#professional resume writer au

[resumeheros]

Professional Resume Writer au in Sydney, Melbourne, and Perth https://resumehero.com.au

[ya-boi-haru]

I did a thing...

I'm no writer, but inspired by my Coffee shop au (linked) i did a little sample piece for funsies/writing practice... idk what will come of this but it was fun and interesting to get back into actually writing a fanfic piece again...

(context at the end)

Bars always seem to be a completely different atmosphere when it was day time.

All you could hear was the rustling and clinking of staff putting away the new merchandise or cleaning the equipment and the hum of the air conditioners. The faint scent of sanitizer mixed with alcohol hung in the air, strong enough to tell that the surfaces had just recently been wiped down.

As he sat patiently at one of the empty tables, Centross’ eyes glazed over the figures and trinkets that surrounded the bar. He could tell each one had been placed carefully and each section had its own theme. The tables and booths had a more ‘on deck’ feel. Pictures of great ships and sea creatures hung along the walls, surrounded by ropes tied and hung from the ceiling like shrouds or fishermen nets. The wooden tables were decorated with small ships to hold up the menus and the chairs had an aged leather look to them, which were surprisingly comfortable. The bar itself had a large, long statue of a dragon, made of a seaweed green glass displayed against the back wall, surrounded by the shelves of various amounts of alcohol.

The more you looked the more you saw, but unfortunately Centross didn’t get to look around much more as Kai, the owner of Sea Dragon, came out from the staff only doors. He stood up to meet her, extending a hand to introduce himself.

“Hey, you must Kai. I’m David, it’s nice to meet you” Centross was a little nervous. It had been a while since he was considered for an interview, he even had to buy a new button up shirt since the old one was worn out and faded.

“Yeah, I know who you are” Kai responded, her tone not doing a good job at hiding her snark and her, a bit too firm, handshake was not helping either.

“Oh, right, I guess you would after reading my resume” He tried to brush it off and lighten the mood, thinking he was just being paranoid about the way she was acting.

Kai gave a hum and the forced smile made Centross think it was meant to be a laugh. “So why do you want to work here, David?” She asked, cutting straight to the point.

Centross took a breath, trying to let the advice Wolf had given him and their practice questions come back to him.

“Well, I do have experience behind the bar, honestly, I’ve grown to love the work, it keeps me on my feet. I’m fully licenced, I have-“

“Yeah, yeah I’m sure your credentials and achievements are very nice,” Kai interrupted, “What I meant was, why here at the Sea Dragon?” she clarified.

Centross gave an apologetic look, as he stumbled to correct himself. However, while trying to come up with an answer, he noticed the daggers Kai was glaring at him.

“Have I done something to upset you?” Centross asked defensively. Gee, he had just met the woman and she acts like he spat in her face.

Kai barked a laugh at his question, looking at him with disbelief, her last bit of professionalism, now washed away.  Seeing Centross’ face made her realise, he really did not know.

“You still don’t do your research do you?”

Ok, now Centross was really confused. “Are you… not the owner?” he tried.

Ocie chuckled again. “I’m Kai. Kai Feywild”

Realisation slowly set on Centross’ face. “F-Feywild?” Ocie nodded. “As in… Strawberri Feywild- oh fuck!”

“My sister” Kai confirmed, as Centross dropped his head into his hand in defeat.

So, this wasn’t an interview, it was an interrogation. God, how the hell did he not know this!?

“Hey man, ill give you this: I’m impressed by the fucking balls you have to come in here, asking me for a job, after you did?” Kai, pointed her sharp nails at him to emphasise her accusatory tone.

“Listen i-“

“No, you listen,” Kai snapped. “I’ve worked my fucking ass off to get this business up and running and I’m not going to let it all go to shit because a deadbeat, drug pusher wants to get back in to business!”

“I’m not- we didn’t-“ Centross let out a frustrated groan, running a hand through his hair trying to find the words. “Look, that was a long time ago, I’m sober and clean and it’s not like I was the one making it-“

“No, apparently you weren’t, you’re just the one who insisted on selling it with my nephew and making my sister your dealer!” Centross gave a defeated sigh. “The only reason I called you in was to make sure you weren’t going to start this shit with me or my Strawberri again. She’s been through enough”

Centross took moment to answer, all the previous interviews and questioning coming back to him like a montage of fails. He knew he wasn’t going to get on her good side, maybe ever, but especially not right now. He had been through this enough times to know when it wasn’t working out.

“I know you probably don’t want to hear it, so ill spare you the details. But believe me when I tell you I am not here to start that again. The Ominous Coffee Bean is gone, it crashed and burned before it could even get off the ground, I wouldn’t even know how to get access to that stuff again and, again, even if I did, I wouldn’t know how to make it, that was Icarus, testing out their fancy chemistry, nerd shit and it failed miserably. I spent my time getting sober and clean, just like the others and I am trying to do better, Kai, but I no matter what I do, no one will even give me the time of day – which is understandable I guess but” Centross took a breath, feeling like he was just wasting breath at this point. “I truly am just looking for a job, a fresh start. Bills can’t pay themselves and I can’t keep living out of my boyfriends’ pocket. He’ll deny it, but I can tell that I’m just weighing him down. He deserves better than that and I just want to at least help him”

Kai took in everything he had said and Centross could see her processing, it all. She’d look him up and down and down at her hand, then back to him, the gears in her head turning trying to decide her next move.

Centross knew what it would be. Fuck, he should have just left as soon as he learned she was Strawberris’ sister. Maybe he can try his luck elsewhere, surely there’s somewhere that his reputation hasn’t touched.

“Alright,” Kai simply said after a long moment of silence.

“Alight?” Centross repeated, waiting for her to add on.

“You will be working the floor and are also on washing duty. You’ll start with four days a week for a trail to see if you can handle it and to see if you’re a good fit here. After that time is up, we’ll see how you’re doing and that will determine if you can stay and maybe we’ll talk about you working the bar. How does that sound?” Kai listed her conditions firmly, leaving no room for negotiation, her eyes never leaving Centross a she spoke.

Centross stared back, not processing what was happening.

“Wait, you’re… You’re giving me the job?” he asked, almost like he didn’t trust what he had heard.

“I’m giving you a chance. Do not make me regret it” She warned.

Centross had to contain the smile that seemed to spread on his face, releasing a breath of relief as the weight on his chest lifted just little.

Holy shit, he fucking did it.

-----------

So for some context, Icarus, Centross and Easton tried to start a Barista place together called The Ominous Coffee Bean ("the name will get people curious about it") and Icarus tried to do their thing of infusing flowers into tea. Little did they know that Delosperma Cooperi can be toxic, like a bad drug or alcohol when extracted/infused. They told their business investor (they found online) about their new drink and and Centross received an email back encouraging them to keep selling it and they could use Strawberris flower business to get more of the flowers in.

They were eventually got investigated and they all got arrested for selling of narcotics and Strawberri got done for suppling.

Icarus made first bale, an anonymous pay to bale *and* hush money.

Kai had to come down from a couple towns over to bale Strawberri and Easton out and thankfully they were all given the bare minimum punishment due to bale + they didn't know the extremes of what they were actually selling and their investor couldn't be tracked.

All four did get put on a probation and Icraus, Centross and Easton had to attend clincs to get clean and to help go through withdrawal. Centross made bale late as Rae had to scrap together enough money and even ask his Uncle for help to get him out.

Icarus got hush money, Easton was seen as "the poor kid who didnt know any better" and Strawberri also left in the dark. Centross basically got the short end of the stick and his reputation wasnt good.

---

idk i was just playing around with ideas for Ominous Bane equivalent??? its still a W.I.P but let me know what you think????

[stilemawillow]

Unbeneficial [Levi | Reader | Modern AU!]

i - the benefits of you | ii - unbeneficial

Most people you knew would much rather never step in your shoes in terms of location. You lived in a big city and the school you attented was only reached by catching a single bus at exactly 7:15 every morning. Your home wasn't even in the suburbs, your neighbourhood was just that vacant. So every school day, you got up at 6 a.m. and left for the bus stop at 7 a.m. It was a tradition now. The same bus, the same seat, the same passengers, the same cigarette butts on the same side of the pavement. Boring but fascinating in a way, how the tedium of habits persisted. Some people's schedules were like clockwork and yours was one of them.

Then arrived the abnormality differing from the usual picture you'd gotten used to. He stood by the bus stop sign, stoic and taut. His habits were easily noticeable. Always holding his suitcase in his right hand, so he could easily lift the left one to check the time on his expensive watch. Never stuffing it in the pocket of his dress pants because they would crease, and fixing his plain tie every five or so minutes. Never observed his surroundings. The only thing his austere eyes were looking forward to seeing (with questionable zest, if any at all) was the bus that would drive him to work and you - to school.

It took you a week to figure out his strict routine and now you were just eyeing him with unhidden curiosity - something he seemed to notice but never openly acknowledge. That was until the second week, when he finally got annoyed with your persistent stare. A single glare from eyes such as his was enough to make your body turn at a hundred and eighty degrees as you nervously clenched in your clammy fist your bland uniform skirt.

By the third week he'd stopped glaring, maturely having concluded you'd keep spying on him - albeit less blatantly. And you did. Arriving at the bus stop had never been as exciting as it was when he was around, with his broad shoulders and variety of plain ties.

At times he would show up with a cup of tea in hand. You blinked at him like an overly curious child - which at the time you might've been - uncaring of what any other woman would've noticed and focusing on the funny details about his conduct and appearance. You didn't see the attractive features or the sculpured body under the suit - you saw the amusing sour expression that made his lips seem comically thin when he frowned at his watch and the interesting scar on his earlobe that, after a lot of pondering, was deemed a result of a piercing during a rebellious period that never healed properly.

On the topic of rebellious periods and piercings, you couldn't help but wonder how old he was. You stood five feet from him, nudging the cigarette butts around with the tip of your left shoe and intensely staring at the ground. He was obviously one of those pricks who worked at a famous company, so he didn't exactly need experience if he had connections. Which meant the possibility of him being twenty was as plausible as the one stating he was thirty. You'd never give him thirty, though. Looking closely, the only thing hinting at whatever age after twenty was the crease between his thin brows and the look in his eyes - knowing but dull, having experienced things a young adult was yet to encounter. So how old was he?

The tea and the stiffness said grandpa. The face said a teenager punk. The suit and watch said responsible, thirty-year-old adult. Then, having considered the many possibilities, you built his backstory in your mind and smiled incredulously at your own imagination. Not even a professional writer would manage to weave a resume so realistic.

His name was Bernard Lewis (because it had to suit his British pale complexion) and he was a twenty-one-year-old college student. He'd grown up in a big city a long way from here but had recently moved due to the internship his father had forced on him. As a compliant son, Bernard had gotten rid of his old earring from the time he'd been in a band in high school and taken his grandfather's favourite watch, moving into his new abode. Imagine his disappointment when he'd been refused a car and forced to take the bus every morning. His plain ties were presents from his mother and he got a new one every Christmas. Last but not least, his constant frown was caused by his seperation from his girlfriend, Crissie, just when his best friend Dylan had started giving her a suspicious number of rides all over the city too. Little additions were that he was trying to quit smoking and most suits he wore were actually his father's - cue his nitpicky behaviour in attempts to keep them neat.

Bernard's character was perfected by the end of the fourth week, which coincidentally turned out to be the week when your first interaction took place. On a very fateful Thursday, Bernard was holding his usual cup of tea and you were kicking around the cigarette butts when a middle-aged lady with a bit too much lipstick collided with the ebony-haired male's back, resulting in some scalding spillage and a very vindictive curse on his side. The deep timbre with the husky edge wasn't how you'd imagined his voice, but you had no time to ponder that because he was about to do a lot of damage to the rude lady if somebody didn't intervene.

Putting a fragile hand to his stained cuff, you saw his snarl turn in your direction with a feral glare that had the ability to cut. Your shoulders shrank a size but you handed him your handkerchief with a shy smile and a silent plea not to attack the lady, which he very reluctantly complied with. Slender fingers dripping with tea brushed against yours as he took the handkerchief and muttered a curt word of gratitude. You just stood there, smiling at his face from up close and relishing the sound of his voice. It suited his eyes, that timbre. He stuffed the handkerchief in his pocket, saying he'd return it the next day after he washed it. You nodded, about to ask his name (you were begging all the Gods above for it to not be Bernard because it no longer suited his voice) when the bus arrived and you had to get in.

Stopping yourself from annoying him further by sitting next to him, you occupied your usual seat and quietly bounced up and down in fervent wait for tomorrow. How easily stirred the teenage female heart was.

The anticipated Friday arrived and you set out to walk to the bus stop earlier, seeing as Bernard was always there before you, which would now give you more time to muster the courage to ask his name. He was waiting by the sign already, watching you hastily glide down your skirt and fix your hair as you smiled at him. He pulled the clean handkerchief from his pocket - folded and pristine, making a bashful pink tint your cheeks as you took it and questioned the state of his skin. He brushed your consideration off with a scoff, but you didn't give up, eyeing him with a curious look that you'd later learn had been way too penetrating to be ignored.

You were hardly conversing but you were attempting to make it work, longing to hear more of his voice and thus forgetting your initial goal of obtaining knowledge of his name. The bus arrived at exactly 7:15 and you got on, deciding to stand by the ebony-haired male with the expensive watch as he furrowed his brows at the vehicle's doors. You muttered a small 'bye' as he stepped forth when his stop arrived and he graced you with a cold glance and the most diminutive nod he could've given. You took it with a big smile and a kind of nervousness that left your skirt creased due to too much fidgety clenching. You were looking forward to the following Monday with excitement you'd never felt up until now.

And when it came, he wasn't there. He wasn't by the bus stop sign, holding his steaming cup of tea in his left hand and his suitcase in the right one. He wasn't making a funny expression that showed his cutely scrunched-up nose at the expensive watch on his wrist and he wasn't glaring at you as you childishly spied on him out of the corner of your eye, thinking yourself sly. You'd just decided today would be the day you learned his name and now he wasn't there, leaving you weirdly disappointed and pouty. You kicked the cigarette butts around until the bus came and you got on, taking your usual seat with no enthusiasm whatsoever.

A little pinch of hope had clung to the edge of your mind so you ran to the bus stop the next day, expecting him to be back. He wasn't.

A week passed like that. You decided it was futile to wait for him, so you just went on with your life. It wasn't like you liked him or anything. Not his deep voice or his cute nose. Or the far from scary scowl that had the ability to make you smile even when you were tired and moody, just because you admired his energy to frown that early into the morning. You hadn't grown attached to the slender fingers stiffly fixing his plain ties or the satisfied hum at the back of his throat when he drank from his tea. You had no interest in learning his name or age, or everything else he could tell you. No interest whatsoever in him. He was a random man who only glared at you and washed your handkerchief once. Nothing big, even for an inexperienced high school girl.

