falsettosrevival

[galmaborn]

∘⡊☆˚⊹ 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍:    plots please!  —⋟  @aniimvs​   ||   accepting!

𝐈.  𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐋𝐄 𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐒.    batuu canonically has a lot of ancient ruins & boy did i squeal when i read that you like action/adventure threads.    i headcanon that the ancient people on batuu who went extinct (because of whatever natural disaster that created the spires) were sort of precursors to the jedi/sith, so maybe kylo would be interested in investigating their abandoned force temples?    myla used to play in the ruins with some of the other orphans when she was younger, so out of the locals she knows them the best & is decently unlikely to try to leave kylo to die in some old catacombs.

the idea of them on a temple of doom type adventure where myla is having the time of her life & kylo is half a centimeter from just abandoning her in the jungle sounds super fun to me.    also, who doesn’t like accidentally/reluctantly saving each other from deadly traps & figuring out ancient puzzles?    myla having to rely on kylo to solve the puzzles/open the doors that require the force?    kylo being forced to trust her because hey, the walls are closing & she’s small enough to crawl into the space where the deactivation switch is?

i’m sure it would be a really reluctant partnership, but i’m basic & think those sorts of relationships are fun to write.

𝐈𝐈.  𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐋 𝐌𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐉𝐄𝐃𝐈 𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑.    sentinels are notoriously hard to find if they don’t want to be found & myla has the added bonuses of force cloaking & concealing her force signature, so good luck hunting her down, buddy.    i like the idea of her being a challenge for him.    i don’t know if you have a prequels verse?    but i can easily adapt myla’s sentinel verse to have her be one of the kids luke was training who got away or something similar if not.

i also really like the idea of them growing up together?    myla’s always a bit of a black sheep (aka a tiny feral menace) in her younger years as a youngling/padawan so i could see them getting along?    or even just getting stuck doing some menial task as punishment that ends up with them bonding?    maybe they’d end up as friends or maybe they’d only begrudgingly respect each other or maybe they could just be in the same youngling clan?    because then that would allow for a big reveal of who the jedi killer is & we love a good angsty ripping the mask off to see someone you know sort of reveal in this house.

𝐈𝐈𝐈.  𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐓.    logically, myla will have interacted with the 709th legion on several occasions due to working for dok-ondar (since in the comics they’re shown to be after some of his jedi artifacts).    i feel like she could see them as a potential way off of batuu because oga wouldn’t have the manpower or be stupid enough to try & go after a whole legion of stormtroopers.

they’re canonically struggling to get a good foothold on the planet & win over the locals, so i’m sure a lot of the criminals & resistance sympathizers would be causing the 709th some trouble.    cue myla either being hired by lieutenant agnon or kylo himself as an informant/bounty hunter after turning in a couple of suspected rebels to try & win their trust (& credits).    she’s a local who knows how things work & who to go to in order to get the most accurate information on what the resistance is up to, so she has a lot better luck with leads to their whereabouts/members than a bunch of stormtroopers.    i can see her trying to worm her way into the ranks of the first order for the sole reason of having a ticket off the planet, & maybe kylo sort of dangles that bone in front of her to keep her loyal to them.

not to mention, i feel like there’s potential for there to be parallels between them & boba and vader & i just love that idea so much.    high-ranking military bad guys & their sidekicks who look like they were picked up on the side of the road are my jam.

[penzyroamin]

your wish is my command!!!!

some warnings for this one-- it is heavy shit. there is some mention of potential physical abuse from a parent to a child, so if that’s an issue for you, you’ll probably be okay if you skip the second paragraph and the area between “The night was still too hot and humid, but Davey could hardly bring himself to care as they breathed together.” and “Why? We’re happy.” there’s also some homophobia mentioned throughout, so.

this is.. gosh, the time period is kinda ambiguous, but it felt sorta 90′s to me? and it’s set in the deep south, also kinda ambiguously-- if u want my two cents, i wrote it based off of this teeeeeny tiny town some of my family lives in in north fl.

anyways. this is about loving recklessly and desperately and with much difficulty. please enjoy!!!

no rules in breakable heaven -- read on ao3

In the grand scheme of poor ideas Davey had had over the course of his twenty years of life, kissing Jack had been a bad one. Kissing him again had been a worse one, and continuing to do so, kissing him over and over until they had the closest thing they could to a real relationship, was likely one of his worst.

They had accepted early on that they couldn’t have much in public, not when Davey’s father would try to beat the shit out of both of them if he heard a word of it. Jack lamented it occasionally-- that they lived in the modern world, the present goddamn day, and yet ideals liked freezing in their idiotic, humid little town.

So yes, they accepted that they couldn’t be anything but best friends in public, but that didn’t prevent them from playing with fate.

Davey was in the middle of a shift in his family’s antique story, growing bored quickly of his daily pattern of waiting for someone, anyone, to come in so he could convince them into paying his family’s rent.

But it was miserably hot outside, and no one was out, so there were only empty streets.

And, of course, Jack sitting on the counter, trying to tempt Davey into making horrible decisions. He nudged Davey’s hip with his foot, his old Chuck Taylors ripped up and covered in paint, and when Davey looked over, Jack raised his eyebrows, grinning devilishly and groaning when Davey looked away.

“C’mon, baby, ain’t no one here to see.”

“There could be,” Davey said, opening up the cash register like there’d be something new there. Jack whined pathetically, laying down on the counter and wrinkling his nose.

“Nobody’s out there, and ‘sides, you got the bell to tell ya if anyone comes in.”

Davey busied himself with nonsense. “Don’t got a clue what you’re implying, Kelly.”

“I’m implying that you got a whole bunch of shit in those back rooms that looks real comfy.” Davey’s face screwed up, and Jack cackled. “I love when you get prudish.”

“Who the fuck says prudish anymore?”

“Me, when you’s being prudish. Come on, Dave. You ain’t possibly sold that old armchair yet, it looks fancy.”

“I am not going to make out with you in my parents’ business,” Davey insisted, and he pursed his lips to avoid smiling when Jack took his hand and kissed his knuckles.

“When does your shift end?” Jack asked, and Davey checked the old clock next to the register.

“Four hours.”

Jack rolled his eyes and swung his legs over the counter, tugging Davey a little closer. “You sure know how to torture a guy.”

“It’s a gift,” Davey said quietly, grinning at Jack. “You gonna do anything about it?”

That got him a glare. “Evidently not.”

Davey looked past Jack’s head, at the empty street and the heat hanging in the air. He looked back at Jack, and finally relented. “Ten minutes.”

