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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 4 years

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Eccentricity [Chapter 10: Stay, I Need To Be Myself]

A/N: I hope you enjoyed the fluffy times while they lasted. 😉

Series Summary: Joe Mazzello is a nice guy with a weird family. A VERY weird family. They have a secret, and you have a choice to make. Potentially a better love story than Twilight.

Chapter Title Is A Lyric From: “Where Were You When The Sky Opened Up” by The Dangerous Summer.

Chapter Warnings: Language, sexual references (not graphic), angstttttttttt.

Word Count: 6k.

Other Chapters (And All My Writing) Available: HERE

Taglist: @queen-turtle-boiii @bramblesforbreakfast @maggieroseevans @culturefiendtrashqueen @imnotvibingveryguccimrstark @escabell @im-an-adult-ish @queenlover05 @someforeigntragedy @imtheinvisiblequeen @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhyee @deacyblues @tensecondvacation @brianssixpence @some-major-ishues @haileymorelikestupid @youngpastafanmug @simonedk

Uninvited

“Hey, it’s our song!” Joe turned up the radio as he steered his Subaru down the Lees’ cobblestone driveway and into a parking spot facing the woods. We’d been back from Chicago for a full week now, and—with the notable exceptions of classes and the early morning hours when Joe soundlessly crept out of my bedroom window—were very rarely apart.

“And I would do anything for love

I’d run right into hell and back

I would do anything for love

I’d never lie to you and that's a fact.”

“Uh, this is not our song,” I objected, the soles of my shoes propped against the dashboard. “I was not consulted. A couple’s official song cannot be a unilateral decision.”

“But I'll never forget the way you feel right now

Oh no, no way

And I would do anything for love

Oh I would do anything for love

I would do anything for love, but I won’t do that

No, I won’t do that.”

“Oh okay, what are you, the relationship police? Alright, Chief Baby Swan, let’s hear your brilliant suggestion. Wait, let me guess. Something by The Killers. Vampire Weekend. My Bloody Valentine. Is there a band called Chipotle Veggie Bowl?”

“Never Gonna Give You Up?” I suggested.

He laughed, dragging me over the center console and into his lap. “Oh, you are the worst!”

I straddled him in the driver’s seat, cupped his face in my palms, giggled as I touched my lips to his, soft and cool and lithe and inviting. When I broke the kiss, Joe pulled me back in, knotting his fingers through my hair. The way my thighs fit perfectly around him; that sharp, instinctual, now so familiar ache of longing. “I want you,” I breathed.

He pretended to be scandalized. “Right now? At this exact moment? In my parents’ driveway?”

“Yeah,” I confessed.

He grinned, unbuckling his belt. “Okay.”

“Really?!”

“Yes. I’ve lost all sense of decency. I’m an animal. You’ve absolutely ruined me.” His hands travelled beneath my U Chicago sweatshirt and tore it over my head. Yes, he had converted me to Chicago apparel. It was very embarrassing. Let’s move on.

“I’m sorry,” I moaned softly. I lied. I wasn’t sorry at all.

“I think we might need to get our own place.”

“Why?”

“Because I love the way you ruin me. And I want you to do it...” He went on, kissing me after each word: “All. The. Fucking. Time.”

I yanked off his Cubs t-shirt in one vicious tug. “We’re okay out here?” I didn’t really care; I should have, I was aware of that. But I didn’t. The Lees, most likely, would not call my dad to report us for public indecency. I could imagine Scarlett’s voice in my head, warm with approval: Get it, girl.

“Totally. And we’re far enough away from the house, Rami shouldn’t be able to hear us.” Joe nipped lightly down the side of my neck: carefully, always so carefully.

“He’d only get your side of things anyway.”

“Well yeah, that’s what I’m worried about! Your thoughts wouldn’t be so intrusive. I don’t care if he knows I’m a fantastic lay.”

“Oh, are you?” I teased, grinding my hips against him. “I hadn’t noticed.”

Joe smiled as he unbuttoned my jeans, deliciously slowly. “Well let me...just...refresh your...memory...”

I kissed him, roughly and deeply, arching into him, biting his lower lip. Yes, yes, yes...

Joe pulled away, still smiling but blinking and dazed. “Wow, all the sudden I feel...like...really calm.”

“Thanks...?” A week of almost constant sex might do that to a person. Sure, maybe, what did I know? My lips found his again. My hand skated down his bare stomach and into the waistband of his boxers. Joe began to help me peel off my jeans; then he stopped.

“Wait wait wait, I know this feeling.” Joe lifted me off of him and pushed me back into the passenger’s seat, gently but stubbornly. I tried not to be offended.

“What—?”

“Shhh.” He grabbed the headrest of my seat and twisted around to peer out of the rear windshield. I followed his gaze. There was a new car in the driveway, parked up by the front porch: an anonymous black Honda Civic. The plate said California. It was probably a rental. “Oh fuck,” Joe whispered. His eyes were enormous, glassy, horrified.

“What is it?”

“Stay here.” He threw on his Cubs t-shirt, zipped his pants, fastened his belt. “Stay down, stay quiet. And no matter what happens do not get out of this car, do you understand me?”

“Joe, why—?”

“Do you understand me?” His voice was low but severe, so incredibly unlike him; his dark eyes were flinty. Just like that night with the apples in Mercy’s kitchen, that night when Ben almost...

“I understand,” I heard myself reply.

“Good.” Joe climbed out of the Subaru—smoothing his shirt and then his tousled hair—and rushed over to intercept the unsolicited guest. I peeked around my headrest to watch, my right palm braced against the center console, that feverish lust that had been rushing through my bloodstream gradually weakening, perishing, vanishing like seawater baked from the sand under a rising sun.

The stranger stepped out of the Honda Civic, and although I knew his face, it took me a moment to place him. It was like—I could only imagine, having never been myself—a child stumbling into their movie heroines and beloved stuffed animals come to life during their first trip to Disneyland, amazed and yet somehow gut-twistingly uneasy as they gawked up at that grotesquely inflated cartoon face, that mask of lipstick and rouge that didn’t quite match their recollections, that dreamlike mirage plucked from pages or screens and impelled into a physical form that suddenly swallowed up space and gravity and oxygen. I had seen this stranger before in the massive painting that adorned Gwilym Lee’s upstairs office.

Cato.

He was very tall and very beautiful, classically beautiful, Ben-level beautiful. Joe often jokingly referred to him as Idris Elba within the Lee household, and a mid-thirties version of Idris Elba was just about right. He wore an immaculately tailored grey suit and aviator sunglasses, which he removed to greet Joe, folding and then sliding them smoothly into the front pocket of his suit jacket. His face was solemn and observant; he had a closely-trimmed beard without a fleck of silver. He extended a hand, which Joe shook.

“Hey, Cato!” I heard Joe say, muffled through the walls of the Subaru. I couldn’t make out Cato’s replies; his voice sounded deep, rumbling, extremely level. “So nice of you to stop by! I didn’t know you were in town. Yeah, everyone’s doing great. Even Ben. Hahaha, yeah, you know how he is. You know exactly how he is. But it’s all good. Well look, I’m just gonna go run a friend home and then I’ll be back in fifteen, maybe twenty minutes and we can all chat. Okay? Awesome. Feel free to head inside, I’m sure Mercy would be thrilled to play hostess. There’s sweet tea in the fridge and a hummingbird cake on the counter and...oh, something else too...some weird type of cookies she baked this morning. Help yourself. I’ll be back before you can say ‘tyrannical vampire murder cult.’”

“Tyrannical vampire murder cult,” it looked like Cato replied without a hint of a smile. But he wasn’t paying attention to Joe anymore. His eyes had found the Subaru, and then me; he was staring with that intense, seeking bewilderment that reminded me of Rami and Lucy and Ben when I’d first met them, when they were still trying to puzzle out why my mind (and my mind alone) was a night-draped, silent ocean of the unknown.

He's trying to read me, I realized. He’s trying to read me and he can’t.

Joe was jogging back to the Subaru now. At last, Cato turned away from me and headed into the house. The carved pumpkins from Weber’s Farm still lined the front porch: Scarlett’s Thunderbird, Archer’s Vantage, Rami’s swooping bat, Lucy’s moon and stars, Joe’s moustached jack-o-lantern, my (but actually Gwil’s) snapshot under the sea, Ben’s miniature Lee residence complete with the winding cobblestone driveway. Joe swept into the driver’s seat, adjusted his rearview mirror, and spun out of the parking spot.

“Goddammit,” he hissed as we barreled down the driveway.

“Why is Cato here?”

“I have no idea.” Joe looked straight ahead as he drove, preoccupied, consumed with possibilities. His fingers drummed the steering wheel. “We have to pay dues to them, all the covens do. Gwil cuts a check. But that’s not until around the New Year. That’s almost always when Cato stops by. Collects the payment, interrogates us in a way that masquerades as conversation, hangs around town for a few days, reports back whatever we’re up to...which usually isn’t much. Holidays with the extended family, gotta love it. I don’t know why he would be here now.” Joe shook his head. “Maybe something to do with Ben. It would have to be Ben. There’s no other reason.”

“And you don’t want him to know about me.”

“No, I don’t.”

“But...Cato isn’t all that dangerous,” I said, not understanding. “Is he?”

“Not alone, no. But the people he works for are.” Joe sighed, glancing over at me as he drove, serious and sorry and sad. “There’s a lot of violence in my world. A lot of darkness. I’ve tried to protect you from that as much as possible. And maybe I’ve done too good a job, maybe it’s too easy for you to forget what we really are. Most vampires aren’t like Gwil’s coven. They’re not like me. They kill easily and unrepentantly. And I don’t want any of them knowing that you exist, that you’re a weakness of ours. I want them to know as little about you as physically possible.”

“A weakness,” I repeated. I didn’t like that.

He smiled faintly. “It’s a compliment to be somebody’s weakness, Baby Swan.”

“I guess so.” The towering pine trees whipped by in a verdant blur. The sky above was thick and grey and churning. “You’ll be okay, right? Ben will be okay?”

Joe seemed to find that amusing, ridiculous even. “You don’t need to worry about us.”

“But I still do.”

“We’ll work it out, whatever it is. Cato is a reasonable guy. And Ben is definitely capable of...well. Advocating for himself.”

Capable of unparalleled carnage, he means. The memory of the first day I’d met Ben hit me like a hurled stone, illuminated my mind like a pulsing neon sign: the coiled tension in his muscles, that mindless, animalistic hatred in his eyes. Yes, he must be quite the monster when he wants to be. But he didn’t want to be anymore. I knew that completely, unquestioningly.

Joe pulled into Charlie’s driveway. The police car was gone; my 1999 Honda Accord and Charlie’s Toyota Corolla rested idly side by side. My dad would be working late tonight, until eight or nine at least. A pang of loneliness struck in my gut, just beneath the ribs; I had grown so accustomed to the absence of solitude, of quiet. The silence suddenly felt so loud.

“Don’t let it ruin your night,” Joe said as I got out of the Subaru. His words were affectionate; but his voice was still distracted, distant. “Don’t let it bother you. Everything will be fine, I promise. And as soon as Cato’s gone, everything will go back to the way it should be.”

“Okay,” I replied, not feeling very comforted at all. I don’t like the way he pushed me off him when he saw the car. The way he’s barely looked at me since. The way he called me a weakness.

Joe was already checking his mirrors, preparing to leave.

“Hey. Mob guy.” I leaned into the rolled-down window. “I love you.”

And the grin lit up Joe’s face like the sun. He crawled across the passenger’s seat, drew me into him by the collar of my brand new U Chicago hoodie, kissed me until that wild, interrupted desire was flaring up again in my arteries and nerve endings and everywhere else. The thunderous clouds in my skull split open. Everything’s still okay. It really is. “I love you to death. And then back again.” He retreated and shifted the Subaru into reverse. “I’ll see you soon. But maybe not too soon, I might be tied up with this family thing for a while. Don’t wait up tonight.”

“No problem. I’ll just call one of my other monster boyfriends to keep me company. The werewolf should be free. It’s not a full moon, is it?”

“No bestiality,” Joe retorted sternly. “That’s illegal, ma’am.”

I smiled and waved as the Subaru swerved out of the driveway and disappeared. Everything’s okay, I told myself, standing in the front yard under darkening skies. Everything will be okay.

And I kept telling myself that, again and again like Hail Marys, until I was dozing off in my bed alone six hours later.

Hit It And Quit It

I dreamed of the beach at La Push—my toes wriggling beneath the cold sand, the ricocheting cries of seagulls, the primordial growl of the frothing waves—and woke up with the ghost of saltwater in my sinuses. I grabbed my iPhone off the nightstand. Two new texts: one from Archer—Hey would it be distasteful or hilarious to dress up as Dracula for the Lee Halloween party? Asking for a friend.—and one from Jessica asking if she could copy my Marine Botany homework. Absolutely nothing from Joe.

When was the last time I didn’t have a text from Joe waiting for me in the morning? I struggled to remember, my mind still foggy with snippets of dreams. A week? Two weeks? A month? It felt like forever.

I tapped out a text to Joe with my clumsy, just-waking-up thumbs: I am resolved. No more nights with my werewolf boyfriend. Dude scratched the hell out of me and then barked at the mailman. Had to drop him off at the SPCA for neutering. See you soon! xxxx

I tried not to obsessively check my phone as I showered, got dressed, gathered my textbooks and notepads and pens. And yet still, I noticed: Joe didn’t text me back.

The rain poured from a grey sky all through my drive to Calawah University, Marine Botany class with Jessica, our frantic dash across campus beneath her hot pink umbrella to Forks And Spoons. My human friends had custody of me during lunchtime today. Angela was studying for a Computer Science quiz, Eric working on an article for the Calawah Chatterbox, Mike histrionically lamenting a sprained ankle coming just on the cusp of basketball season. Jessica bought me a chocolate chip muffin as thanks for texting her a picture of our Marine Botany homework this morning. Ah, the sweet taste of academic dishonesty.

I was relieved—more than I would have liked to admit—that all five Lees were at their usual lunch table, looking worn and tired but normal enough. Ben was hiding behind a pair of sunglasses and his black U Chicago hoodie that Joe and I had bought for him last weekend, sipping steaming tea out of a mug that he gripped with both hands. Scarlett flipped moodily through an astrophysics textbook. Rami repeatedly tapped the tabletop with a pen while Lucy knitted a lavender sweater, never raising her eyes from the jumble of yarn in her lap. They all murmured to each other in low, furtive voices, their mouths barely moving. Joe gave me a wave and a drawn smile; but only after I waved first.

Angela was now scolding Jessica for her lack of moral integrity.

Jess rolled her eyes, gnawing on a chicken finger that was burned black around the edges. “I’m here ostensibly to become an anthropologist and in actuality to find a hot rich husband, not to learn how to identify like sixty different types of algae.”

“Then why even take Marine Botany?” Angela asked, confounded.

“Calawah University forces every student to take at least two science classes, even if you’re a humanities major. Because they’re fucking fascists.”

“Oh, fascists, a big word for you!” I congratulated Jessica, patting her shoulder before returning my attention to my homemade veggie quesadilla and leftover slice of Mercy’s hummingbird cake. I was getting so good at this eating respectable meals thing. Joe would be proud.

Angela chuckled. “How’s that finding a husband thing going, by the way?”

“Awfully,” Jessica sighed. “I had this really promising flirtationship going with a frat boy in my Indigenous Peoples of the Arctic class. Ellsworth Jonathan Griffin, gorgeous blue eyes, blond man bun, his dad is a partner at a corporate law firm in Los Angeles. That’s the stuff dreams are made of. But I’m pretty sure he dropped out because I haven’t seen him in a few days. Also he would bring Absolut vodka to class in an Aquafina bottle.”

“You can probably do better,” I said.

“Well we can’t all end up with Lee boys, now can we?” Jess snapped irritably.

When it was time to depart for our afternoon classes, I met Joe in the doorway of Forks And Spoons, linked my fingers around the back of his neck, tugged at his dark, auburn-tinted hair.

“You okay, mob guy? You seem a little...” Exhausted? Edgy? Sad? “...Distracted.”

“I’m good. I’m great.” He kissed me briefly, fleetingly. No big deal; after all, we were in public. Right? “Are you cool to hang out later?”

“Absolutely. Can we go to La Push if it stops raining? I know it’ll be cold, but I woke up with the beach on my mind and haven’t been able get it out all day.”

“You got it. Can I meet you there? I have to take care of a few things first. Have to, uh, hunt.”

I stared up at him, feeling my stomach drop, feeling rapidly and jarringly off-kilter. Joe rarely mentioned hunting around me...not in a serious way, at least. It was one of those things that knocked me out of the fantasy of how compatible we were, how possible. It was a reminder of all those interminable differences that lived in the hushed space between us. “Okay.”

“I’ll...I’ll explain everything then. At La Push.”

“Okay,” I said again, very uncleverly. What’s going on here? What exactly did Cato say?

Joe smirked; finally a flash of playfulness, that contagious light he was built of. He smoothed my hair with one feather-light stroke of his hand, touched his lips to my forehead. “Don’t be late to Chemistry. I can’t have you failing out.”

“Of course not. How would I be able to get my Marine Biology PhD from U Chicago?”

But Joe didn’t laugh, didn’t even smile; he just left.

Ben was hunched over our table in Professor Belvin’s classroom, his arms encircling his notebook, the pen in his hand scribbling frenziedly. The window was wide open; the rain outside had weakened to a docile drizzle. He was still wearing his sunglasses. He didn’t acknowledge me at all.

“Rough night?” I asked, sliding into the seat beside him.

“Yeah.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“I definitely do not.”

“I’m sorry,” I told him. Ben glanced up, his thick eyebrows raised; they peaked just above the rims of his opaque sunglasses. “Whatever it is, I’m sorry.”

For a long time, Ben just looked at me; maybe wanting to say something, maybe just feeling that decorum necessitated it. “You shouldn’t be,” he replied at last. And he spent the rest of class paying no attention whatsoever to Professor Belvin’s lecture on the Pauli exclusion principle and instead scrawling untidy Welsh phrases into the formerly pristine pages of his notebook.

It was just after 5 p.m. when I arrived at La Push, the tires of my 1999 Honda Accord crunching over the gravel of the small parking area, the wind whipping ferociously. Joe had gotten there first; he was sitting on a rock down by the water with his back to me, peering out over the Pacific Ocean, tossing pebbles and shells into the waves. We had an hour of daylight left. The sky was obscure, grey, dim. Fine droplets of rain like mist sailed through the biting autumn air and clung to my skin.

When Joe spotted me, he leapt off the rock and watched me approach with his hands in the pockets of his North Face jacket. He wasn’t wearing anything Chicago-related today, which was highly unusual. I waited for him to touch me, to hold me, to tell me that everything was okay and always would be...at least for the next ten to fifteen years. He didn’t. “Hey,” he said instead.

“Hi.”

Joe nodded down the beach. “Let’s walk.”

I have never been especially good at mundane, monotonous rambling. That’s a Scorpio thing. And yet monotonous rambling is exactly what I did: I prattled on about my classes, Charlie’s bowling league, Renee’s new life in Florida with Paul, the ocean, the weather, anything to fill that space between us that all at once felt so enormously significant. I was vaguely aware that I was afraid to stop talking; I didn’t want Joe to have the chance to say whatever was on his mind.

Finally, Joe stopped walking. He took my hand, ran his thumb over the faint scar from when I accidentally cut myself in Mercy’s kitchen. His shoes sank into the wet sand, left imprints there like fingerprints. He turned to face me, pained, grave, and oh god, far worse: guilty.

“What?” I asked, terror swelling in my lungs, my bones, some inborn warning of impending ruin.

Joe gazed out over the crashing sea, then came back to me, like a dislocated joint popping back into place. “I am so sorry.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I...” He spoke slowly, haltingly. “I thought that this was something that was doable. But I was wrong.”

“What...?” And then a possibility occurred to me, a glorious possibility. Of course. A grin erupted across my face. “This is a joke, right? You’re joking, you’re always joking, this is just—”

He shook his head. He wasn’t joking. I wrenched my hand out of his and stared up at him in furious disbelief.

