#anyways we got the go ahead from another supervisor to just. do our own thing and make it work and if our manager bitches | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

love-and-monsters · 4 years

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Harpy Model

M harpy X GN human, 6,762 words.

This story is based on this post that I was tagged in by the lovely and talented @p-gretz. Thanks for the inspiration!

You fumbled with the camera equipment in your hands. The tripod kept trying to escape under your elbow, but shifting to secure it would mean losing the lens cap, and grabbing for that jeopardized the magnifier you had balanced against your collarbone. If people stopped dumping things on you at every given opportunity, you probably would have been alright, but being the lowest member on the totem pole meant your status was barely better than a self-propelled table.

The tripod slipped another inch down and you automatically grabbed at it. The sudden movement unbalanced the camera in the center of the pile. With a clatter of plastic, it slipped free, tumbling toward the ground.

A feathered hand snagged the camera strap, jerking it to a halt seconds before it struck the ground. “Need some help?” a slightly accented male voice asked.

“Thanks, but I got it,” you said. A total lie. You could not have had it less if you’d tried.

“Nonsense. At least let me take something so you can get better situated.” Before you could protest again, he had removed several of the objects, tucking them into his feathered arms.

Without the constant danger of dropping something if you so much as twitched, you were able to shift the pile in your arms into a better position. “Thank you. I’m sorry, I-”

You froze. It felt embarrassingly out of character for you to look at someone and freeze, but his face made something in your chest do backflips.

He was elegantly made up, with touches lengthening his lashes and emphasizing his cheekbones. His hair was pale and curling in little waves around his ears. Delicate feathers sprouted around his neck, trailing down toward his arms. They were pale white, with touches of pink. His tail was easily the most striking part of him. Long, green feathers made a train behind him that brushed the floor and gave him the impression of a trailing cloak. He stood delicately on bird-like talons, poised like a dancer.

Fortunately, your freeze only lasted a couple of seconds, and you disguised it by pretending to drop and recover one of your many items. “Sorry. I’m trying to go to studio, um. A12, so I’ll just be heading over there-”

The man laughed. It was more gentle than mocking, but you felt your stomach shrivel in embarrassment regardless. “Really? Then you’re heading in the wrong direction. I’m headed in the same direction. I can walk you there.”

“I wouldn’t want to bother you,” you said.

“It’s not a bother. You seem like you could use the help.” You blushed furiously, but the man didn’t seem to notice. He shifted the camera he’d taken from you into a more comfortable position in his arm. “Are you new here? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you here before.”

“Yeah. I’m, um. The new intern, basically. You’ve been here for a while?”

“I work with a few different photography places as a model. But I’ve had a contract here for some time.” He flicked his tail casually. “If you need help, I can show you around a little bit when we’re done. This place can be a real maze until you get used to it.”

“Oh, I couldn’t impose on you like that. I mean, you’re probably really busy and I don’t want to take up any of your valuable time-”

The harpy laughed. “My time is hardly the most valuable time here. And, if we’re being really honest…” He leaned in close to your ear. His feathers tickled as he put a hand up to his mouth. “I don’t mind making some of the people around here wait. They’re all really stuck up.” He leaned back and dropped you a glittery wink before strolling on ahead. “Come with me! It’s this way.”

You hurried after him. He had a particularly flowing, graceful way of moving. It wasn’t hard to believe he was a model- even if you hadn’t met him in the studio, you would have guessed it. He moved like he was always on a catwalk.

The studio was particularly maze-like. There were multiple winding halls with several doors each. Only a few small signs gave any sign of where anything was, and casual racks of clothes strewn around the hallway blocked more than half of them. The harpy, however, strode through the halls with a practiced ease.

After several turns, you finally came across a door marked Studio A12. The harpy pushed the door open and paused to let you through before stepping in himself.

“Revali! You’re late!” An impatient-looking woman glared across the room at him. You froze automatically, but he just put down the equipment he’d been carrying on a nearby table and gave you a wink.

“I’m here now, aren’t I?” he said. You turned away from him as your supervisor approached you.

“You’re late too,” he said.

“Sorry. I kind of got lost.”

“I know it’s your first week here, so I’m not going to scold you for this, but being on time is important here. At least for the photographers.” He cast a disparaging look at Revali who was chatting cheerfully with the stern-looking woman. “Models get more leeway.”

“He doesn’t seem so bad,” you said. “I thought a lot of models here were kind of stuck up.”

“He’s not stuck up,” your supervisor agreed. “He’s got the opposite problem. He doesn’t take anything seriously. One of those types who float through life on nothing but their good looks.”

The photoshoot started right after he spoke and you were immediately swept up in the business of it all. Your job was essentially doing whatever anyone needed of you, and they needed a lot. You spent most of the time scrambling around, fixing lights, grabbing accessories, fetching camera equipment, and being a general gopher. The photoshoot lasted only an hour and a half, but you were exhausted by the time it was over.

You sagged by the door, waiting for your next task to be assigned. Revali was having some sort of conversation with his manager that seemed to be verging on an argument, at least on her end. Revali looked as casual as ever.

His manager said something stabbing a finger in his face. He didn’t even flinch. He just lifted one of his shoulders in a slight shrug and, with a flick of his tail, strolled away.

“Ready for the tour?” he asked as he walked over to you. He had a particular way of walking, like he was constantly on a catwalk. It really was more of a strut than a casual walk.

“I already said you don’t have to. And, um, I don’t want to get you in trouble.” You made a subtle head motion toward his managers, who was alternating between looking at her phone screen and glaring at him.

Revali tossed his head. “She’s not my mother. She doesn’t control me. I do what I like. And right now, I’d like to take you on a tour of the studio. Why don’t you come with me?”

You glanced back at his manager. Revali shifted in front of you, blocking her from your sight. “All right,” you said. “But it can’t take too long. I’ve still got other responsibilities to take care of.”

Revali nodded and gestured for you to follow him out the door. “Like I said, this whole place is kind of a maze. I swear, they designed every section to look as similar as possible. But, you can figure out where all the studios are because it’s broken into sections. The stairwells are always marked with the sections. Even numbers are always to the right when you get off the stairwells and odd numbers to the left. Here, I’ll show you how to get to a couple of the bigger studios-”

Revali was right- the entire place seemed to have been designed like a weird, spiraling maze. You ended up needing to take notes on everything he told you. When you finally came to a stop, you were almost dizzy from all the turns you’d needed to make.

“Where are we?” you asked, looking around. “I haven’t been in this part of the building before.” It was almost indistinguishable from the other parts of the building, with eh same florescent lights and powder blue walls, but there were larger signs next to every door and they were spaced closer together.

“Yes, you probably haven’t needed to come down here yet.” Revali opened one of the doors and stepped inside. It was a small room with a large mirror taking up most of one wall, a couch, a minifridge, and a few racks of fancy-looking clothes. “They’re the model rooms. Those of us who have long-term contracts here get our own little spaces when we’re not working.” He strode across the room and sprawled on his couch.

You stood in the doorway. One of the models taking an interest in you and then inviting you back to his personal room? It was hard to keep your imagination from going places. “Hey, uh. I don’t want to be rude, but if you invited me back here for some, uh, fun, I’m not really into casual flings, so-”

Revali shrugged. “Whether or not we have sex is entirely up to you. I’ve had a couple flings in here. Honestly, they didn’t do much for me.”

If he had been attempting to make you more comfortable, it had backfired. Great. Now you didn’t want to sit down anywhere. You remained in the doorway. “Why did you bring me here, then?”

Revali shrugged. “You seemed overwhelmed,” he said. “And it’s much quieter down here.” There was a series of thumps and cursing on the other side of the wall. Revali glared at it. “Mostly, anyway.”

You plucked up your courage and settled on the couch next to him. He grinned. “Also, it’s lunch time and I like eating with other people. I make way too much food all the time.”

Revali grabbed a few Tupperware containers out of his minifridge and lay them out on the table next to you. Most of them appeared to be some sort of meat covered in a thick sauce. Revali was looking at you eagerly, so you took the fork he was offering and took a bite.

“Oh!” you said. “It’s good!”

“Yeah?” Revali said. “I cook when I’m stressed, so I always have more food than I need.” You took a few more bites, enjoying the richness and spiciness of the sauce over the umami of the meat. Revali leaned back, watching you eat with a strange amount of intensity.

“Um. Are you going to have some?” you asked, gesturing to the food. Revali made a face.

“Can’t. I have my own lunch here.” He pulled out an uninspired-looking salad with a few strips of grilled chicken on top.

“You make food, but then you don’t eat it?” you asked. Revali shrugged.

“The life of a model. I do need to keep in shape,” he said. “But I’m always cooking, so you can come over any time you want. I’ll give you a free lunch.”

“You could try at least one bite,” you said. You lifted a piece of meat on your fork and held it out to him. Revali lifted a brow. “Come on. You made all this. I’ll feel bad if I’m the only one who gets to eat it.”

Revali’s brow lifted a little higher. “Well, if you’ll feel bad, I suppose I have no choice but to spare your feelings.” You had intended for him to take the fork from you, but instead, he leaned forward and picked the chunk of meat off the fork with his teeth. He sprawled back and chewed, eyes closing. “Mm. It is good.”

You glanced around the room. It was slightly messy, with clothes and makeup strewn all over the place. Nothing was dirty, but it was a little cluttered. “How did you get into modeling, anyway?”

Revali opened his eyes and pushed himself more upright. “It was a few years ago. Just started doing a few local things, then I got scouted by my current agency. It’s not the most fun, really, but it’s pretty good money. Better than flipping burgers at a fast food restaurant, at least.” He shrugged. “Never finished college, so my job prospects are pretty limited.” He eyed you. “What about you?”

“I finished college a month or so ago. Studied photography. I’m hoping that this internship will lead to an actual job in the future, because right now I’m kind of living off my savings.” You gave a weak chuckle. “I kind of wanted to do my own photography thing, but, you know. Better to have a stable job.”

“Don’t I know it. I’d love to do some more interesting projects, but these ones pay well, which is what my manager likes.” Revali checked his phone and grimaced. “I’m going to have to head to my next shoot in a few minutes. You can hang out here if you like. Just put stuff back when you’re done with it.”

“I should probably be getting back now anyway,” you said, standing up. “Thank you for the lunch, though. You’re a good cook.”

“Thank you. Come back any time. Like I said, I’ve always got food. Actually, let me walk you back to the photo area. Just to make sure you get there all right.” Revali held the door open for you as you stepped into the hall.

“I’m not that hopeless,” you said, starting to head down the hallway. Revali snickered and you stopped. “What?”

“You sure?” he said. “Because, uh, you are going the complete wrong direction.”

“Oh,” you said. “I. Um. That’s embarrassing.”

“You’ll get used to it. Eventually. Here, I’ll show you the way.” Revali linked his arm through yours. “This all right?”

“Sure,” you said. “Thank you. Again.”

“No problem at all! Now, we should probably hurry, so I don’t get yelled at twice in one day. My manager would blow a blood vessel.” Revali headed off at a rapid trot, forcing you to jog to keep up.

Meeting him for lunch became a regular practice after that. He usually had something new and interesting for you to try, and he seemed to enjoy your company. Every day, you would slip out of work and head down to his dressing room for at least half an hour. A few times, you lost track of the time and had to sprint to make it back to your next shoot.

“They’re really putting you through the ringer, huh?” Revali said as you collapsed on his couch. He was wearing the sparkliest blue jacket you’d ever seen. Whether it was actually for a shoot or not was up in the air- Revali was the sort of person who would wear it out and about.

“It’s all right. I wish I was allowed to do more than just menial labor, though. I knew I was going to get the tasks people didn’t like when I started, but I wish I had more learning experiences. I feel like I’ve barely held a camera for something other than handing it to someone.”

Revali stretched his arms over his head, wings twitching. It was always interesting to watch the way they moved. They were a combination of wings and arms, with feathers sprouting all along his arms and the wing tip and hands separating at the wrists. Whenever he wore long sleeves, he needed to cut slits for the feathers and tied the ends closed around his wrists. They were usually tied closed with some sort of bangle, so he nearly always jingled when he moved his arms. “That’s a bummer. Have you been able to take any photos at all recently?”

“Nah. I’ve been too busy. When I get home from work, all I want to do is collapse. And I’ve been having trouble getting inspiration. I’ve been trying to get out more and do some shoots in nature, because it’s a lot nicer than the manufactured settings we have here, but I’ve been having trouble finding a model.”

Revali sat up straighter. “Having trouble finding a model, hm? Well, isn’t is just so fortunate that I happen to have some skills in that particular department?”

“Are you sure? I can’t really pay you much. That’s part of the reason I’ve been having trouble getting some models. When your job isn’t paying you anything, you can’t afford to hire someone for an afternoon. And I’m just not connected enough to find someone willing to do it for free.”

“I think we can help each other out,” Revali said. “I do actually need some new photos for my portfolio, and I think it would be nice to have a more natural setting. Let me use the photos and I’ll do it for free.”

“You’d be willing to do that? And you’re not too busy? I know you’ve kind of been running ragged for the past few days,” you said.

“Oh, it’s no trouble at all. Like I said, it gives us both something we want.” He whipped a phone out of his pocket and started tapping on the screen. “Let’s see. I’m free Saturday afternoon, if that works for you?” You nodded. “Wonderful. Text me your address, I’ll stop by and you can take me wherever you want.”

Your phone timer dinged and you jumped to your feet. “Oh, shoot, I need to get going. Um, I guess I’ll see you then? And thank you!”

“Don’t worry about it, cutie. Just go.” He waved a hand at you. “I’d hate to see you get yelled at on my behalf.”

You scrambled out the door, waving goodbye to him once more before heading down the hall.

Waiting for Saturday became the highlight of your week. You deliberated over the best location, eventually picking a slightly secluded, riverside area. Revali had agreed to bring some of his own outfits, which he had allowed you to approve. They were simpler than the outfits he usually wore to work, with more natural colors, but he still looked good in them.

You spent a lot of time fussing with your cameras on the day of the shoot. It would be terribly embarrassing for Revali to show up and see you unprepared.

The knock on your door was startling. You carefully placed your camera on your table and hurried to answer it.

Revali was leaning against the doorway. “Hello, darling. Ready to go?”

He was wearing some fancy-looking gold and silver makeup and he’d done something to plump up his tail. It was long and fancy typically, but he’d added long lines of beads and fluff to his tail, making it look even more striking than usual.

“Wow,” you said. You were suddenly overly conscious about how messy your hair was and the fact that you’d just kind of thrown on the first clothes you’d laid your eyes on in the morning. Would it be weird if you made an excuse to go change? “Uh. Do you want to come in for a minute? I just, uh, need to finish something up.”

Revali stepped into your house. “Nice place,” he said, glancing around. You snorted.

“Please. I’m renting a house in the middle of nowhere that has, like, three rooms. Uh, make yourself comfortable. I just need to, um. Grab a jacket.”

“It’s nicely decorated, though. You have a good aesthetic sense.” Most of the stuff you had was from second-hand stores, but it did all sort of go together in a sort of farmhouse-chic way.

You hurried into your room and swapped your old sweatshirt out for a nicer shirt and one of your nicer jackets. The pants were staying, they were good enough. You hurried back out into the kitchen. Revali was examining a few of the photos that adorned your walls.

“You take these?” he asked. They were mostly nature shots, images of animals or flowers up close or landscape shots of rolling fields or mountains.

“Yeah. Most of them were for class. I just hung up the best ones,” you said.

“They’re nice. I like them. Do you like taking picture of nature better? Than of people, I mean.”

“Um. I mean. They’re both nice, just in different ways. There’s something really meditative about taking pictures of nature. It’s peaceful. Working with people can be harder, but it’s also kind of rewarding? Like, taking photos for a wedding is really nice. You get to capture a really great moment in someone’s life and then, when they look back at it, you help them remember the good moments. I like being able to do that for people.”

Revali looked at you. His eyes were bright, assessing. “Why do you work for the studio? It’s not any of those things you said, peaceful or rewarding. It’s mostly just stressful.”

“It makes money,” you said as you headed for the door. “Why do you work for the agency?”

There was a pause, long enough for you to get in the car. “Because it makes good money,” Revali finally said. “And it also means I get my face out there. I like being well known, you know.”

“I can’t imagine wanting that. I like being behind the scenes way more.”

Revali settled back in the seat and watched the fields roll by. “Where are we headed?”

“Um, there’s this nice little riverside area in a stand of trees. I thought it might make for some pretty photos.” You glanced at him uncertainly. “I hope that’s okay with you. I know you said you’d be okay with a nature shoot, but hope you’re not going to be too upset with a little dirt. I’ll try to keep you out of it, but-”

Revali burst into peals of laughter. You twisted your head to stare at him before realizing that you should probably keep your eyes on the road. “What? What’s so funny?”

“Oh, I shouldn’t laugh! It just struck me as very funny, but you had no way of knowing, of course.” Revali wiped a stray tear away. “Do you know where I grew up?”

“No,” you said. He hadn’t told you, had he? Revali seemed unoffended. He ran a hand through his hair, which somehow still looked artfully tousled. You were temporarily distracted by the way little tufts curled loosely around his ears. Hurriedly, you turned your gaze back to the road.

“I grew up on a farm,” he said. He fluttered his feathers. “I’m a cockerel harpy- I’ve got my fancy show feathers, but I’m not exactly a bird of paradise. It’s a family thing. I grew up working in the dirt and mud, and whenever I go home, I’m expected to do it again.”

“I never would have guessed,” you said honestly. He had the soft looks of someone who had never worked hard labor, but when you looked him over again, you could see how his smooth muscles might have come from farm work. “Your family didn’t mind, then, you going to be a model?”

“You think I have some sob story about running away from my strict farm father to pursue my dreams of being in the spotlight?” Revali smirked at you. “No. My father was disappointed, I think. He did want me to carry on the tradition. But I’ve got two younger sister who are much more invested in the farm life, so he didn’t have any fears about passing everything on and both my parents are the ‘follow your dreams’ sort, so they probably would have let me go anyway. I’m not sure they understand what I see in modeling, but they support me nonetheless.”

It was a short drive to the little grove. You parked out of the way and gathered your camera equipment while Revali looked around the area. “It’s pretty,” he said, inspecting a spray of yellow flowers. “You have a good eye.”

“Thanks.” You carefully placed the tripod. “Okay, first things first. I want to get some full-body portraits first, then we can move on to the up-close stuff.”

Revali was easy to work with, easier than you would have guessed from the number of arguments he got into with his manager. He posed gracefully, responded to your every critique thoughtfully and carefully, and even put up with your artistic considerations with far more patience than you would have expected. Even when you spent several minutes forcing him to hold a pose while you got the angle just right, he didn’t complain.

About two hours after you had started, you called a break. Revali shrugged his artfully-held jacket back on and lounged against a tree. “Can I see some of the photos?” he asked.

You considered for a moment, then handed the camera over with the same care you would with a baby. Probably more, really. “Just don’t break anything, all right?”

“Oh, ye of little faith,” Revali said. “I’ve only ever dropped two cameras. And one of them survived with only minimal damage!” You stared at him in wide-eyed horror. “I’m kidding! I’ll be very careful.”

He clicked through the camera’s photo roll. You sat nearby, leg jittering nervously. His expression was inscrutable.

“These are nice,” he said after a few moments. “I mean, they’re quite good. Better than a lot of the shoots I’ve been to recently. I like the shadow and light here.” He tapped at the photo on screen. You leaned over to see which one he was talking about. It was one of the close-ups, where Revali was staring up through the trees. The sunlight dappled leaf shadows across his face and picked up the flecks of gold in his dark eyes.

“It’s just a photo of your face,” you said, a little embarrassed by the praise. “I mean, it’s hard to make you look bad.”

“Oh, you’re being too modest. A poor picture can make anyone look bad and my lovely face can only do so much. You’re the one who set up the shot and was all clever with the lighting and whatnot.” Revali gave a little wave of his hand. “Honestly, it’s better than a few of my modeling pictures. And you’re much better at giving direction than most of the people at the studio. I swear, the number of times I just get told to look pouty at the camera is ridiculous. Or ridiculously esoteric shit. ‘Think about your best friend returning after a long time away’ my ass. Just tell me exactly what to do with my face and I’ll do it.” He stopped and gave you a slightly embarrassed look. “Not to make this about me, of course. But yes, you are quite good. It’s a shame you don’t get more projects.”

You shrugged. “I’d like to do more independent stuff. But I just don’t have any connections and I’ve been having a hard time getting gigs and, well, it’s just hard when you’re getting started.”

Revali tilted his head to one side. “Things will get better,” he said. You huffed out a sigh.

“I hope so. I’m gonna go crazy if I don’t get to do something interesting in my actual job soon.” You fiddled with a few of the camera settings again. “Ready?”

“Certainly.” The photoshoot commenced once more. Revali seemed to be putting his all into the shoot, which you appreciated. He probably could have slipped by with just posing halfheartedly, but he was really putting effort forward.

You spent longer on a photoshoot than you had expected. Revali was nice to work with, cracking little jokes at every opportunity and being patient with any technical mishaps. The sun had started to sink toward the horizon by the time you were done.

“Sorry that took so long,” you said. “I didn’t mean to take up your weekend.”

“I’m really fine.” Revali flicked his tail, combing his fingers through the long feathers. “You apologize a lot, don’t you?”

“I just don’t want to come across as rude,” you said. Revali laughed.

“That’s one thing you certainly don’t do,” he said. “I enjoyed myself.”

“Still,” you said as the pair of you headed back toward his car, “why don’t I buy you dinner? It’s the least I can do.”

Revali looked down at you. His dark eyes glittered with interest. “If you’re offering, then I’ll certainly take you up on it.”

It took some driving around, but you eventually settled on a small café fairly close to Revali’s townhouse. He selected some sort of salad and you picked out a sandwich. Revali was right, the place was quite good. “I’ve never been here before,” you said. “I guess I haven’t been eating out for lunch as much, though.”

“I’m pleased my cooking is so good to you,” Revali said. He picked at his salad, moving the leaves around more than he was eating them. A knot started to form in your stomach.

“Hey.” Revali looked up. Your tone must have been strange because his expression became serious. “Um. You don’t, um. Eat much.”

Revali lowered his fork. “Ah. I did notice you staring during meals, but I suppose I was trying to flatter myself, thinking it was entirely my good looks.”

You felt hot. “I’m sorry, I know it might be rude to bring it up. But I’m just a little worried. I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

“Hm,” Revali muttered. He put down his fork and shifted in his seat. His feathers rustled and ruffled. “I did have some trouble with eating well when I was younger. It never developed into a full-blown disorder, but I have always had a bit of an issue with maintaining my looks. I suppose my current representation isn’t helping with this issue.”

“Your manager?” you guessed. Revali gave a tight-lipped smile.

“Yes. I gained a pound the other week and got a bit of a lecture for it. Apparently, thin men are in right now. Harpies are usually fine boned and slender and all that, but I suppose it’s not quite enough for her.” A swell of anxiety crested behind his words.

You fiddled with a toothpick. “Can you get new representation?”

“Unfortunately, I can’t. She is the only available representative for the company I have a contract with right now. And even if I could switch, I don’t have any guarantee that the next manager would be any better. Extreme dieting is not exactly uncommon in the modeling industry.” He sighed, picking up his fork and poking at the salad a few times before spearing a large bite and shoving it into his mouth. “The contract actually expires in a couple weeks,” he said, swallowing the bite. “She’s not happy about it. She really wants me to sign on again, but I haven’t done it yet.”

“What’ll you do if you don’t sign on again? Try to go somewhere else?”

“I don’t know. I’ve been modeling for a few years now. I’m not sure what else to do. But I’ll admit, I don’t love the culture. It’s not great for my mental health, in all honesty. I just don’t know what else to do.”

He looked so despondent that you couldn’t help but reach across the table and take his hand. He stared at your fingers for a moment before lifting his gaze to yours. “I’m sure whatever you chose will be the right thing,” you said. “I think, if your modeling career is bad for your mental health, then you can quit. You’re more than just a pretty face, you know? You know more about photoshoots than you think you do. You’ve got a good sense for lighting and you’ve even got a better idea of colors than I do. And you’ve got a really great fashion sense. I think there’s a lot you could do.”

Revali blinked at you for a moment, then his face broke into a breathtaking smile. A blush stole across your face, blazing in your cheeks. He looked unbearably beautiful. It wasn’t just the features of his face, though they were all very good. It was the clear and genuine delight that the smile conveyed. “I don’t think I’ve had someone compliment me so sweetly in a long time! At least, not on something other than my looks.”

“Not to mention, you’re a kick-ass cook,” you added. Revali laughed and took a sip of his water. You weren’t sure, because he had quite a bit of makeup on, but you though you could see a hint of pink tinging his cheeks.

“If I’m looking for a less stressful job than modeling, I don’t think being a chef is a good choice. And I’m not quite good enough to be in the industry. But it is nice to have my skills complimented.” He took another sip. “But thank you. Being a model can make it so your looks are the most important part of your life. It’s good to be reminded they’re not the most important thing about me.”

You shrugged. “Hey, I’m not much in the looks department, so I’m pretty good at looking past that.”

“Now, now, don’t be modest. You’re quite cute yourself,” Revali said, dropping a glittery wink. You felt yourself flushing again.

After dinner, you returned home and bid Revali a farewell. You spent the evening examining the photos you’d taken. Most of them were quite good. At the very least, they would make good photos for your portfolio. You considered them for a few moments, then pulled up the bare bones of your website and started uploading the photos.

The next day, you joined Revali for lunch again. He was wearing more than his usual makeup, but even so, you could see the slight puffiness around his eyes. “Tired?” you asked.

“Ughh. My manager and I got into a fight last night, after I got home. Things were said.” He massaged his forehead. “Tell me something good, darling, I need it.”

“Um,” you said. “I set up my website last night? Or I started setting it up, at least.”

Revali focused fully on you. “Your website?”

“Yeah. Um, I hope you don’t mind, I put some of the pictures we took up there. I want to see if I can start freelancing, at least in my free time.” Revali perked up. The tired look slid off his face.

“I don’t mind. I’m used to having my pictures all over the place. So, you’ve decided to start doing your own thing, now?” He leaned toward you.

“At least a little bit. The hardest part will be getting clients. Once I build up a little bit of a base, I can start getting people by word of mouth and stuff. But it’s difficult now.”

“I’d expect so,” Revali said, but he appeared to only be half paying attention. His gaze had become a little unfocused, like he was thinking about something else. “You know what, my next shoot’s in a few minutes. You can hang out here if you want. I’ll see you later.”

You met for lunch a few times in the next couple of weeks. Revali’s mood seemed to have improved. He was much more cheerful and, to your great relief, he seemed to be eating more.

It was almost exactly two weeks after you’d had your photoshoot when Revali sought you out at work. “I was going to come by for lunch,” you said. “Is something wrong?”

Revali seized your hands. “No. Things are great! I just told my manager to fuck off!” He proclaimed it loudly enough that several people in the vicinity turned toward him. You ignored them.

“That is great! I’m so glad for you,” you said.

“That’s not everything,” Revali said. “I have a surprise for you.” His tail twitched and flicked with excitement. “Follow me!”

Revali tugged you through the building, down to his dressing room. “Okay. Remember how you were talking about having trouble getting clientele?”

“Yeah,” you said cautiously.

“Well, I’ve been a model for a while. Which means I have some connections and some favors.” Revali opened the door and tugged you inside. “So, I thought I’d call some in!”

The room did not look different. You looked cautiously at Revali. “Uh. What am I supposed to be looking at?”

“This!” Revali snatched a stack of papers off a table and thrust them at you. You flipped through them. “It’s the information of people who want to have photoshoots! There’s a couple of weddings, one person wants a pet thing, a couple of people want you to take photos for cosplays- I told them all that you were really good and you’re easy to work with and a bunch of people were willing to give it a shot.”

“You got me gigs?” There was a note of incredulity in your voice. “Like, paying gigs?”

“Yes! I told you, I have some contacts and some favors. I pulled a few strings.” Revali fluttered his wings.

“Thank you,” you said. “I don’t know what to say.”

“All the information you need is there. You can contact them all for more information, but it should have the basics.” Revali sprawled across his couch. “I figured that if I was going out, I might as well use my connections for good.”

“Going out?” you said, perching on the couch next to him.

“Yeah.” Revali rubbed at the back of his neck. “I told my manager to fuck off, remember? There’s a solid chance I’ll get blackballed for it, and even if I don’t, I don’t think I want to do this modeling thing anymore. It hasn’t been great for my mental health. And I’d like to be seen as more than just a pretty face.”

“You have plans?” you asked.

“No. I’ve got some money saved up. I figure I can afford to coast for a little bit. And if it really gets bad, I’m sure my dad would be happy to have me back on the farm.” He laughed, but you caught the slight downturn of his mouth. You ran your finger along the edge of the paper stack.

