#by we i mean my parents and our neighbors who r our close friends

[mindnumbing-brain-candy]

Suppose that everything going on in your head in twenty-four hours could be accurately recorded on videotape. Your night dreams and daytime fantasies, conversations with yourself and appeals to the gods, the music and memories that float about, and all the loony trivia that ricochets around in your mind.

Suppose all this material could be played in a theater—with multiple screens and a multitrack sound system. A pretty sensational show, I’d guess. MTV, X-rated video, Science Fiction Theater, Harlequin Romances, CD-ROM, and the National Enquirer combined couldn’t compete with what goes on behind the closed door of the secret side of our minds.

The operative word here is “secret.”

Public lives are lived out on the job and in the marketplace, where certain rules, conventions, laws, and social customs keep most of us in line. Private lives are lived out in the presence of family, friends, and neighbors who must be considered and respected, even though the rules and proscriptions are looser than what’s allowed in public.

But in our secret lives, inside our own heads, almost anything goes.

We alone are answerable for what we think and do when nobody else is around or involved. Categories of “fact” and “fiction” are irrelevant in here. Are dreams true? Is what you imagine accurate?

Inside these tight boundaries of flesh and bone is a borderless jungle in which clearings exist. In these open spaces, there may be an amusement park, a zoo, a circus, a library, a museum, a theater, or a landscape stranger than Mars.

We refer to ourselves in first person singular—“I”—but inside, it’s more like first person plural. Most of the time, my inner life seems like a ventriloquist act. A ceaseless dialogue between Me and my dummy. Oddly enough, the dummy is smarter than I am.

It seems as if my dummy and I have lots of company. There’s quite a crowd in here with us. A child and its parents. A wise old person. A mechanic, demons, a fool, a scientist, comedian, musician, dancer, athlete, magician, professor; a Romeo, censor, police officer, fire fighter, and multitudes more. The population of a small town inhabits the landscape of these disunited states of myself. And the town meeting is always in session.

I can fully relate to the occasional stories in the tabloids about multiple personalities. This is not news to me. In the best sense of the word, I run an asylum—a safe refuge—in my mind. And it’s not a problem. As long as I keep the shades drawn and the doors closed, and don’t let anybody loose, all is well. As long as I’m firmly in charge of my secret life, the world sees me as sane and functional. Am I? Sometimes it’s hard to tell.

Those who have closely considered the secret life—people like Freud and Jung—use metaphors to speak about the way we keep the secret life from causing chaos in personal and public life. They speak of “the gatekeeper,” “superego,” “monitor,” and “inner parent.”

My own metaphor is the Committee.

And my ventriloquist’s dummy seems to be the chairman.

I think of my committee as odds makers who say things like, “If you rob a bank, it’s ten to one that the FBI will get you, and you will end up in jail for a long time.” Or, “If you tell people you talk to God, they’ll think you’re religious, but if you say God talks to you, it’s ten to one they’ll think you’re crazy.”

Most of the time, most of us go around with our heads running full tilt doing the most amazing things, while we safely negotiate the obligations of public and private life. Much of what goes on in the secret life is not aberrational. Sometimes entertaining, it is often mundane and unexceptional—neither dramatic nor demonic. Just the necessary backstage maintenance operation of life where we sort out the contradictory material into piles of what works and what doesn’t, what’s useful and what’s not.

The French have a charming term for one aspect of the secret life.

La perruque. It means “the wig,” and is slang for a particular kind of disguise. It refers to what you do for yourself while apparently going about the job you are paid to do. If you are a typist working at your desk and you are in fact writing a letter to your lover on company time, this is la perruque. When you make personal calls from your office phone, do a little grocery shopping while out on company business, daydream, or even use your employer’s time to make a list of things to do over the weekend, it’s all la perruque —conducting your personal life under the guise of working at your job. It’s not stealing. It’s an acknowledgment that your public life, personal life, and secret life run concurrently and parallel. La perruque on the job is balanced by the time you think about work while you are on vacation.

The workings of a family include the secret life.

My oldest son is a man now. Thirty-two, grown-up. He knows about money, sex, love, work—success and failure. We have become peers in many ways.

We went out for a beer together recently, and he confessed to me things he thought and did behind my back when he was a kid. Then I confessed to him things I knew he was thinking and doing but didn’t do anything about because I couldn’t deal with them, having done the same or worse when I was his age. While playing the public role of parent, I was still secretly both a rebellious adolescent and a fearful child. La perruque —always the disguises.

Or consider this family secret.

The father of a friend died suddenly at eighty-two. My friend was an only child, himself divorced, and his own children lived too far away to come to the funeral. A lonely time.

The father was a solemn, humorless, literal-minded man who had been a mechanical engineer all his life. Not much imagination or affection. My friend respected his father, but the relationship was a formal and somewhat distant one. But now his father was dead, and the son was the sole heir to the estate.

The government thinks of an estate as money, stocks, bonds, life insurance, jewelry, and any other tangible item of value that can be assessed and taxed. But there is always all the other stuff—all the small things—the knickknacks—the odds and ends of a life. These are kept, sometimes hidden, in places where you would not ever trespass when your parents were alive. But now you must look. And make decisions about what to keep and what to dispose of. You are licensed by death to enter the antechamber of your parents’ secret life.

There is usually a drawer. Top drawer. In a bureau in the bedroom.

In this case, the father was an orderly man. At one end of his top drawer were all his socks, folded and sorted by color—black and brown. In the other end, several small boxes and a tobacco tin.

In one little box, his U.S. Air Force insignia pins from his uniform and cap. In another, miscellaneous jewelry—tie tacks, collar stays, studs, some foreign coins, and three keys. The old man kept his deceased wife’s wedding ring in the original box from the jewelers, along with a lock of her red hair.

And in a flat cigar tin, wrapped in tissue paper, there were tiny teeth neatly glued to a card, with a date under each one in the father’s handwriting. Human teeth.

This find was a bit of a shock.

His father was the tooth fairy.

All these years he’d thought it was his mom.

Not all the family secrets are bad news.

- Robert Fulghum, maybe (maybe not)

[aquablues-archive]

ok im back idk if racially motivated is the right word but it was just . weird like idk

[yodawgiherd]

Too Close For Comfort pt.1

>>>Read on AO3<<<

I wanted to take a short break from writing canonverse, and luckily I had an idea to write. In most EM fics, Eren and Mikasa get together as adults (if at all ;( ) and the story usually ends with them realizing their love. So I thought, what if they were better at talking and were together for a looooong time? What if they weren't two lonely souls but the annoying couple that is pissing everyone off by being so in love with one another? Well... :D This first part is mostly world-building to establish the AU setting, the second part will be focused on the perils of their friends who have to deal with Eren and Mikasa being hopelessly in love since childhood. Hopefully you'll like it :)

Mikasa and Eren are nine years old when they first confess their love to each other.

Each confession is for a different reason, as the two lifetime neighbors both experienced an event that made them reconsider what they felt towards their childhood friend.

Eren was teased by Jean again, and when the guy said that he had “A hundred girlfriends already.”, he was flabbergasted.

“Where did you get them?”, Eren asked, but all Jean did was a smirk.

“As if I would ever tell a virgin like you.”

Which presented a new problem, because Eren had no idea what a virgin is. He knew that his mother used virgin oil sometimes, but the logical part of his brain argued that Jean was hardly talking about that. So, he asked the smartest guy he knew. Armin explained that a virgin is a person who didn’t have sex yet, but that didn’t help.

“What is sex?”, Eren wanted to know.

“N-Nothing important.”, Armin stuttered, “Don’t worry about it.”

Telling Eren Yeager not to worry about something is practically beginning him to search for it. So, he asked the second smartest person he knew. Grisha spat out the coffee he was drinking when Eren asked, telling him to ask his mother. Carla went white in the face and demanded to know where Eren heard it. Not about to snitch on Armin, he lied that he heard it in school, so Carla frowned and said: “We will tell you when you get older.”

Nuh-uh.

It was risky, but Eren managed to google sex during a computer class, and what he found made his eyes go wide. It also greatly increased his respect towards Jean, if he was able to do it with a hundred girls already he must be quite a specimen. The respect was tainted by a large dose of jealousy. If Jean was able to get a hundred girls, why couldn’t Eren get even one? That wasn’t fair.

And thinking about it, about a girl he would like to be close to, Mikasa was an obvious answer.

Mikasa’s confession was fueled by a movie. It was R-rated, and she watched it in secret so her parents wouldn’t know. There was a lot of blood and death, but what traumatized her was the romance between the main cast. The girl was forced to kill her lover in the end, saving the world but dooming their love in the process. Mikasa cried her eyes out at that, so sad about the tragic and unfair world, and it got her thinking too. Who was a guy that she would never like to kill? Someone that she cared for a lot and would like to be more than friends with? The answer was easy.

When they met the next day, both had a confession ready, so they went to sit under the tree where they often played, staring anywhere but at each other.

“I... I need to tell you something.”, Eren finally pushed out.

“Me too. Uhm, do you want to go first?”

“No, let’s do it at the same time, okay?”

“Okay…”

3.2.1..

“I love you Mi-…”

“Eren, I love y-…”

Now they were staring at each other, cheeks flushed. Talk about a coincidence. They spent a lot of time together as always, and when Eren came home, he puffed out his chest and walked to his parents.

“I have a girlfriend now.”

Zeke, who was visiting from college, laughed and high-fived him, Grisha’s eyebrows rode so high that they disappeared into his hairline, and Carla was worried sick until Eren told them that it’s Mikasa.

“Oh good.”, she reached down, ruffling his hair, “I’m happy for you, sweetie.”

Mikasa had a much colder time at home because Levi threatened to kill that guy, her father was silent and her mother rubbed her pregnant belly, sighing.

“Are you sure that you want to get into this business so young?”, she asked.

But Mikasa wouldn’t budge, and her parents knew better than to try and convince her. Even Levi backed down because Mikasa said that if he harms Eren she will never talk to him again.

And just like that, they were dating.

It didn’t change much at first. Eren announced it out loud at school to Jean, who frowned and said whatever.

“She looks weird anyway.”, he scoffed, “Her eyes are slanted and her skin too pale, my girlfriends are much prettier.”

That was enough to make Eren jump him in defense of Mikasa’s honor, and the teacher had to separate them. Eren got a bleeding nose and a written notice to his parents, but he couldn’t care less. In his vicinity, not Mikasa slander would be tolerated.

Years went by.

They shared their first kiss at eleven, but it was strange and not very enjoyable.

“Are we doing it the right way?”, Eren wondered, unsure why would the adults ever bother with it.

“I think so, it looked like this in all the movies.”, Mikasa said, somewhat disappointed.

“Maybe it will get better when we are older.”, Eren offered, “We can just stick to hand-holding till then, you like that, right?”

Mikasa blushed and nodded, so he grabbed her hand and they headed to Armin’s house, kiss almost forgotten.

It took two years before they started the whole kissing thing again, and Eren was right. It did get better with age. It was also around that time when he started noticing things. He knew that Mikasa is pretty, but as she was growing up he had to reconsider that statement. Mikasa was much more than pretty, she was beautiful. At the age of thirteen, it didn’t mean much, only that he was more and more proud of his girlfriend.

Another two years passed, and things were starting to get heated.

Mikasa got into the whole goth thing, wearing black and whatnot, she even tried getting Eren into it. Unsuccessfully, but he always allowed her to try her make-up on him, or dressed as she wanted sometimes to appease her. He did like how she looked though, the dark makeup and black lipstick suited her, not even mentioning that fishnets and chokers were hot as fuck

She got her cartilages pierced and added piercings to her earrings, another thing that Eren was too scared to try. They would get a tattoo together, he promised, but had to wait till eighteen because Carla was strictly against it.

The kissing got even better, and now Eren’s hands were roaming all over her body while he was doing it. Mikasa also did her part of groping, and the young couple was slowly but surely edging towards the one thing all parents fear. Intimacy.

More and more often, Eren was coming home with face covered in black lipstick smudges. A lot of love bites bloomed on Mikasa’s pale neck and trying to hide it with her red scarf didn’t help. Their parents noticed, and they did not like what they saw.

Grisha tried to have “the talk” with Eren while taking him on a fishing trip, but Zeke tagged along and was ruining it with his goofy faces and bad-timed laughter. In the end, when Grisha got the message across to the red-faced Eren, Zeke pulled out a pack of condoms and threw them at his brother.

“It’s dangerous to go alone.”, he said dramatically, “Take this.”

Grisha hit him over the head for that, but to Zeke, it was totally worth it.

Mikasa got the talk too, first from her mother and then from Levi, who sat on her bed and described in detail all the ways he’s going to kill Eren if he ever does anything inappropriate to her. She threw him out of her room, slammed the door and that was it.

Despite all the good-natured warnings, and Levi’s threats, they began easing into it at sixteen. Mikasa sneaked into Eren’s room, because she could climb the tree next to his window without breaking a sweat, and their classic make-out session was interrupted when Eren’s hand slipped under her black panties.

“Can I…?”, he asked in a weak voice, but Mikasa found herself wanting it.

She watched so many romantic movies, Twilight being one of her favorites, and the physical romance was always glossed over. She wanted to experience it herself. And honestly? It was pretty good, being touched by Eren. Just like that, the gates sprang open and warnings of parents were forgotten.

They experimented at first. Hands touched, mouths kissed, tongued swiped over. Internet was a great teacher because for once Eren didn’t feel like asking Armin about the stuff. And they found their way.

Mikasa and Eren had sex for the first time at the age of seventeen, tipsy from Jean’s house party but not too drunk to not know what they are doing. It was okay but not as mind-blowing as Mikasa wanted it, and Eren promised that they would get better at this.

And they did, both eager to do so. Eren now had black lipstick not only on his face, but around his crotch too, and Mikasa’s love bites spread from her neck to her thighs.

On a nice day, when the sun was out and the neighbors got together for a small party, Grisha was manning the grill alongside Mr. Ackerman, the two of them having a beer and overall a nice time. Eren and Mikasa were doing their usual thing, which meant sitting in a corner with her on his lap, sharing kisses and giggles, and overall just ignoring the rest of the world. Next to them, Armin was with the rest of the kids, the whole group doing their best to not be weirded out. Then again, they kinda got used to it at this point. Seeing it all, Grisha couldn’t help but wonder out loud to his neighbor and friend.

“Do you think that our children are having sex?”

Taking a swig of his beer, Mikasa’s father wanted to deny it, but deep in his heart knew that he could not.

“I just hope that Levi won’t find out.”, he said, making Grisha laugh.

When eighteen and college hit, Eren fulfilled his promise and they got a matching tattoo together, wings on their backs. Going to the same college, of course, they rented an apartment because being separated by dorms was too much of a pain for the pair. Everything was great, everything was perfect, and the couple couldn’t be happier.

But did their friends feel the same way?

[cursedbag]

already dating

asahi azumane x fem!reader

word count: 1,764

warning: none

“I just don’t know what to do, should I ask her out or just keep our solid friendship,” Asahi asked Suga while the two packed up their belongings, marking the end of their practice, "It doesn’t help that I live next door so there’s no way I could just avoid her if I flub it.”

“I don’t understand why you’re so nervous about it,” Suga replied, adjusting the strap of his bag, “I thought the two of you were already dating?” He nudged the tall ace’s shoulder. 

“N-no! she’s just a childhood friend, s-she may only see me a friend,” Asahi sputtered out nervously, “She’s too good for me anyways-”

“negativity begone!” Suga scolded before chopping Asahi’s stomach. “that was uncalled for!” Asahi whined as he held his stomach. “you’re always so negative, isn’t she waiting for you?” suga asked, changing the subject back to his friend’s love life.

 “R-right! I should go before she starts to leave without me,” Asahi remembered what y/n had told him to meet her at the school gates so they could walk home together. initially, he told y/n that she should just head home without him as he didn’t have a clue on how long practice would be but her persistence made it clear that she would be walking home with him. 

“Asahi!” y/n exclaimed as she waved with a happen grin on her face. “y-y/n, you’re being too loud,” he said a bit embarrassed. “I’m sorry, I’m just so happy to see you,” She said with a wide grin. “b-but you saw me 2 hours ago,” he stuttered slightly. 

“That was so long ago!” she defended “come on, I’ll buy you a meat bun at the market.” 

“o-oh no, you do-”

“I want to! don’t worry Asahi, I’ll get you a drink too if you want!” she said as she took his hand to start leading him down the hill. Y/n listened intently as Asahi talked about his classes and how volleyball practice was going. “poor Hinata, was he okay after that?” Y/n asked as she latched onto his arm, a very normal action he had grown familiar with. “he said he was fine, I don’t know. One day I’m scared that he’ll get a concussion from me serving.”

“I’m sure that won’t happen,” y/n tried to comfort him, “from what I’ve heard Tanaka say about him, he’s very resilient.”

“MY EARS ARE BURNING!” the duo stopped to look at the very loud bald student. 

“Hey, Y/n! Asahi! walking home together, I see,” Tanaka said as he raced to talk to y/n. Asahi knew the two of them were in the same class but that didn’t stop his heart from beating faster at the thought of Y/n leaving him behind for Tanaka. “yeah! we always walk together!” y/n answered back with a grin, “Asahi lives right next door.” she said this while leaning into Asahi’s side. 

“knock it off, Tanaka. there’s a reason the two of them left before the rest,” Daichi said as grabbed Tanaka’s arm to pull him back to the rest of the group. Asahi felt his shoulders relax as soon as Tanaka was out of his line of sight. normally, he wouldn’t get so worked up over it but something about him wanting to confess that night was getting him tense. he hoped that y/n wouldn’t notice but they’ve known each other for a long time so she might already know what’s on his mind.

“Why are you so tense, Asahi?” she asked, breaking the silence that was growing to be more and more uncomfortable, “did I do something wrong?”

“W-what? n-no, you didn’t do anything! I’ve just been stressed about a test I’m going to take,” he quickly came up with a lie to dismiss her worry. “do you want to study at my house then? I might be a year behind but I can try to help,” she offered, looking him dead in the eye as she pulled him closer. his cheeks tingled at her offer. “o-okay,” he stuttered. Asahi couldn’t find the will to tell her no. it would have been weird to turn down her help he tried to convince himself but in actuality, it was the thought of spending a bit more time with her.

“Perfect! so you can go home and change and then come over to my house! my parents aren’t home so you won’t have to worry about any parental blabbering,” y/n assured him. Asahi’s mind raced at the idea. 

the two of them.

alone

him

alone at the house of his long time crush.

the tingling sensation only seemed to grow as he allowed himself to get dragged by y/n. “I’ll be right back, I’m going to get you the meat bun you deserve,” she said, her hand softly held his face to give him one last look before entering the small market. 

“she only sees you a friend?” He turned to see suga, Dachi, and Tanaka who smiled up at the brunette boy who was still in shock at y/n’s small sign of affection. “I think you’ll be fine,” suga interrupted as he patted Asahi’s shoulder. Asahi watched as the trio walked away. maybe, y/n did like him, maybe he had been overlooking the little things y/n did out of his nervousness. 

“I’m back! Here you go,” Y/n’s voice broke his trance. “ah, you did-”

“Asahi, I already got it, and you need to get your energy back up,” Y/n interrupted. Asahi decided against arguing with her and took the bag from her much smaller hands. In all the years he knew y/n she had been known for being very stubborn, especially when she gave things to Asahi. 

“Are you sure doing that intense thinking face again,” her voice cut through his thoughts, “Are you upset over something?” her voice trembled a bit with interest. "O-oh, no. I'm sorry for making you worry," He apologized to her. 

