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stargazer-sims · 1 year

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The Art of Redemption

(part 3)

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Beth-Anne has never liked hospitals.

She guesses no one really likes them, if they're being honest. Hospitals aren't exactly the most cheerful or fun places on Earth. Sure, they're arguably places of healing, but they're also places of suffering and loss, and in her life, bad hospital experiences have outweighed good ones.

Still, she's not the sort of person to let her feelings overpower her common sense and judgment. She may not care for doctors and hospitals, but she won't deny the necessity of them, and tonight — today? — is one of those times when she has to concede the usefulness of the medical establishment.

She gets up from the hard plastic chair she'd been sitting on and moves across the room to look out the window. The view below is of the hospital parking lot, with orange-hued lights making everything glow weirdly amid the softly falling snow. When had it started snowing? Illuminated by the amber lights, the snowflakes look surreal, like something from a dream.

This whole night has been like a bad dream.

She presses her palms flat against the window. The glass is cool, and so she leans in and touches her forehead against it too. The cold soothes the ache of tiredness that's taken up residence behind her eyebrows. She thinks about the two hours of sleep she'd gotten earlier, and knows she won't get any more until the sun is high over the horizon again.

When we're safe at home, I'll sleep then.

Nikolai will be coming home with her, once they let him out of the hospital. The two of them had reached that decision fairly quickly. He didn't want to go back to his own house, which was fine with her because she wouldn't have been comfortable leaving him alone there anyway, and he said he didn't want to stay with his parents either because they wouldn't understand what he was going through.

That was fair, Beth-Anne supposed. Elena and Mikhail probably wouldn't get it. They'd no doubt be perplexed by the enormity of Nikolai's distress, and they wouldn't grasp why he needed to go to the hospital in the middle of the night if he wasn't sick. Nikolai's parents are good, kind people, but emotional intelligence is not among their strengths. They're stoic and unsentimental, and not the sort of people to whom Beth-Anne would easily entrust the care of someone as fragile as Nikolai is right now, even if he is their son.

As for Beth-Anne, she's been accused of being pragmatic too, but she likes to think her practicality is tempered by some degree of sensitivity and emotional awareness. She recognized almost straight away that Nikolai was perilously close to a breaking point and that she couldn't help him on her own, at least not in the short term.

When she first arrived at his house and saw the state he was in, she knew he'd need some professional intervention. She hadn't wanted to ambush him with the idea, though, or force him into it. Instead, for the first several minutes, she'd simply sat there in the front hallway with him, holding him and letting him cry. She didn't ask questions. She didn't talk much at all, except to murmur reassuring words into his unkempt hair, to let him know he was safe and that she'd take care of him.

When his tears finally slowed to a trickle, she gave him a hand up and guided him into the downstairs bathroom. He sat on the little wooden bench in the corner and gazed at nothing while she fetched fresh towels from the linen cupboard and started running a hot bath. She left the bathroom door open while she ran upstairs to his bedroom to grab clean, warm clothes for him, and her heart was racing with anxiety the entire time he was out of her sight even though she was gone all of two minutes.

The tub was sufficiently filled by the time she returned. She shut off the taps and then tested the temperature of the bathwater with her wrist. It was perhaps a little hotter than most people would prefer, but she'd seen Nikolai wander out of a locker room shower on more than one occasion with his skin pink from the heat, so she surmised that he'd likely find it just right.

She gestured in the direction of the tub. "There you go. It's all yours."

He stared at her blankly, as if he hadn't understood.

"Nikolai," she said gently. "Bath."

He blinked. "Oh. Right."

Despite his eventual acknowledgement, he didn't move. When Beth-Anne reminded him that he needed to undress, he plucked feebly at the hem of his t-shirt as if he had no idea how to get it off. He peered up at her with watery, pleading eyes, and she realized she would have to help him.

"It's okay, sweetheart," she said. "Lift your arms."

He did as she instructed, raising his arms as gracefully as he would if he were dancing or performing an artistic sequence on the ice. Beth-Anne couldn't articulate exactly why, but observing the fluid motion hurt her a little inside. His body knew that movement; knew it so well that maybe it didn't require conscious thought any more. She wondered if he would continue to move that way for the rest of his life, a beautiful and effortless dancer even when no one was watching.

She pulled the grungy t-shirt off him, and the spell in her mind was broken as much by the sour odour of dried sweat as it was by his bemused mumble of, "You're going to see me naked."

"I've seen naked men before," she told him, matter-of-fact. "They're nothing to get excited about. Now, come on. Shorts and underpants next, and then socks."

She steadied him as he limped the few steps from the bench to the tub and climbed awkwardly into it. He sank down into the hot water with a little noise that was half moan and half sigh. He closed his eyes. "This feels good on my leg."

"We should've put some Epsom salts in there, shouldn't we?" she said. "Do you think you can manage washing yourself?"

He nodded. "Yeah."

"Okay. Just tell me if you need anything."

"Are you going to stay in here with me?" he asked.

"Do you want me to?"

"Yes."

She settled on the floor with her back to the tub to offer him some small measure of privacy. For the next several minutes, she did her best to relax, listening to the sloshes and drips of water behind her and trying to convince herself that everything would be all right.

Will it be, though? a little voice somewhere in the back of her mind taunted. Nothing's ever going to be the same after this.

No, it wouldn't be the same. Neither Nikolai's life nor hers could go back to the way it had been before the disastrous event at the Four Continents, but that didn't mean they wouldn't be okay. Stan is fond of saying that change isn't inherently good or bad. "Change is inevitable," he'd often tell her. "But it's just change. The goodness or badness of it comes from how you respond to it, not from the situation itself."

She trusts Stan, and over the years she's come to realize this precept, like so many other pieces of advice he's given her, is true for the most part. She's seen many times that the decisions she makes in response to something have a direct effect not only on the outcome, but on how she personally feels about it.

She's not perfect, though, and sometimes her responses to change aren't particularly rational. When she thought about Anya and the changes she'd wrought on poor Nikolai's already dramatically altered life, for instance, her brain was overtaken by anger strong enough to make her want to put her fist through a wall.

Get your mind off that, she told herself. She's terrified by her own anger, but evidently no amount of self-admonishment was enough in that particular moment to sway her from fuming as she sat there on Nikolai's bathroom floor.

What had been going through Anya's head? Had she really believed it was fine to just leave Nikolai alone? She must have recognized that he needed help, yet she'd apparently decided to abandon him anyway.

And how long had she been gone? The last time Beth-Anne was at the house had been three days ago, and all indications had pointed to Anya's presence then. Beth-Anne had noticed two sets of dishes still on the table, uncleared from breakfast, and there'd been a sleek pair of high-heeled black leather boots and a long red wool coat by the front door. The coat and boots were missing now.

It occurred to her that while she'd been upstairs in the bedroom she hadn't seen any of Anya's things there either. On top of the dresser on the left hand side, she'd spotted men's deodorant, Calvin Klein cologne, a blue mug bearing the phrase 'Number One Cat Dad', and a green camouflage glasses case she recognized as Nikolai's. The right-hand side of the dresser was conspicuously bare.

She's not coming back, Beth-Anne realized.

Why hadn't Nikolai said anything? They'd spoken on the phone every day since her previous visit, but he hadn't mentioned anything about Anya leaving. Then again, maybe there hadn’t been anything to mention. Maybe Anya had still been there until a few hours ago.

But, that wouldn't explain...

Nikolai's voice inserted itself into her musings. "Beth-Anne?"

She glanced over her shoulder. "Ready to get out?"

"Not yet," he said. "Can you help me wash my hair?"

He was perfectly capable of washing his own hair, but she obliged his request nevertheless, because she figured he probably wanted the human contact and she couldn't bring herself to deny him.

Once his hair was clean, she helped him out of the tub and handed him a towel. He dried himself off, and then she bundled him up in sweatpants, a hoodie and thick socks.

"Are you warmer now?" She picked up a wide-toothed comb from the counter next to the sink and began to run it through his damp hair. It smelled of peaches from the shampoo they'd used. Probably Anya's, she thought, not that it matters. it's not as if she's here to use it herself.

"Yeah, thanks," he said. "My knee's really hurting, though."

"What happened?" she asked. "It didn't seem that bad last time I was here."

He lowered his eyes. "I fell. On the stairs."

Her breath caught in her throat, and she momentarily stopped combing. "What? How?"

"Anya..." he began, but paused and swallowed convulsively several times. 'My crutches were upstairs. I asked Anya to bring them down before she left, but I don't know if she forgot, or if she ignored me. Going down the stairs is easy without them because I can just sort of, you know... scoot down on my bum, but going up is a lot more difficult, and..." He gave a little shrug, as if the rest of the story was self-explanatory.

It was. Beth-Anne could easily infer what had happened. He'd attempted to go upstairs to get the crutches himself, stumbled or lost his footing somehow, and fell down God alone knew how many of the fourteen steps leading to the second floor. She guessed he'd been too scared to try again, which meant he'd been restricted to the downstairs portion of the house, which in turn meant that he couldn't access his dresser or closet or the walk-in shower in the upstairs bathroom that he could get into without help.

Judging by the fact that he hadn't changed his clothes since she'd last seen him and that he’d looked and smelled like he hadn't washed in a while, Beth-Anne concluded Anya hadn't made her exit that afternoon or evening. She'd left three days ago.

Three days. Jesus-fucking-Christ.

Beth-Anne was furious, but she couldn't let her anger show on her face. The last thing she wanted was for Nikolai to jump to the wrong conclusion that she was angry with him.

"Why didn't you tell someone?" she asked.

"I thought she'd come back, and I... I didn't want to bother anyone with it."

"You're never a bother." She brushed back the lock of damp hair that had flopped across one of his eyebrows. "You could've told me. You could've called Ginger or your sister or Stan. Ginger and Natalya both would've been here in a heartbeat for you. I would have too, if only you'd asked."

"I'm sorry," he said, and his voice broke on the last syllable.

"You don't need to be sorry."

He shook his head. "I can't get anything right lately. I'm disappointing everyone, and..." The rest of the sentence was lost in tears, which he swiped at fiercely with the back of his hand.

"You're not disappointing me." She knelt so that she was on his eye level, where he was seated on the bench. "I love you, and I'm very proud of you, no matter what."

"But I can't... I mean, you know what the doctors said. I'm never going to compete again."

"Sweetheart, look at me for a second." She reached up to touch his face, carefully wiping away tears with her thumb. "That doesn't matter."

"But—"

"You matter," she said. "Everything else is secondary. Nothing that happens in our lives is going to change how I feel."

"You said you'd be with me as long as I wanted you to."

"I did, and I meant it. It's just as true now as it was when I said it the first time. Maybe even more so, actually," she told him. "You remember what you said you wanted?"

He sniffled, and then whispered, "Forever."

"Forever," she agreed. "We know what that means, don't we? You're going to be stuck with me for a long time, so try to stop worrying about it, okay?"

"Okay," he said.

She pulled some toilet paper off the roll and passed it to him so he could wipe his eyes and blow his nose. He reminded her of a little kid, with his wide eyes and messy hair, and only his fingers poking out from the cuffs of his too-long sweatshirt sleeves.

"Are you hungry?" she asked, wanting to steer the conversation into less weighty territory. "If you are, I'll make you something. Then, maybe we can go and have your knee seen to."

"At this hour?" he said.

"The emergency department is open twenty-four hours a day."

"Can you make me peanut butter toast?"

"You and your peanut butter toast." She smiled. "Of course I can make you that. Then, will you let me take you to get checked out?"

"Yeah," he acquiesced. "I don't want to go to the hospital, but I'm really uncomfortable, and the only thing we've got here is ibuprofen. Maybe if we go there, the doctors can give me something stronger."

That's one of the problems with doctors, she grumbles to herself, as she steps away from the coolness of the hospital room's window. They're far too willing to give you something stronger. Their first instinct is to fill you full of drugs, mask the pain, numb your body and your mind so you'll forget it and stop complaining. Fucking dangerous bastards.

Except, people don't forget. Not really. All those chemicals are only a temporary measure.

She goes back to her chair, but she doesn't sit. Standing next to the bed, she looks down at Nikolai who is curled on his side, sound asleep. A nurse or care assistant came in at some point and put a pillow between his knees — to help relieve pressure, they explained — and Nikolai hadn't even stirred. That was a result of the medication, of course. He isn't normally a heavy sleeper.

She studies his face, serene and untroubled in repose. The visible tension in his neck and jaw seems to have disappeared, and the tiny permanent crease between his eyebrows looks mostly smoothed out. She's glad he's resting, even if his sleep is induced by painkillers and an anti-anxiety pill.

Initially, she and Nikolai had both balked at what the emergency room doctor referred to as "mental health medications." When the doctor started talking about suicide intervention and mental health evaluations and a possible referral to a psychologist or psychiatrist. Beth-Anne could tell Nikolai immediately regretted admitting to the man that his injured leg wasn't the only thing that was bothering him.

"I think it would be in your best interest," the doctor said.

"No. I don't want that," Nikolai said, and Beth-Anne was gratified to see a spark of emotion in him that wasn't sadness or defeat. He was clinging to her hand for dear life and it was obvious to her that he was scared, but he was fighting for himself and, in her mind, that was a good sign. "I'm exhausted and in pain. I don't want to talk about my problems to a stranger, and I... I'm not going to hurt myself. I just want to sleep."

The doctor's lips thinned into a disapproving line, but then he sighed and said, "All right. I can give you something for pain, and something to help you sleep, but I would like to admit you to the hospital for observation for the next twelve to twenty-four hours. And I think we need some imaging on that knee in the morning."

In the end, Nikolai agreed, although he was clearly not happy about having to spend the rest of the night and possibly the entire next day in the hospital. He was even less happy when the doctor informed Beth-Anne that she could accompany him to his room but would then have to leave, since visitors weren't allowed to stay the night.

"She promised she wouldn't leave me," Nikolai protested. "She has to stay."

"I don't make the rules, I'm afraid," the doctor said. "Ma'am, you will have to leave, and—"

"Like hell I'm leaving," Beth-Anne cut the annoying man off. "As long as Nikolai is here, I'm here."

"I don't think—" the doctor began.

"Look," Beth-Anne gave the doctor what she hoped was her best intimidating glare. "You want to keep him for observation, right? I know how it works around here at night. They don't observe shit, because they're all too busy watching reruns of Golden Girls and doing crossword puzzles at the nurses' station while most of the patients are sleeping. So, if you really want to observe him, leave the job to someone who actually gives a fuck."

"Ma'am, I understand that you're concerned about your son, but—"

She didn't bother to correct him about her and Nikolai's relationship. He probably wouldn't have paid attention anyway.

"You're damn right about that," she said. "A hell of a lot more concerned than anybody else around here. So, go ahead. Try to make me leave if you really want to, but I'm telling you right now, if I'm not here and something happens to my boy on your watch, there's going to be major hell to pay."

The doctor was quiet for a handful of seconds, and appeared to be taking a measure of her, maybe trying to figure out whether she needed his so-called mental health medication more than Nikolai did.

At last, he said, "Very well. We'll make an exception. Just this one time."

"Thank you," Beth-Anne said. "I'm glad you're able to see it my way."

A man around Nikolai's age, outfitted in burgundy scrubs and impossibly white sneakers escorted them into the wide elevator, up to the fifth floor, and into what would be Nikolai's room for the night. It was pretty much what Beth-Anne expected; scuffed white linoleum floors, yellowish-beige walls reminiscent of the shade of cat vomit, a tall, narrow bed with a pitifully thin blanket, and a chair that looked as if it was designed specifically to make people squirm after five minutes of sitting in it.