Almost two weeks after his disappearance, you were running to the bus stop after the first time you'd overslept. Your chances of reaching it in time were slim, but there. You just had to run as fast as the wind, which would result in your underwear totally showing from under the boring uniform skirt you wore. So risk somebody seeing your pink undies or risk being late for school? The choice wasn't exactly easy for a goodie-two-shoes like you, but you at least had the decency to admit your attendance mattered a bit less than your dignity. So you ran as fast as your skirt allowed, watching the bus take the lead a block away. Your eyes widened in horror as you sprinted but your breaths were ragged and your lungs felt like balloons about to pop. You tripped, trying to find the voice to call out to the driver, but all that came out was a pathetic croak.

The bus was taking off and so was your hope. Your pace slowed and your calves protested even when you walked, finding it hard to balance your breathing. You were leaning on the bus stop sign when a car pulled up in front of you and the door opened, vouchsafing your eyes a sight that made them widen in visible shock. The ebony-haired male invited you in with a sigh, explaining that he'd understand if you refused his offer to drive you to school but would very much appreciate a quick decision on your part since he had somewhere to be too. You got over your shock with a hasty nod and jumped in the front seat prior to closing the door and profusely thanking your stoic savior after telling him the address of your school.

The radio in the clearly expensive car was playing an old song you remembered from your childhood and your heart was now beating fast not only because of all the running you'd done. You were stupid for getting in his car - who knew what he would do? This was exactly what your mother had spent years teaching you not to do and yet here you were. Amazingly dumb of you, getting into a stranger's car. And why? Because you'd missed his cute nose and non-scary frown? Not a good enough reason for when you'd try explaining why you'd been assaulted on your way to school. Two sides of a coin were fighting inside you - a protective one and a defensive one.

You felt ashamed for thinking so badly of somebody who might've just wanted to help you but then again - how many high school girls had been kidnapped and killed this exact way? Because they'd been naive and their abductor was attractive? A lot, but this wasn't the case because the ebony-haired male wasn't a bad person, he was only more or less returning a favour. Why did he suddenly have a car now though? Why had he been on the bus for a whole month only to suddenly show up with an expensive car when you most needed transport?

You shook your head with an inward scowl, deciding to distract yourself by apologising for the inconvenience, to which your savior/possible abductor scoffed and noted it wasn't a big deal since his workplace was close to your school. Upon being asked of his profession, the pale man took a small card from his pocket and handed it to you without even glancing in your direction. You took it from his slender fingers, then observed them fix his black tie and grip the steering wheel. Your hues eyed the card. A strange name sat at the top, next to the name of a pretty famous bank that had a branch in the big office building that could be seen from your school's rooftop. A work phone number and an email address were lined under a strict greyscale pattern and above it - the words 'branch manager' in a somber font that made your lips purse.

Your eyes widened in realisation and you looked back and forth between the card and the stoic man who had handed it to you until he shot you an impatient glare.

"What?" Annoyed with the stare, certainly. You couldn't find the words to answer. Was it a shock that you'd seen his name already? In those boring magazines your father loved buying and reading just to pass the time while getting drunk? Was it a shock he was currently driving you to school when he was famous enough to be written into a whole-ass magazine? Or was it a shock than he wasn't a sixty-year-old grandpa with dyed hair and a silly pair of glasses like his name had first made you think? All three together maybe formed the perfect explanation you'd have a hard time articulating properly.

"I'm sorry for the discomfort I'm causing," you began bashfully. "Also thank you, again, for this." There was a beat of silence. Then, at last, you blurted out: "I'm (Y/N) (L/N), by the way. Since, um, I learned yours, I think it's only appropriate to give mine." It wasn't a dignified introduction, merely the most you could muster in such an awkward moment.

He didn't speak for the next five minutes and you only watched the card in your hold with silent admiration and wonder. Levi Ackerman. Sounded times better than Bernard Lewis. First correction to your imaginary story. Branch manager of a bank office instead of an intern. Second correction. Not twenty-one then. Third correction. Your lips pursed in thought. The expensive watch was probably bought with his own money, so fourth correction. You only crossed your fingers for him to have not been picking and buying the ties he wore - it was really the only feature of your story you wanted to have been true.

Questions that would further jeopardise your fantasy's credibility were impossible to ask. Was a girlfriend (actually maybe wife) present in his life? Did his mother buy his ties? Had his father forced him into the business? Was he trying to quit smoking and had he ever been in a band in high school? No, no. Impossible and improper. Actually, fuck improper - it was straight-up rude and the most insolent thing you could do when he was literally wasting his time driving you to school in his very expensive car. Noticing your inward panic as it had obviously written itself on your features, the male glanced at you and stiffly questioned your lateness as to offer a distraction.

You spent a minute ranting about your alarm clock and disappointment when he stopped in front of the school building and looked at you expectantly. You thanked him once more, this time very quietly and with a downcast gaze. You asked him why he'd been taking the bus when he had a car and he clicked his tongue, promptly pointing out you were being impudent prior to snorting in amusement at your shamefaced expression and quickly explaining a friend had borrowed his car for awhile and then crashed it, making him wait an additional two weeks for it to be repaired. You turned to him in surprise and he shooed you off once noticing the hint of a smile at the corner of your mouth. You got out of the car but had a hard time closing the door. You had to say something that wasn't a 'thank you' or a stupid question.

"You have a nice name," you stated with a smile, too fazed to realise the filter between your brain and mouth had disconnected and you were in the process of embarrassing yourself major time. "It suits your voice way better."

"Than what?" A single quirked brow and the non-scary frown was gone. His stoic gaze spoke of mild confusion you happily cleared out with your next words.

"The one I gave you." His brows twitched, in amusement or discomfort you didn't know, and then you became aware of the things you were saying. Your eyes widened in horror and you slammed the car door shut when you saw his lips part. Not waiting for the branch manager to call you mental, you ran for the school building faster than you'd run for the bus less than an hour earlier. Levi Ackerman, you were sure, would never drive past your bus stop again. Even more, he'd probably try to avoid it at all cost. Or so you thought for the remainder of the school day before you walked out only to see a very familiar expensive car outside.

"I get off earlier on Fridays. Now I'd like to learn about the name you've given me." It was what he greeted you with, as all passing students stared at your fidgety figure next to the slick surface of the car he was leaning on. You cracked an awkward smile whilst trying to excuse yourself but when he offered you a ride and a free cup of coffee your lips pursed in great emotional pain as your dry throat called for the caffeine and your heart called for the sound of the ebony-haired male's voice. You agreed after a whole two minutes of thought, getting in the front seat under the multiplying gazes of curious peers and bystanders. This was last thing in the world you were supposed to be doing. Or was it?

You liked Levi's company and though it would take you awhile to get used to the fact he was way different a person than what you'd imagined, there was nothing wrong in just talking to him - right? Yes, he might've been rich and not exactly your age, and you admitted you knew zero facts about his personality but he didn't look like somebody who always had an ulterior motive at the ready whenever he drove school girls to class so they wouldn't be late. So you ignored the stares and you ushered him to drive, sensing as your whole face had started heating up due to the excessive amount of attention.

You found the bravery to question your intented destination, to which the branch manager snorted prior to stating he'd be dropping you off at the bus stop. No romantic detours such as you might've imagined. His crude words made your lips pout in displeasure as you opened your mouth to respond and then remembered he was the adult in the situation and you were taught to never speak back to adults. The grey-eyed male noticed your determination waver and turn into uncertainty, and he did something no adult had ever done in your life. He encouraged your argument. Telling you to defend yourself if you considered his words unjust, the ebony-haired male turned the wheel and the car followed, with your speechless self in it.

It took you thirty seconds to finally voice your retort. Then the next ten minutes you spent arguing in a half-joking, half-serious tone you could call neither friendly nor hostile. You were getting to know his opinions on certain things, some of which included the suspicious aspect of an acquaintance like yours from a third point of view and his reluctance to be dragged into any kind of public drama. In actual fact, he'd been reluctant to offer you a ride that morning, seeing as it would be deemed extremely improper. Then it came - the moment you dropped your guard and asked him how old he was since he was speaking of everything as if it would be illegal.

A weird look was thrown your way. Then a pair of thin lips uttered the vital piece of information you'd come to accept and him - hate. Twenty-six didn't sound old in perspective but became inappropriately ancient the moment it was positioned in a small car space shared with a fifteen-year-old girl. You stared at the road ahead prior to gifting his stoic profile a bright smile and a compliment stating he looked way younger. On the topic of which, as he was quickly reminded:

"What is this name you've given me now?" Levi's grey eyes shot you a brief glance, then focused back on the street signs outside. You clasped your hands together and began nervously chewing on your bottom lip, feeling like your temples would soon start sweating buckets.

"... Bernard," you admitted after a minute-long pause, making the man next to you scrunch up his nose at the car's interior. You avoided looking at the tip of it twitching because you might just start swooning. Such a stoic man didn't deserve a nose so cute.

"Too tacky for me. Who even has that kind of lame-ass name anyway? His mother must hate him." His comments were too out of character for somebody you considered a responsible adult but you weren't allowed to laugh - it would seem as if you were making fun of him. Yet you burst out laughing right then and there, cackling til your stomach hurt and he was looking at you weirdly. You wiped at the still tears at the corners of your eyes with a shit-eating grin, then explained:

"I'm not laughing at you."

"I don't really care about that - you just seem to be having an unusual amount of fun when you're stuck with somebody this boring."

"Boring?" You echoed, blinking in innocent confusion and making him click his tongue in exasperation. You spent the rest of the ride to the bus stop arguing whether he was boring or not, and then - out of nowhere, you heard yourself blurting out an invitation for a cup of tea. He locked eyes with you and felt obliged to refuse as strictly as he could. Then you were making doe-eyes at him and pleading. You promised it wouldn't take long and you'd never interact with him after that - though inwardly you longed for the opposite. He kept saying 'no' over and over again, then you were at the bus stop and he was ushering you out of the car. This had been merely a favour on his part and he didn't wish for it to become anything more.

Then you asked - in the most hopeful voice you'd heard out of your own mouth - if he would be willing to use the bus just once more on Monday. He furrowed his brows at you and said one last 'no' prior to shutting the car door and driving off. You were sulking all the way to home. Your father was fast asleep on the couch and your mother had left you a note stating she would be out with collagues because of her incoming business trip. You went in your room and just... sat, thinking. Thinking and thinking. 26 wasn't a big number. 15 was just smaller. And what about it? His body was also bigger than yours, it was normal for his age to have been too. His hands were bigger than yours and so was his experience on the topic of the world. There was nothing particularly inappropriate about that.

But then again he might've been married or dating somebody. Such weird offers out of the mouth of an underage school girl had to have been terribly repulsive. So you settled with the thought of not seeing him again, if nothing else you'd be coming across his name in magazines. Maybe it would no longer bring the image of a sixty-year-old grandpa with dyed hair and silly glasses to the surface of your mind. Maybe it would make you picture the slender fingers fixing a plain tie as their owner glared at you with a beautiful pair of grey hues and a cutely scrunched up nose. Maybe he'd be holding a suitcase in his right hand.

You made preparations for Monday anyway, because you were a fifteen-year-old that had a proclivity to be too hopeful and optimistic sometimes. Because you were taught to always be prepared, always see things in a positive light. There was nothing positive about the 'no' your question had been answered with but you went ahead hoping for the best in spite of it. You made a cup of peppermint tea and added just a little bit of honey, because such a bitter person couldn't possibly like excessive sweetness, then you headed out, humming and holding the steaming beverage in your left hand. You arrived at the bus stop around the usual time and he was standing by the sign like a mirage, stiff and taut, holding his suitcase in his right hand and eyeing the watch on the left with furrowed brows.

At first you walked closer than you usually would just to check if he was real or not. Then he looked into your eyes and you froze, enveloped by the scent of tea and suddenly so very uncharacteristically happy it was worrying. Your heart was beating fast as you handed him the cup and asked if he liked peppermint, and when he told you the process of offering somebody something went backwards you just laughed, forcing him to take the cup with a shake of his head. You didn't question his change of heart and he certainly wasn't one to address it of his own accord, which you were perfectly fine with. You spoke of the weather and his work, and he nonchalantly shared as little as he could whilst satisfying your curiosity as best as possible.

They were all trivial topics that would under no circumstances hint at the imminent relationship that was to form. Who of the two was to think you'd be, in only three years, sitting on the couch in his apartment, arguing about your relationship prior to kissing like the world was coming to an end? Neither so far. Levi would sense it later on - way later when his feelings would become more conflicted, and you'd never suspect the problematic nature of what was to come, as you'd never consider it an actual problem. That would all come in time, though. For now you were only the numbers 15 and 26 riding in a big bus that would drive him to work and you - to school.

Later you'd inquire about his work hours. Asking him if he had a girlfriend came a week after that. And then you found yourself spending minutes staring at each and every car passing your bus stop in the morning in search of his. You saw him less than a month later after his friend crashed his car for the second time that year. There would be three more, but he'd never seem all too angry about it. Riding the bus together became a shared activity for numbers 15 and 26, and by the time they became 16 and 27 the latter had already agreed to a cup of tea in a café and the former had fallen quite hopelessly in love. Your date on the hood of his repaired car would occur during a very chilly October and your first kiss would take place two months later, in the front seat in a vacant parking lot during a snowstorm.

All in all, Levi's ongoing emotional conflict made things indescribably hard for you and your adolescent optimism but it was eventually overcome. A secret relationship began on a very unmemorable date some weeks later, brought to life by your desperate wish for Levi to give you a chance and his incapability to refuse. Running from the inevitable had meant nothing to him until awhile ago but he'd begun sprinting back when he was still twenty-six and he needed some rest a year later, a little taste of what he'd been afraid of. A taste of something bad, something he wasn't meant to be doing. God, how your beautiful smile spoke of the opposite. It beckoned him closer to the fire until he burned, but it didn't hurt - there was only warmth. So he stayed, in spite of how unbeneficial he thought that was.

[justalarryblog]

☀️The Things You Say Don't Drive Me Away by @LadyLondonderry (1k) | General Audiences

Louis thinks the boy who works at the bakery, with the big glasses and sweater vests, is pretty cute.

☀️Sweet like sugar by @vintageumbroshirt / 28sunflowers (1k) | Teen And Up Audiences

Harry sometimes has bad days. Diabetes is not the easiest thing to live with.

☀️Zero He Flies Under Green Trees orphan_account (2k) | Not Rated

Unversity AU in which Louis and Harry prove you can never be too young to act like an old married couple, and their friends kind of have to deal with their overly unromantic romantics.

