#then walk directly against the flow of traffic in the middle of a left turn lane for 200 feet

[thateclecticbitch]

[coldresolve]

Moneymakers: A Desperate Thing // Part 1

This AU takes place before (or instead of) the events of Moneymakers. I’d encourage you to read Moneymakers before this anyway, as it’ll give you some context as to what the characters are like. If you want to read @suspicious-whumping-egg’s take on this AU, that can be found here.

Masterlist / Next

It’s five minutes past noon, and Renee Vaughan is getting nervous.

Left and right, busy people rush past him, high heels clacking on the pavement as their scarves flutter in their wakes. Hot dog vendors and newspaper stands respectively call out their prices or the latest headlines, dog walkers are dragged along by the leashes of their animals, and city joggers huff with their last thread of effort. The reflection of the sun in nearby skyscrapers is blinding to behold directly, and several people waiting by a nearby bus stop shield their eyes against it, hands gloved in lieu of natural warmth.

Renee stands in the middle of it all, on the corner of Madison and Central Avenue, exactly as agreed upon. Curbing his restlessness by rolling on the balls of his feet, his hands are clenched into anxious fists in the pockets of his jacket, as his eyes scour each passer-by for any semblance of recognition – though, truth be told, he isn’t entirely sure who he’s looking for. His newfound partner sure seemed to revel in keeping things mysterious.

He's on his first day of withdrawal from snow, and on the third day of withdrawal from benzos, creating a mess of rapidly alternating restlessness and exhaustion, which only solidifies itself by each passing hour. It’s a feeling not unlike having a bad case of the flu, a general unrest which does nothing to mitigate his unease. On the seventh minute past meeting time, he lights a smoke, hungrily sucking it down as he waits, paranoid of every stranger who so much as looks at him sideways. He must look insane, standing there staring, but he can’t help it. This isn’t your average rendezvous, and it frustrates him that the man is late.

He’s about to call the wait off when he locks eyes with a stranger across the street. Someone who appears to be looking at him, with no small degree of curiosity. The man is on the shorter side, dark hair flowing past his shoulders almost as far as his waist, wearing all black clothes, a typical metalhead look. His features are vaguely Native, high cheekbones and a hooked nose, a calculated look in his dark eyes.

Renee lets the eye contact linger until there’s no doubt in his mind that the stranger has zeroed in on him. Then he breaks the eye contact, scurrying through blearing traffic to cross the street.

The stranger does a bit of an elevator look on his approach, sizing him up and down and nodding to himself. “You must be Renee?”

Renee nods.

“I’m Davin,” the man says. “C’mon.” Then he turns on his heel, fully trusting that Renee will follow along.

Renee does follow, if a little uncertainly. The Davin guy walks surprisingly quickly for a short guy. “You said twelve o’clock,” he says as soon as he’s caught up.

Davin shrugs a shoulder. “I wanted to make sure you were alone.”

He leads Renee down an alleyway which, thankfully, isn’t particularly barren of people. Little cafes have fenced off dining areas reaching out onto the sidewalk, the odd bicyclist trails past them on the road, the clicking of their gears echo off the nearby buildings. Renee’s anxiety rises for every step.

Eventually, they reach another main vein of the city, an avenue on which cars are parked in single file along the side of the road. Davin walks up to one such car, a relatively new-looking gray four-wheel drive with tinted windows in the back. He nonchalantly opens the driver’s side door, nodding at Renee to get in the passenger seat.

Hesitating, Renee eyes the car. “Where are we going?”

Davin smiles. “You don’t need to know,” he says as he ducks into the driver’s seat.

A moment of apprehension passes, in which Renee looks up and down the busy street, chewing on his lower lip. The last thing he wants is to be alone with some shady stranger, but he supposes that moment had to come sooner or later. He doesn’t like the thought of not knowing where they’re going, though. It feels like it could be a trap.

But none of this is going to feel right, is it?

Although every cell in his body revolts against it, Renee pops open the passenger side door and climbs in, feeling a pang of regret when he shuts the door. Thankfully, the doors in this car don’t automatically lock.

He carefully watches as Davin starts the engine and pulls out of the parking spot, joining traffic. “So that’s just how it’s gonna be, huh?” He remarks. “Me in the dark about everything?”

“For now,” Davin hums, slightly distracted by driving, although he, too, occasionally looks sideways at Renee, as if gauging his reaction. “I don’t trust you either, you know,” he says.

Renee chuckles tensely. He looks out the passenger window at the city which slowly grows less dense around them, trying a little too hard to come across as casual. His leg is bouncing on the floormat. “Why do it this way, then? Why not just take someone?”

Davin snorts. “Too much of a hassle. I can’t do it on my own.” He lets out a sigh. “It’s much easier with a willing participant, no?”

Renee feels his stomach drop at that, with something akin to shame. He grits his teeth, eyes scouring the landscape. Factories and auto mechanics whiz by off the side of the highway, soon to be replaced by suburbs. All the unknowns dance around his head like a swarm of flies, pestering him with uncertainty about his current endeavor. “So, uh,” he says. “Have you done something like this before?”

Davin chuckles softly. Markedly doesn’t answer.  

Renee nods to himself, sniffing in a quick breath. “Alright, then.”

The highway gets fewer and fewer lanes the further out of the city they drive, and soon, the landscape changes as well, from suburbs to farmlands and forested areas long since withered and dead-looking.

After about half an hour of driving in tense silence, Davin slows down, blinking his way off an exit ramp to a rest stop. This time of day, apart from a few trucks scattered here and there, the parking area is relatively empty.

Renee tries not to let the steadily inclining rush of adrenaline show in his features. “What are we stopping for?”

Davin doesn’t answer. He finally brings the car to a halt in a parking booth, in a secluded part of the rest stop.

Teeth on edge, Renee’s hand instinctively sneaks down to clutch the knife in his pocket. “I’m serious, man, if you’re trying to pull a fast one on me—”

“Relax,” Davin says nonchalantly. “I’m not deviating from our agreement. You’re still here on your own volition.”

Renee warily watches the man shut off the ignition and reaches into the back seat for something.

“What’s the catch?”

Davin just snorts, pulling forth a cloth as well as what looks like a brown bottle, like the ones used on old apothecaries.

“What is that?”

“Chloroform,” Davin says.

Renee opens his door and steps out into the cold autumn air.

Laughter. “I thought you were in,” Davin calls after him.

Sneering, Renee spins around, gestures at the bottle. “Why the fuck would I agree to that?”

“Because you need the money,” Davin says easily, giving him a vague smile. “I don’t want you to see where we’re going, in case you nope out on me later.”

“Give me a fucking blindfold, then, fuck!”

“That’s not good enough. It’s this, or we say our goodbyes, and I leave you on the side of the road.”

Renee grits his teeth. “What the fuck, man?” he hisses. His eyes hopelessly glide over the desolate rest stop, as if anything there would help his current dilemma.

Because Davin is right: Renee desperately needs the money. He hasn’t slept for over 48 hours, and his chest yearns to a painful degree for a fix of something, anything, to get his mind off how fucking terrible it feels to be sober. And bar actually going out there and mugging some poor father of three, who probably needs the money just as much as he does, this is his last shot, even if it is a shot in the dark.

Renee lets out a sound of frustration, biting down the urge to attempt to tear the car door off its hinges. Jaw set, he ducks back into the car. He can’t bring himself to look Davin in the eye. “You’ll let me go if I say I want to leave,” he says, and he doesn’t phrase it as a question.

Something more solemn flashes over Davin’s face, and he nods seriously. “Of course. That’s part of our agreement.”

“And you don’t touch me while I’m out, you hear me? Or I swear to god, I’ll fucking kill you.”

Laughing, Davin shakes his head. “I wasn’t planning to.”

Renee nods to himself. Then he leans forward in his seat, holding his head between his hands. “Fuck, man, I can’t believe I’m actually doing this.”

Davin lets him stew in that misery for a while, silently waiting.

Eventually, Renee takes a deep breath and leans back. “Alright. Fucking… do it before I change my mind.”

Davin nods. Screws the lid off the bottle. Renee deliberately looks away as he pours a bit of the liquid inside onto the cloth.

This is fucking insane.

“Try to sit still,” Davin says as he screws the cap back on.

When he finally reaches across the center console to put the cloth over Renee’s mouth, Renee can’t help but reel back a little, grabbing onto Davin’s wrist with one hand – not pushing it away, exactly, just really, really wanting to.

The smell is sickly sweet, with a tang of something more pungent and chemical-esque, and the effect – well, that’s almost immediate. Renee can feel the energy tapping out of his limbs, as if his whole body is filled with lead, weighed down by gravity. His fingers slip from around Davin’s wrist, hand landing slack in his lap. He makes a last feeble attempt at jumpstarting himself, writhing somewhat in his seat.

“You can’t fight it,” Davin says, more clinical than gentle.

His vision is clouded by a vignette, one that slowly expands from his periphery. His chest rises and falls more slowly, his breath heats up the cloth around his mouth. With one last glance out into the rest stop, to freedom, he feels his eyes roll back in his head, and that’s the last sensation he has before the world finally disappears, and Renee Vaughan sinks into the black mist of unconsciousness.

Masterlist / Next

[ryozoro]

Hades Playlist - i.

NOW PLAYING : I n t e r l u d e [J. Cole]

cw; name calling, blood, mentions of murder, major spoilers

“Fate is a very weighty word to throw around before breakfast.”

Despite the red-light district thriving through the night, it looked just as beautiful during the early morning. Yn was roaming the streets on her pedal bike for the first time since winter break as she plotted different ways to surprise her big brother at his newly opened bike shop. She had already purchased his favorite breakfast meal from the little café she worked at, and all that she was left to do was see the said man. Getting out of thoughts and returning to reality, she stopped at the side of the traffic light to press the ‘crossing’ button and to text Draken to make sure he was at work before she made the trip.

“hey there pretty girl, ya wanna come ride something more interesting than the little kiddie bike yer on right now?” some bleach blonde junior high kid called out to her, smirking as he man spread and took up most of the space on the park bench. “I know ya hear me pretty girl,” he leaned and rested his elbows onto his knees, “maybe ya want me to come over and beg for yer attention, huh? Want me to come and make ya listen to me?”

She scoffed and waited for the light to signal for her to cross, but its as if the gods wanted to punish her and traffic kept flowing out of her favor. Getting restless, she pocketed her phone and tapped on her bar handles in hopes of the cars to all be generous and let her through; of course, this did not happen and the young fuck boy in training had began to approach her alongside his friend who were hyping him up and recording the event.

“You might be older than me,” he walked up behind her and kicked her bike tire before circling around and leaning against the basket in the front, “but that doesn’t change the fact that I hit girls.” Yn had to refrain from spitting in his face because Draken always said ‘never start anything with others first, let them choose their fate.’ In other words, big bro just didn’t want her to put herself at risk due to minor inconveniences that were presented towards her.

Just as the light switched from a hand to a walking figure, yn politely smiled at the boy in hopes of him getting the hint that she did not wish to engage with him anymore, but – of course – that was just asking too much of him. He turned back and looked at the sign noticing it was their turn to cross, and he surprisingly moved out the way. Yn smiled realizing that her brother did know it best when he said that the ‘dumb young boys will leave you alone after they realize you’re not going to give them the time of day,’ and she moved to pedal across the cross walk with a large smile.

However, big bro’s words are not the golden rule amongst men and the boys did not leave her alone; in fact, they decided to run at her hit the back tire with a bat and caused her to lose control and fall in the middle of the walkway. The drivers were kind enough to wait for her to get up and cross the street with scraped knees and a dirty pull over. She turned back to glare at the boys, but their backs were already facing her as they leisurely walked away laughing. This wasn’t going to ruin her day, after all, she still gets to surprise her brother with her presence and might even have the chance to see his hot amazing friends whom you grew up around. After realizing that the former gang members might all be hanging around her brother’s workplace, she got up with a huge smile and skipped the rest of her way on the crosswalk. Once to the other side, yn hopped back on her bike without checking her bloodied shins and made her way on the quickest route to the shop.

Glancing up at the familiar billboards that danced in sky and looking down at the alleys being populated with street cats and new gen delinquents, she realized she was only a block down from seeing the man who has always put her first and raised her to strive to her fullest potential. Smiling as closed her eyes for just a second - she swears it – to bask in the excitement and next thing she knew, she was on the ground covered in coffee. She could hear faint voices but those were cancelled out by her skin screaming at her to get up and quickly remove any rubble and dirt that had entered. Moving to get up, she took note of blood staining the concrete and became slightly alarmed.

“Oi, you dumb bitch, you should watch where you’re going,” a man’s voice echoed through her head, “you got a drip of blood on my Milano’s.” Trying to get up, yn went to wipe her eyes, but as soon as she lifted her hands, she felt them share the similar sting that her knees and chin felt. “You deaf or something? Ha, lucky for you I’ll take the food in your basket and whatever is in your wallet as an exchange. Pin code for your card must be included, love.” Hearing as she was about to get stripped dry of her hard-earned cash, she shot a glare up at the well-dressed man’s body just to be sent in a more state of terror when she noticed the tattoo that decorated his temple; it was the infamous Bonten symbol.

“I say we just take her to the back alley and make her pretty throat match the rest of her bloody body,” she turned and seen a pinkette with long hair and two scars that sat on each corner of his ?beautiful? mouth. to be completely honest, he would have been very much at the top of her most attractive list if he weren’t just plotting to slice her neck right in front of her; she wondered if he ever heard of the Element of Surprise. “She hasn’t even apologized yet and it’s been at least 45 seconds, that is pretty rude don’t you think, Mochi-kun?”

“It is very rude,” the built man with slicked back blonde hair spoke up, “do you want me to take her in the alleyway?” He squatted down to meet yn at eye level and she didn’t know if it was the fact he was able to stare into her soul with lifeless eyes or the extremely structured shoulders that could break her bones if he had tackled her, but she genuinely felt that she was going to die. “You seem like a worthless kill if I am being honest, and I don’t like claiming meaningless prizes. So, if you want to live,” ‘Mochi-kun’ reached over and gripped her bloodied chin, “or are you going to be good dog and run your pockets?”

She couldn’t believe it; for all her life, death threats have never been directly shot at her as Draken and the others have always been there. Of course, she emptied her pockets as quick as she could and began wiping the man’s Milano’s with her cloth lens wipe.

“Good girl,” the man with the temple tattoo said mockingly, “but I’m gonna need you to put your pretty mouth to work since you don’t know – or rather – you act like you don’t know how to speak.” She felt her eyes began to fill with tears as she looked up from the ground; they mistook it for fear, but yn was just angry she was powerless to them. “Don’t worry, I like older women, so I won’t need your mouth for that,” he laughed loudly in her face, “lick the blood off.” Her glare returned and tears began to spill over her cheeks. “Be a good bitch, and lick my –“

“What are you idiots doing?” a man with a long pink and purple mullet-like hairstyle came from behind her. “Are you guys bullying young kids again? Oh, wait, you’re not a kid.” He stared at you through his multi-colored bangs and tilted his head, “Why are you all bloody like a sewer rat walking through the back alley of feral cats?” he pushed the girl’s forehead back, straining her neck to hold eye contact with him, “you’re not some whore, are you?” He craned his neck back to the man who has been treating her like a dog, giving yn a full view of his Bonten symbol tattooed across the middle of his pretty throat. “Neh, Koko, you do realize that if you want a girl’s attention you can’t just rough her up in hopes that she takes you to bed.” He turns back to yn before sighing, “You’re cute,” for some reason she felt herself swelling with pride, “but you’re not my type,” – well there goes her ego.

“Oh what-fucking-ever,” ‘Koko’ mumbled as he gently pushed her away, “I didn’t want some inexperienced princess anyway, so don’t get your hopes up.” He quickly bent down and took all the cash from her wallet and began to slide out the card, but a baton quickly swatted at his hands.

“Your obsession with money is crazy, but you can’t take hers if you still owe me 45,000 yen.” Yn turned to see a man with pushed back purple and pink hair holding the offending stick. Unlike the other members, his tattoo was in the same place as the mullet man – maybe they took over the organization after her other big brotherly figure, Mikey, left. She drank in his appearance, and although he was thinner than the other members, something about him just screamed ‘stay away;’ but for the first time in her life, yn didn’t want to listen to such obvious red flags. “Oh no, you’re bloodied up like a rat –“

“I have already said that nii-chan,” the mullet head said, “what do you say? Wanna jut get rid of her like Sanzu-san suggested?” The now known younger brother asks. She began to tremble but not out of fear, no, out of a weird feeling at the pits of her stomach that came about as soon as the stranger stumbled onto the scene. “Oi,” the younger brother flicked your chin, reminding your body that it is supposed to be in a state of stinging pain, “staring is rude. What are you – a deer in headlights?”

“Now, now, Ridou,” the man continued to meet yn’s gaze as he motioned for her to take his hand, “where’s the fun in hurting a good little lamb? Especially one who shows that she knows to yield to her Sheppard.” Against her better judgement, yn took his hand and allowed him to help her up. “Look at you go,” he smirked and scanned over her body through hooded lids, “such a strong little girl you are standing on wobbly legs after the big bad wolves tried to tear you down.”

She should feel offended, mocked, and appalled, but she couldn’t – not with the voids he called eyes staring at her. “T-thanks,” she weakly mumbled as she began to gather her bag back together and prop her bike back up, “I know you guys said you needed the pin number, but I can’t give it to you.” She hung her head and balled her fists; she was waiting for someone to hit her but that never came. Looking up she sees the ‘older brother’ standing in front of the brooding ‘Koko’ and the other members just staring around the streets.

“That’s fine, little one,” the older brother said, “we don’t need your card. Koko here will be fine with just the cash. But I will need payment of the sort since I did calm the bully over here, don’t you think?” He smiled at yn, quickly scanning her student ID and then turning back to her face, “You’re 18, yeah?” she nodded, and he smiled lazily, “Good, give me something of yours that is valuable. I want to talk to you again and if I take it, you are going to want to take it back, correct?”

“I – um,” she began to go through the bag and seen that the only things she deemed valuable were her phone and the spare keys to her room in the brothel, “all I have is my k-keys and phone.” She huffed out in hopes that he took mercy and just let her go already; if she kept in his presence any longer, she feared that every piece of knowledge on common sense would fly out of her brain.

“Well, no one wants a pedal bike here and your phone and keys wouldn’t be of use to me,” he spoke in a rather degrading tone, “how about, you give me that pretty little necklace that you’re wearing… hmm, ... oh! Give me your number as well. After all, how are you going to know when I want you to take back your precious gems without being able to plan a proper date?” His smile was too secretive to be comforting, but this was probably the best way to saving her own life.

“Okay,” she replied quickly, “just please, don’t break the necklace…” her hands shook as she unclasped it and placed it into the man’s hands. “That’s a gift from my brother, so I promise you I’ll come and get it whenever you ask.” Yn put her hands on her bar handles before straddling the bike.

“Thank you,” he smiled and put away the baton before fishing out his phone, “put your number in it and call to make sure you’re not fucking with me, yeah?” He tilted his head and softly hummed at the soft sound of her phone vibrating in her bag. “Thank you, yn-chan.”

“No, thank you,” she lightly coughed and waited for him to look back up at her after saving all her contact information. Once he finally looked up, she flinched but proceeded to stare him dead in his lovely irises, “May I have your name… if ya don’t mind that it.”

“Haitani Ran,” the older man laughed and shifted his weight onto his hip, “and I expect you to text me whenever you get the chance.” He turned around and the other members began to follow. For what felt like an eternity, yn finally let out a small breath, well at least until he had turned back around. “Oh!” Haitani-san smiled at her, “Leave it under ‘Ran-senpai’ so your brother and friends don’t get spooked. Don’t want the fun to end before it has barely even started.” With that, he turned back around and waved half-assed before disappearing into the distance.

Yn decided to just to walk the rest of the block because riding the bike has been nothing but bad luck so far. Once at the shop, she sighed and made her way to the back where she knew would be unlocked because no one dared walk up into her big brother’s place of work. Parking her bike, she quickly takes her phone back out with 3 texts from an unknown number.

Unknown: hey little lamb, its yer senpai <3

Unknown: yer probs with yer bro so ill call you later, mm around midnight so stay up

Unknown: text me back soon or I mite accidentally break your pretty necklace and youll have to  owe me a big favor for ignoring me :)

“what the actual fuck,” yn whispered as she quickly began typing away. She didn’t know if she be upset with his back-to-back messages treating her like she was his property, or mad at herself for feeling this little need inside of her that wants to please him. Yes, all of the gang members were extremely hot and DANGEROUS, but something about ‘Ran Senpai’ gave her the cold chills; what made it worse was the urge that she possessed to go against all her morals for him.