She'd seen enough rooms like this to last her a lifetime, and the memories made her shudder. She suppressed them as quickly as she could. The last thing she needed was to start thinking about Jason or her father or grandmother. She told herself she could fall apart later. This was not the time.

A nurse arrived just as the man in the burgundy scrubs was leaving. She was young too, perhaps in her early thirties, with gorgeous dark skin and her hair done up in dozens of intricate little braids. She reminded Beth-Anne of one of her former lovers, and Beth-Anne immediately felt reassured by the other woman's presence, ridiculous as that was.

The nurse's ID badge identified her as Peace Adebayo. The woman's name was Peace. Inexplicably, Beth-Anne felt the urge to cry.

Nikolai was not nearly as impressed with the beautifully-named Peace. He whined about having to put on the hospital gown she gave him, and whined even more when she fitted a brace around his knee exactly like the one he'd had to wear after his initial injury. Then, as Peace was settling him into bed, he complained about the scratchy blanket and grumbled his speculation that they'd probably serve runny eggs and weak tea for breakfast.

"You're hard to please, Mr. Pavlenko," the nurse commented, her delivery more amused than admonishing.

"He's usually not like this," Beth-Anne said. "He's actually very sweet."

Nikolai scowled. "I'm not in the mood to be sweet right now, and a hard bed and bad food aren't going to convince me to be any sweeter."

Any other time, Beth-Anne might've scolded him for making such a fuss, but this time she was inclined to be indulgent. "I don't think there's much we can do about the bed, but maybe if we ask really nicely, Stan or Ginger will sneak you a coffee and a breakfast sandwich in the morning," She added in a stage whisper. "Don't tell the nurse."

Peace looked like she was trying not to laugh, but Nikolai appeared to have missed the humour. "Are you going to call them?" he asked. "Ginger and Stan?"

"I will," Beth-Anne said. "When the sun comes up."

"And my parents?"

"If you want me to."

"Yes, and my sister, please."

It wasn't lost on her that he hadn't included Anya in the list of people he wanted her to call. In an ideal world, it should have been Anya here at the hospital with her husband, but unfortunately, they did not live in an ideal world. It was probably just as well, Beth-Anne supposed, because she didn't think she could trust herself to be civil when it came to Nikolai's wife. In fact, she'd like nothing more than to metaphorically rip the younger woman to shreds, so perhaps it was better if Anya didn't come anywhere near.

She held Nikolai's hand while Peace gave him a shot of something in his upper arm.

"That should take effect in five to ten minutes," she said. "I need to see to other patients now, but if you need anything, you can press the call button and someone will come around."

Beth-Anne nodded and thanked her.

In reality, it'd taken less than five minutes for whatever had been in Peace's needle to take effect. Nikolai was asleep before Beth-Anne even had the chance to tell him goodnight, and then she was left alone with her thoughts.

Never a good thing, being left alone with my thoughts.

She sat in the plastic chair for nearly an hour, holding Nikolai's hand while he slept because even in sleep his fingers were locked around hers. It was only when he rolled over that he let go of her, freeing her to get up and pace the room.

That's what she's doing again now, walking back and forth from the bed to the window. She glances at the time display on her fitness tracker. The luminescent numbers declare that it's 4:37 a.m.

Only another hour, and then I can call Stan.

A notoriously early riser, Stan wouldn't mind a call from her at half-past five in the morning. It certainly won't be the first time she's phoned him at that hour, and she suspects it won't be the last.

Stan isn't a hugger, but the sound of his voice often feels like a hug to her. The lyrical cadence of his Czech-accented English and his calm, confident tone feel like the emotional equivalent of a lullaby and a blanket and the knowledge of being warm and safe indoors while a winter storm rages outside. She needs that right now, because despite how composed she may seem on the outside, she's a stormy mess on the inside. She needs to be anchored, and if anyone can do that, it's Stan Kovac.

From the day they'd met, he'd been an anchor for her in both big and small ways, and he'd never given up on her, even when it seemed almost everyone else had.

It was Stan who rescued her, saved her from herself during the darkest period of her life. After Jason died, after her accident, after she'd ruined her skating career and everything was going so horribly wrong, Stan was the one who was there for her. He'd listened to her, advocated for her, and applied enough tough love to push her off the path of self-destruction she'd been on and back to the straight-and-narrow.

He'd even encouraged her to reconcile with her mother, although that was one subject on which he would never persuade her to agree. That bitch had wanted to pull the plug on her own son, and Beth-Anne vowed she would never forgive her for that.

The fact that Jason had passed anyway was not the point. He'd deserved the chance to fight until he couldn't fight any more, and the idea that his only parent didn't want to grant him that chance, however slim it might've been, was something Beth-Anne could not overlook. Perhaps if she'd wanted to show him mercy and kindness, Beth-Anne would've understood, but the twisted expression of disgust on Claudia Jones's face had held no compassion in it.

"The sooner you pull the plug, the sooner he goes to hell," Claudia had said, and Beth-Anne hated her. She'd never hated anyone before that, and the white-hot rage that rose like a tidal wave inside her made her wish she didn't hate Claudia either. That kind of emotion was too powerful to control.

So, instead of controlling it, she tried to dull it with alcohol. That worked for a short time, until she got blind drunk one afternoon and rode her bicycle off a bridge.

It was a small country footbridge with a flimsy rope railing that wasn't enough to impede the trajectory of Beth-Anne and her bike. To this day, she's not sure if she really meant to do it. She can't remember if riding over the edge had been her plan all along, or if she'd changed her mind at the last second but was too late to stop herself.

The drop to the stream below the bridge wasn't far, perhaps three metres, but the water in the stream was low from lack of rain that summer, and she'd been going at speed. She landed on the rocks, and the world around her went mercifully black.

When she woke up, she was in the hospital and Stan was with her. He barely left her side for the first few days, and when he did have to go, he made sure somebody else she trusted was there. His wife, or one of Beth-Anne's friends from the rink.

He never called Claudia, because he knew.

Beth-Anne returns to her chair, and this time she lowers herself into it instead of turning and going back to the window. There's a twinge of discomfort in her hip. Sitting down might not make it better, but more walking will definitely make it worse, so she resolves to rest for a while.

Nikolai shifts position in his sleep. He whimpers a little and stretches out his hand reflexively. Beth-Anne catches it in hers.

"I'm here," she says, even though she's fairly certain he's too out of it to really hear her.

Nikolai, I swear I won't let what happened to me happen to you.

Hatred, bitterness, anger, grief, guilt, fear... they're all a toxin to the soul if they're not kept in check. Even one of them can destroy a person from the inside if it grows too strong. And she should know. They've all tried to poison her.

Beth-Anne understands that she can't choose anything for Nikolai, can't tell him what to think or how to feel, but one thing she can do is support him. She can remind him that he doesn't have to tackle any problem on his own, and maybe if he doesn't lose sight of that, he won't stray down the same treacherous road that she did.

#writing #the art of redemption #theartofredemption #beth-anne jones #nikolai pavlenko #tw suicide mention #tw alcoholism mention #tw mental health #tw hospital #tw injury #stargazersims

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merryfortune · 4 years

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Day 8 / Heart

Clover and Violets 2021

Ship: Sapphireshipping | Masumi/Ruri

Universe: Arc V

Word Count: 1,627

Rating: T

Tags: Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe Elements, Surreal Elements, Gore, Blood, Cannibalism, Trauma

Were it not for the fact that Masumi had seen such a gruesome thing with her own two eyes, she would have laughed. Scoffed at the thought of someone confusing a viscous tale with reality but she had seen it. And now she was the one who was the protagonist of what should only have been an urban legend.

That XYZ Duellist - Kurosaki Shun - had eaten his own heart in front of them, just before the duel had started. Masumi watched in horror as the most peculiar thing happened. He made his speech, he declared his vows, and he clutched his chest. His fingers dug into his body, phasing through his coat and then with a sudden jerk, he ripped something from inside of himself.

His still beating heart.

He held it in his hand, slowly rising, like it was a skull in a shakespearean play but the only theatre of it was a theatre of pain, and then he brought it to his mouth. It throbbed in the cage of his fingers so unlike, but maybe eerily too close, the cage of his ribs. It bled. His fingers turned slick with red blood that looked so bright and acrid against the ensuing darkness that besieged the alley with the putrid, orange dusk.

He breathed heavily and Masumi watched all too closely from afar as his lips trembled. He put his mouth to his own organ and he licked it. He closed his eyes and he relished this moment which was all but him alone as Masumi and her friends watched as gentle movements became voracity. He ate his heart. It burst with yet more blood and it smeared on his face, dripped down his fingers and he ate it to messy completion. The bits he didn’t eat, veins and calcific flecks of flesh, he returned to where it had come. His chest.

His hunger was satiated but none of the LDS Trio quite knew what that hunger was but with it satiated, the grotesque ceremony ended and then the duel began. For real this time. No fakeouts, not taunts, just with cold, sharp eyes and a mouth smeared with blood. With soiled hands, Kurosaki duelled and with soiled hands, he won and his cruelty knew no bounds. Not unto himself and not unto his opponents either.

In the stassis of being carded, Masumi was left with the horrifying impact of that duel. Of having seen a man eat his own heart as a bet and ritual to win and it stayed with her long after the duel ended. And long after she was returned to her own body and sense of personhood, too.

The experience left Masumi harrowed to say the least. Traumatised if she was being more emotionally vulnerable or truthful. Blood had never made her squeamish until she was helping her mother chop vegetables for dinner and she nicked herself with a knife, across the tip of her finger on an accident and she could have cried. Instead, she only sank to her knees, crouching, trembling, sucking the wound to clean it. And that was somehow much, much worse than if she had started to bawl.

The way her mother looked at her that evening was another dusk that Masumi would never forget and she wanted them both purged. Desiring such ends, Masumi would weaponize any means so she embraced the seeming fact that she was the sceptical protagonist of this urban legend.

She sought out the source of her anguish but not quite. She couldn’t bring herself to interrogate or otherwise investigate Kurosaki Shun, with his eyes like a hawk and a mouth so readily primed for blood. Instead, she sought the truth and the mystery from another XYZ Duellist of Heartland, the little sister of Shun, Ruri.

Ruri was something of an enigma at the best of times to Masumi.

She looked so eerily similar to Yuzu and by their powers combined with another two girls, they became yet another person entirely. Her eyes were a lot like her brother’s. Avian and sharp. She had a survivor’s instinct, as well. But there was something inherently soft about how hard she actually was. She was someone who had to be taken kicking and screaming, after all but she didn’t dismiss Masumi when she came forward with questions about what Heartland was like before the war. About Shun and how he had eaten his own heart before that duel.

She wasn’t exactly open or direct with Masumi but she agreed to answer Masumi’s questions nonetheless but her eyes shone with such melancholy when Masumi had even asked so already, Masumi was tinged with regret as she searched to ruin herself once more on that gore. Together, they endeavoured to create another evening that would serve to nauseate Masumi.

They cuddled up in Masumi’s room, on her bed, notebooks and pens at their side. Masumi’s parents would be home late and she had put a plastic gauze down so as to not create too much mess. She didn’t turn the light on; the last vestigates of the day, disappearing behind the city skyline was just enough to illuminate them both. Ruri looked so wrong dyed in orange but Masumi looked so right in such vivid light.

“This is the power of Heartland,” Ruri whispered to Masumi, their gaze catching on one another at mismatched intervals, “and why it is the land of hearts at all.”

Masumi blushed as Ruri put her hand to her chest. With a strained expression, she detached her heart from her body. Her fingers phased through her chest and through her clothes; they all became metaphysical slurry before she could finally draw out her organ with all the respect and grace due.

Masumi could have been sick as she watched Ruri hold her own heart in her ivory fingers. She smiled gingerly even as the blood seeped; the plastic gauze beneath them crinkling, strangely innocent, as Masumi kneaded it. She swallowed as she couldn’t help but watch everything that Ruri’s heart did. Every drip of blood; every throbbing motion that it made. It was every bit as perfect and precise as it should have been if it were an illustration in a medical textbook.

“H-How?” Masumi asked. “How in the world is this possible?”

Ruri shrugged, humming to herself, “It's a mystery,” she murmured, “but its not real either.”

“I don’t understand. Explain.” Masumi demanded of her, her own heart beating quicker as blood pooled between them both, staining the plastic, staining their clothes. It was wet and sticky.

“Come closer, put your head to my chest.” Ruri murmured.

Masumi blushed but she obeyed. Her head brushed up against Ruri’s breast and she stilled her breathing. She waited and she heard it. Ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump. Masumi gawked, throwing her gaze towards the still beating heart in Ruri’s hand. The one in her chest still beat - and it beat out of pace to how the manifestation of her heart.

Masumi tried to say something but in her confusion, confusion which made her irate, she was unable to say a thing. She ripped herself from Ruri’s side, even though she was soft and perfumed with the pleasant scents of plumeria petals and other floral notes that glistened on the senses.

“To eat someone’s heart is the greatest insult; to eat your own is a promise of victory, but to entrust it to someone else… Even stranger things happen.” Ruri murmured. “Do you want to try?”

“Y-You want to entrust me with your heart?” Masumi asked her with a stutter.

“I do.” Ruri replied, affirming. “I really, truly do.”

“Okay then, if it's alright…” Masumi worriedly told her.

Masumi cupped her hands and Ruri placed her heart gently inside Masumi’s palms. The organ was warm and wet. It was Ruri’s and it was Ruri’s blood which dribbled down Masumi’s arms, on her sleeves and the like. It felt bizarre. And terrible and even worse when it quivered between the steady beating of Ruri’s actual breath.

“I trust you, Masumi, with my heart, I do.” Ruri murmured but Masumi didn’t feel spoken to.

She felt as though Ruri’s words were for her own heart. She leaned in and she kissed the tips of Masumi’s fingers stained with blood. The feeling of her lips was chaste but oddly disgusting. But the sense of trust was true. It permeated the room and it permeated the precious heart that Masumi held.

And in her hands, it turned to sapphire and obsidian. Masumi didn’t even know if those minerals could coexist in the same foundation but here they were, doing just that in her hands as the most precious jewel she could ever be beholden to: Ruri’s heart. Blue and black but it still bled. The veins turned to mineralised canals; the convex angles became the sharp faucets of an uncut jewel. Masumi began to panic but she dared not drop this still pulsing jewel in the shape of a human heart, no matter how impossibly coloured and impossibly shining.

“Wh-What now?” Masumi stammered. “What’s happening now?”

Ruri giggled evasively. “I told you. Stranger things happen still to those who entrust their heart to someone else.” When she spoke, Masumi finally noticed the blood on her lips; on her pearly teeth.

“That’s not a good enough answer,” Masumi argued back, “I want concrete data. Facts. Not myths and legends and impossible things.”

“Then I would be flattered to be your science experiment, Masumi.” Ruri told her and she kissed Masumi’s the back of Masumi’s fingers again, even kissing on the inner of her fingers where she was most sensitive, this time feeling the cold of the jewel on her lips rather than the warmth of her own bleeding heart.

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shintorikhazumi · 4 years

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A Real Girl Chapter 3: Holiday Blueprints- er Misprints?