☀️Cake and Kiss by @loulovehome (2k) | General Audiences

The one where omega Harry didn't like cake and wants to throw up when his alpha kisses him.

☀️You Make Me Wanna Scream by @dimpled_halo (5k) | Explicit

Louis’ stomach flutters as he reads the words. Harry wants to “kick it up a notch”. His mind automatically comes up with different possibilities.

Hey Harry,

I’ll bring over some things and we can discuss them in more detail and determine from there what you feel most comfortable with trying.

See you Saturday,

Louis

Louis wants to ask him how his week is going and learn more about his life but he keeps it professional. He can’t get attached no matter how good of a potential sub the guy may be. With a long sigh, Louis resumes his lunch trying his best not to picture Harry tied up while he paddles his lickable ass.

Part 2 of Dom Louis

☀️the stars are coming home by @harrystinyshorts / lsforever (5k) | General Audiences

For years Harry has been waiting for their schedules to click just right. Finding a day where he’ll not only be available but also is the only visitor on the premises has been near impossible.

After three years together and nearly a full year of marriage, Harry has finally been permitted to sit in for one of the team’s practices. They get more than they bargained for.

☀️It's A Rare Condition by @gloriaandrews (6k) | Explicit

Louis and Marcel stumble upon an old episode of Family Matters and accidentally get an idea...

Part 1 of Stefan Urquelle

☀️Zero Means Nothing When I'm With You by @StripedAndBowtied (6k) | Not Rated

Louis doesn't know what he's looking for until he finds it.

Harry just knows he may defy his gender norms, with his height and clumsiness, but that doesn't mean he doesn't want litters of pups running around while he does domestic things all day long.

In other words, boy meets boy and no one can stop pining

☀️Tick-Tock by @bubblegumclouds (6k) | General Audiences

When Louis was born to Jay Tomlinson with a tiny 2 years on his clock, it starts the most beautiful love story. Even if things are missed, fate finds a way to make it work.

☀️beat the darkness by @turnyourankle (7k) | Teen And Up Audiences

Harry is a volunteer nurse stationed in Cairo; Louis is one of the patients in his ward.

☀️The Charles Compass Trilogy by @sadaveniren (8k) | Explicit

Louis Tomlinson is a successful writer who rents a beach house on the Cape to try and finish the final book in his successful Charles Compass trilogy.

☀️I'm Asking You Please, Don't Talk Dirty to Me by @larry-hiatus (9k) | Explicit

Prompt #68: Harry’s best friend Louis is a nice, well-mannered omega, at least when it comes to sex talk. He has always been closed off and quiet... until Harry hears how Louis talks during his heat. Now, it's all Harry can think about before his upcoming rut... (Original prompt wording edited for clarity)

☀️Waiting by @allwaswell16 (10k) | Explicit

Louis Tomlinson was Harry’s omega, of this Harry had always been sure. Unfortunately for Harry, Louis seemed to think they were just best friends. The six weeks that Harry has to live with Louis were going to be rough.

☀️The Summertime, The Butterflies, All Belong To Your Creation by @PumpkinspiceLou (CatyDreamDwyer) (11k) | Not Rated

When Louis decides to help out a lost little girl at the park, he never expected it would lead him to finding his home.

☀️it's oh so still by @b0yfriendsinl0ve (12K) | Teen And Up Audiences

Harry doesn’t say much but Louis makes him want to try.

☀️Just a Little Taste by @amomentoflove (13K) | Explicit

Louis works at The Blind Bat as a bartender during one of the busier times of the night. Typically, there’s one bartender on duty, his best mate Niall Horan, but Louis steps in to help with the demand. There’s always someone who needs a drink, a menu, or something to replenish their energy. He also has to look out of the humans who willingly allow vampires to feed on them. He’s quite protective of the regulars who come to get their kicks with a quick drink and a bite. A vampire’s bite, and the rush of endorphins that come with it, can be addicting. He should know.

☀️The Journal by @evilovesyou / 4ureyesonly28, RecycledStardust (13K) | General Audiences

When Harry finds himself purchasing an antique journal in the ancient bookshop of a town he's never heard of, he doesn't exactly want to admit that he has no idea how he got there. A myriad of odd coincidences and a few kind smiles from the shopkeeper have the two of them working hard to solve the mystery of this strange journal that seems to have been waiting for Harry for almost a hundred and thirty years.

☀️Breathe Me by @Only_angel_28 (13K) | Mature

The story of what happens when Harry finds a stranger sleeping inside the car his late grandfather left him.

“Louis?” Harry queries softly, his voice nothing more than a whisper. “Why are you living in my car?”

Louis sighs, and this time it’s laced with a mixture of sadness and exhaustion, the sound of it tugging at Harry’s heartstrings. “Long story,” he says finally with a weak smile.

“Will you tell me?” Harry prods gently, his demeanor akin to that of someone approaching a wild animal with their arms outstretched in a gesture of submission. “You don’t have to, like—I mean…it’s just, I’m a pretty good listener, and you seem like maybe you could use a friend?”

“What gave me away?” Louis jokes dryly.

*Or the one where Harry has a broken heart, Louis has a broken home, and all it takes is one night together for them to fall in love.

☀️Sounds like love to me by @neondiamond (14K) | General Audiences

“Do you want to hear the heartbeat?”

Louis watches as Harry’s face falls with the realization that this is one of those things he won’t be able to experience. For a second, Louis considers saying no, to show Harry they’re truly on the same boat through all of this. But he nods in the end, reaching over for Harry’s hand as the doctor flips a switch. Noise fills the room then, and it takes a few seconds for the sound to become clear enough for Louis to make out the baby’s fast heartbeat.

“It’s really fast,” he voices his thoughts out loud as he uses his thumb to tap against the back of Harry’s hand, replicating the rapid rhythm of the baby’s heartbeat. It takes the younger man a little while to figure out what Louis’ doing, but a huge grin breaks out on his face as soon as he does.

“Is that them?” He signs with the other hand, his own eyes starting to tear up when Louis nods.

OR: Harry is deaf, Louis is pregnant. They figure it out.

☀️Made From Love by @chloehl10 / lovelarry10 (14K) | Mature

It's almost Christmas, and amongst the preparations, Louis' realised something about his husband Harry.

Harry, however, seems to be oblivious.

Louis' determined to open Harry's eyes and make him realise the real magic that's happening this Christmas...

☀️When You Know by @allwaswell16 (17k) | Explicit

Years of living in the shadows has taken its toll on Louis Tomlinson. When he’s offered a chance to leave behind his life as a hired assassin, he intends to take it.

🗓️ January Fic Rec 🗓️ February Fic Rec 🗓️ March Fic Rec 🗓️ April Fic Rec 🗓️ May Fic Rec 🗓️ June Fic Rec

Here is my tag for my Monthly Fic Rec and here is my fic tags! 💖

[keenmarvellover]

POSTS FOR YOU - 4

Some links to posts with valuable content you want in one place.(BASICALLY EVERYTHING IS THERE)

Suggestions and Recommendations are appreciated and accepted.

Last Updated : 13/10/2021 (x)

NOTE: Some of these post are written in a crude and unruly fashion. But they contain valuable tips, guidance and information. If you can't/don't want to read such posts, then don't read.

POSTS FOR YOU MASTERLIST

Mental Health

Helpful Phrases to say to a Anxious Person

Both for Children and Adults

Health

Don't ignore Pain

And don't let your doctors ignore your pain for NO reason either. (Post II)

Things Women Were Probably Not Taught About Their Bodies But Should Know

There are many things women are not taught about their bodies and their bodily functions which they should know.. Here is a list of some of them.

Checking for Breast Cancer

There are many other signs apart from lumps.

Washable, Reusable Menstrual Pads

Use reusable menstrual hygiene product, which are an environmental friendly alternative to disposable sanitary napkins or menstrual cups. (Part II)

Artists

Color Palettes

Method to make your color palette

Save your Dried Paint Brushes

Check out this video

Writers

Soulmate AU Story Ideas

A post listing all of them!!!

Writer Block Hacks

Writer exercises to get over Writers Block

60 Awesome Search Engines for Serious Writers

Both writers still in college and those on their way to professional success will appreciate this list of useful search applications that are great from making writing a little easier and more efficient.

Writing about Alcoholic Drinks and Cocktails

How to write believable bar and nightclub scenes

Readers

Check out if your free

Articles, essays, youtube channels, podcasts etc.

Access News sites with Paywall

Because reliable, trustworthy news should be easily accessible

Students

How to remain productive with online classes

Tips from a neurodivergent academic

Access to Scientfic Articles and Textbooks

DO not use it as it pisses off people with money

How to take Notes

The post is very crude but so very helpful

For students

EVERYTHING is covered.

Micellaneous

CONTRACTS: DO's and DON'Ts

A must read for everyone

How to explain a gap in your Resume

Some tips from a Recruiter

Resources for Mending Clothes

Saves money and the planet.

Masterpost for Living Alone

Living like an adult. (This masterpost includes on tips to save money, job,cooking, everthing related to adulting)

COOKING BASICS

This is for everyone.

Fandom for Beginners

For all Beginners on Tumblr

Adding Pockets to your Pants

Add pockets to your pants with this post.

Computer Shortcuts

Lots of neat tricks to help make your life easier

Writing a Thank-You Note

A small post giving tips to write a good thank you note

Herb Spirals

Enjoy!! :)

Desis

Indian Non-Fiction

A list of books on India, almost all of which are by Indian writers; most of them are about history in one way or other but they also involve politics, culture, and religion.

India's Censorship

How to bypass it?

Safety

Are you in a Cult?

Check out this post to recognise signs of Cult and common myths on this topic

What are Rip zones (on beaches) and how dangerous are they? How to recognise them?

Websites that help with Content Filtering and Content Warning

How to track down Anon Asks?

[justasparkwritings]

Camp Evergreen: Prologue

Pairing: None Yet

Genre: Summer Camp AU, Non Idol AU

Rating:  PG15

Word Count: 0.5K

Warnings: None

Beta Readers: @xiaokoo​ who I absolutely adore. 

Notes: This is for my Free Space for @bangtanwritingbingo​

Camp Evergreen Master List

Be the One Master List

Taglist: Message Me or comment on this post! 

        Nestled between the mountains and the lake, with ample space to roam and explore, Camp Evergreen is burrowed. A camp named for its canopy of greenery; Evergreen is preparing for its twenty-first summer. Twenty-one years shaping the minds and talent of aspiring actors, dancers, performers, artists, and writers. Elite talent from across the country will descend upon the Pacific Northwest haven, seeking guidance and direction.

       Camp Evergreen remains the foremost summer institute for burgeoning talent. Taught exclusively by professionals, campers spend their six weeks honing their skills. Six weeks studying, writing, performing, all in the hopes of getting into an acting program for college, landing a role in the latest Disney channel show, or making the leap from high school theatre-Jimmy Awards winner to Broadway. After a laborious addition and application process, campers are welcomed into a summer like nothing they could imagine.

       Preparing to welcome in the ego and id of 100 teenagers are PhDs in art history and English, industry rich writers, Broadway stars, authors and Emmy award winners, Tony awarded choreographers and set designers. Each instructor, a master in their field, has crafted their course to be rigorous, engaging, and meet requirements set by Camp’s Board of Directors. Giving up part of their summer is exchanged for a generous paycheck and nearly promised position for the following summer. It is an honor and a privilege to teach at Camp Evergreen, one that carries weight and prestige on every resume. Under their tutelage, a group of TA’s, college students dying to make it big after graduating, or at the very least, score a letter of recommendation from an esteemed professional.

       And under them, Cabin and Junior Counselors, in charge of the mental and physical wellbeing of the campers. They are also in charge of the inevitable drama that comes with a summer in the forest.

        It’s both heaven, and hell. Tears over who gets cast in the end of camp musical, joy and triumph of students who are selected for short films and one-act plays, all under the constant, pervasive, hormonal drive of being sixteen. Hearts will be broken, dreams will be fulfilled, and someone will break a bone trying to land a grand jete during the opening number of this summer’s musical: Footloose. 

        While their students, and counselors, are falling in love, cheating, breaking hearts and experiencing every major first at Camp Evergreen, it’s the instructors that will be doing their best to hide their drama. Who is fucking who? Who is cheating on their spouse back home with their perpetual summer fling? Do rules apply when the Head Instructor wants to fulfill her long standing relationship with another teacher? Who will have a pregnancy scare and who will threaten to quit? More importantly, who will allow a group of teenagers to recreate a scene from To Kill a Mockingbird, races reversed?

        It’s all waiting to unfurl and unfold because this summer, everything comes to a head and it’s you who has to decide who and what are worth fighting for.  

        Is it you and him?

        Is it your new position and status?

        Or is everything so messy and convoluted that you’re willing to throw it all away, uphold your position, and irrevocably shatter your hearts?

        Welcome to Camp Evergreen.

Next: You & Me, Me & You {1}

[utterlyinevitable]

Hello. I love todays MC Monday so much. I am asking some of my favorite OH writers this question. What you think your MC's and Ethan would have thought of each other if they were in High School together?

I’m one of your favorites? 🥺😭

I did write an AU HC where Ethan and MC met in high school and still had their 10 year age gap - 🛸 Meet in High School (feat. Bryce Lahela) 

As for my girls (and making their age gap smaller)... 

Odette & Ethan 

Odette started ‘home schooling’ when she was 15. It was part of her development deal to put 6 days a week into honing her craft, working with industry professionals to nail her sound and learning all she can from the best of the best. 

Ethan and Odette met briefly at a Hopkins open-day when they were 17. Just brief hellos and small introductions to fill the awkward silence as they waited for their tour to begin. 

Ethan thought she was pretty, but the way she presented herself was less like an aspiring distinguished-professional and more like a bubbly trophy wife. She was just a bit too put together, had way too many cookie cutter answers - like she was reading from a script she rehearsed over and over and over again to impress decision makers. 

Odette had a good feeling about Ethan - like he was meant to be at Hopkins. Like, this place existed for him alone. He was moderately friendly and a hell of a lot closed off. 

Once the tour started, they forgot the other existed and moved on with their lives. 

(until they ran into one another during freshmen orientation week a year later) 

Becca & Ethan 

tldr: basically their personalities don’t match up even if their big booky brains do. becca is too over-the-top for ethan, and he’s too reserved for her. 

I can see Becca and Ethan being in the same friend group adjacent. 

Ethan is a year older and the two of them had their first ‘class’ together when they were 11/12. 

It was one of those lunchtime get togethers with the school psychologist once a month for kids with home life issues. E&B were grouped in the newly divorced/separated parent luncheon. 

They didn’t really know one another but had to listen to the problems they were having at home. None of it really sank in because they were kids and what was said stayed in the safe space. They had this class together for a year because then Ethan went to the bigger school for 7th grade. 