“If you’re interested, these are a lot of jobs. I think I could use a little bit of help,” you said. Revali blinked at you. “I can’t pay much, but it’ll be a little bit of money and if I start getting really good, I can hire you on full time. You’ve already shown you’ve got an eye for this stuff.”

“Really?” Revali said. He stared at you disbelievingly. “You’re willing to do that for me?”

“It would help me as much as it would help you. I mean, you’ve already been a huge help and you’re not even working for me yet. I think we’d make a good team.”

Revali looked enormously delighted. “Oh, thank you! You’re incredible!” With no warning, he ducked forward, his hands came up to the sides of your face, and he pressed his mouth to yours.

Your brain short-circuited temporarily. There wasn’t a single coherent thought in your mind. Just a bunch of sensations. Mouth. On your mouth. Kissing. Revali was kissing you. Passionately. His hands were on your face. His feathers were tickling you. His breath was warm on your face.

He broke away from you before you could gain enough sense to kiss back. Revali grinned sheepishly. “Oh. That was sort of supposed to be the grand finale. We were supposed to go out for dinner first. I just got excited.”

You pulled your thoughts together. “You were going to ask me out?”

“I thought you deserved something for taking me out a while ago. And I’ve been thinking about asking you out for a while. But you looked so cute there and I was very grateful, and I just couldn’t help myself,” he said. “I hope you didn’t mind too much?”

“No,” you said. “I didn’t mind. At all.” Revali smiled. You were drawn to the curve of his mouth, the fullness of his upper lip. “But, maybe just to make sure, we should do it again?”

Revali’s smile got bigger. “You know, I was thinking that I’m not going to have this dressing room much longer. There are a lot of things we could do in here. Celebrate our moving on and all that.”

“Let’s start with kissing,” you said, “and we can see where it goes.”

Revali leaned closer to you. “Start with kissing. I can do that.”

#exophilia #harpy #harpy boyfriend #monster boyfriend #monster lover #his name is a reference btw #rooster harpy #male monster

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mintaka14 · 3 years

Link

Coryphée

A Miraculous Ladybug fanfiction

By Mintaka14

Chapter Six – Coda

“I heard,” one of the seamstresses said from her workstation, “that the results of the concours are going out today.”

And of course, the backstage staff knew before the dancers themselves had even received the letters of offer or rejection. Marinette shifted on her stool and frowned down in concentration at the old costume she was unpicking, one laborious stitch at a time.

The names of the new premiére danseuses and premier danseurs were tossed around, and Marinette only paid them half a mind, until someone asked, “What about the new sujet? Who got that one?”

“Oh, Mireille Caquet got the promotion,” someone else said, and Marinette put down the seam ripper in surprise.

“Not Lila Rossi?” she asked, and the girl across from her started laughing.

“Not in a month of Sundays,” Nicolette snorted. “That one’s never going to make it out of quadrilles, I can tell you that, and bad luck to her. Always so rude, and I don’t envy anyone who ever gets her for fittings.” She giggled. “We always make sure Mlle Rossi gets the last pick of the gowns and wigs, the one that’s always just a little bit too tight or a colour she doesn’t like much.”

Marinette couldn’t help the gasp of laughter that escaped her.

“Did you know her?” someone else asked Marinette.

“Of course she did,” Nicolette said. “Marinette was in the corps until she grew a brain and got out.”

Marinette just smiled and picked up the seam ripper again.

“Besides, I heard there’ve been discussions going on,” Pascal said from his workstation as he concentrated on the placement of another sequin. “Lila Rossi pissed off the wrong person, and the Director of the Conservatory himself got involved. They’re not going to renew her season’s contract when it finishes soon.”

That provoked an uproar in the atelier, and Marinette’s seam picker fell from her fingers to bounce on the floor.

“But… she was a permanent contract! She said she was permanent.”

Pascal was shaking his head gleefully. “No, no, chérie. She was a seasonal.”

There was a knock on the atelier door, and a ripple of excited murmuring ran through the room.

“Marinette,” one of the seamstresses said in a singsong voice. “Your boyfriend’s here.”

And Luka was leaning against the doorframe, his gorgeous blue eyes only on her.

“Ready to go, melody?” he asked, and Eloise Marchand waved her off with an indulgent smile.

“There’s nothing that can’t be done tomorrow,” the costume director told her. “We’ll all be packing up soon anyway. You go and enjoy your evening.”

Marinette ignored the giggles and sighs as she carefully put away the costume she’d been working on and gathered up her things. It was all good-humoured, and Nicolette whispered, “You’re so lucky” as Marinette passed her.

“I know,” she whispered back, and then Luka took her hand, his smile lighting up, and she followed him out the door. All the way down from the sixth floor they talked about inconsequential things, and how his search for an apartment was going.

“I mean, I love the Liberty,” Luka sighed, “and I’m going to miss Ma and Jules, but I’m really not going to miss Jules banging on the wall or making comments any time you come round.”

Juleka had been having way too much fun with playing spoilsport lately. Marinette felt the embarrassed fire rising in her face, and changed the subject. She eyed Luka thoughtfully, and brought up a suspicion that she’d had since Pascal had shared his piece of gossip.

“I heard a rumour today that Lila’s seasonal contract with the company is getting cancelled, and that the Director of the Conservatory of Music was involved. You wouldn’t have had anything to do with that, would you?” she asked, and he cast his eyes up.

“I may have had a conversation with my mother’s ex-boyfriend who just happens to be the Director of the Conservatory,” he said with feigned innocence. “The subject of Lila may have come up.”

“Luka!” She shoved his arm gently, and then sighed. “I could almost feel sorry for her. She was never going to get ahead in the company, and I think she knew it.”

“She put glass in your shoes,” Luka said, and she shouldn’t have found that rumbling growl in his voice as sexy as she did. Distracted by that thought, it took her a moment to realise that he was watching her.

“Do you wish I hadn’t said anything?” he asked her, and she subjected that to some consideration.

“No, I think I’m glad you did. If she’s done things like that to me to get what she wants, she’ll do it again to someone else if she’s left unchecked,” Marinette said. They’d reached the entrance hall, and Luka held the door open for her. “That recording was only going to hold her back for so long.”

He took her hand again as they crossed the courtyard and passed under the huge and embellished stone archway, and steered her in the opposite direction when she started to turn towards the metro.

“How do you feel about dinner at Midi12 tonight?” She gave him a startled glance, and he shrugged self-consciously. “I finished my thesis today, and I feel like celebrating, and galette.”

Marinette stopped and flung her arms around him. “Luka! Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I still have to edit a couple of things, and get my supervisor’s okay on it, but… it’ll be ready to hand to her when she gets back from Madrid in a few weeks. The research component’s all done.”

She glowed up at him. “We definitely need to celebrate.”

Palais Garnier loomed majestically behind them. The sky above the streets was still waiting for sunset, but the late afternoon air was starting to grow heavy and the golden light from the cafes and restaurants spilled over the grey slabs of concrete under their feet. It was starting to turn cooler, and the figures around them were hurrying a little now. Marinette leaned into Luka’s warmth, and he put an arm around her as they walked.

Marinette shot him a mischievous look. “You do know Papa does much better galette than Midi12?”

“Tom does better pastries than anyone,” Luka agreed, then his grin became a little wry. “I’d just kind of like you all to myself for a little while before we have to head home.”

“I like the sound of that.”

The umbrellas outside the Palais Garnier restaurant were furled behind the stone balustrade and hedge, but they could hear the distant clink of china and cutlery, and the soft hum of voices from the early patrons. Classical statues gazed down indifferently from their perches along the balustrade, and the huge iron streetlamps weren’t lit yet. They made dark, spiky silhouettes against the thick blue sky.

“So how did things go for you today?” Luka asked, running his thumb along the edge of her hand.

“Well, it wasn’t finished the thesis exciting, but Mme Marchand has me going through the costume archives right now, and I’ve been unpicking some of the old costumes to try and match fabrics. It’s fascinating, the way it was constructed. I’m learning so much, and so much of what I did when I was on stage makes a lot more sense now. She said she’ll take me to the fabric warehouses with her the next time she has to source something.” Luka grinned at the little skip of enthusiasm that she couldn’t suppress. “It’s going to be exhausting once my course gets underway, trying to juggle that and the residency program, but it’ll be worth it. I’ll get to work on the next season costumes – Adrien said his father’s sponsoring again, so they’re going to be stunning.”

Luka was watching her with a half-smile. “You saw Adrien?”

“I caught up with some of the company for lunch today, and Adrien was there.”

“How is he?”

Marinette giggled. “He’s started sneaking out to date the daughter of one of his father’s business associates, so he’s happy.”

“Sneaking out? Does his father disapprove or something?”

“I don’t think so,” Marinette said with a shrug. “I think Adrien’s just developed a taste for sneaking around. He’s got a lot of years of rebellion to catch up on, apparently.”

Luka laughed. “You’re a bad influence, melody.”

“He’s heard a rumour that next season is going to be La Bayadère, and I love the costumes for that. The colours are just glorious, and I’m really looking forward to seeing what M. Agreste’s take on it is.”

“Any regrets that it won’t be you wearing those costumes?” he asked.

“Not really. No. I mean, I have the odd moment when I miss that feeling, but I’d much rather be making them than dancing in them.”

They turned away from the Palais Garnier in its opulent grandeur, an isolated island of magnificence, into the noisier streets where the rumble and honk of traffic was overlaid with voices and conversation and laughter. Buildings and shops crowded above Marinette and Luka as they strolled towards the crêperie, lost in their own world.

“So, no regrets?” he repeated quietly, and Marinette knew he was asking about more than just costumes. She couldn’t help laughing.

“I got away with the heist without going to prison, I got into a course that I’m loving for a career that I’m excited about, and Mme Marchand got me into a residency that most people in theatre design would kill for, even though I haven’t got my qualifications yet.”

She lifted her hand and brushed her fingertips along the line of his jaw, loving the feel of his breath on her palm as he leaned into her touch.

“And I get to go home with the man I adore,” she said softly. “No regrets. Not ever.”

There was something in the way that Luka was looking at her that brought a blush to her cheeks and left her heart stumbling in her chest.

“What are you thinking?”

He ducked his head until the blue tips of his hair shadowed his eyes, but she could see the soft smile curling the corners of his mouth.

“I can’t tell you, because you didn’t want me to get too far ahead of myself. Ask me again when you’ve finished your degree.”

Her eyes widened.

“Oh,” she said, a little breathlessly. “Oh. Okay.”

They walked a little further. Marinette glanced up at him.

“That’s a whole three years away,” she said pensively, and his eyes were back on her now. “Would you tell me if I asked when I’ve completed my residency?”

There was that quality of stillness in the way he was holding himself, as if he didn’t quite dare to believe what he thought he was hearing. “That’s... June. End of June.”

“Is that too soon?” she asked, and gave a faint squeak as Luka kissed her hard, and kissed her again, and again until they melted into softer kisses, heedless of the people passing by. Her hands came up to tangle in his hair, and his arms were around her, pulling her close while life moved on around them. Perhaps there were a few frowns, or a few indulgent smiles, thrown their way, but neither of them noticed.

“June, tomorrow, today, whenever you want,” he breathed when they finally came up for air, his voice a little husky. “I’m yours, melody.”

And Marinette pulled him down for another kiss, too happy to speak.

#ml ballet au #lukanette #pro lukamari #happy endings

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sa-gt-tarrius · 4 years

Text

Liars Ahead: Proceed with Caution

Warnings:

Foul language, needles, lots of injuries, character death. Tread carefully!

@cakercanart @secret-shifters

This fic is a bit gritty, moreso than what I usually write. If it’s too much for you to handle, or if it’s just not up your alley and you don’t really like the harsher elements, please feel free to let me know! I’d be happy to edit it down to make it less angsty.

***

No one knew exactly how many secrets MIRA Incorporated kept under wraps.

Their kind of work demanded secrecy, of course. When a company is involved in such groundbreaking fields, they are bound to draw prying eyes. MIRA specialized in relativistic aeronautics, atmospheric engineering, and long-term spacefaring. These terms were new-age babble that roughly translated to “living in outer space.” MIRA studied things that science fiction nerds could only dream of seeing.

However, MIRA understood that profits would tank if any old Joe Schmoe could walk into their headquarters and leak their data. It was no surprise, then, that the employees of MIRA knew so little about their own company. Most workers had to stay on their assigned floor for their entire careers. Three whole levels of clearance were required to use the fancy upstairs bathrooms!

But there was one thing that was no secret to anyone: MIRA was planning something big. Something amazing. And whatever it was, it was going to happen soon. Excited whispers swept through every office and laboratory—the company had something in store that would rock the world.

But to Henry Newground, this was all a bit underwhelming.

Henry had been tirelessly working at MIRA HQ for five years. He was an accountant for MIRA’s payroll, which meant he spent most of the day staring at lists of numbers and rummaging through file cabinets. When he was first hired, Henry naively believed that he could climb the corporate ladder and become an astronaut if he just worked hard enough. But alas, it was not to be—even after long years of no sick days and lots of overtime, Henry was still a simple accountant. He fought tooth and nail for a goddamn raise, so it was no wonder that his dream job was a mere fantasy.

At least, that’s what he thought. But then a letter appeared on his desk one morning.

Mr. Henry Newground,

We at MIRA have accepted your application to join our spacefaring and research apprenticeship program. Enclosed in this letter is a Level 10 Clearance Card. You will need it to access the upper office on the 50th floor, where more details will be provided. Please come to the office as soon as your shift ends.

Kind regards,

Elliot Rose

Chief Executive Officer of M.I.R.A. Incorporated

At first, Henry thought this was just a joke. His boss Kerri didn’t mention the letter all day, so she must’ve not known about it. (Either that or she had been in on it the whole time. She was a well-known jokester, after all.) And none of Henry’s coworkers spared him a second glance as he quietly left at five o’clock to head upstairs.

The security guard at the elevator tried to turn Henry away, which seemed to confirm his just-a-prank theory. But as Henry fumbled over a frantic apology, trying to explain that he must have been set up by his coworkers, the security guard spotted a shiny blue rectangle dangling from Henry’s neck: a Level 10 Clearance Card. The guard opened the elevator door without a word, ushering the confused man inside and pressing the button for the fiftieth floor.

“Ms. Rose doesn’t usually let people into her office,” the guard murmured as the elevator ascended ominously. “You must be helping with that big project they’re talking about. All the nerds upstairs won’t shut up about it.”

“Sh–she said she’d give me details when I got to her office.” Henry spun to face the guard, his face scrunched up anxiously. “Do I look okay? I didn’t have time to put on a suit…”

“You look fine. Stand up straight, we’re almost there.”

Given the air of mystery surrounding the upper floors of the building, Henry had no idea what to expect. But what he didn’t anticipate was to be met with a gust of wind. Henry shielded his eyes as a glare of sunlight began to burn his retinas. He was outdoors—on the roof of the building. It looked like a helicopter pad, only much, much larger.

The security officer cleared his throat, gently ushering Henry out of the elevator. He jutted his finger towards the other side of the launch pad, towards a hallway that led back inside the building. “Just follow the path for a bit, and then take the left path at the fork. If you make it to the greenhouse, you went too far.”

“Er, thanks…”

“And make sure you knock. Ms. Rose hates when people barge in.”

Henry nodded tentatively. He took a deep breath and marched towards the entryway, determined to get to the office before chickening out.

The upper floors weren’t that unusual, Henry thought as he trotted along. He passed by a smelly locker room, a tiny medical bay, and a grimy computer room. Nothing about this place seemed particularly flashy or elite. Henry was starting to think he was on the wrong floor.

Henry made the left turn, as the guard told him, and arrived in a small alcove with three rooms. One of the rooms was a lab of some sort, although it was barren and empty for the time being. The room ahead was filled with bushes and shrubs, with a large glass tube in the centre. And the last one was closed—a sign reading “please knock” hung nearly on the doorknob.

Henry knocked three times and yanked his hand away like the wood was searing hot.

Then the door creaked open.

No one knew much about Ms. Elliot Rose. Even the managers and supervisors scarcely spoke of her at all. Henry honestly had no idea what to anticipate from her, aside from the cutthroat ruthlessness most company owners tended to have. But instead of a snide, fierce woman who could tear him apart with a glance, the woman standing in the open doorway was hardly remarkable. She was just barely taller than Henry, no older than thirty, and her red hair bristled out in all directions like she hadn’t brushed it in days. Her eyes were bagged and sunken, almost sickly, and her gaze was panicked and wild for a moment before locking onto Henry.

She frowned. “Can I help you?”

“Ms. Rose?” Henry tried, unsure if he was truly talking to the CEO of the largest corporation on the planet. “My name is H–Henry Newground. I was told to come here at five, I–I have a clearance card if you need to see it—”

“Oh, right. Henry.” The woman suddenly straightened up, swinging the door open fully and gesturing for Henry to enter. “Thank you for coming. I’m sorry to inconvenience you like this.”

“It’s fine. I’m sorry for the delay.” Henry stepped inside, clearing his throat in a sorry attempt to appear composed. The room was nothing special—just a small office with four computer desks and a box-shaped radio. The woman took a seat at the messiest desk, leaning back into the chair. Henry claimed an empty chair from a desk nearby, bouncing his leg anxiously. “So, um… about this spacefaring program…”

Elliot Rose smiled, sinking into the chair cushion and leaning back. “I’ve looked over your application and was very happy with what I saw. I think you have potential, Henry.”

“Thank you,” Henry sputtered, baffled and giddy that the CEO was singing such high praises of him. “I’ve always loved learning about space, you know. That’s why I applied for this job. Even as a kid, I—”

“That’s great, Henry,” Elliot hummed, slipping out a gaping yawn before continuing. “Anyway, I just wanted to run a couple of things by you before we send you off. You got your master's degree in microbiology from Harvard, correct? I’ve also heard you’ve taken courses in astrophysics.”

Henry nodded eagerly. “That’s right. I’ve also taken extracurricular classes on geology, I was the leader of the chess club… a–and I sold drinks at the campus football games,” he finished lamely.

“You see, Henry,” Elliot drawled, twirling a pen with her fingers, “I have thirty-four other applicants with higher education than you do. Half of them have three or more doctorates. I don’t care much about your education.” She leaned forward, crossing her arms firmly over the desk. Something glinted behind her eyes—it was impossible to read. “But you have special skills, ones that could greatly benefit my crew.” Elliot leaned forward, crossing her arms firmly over the desk. “Our coordinators are getting ready to send supplies to Polus on a small dropship. The trip will last about two days. I want you on that ship before it takes off.”

“Y–you want—” Henry choked on his breath. “You want me to go to space?”

Elliot smirked. “Is that a problem?”

“I–I just— Y–you don’t— W–well—“

“Use your words, Henry.”

“I’m just…” Henry sputtered, struggling to find words to say. “Don’t I need training?”

“You don’t sound very excited… I thought you would be happy about this. Didn’t you apply to join our spacefaring program last year?”

“I mean, yeah.” Henry shuffled in his seat awkwardly. “But my application was turned down. I didn’t have enough education for it. Why do you want me now?”

“Things change,” Elliot laughed. “I’d like to personally ask you to join the Polus crew and help document alien life.”

The two fell silent.

Elliot smirked coyly. “Is that a yes?”

“I–I mean, absolutely,” Henry sputtered. “I’m just… a little confused. Are you sure you’ve got the right person?”

“I most certainly do,” Elliot replied.

“Okay,” Henry muttered, unsure of how he managed to get into this strange situation with no warning. “So… what now?”

“Go home, get some sleep, and come back here tomorrow. Same time, of course. I’ll get you all the details by then.”

“Okay.”

“Have a good night, Henry.”

“Th–thanks.”

Henry’s head was still spinning as he made his way out of Elliot’s office.

“You alright, buddy?” the security guard piped as Henry entered the elevator, his eyebrow raised curiously. “You look like you’re gonna pass out.”

“I’m fine.” Henry gripped his forehead, fighting off another dizzy spell. Butterflies were forming in the pit of his stomach as the elevator descended. “I just need to go home.”

And that’s exactly what Henry did. As soon as he fetched his lunch kit from the office fridge, the young man hopped into his SUV and drove straight home. Not even bothering to change out of his work uniform, Henry collapsed on the bed. His head continued spinning.

Surely this was a big joke.

Elliot herself said that many people were far more qualified than he was. So why was she so adamant about having Henry on her crew? It made no sense.

Henry knew he wouldn’t have gotten any answers that night, not by muttering and mumbling into his pillow like a lunatic. He’d have to get the details tomorrow like Elliot told him to. So instead of uselessly mulling it over, Henry plucked his phone off the side table and quickly dialled a number. The phone barely had time to ring before someone on the other end picked up. “Hey, sweetie. How was work today?”

“Hi Henry, it was good! What about you?”

“Well, I–I was called into a meeting by the CEO. She said she wanted me in her spacefaring program.”

“Oh, that’s… hang on. Are you serious? They accepted you?!”

“Yeah. She asked me to help with some research. She said she was impressed by my application and—”

“You’re going to space!” A young woman’s voice bubbled ecstatically over the phone. She laughed and giggled, even belting out an excited shriek for good measure. “I’m so proud of you! I knew you’d get in, I just knew it!”

“You did, yeah.”

“God, I wish I could be there right now,” the woman chuckled. “I want to give you a big hug.”

Henry smiled faintly. “Thanks, sweetie.”

“I’m going to go buy a bunch of chocolates for you today. I don’t know if it’ll get delivered before you leave, but it can at least be a welcome-back present.”

“Oh, you don’t have to, Sigrid,” Henry replied. “How would you even send it? The post office won’t accept packages that big. I don’t even know if a box of chocolates would fit in the mail truck.”

The woman, presumably named Sigrid, huffed indignantly. “Well, fine. I’ll just think of something else.”

Henry had never actively sought out a relationship. He was too focused on work to consider dating, and his social circle wasn’t large enough for him to start dating around. And yet, for three years now, Henry had been in a lovely relationship with a woman named Sigrid Brandson. She lived in northwestern Canada (according to her), far away from any large cities, and Henry wasn’t yet lucky enough to meet her face-to-face.

The reason? Sigrid was a giant.

There few places giants and humans could casually be together—and much fewer ways to travel to each other—so they usually spent their time on the phone or video calls. Henry didn’t mind much, although it was disheartening to have never kissed Sigrid even after years of being committed.

It was thanks to Sigrid that Henry learned to speak and write Riesian, the language of the giants. When the two first met on an online fan forum, Sigrid spoke very little English, and Henry didn’t even know the Riesian language existed. But with time and effort, the two were able to cross the language barrier, eventually teaching each other their native tongues.

“Do you know where you’re going?”

“Yeah, she said I’m going to a planet called Polus. They have a research base set up there.”

“Polus?” Sigrid repeated. “Oh… that’s… that’s nice.”

It was then that Henry realized Sigrid’s voice had become a tad crestfallen. He frowned. “Everything good?”

“Just… be careful out there,” Sigrid murmured. “I know it’s probably fine and I’m worrying about nothing, but make sure you stay safe, okay? And call me if you can. I’m so proud of you, Henry.” She suddenly stopped speaking English and switched to Riesian.

“Bai tcho eim, honey.”

Be safe.

***

On the days leading up to takeoff, Elliot had been vigorously training Henry. He learned how to fix wiring issues, how to power up engines, how to use the weather nodes, and how to examine and sort specimens that were brought into the base. Henry was very quickly becoming a rather competent spacefarer.

But still, Henry was on edge. Despite the training and the reassurances from Elliot, something didn’t sit quite right. But none of that mattered—before he knew it, Henry was stuffed into a white spacesuit, complete with the MIRA logo and the American flag emblazoned on the shoulders. Dozens of people swarmed around him, talking to each other and furiously taking notes. A brisk wind punctuated the murmur of the crowd.

Elliot knelt before him, her hands running along the fabric to make sure the suit would fit Henry.

“You’ll be accompanying Aesir Vidstrom while you’re on Polus,” she said as she worked. “He’s the new chief of medical staff. He’ll meet you at the landing site and help you get settled in.” Elliot fiddled with the straps on Henry’s waist, tightening the suit until it fit. Henry was quite a few inches shorter than prior astronauts, so his spacesuit needed to be altered before he could use it. “You’re to stay with Aesir at all times unless he says otherwise. Is that clear?”

Henry nodded and glanced away, choosing to stare at the looming spaceship atop the crowded launchpad—a dropship, Elliot had called it. The ship was fairly large, about eight meters in height and width, and the nose stretched outwards almost twelve meters. The jet black paint glistened in the early morning sun, and Henry’s nose crinkled at the smell of something burning.

“And remember, my crew is always on standby. We’ll be ready to help you whenever you need it.”

“Th–thank you, ma’am.”

“Don’t mention it.” Elliot finally stepped away from Henry, admiring the finished spacesuit. “I think you’re ready. Let’s get you out of here.” She turned around, facing the crowd, and raised her voice. “Five minutes to takeoff!”

“Five minutes!” someone screamed over the din. “Fire up the reactors!”

“Starting reactors! Diverting power to the left and right engines! Standby…”

“All clear, ma’am! Someone get Newground on board!”

“Let’s go, Henry.” Elliot shoved Henry towards the dropship. The large metal plating began to slide up, similar to a garage door. A pair of men in uniform guided Henry up the steps and into the cabin of the ship. Ten plush seats lined the walls—Henry took a tentative seat in the closest one, the farthest to the left, and began to buckle himself in. The men in uniform quickly left as the engine roar increased in volume. The other staff members gathered along the edges of the launch pad in anticipation.

“Good luck, Henry!” Elliot hollered, waving her arm up over the crowd. “You'll do great, I know it!”

Before Henry could reply, the door began to slide shut. The ship shivered and groaned, and within seconds, the whole thing began to rise and sway. Henry barely had time to squeeze his eyes shut before the ship suddenly lurched forward at unimaginable speeds.

The poor man clenched his seatbelt like a lifeline. He knew takeoff would only last a minute or two, and yet the ordeal seemed to last a lifetime. Henry felt his body being squished against the chair, constructing his lungs and preventing him from breathing. As much as he tried to, he couldn’t even scream.

And then, as quickly as it began, everything started to slow down again. The roar of the engine faded somewhat, and the whole cabin gradually stopped shaking. Henry wasn’t quite confident enough to get out of the seat, so he remained strapped in, gasping heavily as he tried to soothe his racing heart.

Finally, when everything was calm, Henry shakily unbuckled himself and rose to stand. As he shuffled through the cabin, he took the time to properly examine the interior of the dropship he would be riding in. There were various steel crates scattered about, each containing canned rations and various tools. A small laptop was placed on the smallest crate, detailing the dropship’s velocity, fuel levels, turbulence, and current distance from Polus. He made a mental note to check on it later to make sure everything was normal.

And then, on the starboard side of the ship, a solitary window glimmered.

Henry dared himself to peer outside.

He paused, then gasped.

Even after seeing outer space countless times in photographs and videotapes, Henry was still gobsmacked by the vast starry void before him. To his right, the planet Earth was rapidly shrinking as he blasted further away, and the sun was a mere speck of light in the distance. This wasn’t a fantasy anymore—Henry was hurtling through the solar system in a spaceship, making his way towards an alien planet.

A childish grin crept onto his face.

This was it. After years of daydreaming, Henry was a real-life astronaut—his younger self would be so proud. Henry was so ecstatic that his earlier anxieties and frustrations were completely forgotten, left behind on his home planet.

In less than two days, Henry would arrive on Polus to begin his spacefaring apprenticeship. He kept thinking about Sigrid, imagining all the stories he’d get to tell her when he got back to Earth.

This was going to be amazing.

He just hoped nothing would go wrong.

***

The trip to Polus was progressing faster than Henry ever expected. He wondered how MIRA’s ships could move so quickly and yet use so little fuel—it was a blessing of science, to be sure.

But by the twentieth hour of the trip came and went, Henry felt anything but blessed.

There wasn’t much for entertainment in the dropship. Henry could only fumble around on the laptop, gaze out of the window, or pace the cabin a few times. The boredom was excruciating, but the anticipation was even worse. Luckily, Elliot had reached out to him a few times via video calls, answering questions and keeping him company during the arduous journey to Polus.

“Any turbulence today?” she asked.

“None,” Henry replied. “No asteroids, either. Everything is fine so far.”

Elliot smiled. “Good. The dropship has a bit of a reputation for rough rides, so I was worried about engine damage. Seems like I was worried about nothing.”

The two made idle conversation every four hours or so, which was a welcome distraction. As much as Henry adored being in space for the first time, he couldn’t deny how lonely and boring it was. And having someone like Elliot to guide him was another welcome addition, even if her presence unnerved Henry somewhat.