“It’s not fair to you,” Joe said. “This thing, being with someone like me. I can’t give you a future. I can’t give you an uncomplicated existence. I mean, come on, you have to worry about getting murdered around my own family—”

“Do you have fucking amnesia?” I demanded, incredulous. “Joe, we just talked about this. We just made plans to move to Chicago after graduation, we agreed that it was what we both wanted. I don’t want a normal human boyfriend. I don’t want normal human in-laws. I want you, Joe, and Ben, and Mercy and Gwil, and Rami and Lucy and Scarlett, I want the whole ridiculous Lee family package and there’s nothing you could say to make me decide that this isn’t worth it.”

“Look—”

“No, something happened, right? Something happened with Cato, or Ben, or someone, something happened and now you think that you have to do this but I’m telling you that whatever it is we can figure it out, we can figure it out together, isn’t that what you promised me?” He said he wouldn’t leave. He promised me he wouldn’t leave. All those things...all those things he said...

“Listen.” And now his eyes were stony. He didn’t call me Baby Swan. Oh, this is bad. This is so bad. “It’s not fair to me either.”

“And that’s what this is really about,” I realized. My voice was abruptly fierce, caustic. All those other women; those beautiful, graceful, immortal women. How did I ever think I could compare?

“It’s not personal.”

“It’s the most personal thing there is, Joe, it’s pasts and futures and love—”

“It’s not though.” He smiled, just barely. “Maybe we thought it was, but it’s not.”

It hit me like a brick, like a bullet; I couldn’t catch my breath. I was drowning in thin air, like a sawfish, like a shark. “Well I’m glad you figured that out on your own fucking schedule.”

“This was my fault,” he said. “All of it. And I am so profoundly sorry for the pain I’ve caused you, and I take full responsibility for it. I hope you’re able to move on knowing that there’s nothing you could have done differently. These are just the realities of my world. You’re better off in your own. And you’re going to make someone very happy someday.”

It's all so empty, so excruciatingly generic. “You’re a monster,” I seethed at him, tears stinging in my eyes.

“Yes,” Joe agreed softly.

“I hate you.” I wasn’t sure if I meant that, but I still said it. Maybe I could will it into being true, like how people find God after a particularly grim diagnosis; there’s no harm in trying to make it real. There’s nothing left to lose.

“That would be more than fair, given the circumstances,” he said. “I won’t bother you again. I’ll ask you to do the same for me.”

“Sure.” Tears were streaming down my cheeks now; my breaths were ragged, hitching. I need to get out of here. I need to get away from him.

A shadow of concern crossed his face, the first one I had noticed since yesterday afternoon. “If you need someone to drive you home, I’d be happy to—”

“I’d literally rather die.” And I left Joseph Francis Mazzello standing on the beach with the twilight wind in his hair and the sun setting behind him like time slipping through an hourglass.

I fled to my Honda, turned the keys in the ignition, covered my face with my hands and wept in raw, heaving shudders as Hungry Like The Wolf played from the mixtape that Joe had left in my cassette player. I ejected the mixtape, rolled down my window, tossed it out onto the rain-slick gravel. I couldn’t stand the thought of going home. Charlie would be at work until late tonight; Joe would never set foot in the house again.

I have to go somewhere. I can’t just sit in that goddamn bedroom. I can’t be alone.

I wheeled my car onto the main road and drove until I came to an unceremonious mechanic’s garage with a fractured concrete floor and cracks like spider legs across the windows. When I stepped out of my Honda, Archer raced over to meet me, beaming and wiping his hands clean with an oil rag.

“Hey, you know you’re not allowed to come here unless you bring Taco Bell with you...” Then he saw me, he really saw me. “Whoa, what—?”

And Archer caught me as I collapsed into his arms, sobs ripping through my throat like fangs.

Benjamin, 24 Hours Earlier

It was bad. Whatever this was, it was bad.

I knew because Rami could read Cato, and I could read Rami; the hazy wisps of color that unfurled from him were a hectic, wrestling electric blue: distress, grief, anxiety, denial. Cato’s own aura had always been rather unforthcoming—he tended towards deep, mellow greens and purples of congruence and contemplation—and forever tinted with an opalescent quality that spread like wildfire to the people around him, the people who were under his influence, that intangible calming and harmonizing effect, that irrational sense of wellbeing. Everyone in the room had that faint opalescence shimmering around them now, even Rami, whose unspoken turmoil remained a roiling rather than a storm. And I thought—not for the first time—that if Larkin was a spade that hollowed you out, scraped along the jagged snags of your split bones to empty you of any ambitions and loyalties that had come before, then Cato was the anesthetic that made the mangling go down smoother, the promise that you would someday still catch glimpses of innocence. Larkin was a purger, a purifier; Cato made you believe again.

There were pitchers of sweet tea and a heaping tray of butter pecan cookies on the living room coffee table. Cato sat on the neat white sofa, one leg crossed over the other, stoic, waiting. Rami stared vacantly from the loveseat; Lucy was beside him, her delicate bare feet tucked beneath her and her fingers laced through Rami’s, her brow knit into grooves of worry. Scarlett was next to me on the largest couch, her boots propped up on the edge of the coffee table, her hair in a long French braid, periodically cracking her knuckles. It was nearly the only sound. Mercy bustled around the room gifting everyone tall chilled glasses of sweet tea; Gwil stood by the virtual fireplace on the big-screen tv, his hands in his pockets, his lips pressed into a rigid line.

The front door opened, and Joe stepped inside, his car keys rattling in his fist. For as long as I’d known him, his color had so often been a bright and buttery yellow, his aura more visible and constant than anyone else’s. Lately, he was increasingly cloaked in the rosy pinks of love or the vivid, shifting, crimson reds of lust; and Rami and I bonded over our shared efforts to politely ignore that particular variety of thoughts.

Joe pointed to Cato. “What’s going on?”

“How long?” Cato asked him.

Joe feigned cluelessness. “Huh? What do you mean? Oh, car chick?! That’s nothing. She’s just a friend.”

Cato blinked. “Do you really think I just arrived in Forks today?”

It rolled through Joe like a wave: surrender, apprehension, dread. The realization that Cato had been watching us for days, weeks even, meticulously keeping just enough distance to stay out of Rami’s range of hearing. Joe’s now-opalescent aura dipped from cerise to an agitated mahogany. “Two months.”

“And she’s talented.” Cato’s voice was impatient, incredulous; How could you be this stupid? that voice said.

“No,” Joe flared, like shards of wood cracking in a fire. “No, she’s got nothing to do with you, with us. With our world. She’s got nothing to do with it.”

Cato circled the fingerprint of his index finger around the rim of his misted glass of sweet tea, meditative. “In one hundred and seventy years, I have never met someone who I couldn’t find if I wanted to. And yet the second I turned my back on that girl, she was gone. Vanished. The world was a blank map. How is that possible?”

No one said anything. Finally, Cato looked to Rami.

“You can’t hear her thoughts, can you?”

“No,” Rami admitted.

“And how many times has that happened in...how old are you now, the same as Ben? How many times in the past century have you met someone who made you feel normal, weak even? Who made you feel human again?”

“Never,” Rami conceded.

“You too, right?” Cato asked me. “You can’t see what she’s feeling. She’s nothing but white noise.”

I nodded reluctantly.

“She’s talented,” Cato said again, decisive.

“Oh god,” I choked out, burying my face in my hands. Now I knew what Rami had heard. I knew everything.

Joe shook his head almost violently. “No, that’s not fair. There’s no way of knowing if that would translate to life as a vampire or how it would manifest. There’s no way of knowing if she would survive the transition at all. And none of us are ever going to find out because she has nothing to do with our world.”

“She does,” Cato insisted. “Because you brought her into it.”

Scarlett shivered beside me, crossed her arms over her chest, clutched her leather jacket tighter. “You can’t be serious, Cato. You’re not a monster, you know she might not survive—”

“And that would stop Gwil. It would stop me, sure. When has it ever stopped Larkin?” Cato gestured to me. “With him? With me? With Akari or Araminta or Liesl or Rigel or all the ones who didn’t make it, who died screaming as they scorched from the inside out? It has never stopped him because he doesn’t care. He finds talented people. He covets them, covets them jealously, like jewels or money or lovers. And they either become one of his possessions or they become nothing at all.”

“No,” Joe whispered. “No, no, no...”

Rami was shrinking into the loveseat, overwhelmed by the emotions in the room that were dragging his aura into whirling greys, those desperate and dark thoughts; not even Cato could mute them entirely. Lucy tried to soothe him, laid the back of her fine-boned hand against his cheek. Mercy covered her gaping mouth. Gwil studied the floor, thunderstruck, absorbing it all.

“This is a courtesy that I’m doing you right now,” Cato told Joe, his large palms clasped together, his voice sorrowful and yet unyielding, almost pleading. “This is a warning. If he finds out about her, about what she can do...he’s going to want her. And he gets everything he wants.”

“He can’t find out,” Gwil said hoarsely.

“No,” I agreed. Death or a hundred-year sentence. Either way, a part of you dies. Either way, a part of you ends up in a box six feet underground and clawing for the sun.

“What can we do?” Scarlett asked Cato. “I mean...is there anything we can do?”

“You have to get rid of her. That’s her only chance. Get her out of your orbit, away from our world, away from where Larkin or anyone who serves him would ever cross her path. I won’t tell him about the girl. I’ll try to deflect his attention. If she’s already been spotted, I’ll tell him that she’s useless, just another one of Joe’s litany of casual liaisons. And that’s a risk I’ll take, I’ll do it out of respect for your coven, Dr. Lee, and for Ben. But there is absolutely nothing I can do for you if Larkin finds out for himself. I don’t think I’m the only one he has watching you.”

“Of course not,” I said bitterly. “I’m sure he has all sorts of eyes on me. The white whale. The one that got away.” This is my fault. It’s all my fucking fault.

“It’s not,” Rami murmured; and nobody else heard my side of it, but I think they understood.

Joe’s aura was now murky, sunless, almost black. It was a color I hadn’t thought he was capable of. His eyes were slick and bleary.

“Son?” Gwil prompted. Mercy was sobbing into a handkerchief patterned with roses. Mom, I ached instinctively, before pushing the thought away.

“I won’t do it,” Joe said. “You’re asking me to break her heart and I won’t do it.”

I begged: “Joe, you don’t understand—”

“No, you don’t understand! You don’t understand what this will do to her, what it’s going to do to her for the weeks and months and years that come after, she might never forget—”

“Do you want her to end up dead or in a hundred-year contract?” Cato shot back. “Do you want to see how much of that girl you care about so much is left after a century with Larkin?”

Everyone’s eyes fell on me. I could feel them, full of pity and horror. I’m what’s left. Someone gutted of everything but rage and bloodlust.

“No, of course not,” Joe said. Thanks a lot, brother.

Cato smirked without any humor at all. He had known. “Then the choice is easy.”

“Son,” Gwil said again.

Joe gazed back at him with huge, agonized eyes. His words were brittle, raspy, hollow. “Dad, I love her.”

“I know,” Gwil replied. His aura was a blue like cobalt: profound sympathy, compassion, mourning. “And that’s why you’ll do the right thing.”

Twenty minutes later, I was puffing on my vape pen as I paced back and forth across the wrap-around porch like a caged bear, watching the sun disappear behind the western hemlock trees that raked the clouds. Gwil, Rami, Lucy, and Scarlett were with Joe; Mercy was trying to convince Cato to stay the night in one of the guest bedrooms. I could hear her ludicrously gracious protestations through the walls. “We know it’s not your fault, dear, this...this...situation. We know you’re just the messenger. And you’ve been so important to Ben all these years, so kind. It’s really no trouble at all...here, let me at least wrap up some cake for you to take...”

The front door opened and closed. Scarlett appeared beside me, resting her forearms on the porch railing. She sighed, closed her eyes, said nothing.

“This is going to destroy him,” I told her.

Scarlett nodded, her face bathed in silvery moonlight, marvelous and yet forlorn. The aura that surrounded her was a deep, despondent indigo. It matched the sky. “Yeah.”

“And to think...” I exhaled heavily, nicotine-tinged vapor vanishing into the damp night air. Rain was coming; I could feel it in my bones. “I was just beginning to like it here.”

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eradicatetehnormal · 3 years

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LAST EPISODE WAS LIT!! Intial Thots of the Series and Rambling(not me sounding like a boomer)

Episode 12, My reactions to major events

Adam gets a suit: SCREW YOU ADAM >:( >:( >:(

race time!: KICK HIS A** LANGA!

the zone: GET OFF HIM ADAM! FOCUS LANGA, REMEMBER WHY YOU'RE OUT HERE GOING OFF!

Langa almost f*cking dies: LANGA NOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Renga moment turns into flashback sequence: BECAUSE REKI IS THE MAN!

Langa being reminded of boarding with his dad and the JP VA's speak Engrish: Awww that's so wholesome. Hey at least these VA's can fully pronounce English words

Slight Adam redemption and acceptance: ...why?

Adam loses:YEAH SUCK it BOIII!!!

Langa jumps on Reki: BIG GAY MOMENT, not the one we wanted or needed, but that's to be expected *shrug*

Shadow's girl gets took: WHACK *adventure time lemon meme style U N A C C E P T A B L E

Reki teaching his sisters to sk8: this is SO cute, aw damn she sk8in boys

Langa telling his dad about his sk8 board and Reki: more wholesomy goodness uwu Langa and Reki racing: LOOK AT EM GOOOOO!

overall thots on episode: A decent finale, it did everything it needed to do. I'm still annoyed that Adam got off scott free for his actions, i'm there's some symbolism shiz going on but still, ehhhhhhh... Overall though, just a feel good episode with an epic battle, some gay moments, and sweet sweet wholesomy goodness. 7.5/10 a vibe.

Thots on series: A very feel good series. It caught me off gaurd because I'was just falling off shounen when I started watching this series and I generally don't watch a lot of anime anyways. Even so it kind of has this warm nostalgic feeling. It understood everything cool about shounen and why I liked it in the first place. This close bonds formed between two characters fighting for the same goal, a fun soundtrack, the happy go lucky characters, AND THE DOPE FIGHT (in this case skateboarding) SCENES. It also managed to keep itself interesting mainly off premise alone. There isn't much anime out there purely about something like skateboarding, surfing, rollerblading, or any of a sort, which makes since since it's more of a western sport. I'm not too sure how well it captured skating culture, but the skating aesthetic is captured extremely well with the amazing directing and animation. *chef's kiss* superb. The actual story, while nothing special, was very heartwarming and just kinda...Chill. It's just this half Japanese dude from Canada moving to Japan with his mom, feeling depressed, and meeting this cool dude who loves to sk8. Which then makes him love to sk8. Simple, to the point, digestible. And really, does it have to be anything else? The side characters are all great, my favorites being our favorite couple in an open relationship, Joe and Cherry. Their dynamic is just so much fun. The two are old friends who knew each other in highschool and would compete together in skateboarding competitions. They're always fighting and insulting each other, and if i'm being honest, it's hilarious. Miya is good too. He's an acceptional kid with a knack for boarding. Unfortunately, he got too good and so the homies peaced out on him. Fake friends... He has a bit of a cocky, sly personality. He's cute, I wish we got more of him in later episode. Shadow is just a big soft dude who wants to be a badass so bad. He just wants to get the girl but he couldn't. D*cks out for Shadow guys. For real though, he's enjoyable to watch, he just isn't as intersting as the other characters I just mentioned. One thing I gotta say about a certian character though...This...ADAM guy...I don't like him. He's creepy, had implications that project an evil stereotype, a legitmate danger to other racers, possible cultural appropriator, just an all around whack person. The worst part is that it rubs off on another character named Tadashi, who I dislike for continuing to follow this creepazoid. I will say I like the backstory between these two, but looking back on it, it made me just kinda feel bad for Tadashi because he thinks he can't give up on a dude that's clearly sick mentally. Adam needs to stay away from teenagers, then get jail time, then therapy. He's a danger and he either need to be taken away from the things he has, punished, and then reformed. //THE MEAT//

So the foundation for the entire series is the relationship between Reki and (almost called him ash) Langa. Honestly, it's a really good dynamic. Just a pure, healthy relationship between two boys, one of which introduced the other to a sport that would become his new meaning in life. Throughout the series, the two would go onto to inspire each other to keep improving and become each other's main motivation for wanting to skate in the first place. However this becomes too much for Reki and he sees how everyone Langa has surpassed him in ability. Reki then tries to catch up to him but fails, realizing he may never be as good as Langa. This causes him to stop skating for a while, as he's feeling too out done by everyone else around him. Though this arc is short lived, it causes for what I think is the best episodes in all of the series because it showed the possible weak point between Langa and Reki's relationship and showed a flaw in Reki's character being his inferiority complex. It also might have shown a bit of a flaw in Langa's character too, since it seems as though he is codependant on Reki and skating to be truely happy, as he just loses all motivation for skating without him their and his "heart doesn't beat as fast". Even though they didn't spend as long of a time as other anime would on this arc, it was still super satisfying to see them reunite and find their resolve together. The relationship between these two is simply very sweet.

All of this culminates into one easy message: Have fun bru. That's it. Just go, and have a good time. Anything that you love doing will be meaningless if you don't. Having fun is what relieves stress, what brings you and your friends close together, and what creates good memories. A dumb sounding message, but a good one to hear. It's suprising how much you forget this when you get older. You get so focused on being "productive", all you ever want to do afterwards is relax. It becomes this endless cycle of bordem that you can't escape from because it's devoid of any real joy. You're not doing the things that make you happy, you're just sitting in mental limbo. So it's nice to be reminded that it's okay, and even good to just, try to have fun doing something you love sometimes, and not have to take it seriously.

Have fun man. Sk8 is love. Sk8 is life.

Easily one of my favorites, low-key ranked as like my 10th favorite right behind revolutionary girl utena the series. A good time. 8/10

#sk8 #sk8 the infinity #rambles

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marvxlousqueen · 5 years

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Warren Worthington- Bad Flirt

requested by anon: hi !! I love your warren imagine so much, i was wondering if you could write something where warren has to fight the reader but refuses to do it because she's his best friend/girlfriend, and he gets in trouble because of it ? (possibly with a happy ending 🥺) thank you !!

word count: 1.4 k

warnings: warren is a DICK, cussing, someone gets stabbed lmao but like it’s funny, also not proofread and lowkey shit lmaooo

A/N: so i had to change the request a little bit bc i didnt have any ideas for it but its similar ! also reader has an ice power ? i just saw a commercial for frozen 2 so yea that happened, also thanks for requesting !! ily

Warren was never the best with emotions. He believed it came from growing up in a love-less household, but maybe that’s just an excuse. After arriving at the school for mutants, Warren took a liking to a girl in his grade rather quickly.

Unsure of how to deal with this, he turned to his roommate Peter for advice.

“Make fun of her a little,” Peter had told him.

“What? Why would I do that?”

“Shows that you’re confident and have personality. It’s a way of flirting, trust me. Tease her a little.”

Warren wasn’t too sure about Peter’s advice, but figured he would know more than him.

Warren and (Y/n) shared three classes: history, biology, and their training sessions with Raven.

Warren took his time in history to test the waters of flirting, using Peter’s advice from the night before.

He was seated behind (Y/n) in history class, where he made a comment about her brightly colored agenda book.

“Nice agenda.”

She turned around, giving him a smile, “Thanks! Keeps me organized.”

Warren put his head down on his desk, realizing he hadn’t teased her enough.

Do I need to be meaner? What would Peter do?

Warren tried again in their 4th period class- biology. The first week was just spent discussing how mutations originated.

Warren was stuck sitting all the way in the front of the class, with (Y/n) seated diagonally from him.

As the teacher went around asking questions about students mutations, he waited for (Y/n) to answer so he could make a joke.

“Now, what about you, Ms. (Y/n),” the teacher said, standing in front of the board.

“I can make ice and snow. Pretty fun actually.”

Warren sat up straight in his seat. “Snow? What are you going to do? Scare the enemy with a snowman?”

