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wren-fell · 4 years

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Stuck in Borderland

Chapter 6: A Shock to the Heart

This is by far my favorite chapter. Writing these games is actually really fun, I love the stress and angst.

Thank you to everyone that’s been supporting and reading this!

Warnings: language, violence, fear, high-anxiety situations, talk of death, dead body mention

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Sayaka sat on the roof with her back against the utility shed and her arms around her knees. The looming shadows of Tokyo in the distance seemed to be taunting her. Mocking her with all the lives it was swallowing up in the darkness tonight and every other night in the Borderland. Her hands squeezed tighter around her as she thought about Kaoru being the one to survive. Akiko didn’t deserve that. She was such a bright girl. No doubt it was their fault she was dead. They let her die. She knew it would happen. Her and Madoka had predicted it from the moment they had asked Akiko about their relationship. She thought he would help her survive, but instead he was the death of her.

She sniffled and squinted her eyes fighting back tears. I didn’t even know her that well… why am I so upset? But she knew the answer. She could see the picture in her minds eye of the young girl with a long ponytail, and green blue eyes that matched her own with a crooked smile. Sayaka saw her in every teenage girl in the Borderlands.

“I’ll get back home to you Ichika…” she whispered and rested her chin on her knee, “I just have to survive.”

The door to the roof opened, but Sayaka didn’t bother to look she knew who it was. Quiet footsteps made their way over to her as Chishiya joined her on the roof standing beside her.

There was a long silence before he spoke, “you’d have a better view if you sat by the edge.”

“I’ve had enough of heights for the night,” she mumbled. He nodded slowly, but didn’t say anything.

Sayaka sighed and leaned her head back to look up at him, “you can sit,” she offered, “if you want.”

He looked down at her for a second, but sat down beside her. Sayaka stiffened as his sweatshirt brushed her arm. She hadn’t expected him to sit so close. There was another long silence before Sayaka spoke again, “I know you’re right, you know?”

“Hm?” He leaned his head back to look at her out of the corner of his eye.

“I know you’re right that I need to focus on myself. That I shouldn’t be upset since Akiko is gone. But,” she drew in a shaky breath, “it’s just hard when she had so much ahead of her.”

“You don’t know that,” he said simply. She rested her head on her knees again. “But,” Sayaka glanced at him, “if you need some sort of solace. At least she isn’t here anymore.”

Sayaka leaned her head back as she laughed.

“What?”

“I’m sorry, I just didn’t expect you of all people to be comforting,” she wiped tears out of the corner of her eyes, “but I appreciate it, and uh…” she hesitated rubbing the back of her head, “thank you for not letting me fall… during the game.”

He smirked, “sharing a platform with that other player probably would’ve gotten everyone killed.”

Sayaka sighed, “yea… he wasn’t very observant he must be new to the game,” she paused, “poor guy.”

Sayaka watched the skyline wondering to herself what time it was when an explosion lit up the sky giving her the answer. Two of the lower buildings in the east side of Tokyo went up in a ball of flames signaling that players had failed a game. Seconds later the lasers came down from the sky taking out the players who had let their visas expire. It was midnight.

The scene made Sayaka jump and her hand grabbed instinctively onto the sleeve of Chishiya’s sweatshirt. His whole body stiffened and he looked at her from the corner of his eye. Sayaka’s cheeks turned rosy as she brought her hand back into her lap sheepishly, “sorry…” she sighed leaning her head back against the wall as the sky began to dim again, “I hate this place.”

“I doubt anybody likes it,” Chishiya pointed out.

“Maybe Hatter.”

“I don’t think he’d be working so hard to get out then.”

Sayaka put a finger to her chin, “Niragi then, where else would he be able to act like a total psycho.”

“That ones fair.”

Sayaka smiled, “wow comforting and you agree with me? What’s got you in such a good mood?”

He chuckled, “you’re bound to say something intelligent every once and a while.”

“And then you go and ruin it,” she grumbled.

“You brought it up,” he shrugged, “if you thought about what you said before you actually said it, it could happen more often.”

Sayaka pouted, “if you think I’m so dumb why are you ‘observing me’?”

He watched her for a second picking her apart again, “you can learn a lot from observing people. And I never said you weren’t intelligent, just that you don’t always act intelligently.”

Her eyebrows knitted together as she watched him, “what exactly do you want to learn about me?” Of course he didn’t answer just gave her a smirk and turned his eyes back to the skyline.

Sayaka sighed, “should’ve counted on that,” she grumbled hugging her knees again, “I know it’s because you want to know if I’ll be useful.” His eyes darted back to her.

“But useful for what?” She looked up at him.

“You don’t need to know that yet,” he said simply and stood up, “it’s late I’m going to bed.”

Sayaka watched him walkaway with raised eyebrows. So he did have some sort of plan for her.

Three days later their visas were up, and Sayaka and Madoka pushed their way through the crowd in the lobby to get their game assignments. Frowning Sayaka glanced over at Madoka, she looked nervous. But, who could blame her she’d had a bad string of games including three different hearts games. Sayaka had to admit she had had it pretty easy. Besides the six of diamonds Sayaka had only participated in low-level games, none of which were hearts.

Madoka hesitated when she got closer to the table. “You okay?” Sayaka asked.