"Asahi," she stopped in the middle of the road, "Please talk to me, I want to help you." Asahi felt her hands hold his face as if trying to get him to keep eye contact with her. 

"There's nothing to worry about," Asahi tried to convince her, she did not take that for an answer. "Yes, there is. Ever since Tanaka came up to talk to us, you're on edge." Her hand squished his cheeks slightly.  

"I don't know... we were spending time together and... god, I sound like an idiot," his words muffled because of Y/n's hold, "You won't laugh, right?" 

"When have I laughed at you for being upset?" Y/n asked as she softly stroked his cheek. He took a deep breath.  Is this the end of their interactions? Asahi thought to himself. His eyes screwed closed to avoid looking at his long time crush.

"L-look, y/n... I like you, like really really like you. E-every time I see you my heart feels like it's going to swell and pop and I never told you because I was scared that you would never talk to me again-"

"Asahi," he opened his eyes to see y/n with a small smile, "Asahi, I thought there was something actually wrong. I know you like me like that, I've known for a year and a half." 

"Y-you did?!" He exclaimed, "Then why didn't you say anything?" Asahi's heart lighter at the sudden affirmation that his long time crush already knew. "I did tell you! On April 24th, we were eating lunch outside, under the old tree that grows in my backyard. we had a little picnic under it, I thought I made it clear that I liked you," Y/n explained.

Asahi couldn't believe what he was hearing. "I've always thought as us as being a couple," Y/n continued as she let go of his face. the two continued to walk in silence. Asahi's mind still wrapping his mind around the chat he just had. 

April 24th?

"Hey, Asahi! Do you want to have a picnic under my tree today?" Y/n asked as she peeked over the fence her family shared with the Azumanes. Asahi was practicing his sets quietly.

 "Aren't we too old for picnics?" he asked as he held the ball on his side. "How can you say that on such a gorgeous day? Come on, Asahi, I made cucumber sandwiches AND Okonomiyaki. I made a bunch of stuff already, its Sunday Asahi! You can practice volleyball tomorrow. I'll even pack you a lunch if you spend some time with me," his neighbor tried to bargain. 

"I don't have a choice, do I?" he replied, she shook her head making him chuckle before telling her to wait for him. He didn't want his clothes that smelt of sweat to ruin the little picnic his crush of many years had prepared for the two of them. 

Asahi rushed out of his house and entered the familiar yard he had grown familiar with over the years. His eyes landed on Y/n, who sat on the cliche picnic blanket wearing a light blue sundress. "w-wow," he said under his breath. 

"I would have made the ramen you like but they ran out of pork at the supermarket. I'll make it next time," Y/n said as she noticed the tall awkward ace. she patted down a place for him to sit down. 

the pair ate together, the breeze gently blew through Asahi's hair. He looked at y/n who had a napkin ready to wipe the crumbs off of Asahi's face. Asahi didn't realize he had zoned out at that moment, Y/n just looked so pretty in her sundress. The little bits of sun escaping the canopy only made her look like she was glowing. He didn't know how he did it, how he allowed himself to have an ever-growing crush on the girl-next-door. 

"well, what do you think?" Her voice finally reached his ears. "y-yes," he stuttered out, not wanting her to know that he was admiring her on that particular spring day. 

"Asahi?" Y/n's voice snapped him out of his thoughts again, "we're home. you could always just come to my house instead of going to your house to change."

"I'm sorry for not listening to you when we had the picnic," Asahi said abruptly, y/n tilted her head in confusion, "I didn't mean to zone out like that." 

"it's okay, I think it's cute when you check me out," Y/n said with a wink, only making him feel more embarrassed. 

"come on big guy, you can tell me all about the times you've zoned out while staring at me."

[sundaywonder]

the lost song : yoonmin

Getting ready to start fresh in life, physical education professor Park Jimin is just waiting to migrate to Australia with his daughter and girlfriend. Everything gets topsy-turvy when world-class music producer Min Yoongi—and also his secret ex-boyfriend—comes back home to South Korea to marry his it-girl fiancé. If that wasn’t bad enough for Jimin, Yoongi invites him to the wedding. It gets worse; it leaves him no choice but accept it to avoid spilling the beans.

Although the worst happened back then, it’s not enough for their forsaken what-ifs and unsaid feelings from making itself clear. The situation makes Jimin realize how jaded he was without Yoongi all the years they were apart—and vice versa. As they slowly pick up the broken pieces of the past, reality hits hard back at them again. There are two choices: to give up on love and live in the present or to run away and never look back.

Genre: Romance, Adult Fiction, Melodrama, Erotica

Fandom: BTS, BLACKPINK, Red Velvet, IU

Pairing: Suga & Jimin, Jimin & Rosé, Suga & Jennie, IU & Jungkook, Wendy & j-hope

Rating: M or R-18 — contains sensitive themes, strong language and graphic depiction of sexual activity

Status: Ongoing — 6/12

Link: Wattpad, ao3

Excerpt: The Flower Bloomed — 10 Years Ago

Yoongi, 20

I hurriedly go down the stairs while vigorously drying my head with a towel. I knew I would oversleep. Aside from being a deep sleeper, I’m also not used to waking up as early as 7 a.m. Nine is still pretty early if you’d ask me. The cool air last night made everything even worse. I shouldn’t have opened the windows.

Good thing my grandma heard Aunt Hyeja yelling outside our house. If she didn’t, I wouldn’t have even noticed that her and our other neighbors’ missed calls and text messages.

“Make sure none of the kids get injured, okay? We don’t have money for their hospital bills if ever,” reminds grandma as she followed me down. I don’t hear and comprehend what she said until five seconds later.

“Got it. Bye.” When I get out of our gate, I immediately see Aunt Hyeja who was waiting for me outside.

“We’ll get going, Auntie Dooshim!” exclaims Aunt Hyeja.

“Alright, have a safe trip!”

“I’m so sorry, Auntie. I really am.” She walks so briskly that I have a hard time catching up with her. Regardless, I feel like that’s how should it be; I must walk maybe two or three steps behind her after what I’ve done.

“Don’t think about it anymore. The kids are already in there. You know our numbers so contact us immediately if anything goes wrong. There’s a ton of food on the table so feed yourselves when you get hungry. Don’t leave at least one of them unattended. Never attend to the gate if it’s a stranger and refrain from telling them that an adult is not present—oh, how old are you again?”

“Twenty.”

“My bad. It slipped my mind that you’re already an adult. Anyway, did you understand everything clearly?” I just nod. Aunt Hyeja doesn’t seem to be mad but it’s fairly obvious that she’s already dying to leave. I discreetly peek at her watch which says 7:15 a.m. I can’t help but shake my head. I reminded myself endless times to do well in this babysitting gig but I still ended up ruining the first thing about it. There must be something really wrong with me.

After arriving in front of the home of my best friends, brothers Seokjin and Taehyung, she tells me, “Also, your Aunt Misun told me that Jimin won’t be able to attend the excursion because he’s sick. He’s going to be home alone today so I told him that he can contact you if he needs anything.”

I gulped as soon as I heard Jimin’s name and forced myself to act nonchalant. “W-what happened to him?” It was definitely hard to do so.

“He has fever,” she replied. “Don’t you guys get more written projects in lieu of not attending out-of-the-classroom activities?”

“Yes.”

“So, does it mean you like completing paperworks instead of attending trips and such?” I just let out a fake chuckle and nodded. I’m sure it wouldn’t sit with her when I say that I don’t like socializing and going to places with a lot of people. Aunt Hyeja is a social butterfly and—I don’t want to sound like I’m judging her (but maybe I am)—she’s not exactly the type of person to bother understand things deeper if it doesn’t concern her. Besides, it’s lengthy and we’re not that close for me to open up to her. An awkward giggle is probably better than an explanation.

The Kims already left when I entered and all the four kids were sleeping on the sofa in the living room, not even noticing my entrance. I decide to just sit on the floor and watch TV in low volume. My body is asking for me to sleep so badly that pinching myself isn’t working anymore. A faint regret is starting to form in my chest but I cut it out immediately.

After getting bored of the morning makjang drama that I forced myself to watch, I turn around to check on them. Jingoo—a cousin of Seokjin and Taehyung, as well as Namjoon who is also a cousin of the two—is already up but still lying on his stomach while silently watching the drama with me. Our eyes meet but he doesn’t say a word and just shifts his eyes back at the screen.

“Have you eaten breakfast yet?” I ask. Jingoo just nods. “What did you eat?”

“Seaweed rice balls and jeon.”

“Tell me when you’re hungry.” He just nods once again.

Our conversation awakens Taejoon, Chanbin and Yeongyu. Unlike Jingoo, they wanted to eat so I prepared the food that was left for us. Being alone with these kids who I barely know suddenly makes me feel weird for some reason. It’s probably because I don’t have any experience in babysitting. So far, it’s an alright deal. The money is good and you practically get paid to stay at home.

I leave them and go back to the living room, sitting beside Jingoo’s feet who hasn’t moved an inch ever since he woke up. “Where did they go?” He asks, not moving his eyes from the screen.

“A trip.”

“Event aunt and uncle? I thought it was a school trip.”

I let out a sigh and close my eyes. Some sort of hot energy constantly forms in my head the longer I talk to this kid.  “I don’t know why. Ask them when they come back later.”

It got rowdy when they started to play. This is way worse than I imagined. Toy cars and guns are all over the place and I need to remind them every two to three minutes that they shouldn’t be shooting bullets on the TV screen, as well as the vases and figurines. None of my words seem to get to their tiny heads.

I take back what I said. I don’t want to this ever again. I wasn’t like this when I was a kid. Even my friends. We weren’t anything like this. Not even close. We were well-liked by the neighborhood in general because of that.

Out of the blue, my phone suddenly vibrated. My heart almost dropped on the floor when I read Jimin’s name on the screen.

[JIMIN :)

1 NEW MESSAGE]

All of a sudden, my heart started to pound like it wanted to get out of my chest. I took a deep breath before flipping my phone and pressing View.

[JIMIN :)

Hey, can I go there? It’s getting a little boring here.]

[ME (draft)

Of course! Bring what you need!]

I delete it before I could even think twice. I cringed at what I just typed.

[ME (draft)

Okay, but it’s a little loud here]

Maybe not. He might end up not going if I say that.

[ME

Sure]

[JIMIN :)

I’ll bring ramen]

[ME (draft)

Okay]

I press the end call button and just fold my phone instead. I immediately go to the bathroom and wash my face with soap and water. I run my wet hands through my hair as well. Just as I got out, someone knocked on the door.

“Don’t shoot on anything!” I yell before walking out the door.

“Hey,” greets Jimin as soon as I open the gate. Unlike his usual self, the gloomy aura surrounding him can be clearly felt. His face and shoulders seem wretched as well.

“Are you alright? You look so pale.”

“Trying to be.”

“Stay in Seokjin’s or Taehyung’s room if you want to get some rest. It’s a little rowdy in the living room.”

“Thanks. I’ll go text him.”

As soon as I hear Seokjin’s bedroom door close, I make an announcement to the kids. “Jimin’s sick. Don’t make any loud noises from now on.” It did subside but only for a short while. “You kids, anyone who makes loud noises will not get to eat lunch.” They stop playing tok look at me with a weird expression on their faces, as if they’ve never heard someone say such a thing to them before. A hint of fear can also be seen. I fucked up again, didn’t I?

Unlike what I said, I started to prepare lunch when the clock hit noon. The kids gathered at the table and chowed down as soon as the food was ready. Meanwhile, I got my own food and ate in the living room.

[ME (draft)

Hey, lunch is ready. Can you go down here?]

[ME

Lunch is ready, feel free to eat here.]

[JIMIN :)

What’s for lunch?]

[ME

Pork belly, barbecue, dumplings, rice and kimchi]

[JIMIN :)

Damn, will go there ASAP]

I wipe the droplets of sweat on my forehead. My breath keeps on running as if they are trying to get away from something… or someone. I don’t know. I don’t even want to think about this. It only makes me go crazier and crazier. Even my well-trained emotional suppression skills are barely working. Helpless, hopeless—that’s what I am.

“Hey!”

“Shit!” I hold to my chest in shock and turn around. “I-it’s you.”

“Yes, it’s me. You okay? You’re deep in your thoughts that you didn’t even notice me pass in front of you,” asks Jimin.

I shake my head. “I just zoned out.”

“Shit!” Taejoon mimicks while the other three laugh.

“Shit!” Chanbin and Yeongyu repeat in unison which makes them laugh even harder.

“Are you kids an adult to say that?” I ask.

“Shit!” The three exclaim, not even bothering to answer me.

Suddenly, I hear Jimin giggle softly—making me look back at him. “So, you can already laugh. Feeling better now?”

He just nods with a faint smile and takes a spoonful of kimchi stew. “Mmm, delicious. Did you cook?”

“Nope, one their parents probably.”

Neither of us talked after that; I just pretended the focus on my food while his eyes wandered around the place. Even though it feels like I need to say something, not a single word’s coming to my mind. My mouth is left agape from the urge to speak but not knowing what to say. For some reason, it seems to me that he’s feeling the same way. But how can I know for sure?

The kids come back to the living room not long after they have finished eating. I couldn’t thank the heavens enough; this is the only time today that I’ve actually become happy about their presence. Before they can even settle on their seats, I stand up to play the first Disney DVD my hand landed on: The Incredibles.

Jimin passes behind me so I look at him. He’s bringing my dirty plate with him to the kitchen. “Hey, s-sorry. You didn’t have to.”

He looks back and says, “Huh?”

“The plate.”

“Psh. It’s nothing.”

I follow him to the sink where he’s silently washing the dishes. He almost looks like he’s zoned out and submerged in his deep thoughts.

“Hey!” I jokingly yell from his back.

“Sh—!” He accidentally loses his grip on the plate he’s holding. It falls back to the sink, causing a small chip on the edge. “Oh, no…”

“I’m so sorry,” I say as I try to catch my breath. The plate looks expensive with all those blue Chinese prints. It most definitely came from an expensive dinnerware collection and Mrs. Kim would kill me if she sees this. I might have to babysit for nine or ten more times just to pay for the damage.

“Don’t worry about it. It was an accident.”

“But it looks expensive!”

“I was the one who lost grip on it, what are you being so worried about?” Jimin says with a faint giggle. I’m not buying it; he doesn’t sound amused at all. “Also, wanna watch?” He nonchalantly asks.

“This?” I ask back, pointing at the TV.

He just shakes his head. “Seokjin has a big collection up there.” I just looked blankly at him, deliberately making it obvious that I need more details to get what he’s saying. “Sola Aoi, Asami Yuma, Haruna Hana and so much more. We have everything we need up there!” I feel my whole body suddenly heat up upon hearing what he just said and my legs seem like they want to give up on me. “Hey, you okay?”

“Th-the kids…”

He takes a peek at them. “They’re already asleep.”

I look back at the kids and close my eyes in panic. Images of him being half-naked while beating off instantly flash in my mind. I vigorously shake my head along those thoughts. I can’t count how many times I saw him naked in the past. We even used to take a bath together along with the other guys when were younger. But this time everything’s different, especially to me, and it sucks big time. “Okay, then…”

He opens the dish dryer and puts all the now-squeaky clean plates, glasses, spoons and forks. “Don’t be so nervous. They’ll probably stay asleep until twilight or something.”

“Maybe,” I replied to him even if his words just seemed to bounce against my head. Naked. Naked. Naked. My mind just doesn’t seem to get tired about this goddamn word and keeps asking for more. Now, even the way he looks and smiles at me is starting to mean something else.

Jimin grabs my arm and pulls me until we reach Seokjin’s room. Before I could even react, the door was already locked and his pants and underwear were on the floor. My manhood starts to throb and harden as soon as my eyes lands on his half-naked body. He’s grown much bigger and thicker ever since I last saw him. That was a few years ago—same situation as now but with Hoseok and Taehyung, minus the feelings. To stop myself from completely breaking down out of panic and ruining everything for good, including our friendship, I just turn my head at a random teddy bear on Seokjin’s bed.

I sit beside him on the carpet and before also taking off my short pants and underwear. A strange kind of electricity seemed to charge on my body when I saw him look at my manhood. His mouth slightly gaped but he immediately closed it and focused on operating the DVD player. Since the tapes weren’t labeled, we don’t know what those contained. Jimin chooses just whatever. The video begins, and we see Sola Aoi who was wearing a provocative nurse uniform enter the hospital room where the middle-aged male patient was in.

I lean on the bed to relax and force myself to focus on the film. Jimin’s already starting to touch himself. He looks back at me with an unexplainable expression in his eyes. It’s been a while since I did this with them but I’m sure we didn’t look at each other while beating off, or maybe I’m just forcing weird meanings. At this point, I can’t even trust myself anymore.

I couldn’t help but start to actually beat off as soon as Sola started to moan. All of us in our group likes her the most for how irresistible she sounds when she’s getting fucked. It makes the film feel like 5D.

The film already ended but neither of us reached climax yet. When I was almost there, I stopped. I don’t know why but I felt like I needed to do so. As I try to catch my breath, I watch him while he did his business.

To my surprise, Jimin also stops and joins me in leaning on the bed, panting hard. He looked at me straight in the eyes, then his gaze dropped on my lips. “They look dry…”

Before I even knew it, our lips were all over each other and his tongue has successfully penetrated my mouth. Jimin’s hands start to explore inside my shirt before pulling it off of me. He removes his own next. My hands are frozen on his groin in disbelief. Everything seems like a dream but all of these are a hundred percent real.

“Jimin…” I mindlessly say.

“Do whatever you want to do to me.” He grabs my hand and places it on top of his manhood. “Don’t hold back.”

I pull his head and kiss him hard before pushing him down. Only God and I know how much he looks good with nothing on but his golden rolo chain necklace. “As long as you let me, I won’t.”

—

If you’re reading until here, thank you so much! The Wattpad and ao3 links where you can read the whole story are available above.

[glitterytidalwavedragon]

Putting it Out There (A Biracial Child)

I’ve always wanted to address this, I just never knew where or how to. But, as I write, I see the influences come into play more and more (More so when I am writing my B.B fanfic and the Tourist), so I thought, now is a good time as any and this is the only account and platform I feel safe (maybe because I don’t have 200+ friends or followers here who know me outside of social media). I also feel as if this prospective of life isn’t given much attention or heard. 

I, as some may know cause I had commented as such, am a biracial child. My father is a Caribbean Hispanic male and my mother of German and Italian descent. 

This does not mean I have the best of both worlds. In fact, most of the times I feel alienated. 

Born in the early 90′s, the song “Livin’ La Vida Loca” by Ricky Martin was every where. My mother would tell me that song was about me, now I was 5-6ish. I thought she referred to me liking cats, and trying to go out to perform a crap version of ‘Singing in the Rain’ along with the love for magic. 

No, it wasn’t so innocent. It was straight up because of my skin tone. I looked like the girl the song was describing. I had no idea. Nor did I realize a silent war was raging in my family. 

Growing up was...hard to say the least. It is even harder when you have racism on both sides pointing fingers at each other. On my mother’s side, my aunt and uncle wouldn’t allow me to visit unless it was a holiday to which there was pressure from the family. Out of spite, they would invite my much older siblings father over to cause a fight (The man did not celebrate christmas). Meanwhile my other aunt would tell me over and over again I was Italian. In the end, during these events I would end up alone and not know why. 