It wasn’t the best joke, but it still managed to make most of the class laugh. He turned back, waiting to see her laughing, but (Y/n) had decided to bury her face in her textbook, waiting for her blush to go away.

She’s blushing! Girls blush when they like a guy! Atta boy!

Over the next few weeks of school, Warren continued to flirt make fun of (Y/n). He always made sure to tease her for not having weekend plans like some of her friends, or about grades and mutations.

It seemed to be working! Warren recalled the time he pushed her back inside the school before she had a chance to step outside into the August heat.

“Watch it, Frosty! You’ll melt.”

She had turned around to face him, her cheeks burning (with what Warren assumed was a crush).

“Thank you, Warren.”

Of course Warren hadn’t caught her sarcasm, leaving him to believe he was making good progress with her.

It had been about a week since that incident of the frosty the snowman joke, and Warren was only becoming bolder.

He wanted to make his final move after some last minute flirting in training.

When Warren entered the gym, he saw a few students stretching, (Y/n) standing with them.

A few minutes passed and Raven entered the gym, explaining how they were going to do mock cage fights, made up of two students having to randomly fight each other while others watch for technique.

“Any volunteers?”

The class was quiet, Warren’s brain busy trying to think of how he would tell (Y/n) about his feelings for her.

“Fine. I brought the hat.”

Raven waved around the baseball cap filled with names of slips of paper.

“Okay, up first is... (Y/n) and Warren. Hustle up!”

(Y/n) jumped up, hands already cold to the touch, ready to wipe the floor with that asshole.

Warren stayed seated, “What? No, I’m not fighting her.”

“No choice. Get up.”

Warren slowly stood up, “What if I hurt her?”

He truly was concerned about harming her accidentally (but he also figured he could throw in some flirting up until the fight).

(Y/n) rolled her eyes, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Don’t talk about me like I’m not here. And also- I’d like to see you try.”

Warren laughed, thinking she was flirting back. “Fine. Let’s see how much you can hurt me with your snowflakes.”

Warren stepped unto the mat, across from (Y/n), the class watching from the sidelines. Raven gave them a countdown and they began.

Warren moved around the mat, flapping his wings out to full size in hopes of impressing her.

Since he was taking so long, (Y/n) threw the first blow, throwing a large shard of ice right at Warren, stabbing him in the shoulder.

“Fuck! Ow- SHIT!”

He crumbled to his knees, clutching his bleeding shoulder.

“(Y/n)!” Raven ran onto the mat, checking the damage. “Too far! Minor scrapes and bruises only!”

“But I-”

“No! Take him to the nurse, now!”

(Y/n) rolled her eyes, staring at Warren, waiting for him to get up and follow her.

“Get up, it’s not that bad. Don’t be a pussy.”

Raven looked at her again, like she was about to smack her. “What is with this attitude? Do I need to run you until it’s gone?”

(Y/n) shook her head, sighing. She grabbed Warren’s other arm, pulling him up and dragging him towards the nurse. She didn’t drop his arm until they left the gym, afraid Raven might actually kill her.

“You- you CUT me!”

“Like you didn’t deserve it-”

Warren slowed his pace, eyes wide. “Deserve to be STABBED? What did I do to you?”

(Y/n) stopped her movements, looking him dead in the eye. “What did you do? You’ve been a dick to me since I met you! You make fun of me all the time and you’re just the worst! You deserved to get stabbed- you’ve been making my life hell for weeks.”

Warren felt as though his heart had stopped beating, “W-what?”

“You heard me.”

She turned around, walking faster towards the nurses room.

Warren wanted to stop her, to apologize for everything, but he felt so small in the moment. He never meant to cause her harm- is that not how you flirt? Peter, you dickwad!

They reached the nurse and (Y/n) stepped aside, letting him go inside alone.

“Are you not going to stay?”

Her eyebrows furrowed, “No. Why would I do that?”

“You are the one who did this to me, so-”

“Fuck you, you wouldn’t stay if you did something like this to me. You’d probably just laugh about it.”

Warren felt his throat tighten, making it difficult to speak without his voice cracking.

“I w-would stay with you. A-always.”

(Y/n)’s face scrunched up, trying to read the emotion on his face. Somehow a mix of remorse and endearment.

“Whatever. I’ll sign you in, but then I’m going.”

He nodded, watching as she started to right his name on the sheet.

The nurse entered from the back room, “Nasty cut that is! We’ll get you taken care of.”

She looked towards (Y/n), handing her a towel. “Keep pressure on that. I’ll be back.”

“But wait-”

The nurse disappeared into the back room again, leaving (Y/n) to press a towel into Warren’s shoulder.

They sat in silence for a minute until Warren found his voice again.

“You didn’t even say sorry.”

“Did you say sorry for being an absolute twat to me this entire year?”

He wasn’t expecting her to snap back to harshly, not like he didn’t deserve it. Looking back on it, maybe he was mean.

Fuck me, he thought.

Another minute of silence passed.

“I am sorry, by the way. I wasn’t trying to be mean.”

She looked towards him, “Then what did you think you were doing?”

“Um-uh, f-flirting?”

“What?”

“Peter said-”

“That is NOT flirting, Warren. That’s just being a dick!”

He hung his head, “I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to. I swear, I’m not an asshole.”

“Sure, you’re not.”

He looked up at her, eyes burning. “I’ll leave you alone now, don’t worry. Once my shoulder heals I’m going to have to kill Peter for telling me that would work.”

She laughed a little, “Peter’s a fucking idiot.”

Warren nodded, “So am I.”

“Yep. You are.”

“C-can we start over? Please. I won’t flirt with you anymore, I promise.”

“I wouldn’t mind it if it was actual flirting, not bullying- but fine. We can start over as friends, but I reserve the right to stab you anytime you hurt my feelings.”

“Deal.”

taglist: @chocolatealmondmilkshake @thoughtlesspace @billyhargovesgurl @babebenhardy @rexorangecouny @cyndagoaway @killcomet @mcrmarvelloki @queen-turtle-boiii @hardlylo @ziggymay @jacqueline1916 @onceuponadetectivedemigod @ixchel-9275 @queen-baelin

hmu to be added :))

#Warren Worthington III #warren worthington imagine #warren worthington x reader #ben hardy #ben hardy imagine #x men apocalypse #x men #warren worthington iii x reader

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tracle0 · 5 years

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22/11

I was tagged by @joyful-soul-collector (thank you this is possibly one of my favourite tag games) ... Okay also also before I could finish this up, @hyba also tagged me so uh it’s 22/11 instead, ty ty. You two might want to check the tag list cause uhhh you might be there who knows not me c:

The rules are: Answer the 11 (22 this time but hush) questions, make up your own 11 and then tag... I think it’s 11 people but I don’t know 11 people who I haven’t already tagged so...

I sort of started spamming pictures to answer a question so I’m gonna... put the pictures under the cut.

1. Have any of your OCs ever stolen something? What did they steal, and why? Oh yeah sure - the first one I can think of easily is Cain. He used to live on the streets so had to steal to survive. But he’d also work for money. He’s not heartless, just desperate.

Also now I’m thinking about it, Tag would definitely be the kind of guy to just... hey I know I’m meant to hand this gear in but... no-one will miss it so.... he steals to amuse himself with the gadgets he gets.

2. Did you ever have imaginary friends as a kid? What were they like? I copied my sister in having pretend animal friends, but not really. Who needs imaginary friends when you have real-life ones lol I was a lot more liked as a kid.

3. Do any of your OCs have a favorite article of clothing? Why is it their favorite?

Uhhhh

Um.

Yeah, you could say that.

Andy likes his hoodie because it’s a thing that is only his. He didn’t get it from Murdock, I honestly don’t know WHERE he got it from, but it’s his, and the fact he owns anything means a lot to him.

Cain likes his because it’s one of the few things left over from when he was younger and again, it’s his. He didn’t steal it. It belongs to Only Him. He feels comfortable in it.

4. What do you fist develop about a character when you make one up? Do you think of their appearance first? Their personality? Their backstory?

Honestly? It depends. Backstory always comes after, but personality and appearance often intersect. I know for WIP 3 I thought of personality and traits first, and for Collateral it was appearance first. I think for Sonder it was more.. their role in the story? ‘Oh hey this is the antagonist, this is the protagonist, this is the love interest wait I hate romance, okay, side kick’ etc

5. Fluff or Angst?

If it’s not romantic? Fluff. I made myself angsty enough when I was younger, I want more happiness in my life.

6. Remember the color of that dress that everyone was debating about however many years ago? The one that was blue and black, or white and gold? What colors did you see?

The correct colours.

7. Pick your bubbliest, happiest OC. Now tell me what will make them turn into your worst nightmare. I wanna see what makes them the angriest.

Oh boy, let’s see uhhh... Tag. Tag from WIP 3 who is undergoing the process of a name change.

Seeing someone he loves die would twist him. Being isolated would eventually break him. Being unable to do what he loves would definitely upset him also.

Also idk if you’ve heard about it but in his world, there’s a nifty ability called being a silvertongue and I know at least one silvertongue is not gonna exploit this but I also know of another who would even on this19-year-old kid so maybe it’s not by choice but that could make him a nightmare. Just sayin’

8. Now pick your angstiest, most emo OC. And tell me what would make them blush and giggle like an idiot. I wanna see what makes them the happiest.

Okay for this one it’s a tie I write a lot of angsty characters.

>Andy - seeing something just. Really funny. Oh did Sam just fall over in a ridiculous way? Fantastic. That’s actually how they first have a proper conversation. Sam falls over, he laughs, they talk.

>Cain - anything awesome that Duck does. Oh hey what’s up Goose oh you drew this radical picture? /tearing up/ it’s so great oh my gosh you’re so talented. That’s more being happy than giggling but can you see Cain giggling? No, me neither.

9. If you could have any mythical creature for a pet, what would it be?

Dragon, next question.

10. What’s your go-to thing for when you’re hungry but don’t have time/energy to cook something?

Fruit! It is! Very good! And tasty! Apples have a good cronch! Oranges are mmmm juicy. Banana? Yes nice thank you. Oh wow we have strawberries? What a sweet treat. Also healthy!

11. Do any of your OCs have scars? Would they be confident enough to show them in public (like at the beach)?

Oh yeah sure man. Andy’s got multiple from... ‘training’. He doesn't show them off. Cain, Duck and Theo have all been badly burnt on the arms, and Cain ‘’shows it off’’ just because it makes him uncomfortable to have his arms covered. And uh Raya probably has some sort of scar on her knees or elbow from rollerblading. Because you do fall over and it does scar.

And now for Hyba’s questions, lez go bois

1. What cultural value do you see in writing/reading/storytelling/etc.?

I think that without storytelling specifically, humans would be so... mundane? We’d be no different to any other animal on the planet. Creating anything, be that stories or art or literally anything is so... human. To take that away would be like taking away humanities soul. The cultural value isn’t really measurable - storytelling makes up the culture.

2. Do you try more to be original or to deliver to readers what they want?

Honestly, I have no idea. I try to entertain myself, and if other people like it too, then that’s neat. But because I’m writing for myself, I anticipate everything, so I don’t know if it’s original or not. I know it delivers what I want! But is that readers want? Who knows!

3. As a writer, what would you choose as your mascot/avatar/spirit animal?

Crow. Not even as a writer, just... dude crows are so damn cool.

4. What do you think most characterizes your writing?

I’m not quite sure about the phrasing so uhhhh represents? Google is telling me ‘describes’.

In which case, a midnight fever jolting you out of bed, moments before you could fall asleep, and puppeting you to a writing surface so you can splurge ideas onto it sounds about right. 66% of my WIPs have elements in them that were based on dreams.

5. How do you select the names of your characters?

Mostly? Spite. ‘Oh Trade, you can’t have a bad guy named Andy, all Andy’s are good’ NOPE NOT ANYMORE SUCK IT. I also have a friend who is really good at coming up with names that fit the exact mood of the character so I go to her a lot. Sometimes they’re puns.

6. Choose one of your OCs (or more). How would they want to be seen by others?

Sam from Sonder wants to be seen as someone people can talk to, but also someone who pursues a science because yes sociology is a science to her, shut up, don’t talk to me if you’re going to mention the words ‘paradigm’ or ‘objective’ thank you.

7. How do you find or make time to write? Are you consistent or do you write whenever you get the chance?

Hahahahahhahha.

In the past few months, I’ve not been writing because I’ve had exams. Before that, I wrote at every chance I had - being a student, I had a fair bit of free time during the day, so I’d use that to write. But for a while, it was a nothing on the ‘what has Trade written recently’ chart.

Going up again boiiis

8. What does literary success look like to you? Is it important for you as a writer?

Literary success? That’s... a very interesting question. I think I’d be satisfied and feel successful if one person told me that my book helped them through something.

Jokes on me, I’ve already had that, my books helped me, I have already succeeded, see you losers in hell.

Also fanart but uh who needs fanart when you draw enough for five armies?

9. Are there any scenes that you’ve had to edit out of your WIPs? Can you tell us about them if they don’t spoil the book?

YES oh lord yes okay so in Sonder, chapter 15, I decided around draft 2 that I wanted a scene where Atlas got drunk. I made up reasons for it, asked lots of friends about what it was like to be drunk (as I personally have never been drunk), attended parties to get first-hand research and did so much preparation.

Wrote the scene, was pleased with it, left it to fester. Two years and two drafts later (now), I’ve come back and realised oh hey that scene is utterly useless and de-rails the plot. Time to remove it I guess.

I rationalise it as ‘well you wrote it and you had fun but it’s not needed, move on’ and that works well for me.

10. Would you feel comfortable publishing or sharing your writing using your real name, or would you prefer a pseudonym?

Pseudonym 100%. As cool as it would be to be able to go ‘hey I wrote this’ to people, the terrifying ordeal of being known is horrific, and people being able to track all my past activity from when I was literally seven is my worst nightmare. I wouldn’t even tell family or friends if I could get away with it.

‘Hey [real name], there’s a book at Waterstones called Sonder? With the exact same characters, plot and writing style as you have? But it’s under [pseudonym]?’ ‘oh hey, really that’s wild. Anyway,’

11. When writing, do you try more to be original or do you prefer to deliver to readers what they want? Do you think that a book can do both? Which is more important to you as a writer?

Oh hey, this is like question two but MORE. Standing by my previous answer, I think a book can do both - people want a happy ending, usually, but you can always be original in how you do that. No two stories can be told in exactly the same way. And hey - even if people do guess what’s coming up, that’s good.

As a writer? It’s most important to entertain. I don’t try and catch people out, I just deliver the story I have in my head and then edit it mercilessly until I’m pleased.

Questions!

1) Design a mask for an OC to wear. Would it cover their whole face? Is it a mascarade mask? Is it fancy or simple? Bonus cool kid points if you draw it.

2) Which OCs like spicy food?

3) Which OCs can take care of a plant - an orchid, to be exact?

4) Do you tell stories in any other medium beyond writing? eg: art or roleplay or...?

5) Do you have any irl items that you have because ‘oh dude this is something that’d totally be in my story’? Can I see them?

6) What’s the first book you remember buying?

7) Do you have any weird collections of things? As an example, I have a skull collection and a collection of... what’s best described as doll body parts. Anything just... weird that you have a lot of? Can I see it?

8) Which OC gets distracted by watching birds and which OC is like ‘dude stop watching the birds we’ve got STUFF TO DO’

9) Have you ever met a published author? Who?

10) Are you a person who likes tea or are you a person who prefers coffee? If the latter - dude c’mon tea is so much better smh

11) Have you backed up your files recently? Do it now. Please, for the love of god, back up your files.

Tagging!

@hyba @joyful-soul-collector (dunno if I’m allowed to tag the people who tagged me but fukkit here’s some more questions you eggs) @kaatiba @albatris @timetravelingpigeon @note-katha (hi we have barely interacted but nice new username) @nymph-of-diana (on your main if you want, idm c:) @writing-and-nutmeg @futurity-writing @osteoprecocious and @thatfizzyyyy

Honestly, the fact I made it to 11 is - wowza. Uhhh if you don’t want to then don’t, if you do want to then PLEASE do and then tag me so I can see your answers, I’m curious.

Ciao.

#writing #am writing #my writing #writerblr #writeblr #tagged in #Wow this went on #but seriously this is possibly my favourite tag game #coming up with questions is hard but #hey piece of advice #put stuff you love into the questions #I like masks for example #so #questions about masks lezgo

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askthetotallynotsquad · 5 years

Note

Boardwalk bros?

Ali: ya know it's okay so sure :3

-----

Rich: *being calm and stuff and watching egg clam close to home*

Jeremy: Rich what the hell are you doing?

Rich: *sniffles bc it's s a d and he's c r y i n g* watching egg clam close to home-

Jeremy: *sits next to the Rich and hugs him bc they’re all dating??* it’s okay dude

Rich: *hugs the dolphin back* ThE nONMySTErIOus gUy WaS sO meAn aNd nOW hE'tH nICe (not the real plot of sffh- duh)

Jeremy: Rich calm down- it’s okay, isn’t it good that he’s nice?

Rich: weLL- yeah I geuth *calms up*

Jeremy: *holds the Tich bc hes v small*

Tich: I'm v small

Rich: ew go a singular way tich

tich: *:(* okayyy... *goes a singular way*

Jeremy: I- *cuddles the RICH* (idk how to feel typing this)

Rich: *cuddles the JEREMY*

Jeremy: oh my god you are so small it’s amazing

Rich: well

Jeremy: *kisses the Rich* (THIS FEELS WEIRD TO WRITE- but uh- here Jeremy x Rich shippers-)

Rich: *kisses the Jeremy* (I could care less so um \('_')/)

Jeremy: *puts a blanket over the Rich* sleeppppp- you be been crying too much

Rich: *sleeppppps*

Jeremy: *is still holding the Rich bc that’s what people do when they’re dating??* hhh *is playing with the Rich’s hair*

Rich: *slep*

Thunder: hello y’all

Storm: YEEHAW

Rich: *is spooked :0*

Jeremy: *falls off the couch* OW-

Rich: *becomes a caterpillar because he makes a cocoon with the blankets :))))))))) <this is clearly a CATERPILLAR not a WoRm*

Jeremy: richie, what are you doing-

Rich: I am a c a t e r p i l l a r

Jeremy: a cute one

Rich: *:0* all pillarth are cute

Jeremy: you’re the cutest one * boop*

Rich: e

Jeremy: I’ll be right back *kiss owo*

-when Jermey comes back-

Jeremy: Rich...what are you wearing-

Rich: *epically wearing a crop top*

Jeremy: *v v v red* w-why-

Rich: becauthe I feel like it

Jeremy: wait- where did you get that-

Rich: the children's place

Jeremy: oh my god Rich- *picks up the rich*

Rich: *epically is a crop top god*

Jeremy: I don’t know how Michael and Jake will feel about this Rich

Rich: *puts on some epic sunglasses that are way to big for him* I could care less what they think *finger guns*

Jeremy: wow- hey those are my sunglasses-

Rich: overly too bad for you

Jeremy: oh well *puts the Rich down on the Jerems bed??* slep

Rich: no

Jeremy: yesssss *turns off the lights and puts the fairy lights on*

Rich: where is cat *:(*

Jeremy: nononono don’t be sad b- I’ll go get him! *runs downstairs*

Rich: *:((*

Jeremy: *comes back with the cat and sits on the bed* here you go Richh

Rich: *feeds cat a goldfish* here you go babyyyy boiii *uwu pats cat*

Jeremy: aweee *puts his arm around the rich*

-latar-

Rich: *asleep holding cat who is also alseep In his hands uwu*

Cat: *bein heccin ADORABLE*

Jeremy: *fell asleep like on Rich*

Later: cat the whale

Cat: *licks rich's face*

Rich: huhh- *awakens* aweeee hi catt *:3*

Cat: *uwu*

Jeremy: *asleep with his head in Rich’s lap-*

Rich: *slowly gets up and goes outside to play with cat*

Jeremy: *awaken and puts on the Jakey D’s sweatshirt bc he can and walks outside*

Rich: *playing with the epic tiny whale*

Cat: *epically happy*

Jeremy: this is too adorable *takes a picture on his Polaroid bc aesthetic*

Rich: *doot gives cat a goldfish* good boy cat!!