Two more days passed. Henry was munching on his lunch ration. He’d opened the package to find sliced canned meat—bland and oily and smelly. But with the addition of some crackers and canned oranges, the meal made for a decent lunch. However, before he was even halfway finished eating, a rumbling began to overtake the cabin. His lunch contained tumbled onto its side, spilling cracker crumbs all over the floor. Henry instinctively latched onto a nearby crate, trying his best not to fall over as the entire ship swayed.

A synthetic voice rose over the fray. “Entering the Polus mesosphere,” it announced in a polite, monotonous tone. “Current velocity: 326 miles per hour. Engine temperature: nominal. Distance from indicated landing site: estimate of 833 miles. Please fasten your seatbelt and prepare for landing.”

Henry was knocked to the ground as the shaking intensified. The ship was approaching Polus, and fast. He crawled to the nearest seat, restraining himself a bit too tightly in his haste. The voice continued droning on as the ship entered the planet’s atmosphere.

“786 miles… 721 miles… 678 miles…”

And then a deafening screech sounded from above. Henry winced and tightened his grip on the seatbelt as the ship suddenly did a nosedive.

“504 miles… 452 miles…”

A siren overhead wailed loudly. Bright red lights flashed in the corners of his eyes.

“310 miles… 259 miles…”

Something was very, very wrong.

“199 miles… 97 miles…”

He braced himself.

“12 miles… 2 miles…”

Everything went white.

***

“Come on, don’t die on me.”

Black dots continued to bounce in Henry’s vision as his mind stirred. The young man let out a miserable groan, clutching his forehead painfully.

“That’s it… Wake up, little guy…”

Henry paused. It took him a moment to realize that the voice overhead wasn’t speaking English. It took two more seconds to realize that the voice was extremely loud, almost like it was coming from a speaker.

Both these mysteries were solved as soon as he opened his eyes.

A monstrously large figure loomed above, blocking out the light of the bulb dangling overhead. Ginormous eyes, hazel and bright, were locked onto Henry’s trembling body. And it—he—was smiling gently.

“Hey, it’s okay,” the giant man murmured in Riesian. “I’m not gonna hurt you, little guy.”

Henry swallowed hard. He took a moment to gather himself so he wouldn’t have a panic attack, then turned his attention back to the giant face hanging above him. The huge, strange man cocked his head curiously. “Ah geez, I hope you’re not broken or anything… That would suck.” The voice boomed and shook Henry’s core, even though the giant was trying to speak softly. Henry couldn’t even keep eye contact without his heart dropping, so he kept his gaze locked onto the giant’s chest. He only barely noticed the white MIRA spacesuit the giant wore, identical to Henry’s suit in every way aside from its massive size. “Oh yeah, you can’t understand me, huh? Maybe we have a translator lying around here…”

“I–I am fine,” Henry fumbled in awkward Riesian, forcing his voice not to waver. He wasn’t even sure if he was even speaking correctly—but he was too nervous to care about his grammar. Fluency was the least of his problems. “I am okay.”

“Sweet.” The giant nodded, froze, then gasped. “...Wait, you can understand me?”

“I d–d–do.”

“But you’re human.” The giant’s face descended further—huge strands of curly brown hair brushed along Henry’s stomach. “Humans don’t speak Riesian.”

“Y–you’re right,” Henry murmured, flinching away from the enormous eyes drilling into him. “It’s a long story.”

The giant suddenly scoffed, his sheepish half-smile giving way to a full grin. “Cheeky bugger, huh? The name’s Aesir. What’s yours?”

“You are Aesir?” Henry perked up. “Aesir Vidstrom?”

Aesir’s eyebrows shot up. “Uh, yeah. You’ve heard of me?”

Henry licked his lips, trying to remember some difficult Riesian words. “You are a… scientist. A space e–explorer. B–b–but Ms. Rose… never said you are a… giant.”

“How about that,” Aesir laughed, stroking his chin. “Never thought I’d meet a human like you.”

Thinking for a moment, Aesir snapped his fingers in a sudden realization.

“Oh, wait—then that would make you what’s-his-name, right? HQ said some random new guy was on his way. But they never said you’d be a human. That’s MIRA for you, I guess… If they were stupid enough to wreck your ship, then they’d forget to mention that.”

“Wreck my ship?” Henry repeated slowly. Memories began flooding back into his mind. The alarms, the flashing lights, the sudden nosedive…

The dropship crashed.

“Wait, then I—”

“Whoa, whoa, slow down, buddy.” The giant winced when Henry scrambled to sit up. “Take it easy, yeah?” Aesir paused for a moment, tapping his foot a few times. “Actually… Wait here for a sec, alright? I need to grab something.”

With that, Aesir moved away to shuffle out of sight.

With the enormous face out of his vision, Henry was able to sit up and finally assess the surrounding area, hissing a bit as he aggravated his injury. He was sitting on a mattress that stretched several meters in every direction. The blue sheets and white pillow were reminiscent of a gurney, like ones you might find in a hospital. And sure enough, upon closer inspection, the room appeared to be a small medical bay, white walls and smell of disinfectant included. There were three other identical beds lined between curtain barriers, just like the bed he was sitting on. Henry peered to the right. He could see the silhouette of Aesir leaned over a countertop through the wall of curtains.

What was he doing over there?

Henry forced himself to speak. “This is Polus?”

“Sure is,” Aesir replied from beyond the curtain wall. “You were lucky you made it this far on that hunk of junk—if your ship malfunctioned any sooner, you might’ve crashed into an asteroid or something.” Aesir came back into view, sidestepping the curtain to approach Henry. “Now stay still.”

“I… uh…” Henry held up his hands, carefully scooting back a few inches. Aesir hadn’t come back to Henry empty-handed; in his left palm, the giant cradled a glass syringe filled with a bluish liquid. The needle was almost six feet tall, taller than Henry was. “I–I do not need that.”

“Yes, you do. Come over here.”

“It is t–too big,” Henry wavered, curling in on himself as Aesir continued to approach. “Nothing hurts. I am… un–uninjured. Do not need that. Do not need it.”

Listening to Henry’s trembling voice and weak attempts to dissuade him, Aesir’s face fell. “Look,” he whispered, getting onto his knees to kneel by the bed, “don’t make this harder than it needs to be. When we’re in medbay, I’m the boss.” The giant slowly reached out his free hand, grasping Henry’s shoulder with his enormous finger and thumb. His other hand, the one bearing the syringe, began to drift closer to Henry. “Now stay still, or this will hurt more than it needs to.”

In a fright, Henry leapt away from Aesir’s hand in a frantic escape attempt. He scrambled across the sheet, making a beeline for the white pillow at the head of the bed.

“Shit—” Aesir cursed under his breath, tossing the needle to the side. He made a lunge forward, both hands outstretched, reaching for Henry’s tiny form. Before Henry could reach the pillows, the terrified human being suddenly found himself encased in musty, cramped darkness. His stomach sank when he realized what just happened—Aesir had trapped him in his hands.

A feeling of intense vertigo overcame him as Aesir stood up straight; he felt himself being slammed against the giant palm beside him. Despite being very obviously trapped, Henry continued to squirm, searching in vain for an opening to crawl through. He pawed at the skin surrounding him, growing ever more desperate.

And then a light shone through the fingers above him. “Stop being a brat,” Aesir muttered. Henry opened his mouth to retort, but his breath hitched in his throat when a sharp pain pierced his lower back. He let out a strangled sob, trying not to thrash around and hurt himself more.

Aesir hummed contentedly. “There we go… nice and easy.” The needle retracted as quickly as it was injected. Henry took the moment of reprieve to dry his eyes and ease his pounding heart. “Told you it wasn’t that bad,” he chuckled. “Just be thankful it wasn’t worse.”

Henry refused to reply—he focused on keeping his eyes locked downward. Aesir’s lack of empathy was beginning to unsettle him; although the giant paid lip service to Henry’s discomfort, he ultimately seemed to care very little about the pain and terror he was causing.

Aesir, oblivious to Henry’s plight, lifted his hands to his face, staring down the sniffling, petrified human with unbridled excitement. “Well, now that you’re all drugged up, I figure we’re good to get your suit back on. Don’t want you freezing out here, you know.”

“Suit?” Ah, yes. They were in space, after all. It made sense that he should have to wear a spacesuit, even if they were indoors. “O–okay.”

Aesir pulled his left hand away from Henry, reaching for the nearby countertop. His hand returned quickly, dangling the white spacesuit with his index and thumb. “Legs up, bud. Let’s get you dressed.”

“I can do it,” Henry said quickly, knowing exactly where this conversation was going.

“Yeah, nah,” Aesir chuckled. “Doctor’s orders. Now hold still this time, you brat.”

Henry huffed pointedly, knowing that he wouldn’t be getting out of this. With heavy reluctance, Henry slowly raised his legs into the air, allowing Aesir to slip the pant legs on, followed by the sleeves and the helmet. Unfortunately, the visor was cracked along the upper edge, but Aesir urged him not to worry. “The glass is three layers thick,” he explained. “You’ll be fine until we can get a replacement.” Surprisingly, Henry didn’t quite believe him.

Henry had only just gotten the suit fitted (or rather, Aesir did the fitting for him) when someone suddenly spoke up. “Aesir.”

At the sound of the firm, strange voice, Henry flinched. His eyes landed on a figure standing in the corner of the room, dressed in a bulky green spacesuit. Henry couldn’t see her face—the light of the room reflected off the visor, obscuring whatever was behind the glass. Henry briefly imagined that she looked like a war veteran, stoic and hardened, probably with lots of scars decorating their skin.

“Oh, Svikari!” Aesir whirled around at the voice, clearing his throat and donning a lopsided grin. “What brings you here?”

“I came to see the human.” The woman, presumably named Svikari, barely budged as she spoke. It was like she was a statue with a voice of its own. “But I see you’ve taken care of things. I’ll be on my way, then.”

Aesir choked on something. “W–wait! Hang on a tic, alright? Why the hurry?”

Svikari cocked her head, acting as though Aesir’s question was incredibly stupid. “I have work to do. I came to see how the human was doing, and now I have to go.”

“Well, hang on,” Aesir stammered, fumbling over his words. “How about you come with me to storage today? I have to do some refuelling there.”

“I don’t have any tasks in storage today,” Svikari replied curtly.

“Come on, boss,” Aesir urged, lowering his voice. “It’s safer in groups. You know that.” He perked up a bit, raising his cupped hands. Not expecting to be jerked upward, Henry was almost launched off his palms. “A–and I know you wanna meet the human! He’s kind of bratty, but I think you’ll like him.”

Svikari paused. “Hello, human,” she said softly. “I trust you’ve been treated well?”

Henry hesitated. What was he supposed to say? He was tempted to start ratting off all the bruises he was getting thanks to Aesir, but he bit his tongue. Would he get in trouble if he told the truth? This Svikari character seemed far less sympathetic than Aesir, so perhaps there would be no point in complaining. They might even hurt him even more for speaking up. So he swallowed his pride and nodded slowly. “Y–yes, I am fine.”

Svikari paused, glancing between Henry, who shuddered under her scrutinizing gaze, and Aesir, who smiled hopefully.

“If you’re that afraid to go alone, I suppose I can come,” Svikari sighed.

“I’m not scared!” Aesir retorted, tightening his painful grip on Henry. “I just don’t wanna get jumped in there.” Shrugging, Aesir once again prodded Henry in the stomach, chuckling as he did so. “I guess if an imposter shows up, I can use Henry as bait. You wouldn’t mind, right bud?”

Svikari laughed in reply, although something about her tone seemed… off. Henry wasn’t able to tell if the laughter was genuine or sarcastic. Henry said nothing at first, focusing on clutching his stomach to keep himself from throwing up.

“I–imposters?” Henry finally coughed. “What are imposters?”

“Oops.” Aesir winced painfully. “Uh, well… we weren’t supposed to tell you.”

“I see no harm in explaining,” Svikari interjected. “If he’s going to stay here, he should know.”

“But Ms. Rose said—”

“I’ll handle Rose. Just keep your mouth shut.”

Aesir groaned, scrunching up his face in discomfort. “I mean… you’re the boss, dude. But don’t say I didn’t warn you. She’s scary when she gets mad.”

“Thank you, Aesir.” Svikari nodded, finally turning her attention back to Henry. “I assume Elliot never told you about the strange happenings on this base?”

“N–no.”

“I thought not. It’s in her best interest to keep this all a secret, after all.” Svikari folded her arms, exuding that terrifying, ominous energy that only giants were capable of. “Elliot probably told you that we found life on this planet. The life forms we discovered are what we’ve been calling imposters—carnivorous, man-eating shapeshifters that we’ve been trying to get rid of for the last few months.”

Henry felt his stomach drop. Carnivores? Man-eating? Shapeshifters? Someone had to be pulling his leg at this point. “Ms. Rose said you found plant life,” he countered quickly, not willing to believe Svikari’s wild claims. “She said nothing about aliens.”

“That’s because she was lying.”

“B–but why would she lie?”

“Telling people would be bad for business, I guess. Who knows what goes on in her head.” Svikari shrugged weakly. “Imposters have been wreaking lots of havoc lately. They kill the lights, mess with the reactors, cut off the oxygen supply… and I’m willing to bet they caused your ship to crash.”

“You’re right,” Aesir gasped. “I didn’t even think about that. They probably messed with the radio signals or something.”

“We’re pretty sure we got rid of them for now, at least.”

“Don’t speak too soon,” Aesir corrected. “Remember what happened to Tor?”

“Of course I do,” Svikari huffed. “It took Bastion weeks to get the blood out of the carpet.”

Oh, dear god.

There was no room for doubt, then. Henry began to tremble, tears causing his eyes to glimmer. What sort of cruel joke was the universe playing on him? After so long, he manages to achieve his dream of becoming an astronaut, only to find himself stranded on a faraway planet with malicious giants and man-eating aliens. Some malicious deity had to be laughing their ass off right about now.

“Aww, don’t worry, little guy!” Aesir cooed behind his visor, bouncing the human seated in his hand. “Big bad imposter people can’t hurt you out here.”

While Aesir continued to coo condescending reassurances, bouncing his hand in what was supposed to be a comforting gesture, Svikari stared thoughtfully at the minuscule human. Henry had no idea what was going on in that strange head of hers. Henry simply gripped the coarse fabric of Aesir’s glove, trying his best not to descend into a full-blown breakdown.

“We should be going,” Svikari said suddenly. “Let’s take care of refuelling so I can finish my tasks.”

Aesir hummed in agreement. “Okay. Let’s go.”

***

If Henry was being frank, which he usually wasn’t, he’d say that Polus was a bit… underwhelming. If he wasn’t looking at the dank, snowy, barren landscape, or the abnormally large scale of everything around him, Henry would truly believe he was still on earth. Still, Aesir seemed determined to remind Henry just how small he was at any given opportunity. He’d croon, poke, and tease him incessantly, despite Henry’s continual whimpers of disapproval.

Thankfully, it didn’t take long for Aesir to fill up the fuel tank in the storage room, which was a cramped little building in the centre of the base. Svikari decided to just follow Aesir around until all his tasks were done, with the promise that Aesir would return the favour afterward.

Svikari offered to carry Henry while Aesir worked. The giant was visibly hesitant about this proposition, refusing the offer the first few times Svikari asked. But eventually, Aesir relented, and Henry had been relegated to riding in Svikari’s hands. Henry sat in silence, rubbing his newfound bruises absently. He briefly wondered if someone would give him painkillers if he asked, but he pushed the thought away. There’s no chance they’d even consider the idea.

“Almost done,” Aesir announced after a while, leading the group down a long hallway. Small patches of snow crunched beneath their boots as they trudged along. “I just gotta check the oxygen supply. Svikari, what tasks do you have left?”

A beat of silence passed before an answer came out. “O–oh, I need to fill the air canisters,” Svikari said quickly, stumbling over her words a bit. “And then I have to upload some data to HQ.”

“Cool.” Aesir glanced behind him, eyeing Henry with a cheeky grin. “You good back there, pipsqueak? Need anything?”

“No,” Henry mumbled.

Aesir laughed, unfazed by Henry’s sneering tone. “Alright, don’t get your panties in a knot.”

After his initial wave of terror had passed, Henry found himself becoming increasingly agitated. He was upset with Aesir for terrorizing him in the lab. He was angry at Elliot for sending him to Polus. And he was mad at Svikari, too. He didn’t have a reason to be, but darn it, he was mad anyway.

Henry was broken out of his thoughts when something brushed against his shoulder—a thumb. “Hey.” Svikari tapped him gently, her head tilted to the side. “You look upset. Is everything ok?”

With her intimidating presence, Henry could barely keep his eyes on Svikari. His eyes drifted to the ground, locked into his feet as he replied quietly. “Yes.”

“It doesn’t look like it,” the giant prodded. “Did he... Did Aesir hurt you? You don’t look too good.”

Henry bit his lip nervously. “N–no, he didn’t.”

Svikari sighed. “You’re lying. I can tell.” She adjusted her hands, swiveling Henry around so he had to face her completely. “Tell me what happened.”

“I–I...” Henry backpedalled, scooting as far away from Svikari’s looming face. He found his back pressing against Svikari’s curled fingers, and through the shimmering glass, he could almost see two pleading eyes locked into him. “H–he didn’t mean to. I just... wh–when he tried to give me those medications, I tried to run away—”

“What?” Svikari frowned. “Hang on, back up. What medications? What are you talking about?”

“U–um, he didn’t say what it was. Maybe it was a painkiller.”

“...Did he use a needle? Was it a blue liquid?”

“H–how did you know that?”

Svikari fell silent. She glanced towards Aesir, who was walking a ways ahead, and her muscles tensed. “That wasn’t a painkiller,” she said lowly. “It’s an experimental drug that our old medical chief was working on. We aren’t allowed to use it until we test it, since it killed our test subjects a few days ago. Aesir seriously could have killed you.”

Henry’s heart dropped into his stomach.

“I knew something was fishy,” Svikari growled, her grip on Henry tightening slightly. “Aesir was just an intern until our old medical chief got killed by impostors. No one thinks he’s cut out for the position, but we don’t have anyone else who’s even remotely qualified.”

Silence overcame them for a few minutes.

“Aesir,” Svikari finally called, a hard edge lining her voice. “Can we talk?”

Aesir stopped in his tracks. He turned to Svikari questioningly. “Hey, boss. What’s up?”

“About that drug you were working on... Have you tested it lately?”

Aesir paused, tapping his foot as he descended into thought. “Hmm... No, I don’t think so. Not since the rats died on me.”

“I see.” Svikari huffed indignantly. If she weren’t holding Henry, she most certainly would be crossing her arms. “So you haven’t used it at all since then?”

“Nope.”

“That’s funny,” she laughed. “Because I’m pretty sure you used it on the human this morning.”

Aesir’s arms and shoulders locked up.

“Am I right?”

“...Did he tell you that?”

“No, I figured it out.”

“Oh.” Aesir looked down at Henry, a faint scowl crossing his face before he turned his attention back to Svikari. “Don’t tell anyone,” he breathed. “Please. I could get fired.”

“That’s what you’re worried about?” Svikari snapped. “You weren’t worried about killing him? God, it’s just like you to pull a stunt like that. You only care about yourself.”

“I–it’s not like that, boss. I promise.”

Svikari groaned, rubbing her face with her free hand. “I won’t tell anyone. But you have to get your act together or I’m bringing this issue to the captain.” Her fingers curled inward, shielding Henry from Aesir’s view. “And until then, I’m revoking your jurisdiction over the human. He’ll be accompanying me from now on.”

“But I—”

“Is that a problem?”

“N–no, ma’am,” Aesir replied shakily. “You’re the boss.”

“Good.” Svikari nodded firmly. “Now, then... let’s finish our tasks before I change my mind.”

Aesir nodded, ducked his head, and continued walking in silence. His footsteps clomped much faster than before, but Svikari continued at her usual slower pace.

“I’ll take care of this, Henry,” she whispered. “Don’t worry.”

Way to make an impossible request. Henry wasn’t just worried—he was terrified. Not only did Aesir try to make him a test subject for his weird new drug, but now he had to face the wrath of the very giant that could have killed him. The only thing standing between himself and Aesir was Svikari, who Henry wasn’t even sure he could trust.

Svikari probably meant well. At least, Henry wanted to believe that. But something was off about her that Henry couldn’t quite pinpoint. The way she carried herself, her odd way of speaking, her constant bouts of silence… She was weird. No one would deny that.

But there was something else. Svikari wasn’t just strange—she was downright creepy. She obviously knew much more than she was letting on, and Henry couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d met her somewhere before.

And then a thought struck him.

Henry craned his neck up to look at Svikari’s visor, and through the glass, he could almost spot the outline of two large eyes. “How do you know my name?” he asked.

“You told me earlier, remember?”

“No, I didn’t. I never told you my name. Neither did Aesir.”

“Oh.” Svikari slowed to a stop. She glanced at Aesir, who was too far ahead to hear them conversing. The giant huffed and lowered her voice, a frantic tinge lining her words. “I’ll… I’ll tell you later.”

“No. Tell me now.” Henry wasn’t sure why he felt so brave all of a sudden; maybe he was fed up with being constantly treated like a child, or maybe he was just experiencing an adrenaline rush. But he felt he had nothing else to lose at this point—Henry wouldn’t be giving up until he got an answer. “What’s your deal?”

“Deal?” Svikari laughed nervously. “I… I don’t have a deal. I’m just Svikari.”

Henry found it a bit strange that Svikari was caving so easily to his interrogation. She had no problem shutting down Aesir, so why was she losing face in front of a human? It made no sense. But Henry was beginning to put puzzle pieces together. Svikari knew Henry’s name. She was invested in keeping him safe. She was able to tell when he was lying. And here she was, her tail tucked between her legs, being verbally grilled by a human being.

This Svikari person… seemed awfully familiar.

“Are you?” Henry glared daggers at Svikari’s visor. “Because I don’t think you’re telling the truth. Is that even your real name?”

“It’s—!”

“Tell me the truth!” Henry hollered, throwing his arms to the air in frustration. “I’m tired of being babied! I’m tired of you two hiding things from me! Tell me the truth right now!”

“Okay, okay!” Svikari hissed. “Keep your voice down, alright? I don’t want Aesir listening.”

At that, Henry sobered a bit, tossing a cautious glance at Aesir walking ahead. Luckily, he didn’t seem to have heard anything. “So out with it,” Henry snapped, facing Svikari with a scowl. “What’s going on?”

“...You were onto something when you mentioned my name,” Svikari said slowly, every word hushed and deliberate. “Just so we’re clear—my real name is Svikari. But you wouldn’t know me by that name.”

“You used another name,” Henry finished, the dots finally connecting in his mind. “When you talked to me.”

The giant’s empty hand falling limp at her side. “I… I was hoping we’d get to see each other on peaceful terms, and… I wanted it to be on Earth, to be honest.”

Henry swallowed hard. “You… You’re Sigrid.”

Svikari smiled, trying her best not to look intimidating. “It’s nice to meet you, Henry.”

“This is impossible. I–it can’t be you. You’re a—”

“You fellas good back there?” Aesir called, swivelling his head around to peek at the pair. “Sounds like a real bout you’re having.”

Svikari cleared her throat. Her hands lowered, taking Henry out of her field of vision. “We’re fine. Just keep going.”

Aesir simply shrugged. “Alright.”

The group hooked right when the hallway abruptly ended. They found themselves standing before a small room secluded in the corner of the building. Something akin to grass lined the ground, and a large, towering tree stood proudly in the centre of the room. Embedded in the trunk of the tree was a small monitor, complete with wires looping in and out of the bark. While he couldn’t be certain, Henry wagered that this was the oxygen supply Aesir mentioned, although he didn’t expect the oxygen supply to be a plant of all things.

“This won’t take long, ma’am,” Aesir stammered as he stepped into the threshold of the room, bending over to peer at the monitor. His face contorted into an expression of disgust. “Yeesh. Who messed with the RAD settings?”

“Beats me,” Svikari hummed.

“Whatever... Hang on, I just gotta fix this mess real quick.” With that, Aesir fell silent, sliding his fingers rapidly along the screen. Svikari simply stood nearby and waited, while Henry fidgeted anxiously. He couldn’t get their earlier conversation out of his head. Svikari’s words—or rather, Sigrid’s words—echoed in his brain, rattling his thoughts around.

Svikari, meanwhile, was extremely quiet. Henry gazed at her, opening his mouth to ask a question, only to have a giant finger press against his mouth. Shh.

Henry blinked, a little unnerved by how Svikari was acting, but nodded slowly. Svikari lifted her head and peered at Aesir, who was still focused on the monitor screen. Then, moving as slowly as possible, Svikari knelt down and tilted her hands, sending Henry sliding onto the grass below.

It took Henry a moment to orient himself. He diligently wiped off the grass that clung to his suit and looked skyward just in time to see Svikari approaching Aesir from behind. The human watched intently as Svikari snuck up on Aesir, a kitchen knife clutched tightly behind her back, wondering what she was up to.

…

...A kitchen knife?

Before Henry could even think to look again, he was subjected to the sound of a hideous squelch. There was a flash of red, a pained grunt, and suddenly Aesir collapsed to the ground, motionless.

Svikari loomed ominously over the limp body, her hand still latched onto the knife that she’d plunged into Aesir’s back. Murky blood was beginning to pool at her feet, staining the grass a horrid shade of crimson. And then Svikari’s head pivoted like an owl, boring her gaze into Henry.

“Don’t scream,” she heaved.

“Y–you—” Henry’s hands flew to his mouth. “You killed him.”

Svikari faced Henry fully. She extended her hands slowly and carefully, taking cautious steps forward as she spoke. “I know. Just… please stay quiet,” she whispered as she drew closer.

“G–get away from me,” Henry choked, stumbling backwards and throwing his hands up to protect himself. “Please, don’t— d–don’t kill me.”

“Henry!” Svikari suddenly exclaimed, speeding up and making a beeline for Henry. “Be careful, you’re going to—”

Seeing Svikari quickly approaching, Henry made the split-second decision to spin around and bolt. But by the time he noticed the gaping crater in the floor below, it was too late. His foot whizzed through thin air, and with no further fanfare, he tumbled down into the pitch-black abyss. Time froze—a shout echoed from above.

Then he hit the ground. Hard.

Something snapped. Henry yowled in agony. He found himself unable to budge without pain coursing through his battered limbs. Tears began welling in his eyes, but he fought the urge to sob—crying would make it hurt even more. Thankfully, his visor was still intact, although the same could not be said for his bones. He simply laid motionless on his stomach, his arms and legs spread out, praying he would just pass out already.

“Oh no.” Svikari’s voice echoed off the crater walls, but Henry couldn’t see where she was standing. Even if the human was able to move his head and look around, the darkness cloaked everything in the vicinity. There was no telling where the giant was, but she was close. “Henry… It’s alright. I’m going to help you.”

“N–no,” Henry hissed, weakly hacking out the taste of copper from his mouth. “Not like this. Please.”

“Stop that. You’re hurting yourself. Please… let me help.”

“But you killed—” Henry couldn’t restrain himself anymore. He began to cry softly, despite how much it hurt him to do so. Every sniffle was excruciating, wracking his body from the inside-out. “You’re an i–imposter, aren’t you? And you’re going to kill me next.”

“No no no, honey… I would never hurt you.” Svikari’s voice was right next to his ear at this point. A huff of hot breath washed over Henry, rustling his hair. Wasn’t Svikari wearing a helmet, though? How could he feel her breath? “Listen… you’ve gotta trust me. I’m going to get you out of here.”

Henry cast a bitter glance to the side, unsure if Svikari was even standing in that direction. “You’re a liar.”

Svikari didn’t grace Henry with a reply. Instead, two long fingers slowly and deliberately dug beneath his stomach and hoisted him into the air. Henry squeezed his eyes shut as he was pressed against Svikari’s chest. Maybe this would be quick and painless. He could only pray at this point.

“Let me think…” Svikari inched her way forward, snaking through the dark underground pathway so as to not jostle Henry too much. In his daze, Henry failed to realize that there was no way Svikari could fit into the crater, let alone move around freely. But the only thing he was focused on was making peace with his life, knowing that he was about to die at the hands of the one he loved more than anyone else.

Suddenly, Henry was blinded by sunlight. Svikari had begun crawling out of another crater located outside of the building. The holes in the ground seemed to be interconnected. But how did Svikari know that? And where was she planning on taking him?

Before Henry could voice any of these questions, a deafening alarm sounded from above. He looked up just in time to see a flashing red light next to a speakerphone attached to the roof nearby. “BODY REPORTED,” a voice blared. “ALL PERSONNEL TO THE OFFICE. REPEAT, ALL PERSONNEL TO THE OFFICE.”

Svikari swore under her breath. She lifted Henry out of the crook of her elbow, quickly swooping him towards a pocket located on her chest. “I’m gonna need you to stay quiet for now, alright?”