Now lets turn to the other side of the family, my father’s. My first words had been Spanish. Yet, I lived with English speaking relatives... guess who stopped speaking Spanish for a long while. When visiting my family on his side, none of of my relatives would address me, only if they had to because my father was not around. These people knew how to speak English, very well even though they had moved from their native island. They just refused to speak to me. This sucked cause where it was 3 people on my mother’s side, it was 16 aunt’s and uncles on my fathers not counting the dozens of cousins I had. So, as the other family events, I ended up alone not knowing why. 

The answer was rather simple but much to complicated for my child self. Both sides of my family was and still is completely racist. My white mother was near exiled for being with a man many would consider black (he considers himself Spanish and oddly doesn’t get the fascination on why his skin matters or makes me worry about him when he is stopped by cops...). I was the ‘mixed’ baby, a simple of her family’s shame. 

My father’s side could not care what color my mother was, only that she was not Spanish. For those who don’t know, Spanish can be an array of color, its cool. But, she was no Spanish, did not speak Spanish and therefore my father was exiled by everyone but his own mother for many years (which is why we ended up in family events, my mama wanted to see her youngest grandchild by her baby boy). This meant being put at the back table, being openly mocked, and never told of big family events like babies or weddings. 

This only lead to more fighting at home and in the end even my own siblings, alienated me. It was a pretty lonely experience. 

This carried on to school and friendships. Elementary was not fun, but I felt the effects more in Jr. and High school. In elementary I was grouped with the other Spanish kids, because starting in late summer I had my Spanish tan on and therefore, I was not white to other white kids. But I did not speak Spanish. At one point I spoke gibberish to just to be able to hang with the Spanish kids at recess. It worked and I still don’t know how. 

In Jr. ahhhh... at one point my family was making good money, which originally, it once took the income of five adults to keep us afloat, now it just took 2. My father and my grandpa (who I will talk about later). We moved to a ‘nicer’ neighborhood. In the early 2000′s that mean, a white neighborhood. Boy, did I stick out. 

Now you might think “But you grew up in NYC, said you were from Brooklyn” well, here is a fun fact. Nothing is more segregated than NYC schools. The north did not do busing like the south did, so white schools stayed mostly white while schools in low income areas stayed mostly black or other minority races. I was a very tan child going into a white neighbor hood to a white school. Lets top it off that I played video games and Yu-Gi-Oh, HA! 

I received hell. I had legit parents sneer at me, and girls asking me if I had sex because I was Spanish. A 12 year old, got hit on by 15 year olds because they thought my race made me easy. I was 12, all I wanted was to collect cards and play Pokemon on my stupid advance, I had no time for boys unless they were anime. But... someone (more than likely their parents) had set these ideas in their head on how Spanish people, more so girls, acted. 

Then I realized, I really liked all things Gothic. A Spanish Goth.... it pains me to think about it. Everything from poser, to faker, and ‘trying to act white’ was laid on me. I could not wait for Jr. High to end. And when it did, a whole 180 happen. 

I was no longer Spanish. I did not know why, just everyone referred to me as ‘the ONLY white girl’ in the school and that is not a joke. My school, was dubbed the worse in all of Brooklyn and shut down, which I believe it was dubbed that because of the 1% white population... I was the 1 after my second year when the other white kid (who was a boy people asked was my boyfriend) graduated. Now, in high school it wasn’t the kids who gave me hell. It was the teachers. 

In fact, high school led me to meet others who were also feeling alienated. One of which I am very close to, a black man who is Jewish (adopted by a white couple) and gay. He did not where he belonged either. In the mid-00′s to be a black gay man living near the ghetto was dangerous. I can’t count how many times he had to hide who he was so he wouldn’t get shot. Nor could I count how many times my other friend coped with being a biracial black man who loved anime and being goth so much he was bullied for it when we weren’t together (who I ended up dating throughout high school). 

Suddenly being labelled white get me an acceptance I was not expecting. I ended up being popular against my best efforts and people who I did not know knew me. At 15 I did not get what had changed, because no one had told me yet. No, I figured it out at 16, when I was placed in senior English because of my grades. My English teacher told me, I was white, in the worse why I could ever imagine. 

My English teacher, a beautiful black woman who celebrated her African roots, gave an assignment one day. I was one out of five in a class of thirty who did it, because I did it in her class the day before. I played sports, so did half the other kids, I did not have time after school. This did not sit well with her, she was mad, which was an understatement. So, she turned to the class and said

“This is why our people end up in Jail or having babies to early. Because like black people don’t take education seriously.” Then called be out by name and continued “is why she will end up being successful, because white people know the importance of an education.” 

First off, she was very racist towards EVERYONE, second I at 16, who was always called Spanish in school was now labelled white in front of everyone by an adult. I was both confused and terrified as my boyfriend who knew my family cared JACK SHIT about education looked ready to kill her. Luckily, he just walked out of class and waited for me as I was too studded to move. 

I later asked him if he thought I was white, he admitted he did until he saw my father and called me biracial. For the first time in 16 years, I had been called biracial. Went home, did not tell anyone what happened, asked my mother if I was biracial and she said yes. To shorten this up, this was what life felt like, 

At home, I had no race. Neither side welcomed me. 

In school, I was told I was Spanish and had to fake my way in the Spanish group.

Jr High, I am now trying to distance myself from everyone as being Spanish makes me a target. 

High School, I thought being Spanish would be a good thing. Now everyone is telling me I am white. 

I had not idea who or what I was. 

All I ever wanted was to be me. I wanted to understand why my family never got close to me, and I wanted friends who were friends because I was me. 

It was like I was being ripped to pieces. I could be what others wanted or be no one at all. I had no idea what to do. If people at the new school found out I was Spanish, would I become a target again? I was allowed to freely play games, watch anime, and be my gothic self if I were white. But that also meant I could not hang out with my friends who lived in the Ghetto, shouldn’t like rap, R&B, and reggaetón or use the slang I grew up always using. 

To be a Spanish person trying to be white

or 

A white person trying to be black/another minority of color. 

I had watched as the former got my friend (boyfriend at the time) kicked out of classrooms as he was compared to those involved in columbine shooting from teachers since he was different. Also the hell he received from other boys for cosplaying and playing anime based card games. At one point it was so rough he thought about dropping out and I begged him to stay along with his mother. I was so afraid of going through that again.

So I kept my mouth shut. 

I took on the military standard of ‘Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell”. My father never came to the school because he worked so much so no one knew. Everyday, I just took what my English teacher said to be without any force back. When Obama was voted in, she told me I had no right to celebrate, that my people had JFK and that Obama was for all the minorities to celebrate. I fell into a dark hole of hating myself. My home life was awful and now school I had to pretend to be something I wasn’t comfortable with. I started ditching classes, got into more fights than I would care to admit, did some really shady stuff and began hurting myself. 

The only joy I got was when I busted my ass grades wise and got out of school six months early. I did not have to go to school anymore and I could lock myself away to be no one but myself. It was lonely but I found company in books and my art. Through art I was allowed to be me and no one could take that away. 

When I returned for Graduation I June, did I get the final laugh on that English bitch. My mother and father showed up, she asked if my father was a cab driver helping my mother as she had gone blind. I told her, rather happily, that was my father. She went from joy to sheer disgusts faster than you can blink. For years she kept talking about who ‘mix babies’ never got any where as their fathers were never around. Yet, despite me hardly showing up, I gradated top of my class, never had a baby nor was I ‘loose’ (In fact I feared sex as a teenager), and my mixed couple parents as she lovingly called it, were together. 

She walked away from me and never said a word since. 

But now school was over, college was starting. I still hadn’t figured out who I was. Was I white/Italian or Spanish. In college I learnt no one was going to tell me who I was anymore, nor did they care. At home, it was still a battle of the races. Finally, one of my cousins spoke up and declared I wasn’t Spanish as I knew nothing of the language. At home, my aunt and uncle decided I was Spanish and called me a ‘Spick’ as a joke. I did not take it as one and therefore I was called ‘uptight’. 

My siblings also informed me, if I wanted free college to put down Spanish on everything unless it was the census. Then I should be white. Sometimes I still run into people who think I am one over the other. I had people come up to be speaking Spanish to be highly offended when I tell them I don’t speak the Language well. (I tried learning but it is hard when motivation is not there). 

In recent years, I had someone at work tell me how they met a Spanish person, shockingly where my father works, and then described in detail my father and then tell me they thought he was illegal since he looked the type. All because they thought I was white... proud to say that person got fired for being racist.I did also inform them that was my father to their response was “you’re one of them”. 

It never ends. 

No, the reason why I haven’t been driven insane is because of my late grandpa. My grandpa was a man I adopted to be my grandfather. My biological grandfathers on both sides died long before I was born and the man I adopted was close to the family and acted like a father to my parents. He was a good man and the reason I had a childhood. 

He once went through the same, Italian/Jewish, you wouldn’t think there would be a problem but when he was growing up that equaled Catholic/Jewish, to which he too was either pinned in the middle or rejected by both sides, this is the 1930′s-1940s. He gave me the best piece of advance ever. 

To be myself. 

That if I were myself, then it did not matter. The moment I stopped being who I am, that passing or faking would never tell me who my real friends were. That if he, could love me for who I was, a weird girl who liked boy things and drawing strange looking characters, then anyone else could. Being a stranger to myself would never bring happiness. So, after years of not listening to that, I finally decided to listen to my Grandpa. 

I know who I am, I know the history of my families. They might not like that I am not what they want me to be, but they don’t have to live with me. I have to live with who I am. My friends are my friends because they know who I am, not who they think I should be. 

So for all my biracial brothers, sisters and them’s, be yourself. Don’t try to force yourself into a mold, it isn’t worth it. None of it is worth it. 

Look yourself in the mirror and say your name. Say it loud and let everyone know they can not define who you are, and so what if they say you don’t belong, guess what? You do if you want. You belong because YOU say so, because that blood runs in your veins as well as theirs. So you get to make that choice! 

Make that choice of being you! Define yourself to YOUR standards. 

Don’t let anyone take that away. I know I won’t.

So here I see myself! A strange fox who changes coats with the seasons, that loves anime and video games, who plays Yu-Gi-Oh and listens to opera and Metal while can twerk and get low to Daddy Yankee! Who eats sushi and makes a mean chicken cutlet but can also make the best empanda with beans and rice with the rest of them!

And no one can take that from me.

[fantasticfangirl21]

Shimmer in the Sea

Roman II

Summary: Roman and Virgil finally get a chance to talk and Virgil informs Roman of some important events that he had previously forgotten happened... traumatic events that may have been better left repressed...Romans memory continues to come more into the light, will that be a good thing? Or a bad one? Roman- 1788 “I promise I'll answer your questions if you answer mine but first,” Virgil takes his sword back quickly. “We have to go- now.” He says firmly as he takes my hand in his free one and swims swiftly for the caves with me. “Wait- but-” I try to speak as I'm dragged behind him through the water. “No time for questions Princy we have to move.” he cuts me off swimming into a maze of caves. Princy? I think to myself, something in me sparks again, like how it did when I first saw him a few hours ago. “Come on come come on pwincy! We haf to go see the pwetty lights!” a four year old purple tailed merchild draggs a tired Roman down the palace hall to see out the window at the newly installed lights in the kingdom. Roman rubs his eyes sleepily. 

“Virgey why are we up this earlyyyy I didn't get my beauty sleepppp” he mumbles as virgil lets go of his hand and points at the lights leaning against the window. “Lookie Pwincy lookie!” he says ignoring the prince's complaints. Roman looks over at his overly excited friend as he points outside, his eyes wide in awe as he watches them, Roman smiles and looks over at the lights too. “I guess they are really pretty.” Roman says with a soft smile laying his head on his friends shoulder and gazing sleepily up at the lights. I snap out of my flash back as he stops, we are kind of far into the cave, I'm about to ask again but he clamps a hand over my mouth before I can. “Shhhhh” he says, listening for a moment, most likely making sure we weren't followed. He lets my mouth go after about a minute. “Okay now you can talk.”

“I- Who are you? Why do I recognize you? Why did you think I was dead? How do you know magic- why do you live out here? Where did you get that sword-? What are you wearin-” he covers my mouth again. “Slow down. Gods Poseidon, That is a lot of questions.” he takes a deep breath. “How about this you can ask a question then I'll ask a question, okay?” I nod and he takes my hand off my mouth once more. “Who are you?” I ask the moment he removes his hand. “Virgil,” He answers, there's that spark of familiarity in me again. In my flash back I called him Virgey. “Virgil…” I repeat softly looking down at his tail again. “Yes, Virgil, now how are you alive?” He asks quickly and I look up confused, what kind of question is that? “What do you mean…?” “I mean how- you- the shark attack when we were kids? I saw you it looked like you were…” his eyes search my face finding only confusion. “You don't remember me…?” he asks softly watching me as if waiting on me to explain to him I simply didn't understand the question and that I really do remember him. “I- I don't know who you are… but your name, and your tail, your voice… it's all- it's all familiar. You have to tell me how I know you, I rarely remember things from before I was eight, my parents said I just have a bad memory but I remember you- so that means something right?” I ask, nearly cringing from how desperate I sound. His face remains analytical but his eyes betray his hurt, he looks down at his hands wringing them anxiously. “Yeah that means something…” He pauses and I watch him think for a moment, he sinks down to the ground and I do the same beside him, we both have our backs to the wall he looks back up. “Okay so… I guess I should explain what I'm talking about, umm…” I watch as he fiddles with his scales on his tale for a moment nervously before continuing. “So when we were eight- er- well first off I guess I should explain how I know you-” he takes a deep breath before speaking in a bit of a timid rush. “So- well, I was the son of two of the palace workers, E-emile and Remy um, they were my mom and dad.

My mom, Emile, well she was the head baker and my dad, Remy, was your personal guard. Um, you were usually alone and so was I so we hung out a lot, and our older brother-” he pauses hesitantly before continuing “er- um, your older brother Remus would come play with us sometimes, most of the time he did his own thing though. We were pretty close until…” he glances at my tail, his lavender eyes tracing the white designs on it that my parents call birthmarks. “Until the shar- until your eighth birthday.” he stops as he notices my hand pressed to my head. “A-are you okay princy- er Roman?” I nod but that just causes my headache to get a bit worse “Yeah I'm fine, give me a second-” I say quietly as my head continues to throb in pain, “So… We have been friends since we were kids. Your parents Mrs. Emile and Mr. Remy worked for my parents. Remus… he wasn't distant? Not all the time at least? He mostly ignored me recently before he… well before he died.” I notice Virgil's tail twitch beside me and look up to meet his eyes, “Virgil?” “...Yeah?” He answers, avoiding my gaze by continuing to examine the caves wall. “Oh I mean yeah, like yes, he was close with us, he would play games with us and stuff um but sometimes he would go to be by himself.” I notice his fidgeting has increased since I brought up Remus, it's making him uncomfortable for some reason, it's probably best if I move past it and continue. My head throbs again. My memory is triggered pretty much every time he mentions something. His parents' names, brought up some foggy pictures of people in my head, a woman with a pastel pink tail and tan hair, long tan hair, holding cupcakes with a bright smile. And a man, a black tail, palace blue armor like I recently escaped from and a black trident to match his tail. He wears a smirk rather than a smile. “Okay… so what happened on my eighth birthday?” I ask hesitantly. It's clear he doesn't want to really talk about it and he has seemingly noticed my headache. Upon my inquiry though he jumps on the topic quickly, I must have been right about the topic of Remus making him uncomfortable. “Well um, so I was baking the cake with my mother and you were being watched by my father. You and Remus share a birthday, he was turning fourteen, so the party was pretty big. It had people from neighboring kingdoms and things like that. Me and my mom served the cake and stuff and you opened presents. After that the people from other kingdoms started to move back into the palace to change for the banquet later that night. Remus had already ducked out of his party to go mess with some of the palace guests, he liked to play pranks on them. W-we were playing and you fell into a table, and well one of the plates you hit when you fell broke and cut you. It wasn't a big cut or anything but the kings were upset and came to help you, King Patton held you while King Logan cleaned it for you. But um… well… your blood was already in the water. Usually blood in water is not a problem but, well the festivities of the entire kingdom celebrating and things like that had drawn the attention of some s-s-sharks…” I watch intently as he takes a shaky deep breath, as he recounts the events I get flashes, I see the cake, the party, some guests, my parents, Remus. “The kings had helped with your cut and had gotten called inside for some kind of business, me and my mom were cleaning up and you were bored so you were helping, a few of the guards were still outside by the doors. W-w were on the opposite side, you and dad were at a table in the left corner and me and mom were packing up the cake. M-my m-mom s-she saw s-something and t-tucked me under a t-table and yelled a-at my dad to g-get you o-out of there. S-she was t-torn away b-before she could f-finish. I w-watched the sharks r-rip her apart-” he stops and turns away from me as his voice cracks on ‘apart’. When he starts talking again the emotion is gone… “My dad grabbed you and swam toward the door but he was too far away, both of you got ripped backwards and I watched you both get attacked. The guards swam in just a second late, I was frozen the whole time but when the guards came I swam away, hid in one of these caves for a few days… I mean I watched everyone I cared about get killed, some other guards died too. I didn't care much about them though…” he finishes numbly, his eyes trained on my tail blankly. “I thought you died…” he says, his voice barely a whisper. I watch him quietly. That was a lot of information to take in. Now the light marks on my tail make sense, their shark bites, lots, and lots, and lots of shark bites. I don't know how I could even believe that they were birthmarks like my father Logan said, or just a “unique design” like my dad Patton always said. Why would they lie to me? Why would they lie about something so important? My eyes stay on the ground between me and Virgil absentmindedly. I notice his hands have stopped fidgeting now they're just shaking, I place my hand on his. I can tell he hasn't talked about this in awhile, or maybe at all after the incident. He looks so fragile, like maybe touching him would make him shatter. I feel so bad for asking about it. I shouldn't have brought this up but I had to know. Especially so soon after a shark encounter? His reaction to the shark earlier makes sense now... “I'm so glad you're alive.” he says quietly, I was too lost in thought to notice he’s now looking at me, his eyes tracing my features again. “Even if you don't remember me.” His voice cracks on “me” cracking my heart with it… without even thinking about it I pull him into a hug. 

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 92 - Campfire Stories, Part 2

Added Note: This chapter was accidentally posted during #blackoutTuesday, and I tried to take it down before it was up for too long.

The cause hasn’t ended, we need to keep momentum going.  Please donate to naacp.com/coronavirus to help in the fight for health equity during the current pandemic, especially as the people who are protesting police brutality are risking their health to do so. 

________________________________

Okay, I promised I would post all the stories I received for this event, and I’m keeping my word... so we have Part 2 of the Campfire stories!

The one referenced at the opening of this chapter is an original of mine that I posted about a year ago, called “Lydia Woke Up”. Since it can be found through that link and on my blog, I didn’t want to include the whole story. Some of you have already read it, and I thought that would bog things down.

Also in this chapter, Grey’s story is adapted from this story on r/nosleep, only adjusted to fit the character and the story.  Grey’s creator submitted the story, so I don’t want to take credit for something I didn’t write.

Finally, the story Tyche tells is one I have told before, on another blog. The response is here, verbatim, in Tyche’s story.  However, the basis for the story is so common that it is classified as Aarne-Thompson type 706, a way of cataloguing folk tales. Rejectedprincesses.com has a version of this (Penta: The Handless Princess), and I originally read the Brother’s Grimm version. There is also a Xhosa variant that I highly recommend.

“...Finally, blessedly, Lydia didn’t wake up,” I finished, glancing around.

Charly was holding a hand to her mouth, and I couldn’t figure out if she was going to be sick or cry. Coffee was rubbing his chin thoughtfully.  Conor and Maverick were shaking themselves briskly, like they did when they woke up in the morning.