Yn: hi! Im sorry,, I was just trying to get to my brother’s shop

Yn: wait,, do you know draken-nii?

She tilted her head and rocked lightly from side to side, waiting for a reply instead of going in and surprising her brother like she initially had planned to do. While she waited, she changed his name to ‘Tani Senpai <3’ with a small smile as she imagined Draken freaking out over the fact that a boy has caught her interest. Of course, she wasn’t romantically interested in the man, but his face isn’t one that she would mind seeing from time to time – at a safe distance that is.

Tani Senpai <3: mhm, some good and bad history

Yn: oh?

Tani Senpai <3: you do know curiosity killed the cat, right little lamb?

Yn: you flirt a lot

Yn: how old are you ?

Tani Senpai <3: 28 years young bb

Yn: youre ten whole years older than me?? You look so,, young.

Tani Senpai <3: I have aged, but trust me, I am rather youthful in different aspects.

Yn: do you by chance,, like memes?

Tani Senpai <3: ofc, especially hornee ones.

Yn: haha.. well I gotta go,

Tani Senpai <3: mhm go ahead baby, remember. Midnight <3

 Yn: aye aye captain.

She felt another vibration as she placed her phone in her backpack, but she was finally able to see and surprise her brother and that is exactly what she planned to do. Quietly pulling the door open, she noted that the music blaring and Draken’s back was to her as he was fixing up what looked like Pah-chin’s old CBX 400F. It was a cute sight if she was being completely honest; her brother rebuilding his old friendships. She seen the other boys’ bikes lined up too: Draken’s Zephyr, Mitsuya’s little Impulse, Kazu-kun’s Rocket, Mikey’s CB250T, and even the late Baji’s Goki.

“Pah-san still has the old thing,” she decided to speak up instead of tackling her brother, “are you guys gonna give it to some younger kids?” right as she finished her sentence, draken whipped his head back and went to cradle yn to his chest. Suddenly, all of the stinging on her skin had vanished and she was giggling while circling her arms around her brother’s waist. “How are you ya wannabe greaser?”

“I’m doing fine you idiot, how are -,” draken lifted his head to get a good look at her, but all his excitement drained as he was met with a sight of dried blood and scraped skin. “Who the fuck did this to you? I’ll kill them right fucking now, what the hell happened yn?”

“DRAKEN,” he stopped and stared at you expecting an answer, “I tired riding my bike down the big hill by the park and this happened, okay? I’m okay.” She stared at him with a soft expression and relaxed once she noticed he slumped in his posture, “I know you said to stop riding down the hill because it’ll bite me in the ass one day, so I guess today was the day.” Yn laughed and draken tried to fight the small smile that was threatening to fall on his lips.

“Go sit on the counter and watch the store for a bit, I’m gonna get the first aid kit in the back and I guess I’ll patch ya up.” With that, he disappeared into the office hall and left yn to be lost in thought. She had never lied to Draken this heavy before. It might not seem like a big deal to others, but she just told her brother she fell down a hill instead of saying that some /Bonten/ men were just threatening her life 20 minutes ago and they treated her like a dog; well, she didn’t feel that bad anymore, considering that he would have gone and wasted his life against men that played dirty. “Get out of your head, I’m back.” Draken teased her before getting an alcohol wipe and wiping the dried blood, “don’t squirm too much, loser. iss’ gonna sting a bit tho, so try to not hit me.”

It went a lot more smooth than she had expected, yeah, the cleansing wipe and ointment burned, but now she was bandaged and able to not worry about even more blood staining her clothes til they go to the brothel.

“Here,” he handed her a spare shirt and some sweats, “I don’t like seeing you all beat up, makes me want to fight the side walk. You know where the bathroom is.” Draken slightly punched her shoulder before heading back to seat near the bike, “once you’re done, we can go meet the boys for breakfast. I bet yer hungry.”

“Yer the best, ya know that,” yn smiled before taking her bag and clothes to the bathroom. “It won’t be long,” she turned before entering the hall, “make sure the cute one is there!”

“Stop trying to fuck my friends,” Draken called out in an irritated tone as she walked away laughing. It was an ongoing joke yn had played on her brother, where she would pretend to have some crush on his friends and it’d just make him twenty times more protective around them; he never knew if she was serious or not so he had to be cautious.

Once in the bathroom, yn quickly changed into the clothes her brother had lent her and stared at herself in the mirror. She laughed when she realized she kind of looked like one of the main characters from her favorite psychological thrillers. Yn took out her phone and decided to message Mana, mitsuya’s younger sister and yn’s best friend from home, with a picture of her bandaged state and the caption, ‘take out my ankles next time, daddy <3.’ It honestly surprised her to get a reply that fast as Mana was always one to sleep until noon. She didn’t know what scared her more, the fact she sent it the wrong person, or the fact the person knew exactly what she was talking about.

Tani Senpai <3: you look hot like that

Tani Senpai <3: like being called daddy, but in this context arent I supposed to call you mommy or something LMAO

Tani Senpai <3: I can break your ankles with my baton

Tani Senpai <3: make you my little housewife and call you ‘Bum.’

Tani Senpai <3: don’t worry, I won’t turn into ashes ;) <3

“Yn,” Draken called out, “you okay in there?”

“Don’t worry about it nii-Chan,” she giggled in hopes of masking her terror, “just bumped into a wound. I’ll be out soon.”

“Okay,” draken slipped a pad and a tampon under the door, “don’t know if you might want these -,”

“LEAVE YOU IDIOT,” yn genuinely laughed and heard draken’s heavy chuckles through the door, “thank you though, I’ll be out soon.”

“I’ll be outside on the bike, bubs.”

After hearing draken’s foot steps vanish, she quickly began typing.

Yn: that wasn’t meant for you -

Tani Senpai <3: shame, I love killing stalking

Yn: wait,, really? 👀

Tani Senpai <3: mhm,, we’ll talk about it later tonite ‘bum ;)

Yn: .. deal :)

Despite every shitty thing that has happened to her since she got back, it felt as if they were supposed to meet; fate as one would call it. She was offering herself to one of the most dangerous men who rule the underworld, and she didn’t even find herself to minding.

masterlist | next

an: hi hello, hope yer all eating well :)

ryozoro©

[sugarstickery]

An Allegory Within the Dark

This is an unofficial fan translation of chapter 3 of Jujutsu Kaisen’s first light novel, Departing Summer and Returning Autumn by Gege Akutami and Ballad Kitaguni.

Summary: Mahito stumbles across an unusual human in his search for a place to call ‘home’.

Featured characters: Primarily Mahito, with brief appearances from Hanami and Jogo, along with an unnamed novel-only character

Timeline: An undefined time prior to the events of the Vs. Mahito arc

An Allegory Within the Dark

If you want to hide a tree, you go to the middle of a forest.

So if you’re looking to hide a person, you should go to the middle of a city.

Following that logic, it makes sense for curses worthy of being the true humans to set up their hideout in the city center.

Cursed spirits would actually have it much easier if they spent their time in places crammed with fear where humans and the like can’t live: deep in the mountains or in densely wooded areas, for example.

But for a group of curses plotting to overturn the current era, a base in the heart of the city is crucial for invasion and seeking refuge. That being the case, it’s also better to try aiming for a location with a high concentration of negativity.

Anyway, that’s how some employees from a scam business ended up massacred.

“This really is the simplest way to handle it. All of them nest together up here away from the public eye, so clean-up is a cinch.”

Jogo laughed while trampling the burning remains of a corpse underfoot.

Roughly two minutes ago, there were about six humans in the office.

The curses considered a few ways to handle dispatching them but ultimately decided that burning was the fastest, so Jogo quickly turned them to ash.

“But humans used this building, didn’t they? Won’t it be a problem if there’s property management or something?” Mahito asked, poking at an ostentatious vase displayed on a shelf.

Apparently the concern was unnecessary. Jogo tried to answer with a grin, but a nonsensical language cut into their conversation.

“⏁⊑⟒⟟⍀ ⎎⍜⋏⏁ ⟟⌇ ☊⎍⌇⏁⍜⋔”

“Oi, bastard—! Stop talking, Hanami! It makes my head itch!”

Though Hanami spoke in nothing but meaningless sounds, the intention behind it was somehow transmitted directly into the minds of others. This was usually unpleasant and it irritated Jogo.

When he noticed Mahito still looking his way, Jogo continued to explain despite his frustration.

“Hmph... What? There’s no need to worry. I asked Geto what his aim was, and it looks like these were the kind of underhanded humans who got involved in plenty of unethical things.”

“Hm. So basically, other humans won’t actually come close if they get that curse stuff happens here.”

“Exactly. Any respectable, straight-laced human would never come near this place under normal circumstances. It’s the perfect city-center hideout.”

“Is it really?”

“...What is it, Mahito? You don’t seem satisfied. What’s there to worry about? It would put us in a great position to start preparing our plans for the city, and it’s great for a quick escape if we need one.”

“Mm... No, you’re right, but...”

“But what? Spit it out.”

“It’s just... This room is really tacky.”

“Huh?”

With a pop, a small eruption burst forth from Jogo’s head. His narrowed eye looked like a painting of a gently sloping mountain.

“It’s tasteless, isn’t it? Stuff like that gaudy gold lion in the sparkly jar or this cheap-looking sideboard.”

“What are you even saying?! I have no idea what’s gotten into you lately, but you’ve been so annoying!”

“Movies.”

“Movies? Are those overly-embellished portrayals of humans really that interesting?”

“They’re references for my studies on the structure of a soul,” Mahito replied with an ambiguous smile.

If humans could see him, they might be reminded of a proud elementary schooler discussing the knowledge they gained from a book report.

“If I’m being honest, I don’t find the stories that interesting either, but I don’t hate the sense of visual aesthetics that humans have. That said, this room has too many useless colors and really hurts the eyes.”

“Such bratty, selfish complaints... We can just burn or toss anything that’s an eyesore.”

“No need, I’m going to look for a place to settle down on my own.”

“What? Ah, hey— Where are you going?”

Not waiting for Jogo’s response, Mahito waved over his shoulder and vanished like smoke or a gentle breeze, off to who-knows-where.

“Geez… Maybe it’s because he was born from human fear, but even knowing he’s a curse, he tends to be way too frivolous. Watching movies and all…”

While grumbling out his complaints, Jogo took a pipe from his shirt pocket to put in his mouth.

Unlike human cigarettes, this wooden pipe somehow imitated a screaming face when smoked.

“But that Mahito...”

Jogo spun around to survey the room with his one eye.

“...He says that, but it doesn’t seem tacky to me.”

“⊑⏃⋏⏃⋔⟟”

“I already said shut up!!”

--

You can only find a hideaway that suits you by looking for it on your own.

Mahito wandered through the city with this in mind. He alternated left and right turns on a whim any time he happened across a traffic light, walked alongside stray cats, or sometimes simply went in the direction of clouds that he liked the shape of.

While traveling along his chosen path like this, he keenly felt just how laughable humans were.

Though the city belongs to them, no one walking in and out of it was more free than Mahito.

Everyone seemed constrained. They were captured by ties of obligation and vanity, living in a wide, deep, big city with such narrow outlooks.

Unaffected by the enormous sky sprawling out endlessly overhead, they box themselves into their concrete city with their own hands and limited perception of souls, passing the time by whittling their lives down further and further.

Mahito even learned the words for some of these human concepts to study later.

For example, they call it “morals”. They call it “common sense”. They call it “emotion”.

But a human soul isn’t anything more than the resulting mechanical movement that comes from external stimuli.

And so they let go of freedom and live tightly controlled lives, fearing the judgmental stares of others, stooping to flattery for society’s approval.

“...What a waste.”

Everyone is bound by ostentatious shackles of their own making.

That’s why these curses know there has to be a change, as far as humans go. Those who cannot do anything but crawl in such an unsightly way under the magnificent sky must hand over the world.

Mahito thinks. He ponders over any topic his soul turns toward. He walks wherever the wind blows him.

Before long, the time had come for the sun to descend in the western sky. He could hear the burbling of a river.

--

“Not bad.”

The hideaway Mahito found was under a bridge, across the river.

It was a tunnel, vacant and huge like a temple.

Pipes ran along the inside, clear water flowing from them and into the river. It looked like wastewater was drained here after being purified, so there wasn’t much discomfort.

Apart from the humid air and the moss that emitted a peculiar grassy smell, it seemed wide enough to splash and jump around in, and the concrete’s cool texture provided a refreshing welcome.

There’s a season that curses are partial to.

Negative human emotions accumulate from the end of winter to spring, and it could be said that the rainy season served as the so-called peak of their ripening.

The inside of the damp tunnel held the same atmosphere. There was a gloominess there in the dim lighting that could easily nurture fear. It gently moistened Mahito’s skin; he felt cozy.

“Yeah, let’s stay here.”

When choosing a place to live, it’s best to trust your instincts.

Perhaps humans should do the same, but what they can’t readily do, Mahito can decide without hesitation. If he’s free when he wanders, then he’s free when he settles down, too.

Mahito stepped into the tunnel in good spirits, knocking solidly on the concrete floor.

The soul’s metabolism smooths out in comforting spaces. But…

“Huh?”

After walking a short distance, Mahito discovered “that”.

He initially thought it was some garbage or something that a human illegally dumped. But before long, it became clear that it was a sack-like silhouette leaning against a wall.

At first glance, it perhaps looked like a mere collection of rags.

But the shape of a soul was there.

—Ah, it’s alive.

Yes, just as Mahito had realized, it was a human.

The tattered clothing and wildly overgrown hair and beard hid his shape, but it was undoubtedly a human.

His exact age wasn’t clear from his outward appearance, but whether he was 60 or over 80, he looked elderly.

Mahito thought it was a bit of a pain.

There was already a visitor living in his precious hideaway.

Of course, taking care of this issue would be an easy matter for him. But he felt the same discomfort as a homeowner finding a stain on the wall of their new house.

‘Anyway, if I’m gonna deal with this, let’s get it done,’ Mahito thought, reaching out toward the old man with a little sigh.

Whereupon, unexpectedly, the old man spoke.

“...I’m sorry if you’re displeased.”

“Hm?”

“I don’t know what you came here to do, but... I’m sure your mood has soured after stumbling across the home of an old fool. But I have nowhere to go, either.”

Mahito was a little taken aback.

The old man was clearly aware of Mahito and turned toward him to speak. This wouldn’t be surprising at all if he was talking to a fellow human.

But Mahito is a curse.

The eyes of a mere human can’t clearly perceive cursed spirits.

It isn’t impossible, though. If humans are born with cursed energy, it isn’t unusual for them to be aware of the existence of curses.

What caught Mahito’s attention was this old man’s lack of ‘eyes’.

As in, he had no eyes in the physical sense. Instead, in the empty sockets that once held them, there was a burn scar that was painful just to look at.

Even sorcerers rely on their eyes to view the world.

They depend on their field of vision to spot cursed spirits. That’s why so many of them use sunglasses and the like to conceal their line of sight, as it helps them remain unaffected. It also helps them maintain a balanced mind when their daily life overflows with curses.

However, that was not the case for this old man.

“Can you see me?”

When Mahito asked, the old man answered with a gentle nod.

“At the very least, I can feel you.”

“But you can’t see the world?”

“Naturally. That includes the scenery, what you look like, what color your skin is, and even your gender. Even so... I know you’re there.”

“...Are you a sorcerer?”

“Most likely not.”

“You’re being pretty vague, even though you’re talking about yourself.”

“For a long time, that’s what I’ve been the most vague about.”

Mahito began to notice something strange.

He can feel the shape of a human’s soul.

He knows the movement of a soul’s metabolism, whether it takes on a harsh form, withers weakly, or flickers with liveliness.

However, this old man’s soul was hardly metabolizing.

It was like a meadow with no wind, or a still sea, or the blue sky on a cloudless day.

No, it would be most appropriate to compare it to a stone.

His soul was like a stone on the side of the road.

No fancy ornamentation, no polishing. Unmoving, unwavering.

Calmly passing the time while growing moss.

That was the shape this old man’s soul had.

No matter how calm or how old a person is, the human soul always flickers.

As the years stack up, common sense doesn’t disappear, selfishness isn’t eliminated, and fear isn’t conquered.

But this old man was different.

The old man’s soul was at peace. He had sincerely accepted that everything would decay with time, but that didn’t mean he would throw his life away. It was truly similar to the way in which nature existed.

It was Mahito’s first time meeting anyone like this.

--

For a while, the tunnel became something of a den for Mahito.

He had gotten a hammock from somewhere, which he hung up between the pipes. He lounged in it and read, passing the time in comfort.

In a movie about life on a deserted island, a human who was desperate to survive made a hammock. Through it, he was able to regain a little peace of mind.

Since it looked surprisingly comfortable, Mahito gave it a try and it worked out nicely.

The arguments and fights of the outside world didn’t reach the inside of the tunnel, where only the burble of the small stream could be heard.

It provided a good environment for soothing the soul.

While leisurely absorbing new knowledge from his books, Mahito would sometimes absentmindedly gaze up toward the ceiling, or glance down at the corner where the old man squatted, looking as he always did.

“How do you live like this? It’s pretty mysterious...”

In the end, Mahito didn’t kill the old man.

It’s important to note that the old man wasn’t much of a hindrance for him. If it would make no difference whether he was there or gone, then Mahito figured getting rid of him would be more of a hassle.

The old man was just there, even quieter and more carefree than a stray cat.

Mahito knew the phrase: ‘man is only a reed, but he is a thinking reed’.

He found it hilarious and also genuinely liked it. It simultaneously boasted about being trapped in thoughts of the soul, while also showing that humans were frail as weeds.

It could be said that the old man was an unthinking reed, then.

No – he was even quieter than that; more like grass or some type of moss. In any case, the old man said nothing and simply carried on living.

Every now and then, the old man would suddenly shuffle off elsewhere, but he would be back to sleep before Mahito knew it. He was surely getting food from somewhere, but he never seemed to gain weight. If he lost any while in the tunnel, he would eat just enough to gain it back when he left, and no more.

It was a style of living so close to nature that it seemed more like a phenomenon than a life.

“That’s why I seriously wonder if you can see me.”

The suspicion was uttered suddenly.

Mahito wasn’t exactly speaking to the old man. Rather, his tone was that of someone talking to themselves.

But when he noticed that the old man’s soul didn’t waver even after hearing him speak, Mahito finally addressed him directly.

“How long have you been here?”

“Let’s see… I think a few winters have passed, but I’m not sure,” the old man muttered, his reply quiet.

Since they were two beings with souls who were aware of each other’s existence, Mahito felt it would be more natural to chat every now and then.

“Don’t you get bored?”

When spoken to in a soft tone, the old man also responded softly.

“I’ve forgotten how to be bored.”

“How do you usually pass the time here?”

“I don’t do anything, really. I just listen to the sounds.”

“The sounds?”

“The sounds of the water flowing.”

“...Is it fun?”

“It’s not. But I forgot how to have fun a long time ago, too, so it’s not an issue.”

So it was like that. Mahito nodded.

If this old man could no longer even feel the pain of boredom, perhaps his soul was worn down.

Humans of the city gasp and struggle through the hurt of not having enough, yet always wish for more even when they get what they wanted. Their souls grew fat and tattered through the rich accumulation of these negative feelings.

So in that regard, from Mahito’s point of view, the old man had a thin soul – but it could be said that was clever of him.

A fat and full human soul leads to a fear of losing the gratifying present moment, which in turn gives birth to curses.

“It’s hard to get your attention. What’s your name?”

When Mahito asked, the old man looked into the air for just a second.

“I left that behind. You can call me whatever you like.”

“There are humans without names? Even curses have them.”

“If you don’t meet other people, you don’t need a name.”

“Isn’t it a problem if you don’t have one?”

“When is it a problem?”

“When it’s time to be buried.”

“I don’t need a gravestone with a name. I can just be stuffed into a common grave, or maybe I’ll rot undiscovered and return to the earth that way.”

“Can’t you take a joke?”

“…Was that a joke?”

The old man didn’t laugh. Neither did Mahito.

But Mahito had the feeling that this old man was childish, contrary to his appearance. His lack of attachments created an unsullied disposition that might make him younger than he looked.

His interest in the old man simmered and surged.

It was his first time seeing this type of human, his first time feeling a soul with this form. For Mahito, this was a rare specimen.

