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outrebanx · 4 years

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Dragonfly

Chapter 1

Summary: Y/n has just moved to the Outer Banks and is struggling to enjoy it until she meets a few certain pogues (again its an awful summary i’m sorry)

Word count: 2k

Warnings: I don’t think theres anything

A/N: I was originally doing a one shot with this but I hadn’t even got to writing the main bit yet when it seemed to be getting longer so I think if people like it I’ll make it a series and this is kinda like the prologue because theres not much interaction with the pogues and stuff (also the grammar might not be great but oh well) - any feedback would be lovely!

It had only been a week since you’d moved away from Oregon, starting a new life in the Outer Banks, and so far you were struggling to enjoy it. Yes, it was a beautiful place but it wasn’t home to you yet, no matter how hard your dad tried to make it seem like it was, you missed being on the mainland, where you could drive to places whenever you wanted, you missed your friends, but most of all you missed your mum. Your mum dying a few months ago was what caused your dad to move out here - he no longer wanted to be reminded of her wherever he went, whether that was to Cannon Beach where you spent most of your time surfing, swimming and being with your friends (or your mum depending on the day); or if it was just to the shops, he’d be reminded of her everywhere, so apparently that meant he would drag you both to the other side of the country, far away from everything you loved.

It could’ve been worse, you supposed, he could’ve moved somewhere without a coast, which would’ve been your own personal hell, as being in the water was what made you happy and where you went to cool off if you’d argued with your dad or had a bad day.

Annoyingly, since moving here you’d only been able to get down to the sea in the evenings or at night as your days were spent either unpacking or looking for a job somewhere on the island. So far you had returned back to your house, having no luck in anyone hiring you, today was different though, you’d been offered a job at this place called the Wreck, a cute little restaurant in the middle of the island, and you had bought some food from there back with you so you and your dad could celebrate a little.

Pulling into your driveway, you turned off the engine, before getting out you stopped to look at your house - it wasn’t a great looking house, you knew this, and according to the sales person who sold it to your dad, it hadn’t been lived in for a while, which was obvious by the fact that your dad had been fixing it up all week. Your family had never come from money, your dad was a plumber and your mum had been a teacher at a high school, so not hugely paying jobs - but the money (or sometimes lack thereof) hadn’t bothered you guys, as long as you had enough money to eat well and enjoy life together, then it was alright. You agreed with this mentality, but you liked having a part time job to pay for certain things, it was how you’d saved up for a car and how you got your surfboard, so it was worth it.

Stepping out of the car, you made your way to the front door to go inside, and headed straight for the kitchen to put the food you’d brought back with you into the oven to reheat a little before eating.

Realising you hadn’t heard your dad say hello, you called out, “Hey dad, I’ve brought food, where are you?”

You heard a faint answer from the bathroom, and when you got there he was on the floor and attempting to fix the pipes under the bath by the looks of it.

“Hey, how’s that going?”

“Terribly if I’m being honest, one of these pipes had rotted from the inside out so when I tried attaching something to it, it snapped.”

“Oh that’s fun, please tell me the shower still works?”

“Yes it does, don’t worry you won’t have to go anywhere smelling like you do now.” He laughed as you stuck your tongue out at him.

Stepping back slightly so he could stand up, you replied, “And to think I brought you some food, guess I’m just gonna eat it all myself now after that comment.”

You began walking back towards the kitchen when your dad put his arm around your shoulder, “Oh, if food is on the line I take it all back, you smell great.”

“Wow thanks, that seemed really sincere.” You say, smiling back at him as you reached for the oven gloves to get the food out of the oven and onto the plates on the side.

Once you had dished everything up, you both sat at the small dining table in the corner of your kitchen, a comfortable silence falling between you as you dug into the food in front of you.

Your dad broke the silence, “This is really good, where is this from?”

“A little restaurant called the Wreck, that also happens to be where my new job is.”

“You got a job? Damn, you kept that quiet.” He laughed, “I’m really proud of you Y/N, and I know your mum would be too.”

You looked up at him, smiling, “Thanks dad, and there’s no need to be emotional, it’s just a part time job.”

“I think you’ll find I can be proud of you whenever I want, which just happens to be all the time because you’re amazing my little dragonfly.” He reached across the table to ruffle your hair, before retuning focus back to the food in front of him.

You also looked down at your plate, still smiling but trying to stop your dad from seeing how your eyes watered at the nickname your mum had given you when you were younger. The nickname came from the time you and your mum had gone on a walk in the woods near you, where there was a big lake, with hundreds of dragonflies flying around it - initially you had tried to catch some of them, but when that failed, you’d stayed still, holding your hand out hoping one would land on you. Within minutes a large blue one had landed on your hand, which was then followed by a couple more, your mum had taken a picture of this, capturing the joy on your face when you looked at the multiple dragonflies. Since then it had been your nickname, your mum even getting you a cute silver necklace with a dragonfly charm on it for your birthday a few years back - which you’d pretty much never taken off.

“So,” your dad spoke up again, “at this place, the Wreck, are there any people your age who work there as well?”

“Um, there weren’t many people working today when I was in there, but there was this one girl, I think its her family who owns it, and she seems quite nice.”

“That’s good, hopefully you might become friends then.” He smiled at you reassuringly, you bit back your comment about how you had friends at home because you knew he only meant well, and he was struggling just as much as you were in this move, so you just nodded and ate your last mouthful of food.

After you had cleaned your plate, you said to your dad, “I think I might go surfing in a bit, once my food has settled, because I’m going into work tomorrow to collect my uniform and do a small shift, and I’ll probably be too tired to do it after that.”

“Okay that’s fine,” he turned to you as you walked out the room, “just don’t be out too late, and like usual, be careful.”

“I’m always careful.” You smile at him before going upstairs to get ready.

—————

The beach was nice and empty at this point in the evening, probably because the sun was just setting and people would rather not be out in the cold or dark. But you liked the peace and quiet of it, hearing the waves crash against the sand always relaxed you, and there was no need to worry about what other people think of you if there are no people around which was a bonus.

You set out into the water, board in hand, before it was deep enough to get onto it and paddle out a little further. Once you were far enough out, you began waiting for the perfect wave, riding a few that weren’t too great in the meantime, enjoying it all the same though. As you were sat on your board, waiting for another wave, you heard some voices on the beach, and looked over there to try and make out where abouts it was coming from. Eventually you saw a couple of figures walking across the beach, and from where you were it looked like two guys, maybe around your age, but they hadn’t noticed you yet and you weren’t sure whether you wanted them to.

It was unlikely you would be unnoticed for long though because if they looked out to the water they’d be able to see a person, especially if you were riding a wave. Checking the water behind you again, you saw a promising wave begin to form, and so you began paddling to try and catch it, forgetting about the boys on the beach as you focused, and just before the wave broke you stood up, and started riding it. You turned to angle yourself on the wave slightly better before doing a kick flip, and successfully landing it - you couldn’t help but let out a little whoop at your success, always happy when you landed a trick well. After this you only managed a few more seconds on your board before the wave crashed onto you, knocking you into the water.

You quickly swam back up to the surface, getting your board beneath you so you could start paddling towards the beach - deciding to end the night on a high and before it got late enough for your dad to start worrying about you.

As you got nearer the beach you saw that the boys who you’d seen walking were now standing there watching you come out of the water, you’d been right about them spotting you when you were out there.

Once out of the water you rang your hair out before putting it into a bun to keep it out of your face, and just as you started moving again the two boys approached you, in a way that seemed nervous you thought. The closer they got, the more attractive they became, both very tall, one with long brown hair and the other blonde and both with incredible bodies. Damn maybe you wouldn’t mind it here after all.

“Hey, we haven’t seen you around here before, are you new?” One of them, the brunette one, asked.

“Um yeah I moved here last week.”

“Oh that’s cool, by what we saw you do just then I’m assuming you surf a lot?” This time it was the blonde one who had asked the question, and as he did you could see his eyes move up and down your body, a small smirk on his face when he met your eyes.

“Yeh I lived by the coast in Oregon, so I’ve pretty much surfed since I was a kid, which is basically the only thing this place has in common with home, so I’m taking advantage of that.”

The brunette spoke up again, “Thats nice, um, I’m John B and this,” he indicated to the other boy, “is JJ.”

“Nice to meet you, I’m Y/N,” you smile at them, “but I need to go now, so I guess I’ll see you around?”

“Yeh that’d be great” JJ replied as you turned around and starting walking back up to your car, turning around one more time to give them a quick wave.

Once you were at your car, you could still faintly hear them, and from what you could work out they were talking about you, nice things it sounded like, you rolled your eyes and got into your car to drive home and collapse in your bed, still thinking about the way JJ had looked at you.

#jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x y/n #jj x reader #outerbanks fic #obx fic #obx #outer banks #john b x reader #john b routledge #pope heyward #outrebanx

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pbandjesse · 4 years

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Today was a pretty good day. I am really excited about going into work later. It really helped make today suck a little less. My jaw and ear are still really swollen, but Im in a much better mood. I slept pretty good too. Getting up wasnt as urgent, so I could just lay and take my time. James had woken me up to say goodbye before heading to their ESL class. But I just left myself lay here for a while.

When I did get up I got dressed and felt very cute. It was cold in here so I wore a flannel and slippers. But I was in a nice mood.

I had the crepes James left me. Did a little bit of cleaning. I worked in the studio for a while. I actually did some sewing! Very proud of myself. I also worked on a digital drawing and Im really happy with how it came out. I painted my nails and worked on some small stuff in the studio. It was a good morning.

I was surprised when James came home around 11. The ESL class doesnt take all that long so they got to come and have lunch with me. It was good to spend time with them and just chill for a while. Some plans were laid about what needed cleaning and organizing. And I got ready to go to work.

I had spent a good chunk of my studio time this morning covering cardboard in tinfoil for the kids to do some sharpie drawings on. I was pretty excited for the kids to get to try this new thing. So I use all our tinfoil and cut a bunch of flaps off cardboard boxes. And once lunch was finished I packed up my bag and headed to work.

I ran into our neighbor, Nick, outside. He said my mask and makeup were very cool. His hair was looking great. It was nice to see him! He doesnt live here all the time anymore so it was nice to see a familiar face.

I got to the Y site around 1240. Riquelle laughed at me that I was so early and I was just like. I told you I have anxiety!! I told her about the leak in our ceiling and the stress of that. But I was thankful for getting to go in late so I was still in a good mood.

And it was an alright day. There were 11 kids, which became 12 after a bit. Most of the kids were really into the tinfoil drawing. Though there was some confusion about what I meant by "cells" but after an example most of them got it. I hung them on the wall and I think they look pretty great.

We had some issues with snack. Just not enough food. But we made it work best we could. We took them upstairs to run around. One kid got hit in the head with a basket ball though and had his sunglasses broken and he was very upset. And just like, bruised. So I took him down to get an ice pack and sit quiet.

I sat with him in the class while Riquelle called home. He was alright, but I think talking to mom helped. I worked on figuring out how to make a fortune teller thing that the project of the day called for. I was not that kind of girl and never learned to make one so it was neat getting to learn today. Travis mostly lead that project but all the kids got a working fortune teller by the end so thats all that mattered.

The kids started getting picked up pretty quick after that. I ended up sitting down at the desk to call for pick ups when parents and adults came. It was nice to just get to chill by myself for a bit, and to talk to parents. Check in on some of the things the kids have been telling us about the work they have to do. Which mostly are lies or half truths. Sucks. I want to trust the kids, but I get not wanting to do work. So its hard. Were all doing our best.

Our last kid of the day's nanny brought us BBQ??How nice. She brought me mac and cheese and corn bread. I was very excited to have those. So me and Travis quickly finished cleaning and closed up for the night. And off I went.

Its nice having so much sun after work still. I walked home and found James and Mr Will working to solve the leak. It is going to be a plumber issue, and seems to be coming directly from the pipe in our closet. So while it sucks at least its not freezing or anything. Nothing is getting destroyed. Trying to stay positive.

And it was funny seeing Mr Will play with sweetP in the hallway. I had my mac and cheese and cornbread. James made us pizza and salad too. We hung out. I got to open some mystery packs. They were all cute/ugly critters. And then at 7 I stuck to my word and worked on art for about an hour.

I am working hard on my collages and its been nice having some more direction. The plan is to get some large scans of them to make prints to sell. Well see how well that works out.

James and me sat in the dungeon and had some cheese cake and played video games. And now I am going to go take a shower and get ready to get some sleep. I hope tomorrow is another nice day. For all of us.

Goodnight everyone. Take care of eachother.

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zen3to5 · 5 years

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J/H 3-17: Kitty’s Birthday (Is That Today?!)

Admission up-front: for a re-write project, not much is re-written here. This is more of a re-editing and re-structuring. You may have noticed that I cut Kelso's "B" story from the previous episode, but as silly as it is, that "B" story is important for Kelso's character, so I needed to plug it back in somewhere. Given what else is in store, this seemed the most logical place for that. So almost all the content here is from the show as you know it - the "A" story from this episode and the "B" story from another, edited in juxtaposition with each other. There is a little bit of re-writing, however, and it concerns Jackie and Hyde.

If this feels a little bit like a cheat on fresh material, then - just wait 'til next time...

FF.Net AO3

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SHOW TITLE INT. FORMAN DRIVEWAY - DAY A cold winter’s morning, with snow everywhere. Dressed for the weather, ERIC and DONNA stand around HYDE’s EL CAMINO, admiring the car. The hood is popped, and HYDE adjusts the engine. DONNA: Wow, Hyde, I can’t believe it. Your own set of wheels. HYDE: Yep. She is the best thing that ever happened to me. Oh, except for that one time Kelso swallowed that fish hook. That was pretty cool, too. ERIC: All right, Hyde. This car’s fine but, I mean, it’s no Vista Cruiser. How many miles are you getting to the gallon? HYDE: Uh, about 11? ERIC: Damn. Okay, fine. But, you know, the Vista Cruiser can seat eight. Nine, if someone sits on the stain. HYDE: Yeah, okay, Forman, but do you have any idea how many chicks I can fit in the flatbed? Thirty-two, and that’s with big Rhonda. ERIC: (beat) Damn! Donna moves around to look at the flatbed, and screams. FEZ and CAROLINE sit up, their make-out session interrupted. FEZ: Oh, hello. He and Caroline climb out of the flatbed. HYDE: What are you doing back there, Fez? FEZ: I... I was... I was just showing Caroline the back of my new car and my tongue. DONNA: Fez, this isn’t your car. FEZ: (whispering) Shut up. CAROLINE: (giggles) Isn’t he cute? (to Fez) Fezzy, I told you, you don’t have to try and impress me anymore. I’m your girlfriend now. FEZ: Oh, I’m sorry, Caroline. From now on, I will be totally honest. CAROLINE: Good. Now, come on. Walk me home. FEZ: Ah, yes. And on the way, I could tell you about the time I killed a shark with a coconut. He and Caroline walk off. Hyde closes up the El Camino. KELSO runs in from the garage, breathless. KELSO: You guys, the weirdest thing just happened with Pam Macy. HYDE: Kelso, man, she’ll do that with any guy standing in front of her. Kelso shakes his head. Donna and Eric move to either side of Hyde. KELSO: Okay. So, I’m making out with Pam in the orchestra pit, and everything’s progressing like normal until... ERIC: What? KELSO: You know, the really, really bad thing that can happen to guys when they’re with girls. Hyde, Eric, and Donna look on. KELSO (cont’d): Okay, let me put it this way: the conductor couldn’t raise the baton. The others all “ah” in comprehension. HYDE: So, what you’re trying to say is: the rabbit wouldn’t come out of the hat. ERIC: The weasel wouldn’t pop. DONNA: The alphabet soup never spelled “Go.” KELSO: Okay! All right! Enough! He starts to pace along the side of the El Camino. ERIC: Actually, not quite. There were a lot of Amish people, but they never raised a barn. Kelso drops his head onto the top of the El Camino. Donna laughs and Hyde claps Eric on the shoulder. HYDE: Forman, man, that was awesome. ERIC: Hey, it just came to me. Kelso runs off down the sidewalk, pushing Eric as he passes. That doesn’t stop Eric, and the others, from laughing.