Henry’s breath hitched, eyeing the pocket warily as his legs were swallowed by it. “Why do I—”

“Shh.” Svikari cut him off. “Just trust me. I’ll explain everything once I take care of this.” With those ominous words echoing in his head, Henry was once again plunged into darkness, trapped in the front pocket of her spacesuit.

There was no way this would end well.

***

#among us #gt #g/t #giant tiny #giant/tiny #mywriting #i really hope you liked it!!! its not really my usual content so i hope it was enjoyable #and again if its too gritty id be happy to go back and edit those parts out #you didnt list any warnings aside from vore but i wasnt really sure if you were ok with this stuff #hopefully its all ok and you liked it aaaaasdfghjkl #secret shifters 2020

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fxkthatdairy · 5 years

Text

The Principal’s Office Part Four~ Grayson Dolan

Overview: (Y/F/N) (Y/L/N) was the new 5th grade History teacher at The Dolan’s Private Academy in New Jersey. She moved across the country to teach at the school. On the first day, an unexpected visitor stops by her classroom to check in on her. What happens when they fall head over heels for each other?

Warnings:Extreme fluff, slight smut

(Y/N) woke up that next morning around 9:00 and slid out of bed still in a state of bliss of her date with Grayson last night. The furniture was to be delivered around noon so she jumped in the shower real quick. She put on a pair of comfortable shorts and a old t-shirt. She threw her hair in a quick messy bun and went downstairs to make breakfast. She decided to make some pancakes, bacon and eggs. She texted Grayson that the delivery truck would be here around noon and he texted that he was on his way. She turned on some George Michael on her speakers as she cooked. She heard the doorbell ring and paused her cooking to go answer the door. There stood Grayson and as anyone could tell his twin brother.

“Good morning,” she greeted Grayson with a hug and stuck her hand out to shake Ethan’s hand, “I’m (Y/N), you must be Ethan. It’s nice to meet you. Come on in. I’m making breakfast.”

“Nice to meet you as well.” He said and they walked in. She went back to cooking and turned her music off so that she could make conversation with Grayson and Ethan.

“So I’m making pancakes right now and there is bacon and eggs on the island. The plates are in the cabinet near the fridge. Feel free to make yourselves a plate.” She said with a smile as she flipped the pancake. They both nodded their heads and grabbed a plate and made them a plate of food. She placed two pancakes each on their plates and made her own plate of food before sitting next to Grayson on the bar stools. The delivery people rang the doorbell and (Y/N) let them in and they began bringing in the packages and placing them where they were supposed to go. Grayson and Ethan went to help and (Y/N) told the movers where she needed the stuff to go. One of the movers were getting a little too close to (Y/N) then Grayson’s liking. He could tell she was getting uncomfortable and that was seriously infuriating him.

“If you ever need anyone to show you around town sweetcakes, give me a call.” He said and he tried to hand her his card and she refused.

“Please do not call me that and I’m seeing someone at the moment who has showed me the town so I’m not interested.” She said uncomfortably as the man was really in her personal space.

“Don’t worry sweetcakes, he won’t care. Trust me.” He said with a wink and (Y/n) shivered from the cringe. This set Grayson off.

“HE definitely would care. Now would you kindly leave her alone before I call your supervisor and have you fired and reported for sexual harassment.” Grayson said and wrapped his arm around (Y/N)’s shoulder. The feeling of his arm around her shoulder made (Y/N) feel more secure and relaxed.

“Sorry man, didn’t know she was yours.” The man walked off and went back to work. Grayson was definitely going to being telling the supervisor about that employee. Grayson rubbed (Y/N) back soothingly before getting back to work. They weren’t technically dating but that small gesture made (Y/N) feel protected and as if she was in a relationship. The movers unloaded the whole truck and then left, leaving Grayson, Ethan, and (Y/N) to put together the furniture. (Y/N) needed to go grab some food for lunch so she went to Subway, leaving Grayson and Ethan at the house to continue putting together the dining room table as they were previously doing. As soon as she left, the brothers began conversing.

“You love her man. I can tell, you’ve never been this way about anyone before. Have you asked her out officially yet?” Ethan asked.

“No, not yet. Last night on our date, I kissed her and she kissed back. I just got nervous and didn’t ask her to be my girlfriend. When that asshole was talking to her like that, I wanted to punch his teeth out. I feel like she’s my one man.” Grayson said as he screwed in the base of the table.

“Then you need to ask her out dude. I saw the way she looked at you, she loves you Grayson. If you don’t ask her soon it might be too late.” Ethan said as he helped put the last piece of the table together.

(Y/N) came back with the food and handed it out to the guys and ate her food as well. After they finished eating, (Y/N) tried to help as much as Grayson would let her. Truth was Grayson was raised to never let the lady do the hard work, no matter how hard it was on him, he shouldn’t let the ladies do it.

“I can help Gray, I know how to use a screwdriver.” She said as she stood over Grayson who was pouring sweat.

“It’s okay (Y/N), I’ve got it.” He said panting as Ethan handed him another screw.

“I am going to help Gray. You’re dripping in sweat and sound exhausted.” She said and took an extra screwdriver and some screws and began to help screw in the parts to the couch. Grayson sighed as he knew she was going to help anyway.

A few hours later and they were almost done. They had done everything except for (Y/N)’s bedroom. The Twins were currently working on putting together her wooden bed frame while (Y/N) was putting together her TV Stand. She set up all the cords and had the TV completely put together. She even put together her nightstands by herself. Sweaty, tired and out of breath, they all high-fived each other as they had finished.

“Thank you guys so much.” She said as she laid down on her hardwood floors to cool her body down. Grayson sat down right beside her.

“No problem (Y/N). I was half I could help. Well I’ve got to go, my mom needs my help with something.” Ethan said and gave you a quick hug before walking out.

“I’m going to stay a little longer, if you don’t mind.” Grayson said from the floor.

“Of course.” She said and sat down beside him leaning her head against his shoulder.

“I know I’m going to be sore tomorrow during class. No heels for me.” She said with a laugh. It was only 6:30 and she had a good two hours before she had to start getting ready for bed.

“Definitely,” he said, “(Y/N) I’ve got something to say but I’m scared I’m going to scare you away.”

“Go ahead Gray, nothing you say is going to make me leave.” She said a placed a hand on his shoulder.

“(Y/N), I love you. I know this all seems so sudden but when I laid eyes on you in the store I fell hard. I know this is fast and unusual because I am your boss but let’s throw away labels and look at what’s underneath. It’s just me and you and I fucking love you more than I’ve loved any girl. You are beautiful, intelligent, loyal, trustworthy, honest, and the kindest human. I see myself growing old with you and having a family with you. So please be my girlfriend? I’ll promise to love you, to care for you, to be there for you, to never let work I refer with us, to hold you, to trust you, to rely on you, and to be loyal to only you. So please be mine.” He said sweetly looking directly into her eyes for any signs of rejection. He saw the cogs turning in her brain but she didn’t didn’t give any signs of rejection so he still had hope.

She took a deep breath and dabbed the little tears that were welling in her eyes, no one had every said anything so sweet and from the heart like that to her. “Grayson, you are the most kind-hearted, respectable, honest, trust-worthy, handsome man I know. Of course I would love to be yours. You’ve shown me a side of life I didn’t even know existed. I’ll be your girlfriend Grayson.” She said and kissed him gently on the lips. He kissed back and pull her on top of his lip deepening the kiss. He began trailing his kissed softly down her neck and across her collarbone.

“Gray we are all sweaty.” (Y/N) moaned as Grayson kept softly kissing her neck.

“You’re right. Let’s take a shower.” He said with a smirk and picked her up with ease. (Y/N) let out a small squeak and Grayson carried her to the bathroom.

———————————————————————

Don’t we love cliffhangers 😊😏 Things are about to get really interesting up in here. I promise the next chapter will be longer. As always I hope you guys enjoy. If you have any requests, concepts or blurbs let me know. If you want to be on the tag list let me know 😊💛 love you guys 😘😍

Tag List: @pineappledols @frickin-bats @sweet-dolans @graysavant

#grayson dolan fic #grayson dolan au #grayson dolan imagines #grayson dolan imagine #grayson dolan fluff #grayson dolan smut #grayson dolan #dolan twins imagine #dolan twins #ethan dolan imagines #ethan dolan #au #imagines #series #fanfic

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sparxwrites · 4 years

Text

(written to “american love” by smallpools, which is a bit of a nadi anthem tbqh. neidyasset ainseelie is my character from a dnd campaign by @ladyofrosefire. for my fellow players: beware, there are Minor Spoilers here for the much-hyped eventual Meeting Of Nadi’s Family, in that this fic is primarily about nadi’s family. if you don’t care about that, then feel free to read on!!)

cw for shitty/manipulative parenting, a dubiously healthy relationship with alcohol, and an excess of teenage angst

[ao3]

The butler let Nadi in, as always. A new one, since the last time she’d visited – a young man, either an unusually pale Drow or half-Elven, smartly dressed in the Ainseelie livery of ivory and gold and already looking tired of his job.

She kept her eyes down, mumbling a thank you as he let her through the heavy wood-and-wrought-iron front door. No sense getting too friendly, all things considered. Her mother’d never been too good at keeping butlers – or any kind of serving staff for that matter. It rankled, she knew, just one of the many pricks at her mother’s noble pride.

He took her bags, too, foisting them off onto a more junior staff member moments later. She kept her satchel, one hand clutched around the strap across her chest, but the rest were spirited away before she had time to take more than two steps into the entrance hall. Quite how the butler thought he could get them to her room before she got there, she wasn’t sure, but–

“Neidyasset!” Lady Luarine Ainseelie’s voice rang out through the large entrance hall.

Nadi froze, eyes still on the pale, veined marble of the floor. That was how, apparently. Relying on a little family reunion. Unfortunate.

She’d assumed her parents would be out, given her deliberately-awkward mid-afternoon arrival, but apparently not. There was her mother on the stairs – in an elegant, understated dress of pale silk to compliment the deep purple of her skin, gold-set diamonds hung around her throat in thin, dripping strings, and a perfect smile pasted on her perfectly made-up face.

Her father stood a full two meters to the side, one step down, in starched cotton dress pants and a shirt rolled up to his elbows, both in a shade of ivory to tone with his wife’s gown and accented with gold buttons. His expression was as flat and unreadable as ever, lips pulled into a thin line and his eyes hard and cold.

“Lady Luarine Ainseelie,” said Nadi, forcing a smile onto her face that was somehow even more fake than her mother’s own painted-on one. “Lord Istas Ainseelie. It’s good to see you.” She offered a clumsy attempt at a curtsey, then gave up on it half way through as a bad deal and segued into a stiff bow.

Istas snorted, softly and humourlessly, at the graceless display.

The look his wife gave him out the corner of her eye was positively glacial, though her smile never wavered. “Neidyasset, darling, how many times do I have to tell you to call me Mother?” she said, expansive generosity in every word. A lie. They’d been through this little script enough times for Nadi to know the reaction if she opened with Mother. “Honestly. So formal!”

“Mother. Of course. ” Nadi straightened up, carefully correcting her posture and ensuring her shoulders weren’t up around her pointed ears, clasping one hand around the other wrist at the small of her back. “I… had assumed you would be out making social calls, given the hour and the season. I would have sent ahead to inform you of my arrival, otherwise.”

Luarine smile widened, though it still didn’t reach her eyes. “Oh, water under the bridge,” she demurred. “The servants will sort everything, regardless. It’s just good to have you home, Neidyasset. How have your studies been?”

“They’re going well.” Nadi’s fingers tightened around her wrist, trying to remember this particular bit of the script, what lie she’d used last time. “It’s– you know. Business as usual. Research, reading, experiments… my supervisor’s hopeful that I’m very close to a breakthrough, but it’s always a little slow going when you’re on the cutting edge of arcane research.” She shrugged, dipped her gaze in what she hoped was a modest gesture, not a suspicious one. “I won’t bore you with the technical details, but it’s groundbreaking work. We’re taking mathemagics and philoarcanosophy to previously-unconceived-of heights. Very exciting.”

It was a lie, but mostly a white lie. Nad reassured herself with that, even as the nape of her neck prickled at the deception, even as she fought to keep from breaking out into a guilty cold sweat.

There was absolutely no need for her family to know about her missing supervisor, after all. About the faculty’s ambivalence towards finding her a new one. About her stagnating research, in light of her recent academic suspension. And definitely no need for them to know about the impromptu Feywild trip. The mere thought of her mother learning that little tidbit was almost enough to make her shudder.

Though if Professor Egreth was gone for much longer… well. She’d burn that bridge when she got to it.

“Oh, how exciting!” Luarine turned to Istas, with a smile that showed too many teeth. “Our own little Neidyasset, on the cutting edge of arcane research. Aren’t you just so proud?”

“I am indeed,” said, Istas, drilly, looking as though he couldn’t care less. As though he would prefer to be literally anywhere else, having literally any other conversation. His gaze was fixed in the middle distance, on a point on the far wall somewhere well over the top of Nadi’s head.

For perhaps the first time in her life, Nadi felt a fleeting sense of kinship with her father.

“We’re both very proud,” said Luarine, fussily smoothing her hands over an imagined crease in her skirt, not so much as batting an eyelid at her husband’s lack of enthusiasm. “I can’t wait for your graduation, Neidyasset. I’m sure you’ll be the talk of the town.”

Nadi, not sure what to say to that particular little performance-cum-threat, offered a respectful half-bow in response.

She was rewarded with a high, insincere laugh from Luarine. Istas gave no response whatsoever, save for crossing his arms, as though he were also waiting for the rigmarole to be over – though far more blatantly than Nadi was.

“So formal! Always so formal, our little Neidyasset.” Luarine eyed her up and down, taking in the mismatched boots, the scuffed trousers and oversized jumper, the goggles still perched atop Nadi’s head. “Though not so formally dressed, unfortunately. You’ll want to clean up before dinner.”

“Why? Do we have company?” Nadi fidgeted absently with the strap of her satchel, trying to not grind her teeth at the extended eye contact, the extended pantomime of politeness. She wanted nothing more than to disappear to her room, but her desire was subsumed beneath familial duty, beneath her mother’s pointed stare.

Like a butterfly on a board, she was pinned in place until Luarine decided otherwise.

“Though Talice will, unfortunately, not be joining us this Heartsease – she’s been asked to play a vital part in the ceremonies at the temple, can you imagine! Our Talice! – but the Lord Ainseelie has kindly lent us Veyris back for the holiday.” She failed to hide the note of distaste in her voice, despite the smile still firmly in place. “So she will be joining us. And I’ve invited the Lady Sabine’s family to dinner tonight. She, unfortunately, is otherwise engaged, but her sister and brother-in-law will be joining us! And their daughter, too – who I’m quite sure I told you about in my last letter.”

The letter had, if Nadi remembered correctly, made much of exactly how eligible Lady Sabine’s niece was. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from groaning. Yet another futile matchmaking dinner – and on her first evening home, too. What fun.

“So we must all be dressed appropriately, and on our best behaviour,” concluded Luarine, with a singularly pointed look at her daughter. “It’s very important to make a good impression. And, of course, we’ll be having family over for the next few nights after that – the Lord Ainseelie and some of his entourage,” again, the ill-hidden distaste, “tomorrow, I believe, and the Arganans the day after, And then, of course, it’s the family ball. I’ve taken the liberty of acquiring a suitable outfit for you, since I assume that you have failed to do so.”

Nadi ground her teeth a little harder, her mother’s tone sliding between her ribs more effectively than any dagger. “Thank you, Mother,” she managed after a moment, her voice perfectly flat. “That’s very thoughtful of you.”

“Yes, I thought so too. Anyway. Busy busy busy! An exciting few days ahead of us. And it’s lovely that you could join us. Finally. After your absence, the last few holidays.” There was no missing the icy note in Luarine’s voice. No missing her pointed disapproval, even buried as it was beneath layers of courtly courtesy.

“Mmh. Well. Academia’s time consuming, unfortunately,” lied Nadi, through her teeth. She’d spent Silver Night drinking copious amounts of sweet, spiced rum and doing shots of brightwine with the other Starspire postgrads in her student flat’s kitchen, until she’d passed out at the table in the wee hours of the morning. She’d spent King’s Day before that in the bed of some mathematics undergraduate, half-drunk and drowning her worries in easy, meaningless sex. “I’m glad I could return home for Heartsease, though.”

Another lie. Nadi felt sure her mother must know, because she’d never been much good at lying – but the polite, insincere smile pasted onto Luarine’s immaculately painted face never faltered.

Perhaps her mother hadn’t noticed. Perhaps Luarine just didn’t care, so long as the pretense at happy families was maintained.

“Luarine, dear,” interrupted Istas, before Luarine could launch into more barbed platitudes. “As thrilling as your entrance hall interrogation of our daughter is, perhaps you could save it for dinner? I’m sure she’d prefer to run along and get… cleaned up.” He, too, eyed her well-worn lab outfit, and the corner of one lip curled up in distaste. “She looks sorely in need of a bath, after all. And a change of clothes.”

Nadi tightened the hand around her wrist until she felt sure she must be cutting the circulation off, and dug the blunt nails of her other hand into her palm until it ached.

For a split second, Luarine’s expression cracked, and a look of frustrated loathing flashed across her face – though Nadi missed it, busy sinking nails into her own skin and staring into the middle distance. Then it was gone, tucked neatly behind her near-flawless mask once more. “Oh! Of course. Quite right, husband dearest. She must be quite desperate to refresh herself.” She regarded Nadi for a long moment, and then flapped a dismissive hand at her. “You are excused. I look forward to continuing our conversation at dinner.”

“Mother. Father.” Nadi bowed once more, a little more gracefully this time, and then fled.

She didn’t run, but she did walk faster than was probably seemly, her boots echoing against the marble in the cavernous entrance hall and the hallway leading out of it. Down a corridor to the right, a turn to the left, up a staircase spiralling hidden behind an innocuous door, out into another hallway on the second floor, a sharp right turn–

The door to her bedroom clicked shut behind her, and Nadi inhaled properly for the first time since setting foot in the house as she turned the lock.

It took a long moment of just remembering to breathe, her slumped against the solid wood of her door, before she found the energy to pull herself up. She wandered into the centre of the room and, looking around. It was exactly as she’d left it, last time she was home – the furniture lavish and elegant, dark wood and lacquer and metal, but sparse.

The four-poster bed dominated the room, draped with deep purple silks and beautifully embroidered linens. A writing desk sat under one silk-curtained window, along with a high-backed chair and her bags. In the corner was a tall, thin armoire, and a capacious chest of drawers.

Otherwise, the room was empty – no rugs on the flagstone floors, no personal effects, no artwork. What little clutter she’d had was currently occupying every available surface in her student room, leaving her bedroom at home looking distinctly un-lived-in. Which was appropriate, really, given how rarely she returned to it

Nadi sighed, and set her satchel down on the desk, with a dull thump that echoed in the empty, high-ceilinged room. With a flick of her wrist, she summoned her familiar to her shoulder.

An irritated-looking raven popped into being with an angry squawk, nearly sliding off her shoulder before righted himself – hitting her in the face with one large wing, and grabbing at one of her many earrings with his beak for balance. Even once he was settled, he kept tugging on it, nibbling at the point of one long, obsidian ear until Nadi swatted him off her shoulder.

“Vyrrd,” Nadi chided, without any sort of heat in her voice. She tugged her goggles off her head, setting them down on the desk beside her bag, and dragged a hand over the close-cropped fuzz of her glittering, silvery hair. “Fucking hells, though, right? Fucking hells. Encounter one survived. Fifteen minutes down, four days to go.”

Vyrrd ruffled his wings at her, indignantly, from his new perch on the footboard of her four-poster bed.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Mother bitches terribly when you’re a rat, though, so, you know. Suck it up for a few days. We’re both making sacrifices here. I’ll give you pizza after.” A suspicious croak. “Loads of pizza. I promise.” A less suspicious croak. “As much pizza as you want. Which is gonna be like half a slice, because rats have super tiny stomachs. Dumbass.”

She toed her mismatched boots off and left them by the end of the bed, padding over in her socks to the old, elaborately-carved wardrobe in the corner. When she opened it, it was already full of the clothes she’d brought home for her visit – the staff must have at least partially unpacked for her. The thought sent her stomach into an uncomfortable curl. She wasn’t a fan of other people touching her stuff.

Hanging on the far right of the rail, though, was the outfit her mother had mentioned. Nadi took it out, and held it up to the refracted light of the crystalline chandelier, appraising it with a critical eye.

The shirt was thin, bordering on sheer, a deep, cool charcoal that highlighted the blue undertones of her obsidian skin. It was unadorned, so as not to detract from the suit it was designed to accompany – a darkly iridescent, exquisitely tailored waistcoat and trousers. The fabric of the slim trousers caught the light in unusual ways as Nadi twisted the hanger back and forth, the dark fabric picking up oil-slick hints of green, blue, purple, and pink in every crease and fold. The waistcoat went a step further, the front covered entirely in exquisite, carefully-arranged raven feathers, sleek and gorgeous, its fastenings disguised beneath the plumage.

Hung next to it was a jacket, no doubt also carefully tailored to her measurements, made of the same iridescent fabric as the pants and the back of the waistcoat. It was lined with a silk so deeply purple-blue it was almost black, and buttoned up to the throat with silver buttons stamped with the Ainseelie crest.

“The bitch’s got good taste in clothes, if nothing else,” murmured Nadi, running a finger down the front of the waistcoat and sighing at the texture of feathers against skin. “And you’ll match beautifully, Vyrrd, huh? Lucky you.”

Vyrrd, now underneath the bed and undoubtedly hunting for months-old crumbs, communicated his disinterest in Drow fashion with a half-hearted croak.

A cursory check of the wardrobe floor found a new pair boots, sturdy and ankle-high, polished to a mirror shine. There was new jewellery in the jewellery box on her desk, too, as Nadi had known there would be. No new earrings or rings – her mother had given up on that particular battle a while ago, irritably resigned to Nadi’s assortment of diamond studs and platinum hoops and mismatched finger jewellery – but there was a new string of diamonds, so small they’d do little more than catch the light in a fine sparkle, long enough to wrap several times around one wrist.

“Pretty,” she murmured, absently, testing the drape of it over her fingers and tilting her hand back and forth to make it catch the light. It glittered, beautifully, like a line of tiny stars across the inky darkness of her skin. It would turn into a constellation when worn, she had no doubt, throwing delicate points of light across the oily darkness of her clothing.

She dropped it back in the jewellery box, pleased but disinterested, and wandered over to join Vyrrd in poking around under the bed.

There, directly under where her pillow would lie on the mattress above, was her faithful old loose flagstone. Or rather, loosened flagstone. She’d rather deliberately cracked one corner of the enormous slab in her youth, and pried it up to carve out a small hollow beneath in which to stash anything she didn’t want her mother’s prying eyes to find.

She was pleased to discover it as undisturbed as ever – though she had no doubts that if her Luarine had found it, it would have been the first thing out her mouth the minute Nadi walked through the door.

Nudging aside a couple of books, a sheaf of papers, and a small pouch, she pulled free a heavy bottle of amber liquid. Dwarvish whiskey, old and extortionately expensive, pilfered unnoticed from her father’s collection several years earlier. It was still half-full, and Nadi hummed happily, standing up and letting it swing idly by the neck from her fingertips as she padded over to the ensuite bathroom door.

The bath had been filled, no doubt by the same attentive servants who had feverishly unpacked her belongings whilst she’d been waylaid by her parents. The water in the claw-footed tub steamed faintly. It was probably hot enough to nearly scald, just the way she liked it. It was both gratifying and uncomfortable to realise that someone in this godforsaken house knew her tastes well enough to hew so closely to them, down to even her bathing preferences.

After several years of an – admittedly high-class – student lifestyle, such luxuries seemed both foreign and awkward, an unexpected and delightful-yet-discomforting indulgence.

Nadi set the bottle of spirits gently down on the floor by the edge of the tub, and considered the water for a moment. Her gaze settled on the slow curls of steam from the surface, unfocusing as she tracked the random, meandering path of the vapour. Another increment of tension eased from her shoulders at the minor dissociation, and she exhaled slowly, letting her eyes fall shut.

Her internal deliberation about whether to strip off there and then and climb straight into the hot water, however, was interrupted by an insistent knocking at her bedroom door.

Eyes snapping open, Nadi stifled a groan, shoulders hunching up once more. “Coming!” she called, loudly, making sure to kick the door to the bathroom closed behind her as she left to answer. “Gimmie a moment!”

A cursory glance around her room confirmed nothing offensive in view – the flagstone section had been replaced, Vyrrd was still busy beneath the bed, and the bottle of illicit whiskey was out of sight behind the door of the en-suite. Satisfied within reason, Nadi braced herself, and unlocked the door to her room before pulling it open.

She needn’t have bothered with the pre-emptive stress. No sooner had she opened the door, than Veryris had thrown herself through it, dragging her younger sister into a tight embrace. “Nadi! You’re back! Finally. It’s so good to see you.”

Her vision was, abruptly, filled with the lower quarter of her sister’s head – a deep purple-charcoal cheek and long, silvery braids twisted into an immaculately elegant hairstyle. Her elder sister was everything she wasn’t; long-haired where she was close-cropped, tall where she was short, willowy where she was stocky, sociable where she was awkward.

Sometimes it seemed hard to believe they were genetically related, with the differences as stark as they were.

Nadi tolerated the embrace for a polite, painful count of five, before disentangling herself. “Vey,” she said, voice soft and uncharacteristically warm, despite the lingering discomfort of unanticipated physical contact still prickling across her skin. “It’s good to see you too. How’ve you been? Surviving under the watchful eye of the dread Lord Ainseelie?”

Veyris laughed, a light, high-pitched sound that was significantly more sincere than her mother’s. “I’ve got my townhouse, thank you very much, so I’m hardly under his eye. Or anyone’s, for that matter. And Uncle Rhyldyn is far more interesting to be around than Mother and Father, so you needn’t worry about me. The internship is a dream. I’m learning more about politics than I could ever have dreamed– and I’m almost starting to believe Mother’s theories about him handing off the Ainseelie title to me. I mean, he’s still unmarried, well into middle age, and the kind of duties he’s having me perform–”

She cut herself off, eyes bright with obvious excitement. “Ahem..” Her cheeks darkened a little, clearly embarrassed with herself at such an enthusiastic, unseemly outpouring – enough so that even Nadi could spot it. “Anyway, enough about me. How’re you? How’s school been? You must tell me everything! I’ve been surviving on Mother’s gossip and parliamentary intrigue for months and, I must say, it’s not half as interesting as the stories you come back with.”

For a moment, Nadi considered spilling her guts to her big sister. About Professor Egreth, about the academic suspension, about the Feywild and the strange people in it. About the tiefling coming to crash at her dorm. Or even about just some of it, just the funny bits, just about her brief and bizarre trip to the Feywild in all its improbability and alien beauty.

Veyris would have loved the it, she knew, if only for the drama and high elegance of it all. Her sister had always loved the fey. Or had, at least, loved the romanticised, fairy-tale version of what the fey could be, learned through childhood books and second-hand stories.

In the end, though, Nadi bit her tongue. “Still haven’t got Jazreth expelled,” she said instead, with a toothy grin and a slight pang in her ribs at the lie-by-omission. “I accidentally set a water elemental loose in the lab about a month ago, so. That’s a thing. The vice-provost just loves me, right now.”

“Oh, gods.” Veyris made a hand gesture commonly used to ask for Bahamut’s protection, only half-jokingly. “You’re going to give me grey hairs, Nadi. Grey hairs. Uncle Rhyldyn will ask me where my beautiful white hair has gone, and I shall have to blame you.” Her lips, though, curled into a co-conspiratorial smile. “You’ve got to tell me all about it. After dinner. And over some kind of alcohol, since I know you’re good at swindling that from the serving staff – so I’ve something to look forward to, after Mother’s no doubt extensive interrogation of us both..”

“I’ll bother the cook into giving us some of the good wine. Assuming Mother’s managed to keep same cook as the last time I was here. And assuming I survive dinner,” grumbled Nadi, her good mood soured by the reminder of what was to come. “Mother’s trying to set me up with some nice, eligible Drow heir, again. Because gods forbid I be allowed to finish my fucking doctoral studies without the promise of wedding bells at the end.” She rolled her eyes so hard it hurt.

“Bahamut’s balls, Nadi,” groaned Veyris. Sympathetic as she was to her sister’s exasperation at their mother’s machinations, she found the endless whining more than a little wearing. “Yes, Mother’s endless matchmaking gets a little tiring, but do stop complaining. Or– I don’t know! Do an Aunt Vierayema, or something! Take a year studying abroad, find someone to marry who’s wealthy but just disreputable enough that you stop getting invited to dinner other every week, and then settle down in that ivory tower of yours for the rest of your life, blissfully free of familial bothering. Honestly.”