“Yea, yea, just nervous,” she nodded slowly, “but we all are, right?” She added glancing up at her.

“Right,” Sayaka agreed and gave her a small smile. Sayaka stepped forward to get the folded piece of paper from one of Hatter’s men. Holding her breath she opened the paper to see the number 6.

“I’m group 6, how about you?” She asked glancing at Madoka.

Tension visibly left her body as her shoulders fell, “I’m group 6 too. Thank god I didn’t want another game with all militants,” she murmured.

Sayaka snorted, “yea I bet. Let’s get going then. Maybe they’ll let us drive,” she joked.

Madoka laughed, “only the militants drive!”

“Yea, but what if we drove instead?”

They drove into the heart of the city cruising through the desolate dark streets, and pulled up in front of the metropolitan police station. The word “GAME” displayed in big letters on the TV screen in the window. Slowly Sayaka got out of the car slamming the door behind her with a deep frown on her face, and a bad feeling churning in her stomach. She surveyed the rest of her group of 4 all of them seemed as unsettled as she was, but they proceeded up the front steps. Not that they had much of a choice.

Shattered glass littered the lobby crunching under all their sandals, and Sayaka cast an uneasy glance around the room. Old wanted posters scattered across the floor, and she grimaced at the words assault, murder, and theft knowing that some of these people where probably here with her.

In the back of the station there were four other players already waiting. Sayaka and Madoka picked up their phones from a table set up in the center, and looked around the room uneasily as the timer counted down. Chewing on her lip Sayaka surveying the room around her trying to figure out what kind of suit this game would be. The station was small, so very unlikely it could be a spades game. There were multiple interrogation rooms and offices surrounding them, maybe a clubs or a diamonds game?

“Registration is now closed.” The robotic voice snapped Sayaka back to reality and she raised the phone in her hand to look at the screen.

“Game: Trigger Shock

Difficulty: 2 of Hearts.” Sayaka’s eyes widened.

“No… not another heart game,” Madoka whimpered. Sayaka glanced at her as she put a hand over her mouth tears building in her eyes.

“Rules:

Players will each go into an interrogation room.” Everyone jumped as all the surrounding doors slammed open.

“There will be 5 rounds.

Each round will have a timer.

By the end of each round players must choose who to shock.”

“Shock?” Whispered one of the younger players, “like an electric shock?”

“If a player chooses to shock another who has not chosen, they will die.”

Everyone began to murmur, “oh my god…”

“What do we do?” Panic was spreading through the group like wildfire.

“We can’t play a game like this.”

Sayaka watched Madoka as she shook, and rested a hand on her shoulder.

“Players please proceed into the interrogation rooms.”

“It’ll be alright,” Sayaka smiled, “I’ll see you after, okay?”

Madoka looked up at her and drew in a long shaky breath, “I’ll see you after,” she agreed.

Slowly they all dispersed from the circle and walked alone into interrogation rooms. Sayaka cast a glance over her shoulder at Madoka as she walked into the room. Madoka didn’t look back she walked right in and Sayaka sighed. There was nothing they could do they just had to play the game and make it out alive.

Sayaka walked into the room and jumped as the door slammed closed behind her. Running a hand through her hair she turned back to survey her “game arena”. The room was small, only big enough to hold the table and two chairs that were sitting inside. There was a two way mirror on the wall in front of her, and two doorways, the one behind her she had entered from and one beside the mirror on the opposite wall.

“Please take a seat. The game will begin in one minute,” the voice directed from the speaker in the ceiling.

Cautiously Sayaka sat down in the metal chair glaring at the mirror. As her bare legs touched the cold seat she flinched, and closed her eyes drawing in a deep breath. Just get through this. Opening her eyes she looked at the table as screens flicked on in front of the row of 8 buttons showing the photos of each player. Sayaka’s eyes rested on Madoka’s face. She expected her to look horrified, but she didn’t she looked stoic and ready to fight… to win. Laughing Sayaka dropped her head, “even I look more terrified than she does.”

Sayaka leaned her head back eyeing the second door beside the mirror. She half expected the game maker to come out and sit across the table. But the door didn’t budge, and Sayaka dragged her eyes back to the table and the buttons.

“The game will now begin.” Electrodes popped up from the back of the chair attaching themselves along Sayaka’s arm and against her temples strapping her to the chair. Her breathing quickened as she struggled to keep herself calm.

“Round 1: You have 5 minutes to choose who to shock.”

Sayaka stared at the buttons. Who could she pick? Anyone but Madoka that was for sure, but… if she picked someone who didn’t choose she would die. She felt her mind racing, and her hand shook as it hovered over the buttons. Her eyes darted back to the door next to the mirror. She wished one of the game makers would walk through the door. If she weren’t strapped to the chair she would lunge across this stupid table and punch them straight in the face. But she would still love to give them a piece of her mind.

“3 minutes remaining, please make a choice.” She looked up at the ceiling and back to the buttons. I have to choose someone.

She drew in a deep breath and went over the pictures again. Picking one of the players not from the beach would be logical... Sweat beaded off her forehead making her painfully aware of the suction cups on her temples. But, getting rid of the militants could be advantageous.

“2 minutes remaining, you must make a choice.” Sayaka’s finger hovered over the third button shaking violently. She squeezed her eyes shut, there has to be another answer... I shouldn’t have to shock anyone!