MAIN CREDITS BUMPER INT. FORMAN KITCHEN - EVENING Later that day. KITTY is hard at work on the stove, stirring up meat in a pan. Buns and plates are on the side. Hyde enters through the patio door, a small box in his hands. HYDE: Hey, Mrs. Forman. Happy birthday. He hands her the box. KITTY: Oh! I can’t believe you remembered. You are the first person to say anything all day. She takes the box and opens it up: there are FLASHBULBS inside. KITTY (cont’d): And how did you know I needed more flashbulbs? She pulls Hyde in for a kiss on the cheek and puts his gift away. KITTY (cont’d): Thank you. So, do you want to stay for dinner? HYDE: Oh, no thanks. I, uh, told Jackie I’d drop her off with her friends. KITTY: Oh, now, aren’t you so sweet to do that for your – Hyde cuts her off with a look. KITTY (cont’d): And she’s not your girlfriend, of course! (laughs) She spoons some meat into a bun and gives it to Hyde. KITTY (cont’d): Here, at least take this for the road. You know, a sandwich is a sandwich, but a Manwich is a meal. HYDE: Oh, well, thanks, Mrs. Forman. Hyde exits out the patio door, just as Eric enters from the living room. He immediately sits down at the table. ERIC: Hey, Mom. What’s for dinner? I’m starving. KITTY: Manwiches. ERIC: Again? Aah! We just had those. RED enters from the living room. RED: Kitty, I left my shirt on the bed. It needs to be ironed for tomorrow. KITTY: Okay. RED: Oh, and I know you think I forgot, but I didn’t. He kisses her on the forehead. Kitty laughs. KITTY: Oh, Red, I knew you’d remember. RED: Yup. The check for the plumber is on the dresser. He sits down at the table. KITTY: Oh. Good. She prepares two plates and brings them to the table. Eric lifts up his bun and frowns at the Manwich meat. ERIC: Um, is there anything else to eat? Kitty shifts on her feet. She takes Eric’s plate back, then Red’s. KITTY: Well, you know what, honey? She throws both plates into the sink and tears off her apron. KITTY (cont’d): I don’t give a good gosh darn what you eat! She tosses the apron into the sink too and storms out into the living room. Red and Eric look from the door to each other. ERIC: Wow. She’s really upset. RED: Yeah. Nice going. Eric shakes his head, confused. CUT TO: INT. THE HUB – NIGHT A quiet night at the Hub. A gentle snow falls outside. A small GROUP OF GIRLS has the wall table, and Caroline sits in the corner. Hyde and JACKIE enter, Jackie adjusting her hat and coat. JACKIE: Steven, that car is a death trap! HYDE: No, the death trap is that giant patch of ice on Blondo and Fifth. The El Camino’s fine. Or it was, ‘til Big Rhonda cracked my break light. Jackie shakes the snow off her coat and heads over to the girls. Hyde crosses to the counter and places an order. Caroline rushes over to Hyde. CAROLINE: Hi! HYDE: Hey. CAROLINE: Have you seen Fez? HYDE: Uh, no. He went bowling with his host parents. CAROLINE: Damn him! She stomps the ground. Hyde turns to face her, and she looks up. CAROLINE (cont’d): I’m sorry. I was just hoping he’d be here so we could study together. Now I have to walk home alone in the dark. It’s scary out there! Somebody ran over big Rhonda. Hyde nods. HYDE: Um, do you want a - CAROLINE: Okay! She rushes off to get her bag. HYDE: ... Ride? He shrugs and takes the hot cup handed to him from the counter. CUT TO: INT. KELSO’S ROOM - NIGHT Kelso is snuggled up in bed, sound asleep. A big grin spreads across his face as we cut to: INT. GENIE BOTTLE DREAM SEQUENCE. Genie’s bottle from I DREAM OF JEANNIE. Jackie, as Jeannie, stands at the ready. KELSO (v.o.): Genie, I’m home. Jackie smiles, folds her arms, and blinks. Kelso, as Major Nelson, appears. KELSO: Hello, Genie Jackie. JACKIE: Hello, Master Major Michael. How was your day? KELSO: Pretty good, pretty good. But I’m starving. I’ve been on the moon all day and I missed lunch. JACKIE: I can fix that. They sit. Jackie folds her arms, blinks, and a tray of burgers appears on the ottoman. KELSO: Damn, I love having a genie. Well, let’s eat. He leans in toward the burgers, but Jackie takes his arm. JACKIE: Okay – unless you’re hungry for something besides food, Master. She folds her arms, blinks, and she and Kelso are sprawled out on the sofa, Kelso on top of Jackie. Kelso looks from Jackie to the burgers and back. KELSO: Actually, I’ve been having a little problem in this department lately. JACKIE: Not anymore. She folds her arms and blinks. Kelso glances down at his crotch. He lets out a delighted holler. KELSO: You’re the best genie ever! They begin to make out. CUT TO: INT. KELSO’S ROOM – NIGHT Back to reality. Kelso twists in joy at his dream. Slowly, he stirs himself awake. Still smiling, he reaches for the phone by his bed and dials a number. KELSO: (into phone) Hello? Pam? I’m back! He laughs hysterically into the receiver. CUT TO: INT. FORMAN LIVING ROOM – NIGHT The family is awkwardly gathered. Kitty and Eric share the couch while Red sits in his chair. He reads the newspaper, Eric reads a magazine, and Kitty watches television. KITTY: The Waltons. Now, there’s a grateful family. Red mumbles without looking up from his paper, and Eric ignores Kitty entirely. KITTY (cont’d): And boy, did they love their mother. Eric fidgets with his foot and leg. ERIC: Oh, great. I think I’ve got athlete’s foot. He goes back to his magazine. Kitty, disgusted, looks from him to Red and back before throwing her hands up and standing. KITTY: I am – I am – I am going to bed. She hurries up the stairs. Red puts down his newspaper and looks around the room. RED: (to Eric) Where’d your mother go? Eric looks up from his magazine and glances around the room. ERIC: To bed. (beat) Hey, what’s wrong with her, anyway? RED: Who knows? She’s been moody all day. Let me see the TV Guide. He sets his newspaper down, and Eric hands him the TV GUIDE. Red starts to flip through it. RED (cont’d): Let’s see. What day is it? Ahh! It’s the 13th. You know, it seems to me I was supposed to do something on the 13th. It hits him like a rock. Red shuts the Guide and bolts out of his chair. RED (cont’d): Oh, good Lord! (points at Eric) You forgot your mother’s birthday! Eric’s jaw drops. He jumps off the couch. ERIC: Oh, no, Dad! This is bad. This is very, very bad. RED: All right – don’t start getting all twitchy. Now, we gotta think. (beat) Let’s watch ChiPs and think. They both sit, and Red takes up the remote. CUT TO: EXT. ROAD - NIGHT The snow has stopped, and the roads are clear as the El Camino cruises along. Hyde watches the road, Caroline beside him in the passenger seat. “Drivin’ Wheel” by Foghat plays on the radio. CAROLINE: So, Fez is really nice, huh? HYDE: Yeah. Fez is a good guy. CAROLINE: Yeah. (beat) You know, sometimes, when I’m trying to sleep at night, I think about how much it would hurt if he ever left me. And then I say, “Fez would never leave me.” But then, I say, “we’ve only been going out a short time. Maybe he would leave me.” (beat) So then I hold my breath until my lungs are about to explode, because that’s how much I think it would hurt if he ever did leave me. Hyde slowly looks over at Caroline, who stares straight ahead. CAROLINE (cont’d): And then, when I regain consciousness, I start breathing again, and everything’s fine. Oops! There’s my house. Thanks. Bye. They’ve passed the house already, but Hyde quickly pulls the El Camino to a stop. Caroline gathers her bag and hops out. HYDE: See ya. He looks out at the road, his sunglasses not quite hiding the horror in his eyes. CUT TO: INT. FORMAN BEDROOM - NIGHT Almost midnight. The lights are on. Kitty sits up in bed, reading CHOPPING DOWN THE FAMILY TREE. The door swings open and Eric and Red step inside, two sorry-looking balloons and a paper bag in hand. ERIC & RED: Happy birthday! KITTY: (beat) Oh, you remembered. She sets her book down and stands to retrieve her bathrobe. Eric and Red cross to the bed. RED: Well, of course we remembered, honey! We just figured that we’d wait until there was only 15 minutes left in the day and you were good and mad, and then we’d sneak up here and surprise the hell out of you. KITTY: Wow. What a good plan, ‘cause I was awfully mad. RED: Yeah. We really had you going. ERIC: Here, Mom. Open this one first. It’s from me. He takes a badly-wrapped flat present out of the paper bag. KITTY: Well, thank you, honey. She sits on the edge of the bed, takes the gift, and unwraps it to reveal: KITTY (cont’d): Oh. A map of Wisconsin. Oh, well. Thank you. She sets the map down. ERIC: And, Mom. I got you these balloons, too. He hands her the balloons. Kitty laughs and tugs them down close enough for her to read the writing on them. KITTY: “Knock out the knock knocks at Schiffy’s Gas-n-Go.” Huh. RED: Wait, Kitty, there’s more. Kitty gives Eric back the balloons as Red pulls another, even more poorly-wrapped present from the bag. Kitty looks at Red before taking it. Unwrapping the gift, she finds: KITTY: A funnel. RED: ‘Cause I know how much you like to pour things. He and Eric nod with fixed smiles. Kitty examines her funnel. KITTY: Well, um... either these gifts are really thoughtful, or you bought a bunch of crap at the gas station. RED: What? KITTY: Oh, admit it, Red Forman. You forgot my birthday. Red’s head bows. ERIC: (to Red, whispering) Quick, Dad. Give her the lighter. RED: (to Kitty) Look, Kitty. I’m sorry, but... it’s just... well, marking the calendar is your responsibility. Kitty glares up at him, the funnel slipping from her hands. ERIC: Oh. Dad, no! Shaking his head, Eric retrieves the balloons and exits, while Red looks down at a distraught Kitty on the bed. FADE TO BLACK COMMERCIAL BUMPER INT. FORMAN LIVING ROOM – DAY The next morning. Red lies on the couch, in his clothes from last night, with a crude quilt pulled over him. He rubs his eyes and face. Kitty hurries down the stairs, not sparing Red a look. He smiles at her anyway and sits up. RED: Ah, good morning, sunshine! So, what’s for breakfast? KITTY: A funnel. She disappears into the kitchen. Red falls back down onto the couch. RED: Ow. CUT TO: EXT. FORMAN DRIVEWAY – DAY The El Camino is parked in the driveway. Hyde and Fez have lawn chairs set up in the flatbed, while Eric sits on the rim. Even dressed for the cold, they all shiver. FEZ: Uh, guys, can we go inside? I’m freezing my choo-choos off. ERIC: No way. I’m not going in there. I forgot my mom’s birthday. HYDE: Really? ‘Cause I remembered your mom’s birthday. ERIC: If you remembered, why didn’t you tell me? HYDE: How would that be funny? FEZ: I will never have to worry about forgetting Caroline’s birthday. She wrote it on my arm with permanent marker. He rolls up his sleeve, revealing a large note scribbled on the bottom of his right arm. Among other things, the date “4-16” is clearly visible. FEZ (cont’d): Isn’t she sweet? HYDE: More like psycho. FEZ: What are you doing, calling my girlfriend a psycho? HYDE: Oh, I’m sorry, Fez. Did I say, “psycho?” I meant, “nutbag, headcase, whackadoo.” She chokes herself, man! FEZ: Well, Hyde, maybe... maybe you should... maybe you should choke yourself! Good day. He stands to leave. HYDE: Fez - FEZ: I said, “good day!” He clamors out of the El Camino and stomps off. BUMPER EXT. PARKING LOT – DAY The parking lot of the high school. It is empty, save for one lone car. Inside are Kelso, looking thoroughly miserable, and PAM MACY, who looks bored. KELSO: Look, Pam. I’m really sorry about what happened... again. I must have the flu or something. PAM: Well, it’s not like any flu I’ve ever heard of. KELSO: Well, there’s lots of kinds of flu, Pam! (beat) I’m sorry. PAM: Oh, well. Don’t take it so hard. (flat) Oops. Sorry. KELSO: Look, just don’t tell anybody, okay? PAM: Oh, Flopsy, I’m not gonna tell anybody. (beat) I’m gonna tell everybody. She grins wickedly as Kelso drops his head onto the dashboard. INT. FORMAN KITCHEN – DAY Kitty goes through the kitchen, slamming cabinet doors as she puts dishes away. Donna enters through the patio door, a HERSHEY BAR in her hands. DONNA: Hey, Mrs. Forman. Kitty doesn’t react, instead busying herself by pouring a pot of coffee. Donna notices her mood. DONNA (cont’d): Is Eric home? Kitty finally looks at Donna. KITTY: Oh, you mean my son, the map-giver. I don’t know, and I don’t care. She picks up her coffee and sits at the dinner table. DONNA: Mrs. Forman, are you okay? KITTY: Oh, I am just freakin’ fine! Donna joins her at the table. DONNA: What happened? KITTY: (beat) Well, you know I love my family. It’s just – sometimes, I want to get in the car and run ‘em all over. They forgot my birthday. DONNA: I’m gonna go kick Eric’s ass right now. She moves to leave, but Kitty pulls her back to her seat. KITTY: I mean, it’s one thing when they don’t notice when I get my hair done differently – which they don’t. But this is my birthday. Oh, I don’t know. Maybe I expect too much. DONNA: No, Mrs. Forman. You have every right to be mad. In fact, you should be madder. You’re, like, the best mom in the world. KITTY: Yeah! Thank you, Donna! I just wish my own family would say that once in a while. She lets out a sigh. Donna shakes her head and takes a bite of her Hershey bar, catching Kitty’s eye. KITTY (cont’d): Oh, sweetie, that’s not your breakfast, is it? DONNA: (beat) Yeah. KITTY: Oh. (laughs) Why don’t you just let me make you some nice waffles instead? She stands, moves over to the stove, and takes out a whisk and a mixing bowl from the cupboard below. DONNA: (stands) Oh, cool. I love frozen waffles. KITTY: Oh, honey, no, no, no, no. I make my waffles from scratch. DONNA: (beat) Those bastards! She slams a hand down on the stovetop. CUT TO: INT. THE HUB – DAY A fairly busy afternoon. Hyde and Jackie sit at a round table near the center of the room, a basket of fries on the table, with Fez standing over Jackie. Caroline sits at the wall table, tearing open sugar packets and piling up the sugar. Pam Macy holds court near the window, commanding everyone’s attention except Caroline’s. Pam holds her arm erect for a moment, then lets it flop down. Those around her all laugh, as does Fez. He looks down at Jackie, whose blank face shuts him up. FEZ: Jackie, Pam has shared really terrible news about Kelso that made me laugh. Jackie says nothing, her face unchanged. FEZ (cont’d): And now I turn to you... this is where we both laugh together. JACKIE: Actually, Fez, I don’t find it that funny. I kinda feel sad for him. FEZ: But you hate him! He totally screwed you over! JACKIE: Yeah, but he’s grown up a lot since then. HYDE: That is so true. Why, just last week in chemistry, when he had to stay after class, he left all the notes alone on the blackboard and just doodled huge jugs in around ‘em. He and Fez laugh, and Jackie scowls. JACKIE: The point is, he’s suffered a lot, and I’m over it by now. (quietly) Poor Michael. FEZ: “Poor Michael?” Well, I see I have wasted my time stopping here. He sticks his nose up and marches over to Caroline’s table. Hyde puts a hand on the back of Jackie’s chair. HYDE: Jackie, I want you to know it’s real big of you, lettin’ bygones be bygones with Kelso. It’s mature, responsible, and the right thing to do. JACKIE: Well, thank you, Steven. HYDE: And I thought I taught you better, grasshopper. He makes a big show of shaking his head. Jackie chuckles, sighs, and heads into the bathroom. At Caroline’s table, Fez watches as she continues to pile up the sugar. FEZ: So, Caroline, uh, just curious. Um... do you sometimes choke yourself? Caroline looks up, smiling. CAROLINE: Yeah. But I only do it because I love you more than anything in the world. She slaps her hands on either side of the table and leans in toward Fez. FEZ: (beat) Okay, I’m good with that. I’ll get you a soda, lover. Don’t forget to breathe while I’m gone. They trade playful hand gestures, then Fez heads for the counter. Hyde stands and meets him halfway. HYDE: Hey, so how’s it going with Mental Mary? FEZ: I owe you an apology, Hyde. She is crazy. But she’s crazy for me. He looks around Hyde to Caroline. She gasps desperately, as if deprived of breath, and waves. Fez waves back, smiling. CUT TO: INT. FORMAN KITCHEN - DAY Red and Eric stand in the middle of the kitchen. Eric has a bottle of cleaner and Red has the mop, but neither is doing anything except watching the patio door. RED: Oh! Here she comes! He and Eric put on a show just as Kitty comes in through the patio door. Eric scrubs at the stove while Red mops. Kitty breezes right past them into the living room without a word or a glance. Once she leaves the room, the men stop “working.” ERIC: Oh, my God, she didn’t even look at us. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Mom so mad. Have you? RED: Not since she stopped drinking. ERIC: What? RED: Nothing. Look – obviously, your mother’s very upset about something. And desperate times call for desperate measures. For the last ten years, she’s been asking us to do something. And every time, we say no, because what she wants is the most horrible thing in the world. Eric recoils in horror. ERIC: I won’t do it. RED: Oh, you will do it. And you will like it. CUT TO: INT. DANCE HALL – DAY Red’s horror made manifest: the tackiest, ugliest, corniest square dance celebration, complete with dancers in bad country uniforms. Kitty, Red, Eric, and Donna stand in the doorway, decked out in Western clothing. While the other three look ready for death, Kitty bobs with excitement. KITTY: I can’t believe we’re finally square dancing! Oh, this is so much fun! She rushes out onto the dance floor and joins in, her joy making up what she lacks in technique (a lot.) Red, Eric, and Donna continue to look on in disgust. RED: It looks like Hee-Haw puked in here. Kitty runs over to Red and takes him by the arm. KITTY: Come on, honey. Let’s dance! She leads him into the circle of dancers. ERIC: Oh, my God, this is awful. DONNA: She made me waffles. Now promenade, you son of a bitch. She takes Eric roughly by the arm and leads him into the circle too. CUT TO: INT. DANCE HALL -DAY MONTAGE. The EMCEE of the dance sings a corny country song as the dancers go through various steps. We see Donna make a fair effort at enjoying herself (or at Eric’s expense). Eric occasionally cracks a smile. Red grimaces through the whole ordeal. And Kitty beams for every second of it. CUT TO: EXT. FORMAN DRIVEWAY - DAY On a pleasant afternoon, Kelso is all alone and forlorn. He dribbles a basketball and shoots it at the hoop, but it drops to the ground, deflated. KELSO: Why is everything doing that? He stares at the basketball, whimpering. Jackie walks up the driveway and stops in front of Kelso, pity in her eyes. JACKIE: Hey, Michael. I heard what happened with Pam. And I want you to know that, according to Cosmopolitan Magazine, you’re not a freak. KELSO: Really? Jackie nods. JACKIE: Mm-hmm. They say that, lots of times, when it happens to a guy, it’s not that he can’t, it’s just that he secretly doesn’t want to. KELSO: Okay, well, not to criticize, but Cosmo’s never seen Pam Macy naked. JACKIE: Michael, just think about it. Do you even like Pam? KELSO: Well, I like parts of her. Jackie smiles and shakes her head. JACKIE: Well, maybe that’s not enough. And maybe your body’s mature enough to realize that even if your brain isn’t. KELSO: Wait. You know, if this is about maturity, then I want nothing to do with it. JACKIE: Look, Michael, don’t worry, okay? When you find the girl you’re meant to be with, you’ll be able to do all the stuff you want. I promise. KELSO: I hope you’re right. Thanks Jackie. Jackie holds out her arms for a hug, and Kelso takes it. After a moment, Kelso stiffens. His head shoots up and he pulls his hips away from Jackie. KELSO (cont’d): I’m back. JACKIE: What? Kelso pushes Jackie back to arms’ length. KELSO: Nothing. Good hug! He gives her a thumbs’ up and takes off down the street. CUT TO: INT. DANCE HALL – DAY The dance is still in progress, but Kitty is finally tired out. She and Donna catch a breather on two haystacks. Red and Eric walk over to them, Eric with a small box in hand. ERIC: So, Mom, we found this present we just had to get you. Happy birthday. He hands her the box. KITTY: Oh, I thought square dance night was my present. Red kneels beside her. RED: It is, but we really messed up this year, and... well, we’re sorry. Kitty smiles and kisses Red, then opens up her gift. It’s a novelty coffee mug. She beams as she displays it for Donna. KITTY: “World’s Darn-Tootinest Mom.” Do you really think so? RED: You’re darn-tootin’. He kisses her. Kitty fans herself and packs up her new mug. KITTY: Okay, well, I think I’ve had enough do-si-dos for one night, so what do you say we all go home and have hot fudge sundaes? RED: Thank God! ERIC: Oh, yes. They immediately head for the door. DONNA: (to Kitty) Bastards. She and Kitty rise and follow the men out. FADE TO BLACK CREDITS INT. GENIE BOTTLE FANTASY SEQUENCE. Michael, as Major Nelson, and Jackie, as Jeannie, stand in the middle of the bottle. KELSO: Well, Genie Jackie, I am in the mood for some hot master/genie lovin’! JACKIE: Oh, I’m sorry, Master Major Michael. But what we are going to have is a warm master/genie friendship. In fact, I am the master now, and you are the genie. She folds her arms and blinks. They change costumes. Kelso looks down uncomfortably while Jackie beams and adjusts her uniform. JACKIE (cont’d): Except you will not have any genie powers. You will just do as I say. Now, do my math homework, genie, while I step out with Major Steven. She folds her arms and blinks. A pile of notebooks and a pencil appear in Kelso’s hand, and a grinning Hyde, as Major Healey, appears next to Jackie. She links arms with him, blinks, and they vanish, leaving Kelso alone. KELSO: NO! END.

#z's fics #that 70s show #zenmasters #jackie x hyde #fan fiction #fan script #zen3to5

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uzumaki-rebellion · 5 years

Text

Black Boys Bloom Thorns First: Volume 2, Chapter 21

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Summary: Prince N’Jobu meets King T’Chaka’s future new wife first...and his 9-year-old son Erik meets a bit of his mother Califia’s past back in Oakland...

"You make me feel like a natural man, yeah (A natural woman)

You don't even gotta waste time

It's just natural, romantic, yeah

And we don't gotta take it slowly

You could break my body, baby

You're all that I need, yeah

Perfect for me, yeah (perfect for me, yeah)

You're gonna make me feel like I never felt

And fall like I never fell

Care like we never cared

And love like we never will…"

Desire B & Marnino Toussaint – "Never Will"

Umama sat and watched N'Jobu as he ate a full breakfast. The sunroom was filled with fresh flowers from the royal garden and the overwhelming spread of gourmet foods before him actually made him miss the simple breakfasts with his woman and son back home.

Home.

His real home. Califia and Erik. They were his center.

"You are very quiet this morning," Baba said, staring at N'Jobu.

"He just arrived in the middle of the night. Jet lag, my son?" Umama said as she patted his hand.

N'Jobu felt the curious eyes of T'Challa and W'Kabi on him as the boys helped themselves to seconds and thirds of sliced fruit and sweet breads. T'Chaka was equally quiet, but N'Jobu sensed that he was waiting to speak more openly once they were alone.

"I am tired, but I will be fine," N'Jobu said picking up wild honey plum slices to add to the pieces of pineapple already on his plate.

Umama glanced over at T'Chaka.

"We will be attending the Ti'Azan Gallery opening tonight," Umama said. Her tone alone let N'Jobu know something was up.

"I am looking forward to seeing the new artwork coming out of Djata," Baba said.

N'Jobu watched his parents tiptoe up to their real reason for bringing up the gallery opening. They were so obvious that N'Jobu quickly popped a piece of honey plum in his mouth to keep from laughing at them.

T'Chaka sliced into his grilled pork breakfast medallions on his full plate.

"I am too. I hear that Matsimela's daughter will be accompanying him tonight," Umama said.

T'Chaka put down his utensils and stared at his parents with a slight smirk on his mouth.

"Stop it, you two," T'Chaka said.

T'Challa giggled and N'Jobu let a wide smile crease his lips.

"I hear that she is no longer training Dora Milaje recruits—"

"Umama, please. Enough. I know what you are trying to do. I will go to this gallery opening, and I will meet this woman. Is everyone satisfied now?" T'Chaka said.

"Ramonda, her name is Ramonda," Umama said.

"Is she nice?" T'Challa asked.

"Very nice, and she loves children—" Umama said.

"Umama—" T'Chaka said, his face looking defeated.

"I too look forward to meeting Matsimela's daughter," N'Jobu said, trying to rub it in.

"Perhaps you should be looking for a wife of your own, Brother," T'Chaka said. N'Jobu couldn't tell if his brother was being serious or not.

"My work would make that difficult—"

"I am thinking of changing some things. Boys, it looks like you are both done eating. Please excuse yourselves so we can speak privately," T'Chaka said.

Disappointment on their faces, the boys said their goodbyes and left the sunroom. T'Chaka waited a few minutes and then looked N'Jobu in the eye.

"What changes?" N'Jobu said doing his best to make his voice calm and nonchalant.

"Moving some war dogs around, bringing some back home permanently."

Acid churned in N'Jobu's stomach. He wanted to drink the water next to his plate, but he was afraid that his hand would shake if he did so.

"Why?" N'Jobu asked.

"New eyes, new patterns of intel gathering…besides, Umama misses you and I need you to fulfill your true role as my Ambassador. Therefore, it is time for you to return home, take your place as our representative in the world, and get married."

"Yes, I agree. It is your duty now son to be with us again," Umama said.

"I strongly disagree with that plan," N'Jobu said.

Silence.

He had to think of something to say to deflect and convince them all otherwise. He was not expecting this. And Bast help him, surely his brother wasn't planning on him staying there now. Califia and Erik's face flashed in his mind. He felt his forehead crease and his jaw tighten. He told his family not to worry. Told them he would return to them. If they kept him there, if his brother insisted that he stay, he would have to escape from the country, go AWOL, maybe even move Erik and Califia out of Oakland—

"Hopefully you have a reasonable timetable for switching out war dogs. I feel that any sudden changes would cause suspicion—"

"I have already begun the process."

"My intel has been very fruitful and I am embedded in that community fully. If I am removed—"

"All will be handled with a smooth transition. Your Intel has been fruitful and very important. But I need you here with me. Our people love you and I believe your presence here at home can help me turn the tide of dissent."

"There was a vid special about T'Challa turning twelve and they played the old recording of you singing to Bathwandwa when she was carrying him. The social chatter about you lit up the public for weeks, N'Jobu. Our people want to see you more, and your positive popularity crosses all political quadrants. You being here and standing by your brother's side could help all of our people," Baba said.

"This is true," T'Chaka said.

His people.

N'Jobu tried not to show any consternation in his being, but he no longer felt connected to Wakandan people anymore. His people were out there in the world.

"As it stands, Baby Brother, Ambassador Obi tells me he shall retire at the end of this next term and he is willing to start a transition team for you within the next two years. So, continue to do your work well for me, and tonight, let us see what wives Umama has picked out for us this time."

Umama laughed, but when she saw N'Jobu's face, she touched his hand again.

"I should…I should go get some rest. I feel a bit drained, and I need to be ready for tonight," N'Jobu said standing up suddenly and gripping the dining table with his hand to hold his balance.

Two years.

He had two fucking years left to do what he needed to do.

###

"Take your time, JaJa…there you go…there you go…."

Califia pressed the gas pedal of her car gently so that her vehicle moved slowly. Erik sat on her lap turning the steering wheel. They were in their own townhouse complex parking structure. There had been rain earlier in the day, but as the evening came down, there was only a slight drizzle, and no one was outside because of it.

"Not so fast, Mom!"

"I'm not going fast, we're barely moving!"

She held his waist as his hands clung to the steering wheel nervously trying to straighten out the front tires.

"Turn a little harder," she said. When her hands went up to help him, he leaned forward.

"I got it! I got it! Let me do it!"

They both started giggling as he made a wide turn back into their parking section.

"Let's see if you can park it," she said giving the car a little more gas.

"I can," he said.

"You got it, baby," she whispered as he guided the car into their parking space. She put the hatchback in park and pulled the emergency break up.

Erik leaned back into her and she kissed his cheek.

"You did it," she said.

Erik hopped out of the car and she followed him.

It was a good day for them and she was ready for a shower and some dinner.

"Don't forget to bring down your bag of Goodwill stuff. Grandpop is going to pick it up tomorrow when comes over to fix the toilet."

The downstairs bathroom toilet kept running after each flush and her father refused to let her call a plumber when he could fix it himself. He was worried about their income since she wasn't working.

She walked into her bedroom and lifted the bag of clothes she was donating from off of her bed and placed it onto the floor near the bedroom door.

Her laptop was on the bed and she flipped it on. She checked for messages from N'Jobu and was happy to see a taped face chat link. Before she could open it, N'Jobu was already online sending a private chat link to her. He must've been on his computer and waiting for her to log in.

She ran to her bureau mirror and checked her hair and face. Once she felt she looked decent enough for him, after rolling a bit of tinted lip gloss on, she hopped back on her bed and opened his link.

"Baby," she said, "Wow, look at you."

N'Jobu was dressed in an elaborate dark suit with a colorful gold scarf draped over one shoulder. His hair was freshly cut and he had diamond earrings studded in his ears. And those amazing gold slugs were back on his teeth. Moments like this reminded her that her man was royalty and when he was with his people, he showed up and showed the fuck out. Jesus, he was still so fine. She felt herself swooning.

"Califia."

"Huh?" she said.

"You okay?"

"It's you. I mean, damn N'Jobu."

"I'm going to an art show. Not my idea of fun without you," he said.

Art shows. Fancy meals. Servants. Chauffeurs. Bodyguards. High Society.

And here she was going through old clothes to donate and trying to figure out what to fix for her and Erik to eat in less than twenty minutes and hoping their toilet didn't overflow until her father could fix it.

"You look gorgeous. I'm jealous."

"How was your day today?"

"Good. Erik and I cleaned out our closets for Goodwill. We visited Rolita and her mother. Oh, my father is coming over to fix the toilet tomorrow. It started running—"

"Mom!"

Erik's distraught voice startled Califia. N'Jobu's face was full of alarm. She stood up and saw Erik standing in her bedroom doorway.

"What's wrong?"

He stepped forward and her eyes swept his body looking for an injury or something. All he had in his hands was a yellow t-shirt. He held it out to her.

"Oh, JaJa…come here, come here…"

She held her arms out for him.

"What is it?" N'Jobu asked, his face full of worry.

She pulled Erik onto the bed and let him rest his head on her lap. He was crying and Califia held up the t-shirt for N'Jobu to see.

"JaJa," N'Jobu whispered when he saw Lia's face on the old political t-shirt Erik loved so much. He must've gone through his closet again to check for old things he didn't want and found the garment. He had been doing so well. Seeing her face unraveled him.

"Son, look at me. Look at me," N'Jobu said.

Erik shifted his head on Califia's lap and she rubbed his back to calm him. N'Jobu stared at his little boy.

"She's still with you. She's still here with us. Let her have those tears for a little while…then show her how you will carry her within you. Okay?"

She felt Erik nodding his head but a pitiful moaning sound was coming from his mouth and she felt herself beginning to lose it.

BeStrongBeStrongBeStrong…..

"Baba, my chest hurts so bad," Erik said.

"I know. I know. That pain takes time to go away, and Lia doesn't want you to hurt like that for her."

"I want you to come home!"

The high-pitched wailing from his little chest made Califia feel so small without N'Jobu there with them.

"I want to be home with you too. But Baba has to work so I can take care of you and Mom. You have school tomorrow, so you'll be busy…and what about the chess club? Do you think you want to join…?"

The mundane talk of school eased Erik's breathing, and once N'Jobu had him talking about choices of high school and online courses for the following year, their son had stopped crying and sat up from her lap. N'Jobu even had him laughing about his favorite anime and Califia felt her body ease into a relaxed state.

"Feeling better?" N'Jobu asked Erik.

"Yeah," Erik said.

"I'll keep this and you can watch some tv until I fix dinner, okay?" Califia said.

"Okay. Bye, Baba."

"Bye, JaJa."

Erik stepped off of their bed and left the bedroom. Califia heard him head down the stairs. She looked back at N'Jobu and took a deep breath.

"That was rough," she said.

"It will come and go," he said.

She looked at his suit again and reached out to touch his face on the screen.

"I better go cook us dinner. Babe…you really look amazing."

N'Jobu stared at her and in that moment, she felt what he was thinking and it made her feel desired and loved. She broke eye contact with him and just looked at his clothes again.

"I will be offline for a few days. I just wanted to check in with you."

She nodded and saw him look over his shoulder.

"I better get going," he said.

"Okay."

His screen went dark.

Califia sat for a few minutes, quietly centering herself before she went downstairs to cook for herself and Erik.

###

The gallery was packed.

Once word spread that Prince N'Jobu was in the city, many favors were called in for people who desired to attend the opening to see him.

N'Jobu spent most of his time near his parents, escorting his mother whenever his father was hemmed up by supporters and friends. He took one moment alone to grab a glass of honey wine and to check out a small mixed media painting hidden behind a floating wall. The art piece in front of him was intriguing, a depiction of Warrior Falls that shifted its design perspective depending on where one stood. Looking at it from the middle, it looked like the Falls at midday. But if one walked past it from left to right, the sunlight moved as if it were a time-lapse of morning to night. Clever. He glanced down at the name of the artist on the title card underneath it.

"Interesting piece, is it not Prince N'Jobu?"

N'Jobu glanced to his right and noticed the svelte figure of a dark brown-skinned woman with short stylish locs swept to one side of her head. Kohl-lined eyes that reminded him of Califia's feline gaze peered back at him intently. Several thin silver choker necklaces encircled her throat. Her eggplant-colored strapless gown revealed shapely shoulders and the bone-white corset that cinched her waist drew his eye to the high shelf curve of her backside. Great Bast. Who was this?

"It is an engaging depiction of Warrior Falls," he said allowing his eyes to drift back to the art on the wall. The woman's direct gaze without the usual deference accorded him because of his status caught him off guard. He was accustomed to citizens fawning over him if they found themselves in his presence. This woman stood there as if he should know who she was. No automatic bowing or standing back from him, no "Your Highness," or "I shall leave you be."

She stood right next to him. Crept up on him in a stealth-like fashion. He stepped forward to re-claim his ownership of the space, but she stepped forward too and moved a little closer to him.

The hell?

He glanced at her again and then he tapped his kimoyo bead discreetly. Within seconds, Yejide stood near him.

"Your Highness?" Yejide said.

"Yejide!" the woman said rushing forward and embracing the Dora.

Now wait just a damn minute, N'Jobu thought as the woman brushed past him as if Yejide were the most important person in the world.

"Lady Ramonda!" Yejide said, standing stiffly, trying to stay on her task of assisting her Prince, but clearly excited to see….

Ramonda.

Oh, so this was the woman his parents wanted his brother to meet. A possible future Queen.

N'Jobu really stared at her now.

"Do not worry about him, I promise no harm will befall your charge," Ramonda said winking her eye at N'Jobu. He couldn't help by smile at her lack of deference now. She really didn't give a care that he was royalty.

"So, you are the Ramonda—" N'Jobu started to say, stepping forward to get a more proper introduction, but she turned her back on him and linked arms with Yejide pulling her aside, ignoring N'Jobu completely.

"How are you, sister? I have been hearing glowing reports about your work in the palace," Ramonda said.

Poor Yejide let her eyes focus on N'Jobu. He held up his hands freeing her to interact with the assertive woman.

"I am well, Lady Ramonda—"

"Is Ometeko still paired with you?"

"Yes…Your Highness?"

N'Jobu smiled and motioned for Yejide to leave them alone. Yejide bowed, gave Ramonda a look, and pivoted her legs in a severe military turn to refocus herself on her job.

"I remember when she first tried out to be a Dora. So timid. I was not so keen on keeping her in the ranks. But look at her now," Ramonda said as she turned on her heel to face N'Jobu again. She must've read something in his face because she smiled coyly and finally lowered her head to him, "I hope she has earned your respect, Your Highness."

"She and Ometeko, both. Lady Ramonda, is it?"

"Yes, Your Highness. Lady Ramonda Nkoli," she said.

"Daughter of Matsimela," he said.

"Yes."

Ramonda's eyes went back to the art on the wall.

"Did you notice the bit of detail on the waterfall?" she said moving closer to the painting and pointing to a spot near the top.

N'Jobu moved forward to see what she was talking about.

"It shimmers," he said as he looked at the mica flakes embedded in the blue of the water on the piece. His eyes met hers again and he found himself becoming more enchanted with her. All he knew about her was that she had been a Dora for his mother years ago while he was away in London for undergrad studies. She rose in ranks and was hand-picked to leave the Dora Milaje in direct action and to become a trainer for future Doras.

A server wandered into the area with fresh glasses of honey wine and Ramonda grabbed one and N'Jobu replaced his with a fresh one.

"Here's to interesting art," he said clinking his glass with hers.

"And to interesting people," she replied.