A/N: Hello!!! Took too long to update as I always do, it seems. I’m sorry about that. Just had really bad writer’s block lately. Unexpectedly did some SayoLisa things while I was gone. I baked a crap ton of cookies lately, around 100 pieces to give to neighbors for the holidays. I even ended baking while waiting for the new year haha. Also bought a new guitar since I left my old one back at my uni when I came home during the COVID lockdown back in May due to travel difficulties, and I was starting to really want to play. My fingers hurt like hell yesterday and the day before coz I might have overdone it after not touching a guitar for nearly 7 months. Anyways, Happy Holidays everyone, and Happy New Year!

Enjoy?

~Shintori Khazumi

A Real Girl Chapter 3: Holiday Blueprints- er Misprints?

You’d think that being something of a…robot (Sayo wasn’t sure if that was what she was, but she supposed you could call her that) would make her quite efficient with measurements and weights, and allow her to smoothly function in fields requiring such processes. However, as she leaned in impossibly close to her liquid measuring cup, pouring at a drop-per-hour to ensure she had the exact amount she needed, well… that pretty much denounced that assumption.

At least she could accredit some of her stiffness to Imai Lisa who currently had taken seat on a high stool across from where Sayo was, both elbows rooted on the small kitchen island of her home, head nestled in her hands as she stared at Sayo with an amused grin, the usual playful twinkle in her eyes. When given such undivided attention, wouldn’t you want to hide from the pressure of such a gaze? Thus, Sayo thought it would be best to avoid Lisa’s eyes altogether, and pour all her focus on the melted butter she was pouring into a bowl at an incredibly painful rate, hoping it would bore Lisa and make the girl do something besides burning Sayo with her gaze.

It didn’t work.

She shifted her gaze to Yukina, hopeful to find any semblance of help, but Yukina was just as much of a pain as Lisa was being, sprawled across the couch, flat on her belly, with her eyes pointed to Sayo in an unwavering stare.

She internally sighed as she returned to accomplishing her current task, moving on to another step, doing her best to ignore Lisa and Yukina in a casual manner while not seeming too cold, and give the wrong impression that she disliked them. Fun fact: She did not. If anything, she might like those two a little too much. So, now she just had to express just that. How she’d accomplish it? She didn’t know. She just hoped she could.

Mixing in the final needed ingredient which was a mix of chocolate chips and shards, Sayo smiled in satisfaction, sneaking a bite of one of the chocolate pieces, the action not escaping Roselia’s bassist as the string members’ eyes met, Lisa giving Sayo a shit-eating grin that just screamed, ‘gotya’.

Sayo simply rolled her eyes at that, thankful that Yukina was no longer paying attention to their wordless little exchanges; but she still felt that now familiar warmth in her cheeks as she turned away, choosing to search for an icecream scoop for her dough, instead of silently battling out of her embarrassment with Lisa. Upon finding the utensil, she began lining her balls of goodness along a baking sheet with parchment paper, making sure they had enough space between them to not touch as they baked.

She nodded in approval as she finished two trays worth, popping them in the cleared space in Lisa’s fridge to let them cool and develop their flavor.

“Nice work, Sayo~” The homeowner hummed, beckoning the said girl closer by opening her arms wide. Sayo was still getting used to it, but Roselia had very obviously increased their skinship acts as of late; hugs, cuddles, and handholds being thrown around far more than they used to.

And then there was the occasional kiss to the forehead or cheek, usually just between the other four, as Sayo still felt uncomfortable with that particular act. The few times she had received it from someone other than Hina was during a particularly fruitful tutoring session with Ako where the small girl was overjoyed as she shoved her recent report card in Sayo’s face, jumping up and down in excitement, before lunging over and planting a small kiss on her cheek.

It surely shocked them both, but they eventually got past it and continued on like normal. The other time was with Poppin Party’s Toyama Kasumi. That wasn’t as unexpected as most would think as the girl had probably hugged and kissed more than half of the school’s populace. It was only a matter of time before she got to Sayo.

And thus, these little gestures were something Sayo was (very, very) slowly getting used to. Sure, she would usually state if she did not want to…participate… in such activities; but more often than not, she did not necessarily oppose the idea, however it never ceased to be embarrassing for someone like her. It was a matter of tolerance? Resilience? Possibly with how Sayo struggled to keep a normal temperature each time.

Her parents had to issue her a stronger coolant with how often she’d been overheating. She was surprised they seemed prepared for this development, overhearing her father mutter a, “I expected the heat flushes with how we planned it out, but I didn’t expect it to be this bad. Well, whatever!”. Sayo admitted the fact that this bodily reaction was an intentional installment made her feel annoyed.

Walking around from the opposite side of the island, Sayo reached Lisa, halting just in front of her, hesitant for a moment’s worth before allowing herself to indulge in Lisa’s motherly spoiling. Immediately, after stepping into the space of those arms, she was engulfed in a tender warmth, arms squeezing just the right pressure of tight, yet not overbearing.

Sayo leant down to rest her forehead on Lisa’s shoulder, that cinnamon powder scent calming her in a way she could not describe. A hand made its way into teal locks, twirling and playing with the ends of her hair before travelling upwards to massage her scalp. It made her sigh in relaxation.

If there were things she loved about her body system that she’d never admit, one of those things would be the nature of her senses. She wondered if this was what it actually felt like for real people. This heart-fluttering, yet calming sensation. Pleasant. Feelings… that made you want to smile and, entrust and rest your heart in the palm of someone you loved.

Sayo wondered how Lisa felt about all of this. Was she simply doing it out of habit as she coddled all the other members, and even some of her friends? Did it also make her feel this sense of… what Sayo detected in herself… so-called happiness? Did it please her when Sayo allowed her this opportunity to be so close to her? Or was Sayo the only one fretting about all of this? Worried whether or not she was stepping over lines, or hurting someone every other moment, or offending the people she cared about if she chose to do or not to do certain things that were supposedly of ‘normal’ nature.

Before Lisa could consume her every thought, a weight pressed against her back, slim arms wrapping themselves round about her waist just below the brunette’s other arm.

“M-Minato-san?!” Sayo let out a high-pitched squeak she didn’t know she was capable of producing.

There was no reply, she only felt what she would assume was Yukina nuzzling her head against Sayo’s back. If Lisa’s affectionate hugs weren’t enough, Sayo did not quite know how she would deal with this. Her tenseness must have been apparent as Lisa whispered to her,

“Relax Sayo. Take a break. It’s okay to not do anything sometimes.”

She didn’t know how to respond to that, so she simply nodded, very conscious of the way she was sandwiched between her two bandmates, simply standing there. Doing no particular thing.

The lack of tasks unnerved Sayo the tiniest bit as she was used to always being productive no matter the hour- though maybe not as flustering as her hugging situation with Lisa and Yukina- but in the end, even she could not argue against the peace she felt when they all just stayed there, enjoying one another’s presence.

But it would have been a little more relaxing if Yukina and Lisa were not so busy killing her with their intense friendship and care. Sayo didn’t think her heart could take this much physical affection. She was surprised Yukina, of all people, was able to freely express it. Probably Lisa’s influence. And maybe Sayo was jealous of that ability to convey their thoughts and emotions with such liberty.

They remained that way, silent, otherwise unmoving with the exception of Lisa’s expert hands massaging the calm into Sayo’s body. Everything felt so surreal. She felt as though she wouldn’t mind drifting off in their embrace-

A jolt ran through her spine as she felt a ghost of a kiss pressed against her temple. And just as light, a touch of fingers gliding across her abdomen, causing her breath to hitch. ‘What were those?!’ Her eyes shot open, she didn’t know when they had shut, but now they were flicking about, the only thing she was able to see at the moment were brunette curls and smooth skin. She wanted to argue with herself whether or not what had just transpired was actually real, or just a figment of her imagination, but before she could do so a resounding ding of a kitchen timer cut through her brooding.

“I-I’ll… I shall… go. Get that… thing.” Sayo volunteered as a way to escape her mental tormentors. She awkwardly pulled away from the pair; Yukina more willing to allow her exit as she returned to her initial spot on the couch, but Lisa less so, the girl giving her a small pout before relenting, releasing the guitarist from her hold. Sayo would be lying if she said she didn’t suddenly miss the feeling of them and their gentleness wrapped around her.

But this was no time to think about that.

It was time to check on their cake in the oven!

Clumsily staggering around the marbled center of the kitchen, thoughts still swirling, Sayo stood in front of the hot oven, crouching down to check on the cake currently baking inside through the glass. It looked pretty ready. She guessed she could take it out. In her mind’s jumbled and rushed moments, she forgot to don her oven mitts, opening the stove with little care.

And at the moment she reached into the hot chamber, Roselia’s drummer suddenly came bursting through the front door with one of her chuuni war cries, surprising everyone including Sayo, causing one of her hands to hit the roof of the stove from the inside, and unconsciously holding it there for longer than she should have. It took a moment for her to register what had just occurred, but the sensation that she had come to know as pain- courtesy of her indicators- sunk in, her eyes opening wide in shock and she automatically voiced a yelp louder than she would have liked.

This immediately drew the attention of everyone in the room to her. With Sayo cradling a mitt-less hand close to her body, the fact that she had been checking on the cake, the smell that wafted in the air, and Ako’s prior yelling; Lisa pieced it together all too quickly.

“Sayo! Did you burn your hand?!”

With worry spreading amongst the group, Yukina got up from her place on the couch, walking towards the teal-haired girl who currently sported a look the mix of panic and fear.

“Ako! You shouldn’t have come in so roughly!” Rinko scolds, everyone momentarily thrown off by the smoothness of her speech and the absence of honorifics, probably due to her lack of shyness in her state of concern for Sayo. It kind of touched her heart, if she were completely honest.

But now wasn’t the time for that. She hadn’t meant to alert them, she needed to hide it before it was too late-

“Sayo, give me your hand.”

“I-I’m quite alright, Imai-san.” She stuttered out, retreating a step, back hitting the counter’s sink behind her. Her eyes widened a fraction more.

“No, No you’re not. I know it for a fact.” Lisa replied determinedly, reaching for the hand that Sayo stubbornly kept away.

“I really am-“

“Sayo, hurry, I know how much those burns can hurt and we need to run it under some cool water as fast as we can.”

“B-But-!”

It wasn’t as though Sayo feared getting wet. Her skin was waterproof after all. What wasn’t were some parts underneath it. The wires that functioned as her “veins” and nervous system. And even if her skin was made to withstand certain temperatures, it also needed to be as close to real skin as possible to not give herself away.

If the burn from the oven was enough to melt away those layers and expose part of her inner workings, she wouldn’t know how to explain it. Much more if she short-circuited in the event that there was indeed an opening and it was suddenly exposed to water.

She didn’t have the luxury of time to decide. Lisa caught her hand while she was weighing her options and quickly shoved it under running water.

It was cold. The pain temporarily waned, but most importantly for Sayo, the lack of forceful shut down helped her realize that she would be alright for now, seeing her hand was just a searing red with no openings whatsoever.

She sighed in relief.

“Thank goodness it wasn’t that bad” Lisa murmured, shutting the water and bringing Sayo’s hand up closer to inspect it. After a few moments of looking it over, she gave Yukina and an extremely down-hearted and apologetic Ako some instructions to retrieve the first aid kit down the hall, by the bathroom, while Rinko was tasked with doing the actual bandaging while Lisa took over the kitchen. Once Sayo was seated safely on the couch, as the cake was on the table, Lisa gave her head a single firm pat. “Alright, no more baking for you.”

“!!!” Sayo tried to protest. “But I want to help-“

“You’ve helped out enough.” Lisa cut her off firmly, arms crossed over her torso, a stern look in her eyes. “Let us take care of it.”

“But-“

“I’d prefer you sit on yours.” Lisa cleverly quipped, ending that particular conversation.

Sayo sighed in defeat, turning to watch Rinko as she expertly and neatly wrapped her hand in a bandage after having applied an ointment that would help with the pain and discomfort. Just as the girl looked up to check with Sayo if the job she did was alright, the teal-haired guitarist smiled at her. “Many thanks, as usual, Shirokane-san. You always help me out.”

Rinko mumbled out a long, strung-out, incomprehensible reply, face red as a tomato, but Sayo managed to make out a, ‘You’re welcome, Hikawa-san’, and that was enough assurance for her.

Shifting her gaze once more, she was met with Lisa’s head on, fiery gaze. And should Sayo dare say… jealous?

“How come I didn’t get any heart-felt thanks… I’m the one who-…” As the bassist continued to grumble in her corner of the kitchen, Sayo got up, strange bulk of confidence directing her actions as she stood in front of the sulking girl, looking down those few inches she had over Lisa.

“Eh? Sayo-“

Before she could say anything else, the guitarist had wrapped her arms around Lisa’s shoulders, the latter’s arms automatically finding purchase around taller girl’s waist.

“Thank you… Lisa.” She spoke in a near-whisper, though heard by everyone in the room due to how quiet they all were, mute from the surprise at Sayo’s assertiveness. Also the fact she called Lisa by her given name without honorifics.

That had certainly brought everyone’s thoughts to a screeching halt for a few seconds, trying to grasp the situation and its authenticity.

“I- eh- uh… y-yes? O-of course! Of course, Sayo-“ While Lisa was busy being a blubbering mess, Yukina had walked up to them and tugged on the hem of Sayo’s shirt. Arms still wrapped around Lisa, Sayo turned her head to the side to offer an inquisitive look.

“Minato-san?”

“…I must receive your hugs of gratitude as well.”

“…huh?”

“RinRin wants some too, Sayo-san!!! A-and… and if it’s okay, Ako would like a hug as well…” The youngest exclaimed.

Well, this cooking session certainly turning out to be what Sayo first expected it to be.

//-//-//-//-//

One might be wondering why Sayo, and Lisa- and supposedly all Roselia- were busy preparing cakes and cookies.

Well, when you place people with crazy ideas such as Kasumi in a room with an equally crazily enthusiastic Kokoro with the power to make those ideas a reality, you had… something quite amazing. The two had pouted up a storm when the band friend-group had to have separate Christmases with their respective families, and some with their own bands.

They had desired a ‘boppin’ party, as Hina put it (said sister of hers also being one of the perpetrators) after their joint holiday live, but the idea was immediately shot down. So, in order to appease these children, they all had agreed to free up the new year’s and have a party-slash-sleepover.

It was collectively agreed upon that they would not allow Kokoro to spoil them with everything, and they had divided the food tasks for the new year’s dinner. Roselia had been assigned the aforementioned cookies and a large strawberry cake. To make up for not getting to spend Christmas and eat the classic food together, as Kasumi claimed. In charge of desserts alongside them was Afterglow. Afterglow had made plans to do their prepping at Tsugumi’s café and they had chosen to make cupcakes, tarts, and some homemade icecream.

Popipa decided to pay a visit to Saaya’s bakery and have her dad prepare them some fresh pizza. Pasupare were assigned with drinks, and other little finger foods and snacks that were easier to acquire as they still had a few scheduled events up until the last minute. Raise A Suilen was chosen to buy the chicken. Chuchu wanted a turkey for unknown reasons, so they’d have that too. Pareo would most likely be the one behind all their prep, anyway.

Aside from food assignments, each band was tasked to come up with a party game; two to three members would then lead out the activity and the rest could participate.

These were the things they each had to prepare.

And prepare Roselia did.

“Ready to leave, everyone?” Yukina’s cool voice questioned, door held open for the others to walk through. Everyone was bundled up in their respective coats and scarves.