“Wait…” she whispered opening her eyes. The gears in her head were turning. Everything seemed so familiar. The buttons, the other participants, the continuation prompts… what was it?

“1 minute remaining, you must make a choice.”

Sayaka closed her eyes again as she slowly brought her hand to the buttons, what kind of sick fuck would force people to do this? Slowly her finger pressed onto the cold plastic, treat us like rats in a cage and experiment on us!? Wait… that’s it! She slowly took her finger off the button opening her eyes. This was like an experiment she had read about in one of her psychology classes. The experiment was to determine if people would blindly follow authority and shock the other participants. Sayaka rested her hands in her lap and closed her eyes again, I don’t have to shock anyone… that’s the loophole. That’s how we can survive.

“There are 30 seconds remaining, your life depends on your choice.” Sayaka squeezed her eyes closed tighter.

“There are 15 seconds remaining, you must make a choice.” This is right… this is the right choice.

“There are 10 seconds remaining, you must choose.” I don’t have to choose. Nothing will happen.

“There are 5 seconds remaining, you must choose.” Nothing will happen.

“Three, two, one.”

Sayaka stiffened digging her nails into the palms of her hands waiting for the shock, but nothing ever came. She opened her eyes to look around the room making sure this was real. That she was still alive. She let out a relieved sigh that was short lived as the screams played over the speaker. Reflexively she tried to bring her hands up to cover her ears, but they didn’t move higher than her waist. Squeezing her eyes shut she drew in long shaking breaths as the screams made her eardrums throb.

Almost as abruptly as they started the screams were cut off and the female voice chimed in again, “round two will now begin. You have 4 minutes to choose who to shock.” Sayaka slowly opened her eyes and raised her head to stare at her reflection in the two-way mirror. It felt like someone was watching her; not that she didn’t know they had cameras around, but she was convinced someone was behind that glass laughing as she struggled with her humanity. But, the joke was on them, she was still alive she had figured out the answer, and she had been spared from round 1. The only problem was she couldn’t tell the others. She just had to pray that they could figure it out on their own. That Madoka could figure it out.

“There are 2 minutes remaining, you must make a choice.” Sayaka bowed her head as if she was praying to whatever deity would watch over a place like this, and closed her eyes. She wrung her hands together and waited for the countdown to be over.

“I’m not going to choose…” she whispered, “I know your game, and I don’t have to choose.”

“There are 30 seconds remaining, you must choose,” the voice counted down and all of Sayaka’s muscles tensed as she waited for the shock, “three, two, one.” Her breath hitched in her throat when she felt one of the wires on the electrodes twitch, but no shock came.

Sayaka let out a relieved sigh, and tensed as the screams echoed over the loud speaker. There were more of them this time, at least six of the nine participants were screaming. Again Sayaka curled in on herself trying to block out the screams. It felt like she was drowning. Like she was being sucked into the darkness behind her eyelids with screaming ghosts circling her as she fell.

“Round 3 will now begin. You have 3 minutes to choose.” The voice piped up, but the screams didn’t stop this time. Sayaka stayed curled in her chair not bothering to raise her head as she tried to keep herself from hyperventilating. She was losing sense of how much time had passed as she sat wringing her hands together, and struggling to stay calm.

“Three, two, one.” More screams echoed over the loud speaker the voices combining and shifting into something that didn’t sound human. Sayaka cried out as she tried again to cover her ears.

“Make it stop!”

“Round 4 will now begin. You have 2 minutes to choose who to shock.” Sayaka barely heard the voice. It sounded distant beneath all the mutilated screams. The pain of her nails digging into the palms of her hands was the only thing that let her know this was all real and she really hadn’t died and gone to hell.

“Three, two, one.” The screams overlapped again, but a female voice made Sayaka grit her teeth. It was Madoka. Sayaka shook her head as her voice blended with the others.

“Round 5 will now begin. You have 1 minute to choose.” How? Sayaka rocked herself.

“There are 30 seconds remaining. You must make a choice.” How was I the one to survive?

“Three, two, one.” More screams joined in and Sayaka bit her lip so hard blood dribbled down her chin. The screams seemed to get louder. Sayaka could have sworn they were all standing beside her and not in the other rooms. The voices were mocking her for not choosing. Begging her to help. Cursing her for surviving.

Then there was silence. All at once the screams stopped, and she was left in excruciating, crushing silence. Slowly Sayaka opened her eyes. Her vision was blurred from how hard she had been squeezing her eyelids. Unfurling her hands she could see blood on her fingernails from where she’d dug into her own palms. Lightly she touched the wounds and winced. This was real. She was alive.

“Congratulations! All successful players have been awarded a two day visa.” The electrodes were painfully peeled off her arms and forehead making her wince. Slowly Sayaka leaned her back against the chair and tilted her head to the side as she looked at the two-way mirror. She was a mess. Tears were still streaming down her cheeks. Her eyes were red rimmed and swollen, and red circles marked her skin where all the electrodes had been. Brushing the hair out of her face Sayaka drew in a long deep breath, and stood up on shaking legs.