They didn’t cross paths again until high school. 

Both nerdy and taking as many classes as they can to beef up their resumes and land as many college scholarships as possible. 

They had things in common - mostly it being their closest friends. His friend Jason dated one of Becca’s friends in 10th grade. That little union brought two groups of people together. 

Becca was loud and energetic and a manic handful at times, but she got laughs. Ethan wouldn’t hang out around her without the larger group, she was too much for him in one sitting outside of the classroom. He also noticed how she’d bounce around from people to people. 

Becca doesn’t mind Ethan. He’s quiet and snarky. She really admires him when he comes out of his shell and has one of his brilliant ideas - he doesn’t have them often, but when he doesn’t it’s always a laugh. He’s objectively attractive, and Rebecca certainly has a type. She just... doesn’t see this guy that way. 

Becca’s after a good time in her free time to outweigh the stressors of trying to be perfect at school. 

Ethan just wants high school to be over and never see these small minded people again. 

[soliverse]

winter promises - q.kn

pairing: gangster au!kun x student!reader

genre: angst, a tiny bit of fluff

warnings: mentions of violence, death, injury and bullying (they weren’t explicitly shown but they were mentioned by the characters. nothing too graphic or triggering.)

word count: 2323

ps: hello @strykiss​! I got chosen as your secret santa this year. I debated whether to post From Home or Winter Promises at the last minute but this was the fic that I promised you at my ask. Sorry it took a while :< I hope you liked it.

Winter Promises is a part of the Secret Santa Collab by @lucaswithnoshirt and @bumblebeenct. This is my very first collab and I’m thankful that you have let me be a part of it.

If you want to read the other fics created by the other amazing nct writers, just head over to @neoculturechristmas​ for the other secret santa entries.

networks: @nctcreations​ @kdiarynet @kpopscape

The harshness of the winter has never felt colder than today. Just a few weeks ago, you planned to visit your brother James and spend the rest of Christmas break together. Everything changed when you received a call from the police a few days ago. You almost broke down when they told you about your brother’s passing.

You lived in a different area from your brother because you had to go to school. All this time, you believed that your brother is a salesman. That’s how he was able to pay for college fees and living expenses. Little did you know, he was actually hiding a secret from you.

The police found his body after a gang fight. After a bit of an investigation, they discovered that your brother is actually a member of one of the notorious gangs in the area. He is one of the Guardias. They are people of the night, lurking in the shadows and can only be identified by the tattoo of a black wolf in their forearms. That explains why he wore those long sleeves all of the time whenever he visits, even when in the blistering heat. He just used the excuse that he had to look professional at all times

What’s worse about his death is you had no other living relatives. You were both orphans that got kicked out of the systems when you got older. Nobody attended his funeral but the priest and yourself.

You stood at the middle of the field alone, the cemetery wrapped in a think blanket of snow. You did nothing for the past few hours but stood there in front of his grave and stared blankly at his epitaph.

IN MEMORIAM

JAMES Y/L/N

March 31, 199x – December 20, 20xx

A LOVING BROTHER

Reading the engraved letters made you tear up again.

You just can’t believe that he had to die like this, that he had to lie to make you feel better. You wondered how much he had to suffer just seconds before he dies, recalling the horrible state of his body when they discovered him. Just thinking about it made you shake from anger and grief. It didn’t take long before you broke down and sat right next to the grave hugging your knees.

“Hey…”

You were interrupted by a concerned Kun. He pulled you towards him and wrapped his loving arms around you.

“Sorry for being late.”

You desperately needed someone that day and him coming meant the world to you. If there’s someone that will understand what you are currently going through, it would be him. Just like the two of you, he’s also alone because he had to study overseas. He had a brotherly bond with James, like he’s an extension of your brother. James would always tell Kun that he would be the one to take care of you while he’s gone. It’s safe to say that he still fulfilled that promise.

“I’m sorry you had to spend Christmas like this…”

Eventually, he took your hands to find a nearby bench that you can sit comfortably. He started patting your head and never let go of you until you stopped crying.

“I’ll be fine. Thank you for coming.”

He handed you a handkerchief from his pockets so you can wipe your tears away. His hand still remained your shoulders, patting it gently to calm you down.

“If it makes you feel any better, I got a gift for you.”

He started patting all over his winter coat and his pockets to look for something. Taking it out on one of his inner pockets, he pulled out a box wrapped with a tiny red bow on top. You opened it right away and there was a unique bracelet inside of it.

“Merry Christmas Y/N. I made a promise to James when he’s still alive...”

He took your hand and placed the bracelet in your palms.

“As long as you’re wearing this, James and I will always be with you…”

Your heart melted as he said this to you. You couldn’t help yourself but to hug him once again. His touch felt like summer on this cold, winter night.

///

About a few weeks passed by and your classes resumed once again. You used that supposed break to mourn over James and help yourself to get over from his loss. Kun had a part-time job to attend to, but he always made sure to check on you from time to time.

Wintertime still surrounded the area, but some people already took down their decorations and things went back to normal. As you skipped across the snowy road, you couldn’t help but stare at the thing that’s jingling in your right arm. You stopped on your tracks and held it up to the sky. Your eyes squinted, trying to look for something special in the bracelet that the Kun gave you for Christmas.

It was the single thing that made you smile every day. His words repeated in your head like a broken record and you can’t help but blush at the thought of it. You always this little crush on him even before, but his caring nature the past couple of weeks make your heart flutter even more. This made you unconsciously touch it. You raised your arm up to your eye level and you finally realized that the bracelet is held together by two wolves, one on each side of the bracelet. You wondered why this was the design that he chose, considering that it doesn’t look that girly. It was weird, but you just shrugged it off when you realized that you still have to walk to school.

///

You came just shy a few minutes before the class starts. The professor is still out of sight, so you bowed to greet everyone inside before you walk towards your desk. The class didn’t pay you any attention. It’s always been that way ever since you got admitted to the school. Making friends is hard when people judge you from the way that you dress or the life that you live in every day. You don’t get to wear nice cloths just like everybody else because you liked to save your money for things that are more important.

The other girls would roll their eyes out and point out how worn out your uniform looks or make gestures behind your back. It stayed that way for years, but you never had the guts to tell Kun or James. You have to be strong for yourself sometimes and just ignored their mockery.

You were taking out the textbooks from your bag when you overheard the other girls squealing excitedly at each other. One of them is your classmate Lilith. Everyone thinks she’s so cool because she has a gangster boyfriend that buys her expensive stuff. It’s probably another designer brand bag or something.

“It looks so pretty! Have you tried using it yet?”

You swear that you can sense Lilith’s condescending smirk even when your back is turned against her.

“I haven’t actually. But he said it’s suuuuppppeeeer expensive. Like, it’s worth more than anything he’s ever bought me. I can’t wait to use it at clubs tonight!”

She said in this exaggerated tone that you hate. She had this habit of making herself extra loud so that you’ll hear what she’s trying. You roll your eyes internally and just proceeded to open your notes and tried to recall the lessons that you had for the past few weeks.

“Are you sure? It doesn’t look that much…”

“Ugh…” She sounded so offended at her friend’s remark.

“This bracelet are only given to very special people. It means they are under the protection of the whole group. It means nobody is allowed to touch the very fiber of her being. I can basically do whatever I want and no one will stop me.”

Your hopes of concentrating on your lessons was completely thrown out of the window. At a desperate attempt to keep your sanity intact, you cupped both of your ears with your hands.

“Special, huh? Then why does Y/N have one too?”

“There’s no way…”

You yelped as you felt someone yank out your hand away from your head.

“What do you want, Lilith?”

She yanked it again towards her face and so she can get a better view of your right hand.

“Hey! Let me go!”

You tried grabbing your hand away from her at the same time that she lets go of your hand aggressively, the force sending you off to the floor.

“So, you got claimed too huh?”

You glared at her direction, but the bright red thing on her wrists caught your attention. It looked similar to your bracelet, the only difference being that it was red and the wolf was replaced with a silver dragon. It’s strikingly similar to the one you’re currently wearing.

“I wonder which lowlife scum you had to sleep with just so you can have one of those.”

She folded her arms and scoffed at your direction

“Of course. It had to be one of those filthy G-.”

A stern voice interrupted her from the front door.

“Watch your mouth, Lilith.”

The voice came from Kun, you looked incredibly pissed.

“Leave her alone. She just lost her brother.”

Lilith opened her mouth again but Kun just raised his eyebrows at her. His gaze seemed to be sending her a message that only the two of them can understand.

The stand-off have successfully shut Lilith down as she begrudgingly went back to her desk. The professor came right after, so Kun smiled sweetly at your direction before he sat down at his desk.

You got up from the floor and dusted the dirt off of your uniform, still completely oblivious at what just happened. It made you a bit more self-conscious now that everyone has their eyes on you. Thankfully, the professor caught everyone’s attention and your class proceeded as usual.

It didn’t take long before lunch break comes and the bell rang. As soon as the last professor left the door, everyone’s attention was back on you once again. You just sat there awkwardly as you waited for everyone to leave the classroom, not really sure what else to do about this situation.

Kun felt your uneasiness. He stood up from his chair and offered his hand to help you stand up from your chair. Your smile grew wider once again as you took his hand and you walked together to your usual place in the cafeteria.

The both of you took your seats and brought out your lunchbox with you. You took out your lunch, which was a simple meal composed of eggs, bacon and a cup of rice. When took out his containers, you remembered that your bestfriend is actually a bit of a masterchef. There were several varieties of home-cooked meals from his lunchbox. There are dumplings, warm chicken soup, and some of which you don’t even know the names of.

“I made extra so we can share...”

You can tell that there was extra care given to the meals that he made. This man just never fails to amaze you. Looking around the cafeteria, everyone felt the same way. Some of the other girls looked at you with what you can assume is jealousy written all over their faces.

“You know, the girls of this school hate me because they thought I’m your girlfriend right.” He laughed at your comment, his eyes completely disappearing from the stretch of his smile.

“If you’re actually dating me, then I’ll be the luckiest man alive.”

You felt heat coming up from your face, unsure if it was because of his laugh or the thing that he said. Instead of answering him, you took some of the fried rice that he made and stuffed your mouth to hide your embarrassment.

Time passed and you’re about to walk home as well. Kun called out your name and offered to walk you home. You felt some dirty glance being thrown away at your direction once again, but for once, you didn’t mind them.

“Just making sure got home safe.” He explained when you asked him on the way. It’s a sweet gesture from his part once again, but he’s been acting weird throughout the walk. His eyes kept on looking from left to right, as if he’s looking for something.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.”

He relaxed and his cheery self appeared in front of you once again.

As soon as you got inside your house and closed the door behind you, he started to walk along the snowy road. His uneasiness crept back in, looking left and right to make sure that no one is following him.

His whole demeanor changed as soon as he entered his territory. The apartment that you thought he’s staying in is actually the headquarters of a secret gang that’s meant to protect the whole city. Men lined up in his path, bowing at his presence. At his room, he took off layers of his winter clothing, finally revealing a secret that he’s also been hiding from you. It was a tattoo of a black wolf, only given to the elite members of Guardia.

He sat on his couch and grabbed his phone to dial someone’s number.

“Yes, boss?”

“Hey Xuxi, would you mind giving the Kids a call?”

“Sure. What for?”

“Tell Chan that one of his bitches is misbehaving…”

He rested his head and closed his eyes, reminded of how you were treated earlier by Lilith.

“If he doesn’t do anything about it, I will. Make that very clear to him, unless he wants me to break his other arm.”

“I’m on it, sir.”

The call dropped and his phone was now showing his wallpaper, a candid picture that he took without you knowing.

The other gangs have been becoming bold lately and have orchestrating attacks from left to right. Knowing them, he’s sure that they’ll be going after the next Guardia successor, you.

///

“Protect Y/N at all cost. It won’t take long before the world knows about her real identity.”

That is a promise that he’s willing to keep, even to his death.

[sunflower-swan]

Wolfstar Chapter 9

A/N: Here’s what you need to know: I created this story for Writer’s Month 2020. Every day is a new prompt, and therefore a new chapter. This is an AU Wolfstar where Remus is a tattoo artist next door to Sirius who manages a flower shop. James and Lily are alive in this universe and own a coffee shop across the street. And to make parts of the story work with the prompts, Remus is about 10 years older than Sirius. It also takes place more or less in present time, minus Covid-19.

This is chapter 9 of a multi-chapter work. If you’d like to start from the beginning, here is chapter 1.

Disclaimer: I don’t own these characters. I just like to play with them.

Day 9 Prompt: Illness

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 1514

Tags: language, angst, depression, suicidal thoughts, implied alcohol consumption

Chapter 9

Remus

The Rolling Stones, “Paint it Black”

I see a line of cars and they're all painted black

With flowers and my love, both never to come back

I see people turn their heads and quickly look away

Like a newborn baby, it just happens every day

In the days immediately following the rose tattoo, Sirius appeared to his friends to be getting along ok with the news of Silas’ death. Much better than anticipated, and this made them nervous. After the initial shock, he didn’t seem to have grieved at all. Instead he moved forward with life as though it hadn’t happened and nothing had changed. Remus was in the Potter’s Wheel, talking to James and Lily while he waited for Sirius to show up.

“He’s taking it too well,” James said.

“Why do you say that?” asked Remus.

“I remember when Regulus passed,” Lily whispered with wide eyes.

“Let’s just say, Sirius has a record of not handling death well. So I reckon it’s a matter of time before he breaks.”

The three shared a grim look, then the bell over the door dingled and in stumped Sirius who looked quite disheveled. His clothes looked like he had slept in them. His hair wasn’t pulled back like normal, it hung in shiny loose waves around his face.

“What did I tell you,” James said in an undertone.

“Hey, mate. What kept you?” Remus asked Sirius.

“Overslept.” Sirius shrugged and flopped down at their usual table.

Remus approached the table with caution and sat down. Sirius was resting his forehead on his arms which were resting on the table. Remus poked the top of his head.

“What?” Sirius snapped.

Remus was taken aback by his tone. “Hungry?”

“No.”

“Are you sure? When was the last time you ate anything?”

Sirius picked his head up. “What are you? My mother?”

Today was the first time in a few days Remus had seen his friend up close. He did not look well. His skin had taken a sickly grey tinge, and he had massive dark bags under his eyes.

“Sirius,” Remus murmured, “have you been sleeping lately?”

He could see Sirius muscles tense. “What’s with the interrogation?”

Remus held his hands up in surrender. “Sorry. Just looking out for my best friend. You did just have someone close to you pass away. Whatever you’re feeling is normal and ok. I just want to help you, if that’s what you need.”