In seconds, Jack seized Davey's hand and dragged him to the back of the store. They passed through perilously stacked furniture and decorations and knick-knacks that his family had acquired over the years and still had little success in selling.

Davey was shaken out of that thought when Jack fell into one of the nearby armchairs, tugging Davey's hand again.

Despite the relatively poor circumstances in which the Jacobs family lived, the antique shop was an expansive place, plenty of hidden corners, and Davey was all the more lucky for it.

Some amount of time after they ran off-- seven minutes, maybe?-- the bell attached to their door rang, and Davey swore against Jack's throat.

He scrambled backwards, desperately tugging down his shirt from where Jack had rucked it up. He frantically surveyed Jack to see how presentable he was.

In short, Jack looked wrecked. And gorgeous, and definitely not presentable. Anybody who saw him would immediately know.

Davey started to look desperately for a mirror, praying he didn't look similar, and Jack seemed to understand his thoughts. He jumped up and held Davey still, tugging a few of his curls back into place.

"You look fine," he said quietly. "Say you were carrying something, it'll explain…" He pinched Davey's cheek. "Y'know, the roses."

A women's voice called from the front of the store, and Jack tugged him in for a quick, hard kiss. "Go sell something, I'll hide in the back."

Davey grinned at him madly, terrified adrenaline pumping through his veins. "Love you," he said, rushing to the front of the store before he could consider his words for even a moment.

It was only when he was halfway through talking up a table that he remembered the implications of what he'd said.

When the woman finally left, Jack had already escaped through the back.

Davey raked his fingers through his own hair. "Shit," he said, with no one to hear him but the odd cat-shaped clock.

After four more hours of work, and then a truly awful evening of financial planning and "family dinner", Davey had pretty much accepted that his day was over and he wasn't doing much other than paperwork and going to bed.

Their office was the only extra room in the house that they rented, in the back with a window that overlooked their tiny yard. Davey didn’t quite like the look of the yard at night, though, so he had the blinds down while he worked on inventory and returns and other things he cared about only by necessity. 

And then he heard a few swift little taps, and he rolled up the blinds to see none other than Jack beaming at him. He beckoned with one finger, and Davey only considered things for a moment before he turned his lamp off and headed for the door.

He slipped his shoes on as he left as quietly as he could, looking around in the darkness and nearly gagging at the thick nighttime humidity. He felt a hand on his shoulder, and had to muffle his own shriek when he turned around and saw the faint outline of Jack beaming.

“Bastard!” Davey whispered through the darkness, and Jack laughed, his hands finding Davey’s face and pulling him into a kiss.

For a few minutes, Davey was content to stand like that with him, gripping Jack’s hips and pulling him closer and closer, shielded from his family’s view and the streetlights by overgrown bushes and trees on either side of them.

Jack finally pulled away, breathing quickly. “C’mon, I wanna take you somewhere.”

“Lead the way, baby.”

They ran into the street together, where Jack’s old pickup truck was waiting for them, and Davey giggled when Jack skidded over to hold the passenger’s door open for him. Jack’s truck was an absolute rustbucket of a disaster, but it was kind that night, staying mostly quiet as they raced far away from Davey’s world.

Davey didn’t give much thought to where they were going until Jack came to a stop in the middle of a field, a mostly barren one primarily occupied by weeds and tall grass.

He peered out of the window. “Where are we?”

Jack shrugged. “Beats me. Told me I’d take ya somewhere, right?”

“So there ain’t any purpose to this?”

“‘Course there is. I wanna see you.” Jack reached over and squeezed Davey’s hand, then jerked his head back towards the bed of the truck. “C’mon, I got an air mattress back there, we can get comfy.”

Jack jumped out of the truck, heading to the back, and Davey shook his head as he exited a bit more gingerly. “You really planned this, huh?”

“Duh. How’s a man supposed to woo his lover?”

Davey clambered into the bed of the truck, taking in Jack and the flashlights he had set up to give them a little visibility and the air mattress that Jack was lounged out on. He wasn’t sure quite what to say to any of it, but he managed, “So I’m ya lover now?”

“Obviously,” Jack declared with a smile, tugging Davey forward to lay down with him. He pressed a few soft kisses to Davey’s collarbone.

That reminded Davey of what he’d said, and he pursed his lips a little as Jack continued his ministrations. “When I, uh… what I said…” He trailed off, sighing when Jack bit down. “If you don’t wanna… mention it…”

Jack pulled away, his brow furrowed. “Why wouldn’t I?” Davey gaped, scrambling for words, and Jack took his hand, kissed each of his knuckles. “I love you, too. Best thing I ever heard you say.”

That was… puzzling. It must have shown on Davey’s face, because Jack tilted his head. “You did… mean it, didn’t ya?”

“Yes!” Davey rushed to exclaim, clinging to Jack’s hand. “Yeah, of course, it just… complicates things, don’t it?”

Jack blinked, looking down at their hands and then sighing. “I mean… yeah. Yeah, but… God, Dave, I love you. I’m so in love with you, I feel antsy every second I ain’t with you. I just wanna be with you, that’s all. That’s it.”

Maybe it was the way he said it, so earnest and kind. Maybe it was the way his eyes were even darker at night, or the way their dim, artificial light cast odd shadows across his skin, or the way that his hair stuck to his forehead in the humidity. Maybe it was just that Davey loved him, and he had for longer than either of them knew, and he wanted, he had always wanted, only for Jack to love him, too.

Whatever the reason, he lunged forward and kissed him, as good as he knew how to. He clung to Jack, one hand in his hair and the other on his hip, pulling him closer and closer until there wasn’t any space left for them to breathe in.

Jack groaned, wrapping his arms around Davey’s waist and rolling onto his back so Davey was laying on top of him, letting everything fade to a dull roar around them. Cicadas and waving grass and crickets quieted and finally went silent in Davey’s ears as he dipped his head to kiss along Jack’s jaw and then down his neck.

There they were, in the bed of Jack’s rustbucket pickup truck, and their world was finally quiet.

When they were finished, Jack tucked his head into the crook of Davey’s neck, and Davey ran his fingers through Jack’s hair. The night was still too hot and humid, but Davey could hardly bring himself to care as they breathed together.

“Davey?” Jack asked eventually, and Davey nodded a little in response. He felt Jack’s breaths get softer against his shoulder, and then: “What happens? If folks find out? If your dad…”

Davey exhaled softly, brushing the tips of his fingers over Jack’s back. “I dunno. He… It’s… I got no clue what he’s gonna do. And that scares me.”