What kind of path must life take to make this kind of human? What would be the most intriguing shape to make with a soul like that? What uses could one plan for such a person?

And what kind of curse would be born from them?

With these questions fueling his curiosity, Mahito started to chat with the old man.

“Why are you here?”

“…Why?”

The old man looked up toward the ceiling through his unruly bangs.

His eye sockets were empty, but it seems like even without sight, humans tended to stare into nothing when they were thinking. One curiosity of Mahito’s was satisfied.

“You weren’t born and raised in this tunnel, right? As a human, you must have been in that noisy city.”

“Ah, that. I lived a fairly busy life a long time ago. I inherited the house, worked, made money and supported my family.”

“So you were a human in a pretty good position.”

“In human society, yes. Looking back on it now, it was all meaningless.”

“So... what, you basically started living in a hole like a mouse, then?”

“I did that because I lost everything that I needed up to then. I lost my social status, my money, and a place where I belonged.”

“You lost it all?”

“I was tricked. That’s when my eyes were burned, so I lost my sight then, too.”

Mahito incidentally recalled the company Jogo attacked.

“You got tricked, huh? You seem pretty good-natured about it.”

“That’s because I didn’t care much about being tricked.”

“You’re a weird old man. Is this some kind of hobby where you get your kicks when people deceive you or something?”

“I’m just saying, that’s the kind of person I was back then. The ones who tricked me were my old friend and my wife. My eyes were burned in that so-called “accident”¹; they claimed I wasn’t of sound mind and body after that, and under the guise of caring for me, they stole everything I worked for before I knew it.”

“That’s a pretty flashy way to trick someone, isn’t it? You’re talking like it’s someone else’s problem.”

“Those two loved each other, and I was loved by no one. Knowing that was more monumental to me than being tricked.”

It was hard for Mahito to interpret what the old man said.

Love. Is it really such an important word?

It’s said that curses born from love exist in the world. It seems there are tremendously powerful ones among them, too. But Mahito doesn’t understand how the mechanism by which people love each other is any different from a cat’s attachment to a blanket.

Still, Mahito knows for a fact that people are obsessed with it.

“Didn’t you curse them? The ones who tricked you.”

“Not really.”

“’Not really’, huh. You know, normally a human in that situation would get angry and hold grudges, and it would make the shape of their soul deteriorate.”

“It’s true, though. I don’t think I had the energy to even consider seeking revenge or hurting them.”

“...I get it.”

Mahito nodded, filling in the blanks.

Regardless of whether or not he can guess the trends in human emotion, Mahito has studied many movies, novels and poetry so far.

Then there were the humans he tinkered with. Mahito could put together the pieces he gleaned from those things and use them to break down the old man’s story.

“So basically, you were in despair. So much despair that it was like your soul was about to die. That’s how you broke through the creation of grudges and curses and ended up like this.”

The old man slowly shook his head.

“I may have been disappointed, but I don’t believe I felt the intense despair you’re thinking of.”

“Are ‘disappointment’ and ‘despair’ different?”

“They are; this is just my personal experience.”

The old man raised his face, following the memories.

“There was no burning resentment or turbulent sorrow. It’s just... I was tired, I guess. Between work, assets, reputation, my life situation and duties, dealing with others, caring about the family name... I think I was probably just tired and worn out because of it all.”

“And that’s why you didn’t get mad even after being tricked?”

“I was at peace. They say the soul gets lighter after going through disappointments.”

The old man’s voice was calm.

It had a cool quality to it, like muddy water that had been filtered clean.

“I couldn’t see, I had no money, I had no love... But as I was walking through the city with nothing to my name, it all suddenly became inconsequential. And then, as I looked around, I saw the city in a new light.”

“Even though you can’t see?”

“Yes. When you can’t see anything, it’s just sound and wind that goes on forever anywhere you are. I couldn’t even see the walls blocking the city in. It was just endless darkness spreading out forever, like a starless night. For the first time, I understood how wide the world was. And I thought to myself... ah, I’m free, aren’t I?”

Mahito blinked rapidly.

This old man’s thinking didn’t fit any other case he had gathered so far.

Even hearing about his past, he couldn’t understand the old man’s thoughts.

But even from Mahito’s point of view, the old man was certainly free.

Without so much as leaving the middle of this tunnel, he knew that the sky was vast.

Perhaps he knew it better than any member of high society walking around freely in the city. He knew the wide spread of the sky, the soft caress of the wind, the gentle sounds of the water.

This old man, who looked like a simple rakugoka², had no property or social standing. He even lost his connection to other humans... And maybe that’s precisely why he could uncover the elusive meaning of the word ‘freedom’.

He was just existing, just being alive, without attachments, grudges or curses.

“So basically ‘not all those who wander are lost’?”

“Yes, though quoting Tolkien’s works might be a little tedious.”

Mahito smiled when the man immediately caught the reference to a book he just happened to read.

“Were you a bookworm?”

“All I did was cram a lot of information in.”

“It’s good to be well-read.”

If curses are born from the fear that humans feel, could this old man even be considered human?

As Mahito is, he struggles with the expression of human emotions.

But he was calm.

For the first time since coming into contact with humans, he had a feeling of peace.

“I think if everyone in the world was like you, I wouldn’t have been born.”

Mahito looked back at his book.

The old man, staring into nothing as always, fell silent again.

Curses are born from humans, but they also kill humans. There is no way for the two to coexist.

But in this tunnel, a curse and a human were doing exactly that.

Though distorted, this peaceful period of time flowed by gently.

--

It’s only natural for humans to hate and fear other humans.

Since they can’t see souls, they can only make guesses about the feelings of others, and they’re swayed by their own emotions.

They don’t understand that these things are just a reflection of the soul’s metabolism. They don’t even know where their soul is.

Mahito investigated the matter.

This blind man lost his sight and his connection to others, so his soul received less stimulation.

And so, no longer influenced by unnecessary things in the physical world, he spent a lot of time facing his inner world and reflecting.

“It’s kind of like a monk’s training. Through strong introversion, a person looks at their soul more often.”

Mahito walked around the city, skimming through a beaten-up copy of the Heart Sutra.

It was a sutra handbook that focused on controlling the soul. It looked like humans of the past did their own research into freeing the soul from the material world.

The old man’s life ended up in a similar state without him setting out to do it on purpose.

That was likely how he learned to feel other souls through the darkness he lived in. Mahito concluded this was the reason he was aware of curses.

“I think he was already predisposed, but... seems like it’s easier for introverted humans to show promise.”

If he gave the old man’s situation even deeper consideration, he could probably make a lot of guesses about a sorcerer’s training. There’s even a way to encourage the first manifestation of cursed energy.

In that case, it should also be possible to take a talented person and ‘make’ them into a sorcerer or curse-user.

Unleashing a curse-user made by a curse onto a sorcerer...

That might be a fun experiment. It’s easier to shake up a human’s soul by having them fight other humans, rather than just exorcising curses. Sukuna’s vessel should be no exception.

Although...

—Maybe it’s fine to do that a little later?

Yes, Mahito thought it over at his leisure.

He is free. When it’s time to move, he moves. When it’s time to rest, he rests.

And he was not in the mood to launch that plan into action.

Rather, for the time being, he just wanted to gather knowledge and indulge in thought. He also got some new books and wanted to read fantasy novels while basking in the quiet comfort of the tunnel.

Mahito’s gait became lighter. While walking alongside the throng of people, he even began to hum.

Suddenly, a loud voice rang out from between two buildings.

“—so damn annoying, yeah?”

Looking over that way, he saw two young humans: a man with long, thin hair, and a muscular skinhead. They were undoubtedly people who looked like trouble.

The long-haired man listened as the skinhead rambled on with his complaints, seemingly in some kind of sullen mood.

“Damn, it’s seriously freezing. Anyway, every last one of ‘em just puts on shitty airs, but it’s all just talk. Nothin’ but excuses. Ah, I wanna kill ‘em all...”

“You say that, but come on. You talk big about wanting to beat these guys to death when you’re pissed, but could you actually kill someone?”

“Sure. Ain’t like killing’s hard.”

“Seriously?”

Mahito squinted and listened, the conversation going in one ear and out the other.

It’s not that he disliked the way they acted or how they spoke bluntly about their heart’s desires. But Mahito knew people like this were all talk.

“Yeah– seriously, anyone’s fine, I just wanna kill someone.”

Then maybe you should do it without saying anything.

Better yet, he thought about practicing some killing methods on them. But Mahito felt the light weight of the book in his hand as he reached out, and he stopped.

Rather than sparing any consideration for this, he just wanted to go back to the comfort of the tunnel and read.

“I’ll kill ‘em.”

The skinhead’s grumbling voice sounded like a spell.

But the words would find no power or heart to shelter in. Shut away between these buildings, the most a person can do is talk to themselves. It’s best for humans like this to stick to the narrow back alleys, foolishly thinking they’re enjoying a wide world.

Mahito averted his gaze and made his way back home.

--

“Why did Gregor become a bug?”

Mahito suddenly asked the old man, not taking his eyes off the novel.

It was a famous book by Franz Kafka.

A story in which a human unexpectedly turns into a poisonous insect.

“The most popular theory is that the bug is a metaphor.”

“Metaphor?”

“It means he was a person who was hated and oppressed within society, treated the same way a human would treat a bug. Kind of like an old man who was suddenly blinded and tricked one day.”

“Is that a joke?”

“Not exactly.”

It was detached and dispassionate, but an answer would come back any time Mahito said something. When conversing with the old man, it felt like talking to a dictionary. He had a lot of information.

He knew about things like the inner workings of the mind and human culture, and he was smart enough to explain it simply in discussions.

For Mahito, who analyzed human souls through books and movies, this old man’s knowledge and conversation helped in its own way.

When do humans get angry? Why do they grieve?

How do they trust and in what ways are they betrayed?

Mahito lived with a different sense of ethics when compared to humans, so there were many things he struggled to interpret. The old man explained them and helped him understand.

He had a strong interest in the experiences of the old man, who had once lived among humans but didn’t act like them.

“After becoming a bug, Gregor eventually hid away like he was told to, but he still ended up being spotted and it led to his death. Jii-san³, why do you think that is?”

“You cannot find peace by avoiding life.”

“That’s a quote from Virginia Woolf, right?”

When Mahito immediately and correctly guessed the source, the old man raised a brow slightly.

“You’re a pretty avid reader, too. Conversations with you are really stress-free.”

“Do you have to go back to living with other humans, then?”

“If you don’t have any attachment to the human world, there’s no need to run from it or stand against it⁴.”

“I see,” Mahito murmured to let the other know he was listening, eyes still on the book.

Even if he wasn’t looking at it, the old man’s perpetually calm soul was aglow in the dark like always.

Mahito read his book in the dim room lit by the brilliance of that soul instead of a candle.

Time quietly flowed through the darkness.

Outside of the tunnel, signs indicating the end of summer crept up.

--

The end came abruptly.

One day, when Mahito was heading back to the tunnel with an abandoned poetry anthology that he picked up on an aimless walk through the city, he felt a noisiness that shouldn’t have been there.

There were one, two, three swaying souls.

One had a very familiar shape, but it was terribly frail. It was like the dying flame of a candle weakened by the wind.

With the same unchanging gait as always, Mahito stepped into the tunnel.

As expected, the old man was there.

But the unusual thing was the crumpled, strange position that he was in.

He was also sandwiched between two younger men who were looking down at him.

“Oooi, isn’t this bad? Did this guy seriously die?”

A man with long, thin hair spoke in a tone that was not particularly anxious.

“Didn’t I say it? I said I could kill,” a muscular skinhead replied, his voice casual.

“But ain’t this just impulsive?”

“Yeah, well, the old man had some real cheek, looking down on us when he’s this weak. So why not just kick him?”

The skinhead likely played sports, given that his legs were as thick around as logs. Kicking an old man to death would be easier than crushing a can.

The two didn’t seem to have a single scrap of interest in the old man, his life or his soul.

There was no reason, no grudge, no clear murderous intent.

It seemed like they simply arrived at the tunnel somehow. They took the opportunity to do as much violence as they wanted. They beat him on a whim.

It could be said that this way of being is freedom for humans.

Mahito crouched down, peeking at the old man’s face.

The beaten visage of the man with burned eyes came into view. But even at a time like this, his expression was as calm as always.

“Are you going to die?”

Mahito searched for even a mumbled word or two in response.

“...Seems so...”

The old man answered in a hoarse voice. He likely barely had the power left to speak now. It appeared as though the two men didn’t hear him over their loud conversation.

He intently inspected the old man’s soul.

The peaceful soul was not flickering, nor did it hold anger or grief; it was simply coming to an unhurried end.

Mahito was impressed.

This old man had found the true meaning of freedom. He really was released from every tie of obligation in this world. Even on the verge of death, that didn’t change.

Being able to make sure of that with his own two eyes, Mahito felt considerably relieved. In the same way he would watch a flower wither and fall, he observed the old man’s death.

Nevertheless...

“Jii-san?”

He had a feeling.

It’s like seeing a plot twist you don’t want to see if you keep turning the pages of a book.

Or like knowing the contents of a present before you open it.

That kind of buzz spread through Mahito’s chest.

While he puzzled over the instinctive alarm bells screaming at him to stop watching, everything was heading toward its end.

“...I thought I would die alone.”

The old man’s soul dimly flickered.

A smile was on his swollen face.

“...To have someone... here to witness this old fool’s last moments...”

The flicker might have been insignificant, like a single drop breaking the water’s surface. Even so, for an instant near death, at the end of it all...

The old man’s soul ‘metabolized’.

“...Tha...nk... y...”

The old man died smiling.

“. . .”

Mahito’s eyes opened wide, and for a moment, he was frozen.

He thought the old man was different when compared to other humans. To Mahito, he seemed unfettered.

Mahito thought the unique philosophical views stemming from such an extraordinary state of mind had freed him from all the shackles of this world.

But despite all of that, the old man was still captured right in his last moments.

On the brink of death, he clung to someone else so he could avoid a lonely end.

The old man was only human.

For a human, it was likely satisfying enough. Perhaps it was even the proper way for one to die.

“. . .”

Mahito said nothing.

But what felt like a dry wind blew through his chest, leaving him cold.

He didn’t know the name humans gave that emotion. But his consciousness was like yarn tangling in on itself, wriggling around like a worm—

And suddenly, it all cut off at once.

The only thing left behind was the sensation of standing in a dry and barren wasteland.

“—So basically,” the skinhead’s voice echoed. “Police probably won’t do a proper investigation. Not for this old nobody.”

“Hey, hey, hey; that’s still a person,” the long haired man answered lightly.

“Yeah, well, that guy started it.”

“He shoulda looked at who he was talking to before he picked a fight.”

“Anyway, my pants are dirty from all that kicking... That’s a problem.”

“So fussy. That’s what you’re worried about when you just killed a guy? How funny.”

“That ain’t a person. Anyway, don’t you know I like being clean? Ahh, the blood won’t come off... Water doesn’t do any good, right?”

“Yeah, it doesn’t – but more importantly, if you’ve settled down, I’m hungry. Let’s stop by a convenience store.”

“I dunno. If you’re gonna look, buy a bento and let’s get outta here.”

Mahito quickly stood up in the same way one would when they finished looking for something in a store.

A sense of fatigue was deeply ingrained in his body.

Their incoherent voices persisted, reverberating through the tunnel, smeared with excuses and attempts to escape reality. He couldn’t hear the soft burble of the stream.

With deep-seated listlessness, Mahito approached the skinhead as one would move to pick up fallen trash.

Idle Transfiguration. The technique spreads quickly.

And thus, the moment he tapped the man’s back, its shape was no longer human.

“Ee—!!”

If he just killed them, it would create a nuisance in the form of a corpse, so he simply folded it up into something palm-sized and kept it alive.

Then, with a careless sweep⁵ of his hand, he folded up the other man as well.

“Begh—”

It fell silent.

Mahito gathered up the two, now no bigger than chess pieces, and turned his attention down toward the remaining corpse of the old man.

It was now just a bag of meat full of bones. Not even the soul remained, so he couldn’t use Idle Transfiguration to fiddle with it.

He was briefly troubled by its disposal, which served as the biggest inconvenience.

In the tunnel, there nothing but the sound of running water.

--

--

It was a day where the sky seemed farther away than usual.

Clouds peeked out from around the buildings and a good feeling was carried in on the wind.

Mahito aimlessly walked about the city.

“Maybe I’ll catch a movie. It’s been ages.”

He picked a tiny, somewhat old-looking theater and snuck in.

He’s had high motivation lately, and it seemed like some unnecessary things had peeled away from his soul, leaving him more carefree than ever.

Thanks to that, he had also begun to toy with humans more often.

If he can fold a person up and make them small, he wanted to test out inflating one instead, but he slept on the idea overnight. It was pretty fun, but he knew that he was getting too absorbed. He also felt that carrying on with too much persistence wasn’t a good thing.

A change of pace every now and then was fine, too.

He hadn’t closely checked to see what was being screened. It was mostly just plain and obscure movies, but if one went in with no expectations, they might come across a surprisingly interesting tale.

Curiously, he had that kind of a feeling.

While walking through the hall of the theater, he casually felt through his pocket, which had grown bulky with the ‘small humans’ that he had touched.

—Speaking of which, he thought that was a nuisance.

He carelessly tossed some of them away.

Opening the door, he stepped into the theater.

Perhaps because it was a weekday, there weren’t many customers. The silhouettes of what appeared to be students filled out a few seats here and there.

From where Mahito stood in the corner, he had a good view of the screen.

Soon, instead of a curtain raising, the theater was engulfed in darkness.

--

T/N: [1] In this sentence, the implication is that the “accident” was very much orchestrated by the old man’s friend and wife, who burned his eyes somehow and then merely made it look like an accident [2] The rakugoka is the storyteller in rakugo, a form of (often) comedic theater that relies solely on spoken word from the rakugoka, who only uses a fan and hand towel as props [3] A way of referring to old men in general, basically like “gramps/grandpa”; Mahito never calls him by an actual name [4] Essentially, the old man’s saying that he (or anyone) can exist parallel to human society without interacting if they have no attachments to it and can still find peace, contrary to the Woolf quote [5] Kanji reads sweep, furigana reads cleanse (the same word for exorcism that sorcerers use)

Thanks as well to Pixi for help with editing and tl checks!  If an officially translated version of the novel becomes available in your country, please consider purchasing it, or consider buying a copy of the original novel in Japanese if possible!

[kneipho]

Sumbitted by: @mantrabay​

Ballroom In The Sky.

Gazing with his mouth wide open towards a sullen evening sky dotted with jet black clouds

Geoff Wild weeps.

He was on his knees on this grass-strewn, unkempt graveyard.

Two years later and her memory still lingers.

The sudden passing of his loved one had left this middle-aged man gaunt, ashen faced and skeletal. Wild’s troubled expression had become a haunted house of uncanny notions and strange secrets waiting to flow from his water-logged eyes. Those circumstances surrounding Violet’s death were never clear.

Velvet Heart was Geoff’s courtship name for Violet.

Was it a death wish or an accidental fall from their elegant townhouse?

Death through misadventure was the colourful term used.

“Cherish all those wonderful experiences we had. Whichever one of us dies first.”

Violet actually said.

Almost as if she had some premonition.

This was six months before she passed away. .An endless see-saw of creepy dawning’s convulsed him.

Yet Wild fondly recalled when they first met at the Skyline Ballroom.

The Skyline was a battered tumbledown barn whose allure was its availability.

The chipped hardwood floor and the dusty pale cream walls with paint flakes that peeled off only confirmed its tenement status. It was known locally as the “Creaking Beam”” due to its ghostly acoustics and flickering lights. Here in this spooky venue Geoff and Violet had their earliest encounter. Wild remembered her radiant smiles.

The ripples of long dark hair, her apple blossom cheeks and of course her angelic aura..

On that night she wore a polka dot ruche dress, amethyst ear pendants, whilst sporting satin moccasins.

“Have I the gumption? The courage.

A faint heart etc.” Geoff could hear his heart flutter as he did his tightrope walk toward her.

“May I dance with you?” Geoff asked.

Velvet heart’s hands formed a lazy arch and her dainty fingers curled inwards.

“Of course. I would be delighted.” Violet spoke in that pear drop tone which beguiled everybody.

Geoff, the local journalist and writer was in seventh heaven.

They never forgot that enchanting song they first danced to, “Ballroom In The Sky.”

The song was performed by Valerie And The Blue Skies.

