence stretched, filled only by the howl outside, the heater's drone, and my spoon scraping the bowl. The chili was simple, hearty, perfect. Warmth spread from my belly, a temporary victory against the pervasive chill.

Finished, I handed him the empty bowl. The meth itch was starting, a familiar counterpoint to the cold settling back into my bones. "Jer… you think you could spare a point? And… a shot?" The request felt smaller, less transactional, in the face of the chili and the cold.

He didn't hesitate. "Yeah. Brought some." He pulled a small baggie of crystalline powder and a clean syringe from his coat pocket, placing them on the table beside the remnants of cheese and crackers. "Figured you might want it."

I mixed the shot with practiced efficiency on the bottom of an empty soda can with a small drop of water from my cup. Tied off with a shoelace, found the vein, pushed the plunger. The familiar surge hit – a chemical lightning bolt chasing the cold away, a sudden, artificial bloom of heat spreading outwards, a distinct, electric tingle settling low in my groin. I sighed, the tension momentarily unwinding.

I looked up, expecting Jeremy to be heading for the blanket-door. He wasn't. He was still standing there, watching me. Not the equipment, not the shingles. Me. His gaze felt… different. Assessing, but not in the usual mentor-apprentice way. More… lingering. Traveling from my face down my body and back up.

The high was kicking in, making the air feel thick. "Uh… thanks, Jer," I said, shifting uncomfortably. "Can I, like… get some privacy now?" I tried to keep it respectful, masking the sudden unease.

Jeremy’s eyes, usually sharp and pragmatic, held mine. "Why?" he asked, his voice calm, almost casual. Then, without waiting for an answer, he stated it flatly: "So you can watch porn and jack off?" No judgment in the tone. Just… observation. Like noting the weather.

The bluntness caught me off guard, amplified by the meth buzzing in my veins. Heat flushed my face, unrelated to the drug or the heater. "Yeah," I admitted, the word tight. "Basically."

He didn’t move. His gaze didn’t waver. It felt heavy, intrusive in the small space. He looked me up and down again, slowly, a contemplative expression on his face that I couldn't decipher. It wasn't overtly sexual, but it wasn't the look of a boss checking on a project either. It felt… proprietary. Curious. A beat too long.

Finally, he nodded, a slight, almost imperceptible thing. "Enjoy yourself," he said, his voice low. Then he turned, pushed through the blanket curtain, and was gone, swallowed by the swirling snow.

I stood frozen for a moment, the cold rushing back in where the blanket had been disturbed, the meth high suddenly laced with a jolt of adrenaline and confusion. *What the hell was that? The way he’d looked at me… the lingering… the question. Jeremy was straight. Obsessively, pornographically straight. He’d never hinted otherwise, never made a comment, never looked at me like… like he just had. Almost like he wanted to… do something? Stay? Watch? The thought was bizarre, unsettling. I liked Jeremy. Respected him, even. He felt like the closest thing to a solid, dependable father figure I’d had since I left my family behind. This… this weirdness felt like a crack in that foundation. A boundary suddenly, hazily crossed.

The meth surged again, louder, pushing the unease aside with chemical insistence. Fuck it. Probably just the cold. Or the meth. Making shit weird. I shoved the thoughts down, the familiar craving for digital oblivion taking over. I pulled out my phone, fumbled with my belt. The icy air bit at exposed skin, but the chemical fire inside was stronger. The unsettling moment with Jeremy blurred, receded, drowned out by the immediate, predictable ritual of the high. The shingle floor felt rough under my feet as I sank down into the armchair, the howling wind outside just white noise now.

Morning dawned brittle and blindingly bright. The blizzard had passed, leaving the world encased in a thick, pristine layer of white, the sun reflecting off it with an intensity that hurt the eyes. I pushed aside the heavy blanket-door and stepped out of the shop, blinking like a nocturnal creature dragged into the light. I felt… scraped raw. The meth high long gone, replaced by the hollowed-out ache of the comedown and the lingering residue of last night’s weirdness.

Across the yard, Jeremy was already at work. Bundled in his parka, he was shoveling a path from the door of his little shed-room out towards the driveway, his breath pluming in the crisp air. The scene was normal. Utterly mundane. The unsettling energy from the night before seemed absurd in the clean, cold light of day.

I crunched through the snow towards him, my boots sinking deep. "Good morning, Jer," I called, my voice raspy. "Want some help?"

Jeremy straightened up, leaning on his shovel. He looked at me, his face weathered but calm, his eyes back to their usual sharp, pragmatic clarity. No trace of the unsettling appraisal from the night before. Just Jeremy. The boss. The guy who gave me a place and paid me in crystal. A slow smile spread across his face, genuine and familiar.

"Damn right," he said, gesturing with the shovel towards the expanse of snow still covering the driveway. "It's time for my foreman to get to work." He tossed a second shovel leaning against his shed towards me.

I caught it, the cold metal biting into my bare hand. The weight felt good. Solid. Real. The confusion of the night before, the shingle floor, the lingering chill in my bones – it all receded, replaced by the simple, demanding task at hand. Snow needed moving. Work needed doing. The sun was out. I planted the shovel in the deep snow and pushed.

#addiction #memoir #recovery #writing

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