“If he…” Jack trailed off, and Davey sighed.

“If he tries to beat the shit out of me, I might… I might take it. He’s my dad. I can’t fight him back.”

“Yes, you can. You can, Davey, you should. He’s an awful bastard.”

“Jack.” Davey tipped up Jack’s chin so he could look him in the eyes. “I know he’s wrong. And I wish I could. But if it comes to it…”

Jack exhaled slowly, his shoulders slacking. “He’s your dad. I know.”

They returned to holding each other like they had before, and Jack pressed a few comforting kisses to Davey’s bare shoulder. “If he comes for me…”

“Fight back,” Davey said firmly. “But don’t… please don’t go too far.”

“I won’t,” Jack murmured. Davey felt Jack’s lips pursed, and he waited for the exception. “I… I dunno what I’m gonna do if I see you hurt ‘cause of him.” Hot tears fell against Davey’s skin, and he gasped, holding Jack tighter. “Y’already are, but… bruises, cuts, I’d…” Davey’s own eyes burned as Jack choked out small breaths. “I hate him, Davey, I hate him for makin’ us think about all this.”

“I know. I know, doll, I know. It’s just… We can’t escape.”

Jack stilled, and after a moment, he said, “Why not?”

“What are you… What?”

Jack pulled back, taking Davey’s face in his hands, his eyes dangerously aglow. “Why can’t we escape? Why can’t we just run?”

“My-- Jack, my family--”

“Your parents ain’t given you nothing but hell.”

“My siblings, they’ll--”

“You can send them money, Davey, talk to them before. You can keep them afloat from far away.”

“This is crazy. This is insane. You’re crazy.”

“Why? We’re happy. We can keep being happy, far away from your folks. Happiness without all the dark shit they bring. We can live together, get real jobs, kiss whenever we want!”

Jack’s enthusiasm, like always, was infectious, and Davey felt himself falling. “Where’d we go?” he asked, his voice soft like when he prayed.

“Anywhere. New York, Santa Fe, San Diego, Chicago, some tiny suburb somewhere. I don’t care where we call home, you’re home.”

That slipped right through Davey’s ribcage and found his heart, piercing and tugging with the deep, necessary love he had for Jack. “I don’t have my stuff.”

“Then we leave tomorrow. Pack up what you need, sneak it with you when you go to work tomorrow. I’ll pick you up there, and we just…” Jack snapped his fingers. “Vanish. Become town legends.”

Davey hated that he had to choose-- be loved by your family, be loved by your lover. But then again, Jack was the only person who had ever loved him bravely, loved him when it was difficult, loved him unconditionally. No matter how many times he had to sneak out Davey’s window at night, no matter how many times he couldn’t hold Davey’s hand, no matter how many nights and days were interrupted. He just loved Davey, and Davey loved him back.

“Okay,” he said, the word leaving his throat like it had been waiting there forever. “Okay. Yeah, let’s go.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” Davey said again, a beam spreading across his face. “Yes, let’s go. Tomorrow at ten in the morning. Let’s just go.”

Jack crashed forward and kissed him firmly, and as Davey pulled him closer, he felt Jack melt into his arms.

Davey turned over the bracelet in his hands. He’d only had a few minutes with Les and Sarah while he was driving them to school, but they’d all cried in that time, and when he let them out, they ran around the side to hug him tightly. Les had demanded that Davey get back in touch once everyone was out of Esther and Mayer’s home, and Sarah had given him the bracelet, saying that purple looked better on him.

There was a rumbling outside as Jack’s truck pulled to a stop, and Davey looked around the store one more time, shouldering the backpack that he had fit his life in. For good measure, he snatched a little pocketwatch from their jewelry display before flipping the sign to “CLOSED” and locking the front door one last time.

Jack grinned when Davey got in the truck. “Where to?”

Davey took Jack’s free hand and stared at the empty road. “Just drive, baby.”

“As you wish.”

They jolted forward, and Jack cranked the air conditioning up so high that Davey’s curls blew back with the force of it.

A weight slowly lifted off his heart as they merged onto the highway, and it felt a little like finally loving freely.

[this-do-be-therapeutic]

Fall

Sebastian Stan x Reader

A bunch of fluff that will hopefully make you smile.

Warning: Seb is so good???????????????????

A/N: Just like my last one, this both felt super long and super rushed at the same time???? IDEK anymore, man. I hope you enjoy.

If you have any writing tips (like not writing all of your fan fictions at 1 in the morning), I’m open to any and all of them!!!

People love Fall for many reasons. The pretty leaves changing colors, the weather getting cooler letting everyone get ready for hot chocolate and cuddling, Thanksgiving, even the leaves when they fall and get to the satisfying crunchy state. However, that was also the worst part of fall, the leaves falling. I always spent over an hour raking up the leaves that fell from my huge maple tree in my huge yard and the two other trees in my yard, it was so much work, every single year.

And that’s exactly where I am right now, raking up the leaves for my parents because they’re both old and always working. My mom recently got kidney stones take out, so it’s understandable that she wouldn’t want to be dealing with these. My dad was always busy working in his store that he owned with a partner and my brother. Why my parents couldn’t ask one of the other boys to do it, I’m not sure, but whatever.

I’m raking up the leaves, with my rake, like every normal person does, when I hear a loud whirring noise. Like someone running a motor, and the sound of leaves rustling after it.

Okay, so someone is cleaning off their sidewalk with a leaf blower, fantastic. I’m glad people care about others walking on the sidewalk.

I turn to glance at the good samaritan and am shocked at what I see. Not only is that man absolutely stunning in his leather jacket, short brown hair that looks way too soft to be real falling in his eyes, his perfect muscular build that is oh so tasty, but he’s not using the leaf blower to clean the sidewalk. Oh no, he’s using it in his freaking yard?! Who on earth does that? That is not morally okay. I take back everything I said about his stunning body.

Okay, fine, it’s not the worst idea. In fact it’s kind of genius, sort of. But you’d think with a body like his, he’d be fine doing a little work, and I definitely would not mind him doing it. But it’s also kind of dumb. First of all, you can’t really aim with a leaf blower, it’s just air, so it goes everywhere, often times making an even bigger mess than you started with. And it doesn’t make satisfying piles that everyone loves to jump in even when it’s not the leaf pile they made in their own yard and it makes a huge mess for the owner of whoever’s house it is has to clean up and it’s so rude and frustrating and freaking trespassing and GET OUT OF MY YARD, YOU CHILDREN.

