#still somehow not the biggest liar i’ve encountered

[fingertipsmp3]

I think the weirdest lie I’ve been told by a pathological liar was when this friend I had in secondary school told us all she got kicked out of her house and was living in like a random shed and didn’t have access to a bathroom or electricity, and everyone was somehow believing her, and I was just looking at her like.. your hair is straightened, teeth brushed, you washed your face and you smell of soap

[eatfishies]

friend

summary: “Seeing how completely different he is compared to when they grew up with each other then stumbling onto him now makes her realize that even after all these years—she still doesn’t know who Kuroo Tetsurou is.”

note: features time skip! kenma + kuroo and side characters that aren’t related to haikyuu. some scenes include flashbacks. all characters in the present timeline is 21+. fem! reader. she/her pronouns. symbol: ~ indicates flashbacks

song: friend by gracie abrams word count: 2,284 words warnings: mild swearing and alcohol use genre: angst arthie’s note: this is part 2 out of 5 from the minor series!! i’m sorry if it’s a bit late as i’m currently struggling with a bunch of things atm (╥_╥). i searched up gracie’s meaning for this song and it was rlly interesting however i added my own twist to it. oh! forgot to mention, there’s like a flashback scene when we get to see their relationship so i hope it doesn’t get confusing! as always, i hope all of you enjoy! be sure to listen to the song recommended to get into the mood ^^ ↳ main masterlist ↳ minor series masterlist »»————-　➴　————-«« Achoo!

The vacuum whirred against the rug, suctioning all of the dust that’s been piling up after years of neglect. She rubbed her nose, mentally slapping herself for not cleaning the house properly. It was finally a day off from work and in the words of her mother— “stop worrying all the time and clean your damn house! It’s covered in dust everywhere, you’re gonna get sick if you don’t clean it.” Obeying her mother’s nagging, she spent the whole day cleaning the house and throwing out items that weren’t a use to her anymore.

»»————-　➴　————-««

“Thank you for the food.” She says as she picked up the chopstick. Savouring the taste of her mother’s leftovers, she hummed happily whilst watching a movie on her phone. Gulping down the cold water, she glances at the room that’s been abandoned for quite some time. A mental note made up in her mind to go check out the room after eating. With an exasperated exhale, she grips the doorknob and turns it, opening the storage room.

Ah.. so many dust.. and so many things to unpack..

Groaning, she trudges inside and decided to start with the herd of dust, vacuum in hand.

20 minutes later, the room is now free of dust. She glared at the boxes, why do I have so many of these boxes?! I lived here for 3 years already, she cursed to herself.

Starting from the biggest box down to the smallest; she began to unpack and rummage inside.

On her 4th box, it was a shoe box. She shrugged before opening the lid and seeing the components.

Huh, what’s this? She picked up the note— goodluck on your chemistry test y/n-chan! i hope you do your best and if you don’t, i’m always up for another study date ~ jk jk... or am i? anyways i’ll treat you to ramen afterwards! meet me at the front gate - tetsurou <3

She swallowed the lump in her throat, gently placing the note down. When she examined the other items, she came across photographs of her and Kuroo.

In the first picture; they were only 15. Starting high school and eager to learn about the world. Both holding up peace signs and grinning happily in their uniforms.

It made her feel older, reminiscing the old times of when they were together. Pushing away the thoughts of him, she sets the box aside and wrote “DO NOT TOUCH” onto it.

With that, she resumed cleaning other parts of the room and left the box alone.

»»————-　➴　————-««

“Here’s to Nakano’s promotion!” Everyone clinked their glasses together, drinking the beer to celebrate their colleague.

“Oh! By the way, I invited my friend over. He’s coming in...” “Oya? Did you guys start without me?” Nakano grinned and looked up. “Now! Everybody, meet Kuroo Tetsurou!”

Ishida assured Kuroo to his seat, “Welcome Kuroo-san! Make yourself comfortable.”

He uttered a thank you and gaped at the food displayed on the table. “Are we having a feast or what?” 

Morita nodded, “Yup! Nakano-kun got promoted to be a manager and he’s treating all of us!”

Kuroo smirked at his friend, “Wow! You’re amazing, Nakano!” He pats his friend’s back, congratulating him.

Nakano gave a sheepish smile, “Yeah, yeah. Oh! Everyone, feel free to introduce yourself to Kuroo.”

Everyone introduced themselves to him and made small talks, often asking him questions about his job and personal life.

“I’m sorry I’m late!” She announced when she approached their table. Everyone stared at her, “Ah, it’s okay Y/n-kun! There’s plenty of food left for you!” Nakano reassured.

She smiled at him and her colleagues until her gaze landed on the man she least expected to see.

“T— Tetsurou?!” She stammered, shocked upon seeing him.

He beamed at her, “Y/n! You’re here!” He exclaimed as he engulfs her in a hug.

“Oh? Kuroo-san, you know Y/n-kun?” Morita asked, eyeing the two of them.

He nodded, slinging his arm around her shoulder. “Yeah! We’ve been friends for 7 years now.”

She refrains herself from blurting out a sarcastic remark since she’s in front of her colleagues but God, she’d wish for him to shut up.

“That’s great! Tell us more about it, Kuroo!” Nakano urged, pulling Kuroo off of her shoulder and listened attentively to what he says.

She sighed, sitting down on the empty seat and glance at anywhere but him.

The rest of the celebration goes on till midnight and Nakano decided to call it a night when one of them vomited in their food.

Grabbing the door handle, pushing it open however a hand on her shoulder stopped her. She glanced back, “Can I talk to you for a second? Please.” Kuroo begged.

Shoving her uneasiness away, she replies. “Okay.”

They walk in silence, not knowing how to start the conversation first and occasionally bumping into each other due to close proximity.

She hugs herself and stared at the ground, avoiding Kuroo’s sharp gaze.

“Are you cold?” He asked, sensing her discomfort due to the cold weather.

She shook her head, “No. I’m not.”

He smirked, “You’re such a bad liar, Y/n. Here.” He takes off his work coat and wrapped it around her, immediately warming her up.

“Thanks.” She muttered.

Before the silence could continue, he groaned. “Look, I didn’t offer you a proper explanation as to why I left and I...” He bit his lip, averting his gaze to the lamppost.

Huffing, “I never wanted closure anyways.” She admitted.

He frowns, “But still... I wanted to give you one.” Rolling her eyes, “I don’t want it.”

His head bowed down like a puppy getting upset for not getting a treat. They resumed walking in reticence.

Questions racing through each other’s head, craving for answers but they’re both too cowardly to say what’s on their mind.

The night grew into stillness— it’s unlike of Kuroo to ran out of things to say however that night, all of the words he had wanted to say died down his tongue, leaving him speechless.

»»————-　➴　————-««

A week passed by since their last encounter and Kuroo had somehow managed to get her number through Nakano, who without a doubt, gave it to him with no hesitation.

He was constantly texting her, wanting to reconcile their relationship.

The coat he gave her was still hanging in the closet. At the thought of that, she rolled her eyes and whipped out her phone.

Y/n: Tetsurou, are you free this Friday?

Not even 10 minutes had gone by and the answer came through like lightning.

Tetsurou: Yup, why?

It’s funny, she thinks, that he always tries and keep in touch with her despite knowing what he did before they separated their ways.

She sighed, it’s unbelievable that he doesn’t know what she’s feeling. After all of what happened; how could she ever move on?

»»————-　➴　————-««

At 4:00pm, she stood nearby the playground whereas kids giggled loudly and ran around with their friends.

The sun shining brightly, birds hovering above the ground, flapping their wings as they soar through the sky.

She observed the kids, a wave of nostalgia passes through like a snowstorm, igniting memories of her and Kuroo when they were children.

“Hey.” The man she anticipated arrived as she spun around and took in the sight before her.

“Hi.” She greeted back, clutching the plastic bag that contains Kuroo’s coat inside.

Inhaling, she spoke up. “Here. Your work coat.” She handed out, gesturing him to take it.

A smile creeped on his face as he grabs the bag, muttering a thanks under his breath.

Amber skies mixed with warm greens of spring, flowers blooming proudly despite the chilly breeze.

“So.. what have you been up to?” Does he think I’m here for small talks? She thought to herself bitterly. “Listen.” She said sternly, “I’m not here for small talks nor do I want you to keep texting me. So please, stop bothering me.” He nodded his head shamefully, “Okay.” Crossing her arms over her chest, she stared at the girl defending the little boy from bullies. “Since there’s nothing left for us to talk about or discuss, I will be leaving now.” As she walks away, a hand grasped on her arm. She turned around and saw Kuroo pleading, desperation evident in his eyes. “Please, just let me talk. I just wanna explain.” Her hands clenched, “I don’t want your explanation!” She snapped, looking at him with irritation as he gazed down bashfully. “Tetsurou... you’re 3 years late. You left me without looking back. You know what I was dealing with at that time and you still.. left me.” She muttered the last part, feeling the tears building up. Shaking her head, “I can never forgive you for what you did. Ever since you met me at Nakano’s celebration dinner, you’ve been constantly texting me as if we’re friends!” “But... we are still friends.. right?” He murmured, watching her closely. Her lips pressed into a thin line, “No. We are not friends. How could you think I’d be your friend after all that you’ve put me through?” He stared at the ground, guilt sprawled all across his face. “I’m sorry.” “I don’t need your apology. Just— don’t bother me anymore, please. I’ve had enough. Just leave me alone.” She yielded, tired of the burden that she’s been carrying. “Okay.” He said. “I won’t bother you anymore. I promise.” Relief seeped into her after hearing those words, definiteness embracing her. Without uttering a goodbye, she walked away from him, finally being able to breathe in the crisp air, all of the weight is no longer heavy on her. She can finally move on from those haunted memories of him. »»————-　➴　————-«« “Y/n! You’re gonna be late!” Kuroo yelled, hurrying her before they miss their bus. She sprints as fast as she can and interlock her fingers around him, stepping inside the vehicle. ~ “Y/n-chan! Are you gonna study that all day without eating?” He asked, concerned laced in his voice. She nods her head tiredly, forcing her eyes to stay awake. He sighed, grabbing her arm. “C’mon. Let’s go rest a bit and eat, okay? Afterwards, I’ll teach you that topic.” She hummed, letting herself be pulled up by him as he drags her to eat. After eating, she fell asleep on his shoulder due to staying up studying all night. He brushes her hair, staring at her fondly, admiration and infatuation glinted in his eyes. “Sleep well, Y/n-chan.” He kisses the top of her head, fluttering his eyes closed. ~ “Congrats on getting into your dream university, Y/n-chan.” Kuroo beamed at her, ruffling her hair. “Don’t you ever forget about me, okay?” ~ She blows her nose into the tissue, throwing it into the trash bin. “Ah... being ill is no fun.” She sniffed, watching the TV. Footsteps echoed on the other side of the room and she hid herself under the blanket, peeking at the mysterious intruder. “Y/n-chan, you should’ve told me if you were sick.” Kuroo eyed her, examining her frail figure. A sigh escaped his lips, “Well, Yaku brought some soup for you and I picked up the meds from the store earlier. Eat these up. Let me take care of you.” They spent the whole day, resting on the couch, watching soap opera whilst Kuroo occasionally helps her get snacks from the kitchen or the store.  ~ The tranquility comforts the both of them, arm to arm, avoiding each other’s gaze as butterflies swarm in their stomachs. She bit her lip, pondering about what’s on his mind when he suddenly spoke up. “We can’t be friends anymore... I will always see you as something else.” A startled gasp emitted from her as she gawked at him. “W— what?” Images of them furthering their friendship into something more pace in her head, leaving her eager and wanting to turn it into reality. He gathered every ounce of courage he had and held her gaze. “I’ve known you since... forever. I can’t imagine my life without you.” With shaky hands, she reached out to his touch, caressing his hand. “I feel the same way too.” Hopefulness surged up inside him, intertwining their fingers together. “I’m glad you do.” ~ Kenma recognized those expression of forlorn that etched on her face— eyes gleaming with dejectedness and tiredness. “What did Kuro do?” He blurted, sipping on the iced coffee. Watching intently, he noticed the way she slumped her shoulders and gaze ahead of her daydreams. “He left me.” Pinching the bridge of his nose, his other hand found its way to held her closely. “Well.. that sounds like something Kuro would do.” He rubbed her back, comforting her. “Why?” She asked meekly. Swallowing down the guilt, he explained. “Kuro.. he’s a complex person. Sometimes he does things without a solid reason. Maybe he left because he was getting too constrained in the relationship.” Upon hearing that, she broke down. Kenma hugged her, “It’s not your fault, I assure you. That’s just.. how he is, unfortunately.” »»————-　➴　————-«« Remembering Kenma’s words from the past; she felt as if she could finally let go of him. Seeing how completely different he is compared to when they grew up with each other then stumbling onto him now makes her realize that even after all these years— she still doesn’t know who Kuroo Tetsurou is. The anger dissipated into a limbo, just a mere reminder of what she used to feel when looking at him. Every traces of him melted away, the pain and dissatisfaction latched out of her and now all that’s left is the bitter memory of them together.

[councillororalie]

@cadence-talle here ya go!! it's 1536 words!! please don't rb this version!!

It had been a long and busy day, and Oralie was practically dead on her feet as she returned to her home. It was nothing short of a palace, fit for the finest royalty, and normally this fact embarrassed her, but tonight, her mind was swimming. The complexities of her job had never accounted for situations such as this before. Oralie knew full well what could happen to her should anyone find out. And yet, she didn’t mind. As much as she would hate to lose her position on the Council, she somehow felt that this was her calling. Yes, the Black Swan was shady, but it wasn’t due to shady activity, just that they preferred lurking in the shadows. That seemed respectable enough; sometimes, she too wished she could melt into the shadows and not have the eyes and scrutiny of every elf watching her every move.

She was so exhausted and preoccupied that she hadn’t even noticed the imposing figure sitting in her living room. He stuck out like a sore thumb, his grey robes a stark contrast to the sea of pink Oralie used in her decorum. She gasped as she realised who it was.

“Bronte! To what do I owe the pleasure?” she said, trying to act as calmly as possible. Chances were, if Councillor Bronte was in her living room unannounced after-hours, he probably knew, but she could still hope.

“Oh, I think you know why I’m here,” he said, his tone calm and calculated, his gaze averted. Oralie had always been intimidated by the Ancient, but the fear that had instilled itself in her brain from the moment she saw him had made him exponentially more intimidating.

Hoping she could feign ignorance, Oralie asked, “No, I don’t. Why don’t you tell me, so we might be finished as quickly as possible?”

Bronte looked up and stared at Oralie as though trying to see into her mind. “For the Council’s living lie detector, you are a terrible liar. You may have everyone else fooled, but not me. The feeble excuses as to where you are, who you’re meeting with. Please,” he nearly scoffed. “I’m not that easily fooled.”