At that moment he realized she was flirting with him. Bast help him. All the disregard for protocol made sense now. Did she not know why she was really brought to this opening?

"I am going to check out the sculptures now. Please excuse me," he said moving past her.

"Do you mind if I come with you? I have not had the opportunity to see the sculptures myself. I have been hiding out here from my parents," she said.

For the first time, N'Jobu saw uncertainty in her eyes.

"Why are you hiding out?" he asked.

"I thought I was here to enjoy the art, but my parents…they are trying to set me up…introducing me to someone, and I am not in the mood to pretend like I am interested tonight. Do you mind being my buffer? Just for a little while?"

Now he was really taken in by her. She had no clue what was happening to her, and she unknowingly wanted him to keep her away from some random dude that happened to be his brother. He wanted to laugh out loud, but he grinned instead.

"I suppose I could assist you. You do not know anything about the man your parents have fixed you up with?"

"They have been trying to marry me off for years, and I keep telling them to let me be on that topic. But what I can I do?"

"Follow me," he said turning away from her.

He kept two steps ahead of her as she tried her best to walk next to him. Yejide followed them and when they reached the hall of sculptures, he got stuck for a few minutes greeting some dignitaries, and then he was able to move into the space.

He walked with Ramonda, always keeping ahead of her, and he could tell this bugged her until she caught on that he expected her to stay in her place when interacting with him. She finally got the hint that she was not on his level and he noticed that she made sure to stay at least two body lengths away from him and not shoulder to shoulder.

She was very critical of the sculptures, but the ones she did like, he liked them too. She had a sharp eye for detail and once they began talking about certain pieces, he learned that she was also a sculptor and almost went into art full time before she became a Dora Milaje. They talked and walked and after a time he had to ask her a question.

"Why did you leave the corps?" he asked, curious to know why she removed herself from that career.

"I missed being out in the field. When I worked for the Queen Mother, she always told me I should train up the Doras to be like me. That was such a high compliment. I loved working for her, and I was very happy training future Doras. But now…I actually would like to take a break and explore art again. I rented a small house near the Jabari mountains that I want to convert into a studio. However, I have to muddle through this thing with my parents. I made an agreement with them. They allow me a year of peace to sculpt without judgment of my life choices, and I would go on a few meet and greets with suitable men."

"You are not interested in marriage?" he asked.

"I am. But I would like to take this time to work with my hands in creative ways again. Not just teaching the Doras how to break necks in the most efficient way possible."

N'Jobu laughed out loud, and Ramonda smiled wide. Her eyelids crinkled at the corners when she did, and her lips made her mouth look inviting. How many hearts had she broken when she became a Dora and dedicated her life to the throne? He wondered.

"What are you looking for in a partner?" he asked.

She rattled off a litany of the usual things most people wanted, and somehow the topic switched to food and then politics and then art again. She was delightful and didn't back down from her convictions, especially when it came to opinions about T'Chaka. She didn't even care that she was speaking to the brother of the King. Her biggest judgment was that she felt that T'Chaka kept himself too far apart from their people. His way of ruling was impersonal and off-putting because he separated himself from society.

She was right.

Her eyes studied his face, and he felt himself becoming uncomfortable being alone with her in the section of the sculpture space they were in.

"I need to return to my parents. Shall I escort you to yours?" he said.

She looked disappointed. Her smile faded.

"I thank you for sharing your knowledge of the work here. I wish you success with your own artistic endeavors…"

Yejide stepped forward, and N'Jobu began to feel awkward trying to get away from Ramonda. It was a weird feeling. He wanted to hang with her because she was interesting and had unique insights on how the new art coming out of Birnin Djata really reflected the state of their country, but at the same time, this was to be his brother's possible courtship dance, and Ramonda was acting like N'Jobu had just broken up with her.

"I am sure the man your parents would like for you to meet here will keep you entertained."

Ramonda shrugged her shoulders.

"Hopefully he will be as gracious and as enjoyable as you, Your Highness," she said.

"I doubt that very much, but he can sure try," N'Jobu said getting her to smile again.

"Too bad he is not you," she said as her eyes caught a look at something behind him.

N'Jobu turned to see his brother walking up to them with an older couple along with his own mother.

"Ramonda, daughter, come and greet the Queen Mother, and King T'Chaka," the older woman said.

Ramonda's eyes grew wide, and she glanced back at N'Jobu again.

"Trust me, he is not as gracious or as enjoyable as me. But he will not bore you, Lady Ramonda," N'Jobu said.

"Lady Ramonda," T'Chaka said, reaching for Ramonda's hand.

N'Jobu heard the slight turn of pitch in his brother's voice. Ramonda was not what he expected. As his brother kissed Ramonda's hand, N'Jobu could tell that T'Chaka was smitten already. His eyes were glued to her face. Their mother looked pleased. Like the cat that snared the canary.

N'Jobu greeted Ramonda's parents and then he excused himself. His eyes sought out Ramonda's one last time before leaving. They were still bewitching eyes, her expression letting him know that she was not in a million years expecting anyone like this. And something else was there too.

Disappointment again.

###

Califia stood by the sound system and watched her class of dancers execute her choreography just short of perfection. It was Saturday and she felt a ripple of pleasure course through her body as she enjoyed the feeling of sweat and movement on her own body.

Dante stood in the corner uncovering his drum with his drum corps as they waited for her session to end so that his beginning capoeira class could begin.

"One last time y'all, from the top. Get it in!" Califia yelled as the dancers got into formation again. She saw Erik hanging near his grandfather watching, his right foot tapping in time to the massive beats that rattled the floor.

Califia slid her feet over to him shaking her hips, drawing his eyes to her face as she held out her hands encouraging him to join her. He shook his head while looking away from her and she pranced in front of him doing one of his signature moves that made him laugh.

Dante started warming up his drum. Joining in time to the music on the sound system. The bells hanging above the front door jangled and James walked in carrying his drum bag. Whenever N'Jobu was gone for a period of time, James was always there, watching over them. Dante convinced him to start drumming on Saturdays and James came faithfully, improving his technique.

The music really started rocking when the rest of the drummers joined Dante in playing and Erik finally eased in front of her following her steps. The two of them danced together in sync and James pulled out his cell to tape them.

"Go Erik, go Erik, go Erik…" the class chanted and her son leveled up his moves.

"Whatchu got little boy, huh?" she challenged and Erik stopped and bent his left knee, placing his hands on it and just letting his right-side move, popping his booty out, imitating the girls in the class.

The drums thundered and Califia spun around grabbing Erik's hands and pulling him closer to her.

"Aye, from the top again!" Califia yelled to the class as Dante walked over with his drum strapped to his waist and standing in front of Califia and Erik. The rhythmic hip hop beats flowed easily with the drumming as she danced next to Erik in front of the mirrors. Everybody that moved in the space was on point and when they reached the end of the choreo, Califia cartwheeled into a handstand and then swiped her legs around Erik.

Dante placed his drum on the floor and slid into the action, and Erik stepped back allowing his grandfather to play with Califia too, the three of them twisting and turning, their bodies bending and jumping. James moved in closer with his cell.

"Erik, say hi to your Dad so I can send him this," James called out.

Erik waved at the phone and Califia lifted him up from behind and Erik dissolved into peals of laughter as she twirled him like he was a carousel.

"Califia," James called to her and she looked at his phone and crossed her eyes while sticking out her tongue.

"Hey, babe," she said to the cell.

James turned his phone camera back on his face.

"JoJo, she was saying that to you, not me," James said.

The door bells jangled again and Califia put Erik down when she saw who walked in. He was a bit leaner and his hair was longer, but those deep-set eyes looked the same as when she first saw them when she was fifteen.

"Cedric," she said. Confusion prickled her face and she moved over to the sound system turning off the music.

"Thanks, everyone," she said clapping her hands and walking over to Cedric. The class scattered as the transition from one session to the next began.

"Hey," she said feeling awkward, especially in front of Erik who was watching Cedric curiously. Cedric stepped into her personal space and held out his hands for a hug, and she gave him one, making sure not to act overly familiar with him.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

"Had a layover, decided to see if this place was still here—"

"Mom," Erik said handing her bottled water and standing right next to her.

Cedric looked at Erik when he heard "Mom" and a smile appeared on his face.

"Hey there, what's your name?" Cedric asked.

"What's yours?" Erik tossed back.

Califia stared at her boy and Cedric chuckled.

"Fair enough. I'm Cedric," he said holding out his hand.

"Erik," her son said shaking the man's hand.

"Strong grip young man," Cedric said.

Erik looked up at her face and Califia could really sense the internal interrogation going in Erik's head.

A layover in Oakland? She didn't believe that for one minute.

"How long is your layover?"

"Just a few hours. Just took a chance and…well here you are."

"Hi," Dante said sticking out his hand toward Cedric, "I'm Dante, her father."

"How's it going, sir? I know Califia from Martha's Vineyard. Grew up with Bakari."

"Yeah…oh, yeah, okay. Glad to meet you. Excuse me, I have a class to start. Califia, I can get Eugene to do the drum for me."

"Erik, do you mind helping Grandpop while I talk?" Califia said.

She could tell Erik didn't want to, more interested in this strange man talking to her. She wondered if his father told him to act like this while he was gone.

"Erik?" she said again and her son stepped away from her and reached for Dante's drum on the floor and moved it back with the other drummers.

Califia had Cedric follow her to a back section that had folding chairs set up. They seated themselves and Cedric surveyed the space. He looked back at her as Dante's students trickled in and began warming up on the floor.

"So…motherhood really agrees with you, Cali. You look great," he said.

"A little heavier," she said touching her stomach.

"It fits you," he said as his eyes glossed over her short leggings and tank top.

"I saw you and your son tearing it up through the window. That was pretty cool."

Cedric's eyes went to her naked ring finger and then glanced over at Erik again.

"Yeah, he's a great kid. Takes after his Dad a lot, so the two of them together can be a little crazy," she said letting him know Erik's father was in the picture.

"I just wanted to see you again. You don't really do personal social media, but I saw the website for here, and so…you know…"

She looked at his left hand and saw a wedding band.

"Married, huh?"

"Divorcing."

"Sorry to hear that."

"You?"

"I'm with Erik's Dad. Going strong," she said.

"I have two daughters and a son," he said.

"Oh, wow. You've been busy," she said laughing, "Pictures?"

He pulled out his phone and showed a family photo. Good-looking children. His wife…ex-wife, looked how she always imagined the woman he would end up with would look like. Conservative and perfectly coiffed hair. Good make-up. Body still trim. Children miniature versions of them both. Classy and safe. The oldest girl looked to be about seven.

"You keep up with Albert?" she said.

"He's still single. Has a son with a woman in Maryland."

Califia watched Erik keep the lead drum beat in place of her. They watched her father lead his class in basic moves.

She wondered if Cedric came looking for her to see if he could get next to her again since he was divorcing. She kept her personal stuff off of social media for N'Jobu's sake. The things she did have online were private and open to only a tiny number of people.

"Can I take you and your son out to eat?"

She had to admit she was curious about him. Curious about the goings on back in Oak Bluffs.

Free food for her and Erik and a distraction from missing N'Jobu.

Why not?

###

"But if Godzilla is a replicant and can regenerate whenever he wants to, why would they stay on the planet? They can't kill him, so why not go to a new planet?"

Cedric looked confused and starving for the answer to his question. Erik twirled his fork in his hand and gave an exasperated sigh.

"Because it's the only planet that can sustain life and they lost all their tech and can't rebuild their ship," Erik said.

Califia savored the French onion soup she ate along with her ribeye steak. Erik enjoyed a gourmet hamburger with sweet potato fries along with Cedric who ordered the same thing. Erik had been a little stand-offish with Cedric as he sat between them, but once Cedric mentioned that his daughter was into the new Godzilla animated series, Erik's eyes perked up and they discussed the show non-stop.

"But if the monster planet has the resources to create metal and a lot of their housing, why couldn't they re-build their ship too?"

"I don't write the show, I just watch it," Erik said and Cedric burst out laughing making Erik smile.

Cedric glanced at Califia, and she just shook her head.

"I need to use the restroom," Erik said.

Califia scooted over and allowed him to leave.

"Is he okay by himself?" Cedric said.

"Trust me, no one is going to snatch up my son if they know what's best for them. Thank you for asking though."

"This is nice," he said.

"It was good hearing about folks back east, Thank you for this meal too."

"Erik is…Erik is really sharp. His vocabulary and the way he thinks…school must be a breeze for him."

"He doesn't attend a traditional school for most days. He starts high school next year."

"High school? Holy shit. At 9?"

"Yep. It's a struggle keeping him grounded. His mind and ideas are so far beyond what traditional schools can do for him. He'll probably start college when he's twelve. His father and I are trying to figure out how to balance it out. It's hard keeping up with him sometimes."

"My eyes did glaze over a bit when he was talking about his science experiments at home when we were driving over. Half the time I didn't even know what he was talking about. Tetrach…tetris dee…parrodox?"

"Tetrachlorodibenzoparadioxin. Don't let it scare you. It's the chemical toxin made from wood burning. He's trying to figure out a way to clean the air when we get all these wildfires in California every year."

"Well, my kids are trying to figure out how to dress themselves neatly on their own. Yay."

Califia chuckled.

"Trust me, Erik is still a little kid himself in a lot of ways."

"I always wondered what a child from you would be like. It's you, but extra helpings."

They laughed together.

Erik returned with his own cell phone stuck to his ear. When he approached the table, he handed his phone to Califia.

"It's Baba," Erik said.

Califia's face froze.

"Could you excuse me for a moment? Erik, finish your food."

Califia moved from the table grabbing her purse and walking into the restaurant lobby. She glanced at her phone in her purse and saw that she missed three calls and a private face chat from N'Jobu. Erik probably blabbed about their meal with Cedric. She took a breath and tried to sound cheery.

"Hey! How are you?"

"Cedric?"

"Yeah. He had a layover and came around to the studio and saw us there. He's treating us to dinner before he goes back to his wife and kids."

She could've said home or family, but she wanted to soothe her man because she already knew his mind was racing in the wrong direction.

"Everything good on your end?" she said glancing over to their dinner table. Erik was chatting with Cedric and Cedric had a big grin on his face while listening.

"How long is his layover?"

His voice was tight. Dammit. They hadn't spoken in two weeks, Just emails and pre-recorded video messages.

"He has to leave within the next hour."

"Face chat me on our private line when you get home."

'N'Jobu, don't trip."

"I'm not."

"Yes, you are. I can hear it in your voice."

"He just shows up out of the blue?"

"He had a layover and remembered the studio—"

"He's not Bakari or Soliel, or one of your college buddies from way back—"

"We're just having dinner and catching up. I knew him as a kid. We know the same people I grew up with—"

"You had a relationship with him. A sexual one. I'm never going to look at him like he's just an old homeboy."

"Ohmigod, is this going to be a big deal? Is it? Let me know now so I can hang up. I would think you would be happy to hear my voice and know that I am doing well. Getting out of the house and doing things with Erik. Who is doing great by the way. But since you are so worried about old dick—"

"Alright, alright. Chill—"

"You chill. Why are you so uptight? What did Erik tell you?"

"He said your old boyfriend took you two out for dinner."

"Old boyfriend? How did he know that? Did you tell him that?"

"No, so he must've picked up on something between you two that was pretty obvious—"

"All we are doing is talking and eating. He's telling me about his children, I'm telling him about Erik and you."

Silence.

She rubbed the side of her neck. Together for almost ten years as a family, and this man could still make her feel guilty for no reason.

"Finish your meal and get back to me when you can," he said.

Her jaw clenched.

"Califia?"

"Okay."

She hung up on him.

###

Umama was really pulling out all the stops for Ramonda.

An elaborate dinner outside on the moon observation deck high above the palace. The best wines from the family wine vault. The entire Udaku royal family decked out in clothing reserved for state functions. Two council elders in attendance.

N'Jobu ate his food and tried his best to appear pleasant, but he was upset. When Califia didn't answer her phone the previous day, he went to his go-to number which was his son. He caught Erik washing his hands in the bathroom with a video chat.

"Where are you?" N'Jobu had asked not recognizing the facilities.

"Mom's old boyfriend is treating us to dinner."

Erik said it so easily that N'Jobu thought he misheard for a second. Who the fuck was feeding his wife and son at a fancy restaurant?

Erik spilled the beans, describing the man, saying his name, and giving his keen observational skills. When Califia denied telling Erik the extent of her relationship with Cedric, N'Jobu wondered what they had done to tip Erik off to something sexual in nature to make him conclude that Cedric was more than a simple old friend.

When she hung up on him, he let his anger and resentment settle and he searched deep within to figure out what upset him so much. She said the man was married and had children. He had to take into account that he was once engaged to Zinzi, had sexual contact with her, and they were still good friends and he saw her once a year back home. Cedric hadn't been around for ten years. N'Jobu suspected that something was amiss in Cedric's marriage to make him go out of his way to see Califia. N'Jobu could only remember that horrible moment a long time ago when he sought out his woman and he saw her screwing Cedric hard inside their home. Screwing her like she was the breath Cedric needed to survive in the world. Saw that man's dick thrusting into his love and she liked it.

He could feel his body yearning for Califia in that terrible way it did whenever he was in Wakanda. And knowing that other man was in her vicinity, eating with his own child no less, it made N'Jobu rigid and ready to fight.

He concentrated on his brother.

T'Chaka was charming and funny and for a pleasant moment, he was almost his old self, acting the way he did when Bathwandwa was alive. Ramonda was drawing his good qualities back out. It had only been two weeks, but N'Jobu knew that his brother was in love. Ramonda cut the King no slack, and she didn't mince words if she disagreed with T'Chaka, and this made Umama smile so hard.

Although he didn't know Ramonda well, he could tell that she was liking T'Chaka. Maybe more than just like him.

The first dinner she had been invited to at the palace, with her parents in attendance, she had cornered him during the after-dinner libations and punched him in his arm.

"You knew everything," she said.

"I did, but I didn't know it was you until you harassed me."

"Harassed you?"

"All up in my face. Not giving me peace to contemplate art by myself," he teased. Those sharp eyes of hers made him feel strange again.

"I was so embarrassed," she whispered, "you were making fun of me."

"I was not!"

"Lower your voice," she hissed.

He lowered it, "I was minding my business…wait, why am I lowering my voice in my own home?!"

Ramonda rolled her eyes at him and left him standing with a glass of port in his hand. T'Chaka had glanced their way and N'Jobu decided to check in with him. His brother's eyes questioned the private conversation between himself and Ramonda.

"Your intended is angry with me," N'Jobu said.

"My intended? We are simply in the preliminary—"

"Stop. This is me, your brother. I know you. You are taken with her. Just pick a date and let us end this tiresome charade."

Ramonda walked over to them.

"Welcome back Queen Ram—"

T'Chaka thrust his elbow into N'Jobu's side, and N'Jobu felt a bit of wind get knocked out of him before he could get all his words out.

"I hope the dinner was satisfactory," T'Chaka said, and N'Jobu stood there enjoying the tinge of desperation in his brother's voice trying to impress Ramonda.

"It was wonderful, Your Highness. Thank you for inviting me and my parents. My mother wants the recipe for the pheasant crepes."

"And she shall have it," T'Chaka said.

Dear Bast, this was painful for N'Jobu to watch.

"What is wrong with your face?" Ramonda asked.

N'Jobu glanced at his brother first then looked at Ramonda.

"Nothing is wrong with my face—"

"You look like you are in pain," she said.

"I think Umama would like to see me…" N'Jobu said looking for an out.

"No one is looking for you," she said.

"Then I will look for someone," he said.

"Did your brother tell you how he made fun of me?" she said.

T'Chaka glared at N'Jobu.

"Hey…" N'Jobu said.

"Shall I have him arrested for you? I can place him in isolation from the fireworks if you would like."

"Fireworks?" She questioned.

A loud explosion erupted from outside and T'Chaka held out his elbow for her.

"Right on time," T'Chaka said as Ramonda took his arm.

"Thank Bast," N'Jobu said and Ramonda flipped him off without looking as N'Jobu walked behind the two of them.

"Ramonda!"

Ramonda's mother's voice called out from clear across the room.

"Sorry, Mother," Ramonda said.

N'Jobu grinned and Ramonda stuck her tongue out at him making him laugh.

This woman.

She could very well save T'Chaka.

Everyone congregated on the observation deck balcony and watched the fireworks that burst in fiery rainbows of color over the city.

"Are you celebrating something?" Ramonda asked T'Chaka.

"You," T'Chaka said, and Ramonda's eyes became coquettish. Had N'Jobu and the others not been present he was positive his brother would've kissed her.

The blossoming romance right before him made N'Jobu miss his Califia and his son. They should be there with them all watching the extravagant light show that was only happening because his brother was beholden to a woman that could probably bring him to his knees. N'Jobu knew that feeling well and welcomed it. Wholeheartedly.

"Prince N'Jobu."

N'Jobu glanced across the table and saw Ramonda's cousin Allem staring at him.

"Yes?" he said to the woman. Allem's full lips were stained red like the wine they drinking.

"Will you be attending the Star Light Ball this year?" she asked.

"I will be there," he said trying to remember the reason why Ramonda's cousin was there. Oh yes, a potential mate for him. Two more weeks and he could get on a plane and jet home. Hopefully.

Allem looked thrilled that he said he was attending the ball. He skipped it the previous year but felt it was best to go this year to stay the obedient younger Prince. Play his role until he could be away from the palace.

His kimoyo beads lit up. The signature was from Jax.

N'Jobu sent a quick message that he would meet his boys at Quantum, the new private bar outside of Djata. He needed a break.

When the formal dinner was over, N'Jobu left the guests and fled as discreetly as he could to his suite. He dressed down in jeans and a plain designer pull over, then hit a private chat line to try and catch his woman. She had ignored his apology texts and just let Erik touch base with him after their dinner with Cedric. Califia didn't answer, so he checked Erik's line. His son was connected. He made small talk, discussed school but then he seized the moment to pump information out of Erik.

"JaJa, what made you say that Cedric was Mom's old boyfriend?"

"I could tell."

"How?"

"I just could."

"Be specific."

The face chat they had was private, Erik was in his room and Califia was downstairs watching tv.

"Are you upset about this, Baba?"

"No. I'm just curious how you could figure that out without your Mom or I telling you that information."

Erik stared at N'Jobu for a moment.

"You don't like Cedric," Erik said.

"I don't know him. I have never met him."

Awkward silence. Erik was feeling out the situation, and even five thousand miles away, his boy could tell the truth. His eyes broke away from N'Jobu's.

"His voice," Erik said.

"His voice?"

"And his eyes."

"Help me understand, JaJa. Really, I'm just curious."

"He looked at Mom and talked to her the way you do. And you love Mom. So I knew he loved Mom too before he had a wife and kids."

N'Jobu gave a deep sigh.

"Baba," Erik said, his eyes contemplative and a bit guarded.

"Yes, my Son."

"Mom didn't talk to him or look at him the way she does with you."

N'Jobu gave his son a wide smile.

There was a knock on Erik's door. Califia walked in. When she saw N'Jobu's face she stopped moving.

N'Jobu felt his heart open up for her.

"Hey," she said, her eyes glancing at Erik.

N'Jobu held his hands under his suite desk and shot off a quick message to Jax that he would be late joining him.

"Can I tell you both a story?" he asked.

Erik's eyes lit up and N'Jobu watched Califia's body language.

"Sure," she said when she saw how eager Erik was.

N'Jobu needed to tell her in the stories of his people how he was feeling. He could tell she didn't want to have a private talk with him, but he wanted to connect with them both.

Erik picked up his laptop and carried it over to his bed. It was almost the afternoon there and a Sunday. Perfect. Sunday was always their family day of rest.

Califia crawled on the bed next to Erik and he watched their son lean back into her.

"I want to tell you the story of Entabeni and Sekmet. It is how a God from one world traveled across the heavens and saw his great love, a Goddess from another world, and did whatever he could to be with her, no matter what. And despite the fact that he was a jealous God, stubborn, quick to make assumptions…a ridiculous deity really, his heart was in the right place and needed to be with her for eternity."

Califia gave him a sly look.

"Baba, you're not good at disguising this story. You're talkin' about you and Mom," Erik said.

"Am I?"

"It's so obvious," Erik said crossing his arms.

"I am quite sure that this is an ancient story I heard from my own Baba when I was your age. Hmmm. Maybe I should choose another one-?"

"No, we want to hear this one!" Erik said glancing up at Califia.

"Yes, we want to hear this story," Califia said leaning her head back against the headboard.

Erik's eyes looked deep into his mother's and then he scooted his face closer to the laptop screen.

"Baba…"

"Yes, JaJa," N'Jobu said.

"Mom has that look in her eyes and that sound in her voice. The way you do it."

Califia looked at both of them confused.

"That is good, my Son. Very good."

He spun the tale for them. And his heart eased. No worries about Cedric. No worries about T'Chaka keeping him in Wakanda. No worries about what he had to accomplish while he was in his home country to secure a cache of vibranium.

At this moment, his very own Sekmet made him whole and kept him in her world. That was all that mattered.

Chapter 22 HERE.

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savingpartoftheworld · 5 years

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Saving Part of the World - Part Two - Chapter Seventeen

Summary: Set after G-Rev, the World Championships have come to Belfast, Northern Ireland in the hopes of spreading the interest and drawing in tourists. In between all the teen angst and the team drama, something powerful and hungry lurks on the horizon and with the help of the beybladers, it may just destroy part of the world.

Rated: T for cursing and mild violence

Ships: Hints of Mariah/Rei, Hilary/Tyson, Enrique/Julia

Previous Chapters: One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Thirteen Fourteen Fifteen Sixteen

Chapter Summary: Amber runs an errand for a neighbour and then has to run for her life. Hilary and Tyson have a fight at breakfast. Mariam goes shopping and spots some pretty boys to stalk.

Amber woke with a jerk and a groan, remnants of the night’s dream playing havoc with her stomach. She flopped onto her back, threw her arm over her eyes. Her skin was hot, the room stuffy despite the small vent in the window. She’d kicked off the covers before she’d fallen asleep but somehow during the night, they’d tangled with her feet. Toeing them off, she felt them slide off the bed as she looked across at the window where the sunlight was creeping along the floor, bathing the room in warm luminescence.

She rolled off the bed and got to her feet. It looked around ten in the morning but it was hard to tell in the summer. She grabbed her phone off the bedside table, checked the digital display—it was 07:15, ugh—and padded to the bathroom for a shower. Starting the water, she waited for it to heat as she considered her reflection in the mirror above the sink. There were dark circles under her eyes, not surprising given her sleeping troubles. If it wasn’t the unbearable heat, it was the fear of intruders or the terrible dreams. Life sucked.