Anywayyyyyyyyyyyyyyy.

I continue to stare at him doing that for a few more minutes, torn between swooning and going over to chop off his head (and maybe keeping it in the freezer with some sunglasses, kinda like Medusa, ya know? Because I’m sure his gaze is just so darn captivating I would freeze up the moment he looks at me, wink wink) when he glances up at me. He turns off his darn leaf blower and sends me a shining smile while walking over to my parents’ yard. And let me say this right now, he gets more and more attractive the closer he gets, HOT DANG.

“Hi neighbor. Couldn’t help but notice you checking my girl out. She’s pretty, right?” Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh my gosh his voice is breathtaking. But who is he talking about? Is this his way of telling me to stop looking at him because he’s off the market without actually having a female around??????

“She? What are you talking about?”

He smiles even wider, as if excited to show me this girl. He lift his leaf blower, using his head to gesture at it a little. “Her name is Ethel. She works real hard and well. Had her for about 5 years now.” First off, that’s a gross name (A/N, I am so sorry if your name is Ethel, I asked my friend for a name and he came up with that and the reader had to think it was gross, love you!), and second, what?

“You... You named your leaf blower?”

“Of course, who doesn’t?”

“Any person with any sort of common sense????”

“I don’t see a problem with it. People name their cars. Anyway, my name is Sebastian Stan.” At least his name isn’t terrible. I kinda like it, actually.

“Huh, well good for you. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some work to do.” I gesture to the yard and my rake before I begin again, the sound of the leaves getting crushed and moved loud and hopefully ending the conversation.

“Wait, what’s your name?” And he didn’t leave.

“Doesn’t matter, you won’t be seeing me again anytime soon. I don’t live here, and I only come when my parents ask me to.” And that’s when it starts to rain. “Freaking hormonal weather...” I curse the rain because it means I can’t finish my work today.

“Shoot, I should get home, get Ethel in a warm dry place, she gets a little finicky when she’s wet.” He smiles again before walking away.

I sigh and sit on my parents’ porch. I took a cab here, neither of my parents are home so the door’s locked, I don’t have a key, and I can’t call a cab because of course my phone decided to die a little after I started raking. So I just sit there, watching the rain pour down on the pile of leaves I had managed to make.

A few minutes of sitting there by myself and Sebastian comes jogging into my yard with an umbrella. “Locked out?” he asks, as if it’s not obvious.

I roll my eyes and respond, “No, I just love sitting in the freezing cold rain without a jacket watching my hard work get ruined.”

He chuckles a little before walking up to me, offering his hand. “Come to my place. It’s warm and unlocked right now. I also make a mean cup of hot chocolate.”

“Tempting, but how do I know you’re not just luring me into your house so you can murder me?” I glance at his hand. It looks rough and calloused. Probably from lifting weights. Those metal bars aren’t exactly easy on the skin.

“Come on, would I do that? With a face like this?” His smile is literally blinding me.

“Yes.”

He sighs, his smile falling a little, making me sad. “Come on, at least if I’m a murderer you’ll die comfortably and not out in this ice cold rain.”

I nod a little. “I guess you’re right.” I reach up and take his hand, his smile back to its original brightness as he pulls me up.

“So, do I get to know your name yet?” He wraps his incredibly warm arm over my shoulder so I fit under the umbrella with him.

“Not until I’m certain you won’t kill me.” He laughs again and squeezes my shoulders gently in amusement as he leads us back to his house. My hand flies to his chest in that action and I can feel his well defined pectorals, taunting me because I can’t see them.

“I guess I’ll just have to come up with a name on my own. How about... Jessica?”

“Oh gosh, can we end this nonsense right now? I don’t want you calling me any actual names.”

“But you look like a Jessica to me.” I shoot him a glare right as he looks at me. “Fine fine, how about Princess?”

“You’re killing me, Sebastian.”

“I think it fits you.” He squeezes me again as we get to his door.

“And how do you figure that?” He pulls his arms from around me, causing me o shiver from the cold reaching where I was used to his warmth.

“So far you have been nothing but a royal pain.” He opens the door before closing his umbrella and shaking the water.

“Wow, thank you so much. That means a lot to me.” Sebastian looks back at me and we both just stand there, looking at each other, his face no longer having his beautiful smile. Instead, he looks thoughtful and serious.

“That’s exactly why I said it. I couldn’t possibly risk upsetting the princess.” He continues with a straight face for just a few more moments before bursting out laughing and telling me to go inside with his arm. “Please, come inside. Ladies first.”

I scoff, just thinking ‘That’s what she said’ as I walk in. When I first walk in I see the living room. A love seat against one wall across the TV on top of a little dresser thing, most likely full of movies, consoles, games, all the works a stereotypical man would have. Between the TV and couch is a coffee table, a vase of yellow roses in the middle of it. In the corners of the room are lamps and other plants.

“Please, have a seat. I’ll bring you something to drink.” He shuts the door and heads into what I can only assume is the kitchen. I take a seat on the couch, enjoying the softness on my bum.

Sebastian comes back around 5-10 minutes later with 2 cups of a steamy beverage. He takes a seat next to me and hands me one. Hot chocolate, I soon realize. “Thank you, Sebastian.” He nods silently, watching my reaction as I blow on it before taking a small sip. At first, all I can feel is it burning across my tongue and down my throat, but the after taste is magical. It straight up tastes like caramel Lindor chocolate truffles. “Holy heck, that is amazing!”

He sets his own cup down with a smile. “I’m glad you like it. My mom taught me the recipe. She is a magical woman. She would have liked you.”

“Oh? How come she isn’t around to like me?”

“She lives in Romania.”

“Romania? Is that where you’re from?” He nods, his hair that had been tucked away falling back into his face. My hand shoots up to tuck it away so I can see his beautiful eyes better. “Do you miss being there?”

“Of course. My family is there, and many of my old friends.”

“How come you moved here, if you liked it so much?”

“I don’t know, I guess I just felt a pull to move across the globe. Maybe it was your soul telling mine it missed me.” He smiles sheepishly and looks down.

“Do you really believe that stuff?” He nods again. “That is so disgustingly cute.” I smile when he looks up again.

“You have a beautiful smile, you know that?”

‘No, not many people tell me that. I guess I don’t do it that often.” I lean my head against the back of his couch. “Not many people try so hard to get me to smile.”

“Well then it is their loss. Your smile is breathtaking. Thank you for blessing me with your smile, Princess.”

“Y/N.”

“What?”

“Y/N, that’s my name.” He hums softly.