The stoney expression melted into one of sadness and regret. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m just...I don’t even know.” Sirius looked away and ran a hand through his unkempt hair. “I need to get to the shop.” He stood up and let himself out without a backward glance.

There was nothing Remus could do except watch him walk out the door. He sat there, stunned by what had just transpired until Lily laid a soft hand on his shoulder.

“Keep an eye on him, Remus,” she said.

~~~~~

Over the next couple days, neither Sirius' mood, nor his appearance improved. If anything, they deteriorated. His eyes took on a red, blood-shot look. His clothes appeared looser, as though he wasn’t eating anything at all. He carried an intense apathy around with him everywhere he went.

“I’m worried about Sirius,” Lily said one morning at the coffee shop.

“Me, too,” Remus agreed. “But what are we supposed to do if he bites our heads off anytime we try to help him?”

“I’ve known Sirius a long time, but I’ve never seen him like this,” James added.

The three stood in contemplative silence. 

Remus looked at the time, and his stomach dropped. “He’s really late today. Maybe he went straight to the flower shop?” He looked at James and Lily, both had furrowed brows. “I’ll go check.”

He strode across the street, hoping to find Sirius there. A couple employees looked up at him when he entered the door.

“He’s not here,” one of them said. “If you’re looking for Sirius that is. Haven’t seen or heard anything from him since he stormed out yesterday afternoon.”

A million scenarios rushed through Remus’ mind all at once, each more outlandish than the last, of what could have befallen Sirius. Trampled by a stampeding hippogriff. Bit by a basilisk. Burned alive by a dragon. Pecked to death by a phoenix. He turned on his heels and ran back to the coffee shop.

“No one has seen or heard from him since yesterday afternoon,” Remus said between breaths. “I’m going to go check his flat. Lily, will you sit over at the Tattoo Lounge while I’m gone? If anyone shows up, write down their information and tell them I’ll contact them later.”

Lily nodded, wide eyed. “Ok.”

With that confirmation, Remus rushed to the alley apparition spot.

~~~~~

Remus hastened toward Sirius flat. As he drew closer, he heard guitar playing and singing coming from an open window. At least I know he’s alive. He rang the doorbell and the playing stopped for a moment, only to resume again. He rang the doorbell again, but the playing didn’t even stop this time. Bastard. So Remus began to pound on the door with his fists.

“Sirius Black! Open up this door, damn it!”

He heard the lock click, and the door swung open an inch. Remus let himself in and slammed the door behind him. Damn, git, he thought as he climbed the stairs two at a time. When he reached the sitting room, the sight and smell was enough to knock him over. The odor emitted from the room was an overwhelming combination of stale sweat and alcohol.

Sirius was perched on the couch with his guitar. He appeared to have not showered or shaved in a week. A plethora of empty firewhisky bottles lay scattered about the floor. The entire room was in disarray, with items smashed and broken.

He leaned his head against the body of the guitar as he sang, “I see a red door and I want it painted black...No colors anymore, I want them to turn black...I see the girls walk by dressed in their summer clothes...I have to turn my head until my darkness goes…” Then he began to hum.

Remus covered his nose and mouth with his palm to mitigate the smell from making him want to vomit, and took a tentative step into the room. Attempting to not inhale too deep, he made his way to a chair and sat down. He watched Sirius.

The man before him was not taking care of himself. The man before him was a shell of the Sirius he knew. His shell had cracked when he first read that letter, but now the cracks were chasms. Remus knew how it felt to feel so broken, and feel as though the pieces would never come together again. Knowing this, he also knew he had to help Sirius, whether Sirius thought he needed help or not.

Suddenly, Sirius jumped off the couch. Remus' heart pounded at his sudden movement. Sirius began strumming with abandon, and singing at the top of his lungs. More like yelling, Remus thought.

“I wanna see it painted, painted black...Black as night, black as coal...I wanna see the sun, blotted out from the sky...I wanna see it painted, painted, painted, painted black…”

And then, Sirius broke. Remus watched his friend drop the guitar and sink to his knees as sobs wracked his body. He leaned forward perhaps to comfort Sirius, but he didn’t know what to say or do. Hesitantly, he moved to the floor and scooted toward Sirius. When Sirius didn’t flinch or move away, he moved the guitar out of the way, and held him in his arms until Sirius breathing returned to normal.

Sirius' voice cracked. “Sometimes I wish I could just fall asleep and never wake up.”

“It’s going to be ok,” was all Remus could say. But he said it over, and over. He wasn’t sure if he was trying to convince himself or Sirius.

Eventually, Remus convinced Sirius to sit up and talk to him.

“Whatever you’re feeling is normal and natural,” Remus said to him. “Your friends are worried about you, and you’re not letting us help you by shutting us out.”

Sirius nodded and looked at Remus through red-rimmed eyes. “I know,” he whispered. “It hurts so bad though. How do I get through this?”

Remus took a deep steadying breath. “One day at a time,” he replied. “Let’s start with a shower.”

While Sirius was in the shower, Remus took it upon himself to clean up the flat a little bit. A few Scourgify spells later, and it was looking and smelling a lot better. As was Sirius who emerged from the bathroom later, wrapped in a towel. 

He padded into his bedroom, and emerged again in clean clothes. He held his hands out to his sides and offered a sad smile to Remus. “How do I look?”

“Much better. I have to get back to the tattoo shop, I left Lily watching it while I was gone. If you don’t feel up to going to work today, then you are welcome to hang out with me.”

“Anything is probably better than wallowing around by myself, right?” Sirius raised an eyebrow.

A/N: I have complicated feelings about this chapter. It was simultaneously easy, and hard, and cathartic to write and edit. It was easy in that the words just flew onto the page, like, they were already inside me begging to come out. And I’m not going to think too deeply on why that may be, that’s a job for a licensed professional. It was hard because putting myself in that headspace was...painful, to be honest. And it was cathartic because when I finished, I sat back and let out a breath...and I might have cried a little...but it was like, I felt lighter. A friend told me once that writers write what they know...I guess I know the darkness more than I’d like to admit.

Next Chapter: Chapter 10

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[resumeheros]

[rilakoya]

No Place Like Home

A Perspective! and Reality!AU

Word Count: 2.2K

Warnings: Raw honesty and social justice themes

A/N: Personal experiences ahead. I call it an AU because sometimes we’re so into escapism that reality feels like the fantasy. 

6:20 pm

“OMG, social media is so dead today!”

It’s Tuesday after the protests have begun, and my roommate is bitching and demanding his privilege. I like to believe that he means well, but he’s also a diva, and complaints are his forte.

“Well, it’s Blackout Tuesday-” I begin, but he cuts me off, eager to make his point, true to form.

“No, look, I get it. Really I do. But all I keep seeing is a black screen. I keep my phone on dark mode for a reason. I don’t want to have to keep downloading games because I need something to occupy my time today.”

Need. That’s definitely a feeling I’m familiar with. I need a sense of false security in order to leave my house and interact with others in a way that meets social expectations. I need a keen sense of self and social awareness and nimble cultural reflexes in order to ensure that I’m not perceived as angry or bitter in my responses to the way the world treats me. So what if I actually am, in fact, angry. Society has taught me that it deems my anger irrelevant, unworthy of notice, and I have been conditioned to recognize that showing it doesn’t get me what I want or need. Which makes me think again about my roommate’s commentary. He needs social media to be more lively, despite the fact that entire people groups are protesting unjust and inhumane treatment. And I need hope that my brothers won’t occupy body bags simply because they exist today.

I guess each person has their own struggles.

I’m a fiction writer. And at the risk of sounding boastful, I’m pretty good at it. But that’s just because good fiction requires a healthy dose of imagination, and I’m a master.

I have to be.

Every day since I was a little girl, I wake up and imagine that the fair rules of engagement apply to me. I imagine that I may expect the same level of courtesy and respect as my fairer-skinned counterparts.

In school, when my teachers would unspokenly expect me to work twice as hard to receive the same level of acceptance, I imagined that they did the same with all the children. When my scores indicated that I was a highly gifted student, multiple grade levels above my peers, but was frequently accused of cheating, plagiarism, and other forms of academic dishonesty because my superiors were unable or unwilling to accept that a little black girl could have possibly produced such results, I imagined a world where education systems were tailored to students and where teachers and administrators saw the value in children rather than just their preconceived notions about them because of the color of their skin.

When people granted me interviews because of the “normal” name on my resume and the professionally “white” sound of my voice, only to thank me after minimal interviews and promise to call once they saw me, I imagined that they recognized that my professional experience and qualifications were worth more than the wage that their budget permitted, instead of acknowledging that they often chose to hire someone who was less qualified but whiter than me, and when they paid said person more, I imagined that I probably wouldn’t have enjoyed doing that type of job anyway or working at that company anyway. Even though it was the same at many companies.

When people tell me that I am “pretty for a Black girl,” or “too pretty to ‘just’ be Black,” as though being Black isn’t already the most blessed form in creation, I imagine that what they’re really saying is, “you’re so fucking gorgeous that I don’t even know how to compliment you properly, so please forgive me while I babble like a moron and potentially insult you. I’m so awestruck that I just can’t help myself.”

I wrote my first smut during one of many unjust police stops, when the only purpose of the detainment was to harass me and remind me who was in control. I imagined that it was really a sexy roleplay and that I liked it. And when the trauma and anxiety of constantly wondering if I’m about to be stopped once again for Driving While Black threaten to be too much, I imagine that I’m really just in my house, writing it all down for a story. Even though the stories carry too much shame for me to comfortably share. I imagine that’s all just part of the process.

When I interact with the world, and no matter what, am told that I’m either “too much” or “not enough,” sometimes both at the same time, I imagine that what they’re really saying is that because I originate from the beginnings of creation, because I have both the secrets of the Earth and royalty in my blood, I don’t fit the mold, and they don’t know how to process my greatness. And this enables me to smile when I feel like shattering into a million pieces, when I’m reminded of how I don’t meet the social standard, how I don’t fit in.

Most of all, every day I imagine what it would be like to feel like I truly have a place on this vast Earth that I can safely call home. Home is where we are safe, where we are welcomed, where we belong.

I was born in Germany, but I don’t belong there.

I’ve lived in Mexico and Guatemala, but it’s not safe for me there.

Some of my ancestors were from Africa, but it’s a large continent, made up of many countries, all foreign to me because of cultural eradication, so I could visit, but really I don’t belong there.

My forebears were brought to the Americas as slaves, worked like dogs, and treated as less than animals, and although early settlers were considered “Americans” relatively quickly, after four centuries, I still don’t belong here.

I’m not even 40, but I was born during the Cold War, in a country that has successfully recovered from antisemitism, but not from antiblack sentiment.

Both of my parents were born before the Civil Rights Act was passed, in the middle of the Civils Rights Movement.

My grandparents were born near the end of the Great Depression and lived under Jim Crow law. My grandparents. The ones who told me stories while holding me on their knees, the ones who spent their lives sweating and striving for me to have better.

My grandma’s grandma was a slave. My dad remembers an aunt (a great-aunt) coming to his school in elementary to talk about the fact that she had been born a slave.

I think that people forget that it wasn’t that long ago, forget that the tyranny and oppression has gone on for so long.

They forget that Europeans have been enslaving Africans since the 15th century. For those who hated school, that means the 1400s. Slaves were brought to the Americas as early as 1503. The only reason we didn’t reach the country we now call the U.S. until the early 1600s was because it took England that long to decide to colonize the area.

They forget that in my great-great-grandparents’ time, in my great-grandparents’ time, in my grandparents’ time, at the time my parents were born, I could have been beaten, raped, falsely accused, cheated, ignored, taken advantage of, or killed just for the color of my skin.

They forget that, 401 years later, 155 years after the Civil War, 157 years after the Emancipation Proclamation, 152 years after the 14th Amendment, 57 years after MLK marched, 56 years after the Civil Rights Act was passed, nothing has changed.

They forget that it is our American right to speak out, to decry our oppression.

The First Amendment says that we have the right to freedom of speech and press, that we have the right to peaceably assemble and ask the government for a solution to our complaints of unfair treatment. But we are silenced, gassed when we protest peacefully, and our cries for justice have been ignored for generations.

The Second Amendment says that the right of the people to keep and bear arms shall not be infringed. Yet time after time, legally armed, law-abiding Blacks are arrested or shot just for being a person of color in possession of a gun, while white gun owners can brandish their weapons freely without fear of being shot or unjustly detained.

The Fourth Amendment says that citizens may not be subject to unreasonable search and seizure. It’s where the concept of a search warrant comes from. Yet Blacks and other people of color have been subject to racial profiling and racially motivated searches, frisking, and seizure of property for as long as we have been citizens of this country.

The Sixth Amendment says that citizens have the right to a public and speedy trial, by an impartial jury, to know what we’re being accused of, to be confronted by the witnesses against us, and to have the opportunity to gain witnesses in our favor, and to have the right to an attorney in our defense. This is one of the biggest jokes. People of color remain in cells for weeks and months before trial, and are often coerced into plea bargains for crimes they didn’t commit in the first place, just so they can get out of jail sooner rather than run the risk of being remaining in jail for months, only to face a courtroom that is predisposed against you because of stereotypes and shady police records, with a public defender that is overworked at best and disinterested or corrupt at worst, resulting in extremely long sentencing with little to no account for the time the individual has already been incarcerated, seemingly as a penalty for refusing to take the fall and essentially “wasting people’s time”.

The Eighth Amendment says that “excessive bail shall not be required, nor excessive fines imposed, nor cruel and unusual punishments inflicted.” I could laugh if it weren’t such a blatant lie. Bail is disproportionately higher for people of color than for whites, as are the fines, and while cruel and unusual punishments may be subjective, I would argue that legalized slavery for a criminal population that is disproportionately comprised of Blacks and people of color AND murder by law enforcement before even reaching a judge BOTH qualify as cruel and unusual, particularly since it’s extremely notable how many white people, even accused or convicted of especially heinous crimes do not meet this fate, while a Black person could do so for merely moving wrong during a traffic stop.

The Thirteenth Amendment abolished slavery and involuntary servitude except as a punishment for crime. However, the only thing this changed for Blacks was the beginnings of racially motivated mass incarceration, starting from 1865 until the present.

The Fourteenth Amendment says that anyone born or naturalized in the United States is a citizen of the USA.  It also says that “no State shall make or enforce any law which shall abridge the privileges or immunities of citizens of the United States; nor shall any State deprive any person of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law; nor deny to any person within its jurisdiction the equal protection of the laws.”

There are 20 other Amendments as of 2020, but this Amendment alone is the root of the problem. Black Americans are just that- Americans, and yet, we are DENIED equal protection under the law. We are DEPRIVED OF LIFE, LIBERTY AND PROPERTY, without due process of law.

But people seem to forget that Blacks are American citizens, too. And so, they seek to preserve their peace and forget to care.