She took a quick shower and stalked into the kitchen, pulling a comb through her damp hair. She should just chop it off, it would be easier managed, but she liked it long. Her mother always lamented cutting her own hair, so Amber felt it was half her duty to let hers grow long so her mother could plait it. Not that her mother could right now.

She gripped the counter and swallowed back the dizzying feeling of homesickness. She liked Belfast well enough, when she didn’t have to be here on her own and when the visit lasted a week. This mission of hers seemed to be endless.

Slipping into the kitchen, she put on the kettle and switched on the TV. Music blasted from the speakers before she lowered the volume. It always did that. She should probably leave a note for her father. God, he was going to be so pissed with her. Probably ground her and then her mother would do the disappointed face, but they had to know she’d do this. Nana Molly knew and that pretty much meant everything in her family. If Nana Molly was aware of it, things were grand. If Nana Molly laughed at a prank, you couldn’t be punished.

When the kettle boiled, she made her tea and dropped down onto the sofa to switch to the News, which was once again filled with Beyblade stories, mostly centring around Eoin.

She frowned, curling her legs up on the sofa. Who the hell was Eoin anyway? What was his role? He’d attacked her in the changing room without any provocation. She could have been a lost fan, a stalker, and while annoying, neither of those warranted such a violent outburst. What if she told the News or the WBBA? His reputation would be shattered, so why did he risk his championship hopes?

She sipped her tea and thought it out.

That kind of overreaction spoke of privacy being invaded, which meant Eoin had something to hide. Maybe something to do with the tree and her own mission. Not unlikely. Why would she be the only Irish person to know about this? Could Eoin’s bitbeast actually be something like Morrigan? But why was he beyblading with it? Could she beyblade with Morrigan? Was she supposed to? God, she hoped not.

Closing her fingers around her mug of tea, she decided to go to the tournament that night, if only to talk to Hilary and Ian about the tree. They needed to figure out what that meant and see if any of the bitbeasts were affected by it.

She froze as someone knocked on the door. Rising slowly, she crept over and peered out, sagging when she recognised Mrs Mulligan from across the hall.

“Hey Mrs Mulligan,” she called out, as she opened the door.

Mrs Mulligan blinked behind her glasses, then offered a warm smile of welcome as she frailly rested her weight on her walking stick. “Oh Amber, I didn’t know you were visiting. Is your da home?”

Panic flared, was ruthlessly squashed. “No, he’s at the office.”

The woman slumped and pouted, looked away. “Oh.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“It’s just the tap, it’s not working and I called the plumber and he says he’s coming”—she looked down the corridor as if expecting him to appear—“but I have this card and it has to be sent today. It’s my grandson’s 21st birthday tomorrow and I forgot to post it yesterday. I just thought if your father was there, he could wait for the plumber for me while I go post this. It’s just one of those men things, you see, they all seem to understand each other.”

“Well, I can’t help with the plumber but I can post your card for you.” After all, what was the point of trying to save the world for people if you weren’t willing to help them on the day to day things? Good karma and all that.

“Och, would you? That would be such a help, you know. It needs a stamp though. I’ll get you the money for it and sure, you can get yourself some sweeties with it too.”

Amber winced. Good manners dictated she refuse. “No, you’re grand. I’m running down to the city anyway, Mrs Mulligan. It’s not a big deal. Is there anything else I can get you, some milk, teabags, sugar, anything?”

“No, no. No. You just take this”—she reached into her red purse and pulled out a tenner which was far too much considering a stamp cost less than a pound generally—“and get yourself something.”

Taking the money and the card, and making a note to smuggle it back to Mrs Mulligan, Amber stepped back into her apartment. She closed the door, eyed the TV and set about getting ready for her day.

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“So have you heard from Kevin yet, Mariah?” Hilary asked, slathering butter onto her slice of toast and ignoring Rei’s admonishing look. She knew she used too much butter, that it looked like it’d been plastered onto the toast by the time she finished, but it made the toast taste better, especially since it was a little darker than she preferred.

“Mm, a little bit.” Mariah sipped her tea, gold-tipped nails glinting in the bright lights above them, despite the sun pressing against the wood-style Venetian blinds. “He’s not great at writing letters.”

“Does he have email? I could send him one for you. What about Instagram?” Kenny turned his laptop to show Mariah the website and Rei laughed, teasing Kenny about his recent upload: a picture of the remains of their breakfast, mostly empty dishes and discarded cutlery. Kenny was quick to defend himself, claiming the fans wanted to know these things. What Tyson ate was apparently big news.

As they joked and talked, Hilary relaxed into her seat and chewed on her toast. This was good. Being with her team settled her, chased away the frayed edges from the day before. She chuckled, as Mariah pointedly reminded Rei about his own lack of communication while travelling, and studied the dining room. Most of the blading teams had claimed the larger tables, leaving the smaller ones to the travelling business people who were clearly regretting their choice of hotel as they frowned and quickly ate their breakfasts, then escaped the cacophony of teenage conversation.

A waitress slipped through the crowded tables with practised ease to set a coffee pot in the middle of the All Starz’s table. Rick listened to his music, Steve and Eddy pored over a newspaper grabbed from a nearby table, while Michael motioned for Emily to pour him a cup as he leaned across his seat to talk to Enrique. The ex-Majestic had taken a smaller table for himself and Julia, though Hilary hadn’t seen them converse since they sat down. Julia seemed content to watch the muted TV mounted in the corner where a woman was predicting sunshine for the whole of the UK and Ireland, though every so often her phone would flash and she would respond with a flurry of screen tapping.

Taking a sip of her own tea, Hilary waved when she spotted Max and Tyson approaching the dining area with their plates overflowing with food. As she lowered her hand, she locked eyes with Ian for just a second before he quickly looked away. He sat on his own in the corner, furiously typing on his computer, not seeming to mind that his team was AWOL. Though maybe they were just off practising and they’d join him later. Still, she wondered what made him rise so early in the morning to spend his time on that computer. What was he writing? Did it have anything to do with Amber?

“See, Tyson!” Max dropped into the seat across from Hilary and grabbed for the colourful foil sachets sitting in a little white ceramic pot. “You can get brown sauce, ketchup, mustard!” He waved the yellow packet in front of his friend, frowning when Tyson snatched it and began to add it to his sausages. “But there’s no mayonnaise. I think there’s a conspiracy.”

Hilary chuckled, quickly reaching down into her bag by her feet when Max cast her a wounded look.

“That’s not nice, Hils, how am I supposed to eat my food without mayo?”

“Open your mouth and just shove it in.” So saying, Tyson shoved a forkful of eggs into his mouth. “Chry mew fwings.”

Daichi pointed a fork in Tyson’s direction. “What the hell did that mean?”

“I don’t want to try new things.”

Mariah screwed up her nose. “Tyson, that’s just gross.”

“It’s wrong, Mariah,” Max retorted with a scowl. “What Tyson is doing is wrong and offends my tastebuds.”

As they bickered, Hilary fumbled around until her fingers closed around the cool plastic bottle. Grabbing it, she lifted it up and presented to Max. “Aren’t you lucky I’m such a good manager?”

Max’s blue-blue eyes lit up. “Mayonnaise? Hilary, you’re the best!”

“Why do you always get Max mayonnaise?”

Hilary turned to Tyson, her smile fading. “Because he likes it.”

Having squeezed almost half the bottle onto his food, Max nodded. “I do.”

“And you get Kai chocolate. But you never get me stuff.”

“Or me,” Daichi piped up.

Hilary ignored the youngest member of her team—she had spent a whole night nursing him back from the brink of alcohol-induced death—and focused on Tyson as he glowered down at his food. “I don’t get you anything because you don’t have any dietary needs. You will eat anything put in front of you.” Which was great, it meant she didn’t have to go out of her way to make him eat or track down certain foodstuffs or find specific restaurants in each city they visited. Tyson was a breath of fresh air when it came to her team at times. Rei was great too, he took care of himself—mostly because he was a food snob; she remembered the mango incident well—and Daichi was happy as long as no one came near him with a tomato.

“So what are you saying? I’m fat?”

She blinked, thrown by the question. “I never said you were fat.” She glanced around the table for support because she never said anything like that. “I never said that,” she repeated firmly.

There was hardly an ounce of fat on him. Since hitting puberty—if that was even the right term since he sure wasn’t showing any maturity—he’d shot up into a skinny rake of a boy.

Rei pinched the bridge of his nose. “Tyson, stop.”

Tyson sulked into his food and an awkward silence descended upon their table. Hilary twisted her fingers beneath the table as heat crept up the back of her neck. She wasn’t sure if it was temper or embarrassment.

“You’re a little tubby.”

“Daichi!”

All wide-eyed innocence, Daichi threw his hands in the air. “What? I thought we were going to try that constructive critique thing to be better bladers?”

Mariah frowned in his direction. “That was more destructive than constructive, Daichi.”

“So, Hilary, did you have a nice time with Amber?”

Hilary choked and gaped at Max. With Amber? How did they even know? What did they know? “What?”

“You texted Tyson yesterday, remember, to say you two were going to the park.”

Right. Of course. In case she went missing or ended up dead. Hard to believe all that happened just yesterday. She still wasn’t sure she’d been convinced by Amber, but it was hard to ignore Morrigan. Or the nightmares she’d suffered where she’d been repeatedly chopped down like a tree by an army of tiny Tinkerbell lookalikes.

“Uh, it was fun. I got burnt,” she said, wryly pointing to her still pink nose. She made a mental note to buy some sunscreen, and aloe vera gel—Emily’s had been a lifesaver the night before but she couldn’t continue using it.

Taking Mariah’s empty plate, Rei set it on his and sent her a smile. “It’s nice you’re making friends, Hilary.”

Friends, right. Hilary wasn’t sure you could define her relationship with Amber as friendship. It was almost like her initial interaction with the Bladebreakers. She was the outsider trying to gather information on what was really going on, getting wrapped up in something that didn’t really concern her. Maybe someday she’d play a leading role in her own adventure, but that wasn’t going to be any time soon.

“Yeah,” Max agreed, “but we miss having you around, Hils.”

“So did Kai join you before or after?”

Rei sent Tyson an annoyed look. “Tyson, what is wrong with you this morning?”

Sitting up a little straighter, Hilary forced herself to meet Tyson’s angry eyes. “Neither. I met Kai on the way back to the arena with Amber and Ian. I didn’t see him all day before that.”

“Right,” Tyson said, jaw tight. “What a coincidence.”

“Why were you with Ian?” Daichi demanded, with a sneer that curled his upper lip and wrinkled his nose. What, was she only allowed room for one annoying short person in her life?

“Daichi,” Rei warned, “Hilary doesn’t owe any of us answers about who she hangs out with.” His words were pointed enough that Tyson flinched as they hit their mark.

Tyson shoved his chair back and stepped up. “I’m going to go train. That’s what we came here to do, after all.”

“Oi, Granger, you seen Hiwatari around?” Tala demanded, weaving his way through the tables to stand behind an empty chair, hands closing around the top as he leaned against it. “You might want to remind him what team he’s on.”

“Talk to Hilary, she seems to know more about his whereabouts than the rest of us.”

Tyson stalked off. Rei cursed under his breath and took after him. Sensing he might miss something, Daichi chased after them, and Kenny muttered something about needing the bathroom.

Hilary swallowed thickly, her throat clicking closed as humiliation burned through her. Tala pointed in her direction and she met his gaze squarely, refusing to be quelled.

“Tell Hiwatari we have practice, if he wants to stay on this team.”

Oh, this was so ridiculous. She wasn’t Kai’s social secretary. She wasn’t his manager. She was just trying to be a friend and this was the thanks she got for everything she did? She stood up, slapping her hands down onto the table. “Tell Kai yourself,” she snapped, heading to the lobby.

The cool air stung her cheeks as she scanned the area for any sign of Tyson and catching a glimpse of Rei outside the front door, she crossed to the elevators, jerking up the sleeve of her top to cover her shoulder.

“Hey, Hilary, are you okay?”

Hilary rubbed the back of her neck, her shoulders slumping as she turned to face Mariah and Max. “I’m fine, Mariah.”

“I’m sorry Hilary, I don’t know what got into Tyson.” Max raked a hand through his hair, looking torn between staying and chasing after his friend.

“Don’t you?” She hated how jaded she sounded but it was pretty clear what was going on with Tyson.

“I don’t,” Mariah offered with a sheepish shrug. “Care to tell me?”

Crossing her arms, Hilary stepped forward then rocked back as she tried to compose her thoughts. “Tyson sees Kai as his Senpai, he’s spent so long trying to gain Kai’s recognition, his respect.” She quirked a brow in Max’s direction, feeling quietly pleased with her theory. “Hasn’t he?”

Max frowned but slowly nodded. “Yeah, that’s true.”

“And now he has it, he feels like I’m riding on the coattails of the friendship he worked hard to create with Kai. I mean, really, would I have been able to befriend the Kai you first met? No. Tyson worked hard to befriend Kai and here I am stepping in and bribing Kai with chocolate and he keeps seeing Kai and me together and he thinks I’m stealing Kai’s attention away from him. Daichi would feel the exact same if I did that to Tyson because Tyson is his Kai.”

Max and Mariah exchanged a look and Max grimaced. “Well, uh, maybe? I guess that could sort of be right.”

“It is,” she said, releasing a deep breath, clasping her hands behind her. “And I understand. I do. But when it comes out of nowhere like that, it’s annoying and a bit embarrassing, but Tyson’s entitled to his feelings and hopefully, he’ll realise that I’m not trying to steal Kai, I’m just trying to be a good friend. I am really thankful that you guys let me tag along to these tournaments. If you didn’t, I might not have gained the courage to join the archery club and find my own passion.”

She mustered up a smile, feeling proud of how calm and understanding she sounded. She didn’t sound like her heart was a heavy bruised lump in her chest. Fighting, really fighting and not bickering, with Tyson always made her feel a little sick and sad inside.

“Right,” Max muttered, shaking his head gently. “Well, that still doesn’t mean Tyson gets to be a jerk. I’m gonna have a word with him.”

“No, Max, don’t. Let’s just give him a few minutes, okay? We’ll wait in the dining area until he cools off—” She broke off as Ming-Ming swept into the lobby, iPad in hand, looking cooly in control in a navy dress, cinched at the waist by a thick brown belt, brown strappy heels and her teal hair falling in soft waves down her back. She made Hilary feel underdressed in her wide neck white top and stonewashed denim shorts, her hair in a stubby ponytail.

Behind her, Tyson, Daichi and Rei followed.

“Look out, it’s Queen Ming-Ming,” Mariah muttered, sliding her hands into the pockets of her pink zip-up hoodie and Hilary suddenly felt a burst of camaraderie with the Chinese girl who obviously felt equally underdressed.

Ming-Ming stopped in the entrance to the dining hall and pitched her voice over the din. “Conference room 2, now. I have today’s itinerary and—I don’t care Valkov”—she held up a finger as Tala opened his mouth—“whatever you’re going to cry about, I don’t want to hear it.”

She rushed off as quickly as she entered, leaving a crowd of bewildered bladers shuffling after her.

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Across the city, Mariam was in a foul mood. Her morning had started with a sifting of dust and a spider trying to build a web from her chin to her ear. Even now, an hour later, she could feel it crawling through her hair, over the back of her neck, in her ear—little phantom legs scurrying across her skin. It was enough to turn her stomach and rev up her temper. No way, she vowed, would she remain one more night in that decrepit apartment building with its dodgy ceiling and halfheartedly boarded-up windows.

No, she was on a mission. She was going to find alternative accommodation. One that had solid walls, a firm floor, a roof that didn’t leak, and most importantly, a place that had a shower and an insect free bed—though any bed would be an upgrade.

We’ve managed to work out some of the runes. We’re going to the woods to translate them. Meet us there.

She sent a sharp mental prod in Ozuma’s direction and locked down her inner shields. She didn’t care about the wards. The tree was down and that’s what the wards protected—she doubted that even Ozuma could reinforce the wards or change their purpose. Whatever that tree did once, it didn’t anymore.

It was time to focus on more important things, like getting accommodation that was liveable and checking up on the Bladebreakers. As long as the sacred beasts were protected and used for good, Mariam could rest easy, her mission a success. Besides, she hadn’t seen Max in a while. It might be nice to touch base with him, rekindle an old friendship and see what he made of the vibes in the city.

Deciding he would be at the arena she ducked into the ground floor of a mall that she knew stretched the width of the block. Her scuffed ankle boots slapped against the gleaming tiled floor as women in smart blouses and pencil skirts showed off their wares, spritzing perfume and inviting customers to check out a new anti-wrinkle cream for the whole body.

Mariam snorted. She should bring some back for the Elders; they could bathe in it. Though admittedly, most of those new-fangled creams just took the ancient ways and glamorised them. Mud masks, salt scrubs, aromatherapy oils; yeah they weren’t new and they were less expensive back home. Maybe she should look into doing something like that, take the ingredients and treatments from the village, slap her face on it. Ming-Ming made a name for herself, there was nothing to say Mariam couldn’t do the same.

A kiosk caught her eye and she detoured towards it.

Lipsticks.

Lip stains.

Lip glosses.

She sighed, her heart skipping a beat. She hadn’t brought any essentials with her—Ozuma had supervised her packing like the megalomaniac he was. ‘Lipstick isn’t needed in Ireland, Mariam. Who are you going to impress? The Spirits?’ There was no point telling him that she wanted to look pretty for herself. She had a damn good set of lips and she wanted to show them off, big deal. She'd managed to smuggle in the eyeliner bought on her last excursion to a city, though it had worn down to a little nub and would need replacing soon.

“Are you looking for something?” The blonde girl behind the counter asked, giving Mariam a quick once over, eyes rounding at her outfit before she dropped her gaze to her phone with a barely suppressed smirk.

“Just browsing.” Tossing her hair over her shoulder, Mariam hovered over the display and wondered what colour would suit her best. A plum always looked good but you couldn’t beat a sassy red. Though would she really find a chance to wear a sassy red on this quest?

“That red will just wash you out. Try a nice pale pink instead.”

A nice pale pink? She wasn’t trying to be someone’s demure housewife. That was the exact opposite of who she was. “I prefer bolder colours.”

“Mmhmm, whatever. Oh Jacqueline,” the girl called out, waving a bejewelled hand. “I need to go on my break soon; I need to get a dress for tonight.”

“No problem, Mairead,” a statuesque redhead said as she approached. “Liz told me a new batch of dresses just came in upstairs. Might be perfect for tonight.”

They fell into conversation about where they would meet and who was going. After another debate, Mariam chose the plum and a more neutral dark rose gloss. She angled her body to face the counter and waited.

And waited.

And waited longer.

Tucking her tongue in her cheek, Mariam tapped her blunt fingernails against the countertop while the two girls continued their conversation, showing no indications of stopping. Another shopper approached the counter, sending Mariam a congenial smile as she scanned a row of bottled foundations.

After five minutes passed, Jacqueline bustled off her to her own counter and Mairead turned to the new customer, with a winsome smile that flashed perfect teeth and a gushing apology for making her wait. The other shopper sent Mariam a curious look, but she jumped at the chance to be served. Mariam closed her fingers tightly around the lipsticks in her hand and, tucking her blue hair behind her heavily decorated ear, stretched to grab a pamphlet while tucking the lipsticks away in the pocket within the lining of her tunic.

“Hey,” she called out with a smile, “is this pamphlet free?”

Irked with being distracted from her sale, Mairead glanced at the magazine and nodded with a tight smile. “Sure. Knock yourself out.”

Tapping the rolled up magazine against her palm, Mariam sauntered out of the shop, smiling brightly as she passed Jacqueline. The sun blinded her the second she stepped onto the pavement, so she paused, breathing in the scents of sunshine bouncing off the concrete and cookies from the nearby bakery. City Hall stood prominently at the top of the street, its faded mint green dome framed by the bright blue sky. Cars and bicycles zipped by, punctuated by short hiatuses when pedestrians would dart across the road in long loping gaits.

Appreciating the buzz of the city, Mariam turned to leave when her senses went on high alert. She stepped back into the shade of the building and scanned the street, zeroing in on the danger. Two boys, a redhead and a blond, one tall and the other of average height walked leisurely away from her. Nothing stood out about them, the redhead wore a blue shirt, sleeves rolled up exposing white arms that would either burn or freckle and a pair of white linen trousers, while the blond was tanned and showed it off with a black sleeveless t-shirt and grey board shorts. There was nothing unique about them, they wore no symbols, but they both exuded a quiet power, most especially the redhead and when they paused to cross the street, looking left and right, Mariam’s breath caught in her lungs.

“Well, hello,” she whispered. Max would have to wait. She’d found much more interesting prey.

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Having completed Mrs Mulligan’s errand, Amber swung her plastic bag and sucked on an ice-lolly—she bought herself—as she wandered along the busy pavement filled with shoppers, office workers, and tourists.

Exhaust fumes mixed with the scent of melted tar and the sweetly fragrant flowers spilling from the hanging baskets attached to the shop fronts. Overhead gulls screeched and a toddler in a pushchair squealed, outraged that their father had the audacity to smear suncream over their delicate skin.

Ducking around a family capturing memories, Amber slipped down an alleyway and released a sigh of pleasure as the tall buildings eclipsed the steadily climbing sun for a while. Already she could feel the heat rising off her shoulders, a sure sign that the suncream was wearing off. At least she had the good sense to wear shorts with her vest top, though her battered runners were like a swamp. When she got home, she was going to soak her feet in a basin of cold, cold water.

Music filtered from a nearby apartment window and the sunlight gleamed and bounced off the cars sitting in the small squared off space that acted as a parking lot for the workers and apartment dwellers—it also acted as a heat trap, she mused, as she felt the hot air clamp around dampening her neck beneath the heavy weight of her hair.

Screw the basin, she’d soak her whole body in a bath of cold water and ice, lots and lots of ice.

She wondered how Hilary and Ian were coping with the weather. Probably a damn sight better than her. They had seasons in their countries… well, she assumed they did. She actually knew diddly squat about Japan and Russia, bar what the TV told her. Still, she could check in on them, maybe bring them some suncream since she’d all but bought out an entire shop. You could never be too careful with the sun. Her mother was a nurse, she’d had skin cancer talks drummed into her head from an early age.

Part of her considered going back to the park, to where the tree had fallen. Now that she wasn’t so freaked out and the Voice was calmer, though sullenly silent, she might be able to investigate the scene logically. But the idea of going there on her own didn’t appeal. Especially when she didn’t know what that tree did. Was it a gateway or something more? She just didn’t know.

A sound behind her made her ears prick, an itch buzzed between her shoulder blades. She slowed her gait and a smirk began to form.

Ian.

So he hadn’t given up following her. Good. Maybe she could con him into following her to the park, save her having to ask for the company. Two birds, one excellently aimed stone. She still didn’t know how he found her and Hilary in the park.

She turned to ask him, eager to see him sulk when she foiled his spy routine. Her smug grin fell away when she found herself confronted with an empty space. Okay… Bemused, she sucked her raspberry ice pop and rocked forward on the balls of her feet. Where was that little shit? She looked up at the balconies, the dark windows that reflected the sunlight, the slanted slate rooftops where heat rose in distorted waves, but nothing moved. She stepped forward and then she rolled her eyes. Of course. Dropping to a crouch, she peered under the parked cars but, besides the pockmarked cement, she saw nothing.

No feet. No Ian.

Maybe she imagined it, she mused, but her instincts screamed. Someone or something was there. Cold dread began to slither up her spine. The last time she’d felt like this, she’d been attacked by Eoin but as she scanned the alley she found no sign of a beyblade.

A growl, guttural and edged with fury, rumbled through the alley and her mouth turned to dust. She backed up another step, her shopping bag rustling with the movement as the plastic bottles inside knocked against her leg.

Not again.

Breath choppy, she frantically searched the alley. Where the fuck was it?

“Come on,” she muttered. “If you’re going to do this, do it already.”

At least then she’d know which direction to run, and she would run. She sure as hell had no intention of fighting it or calling for help, after all, what could a defenceless human do?

She swallowed hard, cold sweat sprang out along her back.

The dark shadow rose through the cement in the middle of the alley. Amber bit back a groan of dismay, her ice-lolly dropping to the ground, dissolving into a puddle of red syrup.

“Again? Oh, come on,” she whined. “I’m not even a threat to you.”

She shifted her bag to her other hand, her free hand lifting to her throat. Where was the beyblade? More importantly, where was Eoin? Hilary said bitbeasts used beyblades to function in this world, so how was this bitbeast here?

The hooded being finally hovered above the cement though she saw no sign of the beyblade. Not that she could really look, not when it began to come closer, thin silver hands slipping out of the wide sleeves of its black cloak, drawing its scythe back for a swing. Yeah, she was not going to stay for this.

Unlocking her legs, she stumbled back down the alley towards the opening. She just had to reach the street and then she would be surrounded by people. No way would Eoin attack her in front of others.

It zipped out of sight.

Shit.

Amber dropped her bag, spun around and squealed. It towered over her, so close the fabric of the cloak brushed her legs, cold and gossamer. No face could be seen beneath the hood, just empty darkness, like a Dementor.

It howled.

Amber turned and ran back to the cars, her feet pounding against the concrete. She could hear its growls, feel it gaining on her. There were no distortions of air, no heated breaths on her neck, no footsteps and yet her whole back was alive with an electric charge, little snapping bites against her nerves. He was behind her.

Make that in front of her.

She skidded to a halt, then she flailed as she turned and began running back to the street again. She leapt over her toppled bottles of suncream, her skin all but sliding off her bones to escape. Her heart was a desperate staccato in her ears and her breath a hard iron ball lodged in her lungs. She couldn’t inhale fast enough, her head was beginning to spin and the heat squeezed her in a tight sweaty glove.

She was going to die.

When it zipped in front of her again, sheer desperation and an inability to stop had her ploughing through it and then plunging out of the alleyway into blinding sunshine. For a moment white spots flashed in front of her vision, just as a voice shouted, a horn beeped and she was yanked to a halt by a tight grip wrapped around her chest.

#beyblade #beyblade fanfiction #saving part of the world #saving fanfic #chapter seventeen #saint shields mariam #beyblade oc #tyson granger #hilary tachibana

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rue-by-another-name · 6 years

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“Late Night Lobby Flirtations” - h.s. one shot

Okay so this is almost 9,000 words ... so you all better appreciate the time I spent working on this haha. I wrote this as a thank you for the donations given to Marlie ( @hey-marlie ) for her grad school application funds! I took a bunch of different suggestions through the requests you all gave me so I hope it’s a winner for the books!

If you’d like more of this story (maybe some smutty fun ya know? ;) oh la la) then you can always donate to @hey-marlie to help her out! And read her novel while you’re at it. It’s a heartbreaking slow burn that seriously is giving me heart palpitations every single chapter I read. Highly recommend. 10/10 you’ll fall in love. I’ll put the link at the end!