“I think Princess fits you better.”

[waldowski89-blog]

Tumblr Written Return.

So, I’m back here doing my usual routine. Hello, I guess… you guess? In any case, I enjoy these don’t get me wrong. My abrasiveness is just something acquired, I think. Or not talking to people, I don’t know. Okay, that started off on a wrong foot, left or right you decide… god this is rubbish. So I’ll split this into 3? I didn’t say that last time. I think three segments is enough for 1,000 words… enough for anybody.

I think I’m at the point where most people give up [Edit 20-02-19: I kinda wanna.]. I want to be relentless with this. This notebook seems like it may take longer to fill. Anyway apparently there’s a point where people quit or feel like it but it comes just before take off as it were. Not that that was ever the plan of course. I always felt if it made one person laugh or happy or entertained etc. then it was worth it. I’ll take regular in writing this or these [Edit 20-02-19: I seriously don’t know what that means… oh breaks I think I meant.]. I won’t include times though just dates. All that was probably only interesting to me anyway. I don’t really know.

Wow, can you believe I’ve been here on and off for about two years now? Does it seem like that? I don’t know. Don’t roll your eyes at that. It really has been a while, hasn’t it? Do you look forward to another two years? I’m smiling so I must be. I never cared about popularity or getting paid… hint hint. Eurgh, all that leaves a bad taste in my mouth. I just want to entertain but one has to make a living too. Can one really trade in blood… that’s overly creepy. I meant metaphysically. I don’t always talk about positive subjects. Also I was about to talk on where I’ve been this past month. The thought is conflicted… who really cares anyway. Why am I so grim and grey? Cue Bohemian Rhapsody. Actually that’s interesting that’s a nonsense song and Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland is a nonsense story. I really want to get around to reading that. I want to do a reading on a new channel of mine. It’s not set up properly though and I have nothing to post there yet. Just a few maybe dumb outtakes of Jane Eyre. I wanted to read that first… for an old friend. I LOVE YA BUB! BUB. Hey that’s a point, I forget to do ending ideas on my streams. I shall begin that again too… I mean I already started streaming again but I meant the Ending Ideas™ IN ANY CASE! (My talents are wasted) (What talent?)

Where I’ve Been? been up to?

Right hello again, next section. So I’m not going to go into depths as to where I was and what I got up to. Suffice it to say that it was an education. An ongoing education. Also one that technically started years ago. There’s no need for me to go into great detail anyway. Clearly there’s something wrong with my mental health. I have been determined to have a mental disorder. That is or it has been observed that way. I don’t disagree. Oof, I don’t like talking about it. It always brings the mood down. Put short I am depressed and this could be due to anxieties I have. Fear not though for I am getting help. Deers. Should I call my audience deers? Jeeze why the fuck do I have an audience for this? It’s not fun. Hopefully talking helps. Openly or at least as openly as one would like. I want to move on already. With life, with everything. Again, fear not, for I will stay here as I can. It’s too dour. Let us move on shall we? I’ve barely broached the subject though. However I feel I’ve said enough. I hope.

In any case, hope is a good tool in these situations. Hope that things will get better and that it just takes time… it’s taking a pretty fucking long time, huh? That’s about all I’ve got on this subject for now. Oh, except that there was an app about all this. Link! Hey you! Yes you! Got crippling depression? Feel anxious all the time? Yes? Then there’s an app for you.

Okay, now that was overly facetious (I’ll have to edit in whether I spelt facetious right or not later) [Edit 20-02-19: I did.]. Anyway I’ll link (spelt tink wrong it’s early… and I did it even wronger just then). I’ll link it at the end. I haven’t used it myself (fear perhaps) but I will in time. It sounds very helpful bringing each other hope in depressing times/situations/circumstances.

I’ve always wanted to help people. Entertain people. Keep people smiling. It’s nice. Like Psycho Mantis in Metal Gear Solid: “I’ve never used my powers to help people before… It feels… kind of… nice…”. I can still hear that in my head. Gosh, I played Metal Gear Solid a lot as a child… David Hayter in that Christmas message about it was like: “Yeah, well it’s a dark world.”. That was epic where he just dropped into The Voice™: “Brother” and Cam Clarke too: “Dear brother.” I FUCKING LOVE THAT GAME AND ALL THE VOICE ACTORS AND CREATORS AND EVERYONE! … In any case… FFFOXE DIE DIE DIE… calm down Andrew. Counterintuitively I’m listening to the Hitman Blood Money Soundtrack.

Been Looking at Microphones.

Anyway, time to move on. I wrote the above title a few days ago. I’ll read back this thing to get a better idea of where I am. I usually write these in bits over a few days.

Okay, so that seems like a waste of time. It’s just my usual pontificating. So the microphones. I don’t know or remember why I wanted to dedicate a whole section to that but hey ho here we are (I’m listening to the album Hollow Bones by Rival Sons by the way. More Links!). Um basically I was thinking of investing in a much more expensive microphone. That’s it really.

So moving on from that… jeeze it feels like one of these mission constraints in Assassin’s Creed. “Write only about buying a professional microphones only” Well I’ve broken that constraint but there’s no checkpoint here.

In any case, that was it. Interestingly though I found the album Hollow Bones by chance or by how I usually find music and that’s through the recommended on iTunes. I actually do usually judge an album by it’s cover and this one is cool. It has what could be an arctic fox on the front. I’ll put a pic in here.

[Edit 22-02-19: Nice vape, yo.]

I found this album from the recommended in Victorious by Wolfmother. That album gives me nostalgia (what doesn’t?) for a few years ago. It was when I was in the grip of psychosis I think (That’s brave? Don’t post this) I thought I was in a TV show or something. I can’t be the only one to ever have felt this way… Derren Brown more specifically anyway. That’s all over with now. I wasn’t it turns out. I thought the music was a message to me directly as if created for me… I know it’s or may be narcissistic of me. Anyway I tried to listen and applied the lyrics to my life… ANYWAY… I guess I finish this by linking a Jack White video: “Let the music tell you what to do” I haven’t even watched it yet. I will now but alas we are at the end of another Tumblr. I look forward to working with you again friend… The Internet. My name’s Waldowsky (with a ‘y’ why? for now) and thank you to every single one of you who read. My hand hurts (Stop complaining, Andrew).

Just watched it. Well I was going to say I can write a bunch and keep it all. I hardly delete anything. I’ll link Death Letter too… I really love that track. Curiouser and curiouser, I just realised it’s from De Stijl… what a coincidence that he should mention that song.