“Bronte, I don’t...what are you trying to say?” Oralie could feel her heart thumping throughout her body. She tried to focus on anything but her increasing heart rate as Bronte stood up and took a step towards her.

“Councillor Oralie, you know damn well what I’m referring to. You think I don’t know?”

She could hear the anger in his tone and hoped he couldn’t hear the fear in hers. “Don’t speak in riddles. Just tell me.”

“STOP!” Bronte roared, his anger apparent on his face and his voice. “You know damn well what I mean! You’re not the ignorant, innocent flower everyone paints you to be! I know what you’re doing, so tell me now, or you risk a Tribunal and Exile!” His pale face had gone red as he screamed, and his nostrils flared as he tried not to start panting. Oralie had seen his wrath before, but it had never been directed at her, and she hoped it never was again. Even though they were both Councillors, she felt as though he held an indeterminable amount of authority over her, and so she stood, rooted to the floor, terrified of the power she knew he held.

Oralie spoke softly. “I’ve been working on a project outside of my regular duties.” She offered nothing more, instead staring Bronte in the eyes, as though she was in a position to challenge him.

He took another step forward, coming closer to Oralie. “Councillor Oralie, I will bring this to the attention of the rest of the Council and you will risk your position in the nobility if you don’t tell me.”

“Bronte, I-”

“You what?” he spat. “Are working with terrorist organisations behind everyone's backs? Because that’s what it looks like!”

“Yes, I am!” Oralie cried, shocking both of them with her confession. “I am, I’m working with a terrorist organisation! Except they’re not, they just want to do what’s best for our world, what they see the Council has neglected! They think that the Council is unjust, prejudiced and blinded to the needs of the common person! And frankly, I don’t disagree. While their methods may not always be orthodox, their vision—or at least what they’ve told me—is quite reasonable.”

She had become faintly aware of the tears welling in her eyes, and she tried not to blink. “When one of their members approached me, I couldn’t say no. They assured me, they had precautions and failsafes should everything go south. At first, I was going to decline their offer, but they explained their vision and I couldn’t say no.”

The tears were now falling freely down her cheeks. She could feel Bronte watching her as she closed her eyes to stop herself from breaking down more.

“They didn’t want much. Just DNA. And I gave it to them.” It took all of Oralie’s strength not to sink to her knees, but instead to stay standing, as Bronte’s equal. She could not show any more weakness. Even as she cried, she felt ashamed at every tear that escaped her eyes and how weak they made her feel.

“You’re right that I’m terrible at lying. I can hardly lie to myself. I think it’s no secret that I wanted children more than anything, but I was a fool. Kenric persuaded me that this was what was best for me, for both of us. And even though I knew I was kidding myself, I agreed. I don’t have many regrets, but that’s the biggest one I have.

“I leapt at the opportunity. And now, I’m going to have a child.” She paused, letting the gravity of her words settle before continuing. “Biologically, they’ll be mine, but I’m not going to know them. They’re going to grow up among humans, and hopefully they’ll come back someday, and I can meet them.”

Oralie looked back at Bronte. His face held a thousand emotions, and yet none at all. She took a small step forward, and reached out to ever so lightly touch his hand. The wave of undecipherable emotions she felt was nothing short of staggering as she stumbled back. Bronte reached out and grabbed her hand to keep her from falling, pulling her back to her feet.

As much as she wanted to keep standing, the weight of her confession, the day’s exhaustion, and the barrage of mixed emotions from Bronte was too much, and she stumbled over to the chair Bronte had been occupying when she’d come in.

She was vaguely aware of him sitting down in a chair opposite hers, but all she could focus on was her breathing. In, out. In, out. In. Out. Her head was spinning as she glanced up to see Bronte’s brow furrowed in what appeared to be confusion and concern, mixed together in a tangled web of emotion.

A silent minute passed before Bronte said softly, “Why didn’t you say anything?”

His tone was gentle like the flowers Oralie found herself being compared to. It was a rarer side of the stone-cold Ancient, but it was a welcome change from the roaring lion he’d been before.

“I’ve been a Councillor since before you were born, and I’ve been in relationships during my tenure.” His words, though soft, pierced the air like a knife. “Relationships that most would scorn me for now. We may seem like a lot of pretentious, rule-abiding pricks, but we’re not.”

Oralie let his words fill her mind. She rolled them around, u nsure of what to say next. She took another deep breath before asking, “What would you have done if I’d told you?”

“Kept your secret. Been your safety net. I don’t seem like the most trustworthy of Councillors, but I don’t want to see you fall from this high pedestal you’ve been forced upon.” He gently reached over and placed a hand on her knee. “You’re not as isolated as you feel, you know.”

“Really?” she breathed. “Really and truly?”

“Yes, really and truly. Your secret is safe with me. I gain nothing by turning you in, and I have my fair share of secrets. Why should I play the hypocrite? And why not play the defender, the protector? But alas, many will never see beyond the cold demeanor. Not that I’m complaining; it saves me many unwanted interactions in public. People are too scared of me, and I like it that way.” He gently lifted her chin up so they could lock eyes. “Your secrets are safe with me. And should you ever require my assistance, you know where to find me.”

With those words, he got up and exited swiftly and quietly. Oralie had not anticipated that outcome, but she hadn’t anticipated the encounter either. It was wholly unexpected, but somehow quite relieving, like a weight lifted off her shoulders. Even though she was more exhausted than before, she couldn't help but feel more alive. She knew that the secret would eventually come out, and the lies unfold, but for now she knew it was safe with Bronte.

[scullyy]

Birthday Boy

Word Count: 2.8k

Summary: It's AJs' birthday! The kids have gathered around for another rockin' hootenanny!

A/N: brUH I’ve been working on this for agesssss and it’s finally dooooneeeeee ~~and it’s still not my best but I TRIED and perfection doesn’t eXIST-~~ it’s a VERY belated birthday gift for @bluebutterfly1 cause she’s been wanting this foREVER. SHE'S AMAZING OKAY-

so yeah this is based off a deleted scene from TFS where it was AJ’s birthday and what not anyways ily and enjoy x

-

It was hard being a kid sometimes, not having the words to describe how you're feeling, not even knowing what it is you are feeling was also a bummer. AJ had hoped he would know when he got older, especially by Clem's age. He would know so many more words and feelings and extra stuff about the world. He had already learned so much just from Aasims' teachings.

But Aasim hadn't taught him why everyone was giving him strange looks this one particular winter morning.

Clem was the first, she wasn't as good of a liar as she thought she was. There was this...odd smile on her face. AJ recognised it as the same smile Louis makes whenever he tries to get out of trouble. Ruby, Violet and Aasim had immediately zoomed off into the school once breakfast was done, only running out to share little whispers with Clementine. Omar was cooking something in his special big pot, more focused than AJ had ever seen, but he refused to tell the kid what it was.

He hadn't even seen Louis! Not even during breakfast! The only other person outside was Willy, still stationed at the watchtower. AJ's curious mind and talkative nature tried to squeeze as much info out of the young boy, but he was able to keep his mouth shut for once.

It all led him to sit beside Clementine in an unusual silence for the two, one that didn't sneak past her. Nothing AJ did - or in this case, didn't - could slip by her radar. "Why the long face kiddo?" Clem bumped her elbow into his shoulder, attempting to steal his attention.

AJ picked at a speck of dry skin on his hand, sporting a very obvious pout. "Did I do something wrong?"

That caught her off guard. Her leg trembled from both the cold and her deeply-bundled nerves. Keeping a secret, especially one she knew AJ was going to love, was tougher than she thought. "What makes you think that?" Her eyes moved rapidly from AJ and the school doors, keeping her crossed fingers hidden beneath her thigh. The other kids better be done soon...

"No one is talking to me. Like when I shot Marlon and everyone got mad at me. I didn't like that and I don't like this." He kicked at the air, his little legs still too short to touch the ground.

"I'm sure everything is fine-"

As her hand reached out to hold him, he pulled himself away, jumping straight to his feet. "Don't say that! I know you're lying!"

His desperation near broke her heart. She could never say no to his cute face, damn him. Heaving a sigh of defeat, she gave in. "Okay fine, follow me." The other kids would surely be pissed at her for letting on too early, but she would rather that than an upset AJ.

And boy did that remove the frown from his face. He bounded around her as she got her crutches in order, kicking up sparkling snow behind him. "Where are we going?"

"The music room-"

The young boy had bolted off before she could finish, reminding her of another young boy she used to know when this all started. "Slow down, kiddo! You're not the one on crutches!"

His eagerness outweighed Clem's command, which was usually his law. He could hear muted talking from within Louis' music room, a few giggles here and there too. He crept closer to the door, utilising his amazing ninja skills. His tiny hand gripped the tinier doorknob, opening the door just a crack to find...huh?

The doorknob was set free from his hand, which had now fallen loosely by his side as he took one quiet step into the room. "What's this?" AJ disturbed the other kids, finding them in compromising positions. Louis was on his very tip-toes, tying some blue tinsel around the fireplace, Aasim and Ruby were lighting the last of the candles as Violet was gently moving the gramophone back into it's original place.

It was a real life record scratch moment.

"Oh shit," Louis broke the silence first, drawing everyone's line of sight to the intruder. He chucked the last of the tinsel up onto the mantle in a careless manner before throwing his hands into the air. "Happy birthday AJ!"

The other kids all dropped what they were doing, raising their hands in line with Louis. "Happy birthday!"

Said child stood there with his mouth hung wide open, taking in the sight. "What?" It was the only word racing through his mind.

Louis kneeled down to his level, sporting one of the biggest smiles AJ had ever seen. "It's your birthday little dude, gotta celebrate it big time."

"My...birthday?" Whatwhatwhatwhatwhat-

Willy tugged on the thick tinsel that ran from the fireplace to Louis' piano. "We managed to scrounge up some decorations from the drama class."

"And we re-used the banner from the party back when these guys got kidnapped." Ruby pointed to the banner above the doorway. The original message 'We're getting them back' had been scribbled out and somehow replaced with 'Happy birthday Alvin Junior'.

AJ spun around, his eyes bouncing between all the bright decor; the flickering candles, the weird fuzzy stuff on the piano, it was all so new. "You did this..for me?"

A slightly puffed Clementine finally made her way into the room, smiling with pure glee at how well her friends decorated the space. She stood beside her boy, trying to decipher what he was feeling. "What do you think AJ?"

"It's awesome!" He threw his hands up into the air.

Louis looked between his friends, all of them sharing evil little smiles. "So, who wants to go first?"

"First in what?" AJ questioned, nearly vibrating at wondering what else they could have planned.

Clementine gently nudged him forward with her crutch, pushing him into the centre of the room. "Gift-giving."

"Gifts?" He continued to question. So much new knowledge in such a short span of time.

Louis dead-panned, merely wanting the festivities to begin. "If you keep asking questions we're going to be here all day. Of course, we got you gifts! It's a thing you give someone to show appreciation or celebrate, and today little dude we're celebrating you."

"I'll go first since my gift is the coolest," Violet was guided over to AJ by Ruby, her smile never wavering. From behind her back she presented a roll up parchment, the corners slightly ripped.

AJ pulled it open and blinked rapidly, taking in the faded faces and text. "Green Day? What's that mean?"

"They were a really cool band, before everything happened," Violet nodded to the outside world. "I figured you could hang it up in your room. If I ever find one of their records, you'll be the first to listen, little man." Slowly guiding her hand to the curve of his shoulder, she gave him a gentle punch.

AJ was still hung up on why a day would be green but appreciated the thought from Violet nonetheless. "They look cool...but what's on their eyes?"

Green Day was a rare source of joy from Violet's sordid childhood, a fleating sense of nostalgia washed over her as she came to realise it'll do the same for him.

Ruby skipped closer to AJ once Violet took a seat on the piano stool, thankful that she got to go next. "I figured since you've become an A+ gardener, you could have this little guy," She brandished from behind her back a small pot, with an even smaller plant inside. "If you take good care of it, he'll grow big and strong."

"Just like me!" AJ was near bursting at the seams; the flower was rather dainty, small and barely purple, yet ready to flourish.

She gently pinched his cheek, gushing openly. "Just like you," Ruby bounced away on her feet, feeling another sense of pride at impressing the tot. She patted Aasim on the back, which turned more into a push when he didn't catch onto her actions. "C'mon, it's your turn now!"

Aasim shuffled over, not bothering to hide his gift. He cleared his throat before passing it to AJ. "Here dude," In his grasp laid a tightly bound book, his name carved into the leather cover. His precious journal that he guarded so dearly the night they first met.

AJ took it gently, treating the book as if it were made of glass. "But it's yours?" He questioned, remembering their first encounter. How times had changed.

Aasim shrugged, unsure of what to say. Dammit, he had this all planned out beforehand! "It's ours. Think of it as 'Ericson's History Volume One', you can finish it off if you like."

"This is cool, I hope I can write as good as you." AJ was so captured by his friend's neat handwriting, he didn't notice Aasims' sincere smile.

"My turn!" Willy yelled, pushing Aasim out of the way in the process. His gift was the only wrapped one, albeit it was wrapped in old textbook pages. A tear in the paper revealed a small piece of wood shining through. "It's a slingshot! Mitch and I used to hit walkers with them all day, now we can!"

AJ hadn't even finished tearing the paper away, but his heart still soared. "That's cool, I wish Mitch was here." He added quietly.

Willy lowered his head, gently fidgeting with his own fingers. "Me too."

Their friend's passing left a forever space in every room, an unnerving emptiness that will never go away.

"Okay Willy, my turn," Omar butted in, wanting to steer the conversation back to the joy. He handed AJ a wooden spoon with a neat little bow wrapped around the handle. "It's my best spoon. You can use it to help me cook dinner tonight."

Louis whipped his head to Omar, shooting daggers from his eyes. "You never let anyone help!"

Omar kept a strong smile as he turned to his friend, unphased. "No, I don't let you help because unlike you the kid actually listens to instructions."

"I listen, just like to take a more...casual approach to cooking." He shrugged, finding a sudden interest in his shoes.

"If by casual you mean undercooking the fish, then sure."

Louis poked his tongue out at his friend before sauntering over to AJ, ready to present the greatest gift of all fucking time. "I figured it's time for an upgrade, say goodbye to that crusty knife," Louis whipped out a small bar stool from behind him, holding it out in front of the boy.  "I present...Stoolio! Get it? Cause it's a stool."

"Nope!" AJ beamed brighter than Clem had ever seen, despite the joke flying way over his head. Louis just had that effect on people. The stool was heavier than it seemed, as it immediately hit the floor when AJ took ahold of it. The faded wood declaring the weapons' age, AJ traced the deep cracks with his fingers. "I think I'll call it CJ, Chairles Junior, like my name."