They weren’t very big but had a cult following..

Geoff could see how similar Violet and Valerie were.

They were mirror images of each other.

Even in speech and humour.

Valerie was based in a remote enigmatic area.

She used to refer to songs as role plays.

“You feel as though you are a member of the audience.” Valerie remarked.

Violet did admit to meeting Valerie casually and for autograph purposes but not otherwise or so it seemed.

It was amazing how “ Ballroom In The Sky” with its airy ascending rock chords and jaunty jazz lines could draw Violet, Valerie and Geoff into a peculiar triangle.

The sudden moody breaks, abrupt silences built a momentary cocoon.

Valerie’s top sideman….well, he was known as Silent Sam.

He had a track record of sorts.

Sam’s blue attire was appropriate.

He wore a large trilby hat tipped over his forehead sheltering his pointed face and pencil slim physique.

He, Sam, was short-sighted when it suited and eccentric.

Practical jokes were his forte and the impish grin.

“Yep ..Yup….or Sure.“

These were the only asides from this oddball sidemen for the most part.

He was accident prone.

Valerie had to indicate where things were. Theirs was a sign language of its own complete with slanted facial squirms.

One wondered if there was a deeper relationship between them.

Those Blue Skies airs were fillers without Sam.

Every time “Ballroom In The Sky” was played Valerie, Violet and Geoff were sharing unwittingly a secret.

The startled looks were part of this outlandish ritual.

Wild recalled now.

“Valerie could croon in a real hypnotic fashion. Everyone in the dancehall was enthralled. People would sway like ice skaters one moment, waltz in a swan-like manner the next and just as often rave in the isles like end of term teenagers.”

Geoff whispers in the graveyard.

“JUST A PASSING DREAM………..STILL SO VIVID…….DANCING IN HEAVEN…… KISSES ALL AROUND….MAGIC HAND……..A LITTLE BIT BLIND, and of course “BALLROOM IN THE SKY.”

Geoff and Violet would swing religiously to those fantasy songs every Sunday as their courtship blossomed.

“Ballroom In The Sky “ was always the highpoint.

This constellation of events occurred in a scenic nineteen seventies spot.

Despite its haunting vistas and backdrop of panoramic hills it resembled a ghost town. Openings were few against an infinite spiral of closing factories, bookstores with half-empty shelves and shopkeepers peering out of doors.

Ten years earlier it was a beacon. “I shudder to think……A jigsaw puzzle.”

Geoff surveying the cemetery.

Such memories could have been taken directly from some movie script. “Yes .. it was a hub that Skyline. Like homeless drifters, the folk who attended.”

Geoff again.

They were fugitives.

Escapees from that heavy-handed dole queue void.

Suddenly something happened.

“What the heavens is? Snap….a branch.” Momentary jitters engulfing Wild.

He shook in concert with the overarching colonnade of brown edge green leaf trees.

An eerie rustling dewdrop tiptoe now caressing Geoff’s ears.

”Up there somewhere Velvet Heart?

Dancing in the heavens?”

Nervous laughter now relief road to that traffic jam of sentiment about to speed off.

Glued to the spot that macabre sixth sense of Violet hovering above evaporates due to an illusory late evening sun shaft.

Wild could no longer hide from Valerie and Velvet Heart’s identities.

“Oh those comic jibes and piercing glances. Some ethereal intrigues were passing through the air.”

Geoff recalls with forensic clarity.

Poor Silent Sam would do his usual u-turn into the shadow.

Two months before Geoff’s and Violet’s parting, an incident occurred.

Memory is a lodger which steadfastly refuses to surrender its keys.

Valerie and the Blue Skies were in flying form as the tunes morphed into each other.

Valerie and Velvet Heart were magnets for men.

Violet caught Geoff off guard.

“Guilty conscience, there Geoff?”

Having fantasies about Valerie.

Focus on me.

As for that eternity ring remember?”

Those penetrating peepers of Violet knew how to vet a body in a flash.

“Oh no …..not at all.” Geoff with a looping

smirk.

“Just those mystical melodies working their spell.” He said.

“You came into my life like…. a new dawn.” Wild poetically.

“You honey tongue you. Geoff our song. Ballroom.” Violet mutters.

Valerie nodded towards Sam.

Her expression was a hard to decipher veil and deep code command.

“Get those fingers flying, Sam.”

In a tone almost identical to Velvet Heart.

Sam didn’t always act immediately.

“Yep.. Yup …Sure.” Sam’s stock retort.

“Ballroom In The Sky” now strong as ever cast its bewitching spell throughout the venue.

A medley was included tonight.

“SOMEONE FOR EVERYONE” ( Sam looked at Valerie), “A LITTLE BIT BLIND” ( Sam staring vacantly at both Valerie and Violet), “MIND YOUR STEP( Sam winking at Geoff while scrunching the mouth at Violet).

Violet edged toward the stage.

A dim-lit silence ensued.

Ballroom started again. Valerie and Violet now singing this tune. An eerie vacuum filled this dancehall.

A triangular crush of people occurred near the stage with Geoff in toe.

Valerie handed Violet a letter.

Sam was now talking tersely to Valerie.

A misted over photo gallery memory blur in place.

“Pst…Pst. Your Velvet Heart is back to haunt you.“ Violet’s lofty twang.

“What in the name….I can’t phantom…..fathom.” Geoff shudders.

Violet’s voice a wet whisper stretching over twigs that simultaneously tap against windows.

She pulled back an orchard pattern duvet covering Geoff.

“Fell asleep at your favourite film, The Passing Of A Velvet Heart. All those graveyard scenes shot in our small town remember?

We know Silent Sam wrote the soundtrack for the film along with Ballroom. He sings on that one.” Violet recounts.

“Incredibly you chose Velvet Heart as your courtship name for me based on the film.

The film was never a huge success but did get our area limited publicity.

Sam earned extra royalties from the soundtrack.

Valerie and Sam tying the knot next Sunday of all days.

As for that love letter you mumbled about.

It’s an invite to their secret wedding.

Very private. As Sam is.

What a time and place he chose for the invitation.

During that ethereal love song which brought us together.” Violet observes.

“Poor Sam’s a little bit blind a

on occasions or is he?

I was upstairs on the flat roof today.

Six months ago I fell off it.

You’ve never liked me being up there since.”

Violet continuing.

“Guilty secret must confess. I used to be onstage instead of Valerie.

Well, sometimes.

She was dating you pretending to be me.

We never knew each other that well but it was a dare worked out between us.“

Geoff shouted. “Hoodwinked.”

An incredulous look ripples over Wild’s pale face.

Violet’s eyes now ablaze.

“You never noticed did you? Deep down.”

The tease in Violet surfacing..

Geoff was thunderstruck.

Violet strolled towards their CD player on the mahogany table.

“Think you’ll like this one. Our song.”

Violet stated.

“May I dance with you?”

Geoff smiled. “Of course. I would be delighted.

And relieved!”

Silent Sam’s voice weaves in his own inimitable shy way a song usually sung by Valerie, his wife to be.

And sometimes Violet, or Velvet Heart.

A number that united three people in the most curious and otherworldly manner!

“Yep….Yup ….Sure.”

As Sam was in the habit of saying!

mantrabay photograph and short story copyright protected.

Thanks for reading my works

.

[ivystjamess]

𝐒𝐄𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍

WHO: @julienschuester and ivy st.james WHERE: the choir room. WHEN: wednesday, march 10th. WHAT: following a long hiatus from one another, ivy says sorry in the best way she can think of how, and her and julien (finally) start dating again.

IVY: Ignorance was bliss, but in this case, it had been dragging Ivy down and enlightenment was a savior. Ivy St.James and Julien Schuester were tethered to two ends of the same rope, and as of late, there hadn't been much slack to give. Julien's hot and cold moods, tugging on the rope, and bringing it closer kept her up at night was rattling to say the least and it left Ivy tossing, turning, and thinking her brain away. While her actions showed she was sorry, and that she was obviously interested in Julien still, her lips hadn't uttered a formal, heartfelt, i'm sorry. With Spring Awakening rehearsals bringing them close, numbers for lessons, and just generally being back within the same school, Ivy knew something had to be done. What did her dad always say? Sing About It. Under the pretense of an emergency meeting, Ivy beckoned Julien to the choir room with a text. And although he looked surprised to find Ivy alone, she sat on her stool calm as ever and gestured to the red chairs in front of her, "Wanna like, sit? I have some stuff I want...need to say to you." Watching Julien cross to sit had Ivy furiously rubbing her lips as she prepared to place her heart on a platter for Julien. Rarely did she get nervous, but rarely did performance mean so much to her. "Julien, Jules, I just like..." Why couldn't she think? Why did her fingertips feel fuzzy? Ugh! "Sorry, I'm like, kinda nervous." she shamefully admitted, but this was all about honesty, wasn't it? "I wanted to say that I'm sorry. I'm sorry for egging you, and for switching schools, and not listening to you, or trusting you. I was being selfish and guarded and whatever, and it wasn't cool." A breath, "But, I'm back now, and I'm like honestly going kinda crazy not being with you. I know who I am without you, and as hot and awesome, and mean as she is...I wanna be like hot and awesome and a little less mean with you." Still having more to say, she didn't want to waste anymore time, so Ivy began to speak rapidly, "But I think, as awful as it all was, I've really like, learned a ton from this! And I hope you have too and stuff. Even with like being sorry or whatever, I totally know the ball is in your court, so I guess I just wanted to like, give you my thoughts, and your space, so, yeah! I think this sums it up." Ivy flashed a nervous smile as she let out a breath and turned to the band. Softly, they began to play Duffy's Oh Boy. It was a simple performance with Ivy, Julien, and her heart speaking to him through song. Sure, she sounded polished, but there were no fabricated tears or elaborate choreography. Just her on a stool, trying to get a message across. And when that was done, and she knew she had tried her best, she clapped her hands down against her thighs, and looked at Julien with an anxious anticipation, "And that's all I have to say, I can totally let you go now, or like I can go, I don't want this to feel weird or whatever I just needed to do that."

JULIEN: When Julien received a text from Ivy about an 'emergency meeting' in the choir room, he sped through the halls of McKinley like his life depended on it. He paced through the hallways against the flow of traffic, narrowly dodging people with frantic 'excuse mes' and 'i'm sorrys' until finally, he busted through the door. "Hi! I'm here," he said breathlessly, fully expecting to find the choir room up in flames, only to find Ivy alone. He paused in the doorway for a moment when she spoke. "Uh oh," he responded as he hesitantly made his way to a chair across from her, "am I in trouble or something?" He was trying to be playful, but a tense energy hung thickly in the air and being around Ivy alone like this instantly made him nervous. Once he took off his backpack and set it down beside him, he sat down and relaxed. "Okay...I'm listening..." he drawled, waiting for her to continue. At her admission that she was nervous, Julien felt his cheeks starting to burn and his lips curving up into a slight smile. "It's okay, I'm nervous too and I don't even know why, so we can be nervous together," he encouraged with a nod, gently nudging her to keep going. It was no secret that things between them had been inconsistent and unpredictable as of late. It was obvious that they still had feelings for each other, however, it was also obvious that there was still a lot of hurt between them...and Finn had been right. Julien had been acting like all of the horrible Vocal Adrenaline stuff hadn't happened. Being with Ivy was just so easy and it felt so good and it was what he wanted...but if he just rolled over and decided to forgive her without her ever even really saying sorry, then what would all of his growth have been for? He had to stand up for himself. Even if it hurt. After Ivy had asked 'what changed' and Julien answered, the last thing he had expected was for her to summon him to the choir room for a genuine, earnest, and thoughtful apology. But here she was. And here he was—slack jawed and completely dumbfounded. "Ivy..." he said quietly, sitting up slightly as he took a deep breath. He knew what he wanted to say, but it was like his head was suddenly empty. Like she could sense his state of shock, Ivy kept talking and eventually that talking turned into singing. When the band started playing the opening chords to 'oh boy' by Duffy, Julien softened and relaxed back into his chair. As Ivy's crisp voice filled the choir room, he kept his eyes glued to hers and watched, in awe, as she sang directly to him. She chipped away at his hurt with each sweet lyric she sang until eventually, he was left with nothing for her but love and forgiveness. Julien was a soft and tender hearted person, so it was surprising to exactly no one that when the song came to an end, he was indisputably misty eyed. As she concluded her song with a finalizing statement, Julien rose to his feet and shook his head as he walked towards her. "Don't go," was all he said before he placed his hands on either side of her face and crashed his lips into hers. He knew he would actually have to say something in response to everything she had said, but he needed to do that first. Once he pulled away, he smiled down at her and gently strummed her cheeks with his thumbs, "thank you. You know, like, for saying all that stuff and for the song." Before Julien could say more, he caught a glimpse of something sparkly dangling from around Ivy's neck. Looking down at it, his smile warmed and he shook his head. "You've been wearing this thing this whole time..." he stated,  moving his hands to the back of her neck to unclasp the chain, "how come?"

IVY: Although Ivy hadn't gone that long since meeting Julien's lips whether it be sneaking him into her room, or on stage for Spring Awakening, it had felt like a life time had passed since their lips connected like this. Both of them were absolved of tension and aiming their potential animosity at one another. Instead, it once again felt like they were just them, but better than ever. Like a tulip emerging after a long winter, Ivy felt like she was sprouting from the dark ground and up into Julien's sun. Changed, but the same. While there wasn't any verbal confirmation, Ivy knew that rejuvenated feeling was mutual. Julien need not say it. She could feel it in the pads of his fingertips brushing her cheeks, and in how tenderly he moved his lips against her own. Pulling away, in a post-kiss haze, Ivy blinked Julien into view and nodded, "I won't go. Ever." As one hand cascaded down his arm to lace their fingers, the other popped up as she extended her pinky, "Pinky Promise." Ivy said seriously, then shrugged. "Seriously like, don't mention it. I wanted to." There was still some response to be desired though. Did he hate it? Did he love it? Was he just being polite? Before she could push him into answer her, Ivy inhaled sharply as Julien roped the chain  she was wearing into his grasp, then eventually moved closer to her to unclasp it. It took some serious willpower not to kiss him again, but she found the strength to answer his question. Now moving her own hand to cup Julien's cheek, Ivy made sure to lock up and into his stare so he knew she was being serious. "Because we like....made a promise?" That was the obvious answer, and the deeper one-- "It wasn't like I stopped loving you just because I was being stupid or whatever."

JULIEN: Despite not being together, Ivy and Julien had still been making an awful lot of time to kiss each other. Whether it be in the dark of night or under the glow of a spotlight, the universe always carved out a path for them to get back to each other. This kiss though, in the fluorescent choir room in the middle of the day, felt different than the rest. It wasn't tainted with doubt or stage directions or alcohol. It was just them—albeit a little wiser and a little more mature—choosing each other. Hearing Ivy confirm that she wouldn't go and then watching her raise her pinky caused a warm sensation to bloom from Julien's chest and spread through his whole body. "Ever," he echoed, repeating the promise back to her and linking his pinky through hers without any hesitation. With a sigh, he dropped her hands and swiftly shifted his attention to her necklace. He made quick work of slipping the ring off the chain to hold it in the palm of his hand. He stared down at the ruby jewel, a million thoughts running through his head, until Ivy touched his cheek and brought him back down to Earth again. Hearing Ivy say she never stopped loving him sent his heart into overdrive. "We did make a promise, didn't we?" he asked rhetorically, tilting his head as he glanced back down at the ring and reached for her hand. "I never stopped either," he admitted as he began slipping the ring back on to her finger, where it belonged. He stared at it for a little while longer before turning his attention back to Ivy and closing some of the distance between them by stepping towards her. "I owe you an apology too," he started, holding her gaze and shrugging, "I should've like stood up for you more and stuff or just...I don't know...talked to you more. I know I haven't always been good at that. But I will be now," he playfully raised his eye brows, "getting punched in the face kinda changes you like that." A breathy laugh escaped him before he pulled her into him, nuzzling his face into her neck as he hugged her tightly. "I missed you," he confessed, pulling back slightly to look at her, "I don't wanna waste more time not being together." A pause as a doting smile danced its way on to his lips and he bashfully added, "you really almost made me cry with that song! It was like 'run to you' but more intense but in a good way and stuff because it was just us. But I mean, jeez, you're..." a dreamy sigh, "you're like...perfect. The song was perfect." He playfully bumped his nose into her cheek and then into her nose before bringing his lips back to hers for another kiss—one to seal the deal. "I love you," he said as he pulled back, "let's never do the whole breaking up thing again."

IVY: In full agreement with Julien, Ivy couldn’t have felt happier. Her only regret? She had to go away for Cheerios Nationals this weekend, and she couldn’t spend it tucked into her bed with him. Lots about them had changed, they’d both garnered a deeper sense of clarity, learned their lessons the hard way, but one thing that wouldn’t ever change was Ivy’s constant need to feel close to him. Enough of the apologies and reminiscing on their worse times, Ivy was completely wrapped up in staring down at the Christmas Present on her finger, “Yknow, this looks like, way better on my hand than on a chain on my chest.” Ivy commented offhandedly before shifting her gaze back to Julien. “Well I’m glad we’re on the same page and stuff. I totally missed being in sync. And being with you.” she admitted, welcoming the warmth that his breath brought into the curve of her neck. “You can’t help that you almost cried, I’m like really good, and I love you a lot.” Ivy explained, as if anything about this whole months-long debacle had been simple. Her entire expression lifted into a smile as he called her perfect and Ivy was quick to cut in with a “Only the best for my guy.” Her arms made their way back to the familiar place around his neck as she pulled herself fully into him. “i love you.” Ivy repeated, tone filled with adoration. And as her way of agreeing with the final sentiment, she shook her head, and whispered, “Never.” Into Julien’s lips as she pressed her lips to her boyfriend’s for a final, affirming kiss. And just like that, once again, all was well.

THE END.

[horrorkingdom]

Blindness

It’s true what they say – that when a person goes blind their other senses heighten in order to compensate. Knowing that, and thinking back on everything that happened to me, I still can’t come to a rational conclusion of how these events unfolded around me without my knowledge. Granted, I couldn’t actually see any of it happening, but I never suspected anything of this magnitude when judging solely on the minor oddities that I had experienced.

Sure, every once in a while I would hear noises, but my house was old and seemed to have a mind of its own. All of its pops and creaks had become just as familiar to me as navigating its interior without the benefit of sight. Even when things began to turn more bizarre, I always found a way to rationalize them away. Looking back, I ask myself, “How could I have been so…well, for lack of a better word, blind?”

My mother had tried to convince me not to move into the house alone. “Sarah, a young blind woman shouldn’t be living all by herself,” she’d said. But I wanted to – needed to. I needed to prove to myself that I was strong enough to do it. Besides that, as a twenty four year old, I didn’t want to live with my parents forever. And I sure didn’t want to wait around for a nice man to marry and move in with. That may never happen.

Having lost my sight at an early age due to a freak accident with industrial strength cleaning chemicals, I knew all too well the nuances of learning to create a mental map of my surroundings.

When I first moved into the old house I used my cane exclusively. I waved it back and forth in front of me with every step I took. I knew roughly where all of the furniture was since I was the one that directed the movers on where to put everything. I employed the cane for nearly a week, using its tip to develop a mental image of the layout. The learning process was slow and clumsy at first, but I eventually got to the point that I was able to shed my cane after several days and began walking cautiously with my arms extended. I progressed further and became familiar enough with the territory that by the end of the first month I was able to walk freely without the use of my cane, or arms or any other aid.

I became quite adept at moving throughout the house freely. Not only that, but the house was located in a somewhat urban area which made it convenient to walk to any place I had the need. The grocery was only three blocks away. There was a department store across the street from that, and a bank and coffee shop just a bit further on. I got used to listening to the flow of traffic and timing the lights in my head so I would know when the “Walk” and “Don’t Walk” signals were lit. Occasionally a kind stranger would offer to take my hand and lead me across. I would thank them and we would part ways once we were safely on the next sidewalk.

In those days I was working from home making phone calls to patients that had recently been discharged from the hospital. In essence, I was being paid by the hospital to administer surveys that were then used to improve their services. The hospital was kind enough to provide me with a laptop computer that contained several different voice-command software applications. I spent my days transcribing the recorded phone calls by speaking the customers’ answers into a microphone, and having the data fields automatically populate accordingly in the program.

The first odd event that I remember was on one particular day when I got up from my work desk for a lunch break. As I was headed into the kitchen, I kicked an object in the middle of the living room floor. I heard it slide a short distance on the carpet. I knew that I hadn’t left anything in the way of my path as I had just been through there not even an hour ago, and there was nothing on the floor.