Nadi’s lips twitched, somewhere between amusement and irritation. “Or find someone very disreputable, and do an Uncle Tobith, and stop getting invited to any dinners, family or otherwise, ever.”

“Absolutely not.” Veyris levelled a finger at her sister, abruptly deadly serious. “Absolutely, under no circumstances, do an Uncle Tobith. Because you’re my sister, and I love you, and I do not want to deal with the enormous mess that would be you getting disinherited and then me trying to re-inherit you when I’m Lady Ainseelie.” Her lips twisted with distaste. “And also because if you run off with a tiefling called Delirium, of all the gods-awfully tacky names to choose, I’m not sure I’ll want to re-inherit you.”

“I was joking!” Nadi raised her hands in a gesture of truce. “I was joking, Vey. I’m not planning on running off with a tiefling any time soon. Or getting disinherited.” She pursed her lips, expression turning bitter. “The family fortune is an excellent incentive to stay on Mother’s good side. Trust me.”

She was abruptly glad, though, that she hadn’t mentioned the Feywild, or any of the people she’d met in it, to Vey. An elf with more knives than manners, a tiefling with entirely the wrong sort of manners, a halfling in the employ of the Baba Jaga, and a half-elven bastard… She could imagine what Veyris might have said about them and, though she couldn’t say why, her sister’s imagined disapproval left her feeling– unbalanced. She’d met this bizarre group of strangers once, unwillingly, in deeply awkward circumstances, and had left with no debt towards them whatsoever. And yet…

And yet.

“Anyway,” Nadi said, her mood abruptly soured for no reason she could put her finger on. “Given I haven’t pulled a Vierayema yet, I should get ready for dinner. I guess. Brace myself for whatever new idiot Mother’s found for me. No point getting myself mildly to moderately disowned if I’m not going to do it in style.”

Veyris sighed. “Yes,” she agreed, with a tired flap of her fingers. “Go– I don’t know. Have a soak in the bath, or something.” She was familiar with her sister’s sharp tongue and mercurial temper, but that didn’t make it any less wearing to deal with – especially when she’d clearly stumbled across some conversational pitfall so well-hidden she hadn’t even known it existed. “And, Nadi? Cheer up, for the love of Bahamut. It’s a few days of dinners and parties, not a bloody death sentence.”

“Not for you, maybe,” said Nadi, darkly, but the corner of her lip twitched all the same. Veyris stuck her tongue out, and Nadi responded in kind, her poor mood lifting for a heartbeat at the childish display of fondness. “Anyway. Fuck off, Vey, I want a bath.”

“As her highness demands,” demurred Veyris, sweeping out of the bedroom door with a grace Nadi had never seen in her before. Clearly, hanging around Uncle Rhyldon had been rubbing off on her mannerisms. “See you at dinner, sister dearest!”

The door clicked shut behind Veyris before Nadi could respond. She was left standing by her desk, in silence, staring at the satchel and the stack of books upon it.

She was seized, suddenly, by the urge to push them off – to sweep everything off, the bag, the books, the papers, the quill and ink, the candles, in a single violent motion, send it all crashing to the ground. To turn it all into a ruined heap on the floor, to scream and not stop screaming–

She picked up the book atop the stack, instead, and padded absently back into to the bathroom. The muscles in her jaw and neck were so tight they hurt, a dull ache at the edge of her senses. Her shoulders were up around her ears once more, and no amount of willing would push them down again.

The bath was still hot, at least. She set the book down on the tiled bathroom floor, next to the bottle of whiskey, shedding her clothes in a graceless heap. The water burned her feet a little, as she stepped in, but she ignored it, gritting her teeth against the bite and sinking her entire body down into it until she was submerged deep enough to scream.

It was only when her lungs started to ache, oxygen-starved, that she resurfaced, gasping for air through the near-scalding water rolling down her face.

Tilting her head back until it was resting on the rim of the tub, she stuck an arm over the edge, groping for the neck of the bottle of Dwarvish whiskey. She needed a drink, clearly. Being so tense hat she was already resorting to screaming where no one could hear was a poor omen for the long weekend ahead.

No, what she needed was clearly a long soak in an obscenely hot bath, and a drink. Or two. Or three. And perhaps a chapter or two of dense arcane theory, as well. That ought to be enough to numb her to the dinner ahead, to leech the tension out of her shoulders and the building headache out the base of her skull.

Her questing fingers found the whiskey, and she grasped it, thumbing the cap off without looking. Sitting up just enough that she wouldn’t choke on it, she took a generous sip, exhaling slowly as the burn of it worked its way down her throat to the pit of her belly. The combination of heat and alcohol began turning her muscles to soft clay, and she let her eyes slip closed for a second – luxuriating in the sensation, trying to grasp at the singular moment of thoughtless peace and keep it.

The moment lingered for a heartbeat, and then it slipped through her grasping fingers, ephemeral.

Sighing in disappointment, Nadi took another sip of the whiskey, and traced the glyph for Mage Hand in the air. She murmured the activation word, and hummed satisfaction as the spectral fingers grasped the book, lifting it up over the bath and flipping to the page she’d last left off. Dense arcane theory it was, then – or rather, it was that or masturbation, and she really wasn’t in the mood.

Arranging herself a little more comfortably in the bath, the heat of the water seeping into her bones and the whiskey turning her head pleasantly numb, she exhaled slowly, and began to read.

#dungeons and dragons #original #ocs #dnd #misfit toys #(the joke here is that she just acquired a tiefling boy-toy (if you ask her)/boyfriend (if you ask the tiefling) kdjfhs)#(what could possibly go wrong...........)#god i love her........ my best girl. my asshole girl.

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that-fannerd-with-the-glasses · 4 years

Text

We're Superheroes, What Could Happen? - Chapter Three

Pairing: Wrightworth/Narumitsu

Rating: Teen and Up

Wearily running his hand over his eyes, he cleared his throat, preparing to put on his best customer service voice and picked up the phone, pressing the button to accept the call.

“Thank you for calling Paysurance, this is Phoenix Wright speaking. How may I be of assistance--”

“Five unanswered texts, three missed calls.” He stopped speaking, abruptly cut off by the familiar voice speaking to him. “And at last, he finally responds. Remind me to just go ahead and bypass your cell phone the next time I need to get ahold of you.”

Phoenix blinked in surprise, sitting up somewhat in his chair which let off a slight creak as he did so. Of all the people he’d expected to be calling him today, his husband had certainly not been one of them. On his own phone maybe, but the company phone? Highly unlikely.

“Huh? Miles--”

“And before you say anything, yes. I’m well aware that this is the company phone and I’m likely holding up anyone else from reaching you,” The voice continued on, Phoenix’s ears picking up what sounded like water sloshing around in the background, something squeaking alongside it. “But it's not as if I had much of an option when I wasn’t otherwise reaching you. I trust there’s a good reason for that, yes?”

“Well actually, yeah. I don’t exactly have my cell on me right now--” He heard a scoff, and pulled his chair up further to the desk, resting his elbow on it. “Not for the reason you think, I swear. Payne just got tired of seeing it on my desk so he made me leave it with his secretary until my shift’s over.”

“...you’re not serious.”

“I wish I wasn’t.” Another splash sounded on the other end of the phone, followed by a delighted squeak. “Trying to insist I wasn’t even using it that much was like talking to a brick wall, which is to say--pointless. Uh, anyways…”

He craned his neck forward, inconspicuously peering outside his cubicle for any sign that a supervisor or--Heaven forbid, his boss might be walking by. So far, so good.

“--what’s going on with you? Everything okay over there?”

“I don’t know why you believe it wouldn’t be.” A humph, more splashing and squeaking. “Perhaps I just wanted to call and see how your afternoon was going, I’m allowed to do that aren’t I?”

“Hah, right. Five texts and three calls just for that?” Phoenix leaned forward and suppressed a low hiss, his lower back groaning in protest at the sudden movement. “Even you’re not that extravagant, Miles. Seriously, what’s really going on? Nothing’s broken again, I hope.”

There was a pause. Silence, save for the occasional splash and baby giggles.

“Miles?”

More silence. And what might be a rubber duck squeaking, it was hard to tell. That was answer enough for Phoenix, and he pinched the bridge of his nose, biting back a groan.

“…something’s broken, isn’t it?”

“Nothing is broken, don’t just assume that’s why--”

“Kinda hard not to when half our appliances are falling apart.” Picking up his by now lukewarm mug of coffee, Phoenix finished off what little amount was left before setting it back down. “What was it this time, did the vacuum finally decide to expire on you?”

“Surprisingly no, it's still intact since I last used it.” There was a pop, the splashing now replaced by the sound of water going down the drain. A loud squall of protest followed, as Miles let out a small huff. “No, I fear the laundry machine is our culprit this time. I can’t get it to drain, I’m suspecting it may be clogged.”

“Again? Didn’t we just have that fixed like...last week?”

“Yes. We did. Though at this rate, I doubt it’d be worth trying to repair it again. We have had it for a long time, after all.” A sigh, another squeak from the duck, which seemed to quell the squalling. “I’m thinking it may actually be high time we consider getting in a new one, or at least looking. I know of a few places that are conducting sales--”

“And unless those sales happen to be a hundred percent off everything, then you can forget about it.” Phoenix sighed. “Seriously, even with the discounts applied we’d still have to pay a crap ton to have someone come and install it. That’s just not something we can afford right now.”

“Well, what else do you suggest then? Because I’m not about to call a repairman again, considering how utterly pointless that would be.” There was a thud as something seemed to have hit the floor. Probably the rubber duck, considering the cry of alarm that came after it.

“Then don’t, I’ll just--I don’t know, I’ll take a look at it myself or something--” He gave a second glance outside the cubicle, above it this time, and gasped slightly at the sight of his boss erratically emerging from his office, a fistful of papers clutched in his hand. “Listen, Miles, not that this conversation isn’t y’know...fun, but I’ve actually gotta go now. Do you think we could maybe finish discussing this at a...well, better time?”

“Ah, very well. If you say so.” A particularly booming squeak from the duck this time, the poor thing sounding as if it was having the life choked out of it. So it’d been picked up then, what a relief to have that much confirmed. “I need to go pick up the children from school anyways. I should’ve been out the door five minutes ago but someone decided it’d be hilarious to help Papa in the garden today.”

An all-too pleased giggle sounded adjacent to Miles’ voice, as if to back up his statement. He sighed tiredly, Phoenix snorting.

“She doesn’t sound the least bit sorry for it. I doubt you’re gonna get much of an apology out of her.”

“I doubt it as well, anyhow. I’ll let you go now, see you when you get back tonight. "

“Yeah, right. See you then.”

READ ON A03

#hey look #i actually managed to finish something ayyy #which means i'm officially not dead #so enjoy #wrightworth #narumitsu #mitsunaru #ace attorney #fanfic #fanfiction #aa fanfic #incredibles au

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unlockthelore · 5 years

Text

Dream Come True - Part II

As much as ____ liked to tease Yumi about her “childish” ways, there was a simplicity and beauty to letting go of the stressors that kept her bound to the circular rotation of the day. Yumi didn’t want to drink her sorrows away and complain over a hot meal, she wanted to live and that’s what ___ appreciated the most about her.

Hand in hand, running across the sand with their shoes tucked in the backseat of Yumi’s car, blouses untucked and hair loose like they were children again. It was late, the sky painted a soft orange flecked with violets and deep blues as the stars began to make their grand appearance.

Warm crisp autumn wind and laughter on the breeze, the waves lapping at their feet as they goaded one another into a game of tag.

True, crunching numbers wasn’t the most exciting job but it did put money in ____’s account and kept her fed. Yumi, with all of her joy and presence, made her feel alive. Once they’d laugh themselves silly, and their clothes were wet from falling more than once into the tide, ___ suggested that they return to the car to dry off.

It was getting later and the warm wind was cooling as evening fell to night, the pair sitting on the car roof and staring up at the stars. Street lamps lining the desolate road on either side cast a fluorescent white glow on the roads, shadows dancing and the gentle hum of insects coupled with the crashing waves and chirping insects.

Yumi’s arm hooked in ___’s own, her head resting on her shoulder and a faint smile offered that was received with a kinder one.

“Are we going to talk about you sleeping?”

___ sighed. She knew that would resurface eventually but she hoped that it would be on the drive home when Yumi was too sleepy to prolong the conversation. “It’ll sort itself out,” she mumbled softly, rubbing her cheek against the top of Yumi’s head. “I mean, what’s the worst that’ll happen?”

“You fall asleep during a meeting and start drooling in front of Minamino-san, ruining the chance of ever having a friendship with him because he’ll always remember you as drool face?”

The silence was deafening and slowly ____ pulled away to level Yumi with a flat stare.

“Your imagination is really frightening, you know that?”

“Think I should be a writer?” Yumi grinned, tucking her knuckle under her chin as she struck a thoughtful pose. “I think that I’d strike the fear in the hearts of many with my thoughts.”

___ snorted, poking Yumi’s cheek and twisting her finger around. “Or mesmerize them with what goes on in that head of yours.”

Yumi whined and batted away her finger with a pout. The pair dissolving into laughter and leaning against one another again. After a moment of silence, Yumi shifted closer and squeezed ____’s upper arm.

“You don’t have to get in the middle of Sanada and I anymore, I know that you don’t particularly like him.”

____’s eyes softened and she sighed. “I’ll get in the middle of you and Sanada as often as I have to if it helps you feel comfortable. Just because I’m going through something doesn’t mean that I can’t be there for you.” She tipped her head to one side, trying to catch sight of Yumi’s eyes. It wasn’t right for her to look so down and although Sanada was at the root of it, ___ knew that there were some things that Yumi had to face on her own. Squeezing the hand caught between her bicep and side, ___ smiled down at her and tapped her head against Yumi’s own, spurring a fleeting peal of laughter.

“I’m just glad that you have more friends besides me outside of work… but it would be good if you had some more inside,” Yumi pointed out, tipping her head to one side. “You know everyone’s names, how to talk to them, but nobody really knows you besides what they see.”

Thinking back to the earlier lunch that they had with Minamino, the way that he seemed interested in hearing more about ___’s escapades from Yumi’s point of view, ___ frowned. Was she really that much of a mystery? She certainly didn’t think so but taking about herself was a little embarrassing and difficult. How much could she say that wouldn’t make her seem narcissistic? And how little would she say without seeming stuck-up?

“It’s hard,” ___ sighed. “If I was more like you, maybe I”d be able to talk to people easier.”

“Well hey, you sassed Minamino like you sass me, so you’re off to a good start.”

___ groaned and slapped a hand over her forehead, tilting her head back. “Don’t remind me of that. I didn’t even mean to. I just don’t get how someone responsible for so many people and themselves could forget lunch of all things!”

Yumi laughed softly and squeezed __’s upper arm. “That’s just the caretaker in you, ____. You’re always looking out for me, I guess you just kinda.. Projected.”

“Onto our supervisor of all people?”

“Well, I didn’t say that you chose the right person to project onto, now did I?”

___ rolled her eyes, pulling her knee to her chest and staring out into the distance. The horizon seemed to carry on forever but she knew that somewhere there was someone else looking out at the same view. Perhaps they didn’t have someone like Yumi at their side, talking and enjoying their presence, and maybe they were alone with their thoughts or hoping someone else was looking.

Maybe they were lonely.

“Earth to ____, Earth to ____!”

The view of the horizon was interrupted by the swipe of Yumi’s hand in front of ___’s eyes. With a few quick blinks, she turned her attention back to her friend who was shivering.

“It’s getting kinda cold, yeah? Get the blanket for me out the back?”

___ Huffed. “Alright, alright.”

As she slid down the side and went to the back to pull out the blanket, she paused. It was a quilt, the same one that her mother made for Yumi after she brought her by to introduce her new friend. A little embarrassing considering that her mother was treating her like she was in elementary school. Making tea, snacks, talking about how she was doing and all — but it was nice. It made her think that this would work out that being in Sarayashiki would be a good thing for her.

Like a dream.

And she met Yumi who made every day like a dream just by existing.

The quilt, checkered red and green, adorned with flowers in the patches sewn atop of it — it reminded her of him.

“Hey Yumi?” ___ asked as she climbed back up with the quilt tucked in her arm.

“Yeah?”

“Do you think that Minamino gets lonely too?”

Yumi snickered. “Now you’ve got an interest in how Minamino feels?”

___ pinched her cheek. “Not like that,” she scolded gently, setting the quilt around them and tucking her knees close. “I’m just thinking… it’s got to be lonely at the top, huh?”

— 幽☆遊☆白書 —

The drive home is a lull with the sound of Yumi’s quiet snoring and the gentle rumbling of the car. __’s cheek resting on her propped up fist as she gazed at the road ahead. Street lamps lining the road lit their path and made the yellow lines on the asphalt shimmer. It might not have been the best idea to stay out this late but she could hardly deny Yumi the comfort. They did have a stressful day after all and every moment should count. Though no matter how much she reasoned to herself that it was the wisest choice from a friendly point of view, her sleep schedule was going to suffer.

Oh well, it wasn’t as if she was getting much sleep anyway.

Pressing both her hands into the worn leather of the steering wheel, she took in a deep breath then sighed, her eyes fluttering shut for a moment. And when they opened, she glanced up and squinted.

What was that?

Leaning closer, her chin brushing against the top of the steering wheel, she tried to get a better look at the speck drifting lazily across the sky overhead. It couldn’t have been a shooting star or a bird, it stood out against the night sky and seemed to be flying. And she didn’t know of any birds nearby that were pink and blue. Trying to get a better look at it, she shifted to look out her side mirror but it was drifting too far for her to make out what it was.

With a defeated sigh deflating her chest, she pressed back against the headrest and listened to Yumi’s sleep mumbling. Maybe she just needed to get a bit more rest. She was starting to make up things floating across the sky after all.

A soft chime caught her attention and she glanced away from the road to her cellphone vibrating in the drink holder beside Yumi’s own. Bracing one hand against the steering wheel, she reached with the other and bumped her fingers against the screen, pressing the green call button before tapping the speaker. A soft cry of her name making her wince and quickly tap the volume button, casting a cautious sideways look to Yumi who stirred for half a second then slumped against the window with a soft sigh.

“____, are you there?” The person on the other end called.

“Yes, I’m here,” ___ said with ease, exasperation underlying her words. Of course it would be her brother who was calling. She wasn’t sure why she didn’t check the caller ID before she picked up. “What do you want, Souta?”

“Ouch!” Souta said, and she could just picture the hurt expression that he was making. “Is that any way to talk to your little brother?”

“When he’s being a bother?” ___ asked, taking a dramatic pause for effect. “Yes.”

The shuffling and sputtering on the other end put a smile on her face and she rolled her eyes. Souta hadn’t grown out of his childish habits but he was far too old for her to reprimand him all the time. It didn’t mean that she was going to baby him but at the very least, she could humor him.

“So what do you want, I’m driving y’know.”

“Well, I just need a favor…”

“If you need money, call our parents.”

“Wh—“ Souta’s voice pitched and cracked before rising to a screech. “What would make you think that’s why?!”

“Because I’m your older sister, and I know how you sound when you want something that you know you’re not going to get,” ___ explained with a half-hearted shrug that she knew he couldn’t see. “So, what is it?”

“Hmph. Well, what I was going to ask was if you could housesit for me.”

“… Housesit?”

It would have been easy to say no and end the conversation there but curiosity got the best of her. Souta had moved not too recently and was happy enough to show off his new place although she couldn’t attend because she was on vacation. But he neglected to ever mention where he stayed or just why he moved there. It was a little curious but her parents were simply happy that he decided to move on with his life and be a “real” adult. Whatever that meant.

“I’ve got a trip that I can’t miss and I really need you to do me this favor,” Souta pleaded, his voice softening with a whine. “My neighbors are really nice and they don’t bother anyone.”

“Shame that they have you for a neighbor then.”

“___!”

She sighed and pressed her finger to her temple. Of course, she didn’t want to leave her own home unattended for long but there was less likelihood of someone breaking in. Although she didn’t want to take the chance of that either.

“You do know that I have a job in the city, I can’t just up and live in someone else’s home.”

“Well, why not just go there a few days out of the week and my place on the other? Besides, where’s your job?”

“At Hatanaka Corporation, you know this.”

“I swear I forgot… and let’s see.. Hatanaka…”

From the other end of the line, the sound of pages shuffling and muffled cursing punctuated with soft sighs and quiet grumbling provided a necessary distraction.

“So, how’s your job going there..?” Souta suddenly asked, the soft whine and pleading gone from his voice replaced with the gentle tone that reminded her of their mother. “You don’t really talk about it all that much when I call.”

“Because you don’t call often, and there’s more important things to talk about,” ___ reasoned.

“So are you saying that I should call more often?”

“No way, that’d just be a nuisance.”

“You’re really trying to hurt me with these one-liners, aren’t you?”

Amiable laughter passed between them and ___ shifted in her seat, her lips curving into a smile as she hooked her thumbs in the steering wheel and flexed her fingers.

“How’s your aches and pains?”

___ sighed. “How did you know about that?”

“You said you were driving and that requires holding onto something for a long time, so I just assumed…” His voice trailed off and she knew where this conversation was going. It was one that she had often when her parents were worrying that she worked herself too hard. “If your tendonitis is acting up again, then you should try and relax. You don’t want to hurt yourself, right?”

Glancing aside at Yumi, she smiled faintly. “Don’t worry, I have people looking out for me here so I’ll be fine. Now come on and quit stalling, what about this favor?”

A soft grumbling huff came from the end of the line before Souta whined softly. “That’s the last time I worry about you,” he lied, shifting around papers. “Alright, so Hatanaka Corporation… my place isn’t that far from it. Actually, you should be able to commute a bit easier. You have a car, right?”

“Nope, I’m using Yumi’s,” ___ said, wincing when she noticed her slip-up.

“Yumi!? Whose that? A new friend of yours?!”

“Hey, don’t sound so excited! I have friends too!”

Yumi sniffled and ___ froze as she shifted in her sleep, slowly sitting up and rubbing at her eyes. “___, What’s wrong? Did we crash?”

“… Why would I be talking casually if we crashed?” ___ asked in a deadpan, shaking her head and swatting at Yumi’s arm. “Go back to sleep, you’re tired.”

Souta was blissfully quiet as Yumi fussed before eventually succumbing back to sleep, curled up under the quilt. When her soft snoring filled the air again, Souta sighed.

“So she’s the one that mom mentioned before? Your friend from work?”

“Mhm, she’s just as energetic as you, you two could get along well.”

“Maybe I’ll see her when I come back for my keys when you’re done house-sitting,” Souta chirped happily.

____ Rolled her eyes. “I never agreed, y’know.”

“I know, I know. I’ll leave the keys for you in the mail slot taped to the top…”

“Hey! Hang on, Souta—“ ___ interjected.

Blissfully unaware of ignoring her plight, Souta continued on with a hum. “I don’t have any plants or pets, so you don’t have to keep track of anything. Feel free to stay whenever you want but check in every so often, okay? Thanks sis!”

Before she could form a response, the line went dead and she stared aimlessly at the road ahead. The lights of the city making a glow against the sky in the distance and showing her the way home and to what would be yet another favor for her younger brother.

“Your brother is weird, ___,” Yumi muttered.

___ sighed, smiling exasperatedly. “Tell me about it..”

— 幽☆遊☆白書 —

Kurama sighed, hooking his finger in the knot of his tie and pulling to loosen the proverbial corporate noose around his neck. He didn’t abhor his job but keeping up appearances left him with a degree of discomfort lingering throughout the day. Accustomed to clothing that allowed him to breathe and move freely, the stiffness in his suits and his shirts was difficult to slip into especially when he was not operating under the moniker of Minamino Shuuichi. With a bit of doing, it was easier and he could find it in himself to breathe and meld into the crowds of people flooding the intersections and walking the streets of Sarayashiki.

Botan’s appearance was both a surprise and bound to occur, and while he didn’t expect her to take the inquiry too seriously, it was odd. A haunting melody filling his ears as he recalled his co-worker singing the familiar summoning ritual known and told to children of the Ningenkai. While most considered it to be a simple nursery rhyme, a spoken spell to ward off bad dreams, summoning a baku was no laughing matter. He clenched his jaw as he remembered her yawn and the droop of her eyelids as she tried to stay awake throughout the day. He hardly doubted that one night of calling the baku would have left her so exhausted but apparitions were a greedy bunch.

And sating their hunger was a foolish endeavor.

“Don’t worry, Kurama,” Botan had said with her trademark cheery grin, perched on her oar and looking out at the city skyline. A myriad of colors reflecting in her pink eyes, crinkling at the corner as she flashed him another smile. “I’m sure that it’s just a small spirit so it can easily be banished.”

He nodded at the time. Watching her go in a tentative silence as the sounds of the city washed over him and drew him back to reality. There was nothing to do but allow the Reikai to monitor activity and report any sightings that he might have had — powerlessness that left him far more agitated than he’d let on in the ferry girl’s presence or any other aside from Hiei.

The fire demon was likely waiting for him inside his apartment, a welcomed constant that Kurama needed for the day ins and out with balancing who he was to the public versus who he was in private. Despite Hiei’s surly countenance, he did make for good company once he was settled. And he certainly made himself at home there.

Hiking the shopping bag on his wrist, Kurama made his way across the intersection and toward the apartment building looming in the distance. Climbing the steps gave him a chance to calm himself and loosen his attire, pulling his hair out of its ponytail and undoing his tie. Toying with the buttons as he each one attempted to snag on his finger or a thread in his shirt. A mumbling sigh parting his lips as he reached his floor and opened the door allowing him to walk through and navigate the corridor of doors.

A cool and crisp wind gusted through from the open balcony and he breathed in deeply, pressing his hand to the side of his head to keep his hair from whipping around. Dark red strands obscuring his vision for a moment and a soft gasp caught his attention as he looked up, seeing her.

Still dressed in work attire with her shoes in one hand and backpack shouldered, here hair out of its usual style and feet a bit dirty as if she was walking on gravel.

“___-san?” Kurama asked, tipping his head to one side.

“Minamino-san…” She whispered, her voice softer than the wind. “I didn’t know that you lived here.”

“You either,” Kurama admitted, meeting her half way as she approached.

She chuckled softly and waved her hand. “No, no. I don’t live here. I’m actually doing a favor for someone but it’s late, so I might as well stay the night…” With a sheepish shrug and a lopsided smile that made Kurama want to smile in return. Like this, she looked younger and softer than he expected. A glimpse of something that he only caught when she was pouting and trying to cover it up or talking to Fujimoto Yumi.

“Were you out shopping?” She asked, gesturing to the bag in his hand.

Remembering the weight and what was inside, Kurama lifted the bag up and opened it, pulling out a box of chai tea blend. “I was, I thought that it would help you,” he said, offering it to her. “It’s lucky that I came across you.”

“… You bought this for me?” She said in disbelief, her voice pitching as she scrambled to take it from his hand, their fingers brushing and a jolt of electricity coursing through Kurama’s skin. He pulled his hand back slowly and stared at the tip of his finger before glancing at her as she read over the box and analyzed the contents.

“This is one of those expensive brands isn’t it? I can’t take this.”

He remembered hearing the rumors of how frugal she was and it was a little charming to see her like this.

“I insist,” Kurama paused, wondering if he should continue with how panicked she looked, then adding on. “It’ll help you work ethic so you’re not falling asleep throughout the day.”

The look of surprise on her face coupled with the slight pout and narrowed eyes made him want to laugh. Teasing people was something that he hadn’t grow out of and it was fun when it was someone new.

“Says the guy who doesn’t bring his own lunch to work,” She murmurs, turning away to face the railing and lean against it, her gaze flicking down to the box as she studied it intently. It took a moment and then another before what she said seemed to dawn on her. “Wait, I mea—“

Kurama waved his hand, smiling faintly. “It’s alright,” he says with a hint of amusement at her flustered face. “You aren’t the first to talk to me about my eating habits and I doubt that you’ll be the last.”

Her eyebrow quirked at that then her gaze averted as if she were trying to debate on whether or not she should say anything. He almost hoped that she would. Exhaustion was one of the best ways to find sleep and if she was tired from talking, then she wouldn’t have time to say the ritual. With the box held tenderly i her hands, she shifted slightly and her bag fell to hang from her elbow before she pulled back and let it sit on the ground. Her shoes dropped beside it and Kurama tilted his head at the change in demeanor as she cradled the box between her hands, her gaze sweeping over it once then twice.

“Does it bother you that much?” He asked, leaning against the railing himself after setting the shopping bag by his feet. “You don’t have to pay me back, it isn’t as if it’s a loan.”

She chuckled softly, her head dropping as she brought the box closer to rest her forehead against it. “I really hope it’s not a loan. I don’t think I’m paid enough to actually cover one.”