"That's a much better name. It's strong like you too. It defeats monsters, protects people and looks super cool." He purred, selling the gift as only the best of the best.

AJ looked between his new weapon and Louis, letting the weight of it settle in his small palms. It was stronger than his little knife, though not as easy to hold as his gun. But if Louis could do it, so could he. "Sounds more like you."

Clementine noticed the hitch in Louis' breath, both their hearts thumping from the young boys' sentiment. Louis could feel his heart slip up into his throat, thumping faster than his breathing could keep up. "Uh, wow, thank you. It's both of us."

If only AJ was aware of how much his statement meant to Louis, how he would hold onto it during his weakest hours. If that kid could believe in him, he must be doing something right.

Louis cleared his throat, choking back a quiet sob as his heart settled back down. "There's one final surprise, from all of us." He hopped over to a box beside the ladder, dragging Omar over with him.

The boys reached into the box and began to lift something of great weight, as they struggled to keep a tight grip. "Just don't ask how we got it." Omar heaved, forgetting just how little muscle he truly had.

From the box emeregd something AJ could only imagine in his wildest daydreams. A...giant...Disco Broccoli!

The tot stood in pure disbelief, his jaw hanging wide open. "Is that-"

"Oh hell yeah it is," Louis sneered, maybe just a little more excited than AJ.

The boys set it down besides the dusty fireplace, with Omar wiping his brow. "You like it?"

AJ wandered closer, getting a better look. It was certainly Disco Broccoli, despite there being a hole in his cartoon hand. He had the cool glasses and everything! But he looked...funny. "What...what is it?"

Louis clasped the tots' shoulder, it was always a fun venture showing him something from the old world. Seeing the wonder in his wide eyes, made the hassle Louis went through to get the damn thing worth it. "It's a pinata, bro! You hit it and stuff is supposed to come out."

Omar tapped the side of the pinata, being greeted by a soft echo. "There's nothing in it, but it's still fun to hit."

"You can use Chairles Junior there." Louis was nearly bouncing at the idea as he handed the stool leg to the birthday boy, ready for the absolute carnage he was about to witness.

AJ gripped his new(ish) weapon tightly, eyeing down the funny looking Disco Broccoli. "Awesome."

Clem watched from the piano as AJ tried to lift the stool above his head, nearly tipping over from its' weight. Her thoughts drifted to a dream she had, Lees' words at the forefront of her thoughts. "Wanting to give him a childhood, but knowing what it takes for him to survive."

"You okay, Clem?" Louis bumped his shoulder with hers, breaking her away from her memories.

Nodding slightly, Clementine hoped he couldn't notice the tears in her eyes. "Yeah, thanks for this. It's amazing."

"No problemo, it's good to see him smile."

Clem continued to watch AJ laughing with his friends, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "He's been doing that a lot since we've arrived here."

Louis continued to gaze at her, despite her not noticing. "You both have."

-

Just as it had always been, Clem and AJ sat side by side together on the steps of the courtyard, appreciating the rare beauty of the sunset. The sky a gallery of purely blue and purple. Clem disrupted the silence first, after having spent a lengthy amount of time remembering Rebecca and Alvin, wondering if they would be proud of their young boy. "Can I admit something?"

AJ curiously turned to her, awaiting with an eager tap in his foot.

"I don't actually know if today is your birthday," She pouted. "I know it's at the start of winter, but that's it. There were no calendars, no way to check the date. I just kinda had to guess every year. I also don't know how old you actually are." If she had to guess, either six or seven. Without access to a calendar, all these years trying to keep track of the fleeting months grew tiresome and redundant. Each day was the same, a date made no difference. Hell, she wasn't even sure of her own age anymore.

"Maybe I'm a thousand years old!" He bounced like the truly giddy child he was.

Clem laughed openly into the chilly air. "Sure thing, Grandpa." She pushed at his shoulder before looking back at the sky, knowing deep within her gut that Alvin and Rebecca were smiling with her.

They remained in a balanced silence for a while, until AJ turned back to her. "I don't think it matters. I get bigger and stronger every day, no matter how old I am I'll always protect us."

Clementine wrapped her arm around him, pulling him in close the same way she always had and the same way she always will. "I know you will, forever," She pressed a firm kiss to the top of his head, smiling into his thick hair. "Wanna know what we're having for dinner?"

"What?"

"Beans with apple slices."

"BEANS!"

[ghostbustermelanieking]

a mountain in colorado (part 3 of 3)

part one, part two

post ghouli au. jackson van de kamp, emily sim, samantha mulder, melissa scully. part of my series that i write as i rewatch the x files.

Summary: While Jackson Van de Kamp is on the run, he encounters a series of assumed-dead relatives he didn’t know he had.

---

So this is what Jackson does now. He lives among these inexplicable long-lost relatives, and he tries not to question it. They aren't new parents, he tells himself. They definitely aren't that. And the other parts, the extended members of his family have basically rejected him, and he won't dare try again after what happened with his grandmother. So it must be okay. He's safe here, and his parents can't resent him for being safe, can they? And he still hasn't called Samantha or Melissa Aunt.

It's in the little shit. Samantha kind of gives him warning looks when he goes for the booze, so he holds back, but they watch Netflix on the couch a lot of nights. They like the same old sitcoms that never touch the areas that they don't want to hear about, tests and hospitals and dead parents. Samantha plays basketball, it turns out, and they play one on one on the blacktop sometimes because what the hell else is he going to do. (The first time they play, she beats him by a wide margin. He taunts, “You're pretty good for a woman in her fifties,” and she looks astonished for a second before making a face and telling him to shut the hell up.) He plays a lot of board games with Melissa and Emily, he and Emily hike the mountains sometimes. He and Emily are the most likely to hang out, goof off and do dumb kid stuff even though she is in her twenties, like the siblinghood they never had. Strange little companionable situations and plenty of isolation seem to make this situation that he's actually willing to stay in.

Emily makes him go with her to get groceries at one point, shows him the tiny-ass town that they are closest to. It's cute, reminds him of his hometown in Wyoming. Nothing like Norfolk.

The clerk at the grocery store recognizes her, and has plenty of questions about who he is. “He's my little brother,” Emily says, tousling his hair as he tries to duck away. (He's actually taller than her, it looks fucking ridiculous for her to do that.) “I thought it was about time he helped me out with the groceries,” she adds smugly, as if he'd been ducking responsibilities all this time instead of literally having only been around two weeks.

“Oh, you two look just alike!” says the clerk, and Jackson wants to call him a liar, but they do look alike, just a little. In the face; their profiles are similar. They both have some freckles, although Emily has more. He sees it, but it makes him uncomfortable, and he can't believe this random fucking stranger sees it. He ducks his head and studiously ignores the guy.

He helps carry the groceries, and Emily makes him drive back to camp, tossing him the keys with the excuse of, “I'm tired.” (He's secretly relieved; his sister drives like a maniac. He probably isn't much better, but riding with Emily feels like an adventure, or something meant for thrill-seekers. Especially with all those mountain curves.) He takes the keys and drives back, trying not to dwell on what the clerk said. But it sticks with him anyway. They look alike. He has a big sister. It's easy to forget sometimes, hut he actually has a sister.

(Emily may be the one family member he doesn't feel guilty about. It feels less wrong to have a sister because he's never had a sister before, she can't be misconstrued as a replacement. Because she was an experiment, too. Because he knew her before his parents died. Because he's always kind of wanted a sister.)

Emily plays music too loud the whole way back to camp and tells him to at least go the speed limit. It's December, and it's probably unreasonable to ride around with all the windows down, but Jackson lets them down anyway.

---

It strikes him, sometimes, how far he is from his original goal. He wanted to cross the country, find little ways to forget everything that had happened, maybe send Bri and Sarah a postcard or two. Avoid Scully and Mulder and the facets from that part of his life as much as he could, either for the safety of his birth parents and himself, or out of a need not to betray his parents. Maybe figure out how to save the fucking world, if he can save the fucking world. (Somehow, he seriously doubts it.) But the longer he stays at this abandoned summer camp, the further he feels himself straying away from his plans, his old life. He barely thinks about Bri and Sarah anymore, and considering how that went down, that's probably a good thing. He's done enough to ruin their lives; the best he can do is to stay away. But he doesn't think about his old life in Norfolk much. And he still thinks about his parents, a lot—in his nightmares, in those random guilty moments that hit him at just the right angle to completely gut him, in those moments where he's enjoying himself and he brings up a moment from his past, a funny story or something on pure instinct. And then he remembers: it's not the same. It will never be the same again.

No one ever comments on that, because he knows that all three of the women here can relate to that. It seems to be a different kind of painful for them, especially Emily—she’s brought up a few memories she has of her adoptive parents, although they're less because she was so young, and almost all of them make her cry. Samantha seems the same sort of distanced from her old life as Emily, since it's been over forty years. Sometimes, she'll bring up an argument she had with her brother, or some prank she played, or something like that, but she almost always stops herself whenever Jackson's around, casting those same nervous looks at him that he's more or less gotten used to. He'd rather Samantha treat the subject delicately, he guesses, even though it's beginning to drive him crazy.

Melissa, though. Melissa brings up her family more often. She usually seems happier than Samantha and Emily both when she does, and the stories usually involve her sister whenever Jackson is around. Jackson's birth mother.

He tries his best to ignore it. He really does. Melissa is pretty cool, and she's a good cook (“I used to be a terrible cook, just to piss off my mom,” she tells him once, “but I've been bored out here for almost twenty years, I had to get good at something. I feel like I've betrayed my values, but I couldn't eat Samantha's cooking for another fucking day.”), and she's usually really welcoming to him. She lets him crash on her couch, and doesn't complain when he and Emily stay up too late watching movies and cracking up and making a mess with the popcorn, and doesn't complain when he eats all her food, or when he really does find a weed stash and breaks it out. She's nice. But it gets on his nerves. He doesn't know how to make it clear that he can't be close to Scully, and call her Mom, and give her hugs, like he knows Melissa wants. He's a fuck-up, and he meant it when he said he wished he knew Scully better, but he doesn't know how to do it. When he was a little kid, he would've loved to hear these stories. Now, they just make him mad. Make him think about what could have been.

It all comes to a head, of course. Like it always does.

Jackson comes over to Melissa's house one day looking for Emily, and she tells him that Emily's driven into town for the evening. Somehow, this turns into Melissa and Jackson playing Scrabble alone. He's kind of nervous at the prospect of hanging out with her alone, without Emily as a buffer, but he goes with it because there are cookies in a container on the counter, and he'd feel like the biggest asshole in the world if he said no. (That's how you know they're family, he thinks. Because you're afraid to say no and hurt their feelings.)

He doesn't really care. He's always been pretty good at Scrabble. The first half of the game goes pretty smoothly, with Jackson collecting as many triple word scores as he can, and Melissa telling him stories about her college years that are so ridiculous it makes him crack up. He knew he got his proclivity for troublemaking and getting high from somewhere. “You were pretty badass, back in the day,” he tells her, and she shrugs and says, “What can I say, Dana was always the good one.”

The second half of the game goes downhill from there.

Jackson tries to steer the conversation back into safer waters by trying to interject stories of trouble he and his friends have gotten into, but Melissa can match it with just as many stories about Scully. She used to drag Dana to parties, and Dana was absolutely ridiculous when she got drunk. Dana was a good student, straight A student for all the time she spent in school. Dana used to sneak out every week when she was fourteen and smoke cigarettes, and Melissa still doesn't know how she didn't get caught. Melissa and Dana used to smoke on the roof at Thanksgiving when things would get too awkward with family. Dana was always great at Scrabble, Melissa thinks she used to read the dictionary when she got bored. Dana used to babysit the neighbor's kids, and she was always just great at it, she always loved kids.

That's the proverbial last straw. That's when Jackson can't take it anymore.

“Stop,” he says quietly, poking at a Q tile with the tip of his finger.

“What was that, Jack?” Melissa asks.

“I said stop,” he snaps, standing up so fast that his knee hits the bottom of the table and the Scrabble tiles rattle. Melissa looks surprised, but she doesn't say a word.

“I don't want to hear stories about her,” he says, feeling vicious but not knowing how to stop. “She's not my mom. I have a mom. It's not her.”

Melissa doesn't look hurt, incredibly. She says, “You're right.”

Jackson freezes; he's not used to hearing that. He says, “What?”

“I said you're right,” says Melissa, softly. “I was being selfish. I guess I just… I want you to know her as someone more than… the woman who gave you up.”

She's being so nice about it, so reasonable, and Jackson isn't used to people responding this way to his irrational fucking freak-outs. She's probably been telling these stories for years, to Emily, making promises about a mother she'll never meet. “You haven't seen her in almost twenty years,” he hisses, really vicious this time. “You don't know her anymore.”

And Melissa does look hurt by that, and Jackson feels like the biggest asshole on the planet, but he doesn't know what else to do. He doesn't know what else to do. He turns on his heel and storms out of the room, his heartbeat so loud he can hear it in his ears.

He makes it all the way to his bedroom before he bursts into harsh, angry sobs that he muffles in the collar of his sweatshirt, shivering and shaking and rocking on the hard wooden floor.

---

When he was a kid, he used to think whatever controlled his powers was like another person. Someone who picked what he could do, or what it was he saw whenever he saw clairvoyant shit. He hardly thinks that's the case anymore, but if it is, he'd like to formally tell this outside power to go fuck itself.

He falls asleep on the floor and right into a dream about the absolute last subject he'd want to see right now. He'd love to see, like, something with his parents in it. Some good memory to hold onto. But it's Ginger, and she looks younger than she is now (but definitely older than she was in those visions he got of Melissa's faked death), and it looks like she's giving birth. She's in a dark room on some rickety bed, definitely not a hospital. She's surrounded by people, unfamiliar people who Jackson can immediately tell are not friendly, and a dark-haired woman is bent over her, encouraging her, soothing her. She cries out with the pain of the labor, and Jackson can feel her desperation, her fear. She pleads, “This is my baby! Please don't let them take it!” and Jackson wants to cry out himself. Wants to say, I'm not yours, but he was. Wants to ask, Why did you let me go if I was yours? Why did you let them take me if you didn't want them to? He wants to cry. He can hear the tears in her voice.

The woman is telling Scully to push, and she howls with the effort of it, and Jackson wants to look away but he can't. Ginger shouts with pain and distress, fear, tears wet on her face, and suddenly, new cries fill the room. His cries, tiny and angry and shrill, and Ginger laughs in gaspy panic when she hears it, tears welling in her eyes. Jackson fills another emotion filling him, thick and fierce and unmistakable, one he always wanted his birth mom to feel for him, one he now desperately wants to ignore.

He used to be upset that he didn't have any pictures from the day he was born. He used to wish his mom was his birth mom and his real mom.

“It's a boy!” the dark-haired woman says cheerfully, holding up the baby—him.