Cat: *I n h a l e*

Jermey: Richie come hereeee

Micheal: *walks in the Jake bc they were being tops somewhere else 😎* Tf is Richie doing??? *confusion*

Jeremy: he’s being adorable with cat *still wearing the Jakey D’s sweatshirt*

Jake: nah b- I think you’re the adorable one right now *wraps his arm around the Micheal??? Sure??? Idk I’m not Micheal-*

Jeremy: Jake- I don’t think you’re getting this sweatshirt back anytime soon

Jake: eh- I’ll just steal Micah’s then

Micheal: why is it always my stuff!? *:(*

Jeremy: don’t be sad!! *hugs the michael*

Jake: *hugs both of them bc why not*

Jeremy: awe I love you guys

Micheal: Well what if I love you guys more?

Jake: Well what if I love you guys the most-?Richie! Come here!

Jeremy: Jake stooooop *leans on the jake*

Jake: noooooo *kisses his head?? Ok*

Jeremy: *hugs the Jake???*

Micheal: Did Richie die or something???? Richhhhhhhhhh

Jeremy: he probably took Cat on a walk, it’s okay

Rich: *teehee made a plan with cat so um yeah whispers* 3.. 2.. 1

Cat: *pretend bites rich's neck so it looks like he died*

Rich: AHHHHHHHHHhhhhh *pretend dies uwu*

Jeremy: OH JESUS CHRIST RICH *epically runs to the rich*

Rich: *even has fake blood and stuff cause he's really good at these kinds of things*

Jeremy: CAT WHAT THE HELL?? Rich come on..wake up..*actually sobbing bc hes v v v sensitive*

Rich: *gets up* YOU'VE JUST WALKED THE PRANK THIS IS A HIDDEN CAMERA SHOW THERE'S CAMERAS UH- *points to his phone* THERE!! *proud of himself :D*

Cat: *dances*

Jeremy: RICHARD GORANSKI YOU SCARED ME HAVE TO DEATH! NO- TO DEATH! JESUS CHRIST *hugs the short man*

Rich: *hugs the jerem* teEhEE

Jeremy: *picks up the Rich*

Rich: ew heighth *clings onto Jeremy:0*

Jeremy: you’re only 6 feet off the ground- it’s okay babe

Rich: b u t th t i l l

Jeremy: *sits on the grass still holding le Rich* what about now?

Rich: better thank you very much

Jeremy: *le kiss* you’re welcome

Rich: so how do you feel about me being in a crop top *epic gaymer*

Jeremy: not gonna lie, it’s kinda hot

Rich: *blushy boye eek* i-i didn't expect you t-to thay that-

Ali: (bicycles- horray-?)

Jeremy: you asked me so I’m speaking the truth *kiss owo*

Rich: *kiss uwu*

Jeremy: kinky

Rich: you don't even know *;)*

Ali: (I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry)

Jeremy: *big blush boye* oh?

Rich: teahee

Jeremy: *picks up le Rich and walks inside* cuddles and movie- pleaseeee

Rich: y o th *snatches a blanket*

Jeremy: *puts le Rich down on le couch*

Rich: I mutht siat on your epic lap

Jeremy: go ahead *turns le tv on*

Rich: *sits on Jeremy's lap :0*

Jeremy: *wraps his arms around le Rich’s waist*

Rich: *epically puts on heathers but genderswap* love thith movie

Jeremy: you and your little heathers obsession

Rich: it'th a good movie okay?!

- latar -

Rich: *epically starts freaking out when jd explodes herself bc the fire and stuff*

Jeremy: you okay Rich?

Rich: mhmm *clearly not fine bc he's c r y i n g*

Jeremy: *turns le Rich around bc hes still in the jerems lap??* is it because of the fire..?

Rich: no I'm f-fine *still crying oh my orange juice*

Jeremy: *hugs le Rich* Rich, everything is okay now..

Rich: iM fINE *pushes germ (Jeremy) off him on my sticky cricket*

Jeremy: Rich, you’re crying-

Rich: no I'm n-not im fine. *turns away from Jeremy Oh my crunchy lightbulb*

Jeremy: Rich come on, we’ve all seen you cry before, we don’t like seeing you sad and you can talk to us-

Rich: *turns back to germ* WELL I DONT WANT YOU GUYTH TO THEE ME AS A CRY BB! *>:(* *runs off Oh my syrupy peacock*

Jeremy: Rich- we would never see or call you a crybaby-

Rich: *runs to his room shook door* ( he's way too dramatic and I don't care )

Jeremy: *knocks on the door* c’mon Rich..we don’t see you as a crybaby- you have emotions, it’s normal. And besides we know how fire makes you feel, it’s okay now, it’s all over, Jakes fine, Michael’s fine, I’m fine and you survived

Rich: I with I didn't-

Jeremy: Rich don’t say that..I love you..

Rich: that'th kinda gay-

Jeremy: rich just- open the door- I NEED to hug you

Rich: id rather not tho-

Jeremy: I know you’ll be looking for attention later then

Rich: try me! *>:)*

Jeremy: okay bye! *walks downstairs*

Later: eek

Rich: *walks downstairs* jeremyyyyy

Jeremy: *playing Minecraft* Rich it’s 2 in the morning what’s wrong?

Rich: I want h u g th

Jeremy: Rich what did I tell you earlier- shouldn’t you be sleeping?

Rich: n o. Altho I can't thleep with all the noitheth coming from Jake'th room

Jeremy: you can sleep in my room if you want *keeps playing Minecraft* they’re at it again, aren’t they?

Rich: I think-? I don't know. C u d d l e m e *sits down and wraps his arms around the jerem*

Jeremy: *puts his arm around le Rich* go to sleep shortie

Like 5 minutes Later: crunchy lightbulb

Rich: *asleep :0*

Jeremy: knew it *picks up le Rich and puts him in his room, down on his bed* (he put him in Jeremy’s room because he couldn’t sleep in his own)

Rich: *leeches onto a pillow* (cause that's what I do and if I'm rich then I geuss he does it too?? Idk)

Jeremy: *lays down next to le Rich bc they be dating*

Rich: *leeches onto Jeremy*

Jeremy: night Rich *le sleep*

Latar

Rich: *wakes up and makes chocolate chip pancakes cause they taste g o o d*

Jeremy: *walks into the kitchen half awake* Rich what are you doing-

Rich: making chocolate chip pancakes! *:D*

Jeremy: be carful- *yells as he’s walking upstairs* don’t hurt yourself!

-latar-

Rich: *made pancakes and walks upstairs* Jeremyyyyyy I have pancakessss *:)))*

Jeremy: ooooo! I bet they taste amazing babe!

Rich: *sksksksksk gives the pan* heere

Jeremy: *v long kiss* thank youuuuu

Rich: *surfer voice* no problemo my radical dude *surfer stuff*

Jeremy: *picks up me rich* stop being so cute!!

Rich: *angeri* I'm nOT cute!!

Jeremy: I don’t want to fight with you right now- you’re adorable *kiss*

Rich: *v v v long kiss uwu*

Jeremy: wow Richie getting feisty *smirk teehee*

Rich: *red boye eek*

Jeremy: *picks him up, v v v long kiss*

Rich: *even redder boye but v v v long kiss*

Jeremy: *makes out with thy Rich oops*

Rich: *sister shook*

Jeremy: Rich- you have a um- *coughs* B O N E R

Rich: oH *voicecracks* uM *hides under a blanket* tHAth fUn-

Jeremy: wow, I never knew I was that hot

Rich: have you looked in the mirror?

Jeremy: *sits on thu bed* you’re the hot one Goranski

Rich: *sticks his head out from under the blanket* what do you mean, I'm alwayth cold- *smirks :0*

Jeremy: oh my god stop *cuddles thy Rich*

Rich: *tries to escape from thy jerem* Can i have pancaketh nowwww

Jeremy: yes shortie *smiles at thy rich*

Rich: *inhales his pancakes because why would he eat Jeremy's?* y u m

Jeremy: why don’t you eat me like that

Rich: *almost falls over* wHAT- *blushing mess*

Jeremy: *in tears laughing* YOU’RE SO RED-

Rich: wELL-!

Jeremy: *rolling on the floor* OH MY GOD RICH!!

Rich: *jwj*

Jeremy: awe I’m sowwy Richieee

Rich: pft- what wath that?!

Ava: (that was possession)

Jeremy: what was what? Did I dot something wronggggg

Rich: *kiss uwu* nope!

Jeremy: yes

Rich: whyyy

Jeremy: because I'm a bad boyfriend

Rich: why would you thay that-

Jeremy: I don't give you enough affectionnnnnnn

Rich: then give me affection-

Jeremy: *jumps on thy rich*

Rich: thith youre warm

Jeremy: why thank you

Rich: eek *$qúïřmş*

Jeremy: stop moving I want loveeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

Rich: *stops $qúïřmīñ*

Jeremy: hihihuhhdghegdb * h u g *

Rich: * g u h *

Jeremy: *:0*

Rich: *e m o r j y h t s e s s i k*

Jeremy: *kissesthyrich*

Rich: *kissesthyjeromebutitskissier*

Jeremy: are you trying to make out with me, again?

Rich: n o o o o o :o

Jeremy: lies

Rich: but do you want to make out with me again ith the quethtion

Jeremy: that's your own choice

Rich: *????*

Jeremy: you can if you want- *big blush man*

Rich: *skskskskkkskksksksks idk man*

Jeremy: wait- Rich, are you a vsco girl

Rich: ew no *makes out with thy germ*

Rich: *becomes hotter every seconday*

Jeremy: oh!-

Rich: *uwo*

Jeremy: you're a good kisser goranski *kiss owo*

Rich: *red bi* uno reverthe card *kiss uwuwu*

Jeremy: me? A good kisser? Oh please

Rich: oh reallyyyy? why would I kith you if you were a bad kither?

Jeremy: i- um- *v v v v v v red*

Rich: *;)))))))))*

Jeremy: *BIG BLUSH MAN*

Rich: *giggles* jeremy- um- you realize I'm on top of you right-?

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justanotherwriter243 · 7 years

Text

Complicated (Prt8) - Barry Allen x Reader

Complicated (Part 8) - Barry Allen x Reader A/N: Lmao rip. Feel free to message me if you have a question, if u would like to know more about the story, or if u just wanna talk lmao. oh also I can never find the perfect gifs 😵 Summary: After checking out the new crime scene, things start to get a bit hectic. Disclaimer: I’ve never actually watched Arrow, I apologize for that. If you notice any huge mistakes or gaps, please, message me and let me know. Constructive criticism is encouraged ! Warnings: suggestive themes, cursing, anxiety ig Word count: 2960 more or less hhhhh —

“Body was found by that bicyclist” Joe turned to the guy then back to the corpse, “Same M.O. as the first one. The victim was performing here last night. He’s a lounge singer named Julio Mendez” “Julio Mendez?” Barry inquired, “In Flashpoint he was Captain Mendez” “Flashpoint?” I cut in, “Like your parents, Flashpoint? Ramon Industries, Flashpoint?” I paused, “You and me, Flashpoint?” I raised an eyebrow at Barry. His expression changed as he seemed to remember the time he spent in the alternate timeline. It went from a sheepish look, to one of realization, to one of embarrassment. Barry turned a bright red, and I couldn’t help but wonder why. He swallowed hard before coughing. “Yeah,” he averted my eyes, “that Flashpoint” “So, in Flashpoint, this alternate timeline that you lived in, he worked at the CCPD?” Asked Julian, trying to get rid of the awkward situation I’d just created. “Yeah,” Barry answered him, he thought before speaking again, “Wait a second, the other the other vic, Stuart Holzman do we have a photo of him?” “Yeah” “Can I see it?” Barry asked eagerly. “Yeah, hold on” Julian said as he took out a his phone to show Barry a photo. “That’s him” Barry said, his face finally turning back to its normal shade. “What is it?” “He was a cop there, too” “Damn, cops gettin’ hate” I added. “So this is the second dead cop from Flashpoint?” “Yeah” “We got to figure out who this guy is” Joe obviously stated. “Well, if we hurry, there’s still a chance we can get some of the attacker’s residual DNA before this corpse disintegrates, but we’ve got to move quick” Julian said. “What are you waiting for, Allen?” I turned and teasingly raised an eyebrow at Barry. “All right,” he smiled back at me, “come on” he said to Julian. There was a whoosh and lightning trail. Before I knew it he was back and had dropped off Julian at S.T.A.R. Labs. “Did anybody see me?” Asked Barry. “Damn, I barely saw you” Said Joe. “I will never get used to that” I said. “Look, we got to get going” Joe told Barry, completely excluding me. “Where you guys heading?” I tried asking nonchalantly, but couldn’t help sound a bit jealous. Obviously, I was new here and wouldn’t be included in every hang out or get together they had, but that didn’t mean I had to be okay with it. I mean, Joe’s a great guy. Everyone here is. The thing is, they’re great together. They’re a family. They know each other. They’ve all been through so much. I’m the outsider here, and I’m making my way in one way or another. “We’re meeting up with Cecile and her daughter for lunch” Joe quickly told me and I frowned.

“Cecile?” I thought for a second, “Work Cecile?” “Uh, yeah–” Joe started, but Barry cut him off. “They’ve got this thing going,” Barry explained to me, “And we’re meeting her daughter for the first time” “Oh,” I realized, “Oh! Wow, okay–um–well, good luck I guess. You guys will be fine. Just gotta let your true selves shine for who you are. Um–I guess I’ll see you guys later then” I smiled politely at them. “Did you want to do something?” Barry quickly asked me, “Because I can skip th–” “No! No, that’s okay” I told him, “I was just going to go check out one of the apartments–” “Apartments?” Joe asked me. “Yeah, I’m finding a place to stay at. It’s just that I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to get around the city easily. I’ve literally been here a few weeks–but I think I’ll be fine! You guys have your lunch thing” I tried to not show my disappointment, but Barry saw through me. “I can meet Cecile’s daughter another time. I’ll help you get around town, let me just–” “You are not skipping this lunch, Barry” Joe firmly told him, “(Y/n) just said they’d be fine, so let’s get going” Joe motioned for Barry to follow him and started walking off. Barry gave me an apologetic look before shrugging. I gave him a soft smile and a wave. “Jitters later?” He said, walking backwards. “Jitters” I nodded.

I watched as he jogged over to Joe. I watched them visibly arguing, even from where I was at. I watched as they bickered about the lunch, or possibly me. I watched as they not-so sneakily turned around to look at me. I watched as they waved at me when they noticed I saw them. I watched as they walked off and disappeared behind a corner. I watched as they left me alone.

“Of course not, Cisco!” I walked down the streets of Central City while talking to Cisco on my phone through my earbuds. Which, Cisco had made and designed both items himself. He installed a bunch of apps on the phone including a Meta Human app that could notify me of an attack. The phone had been waiting for me when I first woke up. Apparently, Cisco had a feeling I’d be needing a new one and just decided to make me one. I was grateful, but confused as to why he had made me one. My phone was in my pocket as I spoke through the mic in my earbuds. “What? Why not?” Cisco asked on the other line, “It has an amazing view and was at a good price” “Exactly, it was at a good price,” I told him, “until that douche bag found out I was loaded with money and raised the price on me” “But,” Cisco asked carefully, “are you loaded?” A lot can happen in two years apparently. “I–” I sighed, “I-I have s-some money in a bank that wa-as stored for me back when … ” I rubbed my temple as I walked, “Yes, okay? I’ve kind of been doing my own thing with the whole money situation– ”–a-and I may have parted some money aside back when,“ I dropped my voice, "back when Oliver was running the company,” I groaned, “Of course I took some money, I knew he wouldn’t be able to handle it, so, yes! I am, kind of, loaded. Jesus, I’m such a bad person” I looked up at the sky as I continued to walk restlessly. “Girl,” Cisco started his pep talk, “You were doing what you thought was right at the time. You’re not your family and that was your money, too. You were being cautious and prepared” “But–”

“No but’s. Your family did the best they could and it’s up to them to decide how that goes for them. Now, you have that money for yourself so you can spend it on a nice apartment. Eat a good meal, settle down until you get your life back in check. "It can’t be that much money, right? I mean, what do you have? A couple thousand dollars?” “More like 6,” I swallowed hard. “Thousand? That’s nothing. Maybe you should’ve taken more–” Cisco tried joking around. “Million” I winced as I closed my eyes. “ … (Y/n)” Cisco said on the other line. “It’s not like Oliver would’ve realized I took anything! Like I said, he did stupid things with his money back then!” I defended myself. “You are so buying me pizza this week” he told me and I gave a weak laugh. “Shut up,” I shook my head. “I just don’t understand, you liked the place, why didn’t you just buy it?” Cisco asked me in confusion as he referred back to the apartment I was checking out earlier. “I wasn’t going to give the guy selling the satisfaction of winning me over,” I rolled my eyes, “Besides, I have a tendency to buy ridiculous things–er–that’s what my mother used to say anyways” I scratched he back of me neck. “Dude, video games are not ridiculous–they are amazing” Cisco told me and I laughed. “As great as they can be, I still haven’t found a place that I really like” I sighed, “Also, I think I’m lost” “Keep walking, another 2 blocks, and you’ll find Jitters on your right” Cisco informed me. “Really? Thank–” I stopped myself and stood in place for a second, I opened my mouth to speak, but quickly closed it. I looked around with a frown on my face, “Cisco–” “I may or may not have put a tracker on your phone” Cisco’s voice went up a pitch. “Dude,” I held my hands out in exaggeration and shrugged my shoulders, “don’t put a tracker in my phone without my permission” “It was just for precautions” Cisco told me.

“Great,” I started walking again, hopefully towards Jitters, “I don’t think I’ll ever find a place” Cisco was quiet on the other end. As I walked, I felt my phone vibrate. I took my phone out and saw it was a message from an unknown number. ’Yo u think I could help me out later ?’ I frowned at the number. “Hey, you know, if you don’t want to go through the trouble of looking at more apartments, you could just stay with me for a while?” I was taken back by the two suggestions. I was quiet for a moment. “I mean–only if you want to,” Cisco quickly added, “It’s just that, being here, waking up, missing everything–it just all seems like so much and I thought maybe–” “I’d love to stay with you, Cisco” I quickly said, “I’ll pay rent and I’ll buy you pizza and video games and” I smiled, “thank you” My phone vibrated again with another message. ’This is Wally btw lol Cisco gave me ur # Just wanted advice on speedster stuff thought maybe u could help idk’ I hummed at the message. “Great,” Cisco’s voice was enthusiastic, “I guess I’ll take that pizza tonight. Dinner is on you” I could practically hear the smile on his face. I laughed at that and we said our goodbyes. As I hung up, I went to respond to Wally’s messages. ’boiii Ur supposed to be having lunch with Cecile and her daughter stop texting me !! also y me ?¿’ I sent the messages and took the earbuds out of my ears. I held the middle of the two earbud cords and swung the tips around as I continued walking. I could see Jitters in the distance. I silently thanked Cisco for putting a tracker in my phone. I checked my phone again to see if I had gotten any new messages. Wally must type slow, huh, that’s ironic. While I was at it I went ahead and added Wally as a new contact. I started looking through my phone for things to keep my distracted while I walked. Then, I got a message. ’Idk i mean after all u did get struck by lightning, too Barry’s also telling me to pay attention to our lunch ugh u guys r the most annoying parents ttyl’ I chuckled at him comparing us to his parents. However, I was confused as to why he would do such a thing. I mean, his sister was dating Barry, wasn’t she? I didn’t bother responding, but I couldn’t stop staring at that first message. He was right. I was struck by lightning, too. Did that make me a speedster? Does it take a while for the powers to accumulate? Since I was in a coma for longer–does that mean I don’t get my powers early on? Or at all? Am I overthinking this? Am I not thinking enough? Questions raced through my head as I thought of the possibilities. What was to become of all this? My pace picked up as did my thoughts. I put my earbuds away and started fiddling with my hands to distract myself. I sighed, trying to relax myself, but only became more frantic. As I approached Jitters, I wondered if coffee was the best thing for me right now. However, I didn’t have much time to wonder. People starting coming out of the cafe in a frantic manner. I sped my way towards a woman of my age. Joe and the others could still be in there. “Excuse me!” I called out to her. She turned to face me with a sour look on her face. “Hi, I’m sorry to disturb, but what’s going on?” I said, my voice shaking. “There’s a metahuman in there, you should probably run” she told me, starting to frantically run again. “Oh! Wait! No, I’m actually–” I tried yelling and catching up to her.