As she turned, the door opened and she paused. She didn’t know what to do. If she truly was the only one alive what would she do? Slowly she walked into the doorway resting a hand on the frame as she looked into the room she had been in with the other participants less than 30 minutes ago. All the other doors were open, but there was nothing moving. Wiping the tears off her face she stood up straight ready to head back to the Beach when movement in the doorway on the other side of the room made her freeze. Her face was tear stained, red, and swollen as Madoka leaned against the frame breathing heavily.

“Madoka,” the words fell out of Sayaka’s mouth before she could process what she was looking at.

Her head snapped up and she stared wide-eyed at her, “Sayaka!”

They both ran forward collapsing in the center of the room in each other’s arms. Madoka’s body shook as she sobbed her hands balled into fists in Sayaka’s crop top.

“I thought you were dead! I heard you screaming!” She wailed. Sayaka held her tightly resting her chin on her head as quiet tears rolled down her cheek.

“I’m fine. You’re fine. We’re fine…” she rubbed her back, “it’s okay Ichi… Madoka it’s over,” she soothed. It seemed like hours they sat in the center of the floor as Madoka sobbed, but in reality it was only a few minutes. The lights started to flick off as the game arena’s power was siphoned off and Madoka raised her head from Sayaka’s chest.

“Come on,” Sayaka whispered putting an arm around Madoka and walking her out of the police station. She set her down gently in the passenger seat of the car, and Sayaka paused looking over her shoulder at the station, “stay here I’ll be right back.”

“Where are you going?” Madoka whimpered.

“I’m going to get the keys. You don’t want to walk back right?” She gave her a half-hearted smile, and walked back into the police station using the phone as a flashlight. Picking her way over the broken glass, Sayaka walked back into the main room and stared at the open doorways.

Drawing in a deep breath she peered into the third doorway. The smell of burnt flesh and blood made her gag, and she pulled the collar of her shirt up over her mouth. She slowly walked into the room shining the light from her phone on the body of the militant who had driven them there. His body was stiff and his head was leaning back with his mouth wide open in an eternal scream. Shaking Sayaka took a step forward reaching into the pocket of his swim trunks. She pulled out the car keys and jumped as she accidentally brushed against his arm causing it to fall off the arm of the chair. Pocketing the car keys Sayaka made for the doorway, but paused. Looking over her shoulder she could see it in on the table, the silver metal of his handgun glinting in the phone light.

I could take it… it’s right there.

It would be nice to have some sort of protection for other games or from the other militants at the Beach. But she knew she couldn’t sneak it in. Hatter’s bathing suit rule made sure of that. Sighing she turned around and headed back to Madoka. For right now she would have to trust that Hatter had everything under control.

#stuck in borderland #chishiya x oc #alice in borderland #Alice in borderland oc #This is definitely my favorite chapter!#Getting towards the good part of the story #and I'm excited to keep going with it!#my writing #chishiyaxoc #chishiya shuntaro

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mostlysignssomeportents · 4 years

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I am about to start a serialized podcast reading of my novel Someone Comes to Town, Someone Leaves Town, whose first hour I’ve already got in the can. It debuts later this week on the Podapalooza festival, a pay-what-you-like, virtual podcasting festival that benefits Givedirectly, which makes direct cash grants to families affected by coronavirus — and I’ll be putting it in my feed next Monday.

In the meantime, I have been casting about for something to read into this week’s podcast; this weekend, my friends Doselle Young and Gretchen Ash stopped by and sat at the end of our driveway while my wife and I sat on our porch and we all ate tacos together (socially distanced socializing!) and I mentioned this to them and Doselle suggested that I read aloud John Scalzi’s new novel, The Last Emperox, and I texted John and asked if he’d be up for it, and he was, and here we are.

The Last Emperox is the final volume in the “Interdependency” trilogy that began with “The Collapsing Empire,” a novel about a galactic civilization that depends on wormholes that allow for faster-than-light travel, just as those wormholes start mysteriously failing. The first book came out at the same time as my 2017 novel Walkaway and John and I toured our books together back then.

John was supposed to be on an intense, national tour with his book right now, but, of course, he is not. He is one of the first wave of writers experimenting with what book publicity looks like in the age of pandemic, and is blazing the trail for those of us who will come later (I have three books out between now and Christmas, so this is something I’m watching very closely). A lot of the future of authorship is going to rely upon mutual aid, so getting a chance to plug Scalzi’s (excellent) new book in the podcast (MP3) is something I’m really excited about.

#Pluralistic

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dollsome-does-tumblr · 5 years

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gimme the ewan/chris romcom pitch my body is ready

Okay, I was too boastful when I said I could absolutely freestyle a romcom out of any combination of actors as if by magic. I found myself so invested in the concept of a Ewan McGregor/Chris Messina romcom to complement Birds of Prey that it’s like my brain got a very specific kind of romcom-devising writer’s block for several days.

But here I am! I think I’ve got it!

Obviously, it would be a “coworkers who hate each other have to undergo some fake couple shenanigans” romcom, aka high art of the highest degree.

Ewan McGregor’s talent for charming bluster? Chris Messina’s gift for absolutely flailing and falling apart as a person when put under pressure? (”Exsqueeze me? Exsqueeze me???” he once screeched desperately in an episode of The Mindy Project I’ll never forget.) Yeah, they’re faking coupling. It’s the only way.