“I’ll have a talk with finances tomorrow then,” Kurama teased, rewarded with a soft peal of laughter and the tremble in her shoulders as the rigidity in her posture eased.

“Maybe it’s fate meeting you here,” she said after a moment, lifting her head and resting her chin on the top of the box. “Or some sort of shared dreaming that I’m having…”

“A shared dream with who?” Kurama asked, propping his elbow up and resting his cheek in hand. Her imagination never ceased to amaze him in the tail ends of conversation he heard her have with her co-workers.

“Mm, with Yumi… ah, I mean Fujimoto-san.”

Kurama waved his free hand dismissively. “It’s alright, I know how close you are. It’s good that you’re friends. You seem to help each other a lot.”

She seemed to relax at the reassurance and his smile broadened. Times like this, he realized the disparity between his own age and that of his co-workers or those around him. They were younger, subject to feelings that he’d long since come to terms with and understood intimately, and required validation not only from others but themselves. Feelings that were considered childish were abhorred. Self-reliance was encouraged but also led to self-neglectful habits when a person was accosted for being too vain.

His gaze drifted to the distant city lights and he sighed. Humanity still confused him in ways that he couldn’t put to words.

“It’s weird being fussed over.”

Her voice broke through the veil of his thoughts and his gaze drifted to her. A gentle breeze whipped her hair from her face, exposing the good-natured smile and the adoring look in her eyes as she turned the box over in her hands. Pink dusted her cheeks and the change in her aura wasn’t out of adoration or some feeling of romantic interest but appreciation and slight embarrassment. Kurama’s fingers curled, his pinky brushing against the corner of his lips, eyes narrowing as he examined the micro-expressions. From the twitch in the corner of her lips to the way her pupils dilated as she brought it closer to examine the print.

“Is it because you’re used to being the one fussing?” He suggested, suppressing a soft laugh when she bolted upright and turned toward him with wide eyes. “I wish I could say it was a lucky guess but we might be the same in that regard.”

“I would say,” she pursed her lips and leveled him with a flat stare. “You were scolding me for not eating but you didn’t even bring a lunch for yourself.”

Kurama chuckled. “You’re really not going to let that go, are you, ___-san?”

“Absolutely not. Do you know how surprised I was when my supervisor called me out for not eating and then didn’t bring anything for himself? What were you going to survive off of? Sunshine?”

“Well, I have heard from a few that I am like a plant,” Kurama teases, rubbing his chin as if he were really thinking about surviving off of sunlight and air alone.

___ batted her hand at him and he snorted with laughter, pulling his arm aside after she swatted him a few times.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding…” He reassured, his eyes closing as he basked in the breeze. “But is it really that bad to let yourself be worried over..?”

A question that he asked himself more times than he could count but could never find a conclusive answer for. With the steady habit of questioning and answering, chasing himself in circles like a kit trying to capture its tail, it was never easy to simply say yes or no.

“It depends.”

“Huh?” Kurama muttered, the soft noise parting his lips as he opened his eyes, looking at her curiously.

“I think it depends on who is doing the worrying and whether or not you feel that you’re overwhelmed,” ___ clarifies, meeting his gaze. The distant lights’ glow are watered down and faint against her skin but halos her in soft hues akin to a rainbow. Kurama rests his chin against his fist and nods slowly.

“Do you feel overwhelmed, ____-san? Is that why you can’t sleep?”

He wasn’t sure what answer he was hoping for. A flippant response that would send them into another fit of laughter that would last for a few minutes before they parted ways. Or perhaps an honest one that might tell him that there’s no reason to worry.

— 幽☆遊☆白書 —

Kurama’s apartment door closed with an echoing finality, his keys dropped into the bowl sitting on a table by the couch in the living room as he passed by. The plastic shopping bag crinkling as it shifted in his grasp, dropped unceremoniously on the low table near the feet kicked out on top of it it. A watchful gaze followed him as he stepped to the window, giving his plants a bit of his youki then pulling back the curtains. Moonlight filling the living room and chasing away the shadows aside from the one reclining on his couch and sifting through the shopping bag.

“Is she the one?” Hiei asked, the hissing pop of the drink that he wanted punctuating the sentence.

Kurama glanced over his shoulder at him as he downed the contents of it. He still wasn’t sure how he could drink something that spicy but he wasn’t going to question it. Even now, Hiei could be a mystery to him when he wanted to be.

“Her address is already known to the Reikai and they’re conducting their investigations. It’s good fortune that she’s not there,” Kurama explained, his thoughts drifting to his co-worker and the last words that she spoke to him before they parted ways. Sitting on the ledge of his window, he rested his back against the cool glass and folded his arms across his chest. “it should go smoothly.”

Hiei hummed low in his throat, a disconcerted noise that caught Kurama’s attention. “Something about this isn’t right.”

“What makes you say that?” Kurama asked, arching a brow.

“Good fortune goes hand in hand with coincidence,” Hiei glanced his way and narrowed his eyes, crimson irises glowing in the dim silver light. “And we both know there is no such thing.”

Kurama hesitated, letting the implication sink into the air between them, charged with tension unusual to their common silence. “You’re saying it was orchestrated..”

Hiei nodded faintly then crushed the can in his hand, tucking it back into the bag then retrieving another. “I’m saying that this is going to become annoying soon enough,” he corrected, fiddling with the top of the can. “More so than it already is.”

He brought the can to his lips then hesitated, staring at the opening then glancing aside at Kurama with what the youko would say was the utmost skepticism. “And that tea that you gave her, it isn’t from the Ningenkai, is it?”

Kurama smiled thinly. “No,” he admitted, brushing his fingers along the underside of the petals of the Flower of Forgotten Dreams. “But it will help her sleep. And sweet dreams is something any kind soul deserves.”

The silence stretched on but Kurama could feel the weight of Hiei’s gaze and waited for the inevitable shoe to drop from the fire demon’s musings.

“Even you?” Hiei intoned softly, a look in his eyes that made Kurama’s insides warm and his chest ache.

“Hiei,” Kurama sighed, smiling ruefully. “When have I ever been kind?”

#yu yu hakusho #kurama #kurama x reader #fanfiction #my fanfiction #dream come true

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themiddlelayer · 4 years

Text

I do not want this

Like the NIN song... I do not want this. I can’t keep doing this. Being this.

Ever have an epiphany hit you so hard that you literally just say, “Fuck me!” out loud? That’s what’s happening right now.

Doing what? Being what? Well... doing this thing where I feed the fantasy. Being the fantasy. I do not want this.

My most recent conversation with Jersey has been on my mind since I opened my eyes and started crying.

Part 1: COVID. He’s a firefighter in New Jersey, right across from NYC. In previous conversations he’d told me about the uptick in calls because people who had never cooked were setting kitchen fires. I giggled, I admit it.

But he also said that people were “dying left and right” out there. Last night he told me about a friend of his who lost both of her parents to COVID. She couldn’t be with them, and they put their bodies into refrigerated trucks. Utterly heartbreaking.

He tries not to talk politics but he said that our leadership should be ashamed of themselves. (I totally agree) And then he started talking about moving to Nova Scotia and living together in a tiny house. Another fantasy. But...

Part 2: He is married. When we met in MD he and his wife were living apart and apparently had been on and off for years. But when I tried to ask what their dynamic was, he sidestepped things. Bottom line, as far as she knows they are monogamous and closed.

Even then there was talk of leaving once his kid was old enough. His kid is now 20 years old. Which set me spinning down another track...

He has been married for at least 2 decades and he’s sitting there on fire duty talking to me about running away from his life and starting over with me. That is my worst nightmare.

Can you imagine spending 20+ years married to someone only to find out that they were talking to another woman (or more than one, who knows?) on and off for (at least) FIVE YEARS?!? That is such a deep level of betrayal and hurt that it makes my heart ache to know that I’ve been that woman.

I’d justified it in my own mind... that’s between him and her, he’s the one breaking agreements. There has to be more to the story. It’s just talk anyway and I don’t think he would actually do it.

And then he said, “Life change is important after all this.” So, would he actually do it now?

I’ve done this too many times before. I did the unethical non-monogamy from the beginning. Byron and I lost our virginity to each other, then he started dating my best friend... but kept sleeping with me. And when I was sexually assaulted by another friend’s boyfriend, nobody believed me because if I would sleep with one friend’s boyfriend of course I’d sleep with another, right?!?

I was 16 years old in a relationship with a 31 year old who was literally 3 days out of San Quentin (yes, prison) when we met. His girlfriend was my mother’s best friend and when she threatened to kick my ass, my mother said, “Well, if you feel the need to do it, go ahead!”

I told the boyfriend before MM that I wasn’t ready for monogamy and commitment but when he realized that I meant it and I was hooking up with a couple from work he freaked out and ended things. I was so proud of myself for being honest. For not being that person anymore. For owning who I was and what I wanted. I had finally found a way to be honest and real and be exactly who I was without hurting anyone. That was 8 years ago.

MM and I actually had conversations about Jersey when this all started. MM was, for lack of a better word, disappointed in me for knowingly getting involved with a cheater.

Jersey isn’t the only one lately. Another of my first partners reached out to me not long ago. He’s been in a relationship with a woman for a decade. When we chatted, he went on about how I was the one who “made him a man” and that he wanted to come see me. I brought up the girlfriend and all he said was that he’s 42 not 14 anymore and that it would be a ‘business trip.’

I do not want this. I’m just a fantasy to them... to more than just those two if I’m being honest. I’ve had several others tell me that I was ‘the one who got away’ and their ‘first love’ and admitted to masturbating to pictures of me decades after we were together.

It sounds like it should be flattering. And I have to admit that a part of me still loves the attention and the idea that I’m the measuring stick that these men have used over the years with new partners. I’m that amazing.

But today it hit me like a ton of bricks. I do not want this. I don’t want to be somebody’s fantasy. I want to be somebody’s partner. I want to be a whole person in their eyes much in the way I’ve fought for so long to become a whole person in my own eyes.

And yes, I love taking sexy pictures and sharing them. I love giving head. I love being tied up and beaten. But I also love deep conversations, home-cooked meals and everyday life with a partner. I shouldn’t have to choose between the two.

I can be lovable and fuckable. I AM LOVABLE AND FUCKABLE... and there’s nothing wrong with being both, dammit!

I do not want this... This thing I’ve allowed myself to become in the eyes of these men.

I think Tor is the closest I’ve gotten to being a whole person with. He’s seen my sexy pics, but we’ve also talked about mental health and relationships and grief and loss... he is literally my supervisor and he sees the work I do and how good I really am at my job. Seeing my ass... seeing me steamed up and soapy in the shower, hearing stories about my sex life... none of that changes the other things I am with him. That is so fucking empowering.

Is this the lesson I needed to learn here? Is this one of the big clue-by-fours I’ve been artfully dodging that needed to be demolished? Holy shit.

I really miss drinking right now.

#covidquarantine #content warning #the other woman #ethical non monogamy #Nine Inch Nails #i do not want this #jersey #just a fantasy #empowered

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libermachinae · 5 years

Text

Spark Light

Sequel to “Logic Circuit”

This fic is also available on AO3!

Summary: Prowl is as comforting as Earth’s new black hole and Bumblebee has turned avoiding grief into a sound career option. After the end of the world, though, certain allowances can be made.

⭐ 🐝 ⭐ 🐝 ⭐ 🐝 ⭐

Bumblebee was dancing when Prowl found him. Music eked out the speakers of a transport shuttle, biolights blended and churned together, and several hundred mechs celebrated their continued existence in the universe by pushing their worn-out frames to just the point of breaking. It was a final farewell to the Cybertronian empire, a blending of Eukarian, Devisen, Velocitronian, Camian, Cybertronian sound and life in a way that many had suspected would never come to pass. Under constellations that even those whose species had lived under would have to reacquaint themselves with, dented, scratched, mangled, torn, forgotten bodies danced until overshot joints gave out, weakened armor buckled, frayed wires snapped, and in so doing they made their grief physical and gave it life.

It was the wrong place to seek out new friends. Bumblebee, every eager, ever lively, persevered for as long as he could, until a familiar voice pushed his designation into the space between songs and his optics threatened to flicker out entirely.

“Well, buddy,” he said, putting on his characteristic grin, “it’s been a while.”

Prowl had led him away from the party, up a slope and into the woods surrounding the refugee city. The low hum of thousands of voices carried through the trees, and between the gaps it was still possible to see the lines stretching outside of the Cybertronian aid stations, where volunteers had been working for hours to find solutions for every problem brought forth, from missing limbs to missing friends. Bumblebee had been with them for a couple hours before his human supervisor realized that he’d been one of the mechs directly involved in the battle. He was issued a firm command to take the rest of the night to recuperate, even though he pointed out that the war had prepared him for campaigns much longer and more grueling than this one had been.

Walking away while people still needed help had been one of the most frustrating parts of this long, terrible day, but at least from up here he could see the lines and knew they were moving. Even just a few hours out, progress was being made.

“It has,” Prowl said, glancing back to Bumblebee after letting himself observe the proceedings below. “Is your new body handling well?”

“It’s Wheeljack’s work, what do you think?” He proudly tapped his knuckles against the Autobrand on his chassis. “Getting back into the fight, it was like no time had passed at all. For I could tell, I’d just onlined from a really long recharge cycle.”

“But that wasn’t the case.” Though it wasn’t phrased like a question, the inquiry was there, and both knew Bumblebee was too good at picking up cues to miss it.

“No,” he said, dropping his hand, “I was aware for most of the last few years. Believe me, there were times I would have done anything to drop into defrag for a few hours, but I guess when you’re only kind of alive-ish your processor doesn’t work exactly the same way. I was pretty limited in what I could do.”

An unspoken answer to an unasked question. He’d worked with Prowl for long enough to be sensitive to the subtleties of such a trade of information, though he would always prefer to be forthright.

“How did you find me?” he asked. Even if he didn’t like the game, he knew how to play it, and that sometimes a risky move like a diversion was necessary to get ahead.

“Windblade noticed you while doing a sweep of the area,” Prowl said, accepting Bumblebee’s lead. “She was concerned but felt it would be out of line for her to interfere.”

“And she knew you wouldn’t be bothered by that ‘procedural nonsense.’” Bumblebee regretted the words as his vocalizer was synthesizing them. No matter how he smiled or the cute way his helm tilted to one side, there was no way to turn them into the casual quip he’d intended. Time had not yet healed that old wound, and all he’d done was exposed the damaged protomesh under the plating.

It wasn’t like he was seeking treatment for it, either. Left untended for so long, the frayed circuits and warped edges had become as familiar to him as any other part of his psyche, the way the war had shaped him to the point that he could not remove its influence and still remain Bumblebee of Iacon. He was his failures, and the last thing he wanted was for those who had pointed them out to think he resented them for doing so. Criticism meant people were paying attention. It was a reminder that his leadership had not existed in a vacuum, that there were reasons more than just personal shame to keep trying to be better. His one relief was in knowing that he’d revealed this vulnerability to the mech he knew wouldn’t try to take any of it back. He’d known Prowl to feel regret on only a handful of occasions, and never once bore witness to him expressing it openly.

“We each found the manner in which events played out on Cybertron to be disagreeable, for our own reasons,” Prowl said now, the burn of his optic as steady as his voice. “It might be inappropriate after all that we have done, and all that we allowed to happen, but I do still consider you my best friend. I wanted to check on you myself.”

The declaration surprised Bumblebee. Not being called Prowl’s best friend, which he’d known for some time and been unable to reciprocate for reasons they were both familiar with, but hearing that the sentiment remained even with the intervening years and numerous mistakes stretching out the space between them.

“And what’s the prognosis?” he asked, doing them both the favor of putting off that conversation for another day.

Prowl stared at Bumblebee; his lip twitched.

“Oh, come on, really?” Bumblebee said, waving a hand. “I’m fine—well, I will be. If almost surviving the war taught me anything, it’s that there’s always a way to bounce back. And anyway, right now, I can’t really say that I’m feeling any worse than everybody else. There are some mechs down there who lost way more than I did.”

He stopped himself before he could go too far down that road, realizing that he was starting to quantify lives in the same way that had gotten Prowl is so much trouble towards the end. Their dynamic only worked so long as he was the subjective one, the one who processed individuals instead of numbers, who couldn’t say how many Autobots were stationed at a given base but could tell you half the staff’s favorite energon supplements.

“Here,” he said, brushing away the carpet of needles and pinecones before settling himself onto the dirt. “We worked so hard to save these stars, why not take some time to enjoy them?” Whatever grit got into their joints and seams now would be a negligible addition to the filth caked to their plating. Dust and mud had combined with congealed energon to leave ugly streaks across most Cybertronians’ frames, paint dulled or rubbed off entirely in patterns that probably could have retold the story of the battle if observed carefully enough. Everyone was walking around with a narrative of what they’d been doing when the world nearly ended, and although Bumblebee would be glad to rinse himself of it once the washrack stations were operational, the sense of solidarity provided him with another reminder of why they’d put their bodies through such torment in the first place.

Prowl sat, leaving space enough between them that a third mech could have joined them comfortably. Gaze angled up, to the galaxy that somehow felt just as far away now as his home world, Bumblebee allowed himself to sink back into the feeling he had enveloped himself in at the party: spark spinning in its chamber, fuel pump beating against his lines, gyros calibrating, optics sensing, vents whispering. His body was alive, working, its systems operating in tandem to keep each other functioning. For the first time in years, he could not only see the world, but touch it, grasp it, and the burden of that responsibility was one he accepted with gratitude.

Responsibility under the scrutiny of others was much easier to manage than one taken on with no supervision. Managing Starscream had been a challenge not just for the logistical work involved, but because Bumblebee had never had anyone to assure him that it was the right thing to do, especially given his own track record in leadership. At the same time, there were elements of his self-appointed position that his processor longed to dwell on a little longer, memory files initiating playback without his consent and being halted just as quickly.

Late nights spent pouring over datapads, exhaustive lists of information on—stop.

Unshared cubes of celebratory engex after Starscream’s—stop.

Arguments with Starscream of completely forgettable—stop.

Starscream flying low over the rooftops of New—stop.

Starscream sentencing a mech to—stop.

Starscream standing at the podi—stop.

Starsc—stop.

Stop.

Queue for deletion.

Bumblebee’s sparked jumped and he immediately unqueued the file, holding it at the forefront of his processor to watch the playback: Starscream spinning on a heelstrut and pushing off his balcony with his thrusters, transforming midair and blasting off across the city. It was Starscream’s usual routine and Bumblebee likely had identical copies for every morning he’d spent in that self-indulgence of a penthouse, but he played it through several more times before returning it to his archives, processor finally sated.

Memories were all that remained of Starscream now, and that made them precious: impossible, irresponsible to discard.

His spark was spinning too fast. Silence wasn’t working; he needed to think about anything else.

“Are you okay?” he ventured.

Physical evidence of the battle was ubiquitous to the point that Bumblebee had stopped noticing its presence, but he hardly had to search for it once he started paying attention again. Like everyone else, Prowl’s finish was dusty and dull, paint rubbed off and armor dented in varying patterns across his frame. He was also littered in surface-level scratches, each of them glinting with jagged bits of shrapnel, and his shoulder betrayed the efficiency of some Maximal’s claws. It was all surface-level damage, which meant he wouldn’t be seen until the next round of medical exams took place, but it was still an interruption of the body and its normal functioning. The shadow occupying one side of his face was as loud and present as it would remain unmentioned, too like the new spaces between the stars.

And yet, his remaining optic burned like all the stars still clinging to life, refusing to be extinguished by this or any other darkness.

“I realized some things, about myself and my work, that I’d never had an opportunity to give voice to before today,” Prowl said. He let his singular gaze drift back to the masses of Cybertronians making their way through what could, for now, be considered their home. “For the first time since our return to Cybertron, maybe even since the start of the war, I feel like what I need to do and what everyone else needs from me actually align.” His lips quirked. It wasn’t a smile, but Bumblebee was under the impression that it was all Prowl was capable of now. “How I feel about such a revelation doesn’t matter; I’m going to do what’s necessary regardless. But I have to say, it’s pleasant.”

“It’s the first time in your life the choice doesn’t have to be a hard one,” Bumblebee said, “that’s probably why it feels good. It’s a relief.”

Prowl had his specialties, each of debatable merit and value, but this was Bumblebee’s: listening, filling in the gaps, forming the words that the speakers themselves couldn’t say but needed to be heard. People talked to Bumblebee because they knew he listened, and not in the way Prowl did, cataloguing information and storing it for later use, usually to the detriment of the subject. Bumblebee listened to understand. Though he struggled at times with sympathy, he still often found himself caring about those who opened up to him, causing him to wonder at times the motivations for even some of the most despicable acts performed in the war, regardless of faction origins. He’d stagnated some during his disastrous attempts at leadership, both for the Autobots and Cybertron as a whole, but the talent had remained, and in the years since he’d had nothing but time to practice and hone it.

Conveniently, it also made it easy for him to set aside his own, far less optimistic self-realizations.

“I’m happy for you,” he said, and though it was sincere, it was also inadequate. On all the planets Cybertron’s war had brought him to, not one had a word that would be able to encompass everything he was feeling in that moment, on that day.

“Thank you, Bumblebee.”

They grew silent and settled, trading glances between the cold stars above their heads and the living ones milling around the valley’s basin. It struck Bumblebee that his earlier search for company had been misguided in the same way his attempts at leading had been. He had a reputation for getting along with everyone, but experience by now had taught him that it only applied in one-on-one scenarios. On the dancefloor, surrounded by mechs eager to grab a drink and dance with the first bot to reach out to them, the energy had been right, but there’d been nowhere for it to go. Passed from dancer to dancer, he hadn’t worried about anyone looking too closely at him, accidentally peeling away the palatable upper layers and revealing that which he himself wasn’t ready to look at too closely. He was hurting, that much was obvious, but so was everyone else, and he’d thought that if he’d reached out to enough hurting mechs then maybe it would meet that need he had to connect and understand the internal structure of others.

He didn’t know how the night would have ended if Prowl hadn’t found him. Most likely, it wouldn’t have; he would have stayed on until the last dancers wandered off with the rising of the sun, and then returned to the aid stations to demand they let him help. As things stood now, he doubted he was going to be able to recharge with all the thoughts spinning through his processor, but better to spend these unintended waking hours with someone who he knew, to whom this day and its repercussions would mean the same as they did to Bumblebee.

“Without knowing what you do now,” Prowl said, “would you have tried to stop Optimus from annexing the Earth?”

The question was unexpected, the curiosity backing it a facet of Prowl that Bumblebee was not familiar with. He turned to look at his companion but received no responding glance.

“You mean, if we hadn’t known it would be our last salvation?”

“Yes. Obviously, it turned out to be in the benefit of our species in the end, but on principle, would you have stood against Optimus Prime?”

Bumblebee leaned back, letting his optics slide over the dance of the cosmos.

“It’s not like I could never disagree with Optimus, we argued plenty of times,” he said. “Pretty much every opportunity he took to leave the Autobots, I pointed out what a terrible idea it was, and I was right!”

“So, you’re saying the annexation was a similarly poor maneuver.”

Bumblebee wilted. He’d started to think that this conversation might avoid turning into an interrogation.

“No,” he said.

“It was a good decision?”

Bumblebee ran a hand down his faceplate, ignoring the bits of dirt that came with it.

“I don’t know. I wasn’t even here for most of it. Can you—Primus, can you not ask me that question?”

“What should I ask you, then?”

“What?”

Prowl finally twisted to look at him, not just his face, but his whole chassis turning to face Bumblebee, who was inadvertently reminded of how much smaller he was than most of the other Autobots.

“You clearly have something on your mind, Bumblebee,” he said. “What’s the question you want me to be asking?”

It took Bumblebee’s processor a moment to understand what was happening. Like he had done for so many other mechs, Prowl was now trying to reach across that void, to help light that space where the self grew thin and words couldn’t reach, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to do it on his own and asking for help to finish. It was a ridiculous request, and unselfish in a way that Prowl alone could achieve.

“What I told you earlier,” he said, words coming in such a rush they nearly scrambled, “ask me why.” He had no doubt Prowl would know what he was talking about. It was the only thing he’d managed to say that night of any substance, and Prowl’s constantly running battle computer would have picked it out and categorized it as such.

Prowl’s optic flashed.

“Why were you limited?” he asked. “Why didn’t you stop Starscream?”

There it was. The question that had been following Bumblebee for years, the one he could never close despite his spark’s aching need for resolution. His fans clicked on as his struggling processor started to heat his core, digging and calculating for the answer that had always eluded him.

“He’s tricky,” Bumblebee said, tracking the distances between stars with his optics, “and not just in the way he lies constantly, although that doesn’t make talking to him any easier, for sure. It’s more like his processor is constantly at war with itself. He’s scared of everything, but also entirely overconfident in his ability to defend himself. He doesn’t believe in anything, but still sees himself as destined for some greater purpose. Every time you think you’ve started to figure him out, there’s a contradiction, or he just sabotages himself to keep from being too predictable, and you can never be sure which way it’s going to go.” He meant it literally. Prowl’s battle plans had frequently been sidetracked by Starscream doing something unexpected, though there was no need to open those old wounds by pointing it out explicitly. “His processor works in layers, and they go so deep I don’t think even he knows what the core really looks like.”

It felt good to say it all out loud, to know that at least one other person might now understand the psychological labyrinth he’d been working through over the past few years, even if it brought Bumblebee no closer to understanding how Starscream functioned.

Had functioned. He realized belatedly that he’d said his whole piece as though Starscream were somewhere down in the valley, barking orders at the rest of the refugees.

“It’s a decent analysis, but it doesn’t answer the question,” Prowl said. “Anyone could tell you that Starscream is a difficult mech to work with. Why is it that your approach failed to yield results?”

Bumblebee frowned.

“I already said what I wanted to.”

“And I’m sure that was very individually gratifying for you, Bee, but you told me the question to ask and now I expect you to answer it.” Prowl’s expression was stern, and Bumblebee realized he was no longer talking to his old friend Prowl, whom he had accompanied on his first trip to a nightclub and had gotten flustered when a certain rookie grounder so much as entered the room. This was Commander Prowl, leader of the soldiers posted on Ark-19, greatest tactician of the Autobot army, and ruthless pragmatist.

He had half a mind to leave right then. He always knew it was possible for conversations with Prowl to take a turn like this, and normally he would find some way to laugh it off and change the subject, but he’d done that so many times that day he knew his defensive optimism was already spent. His tactile sensors were prickling from the extra energy being processed to match his frustration, and he could feel a familiar scowl starting to settle on his faceplate, one he’d hoped would go away once the main threat had been disposed of. It was only by the weight of loss that he stayed down, the knowledge that his spark wasn’t ready to handle another goodbye, especially one done out of anger. The crease remained between his optic ridges, but he did not move away from his spot on the ground.

“I wasn’t good enough,” he ground out.

“Even if that were true, I would expect you to be more specific.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say!” he spat. His anger was being fuel by a tangible, uncomfortable heat emanating from his overclocked processor, and he had to vent out a few cycles of hot air before he could trust himself to say more than static. “At first, I figured it was all just a game to him, so I tried to use logic. Find the moves that help him win and give Cybertron a better future, seemed simple. Except, he always found something wrong with it. Either this person didn’t trust him, or that idea had too many contingencies. I could never solve all the problems to make him confident in anything I had to say.

“So, I changed tactics. If he was going to push against concrete solutions, then I could just work him through theoretical frameworks, explain why certain things were wrong and let him make the logical steps to make the right choices. I know it sounds ridiculous, but he wanted to stay in power, and even he realized he would have to be a decent ruler in order to make that happen. It seemed like a good plan, and sometimes it even seemed to work. But then something minor would happen, one of the delegates would spook him or a disaster outside anyone’s control would cause some civil unrest, and he would go straight back to his old habits. I could never figure out what he needed from me.”

“You didn’t know what someone needed to hear? That’s hard to believe.”

“Well, like I said, he was a challenging mech to understand.”

“You made the galaxy’s foremost war criminal switch sides after a few minutes alone together, yet your years spent with Starscream offered no insights at all into his inner workings?”

Prowl was right: Bumblebee was making excuses again. He leaned forward and touched his face, remembering the unfeeling sensation of the battlemask, how it had acted as a buffer between him and Megatron right up until that last critical minute. Being around Starscream had always left him feeling exposed. Even if the other mech didn’t dig in the way Bumblebee had, he always knew how to push back, peeling away the layers of Bumblebee’s arguments and finding the hidden agendas Bumblebee hadn’t even realized he’d been hiding. Though he never felt the need to question his own intentions, the incronguity between method and motivation had given him pause on numerous occasions.

“I tried to be a political advisor, and then some sort of morality coach, and I was always doomed to fail on both accounts because Starscream already had mechs who could function in either capacity. What he needed, and what I failed to provide for him, was a friend.”