“That story is... disturbing,” Grey pronounced carefully.

Arthur shuddered and shook his head. “Somehow it’s even worse when you tell it, instead of just reading it.”

Tyche arched a brow at him. “Right?”

“What do you mean, instead of just reading it?” Charly’s question was only slightly muffled by her hand.

The arched brow switched targets, while one finger was flicked in my direction. “She wrote that story. Probably fifteen years ago?”

All eyes stared at me widely, except the two who already knew. “Wasn’t that a little...dark?” Conor asked.

I shrugged. “We’re telling scary stories, right?”

Both of my partners glanced at each other, and I knew I would be hearing about this later.  Fortunately, I was saved when Grey spoke up. “I have a story I read once, in the Before.”

“Is it as… bad, as Sophie’s?”

They shook their head. “My fathers were really good friends with the family who lived closest to us, but one day the head of that household was offered a very lucrative job far away. Both of my fathers were upset, but my mothers agree that they recovered rather quickly.  Within a month, the house was sold, and a new couple moved in. Mother Jacqueline said there was something off-putting about them.

‘They were constantly smiling,’ she always explained. ‘Every minute of the day, they had large, painful-looking smiles on their faces. And they were whiter than linen sheets, as though they never ventured outdoors.’

Father Jakob and Mother Sarah confirmed that Mother Jacqueline was not being judgemental, the new couple was odd in a way that disturbed all of my parents.  However, my parents were very strict about manners and social graces, so they still attempted to build a positive social relationship with their new neighbors. Mother Hodaya made a basket of sweet pastries, and all my parents went to introduce themselves.  The new neighbors answered the door shoulder-to-shoulder, with those strange smiles on their pale faces. My parents introduced themselves, but all agreed when they told the story that the couple would only say ‘We like you and you are welcome here always’.

My parents stayed for about an hour, and in that time the couple sat on their couch, shoulder-to-shoulder, still smiling, and would barely answer any questions. Not where they came from, not what they did for a living, just repeating ‘We like you and you are welcome here always.’ Eventually, my parents left, and the couple did not even escort them to the door.

The third day after the couple moved in is when strange events started occurring. First, they painted their house to resemble that of my parents - a light cream color with a thin blue stripe around it.  ‘The next day, as I tended the landscaping, the husband was outdoors also tending his landscape,” Father Issac would explain. ‘Which would not be of note, ordinarily. However, the man was wearing the exact same clothing and sun hat as I wore.  This troubled me deeply, so I addressed him directly. I was not aggressive or accusing, but I did make it clear that I felt there was no coincidence that this man had both painted his home to look like ours and clothed himself to look like me. But he only stared at me with that permanent smile.’

After that, my parents took it in turns to watch the couple more closely. Within weeks, the neighbors purchased a vehicle identical to that of my parents.  This time, Mother Sarah and Father Jakob went to speak with the couple. They asked directly why the couple felt the need to copy our family. The couple would only say ‘We like our neighbors. We like you.’ At that time, Mother Sarah saw something that upset her and made excuses for them to leave.  She would not explain why she was upset until they were back inside the house. All my parents sat together so Mother Sarah could tell them what she saw. Despite all her discipline, she was close to tears and clung tightly to Mother Hodaya and Mother Jacquelilne for comfort.

When she finally calmed down, she explained. ‘While we were at the home of the neighbors, I could see inside their bedroom.’ Mother Hodaya admonished her, but she continued.  ‘They left the door open, almost as if they wanted me to see.  And I am glad for my curiosity, as I saw something upsetting. Their bedroom… It looked identical to our own.’ 

All of my parents fell silent, only to be broken when Father Issac stood and left the room.  He returned shortly after, with recording equipment, which he set up in their bedroom, facing their door.  ‘The neighbors have never been invited into our home, nor have they been on the property that I am aware of.’

That night, none of my parents slept well, but they did eventually sleep. In the morning, they reviewed the recording. Surely enough, the neighbors somehow entered the house and came into my parents room.  However, their smiles were gone  Instead, their faces were contorted with murderous rage and hatred. 

Father Jakob and Father Issac, not prone to violence in ordinary circumstances, both gathered baseball bats from my brothers’ rooms and stormed over to the house next door. They pounded on the door, but no one answered. For the sake of protecting our family, they eventually decided to break down the door.

The house was empty. Even though the car was still outside, everything in the house was packed neatly in boxes, stacked in the living room, but the couple was gone. They never came back for their possessions, or their car. My parents took the recording to the authorities, and they searched everywhere for the pair. They were only able to find out that the identities used were stolen from a couple in another country. My parents packed up my family and moved far, far away for peace of mind.”

Polite applause followed the end of Grey’s story.  They stood up and gave a joking half-bow, smiling. “I am not certain of the veracity of the story, especially after so long since having read it.”

“You did a good job,” Maverick reassured her. “I liked it a lot.  It reminded me of some of the stories my dad would tell me growing up, about demons and spirits that could steal your face.”

“They appear in most cultures,” Tyche added. “We’re very attached to our identities. They’re something we build around ourselves, how we control what people perceive of us.  My identity is what makes me… well, me.” She held up a hand and looked at it thoughtfully. “Come to think of it, I have a story. A man - some say he is the devil, others say he is evil, or simply the evil that lives inside the father - passes the home of a farmer, or maybe a miller, one day. The man, maybe the devil, maybe his own lack of conscience, offers the homeowner either extreme wealth or just enough to get by, in exchange for what is behind the home.

Regardless of what the homeowner thought stood behind his home - whether it’s a cow, a pig, or a tree -  it is his daughter. She is always bright, lovely, pure, clean. So wonderfully pure and clean that evil cannot redeem its prize.” Tyche spat the word pure like it was an obscenity, and I fought the urge to smile as she continued.

“So the daughter is forced to stand - maybe in a magic circle, maybe tied, but always bound - and not allowed to bathe. Forced to become unclean. However, her weeping washes her hands, and they remain pure and clean. So, the evil that pushes the hand of her father forces him to cut off her hands, thinking to remove the last clean part of her.

Of course, regardless of the evil, the reasoning, or the binding, she weeps over the wounds. Because she is still faultless by virtue of her sorrow at her circumstance - her lack of autonomy, her mutilation, the betrayal of her parent, she is in no way complicit, regardless - the evil still cannot touch her. Finally, it surrenders, leaving her unwhole.

She leaves, seeking her own fortune. Whether it is because she is cast out or because she was no longer wanted, betrayal is betrayal. Either way, she later meets a king, who finds her bright and lovely, and marries her. He always has new hands crafted for her, always - by might or magic - of silver.

But what happens between ‘happily ever’ and that ubiquitous 'after’?

She bears a child. Changeling or simply a girl, because of the child she is driven out by the king or his family. Regardless, she is again abandoned to cruel fate.

This time she happens upon a hut. An angel, a witch… It depends who is telling the story, but someone has mercy upon a single mother - the only true mercy in her life -  and allows her to raise her child in the same humble manner she herself was raised. The child - changeling, or girl, or maybe both, it doesn’t matter - grows strong, and so does the mother’s hands. The silver hands fall away, always, replaced by her own that were lost to cruel whim.

After the child grows strong, they encounter the king in the wilderness. He follows this child - unwittingly his own - to their home. For healing, for succor, or simply for curiosity… The tales say any and all, but the reason doesn’t matter: after several years, the king sees his queen again. She is bright, and pure, and lovely, and clean, no matter what has happened in her life. And finally, she is whole. Whether by angel or witch - but never by man - she has found her wholeness.

The reunion scene happens - maybe he recognizes her, maybe she tells him. But here? Here, the tales always lie.

The tales say she always, always, forgives him, and 'ever after’ starts.”

As her singsong tone faded, everyone was left speechless. “I’ve heard that story before,” Conor spoke up, finally breaking the silence. “A different version, but the same tale.”

“It exists in most cultures, apparently,” Tyche clarified. “But her identity never changed, only how she looked on the outside.”

Almost everyone’s eyes threatened to pop out of their heads, except Arthur, who nodded. “That makes sense. It doesn’t make it any less fucked up.”

“Believe me, it gets worse,” she sighed airly, without clarifying.

Simon lunged forward to grab another drink. “Nope. No thanks. Worse than that is something I can live without, if I have the choice.”

Grey blinked slowly before composing their face. “Be glad you have that choice.”

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[sadienita]

As Sure As Fate - Part 4

Han Dong x Female Reader

Word Count: 3.3k

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Riencanration

Contents: Implied Character Death

Notes: Okay I- uh- @flyingsculptures I’m so sorry this was meant to be a b i r t h d a y g i f t and this part got S A D. It’s I mean it’s also hands down my fav part (and mayhaps I was asking you about favourite parts of history for a reason uwu) but also the ending is sad and I’m S O R R Y I made myself cry while editing it oh god I hope you like it even though it might rip your heart out but there’s also so many cute moments and also the last part is happy I p r o m i s e.

1910 - Kansas City, USA

The fourth time I met you, I was blessed to have so much more of a lifetime with you. More than ever before we were drawn together, tied closely by fate. I knew from the beginning you were someone special.

You didn’t listen closely to what your mom was saying, instead taking in the girl in front of you, the same age as you. Her clothes were grass stained and her hair was messy and she had dirt smudged on her cheek and you thought she had to be the coolest girl in the whole wide world.

“I’m Hannie,” she chimed, shaking your hand the way grown ups did, a bright smile on her face.

You grinned, grasping her hand and telling her your name. She giggled and started to pull you towards the door. You heard your mom screeching after you not to get your dress dirty but you didn’t care too much about that as you raced into the yard with your new neighbor.

“We’re going to be the best of friends! I can tell!”

To grow together, like two trees planted too close, we entwined with each other.

“Hannie, are you sure about this?” you cried, gazing up at where she sat at the top of the hill.

“It’ll be fine!” she said brightly, pulling down her old goggles.

“Be careful!” you shouted. Nerves curled in your stomach as she steadied her makeshift cart at the top of the hill. You thought Hannie was too brave for her own good. She had been since the day you met her. Your mom didn’t like that she made you more reckless and that you messed up your clothes so much but you couldn’t help it. You couldn’t think of anyone else you’d want to spend your summer days with.

Even if she worried you at moments like this.

Hannie used the stick in her hand to push off and let out a screech as she flew down the hill very quickly. You clasped your hands together as you watched her, thrilled and frightened all at once.

Her cart shook and as she hit a bump at the bottom of the hill the wheel flew off and Hannie let out a scream as she flew out of the cart and landed in the grass. You let out a gasp as you ran to her. Hannie lay sprawled out on the grass, letting out a groan and a hand finding her head.

“Are you okay?! Hannie, are you okay!?”

She let out another groan, squeezing her eyes shut.

You fussed over her, wiping dirt off her clothes and finding the cut on her knee, bleeding.

“I told you it was dangerous,” you whined, pressing the underpart of your skirt against her knee to stop the bleeding. “You need to be more careful. One of these days you might-”

You cut off as Hannie gripped your wrist. When you looked at her she was giving you a weak smile and it made butterflies flutter in your stomach in a way you were sure you’d never felt before and yet felt so familiar.

“I don’t need to be careful with you around,” she laughed. “You’ll always make sure I’m okay.”

“I-I-” you softened a bit. “Just- don’t do anything too crazy, okay?”

She squeezed your wrist.

“Okay.”

Our roots were tangled around each other far more than we realized. And as we grew towards the sky, we were side by side.

There was something very comforting about having Hannie’s hand in yours. Something about her eased your mind, it calmed you. The world felt like it was in turmoil, like everything had spun out of control in the last five years. You could barely make sense of any of it, barely wrap your head around the lives lost to war and then to the flu.

The night wind blew through your hair and rustled the leaves of the nearby trees. The sky above spanned on forever and was littered with stars, twinkling down at you as if nothing had ever been turned upside down.

Your head fell to the side and you took in the sight of Hannie, the feeling in your chest all too familiar now. Her pretty features were lit in moonlight as she gazed up at the sky, wonder and anticipation in her eyes as she took in what was so far away from you. Her dreams were so lofty, though her spirits had been dampened by the war. You had both grown up too much.

“When you look up at the sky,” she mused. “Do you ever just want to reach out and touch it?”

You spared a glance at the stars. “Wouldn’t that take me too far away?”

She tilted her head to look at you, something unreadable in her eyes. “From here? Is there that much here for you?”

“There’s you,” you didn’t think about the words before you said them, and they hung in the warm night air between you. Hannie’s eyes stayed on you and you felt nerves claw at your stomach, wishing to suck the words back inside.

“You don’t wanna leave just because of me?”

You rolled onto your side, heart slipping into your stomach. “Well, you’re my best friend after all. Why would I want to go anywhere without you?” Why was your heart pounding?

A grin tugged at Hannie’s lips. “Who said I wouldn’t come with you?”

You couldn’t seem to find the words as she rolled onto her side to face you. “You know I wanna fly one day? I wanna be a pilot, soaring through the air.”

“Hannie-” you whined but she hushed you with a finger pressed to your lips. 

“But,” she said. “No matter how high I go, I’m always going to come back down to you. You know that right?”

You couldn’t seem to find any words, only nodding as you desperately wished your heart would stop beating so loud. Surely she could hear it. She squeezed your hand and smiled more widly at you, a giggle escaping her lips.

“I don’t think I want to be away from you for too long anyway,” she said. “I like you too much.”

“I like you, too,” you whispered.

Did she mean it the same way you did?

Together we weathered storms. The wind howling, rain pelting against us. But with a strong enough foundation we were never uprooted. And we only entwined closer with each other.

“Don’t you hate this?” Hannie grumbled as you cleaned out the horses stalls.

“We all have help out, Hannie,” you sighed. “Besides, you hate housework.”

“No, I mean,” she put her shovel down. “Don’t you want to move to the city? It’s so much brighter. They’re more forward thinking there, you know.”

“I know,” you sighed. “But life out here isn’t so bad.” You always got nervous when Hannie talked about leaving. She did it more and more these days. You knew she had dreams and you desperately wanted to go with her, to be by her side as she chased after them, to keep her hand in yours. As you got older though, there was all the more pressure to marry, all the more pressure to grow up even more and you worried that her ideas were too fanciful, not to mention her parents hated the idea of her in an airplane.

You weren’t too keen on it either.

“There’s a flying school in the city,” she said quietly.

“Hannie, are you really gonna leave one day?” you wanted to believe she would never leave you behind, but something deep inside made you nervous that she might.

“I have to,” she said. “I can’t live like this forever. This isn’t the life I want.”

You chewed on your lip as you mulled over her words. “What will become of us?”

“Come with me,” her answer was swift and you met her excitement with bewilderment.

“Hannie!” you chided. “We can’t just leave!”

“We can do what we want,” she retorted. “We’re all grown up. And we can give them time to hire farmhands. But we could have our own lives!”

“Do you really think it could work?” you asked nervously.

“With you by my side, I reckon anything is possible,” she smiled.

Like the roots of a tree, our hearts had grown closer than either of us thought to admit. But no matter how bold you could be, some things were difficult to say.

You pressed the envelope closed, a smile playing on your lips. You made more in the city than you had helping out around the farm, and it felt good to send a little bit home, to help out. You thought being far away from your family would be difficult, yet you never really felt like you were far away from home. You felt more comfortable with Hannie than you ever had living at home.

Still, after all these years, she comforted you. She made you happy and filled you with feelings you couldn’t name.

Or perhaps they just scared you.

The door burst open and you jumped, breaking out of your mind’s meanderings. Hannie had a bright smile on her face and she was panting slightly, her hair a mess as she held a paper tightly in her hand.

“I got in!”

It took a moment for your mind to catch up but as it settled in that she had been accepted to flying school a smile spread across your face. Her excitement was infectious and her giggles spread to you as she raced towards you and into a tight hug, squeezing you and squealing from delight in a way that made your heart soar.

She pulled back too quickly and her hands found the sides of your face. Your brain had no time to react before her lips crashed against yours.

Your heart felt like it was exploding as you gripped the front of her shirt. Your brain seemed to short circuit as your head spun and all you could do was hold onto her for dear life until she pulled back to look at you.

Her face was flushed red and her chest was heaving. You let go of each other at the same time as the reality started to settle in and you felt heat burning at your own cheeks, your brain unable to form any sort of thought in response, unable to say what you really wanted to say to her.

“I-I need to-”

“Yes, I have to-”

“I-m going to-”

“Y-Yes me too!”

Words stumbled out of both of you as you grabbed your things and made for the door to mail your letters while Hannie made for her room.

Some things were still left unsaid, hanging around us like fireflies on an early summer evening. They blinked in and out of sight but remained. The words nearly left your lips on breaths so many times, always stuck to your tongue.

You heard your name being called excitedly and you put down your knitting as Hannie rushed into your room.

“Did you see the news?!”

“About?” you chuckled.

“Earhart, of course!” You shook your head and Hannie gasped, dropping down into the chair next to you. “She just flew across the atlantic!”

“Wait, really?!” you grabbed the paper from her and hurriedly read the story, a gasp leaving your lips. 

“She’s really out there setting records, flying around the world,” Hannie sighed. “Isn’t that just the most amazing thing you’ve ever heard. What can’t a woman do these days?!”

“It’s so impressive,” you hummed. “You know they’re gonna have to put your name in the papers like that one day.”

She gave you a bright smile that made your heart skip a beat. “Gosh I hope so! I want to do something amazing. Being in the sky is just… It’s one of the best feelings there is.”

“Not the best?” you asked. “I have half a mind to think flying is your true love.”

“There are things better than flying,” her voice was much softer as she spoke, much shier.

You softened your voice to match hers, sincerity seeping into your tone. “What’s better than flying?”

“Oh gosh, we should start dinner shouldn’t we?” Hannie jumped up from her seat and you watched her rush into the kitchen, wondering if you would ever say the words that were stuck to your tongue.

So much time. So many more precious seconds with each other. But what was our destiny?

You squeezed Hannie’s fingers in yours as you sat on the train with her.

“Are you excited or nervous?” you asked her quietly.

“Both,” she stated, though sounding more of the latter.

“You know you’ll do great though. I think you’ve talked me through your plan about a thousand times.”

Your words made Hannie giggle and you were grateful for that. She had been preparing for months now for a solo flight to the tip of South America and back, over the gulf and the Caribbean islands. You would be beyond terrified so the fact that she was only a little nervous a few days before the flight was a testament to her bravery and willpower.

“You’re right,” she said. “I know you’re right.”

“Hannie,” you turned to her when her eyes met yours, you could see the fear deep inside her. You grasped her other hand and squeezed them both tight. “You’re going to be amazing. If anyone can do this, it’s you.”

“You think so?”

You grinned. “I know so.”

Was it always to split apart?

It was something else entirely to see Hannie all dressed up in her pilot gear. Her face was steeled as she went over things and checked the airplane and you stood a bit away from her on the runway. This was one adventure you would have to watch from afar. It killed you to know she would be so far, doing something so dangerous, but there was a fire in her eyes that you knew burned so deeply.

This was freeing and exciting. This was her dream. You reminded yourself that when she got home you could celebrate, you would see her name in the papers. You believed in her so deeply and if nothing else, that eased your mind. If anyone could do this, it was Hannie.

There was a thought that made your heart melt, that she had listed you as family. You were staying close to her take off place for the planned four days of her journey, though perhaps six if things went poorly. You stuffed your hand into your jacket pocket and your fingers brushed against cool metal.

An “oh” fell off your lips as you wrapped your fingers around it and raced towards Hannie, not heeding any warnings called out at you. She looked up at you bewildered as you flew towards her, face flushing red and catching you as you made it to her, panting.