“Yes… Minato-san.”

“As one of the descendants of the five great dragon Lord-“

“Are you ready, Ako?”

“Yes. I’m born ready!” Ako giggled, running out the rest of the way, arms spread out in a T.

“Ako, be careful of slipping!” Lisa called from behind, and as if fate wanted to play a little trick, Ako slipped right then and there. Luckily, she hadn’t fallen over, and simply laughed, everyone else sighing in relief. “Geez, Ako…”

“I’m okay!”

Then… there was the last person. Sayo stood up from the step by the doorway after wearing her boots, looking around the area and her person to ensure she hadn’t forgotten anything. Once she was satisfied that she was all ready to go, guitar slung over her shoulder, she grabbed the fairly large cake box in her good hand, and then a smaller box of cookies, similar to what Rinko was carrying, in her bandaged hand.

As she exited, Yukina turned to lock the door, double-checking it a few times to confirm that it was indeed closed properly.

And then everyone began to walk to the station to get to Circle for their party. They had rented out the basement so that they would all fit and have a sizeable amount of space to move around.

Just as they exited the gate to Lisa’s house in single file, Sayo was slightly startled by a cool hand prying the cake away from her. The bassist gave her a small smile before replacing Sayo’s now empty hand with her own, squeezing gently. Right after that, the box of Cookies was taken away by Yukina, and the songstress had slipped her smaller hand into the tealettes’s other hand, intertwining their fingers.

Sayo knew with certainty that her face was dyed hot red despite the cold of the evening that was beginning to settle.

“So that your hands stay warm.” Lisa winked.

“Right… of course.” Sayo craned her neck forward, stiffly, fixing her eyes forward on the road. “Thank you.”

…and maybe it was a good thing they held her hands since she did a tiny slip on the road just moments after.

//-//-//-//-//

“Why… did the groupings end up like this?” Sayo muttered.

“Sorry, Sayo.” Lisa clapped her hands in front of her. “Since Ako’s nose started bleeding with how high her tension was, Rinko decided to sit this one out and look after her so that Tomoe could participate. And Yukina and I are the game masters, so every team was going to have about seven members each. And since Roselia was mostly out of the game, we decided to randomly draw lots for the teams…”

“Yeeeeyyyy~ We’re the guitar team!!” Kasumi cheered excitedly, cutting Lisa’s explanation short. “Isn’t that cool, Sayo-senpai?”

“Y-yes, sure.”

“Waaaahhh~ Moca sure is impressed by this coincidence.” As usual, the slothful member of afterglow drawled, casually slipping her arm around Sayo’s waist. “Though I guess it’s not so bad at all if Sayo-san’s here.”

“Eh…” Sayo was starting to think everyone was getting too comfortable around her, skinship and first-name basis and all those little things. Though she supposed some of those factors were old news for some people, and new for others. She was still slightly conflicted about it, though. She had never really allowed people so close to her space, but… she knew her reality was changing by the day.

And she didn’t necessarily hate it.

“If this group has two guitarists from Poppin Party…” Tae hummed in contemplation. “Then we have two times the Popipa energy?! Woaaahhh~”

“That’s right, Tae-chan! Double PopiPower!”

“I’d prefer we only have the minimal amount of that power.” Sayo grumbled to herself.

“On the same team as Popipa, on the same team as Popipa, ON THE SAME TEAM AS POPIPA… POPIPA!!!”

“Rokka-chan!” Kasumi and Tae screamed with as much enthusiasm in response to Rokka’s warcry of fangirling.

“Does that make it three times the PopiPower?” Moca asked Sayo, pointing at the trio, raising their arms up and down in some kind of cult ritual.

“Please don’t ask me that…”

“Ahh~ To be graced by the presence of a Rose, and all the other beautiful flowers in the garden, how blessed I am by my little kittens. Hakanai~!!”

“Kaoru-samaaaa!!!”

“This one is giving me a headache as well.”

“Oh, come on Onee-chan~ Don’t be all ‘Mugyuuuu’.” Hina poked at her side. “Aren’t you feelin’ boppin’ now that we’re on the same team?” She grinned, hugging Sayo from that same side, opposite of Moca.

Sayo looked at her sister’s hopeful eyes, their pressure from the pureness strong. She was rendered unable to deny those shiny greens. Heaving a sigh, she replaced her apprehensive expression with a gentle smile, deciding to be honest with her thoughts about her sister more often outside of their home.

“I suppose… I am a bit happy to be playing on the same team as you, Hina.” She replied, placing a hand atop the shorter girl’s head and giving the short teal hair a gentle ruffle.

There was a collective pause amongst the friend group as they saw this rare tender moment between the twins, hearts clenching at its wholesomeness. Luckily, Sayo hadn’t noticed, thus it didn’t become an awkward issue for her and the topic moved on.

Hina squealed in delight, tightening her hug around Sayo, clearly over the moon. “Onee-chan, I love you! You’re the best!”

“I’m- okay…”

“Eeeehhhhhh~, no fair! I want a hug from Sayo-senpai too!”

Sayo sure was giving a lot of hugs today it seemed.

“Me too!” Tae followed after her leader, joining in the stuffy group hug with Roselia’s guitarist at its core.

“Rare chance!” Rokka realized, diving into the opportunity.

“I wouldn’t mind giving my little kittens some loving-“

“I’d rather you not. Please just… do it normally.”

“…yes.”

As this scene between the guitarists of the bands unfolded, everyone else was just left to watch, unsure of what to do as Sayo was squished in the middle of this human hug pile.

“Oi.”

Well at least Ran might do something.

“I’m a guitarist too. Why aren’t I with you all?”

Maybe Sayo’s assumptions could be wrong more times than she thought.

“That’s because Ran is always left out~” Moca teased with an impish grin.

“You little sh-“

“Language!!” Tomoe hit the top of Ran’s head, and the two both started their bickering, Himari panicking, unable to stop them, and Tsugumi ending up mediating.

“Umm guys… can we start the multi-legged race now?” Lisa sighed at everyone’s antics, feeling like they weren’t going to get to the game any time soon.

“Don’t worry, Lisa.” Yukina placed a hand on her best friend’s shoulder. Lisa felt happy at the comfort, wondering what advice the white-haired vocalist would give in this situation. “This is also rock.”

Of course. This was also Yukina. What was she expecting?

//-//-//-//-//

The girls were able to get to the games… eventually. Surprisingly enough, despite their differences and eccentricities, the guitarist team- minus Ran- was able to stage quite the victory. Not only did they have crazily unrivaled coordination during the leg race, in the next game where each person playing was blindfolded and separated from their teams to try to reassemble via making a sound specific to their team to find each other… well Kasumi was like some kind of beacon or control tower, loudly screeching out what she told everyone was the guitar sound.

Yeah, no.

They won anyway, so… it was fine?

You’d expect the teams to shuffle for team games, considering each band had to prepare a game and have different game masters. And Sayo had been waiting for that moment. But her group never changed. None of them were chosen to be in charge of the games, and well… maybe she shouldn’t be surprised at that. She should probably be more relieved, actually. Things might just get out of hand if entrusted to these children.

So she waited for games with fewer people, or individual player games.

…but apparently all of the bands had decided on group games that would work better with bigger groups. Therefore, Sayo was stuck all night with the ragtag gang brimming with ‘PopiPower’.

Well, everyone seemed happy, so it wasn’t so bad. Sayo would think this with a secret smile as she watched over all her friends.

And as they gathered on the roof of the small building to finish off their little party by watching the fireworks that signified the start of the new year, Sayo found herself blessed to be surrounded by these girls, quirks and all.

And as Tsugumi, along with Tomoe and Pasupare tried to prevent Hina from falling off the edge, Sayo couldn’t help but think,

‘They’re crazy, but thank God for this crazy bunch.’

//-//-//-//-//

After everyone had finished cleaning and locking up Circle’s basement, they were picked up by Kokoro’s long-ass limo, everyone fitting comfortably inside. Even Chuchu was impressed, and that spoke volumes.

Upon arriving at her mansion, the suits escorted everyone with their sleepover bags to a large room with beanbags, blankets, pillows, strewn about; and futons neatly lined side by side.

“I call center spot!” Hagumi declared, rushing and jumping into the soft cushion.

“Then I wanna be next to you!” Kokoro imitated the motions, landing beside her ginger-headed friend. “Happy~!”

“Kokoro, Hagumi, you need to get washed up and changed first.” Misaki chided, walking over to where they were to usher them to the baths.

“Aww, okay.” The pair beamed, before Kokoro turned to everyone. “Let’s all get in together!”

“Hoo boy, that’s gonna be a whole ‘nother mess.” Arisa complained, rallying up her pair of idiots, along with Saaya and Rimi. “I just wanna get to bed. My back is starting to kill me.”

“There you go with your granny talk again, Arisa~”

“Shut up, Kasumi! Whose fault do you think that is?!”

Following the first two bands out were Afterglow and RAS, more civil and calmer in their exit, and Sayo was grateful for that.

“Shall we?” Yukina invited.

Roselia nodded their heads, grabbing their things and heading out.

//-//-//-//-//

Bathing time was rather uneventful, and many of the more level-headed members of the grouped offered their prayers of sincere gratitude that they were able to catch a break and relax in the Tsurumaki’s onsen-level baths.

After that, everyone shuffled sleepily to the bedroom, energy suddenly sapped out from each one of them. Kasumi yawned a contagious one, spreading to O-Tae, then to Rimi, then to the three grand fools of HaroHapi, then to Himari, Ako, and eventually it made its way through all the girls.

… except Sayo.

She looked around, at first finding it adorable how everyone was similar in this aspect having read about it before that yawning was quite contagious.

Then she realized that… she wasn’t like everyone.

She must have stalled in her walk, as Chisato seemed to notice, turning back to her curiously. “Sayo-chan? Are you alright?” The actress asked in concern, separating from her group and approaching the frozen guitarist. “You look… distressed.”

This caught everyone else’s attention.

“Eh? Sayo-san is?” Ako came bounding back towards her, taking her hands carefully in her own. “Sayo-san are you oka- ah! Your hands!” She seemed to realize as she held them. “Is your hand okay now?”

“Did something happen to Hikawa-senpai’s hand?”

“Ah~” Lisa followed Ako soon after. “She accidentally touched the stove earlier and got a slight burn on her hand.”

“Eh? We didn’t notice.”

“Huh? But she had a bandage the whole ti-“ Lisa’s eyes narrowed, staring Sayo down accusingly. “Did you remove it at the party?”

With how she avoided the brunette’s gaze, everyone knew that hit the mark.

“Sayo!!!”

“It is not such a big deal, Imai-san. I felt fine, so I deemed it unnecessary to worry everyone else on such a joyous occasion.”

“Sayo, that’s not the point!”

“Hikawa… san.” Even Rinko frowned disapprovingly, and one by one, Sayo saw the sleepiness in everyone’s eyes replaced by concern.

She hated being the cause of it.

Bowing down in her perfect apology stance, she felt a churning in her stomach, along with her eyes stinging. They were body reactions she was not familiar with. Her mind said it was something like sadness and distress, but the data was mixing and meshing, and fighting. And once again she was confounded by the dreaded feelings. It made her all the more upset.

“Hikawa-senpai.” It was Misaki’s voice. Clear and breaking through the daunting darkness of her thoughts. “No one is mad at you, or blaming you. Okay?”

Sayo’s head shot up, those words clearing her mind as she met those concerned gazes once more, but there was less of that painful stir in her chest. A warmth was slowly overtaking the hurt, and she felt a flush of cooling run through her system.

“?!”

“Senpai?! Are you about to cry?!” Saaya’s question caused a bit of panic, everyone not knowing what to do when one of the steeliest personalities suddenly appeared to be on the brink of tears.

In a flash, before anyone else could react, bright colors filled Sayo’s vision, and she found herself in a situation she was now very accustomed to. A hug.

“When I feel sad, lonely, or when I’m crying, hugging always makes me feel better.” Hagumi murmured. “I want senpai to feel better too.” Sayo felt the movement of Kokoro’s head, assuming the girl was nodding her agreement.

It was warm. Everything, everywhere, it was just so warm. It wasn’t a scalding heat, it wasn’t the biting cold.

For the first time, she might have understood.

Sayo felt… loved.

Returning the hug towards the younger girls, Sayo felt a pleasant kind of prick in her heart as they beamed up at her.

“Ako-chan was right.”

“Mm-hmm! You really are a super comfy big sister!”

“No fair that Yukina-san and Lisa-san keep you all to themselves!” The two mentioned people tried to hide their blushes, but some of their sharper friends had picked up on it, curious at the reaction.

“Righttt?” Hina butted in. “Even though she’s supposed to be my Onee-chan!”

Sayo sputtered out a ‘what are you saying’, flustered all over again as the two released her, Rinko and Chisato taking their place, the former taking Sayo by her good wrist as they sat her down on a random bench in the mansion’s long halls, having acquired a kit from the suits. The rest were ushered into the room to get ready for bed and not overwhelm Sayo.

After treating her hand, the trio made their way into the room, finding everyone positioned and ready for bed, but still awake, attention at the door.

“Sayo.” Yukina called, patting a futon between her and Hina who was next to Lisa. The girl got the message, bowing her thanks to Rinko and Chisato who accepted with their usual grace.

As she made her way there, she noticed that she was at the center of all the laid-out beds, and this made her blush.

Kasumi seemed to pick up on it. “It’s the Sayo Protection Squad formation!” She chirped at the increasingly embarrassed guitarist.

“The… what-why?”

“Mou~ Enough questions!” Hina and Lisa pulled her down to bed, the younger Hikawa twin immediately locking the elder in place with her body.

“H-Hina… I can’t… I can’t move.”

“That’s the point dummy.”

Sayo relented eventually with a sigh, easing Hina’s body-lock into a cuddling position instead, something they were accustomed to at home, at least. Her younger sister was almost on top of her, but she hardly minded the weight.

From her peripheral vision, she noticed everyone moving their futons closer to hers, Lisa moving over to Hina’s as the twins were already practically sharing. As everyone wished their good nights and Happy New Year’s shutting off the lights, Sayo felt Yukina take her uninjured hand, cradling it close, while Lisa held the other, kissing over the bandage.

“Good night, Sayo. Happy New Year.”

Good night.

And a Happy New Year… everyone.

Thank you.

A/N: D’awww, Sayo is well loved. I’m glad. Please leave some kudos, comments, reblogs if you’re on tumblr! Thank you for the support for this story! See you next chapter, and Happy new year!

~Shintori Khazumi

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bymoonchild · 5 years

Text

Sugarplum Elegy (M) [Preview]

[Edit] FULL FIC HERE

Pairing | Jungkook x Reader Genre | Fluff, smut, angst / College!AU, FWB!AU, Soundcloud singer!AU, Idiots to Lovers!AU Warnings | Explicit language, hopeless and helpless pining, constipated feelings, lots of smut, rimming, cum-eating, blowjobs, face-sitting, fucking sinful please brace yourself though it will... be soft as fuck as well because jungoo and the stars in his eyes demanded it to be soft..!, more to come Summary | There’s no bounds nor depth with Jungkook. While your fuck buddy loves sleeping in your bed and doing laundry for you with his favourite fabric softener, you, originally a die-hard rap fanatic, are in love with a mysterious honeyed, velvety voice on Soundcloud. All’s fine, until you find out that the voice that metaphors your heart to a sweet sugarplum melody actually belongs to the boy who has been taking up a special spot in your bed and in your heart, strumming at your heartstrings all this while.