Specifically: Chris’s and Ewan’s characters once went on a date, or had a brief fling, many years before our story starts. It ended with them deciding they absolutely can’t stand each other ... but they also work in the same place, which is a great “This is why you should never date your coworkers!” incentive. I think they probably work in a restaurant, because handsome men + good food is a winsome combination and I’m not about to turn my nose up at it.

Fast forward like a decade to present day! Chris, maybe fresh off a divorce and rebounding hard or something, is now caught up in a whirlwind romance with some dreamy food critic guy who Ewan hates, possibly played by Idris Elba because try to imagine someone MORE dreamily evaluating restaurant dining and ambiance, and they decide on a whim to get married.

For whatever reason, there’s tension between Chris and his family (the aforementioned recent divorce?) that leads to Chris not wanting them to meet the new love of his life, so he’s all, “It’s fine! You’ll meet him at the wedding!”, which is an obviously egregious deflection move that really has a lot of red flags going on. The family is not amused.

Food Critic Idris Elba, alas, peaces out, like, MAJORLY last minute! Like, the invites are sent out! The hall is booked! The hall might even be decorated! Everything is REALLY READY for that wedding ... except the grooms.

“You can’t pin down a food critic, mate,” FCIE says. “We’ve got to wander where our taste buds lead us on the crazy road of life.”

“Is that ... written somewhere?” Chris Messina mutters despairingly as FCIE pulls off a total goosebumps walkaway (TM New Girl). “Is that, like, a rule?”

Ewan McG is probably handling the catering for this event or something -- he’s around, possibly with his daughter who’s his catering apprentice just because I think it would be fun to have a blended family element -- let’s cast her as Florence Pugh because she’s super fun and why the heck not, she’s so in right now [I know we live in a world where FP would be cast as EM’s love interest before his daughter, but he’s 48 and she’s 24, so I’M SMASHING THE SYSTEM].

Anyway, Ewan McGregor is on the premises, furiously creating an elaborate menu and really exquisite wedding cake because he lost a bet or something. In a fit of absolute desperation, because Chris M must save face in front of his family, Chris is like, “I hate you, you��re the scourge of my life, if I found out you’d died I would honestly smile a little about it, but YOU PRETEND WE’RE ENGAGED AND MARRY ME.” For whatever reason, probably having to do with some sort of restaurant-related arrangement beneficial to Ewan McG’s career (and also Florence feels bad and urges him to do the right thing), Ewan agrees to step in. He’s also very charismatic and charming, so it will be effortless to win over the fam!

They get marrieddddddddddddd! And then have to live a lie as newlyweds!!, and are possibly invited to some sort of family reunion or something so that the deception is forced to continue!

Definitely at one point there’s an elaborate dance number in this film where our guys bust out some moves just beautifully and gloriously to the absolutely fantastic pop song of your choice, because you are not gonna put these two in a romcom movie and NOT have them participate in an elaborate dance number. Dancing is the surest step to falling in love!

And like, obviously they fall in love for real, or maybe even realize that they’ve always been a little in love for real this ENTIRE TIME.

Agents in search of romcom screenplays out there, I will happily produce one for ya at a moment’s notice! Just shoot me an ask, pals.

#dollsome's deep thoughts #movies that should exist #(my favorite tag to nurture and grow!)

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macrofreedom · 5 years

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"Americans without health insurance must pay a yearly fine!" -Democrats 2009

"We want to give free health insurance to every illegal alien!" -Democrats 2019

It's illogical to claim love for America while also casting ballots for Democrats. #WalkAway

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electricloue · 4 years

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28 PLAYLIST

Thanks @softboylwt for tagging me✨💖 (I loved your playlist). Here's 28 songs that I recommend (so many sad love songs):

Run - Joji

white roses - Greyson Chance

You Are In Love - Taylor Swift

Midnight in Paris - Cian Ducrot

Ojos Color Sol - Calle 13 ft. Silvio Rodriguez

This Is Not a Love Song - Zepet

Lately - COIN

always i’ll care - Jeremy Zucker

hurts like hell - Wrabel

Older - Shallou, Daya

Some Kind Of Disaster - All Time Low

Wherever You Are - Kodaline

Love You For A Long Time - Maggie Rogers

Real Thing - Ruel

Love Don’t Die - The Fray

Sunlight - Hozier

Reflections - The Neightnourhood

Love Is Lost - David Bowie

My Eyes - The Lumineers

Distant Sun - Crowded House

Voulez-Vous - ABBA

Miracle of Love - Eurythmics

No Surprises - Radiohead

Bluetonic - The Bluetones

Walkaway - Cast

Don’t Need The Sunshine - Catatonia

Stop Crying Your Heart Out - Oasis

Only The Brave - Louis Tomlinson

I’m not sure who to tag… feel free to say that I tagged you if you want to do this✨

#thank you to tagging me✨#playlist #tag games #I think I made a good playlist #maybe a little sad...

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sebbymylove16 · 6 years

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The Knitting Class

A/N: Hey guys! Long time no see! I hope you enjoy this one! I am thinking of getting rid of my taglist? I’m not going to put it on this fic here. If I get some objections I will keep doing it! Thanks for reading!

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 1,711

Warnings: none, just fluff!

Summary: Bucky goes with (Y/N) to her knitting class and slowly comes out of his shell to make his feelings for her known.