“You’re actually helpless in the situation,” she said, cutting me off, “Unless you’re the Flash or Kid Flash, I suggest you run like everyone else” She then quickly ran off. I watched as she ran off, as everyone ran off. I instinctively reached for my phone to call for help–Oliver, Felicity, Thea–anyone. I stopped myself when I realized I couldn’t call them. A wave of anxiety washed over me again. I had to do this on my own. I couldn’t fall into old habits. I tried calming my breathing as I carefully walked up to Jitters’ entrance. I stayed by the wall, creeping my way up. If there was a metahuman attack, I’d have to be extra careful. I slowly peered over the glass doors. I saw a man in dark clothing speaking to a group of others on the second floor. On closer inspection, I realized it was Barry and everyone else.

As the man, assumingely the meta, approached the others, Joe pointed his gun at the man. My eyes widened and I took my gun out as I quietly walked in. As I did so, Joe shot at the man. Three bullets moved through the air in what seemed like slow motion. The three bullets disintegrated as they touched the man, and the remains fell to the ground. I stared in shock at the way the world seemed to move slowly around me. However, the feeling quickly went away as the man spoke. “Told ya,” the man said, reaching for a pillar holding up the floor everyone else was on. “Freeze” I spoke, pointing my gun at the man. The man stopped and slowly turned to look at me. He took me in, stared me down. He looked at my shaking hands and raised an eyebrow at me. I quickly glanced at Barry, giving him a signal to get everyone else out. Barry just shook my head at me, his eyes full of worry and panic. I looked back at the man and stood my ground. “They didn’t work when he did it,” The man gestured with his head to Joe, “Why should they work when you do it?” “Because I’m not going to shoot” I calmly said and the man frowned. I heard a swoosh and I felt a gush of wind. Oh, thank god, I thought. I didn’t move my gun, but I noticed Barry was still up with everyone else and that Wally wasn’t. “Stop,” Wally told the man, walking towards him. My eyes flickered between both of them. “Ah, ah, ah!” The man snickered, “You can’t touch me speedster” I noticed Wally and Barry look at each other, Barry signaling hand movements. Wally stopped and turned to me, I shrugged my shoulders. Wally rolled his eyes and gestured for me to leave. I frowned and shook my head. He gave me a desperate look and I started giving in. I backed up, not completely leaving, but out of the way.

Wally turned back to the man and started waving his hands around, I watched as, again, everything moved in slow motion. Wally created air funnels and the amount of wind caused the man to fall back and crash through the back glass door. I saw Wally normally run out of the room, while everything else still moved in slow motion. I felt myself shaking, a lot more than usual. Everything returned to its normal speed, and Barry came running towards me. His eyes were wide as he approached me. I looked down as I saw my hands moving in an inhuman speed. I dropped my gun in surprise. I felt myself start to freak out. I felt Barry grab my hands and keep them from vibrating. I looked up at him in shock. “I was struck by lightning, too,” was the only thing I managed to say. “(Y/n), listen to me, we need to get you out of here” Barry began guiding me out of Jitters. “Barry? Queen!” Cecile called out as she saw us rush out. Barry didn’t mind her as he opened the door for me. He quickly took me to an empty alley. My whole arms were shaking now, too. The rest of the world decelerated and I felt electricity run through my body. Barry seemed to be the only thing that was moving with me. “Barry, what–what do I do?” I looked at him with bewildered eyes. “We need to get you to S.T.A.R. Labs” he told me as I felt my whole body vibrate. “I can’t” I shook my head. As I did so, Barry slowed down. He stood there, slowly taking me in. I felt myself worry again. I was alone. Not even Barry could keep up with me. My legs were starting to shake harder and I needed to move. Calm down, I told myself, you’re okay–you’re okay–what would Barry do? I tried calming down my breathing. Concentrating on slowing down. When I did, I managed to understand what Barry was saying. “Run, (Y/n),” his voice echoed through my head, “run”

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sitaaronkepaar · 7 years

Text

Daily Rikara Ramblings

Oh god, I know today's episode will give me high-key michmichis. Pls give me strength

Aww, Gauri's so cute in the precap. Also, it's kinda giving me English Vinglish teas.

Hain, why is Annika crying? Also, she's looking pwetty!! ♥️

Uff, yeh Oberoi's raaz banane ki factory hai. Har din naye naye raaz manufacture karte hai. Ffwding 🙄🙄🙄

God, why did you make gauri so QUYT!!! Like I want to hate this track, but Gauri's being so cute in it 😫😫😫

Thank god, crying, insecure Gauri is bye bye though. I was getting major michmichis looking at her. Back to my beautiful, confident, chirpy bulbul. That's the spirit kid. ♥️

Lol, iss uncle ki toh genuine problem hai. Upar se putting so much effort to learn the language of his bahu instead of forcing her to learn Marathi/Hindi. Progressive uncle is progressive! Go uncle!!!! 👴👴👴

Ohh, hot guy makes entry! Bet this is their professor. 😏

On a closer look, he's really not (hot)😔

But I'm so looking fwd to him making Omkara jel. Fuckin yissss😊😊😊😊😊

Ugh, this guy is really nice you guys!! Gauri should run away with him. 🤣🤣🤣

Also, I was so right about English Vinglish teas. Harneet ne us movie ko bhi nahi choda 🙄🙄🙄🙄

Okay, I never watched IB, and I mostly skip Shivaay's scenes but why the fuck does he hold his phone like a retard? Idgi. 😕😕😕

Fwd

Awww, man, I live for Omkara worrying about Gauri. He's so cute. 😭😭😭

Lol, he's hiding, pretending he's busy!! I can't, I can't. 😂😂😂😂

Gosh, this scene is so funny. 😂😂😂😂😂😂

"Matlab tumne mujhe dekha hi nahi"

Ab woh tumhe nahi kisi aur ko hi dekhegi Om. Shoulda hit that when ya had the chance boiii 😏😏😏😏

Lol, daadi pooch rahi thi. Like you don't care. Such a typical guy!! 😂

"Waise maine bhi..........nahi khaya tha"

Fuck wtf. He waited for her and usne suna bhi nahi, i can't. Poor Omkie. 😢😢😢 Now you know what Gauri's been feeling like all these months, eh 😼😼

Yaar, someone feed this boy. He didn't eat waiting for gauri, and i can't take his dejected face. 😖😖😖

Ffwding again, and Annika is crying but happy? I guess she read his letter? Thank god their confession is over. I hope they don't drag rikara's love confession(if it ever happens, that is). I want it to be something natural and in the moment. Like heart bursting so full of love they can't keep it inside, ya feel me?

Oh, no saahil ki custody naam ki hai. So sweet Shivaay. ♥️

Why am i lowkey interested in this? 🤔 Someday I'm gonna rewatch IB and hope i get invested in shivika. Honestly, it will probably be worth it. My poor heart can't take the stress Rikara give me daily. 😢😢😢

Aww, man shivika are so cute. My heart 😍😍😍😍

SvetVi nonsense. Wake me up when they team up against Tej again. Jhavi is at least tolerable when she's in team Svetlana, not against her.

Ffwding

Baki sab toh theek hai but kisi ne mere heere bete Om ko khana khilaya ya nahi? 😿😿😿

Hain, Bariely se parcel? Meaning Gauri's mom still remembers she's alive? Wow wow wow. 👏👏👏👏

Lo, aagayi Rikara ki cupid no 2.

"apne husbandS ko bhi bina bataye chali gayi"

Lmaoooo, I can't stop laughing at this. 😂😂😂😂 Koi pinky aunty ko bhi english classes me enroll kara do yaar. I can't. 😂😂😂😂😂😂

But i love how she tries to fuel their insecurities ek ek karke and it always fucking backfires. 🤣🤣🤣

Sigh, Omkareshwar stop being so naice to her! 😒😒😒

Fuck that horrible, no good flashback is back 😿😿😿😿😿

Idgi, gauri can pronounce words like "intelligent" with no problem, but she can't say "go" 🤔🤔🤔🤔

Lol barish ho gayi. Omkara pakka aag babula ho raha hoga waiting for gauri. Gosh, kitna forgranted leta hai ye banda gauri ko. Why does she need to be infront of him 24/7 hmmm. 🤔🙄🙄

This group scene is bakwas. But I've finally started finding OpenHairKara hot af. 🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤Like now i don't want him to tie his hair at all. 😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍

Oh god, this teacher dude is such a bad actor.

"I'm allergic to eggs" and down he falls. 🙄🙄🙄🙄

Gauri ki kismet me bas faint hone wale ladke hi likhe hain 😥😥😥😥😥

I should be worried for him but i can't take his bad acting lmao. It looks fucking hilarious. 😂😂😂😂

This angrez is a doctor. How convenient lmao.

Maybe Gauri should think about running away with this angrez doctor. I'm sure staying with nazuk omkara has given her ptsd for life. Maybe this angrez can help treat it. 😏😏😏

Aee le. Dadi ne ek aur naya function paida kar diya. Normal logo wale function kyu celebrate nahi karte yeh log? These Oberois be so extra i swear. 🙄🙄🙄

How are they celebrating this function without Gauri? Matlab Gauri koi ahemiyat bhi hai kuch ghar me ya nahin? 😑😑😑😑

Even Rudy's like, "not another silly game, ughhh" 😂😂😂

He's still traumatised by lovakshri!! Rofl 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

Don't think I didn't notice Omkara calling Gauri in the background. 😏😏😏😏

Aaj kuch zyada hi miss kar raha hai. 😃😃😃

Lol, is it because it's a team game and Omkara's like, "hamari team sahi hai" 😁😁😁

Ahhhhh, my heart, Omkara missing Gauri, looking for Gauri, calling Gauri, all tadaping and shit is just making me want to give him a hug! What a qt puppy ♥️♥️♥️♥️

Ofc, pinky doesn't want to play this game. She only likes to play real life games which ruin people's lives 😒😒😒😒

Oh god pinky is so fuckin annoying. Like I legit want to punch the bitch. 😤😤😤😤

I want to ffwd this nonsense, but I don't want to miss Omkara pining for dear wife in the bg lol. 😍😍😍😍

Man, he's sitting all akela and my dil is feeling so bad for him. 😩😩😩

Lol, shakti, cactus kaha se layega ab 😂

Why is everyone in the family trying to force RuVya. Like do they even realise she was just there on duty? Is poore kamre me bas chubby k paas hi dimaag hai.

Fuck you rudy, stop being a dick to chubby, man! He's so nice, and you're being an ass. 😾😾😾

FINALLY GAURI, THANK GOD.♥️♥️♥️♥️ Tumhare bina meri bhi Omkara jaise halat ho rahi thi 😌😌😌

Lol, Svetlana's pushing tej on the bed like she's getting ready to fuck him 😂😂😂😂😂😂

Lukwarm sada nahi gunguna pani hota hai. But yay, SmartRi is back ♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️

Matlab sabse hawa ladki ko chest pump karne k liye bola. I know Gauri's powerful and all, but couldn't he have asked someone with a little more dum? Lol

"sorry guys, he's no more"

Hain, is this a test? Itni jaldi kaise mar gaya? Must be a test? But on second day? Oh fuck it. Main kyu sir khapa rahi hu 🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄

Ffwding bhudhon ka ishq 🙄

"Boom, hahahahhaha"

Knew this was a stupidass test. Lameness ki hadd. 🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄

Agar main gauri hoti, I'd have punched the guy!

Or maybe not,

"tum intelligent ho gauri"

Aww, look at bby. That exhibition fiasco really hurt her self esteem. She's the same gauri who'd said just bc i don't know english doesn't mean I'm stupid and today she thought she wasn't intelligent. I'm just glad this guy actually helped her raise it, and made her believe in herself again unlike some other guy who barsaoed his gussa on her for no damn reason 😒😒😒

OMG WHAT A FEELS WALA PRECAP!!! CAN'T WAIT 😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍

#rikara #omkara singh oberoi #gauri kumari sharma #ishqbaaz #live blogging

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omgxiaoch · 7 years

Text

Monsta X and their conforming s/o

requested by anon~

a/n: okay at first i was confused whether it was comforting or conforming then it was conforming (iactuallysearchedthewordlololololsorry) so i hope you guys enjoy this! i apologize for any misspelled words or wrong grammar and if ever i’ve offended someone... huhu i didn’t mean to tho. credits to the owners for these gifs!

masterlist

Shownu;

this boy would be clueless about you being conforming about traditional customs, standards, and expectations

once the boys told him about the signs of someone who is conforming, he’d still be clueless

ever since they told him about the signs, he would observe your actions, words and many more

however, once he finally saw a green light to all of the signs he wouldn’t really change his perspective of you

he’d be even more interested in you, constantly asking about what you think of this and that

but then he’d also be worried

worried that you might get hurt because of the fact that you conform to anything that is standard in the society

‘babe, you do know that you don’t have to go by the book right?’

‘i know but i want to do it’

by the second that left your mouth, shownu would just support you and secretly try to protect you from the bad stuff

i actually dont know what type of bad stuff but yeah, bad stuff

as days passed, he noticed that it got worse

he’d actually try to talk to you, one on one

by the second that you tried to disagree and defend yourself once he finished telling you what he wanted to say

he’d hear you out but then would point out what’s wrong

but then he wouldn’t force you to change since he will always love you for who you are

and after the talk, the two of you might just go out and eat some patbingsu

Wonho;

this boy would notice it right away

being someone who always go by the standards and book, wonho wouldn’t be that happy tho

since he knows at some point, you’ll just get hurt

and he doesn’t want to see the person he loves hurting

so, instead of attacking you directly with his questions, he’ll casually talk about the rules or standards that is present in our society

and he would actually tell you that sometimes it would be nice to break the rules

only to receive a negative response from you

that’s when his questions enter

he, just like shownu, would explain what would happen if you’d be always by the book or complying to all the standards that society wants us to be

and how he’d feel if something happens to you

knowing how cruel the world is, he’d actually ask if you could just lessen the ‘conforming to every rules and standards’

but then once he sees that you’re getting uncomfortable with the topic, he’ll change the topic and try to brighten up the mood

before that, he’d apologize to you first since he doesn’t want to see you upset because of him

once that he sees you that you’re fine, he’ll be happy and maybe try to talk to you about it maybe some other time

however, when you came home with tears in your eyes, he’d immediately ask you what happened

and you’ll tell him about this dude you almost harassed you because you corrected him and told him that he was going against the rules

and that, my children, will be the start of wonho scolding you but not that scolding that could hurt you but that type of scolding that would make you realize

but then he wouldn’t really force you to change right away

Kihyun;

this boy would find it cute when he sees you abiding the rules and regulations to every single thing

seeing you cutely tell him that he’s going against the rule or standard, fits of giggles coming from him would fill the room, like literally

then this goes by for how many days and he’d still think that you’re cute

but then, he notices that you’re always going for what the society wants,

using this set of branded clothes or going on a diet because the society only finds those who have bodies like idols beautiful and when you’re fat, they’ll call you ugly and whatnots

he’d be unhappy about it

like really unhappy

he’d actually confront you out of the blue, asking you why you’re suddenly doing this and that

but when you told him that the society or the book says that blah blah blah blah blah

he’d actually shuush you up.

a savage yet honest Kihyun would legit appear

he wouldn’t really think of his words to be honest, may it offend or hurt you

but it’s only the way for him to show how much it affects him to see that you’re going through all this trouble

but then once he sees you on the verge of tears, he’d be angry at himself

he’d immediately apologize for what he just said, if he’d offended or hurt you

and he would also explain his side, how he doesn’t want to see you do this just to follow what the society wants

and yes, just like shownu and wonho, he wouldn’t force you to change yourself just because he doesn’t like that side of yours

Minhyuk;

this minnie wouldn’t be able to notice it right away to be honest

when he sees you doing things by the book, he’d just shrug it off and continue with what he’s doing

when the members tells him about you being a conforming person, he’d just look at them and tell them that he does not know what they’re talking about

and when they explain it to him, he’d be ‘. o . )’ to every single word that he understands

when minhyuk and you hang out for no particular reason, the thought of you being a conforming person would literally be on repeat on his mind

and once that you notice his change of actions and expressions, you’d ask him what’s wrong, to which he’d just reply ‘nothing, babe’

and you’d just shrug it off lel

when both of you are out, he’d start observing you.... thinking that he’s not obvious

and he’d be freaking obvious, which will make you give him a look and ask him what’s up

and he’d literally spill everything and you’ll just be ‘lol’

okay, so once he’d seen everything that answered his questions, he’d still be ‘. o .)?’

but then once he finally sees the big picture, he wouldn’t really care to be honest

since it’s who you really are and he loves you for it

seeing how you can handle all those negative stuff being thrown at you for being always by the book, he respects you for it

but once he sees that someone is going over that line, he’d be mad asf

he’d actually defend you tho

and instead of you being held back, it’ll be him that you’ll be holding back since he mind cause some trouble lelelel

Hyungwon;

it won’t bother this boiii

you going by the book? fine by him, it’s even attractive since a woman like you knows what is wrong and what is right

and you can also give justice to those who are being ganged up by ignorant people

but then, you going by the standards of the society? not okay

he’d be bothered about it to be honest

like you’re beautiful and unique in your own ways, why follow all of the things that are only accepted by the society?

what’s wrong about being a unique individual that doesn’t give a fck about what other people think?

he’d literally be confused why you’re doing the ‘accepted’ or ‘must be followed’ standards in the society

but then when he sees you changing yourself because it does not abide to what the society wants damn, i’d better hide myself if i were you

he’d be legit straightforward with you

asking you why’re you’re changing yourself and he’d be pissed off, i tell you

he doesn’t want you to change yourself for someone who you’re really not, someone who’s the standard of acceptance in the society

no, he’s not gonna take all that bs coz he knows that you’re some who’s pure and who’s freaking amazing

but then he’s totally fine with you going by the book

but then he’d be annoyed sometimes... especially when the two of you are playing.... boardgames

you’d be like jooheon, saying ‘time time time *with matching hand gesture* and he’d reach that point wherein he’d literally stop playing and cuddle with you instead since he loves you...

and he’d still love you for who you are despite being a conforming person. if you still want to continue with what you really want, he’d support you but then he’d tell you to limit your actions tho since he doesn’t want to see you hurt

Jooheon;

this bundle of cuteness wouldn’t really mind if you’re complying to all of the rules and regulations

but then he’d mind if you’d follow the standards of society

since he himself does not want to see you lose self-esteem or self-confidence or even change yourself

he wants you to love yourself, may it be your flaws or strengths, he just wants you to learn how to love yourself without letting he ‘accepted’ stuff in the society affect you

but then he’d be whiney to be honest

since whenever the two of you are playing, you’ll always follow the rules

and when he suggests a new syle of the game, you’d actually hear him out

and once the two of you finally set the rules for the game, you’d be at peace at firs

and once this cutie decides to break the rules,

you’d be attacking him, telling him that he can’t do that since its not in the rules and what not

he’d be bitter, annoyed and yeah, he’d probably whine

but then when it comes to the real world, when someone tries to correct you or him or even the boys,

you were always there to defend yourself or him or the boys

and sometimes, things kinda get out of hand and this would literally stress him out

so he’d talk to you about it and all

but then he wouldn’t really change his perspectives of you tho

he’d still love you for who you really are and would even want to make you his wife idk what im saying lol

I.M;

do i need to even explain myself? this boy would be literally onto you

knowing that you know almost all of the rules, he’d be asking you random questions like what should you do in blah blah blah

but then, this boy finds it attractive

and he’d even call you sexy since your brain knows a lot of information and stuff

but then when he sees you conforming to every single thing there is in the society, he’d be confused at first

then he’d be slightly ticked off when he sees what this conforming this has done to you and whatnots

but then he wouldn’t force you to stop or change

he’d just maybe, vent out what he thinks about your actions and let you understand his side

and he’d also hear you out and understand your side and idk maybe make a deal with you

like if you succeed in lessening your actions that might cause trouble or burden, then he’d do anything that you want and vice-versa

however, things may not go as planned so there might be times that you might almost get into a fight when you’re out

and this would literally worry him to be honest

then once again, he’d have a heart to heart talk with you

but this time, he’d be firm about what he’s going to say. just imagine a serious changkyun, okay a serious changkyun, okay are you imagining it? good

he respects the idea of you abiding to the rules and regulations and even to the standards of the society BUUUUUT

A BIG BUTT-- a big but, conforming to every single thing that is accepted can cause you trouble or even hurt you ANNND he doesn’t want to see you hurt

but then, he wouldn’t force you to change. and once this talk is done, his love for you won’t change. he’d still love and support you

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 4 years

Text

Eccentricity [Chapter 5: I’ve Lived The Life And Paid For Every Crime]

Series Summary: Joe Mazzello is a nice guy with a weird family. A VERY weird family. They have a secret, and you have a choice to make. Potentially a better love story than Twilight.