Or, Jungkook has one braincell, but it’s heart-shaped.

Est. release date | Mid July

There’s no greater testament to love than being in love itself. The aching process of it that continues forever, until the end of time and the pure vulnerability of being bound up together with another emotionally and physically. To love in every sense of the word is to offer your entire heart and place it on someone's bare hands, while knowing that there's a chance that they might crush it right in front of your eyes or behind your back.

Maybe love is like a dandelion, pretty in the summer mornings, but when a huge gust of wind hits, its petals will be blown away, leaving its heart barren, abandoned. And given your past relationships, forming a fresh new ache and vulnerability for yet another person frightens the fuck out of you.

So whenever you wake up to a Jeon Jungkook beside you, lulled by the quiet sound of his breathing, your heart fizzles in your chest. It’s really a no-strings-attached agreement that you two have decided on at the beginning of the year, but it still feels weird and surreal, especially when the first thing you see is his peaceful face, unless he’s spooning you, his warm breath tickling against the back of your nape. It’s weird because it feels nice, feels so right.

Though it's been six months since you two started the whole fuckbuddy agreement, you still can't get used to how warm Jungkook is, always so warm that it softens and melts your sharp edges. While his body still sends zaps down your spine, your mind registers that you’ve actually grown to adore the heat of his body when your cold feet are always finding themselves tangled together with his under the sheets. It’s crazy how you relish having his arm wrapped around your waist, as if the sun has chiselled its way into every single pore of your body.

Sometimes, you’d wake up to Jungkook staring at you, caressing every detail of your face with his eyes alone. He’s not much of a morning person, but there are times you’ve woken up to him smiling like a fool (an adorable one at that) at your groggy and sleepy self, as though your crusty morning face turns him on even more because it often leads to the continuation of the previous night’s copulation before scrambling to class.

There’s no bounds nor depth with Jeon Jungkook. If anything, you’ve come to a conclusion that in your entire life, you’ve never met a single person quite like Jungkook before, like the cosmos has moved for this concurrence to be possible.

It seems like you discover a new side to your fuckbuddy as the days go by, which keeps you on your toes and brings a smile to your face, but nothing can ever beat the dorky Jungkook that becomes a freak in the sheets when he pounds into you mercilessly or pulls your hair as he buries himself deep inside the hilt of your throat. Nothing beats the feeling of having his body pressed up against yours as he whispers sweet nothings that caress and fan against your skin like invisible marks that will always be there. Burning from deep within.

Two months into the agreement, you find out that he loves your bed and the dick appointments are always at your place because he claims that your bed is ten folds comfier than his. You can’t seem to fathom why because you find his bed equally comfortable to sleep on and it probably smells much nicer than yours, mixed with the brew of his musky scent and peach shampoo.

When sex becomes a daily thing and a mixture of scents now lingers in your room, Jungkook starts bringing more of his stuff over and that includes his favourite fabric softener, just because he can. He makes sure that he’s over every Saturday to do laundry and even folds your clothes for you because he’s the self-proclaimed Laundry Senpai and all laundry duties are to be entrusted to him.

It’s moments like these where you know that Jungkook has undoubtedly carved himself a permanent space in your place and he does it so effortlessly with his dorky, endearing self and bunny smile. Slotting into your life effortlessly, becoming a constant beyond the late night dick appointments and becoming one of your best friends, someone you text and exchange dank memes with on a daily basis, someone you trust. You adapt to him quickly, and he accepts you unconditionally. In an odd way, it’s like he’s always meant to be by your side. It’s like the cosmos knew.

You hear Jungkook humming from behind you, comfortably settled on his side of the bed, while you’re hacking away at your laptop to finish your paper. You normally can’t work with noise, but his soft humming falls quite sweetly on your ears.

“Hey, you almost done?”

You spin around and spot Jungkook in only a pair of sweatpants, flaunting the ripples of his toned chest and abdomen. You have no idea why he even bothers to put his pants on when both of you know that he’s going to take off them later.

“Getting a little impatient?”

A little pout plays on his lips, “No, it’s just that… You’ve been at it for hours and I’m kind of sleepy.”

“O-Oh, have you been you waiting for me? Why don’t you get ready first?”

“Actually, I thought we could, you know, just sleep tonight,” he smiles sheepishly, the curve of his cheek squished from where he is lying down on his pillow.

“You mean like…?”

“You’re tired, aren’t you?”

You nod.

“Then hurry finish your work and get your ass here. My arms are kind of lonely here. And it’s cold.”

You can’t deny that he looks so gorgeous, so tempting, waiting patiently for you with that familiar tender gleam in his eyes as he pats down at the empty spot beside him.

“You’re cold? You’re literally my personal heater,” you laugh, tinges of amusement dancing in your orbs, slipping under the sheets beside him.

Chuckling softly, he leans in and makes sure there’s as little space between your bodies as possible from head to toe, until the tip of his nose is brushing against yours and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. He playfully throws a leg over yours, pressing the strong cleave of his chest up against you and his body heat immediately engulfs you, sated and warm. There’s a fire in him, made of soft, satin embers.

Jungkook holds back smiling like the fool he is, busy drinking the sight of you and the closeness of you in, but that roseate flush that blooms over his face betrays his heart’s desire, spreading across the bridge of his nose and then over his cheekbones. The way his long, feather-like eyelashes brush the bone of his structured cheeks doesn’t escape your notice either.

If stars could take human form, they’d look a lot like Jungkook.

“Want to hear a bed pun that Jin-hyung bombed on us today?”

“Sure,” you feel a smile growing steadily across yours too, resembling his.

“Never mind,” he shrugs casually, his eyes crinkling up at the corners “It’s kind of sheety.”

“I fucking hate you!” You let out a whole-hearted laugh, doubling over to shove a pillow at Jungkook’s chest, “Don’t know why I put up with your dumb ass.”

“Because you love my dick!”

bonus

[you] [16:35] hello are you open for business today [16:36] i would like to make a dick appointment

[Big Dick Dude 👅] [16:36] hi yes, welcum [16:36] we have a slot from 8pm all the way till 9am the next morning [16:37] we provide dinner service too. any preference?

[you] [16:37] i would like some nuggets with a Big Dick on the side

[Big Dick Dude 👅] [16:37] okie dokies. your reservation has been confirmed [16:37] n.e ways, want to hear a joke about my dick? [16:37] never mind, it’s too long

[you] [16:38] sorry can i cancel my appointment? i don’t remember asking for a lame willy

hope you enjoyed the preview! i can feel another long ass fic coming,, can just feel it in my left tit. jokes aside, the plot be pretty thick but it’s basically [BREAKING] 70% idiots pining for each other hopelessly, 15% smut, 10% angst and 5% me talking about the stars in jungkook’s eyes. also, did i mention that i want to eat jungkook’s ass? yeah, adding that to my fic 👉👈

i haven’t fully planned out all the scenes but! this will do for now pls give me the strength and motivation to finish writing this by mid july... or else school is going to resume and... i might disappear for another 6 months 🤪🤪🤪

the title is a song by Niki !! pls give it a listen i love her!! and if you liked the preview,, would you be so kind enough to send me your thots... or like/rb it hehe thank you mi lovelies 💗

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melina-blog1 · 4 years

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4th week: Covid 19 in Substance Use setting

I work in a community behavioral health setting. On any given day, we can have upward of 50 clients who live in dorm-style sleeping areas and share a communal space for meals, activities, and group sessions. Most of these adults are in our program for 28 to 42 days. Sixteen are in our detox unit. All are substance users, some have chronic mental health issues, some have co-morbidities, some are homeless, some have been incarcerated, many are trauma survivors, most are low income, some are uninsured while others have public health benefits. They come from hard places and have had hard lives. This was an already challenging setting even before the additional pressures of the COVID-19 (C-19) pandemic.

I am a Licensed Clinical Social Worker – for nearly 20 years – and my role is as an administrator and a front-line worker. In the last three weeks, I and my colleagues have been straddling a difficult line amid this chaos. We started planning weeks ago - with the information then available - to keep our clients and employees safe. Every day, with new information, there is a new challenge - especially for our setting where the day-to-day is already unpredictable and crises are familiar. It's been exhausting. My biggest concern, of course, is what to do if C-19 intrudes into our facility. Our clients have entrusted us to keep them safe. What makes this more even more difficult is the lack of consistent guidance/planning by the officials responsible for our regulation.

An added level of anxiety is the absence of next-level care. We have nowhere to place clients who would normally move to transitional housing. Our partnering agencies are full, are understaffed and not accepting new admissions. The hospitals are filling with C-19 patients, so substance users are being quickly discharged to make beds available. We are unable to help those people. We will not discharge anyone into an unsafe environment, and we cannot move our current residents to the next level of treatment. In a purely economic sense, we are generating no new revenue while costs remain. Like so many businesses, our small nonprofit is facing great financial burden as a result - one which I hope we can survive.

We aren’t a hospital setting (praise here to every single hospital worker and 1st responder tirelessly fighting this pandemic). As a treatment facility we fall into a grey-zone. Much like our clients, facilities like ours don’t seem to be attracting much urgent thought or even acknowledgement. In the state of C-19 we are trying to figure out how to negotiate our new norm on our own.

Words cannot capture my frustration with the powerlessness of this situation. I have had tears - have said fuck more times than I can count. I am disappointed, frustrated, and angry with those we are required to rely on to guide us. It feels like we aren’t on their radar and that there is no urgency regarding our unique needs. As one of our interns said, "this highlights the cracks in our system." It's been surreal as we wait for those in a position to move the system, to transition from identifying problems to taking action to deal with them. Yes, a lot of systems are stressed under extraordinary circumstances and there are people in those systems sincerely trying to get them functioning, but progress seems glacial or non-existent.

I could go on a rant here about the federal administration but its bigger than that. I often try to practice ‘trust the process and be patient’. But my patience is evaporating as I struggle to find the energy to support our clients while holding the fears and anxieties of colleagues. I feel backed into a corner waiting for those in power to genuinely understand the severity of our public health crisis. This goes against my innate fight (not flight) nature. It doesn't feel good. I feel powerless. We could have been better prepared, we needed to be better prepared. We still can do better.

In the meantime, most of our staff have been showing up and working to assure continuity of care. They have the same fears and anxieties as anyone else. At the end of their shifts they have families they go home to. I am also realistic that many are doing so to assure they have a source of income. Some live paycheck to paycheck. Many are the primary breadwinners in their household, and caretakers of children, grandchildren, or elders. Unemployment is not an option. In this respect - as in many others - C-19 highlights the class divide.

I have great gratitude for my co-workers and our support for each other. At this point my daily mantras are “we are in this together” and “stay grounded”. I know our clients need us. For myself, I know I have to keep pushing forward while supporting the entire structure as I practice balance and patience. Some days I struggle between my responsibilities and being human.

Not long ago a friend remarked that "these are the times that show who we really are." We have an opportunity to hit a reset button and evolve to be better - better towards one another, better towards the earth, better in support of systems of equality and justice. And while there is no easy answer to any of this, the answer does start with us, as individuals, who come together in pairs, small groups, and communities to heal and act intentionally. During the HIV epidemic, I quickly learned communities are where change starts, not with politicians or governments.

One last thing - C-19 not only brings up the dust of past traumas - it's creating a host of new ones, even as I write this. Individuals who have lost loved ones to C-19, individuals who have survived, and all caretakers - will need someone to hold space for their vulnerabilities and pain. That has to start with us. While I was in a moment of frustration and emotional exhaustion a good friend gifted me with grounding words, "who we were before this is now forever changed, who will we be after?"

Keep yourselves emotionally and physically healthy. Keep our clients and employees in your thoughts.

Gratitudes:

Being a social worker

Two amazing people who brighten our already hard days with homemade masks

The tireless employees who support each other and our clients

My different circles, tribes and chosen family who have shown up in incredible ways

All the resilient front-line workers worldwide, our behind the scenes support, health care workers, 1st responders, and so many more...

The people who keep showing up

My partner who is patient, loving and supportive

And all of you who are staying the fuck home

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ad-sanandum · 2 years

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night shift thoughts

night shift - a blur of off-days: playing the sims, lounging on the couch and trying not to fall asleep while watching Netflix, getting two men bagels, hanging out with friends; actually working: huddled up in the cold for 12 hours in IPB, verifying orders, answering calls, going up to C31, taking breaks in the pantry, packing sandwiches and snacks, quick dinner runs at northpoint, starbucks and gongcha EON.

today - first day back to normal shift at work. both familiar yet unfamiliar at the same time: familiar faces, familiar routines; yet at the same time, unfamiliar faces, unfamiliar routines. it's hard to feel a sense of job satisfaction when we aren't getting the opportunity to train in specialized services and take on portfolios - am literally doing the same thing as i was doing a year ago.

---

i had a call with HR yesterday. basically, the CEO of KTPH knows about my situation and he was apparently, actually happy for me that i got into duke and whatnot. not sure why i was so surprised that someone like the CEO knows about a plebeian like me, considering how i guess management has to know about my exceptional situation - guess i just didn't know to what extent. he also wanted to know how my experience has been working here. basically, i didn't lie, i said that especially within the first few months, i felt like the whole experience was just so surreal and i couldn't believe that i was entrusted with the care of patients. i felt so motivated and inspired to do what i did, so much so that i wanted to do even more than that. and that is the truth.

the days are long but the months are short. i remember setting a countdown timer on my phone sometime around christmas and counting down the days till i could leave. it was about 180 days, give or take. it's now at 86 days. this keeps me thinking - before i know it, more people i know will be gone, like mama. and i can't do anything about it.. ever since mama passed away, i may not have realised it consciously, but i couldn't sleep properly for about 2 years. it isn't normal to be sleepy up till the point where your head hits the pillows, that suddenly your thoughts are ablaze and your heart is pounding, and you don't know why. it isn't normal to wake up crying. it isn't normal to cry while meditating. it isn't normal to be so freakishly obsessed with night time routines and doing the same exact routine every single night to the minute. how am i going to function when someone else is gone next time?

---

anyways, on to happier things:

1. starting cell group (hopefully) soon. i'll be joining covenant's hello group sessions in april. hopefully i'll get settled in a spiritual community. it has been almost... 3 years?

2. traveling to bali in june

3. less than 3 months to duke!

0 notes

lewishamledger · 5 years

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Another round at The Fellowship

Above: Rob Star and Yarda Krampol from the Electric Star Group in the pub's newly restored cinema

WORDS BY LUKE G WILLIAMS; PHOTO BY LIMA CHARLIE

For Pat Fordham, the reopening of the restored Fellowship Inn in Bellingham – now named the Fellowship and Star – has been a highly emotional experience.

The 75-year-old community activist, who received an MBE for her services to the borough of Lewisham in 2011, is the founding chair of the board of Phoenix Community Housing, London’s first resident-led housing association, which has overseen and driven forward the Fellowship project.

Speaking to The Lewisham Ledger, Pat stresses the transformative effects of the development.

“Back in the day, the Fellowship was a family pub but then for a while it turned into somewhere quite nasty,” she says. “People didn’t really go in there anymore. I only ever went in there twice, for a party and a funeral, so I didn’t have any real feelings about it.

“I visited the [restored venue] the week before last. I’m on a mobility scooter – I drove through the front door and could move all around wherever I wanted to go. The sun was coming in through the skylight and it felt like I was back in time.