AND I’M SORRY IF THE KEEP READING FUNCTION DOESN’T WORK OKAY THIS IS REALLY FUCKING LONG SO I’M SORRY IN ADVANCE.

-----

Being a lobby receptionist was not your ideal night job. If it were up to you, you’d be waiting tables for tips, or even maybe working as a shot girl at a club (also for the tips). But when the prestigious building around the block from your not-so prestigious building had put up the job listing it had seemed like the perfect time to fit a nightly job into your life.

You were in your last semester at uni, so you only have one class you were taking to finish off your degree in hospitality and business. Working in a building like this was only fitting, really, considering your next couple years would most likely be in receptionist positions. The class was an afternoon class, which meant on Mondays, Wednesdays and Friday you were up at 4pm for your one class that ended up at 6pm. That was it. That was all you had.

So taking an all-night job position starting at 7pm was kind of ideal, when you thought about it.

The building was super nice too. There was a small fridge under the desk that you filled with your favorite coconut water, and the uniform wasn’t ridiculous – a white blouse and black capris dress pants and black heels. You sat behind the desk or stood and you would answer questions for people, or answer the phone to let people into the building. You made reservations, and took house calls for electricians, plumbers, and the cable guy.

It was simple really.

And about two weeks into the job you were already starting to get to know a lot of the residents and their quirks. There was George, the elderly man in his seventies who was quite posh and used to deal in art (you suspected it might have been a tad bit illegal).

Glenda and Fred were the older couple whose college son Andrew came home over the holidays (or so they’d told you a million times; you suspected they wanted to set you up with the future lawyer). Glenda had her own decorating business and Fred was also a lawyer. Very nice people.

Sherri and Stanley had their twin little boys Charlie and Colton and small princess of a babe Clancy. The boys were always running around the lobby and laughing, their toddler sister wobbling after them and also shrieking with laughter at their antics.

Brenda the architect had a teenage daughter Melanie, who was always a bit down on herself and sick of her mum always being in her business. But they were a cute pair to behold and made you want to call your own mum almost every day.

And then there was Harry. Rock star, breakout actor, solo career, Gucci wearing Harry and his little cocker spaniel Doug. He was … well, he was a dream.

There were other residents, sure, but they weren’t the ones who hung out in the lobby, or called to ask you questions, or asked that their mail be brought up from their box. The other residents mostly kept to themselves and you were fine with that. But this small group of people were more or less a family, and you watched their interactions as they all came home from long days at work and school. In just two weeks you felt you could peg each of them for their lifestyles. And they just as easily could kind of figure you out.

“Good evening Y/N,” George smiled as he gracefully stepped off the elevator in his red silk bathrobe. He didn’t leave his flat often, you’d noticed, and when he did he was always wearing gloves and a hat and carrying an umbrella. The more you thought about it, the more you were sure he had dabbled in quite a few illegal activities and was keeping a low but lush profile for the rest of his life.

“Good evening Sir George,” you teased. You always told George he was elegant enough to have been knighted by the Queen herself, and George had been quite taken with that. The joke was an everlasting term of endearment between the two of you.

“How was your day?” you asked, straightening out some papers and starting to put some flyers into some of the mail slots.

“Just marvelous,” George nodded, “Marvelous indeed.”

“Your groceries should be coming tomorrow, correct? Please let me know if they forget anything so I can pick it up on my way to work?”

“You’re too kind dear,” George waved his hand before sitting in one of the luxurious armchairs around the glass coffee table. “I’ll let you know.”

7:30pm on the dot the Henderson family – Sherri, Stanley and the lot – walked through the door ushering in their kiddos with little Clancy asleep in her father’s arms. The twins, however, were going on and on about their footie game in the park.

“Mr. George!” Charlie cried, “I scored a goal today!”

“A goal!” George clapped for the young boy as he threw himself into his lap on the chair. You found it endearing that George had literally come down from his flat just so he could see the boys after their long day and hear their stories. He was like their surrogate grandfather.

“And I scored two!” Colton ran up as well, smiling and showing off his missing front teeth. “And I slid this from Ranger’s pocket just like you taught me!”

The small boy held up some sort of trading card and beamed as George gave Colton’s parents a petrified look. You smirked, George had definitely been involved in some fabulously famous con in the past. You were sure of it.

“We’ll talk about this later, Colton,” Sherri sighed, taking the sleeping tot from her husband. “Lovely day George?”

“Marvelous,” George nodded.

“Well we’re off for bedtime,” Stanley clapped, “Come on boys. Long day of school tomorrow.”

Both boys groaned before giving George a quick hug and heading off. Sherri stopped over at the desk as she made her way towards the elevator. “Cynthia, our babysitter, should be coming a little early tomorrow morning around 6am while you’re still here. I’ll send you her information so you know who she is and aren’t concerned about some random stranger.”

“Wonderful,” you smiled and then cooed at the sleeping princess. “She’s getting bigger already!”

“Feels that way,” Sherri chuckled, adjusting her daughter in her arms. “Have a lovely night, Y/N.”

“You too Mrs. Henderson.”

George stayed and took some tea for about an hour before retiring to his flat once more. He slipped you a bit of a tip, probably for getting him his tea even though he hadn’t even asked and it was technically your job, but you simply smiled back at his beaming face. “Buy yourself a silk scarf for that pretty neck,” he suggested, “They’re in fashion these days, I believe.”

“Anything is in fashion if you wear it correctly George.”

The voice belonged the none other than the style icon himself, Harry Styles. Today was not one of those days that he’d dolled himself up though, in nothing but some black jeans with scuffs and holes and a fuzzy forest green jumper. Little Doug, her pattering feet excitedly scampering around Harry’s boots, wagged her tail when she saw you.

“You would know, my dear boy,” George clasped Harry’s arm and smiled. “Have a good night, lad.”

“You too, sir.”

You both watched as George made his way towards the elevator and got in, signaling one final wave. Once he was gone, Harry leaned on the counter and turned to you. “D’ya reckon he was part of some great diamond heist at some point?”

“That silk robe has to cost a fortune,” you nodded, “I wouldn’t be surprised at all. He’s already teaching Colton how to pick pocket.”

Harry shook his head, “Can you believe it Dougie?”

Doug wagged her tail once more and you couldn’t help but walk out from around the desk to squat down and scratch behind her little ears. “Remind me again why you named this gorgeous girl Doug?”

“Just looked like one,” Harry shrugged, “And she responded to it so it stuck.”

“I respond to quite a lot of nicknames but my name surely isn’t Petal,” you chucked, standing back up and brushing some hair from your face.

Harry cocked his head to the side, “Someone calls ya Petal? Must be a lucky lad.”

“My dad did,” you smiled softly. You watched Harry’s smile twitch slightly.

To not make things awkward, you immediately asked, “Did you have a good day then?”

“Better now that I’m home,” Harry sighed, “Long days at the studio now.”

“I’m sure there are many fans who will thank you tenfold later on down the glamorous road you walk,” you smiled. Harry simply nodded and knuckled an eye in a tired fashion. He looked like a small child in his moment as he rubbed his eye and cradled Doug in the other hand. You wanted to massage his plump cheeks, kiss his forehead, and send him off to bed with a warm cup of tea.

“You need tea,” you blurted out before you could stop yourself. Harry’s tired eyes registered shock for a moment before they softened.

“Yeah?”

“Sorry,” you sighed, “You just look exhausted, Harry. Are you taking care of yourself?”

These weren’t the professional questions you probably should have been asking, but you had already crossed the professional bar quite a few times with some of your closest residents. You’d helped Melanie sober up once when she’d come home from a party before her mum found her, and you’d even turned away a suspecting novelist searching for George. Both boys had broken objects in the lobby that you’d simply glued back together before your boss found out, and you’d been discrete when Glenda’s assistant/potential booty-call had needed to leave in a hurried fashion before Melanie came home.

So, if anything, asking Harry if he was taking care of himself was mild behavior.

“It’s just, I know you’re the only one looking after Doug here, and heaven forbid if anything happened to you I know she’d be a wreck,” you spoke hurriedly.

Harry chuckled at your cover up, fair well knowing you were basically talking about yourself. “I promise ya love, I’m doing just fine. Just been a long couple days, you know?”

“Oh I know,” you gestured to the lobby, “I’m on the night shift every night.”

“How’s your class?” Harry asked, redirecting the conversation. He was good at this, you’d noticed. Harry really wasn’t a talker, but he liked company. Some nights he spent hours sitting down in the lobby just to converse with anyone and everyone who came through. He lived all alone in the penthouse flat, and you could tell from his actions that it was a lot for him all by himself. Oftentimes you found yourself being the one to ask him all the questions so he could talk and answer, but if he was tired of talking about himself he was fully capable of asking you question after question as well.

“My class is fine,” you nodded, “All about scheduling and timesheets and setting up meetings and all that. Basically learning how to keep track of a life.”

Harry nodded before knuckling at his eye one more time. “Harry,” you chided, “Go to bed.”

“It’s only 8pm,” he pouted.

“And Doug looks tired,” you offered, once more using the sweet dog as an excuse.

Harry nuzzled the dog with his nose as he cooed, “Is that right, Dougie? Too tired from your walk? You did watch the twins play footie, didn’t ya? Wanted to play yourself too.”

“Oh you went to the boys’ game! How sweet,” you smiled, “It’s adorable how much you all act as a family.”

“Gotta attach myself to some family when I’m away from my own,” Harry smiled warmly, “I’m basically the Henderson’s first born.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, turning and finding Harry’s stack of mail he’d never picked up. “Oh! Here’s your mail by the way,” you said as you offered it over to him. Harry placed Doug back on the ground before shuffling through the mail.

“Never any fun letters,” he sighed, “No one writes letters anymore, do they?”

You shrugged, “It’s a lost art.”

Harry nodded, slightly lost in thought, before huffing. “Okay then,” he nodded more to himself as he looked down at Doug. “We’ll probably call it a night then.”

“I’ll bring tea up,” you decided, watching as Harry made his way towards the elevator.

“You’ll do no such thing!” Harry called over his shoulder. His eyes sparkled as you smiled innocently at him. You both knew full well you’d be up at his flat in the next ten minutes with a perfectly warm mug of tea – with the perfect amount of milk and sugar respectively.

The week passed quickly, as every week does, and you found yourself one night sitting at the glass table in the middle of the lobby playing checkers with Melanie. She was grounded because her mum had found out she’d snuck her boyfriend in (much to your assistance unbeknownst to Glenda, of course) and so she was on house arrest.

“I feel bad I put you in such a bind,” you commented as you eyed the checkerboard.

“It’s not your fault,” Melanie rolled her eyes, “My mum is just a bit high maintenance and treats me like a child. When I go off to uni next year she’ll probably have a proper breakdown.”

“My mum sure did,” you smiled, “She’d already sent off four boys so I figured she’d be fine sending me off. But I was her baby, so it was far more difficult than we’d both anticipated.”

“You’re shit a checkers,” Melanie responded.

“Oh my gosh watch your mouth,” you faux-scolded.

“Miss Melanie, to what do we owe this pleasure,” Harry smiled upon the elevator dinging open. Melanie instantly went red, clearing her throat and adjusting herself in her seat. You and Harry couldn’t help but smirk at the action. You couldn’t imagine what it must be like to be a teenage girl and have Harry Styles living in your building. Even you got star struck every once in a while.

“I’m grounded,” Melanie stated. “Snuck the boyfriend in and now I can’t go to one of the biggest parties of the year.”

“And I can’t sneak her out or let her past because her mum emailed me specifically and saw I had read it.”

Harry pouted, “The biggest party of the year, huh? Seems a waste to be missing it in your final year.”

“Harry,” you hissed.

“What?” Harry shrugged, “Say I distracted you, yeah? What if Y/N didn’t see Melanie leave. Would be a shame if someone caused a scene that led to Little Miss Future Prime Minister sneaking out for her final days of freedom.”

Melanie’s eyes were wide as she stared between you and Harry, waiting for one of you to make the first move. In the month and a half you’d been working this job, you’d never flat out defied a tenet. Sure, you’d cleaned up some messes or helped them with some issues below the desk, but straight out defying Glenda’s order to keep Melanie in the lobby while she was away on business could get you fired.

“I could get fired.”

“Oh we wouldn’t want that,” Harry shook his head, “You’re the best receptionist we’ve had yet!”

“Definitely,” Melanie nodded, “I never know how amazing coconut water was until you came here.”

“Works wonders for hangovers,” Harry nodded, “Very effective. Plus, you’ve got those pretty teeth that you show whenever you smile. I must thank your orthodontist.”

You rolled your eyes, “Flattery will get you nowhere, Styles.”

Harry sat down next to you in the large armchair, squishing you up against the arm as you groaned. “Y/N,” he said very seriously. His eyes were piercing into yours and you hated that you couldn’t look away. “This is the biggest night of Melanie’s life. One day she’s going to be looking back at her time in school and think, ‘Wow, I’m so grateful for my good ol’ friends Y/N and Harry for letting me go to that party. It completely changed my outlook on life. I exercised all my good judgments and didn’t let any grubby boys near me and didn’t drink whatsoever or try any drugs –”

“We get the point,” Melanie grumbled.

“‘- but I lived, goddamn it!’” Harry cried, standing up now, “And that was the beginning of the greatest career of Melanie’s life!”

“In your head, what exactly is Melanie’s job?” you chuckled.

“Y/N,” Harry got down on one knee and grasped your hands in his. “We have to do this. For Melanie.”

Melanie leaned forward expectantly, awaiting your response. Finally you sighed and caved in. “Who am I to deny the future of Melanie’s spectacular career?”

Melanie cheered as Harry leaned forward and kissed your forehead in excitement. “Okay!” he stood up, clapping his hands together, “I’m going to get Doug. You’re going to need to get a newspaper. I’ll put on a hat, and Melanie,” he turned to the teen, “Put on your best party outfit that modestly covers everything but also makes you feel empowered. You’re getting to that party.”

Without another word, things were set in motion. You weren’t sure why you were getting a newspaper, but you simply pulled one from one of the mailboxes and waited for Melanie and Harry to return. Harry returned first with Doug, who looked very excited to be on her leash, expecting a walk, and Melanie came down much later with a jumper on over her clothes and a smile on her face.

“Here is the deal, ladies,” Harry said, “I have been training Dougie to walk out the door and sit, simply waiting for me to follow. Trying to train her off the leash, you know?”

“Wait, Doug is a girl?” Melanie asked.

Harry ignored her. “So to the cameras, it will simply look like Doug has run away. I will run after and Melanie, being the kind soul you are, you will help me look for her.”

“When in reality Melanie is going to go to the party and Harry is going to take Doug for a late night walk?” you chuckled, “Genius.”

“I quite like to think so,” Harry nodded.

“So why do I have this paper?” you asked, holding up the day’s edition.

“Well because there’s a wonderful article in there about my new single and I figured you’d like to read it,” Harry beamed.

“Unbelievable,” you grumbled.

“So if I just – oops!” Harry cried, dropping the leash and giving a subtle whistle that Doug apparently understand and had her scampering out the door. “Melanie, if you would be so kind as to –”

“I’m on it!” Melanie cried, laughing as she and Harry jogged towards the door.

“Make good choices!” you cried after her, “Be home by 2am!”

“You got it!” Melanie yelled before the lobby was filled with silence once more.

Melanie ended up returning around 1:30am, much to your excitement. Harry followed shortly after, a yawn on his face and a tired, sleepy Doug in his arms.

“How was it?” you asked, having Melanie stop to check on her before going up to her flat. Melanie smiled and started to relay the stories of the party as you gave Harry a slight wave and he made his way sleepily towards the elevator. Sending Melanie off to bed once she’d exhausted herself of story-telling, you couldn’t help but chuckle to think that once again, the residents had surprised you with their abilities to weirdly look after one another.

You loved it.

Around 6am, you started to pack up your things. You didn’t expect to see Harry at all for a little while, let alone so early after such a late night. But as you finished packing up your schoolwork, the elevator door opened and Harry came out holding little Clancy.

“Good morning, Y/N,” Harry smiled brightly. “Clancy, can you say good morning to Y/N?”

Clancy simply babbled something incoherent. Harry chuckled. “You were close, lovey.”

“What are you doing awake?” you asked in disbelief, “You went to bed hardly five hours ago.”

“I’m a quick sleeper,” Harry smiled, “I almost promised Mrs. Henderson I’d take this little one to the park for the morning. Their babysitter quit.”

“Again?” you groaned. That was the fourth babysitter they’d been through in two months. The two boys truly were terrors when it came to pestering adults. You were lucky they liked you.

“Where are you walking now?” Harry asked, “Home, I presume?”

“I am,” you yawned, “Time to get some rest before class this afternoon.”

“You work too hard,” Harry tsked.

“Says the nonstop workaholic,” you goaded, bumping his arm with your elbow.

“We’ll walk with you,” Harry decided, “Won’t we Clanc?”

Clancy once more babbled something ridiculous. You smiled, “I wouldn’t mind the company.”

The walk was much shorter than Harry anticipated as you took Clancy from him, bopping her around as she giggled. Finally, randomly, you turned to Harry with a smile. “This is me,” you informed him.

As Harry looked up at your building, you suddenly felt self-conscious. It was nothing like the nice building you worked in at night, and you felt a bit ashamed. You watched as Harry’s smooth skin of his forehead wrinkled as he looked back to you.

“You live here love?” he cocked his head quizzically, and also because Clancy was tugging at one of his curls.

“Yeah,” you mumbled, “Student salary,” you shrugged.

“I bet you have a very cozy home,” Harry agreed politely. You reached out and stroked Clancy’s cheek, which was already starting to turn cold in the chilly weather.

“It’s much too cold to go to the park,” you cooed, “I have toys I was planning to bring for Clance in my flat. If you’d like to come up, the two of you can play with the toys and stay warm, drink some tea, and relax.”

Harry seemed to be mulling the offer as he nibbled on his lip. You looked exhausted, and he could see you were impatient to get inside in the chill. The wiggling and whimpering of Clancy broke you both from your reflection of one another, and Harry sighed.

“Alright then Clancy, my darling!” Harry bobbed her on his hip. “Looks like we’re taking a field trip!”

Harry was right about your flat – it was lovely for what you could do with it. Plants were everywhere, happy little succulents, and you had draped tapestries over the somewhat grimy walls.

“Kettle’s on if you –”

“Why don’t you go get some sleep, yeah pet?” Harry asked, “I’ve got this; I promise.”

It didn’t take much convincing for you to retreat to your room, and while you quickly fell asleep, Harry got to work. Your flat was pretty spotless, but you had some dishes in the sink and some laundry was strewn over the back of your couch. As Clancy played with the little toys available to her, Harry set about making you a proper meal, cleaning what he could, and even beginning to knit you a scarf from some yarn and needles he found abandoned next to your couch.

Midday Harry took Clancy back to her parents, but he was quick to come back and check up on you. Knocking softly, you called that it was open already.

“My goodness you shouldn’t keep that unlocked in this building,” Harry scolded. “You never know what hooligans could walk in here!”

“Hooligans such as yourself then?” you placed your hands on your hips as he held up the scarf he’d knit. “I had this yarn set aside to knit something for George.”

“Well, your pretty neck could use a warm hug,” Harry smiled at you. “Sleep well?”

“Did you make me soup?”

Harry noted this was the first time he was seeing you in anything other than your uniform, and he had to admit you looked adorable in your jeans, boots, and baggy sweater that seemed to be consuming your entire being. Your hair, which was usually in a professional ponytail, was falling down your back in a natural and soft manner. It framed your face nicely, and you felt your body humming with embarrassment at Harry’s intense gaze.

“Okay now, I know you’ll probably find this a little odd and I promise it’s not just because I randomly showed up at your flat or because I don’t think you do your job well, but because I have an idea for a job for you upon graduation?”

Harry was rambling, but when wasn’t Harry rambling, if you were being honest, and so that’s the only reason you decided to allow him to talk.

“You have a job opportunity for me?” you asked curiously, “As in, something other than late night lobby babysitter?”

“Be my PA?”

The question was heavy in Harry’s chest, and it weighed heavy in the space between you two. Sure, you saw each other every night and were both a part of each other’s lives. But Harry was asking you to be a part of his life every second of every day. He was asking you to basically uproot your life to follow his, and he knew that this was probably something you hadn’t scheduled whatsoever.

“The pay is good,” Harry started, “And the benefits are pretty nice too. I know you’re studying hospitality and business, and I know that you’re an organized and caring individual who goes above and beyond to find a human gain in your work. I mean, what other lobby receptionist finds the time to buy yarn to knit things for her residents? Or puts her job on the line so one girl can attend one party?”

“That was mostly your idea,” you pointed out.

“Please? Y/N?” Harry asked earnestly. “I really think we could work well together, and I trust you implicitly with my life.”

“That’s pretty ridiculous considering I force tea down your throat whenever you look even a tick too tired,” you chuckled. This made Harry smirk as well, nibbling on his lip as you wrapped the scarf around your neck and let out a long, pensive sigh.

“Do you knit like this often? Would this be a common reoccurrence?”

“I can learn how to make some mittens if you’d like?”

-----

One year later and you were running down an underground hallway under a large stadium in Germany with a bottle of juice in one hand, a shirt under your arm, tablet in the other hand, and a headset practically falling off your head as you ran. There was a peach in your mouth that, even though you were trying not to bite into it, was starting to drip down your chin.

You burst through the dressing room door to find Harry struggling to put some pants on, tripping over his feet and nearly crashing into the back of the couch.

“Lovey!” he cried, smiling at you as you attempted to catch your breath. Sticking your neck out, Harry took the peach from your mouth and chuckled, reaching out and wiping the dribbled peach from your chin with his thumb before liking it.

You were immediately turned on.

“You can’t eat that yet!” you cried as Harry went to take a bit. Tossing the juice, he caught it easily as you snatched the peach back from him and placed it on the table. Grabbing the shirt, you started shoving it over his head as he protested.

“What are you – would you just let me – woman!” Harry cried, stepping away from your grabby hands and placing the rest of the sheer shirt over his broad shoulders. “What are you doing to me?”

“Drink your juice,” you ordered, “Here!” You shoved him down in a seat and grabbed for a brush as you tossed your forgotten tablet onto the couch.

“Y/N,” Harry laughed, “We’re done for the night! You cleared my schedule, remember? I said I wanted some time to –”

“I didn’t clear your schedule for you,” you huffed while trying to get some of the knots out of Harry’s curls at the base of his neck. “How much juice do you have left?”

“I finished it; why are you –”

You reached over him and shoved the peach in his mouth. “Eat.”

“Y/N!” Harry cried as he took the peach from his mouth. “Why are you force feeding me?”

“If you would just sit still,” you grumbled as your heart raced in your chest. “And let me take care of you then you would let me explain what’s going on!”

“Okay fine let’s make a deal, shall we?” Harry suggested, “How about I eat this peach and while I’m eating it you tell me what the hell has you so riled up, yeah?”

“Fine,” you sighed and started flipping through his closet for the correct jacket for him to wear. “You’ve been down the past couple weeks and obviously I noticed – everyone has noticed – and so I figured it was because someone wasn’t here. And so I cleared your schedule and let you know you had the time off tonight so you wouldn’t plan anything so you’d be free. Basically, in order to cheer you up I invited Violeta to come and see you and she’s on her way here right now and I want you look presentable and be well fed and hydrated and –”

“Wait wait stop,” Harry stood up as you turned back to face him with the dark jacket in your hands.

“Did you finish eating?” you asked meeting his eyes with a crazed expression.

“Y/N,” Harry said softly, “You – why did you invite Violeta?”

“Because you’ve been sad,” you shrugged, “And tired. And I figured seeing the girl you like that you’ve missed and spending the weekend with her would give you some energy and make you feel better.”

Harry stared at you as you stood there with the jacket clutched tightly in your hands. Over the past year as his PA, you’d become Harry’s little shadow and voice of reason. You took care of everything for him unless he said he would take care of it himself, and even then you double checked his work and made adjustments you knew he’d like. You spent every waking minute together, and sometimes some sleeping minutes as well.

You’d basically moved into his penthouse in London, so you still got to see your favorite residents whenever you did your work down in the lobby. You had a guest room that Harry suggested you stay in whenever you worked late, or had an early morning for travel, but you still always felt like you were intruding so you spent majority of your time down in the lobby amongst friends instead.

It hurt Harry a little bit, knowing you didn’t want to stay with him, but you would always come back up at the end of the night and that was enough for him.

You were kind and considerate, and you were best of friends with his mum and sisters so that raised huge brownie points whenever they were in town or came to see him on tour. You were firm when you needed to be, and calm and soothing every other time.

“Have you slept recently?” Harry asked, “You’re going insane.”

“I’m not insane!” you cried, “Harry, it’s obvious you’ve been stressed! You mentioned to me the other day when I asked what was bothering you what was going on and you said you missed Violeta. So I called her and helped her rearrange her schedule and I made some adjustments on yours and now she’s going to be here any minute!”

Harry groaned and ran a hand down his face. “Y/N …”

“What?” you stopped mid-step with your arms extended as you offered him the jacket. Harry just looked frustrated now, and immediately you felt responsible. It was impossible to not become attached to the happy lad once you had devoted your life to him. This was still the best job you’d ever had and you felt like you were fully prepared after your schooling. But it was becoming harder and harder to spend time around him and see him hurting when you knew your feelings were anything but professional.

“I did something wrong,” you offered, knowing full well that you’d overstepped a boundary. “Oh God.”

“No, Y/N it’s fine. Thank you. I really appreciate it – honest,” Harry said earnestly. He took a step forward and you cleared your throat, taking a step back and holding the jacket out higher between the two of you almost using it as a shield.

“Y/N …” Harry warned.

“I’m so sorry Harry,” you groaned, “I was just trying to –”

“I know pet,” Harry nodded, “And I am very excited to see V. Thank you for noticing I wasn’t doing well. It’ll be good to spend some time with her.”

“Really? You mean that?” you asked, biting your lip.

“Of course love.” Harry reached forward and took the jacket from you, grasping your hand and pulling you towards him so he could give you a kiss on the forehead. “Now I think it’s time you get some sleep, don’t you think?”

“I have some paperwork to go over for tomorrow’s press event, and there’s the luncheon tomorrow that I need to cancel so you can have some time to –”

“Leave it,” Harry waved his hand, “Go on. Get some rest or I’m firing you.”

You pursed your lips and gave Harry a look, “You’ve been threatening to fire me since month three.”

“And the threat still stands,” Harry chuckled, “Now go.”

“Enjoy Violeta,” you gave him the most sincere smile you could muster. “She’s very excited.”