You entered the kitchen in the tower and set your bag down on the counter before grabbing an apple out of the fruit basket. You bit into it, letting it hang from your teeth as you poured milk into a glass and mumbled a greeting. Sam and Steve wished you a good morning, and Bucky nodded your way.

“Where are you off to this morning?” Steve asked you.

“I have that knitting class I signed up for at the new store downstairs,” you said.

Knitter’s Haven had recently opened in the building next to the Tower and you had been spending a lot of time there, buying new needles and yarn, even taking classes. It was basically you and a bunch of elderly ladies, but they had grown on you and you really enjoyed spending time there.

You gulped down your drink and rinsed the glass in the sink. “Any of you wanna join me?” you asked.

“Sorry, (Y/N), but I have a lot of important plans today,” Sam said, plopping down into the leather chair in the shared living room and propping his feet on the ottoman.

“Oh, like what?” you said, taking another large bite out of your apple and pulling your bag on your shoulder.

“Watching my favorite programs on TV, napping, eating your leftovers from last night-”

“Don’t you dare,” you said to Sam, pointing your knitting needles at him in a threat. You turned to Steve who was laughing at you. “Keep an eye on him today,” you said to him. He nodded with a grin.

“I’ll go with you.”

You spun around to see Bucky already putting on his jacket.

“You wanna go knit?” Sam asked, his head leaning over the back of the chair.

Bucky shrugged. “Why not?” he said.

“Why not indeed!” you said, excited to have some company. “Let’s go, Buck,” you said, linking your arm through his. You felt him tense, but stood your ground, pulling him out of the kitchen.

“Even if you bring him, it will still be you and all the elderly!” Sam yelled.

“Funny, Sam!” you yelled back.

The walk down to the store was quick but it did give you time to wonder what Bucky was thinking. He hardly ever went anywhere without Steve. He was perfectly capable of taking care of himself, but you knew he wasn’t quite comfortable with anyone else yet. You hoped you could join that short list of people soon.

When you reached the shop, you unlinked your arms and Bucky opened the door for you. The ladies were already set up, their chairs in a circle, a gigantic basket of different types and colors of yarn sitting in the middle.

“I’m sorry we’re late, Millie, can we still join?” you asked.

“You’re not late, hun! We would never start without you!” Millie said.

You smiled and unzipped your coat. Behind you, Bucky pulled it off your shoulders and set it on the back of the chair he had pulled out for you. You thanked him and sat, patting the chair next to yours, inviting him to join the circle.

“Who’s the hunk, (Y/N)?” one of the ladies, Fran, asked you.

“This is Bucky,” you laughed. You looked over to him and saw him grin at Fran. You would think him totally confident, except for him wringing his hands in his lap.

“He’s another one of those Avengers,” Fran whispered to another lady.

“You’re not supposed to know that,” you whispered back.

“Oh, come on, (Y/N)! We’re in the know” Fran winked.

“We are on the news all the time,” Bucky leaned over to you to say.

You turned and smiled at him when he winked at you. It reminded you of the stories Steve had told you of his time before the serum.

“See?” Fran sang. “Now, let’s knit!”

Today’s class was about learning how to knit gloves. A few tape measures were slowly passed around so each student could measure the widest parts of their hands. When it came to you, Bucky reached out his hand. “May I?” he asked.

“I can do it,” you said, letting him take the tape from you.

“I know you can,” he said, swiftly wrapping the thin band around your palm. “But sometimes, it’s nice to have help.” He rested your hand on his, and with his fingers pulled the band taught. You could see scars and dryness on his rough hands, but he was gentle with you. Before you could think too much about his meaning, he said, “Your hands are tiny!”

“They are not!” you said, softly hitting his firm shoulder.

“They’re childlike!” he said, letting the band loose and passing it to the next person.

“Wait!” you grabbed the tape out of his hand. “Everyone needs to be measured,” you said with a sarcastic twinkle in your eye. You wrapped the tape around his hand and scoffed. “I don’t even think they make gloves this big,” you said, passing the measuring tape to the next person.

“Well, maybe if I’m lucky someone here will make me a pair,” he said.

“I don’t think so, that’s a lot of work. Much more work than making gloves for someone with normal sized hands,” you said holding your hand up.

Bucky smirked at you as his head shook from side to side.

“Time to pick your yarn so we can cast on!” Millie said.

“We all know what color (Y/N) is going to pick,” Fran said, holding her bright yellow yarn in her hands.

“Yes, I know, I’m predictable,” you said like it was the worst thing in the world to be. You grabbed a ball of yarn that was a beautiful, deep blue in color and very soft to the touch.

You followed the lesson and had been knitting for a while when Bucky stirred next to you. He rose from his chair and leaned down to you, saying “I’ll be right back.”

You nodded and kept knitting while Bucky explored the small store behind you. Shortly he landed next to you in his chair.

“Are you bored?” you asked. “Because I think I have the gist of this. We can go if you’re bored.”

“No, not at all,” he said. He pulled a bag from the other side of his chair and opened it to show you that it was full of blue yarn, of all different textures and shades. “Just did some shopping. Don’t want you to run out any time soon.”

You chuckled and shook your head in amazement.

“They also sell coffee, do you want a cup? I know how you like it,” he assured you.

You nodded and watched him walkaway out of the corner of your eye.

“He’s crazy about you!” Fran whispered.