So, as I turn up my headphones to tune out my roommate’s irritatingly ironic assertions of oppression, I turn my attention to the places where I have a voice, to remind people that this movement is more than just a lofty idea or the overreaction of a group of people that’s too sensitive or hung up on the past. I remind them that the problem is that the actions and attitudes, the injustices and imbalanced systems are still happening NOW, in the present, mid-2020. That’s why we can’t stay silent. Why no one can. I use my influence to remind the world what those who came before me died to obtain:

“We will have to repent in this generation not merely for the hateful words and actions of the bad people, but for the appalling silence of the good people. Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere. The Negro's great stumbling block in the stride toward freedom is not the [blatant racist or the white supremacist] but the white moderate who is more devoted to order than to justice; who prefers a negative peace which is the absence of tension to a positive peace which is the presence of justice. Freedom is never voluntarily given by the oppressor; it must be demanded by the oppressed.”

- Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., excerpted out of order from sections of a letter from Birmingham Jail, Alabama, 16 April 1963

I remind those who care to listen that I exist in this world, hated and unwelcome. My very existence is one of danger and risk, especially if I choose to be myself. For me, there is no place like home.

I remind the world that I can’t breathe, and that for me that’s not just a catchphrase; it’s not just a concept to use for merit mongering or fitting in. It’s the fear that chokes me, the anxiety that suffocates my hopes and dreams. For me, it’s a reality.

[imagineclaireandjamie]

anonymous asked: we know Claire usually just becomes more determined if someone tells her she isn't good enough to do something, but what if someone finally tells her something she's truly affected by? How do she and Jamie react / deal with it?

--

Modern Glasgow AU

Jamie turned off the screaming kettle and carefully poured hot water over a fresh teabag. Turning an idea over and over in his mind – how to pitch Lord John Grey’s three-book proposal to Rupert MacKenzie, his boss at Leoch Editions.

 John was a nice enough guy. His family had more money than God, and rather than be yet another bored member of the aristocracy, he’d decided to become something of an amateur historian, focusing on daily life in Britain during the Second World War. Three books he wanted to write – one about the children sent into the countryside for their safety, one about women on the home front while their men fought in Italy and North Africa and the Pacific, and the last about day-to-day life and survival in the midst of the Blitz.

 The man had fantastic ideas, to be sure – but his resume was terribly slim, just a few articles in cigar and hunting magazines. Jamie was convinced that John had what it took to focus and become a big-name writer. He just needed to convince Rupert.

 Which was why he had stayed home today – needing the peace and quiet of the flat to just mull it over and concentrate. He had one shot to pitch John – to help the eager man gain a foothold in his future. And he had to do it right.

 And with almost-two-year-old Faith and seven-month-old Bree dropped off at Murtagh’s flat for the day, Jamie and Claire’s flat was suspiciously quiet.

 Jamie sat back down at the kitchen table, steaming mug of tea in hand –

 - to watch his distraught wife crash through the front door, tears streaming down her face.

 Within a breath he was beside her. Catching her as she collapsed into him.

 “Claire! Are ye well? The bairn – ”

 Protectively his hand cupped the small two-month swell of their third baby.

 She shook her head against his neck, gripping him for dear life in the doorway.

 Not the bairn, then. But what? She’d left extra early this morning…

 “Did ye lose the patient, Claire?”

 She stiffened and pulled back a bit, red-rimmed eyes – still so beautiful – meeting his.

 “I made such a stupid mistake. Thank God I caught it myself – but everyone in the operating theater knew.”

 Gently he stroked her cheek. Thumbed away her tears. “Well, that’s all right, then – isn’t it? It’s no’ like ye havena made mistakes before.”

 She sniffed. “No – but not when Dr. Fentiman was in the room with me.”

 Jamie bristled. Dr. Fentiman had the best reputation at the hospital – perhaps even in all of Glasgow – for his experience and skill with open-heart surgery. He had healed everyone, from common people all the way up to celebrities and members of the nobility. He was one of the reasons why Claire had elected to stay in her position at that hospital, after her medical training concluded.

 The fact that he was almost unbearably misogynistic was the dirty secret that too many people seemed to happily sweep under the carpet.

 Claire had taken it upon herself to begin a secret diary, writing down specific dates and times when she had personally heard – or other female doctors and nurses and staff had heard – the doctor say incredibly demeaning things about his female patients, his female colleagues – anybody female in general.

 She cleared her throat. “I made an obvious but easily fixable mistake. I identified it right away, and announced it to the room. Along with my recommended course of action.”

 Jamie waited. Squeezed her hands.

 “He was coldly professional. And after I announced my recommendation, he just shrugged, and looked at me across the patient, and said, ‘Well, that must be what happens when “mommy brain” gets the best of you.”

 Fire rose within Jamie’s heart and limbs.

 “How dare he?” he hissed.

 Claire swallowed. “I was so flabbergasted – but the other people in the operating theater, they just carried on like nothing had happened. I had to work so hard to control myself to focus, to not be distracted for the sake of the patient.” She closed her eyes. “How does he always know what to say, to cut someone right to the quick?”

 “Are ye bringing up this nonsense again, Claire, about how ye fear ye canna be a good mother and work at the same time?” Jamie’s voice rose with passion. “Because if ye are telling me that that…ape of a man has brought all this crap back up again…”

 “I can’t help that I think of the girls, and this new baby, all the time. They and you are what’s most important to me.” Her voice sounded so far away, eyes still shut tight against the world. “You know I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, with this new baby on the way. How to balance it all. Whether I should be spending so much time helping other people rather than being with my own children.”

 Jamie set his jaw, wanting so badly to stop it – but patiently, silently, he let her speak.

 “And you know how I feel I’ve become more absent-minded since Faith was born. Christ, Jamie, we both can’t sleep at night just worrying about all of them sometimes. And now with this one, we need to move, and how will we be able to afford everything, and what if the birth doesn’t go well this time, and – ”

 “Are ye done beating yerself, Claire?”

 She sighed deeply. Almost resigned.

 “Will ye please look at me, mo nighean donn?”

 She did.

 He cupped her cheeks in his hands. Eyes boring into her.

 “I understand why ye feel the way ye do. We wanted our bairns for so long, didn’t we?”

 She hiccupped, and nodded.

 “They are well. They are more than well. They have so much love and support from the two of us, and Murtagh, and Jenny and Ian and everyone else. We have so many people who want to help us be successful, Claire.”

 “I know,” she sighed.

 “And please don’t get on about being lacking as a mother. Those girls love you more than anything.” He pushed up her shirt and lay his hand on the bare skin of her belly. “And this bairn too – think of all the precautions you’ve already taken to make sure the bairn is safe.”

 She swallowed. Eyes still bright with tears.

 “Do not let that bastard ever make you doubt yourself or your abilities. Can ye just stop for one second and reflect on everything you’ve been able to accomplish?”

 “I know. I know, Jamie. It’s hard to not get tunnel vision sometimes.”

 “Oh, love, I know.” He gathered her close to him, hand still on her belly. “Never doubt yourself. It kills me to see you doubt yourself.”

 “I love you,” she whispered against his skin.

 “Christ, Claire, how I love you.” He squeezed her so tight. “May I take ye to bed now? Just to show you? And to help you just let it all out?”

 She wrapped her legs around his middle.

 He bolted the front door and carried her to their bedroom.

 Sometime later they lay naked on their bed.

 Claire had thrown her left arm over her eyes, wanting to shut out the world and just feel the aftershocks of the mad, passionate, affirming love they’d made.

 Jamie had done yeoman’s work to help her let out all the anger and frustration and tension. Now he turned his head a bit and rested it on her hip, catching his breath, watching her body deliciously quiver and shake.

 “Are ye sure you’re only nine weeks along? Your belly was a bit smaller at this point, the last two times.”

 Feebly Claire groped with her other hand for an anchor on the bed – and she dug her fingers into Jamie’s hair, pushing him back. She felt his chuckle against her.

 And finally, finally he – she – needed a wee rest. Jamie scooted up the mattress, kissed her belly, and rested his head beside hers on the pillow, watching her sleepily smile at him.

 “Better?” he whispered.

 She sighed, so happy. “I’m going to take my notebook to Personnel. Get his ass fired.”

 Jamie grinned. “Good. You should.”

 She rubbed her nose against his. “You make me feel so powerful.”

 He shifted his body closer. Pressing his chest to hers. Darting a hand back between her legs as she threw one leg over his hips.

 “It’s because you are powerful, Claire. You have so much power within you.” He kissed her long and deep.

 “The power to heal.” Kiss.

 “The power to forgive.” Kiss.

 “The power to create life.” Kiss.

 “The power to love.”

 She laughed, and rolled him onto his back, and rose above him, and rejoiced.

[allureofcrimemurdermystery]

*~ Mysterious Disappearances ~*

Today we have three different people who disappeared never to be heard from again or until their bodies were discovered. TW; dead body image attached to Number two.

1. Frederick McDonald

On April 15, 1926, former Australian MP Frederick McDonald disappeared and was never seen again. His body was never found, but a suicide note was. No one was ever questioned about or charged with the disappearance, but one person frequently receives the finger of suspicion—Thomas John Ley.

Ley became a member of Australia’s federal parliament in 1925, and his ambition was matched only by his reputation as an awful person. Shortly after he gained his federal seat, he was investigated for bribery, having apparently offered McDonald AUS$2,000 to back out of the next election. Then, before the hearing, McDonald apparently decided to kill himself.

Another of Ley’s enemies, Hyman Goldstein, “committed suicide” by throwing himself off a cliff in 1928. Goldstein was another MP who had been tricked into investing in a scam company set up by Ley. Goldstein set up a committee to investigate his fellow politician, but before the investigation could take place, Goldstein’s body was being dragged out of the sea by a fishing trawler.

Ley’s willingness to murder was proven in 1946, by which point he had moved to England. He’d become convinced that his mistress was having an affair with a young barman named John Mudie, so he had Mudie strangled and dumped in a chalk pit. Ley was convicted and died of a stroke after one year in a hospital for the criminally insane. It’s likely that he took the secret of McDonald’s fate with him.

2. Julia Wallace

The 1931 murder of Julia Wallace in Liverpool has fascinated British crime writers for decades. It’s been called an unparalleled mystery that compares only to the infamous murders perpetrated by Jack the Ripper.

On January 20, 1931, a man calling himself R.M. Qualtrough called Liverpool Central Chess Club with a message for one of its members, William Herbert Wallace. The club’s secretary took the call and passed on the request for Wallace to go to 25 Menlove Gardens East the following evening. Wallace worked as an insurance agent, so such things weren’t particularly unusual.

When Wallace got to the area the following evening and tried to find the road, he found that there was a North, a South, and a West Menlove Garden but no East. Assuming someone had played a prank, he made his way back home, where he found his wife brutally murdered in the living room.

William Wallace was convicted of the murder, but the verdict was overturned after an appeal. Two other suspects have been considered. One was 22-year-old Richard Parry, who’d lost his job working for Prudential Insurance when William Wallace caught him fudging the books. Another was Joseph Marsden. Julia Wallace had been paying Marsden for sex, a fact he wanted to keep secret as he was about to marry into a wealthy family.

Several books have been written about the murder, and each new writer has been convinced that they may have solved it, but unfortunately none of them actually agree on the outcome.

3. Laetitia Toureaux

When Laetitia Nourrissat Toureaux boarded a metro that left Porte de Charenton station in Paris at 6:27 one evening in May 1937, she was the only person in the first-class carriage. When it pulled into the next station just a minute later, three people boarded through the doors on both ends of the carriage. Toureaux was still the only person there, but now she was slumped forward with a dagger protruding from her neck.

It’s partly the impossibility of the murder that makes Toureaux’s death so fascinating, but she also lived an unusual life. By day, the Italian widow worked in a glue factory. At night, she frequented seedy nightclubs and worked as a surveillance and message-delivery specialist for a private detective agency. This eventually led to her becoming a paid informant for the Parisian police, a position that definitely came with enemies.

She is also believed to have been having an affair with Gabriel Jeantet, a prominent right-wing journalist. Jeantet was also an arms smuggler for the most powerful underground organization in Paris at the time, a terrorist group called the Comite secret d’action revolutionnaire. Their nickname was the Cagoule, literally “hooded,” as they wore hoods to protect their identities.

The group was funded by the city’s social and financial elite, and it waged a campaign of terror in an attempt to break trade unions and other left-leaning organizations. They were responsible for seven confirmed murders, two bombings, and the formation of a militia. They even stockpiled weapons and built an underground prison.

In 1937, two members of the group were placed under interrogation. They claimed that Toureaux’s murder had been committed by their chief assassin, Jean Filliol. One of the men later changed his story, and the other man had been beaten prior to giving the information, so it’s hard to be certain how much they actually knew.

In any case, World War II soon put a halt to the investigation, and by the mid-1940s, Filliol had fled to Spain. Other rumors suggest that Toureaux was killed because she knew too much about a plot involving Mussolini, as the dagger-in-the-neck technique was popular with professional assassins from Italy. By the time police were in a position to resume their investigation, there were too many obstacles in their way, leaving Toureaux’s murder a mystery to this day.

[imyourliquor-youremypoison]

A Girl’s Best Friend (Peter Parker x OC) - Part 1

Synopsis: Diamonds are man’s best friend- or dogs are girls’ best friends, wait... how does the saying go again?

Warnings: Family issues; Peter has a crush and it’s complicated; mention of assault; good dogs; College AU; aged up! characters; TONY STARK IS ALIVE AND WE ALL LIVE IN A HAPPY PLACE CALLED DENIAL

A/N: In this story, Peter has Tom’s dog, Tessa.

Word count: 1.5k

>>> Part 2

MASTERLIST

                Today was blood donation day, the Red Cross invested one of the faculty’s buildings this morning, turning it into a momentary blood bank. About half the student body decided to do the right thing and donate, and so the line was longer than the meet’n’greet line at the San Diego Comic Con Peter attended last year.

                And he couldn’t even donate his blood! Unless he wanted to have a Spider-Sidekick turn up one day, Tony had strongly advised him to stay clear of needles outside of his lab. No, Peter Parker stood in this endless line to keep company to Ned, who was afraid of needles but wanted to donate still because he had told a girl he liked that he would.

                Peter was half convinced they would still be standing there tomorrow. He should have brought a tent and something to eat. A least something to do. Luckily Ned nervous-babbled to keep his mind busy, or Peter might have fallen asleep while standing – last night’s mission had lasted longer than planned and he hadn’t had as much sleep as a college student would hope for.

“Hey, it’s my turn next,” Ned told him, nudging him in the ribs and waking Peter from his little snooze.