“Lemme see him,” Dana says, slurring her words, reaching out almost blindly. “I wanna see him… Give me my baby, Monica.”

The woman is focused on cutting the cord, tending to him, making sure he is alright. Jackson can feel the eyes of the cultists or whatever on them, trying to make a decision. The baby version of him wails and wails. “Give him to me!” Scully shouts, fierce and nearly feral with protectiveness.

The woman hunches over him protectively as she moves around the bed, lays him on his mother's chest. She bursts into sobs at the contact, covering him with her hands, one on his back and the other cupping his head. The two of them cry together, and she puts her head down by his and whispers something that should probably be indecipherable in the chaos of the room. But Jackson hears it. He hears every word.

She says, “It's okay. It's going to be okay, baby. I've got you. I've got you. I love you so much.”

Jackson wakes up on the floor quivering with cold. It's full-on winter, and he's freezing, and his back is killing him. His face is wet again. He presses his hands to his face and rolls over on his stomach. He's shaking, quivering from head to toe.

The truth is that he wasn't lying at that gas station. He wants to know her better. Ginger, Dana Scully, his birth mother. He wants her to want him, to love him. He's wanted it since he was a little kid. But he can't let himself want it, because she gave him up, and his parents are dead, and Jesus Christ, things are supposed to be easier than this.

He's shaking and crying, and he screws his eyes shut, and he can hear her voice again: I've got you. I love you. That's the first thing she ever said to him. And she gave him up. She fucking gave him up. But she said she wanted him. She said she was sorry she didn't get a chance to know him. She said it was the hardest thing she's ever done. He doesn't know what to do.

He's seen her all his life. When he was a kid, when he was scared or sad. He thinks he always knew who she was. He's resented her and he's wondered about her and he's longed to know whether or not she loved him. And now he is here.

He picks himself up off the floor and curls up on the bed, because the floor is fucking awful. He wipes his eyes, his cheeks, and presses his face into his palms. Screws his eyes shut and wishes, just once, to see something happy from his life when he falls asleep.

---

Jackson finds cans of beer in Samantha's refrigerator. He takes two and climbs up to the loft tucked under the ceiling. He sits on the floor with the back against the wall and pops one of them open like a soda. The bitter taste reminds him of Norfolk, sea-salt air and gritty dirt on the soles of his shoes. He closes his eyes and pretends that he is home.

He opens them minutes later at the creaking of the ladder. Samantha appears over the edge of the floor a second later, wincing a little as she steps into the loft. “Want some company?” she asks, and he shrugs. She sits beside him against the wall, picking up the other beer and cracking it open.

“That was mine,” Jackson says, not really caring.

“You know, Fox and I used to share a loft like this,” Samantha says in lieu of a response, taking a sip. “At our vacation house in Quonochontaug, Rhode Island.”

Jackson snorts. “Vacation home, huh,” he says. “You guys were rich?”

“Rich with blood money, yeah,” Samantha replies, her voice bitter. “It wasn't exactly an idyllic lifestyle, kid.”

He drains his can with one gulp. He says, “I don't think any of us exactly had an idyllic lifestyle.”

“That's true,” says Samantha.

They sit in silence. Samantha drinks her beer, Jackson picks at his beer label with his fingernails. He's tempted to ask if Melissa and Emily are pissed at him, but he doesn't. Samantha speaks on that subject first. She says, “Missy and Emily told me what happened…”

“I don't get it,” Jackson says before she can finish. Rips the blue label all the way off and chucks the can at the wall. It makes a loud clanking sound as it hits the floor, lying dormant. “You guys have been hiding out here for years because it'd be too dangerous for your families if you told them you were alive. Melissa told me she's wanted to go home, but she couldn't. So… how come I can leave? How come you said I could leave at any time?”

She seems nearly stunned by silence before answering. Nearly confused. “You're… different, Jackson,” she says uncertainly. “We're not going to force you to stay…”

“But it's totally okay for me to go find Mulder and Scully, for some reason,” he snaps, knocking his foot against the floor. “That's totally fine. No fucking problem.”

“I've never…”

“Yeah, and why haven't you ever? Why aren't you just begging me to run home to my mommy and daddy, and give them a big old hug, and make your long lost brother so happy?”

“Because I can't even take that advice,” Samantha snaps, and it's enough to shut him the hell up. His shoulders hit the wall hard in defeat.

Samantha sighs, pressing her hands over her eyes. “I've been here since 1997, Jackson. Twenty years. In that time, my mom has died, I learned that my dad was dead, and a series of absolute horrible things have happened to my brother. And I didn't go home after any of those times, even after my mother died—who I was a lot closer to than my father, and who I resented a lot less, since she didn't technically choose to give me up to these conspirators over my brother like my father did.”

Astonishment washes over Jackson; he had no idea. He probably should've, considering all he's seen, but he really had no idea.

Samantha sighs, gritting her teeth grimly. “Right around the time Mom died, someone apparently fooled Fox into thinking that I died a long time ago, and it just felt… right. It's horrible, but I thought I could… I dunno, give him some peace if he finally thought I was dead. I knew how long he'd been looking.” Her voice cracks, quivering. “I… I thought maybe it was the right thing to do. I thought it'd be better that way.”

Shaken, stunned, Jackson blinks in shock. Thinking about what he saw in that living room forty-some years ago. Those scared fucking kids. “How the hell… how did you know all this?” he stammers.

Samantha rubs at her eyes. “The woman who brought me here kept me informed,” she says thickly.

He nods knowingly, remembering what Melissa told him. “Diana something, right? Melissa told me she brought you both here.”

“She did,” Samantha says softly. “I was the first one. She was working with the Consortium in Europe, and she… she found out where I was being held after an incident in the spring of ‘97.” She rubs at her eyes again, her forehead, as if she's crying. “I left something out before, when I said I hadn't seen Fox since I was twelve. I met him once after that. This guy who was… trying to manipulate him… Something about your mom being sick or something, I don't know… But he wanted me to tell Fox that he was my father, and that I thought our mom was dead, and refuse to see him or go see her. To tell him I had a family of my own. And I… I went along with it because I was scared. At the time, I was thirty-two, and I'd been in those facilities for twenty-four years. I was absolutely terrified. So I went along with it, even though it killed me. I wanted to tell him what was happening, to see if he could help me, but I was so scared about what would happen. So I… I walked right out and right back to the people who’d kept me captive since I was a kid.” She buries her face in her hands again. “Diana Fowley found me after that,” she says into her hands.

Jackson's mouth is hanging open a little bit. “Who… who is Diana Fowley?”

“She said she was Fox's ex-boyfriend. I guess she was working against him, too, and she felt guilty for what she was doing to him.” She grimaces with disgust. “I was supposed to be moved to another facility after I met with Fox, and she intercepted it. Got me out, brought me here. She told me it was because she owed my brother, and that he'd been looking for me as long as she knew him. And she told me I couldn't have any contact with him. Not with him, or my mom, or anyone from my old life. She said it was too dangerous. She said that we'd all die if I did.”

“And that's… that's why you never wanted to go back,” Jackson says softly.

Samantha shrugs, sniffling just a little. “It spooked me. That night I saw my brother was overwhelming. He was so… so relieved to see me. And I wanted to go with him, see my mom, tell him what they'd done to me and see if he could get me out… But it was hard. I had no idea how to respond. And I… I think I've been scared all this time about what would happen if I went home.”

“What happened, though?” Jackson asks, because that's the question he really wants answered. How did they get here, what happened to his birth parents, how does Samantha know all of this. “You clearly have some idea of what happened to your brother… And you know who my birth mom is, because of Melissa… So what happened?”

She shrugs. “Diana kept in touch. She kept me informed, kept visiting. I wanted to know that my family was okay, after she scared me so bad… And then she brought Melissa here a couple years later. Missy knew Fox, at least a little, and told me about his partnership with your mom… Diana kept us both informed for a really long time. She was watching your parents, although they thought she was dead, and Missy and I both wanted to know that our families were okay, so that was our agreement. She told us when Fox thought I was dead, and she told us when Fox was abducted, and she told us when, uh…” She takes a sharp breath. “... when Fox was presumed dead. And then when they figured out he was alive. And she told us when they had you.”

Jackson can suddenly see the dream he had last night: his birth mother crying out in pain, demanding to see him. How protective she was. He can't quite put together the chain of events, but Jesus Christ, it makes sense that she was so panicked. There'd been a point where it was assumed that his birth father was dead?

“Diana cut off contact in 2002, right around the same time your parents went on the run,” Samantha says, sounding a little more composed now. She sniffs again, runs a finger tip under her eye.

“After they gave me up for adoption,” says Jackson, feeling like the air has been knocked out of him. This is all harder to hear than he ever would've imagined.

Samantha turns towards him, her eyes soft. “Yeah,” she says softly. “After that.”

He swallows, his head hitting the wall gently. “Melissa said you got a new contact then,” he mumbles. “That you thought about contacting my parents after they went on the run.”

“We did,” Samantha says roughly. “But I thought it might be just as dangerous as contacting them when they were on the grid. I… I zeroed in my focus on making this place somewhere where people could hide out. I looked for kids that had been in the situation I grew up in, and that's how I found Emily. And I tried to keep an eye on you, make sure you were safe.” She sighs, finger-combing hair away from her face, thumbing a tear away. “And here we are. I never tried to contact my brother. And now it seems more or less useless, after all these years of hiding, never telling him I was alive… I can't tell you to go home, Jackson. I won't put pressure on you, for one, because I know you don't know your birth parents. Missy knows that, too; I think she just wanted you to know that her sister didn't give you up because she didn't want you. But I can't tell you to go and find my brother because I won't go find him either.”

She goes quiet next to him, fingers knotted in her lap. The beer can is sideways on the floor, puddle at the opening. Jackson sighs, staring out of the huge window across from them. His mouth tastes bitter, his stomach sore. “Samantha, I'm starting to think your family is cursed or something,” he says finally, because that feels like the most appropriate thing to say right now. The situation was well and fucked before he ever came on the scene.

Samantha laughs. “Oh, kid,” she says exhaustedly. “I've known that for years.”

---

Jackson steals three cans of soda and makes two sandwiches, and hikes up into the hills to the waterfall. He's hoping for some time alone, some introspective shit, but he finds Emily there, her hair tossed back in a messy braid, her shoes gathered by the bank and her bare feet dangling in the water. She offers him a small smile when he sits down beside her. “Hey, Jack.”

“Hey, Em.” He peels off his own shoes and kicks at the water. Places like this make him miss the ocean. They sit in silence, watching the river.

“Is Melissa pissed?” he asks finally, head tipped up towards the sun.

Emily shakes her head. “She's not pissed. You could stand to work on your tact… but she's not pissed.”

Jackson nods. He's known about the tact thing for years. “Has she… done that to you?” he adds, wriggling his toes in the river mud. “Told you stories about Scully? How great she is? How much she… loves kids or whatever?”

“Sure she has,” Emily says. “Dana is her sister, and Missy really misses her. She told me a lot of stories about her mom and brothers too.” She shrugs. “The difference is that I wanted to hear them.”

He isn't surprised. Emily was cheated out of something that he grew up with: two parents who loved him and cared for him. She spent years being experimented on; she was so eager for someone to save her that she cried in that hospital when Samantha and Melissa showed up. He remembers her hugging them like she knew them. But still, he says, “Didn't that make you sad?”

“It did,” says Emily honestly. “I've had a lot of that kind of pain, Jackson. I used to daydream about what it would be like if my parents had never died when I was three. Or if Dana had gotten to adopt me. Or if they'd never taken me away from her in the first place. Or if Dana had never been abducted and they hadn't made me without her consent. I've considered a lot of stuff like that. I think that… all this time, I've really just wanted a family. Throughout all this. And hearing Missy's stories was the closest I could get. But I do have a family. I have Missy and Samantha.”

“But you always wondered about her,” Jackson supplies. He doesn't need to clarify who she is.

“Of course I did.” She turns to look at him, her eyes bright blue and exactly like Melissa's. Exactly like Ginger's. “Didn't you?”

He doesn't need to answer that. He turns back to the river, the waterfall. The sound of water on water is so loud that everything they say could almost be lost in the noise. But he hears it. He'll remember. He can't lose things that easy.

Finally, he says, “Do you think I should go find them?”

Part of him expects a yes. The rest of him has no fucking idea what to expect. He knows that Emily has been supportive of him doing pretty much whatever he wants. He doesn't know if she'd encourage him to go when she can't.

Emily says, “For years, I've been told by Samantha that I couldn't ever meet my birth mother. That it was too dangerous for me and her both. And for years, I've always thought it would happen one way or another. But now I'm twenty-three years old, and I don't know what the hell to do with myself. I have aunts, and I have a brother, and I'm safe, and I think that's something.” She punches his arm lightly before getting to her feet. “I'm not going to tell you what to do, Jack,” she says, wiping dirty hands on her jeans. “None of us are. But we're here, and we want you to be safe. The rest of it is up to you.”

---

Things go back to normal. Or as normal as they can be in a situation like this.

The weather grows colder as Christmas grows closer. It's pretty easy to forget the holiday—the others don't really mention it—and Jackson is more than ready to forget it. He doesn't want any reminders of the loss of his parents. From what Emily's told him, this time of year is equally painful for her, her parents died at Christmastime.

The four of them end up hanging out together a lot. Mostly at Melissa's, but occasionally at Samantha's. Watching movies or playing cards. Jackson has no idea how to cook, but he'll help sometimes with throwing snacks together; Samantha and Emily are pretty good at guilting him into helping. He helps Emily with the grocery shopping, too. Samantha finally gets tired of washing the same jeans, t-shirt, and sweatshirt, and drags him into town to buy some new clothes. There's always coffee, and heat, and he feels fairly safe most of the time. It's something of an idyllic existence, compared to weeks on the road, hungry and dirty and grieving.

One night, Jackson is woken up by the flashing of headlights through his window. His initial reaction is panic; he huddles up against the window, his face against the cold glass, and contemplates how the hell he's going to fight these people off. He's pretty capable of defending himself, as evidenced by what happened at the hospital in Norfolk, but he has no idea what kind of threat this is, no idea what Samantha has set up for protective measures, no idea if Samantha is even awake… But he knows he can't let these people get to them, if they've come to hurt them.

The door to Melissa's cabin opens, he can see it from the window. Melissa comes out the door and walks towards the car, and Jackson takes a sharp, panicked breath, his nose pressing against the window. The glass dogs right up. He did not expect Melissa to be the one to fight people off. Does she know what's happening? Is she prepared to defend herself? Does he have time, the ability, to defend her? He tenses, almost leaning into the window, ready to act. His palms pressed to the cold glass.