I knelt down and patted around until I located the object. A book. By feeling its Braille title I recognized it as a book on national parks that I kept on my coffee table, some five feet away. I didn’t remember knocking the book off of the table. I stood there perplexed. The longer I thought about it though, the less frightening it became to me. I convinced myself that I must have simply forgotten about knocking the book to the floor, and I must have stepped over it or next to it during my other passes through the room. I returned the book to its place on the table and went about making my lunch.

That night, while lying in bed, I heard a sound that came from the kitchen. It was almost entirely masked by the usual sounds of the pops and creaks from the house settling, but I definitely heard it – faint as it was. It was a very light humming noise. So light, in fact, that an average person without enhanced hearing may not have heard it at all from this distance. I slowly got out of bed, listening intently, the sound increasing as I made my way down the hallway and through the living room.

As soon as I passed through the threshold into the kitchen I knew what the sound was. It was the compressor motor on the refrigerator, and it was substantially louder than usual. I approached the appliance and found that its door was standing wide open. I eased it shut and the hum returned to a normal volume.

“What on earth? Did I leave this open?” I questioned myself in a whisper. Maybe it didn’t close all the way the last time I swung it shut, I thought. I returned to bed, but had trouble finding sleep. My mind wandered and questioned how I could have overlooked the fallen book and the open fridge door when they’d first happened.

The next morning, I decided to go have breakfast at Espresso Express, the little coffee shop up the road. They served excellent coffee, and you could also get a ham & cheese croissant melt that was to die for. That alone was worth the effort of showering, dressing, and leaving the safety of the house to be plunged into a buzz of whizzing traffic, honking horns, and people clamoring on the sidewalks.

On that morning a gentle stranger helped guide me across the intersection just ahead of the coffee shop. I said, “Thank you!” as they released my arm, but there was no response. He or she was lost in the shuffle of people on cell phones, their conversations momentarily audible to me as they passed in front of and behind me. The tinny sound of a bicycle bell alarmed me, and I felt the breeze left behind when the rider whipped past. I entered the coffee shop to a much more serene environment and enjoyed my favorite breakfast at a seat near the plate glass window, bathed in the sunlight that washed in on me.

That afternoon I took a break from making phone calls to use the bathroom. As I was seated on the toilet, I heard something next to me. It was as if something had brushed against the sink – an ever so subtle sound. My heart rate rose and my brow furrowed as I strained to listen closer. All I could hear was my pulse throbbing in my ears. Suddenly a wall clock in the living room chimed four ‘o clock, startling me to the point that I jumped slightly while still seated there. I regained my composure, washed up and returned to the computer to transcribe the data from my phone surveys.

I closed the laptop and went to make dinner at 6:30. Over the years, I had learned to be extra careful when dealing with the hot oven and burners. Once I had accidentally set a plastic plate directly onto a burner that was still hot, resulting in a cloud of noxious fumes that lasted for days – long after I’d finished cleaning up the mess. I was lucky that it had burned itself out and the damage wasn’t any worse. After that close call, I bought a small fire extinguisher to keep on the countertop next to the oven.

On this particular night, I made my dinner without any risk of fire. However, the undertaking wasn’t completely without incident. As I proceeded to make dinner I discovered that the canned goods I needed for the recipe were missing from the cupboard. I have always kept my canned goods in very specific places on the shelves so that I would always know what was what without the benefit of being able to see the labels. I don’t remember using up the items I needed that night, but apparently I already had. So, I opted to make a casserole instead.

I sat at the dinner table enjoying the simple meal I had made. The television was playing in the background, filling me in on all of the day’s news headlines. I finished the first portion on my plate and reached to dip into the casserole dish once more. I scraped the inside of the dish, the sounds of metal on ceramic echoing throughout the kitchen. It was empty.

“I can’t believe it! I couldn’t have already eaten it all!” I said incredulously. I had thought for sure that I’d prepared a bigger portion than that, and I didn’t remember emptying the dish fully onto my plate. Thoughts ran through my head in an attempt to reason out the matter: Had it baked up to be less than I’d anticipated? Had I spilled some on the table while dishing it onto my plate?

In search of the missing food, I placed the palm of my hand on the tabletop and moved it steadily over the area within my reach. As I was doing so there was a distinct movement in front of me. I gasped and my heart rate immediately quickened. I felt the blood pulsing through my neck. This sound was not as subtle as the others I’d been hearing. It was obvious – a sudden motion of something moving across from me. I continued listening, but all I could hear was the much-too-chipper weather man on TV giving the forecast.

Suddenly I was overwhelmed with a feeling that I was no longer alone at the kitchen table. “Is someone there?” I called out, hoping there was no reply.

Silence.

I felt a shift in the air pressure as if something moved behind me followed by the creak of a floorboard. I froze. Something brushed against the back of my hair, gentle as a feather. I recoiled and let out a squeal.

I shot up out of my chair, made my way to the corner of the kitchen and turned to face the interior of the room. “Who’s there?” I demanded. No answer. By this time I was breathing heavily, practically hyperventilating. My chest and throat radiated heat as my heart raced inside, giving me the sensation of acute indigestion. I thought I might vomit.

I slowly made my way to the doorway leading into the living room. I stood there for what seemed like an eternity listening for something, anything that would explain the circumstance. Eventually I moved on and worked my way into the hallway bathroom. I locked the door behind me.

It took over an hour and a half for me to calm down. While in the locked bathroom, I wrestled with my thoughts. I reasoned with myself. I didn’t want to admit that my mother was right, but maybe I shouldn’t be living alone. It appeared to be taking its toll on me. On the other hand, all of these things could be logically explained, I told myself. If I wasn’t blind, I’d have seen whatever it was that caused the noises and it would be so obvious. I’d laugh about how ridiculous it was to be scared of it, I’m sure. At least that’s what I tried to convince myself.

What finally brought me out of the bathroom was the ringing of the telephone. I admit it startled me at first, but only because it had been so quiet for the last two hours. I cautiously opened the door and entered the hallway. My phone was in the living room. I approached it quickly and answered.

“Hello?”

“Hey Sarah, it’s Jill.”

Thank God, it was just my friend Jill. “Hi Jill, how’s it going?”

“Oh, I’m doing good. I saw you at Espresso Express today,” she said in a playful tone, which I didn’t understand initially.

“You did?”

“Mmm hmm. I saw you in the window when I walked by on the sidewalk.” Still in a playful tone.

“Well, why didn’t you come in and say, ‘hi’?” I asked.

“I didn’t want to disturb you.”

“Disturb me? Why would you be disturbing me?”

“Because, silly, I assumed you were on a date. Who’s the lucky guy that was sitting with you?”

My mouth slacked open. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t form words.

“Sarah?” Jill asked, “Are you okay?”

I dropped the phone. I could still hear Jill’s muffled voice even though the speaker was face down on the carpet. I frantically made my way around the house, arms flailing in front of me.

“Who are you?” I yelled into the house. “What do you want?”

I was terrified, but also angry. I felt violated. I didn’t necessarily want to encounter whatever it was, but I couldn’t go on hiding in my own house any longer. I spent hours searching every square inch of the property and found nothing. I finally went to bed after I was able to calm down, but I did not fall asleep until the wee hours of the morning.

A light rustling sound woke me not long after I fell asleep, still in the dark hours of early morning. I wasn’t sure at first if it was real or if I had dreamed the noise. As I was about to get up, I noticed that the sheets next to me were pulled back. I stretched out my right arm into the empty space beside me. It felt warm as if someone had been lying there with me. The events of the previous day flooded back into my memory. My sightless eyes welled up with tears as I began to question my own sanity. Frustrated, I bolted up and out of the bed. I threw on some old clothes and headed toward the front door with the intention of fleeing the house, unsure exactly where I was going to go – maybe Jill’s place. She lived fairly close.

I wanted to take my cane with me as I always did whenever I went outdoors. I searched the house frantically, unable to remember where I’d left it. I almost always left it propped against the wall by the front door, but it wasn’t there. I made my way along all of the perimeter walls, feeling desperately for the cane.

When I neared the kitchen I still had not found my walking aid, but I made a discovery of a much more startling nature – a barely detectable vertical crevice in the wall I had not known about previously. I used all my fingers to follow the crease up the wall, across the top, and down the other side. It was a doorway designed to fit perfectly flush within the wall. I leaned my weight inward against the panel and felt a slight give on its right side. I worked my fingers into the crevice on that side the best I could, eventually prying the panel free. It swung open to the left. I gasped in shock and my pulse quickened. A hidden room right in the center of my house.

How I wish that I would have had sight at that moment. I faced a completely unexplored territory inside my own house with the possibility that someone else was in there with me.

I entered slowly, arms extended. “Is someone in here?” I whispered, afraid to ask the question. There was no response. I stepped forward. To my right I discovered a flat surface – a tabletop. I ran my hands along its surface. On top of the table I was able to make out several unopened cans of food. No doubt these were the missing canned goods I’d been looking for. The table also contained silverware and a can opener that disappeared weeks ago.

My heart rate increased even more and my palms began to sweat. I worked my way forward until I came to a wall that I knew bordered the living room. I found a hole the size of a quarter at eye level. Sweat began to form on my brow as well. I found another similar hole on the next adjacent wall. This wall bordered the bathroom. Tears started to well up in my eyes. I was able to find two more holes on the two remaining walls bordering the kitchen and the bedroom.

I dropped to my knees in absolute horror and disbelief. How long had this person been watching me? How could I have not known? My hands were on the floor in front of me and I felt something soft. I investigated further with my fingertips. It was some sort of comforter or sleeping bag. At one end was a fluffy pillow.

At this point not only was I terrified beyond description, I was also furious. How dare someone spy on me covertly from within my own walls! I knew I had to run out of the house and get to safety immediately, with or without my cane. I decided I would go to Jill’s house and we’d call the police from there.

I made my way to where I remembered the hidden door to be, my arms sweeping the area ahead of me in a panic. Instead of the open door, my hands found the warm torso of a human, a male, standing silently in the doorway. He grabbed both my arms and pulled me out of the hidden room and into the house.

We struggled in the kitchen. I kicked at him and screamed as loud as I could into his ears. I was able to get one arm free and I used it to grasp for the fire extinguisher that I knew would be by the oven. He attempted to pull me away, but my fingers reached its nozzle. I swung it at him, feeling the metal cylinder connect with the back of his skull. He released my other arm and I pulled the trigger in his direction, enveloping him in a cloud of white foam.

I ran into the utility room off of the kitchen where I knew my only advantage existed – the fuse box. I found the box and tripped every lever I could find, eliminating all power from the house. If this perverted psycho wanted to kill me, he’d have to do it on an equal playing field – in the dark.

The intruder had not followed me into the utility room. The fire extinguisher must have dazed him. I remembered the toolbox I kept in that room, and I quickly retrieved the longest screwdriver I could find. I stood in the corner and listened carefully. If he was still conscious, he would not be able to move around in the pitch darkness without creating a noise. I would surely detect his movements.

I held the screwdriver against my chest, gripping its handle tightly with both hands. I felt my wildly beating heart against the side of my fist. After an eternity, I moved forward a bit. I may have knocked him out, or even killed him. I had to make sure.

I left the utility room and entered the kitchen. There was still no sound from anywhere in the house. I passed into the living room and headed toward the front door. Halfway through the room I could feel his presence. Something in the air around me had shifted. Without warning there was breath on the back of my neck followed by a deep whisper directly in my ear, “The showers were my favorite.”

I screamed and swung around, stabbing the screwdriver into empty air. I ran for the door. It was merely a few feet away, but I couldn’t reach it due to the resistance I met when the voyeuristic brute’s arms wrapped around my waist. He wrestled me to the floor and straddled me. I tightened my grip on the tool and plunged it as hard as I could into his side.

I shudder to think about it when I recount the feeling of the steel shaft separating two of his ribs. It was horrid, and I was only able to stomach it knowing that if I hadn’t acted, my life would have ended then.

The man winced in pain and let out a deep, growling grunt. He fell backward and rolled off of me. I turned over onto my chest and pushed up off of the floor, then crawled over to the couch and used it to get back onto my feet. I still held the screwdriver, a warm trickle of blood seeping onto my knuckle.

I could tell that the intruder was writhing around on the floor near the doorway. I would have to exit through the back door. From the opposite end of the living room, I entered the sun room where the door was located. I wasn’t as familiar with this entry point, causing me to fumble around with the deadbolt and screen door locks for longer than I would have liked.

I knew there were concrete stairs there leading to a flat patio. How many steps? Four? Five? I couldn’t remember. I proceeded slowly. The last thing I needed was to fall and twist my ankle. After navigating the steps, I came to the end of the patio, which emptied into a narrow alleyway between the shotgun-style houses behind mine.

My steps were slow and cautious. My hands told me there was a brick wall to my right, and a brick wall about five feet to my left. The sides of the two houses. I was entering unfamiliar territory without the benefit of my cane. My breathing was frantic and the tears continued to fill my useless eyes. I kicked something and nearly fell over. It felt plastic – a child’s toy maybe. I was moving much too fast compared to my level of comfort with the surroundings. But I had no choice as footsteps were approaching behind me.

I picked up the pace, waving the screwdriver out in front to buffer my impending collision with any obstacles. Ten more feet of forward progress and the screwdriver alerted me, with metallic clanging, to the presence of a chain link fence connecting the two houses.

I stopped and cried out, my voice breaking up through my tears, “No.” I turned around, my back to the fence. I began swinging the screwdriver violently.

“Leave me alone!” I screamed.

More hyperventilating.

More tears.

The man approached slowly, and then stopped just a few feet away from me. I got the feeling he could see what he was doing. Either there was an electric light in this alley or the dawn had already crested enough that ample ambient light was available. I didn’t know which one was the case because I had no idea what time it was.

Knowing I was about to die, I just wanted answers. “How long?” I managed to ask. “How long have you been in there?” My voice was angrier than I’d expected.

“Since before you lived there,” he replied calmly, his voice deep. “I got lucky with you – a blind girl. With the others I couldn’t come out in the open when they were home. I couldn’t sit and eat their dinner with them. I couldn’t stand over them while they worked at their computers. I couldn’t go to the coffee shop with them.” There was a pause as he moved even closer. “I couldn’t stand next to them in the bathroom.”

I cried uncontrollably in a whirlwind of emotions. I had never before felt so violated, so angry, and so terrified all at the same time. There was sudden movement again in front of me.

“Don’t touch me!” I demanded as I held up the screwdriver. I don’t know exactly how it happened. I don’t know if he didn’t see the tool or just didn’t care, knowing that he was caught. But as he lunged forward, he managed to impale himself on the screwdriver and pin me up against the fence. My hands were still gripping the handle, but it was so deep inside him that his shirt was touching my fist.

His breathing became gurgled, and his last words to me were, “I couldn’t snuggle next to them in bed either.”

We collapsed together as one unit. The fence tore at my back as we slid down onto the ground. His dead weight nearly crushed me, but I managed to push him off and crawl away. I crawled all the way back to my house, in through the back door and into the living room to my phone. I sobbed hysterically as I keyed in the digits 9-1-1 and fell to the floor.

Credit: moonlit_cove

[creedatelier]

Ballroom In The Sky.

Gazing with his mouth wide open towards a sullen evening sky dotted with jet black clouds

Geoff Wild weeps.

He was on his knees on this grass-strewn, unkempt graveyard.

Two years later and her memory still lingers.

The sudden passing of his loved one had left this middle-aged man gaunt, ashen faced and skeletal. Wild’s troubled expression had become a haunted house of uncanny notions and strange secrets waiting to flow from his water-logged eyes. Those circumstances surrounding Violet’s death were never clear.

Velvet Heart was Geoff’s courtship name for Violet.

Was it a death wish or an accidental fall from their elegant townhouse?

Death through misadventure was the colourful term used.

“Cherish all those wonderful experiences we had. Whichever one of us dies first.”

Violet actually said.

Almost as if she had some premonition.

This was six months before she passed away. .An endless see-saw of creepy dawning’s convulsed him.

Yet Wild fondly recalled when they first met at the Skyline Ballroom.

The Skyline was a battered tumbledown barn whose allure was its availability.

The chipped hardwood floor and the dusty pale cream walls with paint flakes that peeled off only confirmed its tenement status. It was known locally as the “Creaking Beam”” due to its ghostly acoustics and flickering lights. Here in this spooky venue Geoff and Violet had their earliest encounter. Wild remembered her radiant smiles.

The ripples of long dark hair, her apple blossom cheeks and of course her angelic aura..

On that night she wore a polka dot ruche dress, amethyst ear pendants, whilst sporting satin moccasins.

“Have I the gumption? The courage.

A faint heart etc.” Geoff could hear his heart flutter as he did his tightrope walk toward her.

“May I dance with you?” Geoff asked.

Velvet heart’s hands formed a lazy arch and her dainty fingers curled inwards.

“Of course. I would be delighted.” Violet spoke in that pear drop tone which beguiled everybody.

Geoff, the local journalist and writer was in seventh heaven.

They never forgot that enchanting song they first danced to, “Ballroom In The Sky.”

The song was performed by Valerie And The Blue Skies.

They weren’t very big but had a cult following..

Geoff could see how similar Violet and Valerie were.

They were mirror images of each other.

Even in speech and humour.

Valerie was based in a remote enigmatic area.

She used to refer to songs as role plays.

“You feel as though you are a member of the audience.” Valerie remarked.

Violet did admit to meeting Valerie casually and for autograph purposes but not otherwise or so it seemed.

It was amazing how “ Ballroom In The Sky” with its airy ascending rock chords and jaunty jazz lines could draw Violet, Valerie and Geoff into a peculiar triangle.

The sudden moody breaks, abrupt silences built a momentary cocoon.

Valerie’s top sideman....well, he was known as Silent Sam.

He had a track record of sorts.

Sam’s blue attire was appropriate.

He wore a large trilby hat tipped over his forehead sheltering his pointed face and pencil slim physique.

He, Sam, was short-sighted when it suited and eccentric.

Practical jokes were his forte and the impish grin.

“Yep ..Yup....or Sure.“

These were the only asides from this oddball sidemen for the most part.

He was accident prone.

Valerie had to indicate where things were. Theirs was a sign language of its own complete with slanted facial squirms.

One wondered if there was a deeper relationship between them.

Those Blue Skies airs were fillers without Sam.

Every time “Ballroom In The Sky” was played Valerie, Violet and Geoff were sharing unwittingly a secret.

The startled looks were part of this outlandish ritual.

Wild recalled now.

“Valerie could croon in a real hypnotic fashion. Everyone in the dancehall was enthralled. People would sway like ice skaters one moment, waltz in a swan-like manner the next and just as often rave in the isles like end of term teenagers.”

Geoff whispers in the graveyard.

“JUST A PASSING DREAM...........STILL SO VIVID.......DANCING IN HEAVEN...... KISSES ALL AROUND....MAGIC HAND........A LITTLE BIT BLIND, and of course “BALLROOM IN THE SKY.”

Geoff and Violet would swing religiously to those fantasy songs every Sunday as their courtship blossomed.

“Ballroom In The Sky “ was always the highpoint.

This constellation of events occurred in a scenic nineteen seventies spot.

Despite its haunting vistas and backdrop of panoramic hills it resembled a ghost town. Openings were few against an infinite spiral of closing factories, bookstores with half-empty shelves and shopkeepers peering out of doors.

Ten years earlier it was a beacon. “I shudder to think…...A jigsaw puzzle.”

Geoff surveying the cemetery.

Such memories could have been taken directly from some movie script. “Yes .. it was a hub that Skyline. Like homeless drifters, the folk who attended.”

Geoff again.

They were fugitives.

Escapees from that heavy-handed dole queue void.

Suddenly something happened.

“What the heavens is? Snap….a branch.” Momentary jitters engulfing Wild.

He shook in concert with the overarching colonnade of brown edge green leaf trees.

An eerie rustling dewdrop tiptoe now caressing Geoff’s ears.

”Up there somewhere Velvet Heart?

Dancing in the heavens?”

Nervous laughter now relief road to that traffic jam of sentiment about to speed off.

Glued to the spot that macabre sixth sense of Violet hovering above evaporates due to an illusory late evening sun shaft.

Wild could no longer hide from Valerie and Velvet Heart’s identities.

“Oh those comic jibes and piercing glances. Some ethereal intrigues were passing through the air.”

Geoff recalls with forensic clarity.