[Final Edit 20-02-19: A lot of this made no fucking sense.]

[Final Final Edit 22-02-19 or P.S.: The app was called Wisdo. Still haven’t tried it yet.]

Links

Wisdo

Hitman: Blood Money Soundtrack [Edit 22-02-19: I nearly forgot to add this. I need to find a soundtrack for Metal Gear Solid too. I have some music from that game, so don’t you worry.]

Hollow Bones - Rival Sons

Victorious - Wolfmother

Jack White - Speech: "Let the music tell you what to do" | Producers & Engineers Honoree | GRAMMYS

Bonus

Bonus Bonus [Edit 22-02-19: There ya go.]

[minusram]

under the cut: trans reigen ends up going to his high school reunion (~3.5k?)

-just a few short scenes, it kinda streamed out of me this morning. 

warning for MAJOR headcanoning (fanon ahoyyyy), high school bullying (unrelated to transness!), misgendering, deadnaming, and some minor homophobic language, but it’s really not an angst parade; i just want you to be safe. kinda bittersweet i guess. takes place 1~.5 years before canon

“I’m serious, that’s what happens,” Reigen says, walking next to Mob on their way to an assignment. He still isn’t used to the new uniform, like having a little black shadow keeping pace beside him whenever his student is following him around.

“But how do they get it in?” Mob asks, quietly skeptical.

“A big syringe, and then the carbonation makes the marble swell so it doesn’t fall out.”

“But—”

“I’m telling you, Mob, that’s how they make Ramune bottles. Listen to your master.”

“Reigen-shishou, I don’t think that’s how it works.”

“Reigen?” a woman says from behind him, “Reigen from Saffron High, is that you?”

Reigen can’t move, petrified by panicked shock that someone from back then has recognized him, even after everything; he loses his chance to abscond when she comes around to stand in front of him. Oh fucking hell, it’s Ooka Minami. She was in his class all through high school. He hated high school.

“Hey! Airi-chan! I can’t believe it’s you! Wow you got butch—look at that suit! Guess you really were batting for the other team, ne?”

Then she laughs. And that would be why.

“Gosh, Minami-chan, it’s been years!” Reigen gushes, “And it’s so great to run into each other, but I have to be going, so sorry; huge deadline, business to deal with, you know how it is...” he says, sweat popping up as he manoeuvers to make his belated escape.

“It’s okay, Shishou, I can deal with the spirit. You talk to your friend,” Mob says, extraordinarily and unhelpfully obtuse. If Reigen isn’t going to be able to get out of this conversation he at least doesn’t want Mob hanging around to hear it. Reigen shoos him off, and Mob goes silently into the park to deal with whatever’s been bothering the retirees who sit on the benches there every afternoon. It’ll be fine; this job is small fry, nothing he hasn’t handled before.

“Spirit? ...Shishou?” Ooka asks, skeptical.

“Yes,” Reigen says shortly, “I run an exorcism agency. He’s my student. We have a job. So I should really—”

“Spooky Airi-chan deals with ghosts now? And you were always such a skeptic.”

“Well, it’s a living,” he says, resigned to at least a few niceties. “And you?”

“I’m just out taking care of some errands, picking up stuff for dinner tonight. I know, it’s a little late, but running a household is hard work, especially with two kids around the house. You know how it is,” she says, with a gloating smile.

“I can’t say that I do,” Regein replies, light and dry.

“Oh, you’re not married?”

“No.”

“Better get on that, christmas cake.”

“Thanks for the advice. Well, Minami-chan, this has been spectacularly fun, but unfortunately I do have to go, sorry.”

“Oh, no problem. It was nice to catch up! Do you have a business card?”

“According to social convention,” he says, reluctantly digging out the case to hand one over, “I must admit that I do.” Ooka takes it and skims the contents greedily before tucking it in her wallet.

“I’d return the favour, but I don’t have any. After all, I’m a housewife,” she says with a sweet smile, the same one from back then, when she’d asked him if he had a crush on her in front of the entire class.

“Congratulations. I really must be off now, Minami-chan.”

“Bye, Airi-chan! See you soon!”

Unlikely, Reigen snarls in his head, and “Have a nice day,” pleasantly outside it, face smooth and bland as he turns to go find Mob.

Either there was nothing here or Mob’s taken care of it already, because the kid is being mobbed by a bunch of geezers that practically totter on their feet. Surrounded, he doesn’t notice Reigen until Reigen’s gently elbowed his way to the centre of the throng of old people cooing over Mob’s adorable face. If his student were half as popular with people his own age as he is with grandparents, Reigen might have to do something to prevent his esper from succumbing to the peer pressure of spending time with people not fourteen years his senior.

Reigen tows Mob to freedom, says goodbye to the group, collects payment from the park manager, and sets off back to the office, Mob beside him.

He shoves his hands in his pockets and hears his heartfelt desire for Mob not to mention the encounter like a chant in his head.

“Who was that?” Mob asks, dashing his hopes. Reigen blows breath out through his nose, and answers:

“An old classmate.”

“A classmate?”

“From high school.”

“Oh. Was it nice, to see her again?”

“It’s not the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“Why did she call you -chan?”

“Ahh, it’s an old joke from high school. You… had to be there, ha.”

A joke—yeah, sure.

That’s a good word for it.

-------

A week later, the office gets a letter from his alma mater, and Reigen regrets. Why didn’t he just lie? Nobody from Saffron would ever have thought about him again, but now that Ooka has his contact information it seems he’s been brought back into the mailing list’s fold.

It’s probably about money, isn’t that the sort of correspondence you get from high school?

He opens it; it’s an invitation to his ten-year class reunion, happening soon. It’s a bit late notice, but from the date printed in the corner of the photocopied sheet the rest of the letters were sent out months ago.

Reigen smirks as he balls up the page; there’s nothing in the world that could make him go to that shitshow.

But when he reads the second one, he drops into his seat.

-------

Reigen toys with the zipper on his jacket, sitting on the edge of his bed, ready to hang up if the wrong person answers the phone. He’s relieved when his target picks up on his first try.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Ma.”

“Arataka! Have you finally learned to call me without wild horses dragging you to the phone?”

He lets out a silent sigh and shifts on the mattress to lean on his free hand.

“No, sorry, I’m still trying to find my feet at the ranch. Are you free to talk?”

“For you, always.”

“Great. I have a bit of bad news, we’ll have to reschedule those plans we have in a couple weeks.”