Once the door clicked closed behind you, Harry tumbled onto the couch with a groan. He’d been entertaining Violeta for a couple months now to distract from the fact that he very much was starting to fall for his cute little PA. He knew it wasn’t professional, and yet he thought about you all the time when you weren’t together. And when you were together, which was literally 23 out of the 24 hours a day usually, then he was always admiring you or being distracted by your grace.

The soft knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts as Violeta poked her head in, followed by sliding past the door and placing her hands on her hips. “What gives Styles?” she asked, “I get these frantic calls from Y/N saying you miss me? I need to come right away? I thought you were going to talk to her.”

Harry groaned again. “I was meanin’ to,” he sighed, “But she went behind my back. Thinks ‘m sad because I miss ya when in reality it’s because I’m in love with her and can’t tell her.”

“Obviously,” Violeta plopped down on the couch, “But none of us would be able to say no to her, so here I am.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry reached out for her hand and wove his fingers with hers. Violeta was a sweet girl, and Harry appreciated confiding in her when he had the chance. She was a nice kisser too, if he was being honest.

“Want a distraction or do you want to talk?” she asked softly.

Harry hummed, “Maybe a bit of both. She had this peach in her mouth – looked mighty cute. Obviously it turned me on.”

Violeta chuckled and slung her leg lazily over Harry’s lap as she pulled him into her, their chests bumping lazily as their lips met. She wove her fingers through Harry’s hair and he moaned, closing his eyes as he wondered what your fingers would feel like against his scalp.

He actually knew what they would feel like, because you massaged his head whenever he seemed too stressed, and you would do it without question. It usually caught him off guard and then he would hum at the feeling, sinking against your body as you lulled him into a peaceful sleep.

But this was much less innocent, and Harry gripped Violeta’s hips tighter as he felt himself grow harder under her as he thought of you.

Barking, mixed with hushed cries, broke through the door as Doug came barreling into the dressing room, getting past the door Violeta hadn’t closed all the way.

“Doug!” you cried, scurrying in after the pup to grasp the leash that had gotten away from you. Your eyes locked on the couple tangled together on the couch, on Harry’s flushed cheeks and sex blown eyes, and you gulped. You’d never actually seen Harry and Violeta doing anything, but they were always together and Harry had mentioned they might be becoming something maybe.

But actually seeing the two of them so intimate made your stomach flip uncomfortably like a tidal wave, and you quickly averted your eyes as Harry sat up to collect his dog.

“Aw girl you’re a mess,” Harry cooed, scratching behind Doug’s ears. “Sorry Daddy was busy princess! Y/N will take you back to your bed, yeah?”

“Right sorry,” you muttered quickly, still averting your eyes as you grasped the leash and basically dragged Doug out of the room, slamming the door behind you. Harry flopped back on the couch as Violeta watched his reaction. Palms of his hands kneading at his eyes, he grumbled, “Christ,” before knowing he’d maybe truly messed up this time.

There was only one quick flight back to London, which was way too early for there to be conversation anyway. Not that Harry didn’t notice the tension, and not that you didn’t purposefully sit by yourself in the corner curled up in a blanket of the jet.

You knew it was stupid, and you knew you needed to get over it if you wanted to keep your job. It wasn’t professional the way you were acting, and even though you felt slightly justified in the way that you were moping – by yourself without impacting anyone else – you still knew you couldn’t feel this way for Harry and be around him devoting your life to him the way that you were.

“Do you want to come back to mine?” Harry asked as the car pulled up at the jet. You chewed your lip as you let out a long breath through your nose. There wasn’t really any other way to get home and you really needed to continue saving money for God knows what, bills and such, and so you didn’t want to pay for an Uber.

“Yeah,” you mumbled, “Yeah I guess.”

Harry gave you a dopey smile, happy to know you were able to talk to him, before slinging his bag over his shoulder and holding out his other arm for you to duck under. He was a touchy person, you were used to this, but his intentions recently whenever you were both close was starting to make you itchy with sweat and nerves. Still, you rolled your bag behind you and let out a yawn as Harry squeezed your shoulder lovingly.

Stepping into the foyer of the building, it was like coming home (even though it definitely wasn’t your home). But it was a home, Harry’s home specifically, but the lobby was more your turf and the instant you saw George sitting there, pipe in his mouth and paper in his hands you felt your shoulders loosen the tension.

“Y/N!” he smiled, “Harry m’boy! How are we? It’s been a while since I’ve seen the two of you around.”

You smiled and bent down to give George a kiss on the cheek. “It’s good to see you as well George. I hope you’re doing well.”

“I’m doing much better now that you’re here,” George grasped your hands in his. “The new receptionist is a piece of shite.”

“George!” Harry laughed, “Henry is doing is best! Not all uni students are as dedicated as our dear Y/N.”

“You are the finest,” George nodded, “The twins were asking for you the other day after they got home from their futbol practice, and Melanie is home next weekend from her first year at uni if you’d like to maybe stick around? I’m sure she would be just ecstatic to see you,” George smiled.

“We can have her up for tea,” Harry nodded, wrapping his arm back around you. “Sorry to take this one from you George, but I’ve got a tired girly and a tired pup here ready for some sleep.” As if one cue, little Doug whimpered and nudged at your leg. George gave your hand a kiss before squeezing it and allowing you to stand up fully again.

“Well it was lovely to see you both again. You both truly belong here. You make this place home,” he nodded.

“Oh George you’re making me blush,” you joked, winking at him before Harry started to lead you towards the elevator.

“You’re laying it on thick there, darling,” Harry chuckled, “I didn’t know elderly art criminals were your type.”

“Alleged art criminals,” you confirmed, “You can’t prove anything.”

Harry simply gave you a soft smile before looking down at his phone. “Did you get my emails on the flight?”

“Your checklist for tomorrow is already set in your calendar and I canceled your morning radio show with Nick, because honestly you’re exhausted and you look like shit and I’m sure Nick will understand.”

“I’m sure he gave you a hard time,” Harry rubbed his forehead tiredly.

“Well he seemed pleasantly excited about it, honestly,” you shrugged, “Said he was happy you were taking some time off … with me? Said he was happy you were finally growing a pair and letting me take some time off.”

The elevator doors dinged open and Harry seemed to be lost in thought. He was stuck in the elevator, staring off into the distance in deep thought. “Come on then,” you chuckled reaching over and grasping his hand in yours before pulling him into the pent house.

“You want noodles?” you asked, tossing your stuff onto the couch knowing full well he wanted noodles. Harry always wanted noodles, and ever since you’d bought him the pasta machine and gave him your nana’s noodle recipe he’d been begging you day in and day out to make the noodles for you.

“There’s still some in the fridge,” Harry mumbled, “Did Nick really say that?”

“Say what?” You were already beyond this conversation as you fiddled through Harry’s fridge – the fridge you stocked on the daily as his personal assistant.

“That it’s a good thing I’m finally giving you time off?”

You looked up to see Harry standing at the kitchen counter pouting while chomping on the carrot sticks you’d put out for him. “Do I … have you ever felt …” Harry cleared his throat and took a sip of water. “Have you ever missed out on anything in life because you’re hanging out with me? Working for me?”

You frowned as you tossed the noodles into a bowl with the pesto you’d made for him last week. You scoffed before turning and placing the bowls in the microwave.

“Y/N,” Harry whined, “This is serious.”

“You’re asking me if I’ve missed out on life because I’m doing my job?” you put your hands on your hips. “Tell me, Harry, was I ever missing out on life when I was spending every night here sitting behind a desk warming up tea for you and helping you sort your mail?”

“I just –”

“Harry, you gave me a job,” you gave him a soft smile, “I’m not missing out on anything. My life is your life.”

Harry groaned, “Not much of a life when you’re here in my kitchen making noodles.”

You rolled your eyes, “My God, Harry, would you stop being so dramatic. Nick makes one comment and suddenly you’re screwing around having an internal debate? It’s been a year and now you’re suddenly questioning whether you’ve given me enough time off? You spent Easter with my family.”

“I love your family,” Harry mumbled, “They were very nice to Doug.”

“Too nice to Doug,” you chuckled, “My mum literally fed her every hour on the hour.”

The microwave went off and Harry reached behind you to grab some utensils. “Can we cuddle and eat noodles now?” he pouted, “You’ve been distant, and I know it’s probably because you walked in on me and Violeta but I promise nothing was actually happening. I was just lonely and heartbroken and she’s very sweet but –”

“Heartbroken?” you cut him off, both hot bowls of noodles in your hands as you stared him down. “Harry did someone hurt you?”

Harry grasped the bowl from your hand and mumbled, “Shut up,” before making his way to the couch.

“Harry!” you called, “We should talk about this! Is there anyone I should take off the guest list of events? Someone I should keep from seeing you? I can change your entire schedule if you need to –”

“Y/N,” Harry breathed, turning and facing you on the couch, “Y/N, Y/N, Y/N baby you need to relax!” he cooed, “It’s fine.”

“It’s just a crush?” Now you were intrigued – because you were Harry’s PA and had to take care of him, obviously, not any other reason. Scooting forward, Harry groaned and stuffed some noodles in his mouth.

“Nice try sweets,” he smirked, “You’re not getting that information out of me.”

“Is it Violeta? You say you don’t like her but –”

“My God,” Harry cried out, “The only thing I want you to do right now is eat your noodles, enjoy them, and also please pencil in Melanie for sometime for tea next weekend.”

“You have three interviews and a studio session next weekend.”

Harry gave you a pointed look. “Melanie is family. Without us, she wouldn’t have had a fun party life in sixth form. We’re basically her party parents and I want to hear about all the fun she’s getting up to in uni now.”

“Safe fun,” you reminded him.

“Yes of course. Safe fun.”

You watched as Harry fiddled with his noodles, swirling them around the bowl. “You really care about the people here, don’t you?”

Harry shrugged, “I cling to people. I attach myself to them in because I need a family around me to feel safe, I guess. But yeah … something about the people in this building is just really special.”

“I think so too,” you smiled, “Best job I ever had.”

“Better than the one you have now?”

“I don’t know, my boss is pretty demanding,” you joked.

“You brought this building together,” Harry informed you, nudging you with his spoon. “Seriously, you did. Before you spent your nights with us we basically just said hi to each other in the lobby and that was it. But now George sits there and waits for the twins to come home, and Melanie babysits Clancy and walked Dougie when I can’t.”

“You’re just saying that because you want me to keep working for you.”

“I’m saying it because my life changed the minute you started making me tea and now that you’re making my schedules, my life all kind of fits together.”

“Then give me a raise,” you joked.

“Done.”

“No I was just –”

“I’ve basically taken your life from you,” Harry chuckled, “It’s the least I can do.”

“You haven’t taken anything from me,” you groaned, “I’m here because I love you, you idiot. I’d make you a thousand schedules a day if it meant getting to spend every day with you.”

“Nights just weren’t enough, huh?” Harry knew he was getting a bit cocky, but his praise kink was kicking in and his narcissistic wires in his brain were going haywire.

“I guess not.” Your body was tingling, and your senses were heightened as Harry leaned in and gave you a bright smile.

“Nights weren’t enough for me either. It’s why I nabbed ya away. I’m too selfish.”

“Well I’m glad,” you nodded, “It’s been a great year.”

“To many more to come?” Harry asked offering his bowl for the two of you to clink in celebration.

“If you’ll have me.”

“I’ll always ‘ave ya. Want ya all the time.”

Harry watched as your eyebrows furrowed and you cocked your head slightly. “Want me?”

Harry sucked in a breath and set down his bowl on the table in front of the two of you. “‘M heartbroken, remember?”

Lost for words, you simply cleared your throat. “I’m your PA. I … I live in a small flat with one room and a little kitchen. I eat Ramen most nights you’re eating steak and –”

“Y/N …”

“ – I work the lobby and you live up here in the penthouse,” you finished, “You can’t honestly –”

“Oh I do,” Harry nodded, “I do a lot. ‘S why I bring Violeta around so much, because I can’t think about wanting to be with you all day when you’re my little PA running around bringing my life together.”

“Harry …”

“I know, I know,” he groaned, “How could I tell you like this over noodles? It just spilled out. I guess I got jealous seeing you flirt with George down there; I thought he was gonna take you from me.”

“No one is going to take you from me,” you shook your head and scooted forward.

“I’m thinking Doug might really need a mum, you know, a maternal figure in his life?” Harry whispered with his lips barely brushing against yours. “She’s going to need a strong female figure and I think you’d make a mighty fine mum.”

“She is a sweet pup,” you nodded, “Being a single dad must be difficult.”

“So difficult,” Harry whispered as his fingers dug into your hair, swirling around and tugging you forward slightly.

“Who am I to deny a cute puppy?” you hummed.

“Don’t deny me,” Harry basically pleaded before his lips pressed to yours gruffly, anxiously, and with an aggression you had never seen him kiss anyone with before. You were immediately crawling into his lap, digging your fingers into his shoulders and up to his head as you held him close to you.

His lips were hot, and you both tasted like buttery noodles and pesto, but his fingers were like warm sparks against your skin as he hiked up your shirt and dug his fingers into whatever he could get a hold of.

You seemed to be doing the same as you pulled away to be able to breathe. Harry let out a low whimper as you hot lips sucked down his neck, nipping at his collarbones as Harry couldn’t control himself and bucked his hips up against you as you gasped against his skin.

“Harry …” you moaned, “We … we shouldn’t. You need sleep,” you huffed as Harry buried his lips into the crook of your neck and nuzzled in as if he were hibernating for the winter, never wanting to leave.

“Stay,” he whispered, “Please.”

“I would be an awful dog mum if I left,” you joked.

“Y/N,” Harry whined.

“I’ll stay,” you nodded, “I’ll stay.”

“Forever,” Harry groaned, head lulling back to the back of the couch as you giggled and kissed up his exposed neck.

“I really like you, Y/N,” Harry admitted, “Love you, honestly. Love you a lot. Love you really more than anyone else at this point. Don’t tell Dougie that though.”

“I won’t tell,” you smiled as you felt your eyes filling with tears, “I love you too, Harry. I’ve loved you since you walked into the lobby for the first time with a cupcake because I looked tired.”

“I made those cupcakes so fast,” Harry smirked and reached up, running his fingers through your hair and twisting the ends around the tips of his fingers. “Saw you sitting there and you smiled at me … God, breathtaking. And I ran up and made those cupcakes.”

You laughed and swatted at his chest. “You told me they’d been sitting around for ages! Didn’t want to waste them!”

“Didn’t want to waste any time away from you,” Harry shrugged, “Wanted every excuse to see you.”

“You’re so fucking cute,” you groaned, “But that doesn’t mean I’m canceling your dentist appointment.” Starting to get off Harry’s lap, his groan turned to a laugh.

“Nothing gets past you,” he called after you, “Where are you going?”

You turned around and pulled your shirt over your head, looking suggestively (as sexily as you could muster) over your shoulder. “Well I’m going to bed,” you shrugged, “Thought you wanted me to stay?”

Harry’s eyes widened and seemed to sparkle as he nearly tripped over his feet to get up and follow you. Stumbling, he gripped at your skin as if he were drunk, drunk on you, and clung to you desperately.

“Yes,” he whispered, “Stay.”

Something told you that even though you didn’t work in this building anymore, you were going to be spending quite a lot of time here still. You, Harry, and you happy lobby family … and Doug, of course.

-----

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bloojayoolie · 5 years

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Journey, Life, and Music: Back Ratings & Reviews 11h ago Thank you for teaching me to get off m... I wouldn't call myself a "gamer". Sure, every few months I'll scroll through the App Store searching for a game to pass the time as I sit on the toilet, lie in bed, need to be distracted from my anxiety and self loathing. Yeah, I have been addicted to all sorts of phone games but I delete them as soon as I realise that it is an addiction. But I wouldn't call myself "gamer". Heck, I haven't owned a proper gaming console since my Nintendo Entertainment System. Oh, how I loved my NES. I would spend hours controlling the pixels listening to the 8-bit music and sound effects nice and loud. My hands would have dents in them from or any other time where I feel as thoughI on my square television, squeezing the rectangle control too tight. I often fondly reminisce about the games I would play, but none more fondly than Dr Mario. Can you imagine my excitement when I was scrolling through the App Store this morning and saw it? That Italian plumber wearing a lab coat and smiling the way he did when I was a child. I couldn't ave downloaded the app quicker with my current WiFi connection. Don't get me wrong, I did not expect the game to be exactly like the original. I understand that free phone games make their fortune with in-app purchases. I knew there were going to be levels and stages that you had to unlock. I expected to have to collect three different types of currency in order to advance to the next level or upgrade the buildings in my land. I even expected that the game play was going to be somewhat different to the original Dr Mario. But I was still excited. I was ready to be addicted. Most designed to be addictive and l opening myself up to it. I was a recovering alcoholic, excited to buy a bottle of that new phone games are was tequila What I didn't expect was to be forcing myself to play it, waiting for it to become fun. I forced myself throughout the day to play, hoping I would find enjoyment in it, or at the very least, a mild sense of nostalgia. But still nothing. Forty percent of my play time has been waiting for things to load or waiting for unnecessary and insanely slow animations. How could you get this so downloaded this game. I wish I never knew it wrong? I wish I never existed. I wish I could wipe the good memories of playing the original Dr Mario from my brain so that I wouldn't risk remembering this game However, I want to thank you. Because of you, l realise how important it is to put my phone down Think the thoughts I need to think. Pay attention to the important things in life. Fully commit myself to what I am doing in the moment. I've deleted this app, along with many other apps and decided that tomorrow morning, I will be a new man Thank you. S Stitch It! Today Games Updates Apps This review for Dr Mario World on the App Store is a journey. M

#funny #lol #humor #memes #meme #memehumor #dank memes #funny pics #rolf #lmao #Journey #Life #and Mu

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writhe · 6 years

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do you ever have like, “good” weeks and then suddenly one day you can feel yourself slipping back into a depression rut and you know you’re doing it but you don’t know how to pull yourself out of it? i suffer from those moments a lot and am currently going through one and i’m trying not to isolate myself from friends and family but idk it’s just a real bad feeling and idk what to do

sorry it took me a few days to respond to this! but, yeah, I’ve been feeling pretty good but sometimes it’s easy to feel depression/dread/whatever seeping in around the edges. I always try to shake it off the best I can, but there’s no shame if you need to let the people around you know you could use some extra love!

when i’ve been at my lowest, I found that having a set list of goals every day is a nice way to slowly help yourself get back on your feet. I actually do this almost every day now, as I’ve found it’s a good way to keep me on track (especially helpful if you have ADHD, haha)

Right now, I have written on my hand “ZOE/CLAY/STORE/WALL” and that’s all the stuff I have to get done for today. I have to drop something off at my friend zoe’s house, I have to work on ceramics a bit, I have to get groceries, and lastly i have to move my dresser away from the wall because tomorrow morning a plumber is coming (one of the showers in my house is broken and the access point is in my wall)

when things are less good, that list might be a lot smaller, but I find it good to have goals regardless. some of the most helpful things I’ve found to do is:

clean your house/ room. it can be a daunting or overwhelming chore, and you can split it up between days. having a clean living space will un-fuck your head quite a bit.

do your laundry (and fold it!!!). I know this sounds lame but having clean clothes, especially if you’re already in a delicate state, is SERIOUSLY a godsend.

text your friends and try to make plans. Even just, like, “hey anyone wanna go on a walk” or “hey who wants to hang out and study a little.” human interaction is so essential to feeling well. and even especially so if it’s low-stakes. I think this might be the most important.

make yourself something warm and mildly healthy. I’ve found it hard to feel miserable when I’m cooking. If you’re not feeling well enough to cook, at least make sure you’re eating!

if you can do ONE of things things (or like, even half of one of these things!) then that’s a start. really I would emphasize trying to make plans, it’s really good to have things to look forward to/ to keep from being alone.

SECOND, in addition to doing one of those less-fun things (unless you, like, love cleaning), give yourself a fun goal! if you like to draw, you can say ‘okay I’m going to do all my laundry today AND I’m going to make a new drawing’ and by the end of the day you’ll be happy you accomplished something.

THIRD, be communicative to people. tell your professors/friends/whoever that you’re having a hard time and that you could use an extension on an assignment, or that you could use some quiet hangs. most people, in my experience, have been eager to make accommodations! most people want the best for you

ALSO, I want to make sure that it doesn’t sound like I’m saying productivity = happiness, that’s not the case for everyone (and also is kind of a capitalist view anyhow). I’ve just had periods of time where the days all slur together and night and day feel the exact same. that sucks, and it was really bad for me. blocking out my time and having realistic, daily goals to meet is just super helpful for me personally.

I hope this was helpful, and i hope you feel better. XOXO

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timeoutotour · 5 years

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Clear Sky, 20°C

Porte Roques, 46330 Saint-Cirq-Lapopie, France

Saturday 8th June 2019

This morning we discovered that Cahors holds its twice weekly market in the cathedral square on a Wednesday and a Saturday morning. For Rhian this was obviously too good an opportunity to miss and for me it was an opportunity to walk Annie. We walked into town together and then went our separate ways after crossing the bridge over the river Lot Rhian continued into town toward the market whilst I took a riverside footpath , well used by dog walkers , runners etc , which once again crossed the historic bridge and would eventually complete a loop alongside the river returning me to the van. During my walk I received a call from our daughter Maggie (Houston , we have a problem!)who told me there was no hot water at home. I had presumed it to be the usual case of a pressure drop in the boiler as I had not been there to keep it fully charged up, but when Maggie related the contents of the display screen things did not sound good. I talked her through the charging up process in the hope that this may resolve the issue , but alas no. An electrical fault of some kind had occurred. After trying a few things unsuccessfully I called Rhians brother Dewi(a plumber) who offered some advice and kindly agreed to travel over to Prestatyn to take a look. I am pleased to report that Dewi was successful in restoring our domestic hot water and we are very grateful to him for his efforts at short notice. Rhian returned to the van just after midday and we set off for Saint-Circq-Lapopie , yet another of 'the most beautiful villages in France'(are there any other sort ?) Despite my cynicism however , on this occasion I had to concede that the description was accurate. I even declared it to be probably the most beautiful place we had visited on this tour so far. This as always being a result of a combination of different factors, architecture, location, weather, general surrounding landscape, river etc. Due to the local topography, car park space was at a premium so we opted for a paying aire alongside the river , about a fifteen minute walk below the village. We spent an hour or so relaxing and enjoying a drink before setting off to explore the village. The initial part of the walk was flat along the riverside path and Annie enjoyed a cooling dip enroute. The river did indeed looked very inviting (beer goggles?)and we wished that we had perhaps brought our swimming stuff along. The climb up to the village was fairly steep but quite short and being a Saturday the village was quite busy with tourists and day trippers. You may recall that a few days ago Rhian declared that she thought she preferred Spain to France. After visiting the village today I posed the same question and now.........not so sure. A short time ago the site manager called around to collect his 7 euros for our stay and told me that there was a very nice walk along the river to some really impressive limestone rock formations. We may decide to take that walk tomorrow morning although there is a possibility of some light showers.

Bon soir

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rivertellsstories · 6 years

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“I thought you didn’t want me.” with katherine and davey?

Henlo @funnyihope u asked for Daverine (DaveKat, Kavey, Kavid?) so I’m giving you 2874 words of it :) it’s early in the morning again, so forgive me for all the mistakes in this.

Katherine notices David Jacobs immediately at their first meeting, although she doesn’t learn his name then. The well spoken, nicely dressed boy sticks out like a sore thumb in the group of ragamuffins strewn around the tables at Jacobi’s. The tie, buttoned up vest and use of the word ‘auspicious’ in a correct manner, make her suspect that he’s had a decent education and probably dropped out not too long ago. Longer than what’s probably deemed necessary, she lets her eyes wander over his seated form. When she catches herself staring, she promptly tears her eyes away from the admittedly quite handsome stranger. She’s her because she smelled a story, so a story is what’s she’s gonna get.

“I’m just a blowhard, Davey’s the brains”, Jack Kelly admits in a startling bout of honesty and with a smile, she tells him that honesty isn’t a quality she’d pinned on him. He doesn’t seem too offended by the remark and if he wasn’t so awfully flirtatious, they probably would be friends by now, Katherine thinks. She wanted to interview the other strike leader too (David, her mind helpfully supplies), but he had ran off with his little brother before she could.

They talk some more and for the first time, she gets to introduce herself with the name “Plumber”. For some reason it feels special to her, like its something worth celebrating. When they part ways and he tells her to: “Write it good”, she realises why she likes being called “Plumber” so much. With this name, she’s finally her own person, unrestricted by her fathers name and influence. These boys need help and Katherine Plumber is going to do everything she can to help them out.

She walks into David and his younger brother on their shared way to the circulation gate. It seems as though David’s contemplating whether he should walk up to her and greet her or not, but the younger brother makes the decision for him. “Hello miss reporter!” he calls out with youthful enthusiasm and Katherine shoots him a smile. “Good morning. My name is Katherine Plumber, what is yours?” She offers him her hand, which he vigorously shakes. “Les Jacobs. That’s my older brother David.”

It’s not new knowledge to her, but she doesn’t know how to bring that up, so she gives David a friendly nod instead. With a shy smile, he nods back. “Good morning miss Plumber.”

“Good morning mister Jacobs. Tell me, how do you feel about your ambitious strike?” she asks while they walk to the circulation gate with Les skidding ahead of them. The question prompts a laugh from him and he turns to her, hands folded behind his back. “Already out for interviews huh, miss Plumber?”

“Always, mister Jacobs.” They share smirks and Katherine guesses that he’s the type that enjoys verbal sparring matches as much as she does. “You should ask our strike leader for a more interesting interview”, he says, leaving her question unanswered. “I am.” She stares him down, one eyebrow raised and he crosses his arms in front of his chest.

“Oh no, I’m not a strike leader, just a guy who talks a bit too much. Jack’s the reason everyone’s so motivated to do this. He’s got a way with people, I’m just a newbie who knows some fancy words.” She hums. “Well, Jack appointed you co-strike leader in his interview yesterday (David visibly pales at this and seems to get more nervous) and I would actually agree with him on that decision. But if you’re insistent on calling yourself 'just a newbie’, then do tell me, mister newbie, why you chose to join a strike at the beginning of your newsie career?”

“You’re a sharp one, aren’t you, miss Plumber?” She grins. “I try, mister Jacobs.” In front of them, Les comes to a halt and groans. “You just told each other your names, just use them instead of this miss and mister stuff. Davey ’s no mister. Davey is lame.” After those words, Les runs off again although he stays in their sight.

“My little brother, eloquent and honest as ever”, David remarks dryly and Katherine laughs at his unamused tone. “But to answer your question, I think that every worker, be it a newsie or a typesetter, should have some basic rights. You can’t take stuff away from people who already have so little and not expect them to revolt. Mister Pulitzer and all the other rich men in this town should not forget how dependent they are on their workers.”