A woman gets out of the car and walks towards Melissa, and neither of them seem to react like they're enemies. The woman doesn't look malicious, and Melissa doesn't look scared. But still, Jackson doesn't completely relax until Melissa and the woman are embracing. Until the woman is visible standing in the headlights of the car, and Jackson recognizes her: the woman who helped Scully deliver him. Monica, the informant, he assumes.

He lets his forehead fall against the cold window, scoffs through his teeth. Will these weird goddamn coincidences ever stop.

Melissa and the woman, Monica, are heading towards the house now. Jackson hears the door open outside and scrambles to his feet. He's outside of his room before he can contemplate what the hell he's doing, standing awkwardly in the doorway. Samantha's at the door greeting Monica, saying, “It's good to see you, we were getting a little worried,” and then Melissa scoffs, “A little?” and Jackson's feeling a little awkward, like the way he feels walking into a room full of relatives at holidays without a single thing to talk about. He doesn't know why he came out, and he's getting ready to go back in when they notice him. “Oh, hey, Jack,” Melissa says warmly, and the welcome in her voice makes him instinctively uncomfortable. He feels like he shouldn't be here.

The woman—Monica—turns to him, and a cascade of emotions come over her face. “William, oh my god,” she says, and Jackson tenses immediately. He hasn't been called that since the hospital. “You've really grown up,” she continues thickly.

He remembers her from her dream, handing him to Scully. “Uh, hi,” he says awkwardly.

Monica clears her throat awkwardly, waves it off. “I'm sorry, it's just… I knew you when you were little. I knew your parents.”

Birth parents, Jackson wants to add, but doesn't. “Oh, yeah, I know,” he says, immediately wishing he'd stayed in his room. He waves a hand at the kitchen. “I'm gonna… grab some water.”

“Help yourself,” Samantha says with a small smile.

He pads into the kitchen and grabs a glass, fills it with ice cubes. Closer to the door, he can hear them talking, can hear scraps of words—“Spender…” and “Spartan Virus…” and “When is it coming?” He tries to ignore it. He doesn't want to know. He pours water from the pitcher in the fridge, grabs the pint of ice cream in the freezer just because.

The women are crowded at a table, talking quietly, but they all notice him walking back through. Jackson can tell. Monica and Melissa offer him small smiles. Samantha raises her eyebrows pointedly at the ice cream, which Jackson shrugs off. “It's good to see you again, Jackson,” Monica says, and Jackson notes the use of his real name. “If you have any questions, I'd be glad to answer them for you.”

“Oh—” His shoulders tense up as if protectively. He has questions, and he doesn't want to ask them. “Thank you.”

Monica nods. He nods back, the glass of water chilling one hand and the ice cream chilling another, and keeps going. Part of him wants to hear what they're talking about, but the rest of him wants nothing to do with it.

Just before he enters his room, he hears Melissa say, “So have you told Mulder and Dana—”

He lets the door slam too hard behind him.

---

They're lying on the bed, the three of them. Mulder and Scully and him, as a baby. And they're calling him William. Scully's wearing this robe, and she's cuddled up to Mulder's side, one hand clutching at his t-shirt and the other on the baby's back. He's is lying on Mulder's chest, and Mulder looks dopily happy. The two of them, they look so happy. It's practically a family portrait.

And there he is. The baby photos he never had. You must've been such a cute baby, his mom said earlier before wincing, like she hadn't meant to say it. He always used to wonder. And there he is, white blanket and blue onesie. His eyes are blue. His eyes used to be blue, like Emily's. They used to be blue and now they are brown. He used to look like his sister.

They look so happy. Mulder leans down and kisses the top of Scully's head. She presses her cheek against his shoulder, rubs a hand up and down the baby's back. She whispers, This is all I wanted. She says, When I asked you to be the father… this is what I wanted. She sniffles, buries her head against his t-shirt.

His birth father wraps an arm around his birth mother's shoulders. This is what I wanted, too, he says, and he has tears in his eyes. This is it, he says, and he kisses the top of the baby's head, too.

When Jackson wakes up, he is thinking of his parents. The picture on his grandmother's mantle of the day they adopted him, where he's much bigger than that. They're holding him between them, his dad holding his mom and him and his mom bouncing him on her knee. They both look so happy. That's what he always noticed when he was a kid: Mom and Dad both looked so happy.

They looked the same way Mulder and Scully did in that dream. Exactly the same.

Jackson wants to be upset, hurt, resentful. The way he's felt after all the other dreams. He wants to feel a greater longing for his parents, his real parents. He wants to feel as far away as possible from the little kid who daydreamed about the red-headed woman he saw in visions.

But he can't. He doesn't know how he feels, but it's not resentment, somehow.

He thinks he could feel the love in that scene, everything his birth parents were feeling. He thinks he can feel it now. He thinks they really love him.

---

They have dinner one night, some night close to Christmas. Emily and Jackson cook, and it's close enough to a disaster, but not quite. They're both giggly, which might have something to do with the wine Samantha broke out, and Jackson can't believe how much fun it is. He never expected to have this much fun here.

Towards the end of the meal, Melissa is in the midst of a story about teaching Samantha to drive when she'd first came here, and Emily is cracking up, and Jackson asks the question he's been wondering about for a while. “Okay, I know how you guys got here,” he says, waving his hand with the wine glass in it. “But like… how did you end up here? How did you end up hanging out with the sibling of the person your sibling ended up with? How did that happen?”

Melissa laughs, a little tipsy. Samantha shrugs widely, scraping her fork over her plate. “Coincidences, I guess,” she says, smiling a little.

“Or fate,” Melissa offers, completely serious.

“We have a bounty of coincidences and fate here,” Emily points out. “How we all ended up here, and all end up related to each other. How we all ended up as washed-up Syndicate experiments.”

“I don't think that one was a coincidence, exactly,” Samantha says.

“How we're all orphans,” says Jackson. Not even thinking about it. Another dumbass tidbit from Jackson, the jackass who always puts his foot in his mouth. But it's true, he thinks. It's true. They all know what it's like to lose their parents. He feels a little better, being with people who know what it's like to lose their parents.

Emily nods unsteadily, wrapping an arm around his shoulders in what he thinks is a hug. But Melissa is shaking her head. “I'm not,” she says. “My dad passed… back in ‘94, but my mom is still alive.”

Oh, shit. Shit. Jackson can feel himself wincing, because she didn't know? She didn't know? Goddamnit, he is the biggest fucking idiot.

He doesn't know what kind of face he is making, but it's the wrong one. Melissa goes pale. Emily's eyes shift from his face to hers uncertainly, as she takes her arm away from his shoulder. Samantha looks stricken. “My-my mom…?” Melissa asks, her voice wavering.

“I… I thought you knew,” Jackson says, his voice cracking. He's seen his birth mother's tears, her frantic grief, he's seen the funeral, and he thought that Melissa knew.

Melissa's face crumples. She stumbles to her feet and is rushing out of the room, both hands over her mouth, going so fast that she almost runs into the wall. “Missy!” Emily shouts, and she's running after her, her feet pounding the ground. The front door slams, twice.

Jackson buries his face in his hands, horrified. Nauseous. “I thought she knew,” he chokes out. “I really thought…”

“I know. I know.” Samantha's suddenly beside him, her arm around him like Melissa's was a minute ago. Jackson can't find the strength to shake it off. He's seeing his mom and dad, bloody and limp in the kitchen, hearing his mother's scream, and oh my god. He can't fucking believe he did that.

“I… I never knew, either,” Samantha says, and there's an extraordinary amount of guilt in her voice, regret. “I never knew. If I'd known, I would've…” She takes a rough breath, squeezes Jackson's shoulder and lets go. “Jesus Christ, poor Missy.”

Jackson rubs a hard hand over his mouth, lets it drop to the table. “I'm such a fucking idiot,” he says.

“You didn't know,” Samantha repeats. She shakes her head hard, her jaw clenched. “I would've let her go home if I'd known. I really had no idea.”

Jackson is unable to say anything else. He lets his face drop into his palms. The two of them sit there in a sort of stunned silence, like they don't know what to do next.

---

Samantha comes into his room the next morning. He's lying on the bed, flipping through a book in an effort to clear his mind, when she comes in and says quietly, “Emily wants us to come over.” So he goes.

When they get to Emily and Melissa's, Melissa has a suitcase open in the living room. She's stuffing stuff into it, and she doesn't look up when they come in. “Don't try and talk me out of it, Sam,” she says, her voice hard, her eyes wet. “I'm going home. I'm going to see my sister. I'm going to see my family.”

“I know,” Samantha says, her voice soft. “I'm not going to try to stop you.”

Melissa freezes, a book hanging from her fingers. From the kitchen, Emily says, “You're not?” in a shocked voice.

Samantha shakes her head. “Of course not, Missy,” she says gently. “Of course not.”

Melissa lets the book drop to the floor and turns to them, teary-eyed and gratefully, wobbily smiling. She embraces Samantha hard, her face buried in her shoulder. “Thank you,” she mumbles, and Samantha shakes her head hard, dismissive of her thanks, hugs her back genuinely and tightly.

Jackson's heart is thudding, so hard he can feel it in his ribs. Melissa is going to see Scully, and maybe she will tell her where he is, but he doesn't want to dwell on that. He needs to apologize. He feels almost sick to his stomach. He says, “Melissa… I am so sorry…”

Melissa lets go of Samantha and embraces him next. “Oh, it's okay, Jackson,” she murmurs, her voice thick with grief. “I'm… I'm really glad you told me. I just wish I'd… known sooner.”

Guilt clogs his throat, guilt from this encounter and the last one, and he's doing it before he can consider it: he's wrapping his arms around his aunt and hugging her back.

“Missy?” Emily asks in a small voice, almost childlike. She's approaching tentatively, uncertainly. “Um… can I… would you mind if I…?”

She nods as she lets go of Jackson, wiping at her eyes. “Of course, Em. I was always going to take you with me,” she says, her voice trembling, and Emily smiles in an apprehensive, eager kind of way. And then Melissa turns back to Samantha in a rapid, jerky motion. “You should come, too,” she says, almost insistently.

Samantha's shaking her head already. “Oh, no, Missy, I can't…”

“Yes, you can,” says Emily immediately, reaching out to touch Samantha's shoulder. “Samantha, I know that it's hard for you… to imagine seeing your brother again…”

“I can't do it,” Samantha says, her voice choked. “All these years, I've been alive, let him think I was dead… He's been looking for me for over forty years, and I can't… I can't face him. He's going to hate me.”

“He's not going to hate you,” Melissa says, and she still sounds like she's crying, but her voice is so steady. “I've told you what Dana told me all those years ago, Samantha, about Fox looking for you… You're his little sister, and you're alive. He never thought he'd see you again. He is not going to hate you.” Samantha shakes her head again, stubbornly, and Melissa touches her other shoulder, whispers, “Samantha, I would never hate my little sister. He is not going to hate you. Please come with us.”

Samantha's chin trembles. She shakes her head again, weaker this time. “I… I can't… leave Jackson here alone. What if they…”

“I'll come with you,” Jackson says.

They turn to him in surprise, and he's honestly floored himself. He had no idea that he was going to say that. He can't believe he did. But now that it's out there, he can't take it back. And he almost thinks he doesn't want to.

Emily grins at him, in that same nervous way. Melissa offers him a small, shaky smile, too, but she's focused on Samantha. Jackson inhales, exhales, meets Samantha's eyes as she looks up. “If it's dangerous…” she tries.

“If it's dangerous, we'll deal with it,” Emily says. “They are FBI agents, you know.”

Samantha breathes out slowly, her shoulders sagging. Takes a few deep breaths before she nods.

“Okay?” Melissa asks, and Samantha nods again. Melissa embraces her again, letting a choked sob out against her shoulder. Samantha rubs her back comfortingly, looking near tears herself. They hug each other tightly, supporting each other, holding each other up.

Emily is standing beside Jackson; she squeezes his arm as if excited or fearful. Jackson knows that she's been thinking about this for a long time. And if he's being honest with himself, so has he.

“We're really doing this?” she whispers, and he nods. He can't quite believe it, but they are.

---

In an hour, they've packed the car. Melissa and Samantha remain right on the verge of weepy and giggly and nearly hysterical, supporting each other as they climb into the front seat. Melissa's nervously twisting a soggy tissue on her fist, has nearly torn it to bits. Jackson climbs in the back beside his sister, feeling like a little kid. Thinking of that vision he had, once, of Emily in the car with Samantha and Melissa as they drove away from Wyoming with all the windows down. It really is too cold to do that now, but Emily grins conspiratorially at him. Apprehension and anticipation crackles in the car like a live wire; they have a long trip ahead. He has no idea how they'll be able to make it cross country without losing their minds.

“Do we know where the house is?” Melissa is asking, and Samantha is saying, “Farrs Corner, I think… we could call Monica…”

“It is in Farrs Corner,” Jackson says, and they all turn to look at him. He gulps, adds, “I can help you find it,” because he can.

Melissa and Emily exhale as if relieved, as if nervous. “Okay,” Samantha says, as if it's a decision. And she starts the car.

Jackson feels like he is retracing his steps, headed back cross country to every painful thing he left behind. Except he is not going to Norfolk. As Samantha guides the car onto the dirt road, around the curves, Jackson rests his head on the window and thinks, I just want to know that I'm making the right decision. That's all.  

Jackson watches trees and countryside flit by. In the back of his mind, he can see Mulder and Scully in their house, asleep on the couch. Leaning into each other the way they did in his last dream about him. In front of him, the road. The possibilities. How Mulder and Scully will react when they realize that they're all okay. Everything feels like a blur again, like it's going too fast. But he thinks he's okay with it that way.

He thinks that there's no real way to know whether or not this is the right decision. But he thinks that, somehow, this feels right.

[smokingtomas]

Souma: A Necessary Closure

Akai Ito: Fear (ch. 6)

“Where the hell have you been, Yukihira?! Are you trying to rip me off?!”

Nakiri Alice-- her voice could possibly wake dead people back to live. “Whoa, whoa, chill! ‘Sup with the screaming now?”

“Do you know how much roaming costs because you decided not to answer my Facetime?! Now here I am, back in the 90s yelling at your imbecile, headless self!”

Is she forgetting the fact that having her last name means a lot of money? “Aight, aight! It’ll cost ya more the longer you are yelling at me! What d’ya need?”

“As much as I want to bark more at you right now for leaving Erina, which you better believe I will once I see that red hair of yours, I will get straight to point.”

“And that is…?”

“Erina went to Eishi’s hotel in London.”

His heart skips a beat, and in the worst way possible.

“Oh! And he tried to kiss her.”

Aaaand now it’s on his feet.

It’s as if his sanity drops together with it when the little person in his head starts berserking through and throwing things out of the broken window. Guilt is washing over him all over again-- is it his fault?

Megumi’s right-- he shouldn’t have left her. But God has fucked him over his stupid decision and of course Erina goes straight back into his arms.