“What on earth-”

“I almost forgot!” you wheezed, pulling the locket from your pocket. “So you can keep me with you, even in the air.”

Hannie took to locket gently, eyes welling with tears as she smoothed her thumb over the jewelry. She had no words when she looked at you, unable to form her thoughts she threw her arms around you in a tight hug which you returned, burying your face against her.

“I love you,” the words were so quiet you almost missed them but they made your heart leap, ringing in your head and playing on repeat as you hugged her tighter, very sure what she meant by them.

“I love you, too.”

To lose each other?

Today was the final day of her journey. Each one made you more nervous and more excited. You desperately wanted her back by your side and you missed her dearly. Something about this morning, though, had made you lethargic. You were slow to get out of bed and you felt chilled as you prepared yourself.

You reminded yourself it was fine to be nervous about today, it was the longest stretch of time she would be in the air and it was the last day. You should be more excited, more optimistic, but as you headed out to get updates and prepare for her landing something felt cold, something chilled you in a way you couldn’t explain.

Contrary to your worries though, everything was running smoothly when you arrived. They informed you she had just shown up on the radar and she would be getting within radio distance very soon. You sat as patiently as you could, fingers trembling as you tried to knit and distract yourself, sparing worried glances at the clouds outside.

“...do…h... me...ver” the radio crackled to life and all heads in the room snapped towards it. “D… you he… me, over.”

You jumped to your feet, unsure what you were going to do as they rushed to communicate with her.

“This is district 7. Do you copy? Over.”

“I co...ver,” the way her voice broke up had your stomach twisting into knots. “My visibility...bad, over.”

“Keep your course steady. Do you copy? Over.”

“I… py. Over.”

You wanted to yell to her to be careful, you were filled with more and more dread in every moment but you knew distracting her wouldn’t help. She was almost home and you should relax. As they started to speak more technically you sat back down, fingers shaking too much to knit. You gazed out at the overcast sky, growing darker and darker even in the afternoon.

The moments seemed to tick by, dragging on very slowly in a torturous crawl. You just wanted her to be home, to be safe. She passed landmarks and you listened anxiously as the hours very slowly slipped past.

“You’re drifting off course, over.” The words caught your attention and you looked up to where the men stood around the controls.

“I’m on track, over.”

He tutted. “You’re drifting east, you need to turn due northwest, over.”

“My instruments say I’m on track, over.” There was a pause. “Dammit.”

“Han, are you okay? Over.”

“Something’s not… over.”

Your chest felt tight as you gripped the skirt of your dress in your hands. 

“Han, what’s wrong? Over.” The room had grown tense as everyone listened for her answers.

“I… get… ...It’s no… dam…”

The radio went dead.

The room jumped into activity. Two of the workers grabbed you and ushered you out of the room as you struggled against them, straining to hear the last few things they said before the door swung shut.

“She’s still veering off course.”

“She won’t make it if she keeps going that way.” 

“Radio for a crew to be sent out.”

The door swung shut as they dragged you down the hall.

To wonder “is this the last time?”

The sun sunk lower in the sky as you clasped your hands together, hoping and praying for a miracle. You had gotten no news about the planes sent out to find her, but you knew she wasn’t back yet. You were listening for the roar of her engines and yet, nothing.

That cold feeling was seeping into you more and more by the minute. Could you really lose her now? Could she really, now, in this hour, be ripped away from you?

This hurt too much. It felt like losing everything, like you had lost her before somehow. You didn’t know how but this felt dreadfully familiar and that gave you no comfort as you wrapped yourself in closer, shivering.

An icy feeling rushed through you and you gasped as pain hit your chest. Tears filling your eyes as your knuckles gripped your shawl. You shook horribly until the feeling settled in the pit of your stomach and you broke down into sobs.

They would never find her, you knew it plain as day.

And you never got to say goodbye.

How many times did I need to lose you before I could finally be with you?

[yikestripes]

School’s Out for Summer: Bill Denbrough x Fem!Reader

Here’s my first IT lil writing blurb! I’m so excited to get back into writing and stuff, especially since I got yeeted into the IT fandom headfirst just 2 weeks ago, and haven’t gotten anything about it off my mind since then but we livin. Anyway, here’s young bill x fem!reader!

Warnings: cursing, kissing, the like.

The summer had barely gotten started, when things around your hometown were getting a little weird. Derry, Maine was never the most particularly normal town, but usually it was nowhere near this... eerie, all the time.

Nevertheless, you were still ready to plunge into the quarry the first day of summer.

Suddenly, a flash of black and red flew in and out of your vision, whipping passed you like you weren’t even there.

It was Richie Tozier, the king of impatience.

“Beep beep, Richie!” You say, smirking.

Richie rolls his eyes and tries to hide the small smile that crossed his lips.

“I don’t usually do slow, but you know what, ANYTHING for you baby!” Richie replied, looking you up and down thirstily.

You just shake your head. Before you get the chance to say something back, your childhood best friend disappeared among the crowd of kids pushing their way out of the school in a mass, ready to start their summer adventures.

Suddenly, a hand fell on your shoulder.

You whipped around, ready to rip away from whoever was touching you, but it was just Bill.

Bill Denbrough.

The love of your life.

Your neighbor.

Your childhood best friend.

Your loser.

“Hey, r-r-ready to g-g-get your ass dunked at the q-quarry?” He stuttered, grinning from ear to ear.

“Me, get MY ass dunked? Please!” You lightly nudged his shoulder as you walked through the crowded hallway.

“P-please what? Don’t w-wanna get your hair w-w-wet?” He ruffled your hair as you tried to swat his hand away.

Bill was, at best, a head or two taller than you; swatting his hands away every time he tried to put his hand near your hair was difficult, and most of the time useless, since Stan would usually tag team it, and get your nicely done hair frizzy anyway.

“Bill stop!” You whined.

Bill laughed and let his arm come to rest on your shoulder, making heat rise in your cheeks. This isn’t the first time he’s done this, and most certainly not the last, but it sure made you wonder.

“Puh-LEASE! He’s so obviously in love with you!” Beverly said, running a hand through her messy hair.

“I don’t know Bev, have you SEEN the way he looks at you?” You let your mind wander to all the times you’ve caught Bill staring at Bev, especially when he thought neither of you were looking.

Little did you know, he was always staring at you. The way your hair fell and framed your face, the way your whole face lit up when you were talking about something you’re passionate about, or even when you showed all the boys up at the quarry, the first day they brought you.

He had been in love with you since the day he met you. But he couldn’t ever find the words to tell you.

A voice to your left took you out of your thoughts; it was Ben, going on and on about some new fact he read about in his latest musings in the library.

You were half paying attention, still slightly preoccupied by Bill’s arm that had since deserted your shoulder.

His hand was so close to yours, that in a single move you could reach out and grab it, and never let go. You played with the idea for a minute, had it gone poorly, you could’ve found some convenient excuse. You didn’t mean to, you weren’t paying attention, you thought he was grabbing yours, the possibilities were endless.

Of course Bill would believe you, he would believe anything you said, just because you said it.

Unbeknownst to you, he wanted more than anything to just reach out and take your hand in his, and finally tell you how he felt.

The idea made him more sick than the time Richie made the loser’s ride “The Vomit Comet” 6 times in a day.

Bill absentmindedly smiled at the memory.

You had brought your new camera you had just gotten for your birthday, which you were celebrating at the theme park, and took pictures of every possible moment.

Eddie lecturing the Losers on how unhealthy the food was and how questionable the rides were, Richie making some snarky comment to Eddie about doing it with his mom, Eddie and Richie bickering.

There were also some really nice photos; Bev had taken the camera when you weren’t paying attention, and snapped a few really cute candids of you and Bill laughing, smiling, and looking at each other the way only two childhood sweethearts could.

You got shots of Bev playing games and smacking Richie in the back of the head, then Richie giving you both the finger.

“HAPPY SUMMER LOSERS!” Bev yells, jumping on your back.

“Talley ho and pip pip my good fellows! We must be on our way!” Richie said, causing Eddie to roll his eyes.

“I hate when you do that accent!” He muttered, fiddling with his fanny pack.

“What’s that, Eddie? I can’t hear you over the sound of me fucking your mom!”

The bickering ensued for the entire walk to the quarry.

“Will they ever stop?” You wondered out loud, only half serious.

“N-nope. Not even w-w-when we’re adults,” Bill replied with a shrug. “They’ll g-go on this way f-f-forever.”

“Do you think we’ll all still be friends when we’re adults? Like, our parents ages?” Stanley asked, sounding worried.

Bev slung her arm across Stan’s shoulders and ran a hand through his messy curls.

“Of course we will, kid!” Stan shook her off, trying to contain his smile despite his worry.

The brief walk from school to the Quarry came to an abrupt end, when you all prepared for the next step. Conquering the cliff for the first time that summer.

“YIPPEE KI-YAY MOTHERFUCKERS!” You screamed at the top of your lungs, flinging yourself off the edge of the jumping cliff, into the cool water below.

You immerse yourself in the water, allowing it to swallow you entirely for a brief moment.

You resurface, and come face to face with Bill, who’s looking up to the sky, trying to convince Ben to jump.

“Come on, New Kid! You can do it!” Beverly encouraged.

“Let’s go Ben! We don’t have all day!” Richie chimed in, impatient.

You catch Bill’s eyes darting towards the other Losers, then at you, making you a bit nervous.

You raise an eyebrow at him; “what?”

“This.” He smirked, and pulled you under.

Once he pulled you down, you opened your eyes and looked around, only to sense a small tap on your shoulder. You whip around to see Bill, a closed mouth smile permeating his face, waving at you.

You grin as he just looks at you, as if you were the only person in the entire world.

For just a moment, you were.

You swim up and break the surface, to see the other Loser’s have already crossed the pond, preoccupied with picking teams for chicken fights.

Bill begins swimming towards them, when you grab his hand underwater.

He looks back at you with his eyebrows raised, speaking without words.

You pull him close to you and wrap your arms around his neck, your eyes darting back and forth between his eyes, and his lips.

He grins, and closes the gap between you two, pulling you into the sweetest kiss you’d ever had.

A kiss that was worth the wait, and then some.

You both pull away and hear the cheers and cries of the Losers from across the Quarry.

“It’s about damn time!”

“FINALLY!”

“I told you so!”

“You owe my 5 bucks!”

Bill grabs your hand and spins you around, smiling at you like you were the only thing on his mind.

You were.

You pulled him close, and kissed him again.

This was going to be the most interesting summer of your life.

And it all started with Bill Denbrough.

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #267

“you can take my heart, you can take my breath - when you pry it from my cold, dead chest.”

When did you last talk to the last person you kissed? Last night. Do you think people have any misconceptions about you? Oh, I'm positively certain. What’s something you wish you could understand better? There are a great many things, but the first that came to mind are certain political/moral beliefs that I REALLY do want to understand, but I just don't. When was the last time you cried really, really hard? About a week back when I woke up shrieking and sobbing from a nightmare about Dad. Have you ever injected a drug? No. How many people have you liked in the past 5 months? I've been COnfuFSSeD!!!!!! Are you currently in a relationship? Nope. Probably for the better. Have you ever touched a dead body? Animals, yes. I may have at an open-casket wake, but idr. I was young. Ever played Grand Theft Auto? Nope, but oh man, good memories of those stupid games with my neighbor back when I was younger... He loved that game just to fuck around, and I liked watching. Then Jacob and Jason played it together at the apartment a lot, and those are warm memories, too. The last male you spoke to … is he attractive? That would be my 3-year-old nephew, so it'd be fucking weird to call him that. He's one handsome little boy, though. We all know he's gonna be a lady killer one day. If your ex called right now, would you answer? Yeah. Is there a dictionary on your bookshelf? I don't even have a bookshelf. Do you have any pet names for the person you love/like? Not anymore. Who was the last person you had a serious conversation with? What is your honest opinion of that person? Mom. I love her to death. Who was the first person you dated? What is your honest opinion of that person? Aaron was my puppy-dog love, and I have not the slightest clue what he's up to now, but I have faith he's kept that good head of his. Ever fallen in the shower? I've passed out while getting *out* of it. I've slipped a number of times too, but not truly fallen. Do you think that things will get better? For me, I genuinely don't know. Ever been to a bonfire party? Yes, by my cousins' friend's pool for a b-day party. It was cool. Their house was fuckin' wild. Movie theater inside and all. Is your dad bald? Just about. His head is just mostly shaved. Have you ever slept at a member of the opposite sex’s house? I mean yeah, all the time when we were together. Have you ever hooked up with someone to hurt someone else? Wow, no. I don't do "hook-ups" anyway. Do any of your relatives actually pinch your cheeks when they see you? No. Have you ever made a member of the opposite sex cry? Ugh, yeah. Do you know the last person you kissed's parents? Yes, I adore them. Do they like you? I think so. Name a couple things you can cook. ... Literally just scrambled eggs, if you mean something pretty much from scratch. Well, I could probably still do pasta if I read the box. Who was there to help you last time you were puking? My mom. I am absolutely terrified of vomiting, so she's kind enough to somehow manage to stand in there with me and talk to me. Are there any boxes of tissues in your room? What’s the design on it? No. Are you in high school? When are you done? No. I graduated in 2014. Are you embarrassed to say if you’re a virgin or not? More like confused and awkward, because I genuinely DON'T know for sure. Have you ever met someone you thought you’d be with forever? It was  "certainty" to me. That's partially why the breakup was so traumatizing. I MEAN IT when I say my brain couldn't even fathom the idea. It was "impossible." It simply couldn't happen. Then it did. ^Where are you two now? We haven't spoken in three years. Has your best friend ever been in love? Yes. What was the last magazine you bought? I've never been a magazine person. Will the last person you kissed get you anything for your next birthday? *shrugs* Do you think Family Guy is funny or just stupid? It can be both. Have you ever stayed with someone who treated you like shit just because you liked them so much? NO SIR-EE. You'd never see me stay with someone who treated me badly. Would you date someone all your friends and family hate? If I REALLY liked them, but if everyone hated that person, I would seriously consider why that is. Are you already looking forward to your wedding? Ha ha, not really, in most ways. Like, I hate getting all fancy and such. Have you ever spit on someone? No. Would you rather cuddle or make out? I MEAN, that depends on the mood??? Has your best friend ever been cheated on? No. Do you text with one hand or with both? Both. Are your parents left or right-handed? Right, to my knowledge? What was the last photo you took of? Something on FB I wanted to show to Sara. What topic always interests you and you will never tire of? C R Y P T I D Z Are you more or less tolerant than the average person? If you mean of varying beliefs, stuff like that, definitely more. If someone were to rate your life, what film certificate would it receive? PG-13 or R, idk. Actually, probably R for all they profanity lmaooo. Do you mind eating cold fries or are they disgusting? Ewww. What song makes you cry? What about it makes you cry? I physically cannot listen to "Stairway to Heaven" by Led Zeppelin because of Jason joking at prom that the music sucked and we could dance to something like that, then once he took me home, I played it from my iPod over his car speakers and we danced in the headlights of his truck and it all felt like a fairy-tale. I'm emotional just typing it and it makes my stomach hurt, so moving on. If you could remake a movie, which movie would it be? Silent Hill: Revelation. As a fanatic over the series, I enjoyed it decently, but, objectively, it sucked and was ALL over the place. How about if you could rewrite a book's ending, which one? Why? I don't think I'd change any. Maybe a clearer answer to The Handmaid's Tale, but it's still g. What colour hair does your sibling(s) have? Brown, except Misty and Katie. Theirs is black. What gemstone would you like on your wedding ring? A dragon's breath opal or rose gold would be gorgeous. What are you looking forward to in the near future? We're throwing my little sister a surprise graduation party at our older sis's house. Thanks to the quarantine, her senior graduation isn't *actually* happening, so. How is life going for you, anyway? Be honest. IT KINDA S U CKS!!!!!! What time did you get changed this morning? I haven't changed out of my pj's. I almost never do (besides obviously after a shower) because I have nowhere to go, like ever. Have you met somebody that you want to spend the rest of your life with? Yeah. Have you ever dressed up as a Disney character? Which one? Maybe as a kid? Have you ever played chess? If so, are you good at it? I’ve never played it. If I wanted to buy you a chocolate bar, what kind should I NOT get? Ew, Snickers. Of all your close friends, who have you known the longest? Sara. What was the last song you heard, that made you feel emotional? Hm. Maybe "Disguise" by Motionless In White. I wonder all the time if that's how Jason felt. Plus it's his favorite band, so that's a double whammy. When was the last time you took a selfie? Maybe about a month ago. As a child, did you ever have any scented gel pens or markers? Oh, I remember those! Yes. Name an alcoholic beverage that you dislike. Hell, most that I've tried. I hate strong stuff. Can you recall the last time you were on a dancefloor? When I was shooting someone's wedding last year. Do you own any color-changing mood jewellery? No, I have zero faith in those. What was the last thing you heated up in your microwave? Ummm pizza rolls, I think. What was the last flavor of ice cream you had? Moose tracks. Do you have an online game that you play often? I play World of Warcraft daily, and I enjoy the Dragons of Atlantis app a few times a day. I was into it when it was still a game on an actual website, and I more recently downloaded it on my phone. What’s your favorite cookie? Soft chocolate chip... yum. How long would you have to date someone for before moving in together? I think this depends very much on the relationship, BUT LIKE, definitely not TOO quickly because you need to test the endurance of the relationship. I'd at the very least give it a year and seriously consider how healthy the relationship is. Moving in with each other shouldn't be an impulsive "this is working great omg I love him/her let's do this!!!!". What's your favorite kind of sushi? N/A How much was the last bill that you paid? I've never paid a bill... wow, that's sad. What was the cause of the worst low point you've had in your life? A very abrupt, traumatic breakup. What are some of your favorite types of cheeses? Really just American. When did you last feel like your privacy was invaded? I'm not sure. Do your parents volunteer anywhere? No. Do you own more than 50 books? I have my Warriors books stocked somewhere. Probably in the attic. Do you have a bachelor's degree? Bitch I wish. How old were you when you became financially independent from your parents? I'm 24 and still aren't independent. Does your kitchen have an island? No. Have you ever bought or sold something on Facebook Marketplace? No. Do you know anyone famous enough to have their own Wikipedia page? No. What was the last appointment you had? With my psychiatrist over the phone because yeah quarantine. Why did you last feel like crying? I woke up from yet another nightmare. I'm so, so tired of them. They make me dread sleep. Do you keep your friends secrets/private information to yourself? If it truly is private, yes, and secrets, absolutely. What negative quality do your friends bring up the most? "I... don’t think I’d like to be friends with people who have a habit of bringing up 'negative' things about me." <<<< This. Do you often "jump" to conclusions? ONLY ALWAYS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! What about the world do you wish you never found out? Christ, there's a lot. For some reason, the first thing that came to mind is the dogmeat trade in Korea. A girl in my first semester did a presentation on it, and just... wow. I never had the slightest clue it was a thing. Does the sight of blood make you feel sick? No. Does someone's background affect whether you'll be friends with them or not? Well, yeah. I'm not gonna be friends with a rapist or something. How about their religious background? Depends on if they push that shit on me or not, as well as things they believe. If someone admitted cheating in a past relationship of theirs, would you trust them? NNNNNNNNNOPE. Do you drink tea and/or coffee every day? There are so many tea/coffee questions in surveys... and no. I don't like either. Did you ever want to be a cook as a kid? No. Do you wish that magic was real? Well, it depends on what the magic is. Do you prefer fire or ice? Fire is cooler. Do you rap along with rap songs? No. When happy, do you become more talkative? WAY MORE. Bowling or sailing? Why? Never sailed before, but bowling is fun. Especially with the lights off but all the neon and signs lit up. Do you prefer sitting in the front or back of a car? THE FRONT!!!!!!!!! Sitting shotgun and being able to control the music is everyTHIIIIIIIIIIIING. How about in a train? On the bus? I don't really have a preference here. Do you care about politics? I should... Are you offended easily by non-politically correct language? No, honestly. Do you think the censors/fcc go a bit too far or are just right? Definitel too far. Have you ever taken a martial art? Which one(s)? No. Do you know anyone who is scared of you? No. I am so unintimidating. Do you like watermelon? Not really, no. Can you remember the month of your first kiss? April or May, p sure. What do you think is the most interesting thing about you? Uh. I dunno, man. Do you have a photo album? Mom has tons. What was your biggest fear as a child? Thunderstorms. I was fucking terrified. Can you remember all your past teachers' names? The majority. Do you find people taller than you intimidating? Generally tall men do, but not always. What's your favorite thing about your country? We have a lot of freedom. What's your least favourite thing about your country? We're greedy as fuck. What websites do you have bookmarked? I have a few on my personal laptop, which I don't have access to now so can't recall well. What TV show scared you as a kid? Courage the Cowardly Dog... though I watched it anyway lmao. What is one thing you regret having done or not done in your life? There's a lot. Let's not focus on it. Which parent do you identify with the most? I guess Mom. What embarrasses you the most in front of other people? laskdjflawe admitting I RP is almost ENTIRELY IMPOSSIBLE to others, especially in-person. If you had to choose one thing you were most passionate about, what would it be and why? Politics, 'cuz that's shit that seriously matters and affects the world. Who are you most envious of—real or fictional—and why? Probably an old friend who's an award-winning, quite successful photographer here in the state. She's shot fashion and model stuff professionally. She's absolutely gorgeous, does the coolest stuff... What’s the saddest song you’ve ever heard? Good Lord, I know so many. "UR A WOMAN NOW" by Otep is one, then there's "Terrible Things" by Mayday Parade, "Cancer" by My Chemical Romance... wow, I'm so surprised they're not just rushing to me. How about the sweetest song? Biiiiiih "Here For You" by Ozzy Osbourne laskdjfk;awe Do you know how to play dominoes? No. What food will you absolutely not, under any circumstances, eat? Exotic/endangered animal meat. What is one thing you’re embarrassed to admit you want to try? Uhhh I'm really not sure. Which famous person would you like to be BFFs with? Shane Dawson is MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE. Is there something you wish you had said sorry for but never did? Many things.