“How do you think this strike will go? Do you think you’ll reach your goal?” David worries his lip between his teeth before answering. “I don’t know”, he whispers, uncertainty shining through in the way he plucks nonexistent loose threads from his vest. Then he takes a look at his laughing younger brother and shakes his head. When he continues, his voice sounds stronger, more sure. “We’re going to win this strike. For all the kids in this town.”

They reach their destination, but they’ve both got different places to be. “It was nice talking to you, mister Jacobs.” He nods and moves to walk away, but turns around again. “I’m sorry for calling you 'not a real reporter’. Good luck with your article, miss Plumber.” He’s gone before she can answer, mingling with the handful of newsies that are gathered there. She wishes all of them luck.

When she watches David interact with the newsies that aren’t Jack, she gets why he’s very hesitant to call himself one of the leaders of the strike. He carries himself awkwardly, chooses the wrong words and all in all just has a lot of trouble fitting in.

It’s when Jack’s words and charisma start failing him and newsies visibly lose hope, that Katherine notices a change in David. Now, she couldn’t call him awkward anymore. He is vibrant in his own way, using softer reassurances instead of Jack’s screamed motivation that had kept the newsies up until now. He manages to break through the void that separated him and the newsies before and Katherine makes a mental note to quote him in her article. “And say to the others, who did not follow through: you’re still our brothers and we will fight for you.” It’s powerful, yet gentle and understanding and Katherine thinks that those words describe David perfectly. He’s no fighter by any means, but his values are right.

Everything goes right until suddenly, it doesn’t. Katherine watches in horror as the tiny, charming newsie named Romeo, brutally gets smacked down. She’d always thought that the police was there to help people, but this strike makes her realise more and more how wrong her vision of the world can be. “Miss, we need to go”, her photographer says and although Katherine wants to help so badly, she knows there’s nothing she can do.

That evening she hits the streets again, hoping to find someone who can tell her how the fight ended. By sheer coincidence, she stumbles upon the Jacobs siblings. When she comes closer, she sees that Les has his arm in a sling and she winces. “Is everybody safe?” she asks and David barks out a bitter laugh. “No one died.”

“That’s not what I’m asking”, she says in a gentle tone and sits down beside him on some stairs. He sighs, letting his head drop down in his arms. “We don’t know where Jack is and Crutchie got taken to the refuge. Almost everyone is hurt one way or another and we gained exactly nothing today.”

She takes his hand into hers and squeezes softly. “That’s what tomorrow’s for. I’ll make your story public, get it out there for everyone to see. Trust me.” There’s a moment where they lock eyes, gazes heavy and Katherine feels her face flush. Then David nods and the movement distracts Katherine. “You’re hurt”, she notices and lets her thumb run over David’s cheek. He hisses in return but shakes his head. “Got hit, that’s all. It’s not that bad compared to some of the others.”

She frowns and sighs. Wouldn’t it be grand if her father would just leave these kids alone? She’d rather see them safe and sound, wrapped in blankets or something. They deserve that. All she can do for now, is get their story out their and help them out that way. “Well mister Jacobs (it gets a smile from him) , I’ve got a story to write. I will see you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow, miss Plumber.”

-She finds Jack Kelly in a back street, hands in his hair and face far away. As she crouches down, he snaps out of his reverie and Katherine notices how scared he looks. “They’ve got Crutchie”, he whispers and Katherine nods. “I understand-”

“No, you don’t!” Jack cries as he folds into himself again. “You don’t”, he sobs. “He’s to me what girls like you should be.” The sentence confuses Katherine for a second, but then she gets it. “You love him”, she states plainly and Jack nods, unable to bring out anymore words. She holds Jack Kelly until he dries his tears and runs away to god knows where.

Katherine and David do indeed meet again the day after, in Jacobi’s, where the mood is darker than the ink they use in the papers. Katherine decides to walk in in the most excited way possible and Racetrack gives her a tired, but meaningful look before he turns around and broadcasts his excitement.

Although Katherine knows that the blond boy is beyond tired, she notices that she can’t detect insincerity in him at all. As he hypes up the boys, Katherine comes to the conclusion that Racetrack Higgins is a very skilled liar and a talented actor. She puts that thought aside as she lets herself be pulled along in their impromptu, victory-fuelled dance party. After the climax has passed, she notices David leaving the joint and decides to join him.

“Where are you going?” David straightens his back and turns around to face her. “I’m getting Jack. We need him.” She doesn’t disagree, because those boys look up to Jack and him not being there is also a factor in their downtrodden mood. “Please be a bit gentle with him. He’s…”, she bites her lip, not knowing how to explain what Jack’s feeling like without telling David about Jack and Crutchie.

“He’s heartbroken”, David guesses and he’s not wrong. “I’m not gonna completely trample over his feelings, I’m just verbally gonna kick his butt a bit. He needs ta wake up.” It’s then that Katherine once again notices the changes in David Jacobs. His jaw is set, he’s using newsies slang and his eyes glisten with newfound determination. He’s also changed up his wardrobe a bit and Katherine has to admit that newsboy is a good look on him. Not that scholar wasn’t a good look on him, but she can appreciate the change. “Well then mister Jacobs, let us go kick some Kelly butt.”

Les joins them because he too wants to kick someone’s butt. David uses simple logic and a lot of stubbornness to get through to Jack, which results in an exasperated Jack admitting that David is in fact, right. The rally is brought up and approved, Jack is back in action and for a moment it looks like the strike is in their favour again.

That moment lasts all the way until her father decides that it’s his right to decide whether she reveals her ties with him or not and the look of utter betrayal from Jack stings her deeper than she would like to admit. As he’s led away, Katherine wonders how the rally is gonna go.

It already starts unfortunate. Jack isn’t there and David seems to regress from newsie Davey to newbie Davey. He looks as though he’s gonna throw up until Medda gives him some reassuring words. Katherine isn’t sure why she’s so proud of him spitting in his own hand without as much as a wince, but she hopes that he’ll make his idea work.

David’s doing a pretty solid job, but then Jack shows up and Katherine feels for him as he tries to convince them to take her fathers offer. All Jack Kelly wants is safety, but he’s giving it to his newsies in the form of betrayal.

Anger takes a weird form when David experiences it or maybe that’s because he is more upset and disappointed than angry. Katherine sits beside him as he tightens and loosens his fists every now and then until he breaks the silence. “What does he think he’s doing?” He sounds calmer than he probably feels and then suddenly, there’s tears. “Fuck”, he whispers and attempts to hide his face in his hands. “Fuck.”

She opens her arms and because they’re sitting down, he doesn’t have to lean that far down to put his head on her shoulder. “I really looked up to him, you know? I thought he was one of those people that are so good, that they only exist in books. I trusted him”, he admits between sobs and Katherine lets her fingers trail through his dark locks. “I know”, she says softly, “but David, sometimes people make the wrong choices because they want to keep their loved ones safe. If you start making choices for them instead of asking them what they want, you’ll end up disappointing people. I hope that that’s what Jack is doing.”

“Have I mentioned that you’re a smart one, miss Pulitzer?” Playfully, she lets her fingers trail down his spine. As he shivers, she answers. “You may’ve mentioned it before. Shall I go talk to Jack? I want to confirm that he’s just being stupid and not malicious.”

David nods and lets go of her. “Sorry for uhm…the crying.” She wipes away a few leftover tears and gives him a kiss on the cheek. “Don’t apologise for having human reactions. I’ll see you later Davey.”

“Later Kath.” It’s only when she’s already left the street, that she realises that he called her Pulitzer. There was no judgement in his voice though, so Katherine concludes that he just wanted her to know that he knew and wasn’t upset. It was quite…sweet.

Nothing felt as satisfactory as clocking Jack Kelly in the jaw. As the tension unwinds, Jack asks her to cover for him and Crutchie in public. Apparently those Delancey brothers are less stupid than they look and some of their comments have made him quite scared. Of course she agrees to help her friend out.

-They use her fathers printing press to bring him down and during this process, Katherine and David work closely together. They fill the night with stupid word jokes and nonsensical giggling as they run around the city’s distributing their paper.

Finally, it’s over. Katherine revels in the happy mood and is quite surprised by Jack Kelly kissing her square on the mouth in the midst of the crowd of newsies. Then she remembers her promise and adds a bit of show to it, making a spectacle out of the two of them that can’t be ignored.

When they separate, she catches David running off, while leaving Les in the care of Race and Albert. This is certainly out of character and Katherine decides to see what he’s up to. After dwelling in the streets for a while, unsure of where exactly David is, when she finds him.

He’s seated on the steps of a front porch, face hidden in his arms. She wonders if he has a headache, but then she notices the way his body trembles and a tiny sob breaks through the silence. “Davey, are you alright?” she asks, unsure of what’s going on. His body goes taut when he hears her voice, but then he looks up and quickly wipes his face. “I just realised how wrong I was about something.” He looks down again, not meeting her eyes. “So you and Jack are a thing now? Like, officially?”

And then it finally clicks and Katherine drags him close to her by his open vest. As she presses their lips together,he lets out a surprised noise and brings his hand to the back of her head , softly cradling it. “Wait!” he yells and pulls back. “What about you and Jack? I thought you didn’t want me.”

He sounds so certain in his belief that Katherine desires Jack, that Katherine wants to kiss all of that away. “I want you and no one else. Jack’s got a relationship with someone else, I’m just a coverup”, she explains and David mulls over the idea. “Oh, I get it. People were getting suspicious of Crutchie and him, right?” She frowns. “How do you know that?” He shoots her a smile in return. “I’ve got eyes.”

“You sure do. You know what else you got? Lips. Please kiss me again.”

Ending the strike with David’s hands on her lower back and his lips on hers, is a perfect ending to the strike, Katherine decides. “I love you miss Pulitzer.” Katherine smiles against David’s lips. “Love you too, mister Jacobs.”

#daverine #david jacobs #katherine pulitzer #katherine plumber #davey jacobs #David x Katherine #rivers stuff

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kafka1989 · 3 years

Text

Anton and his Whale (2014/2015)

One day I was walking on the bench in the park. There was nothing to prevent me from shining fabulously under the sky; I felt dizzy, wacky, and whatever it was supposed to be. Suddenly, I decided to pretend to have a long nose, a long-long nasal organ that even turned the world around. But it was in vain: In fact, all I had was my "cute little nose." Filly always called it as such (yes, always, literally) without exception. Whenever he touched my nose, he referred to it as "your cute little nose." I kind of like the phrase because that was precisely how I started liking the unattractive spot on my face. Splash, splash! The day turned out to be sunny enough. But I wished it was a bit more windy and gloomy. Rage the wind to blow me off hard. And I said, "I am looking forward to seeing you tomorrow, preferably, early morning."

***

Anton died. We knew it when we were lying on the bed. It was not our screwed apartment bed, though. We stayed in a hotel in our city, where we have lived for years. Yesterday, we took a long walk and then stopped for a long kiss. Perhaps not a romantic anymore, but a satisfactorily pleasant one. I guess that could be a good reason to stay over a tiny stingy hotel room to make sure we wanted each other. The hotel room was on the corner of the city park, facing towards a pond. The surface of the pond did not wave despite the chilly wind. Instead, it reflected everything dark, dark that arose from the bushed surrounding the pond and the deep down in the bottom of the water.

The entrance was somewhat hidden, but it did not bother us. We came here even before our first (official) date. Then we were frequenters. Choose the room, and they deposit the key. 106. Room 106. That was the ritual we never explained to each other. Again, without any exception. While she was taking a bath (shower could not be enough), I went to the lobby and grabbed a newspaper. The time knocks on the floor like an annoyed bird in the hall. There went fast the time, so I made a clockwise return immediately. I might have tried a jump to overcome that noise, although I oversaw my step. The red door of 106 greeted me nicely. A warm taste of this silky, past red made me feel I should live a long life. I sat down on the bed and opened a paper to read from the cover.

"You were not here, were you?"

She said.

"No, no, no, I had my work to do."

I answered.

"I didn't bring anything today. I mean, snacks. I'll soon die of hunger."

"Well, the day is almost over. And you'll get something to eat like breakfast."

"I hope I can be an optimist like you."

Spider family scratched a large mirror in front of our eyes without making a different thread. They reached the level of our bed until we heard the noise outside. A cleaning lady started working this early. Early like 3. am. I was looking at one of the corners of the room as if I could multiply myself by staring at nothingness. My eyes suddenly captured her eyes as she leaned over me to my thigh.

"What are you looking at now, this time?"

"Your cute little nose, nosy girl."

She smiled. Actually, she only smiled with her lips. Her green eyes never let her dark pupils so deep. I felt a coolish air and a tiny waterdrop climbing down my calf. Her shampooed hair did not dry up yet. We cuddled for a while. Yellowish flowers on the table did not accurately represent our feelings. In any case, withered petals could only be falling asleep. It was like cotton cloth I always carried to the school but never used.

An hour later, she suddenly raised her voice and uttered a sentence.

"Anton died."

She was reading the newspaper, a page I intentionally left open.

"Who, whose Anton?"

"Anton, Anton Plumber."

"Was that YOUR Anton?"

"Yes, that was MY Anton. Extremely touchy guy."

By profession, Anton was a boxer. He was our friend. More precisely, the sportsman was her ex-boyfriend. He died because of the match he went in the day before. It was a rematch for the national championship. He was, unlike all other boxers of his time, a shy person, a sort of pacifist.

Nonetheless, he gained popularity among all generations. He earned his reputation despite his frequent injuries and somewhat nervous temperament. On one occasion, he began crying after being interviewed. He was ready to fight, but he was not prepared to express himself as if he kept his secrets from the public forever. Anton the Eccentric— people made fun of him, but he was still likable.

"Poor Anton."

I said, but I was unsure if I should have said so.

"Well, YOU must be sad."

"Must be? Why should I? Don't YOU feel any sad?"

I was surprised by her statement. I knew Anton as much as ancient Japanese calligraphy; I only had a few bottles of beer with him. That was the exact amount to make it possible for me to call him a friend.

"Well, who knows? I think I do feel sad, but I am not sure if I am sad for him."

As she stood up, a few packages of toothbrushes, amenity goods in this room, now fell on the floor. She picked up one of those packages and started brushing her teeth. It was symbolic. I thought she mourned over by cleaning her mouth intensely. Maybe some tribes on earth would do so to show that the spirit came out from their inner organs could be put back by letting their mouth full of artificial things. Her left hand, tightly holding the grip of plastic goods, looked like a pair of electronic scissors I once watched in the commercial program.

After gargling, she looked into the news article again. A tiny picture of Anton. No beard, half-naked, shorthaired, with his awkward smile. I spotted the spider family by the window. The wind outside did not calm down yet.

"Anton died."

She said, this time to herself.

"Yes, he did."

I confirmed the information.

At the age of 24, he died with dignity. Maybe in our mind, he was not dead yet. But he would be destroyed, gradually and inevitably. Ascending. Descending. We were sure that the place he reached by now would not let him come back to us. I was sorry for him as he might be confused about his new environment. The cleaners appeared to move on to the next floor. I could not hear they were vacuuming the floor. The first part of the dawn arrived through a thick curtain. I closed my eyes and continued to imagine Anton's extraordinary body on the ringside.

***

The next day we walked through the park. We saw there was a crowd on the other side of the pond. An older man at the car parking entrance told us they found a whale in the pond. Young whale. Around a year, some experts by then observed. People got so excited when we saw his tail and fins on the shore that the cheers and claps made the whole park a stadium. We went to the boat riding spot, but the vendor said he could not provide us with a ticket. We must keep the whale alone for a while, and we did not know how to pick him up. The municipal officers, police guards, and the ambulance staff came to save a poor, relatively small whale who got stacked in the pond. We tried to come closer. The whale was struggling, but he did not seem severely injured. He was moving around, swimming, and surfacing with his caudal fin up. Suddenly, he circled and spouted. The fluids coming out from his body made a large rainbow over the park. It was a beautiful, unexpected spectacle that we would remember for good.

#short story

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 7 years

Text

Getting Along

Request: Could you do a Jensen x Reader where the Reader puts an ad for a new roommate. Jensen calls and the Reader accepts, but later regrets it because all they do is bicker and fight over mundane things so she tries to annoy him so he can move out?

Pairing: Jensen x reader

Word Count: 1,700ish

Warnings: language

A/N: Life tip, don’t be an ass to your roommate if you ever have one. Talk stuff out like adults...

“Hello?” you said, walking over to your computer the second you picked up the phone. Hopefully this one would be an okay fit.

“Hi. I’m Jensen and I saw your ad for a roommate? I was staying at my friend’s place but he’s back in town so I’m looking to get in somewhere fast,” he said.

“Um, I’m not sure how comfortable I am with a male roommate,” you said.

“Oh, the ad didn’t specify,” he said. “Should I just hang up at this point or-”

“Did you send me your credit score? And a W-2?” you asked, looking through your emails.

“Well, if we’re roommates then I have to prove I’m going to split the rent somehow, right?” he asked.

“Your occupation says you’re an actor,” you said. He hummed and you cocked your head, reading through the rest of his application. “I want two months of your share of the rent upfront.”

“That seems fair. The guy thing doesn’t bother you now?” he asked.

“Meet me in the lobby in an hour. We’ll see if it does or not.”

“You’re all settled in?” you asked, Jensen pouring a glass of water for himself in the kitchen.

“Yeah. It’s mostly clothes. I don’t need a lot. I’m only here for about nine months a year and go home as often as I can so I won’t be in your hair too much,” he said.

“Well, I like this apartment but can’t afford it on my own. The view is to die for,” you said, Jensen nodding his head.

“You can see the harbor from here. I got work early so I think I’m going to call it a night. Goodnight Y/N,” he said with a friendly smile.

“Goodnight Jensen.”

“Oh my fucking...” you said as you sat up in bed, glaring at your door as you finally heard the apartment door open and shut. “You noisy mother...”

You knew his schedule was a little unique. He’d been upfront about that at the start. You just hoped with a few subtle hints he’d get with the program that not everyone in the house had to wake up at 5:30 for work.

“Um, Y/N?” asked Jensen on Sunday night, just as you were heading into your room for the night. He’d gotten home ten minutes ago, waking you up from where you’d fallen asleep on the couch. You’d already decided no way in hell were you going to figure out when he would and wouldn’t be home.

“Yeah?” you asked, rubbing your eye, trying to make him get on with it.

“I don’t want to sound crass or anything but you, uh, could you not use up all the hot water? Or turn up the TV so loud at night? My room’s right on the other side and I’m normally pretty beat by the time I get home,” he said.

“Excuse me?” you said, his arms crossing as he squinted. “How about you learn to be quieter in the morning and at night and to not eat my freaking Ben and Jerry’s. I have stressful days too ya know.”

“Alright. We’ll both be quiter and try to be more respectful of our shared spaces, agreed?” he said.

“Fine with me,” you said, heading to your room without saying goodnight.

The next morning when you woke up to him banging around in the kitchen you nearly lost it.

“Dude! I said quiet! I have the day off and I kind of wanted to sleep in,” you said, Jensen cocking his head.

“I think you’re being a little melodramatic, Y/N. I was being quiet, just like you asked,” he said.

“You don’t even need to cook breakfast. You get it for free at work,” you said.

“Well I don’t have work until noon today so I have to make it myself,” he said.

“Oh, you poor thing,” you said. Jensen put the pan down he was about to use and took a deep breath. “Be quieter.”

“Buy some damn ear plugs. It’s not my fault you’re a light sleeper,” he said.

You rolled your eyes and went back to bed, shoving your pillow over your head to try and fall back asleep. He was loud, ate whatever was in the fridge without question as to who it belonged to, took over the living room anytime he was home and had a tendency to blare his workout music at all hours of the day.As he fussed about again, you felt yourself getting more and more annoyed before it hit you.

You just had to annoy him back until he decided he wanted out.

“Y/N,” said Jensen a few days later. “We don’t have any hot water. Again.”

“Do I look like a plumber?” you asked, glancing up from your book you were reading on the couch.

“Can you please try to save me some hot water from now on? I’m having a hard week and I’d like to be able to come home and relax a little,” he said.

“Sure thing Jensen,” you said, flipping the page.

The next night when he got home, you figured he was going to flip out when there wasn’t any hot water. Maybe he’d yell a little, just enough where it’d be awkward from then on out and he’d want to move out and fast. But him plopping down on the couch, staring blankly out the dark window at the harbor was not at all what you were expecting.

“I asked you to save me some water,” he said quietly.

“Slipped my mind. Sorry,” you said, glancing up to look at him properly for the first time in days. He looked exhausted. His eyes were a little red and puffy but he gave no other indication that he’d gotten upset. “Are you alright?”

“It’s just a really hard episode we’re filming this week. The last scene tonight was rough,” he said quietly again, not bothering to look at you. “I know you don’t like me. I’ll move out if you want but give me a couple days.”

“Alright, Jensen. I can do that,” you said.

The next night when Jensen got home late, close to nine, you knew you’d broken your number one ground rule. He didn’t go in your room, you didn’t go in his. But you had to in order to leave him his gift.

You stayed in your room that night, hearing a light knock about an hour later before you told him it was alright to come in.

“Hey,” he said, running his hand through his damp hair. “Thanks for the hot water...and the girly spa stuff. It uh, helped.”

“You’re welcome,” you said. “You’ve got a nice jetted jub in there. You should use it.”

“Thanks for making me dinner too,” he said. “It tasted really good.”

“You’re tired, it’s fine,” you said, Jensen nodding his head, pulling out a few sheets of paper from behind his back. “I don’t know what your budget is but those all have nice harbor views. If you still want to move out that is.”

“Don’t you want me to move out?” he asked.

“Not really. I don’t want you to feel shitty because of me either. Yesterday you just looked so tired. I know you’re filming some hard stuff or something right now and you want to come home and forget about it but I just piled onto it and I’m sorry for that, Jensen,” you said.

“I...could have been quieter. I’m used to living alone. Or I could at least try to give you a heads up of when I’ll be in and out more,” he said.

“You aren’t a bad roommate. You have a steady job, you don’t smoke, you have one or two beers a night at most, you pay and are tidy. Maybe we both just need to figure out how to live with another person again,” you said.

“I’d like to try if you’re willing to,” he said. You gave him a friendly smile and he nodded his head. “Maybe we can even be friends.”

“I’d like that. You look better with a smile Jensen,” you said. He rolled his eyes but laughed. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Hey, Y/N, we got leftover pizza and wings in the fridge if you want some,” said Jensen when you walked home after work on Friday. You took off your shoes and peered over at the couch to spot another person sitting there. “This is Jared. I hope you don’t mind I invited a friend over.”

“No, that’s cool,” you said. “He’s the other guy in the show, right?”

“That’s me,” he said, standing up.

“Holy crap and I thought Jensen was tall,” you said, eyes wide.

“We can’t all be so blessed,” said Jared. “You guys worked out your problems I see? Jensen thoguht he was going to have to crash on my couch for the next month.”

“We came to a compromise,” you said. “Treating each other more like friends really helps.”

“Sure does. I’m even allowed her ice cream with permision now,” said Jensen.

“Oh, don’t let him turn you into putty in his hands, Y/N. You got to make him work for it a little,” said Jared.

“Work for what?” you asked, Jensen shrugging, just as confused as you.

“You’ll figure it out eventually,” said Jared. “So, Jay, when you inviting Y/N to a con? I’m sure she wouldn’t mind the excuse for a free vacation.”

“Jared, we’re friends but we’re not quite ready to be taking vacations with each other,” you said. “Right Jensen?”

“We barely can handle three hours a day in the same apartment. A whole weekend might kill us both,” said Jensen.

“Uh huh,” said Jared, slapping Jensen on the back. “I got to run and catch my flight. It was nice meeting you Y/N. I hope I see more of you around.”

“You too Jared,” you said, Jensen making faces as Jared’s back as he left. “He’s funny.”

“He’s a little shit, that’s what he is. Sorry, he gets so easily excited. Think of the biggest puppy you’ve ever met in your life and that’s him,” said Jensen.

“No worries. I got free pizza after all,” you said. “Although would hanging out for a weekend really kill you? I thought we were trying to get to know each other.”

“I don’t have any plans for this one if you want to hang out,” he said. “Or not, that’s cool too.”

“We could go out tomorrow night, do something fun?” you asked.

“Sure. It sounds like a date.”

@baconlover001 @jensenackesl @captainemwinchester @imissyoualittlemoreeveryday @anokhi07 @akshi8278 @fandom--shipper

@zeusmyster @atc74 @aingealcethlenn @pillow223 @alilianamendez @dancingalone21 @smoothdogsgirl @docharleythegeekqueen @blushingdean @ayeeitsemry @jaelami @roxyspearing @kickasscas67 @gallifreyansass @untitled39887 @charliebradbury1104 @quiddy-writes @arryn-nyxx @poukothenerd @feelmyroarrrr @mrsbatesmotel53 @idalinette @evyiione @jayankles @samisimportant @maddieburcham1 @demonic-meatball @hey-um-misha @flufy07 @its-not-a-tulpa @whit85-blog @mrswhozeewhatsis @extreme-supernatural-lover @tardis-full-of-fallen-angels @spn-ficfanatic

#jensen #jensen x reader #jensen ackles #supernatural #au #spn #supernatural reader insert #spn reader insert #spn fanfic #dean winchester #supernatural fanfiction

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pbandjesse · 4 years

Text

I think Im getting an ear infection. I could barely sleep last night the inside of my ear was so swollen. And it hurts a lot today. Like if I brush against it at all its like. Screamy pain. If I still feel like this in the morning I already let work know I wouldnt come in. But fingers crossed it just stops hurting cause its no fun.

But despite the pain I was in, it wasnt a bad day. I had a lot of trouble sleeping, even moving to the studio for an hour last night. But eventually I did get some rest. But I still let myself stay in bed until almost 930.

I got up though and tried to at least take advantage of the little bit of time I did have.

I got washed and dressed. I liked my outfit a lot. I felt cute with my matching sweatshirt and earrings. I had breakfast and did some organizing and packing up clay for the kids to use today. I watched videos for a little bit. And I got a text from our landlady about a plumber and a HVAC guy were coming today and asking if it was okay for her to bring them in our place. And me and James answered at the same time saying almost the same thing and it made me laugh. Very cute.

Im just glad Tina is so fast to work to get things fixed

I ran into Mr Will as I was leaving. He offered me a ride over to the y site but I had time to kill. So I said goodbye and walked to walgreens to look and see if they have new squish yet. But no luck. They did have a truck outside though so maybe tomorrow if I check again.

I got to work and there were just a lot of things happening, but it wasnt a bad time. Its just a little hard to fill the hours when the kids just refuse to do the things they need to do. Their classwork and homework. Im trying to get them on task but its hard. Especially when their schedules are all so different and seem to change all the time. And it sounds like were going to have 2 more kids start tomorrow. And now we have some kids that just come in the afternoon and its just really tough.