“It’s really beautifully done. Looking across the floor I could imagine people getting up and dancing, being involved, having parties, christenings, weddings, whatever. I choked up and felt quite tearful. It’s as if someone has waved a magic wand over the building.”

Magical and somewhat miraculous too, the Fellowship’s restorative journey is an inspirational tale of what local community activism can achieve.

Built on Randlesdown Road in the 1920s, the Fellowship was the first British pub to be located on a housing estate, in this case London County Council’s Bellingham Estate.

Not only was it a pub, but the Fellowship also contained a popular performance venue, which played host over the years to numerous musical acts, including Fleetwood Mac and Eric Clapton.

Famously, the pub also acted as the home and training base for legendary British boxer Henry Cooper, as he prepared for his iconic 1963 heavyweight showdown with Muhammad Ali (turn to page 31 to read the full story).

However by the early 21st century, years of neglect had seen the Fellowship fall into a state of desperate disrepair.

Enter Phoenix, the not-for-profit housing association of which Pat Fordham is such an integral part and which owns and manages more than 6,000 homes in Lewisham.

Jim Ripley, chief executive of Phoenix since 2007, takes up the story.

“I inspected the Fellowship in 2007 and it was in a very sorry state. It was derelict and dangerous apart from the one bar being used.

“Around this time so many pubs in this area were closing and developers were descending on them to turn them into flats. The Fellowship was the only pub left in the area.

“We negotiated with the council and bought the freehold. At one point a developer had bought a lease on the pub which we were concerned about, but we eventually managed to get the freehold and the leasehold.”

In 2013, the Fellowship was given grade-II-listed status for being a “remarkably complete example of an interwar public house”, while in December 2014, Phoenix was awarded a grant of £4 million from the Heritage Lottery Fund to restore the building.

“The grade-II listing was great for us because it allowed us to apply to the Heritage Lottery Fund,” Jim points out. Without funding, he says, “It wouldn’t have been sustainable economically to restore it and run a business from it. It would never have paid back the money it would have taken to restore it.

“Our vision was to create apprenticeships and jobs and create a legacy, but most importantly a pub that was true to the original idea behind the Fellowship, that it be a hub of the community.”

The spectacular restoration includes a pub, which reopened on June 14; a cinema, which enjoyed its first screening on July 2; and a function room. A cafe will also be opening on the site later this year.

Jim admits that as the various sections of the Fellowship have gradually been completed and opened, he has felt “a bit surreal”.

“When it finally reopened, it was incredible, I couldn’t believe it,” he says. “It was pretty emotional. In life you don’t often get the opportunity to see a project through like this.

“I’ve been working on this over such a long period of time. Each step has been momentous, from buying the leasehold, to getting the freehold to negotiating with the Heritage Lottery Fund, to seeing the building work go ahead.

“I’m very privileged to have seen a project through like this. Everyone in Bellingham seems excited by it. It’s given the whole place a buzz. I can only hope it will be everything we said it would be at the beginning – that it will bring visitors and jobs and pride to the area.”

The passion and pride that Pat and Jim possess is echoed by the company that Phoenix has entrusted to operate the business: the Electric Star Group.

“We had to get a partner for the pub who bought into our vision,” Jim emphasises. “It was a long process but we found Electric Star and they’ve been brilliant.”

Electric Star’s founder Rob Star is an entrepreneur who cut his teeth organising parties, raves and festivals. With five other pubs already part of his group, Rob has now added the Fellowship and Star to his portfolio and is bringing his natural sense of the theatrical and the big occasion to Bellingham.

“A pub these days can’t necessarily just be a place that sells good food and drink,” Rob explains. “People want something more in terms of entertainment – whether that be music or drink tasting or cocktail-making events.

“As soon as I walked into the Fellowship and saw the scale of what was being restored, and the opportunities with the cinema and cafe and function room, it ticked a lot of boxes.”

Rob passionately endorses Phoenix’s vision of the Fellowship and Star as an integral part of the Bellingham community, as well as a welcoming hub for a wide range of activities that seek to bind local people together.

“The most important part of the project for us is that people know we are here and we are up for doing stuff,” he says. “No matter how crazy an idea people think they have got, I want them to come forward and tell us.

“That’s what makes a pub great – people coming in and doing things and not just us dictating what goes on.

“We want to put a really wide range of events on – whether it’s a play by Greenwich and Lewisham Young People’s Theatre or a DJ gig, a yoga class or a social event for local pensioners.

“We are open to anybody from the local community putting ideas forward and saying what they would like to see in the venue.

“If people can get together and organise, we will provide the space. We’re not charging a hire fee to use any of the spaces because we want to get people in to see and experience the Fellowship and Star. We want as many people from the local community to come as possible.”

The man whom Rob has entrusted with the day-to-day running of the Fellowship is general manager Yarda Krampol – the duo having previously been business partners in the famed east London street food market the Last Days of Shoreditch.

When he speaks to The Lewisham Ledger two weeks after the pub’s opening, Yarda admits he has been “working around the clock” for weeks on end, yet his voice, initially a little weary, soon hums with enthusiasm and elation as his passion for the project resonates.

“Operation-wise I’m happy,” he says. “We’ve got a strong team in place and most of the staff we have hired are Bellingham residents.

“In terms of customers the response has been very positive. We’ve already had a quiz night and the DJ night we had with Thomas Turgoose from This is England was packed so it’s been a very positive start.

“The opening was delayed by four months, which was frustrating but we spent that time connecting with the local community, making sure residents really knew about the project.”

Yarda pinpoints Jim Ripley’s role as essential in the resurrection of the Fellowship. “Without Jim we wouldn’t be having this conversation. He’s such a people person and such a visionary. He could foresee what could happen to this building. He deserves massive credit.”

While the Fellowship and Star is looking to the future, Yarda also emphasises that it will remain ever conscious of its long and varied history.

“I think as you enter the building you get a feeling of the old and the new. The interior design is new but reflects the heritage of the building as well.

“The history is still breathing through the walls, we have just added a modern operation on top of it.”

#lewisham #lewisham news #lewisham newspaper #london news #london newspaper #southeast london #catford #bellingham #deptford #blackheath #new cross #sydenham #telegraph hill #hither green #brockley #crofton park #forest hill #ladywell

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theinquisitivej · 5 years

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‘Us’ – A Movie Review

Illustration by Chris Kindred.

The horror films which have the most pronounced effect on me are the ones that appear to be communicating not just a nightmarish story, but the palpable experience of being in someone else’s nightmare. Films like The Babadook, John Carpenter’s The Thing, and It Follows examine a very specific kind of threat which places the characters in an unimaginable situation which, once imagined and presented by the film, become these fascinating exercises of introspective thinking. You lose yourself to the surreal imagery and indefinable atmosphere as you consider what specific anxieties are being examined and tested in this dreamlike story. The best examples of these films seem like the kind of project that means a lot to someone involved, as if they’ve experienced many sleepless nights being haunted by this nightmare, and the best way for them to deal with it is to bring these shadows out into the light and come face to face with them.

I don’t mean to espouse the idea that commendable horror can only be attributed to auteurs with a burning vision who put entire films together by themselves. Filmmaking is a collaborative craft that requires the contributions of more hardworking specialists than you can keep track of. Set design, lighting, editing, cinematography, and countless areas that go unnoticed all have to come together to get the film’s visuals spot on so that you experience just the right feelings of unease for horror to be effective. The nightmare that these films present us with requires cohesion. Perhaps the people involved in a project have all experienced similar concerns that they can tap into as they pour their fears into a collective consciousness that the final film represents. Or maybe the director, writer, or whoever it is that is personally invested in this nightmare successfully communicates their fears to the other people on the team and entrusts each part of the craft to the right person who can help manage these feelings and articulate them in the correct way.

Jordan Peele has directed two horror films now, and each one carries that remarkable quality that makes some of my favourite horror films stand out as much as they do. Each of Peele’s films embody the rich, full experience of diving into the headspace of another person and exploring the nightmare that is on display, and the teams he’s worked with have ensured that every aspect of the filmmaking process is working together to achieve that so successfully that it’s frankly staggering. Get Out thrilled me and boasts an impressive structure that continues to be rewarding the longer you spend reflecting on it. But I’ve spent the best part of the last month thinking about Us, reading the amazing insights and interpretations that other people have shared, and I still feel as if I’m not taking in everything this film has to say. This one might just be a new horror favourite.

If you’re considering this film and are somehow still on the fence about it, even after its widespread critical and commercial success, and for whatever reason you’ve come to hear my thoughts before making a final decision, then that last paragraph should be enough. More often than not, films are improved by going in with a blank slate, and Us rewards the uninitiated viewer with a narrative where new information is drip-fed at a carefully considered rate. It makes the first viewing a process of captivating discovery. The more details that are filled in, the more you appreciate the larger picture that’s being put together. So yeah, if you don’t have an aversion to horror (and even if you do, I’d argue Us is one of the easier films to adjust to and get into if you’re not used to some of the rougher examples of the horror genre), go and see it, then watch it again with a friend to pick up on all the rich texture that’s threaded throughout the film. After this paragraph, I won’t necessarily have an eye on going into spoilers in specific detail, but I do want to talk themes, and I’d say that even that is best left to be discussed after your first viewing. If you want to avoid spoilers, come back to the rest of this article later.

The atmosphere establishes itself with a masterful confidence through the striking array of visuals offered throughout the runtime. Though the cinematographer Mike Gioulakis has been involved in some divisive projects like Glass and Under the Silver Lake, he’s had experience with some atmospheric horror films that I’ve appreciated, namely It Follows and Split, and he brings that experience to this film with undeniably positive results. There are so many images which range from having a feint uncanniness to them to being intensely unnerving and threatening which stick with you. The framing of Hands Across America as something ritualistic and disconcerting when seen in a different and unknowable context is inventive. The sudden cut to a rabbit that the camera lingers on for the opening credits instils in the audience a sense that following the proverbial white rabbit might just leave us as trapped as this creature. The shadows of the threatening family in the dark become a sinister reflection of the drawing of a typical family we saw in the back of the Wilsons’ car at the start of the film, marking the hard turn we’ve taken into this new segment of the story. Red leaning uncomfortably close to the camera as she stares at Adelaide with an obsessive fascination and drums her fingers with inhumanly clockwork precision cements her status as a disorienting and deeply threatening presence, even after her face has come out of the shadows and is presented to us in full detail.

And the lighting strikes a perfect tone for this film. There are instances where we see bright, glaring sunlight and it almost feels too intense, due to the palpable feelings of summer that these scenes elicit. This not only contrasts against the scenes where the oppressive darkness of a terrible night engulfs everything as carefully selected light sources cast small amounts of light on these scenes to reveal incomplete pictures of the slightly off-looking faces of the Tethered, but also contributes to part of the film’s subtext. While these figures that embody shadow are encroaching on and threatening the lives of our main cast, there is a sense of imbalance, as if the people who’ve lived in the light all this time are enjoying too much of it, to the point where it’s almost blinding. They even have to take precautions against the light by wearing sunglasses and sitting under the shade while they’re on the beach. Everything on display contributes to the film’s ever-expanding wealth of enduring images and thought-provoking subtext, making for a transportive first-time experience and a rewarding second viewing that invites you to read as deep as you can possibly go.

As the story of Us follows a family of characters thrust into a nightmarish situation rather than one person’s isolation in a terrible place like in Get Out, we get an ensemble of main characters and a range of dynamics to go over, and the casting makes this area of the film rock solid, especially as the majority of them are pulling double duty. Winston Duke has an effortless charisma as a performer that makes you laugh with his characters and latch onto them, even as Gabe, the husband of Lupita Nyong’o’s Adelaide, has his shortcomings which are deliberately pointed out to us to show how in over his head he is. His efforts to control and order things (at first just to push his idea of an ideal family vacation) are tested once the horror descends and he tries to ground and rationalise the threat to his family, even as he’s directly confronted with its uncanny, otherworldly nature, and this could come across in a wholly unsympathetic light. And yet Duke makes sure that you remain sympathetic to Gabe and like him enough that you don’t want to see bad things happen to him.

The two young actors are also commendable. Shahadi Wright Joseph plays the teenage daughter of the Wilson family Zora, and while she’s positioned as being a little too caught up in her phone, Wright Joseph manages the balance well so that you can clearly see her insight and sharp-thinking while also appreciating that Zora is still a young teenager. She also has a keen grasp on comedic delivery, providing some of the best tension-relieving moments in the film. Meanwhile, Evan Alex delivers an appropriately subdued performance as Jason, a quiet and withdrawn boy who notices things other characters don’t and considers them more deeply than you might think for someone of his age. Outside of the main cast, the most notable performance comes from Elisabeth Moss as Kitty and her Tethered other Dahlia. In one scene that simply takes in Dahlia looking at herself in the mirror, Moss conveys so much without ever giving away too much of what Dahlia is. We see her smile as she stares into her reflection and dreams about what she might have, but then she unexpectedly screams with unusual silence as she tries and fails to let her inexpressible pain and frustrations out, and finally gives into the twisted humour of her situation as her sobs give way to demented laughs. It’s a varied and impressive cast which fits together to create a fascinating set of characters that feed into the larger narrative of complicated individuals who aren’t bad people, but nevertheless have internal anxieties, pains, and negative traits which take the form of these uncanny shadows.

But even among this strong cast, Lupita Nyong’o’s performance as both the central protagonist Adelaide and its antagonist Red is one of the film’s greatest features. In his review of the film, Moviebob provides the best encapsulation for what Nyong’o achieves in Us: “It could be argued Nyong’o is giving one of, if not the, best female horror lead performances ever, basically having to play both Michael Myers and Laurie Strode at the same time”. The central themes of Us can and have been read in countless ways, from the erosion of Native American culture, to communication and connection between family members who are at risk of growing distant, to class and social divisions in contemporary America to name a few. But the most immediately apparent and elemental theme which Us explores is the idea of the shadow-self, a dark reflection of who we are and what we could be, and the inextricable presence it has in our own lives and identity. I’d argue Nyong’o’s performance as Adelaide and Red not only cements this theme, but acts as its foundation for the rest of the film to build upon it. The duality between the two characters emphasises their connection as two sides of one identity. Red moves with meticulous precision due to her intense passion for dance, whereas Adelaide stopped performing as a dancer as she grew up. Adelaide has trouble with speaking and articulation despite having no physical health issues with her voice, while Red, as the only Tethered who can speak, is by default the most outspoken of her group despite the physical strain it takes for her to speak. They are opposing but connected, like the two blades that face inwards on a pair of scissors that cross in the middle, which is the universal weapon of choice for the Tethered. As the film nears its conclusion, Adelaide becomes more animalistic as she fights, to the point where the way she moves and the noises she makes paint her as seeming less human and more akin to one of the Tethered. The more she fights to overcome and destroy her shadow, the more like her shadow she becomes. In the film’s closing moments, Nyong’o’s expressions convey Adelaide’s newfound clarity and understanding of herself which act as the perfect conclusion to this story. Our awareness of the darker side of ourselves may lead us to the desire to cut it out of our lives completely, but that’s not something we can really do. Instead, we must find a way to come to terms with the darker part of ourselves, and continue to live with and manage it with the support of friends and family who are aware of that darker side of ourselves but don’t reject us for it.