                And sure enough, they stood right next to the doctor’s little desk. Five doctors had set up their desks behind large panels as if those guaranteed any intimacy at all. Peter recognized the girl sitting in the chair at the nearest desk as one of his fellow classmates. He only knew her first name, or rather, her nickname. She didn’t look like she had any close friends, but most people called her Em. So, Emily, or Emma, he guessed.

                He briefly wondered why this girl always kept to herself. She was always well put together, he had never heard her say something off, she didn’t smell weird, and he had no reason to think she wasn’t intelligent. Then again, she must have her reasons, and whatever they were, they were none of his business.

                Okay, so, maybe he did notice her because he thought she was pretty, but that was it, and it still didn’t make it his business.

                A part of him knew it wasn’t nice to eavesdrop, but Peter was bored out of his mind and he had no ill intention, it was just plain curiosity. Ned had finally stopped talking his ears off, therefore nothing stopped him from listening.

“Name and date of birth please,” the doctor asked, his voice as toneless as expected after a day of saying the same thing over and over again.

“Emmeline Gerard, April 1st 1996,” she answered just as flatly.

                Not Emily or Emma then, well… Peter didn’t think too hard about it, but the doctor seemed to pause and the young woman momentarily gained his full attention as his eyes switched between her and the application form in his hand.

“Yes, I’m his daughter,” she snapped, clearly having been there and done that before.

The doctor hadn’t even asked anything, but Peter guessed the question was obvious – the man must know her father, whoever he was. A fellow practitioner maybe? He didn’t even know why he cared, but this was the most thrilling interaction he had witnessed today.

The doctor shook his head and resumed his questions.

“Did you eat and drink something before coming? Do you feel ready to donate blood?”

                Peter’s attention dwindled from then on, until she was almost done.

“Any medical history in your family?”

“I wouldn’t know, I’ve never met them,” she quipped, sending the old man a clipped smile that showed nothing but restrained annoyance. “I’m adopted.”

                Upon hearing that, Peter turned cherry red. He shouldn’t have been listening in on that doctor-patient conversation. Yet, he felt oddly drawn to her after hearing that she was an orphan like him. Sure, she had been adopted and her father was apparently someone of importance, but still, it tugged at Peter’s heartstrings.

                 Her one on one with the doctor quickly came to an end, but he didn’t let her go without a final word.

“Please tell your father I wish him the best of luck for the election to come!” he called just as the young woman grabbed her bag and stood up to leave.

                She froze, put her bag on her shoulder, clutching at the strap so hard Peter thought she must have been picturing the doctor’s neck in its stead, and she smiled. The smile was wrong, it had something off.

“I will. Good day, doctor.”

                Peter knew, by the sound of her voice and the way her smile immediately dropped when she turned around, that she would never, not even in a million years, tell her father. She walked around the panel and nearly bumped right into him.

“Oh, sorry, I-“ Peter started, feeling as though he had been caught red handed doing something bad. This was the first time he even opened his mouth in her presence.

“Oh great! You heard everything, now didn’t you?!” she snapped, clearly mad though he wasn’t convinced it was entirely his fault. That conversation must have rubbed her the wrong way. “God fucking dammit,” she cursed. “Well, go on, it’s your turn!”

                She stood slightly aside to tell him in so she could walk out but Peter only stood there awkwardly, hands in his pockets.

“I-I’m not donating, I’m just here with-“ He had barely gestured towards Ned, who now watched the two, before she cut him off.

“Even better! Out of my way, then.”

She pushed him aside, elbowing her way out of the little crowd that had formed around the door so she could go to the next stall where she’d finally make that donation, now that all the formalities were over.

“Who was that?” Ned asked Peter, watching the enraged girl stride away, her angry vibes making people step out of her way.

“Emmeline Gerard,” Peter answered offhandedly, eyes not leaving her form until she was out of sight. Ned simply frowned because her name meant nothing to him, but he didn’t get the time to ask any further questions.

“Next!” the doctor called, and Ned stepped in, leaving Peter to stand in the hallway with the hundred other people waiting there.

                He made a mental note to look her up tonight.

  *

  “Can you believe this? I can’t even talk to a doctor without hearing about my father!” she ranted, making angry hand gestures while Bella watched on, titling her head to the left. “You’d think a doctor would be a little more professional than that! Bringing politics into a medical consultation, ugh!” she groaned, finally seeming to calm down a little.

                She had been chewing on her tongue all day, biting off harsh remarks whenever somebody dared look her way. That poor boy she lashed out on this morning! He looked vaguely familiar; she must have a class with him – she would have to apologize if she saw him then.

“I just-“ she started, glancing at Bella who walked beside her. “I’m so sick of only being somebody’s daughter.”

                Bella’s ears perked up and she looked up at Emmeline, her big brown eyes full of questions.

“Of course, you don’t understand my problems, do you?” She knelt down and scratched Bella’s ears, watching her tail wag now that she had her owner’s full attention. “Your only concern in life is when you’ll next have to go to the vet.”

                The sun was setting now, the last orange rays filtering between New York City’s buildings. Her walks in Central Park with Bella were supposed to be a moment of relaxation – not a moment to scare the kids hanging there with her grumbling. Most must think her crazy for ranting at her dog.

                But Bella didn’t mind – at least Emmeline thought so – and she couldn’t give less of a crap what people thought of her. Her father would; in fact, her father gave many craps what people thought of him and, by extension, his family. Emmeline had never liked the word family, it just never made sense to her. She was born and immediately abandoned and then she was placed into the arms of another set of parents whose love never left right.

“Thank you for listening, Bel,” she told the happy dog who waited for her to unhook the leash so she could run around for a bit.

                Pitbulls were considered dangerous dogs and Bella had to wear a muzzle every time they went out – it broke Emmeline’s heart but it was the law. She couldn’t play fetch with her like this, but at least she could play with other dogs in the park. A lot of them already knew each other, and Emmeline waved at an old lady who walked her labradoodle, Sir Henry.

                She watched them run in circles for a while.

“I can’t speak about this with anyone else,” she muttered to herself, eyes never leaving her dog. “Who would pity the beloved mayor of New York’s daughter? I’m supposed to be the luckiest girl in the city.”

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Reblog to save a writer

Comment if you wanna be tagged!

[magioftheseas]

Nekomaru & Yasuke

Summary: Nidai Nekomaru’s FTEs in the SDR2 Protagonist Matsuda Yasuke AU. Yep. It’s about half-and-half I think.

Rating: PG

Warnings: Language and references to hospitals. Because. Matsuda.

Notes: So I decided to write more FTEs just for like, the fun of it. And I felt like I should at least write them for a male character and Nidai was my pick because I’m actually pretty invested in the potential for Nidai/Matsuda. Nidai is also super underappreciated by the canon writers like it’s distressing. I’m hoping I do more justice to his character in Protag Matsun. I’ll do my best! I am pretty happy with these FTEs, at least~

Read this fic among others HERE

Main story is HERE

Commission? Donate?

“It’s the start of the new DAAAAAAAY! Remember to face EVERY DAY as if it were your LAAAAST! GYAHAHAHA!!!”

A sharp knee swiftly met the back of his patella, and Nidai nearly toppled over with an oof. Chuckling lowly, he swung his arm to meet the assailant, and it was Matsuda who ducked under.

“I’m not here to fight,” Matsuda said simply. “I’m just here to tell you: stop fucking screaming every morning. It’s more than I can take.”

“Matsuda! I nearly knocked that smarmy head off your shoulders!” Nidai exclaimed with booming laughter. “I did think that kick was too weak to be Owari!”

“It was an accident. I was so driven by the impulse from your screaming that I had to. Like with smacking an alarm clock.”

Of course, I didn’t feel nearly as much animosity towards a device made to wake me up in time for work as I do towards some brick head just screaming for the hell of it.

“Gyahahaha!” Nidai rubbed his head. “Still, good reflexes, good reflexes!”

“It’s because I’m used to people taking swings.”

“Matsuda! You ought to hone those in!” With his hands on his hips, Nidai leaned down with a wide grin. “How about a little spar?”

“Absolutely not.” The answer was immediate. “If I get injured, it’ll be a hassle bandaging myself up. And I don’t want to rely on the not-nurse for shit.”

Nidai folded his arms.

“Aye, such a difficult one. Then!” That grin resumed as if it hadn’t left. “Stay up a while longer and talk with me! Going back to sleep won’t be nearly as healthy!”

Matsuda scoffed but, considering he was considerably alert now, he wasn’t in the mood for falling back asleep either. He still wanted to turn down the demand, but knowing Nidai, he’d be risking getting literally strong-armed if he did.

The stupid shit I have to do on this fucking island. The shit I thought I’d avoid by skipping grades and attending medical school off the bat.

“Fine, fine, whatever.”

It’s a real pain in the ass.

--

“Is there anything you’ve been wondering about me, Matsuda?”

“Not particularly.”

“Gyaha! Tough nut to crack! You’re a real brat, aren’t ya?”

Despite saying that, Nidai smiled fondly rather than the usual look of contempt that Matsuda was used to when hearing those words. Matsuda said nothing, even as he mulled over it. After a while, he sighed.

“As a coach, I bet you’re used to dealing with all kinds of brats, huh.”

“Oh YEAH! Countless cocky little shits, haha! Owari’s a particular case!” Nidai laughed, louder than before. “The hot-temperedness of youth! It’s to be EXPECTED!”

Mmhm. Coming from you.

Matsuda yawned.

But the older you get, the more and more knocked down you are. But you still have difficult people even then.

“Dealing with athletes as patients can be a huge-ass pain,” he found himself saying. “When they come down with a condition, the first thing they worry about is missing practice. I get it, but it’s stupid. Your head might be broken and you’re thinking of a damn game? Why don’t you worry about how your family will feel instead?”

Nidai huffed.

“Although the future’s scary, isn’t it?” Matsuda looked up towards the sky dully. “Not having it secured can be terrifying in a world that has no qualms about chewing you up and spitting you out.”

It’s a world run by predators.

Nidai snorted then, and he smacked his back hard enough that he nearly choked.

“You’re so young and you already sound like an old salaryman! Lighten up, Matsuda!” He smacked his back again and damn near knocked his fucking ass over. “But it’s a nostalgic feeling! Having one of my boys admit their anxieties! In return, allow me to do it for you!”

“No thanks, I’ve had enough of your hand on me for one day,” Matsuda snapped, smacking said hand away when it reached for his shoulder. “And it’s not like you’re special for listening to me ramble. I’m just like an old man in that regard.”

Not to mention I’m driven more by spite than passion at this point.

Matsuda paused, realizing something belatedly.

“I don’t want a guy still in high school calling me a boy. You know the only reason why we’re classmates is because we were scouted by Hope’s Peak, right?” His glare sharpened. “That’s not just any high school.”

“Pfff. You’re not the only professional here, Matsuda.” Folding his arms, Nidai looked bigger than ever. “I’ve had my fair share of mouthy brats trying to look down on me.”

He said that, but was literally looking down at Matsuda as he did. Not that it could be helped. The guy was built like a truck and even his obnoxious grin was overwhelming.

“...I suppose that’s true, isn’t it,” Matsuda ended up conceding. “You’re definitely more impressive than some of the other yahoos on this island. Well. More like most of them.”

“YOU REALLY SHOULD HAVE MORE RESPECT FOR YOUR PEERS!!!” Nidai bellowed. “That’s the FIRST STEP to teamwork!!”

Matsuda’s ears were left ringing.

“And AS the Ultimate Coach, it is my duty to lead ALL of you!” Nidai went on, booming. “Not as a LEADER, of course, but a guide! A guide to LIGHTNING VICTORY!”

“As opposed to thunderous?” Matsuda asked dully.

“ABSOLUTELY!!!” And as if to strengthen his point, Nidai’s eyes were brimming with a white-hot pulse. “Just as you should not DOUBT YOURSELF, you should NOT DOUBT ME!!!”

Right now all I hear is a drawn-out beat. As if my hearing has lost its pulse. Ah, that’s probably not good.

“I’m going back to my cottage.”

“Without even STRETCHING?! I think not! Come Matsuda, you MUST exercise at the start of EVERY DAY!”

“Ugh.”

“Less time GROANING and more time MOANING! From exertion! Or do you need IT after all?!”

“Ughhhh.”

In the end, there was no escape and he was forced to comply.

All that said, he did actually feel a little better afterwards. Perhaps. Maybe.

Blah.

--

“Matsuda! You always wear that LAB COAT! As respectable as it is, it’s inappropriate for THIS KIND OF WEATHER!!!!”

“Ah, huuuuh?”

I barely stepped out and this gorilla is already screaming at me, huh. And about my coat of all things?

“I just washed it, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Matsuda snapped, unimpressed. “I don’t need a brute like you nagging me, too.”

“While you are clean now, YOU’RE STILL GOING TO SWEAT LIKE A PIG LATER!!!” Nidai boomed, stomping over to him. “Take! It! Off!!!”

Matsuda sighed. He adjusted his coat so that it slipped down both shoulders instead of just one.

“Better?”

“ALL THE WAY, MATSUDA! COME ON!!!”

Matsuda rolled his eyes and tugged his lab coat the rest of the way off. Since he wasn’t in the mood for just holding it, it threw it over his head and used it as a cover from the sun. It wasn’t terribly helpful and he still felt irritable and twitchy.

“One sleeve rolled up and shirt half-tucked,” Nidai mused, getting a better look at his mostly buttoned-up dress shirt and sloppily done tie for good measure. “You’re quite dedicated to the half-assed look, huh. That’s a unique spirit.”

“It’s more sensible than wearing a damn chain around your neck,” Matsuda pointed out, eyes narrowing sharply. “Seriously, what the hell is up with that?”

Nidai, as he tended to when he stupidly had no real answer, burst out laughing. Booming, bright, thunderous laughter that made Matsuda want to skitter back into the quiet of the night. If fucking only the hour didn’t guarantee the bitch-ass sun at its brightest on this stupid island. Every single day. Without fail.

“While you’d be quite the project, I do think I could whip you into shape,” Nidai said, cracking his knuckles with relish. “Alright! Let me get a better look at your body!”

Matsuda held up a hand.

“This much I’m willing to allow. If my boundary is pushed further, I’ll start throwing scalpels.”

Nidai cackled.

“A step at a time is still progress!”

When he took Matsuda’s hand, all Matsuda could think about was how it was enveloped in almost an instant. Nidai’s own hands were meaty and huge, more on the level of a large animal than a human. They were rough and a little sweaty, too.

I’ll have to wash my hands as thoroughly as I would prior to surgery after this.

Nidai hmphed as his thick fingers traced the knuckles, veins, and lines in his palm.

Ah, it’s almost like getting my fortune.