“Mou, Yukihira! Say something! I’ve given you a very useful information. Don’t tell me you--”

“H-Hello? Is this Alice-san?” Megumi snatches Soma’s phone from him and put her on speaker, and amidst his train of thoughts, he really doesn’t care.

“Oh? You’re with Tadokoro-chan? My, my, so scandalous.”

Alice’s leer triggers Megumi’s nervous button once again, “E-Eh?! It’s not what you think it is! W-We just happen to be in the same city and he… he came for advice! I-I’m actually carrying Takumi’s baby!”

“Gee, Tadokoro-chan! Don’t worry too much. I trust you, unlike the prick that you’re with.” After a brief pause (and a whatever-you-say shrug from Souma), her tone changes to glee, “Oh! Congratulations on the baby, by the way~!”

“Thank you, Alice-san, but Souma-kun can’t really talk right now, so umm… where did you get that information?”

“What do you think? I followed and spied on her, duh! Mimasaka-kun isn’t the only one who does it.”

“Do you know what else they talk about?”

“Nope. They were too far from the door. My hearing device only caught muffles.”

“I see. Thank you for the news, Alice-san. I’ll make sure Soma-kun flies home tonight.”

“He better be! Or else, the last thing going down his throat will be my--”

Megumi hangs up and hands his phone back. “You don’t need to hear that sentence, do you?”

“Guess not.” Soma sighs frustratedly, obviously still a mess, “And guess coming back home ain’t gonna change anything now.”

“Don’t say that. I’m sure Nakiri-san won’t get back to him that easily.” She pats his shoulder, “And I’m sure you know that. I’ve told you the bond you guys have is special.”

A promising look from Megumi is all it takes for Souma to feel convinced once again when he was practically down in the dumps just a second ago. Yes-- what a rollercoaster, but now, after a conversation with her, he’s settled on an action. An action that isn’t encouraged by her in the first place, but it somehow clicks and makes sense.

“It’s time for you to go home, Souma-kun.”

After going through the hassle of booking a last minute ticket out of Phuket online (in his hangover state, everything is a hassle), he manages to go back to his own hotel, shower, and pack his bags on time for his flight.

And at this stage, he’d wish that said flight only takes an hour max, but the frustrating bit is 6,000 miles is impossible to be traveled in an hour, unless rocket is an option.

But on the bright side, 17 hours of travelling (including a painful 3-hour layover in Bangkok that feels like forever) means he gets the chance to gather his sanity back and feeds himself with a hearty portion of pad thai.  Yes-- and he also manages to refuse the free champagne offered during the flight.

Though he wish he had a glass on the cab ride, as he hasn’t prepared for what he’s about to encounter tonight. The worst possibilities that could crush him, and it only sinks in after he knocked on the door.

“Yukihira.”

“Tsukasa-senpai.” Souma greets coldly. “Where’s Erina?”

“Oh? I-I wouldn’t know, b-but how did you know where I--”

Liar. “No need to cover it up, senpai.” He lets himself in. “I knew she was here.”

“Yes, she was, but I really don’t know where she went after she left.” Eishi closes the door behind him and walks towards him. “But you shouldn’t be worried. Nothing happened.”

At that, he raises a brow cynically, “Nothing happened? So you didn’t try to kiss my girlfriend?”

“W-Well, alright, one thing happened.” Eishi waves two hands in the air, “But you can relax, Yukihira. She uh... rejected me.”

“Oh.” He says-- of course Megumi is right. “But still, what you were tryna do is a dick move. Thought you wouldn’t go that far.”

“Well, I’m sorry.” Eishi sits on the frame of his couch. “She came to me, she looked beaten… What was I supposed to do when all I wanted to do everytime I see her is…”

Souma waits for that answer. He wants him to say it. He knew his suspicion is right, and then he can finally punch him in the face, but it’s as if something is choking him that the words just don’t come out.

“Just… forget it.” He sighs. “But what you did to her is no better. How could you let her wander around like that?”

“It’s complicated. You wouldn’t get it.”

At his brief answer, Eishi curls his lip for a while. His eyes darts to the half-empty bottle of whiskey on the table.

“You know, Yukihira. I’m an idiot.” The white haired male finally decided to pour himself a glass, “But you’re even more of an idiot if you think I wouldn’t get it.”

“What?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Drink?”

That really isn’t what he’s asking (plus, he’s planning on keeping his kidney), “Nah, I’m good.”

“Okay, ah… I’m not sure if you really want to hear about this, but uh… when Erina and I dated, I’ve never felt so completed. I have flaws, which she gracefully accepted. We had a great time and a meaningful relationship at the same--”

“Aight, senpai. I don’t think bragging’s gonna help.”

“No, no. Just hear me out first.” He takes a short pause to drink. “But I-- I took her for granted nearing the end. I was always busy, cancelled a lot on our dates because I thought I needed those Michelin stars. Hell, I wasn’t even being supportive when she told me her decision to accept your shokugeki. Of course, she eventually grew tired of me, and I couldn’t blame her for it, so when she broke things off with me, I accepted.”

Erina did tell him briefly about the reason she ended things with him, but never in his life he thought he’d be hearing this from Eishi’s point of view. And just when he thought that is all he wants to say, he continues.

“Days went by, months just flew like that, yet I never gotten over her, so one night, I asked her if she wanted to take me back, but… she’s moved on. She was in that same place when I was so hooked on my career and abandoning her. It was too late for me and I knew I blew it.”

Normally, he’s not a good listener to a long, sappy stories like these (heck, some people have called him out for it), but for some reason, with the pain ringing through every word he says, his hearing has seems to intensify.

“And now she found you.” Eishi then chuckles ironically, “Well, she never really lost feelings for you even then, but uh… can I give you a piece of advice?”

His question jolts him up. “Um sure, I guess?”

“Don’t… end up where I am right now.”

“Huh?”

“She seems to really love you.” That sad smile of his emerges again, “Don’t you ever give up on her, Yukihira.”

Coming from him, not only it knocks on him, but it also opens his eyes to a worse outcome if he ever does give up on her.

He could end up like him. He let her go once, and he’s no longer the grande, 4-Michelin-star guy he always sees him as. In front of him is a broken man, full of regret, which biggest fear always haunts him in the back of his mind.

“Whatever problems you’re going through with her may not be easy, but if you’re willing to change her mind little by little each day, it’ll be worth it. Trust me.”

“But why the hell are you telling me all these things?”

When his curiosity comes out, Eishi only answers simply, “Because you make her happier than I ever did.”

“Why so sure about that?”

“I just know.” Then his eyes wander off, “It pains me that it’s not me, but I want her to be happy, so I… I’m gonna finally let her go.”

Souma doesn’t say anything after that, and as if Eishi takes it as a confirmation that he’s settled on what he wants, he swallows all his pride and give Souma one last inch of strength he has to let go of what he’s been holding onto with another smile that doesn’t reach his ears.

“Take good care of her for me, Yukihira.”

So with those last words, Souma rises to his feet and double pat his shoulder on his way out.

He’s coming home.

[wellhellotragic]

If Looks Could Kill 11/27

Summary: Emma Swan is a dedicated FBI agent getting over a bad breakup. When she and her partner, Ruby Lucas, are forced to go undercover as contestants on a reality show, Emma is forced to try and win the affections of Killian Jones, a man she despises.

Killian Jones is a lost boy. Having recently been nicknamed the ‘Bad Boy of Boston,’ he’s been living up to his moniker using women and rum to avoid dealing with his dark past. When he’s forced to take the lead in a reality show, he encounters a gorgeous blonde who turns his world upside down.

Miss Congeniality meets The Bachelor

Rated: M for language, violence, and smut.

Catch up here: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10

“Spill!”

Emma hadn’t even put both feet through the door before Ruby’s interrogation began.

“Spill what?” Emma tried to feign ignorance but Ruby saw through it.

“Don’t play dumb with me Emma Swan! I’m talking about you and the hunky guy one cottage over.”

“Ruby,” Emma sighed, “there’s nothing to tell. We’ve mutually decided to be friends since we’re both stuck here against our wills. That’s it.”

Ruby glared at her with narrowed eyes and furrowed brows. “Then why do you blush when I bring him up?”

Emma rolled her eyes. “That’s not blush. That’s the blood rushing to my head from frustration at your pointless prodding.”

“Emma, you may be a human lie detector, but you’re still a piss poor liar. I didn’t push it in front of Ava, but I’ve known you for six years now, and I’ve never seen you like this before.”

“I’m not anything. I’m just trying to make it through the operation with what little sanity I can maintain. You do remember that I just ended a two year relationship a few weeks ago, right?”

“That relationship,” Ruby spat as she used air quotes around the word relationship, “was crap and you know it. He was your safety school, not your dream university.”

“Ruby!” Emma’s anger surged. She knew in part that Ruby was right; Walsh was a safe bet, and when push came to shove, he would never be the love of her life. Perhaps in time she could have come to feel love for him though. “He proposed the week before we broke up.”

“What,” Ruby screeched. “Why didn’t you tell me? Did you say yes to him?”

Emma took a deep breath trying to temper her seething rage. “I didn’t tell you because I knew you would try to talk me out of it. I told him I needed time to think about it, but before I could give him an answer, I found him in our bed with another woman. And yes, I was considering it before I saw her riding him to kingdom come, so while you seem to think my love life was a joke, he meant something to me.”

Emma was as headstrong as they came, and although she had had that exact argument in her head more than once since the break up, this was the first time she had come to the conclusion that Walsh was someone to her. She wasn’t sure if it was an epiphany, or the result of taking a stand against Ruby though.

Ruby opened her mouth twice to say something, but quickly closed it both times. Emma had done the impossible. Ruby was speechless.

Every nerve in Emma’s body was telling her to flee, from Ruby and the thoughts running around in her own head, but before she could leave her door crept open.

“Sorry to bother you girls,” Ava started, “but can we talk for a minute, about the show?” Ava winced a bit knowing that Emma still didn’t love the idea of being undercover in the house and was certainly not going to enjoy what was coming next.

“What?” Emma tapped her foot on the ground in an effort to relieve some nervous energy.

“Well, I just heard from Regina and the network and, after the fight last weekend, they want to market you as the bad girl, Emma.”

“What?” It was more of an exclamation than a question.

“Well, they’ve shown some of the footage to a focus group and apparently they ate it up. They aren’t really your biggest fans per say, but they loved watching you snap at the other girls. You bring a certain amount of drama to the show and the focus group kept saying they couldn’t wait to see what you did next.” Ava took a step back just in case Emma’s balled fist tried to find a place to attack.

“You have got to be kidding me! You do realize that you don’t actually work for the network, right?”

“Emma,” Ruby interrupted, “this could actually be a good thing. Think about it. It lets you stick around without having to be the phony nice girl you hate playing. You get to be more ‘you.’”

Emma whipped her head at the last remark and gave Ruby a fierce look. If looks could kill, Emma’s emerald green eyes would have been the deadliest weapons the world had ever seen.

Is that really how her best friend saw her? As a surly beast that hated everything about the world?

It happened. Emma ran.

Killian had been given instructions not to do anything too exacerbating for the next day until they needed him for filming. He had missed four days already, meaning there was one group date and a one-on-one date he needed to make up.

Killian’s first instinct was to ask if Emma could be his one-on-one date. While he knew what they had wasn’t romantic and it may be awkward for both of them to film intimate scenes, it would be nice to have someone there that he got along with and didn’t have to feign interest in being around. Someone that he felt he could trust.

The producers, though, had already decided to send him away on a glamping trip with a woman that went by the name Tink. He had also been informed that no matter the outcome of the date, he would need to make sure to present her with a rose. Killian couldn’t even remember which one she was though.

The group date would include ten women from the house taking a trip into the city to one of Boston’s oldest distilleries, followed by dinner. Killian had asked to see a list of the women who were going on the group date but Mary Margaret had explained that she didn’t have the updated list yet.

Killian felt everything slipping away. He had completely lost control of his life. Every facet of the next seven weeks of his life had already been decided. It took getting admitted to the hospital before he was even allowed to speak to anyone outside of the show, aside from Regina.

Since Killian couldn’t film for the rest of the day, the producers had allowed him to visit with Robin and Will at his cottage, as long as their presence didn’t disturb filming background shots of the women to be used as fillers for promos.

Robin and Will had brought over a few six packs of beer, but after his brush with alcohol and Xanax, Killian felt sick at just the smell of beer.

“So, I managed to get a peek at some of the lovely lasses you’ve been tasked with wooing, and I’m not really sure what’s crawled up your arse. Do you know how many men would give their left hand to trade places with you?” Will had barely even sat down before starting in on Killian.

“And how, may I ask, have you seen the women here? Have you been abusing your FBI power?” Killian was seated in what may have been the world’s most uncomfortable armchair.

Robin interrupted, “Depends on how you look at it. Regina brought home some of the unedited footage to view on your behalf, and Will and I may have caught a glimpse.”

“Great.” Killian slumped down in the chair and let his head fall back. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose in an effort to calm himself. He was glad his friends were there, but he didn’t need them to have ammunition against him later. Then there was Regina, and somehow her showing his friends footage without his permission felt like another betrayal.

“Seriously though mate,” Will continued, “some of these birds are hot as hell, so why are you so opposed to being here? It’s really not that different from being in a bar full of willing women.”

Killian took a deep breath. He wasn’t sure how to properly explain his disdain for the show in a way that Will could understand. Will was used to the FBI telling him what to do and where to go on a moment’s notice. He had already been programed to accept orders without question. Killian had always had his freedom though, and this was something that he would never get used to. Instead, he chose a tactic that spoke more to Will’s tastes.

“This is completely different. When I take a lady home, it’s usually with the knowledge that she and I will spend a pleasurable night together that includes very few words. Here though, I have to listen to them drone on about the most idiotic things. Do you remember that blonde you dated until last year that drove you insane? Anastasia? She’s actually here as one of the contestants. And as far as the rest of them go, it’s like being around twenty of her.”

“Bloody hell.” Will took a long sip of his beer.

“Speaking of,” Robin started timidly, “Regina really does feel awful about what happened.”

Killian grunted.

“Killian, I understand your frustration. What she did to you was wrong, but the intention behind it was pure - ”

Killian cut him off. “I’m sorry but you can’t be serious. She’d been drugging me for who knows how long. If she were really doing it to help me then she wouldn’t have felt the need to hide what she was doing. Regina was looking out for herself first and foremost.”

He hopped up and made it the kitchen in only four strides. He grabbed a beer out of the fridge and downed it in one go. As sick as the smell and taste made him, it was worth it if it helped drown his anger for a few hours.

Sensing the tension between Killian and Robin, Will made an effort to change the subject.

“So wait a minute mate, you’re telling me that out of all of the girls here, there’s not a single one you fancy?”