The successes of Us are so abundant that its weaknesses fade so far into the background that they become trivial. When compared against the air-tight structure of the director’s previous film, Us is comparatively less single-mindedly focused on one central theme that it can build its entire narrative around like Get Out is. That’s not necessarily a failing on Us’s part, but I can appreciate that some viewers might prefer the lazer focus of Get Out. Also, while the finale is an absolute showstopper, it does skim over some details to shove Gabe and Zora to the side with nothing to do in order to prioritise Adelaide and Jason. As such, I felt the strings were pulling on the characters to get them where the film decided they needed to be just a little too hard. But these and any other flaws that might be pointed out to me do little to off-balance the triumph that the rest of the film represents. It’s deliciously dream-like yet grounded by enjoyable characters who feel like real people. It tells a thrilling story that is steeped in thought-provoking symbolism without ever overloading you or getting lost in pretention. In short, Us is a captivating and well-coordinated dance with the shadows that linger just below the surface.

Final Ranking: Platinum.

It’s possible for you to watch this and for it to not have had the same effect or level of impact for you as it did for me. Horror is, after all, a genre that deals with fear, and the way people process and engage with fear is different for each one of us. But for what it’s worth, Us has broken into my list of all-time favourite horror films, and is now the second best film I’ve watched in 2019. If you still haven’t watched it, I urge you to experience it for yourself, because there’s a good chance it’ll be a new favourite for you too.

#The Inquisitive J #films #movies #film review #film critic #movie critic #film criticism #critic #independent film journalism #jordan peele #us #jordan peele us #us review #the inquisitive j reviews

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solaciummeae · 8 years

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You’re the Only One– Breaking Me Down Like This | Part 7

MOOD MUSIC

He’d gone to several people– more than he’d care to admit about his present dilemma. He just couldn’t stand when someone kept secrets from him like this. He was a psychic– secrets shouldn’t exist. Though it was his own fault for training her so well– and it should be a good thing that she knew how. Maybe it was more that he’d accept secrets from anyone else but when it came to Emma, he couldn’t bear it. He’s determined now to confront her. He sleeps on the couch damn near every night now at Bobby’s because he doesn’t trust this guy any further than he can throw him. The blonde frowns thinking about just how much this Adam character looks like himself but taller– funnier– and close to Emma in a way Jude only dreams to be.

The feelings that stir in him are abnormal for the usually calm and collected person he is. He just can’t take this anymore. He can’t stand allowing this prick to come in here and act like he owns the place. More importantly, he won’t allow him to possess the only thing Jude has ever desired so badly in the entirety of his rather miserable existence. And that was Emma’s heart. It’d been three weeks since the supposed cousin showed up and with each day Emma spent more time fussing over him. It was actually quite disgusting the way she fawned over him– taking care of him– adoring him as if he hung the moon in the sky. It made zero sense to Jude who had done every ounce of research to find out who this guy really was and come up completely empty handed.

He tells himself that he’s just worried what that could mean. This man could be dangerous. He could be the very type of person that Emma needs to be as far away from as possible. So if nothing else, that’s exactly what Jude intends to tell Emma.

He waits for Adam to retreat to his motel for the night. He’s thankful that if nothing else, the younger man had insisted on not staying at Bobby’s even after Emma had tried to convince him. Bobby himself was out on a hunt. Some haunting the next state over that had already claimed half a dozen lives in the past month. Sam was asleep in his own room, while Dean had gone out to V’s for a nightcap. He’s also grateful that he’s earned the trust of his fellow hunters so much so that they’d entrust Emma’s care to him. He inhales a deep breath, reminding himself that it isn’t like him to be territorial and that it will get him absolutely nowhere with the woman upstairs. Then again, maybe it would. Was he too passive? Another frown takes over his face as he starts jogging lightly up the stairs to her bedroom. This time, he’s determined to be not just what she needs, but what she wants too.

He can hear her humming the same song she seemed to be stuck on lately. A song she’d grown fond of since Adam had shown up. He grinds his teeth and knocks on the door, but doesn’t wait for permission to enter. This, of course, is his first mistake.

“Jude!” She shouts, immediately covering herself with her arms.

“I’m sorry!” He exclaims, turning away from her immediately, squeezing his eyes shut as though it will erase the visual from his mind.

She’d just gotten out of a nice cold shower, sick of the heat that the summer brought. Sometimes it seemed as though her room was the warmest in the house. At least she’d had the sense to half clothe herself before her idiot friend barged into her room. It wasn’t unlike her to wander around in boxers and her bra when she was held up in her room, again, due to the heat. She’s momentarily disoriented as she looks around desperately for a tank top. She makes her way over to her dresser which is dangerously close to where he stands. She opens the second to the top drawer and pulls out the first thing she finds, practically tearing it over her body.

She turns to face him, crossing her arms over her chest and scowling at her bed so she doesn’t have to look at him. “What do you want?” She demands. “What is so important that you couldn’t fucking wait for me to even respond before bursting into my room like the house was on fire.” Okay, so maybe she was being a little dramatic. It wasn’t like he’d seen a lot and all things considered– it really was only a matter of time before he did.

Jude grimaces. “Can I look now?” His voice is much softer than hers, as if he’s scared of causing further upset.

“No moron– I’m just going to stand here with you in my room without a shirt on.” She snaps, her head lolling as if a physical wave of anger pulses through her. “Now answer my question.”

He turns to face her, somewhat relieved that there’s no truth to her sarcasm. He doesn’t like that she’s so upset with him. Her own defensiveness only serves to set him even more on edge. He finds that all the courage he’d mustered to have a serious talk with her is now gone. He just sort of stares at her almost pleading with his eyes for her to go easy on him. So the possessive boyfriend wasn’t the way to go. ‘You’re not her boyfriend Judah– not even close.’ He reminds himself, taking another breath.

“Speak!” She barks.

“Okay! Okay!” He concedes, raising his hands in surrender. “Look, I just think we need to talk…about Adam.” He’s sure that the look of sheer anxiety at the topic is written all over his face.

Her head snaps in his direction but stops so that she can give him a sideways warning stare. “What about Adam?” She asks in such a way that his suspicions only grow.

“You’ve been spending a lot of time with him–”

“Yeah, I spend a lot of time with you too– I don’t see you complaining about that.” The brunette snorts causing her chest to jump.

“Will you let me finish before you make me feel like an idiot?” He half whines. “Believe me– this is hard enough for me as it is.” He admits, hoping that by some miracle if he’s open with her, she won’t just turn him away again.

“Fine, go.” She’s short with him, but she feels as though she has to be. She and Adam hadn’t really worked out the part about telling Jude the truth yet. Anything she might tell him could cause repercussion for which she didn’t want to even imagine.

He swallows, finding his thoughts now even more jumbled than they had been. Being put on the spot wasn’t easy for anyone, not even him. “You spend a lot of time with him– and you guys seem really close– but you just met him and you don’t even know him. There’s something about him Em, I can never get a read on him and I’ve tried looking Adam Harper up and I’ve come up with nothing. Its like he doesn’t even exist.” He spills everything he can possibly think of. “I don’t trust him. And frankly, until he tells us who he really is– I don’t think you should be seeing him so much.” He finishes quietly, his voice still holding its usual nasal quality when he was desperate for her to listen to him.

“You’ve been spying on him!?” She roars.

“Emma, please– what if he’s a demon– what if he’s just making this cousin thing up to get close to you?”

This is quickly escalating and causing panic of her own to rise within her. He knew something was up, of course he did– not much got past Jude. “You’re being ridiculous.” She attempts to mask any real fear of her own nonchalantly. “In fact– if I didn’t know any better I’d say you sound a little jealous– which is really ridiculous.” She huffs a laugh, facing away from him. Sure, Adam was a very real, very tangible person who she knew to be her son with every fiber of her being. However, that didn’t mean she’d gotten any more used to the idea that Jude was his father. That part was too weird, and a little too much for her.

“And if I was?” He replies firmly, his face now far more severe.

She can’t help it. She just starts cracking up. She can’t even look at him without immediately bursting into more fits of laughter. This was absurd. Adam or not– it wasn’t like that with them. Jude was one of her closest friends but anything more than that would be a little too surreal. “Oh please…”

His jaw falls damn near to the floor beneath his feet. She was laughing at him. And it was like some short scoff or snort at the idea. She could not stop– like it was the most obscene thing she’d ever heard. “If your intent was to make me feel completely stupid– congratulations, you’ve definitely succeeded.” He informs her sternly, still looking at her wide eyed.

Okay, so that was a little too sincere. She wants to laugh again, to tell him to stop messing around but she can’t. Its even worse when she does finally look at him and her eyes only fall to the hardwood. She isn’t sure what to say, she doesn’t even know what to do. The whole situation had just become a little too real– as if her future son showing up hadn’t been enough.

She swallows, her eyes hesitantly rising to meet his again, this time almost ashamed. Its her first instinct to question him but when his eyebrows jump expectantly she has to remember to breathe. “Why are you jealous of Adam?” Its the only half intelligent thing she can think to say, but her voice is just as wary as her stare.

At least that’s a question he should know how to answer. At least she’s taking him seriously. Both things he reminds himself before searching for an answer that won’t cause her to push him away. Still, how do you tell someone that you’ve been in love with them since the first time they entered your mind and you theirs. He heaves a sigh and casts his own eyes to the floor. “Because–” He falters, still not knowing how to tell her. She was too special to screw this up. To tell her that he liked her seemed childish and a complete understatement.

She scowls at him again. She’s never seen him struggle so much to talk to anyone. It makes her all the more nervous. Maybe she’d greatly underestimated certain truths she’d been so dismissive about before. She takes a few steps closer to him, her own head dipping so she can find his eyes. “Since when do you not know how to talk to me?” She half teases, trying to offer him a smile. Its almost as if they’ve switch places entirely. In most situations, he could comfort her through anything while she always played the panicked mess role. Its not that she isn’t terrified. The implications of certain recent events prove that she has a destiny far beyond what she’s previously thought. A destiny– which the man in front of her plays a big part in.

“Since you shut me out–…” He finally quips sounding more than a little dejected.

Her eyes close tightly, feeling as though he’s right. She supposes maybe she didn’t take into consideration just how much it would bother him. She doesn’t know how to comfort him now without exposing Adam before he’s ready. “I’m sorry…” She apologizes, opening her eyes to him again.

He can’t help but scoff, still hurt by her reaction to the idea that maybe he harbored more than platonic feelings for her. “Why? Because you can’t tell me the truth about Adam? Or because you don’t feel the same?”

“I can’t tell you Adam’s story because its not mine to tell–” It was half true at least. “But I’m not following the second part.”

‘Yes you are Emma– don’t play dumb, its not an attractive quality.’ Her own minds scolds her above anything else floating around in it at present. She can’t help the doubt, its been so deeply ingrained in every corner of her brain after so many years.

“Jesus Christ Emma! I’ve been in love with you since I met you!” He cries holding none of the aforementioned desperation back now. As soon as it comes out of him he silently apologizes to God in his mind for the use of the curse. “You are so damn frustrating sometimes; its like you don’t want to see what’s right in front of you!” He goes on, sure that he’s turned red either from embarrassment or the pressure of holding it all in for so long.

“If I’m so damn frustrating then how could you possibly be–” She stumbles harshly, not even able to bring herself to repeat his words.

He nods slowly, with the same look of urgent expectancy. “In love with you.” He repeats.

“Stop saying that!” Her voice rises.

“Why? Because its true or because you don’t want it to be.” He retorts vehemently. ‘Okay man– come on– you’re not making this any easier on her.’ His mind chides once more, hoping she’s not listening to his thoughts right now.

“No!” She throws back angrily. Her hands come to the sides of her head which frankly, feels as thought it might explode. She needs the people in it to shut up, Jude to stop, and his overwhelmingly potent emotions to stop engulfing her like waves. She’s so consumed by all of it that she finds herself resenting him for even coming up here. There’s absolutely nothing she can say in her own defense because he’s right. The fact that Adam exists– should be really be enough. It shouldn’t take Jude yelling at her to get her to see the inevitable. She’s panicked and she doesn’t like it. How is she supposed to cope with this when the one person she’d normally turn to is the culprit stressor?

“Emma–” He calls out to her, this time his voice much more soothing than it had been before. He’d pushed her too far– he can tell by the way she visibly starts to deteriorate. Her own chaotic thoughts flood his mind as she seems unable to keep him out. She keeps seeing Adam’s face and then everything goes blank. This has become fairly routine, but the voices which have so long plagued her mind– so inconsistent and contradictory are as a radio turned up to full volume. “Emma look at me–” He tries again, even as her eyes refuse to open. “Come on– don’t get lost on me.”

She simply shakes her head vigorously, still clinging to it with her hands. He knows if he doesn’t do something soon, she’s going to shut down. He’s only done it a handful of times when things have gotten really bad for her. It takes a lot of strength, not to mention the energy it takes from him is enough to cause him to black out. He doesn’t care if he falls where he stands if only to quiet the storm that’s begun to wreak havoc on her mind again. He reaches out and lays his hands over hers, closing his own eyes and focusing on her mind. There’s a loud screaming that’s begun; causing him to flinch at the sound of such pain coming from her. Slowly he starts pushing out all the extra noise, canceling it with his own frequency. This time he speaks to her in her mind rather than using his voice aloud.

‘Emma– its gonna be okay. Just focus on my voice. Nothing else matters. Just follow my voice out. You’re gonna be okay.’ He begins streaming without pause for fear that she get lost again. The screaming continues. ‘I’m sorry I made you upset– its okay if you don’t feel the same just please come back to me.’ He practically begs his own head beginning to feel the pressure of this ability he’d yet to concur. Slowly but surely, he can feel her thoughts slowing and evening out; then all at once the screaming subsides. ‘Just open your eyes for me okay?’ He’s vaguely aware of liquid running over his upper lip but ignores it. ‘Open your eyes.’

Her eyes snap open just as he starts to waver in front of her. She rushes to put herself under his weight, holding him up as his own eyes barely open sleepily. “I told you not to do that anymore.” She scolds him quietly if for no other reason than to mask her own concern.

He just sort of lazily smiles at her through his still half shut eyes. “I think I need to lie down.”

“You think?” She scoffs. She’d done her fair share of physical training in the time she’d lived with Bobby and the Winchesters. They’d called it necessity while she’d called it excessive. Still, the extra strength it affords her now is just that– necessary. She knows that they’ll both end up falling if she tries to get him down the stairs to the couch but doesn’t want to wake up Sam who everyone knew could sleep through a hurricane. “Come on.” She urges, beginning to walk him over to her own bed.

As if realizing in a delayed reaction, Jude protests. “No no no– I’ll be fine. I’m not taking your bed. You have enough trouble sleeping as it is.” He wags his head in defiance trying to pull her back in the direction toward her bedroom door.

“Okay we get it Jude– you’ve already earned sainthood– you don’t need to add the qualification of martyrdom.” She winces, most of his weight causing her to weaken.

He pushes out a laugh as if drunk from the telepathic high of what he’d just done. “I don’t deserve that compliment.” He slurs.

“Damn it Judah! I will drop you right now.” She warns, her voice strained as she tries to drag him toward the bed again.

So maybe it hadn’t occurred to him until now that she’s basically doing eighty-five percent of the work to keep him upright. He finally gives up trying to fight her and allows her to help him navigate to the bed. “But where are you going to sleep?” It really does come from a place of concern. He’s not just trying to be difficult. That couch was lethal on anyone’s back.