“No, he’s not. He’s just very nice,” you said, feeling your stomach flip with excitement.

“I have been on this earth 87 years, I know what flirting is,” she said, straightening and getting back to her knitting.

You focused on your gloves and shook your head at the thought.

By the time Bucky returned from the coffee counter you had finished the pair of gloves. “Done!” you said. You stood up and put your coat on, saying goodbye to the ladies in the circle and assuring them you had already signed up for next week’s class.

You took your coffee from Bucky and thanked him as you walked through the store to the exit.

“Well, lemme see ‘em, doll,” he said.

You grinned at the old fashioned pet name and pulled the gloves out of your bag.

“Wow, these are nice,” he said, turning them in his hands.

“You think so?” you asked.

“Yeah, they’re great. Good color choice,” he chuckled.

“Glad you like them. ‘Cause they’re yours.”

He raised his eyebrows at you.

“Millie warned me it would be really difficult to make gloves of that size, but I’m a superb knitter, so she said I should go for it,” you said.

“Well, they’re great, (Y/N), thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” you said. “And thank you for the yarn. And the coffee. And for coming with me today.”

“You’re welcome, you’re welcome, and it was my pleasure,” he said.

When you had made your way up tower, you stopped at the kitchen to grab a snack. Sam was still in the position you left him in.

“How was knitting class?” he asked.

“It was great, thank you very much,” you said, hanging your jacket on the chair next to you. Bucky did the same.

“Nice gloves,” Steve said.

“Thanks. (Y/N) made them for me today,” Bucky said, holding them up for him to see.

“I’ve never seen you wear anything but black,” Sam said.

“Now, you will see me wearing a lot of black with some blue gloves,” he said without missing a beat.

You grabbed the bag of yarn from the table and headed off to your room. “Thanks again, Buck,” you said.

He winked at you just before you disappeared down the hall.

Later that night, after you had been in the kitchen making dinner you returned to your room to see a gift on your bed. Soft, tiny, blue gloves were tied together with a bow and a note saying I borrowed some yarn.

“How did he even get in here?” you said to yourself.

“You left the door open!” You hear Bucky yell from somewhere out in the hall.

“And since when do you know how to knit?” you asked.

“Since today! I pay attention!” Then he appeared in your doorway. “Now we match,” he said, one shoulder glued to the wooden frame.

“Thank you,” you said.

He pushed off the doorway and walked over to you, taking your hands in his. He ran his thumb over the back of your palm before his eyes met yours. You noticed they were your favorite color. “You’re very welcome,” he said.

After a moment, he said goodnight with a grin and slowly let go of your hands one after the other. You watched him until he disappeared from the doorway, then closed your eyes and finally let out a breath you had been holding.

Then you heard him again from down the hall, “When’s next class? I promised Fran I’d come.”

#bucky #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #winter soldier #winter soldier fluff #avengers #captain america

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secular-jew · 5 years

Text

Zio Upbringings and Kvetchings in the Trumpian era

Zio Upbringings and Kvetchings in the Trumpian era.

I'm an American Jew who has does not suffer from moral wavering. I'm also an American Reform Jew that is neither Kashrut nor Kosher-observant.

My synagogue growing up was located in the the Boston suburbs, nestled amidst Protestant communities and dotted with Jews who somehow landed a port shy of Ellis Island. Attended shul almost exclusively during important Holidays and Hebrew school weekends through Bar-Mitvah.

At the age of 10, I remember the start to the Soviet-armament-supplied multilateral Arab-state war against Israel, a Pearl-Harbor style event lasting three harrowing weeks and almost wiping Israel off the map.

Word spread fast to reach North American Jews some 5,500 miles (8,800 kms) to the west. I remember hearing the tragic news Saturday morning during Yom Kippur services. The attack occupied 100% of the Sermon delivered by our Rabbi, who was known as Moses because he actually looked and spoke like Moses. He worried aloud that this could portend the end of our homeland, but concluded that the spark of Zionism was eternal: something that could never be extinguished by modern would-be colonizers. This thought that resonated deeply inside my soul.

This was thankfully a war that Israel survived, but was also a battle that Golda Meir ultimately lost, as she resigned just 1 month following her Labor Party's 1974 election win. Remember her final words as Israel's leader: "I have reached the end of my road."

My first physical intersection with Israel occurred in my late teens and early 20's, when I visited extensively what was the modern chapter of an 4,000-year old ancient Jewish story. Exploring 1979-1982 Israel meant stints to some obvious places; Jerusalem, Tel-Aviv, Haifa, Jaffa, Tiberius, and Eilat, Sinai (including a climb up/down Mt Sinai), the northern Golan Heights, the donut-hole known as Hebron, and the Dome of the Rock, the Jew's oldest extant relic. This is the place where Abraham is said to submitted to God's request that he sacrifice his son. Strange how this shrine has now submitted to a colonialist Islamic overlord.

Then came the Kibbutz experience, which meant living the communal lifestyle in Lower Galilee, sleeping on cots in the international guest quarters, up at 4:30am transported out to the fields, and picking pears until it got so hot, you felt like you were standing on the side of the sun.