It had been no mere accident, either. Trapped in infraspace, kept apart from his friends and forced to watch as they scattered themselves across the galaxy without him, he’d been in just as desperate need for connection as Starscream. Aware of that desperation, though, and the effect Starscream had already proven to have over mechs much less easily swayed than Bumblebee himself, he had recognized the inherent danger in opening himself up to Starscream in any way that mattered. Even if infraspace had been his eternity and he’d never had to face the Autobots again, even more reason not to let himself be shaped into someone he could no longer recognize. So, with political rhetoric and claims for the common good and one-sided efforts to learn how Starscream’s processor operated, he had held intimacy at bay.

And still despite that, he had come to care for the other mech. He knew he was not alone in that: numerous others who’d been swept up in Starscream’s political dealings had ended up with some stake in their leader’s wellbeing, to variable degrees, but he knew there to be more to the connection than the keeping of Cybertron’s population. That had been the start, and remained the basis for some time, but the moment Starscream stepped into his cell, Bumblebee knew he could not leave the fallen titan to his fate. Had Shockwave never returned, he would have stayed for the entirety of the life sentence, acting as companion to the one person in the universe who needed one even more than him.

A part of his processor kept carefully encrypted finally released, and he wondered if Starscream would have opened the Talisman if he’d known there was someone who would miss him.

His vocalizer was working before his processor had decided how to communicate the thought.

“But something must have gotten through to him. I don’t know if it was actually anything I did, but he sacrificed himself to bring down Unicron. He died a hero.”

“Hm.” Prowl was staring at him, analyzing and cataloguing, calculating future outcomes. Bumblebee could almost see the process at work behind his optic, and he wondered if he’d picked the wrong mech to share all this with.

“I’m sure you mean that sincerely,” he said, “but I do feel it my obligation to remind you that this is the same Starscream who proposed to have Metroplex space bridge to Earth while more than half the population was still trapped on Cybertron.”

“I know, Prowl.”

“I’m just saying.”

“I know, I know.” Bumblebee drew his fingers through the dry upper layer of the soil, relishing the feeling after spending too long dwelling on the time in his life when he’d had no body to do it with. “Somehow, despite that, he ended up a true hero. I just wanted one other person to know.”

That felt like the closest he’d come to saying something true all night. Sure, he’d meant everything he’d said to Prowl, and in a certain context and for practical purposes it was true. All of it, though, was part of the system of layers of his and Starscream’s own making, and no matter what degree his honesty took, he always felt that there was something buried deeper, a further truth, like crystals buried in the roots of ore deposits. The desire to not be alone with his knowledge, though, that was pure. Even if Prowl didn’t share his view, took Bumblebee’s faith as a judgement on his character and nothing more: better that than to live alone with his belief for the rest of his life.

A streak of light flashed across the sky, its beauty reabsorbed before it could even be appreciated, and with a wrench of his spark Bumblebee realized that this was his final farewell to Starscream. The other departed would get funerals, boisterous reminiscences shared over pints of engex, teary quiet moments of remembrance, but there was no one with whom he could share this grief, no one who would understand what they’d been through, the intense bond that had been somehow formed from a conjunxing of desperation, loneliness, and a shared hope for Cybertron’s future. In the coming days he would lack the time to give adequate thought to the questions he still had, and as the present stretched gradually away from the past, memories would become unreliable, recollections of certain events contested until all that remained was a winged silhouette and a feeling of ever more unachievable ambition. Starscream’s eulogy had been written in words only ever spoken aloud, his legacy unforgettable and yet perpetually unclaimed.

“Establishing Starscream’s role in our history is going to be an essential if divisive task in the years to come,” Prowl said, once more reeling Bumblebee back in. “You will likely not find companions to agree with you in equal measure to those who oppose your viewpoint, but I would advise against rising to their challenges. Your skills would be better served elsewhere.” He made to stand, brushing off dust as he righted himself. “From what I’ve heard, an old colleague of mine has taken an interest in the new protoforms developing within Trypticon. She’s hoping to assist in their education and development, give them an opportunity to live lives free of the choices we were forced to make. It’s something to consider.”

“What, becoming a teacher?” The suggestion so surprised Bumblebee that he didn’t think to stand as well.

“Yes. You’re one of the few mechs I would trust with such a responsibility, Bumblebee.”

Prowl’s sincerity gave weight to the air, and for one brief moment, it was like the last several years hadn’t happened, and they were once more brothers in arms, fighting the oppression of the Decepticons and defending innocent life wherever it needed them. Bumblebee could never miss the war, but the links he had formed with his fellow Autobots were such that could only be sustained through a cocktail of mutual need for survival and crushing belief that the cause they fought for was the right one. Despite every well-meaning promise between veteran comrades to keep in touch after the fighting was over, there were some connections that could never be revived back to what they were when life and death were commodities in a galaxy-spanning trade.

The spinning of Bumblebee’s spark slowed, its chamber aching.

“I’ll think about it,” he said.

“Good.” Prowl crossed his arms in front of his chassis, his weight shifting in the direction of the tree line. The moment was over; there would not be another.

“I’m going underground in the morning,” he said, voice still steady. “I’ve picked up some fragile cargo that will need to be stored in a more secure location.”

“Oh. Are you coming back?”

“Most likely, once I feel security is up to my specifications.”

“Well, I’ll be here,” Bumblebee assured, easing back again. “And hey, if the Lost Light’s back by then, maybe we can grab Hound and Ratchet and go out for a drink. You know, almost like pulling the old Iacon crew back together.”

“We’ll see if the timing actually works out so well,” Prowl allowed. It wasn’t a flat rejection, though he did turn to leave. “I suspect you’ll be busy soon enough.”

“We’ll see,” Bumblebee echoed. He liked the thought of being busy, of having a role to play in this fledgling society, but he wasn’t sure what it was supposed to be yet. For a couple hours, he’d thought that maybe morale boosting could be his duty to the survivors, but this conversation had him thinking differently. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to be known as the passive listener anymore, even if the alternative terrified him, memories of looking down on his Autobots plaguing his processor.

It would be different this time, he told himself. He would make it so. And if he was really serious about making changes from his earlier tactics, he knew one obvious place to start.

“I’m sorry for what happened to you on Cybertron,” he said. The words came naturally, like they’d been sitting in his processor for some time, waiting for him to discover them. “I was so wrapped up in everything else going on that I didn’t notice, but I should have, and I’m really sorry.”

Prowl paused, back to Bumblebee, the whir of normal systems working louder than anything else in the night.

“Prowl?”

“I heard you, Bee. I… I heard you. Have a pleasant night.”

It was simple, a clean cut. Prowl’s form disappeared into the darkness and Bumblebee couldn’t say for sure if he would ever see it again. He suspected he would; though Prowl liked to disappear from time to time, he never trusted the rest of them to be completely left to their own devices and would inevitably slip back into the command structure to keep things operational. Though everything was different now, it was comforting to think that some of their bad habits might stay just the same.

He looked up to the night sky, wondering if it would always feel incomplete, and tried to guess if his emotions were those that one was supposed to feel in such a moment.

“Finally. I was starting to think you might’ve already found my replacement.”

Bumblebee whirled around.

The glow was the first thing he noticed, light bleeding off Starscream’s immaculate frame while illuminating nothing around him, neither the branches his armor rippled around as he moved, nor Bumblebee’s own plating as he turned himself fully, optics wide and flickering rapidly. He was smirking, of course, lit red optics piercing through the night like beacons calling a ship home.

“Oh, don’t give me that look,” he chided as he strode forward, grace betraying none of his years spent in military service. “You didn’t really think I was just going to leave you to manage my legacy on your own, did you?”

He was smiling, not smirking, Bumblebee realized, smiling and radiant and gorgeous, and in that moment, he knew he’d been lying to himself every time he said he was afraid of becoming Starscream’s friend. He’d befriended questionable characters before, offered a listening ear to those who had nothing to offer but hateful rhetoric and come away from it stronger in his convictions and his loyalty to the Autobot cause. The wariness that had plagued him in infraspace, that had him turning his newly-built back on Starscream the first moment he could, was forged from the knowledge that his feelings for Starscream had the potential to run much deeper than any of the thousands of friendships he’d formed in his several million years online.

When Starscream came striding through the trees that night, frame glowing like he’d taken the light of Primus with him when he’d slipped out the doors of death, Bumblebee realized, without needing to say it out loud, that to offer his spark to Starscream would mean never getting it back. Starscream could reject him, belittle him, take off into the cosmos and never return to Bumblebee’s side in whatever years they had left, and still Bumblebee would feel the slow-burning jagged wonderful ache, this new desire to be known in a way that had never been of interest to him before. Though he believed (hoped) Starscream was desperate enough for company that he would not betray Bumblebee for this unfortunate truth, the thought of another mech having that much power over him was terrifying, and he was grateful that it seemed they would now have plenty years ahead to let those feelings develop before a time came for critical decisions to be made.

Worries for the future, then. On that day, with the sky twice as dark as it had once been and the shadows of their past lives draped overhead, mechs of all backgrounds were dancing together, celebrating those stars they had managed to save in time with their mourning for those they did not. Bumblebee and Starscream met in the middle, both talking too fast to understand what the other was saying, their shared lights more than enough to illuminate their new world.

#maccadam #transformers #starbee #bumblebee #prowl #starscream #my writing #fanfiction

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blackandwhitedays · 5 years

Text

hello

woah... it’s been over two years since i’ve logged into this blog.

i didn’t think i’d be able to recover it. thankfully i’ve been using the same five(ish) passwords for the past four years.

so much has changed since i first began posting. although, i only made about three posts. it’s not uncommon for me to come up with some bright idea to start a blog/journal then forget about it after a few entries.

where do i even begin?

well, i graduated. and the boy i mentioned in one of my first posts? we are going on two and a half years together. crazy stuff. he was my saving grace through my last few months of high school. i don’t know what i would have done without him.

i used to post on another website called my-diary, where i updated about my life a lot more. reading those posts made my chest ache. i genuinely felt like i couldn’t breathe. suddenly, i was in high school again, overwhelmed and suicidal with no one to talk to. yeah, shit was rough to say the least.

i lost all my friends in february of my senior year. so, yeah, about two years ago now. i couldn’t really remember the details, but rereading my old entries helped jog my memory. it was all childish drama, as i suspected. my friends thought i was petty and secretly hated them, so they dropped me. i was already disliked by my entire graduating class, and suddenly i had absolutely no one. i sat alone everywhere i went. my guidance counselor accused me of sabotaging my own relationships. which now i understand as a symptom of my extreme anxiety and fear. i would destroy my relationships with others before they could hurt me first. but that’s not what i did with my friends in school. i cared for them a lot. they were all i had at the time. and they were perfectly okay with abandoning me at my lowest point because they were selfish from the start, i was just too desperate to see it.

it still chokes me up thinking about everything. i sometimes get into these weird obsessive states where i will purposely go back and reflect on my high school times and get really depressed. i don’t know why i do it. i’m so much better now than i ever was then. yet it’s like i enjoy hurting myself sometimes. perhaps to make sure i’m still capable of emoting like i used to.

but anyways, let’s talk about the now. i graduated and basically made a massive “fuck you high school and fuck everyone who hurt me.” you better believe i was the talk of the town. i got about thirty comments praising my bravery, then the next morning the hate started flowing in. people called me retarded, a dumbass, a liar, etc. all the good stuff. called me a slut for wearing crop tops. and my mother, who was so worried what others would think of HER because of the post, kicked me out. i lived on ben’s couch for several days. it was a nightmare. i thought i had hit rock bottom.

but shit moved on. i moved away and started going to college. my mom eventually apologized for being a selfish bitch about the whole situation. i forgave her, even though i don’t know if i’ll ever fully be able to. ben moved with me and got his own apartment in the same town. i ran out of money after the first semester and nowhere would give me more loans, so i had to drop out and move in with ben. we both worked as much as we could and moved back in with our parents for about a month. then we saved up and got our own apartment in a bigger city. which is where we are now. ben has a really great job working in masonry. he’s making ridiculously good money, though he has no clue how to budget and is constantly broke. i am a supervisor of a program that helps people with disabilities and brain injuries. i also make good money. i’m saving up to go back to school this fall. our apartment is small and owned by a sketchy property management company who is absolutely going to rob us of our $1,000 deposit. we also have a dog by the name of winston. he is the love of my life and i adore him more than anything in this world.

my life has done a complete 180. there’s no denying that. the only thing that could make it better is having some friends. yep, two years later i still haven’t made a long term friend. i think it’s due to a combination of moving around a lot, working constantly, and somewhat isolating myself due to fear of getting hurt again. ben and i thought we made friends with some people living in our building. they were a couple and were pretty great for about a month. we had cooking nights where we made dinner, went hiking and exploring different cities, and hung out all the time. then the girl decided to pick a fight because apparently we opened her messages and didn’t reply right away and it upset her. i tried explaining that we’re both insanely busy and sometimes we check our phones in the spur of the moment but don’t get time to actually type out a reply. then she got even more upset and said “guess i’m not allowed to have an opinion then?” and started subtweeting about me on twitter. she also refused to talk it out in person and would only discuss it through snapchat. just really, really childish shit. then a couple weeks later they broke up. so there went that. i sometimes still talk to her but i’m certainly not interested in pursuing a friendship. i don’t need that kind of drama in my life.

sometimes i wonder if it’s me. if i really am some crazy manipulative bitch who just has no idea that she’s on some rampage to destroy everyone’s lives. but i really don’t think so. i just want some people who can come over and watch movies, chill out, etc. then when it warms up outside, we can go hiking and smoke in the woods, go on adventures at night through the city, and eat at all the different restaurants in town. i also want friends who i can make really shitty obnoxious jokes with and they will LAUGH. is that so much to ask? apparently, it is.

i do work a lot though, which prevents me from having as much of a social life as i would like. i’ve been a pretty regular smoker of weed for going on four years now. through my junior and senior year of high school as well as in college up until now. but in these last seven months since i moved into this apartment, ben and i have smoked almost every night. and boy, have i felt the effects. i definitely feel less focused and productive. i just want to come home and be lazy. which i can’t be. my job requires me to stay sharp and be productive, so i’ve decided to cut back and make it a weekend thing. it’s hard, though, because ben smokes every. single. day. and he has no plans to change that. he tried stopping and got so depressed he was feeling suicidal again, which he hasn’t felt in a long time.

oh, and as for ben and i? yeah, two and a half years. pretty crazy. we were all over each other for the first year and a half. we fell hard for one another. it hasn’t been perfect by any means, but it’s been a good time.

my biggest issue in the relationship is our lack of sex. i’m a very sexually driven person. i love sexually charged attention. i love a man who will slap my ass when he passes by me, and has to resist the urge to bend me over every time i “accidentally” change in front of him. ben is really not like that. his sex drive is practically non-existent, which has taken a toll on us for sure. it’s mostly because of his depression, i think, so he’s trying to get on antidepressants. they’re also for him, of course. he wants to feel happier. hopefully, it works.

these last few months have been a little rockier. not because we’ve been fighting more or anything. but i just feel like his heart isn’t as in it as it once was. he will deny it, of course. he claims he’s never been more in love with me. and i’m sure he genuinely believes that. but his lack of effort says otherwise. i spent $150 on concert tickets for him this valentine’s day. guess what he got me? nada. like, not even flowers. or chocolate. i’m not asking for him to break his bank on me. at all. i’m the easiest girl to please when it comes to this stuff. i just wanted to feel special. and i let him know how disappointed i was. i thought expressing my feelings would make him want to make it up to me, but he hasn’t done anything. he also hasn’t done much around the house, and i’ve been working late almost every night. i like things done a certain way, and he knows that. but you’d think he’d recognize that i’m working soo much lately and that i could use the extra help around the house. but no, i have to confront him about it which leads to him getting super defensive which leads to me getting upset which leads to a fight. then the whole night is ruined. it took an entire fight for him to finally clean up one night when i was working. which was nice. but it felt like he was doing it because i made a big deal about it, not because he actually wanted to help me out.

WARNING: Vulgar rant up ahead:

i feel like i’ve sort of began building up some resentment towards him. i hate that that’s the case. but i’m getting laid maybe twice a month. i’m nineteen years old and i am fucking HORNY. and i’m not unattractive to look at by any means. it sucks so bad when i come home and try to be subtly sexy and change in front of him and dance around and all he does is stare at his fucking phone. then when i straight-up climb on him and try to kickstart things, he says he’s tired and it’s too late. it makes me not want to come home from work. there’s nothing for me here. he doesn’t pay any attention to me. the most i see him is when he eventually passes out in my lap at 9:30 at night. it’s fucking exhausting. i’m so starved of attention. i went from being so incredibly crazy about him just a few short months ago, being so positive he was the one for me, to being almost in tears at the thought of dealing with this way of living any longer. i’m trying so hard to hold out for him to see a doctor and get on meds, but i just don’t know if it will help. he’s been on some before, and he was still sad and actually thought getting off of them would help his sex drive. but surprise, it didn’t.

i can’t imagine us breaking up. i mean, i would have to completely start over. get my own place, pay for everything on my own, etc. it would be so hard. i don’t want that to happen. but i’m fucking miserable here. i can’t rely on sitting on my fucking dildo and cuddling my dog as replacements for the love i signed up for when i entered this relationship. are we fizzling out? i don’t know. but i’m sad and angry and very, very frustrated.

and i’ll be honest, i’m really not that sexually attracted to ben in the first place. at first, i was, but he’s basically used all his moves on me and it’s pretty repetitive when we do have sex. i can’t get off without porn anymore. which i hate. i don’t even like porn that much. but it’s the only thing that works. so, would things even improve that much if he was having sex with me all the time? i don’t know. i just know that if things haven’t turned around by the summertime, i may be looking for a new place to live.

do i sometimes yearn for the freedom that comes with being single? sure. do i sometimes wish i could get laid by someone who actually has new moves to offer? of course. but do i want to sacrifice my relationship to receive these things? that’s what i’m not sure of.

i hate to even think of losing ben. it’s terrifying. i just want to feel loved. i just want to feel appreciated for everything i do around here. i try so fucking hard. but he gets so defensive when i try talking to him and thinks he contributes just as much as me (not even fucking close). i can’t even have a civilized discussion with him because it turns into a messy ass fight. wow, this is the longest post ever. i’ve talked about a lot tonight. it feels good to get some of it off my chest. it’s been building up inside for quite some time. i hope shit gets better in regards to my relationship. i need some damn love. and fast.

#relationship #deadbedroom #lonely #help

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blurry-fics · 5 years

Text

Sunday

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1834

Author’s Note: I’m so excited for this little miniseries! And just to be back to posting again. School is almost over for the summer and I have so many exciting things planned, just you wait! Anyway, in the meantime, enjoy day one of summer camp :)

* * * * *

“Y/N!”

You spun around at the sound of the familiar voice. A few feet away, Tyler Joseph was stepping off of another bright yellow bus, not unlike the one that you had just grabbed all your stuff from. He held his arms out and you went running over to hug him.

“How have you been?” he asked as he squeezed you tightly.

You stepped away and grabbed your suitcase again, “I’ve been alright, what about you?”

“Great. Really great.”

“Hey, where’s Josh?”

As if he had heard your question, Josh Dun came stepping off the bus carrying his own collection of bags. Upon seeing you, he dropped them and opened his arms for a hug as well.

“Y/N!” he cheered. “Long time, no see.”

“Only about a year,” you laughed as you pulled away.

“That’s a long time.”

The three of you grabbed your things and started down the hill that led to the camp together. It felt nice to be out in the forest again, enjoying the fresh air and summer breeze. Being a camp counselor for a week during the summer was something that you looked forward to every year.

“Are you guys excited to meet the kids tomorrow?” you asked.

“Are you kidding?” Tyler answered. “That’s like my favorite part.”

“Have you thought about what camp name you’re going to use this year?” Josh chimed in.

“I think I’m going to stick with Y/C/N,” you answered. “It’s been my name for five years, so why change it now?”

“Yeah, I think I’m going to stick with DJ Spooky,” he laughed.

“DJ Spooky,” you repeated. “I don’t know that I’ll ever get used to that.”

“What about you, Tyler?”

“Vulture,” he answered plainly.

You nodded. It seemed a bit dark for a camp name, but you didn’t question it. Ahead of you, the camp was just beginning to come into view. Your eyes landed on a familiar blonde figure standing at the bottom of the hill, surrounded by a couple bags.

“Jen!” you called loudly.

She spun around at the sound of your voice and held her arms out to you. You crashed into her, nearly knocking her to the ground with all the momentum you had gained from your downhill run. She laughed as the two of you spun around, holding tightly onto one another.

“How are you?” she asked, holding you at arm’s length.

“Great,” you grinned. “So happy to be back.”

“Are you ready to have the most kickass cabin this year?”

“You know it.”

You and Jenna had been cabin-buddies since you both attended the camp as kids. When you both became old enough to be counselors, there was no question that you two would be partners. Even as teenagers, the two of you were inseparable.

“Hey!” Jenna called to Josh and Tyler, who were about halfway down the hill now. They each waved down to the two of you.

“This is going to be the best year yet, I can feel it,” you smiled.

Jenna leaned a little closer to you, “Are you going to finally admit your camp crush this year?”

“No, shh!” you said, swatting at her arm. “He might hear you!”

Every year, the counselors had a tradition of admitting their camp crushes to one another before everyone got on the buses back home. Despite the fact that you had been crushing on the same fellow counselor for almost three straight years now, you had never built up the courage to participate with everyone else.

“It was an innocent question!”

“Maybe,” you said, already feeling your cheeks get warm. “I mean, we’re going off to college next year, so I might as well, right?”

“Exactly.” Jenna elbowed you in the ribs, but your attention was drawn away by Tyler and Josh.

“What cabin are you guys in?” Tyler asked.

“Five,” Jenna answered, looking down at a piece of paper that she had no doubt been given by one of the supervisors.

“Isn’t that the nice one?” you asked.

“Yeah, I may have done a bit of persuading,” she giggled.

“What about you guys?”

“Not sure yet,” Tyler answered. “We should probably go find the camp supervisor, Josh.”

“Agreed. I need to meet up with Brad and figure out what we’re doing.”

“See you guys at dinner?” Tyler asked, pointing to you.

“Definitely,” you grinned.

The two of them waved and walked off with their stuff. Meanwhile, you and Jenna headed across the camp towards your cabin.

“It smells so nice out here,” Jenna commented. “I wish the camp was longer than a week.”

“At least we get the added bonus of today without the kids!”

“Yeah, but that’s spent setting up.”

“Speaking of setting up, what activity are we in charge of this year?” you asked.

“Arts and crafts.”

“Really? I haven’t been in charge of that one before.”

“Prepare to be covered in paint by the end of the day,” Jenna laughed.

“You know, I don’t think I’ll mind.”

Jenna pulled out the cabin key as the two of you neared the little wooden building. The door took a bit of work to get open, but with a bit of teamwork you managed to get inside. The decorations were simple, mostly just bunk beds with a small sitting area, but there was a little bathroom which was a nice added bonus. There was nothing worse than trying to find your way across camp in the middle of the night.

“This is nice,” Jenna said as she set her stuff down next to one of the bunks. “Better than last year, that’s for sure.”

“Definitely. My legs were covered in mosquito bites by the end of that week.”

“Oh, right! I had totally forgotten about that.”

“What beds do you think we should take?”

“I was thinking these two. They’re by the door and low to the ground, in case one of the kids needs us in the middle of the night.”

“Good call.”

You threw your stuff onto one of the lower bunks and took a moment to sit down and rest your legs. The rest of your day would be spent carrying equipment all over the place and getting everything ready for the kids’ arrival tomorrow, so you would take any moment of peace that you could get.

“Alright, what do you say we get out there and see what they need help with?” Jenna asked.

You sighed and stood back up, “Let’s do this.”

* * *

By the time that you and Jenna arrived to the cafeteria for dinner, your hair was plastered to your forehead with sweat and you felt like you might collapse at any moment. You piled your tray high with food and waited for Jenna to finish doing the same.

“Where should we sit?” she asked, looking out over the sea of counselors sitting at tables.

You took a moment to scan everyone, “Wait, there’s the boys.”

Jenna bumped your arm with her elbow as you two walked towards them. You simply shot her a look as a silent way of telling her not to say a word about your feelings.

“My lips are sealed,” she whispered.

“Hey!” Josh smiled as the two of you sat down across from them. “I haven’t seen you two all day.”

“That’s how the first day of camp goes,” you laughed as you took a seat next to Tyler. “All work, no play.”

“At least the rest of the week is basically goofing off,” Jenna chimed in.

You took a long sip of water to alleviate your dry throat. It was nice to finally sit down and rest your legs, even though there was still more to be done after dinner.

“So,” Josh began. “I have to ask…”

“Don’t tell me we’re talking about college already,” you sighed.

“I just want to know what your plans are!”

“I’m starting culinary school in the fall,” Jenna answered. “Figured I might as well make a career out of what I already love doing.”

Tyler and Josh nodded thoughtfully for a moment before turning to you.

“What about you, Y/N?”

“Just community college,” you shrugged. “I’m still trying to figure out what I want to do.”

“What about you two?”

“We’re just going to focus on music and hope it goes somewhere,” Tyler laughed.

“Are you working on an album?” you asked.

“Yeah, we have something in the works,” Josh smiled.

“Any more details?”

“Nope, that’s all you get.”

You laughed and tossed a fry at Josh. It hit him in the nose and fell onto his tray, but he still picked it up and ate it.

“Let me know when I can actually hear it,” you said.

“Will do,” Tyler answered.

You sighed and took a bite of your food.

“Jenna, I never asked, what’s your camp name this year?” Josh asked.

“Still going with Daisy,” she answered before taking a sip of water.

“Daisy, DJ Spooky, Y/C/N, and Vulture. The ultimate team,” Tyler said.

“Speaking of teams, why aren’t you two running the same cabin?” you asked.

Josh and Tyler shared a look before Josh spoke, “You can’t compete if you’re on the same team.”

Jenna shook her head and laughed, “I can’t believe you two.”

“We’re competitive people, what can we say?”

There was a pause as the four of you sipped on your drinks or took a bite of food. The conversations at other tables created a nice hum of noise to keep the silence from feeling too awkward.

“I can’t believe this might be the last year we’re counselors,” Jenna said.

“It’s just an excuse to make this the best year yet, right?” Josh added.

“I guess so.”

“And our cabin is going to dominate at the end-of-week capture the flag match,” Tyler chimed in.

“In your dreams, Joseph!” you said.

He turned to you and raised an eyebrow, but you simply narrowed your eyes in challenge. It only took a few seconds of eye contact for him to break and smile.

One of the supervisors walked over and placed a hand on your table, “Hey, y’all. Ten more minutes of dinner and then we have to get moving. There’s still a lot to do and not much daylight left.”

“Aye, aye, captain,” Josh said.

The supervisor nodded at him before walking off to the next table. Ten minutes wasn’t much time to finish your dinner and have a nice conversation with the boys and Jenna.

Dinner eventually ended and the four of you started to walk out of the cafeteria after dropping your dishes off. Just as you and Jenna were about to walk off in your own direction, one of the boys caught your eye. He smiled at you and gave you a little wave before turning and falling into step with his friend. Your stomach filled with butterflies and it was hard to keep the smile off your face.

Maybe they were right, this summer could be the best one yet.

* * * * *

Taglist

@faceofcontvsions @ohprettyweeper @addictwithaheavydirtycheetah @addictoftwentyone @svintsandghosts

#tyler joseph #josh dun #tyler joseph x reader #josh dun x reader #twenty one pilots #tyler joseph imagine #josh dun imagine #twenty one pilots imagine #josh dun fanfiction #tyler joseph fanfiction #twenty one pilots fanfiction #miniseries #summer camp #blurry-fics

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justheretobreakthings · 5 years

Text

Welcome to the Family - Chapter 4

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Word Count: 2,898 (Total Word Count: 9,238) Read on AO3

Story Summary: Lance had been excited about his family taking in a foster kid, eager to get to meet his brand new little brother or sister, who would surely adore and idolize their super cool Big Brother Lance. What he got instead was a sullen, quiet, temperamental teenage housemate with a criminal record and a disastrous haircut.

With a shaky breath Keith turned around and leaned his back against the door, listening for Lance’s retreating footsteps and trying to regain his composure. One of his hands brushed against the knob and he debated turning the lock, but ultimately decided against it. Tania hadn’t mentioned whether he was allowed to lock his door, and he didn’t want to get in trouble if it turned out that it wasn’t permitted.

He waited until he was sure Lance was gone before going back to his bag, peering into it to see what had been messed with. He wasn’t sure what Lance’s aim had been, if he were looking to steal or looking for some contraband or something to report him on. Either way, it was incredibly stupid of him to have been commenting on his finds while he was rummaging through the bag.