Killian hesitated for only a second before denying it, but that second was long enough for Will to pick up that Killian was lying.

“Oi, you do fancy one of ‘em don’t cha?” Will sat up excitedly like a dog being offered a treat.

“I just said no.”

“Your words said no, but that pause said something different. Who is she?”

“Will,” Killian warned.

“No, no, lemme guess.” Will tapped the neck of his beer to the side of his head. “Lets see. I know you’ve always been a bit partial to brunettes and the occasional red head, so that cuts the list in half.”

“Don’t forget that he goes for blue eyes too,” Robin chimed in.

“Right, so who does that leave us with? Let’s see, there’s the librarian, the marine biologist, and the bear trainer.”

“Bear trainer?”

“I think,” Robin supplied, “that he’s referring to the park ranger that said she’s been helping some orphaned bear cubs.”

“I meant what I said. She’s been training ‘em up like pets. She was gushing about them like they were part of ‘er own family.”

Killian rolled his eyes, a habit he was almost certain he had picked up from his short time with Emma.

“The model!” Will exclaimed. “You’ve got a thing for the knickers girl. I could get behind that. Maybe she could arrange to give us all a private show with all of the latest fashions.” Will raised his eyebrows at the other two men.

Killian barked out a laugh at that. “I assure you it’s none of them.” Realization dawned on him that he had just admitted that there was someone. “I don’t fancy anyone. You both know me. I’m a one-and-done guy.”

“No, no, no. You don’t get off that easy mate.” Robin wasn’t normally one for gossip, but Killian had never shown genuine interest in a woman before and he was intrigued.

Killian ran his hand through his hair, before letting his fingers settle behind his ear. “Look, it’s not like that. I’m friends with one of them, but that’s it. Neither of us have any desire for it to be anything more.”

It was mostly true. Emma had never shown any interest in him beyond friendship. He was certain that her concern for him before was a mixture of guilt and friendship, and while he could easily admit to himself that she was highly attractive, he refused to let himself feel anything more for her. His heart had already been claimed and he wouldn’t betray that.

“Killian Jones, ‘friends’ with a woman. I never thought I’d see the day,” Will joked.

“Perhaps I should buy a lotto ticket since apparently anything is possible now,” Robin added.

“Hey, before we leave did you want us to help you look for your necklace again?” Robin was already walking towards Killian’s bedroom to start searching.

“No need mate, it’s been found and returned already.”

“Where the bloody hell was it,” Will asked.

“It was on the balcony where Emma found me.” Killian didn’t even realize he had used Emma’s name like it was so common his friends should already know who she was. He never used women’s names. It was always the girl from last night, or that girl in the black dress. “I guess the paramedics removed it while they were working on me, or maybe it just slipped off. She found it though and gave it back yesterday.”

Will and Robin exchanged a look. “What?”

“Nothing,” Robin supplied.

Will wasn’t ready to let it go so easily though. “Ya, I’m just a bit confused mate. You see, we spoke to Regina and between all of the production crew, grounds keepers, and contestants, no one seems to have known about the entrance to that balcony.”

“And your point is?”

Will walked towards him with a definite strut in his gait. “It just seems a bit odd that you would be up there, or that this ‘friend’ of yours knew where to find you. Ya know, unless you had planned on meeting ‘er up there.”

“Will, I’ve already told you, it’s not like that. We’re just friends.”

“Ya, keep telling yourself that, mate.”

Both men finished their beers before excusing themselves to leave, explaining that they still had some work to do on their current operation. Before they left, Killian pulled Robin aside to ask him for a favor. Killian still wasn’t ready to speak to Regina yet, but he needed her to pull a few strings and do him a favor.

Emma hadn’t planned on finding her way to the docks. She had meant to wander aimlessly through the gardens, but before she knew where she was going, she started to smell the salt in the air.

When she reached the waterfront, she sat down and let her legs dangle over the edge. The tide had come in and the water was almost to her feet. She sat there for a long time, letting the breeze hit her face. It had helped to calm her.

She wasn’t sure how long she had been there before she heard footsteps approaching.

“Ruby, I swear to God, if you say more one more word about him I’ll shove one of your sky-high stilettos up your ass. “

“Sorry, love, but I’m not into that kind of play.”

Emma cringed at Killian’s voice. She had been certain that it was Ruby coming to track her down. It hadn’t even occurred to her that Killian liked coming to watch the water too.

“So this ‘he’ that you referred to, is he a friend or foe?”

Emma looked over to Killian who had come to sit next to her. Smiling at him she responded coyly. “That remains to be seen.”

Killian cocked one eyebrow up at her with a lopsided grin on his face. Emma rolled her eyes at him. “It’s nothing. Ruby seems to think that there’s something going on between us and won’t let up about it.”

“And why would she think such a thing?” he teased.

“Oh I don’t know, perhaps it’s all of the clandestine meetings we’ve been having.” She chuckled a little. “I think finding out that you and I had a shared secret balcony set her off.”

“Ah, and what would she say if she knew about the torrid love affair we’ve been carrying on out here at the docks?” He shot her shit-eating grin.

Both of them stared out at the waves for a while before Killian interrupted the silence. “I’ve been meaning to ask you, what happened to your eye?”

Emma furrowed her brows. There was nothing wrong with her eye. Killian raised his fingers and gently brushed them over the now healing gash above her left eye.

“Oh, that. I got in a fight with a unicorn.”

Killian was kind enough to let it go at that, but she knew he wanted to press her further.

“Let’s just say that having twenty some odd horny women locked up in a house together isn’t the most peaceful way to spend a weekend.”

Emma watched as Killian’s eyes widened, understanding. He gently grabbed her chin and pulled her face towards him so that they were only inches apart. Her lungs became paralyzed as she felt warm puffs of his breath hitting her face.

He studied the gash for a moment before looking her straight in the eyes.

“Are you okay?

His genuine concern startled her. She could feel her heart starting to race as he looked at her with worry.

She swallowed loudly. “It’s nothing really. You should she the other girls.” She tried to smile at him but he was overwhelming her and she wanted to run again.

“Oh, speaking of,” she growled out, changing the subject. “My antics, as it was put to me, didn’t go unnoticed. I was just informed that I’m being branded as the shows ‘bad girl.’”

“What?” The previously concerned look on his face had shifted to confusion.

“I’m supposed to seduce you, while stirring up trouble and picking fights with the other girls behind your back.”

Killian gave a genuine laugh. “Emma Fowler, the bad girl of prime-time TV.”

Emma gave him a very pointed look.

“I’m joking of course. This whole thing is just entirely too ridiculous sometimes.”

“On that end I can agree.”

Killian’s laughter had finally died down. “Well at least it means they plan on keeping you around. I know it’s not really what you were hoping for, but for the sake of my own sanity I’m glad you’re not going anywhere too soon.”

Emma felt a slight flutter in her stomach but wasn’t sure why. Yes, Killian was an attractive man, and when he wasn’t a drunken fool she could understand why women were drawn to him. She just wasn’t one of those women.

“So tell me, Emma. How are you planning on going about seducing me? Just so I can make sure to act accordingly, of course.”

There was a sight glimmer in his eye as he watched her. The fluttering almost doubled, but she did her best to push it down.

“Oh, that’s the easy part.” She gave him a sultry smile. “Here, stand up.”

As both of them stood, Emma placed herself so that she was standing directly in front of him.

“You see, seducing a man is much simpler than seducing a woman. There’s no mind games, no intricate word play involved. It’s all about tactile sensations. First, there’s smell. A good perfume can do wonders for enticing a man.”

She watched him nod in acknowledgment.

“Next, we have touch.”

As she said it, she lightly brushed her fingers against his forearm, dragging them softly up to his bicep. She leaned forwards towards him just close enough to whisper in his ear.

“And then there’s sound,” she whispered close enough that her lips brushed the shell of his ear. She felt him tense. “Men respond to low sultry voices.”

She leaned back again so that his eyes were trained on her face. She saw his jaw clenching and knew that her efforts were having the intended affect of him.

“There’s sight.” She let her tongue graze across her lips wetting them. His eyes fell downwards. “And finally, there’s taste.”

He closed his eyes and leaned forward, trying to close the distance between them. For a moment, Emma almost let him. She almost let herself want it, but her flight instinct kicked in and she took a step back.

“See? Easy.”

She watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he took a hard swallow. She was having a difficult time catching her own breath and needed to get away.

“I see. That’s, um, good information to have.” he choked out.

Both of them stood in silence trying to regain control over their bodies. Emma had only meant to rile Killian up, but somehow she had set herself off as well.

“I, uh,” he stammered breaking the silence. “I should probably get back. I have a one-on-one date set up with Tink. We’re glamping overnight, whatever that means.”

With that, Emma deflated, feeling like she had been kicked in the stomach. “Oh, I didn’t realize you were filming again already.”

“Aye, I have to make up for all the lost time this week.”

Almost sensing her thoughts he continued. “I, uh, I tried to ask for you, thinking it would be less awkward having an intimate date with someone I knew, but I don’t actually get much say in any of this as I guess you can imagine.”

Emma nodding back at him watching him toy with that nervous spot behind his ear. “Well I should let you go, I guess.”

Killian lingered for a moment, looking like he wanted to say more but just didn’t know how. Eventually he excused himself, leaving Emma to watch the water alone and wonder why she was so bothered by the idea of him spending a night alone in the woods with another woman.

When Killian arrived back at the cottage, makeup and wardrobe were already waiting for him. They readied him quickly, leaving him with a more rustic look. This was possibly the first time he had ever worn plaid in his life and he found that he didn’t hate it as much as he thought he would.

After he was finished, he was met outside with a small crowd. There was a town car that would take him, Tink, Mary Margaret and David, the main camera guy to their campsite. A small filming crew would follow behind them in small van.

David filmed Killian helping Tink into the town car before following her into the back seat. He also filmed them driving away into the sunset for thirty seconds before the car was ordered to turn back around. When it came back, Mary Margaret and David squeezed into the opposite side of the car so they could film the drive.

“The drive is going to take roughly an hour so I need you two to banter for a while for the camera,” Mary Margaret informed them. “Nothing sexual though!”

David turned to Mary Margaret giving her a quizzical look. She responded with a shake of her head before turning back to Tink and Killian.

“I guess we should start then.” Tink was ecstatic. “Thank you so much for asking me on this date. I’m really honored that out of all of the women in the house you picked me to get to know better.

Killian forced a smile, knowing damn well that she wasn’t his pick. “Well, lass, I look forward to seeing what this night brings us.”

They made small talk for a while, about how excited she was to be in the woods overnight, and her love of trees. As Tink made a joke about her love of wood, she brushed a finger up and down Killian’s forearm.

Killian tried his best to hide his smile, not wanted to lead her on. But when she leaned in and whispered something in his ear, he couldn’t help erupting in laughter. He hadn’t even heard what she said to him. He could only think about Emma, and her girls guide to seduction. They were only thirty minutes into the drive and Tink had already made her way through half of the list.

The only difference between Emma showing him and Tink actually using the methods was that Tink was having zero effect on him.

[sandcastles-hedestroys]

1-70 I want to know it all in great detail

I see, the key to getting asks is to passive-aggressively tag your friends.

01: Do you have a good relationship with your parents?

Anyone who has ever known me in real life knows I absolutely do not. I have an alcoholic, compulsive liar for a mother and an absent father, plus some grandparents who are so convinced that they are my actual parents that they would probably kick me out if they learned I refer to them as my grandparents. Fun times.

02: Who did you last say “I love you” to?

Either my dog or yours lol. I don’t like telling people I love them. That’s something to be shown through your actions, otherwise the word loses its meaning. 

03: Do you regret anything?

I don’t even know where to start with this one. I’ve regretted basically every major decision I’ve made, and I probably shouldn’t be allowed to think for myself. If I had to name a few things that I regret right now, I would say I regret spending my spring break being so bitter. I really did have a good time, but I would have enjoyed myself more if I hadn’t tried to make it about me. My other big regret at the moment is cancelling my campus residence app. I screwed myself out of a guaranteed place and now I’m stuck with a bunch of drama and uncertainty. Also, there’s a friend that I’ve had for years and there were times when I was pretty horrible to her and she stuck with me despite it. I wish I had been mature enough at the time to be the person she needed in her life, instead of causing drama.

04: Are you insecure?

Extremely. I have a lot of insecurities about my body, mostly my face and hair, but a lot of my family in underweight and it was kind of instilled in me, that to be attractive I had to be underweight, like I remember when I started high school I made it a goal to stay below 110lbs until after graduation. I was still growing so that goal was as unrealistic as it was unhealthy. I’ve struggled with disordered eating since I was like 12. Other than that I can be really insecure about asking for the things I want and need. One of my biggest fears is people seeing me as selfish.

05: What is your relationship status?

I’m a single Pringle! I was in a relationship for a few months, but I got dumped because I consistently put my friends before her, which is funny because I’m in the middle of some conflicts with friends over not talking with them enough. I’ve been on a few dates and stuff since then, but I’m in a bad place right now mental health wise, so being single is probably for the best rn. 

06: How do you want to die?

This is kind of dark, but I don’t really care how I die as long as I’m in control of how it happens. If there’s a really wild and interesting story involved that would be even better. 

07: What did you last eat?

I’m munching on some green chili peanuts with a crap ton of Diet Coke. I’m at home right now so I’ve been eating way more than usual.

08: Played any sports?

I used to do ballet, gymnastics, contemporary and jazz, as well as various ballroom dances. I’ve blocked most of it out and lost a lot of my flexibility, but I would love to return to ballet at some point. I miss gymnastics too, but I’m too tall for it lol.

09: Do you bite your nails?

I’ve always been weirdly prideful of my nails and the thought of biting them has always freaked me out, like my nails are my babies. Keeping them nice is a big deal to me so my chompers can stay the hell away lmao

10: When was your last physical fight?

I’ve never actually been in a physical fight. The closest encounters were last semester, when my old roommate got a concussion from a crazy person that used to live with us, and a few years ago when I let a friend slap me.

11: Do you like someone?

I’m assuming this means like like. I’m not super interested in dating right now, but there have been people that have sparked my interest recently.

12: Have you ever stayed up 48 hours?

I am smol and weak. My fragile shell of a body would actually start to disintegrate if I tried this. I’ve only made it to 24hrs once and my body like completely shut down.

13: Do you hate anyone at the moment?

I don’t like using the word hate for the same reasons I don’t like using the word love. There are people that I will not associate myself with and there are people in my life that I don’t feel any positive emotions towards, but there isn’t anyone that I could comfortably say I hate. 

14: Do you miss someone?

There are a lot of people from my life a few years back that I really miss, but I have to remind myself that I was a different person then, and some bonds are meant to be broken. I also really miss a lot of the friends I have at school. I take them for granted until we’re apart and then I feel all hallow, like part of me left too and that really sucks.