[bridgetlynn]

Goodnight & Goodluck

So I don’t know who reads these anymore - when I actually pop up and post something. Especially since I don’t do the usual tumblr “thing” and just re-blog pictures. But sometimes I just need to write something down and say it “outloud”, as it were. So really, it’s my own thoughts, for my own piece of mind, in an attempt to remind myself what should be.

It’s May 31st 2020. At least, technically, since it’s 3:20am as I start to write this. 

America’s burning. In the year of two-thousand-twenty. Think about that.

Then ask yourself why. 

(Newsflash - not covid)

If you had to either think too long about it - or don’t understand - then you’ll never get it. If you don’t think there’s even an iota of justification to that level of rage and terror and sadness then you’ll really never get it.

And I feel sorry for you. 

If you can answer those questions truthfully and turn a blind eye? Then I’m disgusted with you. 

If you’ve ever screamed all lives matter - especially right now - just don’t ever bother talking to me. ‘Cause you’re an oblivious moron.

Because there’s a simple fact at play - right now and always -

Black. Lives. Matter.

Maybe it’s ‘cause of where I grew up. Maybe it’s ‘cause of how I was raised.  

We see it year after year after year after year...and it doesn’t stop. And I can’t wrap my head around it. 

I grew up on Long Island - which everyone automatically thinks means I was a wealthy, privledged white girl from the suburbs. 

And I agree - I was a privledged white girl from the suburbs...wealthy not so much. I grew up in a mostly white town - but due to the way parts of Long Island are structured and zoned I also simultaneously grew up in a fairly diverse overall community. 

The way my family raised me was simple - a person is a person. That’s it. You treat a human being with respect and dignity and equality until they show you that they (singular to that specific individual) do not deserve it. Doesn’t matter if they’re white, black, asian, hispanic....you get the point. (and yes, that included LGBTQ+ as well) I’m just not built to think any other way.

I genuinely didn’t realize there was any other way of thinking until I got to high school. As far as I was concerned before high school - everyone was different and that was what made us beautiful. That’s what made it amazing to live here in the United States. 

My Irish heritage family. My best friend’s Nigerian heritage family. Various other friends of differing backgrounds who lived in our area. These were just the people we associated with because they were our neighbors and friends and co-workers and school mates. They lived their lives alongside us and they good people. That’s all anyone in my family ever needed to know.

Then high school came - and suddenly I was in a private catholic school (our public school wasn’t great) and I was weird. I was a poor, scholarship kid who “didn’t belong” because I didn’t have a lot of money. That I shrugged off. That I had been exposed to my whole life. Hell, I had expected it.

What I couldn’t understand was....if I didn’t belong because I didn’t have money....then why did the senior boy whose parents were both surgeons, drove a Jaguar to school and had a country club membership get treated like even more of a pariah then I did? Literally, possibly the wealthiest kid in the school at the time.

Maybe it was stupid of me at 14 to NOT have realized it - hell, maybe I was lucky to have not been exposed to it - but my african-american best friend’s mother had to sit me down and explain how genuinely shitty most people are. It wasn’t just on tv. It wasn’t just in history books. It was everywhere. Including what I thought was our nice little neighborhood. 

Apparently, my family, was the outlier. And I never realized that.

Then she told me she loved me like I was her own and sent me to do my homework. 

And I’m glad she was the one who told me - ‘cause my parents didn’t “get it”. 

Not really. They didn’t get it - not ‘cause they didn’t see it. Or know about it. Or hate it. But because they were physically incapable of living that experience. And they understood that. I know it’s the same for me. But I hate it now more then I hated it then. 

Years ago it was a child-like misunderstood hatred fueled by the idea that anyone would think my best friend - or any other person - was bad or wrong for how they looked. That they would dislike someone and use that as a reason. Now it’s an adult hatred that stems from a more fully lived life that brought about the understanding that it’s far more then dislike. Seeing friends looked at side-eyed for being in a store...seeing boyfriends get questioned about what they were doing with me in their car...seeing people murdered by the very people who are supposed to be protecting everyone.

And make no mistake - it’s murder in every sense of the word.

The systemic violence in policing has been getting progressively worse throughout my lifetime. Throughout my parents lifetimes. My grandparents. 

And it has to stop. It has to be stopped.

The ingrained, brainwashed, predjudice that gets drilled into them through a testosterone, rage, fueled culture of “us vs them” has to be crushed into to the dirt and rebuilt into something that can be relied on. 

Now, I haven’t seen my friend’s family in years. Jaycee’s parents moved when we graduated from different colleges. She got married. Kids came. People grow older and lose touch. It happens in life to everyone. Doesn’t mean they ever forget the people who helped to shape them into the adults they would become

Needless to say I’ve been thinking about them a lot lately. Not because “those are my black friends” (as some people like to point to for themselves as examples of how they aren’t racist) but because without them I sometimes wonder how I could have turned out. 

Without them in my life would it have been possible for my happy-go-lucky everyone is awesome childhood to be perverted throughout high school and college into me giving someone the side-eye because they were (allegedly) different then me?

I’d like to think the answer to that is a resounding no. But as I said earlier - our experiences and the people around us shape who we are. And if we avoid people who are (according to some) different then us? 

Then we never realize that they aren’t. Not where it counts.

And, if you were wondering - the answer to my question at the top. Why is America burning in 2020?

Because we got complacent. We stopped helping. We stopped seeing people for who they actually are; rather then our first glance. 

America is burning because white American’s let it get dragged there over years and years of injustice until it didn’t have anywhere else to go but up in flames. 

And I despise Trump - but he’s not the main problem. ‘Cause, he’s definitely a massive problem. But in this case - he’s a symptom of the problem. 

If racism, bigotry and hatred didn’t exist in our overall society then he wouldn’t be our President. Hell, if those things didn’t exist then he wouldn’t have even been allowed near the Republican Nomination - let alone the Oval Office. 

And, so tonight, when I would much rather be in the city - standing shoulder to shoulder with people I don’t know - but still love and support and admire - I’m writing this as my stand because of the damned virus. I’m stuck at home breathing through bronchitis and hoping it doesn’t get worse with a fever of 101.6 (which might have contributed to anything here that got stream of consciousness style) rather then off in Brooklyn or Times Square or the Bronx....or anywhere else I could get myself to so I could take a stand as well. Nothing else short of the fact that I can literally not get out of bed right now could have stopped me.

So, yes, this is as close as I could come. Just writing something. Just breathing it out onto the internet to be read or not read. To be absorbed or ignored. Just to be there in some form of spirit.

Because George Floyd Matters. Because Eric Garner Matters. Because Michael Brown and Freddie Gray and Philando Castile Matter. And all the thousands of others who don’t make the nightly news cycle for whatever reason. They all matter.

So all I can leave with is Edward R. Murrow’s classic sign off - with true heartfelt hope to everyone out there this evening - Goodnight and Goodluck.

I wish I could be with you.

[devnny]

CHAPTER EIGHT.

JTRM — THE “R” STANDS FOR RECOVERING!

PREVIOUSLY.

lots of plot development in this chapter blaugh, i hope it’s not too fast. oh well. ONWARD TO DOMESTIC BLISS!

[•/•/•• :

This is… stupid. This is so, so stupid. What am I doing?

Johnny’s still killing people. And here I thought we were making progress in ridding him of that fourth voice of his.

He doesn’t tell me much about ‘Reverend Meat’. I hoped that had meant it was quieting down, but I bet it’s fucking not. Nny just hides things from me that he knows will piss me off. BASTARD.

I brought up him… moving in. To the apartment. With me.

I have to be going insane again. I’m not AFRAID of him anymore, but does that mean I want him living in my house? No.

But I don’t know how else to control him. He said they were spur of the moment attacks, so does that mean I have to constantly keep tabs on him? I have to know everywhere he goes, and what he’s doing there, and when he’s going, and when he’ll be back? I don’t CARE about any of that.

…Well, I guess I do. But only because I’m trying to keep him from getting crazier. Fuck, this sucks.

I haven’t lived with someone else since community college…]

--

The dry, patchy grass crumpled under Johnny’s shoes while he strode across his lawn, only the dull light of the lopsided moon available to guild him through the dark. He didn’t mind – after all, his eyes were fairly well-adjusted to lurking around at night. He came to a stop at the first story window of his next-door neighbor’s house, and climbed up onto the windowsill. He used that as a makeshift stepstool, and settled himself down before springing up the additional six feet or so, his thin fingers quickly latching onto the window directly above it. Johnny pushed the pane open as he crawled upwards, propping himself up and half-inside the home as he moved forward.

“Hey Squee!” His teeth gleamed in the dark. The little lump in the bed to his right stirred, and a pair of eyes peeked out at him.

“Oh, hello.” Todd mumbled. He wasn’t having any luck sleeping as it was, and his scary neighbor man never made that any easier.

“How’ve you been? It’s been a busy couple of months for me – I’m home now, by the way. Sorry, I forgot to stop in. One of my old friends is, er, back in my life, for the time being.” Johnny admitted, and hauled himself up over the sill to lay more easily on his ribs.

Todd’s curiosity was peaked from that comment, and he pushed his comforter down to properly greet his uninvited visitor. He wiggled down off the rather steep drop that his bed had for a Squee-sized child, and moved cautiously toward the window, Schmee hugged close to his collar.

“A friend?” His lower lip tucked out. “Is he living with you? Is he… scary?”

Johnny blanched, and quickly chuckled the comments away with some embarrassment.

“No, she’s not at the house with me.” He said, then paused. The talk he had with Devi the previous day about potentially moving into her apartment was still very much on his mind. It was one of the reasons he had stopped by tonight, having felt the need to disclose that to Todd, since that would mean he would again be unavailable if the boy needed help.

“Err, I might be… living with her soon, though. It’s kinda up in the air right now.” He confessed. Todd’s mouth opened slightly in surprise, but he only continued to stare at Johnny, unwilling to pry.

Johnny felt some heat crawl up from his cheeks to his forehead as he watched Todd’s inquisitive, almost accusatory, face. He was a little kid! He didn’t want to be a bad example – children should have good examples from the adults in their lives, especially Todd, who was severely lacking upstanding role models with his parents being such lousy people.

From what he gathered, most children had the understanding that a man and woman lived together when they were, well, married! The situation happening otherwise was booed by old people as being devious in nature – he shivered a little.

“Don’t worry – we’re just friends. Promise.” Johnny squeezed an anxious smile out. “It’d just be a roommates sort of situation.”

Todd looked surprised that Johnny had guessed what his curiosity was about, and thinned his mouth into a flat line, tiny teeth poking out while he tried to find something else to look at besides the man flopped over his windowsill.

“ANYWAYS.” Johnny cut in. “She’s been helping me with drawing stuff, and uh, some… other stuff. So I won’t be cramming anymore corpses in the tunnel between our houses. Shouldn’t take more than a couple years for the ones in there to either degrade into bones, or mummify. It is kinda musty down there…”

He failed to notice Todd’s horrified expression.

“—They’re probably already halfway there. It has been almost six months since I was last down there… maybe I’ll go check it out.” Johnny mused with a set of scratches to his jaw. “Aw well, point is, if I do move out, you could use the passage to sneak out at night! Wouldn’t that be cool?”

Todd only continued to stare in shock.

“I’ll keep ya updated. Things are changing so fast these days.” Johnny smiled, then adjusted to slither back out the window. Before he dropped down, he offered a blaring, “GOODNIGHT, SQUEE!”, only startling Todd further.

Todd hurried back to bed and burrowed into his sheets, trying with all his might to unimagine the spooky images of mummies living below his house.

--

WITHIN THE WEEK:

A trial run, that’s what this was.

She and Johnny talked it over, and then she talked it over again with Tenna, and then once more with much more yelling, and then cursed God with every foul word she knew, and then yielded to her hideous fate.

Johnny would stay at her apartment, for now.

Just until he didn’t need to be monitored like the horrible, man-baby he was, Devi told herself.

Her neck lowered further and further, until the crown of her head was almost level with her shoulders. She hated this so much.

Johnny was only going to take two boxes worth of clothes and crap with him, seeing as his new living situation was temporary, but he needed her slightly larger car for the only piece of furniture he intended to bring to her apartment with him; his drafting table.

The desk was old-fashioned, mostly metal, with a heavy wooden surface, and was very, very difficult to lift. Devi leaned against her car door and watched with a sour expression as Johnny attempted to move the table down the driveway with little success, swearing all the way. She grumbled a sigh, and made her way over to help him.

With much less difficulty, the two wobbled down his driveway, screeching the desk’s metal legs along the concrete every so often when their grip slacked too much. They heaved it up over bumper of Devi’s sedan, and the car shuddered under the added weight as the table thudded into its trunk.

“I don’t think we’ll be getting that closed.” Johnny commented, in regard to the trunk door. Devi grunted.

She instructed him to get her some rope, or something, to tie the back shut with, since she outright refused to enter the house herself. Johnny returned with a myriad of different bindings, ranging from thin twine to chains, and Devi did her best not to think too hard about why he had so many options.

“Those are… unused, right?” She pointed to the chains that he was winding around the desk, but got distracted by the rolling sound of plastic wheels a small ways down the sidewalk. A little boy with black hair slowed his trike to a stop beside the car.

“You’re moving after all, Mister Nny?” Todd asked with a wobbly smile. He still didn’t really know how to address Johnny.  

“AH.” Johnny stumbled back from the task at hand with an excited smile. “Hey, Squee-gee!”

Devi watched with a befuddled expression as Johnny trotted around her and to the curb. He squatted down to Todd’s eyelevel, still smiling wide.

“Yeah, but I’ll be back in a little while. I’m just staying with Devi until I’m, uh… feeling better!”

“You’re sick?” Todd asked. Johnny looked off and laughed at nothing as a response.

Todd’s mouth squirmed, and he turned his attention to Devi’s towering figure – from the point of view of a little Squee – a few steps away. She had such an intimidating presence, even though she was mostly just staring incredulously at the scene in front of her, but Todd still got the feeling that she was more anchored than his crazy neighbor was.

“You’re Mister Nny’s friend?” He asked. Devi’s mouth slanted; she wasn’t great with children.

“Uh, yes.” She responded as casually as she could. They way this kid said it, Johnny must have mentioned her to him before. She wasn’t sure if that made her uncomfortable or not.

“I’m glad you stopped by, Squeeg’!” Johnny piped up again. “I was going to leave you a note otherwise – I never know what you’re up to during the day.”

He stood up and tucked his hands behind his back politely.

“You be a good Squee while I’m gone, okay?” His sharp shoulders perked up in a shrug. Todd nodded, and Johnny returned to his work of securing his ever-valuable drafting table to Devi’s car.

Devi watched Todd’s smile inch wider, then watched him peddle his tricycle in a circle and back toward his house. He didn’t seem too broken up that Johnny was leaving, she noted, but they certainly seemed to have some kind of relationship – bizarre.

“You’re friends with that little kid?” She asked.

“Yeah, I kinda took him under my wing.” Johnny answered from the bowels of the trunk. “He needs someone to watch out for him – he’s such a scared-y, tiny kind of Squee, and his parents are… uninvolved. That’s putting it nicely.”

Devi’s mouth pinched up into a small frown. The topic of inattentive parents wasn’t unfamiliar to her – not in reference to her dear old dad, of course, but rather to her perpetually absent mother, who never made even the most minute of efforts to stay in contact with Devi after so-kindly giving birth to her. Her titas warmly referred to her as a ‘crackwhore’.

As heavy as that was, Devi hadn’t been bothered by it much after her hormonal pre-teen years passed, but it still left her with a rare soft spot for sad, neglected children. Or maybe it was a hard, angry spot for shitty parents – yeah, that suited her better.

“How uncharacteristically kind of you, Nny.” She teased dryly, and Johnny responded with a tittering set of giggles.

“HEY, I’m kind!” He popped up and set his foot on the edge of the car’s bumper for leverage as he pulled the bindings tight. He tied the rope and chains together with a gnarled looking bow, and inched back to review his handiwork with Devi.

“If this thing falls out while I’m driving, I’m not stopping.” She said.

“That’s fine, it’ll just go through my windshield and I’ll drive it the rest of the way.”

Both burst into a quick fit of hysterical laughter at the image. As it tapered off into chuckling sighs, Devi gave Johnny a jostling shove on the shoulder to urge him into the last leg of today’s endeavor.

“Alright. You ready to go?” She asked, moving to look at the house with him. Johnny regarded his residence of the past four years with a distant expression for a moment, but not nearly long enough to shrug off all its hellish nightmares and everything it represented for him as casually as he did.

“Yep!” He grinned at her. “Let me lock up, and we can leave.”

Devi held in the urge to scowl at the domesticity of it all.

--

SOME NIGHTS LATER:

It was really starting to hit him that he lives with Devi.

The first night had disoriented that fact, with the majority of the day and evening spent unpacking his things and trying to find places for them to go amongst all of Devi’s things. She was kind enough to empty one section of drawers in her art room as a makeshift dresser for his clothes, which was functional enough for him. He was going to spend most of his time in there anyway, and it wasn’t like he needed a bedroom, and he was not going to ask to mix his clothes in with hers. He had still only been in her bedroom once, and that was because the only bathroom in the apartment was connected to it.