All well worth the effort as the work day ended around lunch, at which point, we ate a lot of hummus and squeezed copious quantities of ruby-red Israeli grapefruits chilling in large stainless steel refrigerators. After lunch, we cooled down in the community pool, and in the evenings, hung with our Israeli contemporaries while listening to Bob Marley or the Doors, and smoking hashish for the first time. These are two experiences that transcended culture. I felt so at home, and even gained a Sabra girlfriend by the name of Rachel רָחֵל‎ (pictured).

In short, what I considered to be a typical Reform Jewish-American upbringing. (Or American-Jewish?)

Fast forward to present political leanings. Raised a JFK-liberal (liberal in its true meaning; rooted in idea-tolerance and acceptance of diverse views).

As a middle-schooler, I recollect being enamored by McGovern, although not sure exactly how or why. We were all indoctrinated into believing Nixon (one of the greatest friends to Israel, not something I had any clue about) was innately evil. Looking back at that period now, my political stylings appear to have been crafted mainly by academia, the news media, and my peers - all who seemed driven by a sanitized, 1980's version of TDS that could have been called: 'Nixon Derangement Syndrome.'

Once legal age, I was a 'de rigeur' Democrat, which thankfully lasted only a few short minutes. Not able to cast a vote in the 1976 election, I remember nonetheless favoring Jimmy Carter, a folksy down-to-earth ex-peanut-farmer who seemed very popular in the state of Massachusetts where I grew up. Carter morphed into nothing less than a clueless and spineless "progressive" who oversaw the dismantling of principled American leadership.

In high school, a few of us in the dormitory got to stay up late every night to watch "The Iran Crisis–America Held Hostage: Day "xxx" (where xxx represented the number of days that Iranians held the occupants of our U.S. Embassy hostage). The only TV in the building was located in the dorm-masters living room. I watched sitting next to my hall-mate Abdullah Hussein, the same person who became the King of Jordan and who sits on the Hashemite apartheid throne today. We had many discussions in which I defended Israel and lauded her accomplishments in defeating Arab imperialism, while Abdullah retorted with accusations of Jewish occupation and bloodlust at Deir Yassin. I did not have enough knowledge of the incident or of earlier examples of Arab genocide (such as the Hebron massacre and other Jewish genocides) to counter-punch effectively.

During my college years, I tended towards Democrat "moral" policies and candidates, until that goofy Georgian came along. At first, I naively admired Carter's straightforward folksy persona. But eventually, the President’s peanut incompetence drove me to #WalkAway from a party-lone Democrat.

I was proud of myself for making an independent decision (pun intended) and have little idea if any of my peers followed suit, but suffice to say, I have voted forcefully against Democrats up and down the ticket pretty much ever since, with a few exceptions. I consider Trump an pragmatic Independent masquerading as a Republican, not dissimilar to Democrat Bloomberg - who as Mayor of NYC masqueraded as a Republican.

Much as my odium for Carter drove me to #Jexit and advocate for Reagan, my contempt for Obama's virulently anti-America values drove me to become a self-assertive 'deplorable.' Between Reagan and Trump, every other voting-booth decision appeared to present itself as largely a Hobson's choice between a lesser of two evils.

Although Trump possesses virtually no tact and represents the antithesis of my personal style, I appreciate the skill and speed with which he accomplishes things, from building tall luxury residential condos -- to creating a global brand, to the refurbishment of Wolman's Rink in Central Park. His support of Israel, unlike his predecessors, is legion, documented, and consistent. Trump not only moved the Embassy to its rightful place, not only installed an incredible Ambassador, not only praises Israel at every turn, he constantly rebukes Israel's enemies (who should be everyone's enemies). I love that Israel renamed the Golan Heights in his honor. It's almost better than getting the Rec Room in the Ft. Lauderdale condo named after someone rich in your extended family.

Today? There's no political party for me. The Democrats are a shrill hodgepodge of looney-tunes and ill-tolerant blabbermouths who are given way too much airtime on CNN and what I now call MSLSD (aka, MSDNC).

In terms of policy, On social issues like marriage equality, I'm a dyed-in-the-wool Liberal. On local/national fiscal issues, I'm a decided Conservative. On international affairs, I'm a Hawk who majored in International Relations while attending Sciences-Po in Paris (an excuse to massively inhale croque-monsieurs) and firmly believe the US had relevant ethical global leadership responsibilities, a mantle given up by Europe. This meant leading from the front, not from behind. My philosophy became characterized by the notion that appeasement of tyrannies led by autocrats or theocrats was a policy doomed to failure, proven again and again throughout every civilization. Appeasement in the face of aggression has led to more death and destruction, and more insecurity, not less.

It's becoming evident, sadly, that history promises to repeat. Why? This seems to happen in a matter of a few generations. Case in point: Millennials (aka snowflakes) who are too far removed from the trauma of warfare to comprehend evil. Millennials steeped and indoctrinated in re-written and falsified academic narratives. Millennials who virtue signal intolerantly through the lens of victimization. The generation that seems to have lost a sense of moral courage and severed any emotional ties to the 'never-forget' tragedies that are meant to not be forgotten.

My thoughts on our homeland:

I'm a devout 2-state (Israel-Jordan) Zionist as per the 1917 Balfour Declaration and affirmed by the 1920 San Remo Conference (attended by Chaim Weizmann). I see Israel as an inherently Jewish state in its DNA, but which is secular in its jurisprudence.

Next year in Jerusalem.

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