“There’s too much strain on your wrists!” Nidai huffed. “You should do stretches at least every day! It’s simple!” He pushes his hand back, and it hurts a twinge. Matsuda barely twitched as the position was held. “Thirty seconds. It’s small but it builds and will lessen arthritis pain significantly.” He curls Matsuda’s hand into a fist and pushes that down too. “There are other ones, of course. It’s just a small portion of your time, Matsuda!”

Matsuda nodded.

“Right, right.”

This isn’t the worst instance of my hand being held but I can’t say it’s one of my favorites.

“But you do seem to have some muscles built up in your arm! That’s GREAT!” Nidai patted his forearm. He only ghosted where the elbow met bicep. “Still, a man at your age and height should have MORE than that!!”

Matsuda rolled his eyes.

“Not a lot of doctors engage in the healthiest behavior,” he muttered. “Too busy helping everyone else.”

“HMPH!” Nidai somehow shouted that. “Not an excuse!”

“Whatever.”

“Matsuda...!” But despite obviously being on the verge of screaming again, Nidai quieted when he noticed something. “Ah.”

“Whaaaaat,” Matsuda droned. “You aren’t going to tell me I need to thicken my veins too, right?”

Nidai shook his head and grinned.

“I was just thinking that your fingers really are beautiful.”

Matsuda blinked once. Twice. Nidai dropped his hand, grin still on his face.

“And that’s the end of your morning checkup! You’re free to go, Matsuda!”

“Uh, huh.” Feeling both confused and irritable, Matsuda didn’t miss a beat. “Right, I’ll come by again later.”

Annoyingly, Nidai lit up even more.

“I’m looking FORWARD to it!!”

It’s not like I want to go back to him but...I guess it would be helpful to be able to hold a scalpel for longer. Yeah. Matsuda nodded to himself, slipping his coat back on and staring at his hand. When he felt his own pulse, thumb running over his slightly throbbing wrist, he grimaced. Ultimate Coach, huh.

--

The next time, it was actually a little bit more bearable having Nidai helping him stretch out both his wrists. Despite what the thick skull might tell a person, Nidai had the sense to know when he was being too rough and it never hurt more than necessary.

But, truth be told, Matsuda paid more attention to how Nidai openly admired his fingers.

“You got a thing about doctor hands or what?”

“Gyahaha! It’s not strange to appreciate healing hands! I have a pair myself, you know!” Nidai boomed. “But it’s a secret technique that only my teams can know.”

With that kind of volume, it won’t be for long.

“Yeah,” Matsuda elected to just agree with him. “You’ve definitely got enough skills to be a chiropractor. I bet that’s helpful for sore athletes.”

Nidai beamed, shining with pride.

“I may be USED to praise, but it’s something when someone like YOU joins in, haha! But as a doctor, you’re well aware of the effects of it, aren’t you?!”

It being chiropractic? Matsuda wondered, uninterested. He shrugged it off.

“So this is what you do, huh. You don’t just yell at idiots to get moving, you actually manipulate their body in a way that makes them more pliable.” He hummed. “Wow. That’s more devious than I would’ve expected from a meathead like you.”

“Obviously as a coach, it is my prerogative to be well aware of my athletes’ physical and emotional states,” Nidai pointed out. “I wouldn’t be worth any salt if I weren’t.”

“Good point.” Matsuda nodded in approval. “That’s what we call competency. Always a nice thing to have.”

“Health is an important factor for both of us,” Nidai remarked, pulling away. “In fact, it’s because of people like you that my job is even possible.”

They were sitting in the shade only because Matsuda had insisted on it. But Nidai was never any less bright. Matsuda stared at him, and he had to keep his spine straight. It was annoying. Better for him, but annoying.

“Y’know, I couldn’t care less if a person is able to run around and jump,” he murmured. “So long as they’re still themselves.”

Nidai snorted.

“There are people who can’t find themselves while confined to a bed. I used to be that way, actually.”

Matsuda blinked.

“It’s not a brain condition, it’s a heart condition,” Nidai went on. “And because of it, I was alone and isolated. But that wasn’t true. I was just blaming the condition. But it had...obfuscated my sight, you could say.”

Ah. That’s right, isn’t it.

“It is true: overworking myself to death is dangerously easy.” Nidai huffed. “So I had not thought to try...until I was inspired by a fellow patient with the same condition. A coach, in fact, who died before he could see his team succeed. That lit a fire in me, and just like that, everything was illuminated!”

Matsuda said nothing more, he just listened until Nidai cut himself off with a rough chortle.

“But you didn’t approach this ol’ coach to hear his story, did you, Matsuda?”

“I don’t mind,” he replied. “You actually did remind me of something important. And obvious. So when you became a coach, did you...?”

“The first thing I did was take that fellow man’s team TO VICTORY!!!” Nidai exclaimed. “FOR NOTHING ELSE WOULD SUFFICE!!!”

Matsuda snorted, but with his lips twisting, he still nodded along.

I know how short-sighted of a person I can be. While my profession may be noble, it’s still selfishly-driven. How stupid. I should know better than anyone how easy it is to lose someone, be it through a brain tumor or the physical confines weathering down the mind. There are so many ways to get crushed.

And he supposed Nidai was someone aiming to prevent that as much as possible. Or, perhaps, Nidai refused to see it. He could’ve simply been determined. Or an optimist. Or stubborn. Or an idiot. Really, he could be all of those things because that’s just how people were. A series of complex parts and systems.

It’s as beautiful as it is wretched.

“MATSUDA!!!” Nidai boomed. “You’re DAYDREAMING! If you have time to do that, you have time to RUN!!!”

“Pipe down, you fucking oaf. Just because I respect you a little doesn’t mean I’ll take kindly to your fucking banshee screaming.”

“WHAT WAS THAT??!?!”

It’s as wretched as it is maddening. For sure.

Matsuda wondered if diving into the ocean then and there would spare the trouble, but with the idea of Nidai having to break his ribs on the off-chance he actually drowned a little, he would have to find another way.

He managed.

--

“MatsuDA!!! You’re slouching again!”

“Urgh, so noisy.”

Matsuda rubs his nape, and specifically he presses hard into the section where his neck met his shoulder. Because of how he slept, there was a sharp ache. He had taken to reading when flat on his back, but it hadn’t done much.

Nidai harrumphed.

“So stubborn! Alright, strip so I can get started!”

“It’s not necessary.” Matsuda waved him off. “I’ll just take it easier. Which, unfortunately, means for me another leisure day. Gross.”

“How are you going to get ANYTHING done?!” Nidai screeched accusingly. “To just stand around so LISTLESSLY! What a waste of time!!!”

“Every single day spent on this island is time wasted,” Matsuda pointed out huffily. “We’re trapped at the whims of inconsiderate fuckheads who think this is all just a game.”

“You’re so difficult!” Nidai exclaimed. “Too difficult for your own good!”

Matsuda’s frown twitched at the familiar words. How many times will he be told them? How many times will he have to hear them? Will they ever not be a waste of breath?

“Just a few exercises are good for your body and you know it, Matsuda,” Nidai said more sternly. “While your responsibility towards others is admirable, you must also extend yourself the same level of consideration. After all, the only one living your life is you.”

Matsuda blinked once. Twice.

It’s nice to say that. Under better circumstances. Right now, it’s hard to not feel disempowered and lacking any sense of real control. Of course, I’ve always felt that way, but when I had the freedom to work, I could tolerate it at least a little. But I only have so much time.

Nidai’s hand clamped down on his head. For a second, Matsuda did fantasize about the blissful simplicity of having his skull crushed then and there, leaving behind the faulty sack of meat and bones. Right before the innate human fear of death suffocated him until he remembered to look at Nidai’s big, dopey fucking face and realize that duh, of course he wouldn’t be in any actual fucking danger.

Still, his heartbeat drums, anxious. It’s funny. So funny. So fucking stupid how little grasp logic and reason actually had.

Brains are complex and splendored. They’re also convoluted and stupid.

“You’re overthinking AGAIN, Matsuda!!” Nidai yelled, making him jump out of instinct. “You really are a difficult source, even worse than Owari! When it comes to your body, you don’t NEED to dwell so much! Just ACT!”

Nidai’s hand came down again, ruffling his hair as Nidai chortled with aggravated but still somehow affectionate amusement.

“I get yer a SMART kid but that can be DEBILITATING when it comes to the basics of self-care!”

“Who told you that, a therapist?” Matsuda bit back, shoving his hand off. Only because Nidai had allowed it, of course, going by that shit-eating grin. “And isn’t it counterproductive to force someone clearly unwilling into a regimen?”

“Gyahahaha! That’s quite the attitude! It’s true I can’t exactly FORCE you into being better! But.” Gritting his teeth, Nidai’s face morphed into something that someone might find a little terrifying. “A coach must do all he can to SWAY his athletes.”

Matsuda, who has stared death in the face several times from downing venti cups filled with expresso and energy drinks, could only ask, “Is that a fact?”

“VERY MUUUUUUCH!!!”

Screamed with a lot of force. Even trees would bend. But if Matsuda bent, he’d hurt his back.

“I’m not an athlete,” he said bluntly. “I’ve never even been active. I avoided P.E. to study. The most active I’d be was when I got dragged into fights. So you can punch me, I suppose, and I’ll be forced to try and fend you off.”

Nidai’s glare worsened but, in the end, he could only sigh, rubbing his forehead much the way most disappointed adults would.

This guy spent a lot of time isolated in a hospital...only to suddenly and immediately throw himself into a position of heavy responsibility and high expectations.

When he thought of it that way, it was almost crazy. That kind of ambition didn’t tend to pan out. And yet, here Nidai was, the Ultimate Coach.

Losing patience just like every lacking adult. But wasn’t it important for kids to learn about failure?

I disgust myself.

“I’ll do a couple of stretches,” Matsuda found himself saying. “But I hate sweating and I hate this heat. So I’m limiting any strenuous activities.”

Nidai snorted.

“One important, oft overlooked aspect of training is pacing, Matsuda.”

“Yeah, pacing,” he agreed rather mindlessly. “So let’s get stretching.”

“Just follow my MOVEMENTS!” When Nidai twisted his body with ease, Matsuda was initially left dumbstruck.

“...for such a meathead, you sure can contort your body in interesting ways.”

“GYAHAHAHA!!!”

--

“MATSUDA!!! I’d like to borrow your BRAIN!!!”

“Without even taking me to dinner first? Dismaying.”

“Haha! If you insist, we can eat together LATER!!”

“Woo.”

“But NO!” Nidai yelled, spirited as ever. “I need you as someone beyond that! An advisor! If you will!”

Matsuda blinked once and his head tilted.

“I plan on taking everyone under my wing!” Nidai went on. “To become everyone’s coach! However, since not all of you are athletes, I may need GUIDANCE on how to GUIDE!”

“Wow,” Matsuda uttered. “Okay. So...like him, huh?”

...so a couple of guys are just like this. It’s ridiculous, but at least it’s well-intentioned.

“I’m not sure why you think a guy like me is any help,” Matsuda said, shrugging. “I’m not the most social.”

“That is true,” Nidai admitted. “But you are perceptive when it comes to others, even if you don’t get along with them. Thus, I think you can be QUITE helpful. Not to mention it’s because of doctors like you that athletes can bounce back!”

Doctors. Like me.

Matsuda shook his head.

“It’s not always that simple. There are several factors, including the person injured. And even then, there’s never a guarantee.” Running his fingers through his hair, Matsuda didn’t look at Nidai. “There are doctors who work as hard as they can, and patients who fight as hard as they can, and at the end of the day, the monitor still flatlines.”

I’d like to be above that someday, but I’m not a naive brat anymore.

“That’s life, Matsuda,” Nidai replied without missing a beat. “That doesn’t make such efforts worthless. To live is to struggle. It’s why living is such a precious act in the first place.”

Matsuda blinked, brushing back his fringe and pinching it between his fingers.

“Regardless of that CHANCE, I shall give it my ALL!!” Nidai boomed, pumped now. “I will throw EVERYTHING including my HEART AND SOUL into supporting each and EVERY one of you!!”

“Your heart, huh,” Matsuda mused. “Even though you admitted before it wasn’t in the best shape.”

“It’s still BEATING, isn’t it?!”

“Yeah.” He nodded along. “Yeah, I suppose it is.”

Right now, even as I’m trapped in a game of death, my heart is pounding. It could be fear. It could be instinct. It could be defiance. Either way, I’m alive.

“Well,” he went on. “I’m a doctor, so it’s my duty to keep people alive. But I’m a neurologist, so really I only specialize in keeping everyone’s brains in working order.” A pause. “And I’ve got my work cut out for me. Some of you are so direly fucking idiotic that I could make a case for it being a condition.”

Nidai laughed loudly.

“Whatever HELPS!!”

I wonder if boundless and groundless optimism in particular is a symptom. 

“Okay! But first thing’s FIRST!!!” Nidai exclaimed, cracking his knuckles. “STRIP!!! Allow me to use my talents of IT!”

“You really want to give me a massage, huh?”

“IT’S BECAUSE YOU PUT SO MUCH ON YOUR SHOULDERS!!! YOU REALLY DO NEED TO LOOSEN UP, MATSUDAAAAA! It’s the same for any other OVERWORKED athlete!!”

Matsuda blinked, and his neck twisted in a way that evoked such pain that his entire body shuddered. Nidai hissed at the same time he did.

“Alright,” Matsuda finally, finally conceded. “But, uh, I guess we’ll have to go to my cottage. Or yours. Because I’m not a fucking weirdo who’s going to strip out in public.”

“Yours is closer,” Nidai said, nodding. “Let’s JOG there.”

“Yeah, no, I’ll leisurely stroll while rubbing my neck. It actually hurts so bad it’s hard to think, so be gentle.”

Nidai harrumphed but with a smile, he let him be.

“Once I’m finished with you, you’ll be ready to run laps, I’m sure of it.”

He doubted that, of course, but he still trusted Nidai with that vulnerability all the same. It may have been a small step to someone like Nidai, but for someone like Matsuda, it was a lot more significant. As he laid under Nidai and allowed his body to be manipulated, his head and the burdens did begin to feel a lot lighter. It was undeniably pleasant and also undeniably what he needed if he wanted the emotional strength to push forward.

While he still refused to run several laps and swim in the ocean, he did follow Nidai’s orders on more exercise and stretches. And as he did, there were many more moments of him catching whiffs of Nidai’s infectious, boundless, and groundless optimism.

I’m not so naive as to think I’ll succeed without a doubt, but obviously, I should still push forward with everything I have, even if it’s lacking. To live is to struggle, and despite everything, those efforts aren’t a complete waste even with failure. This meathead reminded me of something so simple. And so obvious. For that, I can’t help but be grateful.

For his sake, my sake, and everyone else’s sake, I’ll try and push a little harder today and every tomorrow that follows.