Chapter Title Is A Lyric From: Some Kind Of Disaster by All Time Low.

Chapter Warnings: Language, references to drugs and violence.

Other Chapters (And All My Writing) Available: HERE

Tagging: @queen-turtle-boiii @bramblesforbreakfast @writerxinthedark @maggieroseevans @culturefiendtrashqueen @imnotvibingveryguccimrstark @escabell @im-an-adult-ish @someforeigntragedy @imtheinvisiblequeen @deacyblues @tensecondvacation @brianssixpence @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhye @some-major-ishues @haileymorelikestupid @loveandbeloved29

Please yell at me if I forget to tag you! 💜

Easy Questions, Evasive Answers

“So it was nothing,” Archer said, glancing up from where he was tinkering around beneath the hood of my 1999 Honda Accord, checking hoses and belts and dipsticks. “This is pathetic, by the way. That you can’t change your own windshield wiper fluid. Dishonor on you. Dishonor on your cow.”

“I never had my own car in Phoenix!” I objected around a mouthful of a Starbucks pumpkin muffin, my first of the season. And that was true: Renee and I couldn’t afford one. “I didn’t have to learn about car things!”

“No, it’s great, I love it, I have a customer for life.”

“It was totally nothing,” I told him. Meaning the photograph in the newspaper article from 1979. Meaning my paranoia surrounding beautiful, brooding, certifiably lethal Benjamin Lee.

Not Lee, I reminded myself. Benjamin August Hardy, born November 3rd 1893.

“Was it really?” Archer asked, skeptical.

“Uhhh, you were the one who was making fun of me for thinking he might be a time traveler. Or a bigfoot.” Or a vampire.

“Yeah, okay, true...” He let the hood of the Honda fall shut with a bang, then wiped the muddy streaks of motor oil from his hands with a stained rag. “But you were freaked out. Like super freaked out.”

“I was, yeah. But it wasn’t him in the photo. I took another look, there were freckles and, uh, like, uh, some other things that didn’t match up.”

“Huh.” Archer watched me with an expression I couldn’t read. “I didn’t notice that.”

“Ben laughed about it. Probably thinks I’m an idiot. A stalker and an idiot.”

Archer smirked slyly. “He must not have held it against you too much. I’ve never seen that guy laugh in my life.”

I took a moody bite of my muffin, rolled my eyes, feigned shallow schoolgirl angst. “Trust me, he’s not my biggest fan.”

“Ohhhh, and this bothers you?” Archer sauntered over and stole a crumbling hunk out of the pumpkin muffin. “Does someone have a little crush on the gorgeous, grouchiest Lee?”

“Definitely not.” I sipped my chai latte, contemplative, debating telling him more.

“Uh oh. There’s something else, I can see it. Spill the tea, you walking college-chick-who’s-obsessed-with-fall stereotype.”

“I’m so excited! I’m going to get to see changing leaves this year!” Cacti are majestic, ancient, intrepid, and they remind me of home; but they never change. They’re like desert earth that way, like the ocean. Like vampires, actually.

“We’ll have to do all the Instagram-worthy stuff. Pumpkin patches. Hay mazes. Apple picking...you can even bring that Ben guy if you want to. If he promises not to murder me with his mysterious time-travelling demon powers.”

Oh, kid, you have no idea. “So...I am kind of into a Lee guy. But it’s not Ben.”

Archer gasped, inhaled pumpkin muffin morsels, bent over as he hacked them out of his lungs. “Who?!” he rasped, scandalized, and then coughed again.

I couldn’t help but smile as his name spilled out: “Joe.”

“Which one is that? The Middle Eastern Men’s Vogue model one?”

I laughed, shaking my head. “No, not Rami. He has a girlfriend, by the way.” And has for the past half a century.

Archer wiggled his eyebrows. “Just because there’s a goalie doesn’t mean you can’t score.”

“Oh my god, please never say that phrase again.”

“Joe is the...” He closed his eyes as he drummed his fingers against the metal workbench, trying to remember.

“The Italian one,” I finished for him.

“Ahhh. The annoying one.”

“He is not annoying! Why do people keep saying he’s annoying?! He’s hilarious, and sweet, and lowkey wicked smart, and, and, and...”

Archer whistled, grinning, his dark eyes sparkling. “Damn, girl. You do like him. You really like him.”

I sighed in defeat. “Okay. I really, really like him.”

“Like him as in would swipe right on Tinder, or like him as in you want to get married and honeymoon in Hawaii and have twelve pasty, angular babies?”

“Oh wow.” And for the first time, I was confronted with the singular enigma that was a future with Joe. Vampires had relationships with other vampires, obviously, even marriages; but that didn’t mean the same rules applied to humans. Did he like me? Could he like me? What would that even look like? How would it end? And it would have to end, of course, eventually. Unless somehow I stopped aging too. “More than just a right swipe. We’ll see about the twelve kids.”

“Just make sure he wraps it before he taps it. I’m too young to be an uncle.”

“Stop,” I pleaded, gulping down my latte, averting my gaze across Archer’s small garage filled with customers’ vehicles, pretending not to be intrigued and yearning and petrified. I couldn’t imagine hooking up with someone as faultless and—presumably—experienced as Joe and being anything but a disappointment. I’ve never hooked up with anyone. At all. Ever.

“What?” he asked, concerned, thieving another piece of my pumpkin muffin. Powdered sugar dusted his fingers like the snow I’ve only seen two or three times in my life.

“Nothing. I just really wish you went to Calawah too.”

“And give up all this easy money from clueless suburbs people like you?” Archer beamed, wily and proud and affectionate. “Not a fucking chance.”

No More Sad Spaghetti

Joe gawked in horror, chomping noisily on his Big League Chew bubblegum, as I unwrapped the peanut butter sandwich I’d packed for lunch. It was mostly cloudy in the early September sky overhead, but he was still wearing sunglasses. He had traded in his ubiquitous U Chicago apparel for a Cubs t-shirt. Squirrels scurried through the bigleaf maple trees that dotted the campus, snatching up acorns with tiny clawed paws, wriggling whiskered noses in our direction.

“What’s your problem?” I asked, taking a bite. “It’s not sad spaghetti.”

He blew a small pink bubble, then popped it with his teeth. “Yeah, but it’s...like...mangled.”

“It got trapped between my textbooks!” I protested. Admittedly, the accordion-shaped peanut butter sandwich—my vegetarian alternative to fishstick Thursday—kind of sucked.

“You can’t eat that. Oh my god. It’s making me so sad. Give it to the squirrels.” Joe pulled out his iPhone. “What’s your preferred pizza topping?”

“I can’t tell you,” I replied, tossing my sandwich towards the nearest tree. A hoard of squirrels immediately descended upon it and proceeded to battle for dominance, emitting shrill, peanut-butter-crazed shrieks.

His brow furrowed. “Why can’t you tell me?”

“Because you might not like me anymore.”

“Why would I not like you because of pizza...?” And then he knew. “Oh no, oh god, please don’t say pineapple.”

“I’m a pineapple pizza person.”

“Baby Swan,” Joe said, deadly serious, pressing his palms together. “That is straight up sacrilegious. You can’t put tropical fruit on a pizza. You realize I’m Italian, like an actual Italian. I’m so Italian I’ve killed other Italians for being the wrong kind of Italian. That’s how Italian I am.”

“I feel like maybe I shouldn’t socialize with literal mobsters. It’s unsavory.”

“Settle down, I’m ordering the half-pineapple pizza, you freaking barbarian.”

I watched Joe as he tapped his thumbs against the screen, humming to himself, amused, perpetually buoyant. And I couldn’t picture him as a monster, as a killer: pulling triggers, slitting throats, digging blades into soft vulnerable love handles, feeling for the mortal puncture of a lung or kidney. I asked him, my voice quiet, hesitant, almost lost in the autumn wind: “Did you actually hurt people?”

“Nah. I didn’t have the stomach for it, even back then. I was on the deal-making side of things. The business side. I was a people person, a smooth talker, astronomically charming.”

I smiled, mischievous. “That’s difficult to imagine.”

“Okay, so no cheesy breadsticks for you.”

“I’m sorry, mob guy. Please order the breadsticks. You’re so charming I can’t stand it. My jeans are unzipping all by themselves.”

He raised an eyebrow and grinned. “So you’ll sacrifice your dignity for breadsticks. Good to know.” He finished typing and laid his iPhone on the grass. “Alright, next question.”

“Does your hair grow?” Joe’s hair—I couldn’t help but notice—seemed longer than it was the day I met him a week and a half ago, disorderly and auburn-tinted, ruffling in the breeze.

“It does, yeah. Hair and nails still grow. So you have to shave, but you can’t get razor burn. And any nicks close right up.”

“Very cool. How often do you need to eat? You know...actually eat.”

“It varies, but generally twice a week.”

“And what kind of animal has the tastiest blood? Besides...well...” I gestured towards myself. “The upright two-legged kind with opposable thumbs and a partiality for pineapple pizza.”

He blew another bubble, then leaned in towards me. And I realized, for the first time, that he had his own inherent, exclusive, totally Bath-And-Body-Works-worthy scent as well; Dr. Gwilym Lee was sandalwood and campfires and log cabins, Mercy was roses and vanilla...and Joe was pine trees, peppermint, cold night air, like all of that eternally youthful magic of Christmas Eve sieved into a bottle. I popped the sheer pink bubble with the cap of my blue pen. Joe asked: “Do humans like chocolate or vanilla ice cream? Coffee or tea? Baseball or something hella lame?”

“Depends on the human.”

“Exactly. Same deal for vampires. I prefer bears, especially grizzlies. Lucy and Mercy like deer, elk, moose, animals like that. Ones with hooves. Weirdly, Rami’s favorite is crocodile, I think because it was the first thing he ever tried in Egypt. He doesn’t get it very often, but has been known to buy them on the black market on occasion. Scarlett likes mountain lions. Also domestic cats, but you didn’t hear that from me. Gwil is a wolf guy, but he won’t kill the endangered kinds. Such a gentleman.”

“How about Ben?”

“Ben’s still coming around to the whole eating animals thing. I don’t think he has a favorite yet.”

Joe isn’t a killer, and he never was; I could believe that. But Ben... “Why is he so different than the rest of you?”

“That’s...kind of a long story,” Joe replied carefully.

“It wouldn’t be such a long story if people stopped talking about how it’s a long story and actually told it to me.”

He flashed a grin, revealing white canine teeth filed into points; they were subtle, yes, but they were there. Fangs. I envisioned pressing a fingerprint against them and feeling the flesh split in two, the blood dripping down onto his tongue like Washington rain. And unlike Joe’s skin, mine wouldn’t knit back together on its own. “But then I wouldn’t have the pleasure of tormenting you with the prospect of incredibly juicy yet confidential information!”

I rolled my eyes, sipped my can of Diet Coke, returned my attention to our lunch plans. “So garlic doesn’t repel you. That part of the lore is completely made up.”

“Yup. Thank god. Eternal life would be worthless without pizza.”

“Can you do drugs? Get drunk?”

“We can’t overdose, but we can get the effects of anything we consume. It’s not a good habit to get into though. If you’re nodding on heroin for like four days at a time, it’s pretty easy for some other vampire to find and murder you.”

“So a vampire can be killed by another vampire.”

“Absolutely. Next question.”

I consulted my mental list. “Do you sleep?”

“Yeah. Well, kind of. We nap for a few hours a day.”

“What happens if you don’t?”

“We get bitchy. Really bitchy. We essentially turn into Ben.”

I laughed, chewing absentmindedly on the end of my pen. “So that’s his problem. He hasn’t napped in a century. Now it all makes sense.”

“Something like that,” Joe said. “You gonna come over tonight?”

“I don’t know. I’m supposed to present The Walruses And Me tomorrow and I still haven’t started the book.”

“What do you know, I can tell you all about The Walruses And Me!”

“Seriously? You’ve read it?”

“No, but I can enthusiastically narrate the Wikipedia article to you while you pet Mercy’s alpacas.”

“That sounds like a terrible idea.”

“Terrible for your grade in Marine Mammals. Good for your development as an interesting and happy human.”

“Nice try, but I’m already both of those things.”

Joe reached out suddenly, jarringly, and ran the back of his hand across my cheek. My favorite Lee, I thought, thoroughly transfixed but trying to hide it. Oh no. “Interesting, definitely. But I have this gnawing, distressing suspicion that you’re still working on the happy part.”

“I miss the desert,” I confessed. That wasn’t quite all of the problem, but it was accurate: I missed the heat, the sun, the parched prehistoric air I had always called home. Although I was beginning to find reasons to like Forks, Charlie and Archer and the promise of a Pacific Northwestern autumn; and then one big reason in particular. A very old, pale, chatty, Italian reason.

“A bit of a quandary for a future marine biologist,” he replied gently, perhaps apprehensively.

“I always figured I’d live somewhere like San Diego or Los Angeles or Galveston. Someplace on the ocean, but also sunny and hot and with palm trees. The best of both worlds. But you couldn’t go there with me, could you?”

Oh no.

Oh NO.

Oh fuck, this is definitely a crushing-on-Lee-boys zone.

Joe stared at me through his sunglasses, chomping on his Big League Chew, the corners of his mouth turned up and etching lines like parentheses into his face, pleased and nodding slowly and triumphant somehow. Then he struck out his hand again, this time with his pinky raised like a flagpole. “No more pathetic depressing lunches.”

“You got it. No more sad spaghetti. No more sad peanut butter sandwiches. You have my solemn, human vow.”

He smiled as his pinky entwined with mine. “No more sad anything.”

“So this vampire thing sounds like a pretty sweet gig. No dying, no consequences for a hellacious diet or wild condomless orgies, literal superpowers, perfect hair...why doesn’t everyone get to live that way?”

He shrugged; and there was an unfamiliar, meditative tension in his face. Almost sorrow. “It’s not all pizza and orgies and heroin. We have weaknesses too.”

“Like what?”

“Hey, look!” Joe piped cheerfully, twisting around towards the parking lot. “I think our GrubHub guy is here.”

Bad Blood

I was definitely regretting that fourth slice of pineapple pizza as I waddled into Chemistry, navigating sluggishly around the hulking frat boys and giggling sorority girls and mousy bookish types who lugged around colossal backpacks that were always threatening to knock an unsuspecting passerby off their feet at each unthinking turn. But while I was arriving in the classroom—physically, anyway; emotionally I was standing in an empty field somewhere screaming I cannot be falling in love with a hundred-year-old mobster vampire!! into the void—Ben was a countercurrent darting through the crowds and towards the hallway door.

“Where are you rushing off to, old guy?” I asked him. “Bingo? To renew your AARP membership? To walk vigorously around the inside of a mall?”

Ben responded in that deep, low, humorless voice. “They’re doing some kind of blood typing experiment today. I probably shouldn’t be around for that.”

“Oh.” I glanced over at Professor Belvin, who was indeed hunched over the table at the front of the classroom and laying out rows of Q-tips and rectangular paper cards and alcohol swabs and bottles of clear liquid, whistling what sounded like Time Of The Season.

Ben sighed irritably, rubbing his crinkled forehead. “I already used up all my absences. I’m gonna have to make up a compelling last-minute tragedy. Tell Professor Belvin my grandma died or something.”

“I mean, technically, she did at some point.”

“Ugh,” Ben replied, not consoled at all.

“Wait, I got this.”

I gripped my belly, sank into the nearest chair, and groaned dramatically. It really didn’t require all that much acting. Ben watched with huge green eyes, confounded.

“Miss Swan!” Professor Belvin cried, rushing over. He was wearing khaki pants, a white shirt, and suspenders and a matching bowtie patterned with bubbling multicolored test tubes. Belvin had been Charlie’s classmate from kindergarten through high school, and still palled around with him over Bud Lights and low-quality nachos on bowling league nights. Bowling was, evidently, the sport of choice for middle-aged Forks dads. Also for Welsh vampire pseudo-dads born in the 1400s.

I whimpered in reply.

“Are you alright, Miss Swan?” Professor Belvin asked worriedly. A few students had begun to congregate around the scene. I felt a pang of genuine nausea as perspiration beaded at my temples. You better appreciate this, Mr. Hardy.

“I’m okay,” I said, in my most pained and martyrish voice. “I don’t want to miss...today’s lesson...it looks so fascinating...but I didn’t wash my kale thoroughly last night and then I had a salad for dinner and now I might have food poisoning.”

“You poor thing!” Belvin exclaimed, shaking his head. “Don’t worry about class. You can just answer some textbook questions or something, no problem. Please go get checked out to make sure you’re alright.”

“Could someone...maybe...help me get to the campus clinic...?” My eyes listed towards Ben. “Maybe...my lab partner?”

“That’s a good idea.” Professor Belvin turned to Ben. “Mr. Lee, would you be willing to escort Miss Swan to the clinic? You can do an alternative assignment as well. If you don’t mind missing the blood typing lab.”

“I’d be delighted to help,” Ben responded, still puzzled. I offered him my hand, and Ben took it, grimacing as he led me out into the hallway. As soon as we were alone, he dropped my hand and opened up several feet of space between us.

“Thanks so much, Miss Swan, you are a lifesaver,” I said, imitating his morose, rumbling British accent. “Oh, you’re very welcome, Ben. You can repay me in basic courteous conversation and Starbucks gift cards and by maybe not killing me.”

“So you’re totally fine?” Ben asked flatly.

“Of course. Nobody with taste eats raw kale.”

Frowning, frustrated, he started puffing on his vape pen. “You need to stop doing nice things for me. It’s extremely disorienting.”

“This may be difficult for you to come to terms with, but you, Ben Hardy, are worth being the recipient of nice things.”

“No, you still don’t get it,” he snapped, grabbing my wrist, spinning me around to face him in the empty hallway. “That’s all I’ve ever done. Kill people like you.”

The Fire

“Who is the cutest little alpaca I’ve ever seen?!” I cooed in a squeaky falsetto, scratching her wooly brown chin. “Who’s going to come home and live with me and Charlie forever?!”

“That’s illegal, ma’am.” Joe was watching me, arms crossed over his Chicago Cubs t-shirt, smiling wistfully.

“It is not!”

“It actually is,” Rami added. He was lying on the grass and gazing up into the roiling, grey, late-afternoon clouds with his fingers laced behind his black hair. None of the Lees were wearing sunglasses now. “A house has to be zoned as farmland to have alpacas, which ours is. Yours, tragically, is not.”

“What are you, a lawyer?” I shot back.

Rami grinned. “I was once. And I will be again, in approximately...let me count...five years.”

“That’s what you want to do with your boundless time and energy? Be a corporate shill?”

Joe cackled. “He tried that already. It lasted about five minutes.”

“Manhattan in the 1980s,” Rami reminisced dreamily. “Hundred-hour workweeks. Cocaine everywhere. What a time to be alive. And I hardly ever left the office, so the sunlight thing wasn’t a problem.”