After Johnny had finished unpacking, they drew for a while, and then ate and watched TV, and after that Devi bid him an awkward goodnight. It wasn’t very different from the one night he had spent over before, so it didn’t settle in how different things were going to feel now.

When she got up, and he was… still there, it still felt the same. But then he spent all day watching her paint while he drew, in her art room, which was now sort-of their art room, and he was there every time she left to get a drink or scrounge up something to eat. And he was there when she took breaks, and had dinner, and watched a movie.

Johnny couldn’t remember the last time he had spent a full 24-hours with someone; not even any of the poor bastards he’d strung up in his basement were ‘company’ for him for that long in one sitting.

It was… strange, but nice… so very nice.

Every time Devi left the room they were in, there was a comfortable, unconscious knowledge that she would be back. Whether it was in a few minutes, or in a few hours, he would be in her presence again shortly, and that made him feel a little safer, for whatever reason. There would be no more waiting for days to pass until he could see her in person again, just a mild handful of hours.

And it made him completely manic!

He wanted to draw more now than he ever had in his entire memory of his life. It was compulsive, uncontrollable. Every time Devi left him to sleep, Johnny would take up the same sketchbook and draw, and draw. Fast-paced, frantic swirling and squiggling of ink that dried up his pens and cramped his hands – but he persevered with the kind of persistence he hoped would make Devi proud, ushering forward whatever it was exactly that his brain demanded his fingers create.

So far, it just looked like a mass of churning, scratchy lines, but he was confident that there was a something meaningful there somewhere in-between the rows of indecipherable nonsense. The lines would look wrong here or there, and he would tear away strips of the paper and continue on to the next page, letting the ruined part lay atop it as though they were one singular piece, revealing new and different shapes as the mix-matched directions of the lines tried to work together.

It had been a week’s worth of nights that Johnny had committed to this ‘personal’ project so far, and he felt as if tonight he may actually bring it to its much-desired finish. He was excited about that, seeing as he had so far refused to share any of its progress with Devi – or its existence, for that matter. Each time he would hear her rouse from slumber, he tucked the sketchbook away into one of his designated drawers, and lied about how he’d preoccupied himself while she slept. Devi was not one to be so easily fooled, but she had allowed him to keep whatever he was working on a ‘secret’ from her, curious to see the end result if it was that rigorous of an exercise for him.

--

ONE SLEEP AFTERWARDS:

Devi rustled her hair with a yawn, still sitting in bed. After a couple of passes with her fingers to ‘comb’ it, she tied it back into one sloppy ponytail. She would do it up in her semi-usual pigtail style after breakfast.

The first few days of waking up and knowing that Johnny was in some unknown part of her apartment was very odd, and a little unnerving, but now she was forlorn to say she was getting used to it. Soon she feared she would be accustomed to sharing a space with him, or God forbid, content with it. The thought made her spine shudder.

She undid the lock on her bedroom door, and poked her head out to survey the area. Usually Johnny was on her couch by this time in the day, eating chips or something. He sure ate a lot of her food for a guy that didn’t ‘eat much’ – fucking freeloader.

This morning, however, he was unusually absent from his preferred sofa cushion. Devi’s mouth curved down suspiciously, and she ventured further out into her apartment. She didn’t hear anything besides the casual passing of cars outside, which only made her more wary. Johnny was very rarely quiet. She moved towards her drawing room, her first guess on where he might be.  

Devi was shocked to find him asleep on his drafting table.

She would have sooner thought he was dead, if it wasn’t for the slow rising and falling of his chest, and the intermediate twitching of a finger now and again. Johnny had boasted that he hadn’t slept in months, and she certainly believed it after a week of waking up to find him still up and about.

She stood and watched him a while, unsure of how to approach the situation – it was the same apprehension one might feel in waking a dog that they don’t know the temperament of well, fearful it might snap at them. She had no intention of waking him up, but she was very interested in the tattered looking notebook lying under his forearms.

With a push of stubborn bravery, she grabbed the sketchpad and slid it away from Johnny’s sleeping form, with no resistance on his part. The metaphor about him being akin to a vicious, snoozing guard dog was inaccurate, apparently. Her pilfered goods in hand, Devi retreated to her living room to inspect Johnny’s ‘work’.

From what she could see, it just looked like a torn-up mess. The open page, the one he had assumingly been working on last night, was the only one that wasn’t ripped. The rest all had pieces missing, some of them off to the sides, the other’s random chunks out of the middle. The first one was hollowed out, making it look like the discarded crust of a sandwich.

Devi frowned, uncertain what to make of this massacre of paper and pen marks. Maybe it was just some vent art, and she was expecting some grand project out of this molehill.

She flipped the pages carefully into their ordered places, and began the motion of closing the book’s cover when her eyes caught the vague shape of something amidst the tattered pages. She opened the cover fully again, and pulled one of the dangling pages more to the left. It was eerie how the lines seemed to shift and take form of something different as she did so – kind of cool, she admitted, if it was meant to be an interactive piece. Devi adjusted another loose page, and sucked in a sharp gasp at what she saw.

It was the figure of a person. All of this chaos was made to overlay and frame something, and that something was… Devi, it seemed. The figure showing amongst the damaged and chaotic penwork was her. She could certainly make out her scythe-like pigtails that protruded from the top of the slim subject’s head, however vaguely.

Devi’s chest clenched. There was such an uneasy feeling that came with seeing herself in Johnny’s work. Her brain immediately imagined that this was the result of some unhealthy obsession, maybe infatuation, with her, and that made her nauseous. Johnny couldn’t be living with her and dreaming up weird, neurotic, pseudo-romantic crap about her! Next he’ll be writing her poetry and other delusional bullshit, and that would not be acceptable in the slightest.

She stopped herself, letting the trail of disgusting thoughts leave her for a moment. Perhaps she was being too hasty in assuming that this was a symbol of his desire for her, or something equally gross. Devi wasn’t exactly narcissistic, but she absolutely credited herself and her efforts for guiding Johnny into a better state of being, and she knew Johnny did too. Maybe he put his gratitude toward his creative muse, and this was what popped out.

The shadowed eyes of her paper-self stared at something off the page, unknown to her, and Devi’s mouth twitched at how calm she looked. Sullen, but unbothered by the tumultuous nothingness around her.

Ugh. There better not be some kind of meaning behind this.

Devi closed the sketchbook and returned it to its sleeping owner, who only snorted a bit at having his arm prodded. She chuckled at the response, and shook her head fondly in disbelief of her situation. At least as far as art went, it was a pretty damn good piece from a one, maniacal, Johnny C.

She’d give him an ‘A’ for effort, this time. And maybe interrogate him later about his intentions. Yeah.

--

NEXT.

[keelywolfe]

Drabble: Waterworks (baon)

Summary:   It was nice of Stretch to send him a text as to where he was, but what he was doing might have been a nice addition.

Tags: Spicyhoney, Established Relationship, Domestic, Fluff, A Little Angst

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

Read it on AO3

or

Read it Here!

~~*~~

babe we r @ the field, whnevr u r home

Edge got the text a full hour before he was due to leave work and much as he appreciated the information, it did bring up questions. For example, what were ‘they’ doing in the field and who precisely were the others in the equation of ‘we’ and ‘they’.

It was a coin toss as to whether asking those questions would simply create more, and in the end, Edge chose ignorance. He’d learn soon enough what was going on and what countermeasures might be necessary.

When he finally returned to New New Home that afternoon, taking the time to change out of his work clothes before walking to the field by the school, his questions were very quickly answered.

The ‘what’ was an elaborate maze of sprinklers set up across the grass, hoses crisscrossing the road and feeding into them. Garden sprinklers, slip and slides, ones with clown faces and wildly waving tubes spraying water along with little splash pads and various plastic animals spewing fountains. It looked as if somewhere there was a supercenter with their supply of summertime waterworks completely emptied.

Beneath the spraying water was what looked like every child in New New Home, Stretch’s normal minions and many others, squealing and running through the shower.

At a safe distance from the chaos was a collection of parents in lawn chairs, watching their offspring with various expressions of indulgence. With them, in a chair of his own and dressed unusually in light summer clothes was Antwan, and his smile was perfectly indulgent as well, if completely different.

In the middle of it all, towering over the youngsters, was his husband. Stretch was wearing swim trunks with what looked like sharks eating tacos swarming the fabric and a tank top declaring ‘lifeguard on duty’, both of which were dripping wet. A whistle hung from a string around his neck and whatever he was shouting was lost in the laughter of children and the roar of the water.

On the other side, closer to slip and slides, was Jeff. He was in a plain pair of trunks and another lifeguard tank top with a whistle of his own around his neck. Thick white lotion was smeared on his nose, and he was gesturing wildly to a group of older children who seemed to be involved in some sort of relay race.

They were all laughing.

Edge kept back and watched, not because his jeans and T-shirt were unsuitable, they were, but because the sight of Stretch laughing with such pure delight sent a pleasant cramp through his soul. A pulse of love so strong he needed a moment to process it.

As he watched, one of the children slipped and fell, tears instantly mingling with the falling water as she wailed. One of the parents shifted in their chair, but Stretch was there faster than a shortcut, crouching down to soothe her, and whatever he said soon had her laughing again and scrambling back to her feet to join the others.

Edge smiled, helplessly, ignoring the very different pang in his soul.

As Stretch stood back up, he caught sight of Edge and it seemed impossible that his delight could double, tipping over into pure joy. Stretch darted over to him and for the first time in recent memory, Edge took an instinctive step back, away from close to seven feet of dripping wet enthusiasm.

Stretch only laughed and stopped a couple feet back. “sorry, i am little damp.” He swiped his fingers down his shirt and flicked them at Edge, casting the faintest spray of wet.

“Slightly, yes.” Edge said and his tone was the driest thing there.

“how did we do?” Stretch gestured grandly at the watery scene behind him. “not bad, right!”

“It’s certainly something,” Edge agreed. A tangled chaos of a water wonderland, complete with a collection of little ones. ‘Something’ seemed to be the easiest descriptor.

Stretch’s grin only widened. “that’s what i love about you, sweetheart, your fancy way with words.” There was the sound of a whistle, Jeff calling over to a group of kids who were trying to climb on what looked like a grinning fire hydrant. Stretch grimaced. “whoops. duty calls. see ya, babe!”

He was gone as quickly as he’d arrived, jogging back over with his whistle howling, water dripping from him all the way to his sandals.

“My sister tells me that he and that friend of his spent all morning setting this up.”

Edge turned to see Janice walking up to him. She’d changed from her business pantsuit to shorts and was carrying a folding chair. Her gaze flicked from Edge to the playing children, a couple of whom were her own, their fur drenched as they giggled and ran.

“I’m sure he did,” Edge said dryly. “Stretch is a very hard worker when the end results meet his standards of amusement.”

She laughed. “Of course. He’s very good with them, isn’t he.”

“He is,” Edge said, a touch curtly. It was a lead-up he’d heard before, inevitably heading down a path of questions about when they would have their own. Questions that were certainly no one else’s business but his and Stretch’s, and that every time pressed on an internal bruise, a faint hope that he’d willingly set aside but still pained him on occasion.

He’d made his choice in that and did not regret it. It didn’t mean that the bruise didn’t linger. That it didn’t occasionally ache.

But Janice only smiled. “Since they spent all day on this, how do you feel about, oh, a community picnic? If everyone runs home to get something to share, it shouldn’t be too difficult.”

“That’s an excellent idea,” Edge admitted. Certainly easier than dragging any of that crowd home for dinner.

“Wonderful! I’ll go spread the word, get some of our burlier neighbors to bring over picnic tables.” She walked determinedly over to lounging crowd of adults with the same brisk efficiency that made her an excellent assistant. In no time at all, other parents were standing, nodding agreeably and headed towards their homes to see what food offerings they could bring.

Edge was ready to do the same. All he needed to do was tear his gaze from where Stretch was beneath the falling water. Right then he was leaning down almost far enough to lose his balance while a toddler clung to his slim fingers and wobbled through the spray on chubby legs. Both of them were gleeful, the child crowing happily and Stretch…

Streams of water were trickling down his skull, that perfect ivory bone glistening in the sunlight and he was laughing, shuffling along awkwardly with someone else’s child in his hands.

Edge looked away, turning his back on that enchanting joy before he gave in and joined him, jeans be damned. He turned his thoughts towards their refrigerator instead, mentally cataloging what was currently in it and what they had to offer an impromptu buffet.

He might put on his swim trunks while he was there.

-finis-

Notes:

So many people have asked for a reminder about why Edge and Stretch don’t want children that I thought I should include a link to the story.

They discussed it...sort of...in The Gyft That Keeps On Giving

What it boils down to though is that Stretch doesn’t want children for any number of reasons, but his health is a huge factor. And Edge might want children but only with Stretch. So they’ve agreed not to have children.

[recsnrecaps]

Meteor Garden (2001) Recap: Episode 1

Hi folks, it's 2019 and I'm finally fulfilling my childhood resolution to watch this drama. You have no idea - Meteor Garden was such a hit back in the day. However, back then it was only available either at specific time slots on TV or on crappy VCDs that were passed around the community (i.e. schoolgirls and aunties). I never could be bothered to watch it properly.

Imagine my surprise when I chanced across it on Netflix. I am aware that there's a 2018 remake of Meteor Garden, as well as the Japanese Hana Yori Dango and the Korean Boys Over Flowers, but the 2001 Taiwanese version is the original drama that spawned the madness. The buzz around the 2018 version is laughably negligible compared to the craziness in 2001. I'm so ready to experience the magic of 流星花园.

So without further ado, here we go.

Episode 1: Summary

We are introduced to Shan Cai (Barbie Hsu), who rides a crappy scooter to school. Right off the bat we realize that the school caters to the rich and the elite, where students are decked out in designer wear and get NT500000 (~ USD16000) nose jobs during the school holidays.

The fashion rivalry between classmates Bai He (Belinda Cheng) and Qian Hui (Zhang Ruo Zhen) cracks me up. It's petty, exaggerated, and deliciously obnoxious, solidly setting us viewers up with the premise of a school drama about rich kids.

A very normal Li Zhen (An-ting Yeh) appears to be Shan Cai's classmate and friend. She's pretty serious about her homework, having borrowed extra books to read up for the upcoming report assignment. Shan Cai laughs that Li Zhen might be the only student serious about studying in this school, everyone else comes to socialize instead. I’m guessing Li Zhen is on scholarship and needs to maintain her grades.

We cut to a classroom with a boy clearing out his books in order to drop out of the school. A crowd forms around him and the teacher (Bu Xue Liang) approaches to find out why he is leaving and to persuade him not to. However, upon finding out that the boy had offended F4, the teacher doesn't push the matter and instead encourages the boy to leave. Shan Cai watches helplessly from the sidelines and rolls her eyes at the hypocritical teacher.

In class, in a further act of hypocrisy, the teacher gives a lecture on the value of conscience.

Conscience. It's what we call 'moral courage'. It's the most basic quality mankind should have. In Chinese history, Confucius had the strongest conscience. Today, we'll discuss his core thinking. It focuses on benevolence. By benevolence, it means you do unto others what you would want them to do unto to you.

Unable to stomach his empty words, Shan Cai leaves the classroom in a huff. She heads to the roof launching a tirade against the unfairness of the University and coins the term "Pig Head 4". "So what if your family owns the school," she declares. "You better not mess with me. I'll never submit to you."

The 4 in question are just arriving at the University in their comfortable chauffeured rides. We get to watch the boys saunter around and the camera obliges with close ups on each one of them as they stride into campus.

Dao Ming Si (Jerry Yan aka Yan Cheng Xu)

Hua Ze Lei (Vic Zhou aka Zai Zai aka Zhou Yu Min)

Xi Men (Ken Chu aka Zhu Xiao Tian)

Mei Zhuo (Vanness Wu aka Wu Jian Hao)

Shan Cai and friend watch in horror as the teacher accidentally bumps into Dao Ming Si, spilling coke all over him. Apologizing frantically, he kneels over Dao Ming Si, attempting to wipe the soda off his shoes. Dao Ming Si ignores his apologies and we get to hear his trademark catchphrase, "If apologizing is enough, what do we need police for?"

Dao Ming Si waves the teacher off to the side and viciously kicks over the basket of balls while striding off. Shan Cai gapes in amazement at his arrogance. Suddenly, a hand reaches out to righten the fallen basket. It's Hua Ze Lei (known as Lei to his friends), who has a perpetually blank expression on his face and appears to be the only member of the F4 who isn't a douche. While adjusting the basket, he turns and makes brief eye contact with Shan Cai, then hurries off after Dao Ming Si.

At the cafe where Shan Cai works part time, she complains to her co-worker Xiao You (Rainie Yang) about her awful school and the awful boys. It’s exposition time! We learn that F4 Stands for Flower 4, and the boys belong to 4 rich and influential families who own the school. When Xiao You prompts her to confirm that the boys are really all that bad, Shan Cai hesitates and says that maybe one of the 4 is “different”. Methinks she’s starting to have a crush on someone!

As the two continue their conversation, we learn that Shan Cai used to be very outspoken against bullies, in contrast with her current passive nature. Xiao You remarks that she hardly recognizes the Shan Cai now. Inwardly, Shan Cai agrees, hating herself for turning into a coward.

When Shan Cai returns home, she makes an attempt to tell her family she doesn’t want to continue studying at this school. Unfortunately, her mother would hear nothing of it. Turns out her mother had pulled strings to get her daughter into the elite Yingde University. Her mother is fixated on Shan Cai getting a good boyfriend from school and networking well with people from high society so that their family can ascend into a higher social strata. Shan Cai’s poor dad gets berated by his wife for not getting a promotion for the past many years, unlike their neighbors. As the parents bicker, the resentments pile up, making for very awkward dinner conversation. In order to pacify them, Shan Cai promises that she would continue to study at Yingde University.

What a weird couple.

That evening, the F4 hang out at a bar. The boys appear unaccustomed to such a venue, noting with puzzlement that the establishment doesn't serve foie gras or vintage wine. We get to hear them in conversation for the first time ever, teasing Dao Ming Si about his unruly hair and his rigorous hairstyling session to tame it. Lei remains ever silent, using only a thumbs down gesture to communicate his opinion on Dao Ming Si’s new hairstyle. Throughout the night, he keeps staring at his mobile, as if awaiting a call.

It turns out that the boys are only there because Xi Men's latest girl wanted to meet Xi Men at the bar. Which begs the question - why are the other 3 following  Xi Men on his date?! In any case, according to show logic, it’s the right course of action as everyone is present when the loser boyfriend of Xi Men’s girl shows up with a gang of hooligans and causes a scene. The boys slip into action and begin beating up the hooligans. All except Lei, who gets up and slips the owner of the bar NT15000 (~USD500) for the damages before leaving.

The next day at school, Shan Cai stands up for Li Zhen who had accidentally tripped and spilled dirt all over Dao Ming Si. I actually feel sorry for the poor dude who keeps getting things spilled on him. To put a stop to Li Zhen’s apologies, Dao Ming Si does his usual rough shove and pushes Li Zhen into the wall, incurring the wrath of Shan Cai. She shouts at him, calling him a parasite leeching off his parents and declares that the F4 should be called Pig Head 4. Dao Ming Si announces that she has some nerve and stalks away. As the four boys walk past, she thinks to herself that she's going to be dead meat.