Keith paused with a frown. That was beyond stupid, actually. Or it would have been if Lance had intended to hide that he was looking through his things. Had he actually thought that it was just an okay thing to do? Was that some personal quirk of Lance’s or would this be the level of privacy he should be expecting at the McClain house? Keith let out a huff of frustration. He hated no-privacy houses.

At least it seemed that Lance hadn’t dug through more than clothes and CDs. The emergency first-aid supplies and food were untouched where they were stuffed at the end of the bag, and his knife was still safely wrapped in socks and tucked into the inner pocket.

He finished unpacking on his own. It didn’t take long; his clothes didn’t even take up a full two drawers of the room’s dresser, and the only personal touches he had brought with him were the plush hippopotamus now resting on top of his pillow, and the little stack of CDs and few paperback books that he set onto the wall-mounted bookshelf over the desk.

Afterward, he collapsed back onto the bed, trying to think of what to do to pass the time next. It wasn’t as if there was much by way of entertainment in this room - probably by design - but he also didn’t want to go back downstairs and interact with the family, not yet. Tania seemed nice enough, or at least was making an effort to be, but she was also kind of exhausting, and Lance was nosy, had kept following them around and staring at Keith and going through his things. He still had yet to get a proper first impression of Rachel, but his hopes weren’t high.

With a sigh, he decided to hibernate in his bedroom for now. He pulled one of his books from the shelf - a weatherbeaten sword-and-sorcery that he had already read a couple dozen times over by this point - and set to reading it again, keeping his ears open for any sounds from the rest of the household. They seemed to be leaving him alone. He wasn’t sure whether Tania had just told them to give him space, or if they were avoiding or ignoring him; he was grateful for the quiet either way.

He had whiled away a couple of hours with his book before he was finally interrupted by a knock at the door. He looked up, letting a few seconds go by before realizing that whoever had knocked was waiting for his go-ahead to enter, so he said, “Come in.”

The door opened and Rachel poked her head into the room. “Hey,” she said. “Veronica just got home and Papá’s a couple minutes away, and dinner’s about ready, so Mamá needs you to come downstairs now, kay?”

“Um, okay,” Keith said, dog-earing his page and setting his book down on the bed before standing up.

Rachel raised a brow and nodded toward the book. “What, you don’t use bookmarks? Just fold the pages up like a heathen?” She clicked her tongue and shook her head. “For shame, Keith.”

Instantly Keith felt his stomach clench as he glanced back to the book. “No - no, it’s - it’s my book, I swear, I didn’t mess up any of your guys’ books, it’s - I mean, the pages aren’t in great shape anyway, and I would use a bookmark if it was someone else’s, I just didn’t think - ”

“Whoa, whoa, hey, easy,” Rachel said, eyes gone wide as she held up her hands placatingly. “Sorry, wasn’t accusing you of anything. Lance dog-ears his books too, I just like getting onto him about it. I say he’s a monster for folding the pages, he replies that I’m just being a snob with my oh-so-fancy bookmarks, and we call each other names until Mamá tells us we’re giving her a migraine. It’s fine, though. Mark your books however you want.”

“...Oh,” said Keith. “Okay.”

“You good to come down to dinner?”

Keith nodded. “Yeah, I’m coming.”

Rachel led the way downstairs, throwing curious glances his way a couple of times as they walked to the dining room. Keith kept his arms folded tightly and his gaze down as he followed her. He had overreacted about the book, started panicking over nothing, and now Rachel was thinking he was weird and confusing and probably overdramatic or something. Just what he needed to make a wonderful first impression.

A paunchbellied man with a scruffy ducktail beard was just entering the front door and he and Rachel landed downstairs, and another new face, a bespectacled young woman, was already in the dining room helping Lance set the table. Veronica, Keith surmised, and he was certain Tania had told him her husband’s name as well, but he couldn’t remember it.

“You must be Keith!” the bearded man said as he shut the door behind him, a beaming smile on his face. “I’m Manuel.” Well, there was that mystery solved. “Sorry I couldn’t come along to pick you up today, got called into work and just couldn’t worm my way out of it.”

“It’s quite all right, cariño,” Tania said as she bustled through the entrance to the kitchen with a pot of rice in her hands. As she set it down on a placemat on the table she added, “I really do wish that you’d talk to your supervisor, though, your hours have been a mess recently. Rachel, dear, could you grab the ropa vieja from the stove?”

“Oh, it’s just for a little while until our staffing issues are dealt with,” Manuel said as Rachel left. He pulled out the chair at the head of the table and plopped himself into it with a grunt. “Don’t want to get into it with scheduling anyhow, seeing as I’ve taken so many personal days as of late. The Guardalavaca trip last month, and we’ve got Veronica’s orientation and move-in coming up - ”

“Which, for the fiftieth time, you don’t have to go to,” Veronica spoke up. She smirked at Keith. “I’m going to college on the other side of town, and Papá acts like it’s the other side of the country. I’m not even officially ‘moving out’, I only have to live in the dorms during the week. I’ll be home on weekends.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t miss you on weekdays,” Manuel said.

Veronica rolled her eyes. “You didn’t do this with Luis or Marco.”

“Oh, I did, you just weren’t paying attention.”

“Veronica is starting her first semester at the Garrison Institute in couple of weeks,” Tania explained to Keith with a proud smile toward Veronica. “Are you very familiar with it?” Keith shook his head and Tania continued, “One of the best research universities out there, and Veronica managed to land herself an absolutely fantastic scholarship package, my little scientist.”

“Mamá, you’re embarrassing me,” Veronica groaned.

“What is it you’re majoring in again, mija?”

“Aeronautics.”

“That’s the one. Thank you, love,” she added to Rachel as the latter set the main course down in the middle of the table. “You can help yourself to as much as you want, Keith, dear.”

“Thank you,” Keith mumbled as he took a seat. The meaty dish that Rachel had set down - the ropa vieja, Keith assumed - was passed his way. It did look and smell appetizing, and Keith was certainly hungry; he’d only eaten a cereal bar for lunch. But he still played it safe, only placing a small scoop onto his plate before passing the dish along to Lance in the seat beside him, who piled a mountain quadruple the size of Keith’s onto his own plate.

“So, enough about me,” Veronica said as she took her own seat. “Looks like you’re going to be my new little brother, huh, Keith?”

Keith lifted one shoulder in a shrug and started picking at his ropa vieja with the tines of his fork. That was the second time he had been called that today, and he honestly wished they would stop. There were always certain foster homes that would do that, foster parents who would call him their ‘son’ and the other kids in the house his ‘brothers’ or ‘sisters’ and tried to act like they were an official ‘family’. It always just made it that much more jarring when they inevitably sent him packing again.

“Well, in that case, I wanna know a little about you,” Veronica said. “Tell me about yourself, Keith.”

“Um,” was all Keith said. He looked down and stuffed a bite of the ropa vieja into his mouth to keep from answering. It tasted pretty good, he decided, but more importantly it gave him an excuse not to talk. What sort of answer was she expecting, anyway? There was nothing to him worth talking about.

“What do you like to do for fun, Keith?” Manuel prompted when the silence had stretched on for several seconds.

“I, uh…” Keith said, trying to come up with something. “I - I read, I guess?”

“Play any sports?” Manuel asked. Keith shook his head. “Any musical instruments?” Another head shake. “Any school activities? Been in any clubs before?” No, and no.

“That’s something we ought to look into for you, right Keith?” said Tania. “Find something fun for you to do in your free time. Altea High’s got a lot of extracurriculars. And you could always tag along with Lance or Rachel to something. They’re both in drama club, and Rachel is in marching band and Lance is on the swim team. Any of those sound like they’d interest you?” When Keith just shrugged, she added, “Well, we can have Mr. Smythe go over the other clubs and such with you on Friday, see if anything sounds fun to you.”

“Mr. who?” Keith asked, frowning.

“The guidance counselor at the school,” Tania answered. “We’re going to meet with him before the school year starts to get your schedule finalized and get you oriented in the school a bit. There’s another get-to-know-you question, Keith! What’s your favorite school subject?”

“Uh, I - I dunno,” Keith answered slowly. “I’m… decent at science?”

“Another one,” Lance groaned. “My whole social circle is just one science geek after another.”

“Lance, don’t make fun,” Manuel scolded. “I think it’s great, we could be looking at another Garrison student in the family in a few years’ time.”

“Mm,” Keith hummed noncommittally. There was no point in even giving that possibility a second thought. He didn’t have the money to afford college, didn’t have the grades to ever go for scholarships, and the odds that he would even still be in this foster home long enough for the McClain’s to have to be concerned about his post-high-school plans were less than zero. But he didn’t bother saying it. They’d figure it out themselves soon enough.

“Come on, Papá, Keith just got here,” Lance said through a mouthful of food. “It’s too early for you to be trying to push him into nerd school.”

“You know, mijo,” Tania said, “If you took your own schoolwork more seriously I bet you’d be in the running for it too. You have the intelligence for it, you really do, if you would just apply yourself - ”

“I’ve already got a future planned out,” Lance interrupted. “Make a name for myself as a contestant on The Bachelorette, use my fame to market a line of luxury hair-care products, retire in Havana at age thirty-two and die peacefully in my hot tub at ninety-six.”

“See, I can’t tell if you’re being serious or not, and that terrifies me.”

“Serious as a stab wound. I dream big, Mamá. And I thought we were interrogating Keith, not me.”

“Huh?” Keith said, brows furrowing.

“We’re not interrogating him, Lance, we’re just getting to know him,” said Manuel. “Come on, Keith, back on that. What sort of foods do you like to eat?”

“Uh, I dunno,” Keith answered. “Anything, really.”

“How about music?” Rachel asked.

“I already said I don’t play anything.”

“I meant listening to,” Rachel said, rolling her eyes.

“Oh,” said Keith. “Um, I - I like - I like rock, I guess.”

“Any favorite movies? TV shows?” asked Veronica.

“Not really…”

“How long you been in foster care?” Lance asked.

Keith bit his lip and looked down at his lap, his grip on his fork tightening as Tania scolded, “Lance, not the time.”

“What?” Lance asked. “It was just a question. To get to know Keith better, you know?”

“I don’t - I’d rather not, um, not talk about - ” Keith stammered.

“That’s all right, Keith, that’s all right,” Tania said hastily. “You don’t need to talk about your… experience if you don’t want to.”

“I was just curious, jeez,” Lance muttered, lifting his fork and stabbing it into his rice. “Didn’t mean to freak anyone out or anything.”

“Let’s just - let’s just try to be sensitive about the situation, okay, Lance?”

Keith kept his eyes on his own plate as they spoke, and he could feel his face reddening all the while. Okay, so, clearly Tania had some knowledge about his past. He didn’t know if she knew the actual and distressingly high number of homes he’d been through, or details of what had happened with them, but she knew enough to know that his time in foster care had not been a happy story. And she had just made the rest of the family fully aware of that as well, and Keith squirmed in his seat as he felt the others’ curious eyes on him.

“Sorry, sorry,” Lance grunted. He took a couple of quiet bites of his food before quietly adding to his mother, “¿Se nos permite preguntar por la cicatriz?”

“No, Lance,” Tania said firmly, shooting him a glare, or at least a close facsimile of one; Tania’s face really was not designed for anger.

Keith glanced between the two of them, confused. “Wait, what did he say?” he asked.

“Nothing, dearie,” Tania sighed.

“But what - ?”

“That’s something we’ll need to do for you now that you’re in the family, isn’t it,” Manuel said. “Help you learn Spanish. Have you got him scheduled for Spanish at the high school, Tania?”

“Not yet, we’ll be going over that with Mr. Smythe,” Tania answered. “Would Spanish class be okay with you, Keith? Altea has a foreign language requirement, but they also teach French, German, Japanese, and Russian, if any of those are - ”

“Nah, um, Spanish is fine,” Keith mumbled. He returned his attention to his plate. Whatever Lance had said, it was obviously not meant for his ears. Fine. He was used to that.

“Are you enjoying your meal, Keith?” Tania asked. Keith nodded wordlessly and continued eating.

The others tried to pick him apart a little more during the rest of the meal, but as Keith just grew quieter, the focus gradually, and thankfully, turned to the others, discussing their lives and back-to-school plans and other miscellany that wound up becoming a buzz in Keith’s ears. The McClains were a very talkative family, and Lance was frankly a louder talker than necessary. It was all starting to grow exhausting and just a little overwhelming.

The strain may have shown on his face, because Tania didn’t push when Keith turned down the offer of second helpings of the food, and when the dinner was finished, she picked his plate up for him. “Don’t worry about dishes or anything tonight,” she said. “Just focus on settling in for now. Tomorrow we can look at fitting you into the family chore chart. Sound good?”

Keith nodded, taking the fact that everyone was getting up from the table as his own invitation to leave. He pushed his chair in with a scrape and headed upstairs, shutting the door to his room behind him and flopping onto the bed, figuring that’s where he’d remain for the rest of the evening.

Things seemed okay so far. Not perfect, but okay. And unless they were putting on a facade for him to start out with - a possibility that he couldn’t outright dismiss no matter how friendly the family may seem - he could deal with the McClains for now. He didn’t know if he’d actually be able to enjoy himself here, or feel comfortable here, but that wasn’t his priority.

He had given up on the possibility of enjoying or being comfortable in any of his homes. As long as he was surviving in it, that was good enough for Keith.

And he was pretty sure he could survive this one.

#keith #lance #vldgen #vld fic #voltron fic #my writing #fic: welcome to the family

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evenonelife · 5 years

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2019, Year of the Pig

A friend of mine has a tradition of writing reminisces of the year past at the beginning of the new year. I have avoided doing the same for previous years for a variety of reasons, but as one resolution I have for myself is to be more aware of my self - to be less adrift - I decided to try to puzzle through what 2019 meant to me. Forgive me if this rambles, I have always been more ordered with my external thoughts than my internal ones. And this is for myself in any case. To my friend I am shamelessly imitating, you know who you are - forgive me my indulgence. This will be lengthy - I have never been concise.

2019 at the core was a year where some stability was returned to my life. 2016 to 2018 were the three darkest years of my life for a slew of reasons too personal to go into here and it felt at times like I would never find my way out of that depression. I really owe more than I can express to a handful of friends that gave me a desperately needed outlet of emotion that otherwise just festered while I lived alone in a strange new place.

BUT, in late 2018 and through 2019 things did start to get better. I left my quiet apartment and moved in with three girls that I had never met before in a leap of faith to stave off the unbearable solitude that I was struggling with. I may not have made the connections that I had hoped for with those girls, we just have too little in common, but the hint of community that it gave me meant and still does mean a great deal to me. It was also around that time that I started playing DND regularly, and the creative outlet was honestly so meaningful that in the beginning there were several nights where we would end our call and I would be in tears over how much it meant to me.

I say all this to provide myself the necessary mental background to come back to 2019 and just what kind of year it was.

Professionally - 2019 was my second full year in what was my first full-time ‘professional’ job. One somewhat related to my college degree. The greatest positive change in that role certainly was in how I through necessity came to be the authority in the office on a couple of points of business. This meant that I was invested in the outcome and not merely acting as a cog in the machine. The job certainly was not my dream job, something that I don’t really have a firm hold on anymore, but it was better and it made me feel more confident in myself and in how I dealt with those around me.

More relevantly and recently I was contacted by someone who wanted me to work for them. Me! I was contacted, not doing the contacting! The pure shock that I felt when I got that e-mail and during the breakneck period that led to my accepting a job offer in less than a fortnight can not be overstated. Sometimes I feel that my jaw is still on the floor and I am filled with a surprisingly powerful feeling of hope. My new supervisor will be a fellow Aggie and there is a definite friendliness to the office. Also as much as I personally have distaste for Houston as a city to live in, it is undeniable so much closer to the friends that I cannot help but be excited for that future.

Mentally - I already alluded to it, but mentally I was in a dark, dark place that 2019 saw the gradual lifting of, that I am still working towards. I can admit to myself that when I am depressed I withdraw as a defense mechanism. I find myself drifting through the days, one week the same as the one proceeding it. It is a fact that I have to confront that I have had very few true confidants in my life and in fact was taught that being emotionally vulnerable was just providing ammunition and as a result I find it intensely uncomfortable to reach out to others and risk. I am happy to say that during the decade of 2010-2020 in general I met several wonderful individuals who taught me this isn’t always the case but it is still something I struggle with.

This is something that I have not done as well to combat in 2019 as I would like, BUT there are some key exceptions. For one, in the last months of the year I took over the DM responsibilities for our weekly group. The responsibility of no longer being able to just show up and make funny voices means that I have to actually have a plan for the week ahead of me. Have to think of the near and not so near future, and this is KEY friends, for a reason that MATTERS to me. It isn’t something like “oh you need to do your taxes every spring” its that I know that in 6 months my friends will be invested in the story we tell together and I don’t want to let them down. That responsibility really helps.

On a different track entirely I have begun to internalize that my future is my own to create. There is no looking back and imagining what could have been. I intend to re-focus on my hobbies and what makes ME feel fulfilled in the new year. I began to explore my creative needs again and I mean to pursue that with the freedom that an apartment to myself will bring me again.

Physically - *OOF*. Well, 2019 BEGAN in a really good way physically. I was using the gym as a coping mechanism and going 4 or 5 times a week. I was running because it made me feel good. Ran a 5k competitively and was running 10ks in the gym in preparation to doing a race. I had aspirations of doing a Tough Mudder! But lol as things do one thing led to another and I’ve been attending no more than once or twice a week for months. And my body is reflecting that choice. In my defence it is so hard to motivate to go to the gym after work when its dark at 5pm :(. I’m hoping I can do better in Houston. An apt. Clubhouse will help.

I also will definitely start eating better. 2019 saw waaaaaaay too much eating out. The cramped nature of our kitchen and the less than neat ways of my housemates meant that most of the time it was easier to just pick something up, or prepare things that took little space. Lots of pasts and frozen chicken and soups. But I’ll have my crockpot again and a freezer to myself and HEB for fresh veggies and Yay! Good changes ahead, unhealthy year behind. I also began flossing again in 2019 so I’m sure my Dentist will be happy about that. Oh yeah….dentist and eye doctor didn’t happen in 2019. Let’s go 2020!

Socially - There isn’t much else to say here since my social life has been so intrinsically linked with my mental health. But I definitely have room for improvement in 2020. I never really found a community outside of work in Connecticut. I had some limited success with MeetUp and actually managed to make a couple friends. Who promptly moved away. But my DND group changed to include two new friends who I value highly. I also began to reconnect with old friends who I’ve fallen out of touch with and intend to continue doing so. I’ve had dinner with two old friends in the last week and had a lovely time. Reviving regular group chats, beginning the rebuilding of a friendship that was shattered by a change in...everything I guess, all are good things that I can see just getting better in 2020. I’m particularly excited to be able to drive to see people again. Even if it isn’t QUITE close enough to be able to just casually drop by, my college station friends will be close enough to impulse visit, or see concerts together, Ren Faire, etc. And I just have a feeling that making new friends will go better in Houston. Maybe? We will see.

Romantically - Not this year. The insecurity and fear of rejection don’t help let me tell you. I also have serious trouble believing myself to be someone that someone else desires or loves. My issues nobody else's right anymore. I talked to a few girls on Meetups that never led to anything. Matched some people on Tinder and Bumble but was never confident enough in the moment to go for it. Had a gay man hit on me once, that was flattering but I don’t reciprocate. Anyways, I hope for better in 2020 but I need continued mental growth first.

So, Yah, that was longwinded and definitely drifted far from the point of being just about 2019. But I feel like I needed to say what I said for it the puzzle pieces to fit in my own head about what 2019 WAS. It was a year where life started to seem like an uphill climb again instead of falling into a pit. And it ended on a very bright note that has me optimistic for the future. I know that a year ago today I was not feeling optimistic like this. That can only be a good thing.

#me #2019 #New Year #2020

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dr-gloom · 5 years

Text

The End

a little vent fic

Fandom: Sanders’ Sides

Pairing: Moxiety

Words: 2,016

Summary: Patton’s life fell apart in the course of two weeks, and he doesn’t think he wants to try and pick up the pieces. (vent fic, very dark)

Tags/Warnings: suicide attempt, depression, suicidal thoughts, implied abuse, breakup, mentions of self harm, self-hate, Patton is transmasc genderfluid, not a happy ending, character with depression, character with BPD, mentions of an eating disorder

if I missed any tags, sorry

Read it on AO3

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It had all started about two weeks ago, on a Friday.

Patton was sure they had ADHD, so they'd talked to their therapist about getting screened. Since their depression was doing a lot better, she agreed and had them fill out the papers. On that Friday, Patton got the email that they didn't qualify for screening.

It was a little thing, something that, to a normal person, would be a bummer that they move on from and maybe get a little sad or annoyed about. But Patton was never normal. The depression hit them so fast and so hard that all they could do was stare at their phone as they sat in their car, eyes only seeing two words: not qualified.

Their only thought was that their mother had been right all along. Patton was just making it up, exaggerating their personality and pretending they were symptoms, or something. If she was right about this, what else was she right about? Did they not have depression? Or bpd? Were they tricking themselves into believing they were trans?

But the universe has never been kind to them, and that wasn't all that would happen on what had started as one of the nicest Friday's they'd had in a while.

Patton went to unlock their phone to share the news with their partner, only to see their partner had already sent them a text. A small bubble of happiness grew in their chest, popping just as fast when they read what the text said.

He said Patton had been pushing him away, that they had been keeping him from talking about something that's been bothering him, that he wanted a break.

Two weeks. He wanted to spend two weeks without talking to or seeing each other at all.

Patton felt like their world was falling apart, but they agreed because it was better than him breaking up with them right then and there. It's okay, they told themselves, it'll be okay, he'll miss you and you guys will fix things.

On the way home, all they could think about was speeding right into one of the dozens of trees they saw along the freeway. How fast would they have to go for it to kill them? If they didn't die instantly, how badly would it hurt? Would anyone care? Would anyone tell their online friends?

Whatever sense of self-preservation they had made them climb into bed as soon as they got home, and wouldn't let them leave.

Patton spent the entire weekend like that, in a depressive slump, curled up in bed, barely eating or talking (not that anyone noticed). Part of him was angry, because he knew he had ADHD, he knew the symptoms and he's talked to plenty of people who had a diagnosis, and the similarities were too many to be a coincidence. He was also mad at his partner.

It felt horrible to say, but it was true; they'd both been busy lately, so they haven't had much time to talk. At most, they said hi and asked how the other's day was, and the conversation petered off. So what did he mean when he said Patton had been keeping him from talking? He combed through their old texts, even checking their Tumblr chats, and he still had no clue. He was mad, and confused, and depressed, but he was also terrified. Patton didn't want to lose him. He didn't want to be alone.

Monday night, in his child education class, they were doing a culture assignment where they brought something in and explained how it was important to their culture. A few of the foreign students brought things from their cultures back home, while everyone else typically brought something relating to family. Patton listened to everyone talk about their loving families, their traditions, the happy memories, then he stood up and showed them his pride keychains, and talked about how he's been harrassed, oppressed, disowned, and how ignorance is the basis of cruelty. He talked about how important it was to educate others so that someday, kids don't have to go through what he went through. A couple friends in the class clapped and told him how strong and amazing he was. He didn't believe it.

Tuesday, they couldn't stop thinking about him. They wondered if he was okay, how he was doing, if his rehearsals were going well. They drove home for a couple hours before their next class, and ended up dropping and shattering their phone right outside their house.

It was another one of those little things that should have meant nothing, but felt like everything. Patton picked up the phone gently and pressed the side button to light the screen, but it stayed black. They held it down to turn it on, but nothing happened. Frustrated tears welled in their eyes and they went inside.

As soon as the door was shut, they threw the phone onto the couch and screamed. “Dammit!” They paced the living room, pulling at their hair, breath coming in quick pants. Their mother was going to kill them. They swore again and again, wiping their tears away angrily.

When they had managed to calm down a little, they grabbed the house phone and left their mother a message telling her what happened. She liked to randomly call them to see where they were, and they didn't want to make their punishment worse by making her think they were ignoring her.

Wednesday, he got an email saying the surgeon who'd be conducting his top surgery was leaving Kaiser and couldn't do the surgery. Patton sat on his bed, feeling as if the rug had been pulled from under his feet. He had a consult set up with a new surgeon in a month, but something told him he wouldn't like the results.

Thursday, they went in to see if they could get their stuff off their phone. They'd moved their SIM card into a new phone, but the only thing that copied over was a couple phone numbers they never contacted and their own data like their phone number.

The phone people told them that if the screen didn't work, they couldn't do anything. They thanked them with a forced smile and went back to their car, thinking about all the lost pictures and friends and rubbing their stomach as it growled. They hadn't eaten in three days.

They were fat enough, anyways.

Friday, they tried to kill themselves. They felt so alone, so lonely, so stressed and scared, that they didn't want to even try anymore. Of course, like most things, they fucked up. They woke up on Saturday in tears and laid in bed until their mother yelled at them for being lazy.

Monday, they got an email from their supervisor telling them they haven't been meeting dress code, and they had until Wednesday to get business-casual clothing. She blamed them for their lack of hours, despite the fact that she was the one in charge of their hours. Patton was tired. So, so tired. They'd been angry for a moment, but they didn't have the energy to stay mad.

Tuesday night, Patton went clothes shopping with his mother. He could tell she was angry that she had to spend more money, but she would never complain about him in public, so she stayed quiet. He had to go up a pants size because, in her words, “it looks like your ass is eating your pants”.

He didn't eat anything on Wednesday.

He couldn't sleep Thursday night. He knew the next day his partner would message him and give him the verdict, and he'd been through this enough times to know it was almost certainly going to end badly.

Friday. They went through their day like normal, helping their supervisor with speech therapy and desperately trying to distract themselves. They went home and checked their phone; sure enough, he texted them while they were working.

I don't want it to seem like I'm having the last word or anything, and if you have stuff to say I definitely want to hear it, but I think I'm just gonna go ahead and say my piece. I think it would be better if we broke up. And I mostly think that because over the two weeks we didn't talk, it felt like almost nothing changed for me, except maybe this time I wasn't waiting around for anything. I told you how we didn't talk before and what I was thinking, so I'm not going to repeat that, but if you go without talking to your partner for two weeks and it doesn't feel like there's even any change, there's something wrong. I don't know if this is actually true or not, but it genuinely felt like you had hated me the majority of our relationship and then got tired of pretending. It felt like I was in a relationship with someone who couldn't care less what happened to me. When you told me you were going to cut yourself, and there was nothing I could do about it, I stayed up all night having panic attacks. I burst into tears at rehearsal just thinking about it. I felt like a complete failure. I felt worthless. And when I told you I was suicidal, at most we would have a five minute conversation, at worst you would more or less say you were too tired to deal with it. But I spent hours BEGGING you not to hurt yourself. This is getting way longer than I expected. I'm sorry. I know I fucked up a lot, too. But I tried my hardest to make you happy and to do what you wanted, and towards the last couple weeks it felt like talking to a wall. And I saw your post about how people promise not to leave and then they do it anyway, ((you said "fucking liars")) and I'm not mad, I completely understand that vent, but I did assume it was about me and, Pat, you didn't give me a choice. You practically shoved me away yourself. Okay. I'll shut up now. If I don't answer it's because I'm showering or thinking, I promise I won't ignore you.

Patton sat in their car staring at their phone, much like two weeks ago, feeling empty. They wanted to apologize, to say they love him, have always loved him, that they don't know what they did wrong but they want desperately to fix it. They wanted to say that he deserved so much better than them, and beg him not to leave them, and a hundred other things, but….

But what was the point? They'd done that before, and the person always got angry and it got so much worse. So they just send one word.

Okay

The reply is almost instant.

Do you have anything to say…?

Patton sighs, getting out of their car and heading inside.

What's the point?

Okay, well then I guess that just proves my point. Bye then

Patton lays down. They're so tired. They hate themselves so much. Why are they so fucked up? They thought they'd been getting better…

Actually, I do wanna say one thing I'm sorry, you deserve better Bye, Virgil

They weren't going to sugarcoat it. They fucked up. It was all they thought about as they laid in bed until they fell asleep. They couldn't even cry; a couple tears would fall and then they'd be numb, all the pain and grief pushed down until it became a physical hurt.

They stayed in bed the rest of that day and into Saturday. Whenever they're awake, they think over what they did wrong. Patton doesn't understand how they could have fucked up so badly that he thought they hated him. They don't understand when things got so bad.

But maybe that was the problem. They could never tell what they were doing wrong. Patton picks up their phone.

They're going to write one last story, pick up their blade, and try not to fuck up again.

#tw depression #tw suicidal thoughts #tw suicide #tw eating disorder #mentioned eating disorder #implied abuse #break up #patton sanders #virgil sanders #moxiety

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