But there were nice parts. Like helping a kid who got overwhelmed by reading. And painting and building with some of them. It was nice. And when we did finally get into the clay project I had ready for them they did such a good job and that was just really cool. Its hard to come up with so many interesting projects. But Im really glad this one was successful.

I did a lot of cleaning today and my hands smell very strongly of bleach and I hate it. I keep washing my hands but I cant seem to get it to stop smelling. But Im trying my best to ignore it.

We did have some running around time. Ball throwing. Thankfully no injuries. And then we did a drawing competition and while it was hard for some of the kids to lose, its a good thing to learn. But in doing that we had to deal with some yelling and tears. But were proud of our winner and she got some candy. It was a fair vote, everyone got 3 votes to put on different pieces and not yourself.

After that we watched a movie. Chilled out. I cleaned the class for the night and tried to make sure everyone had all their things. Which is stupid hard for some reason. Mostly chargers being the issue.

Very quickly the kids got picked up though and we got to leave at 530.

I carried the kids' sculptures home to bake. And was really happy to be back here.

James was making us falafel. And we played some animal crossing and just chilled until 7 when James got on a video call with a friend. I finished up what I was doing on the island before going to the studio to work for a little while. But I was a little distracted so I just finished one piece before calling it a night.

I took a shower and washed my hair and now I am in bed feeling very tired but I still am in pain. I hope its better tomorrow. But I dont have high hopes.

I hope you all have a good night though. Take care of eachother.

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fountainpenguin · 6 years

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Question Meme: (Ignore this if you don't want to answer all these....) 1, 2, 3, 28, 31, 33, 40 (sorry i couldn't pick one)

40 Questions For ‘Fic Writers Meme

#1 - Describe your comfort zone—a typical you-fic.

Gradual character development spread across a piece with deepened, believable worldbuilding. You know, I often say I’m not into romance, but here’s the thing: A nice long, serious slow burn does a person good. I’ll happily accept romance if an author can really get me into the minds of the characters and make me want their relationship to develop as much as the characters do.

It’s shallow romance that rubs me the wrong way. Give me two characters who honestly, truly care about each other to the point where they’ll sacrifice something they love, or even be willing to let each other ago if it means the one they love will be happy. I love that. But if you’ve got one character who will pitch a fit rather than let their love be happy with someone else, you’re really working uphill with me.

Worldbuilding doesn’t have to be as deep and complex as my ‘fics tend to get, but I do love to see how different authors expand the same world in different ways. I’m not a big fan of horror and for some reason I just can’t get into sci-fi. I enjoy fantasy and biology.

Really, I love anything that doesn’t contradict canon. AUs? Eh, sometimes, but they’re not my favorite. I like behind-the-scenes, between-the-lines, believable futures, and backstory pieces with some nice worldbuilding. And some complex characters who don’t always make the best choices and then have to suffer the consequences for their actions. Yes. ‘Fics like those are very nice.

#2 - Is there a trope you’ve yet to try your hand at, but really want to?

A queerplatonic relationship that’s happy, healthy, and long-lasting. You would think I would let my aro/ace children be happy, but alas, ‘tis not to be! You could say I like to squash zucchinis. I am self-projecting my own insecurities. I made Bennett a horrible person to show the “worst possible relationship with an aro/ace who wants a sexless marriage” so that the hopes and dreams of the other aro/ace characters look more reasonable by comparison. I do that a lot.

Okay, I lied. I can think of six “official” queerplatonic relationships we will see in my FOP works, and one of them actually does have a happy ending. I mean, probably. I haven’t written it yet, so who knows?

Spoiler alert: Mario and Peach are the OTQP and I’m going to milk it. What can I say? I call ‘em like I see ‘em and canon literally gave us a plumber who’ll collect 120 Power Stars in return for cake, and a princess who turned down his hand in marriage after all the times he’s rescued her, but adores him anyway.

#3 - Is there a trope you wouldn’t touch with a ten-foot pole?

“We pretend to hate each other but secretly we’re both in love and will one day in the heat of the moment spontaneously confess our romantic feelings and form a mutual, caring relationship without any further character development.”

I don’t know if it’s because I’m a very serious, honest, straightforward person (being INTJ and all), or if it’s because I’m asexual, or if it’s a combination of both (or neither), but I can’t stand huge plots about people refusing to admit that they like someone. Love has always been a logical thing to me. I was sixteen before I found out sexual attraction was a real thing. I don’t really understand it, but I guess it’s possible to have physical feelings for someone even if you don’t logically want to? And you can’t stop yourself or turn it off? I honestly don’t know how that works, which is why the “I wish I wasn’t physically attracted to you” trope has infuriated me since childhood. I just didn’t get it.

Even before I realized I was asexual, I would have discussions with my mom about how if I ever had a crush, I would openly admit this to my friends if they asked. I wouldn’t protest or deny, as I see so many media characters do. Then it turned out I’m incapable of feeling physical attraction and I get friendship squishes instead of romantic crushes, so that happened.

As a general rule of thumb, you should trust the characters I write if they say they aren’t attracted to someone. If they like someone, they’ll tell you so. If they don’t, they’ll tell you that too. And if they’re confused, then it will be very clear that they’re confused. No means no. I’m very strict about that. Don’t read into it looking for signs that they’re being secretive even to the reader. They are not. I emotionally cannot bring myself to do that.

#28 - Share three of your favorite fic writers and why you like them so much.

Oooh. I’m going to say that Shaddic takes the cake on this one. If you’re a Total Drama fan, or even if you’re not, then “Daddy’s Characters” will break you deliciously like very few fanfics will. “Before and After” is just a step behind it. The emotion captured by these ‘fics is incredible, and I highly, highly recommend them if you’re into evil villains who are undeniably and yet realistically cruel. Both ‘fics revolve around Mike and his multiple personalities (“Daddy’s Characters” revolving around adult Mike and Zoey, married with a daughter and with twins on the way, coping with something horrid that lands a distraught Mike in prison, and “Before and After” being the trauma-filled childhood backstory ‘fic).

Shaddic characterized everyone perfectly. So horribly, painfully well. Ugggh, I love it. My gallery has Identity Theft on the way, which will revolve around Foop and Hiccup and some multiple personality trauma, but it won’t be as beautiful as Shaddic’s work. They’re honestly worth a read if you ever have the time one day, even if you aren’t a Total Drama fan. You really don’t need to know the show to enjoy them. And enjoy them (and suffer) you will. In all my years, I’ve never seen an evil villain portrayed so… villainously. Love it.

I’m also a fan of SelanPike- partially for sentimental reasons, I suppose. I remember reading her Mario ‘fics over and over eight years ago, and I still read them today on a regular basis. Crazy how time flies. They’re just ones that I love going back to. As most of you know, I tend to fall in love with background characters. Fawful, Kamek, and Doopliss fit those qualifications- and coincidentally, those three are Selan’s favorites too! Technically, it’s because of her that the 130 Prompts project came to be. I always loved her 100 one-shot challenge, and that’s sort of how I eventually decided to write my own.

I really admire Selan for her characterizations. Her Kamek portrayal is my all-time favorite. So is her Fawful, her Doopliss, her Bowser, her Bowser Jr, her E. Gadd… she’s just a master of character. Even her freaking Jojora is spot-on. I mean, talk about background characters, am I right? Ha. Her writing is excellent and she has some fun plots. I always enjoyed drinking up her fanart and reading her comics on her deviantArt too. Still do. She has such a fun, bouncy art style. Her 8-page comic about Fawful attending school in the Mushroom Kingdom after Kamek hits him with the truant officer threat gets me every time.

I highly recommend “Until Tomorrow” (Her post-“Superstar Saga” ‘fic about Kamek and Fawful attempting to revive Cackletta so Kamek can kick her butt in a magic fight and Fawful can get the mother figure he refuses to call his mother figure back), and her famous ‘fic “On My Own” (about Fawful coping with Cackletta’s death and eventually working his way up the Koopa Kingdom social ladder). “Fragmented Spectrum” is a wonderful, tense, horror-ish ‘fic as well, with my absolute favorite Bowser Jr. portrayal. Plus, I love the rivalry between Kamek and Fawful seen in “F.S.” with Fawful trying to draw magic circles that he decided must be 100% perfect to count as circles, and Kamek not even knowing how to deal with him and his technology brain. Beautiful.

Check out the rest of her gallery too. Her two FFN fandoms are Mario and Invader Zim. She isn’t active there anymore, but her ‘fics are worth the read. I will say that I’m not a fan of her ‘fic “Everything You Ever” because I feel that Cackletta was way too sweet and nice for an evil villain in that one. But then again, I haven’t read it in years, so who knows. I’m not crazy about Selan’s Peach portrayal either, but that’s where my third recommendation comes in.

GuardianM1234 is a recent discovery of mine, and she does not disappoint. I’m a big fan of her ongoing ‘fic “Smoke” (which updates twice a month right now and is nearing its climax). It’s basically the story of Peach and Bowser growing up, and the development of their relationship from being fairly friendly as children to their complex relationship as adults. I’ve never seen Peach portrayed so perfectly, and I adore her. Never thought I would, but I do. Guardian also has a very unique take on Mario that’ll really make you squirm.

I love Guardian’s writing because she pits characters in emotionally-difficult situations and lets them learn and grow. They make bad choices, but she demonizes no one. Not even Bowser. Plus, Bowser has a little sideplot with Clawdia going on (the canon mother of the Koopalings if you know your deep hidden lore, though since the Koopalings were recently ruled “not Bowser’s children” by Nintendo’s “official” canon, I don’t know if she will be their mother in “Smoke” or where Guardian is taking this ‘fic). Basically, what I’m saying is, Clawdia and Bowser roastfest. Be there. They crack me up. And Guardian’s TOADSWORTH is perfection. Please give that old boy his gossip.

Plus, Daisy takes Bowser shopping for wedding dresses once and he bribes her with a six-pack of soda. Nice, short chapters with a few pleasant hints of worldbuilding slipped in, and a LOT of character. Guardian is still somewhat new to fanfiction, but she’s very sweet and she would adore some reviews if you do read her work. If you love her stuff, give her a shout-out! She’s great.

#31 - Do you take liberties with canon or are you very strict about your fic being canon compliant?

I fall halfway between this one. The answer is, sort of both! For my main fandoms, I have one rule: I don’t contradict canon, unless canon contradicted itself and I was forced to pick a side. Origin gets so deep into biology and Knots into culture that they feel more like original works than fanfics sometimes, because I’ll flesh things out as much as I want to. So that’s sort of a liberty I take with canon. But I never contradict canon if I don’t have to. I always comply.

It’s a puzzle. I love connecting dots behind the scenes. I love forcing everything that’s canon to be canon, even if it looks like it contradicted itself. If I can solve a plot hole, I try to. I will make ridiculous backbends to fit colorful Anti-Fairy eyes, Crocker’s ebb and flow of wealth, Miss Idaho’s “rare genetic condition that prevents her from aging,” Mary Alice Doombringer’s random abilities, and Girlfriend the cat’s sentience into Riddleverse canon, and I’ll love every second of it. I only cut a piece of canon out if I feel like I absolutely have to. It’s fun.

I can definitely enjoy reading ‘fics that stray from canon, and might even write them on occasion. But the reason why I write fanfics is because I loved the canon and I want to see it expanded, not taken away. I’d like to publish my original works someday, so if I’m not sticking close to source material, why would I write a fanfic that I could publish as an original work instead?

For the same reasons, I’d rather read a fanfic that expands on canon than eliminates it. When I fall in love with something, I fall in love with its world. I like ‘fics that blend worldbuilding aspects in with the plot they’re writing, even if it’s a short one-shot. I don’t love reading something that feels like its writer just inserted the names of popular characters into their otherwise original work so that people would read it. I want to have the little details and feel convinced that these are the characters (and the world) that I love. Personal preference.

In some cases, I default to realism over canon, such as by giving Cosmo the ability to recognize faces. In my psychology classes, I’ve learned that sometimes during investigations, police will show pictures to people and ask them to select the face that matches the one they were shown earlier. People pretending to be mentally handicapped in some way will often get the answers wrong on purpose in an attempt to maintain their facade, while those who are actually mentally handicapped will get them right. Just a nitpicky thing I do.

So I often favor realism over canon in certain ways, even if it possibly contradicts canon a bit. I respect canon and try to stay true to it as much as possible because I enjoy doing so, but I don’t consider myself 100% beholden to it, especially considering how many different contributors there can be to a project over the years. I do my best, but enjoying what I write comes first.

#33 - How do you feel about crack?

I can enjoy the occasional way-out-there thing, but I prefer serious stories in general.

#40 - Write an alternative ending to [insert fic title] (or just the summary of one).

Well, you didn’t give me a ‘fic you wanted to see an alternate ending to, but I do have a few short pieces I can share. You see, the “That Was Then” Prompt (the Jay Rhoswen and his studies about Anti-Fairies one) wasn’t supposed to end the way it did. Here is how it was meant to go:

Rhoswen scooted back hand over hand along the counter, his feet skittering in the vapor. What in the name of dust was he doing? He shouldn’t be looking at his wife’s counterpart more than at his wife! He shouldn’t be having these sorts of thoughts at all!

Anti-Shylinda placed her palms to his cheeks and gazed into his eyes. “No talk,” she whispered, and when she leaned forward, those burning lips closed over his.

As for whether that Seelie Courter chose to kiss the anti-fairy back once she’d started to draw away? Well… You ought to look to the term “Rhoswen syndrome” to answer that.

I didn’t like the idea of Anti-Shylinda being the one to make moves on Jay, so I scrapped it. Not only that, but the whole piece is written as snippets from Rhoswen’s journal now, so the voice here no longer fit the narrative.

At the end of the first chapter of Frayed Knots, “String Theory”, Anti-Cosmo cuts off the tips of his ears. I was originally going to expand the scene as follows:

Blood spattered the floor. With a hiss through my teeth, I withdrew the knife and dabbed the blood up with my sleeve. The stone might stain.

Recalculating, I dragged my stool over to the sink. The angle was awkward, but at least my blood would wash easily away. There, I slit off the tip of my ear, cutting carefully around my first canetis ring. Then I mirrored the action on the other side. Both rings bounced across the stone with a clink, click, clatter.

I uncurled my tongue and set the knife aside. Then I took the severed tips of my ears and held them to my head again. It took three agonizing minutes, but the smoke that filled my veins stretched out and wound around my fingers. It absorbed my ears and pressed them into place again. Full, soft, and whole. I fingered the gashes mother’s piercing clamp had left behind. Apparently, even regeneration couldn’t heal injuries left by an unenchanted tool. Useful information to know.

The canetis rings disappeared into my pocket. Then I got up and pushed open the window. I took a running start, dove out, and unfurled my wings.

However, I kind of liked leaving the chapter on the cliffhanger of “Oh my gosh, what did he just do to himself???” I also couldn’t include a sink in the castle in a time period when there is no indoor plumbing. Then I decided that I would rather give Anti-Cosmo permanent gashes in his ears he had caused himself, rather than ones caused by his mother, to always remind him (and everyone around him) of that day he stood against Anti-Fairy tradition. Kind of a shame to delete the scene since I like how it gave us information about smoke and Anti-Fairy healing right from the start. I might recycle it later.

Actually, if we’re talking about the original version of Knots, everything was supposed to be different than what it was. Here is another deleted scene that was originally planned to be the opening scene of Knots:

“Mum, I’m nine and a half minutes old. I’m not a baby anymore. Come on, please? You let Anti-Robin leave home to get his wand when he was only three!”

“You weren’t even born yet. How can you possibly know that?”

“He told me about thirty seconds ago, right before you came in here.” I grabbed my mother’s skirt in two tiny fists. “Mum, I’m going to be the only pup in the colony without a wand. What about our image?”

She wavered visibly, running her thumb along her staff. “Well…”

Father peered over his spectacles and frowned. “Now, wait just a minute here, Anti-Florensa. He’s just a pup. You can’t send him into the woods to gather the materials for his first wand all by himself.”

“But it has always been our family’s tradition,” she sniffed. “It’s not as though he’ll die. On the contrary, I’m more concerned about him killing valuable plants with his acid. Anti-Cosmo, you’re drooling again.”

I wiped my mouth. “Sorry, Mum.”

I really loved the “I’m nine and a half minutes old- I’m not a baby anymore!” idea, especially since there aren’t many times when you’ll have the chance to use it. As you can see, Frayed Knots was going to begin with baby Anti-Cosmo leaving his manor home alone to obtain his first wand.

But overall, in the end, I decided that it was more important to show the importance of smoke in Anti-Fairy culture, and we ended up with the scene we have now. Also, I really wanted Anti-Cosmo to grow up never knowing who his father was until several years after Anti-Robin had died, which meant I had to scrap or replace this scene in some way anyway.

The “Mama’s Boy” Prompt was actually written with the manor idea in mind, and I believe Anti-Florensa even uses the word “manor” in it. I added an author’s note to that piece several months ago mentioning that “Mama’s Boy” is semi-canon for now until Frayed Knots is finalized. A lot has changed.

Some other deleted scenes from the early plans of “Anti-Cosmo lives with his family in a manor near the Castle, and they are nobles but not royalty” include:

“I got something for you, kiddo.” Anti-Robin flicked an aluminum medal across the table that read #2 Son. I grinned.

“This is for me? Thanks! I love it!”

He tilted down his glasses. “You say, ‘Thank you, Father, for this generous gift.’”

I repeated the words, and he tousled my hair. “Now, go do second son things.”

“Yes, sir! I will! Thank you, Father!” With the medal swinging from my neck, I trotted happily off.

and

I clung to the frame of his office door, beating my wings to keep myself from staggering forward. I knew better than to cross the threshold, even though there was nothing I wanted more in the universe right then than to throw my arms around his waist and squeeze him in a hug. The bruise Mother had left on my arm hurt even more now than it did in the kitchen, somehow. My eyes slid back and forth across his desk.

“Where are you going?”

Anti-Robin calmly placed another folded shirt inside the suitcase. “Back to Anti-Scarlett’s.”

“With your other family?” I asked. “With her kids, Anti-Xavier and Anti-Tom?”

“Yes.”

“Why can’t I come with you? I want to meet them.”

“It’s a dad thing.” He closed the suitcase with two clicks and turned around. His eyes were steely calm, his frown very firm. “You’ll understand when you’re older.”

and

“ELEANOR!”

Anti-Robin and I grabbed our mouths and looked at each other, gaping with our eyes. Mother was over 150,000 years old. Her real name wasn’t supposed to be said out loud.

Father slammed a newspaper on the table, then stepped back and crossed his arms. “Might I inquire what the meaning of this is, ‘dear’?”

“Whatever do you mean?” she asked, not looking up from the end of her staff. She studied its base, then ran her polish rag across it again.

“Anti-Bryndin had the green fairy locked up, and I know you’re behind it.”

So, don’t feel too sad that Anti-Cosmo grows up without a dad in my works! It wouldn’t have been the best relationship anyway. Besides that, now that I’ve had time to think about it, this Anti-Robin portrayal isn’t that far off Ambrosine, and I’d rather H.P. and Anti-Cosmo had fathers with very different personalities.

If you have a really sharp memory, you may possibly remember seeing that medal around Anti-Cosmo’s neck when I drew my late-night FOP/Moana doodle dump that one time.

I also have oodles of scenes deleted from Anti-Cosmo’s visit to Winkleglint’s estate, since originally Scarletfeather was supposed to show up and Anti-Cosmo panicked when he couldn’t stop Scarletfeather from luring Mr. Thimble away. I could have filled another entire chapter with what happened during that study abroad week, but in the end I decided they were mostly self-indulgent and not important enough in the grand scheme of things to justify leaving in.

I’m skimming through my files of deleted scenes and I forgot I had this one too. Anti-Cosmo wasn’t supposed to have his intelligence test proctored by Ambrosine originally, as I was going to send him to this mental hospital facility. I decided against it, but here is a terrifying scene that we almost got. So, it’s technically an alternative ending too:

Dr. Gabriel handed me a piece of bark marked with the word Failed. “Don’t get cocky. Everyone has their limits.”

Failed? That lout outright failed me? I dropped the bark strip and looked up as Dr. Gabriel spread his wings. With a few sharp beats, he flew out of the pit. I chased after him, searching the platform above me with my eyes. So I couldn’t fly, and I was short, but I could make that leap-

“Oof!”

Or… perhaps not. I slid back down to the floor and landed on my rump. Never one to be deterred, I leaped back to my feet. Something to boost me, something to boost me… Oh! Snatching up his forgotten broom, I backed against the opposite wall, and then ran forward. I shoved the handle of the broom into the corner offered by the platform and the floor and launched myself into the air. Yes! Yes! Ahahaha! I hurtled out of the pit and went rolling across the ground. Dr. Gabriel spun around, his mouth falling open in surprise.

“Please,” I begged him, climbing to my feet again. My broken wings batted feebly behind me. “I want to gain a Fairy education. Level with me, doctor. You don’t want Anti-Fairies filling up your precious conservative school. And I don’t want Anti-Fairies filling it up either. True, we Anti-Fairies are known for our memories, but I like to feel special, and I shouldn’t want to chance anyone stealing my thunder away from me. You let me in, and I won’t breathe a word about your biases against my people.”

Dr. Gabriel studied me with idle coldness, clutching his tablets to his chest. He drifted a few steps backwards along the corridor. “Anti-Cosmo, your genius is entirely creative. You’re severely behind in your knowledge of technical skills, and you lack basic common sense as well as a sense of self-preservation. Because of this, we can’t recommend you be placed in any advanced programs. You’ll need to stay where you’re at.”

The corners of my mouth twisted into a frown. Then a sneer. “Frankly, Dr. Gabriel, I’m not particularly fond of that option.”

With that, I yanked out the can of forget-a-cin I’d nicked from his pouch when he’d been turned the other way. Dr. Gabriel had time to look horrified before I mashed the button down. My eyes were squeezed shut, but even so, the world around me lit with white. I let the empty canister fall to the floor and opened my eyes again to find the nervous fairy glancing around in bewilderment.

“There,” I said. “I’ve just put a block over this memory of yours. I do hope no one else would care to challenge me, or I will be forced to perform the same trick on them. Now, I demand that you, good sir, will have me enrolled in all the classes of my choosing. Is that understood?”

Dr. Gabriel’s wandering eyes finally latched onto me. His shoulders shivered, although he possibly didn’t remember why. He bobbed a bit lower in the air. Then his wings fell silent altogether, and he leaned his back against the wall. He slid down to the floor. “S-security! Security?”

His voice was too weak for anyone who wasn’t an Anti-Fairy to hear. I sighed. Covering my eyes again, I made a signal with my other hand. “Oh, dear. I do apologize. I really never do this, you must understand. It’s so messy.”

If he hadn’t been so hazy from the aftereffects of the forget-a-cin, I’m sure Dr. Gabriel wouldn’t have let me get away with as much as he did. As it happened, I walked right up to him and lay my claw against the karmic pouch on the left side of his neck. He yelped, but I knocked his clumsy hands away from me without any real effort. I braced my hand against my hip.

“I really never do this. It’s vile and crude. So sorry, I really am. But then again, well, perhaps I’m really not.” And with that, I sunk my fangs into his neck. Blech. He tasted of old mutton.

Dr. Gabriel screamed. He twisted, his shoulders rapidly seizing up. I rolled my eyes and kept my fangs embedded until his coughs turned to silence and he had frozen in place, as still as a stone statue. Only then did I wrench back my head, bringing the coils of his karmic weave along with me. Most of them were blue, but here and there a pink one surfaced, or a yellow. As the colourful threads of his life whisked above us, I stood back and traced one claw beneath my eye.

“Anti-Fairy tears consist mainly of sulfuric acid, of course. And I daresay you hurt my feelings quite a bit back there, didn’t you?”

Forcing myself to cry came as naturally as forcing myself not to cry always had. I captured the burning tear on the end of my claw and, very slowly, held it out towards the paralyzed fairy sitting against the wall. For several long seconds, I let him see it glistening there. Threatening to drip down on the place where I had bitten him. Which was still bleeding.

“I never do this,” I said again, truthfully apologetic. “It’s messy and you’ll be rather cross when you wake up, assuming you wake again at all. But it is true that I am crying, and here you are, lying so very still. We’re standing rather close, aren’t we? So close that I could touch you.”

Lacking the ability to move, all Dr. Gabriel could do was sit numbly, his mouth gaping. I lowered my claw towards his neck.

“But it’s only a single tear, isn’t it? Why should a fairy care if he made an anti-fairy child cry? No, a single tear cannot hurt your conscience. A single tear may sting your skin, perhaps, but it shouldn’t cause any long-lasting problem so long as no liquid in your body is particularly warm. Oh, wait…” Here I feigned surprise, and brought my claw a mere centimetre from his karmic pouch. Green liquid trickled down his neck. I smiled. “Why, internal Fairy body temperature borders on the boiling point, does it not? Oooh, I’d hate to see what happens when that acid comes into contact with your blood. I’ve heard it’s prone to such catastrophic explosions.”

There was, of course, no reply. Sighing, I withdrew my handkerchief from my pocket and wiped the tear from my claw.

“No, but I suppose I’m a gentleman, so I shan’t leave you comfortless. As I told you, I really never do this. I’m all boasts and bluster, really. That’s all I really am. Let’s get you cleaned up, lad.”

I was just wiping away the last drops of acid from his stunned face when the door opened behind me. I looked over my shoulder to find Anti-Jolene floating there with a clipboard in hand. She took in the threads of wild karma and my kerchief, and looked at me with her ears cocked forward.

“So… How is it going?”

I sighed and tucked the handkerchief away. “Dr. Gabriel and I have just finished, painfully. I say, are business deals with Fairies always so messy?”

She smiled a thin smile. “It would behoove us to find a neutral party who could settle things between our two races more easily, wouldn’t it?”

“I’ll be cleaning karma out of my fur for weeks,” I muttered, and went about gathering up his tangled threads so I could stuff them back inside his soul.

He was one messed up kid in this draft, that is for sure. Who knows? Perhaps I’ll find a place for this scene in the current version someday, if I ever need to send an older Anti-Cosmo to a mental health facility. For now, however, it’s deleted.

“This Is a Box” was actually supposed to end differently as well. And of course, so was “This Is Halloween.” Every once in awhile I’ll have a piece get away from me and end the way it wants, but most of them end the way I plan from the start.

Thanks for all your requests! I really appreciate your curiosity!

#Anon #asks #riddleverse mention #Ace Penguin #Mushrooms and more #FAIRIES!#Reading recommendations #130 Prompts #ridwriting #The bat with the hat #Bat cube and associates #Frayed Knots #Ask box games

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