Poor Silent Sam would do his usual u-turn into the shadow.

Two months before Geoff's and Violet’s parting, an incident occurred.

Memory is a lodger which steadfastly refuses to surrender its keys.

Valerie and the Blue Skies were in flying form as the tunes morphed into each other.

Valerie and Velvet Heart were magnets for men.

Violet caught Geoff off guard.

“Guilty conscience, there Geoff?”

Having fantasies about Valerie.

Focus on me.

As for that eternity ring remember?”

Those penetrating peepers of Violet knew how to vet a body in a flash.

“Oh no .....not at all.” Geoff with a looping

smirk.

“Just those mystical melodies working their spell.” He said.

“You came into my life like.... a new dawn.” Wild poetically.

“You honey tongue you. Geoff our song. Ballroom.” Violet mutters.

Valerie nodded towards Sam.

Her expression was a hard to decipher veil and deep code command.

“Get those fingers flying, Sam.”

In a tone almost identical to Velvet Heart.

Sam didn’t always act immediately.

“Yep.. Yup ...Sure.” Sam’s stock retort.

“Ballroom In The Sky” now strong as ever cast its bewitching spell throughout the venue.

A medley was included tonight.

“SOMEONE FOR EVERYONE” ( Sam looked at Valerie), “A LITTLE BIT BLIND” ( Sam staring vacantly at both Valerie and Violet), “MIND YOUR STEP( Sam winking at Geoff while scrunching the mouth at Violet).

Violet edged toward the stage.

A dim-lit silence ensued.

Ballroom started again. Valerie and Violet now singing this tune. An eerie vacuum filled this dancehall.

A triangular crush of people occurred near the stage with Geoff in toe.

Valerie handed Violet a letter.

Sam was now talking tersely to Valerie.

A misted over photo gallery memory blur in place.

“Pst...Pst. Your Velvet Heart is back to haunt you.“ Violet’s lofty twang.

“What in the name….I can't phantom…..fathom.” Geoff shudders.

Violet’s voice a wet whisper stretching over twigs that simultaneously tap against windows.

She pulled back an orchard pattern duvet covering Geoff.

“Fell asleep at your favourite film, The Passing Of A Velvet Heart. All those graveyard scenes shot in our small town remember?

We know Silent Sam wrote the soundtrack for the film along with Ballroom. He sings on that one.” Violet recounts.

“Incredibly you chose Velvet Heart as your courtship name for me based on the film.

The film was never a huge success but did get our area limited publicity.

Sam earned extra royalties from the soundtrack.

Valerie and Sam tying the knot next Sunday of all days.

As for that love letter you mumbled about.

It’s an invite to their secret wedding.

Very private. As Sam is.

What a time and place he chose for the invitation.

During that ethereal love song which brought us together.” Violet observes.

“Poor Sam’s a little bit blind a

on occasions or is he?

I was upstairs on the flat roof today.

Six months ago I fell off it.

You’ve never liked me being up there since.”

Violet continuing.

“Guilty secret must confess. I used to be onstage instead of Valerie.

Well, sometimes.

She was dating you pretending to be me.

We never knew each other that well but it was a dare worked out between us.“

Geoff shouted. “Hoodwinked.”

An incredulous look ripples over Wild’s pale face.

Violet’s eyes now ablaze.

“You never noticed did you? Deep down.”

The tease in Violet surfacing..

Geoff was thunderstruck.

Violet strolled towards their CD player on the mahogany table.

“Think you’ll like this one. Our song.”

Violet stated.

“May I dance with you?”

Geoff smiled. “Of course. I would be delighted.

And relieved!”

Silent Sam’s voice weaves in his own inimitable shy way a song usually sung by Valerie, his wife to be.

And sometimes Violet, or Velvet Heart.

A number that united three people in the most curious and otherworldly manner!

“Yep….Yup ….Sure.”

As Sam was in the habit of saying!

mantrabay Photograph and Prose Poem Copyright Protected

#creedatelier #blog@creedatelier

.

[thefallennightmare]

Soldat [4/10]

Paring: Bucky Barnes x Reader and Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: language, angst, fluff, violence, smut(eventually)

Summary: Captain America and Reader have worked together at SHIELD for over a year. What happens when they have a run in with The Winter Solider and Steve finds out the secret Reader had been hiding from him all this time?

A/N: I think this will be the last chapter I put out for today! Work is going to be crazy the next few days so I’m not sure when I will be able to post. I really hope anyone who is reading is enjoying! Again, feel free to ask me if you would like to be tagged! 

“Steve told me you were a pilot,” I scoffed towards Sam. 

We were sitting at a table outside of a restaurant, waiting for our target to walk out. Steve and Nat were a few blocks over, waiting for word from us when we would be moving. 

Sam laughed, “I never said pilot.”

“Is it hard to fly?” I questioned with curiosity. 

“You get the hang of it after awhile. And no, I will not teach you how to fly it,” Sam said. 

I faked pouted while I crossed my arms. “You’re no fun.”

He went silent only for a moment before he spoke, all jokes aside. “I know we just met and my opinions don’t matter but we’re bound to see him again. I just want to make sure you’re one hundred percent on taking him down. Like Steve said, he killed someone you all looked up too.” 

I nodded. “Can I be honest with you?” 

When Sam nodded, I continued. “I don’t know if it was because of how dark it was on the roof but when we saw each other, he acted like he didn’t even know me.”

“How long has it been?” 

“Uh-a few years. Maybe I look different or something?” I muttered. 

Our attention snapped towards the restaurant as our target walked out, Sam immediately dialing a number on his phone. I sat in silence, placing my sunglasses over my eyes and sat back in the chair. 

Maybe that was the reason why he didn’t recognize me that night. It was dark and had been a few years since we saw each other but yet, my heart still dropped when the realization hit that he didn’t recognize me. Was I that easy to forget?

“Let’s move,” Sam said while standing up. 

“Steve, do we actually have a plan here or are we just kidnapping this guy?” I questioned from a spot in the middle of the back seat. 

We were driving along the highway, trying to make it to Shield Headquarters in time to stop the helicarriers. We had learned from Jasper Sitwell that Project Insight would be launching in less than twenty four hours and we suddenly found ourselves with a change of plans. 

Hydra’s plan for the helicarriers was to use them to eliminate millions of people who were any sort of threat to them. All thanks to Zola’s algorithm. 

“I’m thinking,” Steve said, not turning his attention towards me. 

His eyes were trained to the road ahead of us as Sam continued to drive. 

I had tried talking to Steve but he had ignored me; only saying that we would talk about this later. 

“Hydra doesn’t like leaks,” Sitwell informed us. 

“Then why don’t you try sticking a cork in it,” Sam snapped before changing lanes. 

“Insight is launching in sixteen hours,” Natasha pointed out leaning towards Steve, “We’re cutting it a little close here.” 

“I know. We’ll use him to bypass the DNA scans and access the helicarriers directly,” Steve directed to us. 

He finally looked over his shoulder to me, only briefly, and I gave him a small smile. The thought of my past with Soldat was still bothering him, I could tell in the way his jaw was clenched tight as he returned the smile. 

We'll talk later, I mouthed, promising that I would indulge more about my past to him. 

All he did was nod before looking out the front windshield again and I leaned against my seat noticing that Sitwell had an exasperated look on his face.

“Are you crazy? That is a terrible, terrible idea.” 

Suddenly, a loud thud from the top of the car sounded and I couldn’t help the small scream that left my throat as I watched Sitwell being pulled from the car window and tossed to the other side of the highway, immediately being hit by a semi. 

My eyes grew with horror as the quick flash of metal glimmered in front of me causing Natasha and I to jump towards the front of the car, her landing on Sam’s lap while I landed on Steve’s. Gunshots echoed through the small car and Steve wrapped his arms around my waist in a tight grip as he hastily put the car in park, causing the man to roll off the car. His metal fingers dragged along the pavement before coming to a stop a few feet away from us. 

“That’s him?” Steve whispered in my ear. 

My throat went dry, no words being able to come out so all I did was nod.

A car slammed into the back of ours, pushing it towards him. The Winter Soldier jumped over the hood of our car landing on top with a thud. Sam slammed on the brakes as my hand reached around for my gun and smiled in victory when I pulled it free. Aiming it to the roof of the car, I shot a few rounds. 

“Shit!” Sam screamed when the metal arm busted through the front windshield and ripped the wheel off with ease. 

It was Natasha’s turn to fire a few rounds and I looked over Steve’s shoulder as the soldier was riding on the hood of the car behind us. They slammed into us a few more times before Steve busted open the door, pulling us to safety as the car hit the median, rolling a few times and coming to a stop.

“Nat!” I bellowed as I watched her and Sam roll away from us while Steve and I were safely sitting on his shield that protected our fall. 

She gave me a small wave, indicating that they were alright, and Steve helped me to my feet and I watched his face distort in pain. 

“Are you hurt?” I asked. 

“I’m fine. You’re bleeding, though,” His fingers gently grazed over my forehead before showing me the blood that covered his hand. 

“I’ll live,” I shrugged and turned towards Sam and Nat who had caught up to us.  

We all watched as someone handed the soldier a grenade launcher and without a second thought, Steve pushed me out of the way, blocking the shot with his shield. 

“STEVE!” I screamed as I watched him go flying off the bridge and straight through a bus. 

Suddenly, hundreds of bullets cascaded around us, Sam and Nat taking cover behind a van while I hid on the side of another car across the median. The bullets ricochet against the metal of cars and my body shivered when one flew past my face, my hair flowing with the wind. 

My eyes scanned my surroundings, trying to avoid any of the flying bullets, and after fighting with my conscious, I ran out from behind the car and jumped over the median to the opposite way of traffic. Thankfully with everything going on, cars had decided to exit the freeway long before reaching us. 

Weaving my way in and out of the cars that were there, I dared to glance over my shoulder and watched in fear as he launched a grenade at the car in front of me. The heat of the fire engulfed me as the power of the blast sent me flying over the bridge, me landing somewhat safely on an abandoned car. 

“Fuck,” I groaned, feeling the wind get knocked out of me. 

I laid there for a split second as the pain slowly subsided, wondering why he still couldn’t recognize me. My heart was breaking, realizing that the memories of us might have meant  nothing to him. 

“Now’s not the time to be a little bitch, Y/N.” I cursed to myself before rolling off of the car. 

I ran with a small limp, knife clenched tight in my hand, as I waved people away from the scene. 

“Get away! Get back!” I ordered. “It’s not safe!”

Seeing his shadow from the bridge above me, I came to a halt, aiming my gun towards him. I breathed as the bullet hit exactly where I wanted; his goggles. 

Not daring to stay back, I scurried over to a fallen bus as I fired a few more rounds behind me, not sure if it was a direct hit this time. I continued to run as fast as I could, hoping I would find Steve soon. 

“Fuck!” I screamed out in pain when I felt a bullet rip through my thigh, sending me plummeting to the hard ground. 

Biting back the tears, I slowly but hurriedly dragged my limp body over to the car in front of me. I leaned back against it, allowing the coldness of it to cool down my warm body. Glancing down to the wound in my leg, I let out a few large breaths before a guttural scream scratched it’s way out of my throat as I plunged my finger in the wound, fishing out the bullet with little to no ease. 

“Damn it, Steve. Where are you?!,” I sobbed, tears brimming my eyes. 

If anyone saw me crying right now they would be appalled. Big, tough, Shield Agent, former FBI special ops, former swat member, was crying over a man? I wasn’t crying over a man, per say. I was crying at the thought that Steve was in fact right. If this truly was him, what I had known about Soldat was just a lie. 

Without warning, more rapid gunfire sound in front of me and I watched almost in defeat as someone jumped out of the bus, my spirits lifting only a tad. 

“Steve!” I gasped slowly rising to my feet. 

He looked over his shoulder after blocking the shots with his shield and ran over towards me, immediately throwing my arm over his broad shoulders. 

“Are you alright?” He cooed. 

“For now,” I admitted. 

The bullets continued to bounce off the shield as Steve and I tried to find safety. 

“Stay close,” Steve ordered. 

Obeying, I gripped his shirt as we started making our way towards the men that were shooting at us. One of the men to my right fell to the ground, gun clattering away from him. Looking up to the overpass, I gave a small wave of thanks to Sam who had clearly been watching our backs. Steve knocked the last shooter to his feet before coming to my side again. We both looked up to Sam. 

“Go! I got this!” He yelled. 

Nodding, Steve wrapped an arm around my waist while mine snacked its way around his neck and I tried my best to hold the majority of my weight as we tried to gain our surroundings, looking for Natasha. 

“Over there!” I pointed when I saw the soldier had his gun aim at Natasha and was about to pull the trigger. 

Steve ran towards him and I watched as the two fought. Shield vs.knife. My leg dragged behind me while I used the last bit of my strength to help Natasha off of the ground. 

“You’re shot,” she observed. 

“No shit,” I groaned, feeling the sudden rush of blood run down my leg. 

We both watched Steve as he tried to land punch after punch to the soldier, always coming up empty. We watched in fear as they continued to fight, Steve throwing the soldier over his shoulder, the mask rolling a few yards away. 

My body went rigid as he slowly turned around, his unmasked face meeting ours. Blood flooded in my ears while my mouth ran dry, trying to find the right words to say. 

He stood a few feet in front of me and he looked exactly the same. Those eyes that haunted my dream for months were suddenly in front of me and everything around me vanished. I wanted nothing more than to walk into his arms. 

“Soldat?” I breathed. 

“Bucky?” Steve questioned at the same time. 

I snapped my eyes over to him, my heart getting caught in my throat at the mention of that name. “Bucky? As in best friend who you thought fell off a train seventy years ago, Bucky?” 

“Y/N, this is Soldat?” Steve croaked, realizing that the man who had saved my life years ago was his best friend. 

“Who the hell is Bucky?,” Soldat questioned Steve before his gaze softened on me. “How do you know me?” 

“You don’t remember me?” I blinked, surprised. “Russia. 2009. Zola,” 

Soldat’s eyes bounced back and forth between Steve and I. 

“Y/N,” he whispered, “I know that name.” 

I nodded, hoping he would remember, however, The Winter Soldier returned as fast as he had disappeared and raised his gun to shoot but Sam came flying in, literally, and knocked Bucky a few feet away from me. 

He quickly stood and stared at Steve, something unreadable coming across his features. He lifted the gun again but was stopped when Nat got a hold of the grenade launcher, sending one off in our direction. 

We all jumped out of the way in different directions, me rolling far away from Steve. 

“Y/N, watch out!” 

Hearing Steve’s voice, I looked behind me, my scream being muffled by a pair of leather gloves while my body was being dragged away from my friends. My wounded leg dragged along the ground as I tried to kick my captor with my good leg. 

My efforts were useless as my body was spun around, eyes locked with one of the gunmen working with Soldat. 

“Get in the van. Now.” 

I continued to fight against him. “Let me go!”

“He wants you,” the gunmen struggled against my punches and kicks. 

My fighting ceased when I felt a blow to the back of my head causing my body to go limp against his chest.  

Tags:

@kat002nd

[thehomierobbstark]

Do you think Erik likes being in front of the camera? Like if his woman was a photographer and asked him to do an x rated photo shoot just for their eyes only. I’m talking baby oil and everything, would he be a little nervous?

+

A/N:  First, l want to say that I absolutely LOVE this question.  I know I’ve been sitting on it for a minute, but every time I read it I get so many ideas in my head of how this would go, and I love how unique this thought is.  I also really wanted to incorporate the above twitter post into a story, so I figured this would be the perfect opportunity! I broke this up into two parts because I felt like it would flow better, so more is to come for this. As always, thank you for asking!  I hope you enjoyed my interpretation of this!

Warnings: At the bottom 👇🏿👇🏿👇🏿.

This is for all my lil cute ass black gorditas out there rockin back fat, belly rolls and thick ass thighs that touch!!  x Reader is always gon be black, chubby, and sassy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I want you to come home.”

Erik lies face up on the arm of the couch, his long legs making his feet dangle over the edge on the other side, his huge body taking up all the space in the middle.  He throws an arm over his forehead, blowing a raspberry and playing with the coiled extension cord that strung out from the base on the wall.

He was soo bored, waiting for her to get back to keep him company and make his night much more interesting.

“Baby, you know I’m working late tonight.  I won’t be back for another few hours, I’ve got one more client left to shoot.”  Y/N looks out the large glass window of her downtown studio, looking at the traffic pile up down below.  

She hears him groan on the other side of the line, followed by the sound of shuffling.

Erik sits up, leaning over the back of the couch to look at the wall clock.  6:47.  He kisses his teeth, pressing the phone back to his ear as he lays back down.

“Is this that same picky ass indie chick that cancelled on you twice already?”  The bass in his voice comes out, and she can tell by the way his breathings changed that his nostrils are probably flared out in irritation and his grip on the phone is tighter.

It was 6:47 on a Friday night, and instead of being laid up on the couch with him, his baby was still at the studio waiting on some flake.

“You should’ve told her to find somebody else, my baby time far too valuable to be sitting around for some bummy ass knotted haired white chick to show up.”

“Relax, babe! Please? She called earlier and told me she’d be here at 7:15.  I’m good babe, I promise.”  Her voice is soft and soothing in his ear, and the veins in his forehead smooth down at her request.

Fine.  He’d relax.  But only because she’d told him to.

Rolling over to his side, he changes the subject, not wanting his own sour mood to influence hers before the shoot.

“You eat yet?”

“…No,” she admits, voice meek.

“I’ve been caught up in portfolios since three, but I’ll see if I can take a break around 8:30 and order in.  Maybe that Indian place down the street?”

It was one of her favorites, and she’d discovered it one day when she was scoping the area for her studio a few years ago.

“You ain’t eat since WHEN? Uh uh. I’m coming down there Y/N.  That lady got you and me fucked up.”

He shoots up from his spot on the couch, reaching over to grab his Nike Air Bakin’s he’d kicked off earlier.

“Erik-”

“Nah babe, that bird not coming, and my girl not going hungry a second longer.  Call up that Indian place and order what you want. I’m on my way.”

She doesn’t even have a chance to dispute the plan before he air kisses her over the phone and hangs up, the hum of the dead line left ringing in her ear.

“Well, OK then,” she shrugs, and she holds down the switch, listening for the dial tone before typing in the number to Akbars Indian Restaurant.

~

At 7:30, Erik rolls into the parking structure under the building, the warm to-go boxes of Indian food filling the car with their mouth watering aroma.  He’d taken it upon himself to order a couple extra samosas and garlic naan, even though Y/N said she was swearing off carbs a couple days ago.  

He knew she loved the baked goods, and even though she didn’t agree, he loved the way she looked when she carried some extra weight on her.  All he wanted to do was keep her fat, happy, and laughing.  

His perfect little plump princess.

He keys himself into the building, riding the freight elevator all the way up to the top floor.  He lifts up the gate with one hand, stepping onto the dark marble floor of the wide open space and hearing the melody of soft jazz echoing around from the overhead speakers.

She often liked to work while playing music, stating that it helped to get her mind in the zone.  He eases up on his heavy footsteps to quietly navigate his way through the hallways, the veins in his forehead making a comeback.  

Even if that bird did end up showing up he didn’t care, she was just gonna have to wait in the lobby or some shit while he pulled Y/N aside for a lunch break.  And if she had any problems about that she could speak directly to him.  He had a few things of his own he wouldn’t mind getting off his chest.

He turns the corner into the main room, seeing a white backdrop and studio lighting on the far wall, the reception desk mirroring it on the other end of the room.

A few white leather couches decorated the space in the middle surrounding a dark oakwood coffee table, and off to the side laid an old quilted blanket with a couple floor pillows thrown on top, looking out of place.

He puts the food down on the coffee table and walks around, looking to see where Y/N is.  Before he can exit out into one of the neighboring storage rooms, she appears from around the corner, carrying some silver utensils and napkins from the kitchen as well as a couple bottles of water.

Her face warms as she sees him, mouth spreading open to reveal that gorgeous million dollar smile of hers that Erik couldn’t get enough of.

“You’re here,” her voice is airy and light, and he walks to meet her halfway, enveloping her into his arms.  She lets herself be engulfed, burying the side of her face into his chest.

They stay like that for a few minutes, no words being said as they hold each other, Erik making soft grunts of contentment as he presses kisses into the top of her head.  He lets the smells of her blueberry scented hair products fill his nostrils, taking in a huge breath.

“I missed you.” He finally speaks, and she leans her head back, neck craned as she looks up at him, resting her chin on his stomach.