At home, she receives zero support from her parents when she mentions once again that she wants to quit school. Instead her manipulative mother fakes a panic attack that miraculously subsides when Shan Cai promises to finish her studies. That night, Shan Cai sleeps restlessly, dreaming of being tormented.

At school, Shan Cai receives the F4 red card and a series of montages show how her life becomes hell. Everyone shuns her, even Li Zhen and Shan Cai is subjected to prank after prank. Finally, a drenched and annoyed Shan Cai escapes to the roof. She leans over the ledge and yells her heart out, cursing the Pig Head 4 with bankruptcy and high cholesterol, for their bodies to be ripped apart by horses and their souls to go to hell. Haha, how inventive. She doesn’t realize that Lei was on the roof too, privy to her outburst. She startles when he asks her if there was anything else. What a delightfully awkward moment. Shan Cai backs away warily as Lei leans forward, but he was only offering her his handkerchief. She accepts it and dabs at her wet hair. Softening up to Lei, she thanks him and begins to apologies for her earlier curses. However Lei cuts her short saying “I’m not interested in other people’s business.” He turns to leave and Shan Cai makes to return him the handkerchief. He ignores the gesture and tells her to throw it away as it is already garbage anyway.

What an awful thing for Shan Cai to hear. He is insinuating that because she used the handkerchief, the handkerchief no longer has any value to him and deserves to be in the trash. Shan Cai thinks back to her earlier assessment of Lei and concludes that he must not be so different from the other 3 after all.

The episode ends with Shan Cai heading home with her scooter. Except this time she has to wheel it along the road because her fellow students had damaged it. A flashy convertible pulls up beside her, and Dao Ming Si leans out to gloat at her. He tells her that he’s impressed with her determination, and will work harder to humiliate her.

Episode 1: Thoughts

Oh where do I begin! This episode does a good job of setting up so many interesting characters, especially the F4. Dao Ming Si appears cocky and rude, but he's the quintessential bad boy. I fully expect a redeeming arc on how he is actually a big softie. In contrast, Lei is mysterious and charming. I wonder what's the story behind his anti social behavior. The other two members kind of fade into the background as we haven't actually seen them do anything except pose and strut around. As for our heroine, Shan Cai, I suppose she's relatable enough as a first lead. We’ve met her family, schoolmates and friends and have a decent insight into her motivations for her actions. I'm so excited for her to show some spunk and challenge the boys to a showdown soon. 

Despite being 18 years old, the show retains its charm. Unfortunately, fashion-wise the show has not aged well at all. What we have here is literally a time capsule of dated 90s trends such as spaghetti strap tops, rebonded hair and frameless spectacles. Plus Dao Ming Si’s ridiculous bandanna is just absurd.

We know in hindsight that this show kickstarted the entertainment careers of these 4 actors of F4. In 2001, after Meteor Garden aired, Sony Music Taiwan signed the 4 boys as an actual boyband bearing the name F4. It’s amazing how these formerly virtually unknown 4 individuals owe their success to this show.

Onward to the next episode!

[animalkingdom-an0nymous]

Technicolor Beat- Part One

A Soulmate AU

Disclaimer: This features an original character by me @animalkingdom-anonymous and all plotlines are original content. Gifs and photos are not mine unless stated otherwise.

Subject: J X Indigo (OC)

“What if soulmates were real? What if there was one person out there for everyone? What if they were halfway around the world? What if they were a mere three miles up the coast?

Growing up, my parents always taught me to believe that soulmates weren’t real. There was no such thing, it was all make believe. I didn’t know any better, didn’t know how to disagree, so I went along with whatever they said.

Maybe it was because my mother was a pill popping lush who never got off the couch.

Maybe it was because my father was a drunken, disgraced cop who constantly reminded me that he never wanted me.

Maybe I was just too scared to disagree with them.

But here’s the thing, soulmates existed. They were a real thing, but I wouldn’t realize or understand that until I was ten years old. Until I found my own soulmate.

Well, technically, I didn’t find anyone. I felt it.

With soulmates, it’s all about proximity. If you’re within fifty miles of your counterpart you can feel them, feel their moods and their emotions. It’s not necessarily a weight that you feel inside yourself, it’s more of a warmth. A sense of not being alone. I felt him, whoever he was, for the first time when I was ten years old and I’d felt him every day since.

Thirteen years later and nothing had changed.

My name is Indigo Parrish and this is my story.

I slung my black Calvin Klein backpack over one shoulder as I bounded up the stairs to my apartment, keys jingling in my hand. It was nearly six and my shift at the cafe ended late thanks to the asshole who decided to spill his large iced latte all over the display case. I smelled like a mix of mocha and coffee beans, in desperate need of a hot shower before I had to meet my best friend, Tiny. We made plans to go to her favorite dive bar and it was somewhere in Oceanside, a town she had become familiar with when she was still heavy into coke and guys that were too old for her.

My phone vibrated in my pocket just as I unlocked the door. I stepped inside and locked it behind me before answering. “Tiny, listen, I’m gonna be a few minutes late. I need to take a shower, I smell like coffee and broken dreams.”

“I love coffee!” My best friend of ten years chirped happily into the phone.

“Nice try, I’m still gonna be late.”

“Boo, you whore.”

I laughed and hung up, undressing as I made my way down the short hall to the closet sized bathroom. Okay, so maybe my apartment was a shithole and maybe I could hear mice scurrying around inside the walls sometimes, but the rent was cheap, my neighbors were quiet, and anything was better than my parents’ house.

My anxiety began to rise just thinking about the two people who brought me into this world and I tried as hard as I possibly could to put a lid on it. I didn’t want him to feel that I was all riled up and upset because, in turn, he would get all riled up and upset. It was Friday, for fuck’s sake. I wanted us to enjoy our weekend even if we weren’t together.

We’d never been together.

However, I knew he was close.

It had been a selling point for the apartment, honestly. The second I stepped foot into the cramped space for the first time he felt closer than ever before. We’d spent a decade feeling each other but it always felt far away. This? My shithole apartment? This was where I could really feel him. Three years later and I never regretted moving in.

Tiny was the only person who knew my soul had found its counterpart. She was the only person I could trust with the information because she was the only person in this world who had my back. She believed in them, but anyone who truly believed in soulmates had to keep it on the downlow. There were some serious anti’s out there who refused to acknowledge that they existed. In fact, some people were so anti that they went as far as killing people who claimed to be soulmates. Just last week I saw on the news that a couple was burned alive in their home in Santa Fe after revealing they believed fate brought them together.

It was a cruel world.

I knew I believed in soulmates when I was ten years old. I’d been at the park by myself, my father too drunk to remember that he brought me there and leaving without me. I’d been sitting on the swings, kicking my legs back and forth when I felt this sudden rush of something inside me. I’d later realize it was adrenaline, but I was so panicked at the time, alone and scared, that I burst into tears. A man had been there with his daughter when he saw me having some sort of nervous breakdown. He’d rushed over, asked where my parents were and, after realizing I’d been left alone, he asked if that was why I was upset.

“No,” I said as I wiped fat tears from my cheeks. “Something’s inside of me. I feel weird.”

The poor guy looked so confused. “What do you mean? Where?”

I hit my hand against my chest three times. “Here. Something’s wrong.”

The man’s face lit up in realization and he started laugh which, in turn, made me cry harder. But that man changed my life. He told me everything about soulmates, about how he had met his when he was fourteen years old and they were still together. He told me all about how they had to keep it a secret, but that it was a good secret because they loved each other.

“Why a secret?” I asked him towards the end of our conversation.

He had lifted his hat off revealing a long, jagged scar that went from his forehead down to his temple. My ten year old self had been terrified, but something resonated with me that day. This man had his face permanently disfigured all because he wanted people to know that he found the person he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. All because he didn’t want to settle. Even at my young age I knew, I knew, my soulmate was someone I needed to protect.

“Not all secrets are bad.” He smiled.

I never saw him again after that, but not a day went by in the last thirteen years that I didn’t think about him. His name was Simon and he changed my life.

I hoped Simon was happy with his wife and daughter.

I hoped someday I could be that happy, too.

Soulmates were a pretty straightforward concept. You could feel what the other was feeling. There was no telepathy, nothing Sci-fi about it. You could just… feel the other one. It was interesting and overwhelming, but the older I got the easier it was to manage. Although I had to admit it was a shock when I realized I could feel him get aroused and even more of a shock when I realized that he could tell when I was, too. It was embarrassing, but there was a part of me that felt as though it was easier knowing I wasn’t going through it alone. He, whoever he was, had to be just as uncomfortable as I was.

Though his emotions were never light I welcomed them anyway solely because I liked the feel of him. Sometimes his sadness and resentment were so heavy it made my chest physically ache. But he had his moments of peace. It never reached the point of happiness, but late at night when I lay in bed I could feel a certain weight lift off me. I wondered if he was asleep, if that was the only time he had any peace and quiet in his life.

Don’t get me wrong, there were days when it was so frustrating I could have screamed. There were days where I dismissed myself as crazy and told myself soulmates weren’t real and it was all in my head. I was just the dumb, crazy little girl my parents told me I was when I was a child.

Those feelings never lasted, though. They were dark, yes, and my mind was probably dangerously twisted from the constant back and forth. But there was always something to pull me back from falling over the edge of sanity. There was always something holding my hand, pulling me back, pulling me towards that warmth again.

It was him. I knew it was.

But I still thought I was crazy sometimes.

After my shower, I was quick to change into a pair of curve hugging jeans and a simple white t-shirt. Nothing fancy considering we were going to a dive bar. Wiping the condensation off the mirror, I looked at my own hazel eyes staring back at me. My long brown hair was pulled up in a loose bun, strands falling and framing my face. My thick brows looked the way they always did… thick, and my plump mouth had nothing more than chapstick on it. After swiping on a bit of mascara, slipping into my white Vans, and grabbing my keys I was good to go.

* * *

“I swear you don’t listen sometimes. It’s like I do all the work and all you do is lay around and smoke weed, and do coke, and fuck around with Renn by the pool. If you’re not here to do exactly what I tell you to, then why are you here at all? Craig, are you listening? Craig?”

I glanced over at my uncle who was zoned out and looking at whatever was playing on the tv. He was always the one who never paid attention in family meetings. I knew Pope would give him a play by play, but this was Deran’s job and Deran’s rules.

He was going to get what he wanted even if he had to sucker punch Craig for it.

It would be a routine job, the same old shit. In and out in under three minutes, ditch the cars, ditch the clothes, take the cash, and go. It was easy enough but going over the basics was smart, especially with Craig who was always too fucking coked out to pay attention.

With Smurf still in prison and Baz dead it was just the four of us. We were making it work pulling easy jobs that brought in quick cash. But it was never a big payoff. There were still bills that needed to be paid and properties that needed to be managed. We needed a serious hit. A big hit. Or else I would fuck everything up and Smurf would be right.

I’d sooner drown in my own fucking blood that ever admit she was right about us.

Hell, I didn’t even like my uncles but I wanted success so bad I could practically taste it. We could do it without her, we had to do it without her.

I shoved my elbow into Craig’s ribs. “Dude, listen the fuck up.”

He turned and glared at me, clearly pissed off that I’d interrupted his tv time. “Why don’t you shut the fuck up, kid?”

I clenched my jaw and cocked my head from side to side, cracking my neck to relieve some of the tension. I couldn’t let my anxiety ramp up, not after feeling hersnot too long ago. I wondered what was bothering her, if she was alright. She wasn’t normally an anxious person, she was actually pretty relaxed most days. I could always feel that warmth in my chest when she was happy and as much as I loved it, it killed me that I couldn’t be there with her. I hated knowing that I wasn’t the one making her happy, but even more than that? I fucking loathed the thought of anyone else making her happy.

You’re her soulmate, I thought to myself as Deran rambled on about money and guns and we had to move quick and keep our heads low. No one will ever make her as happy as you do.

Although there was no way of knowing if I was actually going to make her happy considering I’d never heard her voice or seen her face. But I always liked to imagine what she looked like. I pictured a brunette, someone with an easy laugh, someone that liked the same movies as me.

“Jesus, J, you there? Or did Craig get you into the coke, too?”

I clenched my jaw as my uncle looked down at me with raised eyebrows.

“I’m here, sorry. I didn’t sleep well.”

He huffed, moving slowly across the living room as he scrubbed a hand over his face. “Well, if you’re too tired then maybe you should skip this one, kiddo. I don’t want you to lose any sleep.”

I bit back my temper, grinding my fucking molars. “I said I’m here.”

He clapped his hands together in response. “Great, now where were we?”

After going over the plan three more times we called it a day. Deran needed to head to the bar, Craig needed to pick up Nicky and get more coke, and Pope… went off doing whatever it was that Pope did. I went back to my room, closing and locking the door behind me as I thought about her, wondering if she had a good day. I assumed she did considering how light my chest felt. If it was a good day everything felt light. A bad day? It felt like my bones weighed a ton and there was a weight on my chest.

But today wasn’t a bad day.

I wonder if she felt my temper earlier, I mused silently. As if she could hear and answer my question, warmth bloomed in my chest, spreading over my shoulders and down my arms to the tips of my fingers. I knew she did.

There were times when I didn’t think she could possibly exist. Maybe my family was right, maybe soulmates were bullshit and it was just media propaganda. It was make believe and there was never just one person out there for us. But the older I got the more I believed. Because why else would I wake up in a panic in the middle of the night? Because she was afraid. Why else would I get this strange, bashful, vulnerable feeling in October of every year? Because it was her favorite month, it was her birthday month. It held something significant and I felt it.

She was real, she was out there, and she was waiting for me.

Sometimes she felt so close that I wondered if she was down the street.

My phone vibrated in my pocket and I pulled it out, looking down at the ID. It was Smurf. Again. She’d been pushing me to go see her for the last four days but now I was dodging her calls. She was awaiting trial for Javi’s murder, but she just kept saying she would get out. She would come home. Things would go back to the way they were before.

I fucking prayed every day that she was wrong.

“J!” Craig’s heavy footsteps thudded down the hall to my room. “Get dressed, we’re heading to the bar.”

“Nah, I’m gonna stay here. Tired.”

He was already shaking his head. “No way. Come on, man. Smurf turn you into her little bitch boy or do you want to come have a beer?”

Fucking Christ, I thought to myself. It was bad enough living with this fucking family, the last thing I wanted to do was drink with any of them. I just wanted out.

“Whatever. Fine. Give me ten minutes.”

“Five.”

I flipped him off and his laugh echoed down the hallway.

* * *

The bar was crowded. Shoulders were being bumped into and Tiny had her finger wrapped around my belt loop as we headed towards the bar.

“Two shots of Jameson!” I shouted over the overlapping conversations around us.

The bartender was a blonde guy wearing a red velvet shirt. Tiny mentioned earlier that she thought he was cute but he didn’t seem to pay much mind to the petite, raven haired Panama native that was my best friend.

“This is my favorite little place.” Tiny drummed her fingers on the bar and shook her ass to the beat of the music. It was clear that she’d pre-gamed pretty hard before I met up with her, not that I minded. She was the definition of a free spirit.

“That guy from last weekend showed up tonight.” She smiled over my shoulder, her nose crinkling up and making her little diamond stud twinkle in the dim lighting.

Tiny was, of course, referring to the guy (David? Daniel? Dick?) that she met here last weekend. She’d vowed not to exchange numbers with him but told him if she saw him at the bar again she’d let him buy her a drink.

“Looks like it’s my lucky night.” She winked at me. Her brown eyes looked like big saucers as he walked up to us with so much swagger I actually almost gagged. He wasn’t my type and his cologne was way too heavy for my taste, but he was right up Tiny’s alley.

“I believe we had a deal.” He laughed, revealing teeth that were so white they probably could have glowed in the dark. It was seriously like in that episode of Friends when Ross wore the teeth whitener for too long.

“Okay,” I said with an awkward smile. I knew it was my cue to leave and let her have her fun. To be completely honest, I didn’t mind. I was tired, work sucked, and after having a shot or two I would want nothing more than to go home, roll a blunt, and slide into bed. I’d been on my feet since nearly six and, though I wasn’t complaining about coming out and having a good time with my best friend, I was someone who appreciated their alone time.

I was heading towards the exit when all at once it felt like I couldn’t breathe. Slamming my hand against my chest, it felt as though the wind had been knocked out of me and my vision blurred around the edges. It was like nothing I’d ever felt, completely overwhelming, and all at once I knew.

He’s here.

My eyes widened at the realization and I whipped my head around, looking for someone I wouldn’t even recognize. I had no clue what he looked like, who he was, his fucking name. But I could feel him. It was like he was standing right in front of me and I wondered if he felt the same way. Could he feel what I felt? That overwhelming, stifling warmth?

We’d been doing this for thirteen years, unwillingly sharing our emotions and feelings with each other. We’d always been so close yet just out of reach, just far enough away that maybe it didn’t feel completely real. Now? Now he was so close I could almost taste him, so close I could nearly feel his breath on the back of my neck.

I can’t do this.

It felt like too much. It was too much too fast, unexpected. I wasn’t ready to face him, whoever he was. What if he didn’t like the way I dressed or the way I looked? What if I was disappointed with his name or his job? They all sounded like such shallow, trivial things. But the simple truth was that they were basic things that people either accepted or they didn’t.

What if we couldn’t accept each other?

You’re soulmates. Don’t you sort of have to accept each other? It’s in the metaphorical soulmates handbook. My head was swimming and I was confused, anxiety tugging at my heartstrings. Jesus, screw the whiskey. I needed three shots of tequila and a horse tranquilizer.

It could be my only chance at actually seeing him, finding my counterpart, and I was running away with my tail between my legs because I was just too afraid. Shaking my head, I cast my eyes down to the floor as I weaved through the throngs of people in the bar. Some were playing pool, some were dancing, all were loud. My anxiety was making everything feel heightened and I figured if he couldn’t feel me before he could definitely feel me now. My palms were sweating and my temples were pulsating. I just need fresh air. I just need to get outside. My lungs were starting to burn, a panic attack quickly approaching as I shouldered my way through the crowd, eventually making it out the door to the sidewalk.

It was mostly empty aside from a few people milling about. I took a few steps to the edge of the concrete and bent over, placing my hands on my knees while I hauled in a few deep breaths and tried to even my breathing. My heart was beating a mile a minute and I shook my head, wanting to laugh and cry at the fact that I had just bitched out instead of facing him.

The strands of hair that escaped my bun were sticking to my forehead from sweat and I damned myself for wearing jeans instead of shorts.

What a shitshow this turned out to be, I thought with a humorless chuckle. I come out with my best friend and the night ends in a full blown meltdown. What was more embarrassing than that? I honestly figured the poor bastard was better off without me, I was clearly borderline certifiable and couldn’t even go out to a bar without feeling like I couldn’t breathe.

Eventually, after my heart rate slowed and my breathing returned to normal, I straightened up and rolled my shoulders a few times to relieve some of the tension. It was time to call it a night and I turned on my heel, preparing to walk for a few blocks, get some fresh air and then eventually hail a cab home.

I took two steps forward, my Vans scuffing against the broken concrete when someone stepped directly in my line of vision, blinking at me from a few feet away. He was a few inches taller than me, sandy hair curling just slightly at the ends and a navy blue sweater covering his upper half. His jaw was distinct, his shoulders broad, and he had eyes that reminded me of the ocean; stormy, dark, trouble looming just under the surface.

It was him. I didn’t know how I knew, but I did. I could feel it in my core. I was standing in front of my soulmate and he was looking right at me, our expressions mirroring the other’s.

“You.” The word was barely audible, coming from low in his chest.

You. This. Us.