“But why? If this is something to do with that shady business of yours…”

“No, it’s nothing like that. I just thought I’d go to my class reunion, and I just found out. It’s the tenth anniversary, can you believe it?”

“Ten years, really? Oh, time goes by so fast. But Arataka, I’m so pleased! I know it was hard sometimes, but after you graduated I was so sad you lost touch with all your friends.”

His friends, such as they were, were delinquents and thugs who introduced him to smoking, cutting school, and violent self-defense. His parents never knew about them. But they were loyal, and now, years down the line and far too late for it to matter, he finds that he’s a little sad too.

“Well, I can go say hello and goodbye, anyway.”

“Apricot, are you sure? I don’t want you to get hurt...”

“Geez, Ma, what’re they gonna do, beat me up? I can handle myself, don’t worry about it.”

“I am happy you’re going. Fine. You still won’t cut out this psychic nonsense and get a real job?”

“Nope.”

“So when are you going to settle down, then? I don’t care who it is, although I’m aching for grandchildren, Taka, aching, but you need someone to take care of you—”

“Wow look at the time, I’m late, sorry, love you, gotta go,” Reigen blurts, and hangs up. He falls back to bounce against the bed, staring up at the ceiling.

An inelegant retreat, but hey—it works.

He hauls himself up to look into finding an appropriate suit.

-------

Weeks later, Reigen stands just outside the door and listens, pretending he’s scoping out the room and not psyching himself up to face people he thought he was done tolerating a decade ago.

“Eh? A spirit agency, really?! And after all that shit about how ‘ghosts aren’t real’ and ‘there is no afterlife’. God, she never shut up about it!”

“Enlightened Reigen-sama, better than everyone else.”

“Ha, remember when she ruined the haunted house? During the cultural festival… our second year, I think.”

“Oh my god! I completely forgot about that!”

“And when—”

“Yeah! Damn, what a nightmare.”

A pause.

“...I hear she’s a dyke now.”

“Whoa, watch your language, dude.”

“Fine, fine, but still.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, I’m with Ooka-chan on the planning committee, she’s the one who found her.”

“No way, Minami-chan said that? I don’t buy it.”

“They really hated each other back then, it might just be a rumour.”

“But Reigen-chan confessed to her, didn’t she?”

“Whaat? No, no, that was just bullying.”

“Girl bullying, brr.”

“I don’t know, she always seemed kind of weird to me.”

“That’s just because she kicked your ass when you asked her out.”

“Ha!”

“Hey, shut up!”

“You had bruises for a week!”

“She didn’t kick my ass… it was those assholes she always hung out with.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Sure.”

“If you say so.”

“I’m not lying! It was!”

“Okay, dude, whatever.”

Reigen sucks in a slow breath during the lull in the conversation, his back to the wall just outside the door, and remembers the assholes he used to hang out with. One less now, and the thought clenches something stricken in his chest.

“But seriously, she’s a psychic now? What a load of crap.”

“A crossdressing psychic, even.”

“What was her stage name supposed to be again? It was something like… sparkling.”

“Oh wait, it’s on the tip of my tongue—”

“Splendid, marvelous, amazing…”

“Arataka!”

Reigen jumps.

“Yeah, Arataka, that was it.”

“Reigen Arataka, psychic extraordinaire.”

Well it’s hard to ask for a better opening line than that. Reigen steps out, into the gymnasium—patchily decorated, brightly lit��and smiles.

“You rang?”

They startle, all four of them, spinning around to stare. He doesn’t recognize them really, vague faces that populated the halls long ago; except for Honda. He did kick his ass, actually, for asking him out, but also for trying to cop a feel on the roof.

“Holy shit! Did you— I mean, how the fuck are ya, Reigen-san?”

“Yeah, how’ve you been? It’s great to see you.”

“I can’t believe you came!”

“Oh, likewise,” Reigen says with a wintry smile, “It’s so nice to hear from old friends.”

“Haha…” one of them goes, weakly.

Reigen isn’t overtly hostile, but exchanging pleasantries is tense; about who’s working where now, and who got married to whom, and whether that nasty old Mori-sensei died or just retired without a trace.

“This has been very enlightening—you all have so much to say, it seems I’ve really been out of the loop—but I think I see someone over there I can’t get out of saying hello to, if you know what I mean. I’m glad we could catch up.”

“Um, sure…”

“You too…”

“Yeah, go for it…”

Reigen walks off, and hears them start up again behind him.

“What the hell—”

“Was that really her?”

“No way, that was a damn dude! What happened to my cute Reigen-chan?”

“Your Reigen-chan? Honda, man, give it up.”

“Yeah, even if she was into guys, there’s no way she’d pick you.”

“I dunno, I think that suit looked pretty good…”

Their voices fade into the crowd.

-------

Reigen wanders the halls, and comes across a gallery of photos, those that made it into the yearbooks and those that didn’t. He’s surprised to find one of himself, printed out and posted with everyone else. But then, they didn’t all hate him, and even if they did this is all ancient history by now; it’s impossible that everyone on the reunion committee’s as petty as Ooka and those assholes he was eavesdropping on earlier.

It’s Reigen, sixteen years old and staring into the camera, unimpressed. Slim, fierce, blond, flatchested, and wearing the girl’s school uniform, but altered; without the kerchief, and the skirt lengthened down to mid-calf. Hair short, as short as he wears it now, but the cut looks different framing a youthfully feminine face. Tall—for a girl, ha; Reigen got his height early in life—and stance confrontational, feet planted and only half turned to look, photograph showing signs of movement in his clothes and hair like it’s a candid shot. For all he knows it was, he doesn’t remember ever seeing this picture before. Reigen can just make out the cigarette in his younger self’s hand, smoke trail snaking behind the sleeve and ember hidden by the swirling fold of the skirt.

He remembers that kid, remembers living that way; he doesn’t resent being that person even if life was shitty beyond measure the entire time he was.

“Ah, Reigen-kun.”

The voice is familiar, if more warbled than he remembers. Reigen gladly turns to meet it.

“Hey there, Teach,” he grins.

“Still with the hair, I see. When are you going to give that up, you look like a delinquent.”

“I keep telling you, Ikeda-sensei, it’s natural,” he says, grin widening until it’s shit-eating.

“Mmhmm,” Teach hums, skeptical, “That old line. You shouldn’t lie to your elders, Reigen-kun; I’m old, not blind.”

“Honest. I swear,” he says, hand to his heart, perfectly composed into earnestness except for the smile still on his face.

“Oh get over here, you hooligan, and let me look at you.”