“I missed you too,” she smiles, and she links her arms together behind him, his head dipping down low to kiss her on the lips, groaning lowly at how soft and plush like they feel against his.  

He closes his eyes, letting his mouth lazily rest on top of hers, too comfortable to move away.

“Where patchouli at?” He mumbles against her mouth, and she snorts a laugh.

“She not coming.”  She sighs, and he sniffs, giving her an admonishing Uh huh, told yo ass.

“Whatever,” she grunts, peeking around him towards the coffee table, the smell of the Indian food sparking the interest of her nose and her stomach.

She tries to pull away to go check out the awaited meal, but he pulls her back, whining from the back of his throat.

“Mmm nooo, I’m not done yet.” He lays his head on top of hers and holds her in place, her weak little attempts at wiggling out of his grasp failing miserably.

“Mooveee,” she moans at him, fake crying. “I’m hungryy.”

He can hear the pout in her words, and he smacks his gums and lifts off of her, succumbing to his baby girl.

“Fine.  But I’m laying on you while you eat.”  He takes her hand and leads her over to the blanket and pillows on the floor, grabbing the bag of food on the way.

“Baby ass…” she comments under her breath, but his ears pick up it, and he drops her hand, swatting her on the butt.

“Yeah and you love it too, don’t even front.”  He remarks confidently, and a bashful smile pokes at her cheeks that she fights from becoming full blown.  She did love it.

They sit, working together to lay out the food, Y/N grabbing one of the brussels sprouts out of the container and popping it into her mouth, chewing hungrily as she finishes filling up her plate.

She sits cross legged, digging in as Erik settles himself with his head in her lap, the rest of his body sprawled out on the floor far out of the range of the blanket.  He doesn’t care at all though, rubbing his large palms against her thighs and nudging his face under her shirt to kiss at her increasingly expanding stomach, happy to see all of the items on his list of three being fulfilled.

He munches on some of the food eventually too, mainly after she’d shoved one of the potato samosas into his mouth to stop his nipping at her tummy so she could finish in peace.  

After scooping the last bits of saag paneer into her mouth, she packs up the leftovers, Erik taking it to go put it in the staff refrigerator.  She folds up the floor blanket, dumping it and the pillows into one of the storage chests lined against the wall.

Before she even realizes he’s back in the room, Erik latches back onto her, wrapping his arms around the front of her waist and puling her back into him, humming into her neck and rubbing her full belly.

“You gon gimme a tour now?” He asks her, and she laughs at their little ongoing joke.

Y/N always changed around the decor and artwork of the studio, utilizing the projects of her latest clients and collaborations to give her fresh ideas and inspiration for upcoming shoots.  

Every few weeks there was a new theme, and since Erik could only visit a couple times a month because of his own busy schedule, every time he came it was like a new experience for him.

Since it was February, her current theme was “Black Love,” her way of honoring both the cultural celebration for the month and the Valentine’s Day celebration that fell in the middle.  There were portraits of several of her old clients hung around each studio room, like family portraits, engagement photo shoots, and maternity spreads.

Each studio had a different focus, too, so it was almost like walking through a museum the way that each room told it’s own story.

Since Erik had wedged himself back into his favorite spot - arms around her shoulders and nose buried in her hair - she had no choice but to waddle herself (and his) out into the hallway to begin the tour, starting with the first door on her left.

Opening the door, they step in, immediately hit with the scent of cinnamon and soft vanilla, and it feels like the aura of the room wrapped them in its arms for a warm, comforting embrace.

“I present to you: Studio One; Age Ain’t Nothin But a Number.”  She smiles lightly to herself at the name she’d borrowed from Aaliyah’s infamous first album.  She’d absolutely loved the artist since childhood, and wanted to pay homage to her legacy, honoring her the right way.

The color scheme was a shimmered gold and deep burgundy, the colors immediately, reminding Erik of his friends grandparents house he’d often visit after school back in Oakland.  Their house smelled exactly the same, and he could even spot the cinnamon broom sticks in the corner, giving off the fragrant smell.

The couch was vintage but it wasn’t old, and the carpet under his feet had him flashing back to the countless nights he’d spent on one just like it playing hot wheels and street fighter Sega matches.  

The whole room reminded him of his childhood, a feeling somewhere between nostalgia and longing striking him in the chest.  It was solidified even further for him when he looked up at the wall and saw the portraits that were hung around.  

Staggered along the wall were pictures of older black couples, some by themselves, and some of couples portraits.

The biggest picture hung in the middle, and it was of a young black couple, maybe early to mid thirties, the man a deep chocolate and the woman and ebony goddess.

It wasn’t until Erik took a closer look that he noticed the clothing they wore appeared to be from an older time.  As he studied their facial features, he realized that all of the pictures in the room were of them, just at different ages.

“One of my first clients,” she speaks from under his chin.  He’d walked them further into the room, stopping in front of the wide portrait to get a better look.

“They came in for a shoot to celebrate their 60th wedding anniversary and they told me their story.  How they met, their first kiss, their first ‘I love you’s’.  Four kids and eight grandkids later, and this is the legacy they’ll be leaving behind.”  She smiles warmly as her eyes roam around the walls, taking in the history of their love.

“I asked if I could feature them in this months theme and in return restore their old photos for them, and they happily agreed.  They even lent some photos of their own parent’s for me to use.”

She points over to the corner of the room, Erik shuffling the both of them over to look at the aged photos from another time.

The both of them observe silently for a few moments, finally separating from each other to explore on their own.  Since Y/N had already seen the collection, she hung by the door, watching as Erik walked around the room like he was visiting and exhibit.

“I wanted this room to represent love in it’s truest form, and how it can survive through the years if you’re willing to put in the work.  It’s never too late to find love, or do everything you can to keep it alive.”

The entire display was absolutely beautiful, and after Erik was done soaking in everything, he felt as if he’d experienced this couples love story, right along side them.

“What are their names?” He asks her, making his way back to her to assume his original position.

“Judy and Maurice Jackson.”  She answers, and it’s almost as if by saying their names it breathes life into the room.

“This is amazing, baby.  You’re so incredibly talented,”  he praises her, and he brings her hand up to his mouth to kiss her knuckles, making her cheeks warm shyly.

“Thank you Erik,” she whispers back, and she kisses him on the cheek before grabbing his arm and pulling him out of the room, turning off the lights and shutting the door behind them.

For the next hour, that’s how they spend their time; moving from studio to studio as Y/N explains the story behind each idea.

The themes explored parental love, familial love, friendship, and cultural identity, the last one detailing just a few examples of how diverse and expansive black culture is in the United States.

Each studio had it’s own name as well, titled in order: ‘Me and Your Mama’, ‘We Are Family’, ‘Way Back’, and ‘Say It Loud’.

The last studio was a private one that Y/N had been working on for the last couple months to get it prepared for a new service she was offering in the spring.

The service would only be available to select clients, but she’d been dying to give it a test run.

Luckily, her favorite client had decided to drop by today of all days, giving her the perfect opportunity to try it out.

Approaching the closed door, she slides herself out from under Erik, instructing him to stay put while she goes inside to get the room ready.

Thinking it’s an interactive theme, he stays put, his only complaint being for her to hurry up because it was cold without her.

A few minutes pass with Erik out in the hallway by himself, and when she finally opens up the door, her small body is looking up at his, her favorite DSLR camera around her neck with a 28mm lens attached to it.

Before he has a chance to voice his confusion she pulls him into the room, shutting the door behind her.

This studio is significantly bigger than the other ones, large enough to fit an entire California King size bed and two sofas, one a suede midnight black and the other a leather blood red.  Fur pelts decorate the ends of the couches, and a gigantic faux white fur rug sits in the middle of the floor.

A couple lighting setups are sitting in the corner of the room, along with a few shaded lamp covers, one in purple, one in red, and the other in white.

Over the bed hangs a low hanging chandelier with both red and purple bulbs alternating around it.

Erik hadn’t said a word since he’d stepping into the space, just the sound of his footsteps as he walks around the room, observing everything.

His curiosity leads him over to a table on the far side of the room, and he picks up one of the many bottles of baby oil sitting on top of it.

He turns around, and his face says it all.

“Y/N….” She can hear the unnervingly calm tone in his voice, meaning that she had about 5 seconds to start explaining before he put a hit out on all her male coworkers.

“Okay BEFORE you start freaking out, just wait a minute and listen.”

His nostrils flare out a little bit and he works his jaw, putting the bottle down and crossing his arms.

“You got one minute.”

She launches into her rehearsed pitch, already having practiced it in her head ten times before she even opened the door to let him in.

“Spring is coming up, and I want to offer a new service to returning customers who’d expressed their interest in the past when I brought it up.  I’ve done their maternity shoots, their engagement portraits, their anniversary photos, and now I want to try my hand at…boudoir photography.”

He opens his mouth to speak, but she cuts him off, still having 30 seconds on the clock.

“It’ll only have a trial run of two months and I already have five clients booked.  It won’t become a permanent service yet until I can get feedback from them, but… I need someone to test it out on first before I can start.”

His eyes grow wide at that, his eyebrows almost up to his hairline.  He’d met a few of her loyal clients, and while he tried to keep it under control, he couldn’t help but be a little bit cautious when it came to some of them.  

She was adored and loved by all of them, and on more than one occasion he felt like a few of the women had tried shooting their shot at her, right in front of him.

When he’d brought it up she’d laughed it off, telling him he was just being paranoid because she was bisexual, but he knew what was up.

No way anyone could just take one look at Y/N and not be immediately drawn to her; she had that effect on people.  He had to protect what they had, and he wasn’t about to just watch it slip through his fingers.

“Nah babe, Ion like it.  You already got way too many people up in here tryna get atchu, they don’t need an entire room dedicated to giving them an opportunity.  Get one of your interns to do it.”  The plain look on his face combined with his still crossed arms indicated that the conversation was over, and there would be no further discussion on the topic.  

He must’ve forgot who he was fucking with.

She narrows her eyes, taking a step towards him.

“First of all, I wasn’t asking for your permission, I was telling you about my next business venture.  I’m a grown ass woman and this is my business.  You have no say here, Erik.”

His eyebrows were raised again, but for a different reason this time. It wasn’t often that he and his girl got into arguments, but when they did he always got just a little bit aroused at the fire in her eyes when she started going off.

She continued.

“Second of all, my interns aren’t paid to soothe your bruised ego, they’re paid to assist me when need and to gain valuable experience in their field.  So try again.”  She’d gotten increasingly closer with each word, and before either of them realize it she’s back in front of him again, her presence dominating.

He gives her a once over before laughing humorlessly, looking away for a moment before speaking again.  

“So, what? I’m not even allowed to have an opinion on this?” His brows are furrowed together, eyes concentrated on her face.

Her own facial features soften, and she reaches out with one hand, holding his face in her palm and stroking her thumb over his cheek.

“Aww babe, of course you’re allowed to have an opinion.”  A small smile appears on her lips, and she finishes her statement.  “Just make sure you have it quietly.”

She drops her hand and turns and walks away to finish setting up one of the light fixtures in front of the bed.

He stares at the back of her head as she goes, burning holes into it with his blazing thoughts.

She was completely right.  He had no place trying to take control over her ideas regarding her studio, especially after just seeing how amazing the outcome could be when she had creative license.

Even so, he couldn’t help but to be pissed with the way his princess was speaking to him.  He’d have to remind her before they left tonight about keeping that mouth of hers in check when she was popping off at him like that.  He figured a few backshot sessions over the front desk would be a good memory refresher for her.

Reaching down to adjust himself through his pants, he grunts in acceptance, following her over to where she was.

“Well, do I at least get to have a loud opinion on who it is you’re gonna be testing this out with?” He pouts.

She clicks the soft white shade into place on the camera, then walks over to the light switch to turn off the main fluorescent lights and tun on the red ones, their subtle glow primarily on and around the bed.

“I hope so baby.  Because you’re the one whose gonna be testing out for me.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Warnings: Fluff, Humor, SoftBoi! Erik

[edogawatranslations]

Danganronpa Kirigiri (3) - Chapter 2, Part 4

Table of Contents | Previous: Chapter 2, Part 3

We made our way from the fourth floor to the fifth floor, and then the sixth...

But when we reached the sixth floor, the sound of a blaring alarm stopped us in our tracks. We exchanged a quick glance.

“A fire alarm...?”

“Let’s head back to the shop area.”

Hoping to uncover the reason behind the ringing, we went through the stairwell door and found ourselves in an area filled with shops selling furniture and lifestyle goods. The alarm had rattled some employees and customers, but the situation hadn’t yet descended into outright chaos.

A voice came over the department store’s PA system.

“Attention all customers. A fire has broken out on the restaurant floor. Please follow the instructions of nearby staff and evacuate the building in a calm and orderly fashion. I repeat...”

Everyone was in an uproar following the announcement. Ear-piercing shrieks and the noise of frenzied footsteps filled the air.

“Please use this emergency staircase!” an employee shouted from nearby.

The urgency of the situation finally sank in. Customers fled to the emergency exits in droves.

“What do we do?” I asked.

“The timing of this makes it hard to believe that this commotion doesn’t have anything to do with Rei Mikagami,” Kyoko replied calmly. “The question is who’s behind this: the hunters or the prey.”

“Then we need to get to the roof ASAP and find out.”

Slipping past the shop staff undetected, we walked opposite the flow of traffic, setting a course for the employee staircase from earlier. The crowds had drastically thinned, a result of the smooth evacuation. Watching as people gradually disappeared from the normally bustling floor inspired a peculiar feeling in my heart, like the end of the world was drawing near.

We arrived at the stairwell door, but when we were about to open it, a voice called out to us from behind.

“Hey, that ain’t the evacuation route.”

Turning around, we spotted a security guard eyeing us warily from a few dozen feet away. He probably noticed us sneaking about and chased after us.

“Where do ya think you’re going? Hurry up and get outta here.”

“Um, well, you see, we thought this way would be faster...” I stammered.

“It ain’t safe that way. Come back o’er here,” the guard said, beckoning us with his hand.

I obeyed and stepped away from the door, but neither Kyoko nor Lico followed his command.

“You deaf? That way’s dangerous!” the guard repeated, his voice seething with impatience.

“W-We’re sorry,” I apologized. “Come on, Kyoko, we need to go.”

“Don’t listen to him.”

“What? Why?”

“Alright, time’s up!” the guard shouted. “You disobedient brats deserve a penalty!”

He reached around his back and pulled something out from behind him. It wasn’t a flashlight or a walkie-talkie—

It was a gun.

“Die!”

The gun, equipped with a cylindrical silencer, was pointed squarely at us.

However, before he could pull the trigger, Lico had already made the first move. Lico picked up an abandoned umbrella from off the ground and flung it forward. It transformed into a javelin as it accelerated through the air and flew towards the guard.

But the umbrella wasn’t heading for the man’s body—it was aimed at the barrel of the gun. The tip of the umbrella slid right into the silencer.

Bullseye.

Naturally, the trigger couldn’t be pulled with the umbrella lodged into the barrel, and the weapon became too unwieldy to hold with one hand. After tugging at the umbrella for a few moments to no avail, the man cursed in some foreign language and tossed the gun to the side.

Those precious seconds were enough for Lico to sneak up behind the distracted guard. With no hesitation, he twisted the man’s right arm upwards with ease, bending it into a grotesque position. The sound of a bone snapping distinctly echoed through the air, even over the deafening fire alarm.

The guard let out a horrific scream as he fell to his knees and slammed face-down onto the ground.

Showing no mercy, Lico pressed his foot against the man’s neck, gaining full agency over his movement. The man was powerless to resist from underneath the small boy.

But Lico wasn’t finished with his assault. He pulled out a hammer from inside the suit around his arm. It wasn’t a small, garden-variety hammer you would use for a nail; the tool looked like it was entirely made of carbon steel, implying that it was designed to be used as a lethal weapon.

Lico raised the hammer over his head—

“Lico, stop!” I grabbed his arm to prevent him from swinging down.

He turned towards me. His fairy-like face appeared as innocent as always.

“Why are you stopping me?”

“You’ve done enough!”

“I cannot leave things like this.”

“You’re gonna kill him?”

“No way, of course not.” Lico spun the hammer around in his hand. “I’m only going to smash his throat, eyes, and fingers.”

“Excuse me?”

“To prevent him from speaking, seeing, or grabbing anything ever again.”

“You don’t need to do that!”

“Please calm down. You have no reason to stand up for this man.”

“I’m not standing up for him. I don’t want you to do such a thing!”

“I’m not doing it because I want to. Someone like him will inevitably come for revenge unless we take preemptive measures. It’ll be troublesome dealing with him in the future. What I’m doing is comparable to putting up storm shutters before a typhoon.”

“Yes, kill me!” the man pinned down on the floor shouted. “I’ll come flying over and over again. Unless you wish to despair over a murderer coming for you every night, deal the finishing blow right now!”

“Well, he’s saying as much himself, so... don’t mind if I do.” Lico smiled and once again raised the hammer over his head.

"That’s enough.”

Kyoko’s voice made Lico stop. She had grabbed the gun and pointed it at the boy. The silencer pierced by the umbrella was lying by her side, no longer attached to the muzzle. She stabilized the gun, firmly gripping it with elbows bent and both hands close to her chest. In the hands of a middle school girl, the gun appeared heavy and bulky.

“It’s almost four o’clock. We need to hurry and make our way upstairs.”

“If you say so.”

After raising both hands up in defeat, Lico stuffed the hammer back into his suit and stepped off the man. He was finally listening to us.

“But I’ll incapacitate his left arm too.”

As Lico warned, he seized the man’s left wrist and twisted it effortlessly. The man let out another scream, sweat dotting his entire face.

“Lico... Just what kind of school did you go to?” I asked, staring timidly at Lico.

“Both of my parents died when I was young, so I never received a proper education,” the boy said with a hearty smile. “My dream is to attend college and study astronomy.”

“Right...” I was too astonished to pry any further.

Kyoko found a roll of packing tape by a cash register and used it to tie up the security guard. She then started looking through his belongings. There was a wallet in his pocket, but the man pictured on the driver’s license tucked inside was a completely different person from the guard before us.

“He must have stolen a guard uniform to disguise himself, but he’s clearly not Japanese. I presume this man is Night Flyer?” Kyoko asked Lico.

“I don’t know. Why don’t we ask him directly?” Lico took a step towards the man, who was quaking with fear. “Are you Night Flyer?”

“No!”

Lico reached into his suit and pulled out the hammer.

“Yes! Yes!”

“There you have it.”

“A forced confession doesn’t tell us anything...” I sighed.

“Yui, it’s almost time,” Kyoko said.

“Oh, you’re right,” I said, checking the time on my phone. “It’s already 3:59!”

“Let’s hurry.”

We left Night Flyer behind and went up the escalator from the empty floor all the way to the ninth floor. After running past a clock shop and an eyewear store, we opened the door to the rooftop.

Snow was still falling outside.

A chilly gust of wind greeted us through the door. The rooftop plaza served as the venue for a beer garden and various events in the summer, but in the dead of winter, the entire area was covered in a sheet of white.

Multiple sets of footprints dotted the ground, but since anyone could freely access the roof area even in the winter, we couldn’t glean much information from them.

Nobody seemed to be around—

“Someone’s lying down over there.” Kyoko pointed across the plaza, while using her other hand to stop her hair from getting ruffled by the wind.

In the shadow of the bricks lining the flower bed, a pair of feet were pointing up towards the sky. Only the feet were visible from the doorway, so nothing about the person was discernible.

We stepped out onto the roof and crossed the plaza. Snow clouds were hovering overhead, close enough that I imagined being able to reach up and touch them.

We circled around the flowerbed.

There wasn’t one person on the ground—there were four. Two Asian men in professional suits, and two seedy-looking Russian men in tattered coats and slacks that frankly made them look unpresentable.

They were lying on the ground beside the chain-link fence bordering the roof, each of them contorted into a strange pose. Beyond the fence, the sky stretched wide over the gray cityscape.

Kyoko crouched next to one of the Russian men and put her hand to his neck.

“He’s dead,” she announced.

“No way... He’s dead?” I checked the wrist of another man. “No pulse, but the body’s still a little warm.”

“What’s the time?”

“4:05.”

The promised time had passed. Had we missed our chance?

“Is Rei Mikagami behind this?” I wondered aloud.

“These four men appear to belong to the organizations chasing after Rei Mikagami,” Lico said while rummaging through the pockets of the men on the ground. He came across their wallets and passports, but nothing referenced Rei Mikagami.