“Well now Jude– that’s the beauty of a queen sized bed–” She pauses, leaning him against the side and giving a good shove to his torso. This elicits a low groan from him as he manages to move onto the mattress. “It sleeps two.” She finishes as she catches her own breath.

He practically crawls helplessly to not take up more than half of the space. His mind ceases to function more with every passing second. He might not even be so aware of her presence if he weren’t so tuned into her mind now a peaceful place he just wants to hide in.

Emma huffs a laugh, shaking her head at the sight. Again, she finds herself wondering how its possible that they’d traded roles. When he finally settles into one side of the mattress she steps to the foot of the bed. She unlaces his boots and begins prying them off of his feet– something she’d ample practice at with one Dean Winchester. She knows it can’t possibly be comfortable to sleep in jeans but she’s worried about startling him to try to get them off. That and he might not care now– but when he woke up in the morning it might be cause for more awkwardness. She shakes her head again. “Nope. Not happening.”

She walks around the room, turning off the lights and closing the door. Whether Jude was in her room or not– she hated sleeping with the door open. As if it provided one more barrier between herself and the demons that often attacked her. She sighs, climbing onto the bed and just lying in front of him for a minute. She’s sure he’s already long since gone under for the night so she sees no harm in brushing the the shaggy blonde hair from over his eyes.

His hand abruptly reaches up to clutch hers, causing her to take a sharp breath in. Her heart pounds as she waits for an explanation to the sudden reaction. Leave it to him to prove her wrong even if he was more than half asleep. His hand tightens around hers, bringing it to his chest. He lets it rest just over his heart which despite the exertion of the prior incident still beats strongly within him.

She purses her lips, mentally chiding him if he can even hear her anymore. The smile that comes over his face is enough evidence that the message went through. She uses the knuckles of her free hand to wipe away the blood from his nose caused by the sheer power of what he’d done for her. She wipes the smear on her sheets, long since desensitized to the sight of blood.

The last sign of any wakefulness from him is the small kiss he presses to her hand just as it moves away from his face. He knows it hadn’t been ideal– but they’d made progress. Something in him knew that things will be different now and its all he can hold onto as he falls into the deep sleep that followed such an episode. Of one thing he’s certain, he welcomes whatever dreams of her that are sure to find him before he wakes up again.

#indie drabble #supernatural rp #supernatural drabble #spn drabble #spn rp #i cant even call this a starter #muse: emma #muse: judah #drabbles: emma #drabbles: judah #relationship: could this be out of line; to say youre the only one #series: so this is where the story ends; or have we just begun #verse: supernatural

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ecotone99 · 5 years

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[NF] Duty

Duty

I lean over and kiss my son on the forehead.

“Goodnight son. I won't see you tomorrow night, I am on duty.”

I head to work shortly after. It’s a normal day, nothing extraordinary happens. But, when everyone is leaving, I head to the armory to grab my pistol. The walk from the armory to the duty hut is lonely, and I watch as everyone leaves. I remain.

Duty. A strong word of varying connotations. I write now and I remember duty. We define duty as a moral or legal obligation; a responsibility. Each of us interpret that differently throughout our lives. We draw on our experiences to define it. My definition of duty has never changed, only becoming more real as I continue to live.

Who do we owe this duty to? Our family? Our country? Our loved ones? To strangers? To animals? To the world? All of it?

Nonetheless, every duty we take on is sobering and real. Our sense of duty is tested and explored constantly. Did we choose this duty? Or was it thrust upon us? Choices that affect us, affect those around us.

Family tradition can give us a taste of duty. Ours is a family of service. Father and Uncles have given a collective 96 years of service to their country in our family. This exceeds the average human lifespan. Seven of those years were spent in combat, longer was spent away from home. Duty is ingrained in every fiber of our being. The duty for them was patriotism. They wanted to fight for their home, and they did.

They taught me to make my own definition, and they still teach me today. I remember their lessons when I assume my own duty.

I join the service. A decision to serve, drawn from a strong lineage of those before me. Easy yet difficult. Simple yet complex. A beautiful dichotomy of feelings rushing through me as I stand ready for duty. Failure and success shape my service, continue to shape my service. The most important part of my duty? I am entrusted with shaping those around me. I must lead these young men and women to the best of my abilities. I must be there to break them down, to build them up, to make them rely on one another. I must positively influence them as much as I can. It is my duty to do so. My duty to learn about them, to teach them, to care for them. No matter their background, their upbringing, their opinion of me, I know my duty is to them. Each one has taught me something new, something I have used to help another.

My wife and I exchange our vows before our family and friends. An eternal promise to support one another through the rollercoaster of life. Life is hard, messy and loud. Sharing your life is even harder. But, many of us freely choose this duty. We want to share our life with someone else. Love is a battle we want. It is a constant and primal struggle to hold onto it. This isn’t a negative battle though, it shapes us, molds us, makes us stronger. By the end of this journey we have forged an inseparable bound. This journey is not unique to me and my wife. Any two people, man or woman melded together, are able to stand through anything. That process is hard fought and well earned for those who work to keep it.

Flash forward, I deploy to a foreign country. Another duty I chose. A duty I yearned for. A duty my wife did not. But a duty we share. Compromise and reconciliation allows us to embark on this journey side by side, despite the distance. The desire to serve put me in this position. Many think it noble, while others disagree with that sentiment. But, I remember that I do it so all those people can have an opinion. I serve so that others may choose to disagree or agree. I don’t need them to acknowledge that, in fact I would prefer if they continued to enjoy the freedoms of their home without thanking me. I serve not to be thanked. This isn’t for you, it’s for me. I am happy that it helps others, happy to protect, but ultimately I want to be happy. My duty continues, and I embrace it.

Standing over my newborn child I think about the duty I have inherited. We chose to bring this tiny human into the world. The duty of parenthood is powerful and awe inspiring. A surreal experience of a magnitude I was only conceptually aware of. Now, the physical manifestation is presented before me. Laying before me is true duty. We must guide this little person through the journey. The team we have formed must be the foundation for my newborn’s life. I must remember the lessons taught by my family. They will guide me the same way I must guide him. I reflect so that I may teach.

Son. I love you. I will always love you. Your mother loves you. She will always love you. You will disagree with us. We will disagree with you. Life is a battle, and you will battle it. I will try my best to guide you, to help you where I can and let you fail where you need to. I will do everything I can to teach you about duty. To teach you right from wrong. To teach you to respect others. To accept the world for what it is. I will teach you to change the wrongs and to shelter the good. I will implore you to find your own sense of duty. You don’t have to agree with the way your family served before you, but you must respect it. Make your own path. Forge your destiny. Your mother and I will support you. Good luck, I love you.

-Your Father

THE END

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be21zh · 7 years

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May 12, 2017

firstly dreamt likely in airport lounge, I with my son in queue for aboard. then it broke for awhile to let cargo unload. its likely railway cargo, emergent quilts and pillows for distressed people in problematic situation. once the queue restored, the conductor persuaded us buying sapling on the way, instead of brought it from hometown to destiny, for former mostly more resilient. after peed and returned to bed, I dreamt with my old family, relatives. we criticized each other, we enjoyed chatters, we are family. esp my mean nephew, ie. only son of my passed eldest sister who committed suicide in her mid age decades ago, who is so mean that defied my small loan request several times. we disappointed by counterpart but still we expecting. this week was a bit leisure. I picked up my zohosites and sorted them into precious assets. quite some web services allow early birds privilege more gracious than its current mature clients which generate stable product income. google apps and zoho sites are such cases. previously zohosites free charge of custom domain mapping for its sites users, but now it charges. in recent years I saw zohosites potential and powerful on web building, and more and more willing making better usage of it. so this week I enable all free functions zohosites offers for free old users, like blogs, spam control, custom form, collaborators, etc. I was so contented by the gains! in final step, I collect and sort them into my local bookmarks and web linkbook. this week also specially hard for my financially coping with coming events, weekend gathering my son, woz into dining out and monthly cinema, his coming birthday celebration, his lottery experience I promised to support on the event, and my longing for a new ring mouse to replace my old Microsoft arc touch. in God's bliss, QRRS dispatched one child policy reward, ¥60, yesterday. then I gathered courage from it to contact my niece in Wuhan, central China, for aid. she generously offered ¥400, doubles my entrust. with it I immediately ordered the innovative mouse on taobao.com. but sinking PRC surveillance again exploited and delayed near 2 days in logistics: so far since last morning my order status still remains paid rather than dispatched, or relay of expresses, which quite abnormal nowadays bragging next day delivery but usual in my case in recent years shopping online. they surveillanced my vpn in accurate in seconds: most cases under surveillances my critical submission online result in immediate time out or offline. my conversation with my son, each time broke amid, esp when I urging him adopting securer connection. however, my sweet companion of google music, these days last hours daily and that eases a lot pressure. coming weekend brings many hope of joys when I gather woz, dearest son. God, dad, I'm so contented with my life here so far, that almost leaves me more silence of harmony. bring me sooner my Royal China to be more productive. bring me Asoh Yukiko for brighter future family, and our offspring that drives the eastern Asia coming centuries. thx for sunshine outside, dad God, I know summer is soon under your shine.

May 6, 2017

first dreamt in a party where cult or mythical power shown by a mojo, likely in San Francisco or western coast of US. dark magic of superpower, manipulation of mind and fate. then in my routine space when I shitting I was surveillanced. I got up for pee. then dreamt among my senior school alumni, we saw magic robot through which one's life and properties can be exported and imported. there are several robots all can export and when you delete some information it can be restored by other robot peer. most dream details lost after sleepily got up. it's a drizzling morning after 2 or 3 days windy weather, or sandstorms, which tinted sky into brown. rains seemingly due ample but this summer scarce so far. however most plants turning green. last night I refined zhone sites on zohosites, but PRC surveillance heavily blocked me. I finished near 12am and satisfied. I also blessed in success gaining loan from dorm canteen, ¥300, for new public bathroom groupon and other small bills. yesterday bankcommm buzzed in, blamed me not return credit debt as ¥2000 as planned rather ¥1500 I paid in 2 series months. I explained my life should put first, esp my with kid while my salary under expectation. she threatened to sue me. I just can't see how ¥500 means so much for a bank, and how severe I broke my promise with ¥500 less. this noon I will visit my son, which I almost can't wait, for the relief loan, for new restaurant we found last labor day holiday, railway hotel which likely a SOE with proper standard at least we saw rich ready meals in addition luxury leisure space. and for my works review in a week. but financial situation still stern: next weekend movies, 4 gathering meals in weekends before next salary day 2 weeks out, woz's birthday celebration, etc. my sites hosting plan needs renew, ¥60/month. dad God, my life so fit that I envy nobody. let me walk through difficulties like on meadow. prepare us for greater descending, and forever uprising. dad God, bring me sooner my Royal China to overcome surreal. bring me my family clean and tidy with Asoh Yukiko, for our children coming heavenly. thx for the moisture last night and now, God, for the baptism in rough of rotten atmosphere ever seen.

May 4, 2017

first dreamt my passed mother brought me, a kid, to a training center. its a bit unreal, for my childhood never had out class tutorials in rural central China. but my son, woz, he was arranged quite some by his teacher mom. in the center an elder woman teacher whose student includes Dilraba, the hot Uygur actress in PRC now, exchanged words with my mom while I was impressed by the famous girl student. then on a train, Dilraba just aboard and seated feet apart me. she is alone and a bit unease in my gaze. I watched her and her natural beauty likes neighbor door girl, clean and untouched. when a foreigner or small English talk out heard in the carriage, she complained in murmur her English not good enough to catch up it, with which I echoed in common sense. in the dream I likely feeling collegian youth. its a brown morning. the overnight sandstorm left the air dirty and tinted. but in air dusts didn't felt. my breakfast in dorm canteen still satisfying, even in 2 series days the menu less choices on it. this early summer quite chill in Qiqihar, northeastern China. I usually have to put on winter coat against coldness in dorm. last morning I napped after breakfast in boring chill and idle. amazon video, esp old time real people movies inspired me a lot with righteous moral, standard of life and loyalty. recently quite some movies on elders' life caught me in my mindless picks. I was so enchanted that I pray God to keep me the secret of the hidden treasure of meanings and gospel. my life enriched by review of my campus loves movies aroused. I saw timeless love and purity of sanity stems out independently we were young. I saw flourishing lives in my life then and now fautless brilliant. God, dad, my son, woz, Hope of China, his birthday near in May, I promised him each birthday offer him ¥150 for lottery experience. and cake for celebration. we also have cinema agenda next weekend. and our spa groupon should renewed. dad, God, free me off trap of financial problem. with my dear sister's son's aid, I got webcam as longing after a month, I greatly refreshed by its inauguration in my workspace last 2 weeks. now I want to replace my frequently ill working microsoft Arc touch bluetooth mouse with a new innovative gear, ring mouse. aid me ¥100 for it. dad God, liberate me in this month's salary. bring me sooner my Royal China, esp my Crowned Queen, Asoh Yukiko, from Japan, to cater to our family and living. bring my children in time in our hatch before lapse of my prime time. thx for the life we enjoy so far and so frontmost.

May 1, 2017

dreamt in a dorm, Nankai campus or my QRRS dorm, I busy with my desktop. likely previously I played with water and sands through my under pants and gathered on my bottom. So I took off underpants and half naked. but Zhang Chongfu, my Nankai deputy monitor, brought a girl visitor and she waiting outside of the door. I at the moment can't find my underpants and later someone thrown me it or I found it somewhere. with almost put right I woke up. this PRC international labor day holiday almost again a disaster for me: I hardly support any treat entitles it. I ate a meal a day and still worring next 3 weekends' gathering dinning out with my son, woz, Hope of China. however passed weeks proves fruitful in heavy workload. I second time install Google Apps on woz new zte android without a single error after many failures missing in wrong files and their directories, as a false response to previous google play store pending download but forever zero traffic as penalty to region like PRC where google denied. I also deleted problemed payment account lest locked out again for PRC's shame. I also found google doesn't delete its gsuite account after our purchase for zho.io 2 email accounts phrased out due to unpaid on time. encouraged by the cheat, I applied 3 new gsuites for our new 3 domains, each claimed several GA accounts under trial period and hoping these accounts' chrome sync, contacts, custom search engines and other user data/settings maintained out of free trial period. we fatally love google's web sync service. last Friday I also found time to rip spam bots, minor errors on my dynamic sites, esp forum at bbs.zhuson.com and cms at agarten.in. after near a year running the web apps roughly familiared, I more or less more experienced with their structure, system, just like I perceived and executed, like other insights in my life so far holy grants. long time pains in ass, disorder among articles on dabbog.com, also totally relinked structurally. my son now seemingly likes to bring new smartphone with him, after many times I cursed him for unreachable online. when I can't access him I wondered why it is so painful. I saw most important thing I needed to share with him is my achievement in life stream. I need treat, celebration for holy witness and double joys devil eyes stolen most. but I prepared to live alone my stuff in my darker and longer journey ahead, in my aging world of coldness, hatred thick dusty land I stood decades. I don't afraid death nor rotten time, I only care holy bliss, and my mission here in northeastern China for future millennium, for Japan, US and my vested land of China Empire from my glorious ancestor. God, dad, its lunch time now, grant us an adequate lunch for the leisure time. bring me sooner my Royal China to outpace the curious eyes upon my legend. bring me sooner my Crowned Queen from Japan, Asoh Yukiko, for my children's cosy family space.

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chinad · 7 years

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for delayed warmth of summer 2017

May 12, 2017

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