Reigen gets over, to be inspected by a spry woman, age only slowly catching up to her under the cardigan and dyed hair, arms folded across her chest.

“As rough as ever,” she concludes with a small smile, after a detailed visual inspection, “Airi-kun, you haven’t changed a bit. Although the suit is new, I suppose. But it looks good on you, very charming.”

That name in the mouth of someone he respects twigs him something awful. Reigen looks at her, considering, and though his heart pounds he decides to go for it.

“Well, Teach,” the nickname comes out a little croaky, but he musters and continues, “I have changed a little bit. Or, I suppose you could say I’ve grown more honest with myself.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, um, I— I go by… Arataka… these days,” he says, and is immediately filled with regret. He shoves a hand up against his mouth, trying to seem pensive and patient rather than freaked out and on the verge of running away. He can’t stand to watch her, to see if it hits, so he snaps his head to the side to look at the pictures again. If that was too subtle for her he’s just going to give up; there’s no way he can say it again.

“Oh,” she says, and his pulse jumps even higher with the word, “Arataka...

“Well, Arataka-kun, you look very handsome, then.”

The laugh bursts out of him, one tense bark before he gets a hold of himself and turns back to look. She’s gazing at him calmly, seemingly unruffled. She doesn’t scream at him, or assume he must be joking, or berate him for growing into such a disappointment. Maybe this is fine, maybe he hasn’t just ruined one of the few things worth keeping from his troubled adolescence.

“R-right. Thank you,” he says, a little shaky.

“You’re welcome to it, Reigen-kun, I promise. And… I’m sorry about Abe-kun. I know you were friends.”

“Yeah,” Reigen says, personal revelations forgotten as he looks down at the scratched linoleum, head full of ghosts and memories. Of people from back then, the last time he was here.

“Yeah,” he says, swallowing, “Me too.”

-------

The memorial service for Abe Katashi is short, awkward, and perfunctory.

An only child whose parents have been dead since he and Reigen still ran together, there’s no one to put together anything better than the impersonal effort of the Saffron High planning committee.

Reigen looks around as someone he doesn’t remember drones on apathetically about tragic loss and road safety to an uncomfortably shifting crowd, and doesn’t see anyone else from their little gang in attendance.

Depressingly, he finds only school employees and former classmates with even less claim to closeness than his own.

No friends have come forward from outside the school; Abe lived alone.

This will be the only funeral.

-------

After the feeble sham of a service, everyone parties; lights dim, chatting loud, bad dancing and standard karaoke combining in an unholy musical mess.

Reigen gets drunk at the bar.

Ooka finds him there, slumped, plastered already from half a glass of sake, and sits next to him.

“Enjoying yourself?” she asks, signalling the bartender for another glass.

“Are you kidding me?” Reigen replies, inebriated and indiscreet.

“Oh, well, it is such a shame about Abe-kun, of course. He had a sort of rough charm, back in school. Shiori had such a crush on him, you know.”

“I didn’t. Shiori… was she the one with the weird nose? Or the one who couldn’t keep her eyes of Fujioka-sensei’s ass during P.E.?”

Ooka laughs as the bartender comes back, putting her glass on a napkin in front of her.

“The second. Although between you and me, I have no clue what she saw in that man. He was already going bald ten years ago.”

“Some people like old things,” Reigen mumbles into his arms, folded on the bartop, “but he always kinda looked like beef jerky.”

Ooka laughs again and holds up the bottle. Fuck it. Reigen drains the glass for her to pour.

He sits up to return the favour. Why is she talking to him?

“Why are you talking to me?” he asks. Whoops. Possibly downing the sake wasn’t such a good idea. Well, he’ll nurse the next one.

“Aren’t we friends?” Ooka asks, disingenuous. Alright, they’re doing this then. Might as well, it’s not like he’ll ever see any of these people again.

“No, we’re not. You made that pretty damn clear when we were fifteen. I thought we were, though, until then.” Shit, too honest, too honest. This was definitely a bad idea. Reigen moves to disengage, to hell with the drink. It’s an open bar anyway.

Minami catches his arm before he can push away from the counter. Reigen stops, frozen, breathing picking up from the hand dangerously close to his wrist. She squeezes, just a little, and he rips away, almost toppling off the stool before he catches himself on the edge of the bar.

“Don’t, um, I don’t— like. Being touched, there,” he says, eyes wide. Minami looks startled, and suspicious, but visibly brushes it off.

“Fine. But it’s rude to just walk away, we were talking.”

“You know what else is rude? Calling someone a lesbian in public.”

“Even if it’s true?”

“It’s not— Agh! It’s not, I’m not a lesbian, I like both, okay, now will you cut it out?”

“Oh.”

“What. After all that, you gonna tell me you didn’t know?”

“No, I’m just surprised you’re admitting it to me.”

“Well, I am pretty drunk.”

“Yeah, Airi, I can tell.”

She’d know. He was fourteen when he tried booze for the first time, in Minami’s room the last summer before they thought they’d part forever, trading sips from a warm beer they stole from the stash hidden in her parents’ apartment; talking about how grown-up they’d be, once they were high school students.

“Why did you do it? That, to me? We were best friends in middle school, but once we graduated it was like you just fucking despised me. You made my life miserable, Minami, and I’ve never understood why.”

“Oh, I don’t know. It was so long ago.”

“What the fuck,” Reigen says. He can feel himself getting worked up, he’s always been a terribly melancholy drunk. “Is that shitty cop-out supposed to mean something? ‘Oh, it was a long time ago. Why don’t you get over it already?’ I can’t believe you did that to me, it was horrible. Everyone hated me! No one would talk to me, not a single person, for weeks! And it was all your fault. I thought you were my friend! And after what I did for you, even, after your dad—”

“Shut up,” Minami snaps, low and intense.

Reigen’s teeth click shut.

“Fine,” he says quietly, half to her and half to himself, “Fine, I’m done. I don’t know why I came here, what I thought would happen…” He sighs. “Bye, Minami-chan, have a nice life. I don’t think we’ll meet again.”

She huffs, and pinches his sleeve to stop him from walking away.

“I don’t know, Airi. I just… did. It was a weird time for me.”

“Whatever, Minami. For the record, it was a weird time for me too.���

and.. yep *shrug* that all i got (well, except a few spare lines that don’t have scenes attached...) this is basically just a write&dump 

ended up with a lot of dialogue, and none of my favourite parts of ‘high school reunion’ fics. may or may not continue, we’ll see

feel free to point out typos, or concrit, or whatever. i’d actually love to hear any thoughts! (as always)