15: Have any pets?

I have a Chihuahua-weiner mix. He’s super old and he doesn’t have a tail and his name is Bob. He’s great. My aunt’s dog is basically my dog too, and he’s a pit mix. His name is Chester and he is actually a giant teddy bear. My friends have a doggo too, her name is Gwen and I am her aunt. She is the most talented and amazing fluffer who deserves the world.

16: How exactly are you feeling at the moment?

I’m at that weirdly numb point right now where emotions are like a foreign concept to me. I’ve been super stressed and I have a lot of pretty serious decisions at the back of my mind that I can do nothing about at the moment. I’m super behind on my schoolwork and with all this stress, I know I can’t catch up. It’s super frustrating and there’s been a lot of drama amongst my friend group, making me feel like I can’t really trust anyone in my life right now. My age has been preventing me from doing so much recently and since my birthday is around the corner, even the people who claim to understand have been super condescending about my anger over it. There have also been a lot of deaths recently in the city where I go to school, and I’ve learned that death is a bit of a trigger for me, so that hasn’t been fun. I feel like I’m one serious breakdown from being there myself and that’s super scary. 

17: Ever made out in the bathroom?

Somehow, no.

18: Are you scared of spiders?

When I was little I was really afraid of spiders and would go out of my way to have them killed. I had intense breakdowns whenever I thought a web touched me. Now, I regret having hurt innocent creatures and I think spiders are really cool. Leave the land crabs alone!

19: Would you go back in time if you were given the chance?

Yeah, knowing what I know now, I think that it would be cool to try and get myself to the point where I am now, but without a lot of the drama.

20: Where was the last place you snogged someone?

My dorm room lol. 

21: What are your plans for this weekend?

I’m taking a greyhound back to my college town on Saturday, and Sunday I’m returning to my normal schedule. I’m not looking forward to that eight hour bus ride.

22: Do you want to have kids? How many?

I’m kind of a lone wolf, and I really want to travel so kinds aren’t really in the picture, at least not until I’ve gotten my doctorate. Even then I would either adopt or use a donor, and I wouldn’t have more than two. 

23: Do you have piercings? How many?

Right now only my ears are pierced, but I plan on getting my septum done in May, followed by a double medusa. I also really want dimples and a brow done. Eventually I’d do my nipples and stomach as well.

24: What is/are/were your best subject(s)?

I’ve always been geared toward the liberal arts. I love all things involving art, history, and languages. I low-key have always enjoyed math too. I’m working on my bachelors in comparative cultural studies with minors in queer studies and museum studies. I want to carry that on to a masters in gender studies and a phd in Buddhist art. After that I’d like to go back to school fo economics and eventually obtain a masters in economic history.

25: Do you miss anyone from your past?

I miss people from my past when I’m unsatisfied with the people currently in my life. I have to remind myself that they aren’t around anymore for a reason and that it’s more important to work on the relationships that are relevant. Dwelling on the past does more harm than good. 

26: What are you craving right now?

Some love and affection? I’m not craving anything really. I could just use some peace and quiet.

27: Have you ever broken someone’s heart?

Yes. I’ve broken an ex’s heart when I ended the relationship. I was unhappy, to the point where I cheated. This was also the point when I started to question if I was actually a lesbian. I dumped him and never told him why. I broke my friend’s heart when I led her on, but then rejected her because I was in love with someone else (who did something similar to me). I broke my aunt’s heart when I told her I felt like I don’t have a family. I broke my biological mother’s heart when I made it clear that I didn’t want her in my life. I’m pretty good at the whole hurting others thing. 

28: Have you ever been cheated on?

It’s very possible, but if someone did, they never told me.

29: Have you made a boyfriend/girlfriend cry?

I can’t name a specific time, but I’m sure it’s happened.

30: What’s irritating you right now?

What isn’t irritating me right now? Oh my god. 

31: Does somebody love you?

I’ve had a lot of people tell me they do, but I have a hard time feeling it most of the time.

32: What is your favourite color?

I love every color, and I don’t like making colors feel left out, so my favorite changes a lot. Right now it’s yellow, because yellow is a bright, warm, happy color. I also really like pink. The pastels of both of those are 10/10

33: Do you have trust issues?

I legit don’t even trust myself. The only person I honestly trust 100% is my aunt. I have really bad trust issues, but I also overshare a ton. My life is a cycle of sharing my life story and then panicking. 

34: Who/what was your last dream about?

The other night I went to sleep while drunk and I had this wild dream where I met someone, learned his whole life story, flirted and eventually fell in love with him, came out to him, saying I’m not sexually attracted to guys (he came out as ace too so it was perf), and then he was hit by a car, causing irreparable brain damage. I woke up right after, but that dream will haunt me.

35: Who was the last person you cried in front of?

My aunt. I was updating her on my life in college, and it’s been less than ideal.

36: Do you give out second chances too easily?

I’m a huge believer of forgive but don’t forget. I used to be so bad about grudges that I would be angry even after forgetting what I was upset about. I guess I have the opposite issue here.

37: Is it easier to forgive or forget?

Forgive. Like I said above, I might forgive you, but knowing what someone did before will always leaving me searching for instances of them doing it again. Trust issues who?

38: Is this year the best year of your life?

It’s only March and I already know that it will be one of the worst years of my life. Ugh.

39: How old were you when you had your first kiss?

I think I was thirteen. I didn’t know how I felt about guys at the time and I almost puked in that poor dude’s mouth. 

40: Have you ever walked outside completely naked?

I have, and it was terrifying. Midday skinny dipping wasn’t one of my greatest ideas.

51: Favourite food?

Avocado on toast with a poached egg on top, muffuletta, yellow curry, and eggs benedict are my top ones.

52: Do you believe everything happens for a reason?

Absolutely. I didn’t really believe this until my roommate’s big fight last year. So much happened in one night, that wouldn’t have happened if we had done things even a second later. It was wild, but it was like there was so much pent up negative energy that the universe needed to release, and it found a way to make that happen.

53: What is the last thing you did before you went to bed last night?

I put some food away.

54: Is cheating ever okay?

The thing about cheating is that it’s when you go out of your way to do something with someone else when you know it would hurt your current partner. It’s something that happens when you aren’t happy in your relationship, and in a lot of cases it can be a cry for help. It is hurtful and a sign that a relationship isn’t meant to be, but cheaters shouldn’t always be villainized.

55: Are you mean?

I can be, but I try not to.

56: How many people have you fist fought?

None, lol

57: Do you believe in true love?

Not really. There are so many people that we have things in common with or who exist on the same wavelength. We might find someone that makes us happy for a long while, but nothing is permanent.

58: Favourite weather?

I love hot, sunny days when you can leave windows open, wear shorts, and only drink things with ice. 

59: Do you like the snow?

I lived in Alaska for over nine years before moving to the Sonoran desert. I moved to Northern Arizona for school, and when I saw snow again, it was as an adult who only saw the negative aspects of it. I hate being cold.

60: Do you wanna get married?

I don’t see myself ever being married. I would have to really love someone if I were to actually settle down and start a life with them. Right now I really only see it as something that would tie me down.

61: Is it cute when a boy/girl calls you baby?

I honestly hate baby as a pet name. It freaks me out. The only pet names I find cute are the unusual ones, like once when an ex accidentally called me cornbread.

62: What makes you happy?

Getting my nails done, binging my favorite show (Archer), travel, doggos, wandering around in stores with my music blasting so I can feel like I’m somewhere away from my problems, seeing people impressed with food I made, completing a project and being proud of my work, etc.

63: Would you change your name?

I hate my birth name, but I’m also afraid I’ve been conditioned to feel that way by my grandparents as a way to attack my bio mom. Because of that, I’ve been going by my middle name and various nicknames. Most people close to me call me Abby, but my favorite thing is to be called Lynn. I’m pretty hesitant to legally change it though.

64: Would it be hard to kiss the last person you kissed?

Yeah, the last person I kissed kinda sexually assaulted me, and I’d like to avoid that.

65: Your best friend of the opposite sex likes you, what do you do?

Reject them as nicely as possible. Dating would be bad for me right now, and I’m pretty sure I’m not sexually attracted to men.

66: Do you have a friend of the opposite sex who you can act your complete self around?

I don’t think I have a best friend, period. I don’t think I’m entirely myself around anyone through. Different people will bring out different parts of my personality.

67: Who was the last person of the opposite sex you talked to?

Not sure tbh. 

68: Who’s the last person you had a deep conversation with?

My aunt. The conversation we had about my life at school was pretty emotional.

69: Do you believe in soulmates?

No, for the same reason I don’t believe in true love. Life is too impermanent for there to be someone our soul fits with perfectly. There is too much change for something to be predetermined like that. 

70: Is there anyone you would die for? 

Anyone who has ever been somewhat nice too me. Honestly though I would be willing to die for a lot of people. The thought of anyone else having to suffer really sucks and if I can save them from that, I would.

[5questions]

BEN TANZER

Bio:  Ben is the author of the just released book Be Cool – a memoir (sort of), among others. He also oversees the lifestyle empire This Blog Will Change Your Life (changeyourlifethiswill.com) and frequently speaks on the topics of messaging, framing, social media, blogging, fiction, essay writing and independent publishing. He can be found online at tanzerben.com.

What writing or other projects are you working on currently?

Given that my current efforts to overthrow the government are going slow, and the mid-term elections are still a couple of years away, I have been working on a follow-up to my novel Orphans titled Foundlings, which shifts from the point of view of the male protagonist to that of his wife. It's a road novel and a rumination on family, story and the act of moving from dystopia to utopia. I've been working on a novel about memory as well. It traces a relationship over several decades and the impact of that relationship on both the married couple at the center of the story, as well as their daughter. I'm also continuing to expand the offerings at This Blog Will Change Your Life, my ongoing and quasi cultural lifestyle empire, which has long hosted a Zine, podcast and book riffings, but is now launching a handbook series and T-shirt business too. If any or all of that works, or someone merely sends me a large sum of money, you can also look forward to a jeans line, perfume, doughnut shop, taco stand and Gin distillery.

Your recent memoir Be Cool, along with some of your past work, has a heavy sense of setting. New York State  and the City of Chicago are too of the settings that come to mind. I think setting is one of the most important elements in fiction. What do you think? How you see the Midwest as different than the Northeast? What’s similar?

Whether I'm writing fiction or nonfiction, I tend to start with a sliver of something, an idea, a conversation, a mood, or impulse. As I expand and mold that into an actual piece, I start to visualize the spaces where the story is unfolding and as I write I suck up whatever details I see in my head. In terms of the Midwest and Northeast, which are the places I have spent much of my life living in, my experience is that the small towns and urban centers have more in common with their respective small towns and urban centers than not, regardless of region. There are always unique qualities, food, industry, religion, sometimes, and music, but political leanings, and hobbies, day to day life, how people fall in love, how they fight, communicate, and don't, and how the towns look in terms of stores and plazas and gas stations, it's all very similar, something I think we saw more clearly in the recent election, though what all that means, continues to be misunderstood.

Your writing has a very detailed sense of memory and also a  playful sense of humor. Who are writers you like for their humor writing? What about writers who focus on delving into memories deeply?

I'm fascinated with memory, how we tell our stories, how they change, and how other people remember things. Among my friends and family I'm known as someone who remembers everything, and yet, I am also routinely told that stories which I know to be fact, I remember incorrectly or have embellished beyond anything recognized as truth. I am also fascinated by, and value, humor, always have, though in fiction, I never consciously try to ensure a piece has humor, and in essay writing I always do, consciously trying to balance humor and pain, sometimes sentence by sentence even as I'm editing. In one way, my earliest influence in terms of thinking about writing and essay and humor, was David Sedaris, but my first, and ongoing, influence, is Jim Carroll, and The Basketball Diaries in particular, a book that can be both shockingly sordid and depressing, but is also quite funny and electric and everything I aspire to be on the page. More recently, and possibly my biggest influence in crafting my previous essay collection Lost in Space, is the writing of Sam Irby and her collection MEATY. I would also include Megan Stielstra, Wendy C. Ortiz and Scott McClanahan in this mix, because I know they have influenced me with their love of word, truth telling and verve. I wouldn't want to leave out more random influences, however, or things that surely have had some impact, for example, watching Richard Pryor in Live on the Sunset Strip, the Mr. Natural comix that floated around my house when I was kid, listening to Steve Martin's comedy album A Wild and Crazy Guy, MAD magazine, Animal House, the Beastie Boys and the RAMONES. They're all influences as well, though when, why and how they've played a role, is not always clear to me.

What's your day-to-day life like? Do you like it?

To be clear, I'm terribly boring. I have spent much of my adult life working 9-5, worrying about retirement plans, vacation time and health insurance. I have two children who I make sandwiches for on most mornings and I have been married for twenty years. That said, I get to write nearly every day, the children are beautiful, when not calling me a hypocrite or reminding me that no one reads my books, I still laugh with my wife, I meet really cool people, do readings, and podcasts, and so much of it is so very good, lovely even. But do I actually like it? Most of the time, yes, though I am contractually obligated to say that. I do mean it though, it's just that, maybe not quite being 9-5 would be nice. Say 10-4. And being able to run and write every morning to start the day because that window would actually exist to do so would be cool. Also, time to drink and surf - and no, I don't know how to surf, it's fantasy, but all of this is at the moment - and tacos, every afternoon. I might also enjoy being counted on just a little less to always know where band-aids are, which will happen eventually, the house being empty more often, which may never happen and living near the beach. I want all of those things, and maybe, somehow, I will figure that out, and when I do, I want to believe that I will like a lot.

A lot of artists and writers have had calls to action or predictions that art/literature in America will change greatly in this new era after the recent election of Trump. Could you or do you see your own work changing? I saw that you recently attended the Women’s March in Chicago with your son.

The work will change because we will change because the world has changed and because while it will not always be conscious, our work will reflect what's happening around us. So, will my work change? I'm sure it will. I won't try to write in anyway that is any more political unless I'm asked to, but I'm sure bullies and liars will certainly become more prominent characters in my work. I have already been thinking of a thing where I can see characters like those creeping-in. Will I become more political regardless though? Fuck yes. I already was, but clearly not enough. I went to marches and I made donations, but I wasn't in it, or absorbed by it, and I'm going to try and figure out how I can be. One thing for sure, and this may be minor, is that I want to focus more on what's being said and calling that out. Words matter. Facts matter. Science matters. And when there are lies, and untruths, and alternative facts being treated as actual facts, people have to draw attention to that in the same way we have to call out bullying, misogynistic, homophobic, anti-Semitic and racist behavior when we encounter it. We can't sit by and wait for someone else to do something, because when we do, we get this, and this is fucking terrible. You also get me becoming very preachy and I do apologize for that.