“Okay, so you’re not in it for the Maseratis or the drugs...”

“I’m going to be an immigration attorney,” Rami told me. “Help refugees apply for asylum to come to the United States. Arabic-speaking refugees, in particular.”

“Wow. I stand corrected. That’s wonderful, Rami. I now feel like a total tool for only aspiring to save sea turtles.” But it made sense, of course. What would any good person spend eternity doing? Making the world just a tiny bit better. I glanced at Joe, teasing him. “And you just study how to get rich, huh?”

“I’m a venture capitalist,” he said brightly. “I invest in small businesses, counsel them, encourage them, connect them with other people in the industry, help them grow. And I don’t need the money, so I take a practically microscopic equity stake. I’m basically a professional charitable donor.”

“And you get to put all of those charming mob-guy skills to use.”

Joe winked. “Exactly.”

“Doesn’t it get old?” I asked both of them. “Being college students?”

Rami shrugged. “No really. The world changes, schools of thought evolve, our own interests fluctuate. Every few decades we circle back and go for another round, fresh degrees, maybe new professions entirely. You learn something new every time.”

“And I’ve been waiting for all my old professors to die so I could go back to U Chicago for fifty years!” Joe shouted. “I’m fucking pumped!”

“But...don’t you already know everything...?”

Joe chuckled. “We’re vampires, Baby Swan, we’re not prodigies. We’re sharper than the average person, sure. But it still takes effort to learn. And we all have things we suck at.”

“Like not being obnoxious,” Rami said, nodding to Joe.

“Like not minding our own fucking business,” Joe hurled back.

“I cannot control the fact that I’m a literal mind reader—”

“You boys behave yourselves,” Mercy called in her relaxed, drawling Southern accent, swinging a basket of carrots and zucchinis and cabbages that she’d dug out of her garden, wearing a long flowing yellow dress and her hair tied up in a scarf. She plodded over in her bare feet, handed me a few carrots, then pointed to the chocolate-colored alpaca I was petting. “That lady there is Athens. And the black and white one by Joe is Augusta. Then there’s Norcross, and Alpharetta, and Savannah...and that real chubby grey one heading into the barn is Marietta.”

“I adore them,” I replied, beaming. Mercy had sheep and pigs and a couple of cows too, all ambling contently around the emerald green field as the first threads of fiery, rust-hued sunset were lighting up the horizon.

“We used to have ducks, too,” Mercy mused. “But they disappeared recently...”

Rami passed Joe a knowing smirk. Joe mouthed back menacingly: Do not.

“Hey mom,” Rami piped.

Joe jabbed an index finger at him. “No, don’t you dare, don’t you fucking dare—”

“Joe ate the ducks.”

“You bitch!” Joe cried.

“Oh, Joseph,” Mercy sighed mournfully, lifting a brush out of her basket and dragging it down Athens’ fuzzy back.

“I’m sorry! It was one time! I was weak!”

“I’m not angry, sweetheart,” Mercy said. “I’m just disappointed.”

“Mom, that’s worse!”

Rami climbed to his feet and swatted grass and leaves off his cardigan sweater. “Alright folks. My work here is done. Peace out.”

“Oh no, you don’t get to do a hit and run like that, hey, Rami, hey, hey, come back here!”

Joe trotted after him, shouting a litany of insults, as Rami laughed hysterically and careened into the house. Lucy and Gwil were in the kitchen baking chocolate chip cookies; Scarlett was in the garage changing the brakes on Ben’s Vantage; Ben was noticeably absent from the Lee household and presumably out hunting. It was remarkably easy to picture his fingers closing around bloodied flesh, a wolf’s or a bear’s or an elk’s, lowering his fangs to a pulsing jugular.

“So you’re really into this whole farming thing,” I said to Mercy, looking out over the field rimmed by towering western hemlock trees. I didn’t know exactly how many acres of land the Lees owned, but it was a lot. Mercy adopted rescue animals, donated vegetables from the garden to local food pantries, and occasionally rented out the barn as a wedding venue.

“I’ve always loved it. I had a farm, you know. Before I met Gwil.”

Before she died.

“I didn’t know that,” I murmured, wanting to learn more, afraid to ask, never meaning to pry or offend. “I remember you mentioned the Civil War, and a barn...being...well...being trapped in it. When it burned down.”

Mercy nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, that’s the polite version of the story, isn’t it?” She set down her basket in the tall grass, tugged distractedly at a dark strand of hair that had escaped her scarf, stared glassily out into the sunset muted with cloud cover as Athens moseyed away. “Do you want to know what happened? I’ll tell you if you do. But I don’t want to upset you, dear.”

My voice was barely a whisper. “I’d like to know.”

“We had a little farm out in the middle of nowhere,” Mercy explained. “My husband Arthur and I.”

And it felt so outlandish to hear her say those words. Husband. She had a husband before Gwil. She had a whole life before this one.

“He had a bullet in one leg and a limp from a hunting accident when he was a boy, so he was never called up to enlist. It was a rich man’s war, but it was the poor men they sent to die in it. That’s how it always goes, I expect. And how it always will. We had two daughters, twelve and fifteen. I won’t tell you their names. Don’t take that personally, dear. I haven’t spoken their names in a hundred and fifty years.”

She turned her murky eyes—like homemade bread crust or coffee or the wood walls of a log cabin—to me.

“When the Union Army came through, they were beasts. Men like that...men who have been killing and looting and burning their way across hundreds of miles...all they want to do is get blood on their hands. That’s all they remember how to do. So that’s exactly what they did. They slaughtered our cattle for meat. They burned the house down. And then they took me and my girls, and they...they...well, you know what they did. What men do when they’re monsters. And when Arthur tried to stop them, they shot him in the chest and spit mouthfuls of chewing tobacco on him as he bled out in the dirt. Called him a coward and a deserter. Told him everything they were planning to do to me and my girls. And when they were done doing all of those things, they locked the three of us in the barn and set it ablaze. I was the only one still alive when Gwilym got there. And believe me, I didn’t want to be.”

“I’m so sorry,” I breathed, my throat burning for Mercy, for her family, for this divinely kind and benign and tender woman.

She patted my cheek fondly. “It’s alright, sweetheart. It’s not your fault. I got a second chance. Gwilym gave me a second chance. That’s what he does, you know. He finds broken people, fixes them, loves them fiercely. He gave me forever. Two more daughters. And three sons.”

Three sons, I thought. Rami and Joe and Ben. She counted Ben.

“Does someone have to be dying?” I asked her softly. “You know. To become like you.”

“No, honey. That’s just how Gwil does things.”

“But...why? What’s the possible downside? Why not change anyone who wants it?” Why not change someone like me?

And Mercy peered over at me, contemplative, curious, like tiptoeing gingerly over rotted floorboards, like weaving through a minefield. Like she was trying to figure out what I’d already been told.

“Hey Baby Swan,” Joe said, startling me. I whirled to see him waiting with a patient smile and his hands buried in his pockets. “Come on. I want to show you something.”

He led me upstairs to Gwil’s 1960s-style office, where Dr. Lee had cleaned and stitched the tiny gash in my forehead after my misadventure with Ben in the woods outside Calawah University, where the wall above the sturdy oak desk was adorned with a massive painting filled with gorgeous, unfamiliar, inhuman faces. Joe took a deep breath, and then he began.

“This,” he announced, introducing the painting, “is the vampire version of the mob. They can trace their existence back to before the Roman Empire. They find people who they think have potential, have talents. They turn them. And then they offer them a hundred-year contract. You sign it, or they murder you. When your term is up, you get to decide whether to renew or leave. But almost no one ever leaves. After a century of taking orders and guarding and killing, what else do you know how to do?” He pointed to the terrifying woman with long white hair and red eyes. “That’s Liesl. She’s literally Satan, only blonder. The chick with the tattoos is Akari. She can meet a human and tell what powers they’ll have once they’re changed. Very useful, obviously. The dude who looks like Idris Elba is Cato, and he’s actually an okay guy, he’s the one currently assigned to keep tabs on Gwil’s coven...”

I soaked the names in like rain into dark, lush Washington earth as Joe relayed them to me, strange and beautiful names: Aruna, Phelan, Morana, Adair, Zora, Araminta, Honora, Victorien, Rigel, Sahel.

“Who’s that?” I asked, gesturing to the young man standing at the center of the painting, the one with black hair and eyes so light and luminous a brown they were almost gold and a sinister, unmistakable magnetism.

“Very good question,” Joe complimented. “That’s their Al Capone. That’s Larkin.”

“And what’s his vampire superpower?” He has to have one. I know he does.

“How do I even put that into words? It’s more than charisma. It’s slightly less than mind reading. He can see through people, what they want most, what they fear. And he can make them do things.”

I gazed into those omniscient glowing eyes, feeling myself getting caught there, feeling some primal dread swelling in the capillary beds of my heart and lungs and bone marrow. “Joe, I’m thoroughly enjoying this captivating backstory, really, but...why are you telling me all of this now?”

“Because you asked why Ben is so different than the rest of us. This is why.” Joe waved broadly at the painting, at the closest thing his world had to a mafia, to unrepentant killers, to actual demons. “This is where he came from.”

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 4 years

Text

Eccentricity [Chapter 2: You Can Run Around Infinite In My Head]

Series Summary: Joe Mazzello is a nice guy with a weird family. A VERY weird family. They have a secret, and you have a choice to make.

Potentially a better love story than Twilight (we’ll let @killer-queen-xo decide when it’s all said and done 😉).

Chapter Title Is A Lyric From: Rome by Dermot Kennedy.

Chapter Warnings: Language, mentions of violence.

Other Chapters (And All My Writing) Available: HERE

Tagging: @queen-turtle-boiii @bramblesforbreakfast @killer-queen-xo @maggieroseevans @culturefiendtrashqueen @imnotvibingveryguccimrstark @escabell @im-an-adult-ish @queenlover05 @someforeigntragedy @imtheinvisiblequeen @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhye @deacyblues @tensecondvacation @brianssixpence

Please yell at me if I forget to tag you! 💜

Missing In Action

I wish she would stop staring at me.

Lucille sat at the Lees’ usual table and apathetically picked through a heaping salad. (Friday was salad bar day, which I appreciated considerably more than the chicken finger obsession that marred Mondays at Calawah University.) Every once in a while, Rami nudged her and Lucille would spear a cherry tomato with her fork and bite it in half with perfectly even, white teeth. But her large blue-green eyes—they reminded me of webs of seaweed tumbling in the cold, frothing La Push waves—always found their way back to me, strangely focused, inquisitive, perhaps accusatory.

Ben probably told them how much he hates me for whatever nebulous reason and now they all hate me too and I’m going to spend the next two years being death-glared by five ridiculously attractive and somewhat incestuous foster kids.

Chemistry was a three times a week class. Ben hadn’t shown on Wednesday, and I was 99% sure he would skip again today. I spotted him around campus periodically, always from a distance: dropping quarters into a vending machine, clandestinely vaping behind dorm buildings (what self-respecting pre-med student VAPES?!!), browsing YouTube videos in the library next to a tower of unopened textbooks, biology and chem and physics and calculus. He wasn’t home, he wasn’t sick; there was no attempt made to construct any sort of pretext. He was patently avoiding me.

I stabbed moodily at the serrated disks of cucumber in my salad. Jessica was blathering away about the latest season of The Bachelor and ranking the contestants’ eyebrows from best to worst. “...Like seriously, has she never heard of microblading?!”

“For real,” Angela offered, not especially invested but forever a good sport.

Lucille’s eyes settled on me again as she sipped a cup of steaming tea, staring until her forehead crinkled with the effort, staring hard, almost leering.

“What’s her problem?” I muttered.

Jessica shot a glance towards the Lee table and slurped her Sprite. The great mystery surrounding her potential Mormon-ness persisted. “Who? Lucy?”

Only Lucille’s friends called her Lucy. Jessica, a shameless aspiring socialite, presumed she was everybody’s friend unless they explicitly informed her otherwise, which of course no one ever did.

“Yeah,” I answered glumly.

“Maybe it’s your dress.”

“My dress? What’s wrong with my dress?”

Jessica wrinkled her nose and surveyed me as if I were a bug, and not a cute bug like a roly-poly bug or The Very Hungry Caterpillar or whatever. Like a really hideous bug. Like one of those spider-cricket hybrid things that hopped straight out of a hell dimension and into the dark, drippy corners of your basement. “It’s, like, very 1960s. But not in a sexy Woodstock way. In a ‘I’m about to join a hippie murder cult’ way.”

“I got it at TJ Maxx. It was on sale.”

Jessica snorted. “Probably for a reason.”

“That’s it. I’m giving all the hippies in my new murder cult your address.”

She and Angela laughed. Mike and Eric, the missing pieces of our daily lunch puzzle, were preoccupied with a campus protest to convert fried fish day (Thursdays) into tacos day. I sympathized with their efforts, but didn’t feel that my one-week tenure as a Calawah University student gave me much right to go around overhauling the dining hall schedule.

“I doubt she’s actually offended by a dress,” Angela said, nibbling on French fries that shed grains of salt like snowflakes.

Jessica sighed dreamily. “But Lucy’s just so fashionable...and that accent...” She drifted off into some daydream which began—I could only assume—with Lucy’s invitation to go shopping together and concluded with marrying Ben on some lush tropical island in the South Pacific.

Lucille was definitely fashionable, especially today: short black dress with sheer sleeves that ran to her fragile wrists, black polka dot tights, black heeled oxfords, dangling ruby earrings like beads of blood. She would have blended in perfectly at Paris Fashion Week. Rami was wearing a cardigan and khakis, per usual; Joe was in dark fitted jeans and a roomy U Chicago hoodie despite the fact that Forks was at minimum a thirty-four hour drive from the Windy City. What did Angela say his major was? Finance? No, Mathematical Economics. So he’s probably aiming at Chicago for an MBA or Econ PhD someday. Angela had told me that Joe was wicked smart. He better be if he’s entertaining fantasies of grad school at the University of Chicago.

Scarlett had come straight from Fencing Club and was wearing bright pink yoga pants and a t-shirt with the sleeves cut out, sprinkling Hot Cheetos into her open mouth, her blonde hair secured in a tight French braid. You know those girls who are so irrationally, gluttonously, unfairly beautiful that it doesn’t seem possible the genetic lottery could spit out so many winning numbers at once, and you comfort yourself with the certainty that there must be some set of circumstances that would level the playing field—I bet she looks like anyone else without all that makeup, she just has a really good sense of style and knows how to maximize her assets, there are definitely some goofy oversized ears hiding beneath that hair and that’s why she always wears it down—and then one day you run into them wearing sweatpants and a ponytail in the tampon aisle at Walmart and they’re still so perfect it stings you, baffles you, makes you feel like there must have been some divergence in the evolutionary chain because there’s no freaking way you’re the same species? Yeah, Scarlett was one of those girls. Scarlett was the queen of those girls.

Ben was conspicuously absent from the table.

Scarlett’s pink leopard-print iPhone rang and she answered. “Hello?” She turned to Joe. “Dad says you left your phone at home. Do you need it?”

Joe was gnawing his way through his third slice of pepperoni pizza. “No, I’m good, thanks though.”

Scarlett relayed the message. “Dad says he’s going to bring it by just in case.”

“Oh my god, ScarJo, I’m fine! Tell him not to!”

“Dad says he doesn’t trust you and he’s going to be here in fifteen minutes. He’s also bringing the Game Theory homework you left by the hot tub.”

Joe groaned and rolled his lively dark eyes as Rami grinned at him; Lucille was still watching me and entirely oblivious.

“Isn’t it weird that Ben and Lucille have accents?” I asked Jessica. “That they’re from the U.K.? I didn’t think fostering kids was an international thing.”

“It’s not that weird. Dr. Lee is British too. Maybe there’s some kind of exchange system, I don’t know. But you know what I do know?”

“What?” Now my interest was piqued.

She smiled. “That the British accents are hot.”

“Ugh,” I exhaled involuntarily.

“Please get a hobby,” Angela begged Jessica. “Start a YouTube channel. Make care packages for orphans. Grow marijuana. Adopt a cat. I have a shift at the animal shelter this Sunday morning, you want to come with me?”

“Sorry, can’t. I have a temple thing.”

Temple on Sunday. The mystery is solved. She’s a Mormon for sure. I mentally resolved not to let her set me up with anyone unless I was still single on Valentine’s Day. Which, obviously, assuming I’m not dead in a ditch somewhere, I will be.

I gathered up my trash and slung my backpack over my shoulder. “Okay, well this has been a bizarre lunch to be completely honest, and now I have to go to Chemistry so I’ll see you later and hopefully we can brainstorm some more alternatives to Jessica’s current life trajectory on Monday. Because I am not looking forward to being a bridesmaid in these impending Lee nuptials.”

“Oh please!” Jessica lamented. “He doesn’t even know I exist. You, on the other hand...”

I scoffed. “Yeah, he wants to kill me. I truly have a gift.”

They waved as I left. I could feel Lucille’s eyes on me until I reached the door.

Sure enough, Ben wasn’t in Chemistry. I tried not to notice. I drew my atoms, wrote my equations, took my notes diligently and in my favorite sky blue ink. But I felt the emptiness in the chair next to me like a black hole, like an immense and dragging weight, like a snag in the fabric of all those interwoven strands of physics that orchestrate the universe like an immortal puppeteer. Why can’t I forget this guy? Why do I still feel like I’ve met him before?

Halfway through class, I hauled my emergency sweatshirt out of my backpack and pulled it on over my dress, floral and flowing and golden yellow like the sun, the sun that never shines here in Forks. I had liked it plenty under the florescent lights of the fitting room at TJ Maxx, and I had still liked it this morning; but Jessica’s words hummed around in my skull like wasps. The zipper of the sweatshirt was broken, but it accomplished the task of obscuring my dress well enough.

After Chemistry, I journeyed to the campus library to find a book I was supposed to read and present for a different class. I looked it up in the computer catalogue, spent an embarrassingly long time trying to figure out how the Dewey Decimal System works, eventually wound up finding the book on the highest floor of the library...and, to add a little extra peril to the mission, on the highest shelf. The book mocked me from its lofty, unattainable stronghold. The title was embossed in gold letters down the crimson spine. The Walruses And Me: A Transformative Experience. Idiotic title, I’m aware. It’s about some marine biologist who spent months alone in the Arctic studying the lifecycles of walruses. A noble pursuit, sure, but still a terrible title.

There wasn’t a chair or stepstool in sight. I tested my weight by stepping up onto the second-lowest shelf. The metal immediately squealed and shifted in protest. I retreated back down to the carpet, defeated by gravity. I scowled up at the book and sighed melodramatically. Ugh.

“Need something?”

I spun around to see Joe in his University of Chicago hoodie and pale flawless skin and intangible magnetism, that bewildering trademark Lee ethereality. I instinctively crossed my arms, clutching the sleeves of my sweatshirt, shrinking inwards like a startled armadillo in the Arizona desert.

“Are you, uh, anemic...?” he ventured.

“Oh no, I’m not cold. I’m just trying to hide my dress. My friend said it was too hippie-murder-cult 1960s.”

I figured he’d laugh, make a snide comment, maybe just blink in confusion. Instead, he glimpsed down at my dress—what could still be seen of it, anyway—and shook his head. “The neckline isn’t right for the 60s. And you seem like you’ve showered at least once in the past two weeks, so definitely not a hippie.”

I smiled, completely unexpectedly. “I didn’t realize Econ majors knew anything about leftist counterculture.”

“Disparaging it is our favorite pastime. Are you trying to get a book or are you just disrespecting university property for entertainment?”

I pointed. “The big red one.”

“The Walruses And Me...?”

“I know, it’s a horrible title. Not my personal preference. It’s for a class.”

“Bestiality 101?”

“Good guess. Marine Mammals.”

“Ahhh.” He glanced up and down the aisle, tapped his chin with agile fingers, pondered something I wasn’t privy to. “Turn around for a second.”

“What? Why?”

He waved his hand mysteriously in front of his grinning face. “It’s a magic trick. I’m going to make your problem disappear.”

“You can’t climb that,” I warned. “You’ll fall and break your neck. Or you’ll knock the whole shelf over and cause a tragic domino effect and the university will withhold your diploma until you pay them restitution.”

“I’m extremely athletic.”

“Are you sure?” I appraised him with exaggerated skepticism for comedic effect. “My dad refers to you only as the spindly annoying Lee.”

Oh my god, WHY did I say that?

Now he would definitely hate me. Now I’d have two mortal enemies on one campus. I mentally calculated how humiliating it would be to transfer to some Florida college, any Florida college, after only one week at Calawah. Hi mom, yeah I’m coming to live with you and Paul, a gang of hot pasty foster kids wants to slaughter me.

Instead, Joe threw back his head and cackled wildly. A librarian—mid-fifties, angry red hair from out of a box, fuzzy cat sweater—glared into the aisle and shushed him.

“Chief Swan...he actually...he calls me that? Really?!” Joe managed, wiping his leaking eyes. “That’s hilarious. I’m so glad my life is in his hands. Okay seriously, turn around.”

“Why would you help me?” I asked suspiciously.

“That’s just what I do. I’m a friendly guy.”

“This friendliness must not run in the family.”

Again, Joe’s cheerful demeanor didn’t falter. “You mean Ben? Forget about Ben, he hates everyone. Don’t take it personally.” Then he added: “Plus, as I’m sure you know, we’re not biologically related. No overlapping genetic material whatsoever. I didn’t get the male supermodel gene, he didn’t get the irresistibly charming gene, life’s not fair but the world keeps spinning.”

“It sure does,” I agreed softly. Unexpected wisdom from my new favorite Lee. I turned away from him. “Fine, I’m not looking, go ahead and dazzle me with your supernatural friendliness—”

“Done.”

“What?” I whirled around. Joe held The Walruses And Me in his hand. “How...did you...?!”

He passed me the book as I sputtered incoherently. “I told you. Magic trick.”

“I don’t....?!” I gawked up at the top shelf, at Joe, back to the top shelf. Sure enough, the space where The Walruses And Me once lived was now just a vacant slit in the row of dusty books. How could he have climbed up there that quickly? How could I not have heard anything? “The shelves didn’t even creak,” I murmured shakily.

“Yes, well, that’s due to my conveniently spindly physique.” Joe winked. “Any other problems I can help you solve at the moment, Baby Swan?”

“No. And don’t call me Baby Swan, or I’ll push this whole bookshelf over and tell the feisty librarian lady you did it.”

“That’s cold, ma’am.”

I liked that Joe didn’t make me feel like Ben did: unworthy, unloved, infuriating. Joe made me feel something else, something lighthearted, casual, buoyant; like the world didn’t have anything in it worth worrying about, regretting, agonizing over. Like unadulteratedly myself was all I ever needed to be.

I heard a muted buzz and Joe slid his iPhone out of his jeans pocket. Dr. Lee must have successfully delivered it. “Whoops, I forgot that Ordinary Differential Equations existed. Got to go. See ya.”

“Bye,” I replied. And then Joseph Lee was gone, very quickly, a little too quickly, the same way that Ben had vanished on that first afternoon after Chemistry.

Forks is weird. Calawah University is weird. And the Lee kids are super fucking weird.

Long Walks On The Beach

“Can I ask you a random question?”

“You just paid me $100 for an oil change that took fifteen minutes. You can ask me anything you want.” He grinned, flashing bright teeth and deep dimples.

It was Saturday afternoon. I had shoveled down a Chipotle veggie bowl as Archer changed the 1999 Accord’s oil in a small garage with a cracked concrete floor and the searing pungency of gasoline fumes thick in the air. He had apprenticed all through high school and rented his own shop after graduation. Archer now had a loyal clientele that encompassed virtually the entire Quileute reservation and a growing chunk of Forks...including Charlie and me, of course. Archer was the only child of Larry Foxchild—Charlie’s best friend since they worked together at Dairy Queen as teenagers—and the closest thing to a son my dad would ever have. I guess that made him like a brother to me, something that seemed intuitive now that I’d thought of it.

After the Accord was serviced we drove it down to La Push to walk on the beach, climb the salt-lashed rocks, toss pebbles into the roiling surf, reprise our childhood enthusiasm for poking dead washed-up marine creatures with shards of driftwood.

“Do you know anything about the Lees?” I asked Archer, investigating a deceased green shore crab.

His brow furrowed. He looked so serious like that, suddenly so much like Larry: the same tan skin, jet black hair, umbral eyes like oil wells, strong jaw overlaid with the stubbled shadow of a beard. We really aren’t kids anymore, are we? “The doctor and his kids?”

“Yeah. The foster kids. They’re really pale and strange and half of them are British.”

Archer chuckled. “I know who you mean. They’re hard to miss.”

“Are they...” Just eccentric rich people? Traumatized from abusive childhoods? Government experiments? CIA agents? Secret murderers? The image of Ben in that first Chemistry class came roaring back to me, including the adjective that had flashed red behind my eyes like an emergency exit sign: fierce. Finally, I decided: “Dangerous?”

Now Archer full-on laughed, gripping his belly, shaking his head. Drops of saltwater flew from his short hair. “Seriously?!” he exclaimed. “Come on, they’re freaks but they’re not, like...that kind of freaks.”

“Are you sure?” I was starting to feel better already. Of course they’re not actual demons, you fucking idiot. This is Washington, not The Twilight Zone or Black Mirror. Not goddamn American Horror Story.

“Yeah.” Archer skipped a grey pebble over the water, something I’d never been able to do. “I’ll be honest, I don’t know them all that well. They usually keep to themselves. But I’ve never heard anything bad about any of the kids. And everyone respects Dr. Lee and appreciates him for taking the pay cut to come to some bumblefuck town like Forks. He’s insanely highly credentialed, has degrees from Harvard or Yale or somewhere like that. Super impressive. We’re lucky to have him. I definitely sleep better at night knowing he’ll be the one to fix me up if I ever get a few fingers ripped off on the job.”

“Don’t even say that. Then who would I grossly overpay for oil changes?”

Archer smiled, then sobered as he peered out over the Pacific Ocean.

“What?” I asked, feeling a plummeting in my guts like primal fear.

“Well...okay, so there is one thing that’s always bothered me. You remember Grandpa Foxchild?”

“Yeah, of course.” He had been an impossibly ancient man with long grey braided hair, a low rumbly voice, gnarled arthritic hands, ceaseless wrinkles. I remembered Charlie calling me when he passed away last spring. Renee and I had picked out a flower arrangement to send to the funeral.

“So,” Archer said slowly, like he was still puzzling it out himself. “Grandpa used to say things like ‘That Dr. Lee has been around a long time.’ Which of course makes no sense, the Lees moved here like two years ago. And I’d tell Grandpa that, but he completely ignored me. He would just keep repeating it. ‘That Dr. Lee shouldn’t still be here.’ ‘That Dr. Lee should go on home to where he came from.’ ‘That Dr. Lee isn’t right.’ Creepy shit like that. My dad and I always assumed it was the dementia talking, but...I don’t know. It just bothered me. Because Grandpa...he wasn’t just being gossipy or suspicious. He was angry. And he was afraid. Grandpa was at Guadalcanal and Iwo Jima and he would talk about that no problem, mention landmines or flesh melting off a soldier’s face like it was nothing. He was a tough guy. Immeasurably tough, I’ll never be half the man he was. But if you mentioned the Lees, Grandpa got scared. Why the hell would he be so scared of them?”

I didn’t have an answer for him, not a single word. I just stared at Archer, my eyes growing huge, my heart sprinting, blood pounding in my ears. He knew. Grandpa Foxchild knew there was something off about them, and now I know it too. I don’t know how I know, but I do.

Archer tittered nervously. “Anyway, that was genuinely disturbing. But like I said. It was probably just the dementia.”

“What if it wasn’t?”

“It had to be,” he insisted. “There’s no other logical explanation.”

“I guess,” I agreed, scooping up the green shore crab corpse with my bare hands. I hurled it out into the waves, imagined it sinking through murky water and suspended grains of sand, the body settling into prehistoric silt, the scavengers descending upon it, the inescapable wheel of birth and death and resurrection through those who unwittingly carry our atoms with them into the next generation, into the perpetual future.

That night my dreams were full of pale skin and scorching eyes, Ben and Joe and Rami, Lucille and Scarlett, crashing waves, cold water and bleached bones; and Grandpa Foxchild’s mistrustful refrain: That Dr. Lee has been around a long time.

Benjamin

I soared down the staircase and through the dining room. Gwil was working late at the hospital, Mercy outside tending the animals, everyone else presumably scattered throughout the house. I had to get out before anyone noticed me. I had to get out without Rami or Lucy knowing.

I yanked open the door to the back porch. Rami was waiting there.

“Good evening,” he greeted me in that slow, thoughtful drawl.

“Stay the fuck out of my head.”

“You know how it works, Benny Boy. I can’t ignore the loud thoughts. And you’ve been having some very loud thoughts lately.”

I stared down at my shoes, all black Adidas. Black is good. It doesn’t show stains. For example, purely hypothetically, splatters of human blood and organs. “I can make it quick. I can make it painless.”

Rami’s aura flared maroon; not enraged, no, not quite that, but certainly revolted. I was always finding new and horrifying ways to revolt them, whether I was trying to or not. “She has a family, Ben. A father. You know Chief Swan, you’ve seen him around town. He’s a good person. She’s a good person. You really want to do this? You really want to relapse like this?”

I didn’t reply. I didn’t have to. Hearing thoughts is a tricky thing, and not a gift that I would ever want; unspoken words are rarely a steam and usually a storm, disjointed and twisting, interrupting each other, bottomless layers of whispers and screams. But I was sure Rami could catch the important parts: that I didn’t know the difference between good and bad people, that I didn’t know what to think of people at all, that for me her blood was not a desire but a compulsion. I couldn’t stop envisioning it spilling over my tongue and teeth, down my throat, hot and pulsing erratically and fading. “Why can’t you hear her? Why can’t I see what she’s feeling?”

Rami shrugged, characteristically placid and restrained. It was maddening. “There are seven and a half billion people on this planet. So maybe every once in a while you get one that lives in our blind spots, there’s something chromosomal or psychological that puts them on a different frequency. I don’t know. How the hell should I know? All I know is that you definitely shouldn’t be seriously considering...well. What you’re considering.”

“Have you ever met someone whose thoughts you couldn’t hear before?”

“No,” Rami admitted; and was that a ghost of unease that crossed his face?

“Please, Rami. Let me go. Pretend you never saw me.” My words come out strained, hushed, like a spilled secret, like a confession. I’ve never wanted anyone’s blood like I want hers.

He heard that; I could see the dismay in his eyes. Now his aura is dark grey, almost black. Disappointment. Resignation. Mourning. “I told you what Lucy saw.”

“What she saw is impossible and you know it.”

Again, Rami shrugged. That blind, mindless faith. I wished I knew what it felt like. “She’s never wrong.”

“Have you told him?”

“Who, Joe?! Of course I haven’t told Joe. He...”

“He wouldn’t believe it either?” I snapped, like it was a victory.

“No,” Rami amended carefully. “No, he would believe anything Lucy saw.” Lucy had visions: flashes of the future, the past, the present. They were rare and unpredictable, often fragmented, snapshots rather than arcs. But they were always true. Or, rather, the other Lees claimed they were. The real Lees. “I don’t know what he would do about it,” Rami said finally. “So I’m waiting it out. And killing one of the primary participants is definitely not waiting it out.”

I seethed as I glared at him, hating him in that moment, hating myself only slightly more; and he heard that too. But then that wispy, fleeting haze around him was a pink like the last threads of sunlight sinking into the Western horizon. Forgiveness. Attachment. Love.

“Come with me, Ben,” Rami said gently, opening the door. “Come back inside. You can beat this. You’re better than this. You’re a good soul. You wouldn’t be with us if you weren’t.”

I tried to laugh. It came out like a snarl. “I haven’t had a soul in a long time.”

#joe mazzello fic #joe mazzelo x reader #borhap #borhap fic #borhap cast fic #twilight au #twilight #supernatural au

69 notes · View notes

marvxlousqueen · 5 years

Text

Warren Worthington- Look Alike

word count: 1.2K

warnings: cussing, bad writing tbh, whoopsies

A/N: requested by @capan-devereaux “Can you do something like your dating Warren and you get to meet Queen and someone makes a comment about how Warren looks similar to Roger”

this is all over the place i’m so sorry oof i wanted to write this bc it sounded cute but this is lowkey trash!! anyways, hope someone enjoys this bc i really did try lmao

[July 27th, 1982.] 9:17 pm.

“You got tickets to WHAT?”

Jubilee was jumping up and down, still standing outside (Y/n) and Jean’s room. “Queen!! Peter got tickets! Can you believe it?!?! Madison Square Garden!”

Jean rolled out of bed, “When is it? How many tickets?”

“Tomorrow night!! And Peter said enough for all of us!!”

(Y/n) grabbed Jubilee’s shoulders, “Calm down! Calm. Down.”

She stopped jumping, trying to catch her breath. “Sorry! Oh my god, I can’t- I can’t breath- I’m so excited! Are you guys excited??”

“Yes, of course I’m super excited, but we can’t go if you faint from excitement- so calm down!”

Jubilee nodded, leaning against the door for support. “I feel like I might explode, I mean- I’m going to get to see Brian May in person!”

(Y/n) nodded, “I know, I know.” She patted Jubilee’s arm, trying to slow her own breathing as well. “Do you think there’s a way to get backstage passes?”

Jubilee flung herself to the floor, “If I meet Brian, I might actually die.”

If I meet Roger Taylor, I know I’ll die, (Y/n) thought to herself.

(Y/n) grabbed her shoes, slipping them on. “Jean- will you take care of her? I’m going to go see Peter- figure out if we can get backstage.”

(Y/n) sped down to Peter and Warren’s dorm, leaving Jubilee on the floor. She knocked quickly, bouncing on her toes. The door opened to show Warren, messy hair and wrinkled shirt making him look so soft.

“Hey babe, sorry- just woke up.” He leaned against the door, yawning.

“Hey! Is Peter here? I need him.”

“What? Why?”

“Queen!” (Y/n) pushed herself passed Warren, looking for Peter.

“Huh?” His head was still sleep-heavy, making things difficult to understand.

“Queen, the band. Peter got tickets!”

Warren rolled his eyes. “Bullshit. Those are crazy expensive and crazy hard to get.”

Peter walked out from the bathroom, drying his hair with a towel. “What’s crazy expensive?”

“Queen tickets. You told the girls you bought some?” Warren laid back down on his bed, running a hand through his curls.

“Woah, woah, woah- I never said bought.”

“Wait,” (Y/n) groaned, “You didn’t get tickets? Then why did Jubilee say-”

“I told Jubilee that I could get us into the concert. I didn’t say anything about tickets, though.”

(Y/n) sat down next to Warren, patting his back as he tried to go back to sleep. “How would we get in without tickets?”

Peter laughed, “Superspeed, dipshit. We’ll sneak in. It’s easy- I do it all the time.”

“Peter, no! That’s stealing.”

“(Y/n),” he sighed, “don’t you want to go to a real concert? Meet the band?”

“Fuck- yes, of course I do.”

[...]

“Where’s Kurt? He’s supposed to bamf us in there once Peter runs us all there.”

Jubilee adjusted her belt. “He’ll be here, don’t worry.”

Scott walked in behind Jean, followed by Peter.

(Y/n) looked over them, “Where’s Warren? He’s coming, right?”

Peter shrugged, busy deepthroating a twinkie.

(Y/n) made her way down to Warren’s room, knocking quietly.

“Come in.”

She cracked the door to see Warren buttoning his shirt in front of the mirror.

“Hey, babe.”

“Hey- cute shirt.”

Warren looked himself in the mirror. “Thanks, wanted to impress you.”

(Y/n) laughed, sitting on his bed. “That’s cute, but you don’t need to impress me.”

Warren shrugged his shoulders, “Yeah I do. This- us- we’re still fresh and new. And I know how much you love this band and how crazy you are about all the members, I don’t want to look shitty compared to them.”

“Warren,” (Y/n) stood up, pulling him into a hug, “you never look shitty. But you’re right, I am crazy about them, so hustle up or else we’re going to be late!”

Warren laughed, pressing his lips against hers. “Let’s go.”

[...]

Kurt had just bamfed (Y/n), Warren, Peter, Jean, Scott, and Jubilee into the concert venue. Peter had made sure to grab some shirts they were selling on the way in.

The concert had opened with ‘Flash’. After a couple songs and an epic guitar solo from Brian (which had Jubilee screaming), Warren had pulled (Y/n) up onto to his back, helping her see the stage better.

The concert had flown by, ending with an encore of ‘We are the Champions.’

“Holy fuck!! I’ve never- that was- holy fuck!”

Warren put (Y/n) down, still able to feel the ground shake.

“That was awesome, right Warren?! Holy FUCK!”

He nodded, slinging his arm over her shoulder. “I know, pretty good! Loud.”

“Hey,” Peter poked (Y/n)’s shoulder, shouting in her ear, “You want to get backstage?”

“What?! How??”

“Superspeed, dipshit!”

(Y/n) screamed, jumping up and down. “FUCK yes!!”

(Y/n) grabbed on to Peter, grabbing Warren with her other hand. Jubilee took Peter’s other arm.

“Okay, promise not to get whiplash.”

Peter took off, rushing through the crowd towards the stage, grabbing backstage passes from people along the way. “Sucks to suck.”

Peter landed backstage, right in front of a big security man.

“Stop, passes?”

“Shit-”

“I got ‘em.” Peter pulled four passes from his pocket. “Here.”

The man waved them through towards the back. They came into a small living room area, only filled with a couple couches and a fridge.

“Holy SHIT- sorry- fuck! Sorry-”

(Y/n) turned around to where Jubilee was looking. Brian May, the Brian May, was sitting on a chair, drinking water.

“Hello- you’re fine. Water? Want any water? We have bottles- in the fridge.”

Jubilee nodded, “Sure, sure, yeah. Totally.” Her eyes looked glazed over as Brian handed her a bottle of water.

(Y/n) poked her shoulder. “Jubilee- act normal.”

“Oh shut up, (Y/n)- if this was Roger, you’d be dying right now too.”

“I can get Roger, if you want?” Brian moved towards the back door, “Rog! There’s a girl-”

“Girl?” He appeared in an instant. “Hello, love.”

“H-hey, hello,” (Y/n) stumbled out.

“You look lovely-”

“And you look EXACTLY like Warren- how has no one noticed this?”

“Peter, don’t interrupt!”

“No, come on!,” He laughed, “they look so similar! I never realized- what the fuck? Wow.”

“He’s right, wow!” Jubilee moved to stare at Roger. “Yeah, yeah, I see it! Damn Warren, you’re like way hotter now that I see that.”

“Oh shut up, he’s always been hot.”

“Thanks, babe.”

“Babe? Oh, babe- alright, nice meeting you, love- I need to change.” Roger grabbed a beer before heading towards his dressing room.

“Oh- okay-”

“Don’t worry about him,” Brian assured (Y/n), “He was hoping to find a new groupie- a little let down, but he’s fine.”

“Roger was thinking about letting me be his groupie? Holy fuck!”

Warren forced out a laugh, “Wow, don’t you sound excited-”

“It’s not like that, Warren.”

He nodded, walking over to a couch, taking a seat. (Y/n) walked over, taking a seat next to him.

“Warren-”

“I’m sorry- I’ve been in a weird mood since we got back here.”

“I didn’t mean to sound so excited- I don’t want to be Roger’s groupie, I swear.”

Warren shook his head, “No, I get it. He’s hot.”

“You’re hot! Didn’t you hear Peter and Jubilee earlier? You’re super hot! Believe me.”

“Oh- shut it, I’m not-”

“Yes, you are! I’m whipped for you, Warren. Completely whipped!”

hmu to be added!

#Warren Worthington III #warren worthington iii smut #warren worthington x reader #warren worthington imagine #ben hardy #roger taylor

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