“I don’t see any external injuries... How did they die?”

“There are bruises around their necks,” Kyoko responded.

“So they were strangled to death?”

“All four of them have the same bruises. Would Rei Mikagami really use such a time-consuming killing method against four enemies? Even if none of them were trained for battle, in the time it takes to strangle one of them, the others could easily flee.”

Kyoko lifted one of the corpses’ heads to check the nape of its neck.

“Oh...” Kyoko let out a small gasp as she realized something. “His neck is completely snapped.”

“The same is true for this man over here,” Lico added, checking another of the bodies.

Something about the corpses seemed to fascinate Kyoko and Lico. They crouched next to the bodies and were eagerly discussing something.

The four of them died from having their necks snapped? What in the world happened here?

Without any knowledge of forensic science, there wasn’t anything I could contribute, so I stepped back and watched the two of them from afar.

Because of that—

From where they were, neither Kyoko nor Lico could’ve noticed if something had ever-so-slightly stirred on the other side of the fence, on the very edge of the rooftop below which there was no foothold.

Only I picked up on the small disturbance. But I couldn’t tell what it was at first, since I couldn’t get a clear look.

Gradually, the thing became larger and larger, before finally revealing its true shape.

It was a head.

From the other side of the fence, where only the sky should’ve been, the shaved head of a man was staring in my direction.

“G-Guys, over th-there...” I brought my trembling finger up and pointed at the fence.

“What’s wrong—”

By the time Kyoko and Lico had noticed, the man beyond the fence had leapt up and revealed his true form. He was wearing a tight three-quarters length wetsuit that outlined his muscles in an ostentatious display of his figure.

Before I could even scream, the man stuck his fingers through the fence, tore it wide open with no difficulty as if opening window curtains, and slipped through the resulting gap.

He had to be the former Ultimate Rock Climber, Tsurugi Hitomoshi.

He didn’t have a rope or harness to support him; the only equipment on him was a small chalk bag hanging from his back. Did that mean he had somehow crawled up the side of the building with his bare hands and was silently lying in ambush?

The man made his approach.

Kyoko pulled out the gun, but the man noticed and charged at her with the force and speed of a raging bull. With no way to stop the oncoming attack, she was knocked back, causing the gun to float through the air and land on top of the water tank. Retrieving it would be no easy task.

“Kyoko!”

Her body was weakly shuddering on top of the snow.

Hitomoshi then trained his sights on—

Me.

During my moments of hesitation, he quickly rushed at me.

There’s no time to dodge!

All I could do was watch helplessly as the man charged forward.

I shut my eyes, bracing my body for the force of being knocked back, but an unexpected sensation hit my body.

...I couldn’t breathe.

I opened my eyes and found the man’s hand clamped around my throat.

Ah, that’s right.

I was experiencing first-hand how those Russians had met their fate. Once Hitomoshi injected a little more power into his fingertips, the bones in my neck would be reduced to dust.

The face of the man about to kill me displayed no bloodlust or hatred—rather, it was more like the expression of an athlete with everything on the line giving it his all. For someone who had been exiled as a climber, his ultimate goal must have been to conquer the precious cliff that was human life.

As the light in my world began to fade, the last thing I saw was—

No Trespassers Allowed!

Kyoko had grabbed onto a sign and was sneaking up behind Hitomoshi. She swung down, smashing it onto the back of his head.

However, Hitomoshi didn’t even flinch, and the expression on his face didn’t change one bit. But some blood started trickling down his forehead, as his body wasn’t made of steel.

He released my throat from his grasp.

I collapsed onto the ground. Hitomoshi’s muscular right arm now had locked onto Kyoko as its prey. Like a snake, it quickly coiled around Kyoko’s thin neck.

Hitomoshi lifted Kyoko’s body into the sky, her legs raised off the ground.

Stop! I tried to shout, but nothing came out. My throat still hadn’t recovered from the assault. I’ll kill him...

With renewed determination, I attempted to get on my feet, but my legs wouldn’t cooperate.

Kyoko’s face began turning pale.

At this rate, Kyoko’s gonna...

A moment before I was about to hang my head in despair, a black cloth fluttered through the air and landed on Hitomoshi’s face.

A suit jacket...?

Lico had flung the garment that had been around his arm.

With his free hand, Hitomoshi pulled the suit off his face. Once he did, he turned and faced the young boy standing in the snow.

“Come at me.” The boy loosened his tie and gestured for Hitomoshi to approach. “Mr. Former Ultimate.”

Hitomoshi appeared to accept the challenge. A wide, menacing grin formed on his face.

He tossed Kyoko aside like some sort of old toy and charged straight at Lico.

Lico had fully untied his tie.

With such a big disparity between their body sizes, I didn’t have much faith in a favorable outcome. Lico’s body looked to be thinner than Hitomoshi’s thighs. This was one fight he shouldn’t have picked.

Hitomoshi thrust out his right hand as he ran, prepared to grab onto Lico’s neck. Lico stood perfectly still, making no attempt to dodge the attack.

A smile spread across Hitomoshi’s face, filled with confidence in his certain victory.

Once he grabs Lico, it’s all over...

I felt an urge to scream.

But Hitomoshi’s arm suddenly froze midway through his attack.

Wrapped around Hitomoshi’s outstretched right forearm was Lico’s tie. Lico was pulling tightly on both ends, creating a bind around the man’s arm.

Hitomoshi winced. Blood began streaming out of the parts where Lico’s tie was wrapped around.

“There’s a thin wire inside. The more power you put into your prized muscles, the more the wire will eat into them.”

Paying no attention to Lico’s warning, Hitomoshi grit his teeth and clenched his right arm to try and break free.

“Aaaaaaaaargh!” he yelled.

Blood erupted from his arm, staining the surrounding snow bright red. The tie wouldn't come off, no matter how much he resisted.

Giving up on his right arm, Hitomoshi now swung at Lico’s side with his left.

Lico released his grip on the tie and gracefully leapt backwards to dodge the attack.

Hitomoshi had regained his freedom. The tie was still wrapped around his right arm, but his left arm was unrestrained. I didn’t know which was his dominant arm, but as a rock climber, he must have had considerable grip strength in both.

I wouldn’t wanna be on the receiving end of an attack by either of his arms.

Hitomoshi predictably channeled all of his strength into his left arm. Lico managed to dodge the man’s swings, but only by the skin of his teeth. Their size difference had placed Lico at a disadvantage.

Before long, Lico found himself with his back against the fence.

“You’re quite the opponent,” Hitomoshi growled, speaking for the first time. Knowing that he had fully cornered his prey, he had the leisure to boast. “Why don’t you tell me your name before I kill you?”

“Is that necessary?”

“What?”

“Do you really need my name? If so, I’ll tell you. I’m Rei Mikagami. A number of people call me by that name.”

“You’re Rei Mikagami? Huh, I guess it’s my lucky day.” Hitomoshi pulled his left arm back, preparing to swing with all his might.

But before that could happen...

He collapsed to his knees, falling flat onto his face.

What had happened?

“Good night, Mr. Former Ultimate.” Lico pulled out a spare tie from his vest pocket and deftly tied it around his neck.

Hitomoshi was no longer moving.

I had no idea what happened, but the battle appeared to have been settled.

“Y-You...” I stood up and somehow managed to call out to Lico with my raspy voice. “You’re Rei Mikagami?”

“I apologize for keeping it a secret,” he said, picking up his suit jacket from the ground.

“I don’t get it. You’re seriously Rei Mikagami?” I staggered towards him, lost in confusion. “If you told us sooner, none of this would’ve happened...”

I stopped, realizing that there was something more pressing that deserved my attention.

“Kyoko!”

Lico and I hurried over to where Kyoko was lying down.

“Kyoko, are you okay?” As I gently pulled her up, she opened her eyes and let out a weak groan. “I’m so relieved... I thought he had crushed your neck!”

I rubbed my cheeks against her soft hair.

“What happened to him...?” Kyoko looked around and spotted Hitomoshi lying in a pool of blood.

“Lico took care of him.”

“I see...”

“The poison on the wire knocked him unconscious,” Lico explained. “Since his body is strong, it likely won’t be enough to kill him, but he’ll be paralyzed for a short while.”

Lico must have had poison in his tie all this time. He was a frightening little boy.

“Let’s get out of here before anything else happens,” I suggested.

With Lico’s help, I got Kyoko onto my back. We left the rooftop terrace and rode the employee elevator to the first floor. After sneaking out a back door, we made our way to the front of the station and found the nearby streets flashing red from the lights of fire trucks and police cars.

We hurried into a cab stopped on the side of the road.

“Lico, get in.”

“Aren’t you angry at me?”

“I’m not angry!”

Lico hesitated for a moment, but slid into the passenger seat with a troubled expression.

With that, we bid farewell to the bloody battlefield of the station.

Next: Chapter 3, Part 1

[thelostcatpodcast]

THE LOST CAT PODCAST TRANSCRIPTS: SEASON 3: EPISODE 02:  THE STRANGER ON THE STREET

SEASON 3: EPISODE 02:  THE STRANGER ON THE STREET

Episode released 12th February 2017

http://thelostcat.libsyn.com/sesason-3-episode-2-the-stranger-on-the-street

Bojana opened the front door and peeked outside. Then she closed the door again and leant hard against it. she looked at me with horror in her eyes and said: "Nope."

THE LOST CAT PODCAST SEASON 3 BY A P CLARKE, EPISODE 2: THE STRANGER ON THE STREET

For standing on the other side of the street, just next to the bent lamp post, was the figure of a man, impossibly tall and thin with paper-white skin stretched so tight over angular bones its lips were spread in to a teeth-filled grin, while its dead-black eyes stared right at us. We leant hard against the door. "Nope, nope, nope, nope, nope," Bojana continued to say with some certainty. Some time later, Maupin came down, to find us still with our backs to the door. "What?" she said. She shoo'd us out of the way, and then she opened the door, and then she closed it again, and locked all of the locks. "I'll go and make some tea," she said. And we sat in the hallway with our backs to the door, drinking tea. "What is it doing out there?" I asked "It is a portent of doom," said Maupin. "It is a serial killer," said Bojana "It is an angel of vengeance," continued Maupin "Is he still out there?" asked Bojana I breathed in deeply through my nose in what I hopde was a process of nerve-gathering and peeked out through the letterbox "He hasn't moved," I answered. "How much food do we have in the house?" asked Maupin. But something kept picking at my brain. It was not that the figure had not moved. It was that the figure had not moved at all. I peeked out again and yes, there it was, staring right at me from across the street, perfectly still. I did not look away, but met its gaze. And I noticed that a cat was sat on a car next to it. It had decided that this figure was of no threat and was busy cleaning itself. I watched the cat for a while. The cat snapped its head to stare at the tall thin figure. I turned my eyes and found that a bird had come to rest upon its shoulder. The cat watched with cold intensity as the bird hopped around, picking at the figure's jacket for any crumbs. I turned back to my housemates. "Do you trust me?" I asked. "No," said Maupin. So with them peeking out through the letterbox, I crossed the road towards the the stranger on the street. As I approached, its unblinking black eyes stared right in to me and, as I got closer, its unnaturally tall form loomed over me and its teeth-filled grin grew as in to a ravenous leer. And I drew level and I drew to its side, but it kept facing forwards, and its dead, black eyes continued to stare out across the street, and the teeth in its mouth leered out at nothing. The figure did not move at all. I looked it up and down. I looked at the cat who was busy still cleaning itself. The cat looked at me for a moment and then got up and walked off in a huff. I waved my hand in front of the figure's face, and there was no reaction. I walked all around it and the figure was as still as a building. I looked back across the street and saw the flap of the post-box propped open. I beckoned my housemates over. The door stayed closed. And I looked closley at the figure of the man. It had on a simple dark suit of decent quality but unremarkable style, with a slight softening at the seams that suggested long use. Its black leather shoes were clean but not polished. The more I looked at its face, the stranger it became. The bones were in the wrong place, which pushed one cheek up higher than the other and made the jaw painful. It definitely had too many teeth, and they did not fit right. Up close, the skin of its lips looked close to splitting, so thin and dry was it. It had no eyelashes, and the darkness of its eyes bled in to the skin of its lids. It had an approximation of a face, and it stood still in the stiff wind of the darkening day. I put my arm around him and gave a big thumbs' up back towards the post-box. And finally, the door opened and Bojana and Maupin cautiously approached. And they walked all around the unmoving figure, looking it all up and down. Their shoulders spread, and their hands unclenched and they relaxed, finally. Maupin let out a small involuntary laugh. "He looks cold," said Bojana. And it did. So I put my scarf around its shoulders;  a lovely, woollen purple thing. I wrapped it around its neck a couple fo times and let the ends drape pleasingly over its chest. "I like it," said Bo. "It suits him." Then the figure turned its head and looked directly at me. There was a moment of silence as none of us at all moved. Then it began to open its mouth and its teeth separated to show the darkness within. I could see veins pulsing beneath its parchment skin in effort. It breathed in as if to speak... and raw sewage spilled from his mouth and on to the street. Dark and noxious, this great wave poured from the thin frail figure, clagged with dirt and masses of garbage. It stank. I took a step back. and the geyser subsided, turned to a trickle, and stopped. As the sewage ran away in to the drains, leaving lumps, the figure's brow became furrowed. We shared another look. It still had some on its chin. And then it closed its mouth, attempted an expression I could not identify, turned, and walked off down the street, heading south. We were left alone. "Well thank god he's gone," said Bojana. "Good riddance," said Maupin. "I'm going to folllow it." "You what?" said Maupin. "Well it's got my scarf," I answered. "Mate," said Bojana. And I followed the figure. It had a slow and steady gait, but its incredibly long legs ate the miles up. It walked through the estates and would pause at times, just staring at the people and the traffic on the streets and, when it started getting some strange looks, it carried on. And I followed. It walked past the old stations and stood staring at the tracks for a while, but even there it began getting attention, and moved on. It walked under bridges and it crossed the factories towards the river. And I patiently followed. Far out past the docks, with no-one for a mile, the figure stopped, and stood staring with its unblinking eyes at the lights that shone across the river. And it did not move: it just stared. I decided to sit down on a low wall a respectful distance from the figure and wait. I wanted to see what it would do. And while I waited, I took out my flask and I had a glass of wine.

<music begins: 'Good Times', written and performed by A P Clarke>

Well I tiptoe past the rubbish bins, the pidgeons eat the chicken wings, but still I must admit it: London's never been more beautiful.

And I don't know what's come over me, the melody, the harmony, it falls and then it rises, and it's pleasurable to my soul.

Good times, are gonna follow bad Good times, they were the best I ever had You got your man, baby I got this tune Good news for a whiskey singer tired of singing the blues.

Well I hear it every where I go, The car horns on Green Lanes and Soho, even the old dirty river is , flowing on slow.

I find hard to keep from smiling, tower blocks hold up the sky, from falling down on me, coz I got somewhere new to go.

Good times are gonna follow soon Good times unders a summer's moon Even down in this old town, I found something new Good news for a whiskey singer tired of singing the blues.

So goodbye Time to pack away the memories, and leave them behind. Bye bye baby, baby bye bye

Good times are follow bad Good times they were the best I ever had every time I hear that song I dance like a loon Good news for a whiskey singer tired of singing the blues.

It looked srangely lonely, looking out at the massive new-builds over the river, and my purple scarf blew in the wind in a way that I felt was embarrassing: it made the figure look foolish and it was my fault. I had to know what it was. I had to know why it had been outside my house. And yes, again, I felt bad for putting the scarf on it. so I approached the figure "Hello," I said. And it looked away from the gently glittering river and turned to me, slowly and stiffly. it stood itself up straight and formally, as if to address me. It met my eyes and its eyebrows lifted for a moment. It seemed to breathe in. It opened its mouth to speak... and a great eruption of concrete and grit came pouring out, full of splintered rebar and cracked slabs. the deafening roar of a million cars echoing off of glass filled the air around us. I put my hands to my ears. It closed its mouth and the concrete lay in a heap between us. It looked at me, and shook its head slowly, and sat down on the low wall. Then it carefully undid its shoelace, took its shoe from its foot and removed its sock. It stood up straight again and put the sock on its right hand. It touched its thumb to its middle-finger to make a claw-like shape and pushed the material of the sock into the hollow of the claw. It raised the sock-covered hand so it was level to my face, the figure took a deep breath, and then opened the claw of its hand. And the sock said "Hello." And then "Help me." I looked at the sock, and then looked at the figure's face. "Help me," it continued. "I am lost, for all the lines are gone, and everything is dark ahead." It moved the sock on its hand in time with its words. "I can not find my way, and I am chased away from every where I go." "Yes, you were outside my house this morning." "Ah yes, that is true." "Why were you outside my house?" "Something is going to happen there." "What is going to happen?" And the sock drooped slightly. "I was hoping you could tell me." I stared at the stranger who was talking to me through a sock on his hand, out at the far end of the docks, at the edge of the river. "OK," I said. "Let's start from the beginning. What are you?" The figure gestured at its sock-covered hand. "Forgive me, but it is difficult. This is the best I could do." "I think you're doing fine." The sock turned to its side for a moment, contemplating the river as a boat passed. "OK, let us try this: do you see the boat? Everywhere you go, you create lines of connection between you and the places you have been. These lines spread out behind you, like the wake behind that boat. You all do it. You can not help it. You are a very tenacious kind that way. You are all terribly busy about creating these lines that tie you to everyone else and they to you. I would say that the city is the pattern of the lines that tie everyone together. And like the reflections in the wake of the boat, I am the light upon its surface." "Do I look at you, or the sock?" I asked. "These aren't eyes," it responded. "Ah," I said. "I am an eminant. Everywhere you go making your lines, there we are. Does the light choose how it moves across the water? We can not help it, any more than you can." "And you were at my house" "Yes of course, I am drawn along the lines to where they bind together in knots, just as the light is brightest where the wave is highest. This is what I am for, and the knots are very tight around your house." "So something is happening at my house." "But I can not see what. I used to be able to..." And the sock trailed off, turning to look at the huge new-build across the river. "These days I can not see so clearly. There are places I can not go now." And he gestured at the far bank annd the towering bright buildings "much of the centre is inaccessible to me, and it is spreading. There are no lines there. There is no pattern, and all is dark." The sock turned back towards me "the city is being killed by buildings. " "You asked for my help." And he pointed his free hand across the river, "Would you help me go there? I can not find my way." "Yes," I said. "Yes I will." And we began walking. I proferred the flask to him. "No, I do not need anything like that." "That is not a mouth, right?" I said "Close enough," said the sock as the man's other hand wiped his chin with a sleeve. And we walked thorugh the city together. As we crossed the bridge he slowed and became confused. "I am sorry," said the sock. "I do not know how to carry on." "Hold my hand," I said. "And I will guide you." And he did, and in this way we crossed the bridge and walked through the streets of bright shining empty buldings that gazed cleanly and blankly across the architecture they towered above. He stood and he watched them, and they did not move at all. There was no one in them, but the lights were kept on all night, to give the impression of being lived-in. They were, in their way, approximations. And while he was watching them, I studied his face. "May I ask you something?" "Certainly." "You say you are everywhere." "We are." "Why have I never seen you, or the likes of you, around?" "We are supposed to blend in." "Ah," I said, looking at his painfully angled bones. The sock turned to look at the tall, thin figure behind it. "Does it not suit?" "It is... not perfect." The figure looked down then, his brows moving up towards the centre of his face above the bridge of his nose. "It is fine, but you are perhaps, conspicuous." "I wondered why I was getting such strange attention." "Might I suggest a change?" "Certainly, what would you suggest?" "Perhaps a cat?" "Perhaps a cat," said the sock. "Hmmmm." The figure nodded. "OK, I am good now. Shall we return?" "Would you like to take my hand?" "No. I can see the way, for there is a line now." And he gestured back the way we came at something I could not see. "You are tenacious in that way, you can not help it." And we crossed back over the river as the sun was just starting to light the water. We paused at a bench, looking out over the dawn. "My I keep the scarf?" said the sock. "I rather like it." "It is yours," I said. "Thank you," said the sock. And the figure sat down. He looked up, and the sock said "And goodbye." Then he took the sock from his hand and put it back on his foot, re-tying his shoelaces. rising, he bowed to me, and we shook hands. Then he turned and looked out at the slowly waking city and I walked back to my house along my invisible lines.

THIS HAS BEEN THE SECOND EPISODE OF THE LOST CAT PODCAST, SEASON 3, TITLED 'THE STRANGER ON THE STREET', WRITTEN AND PERFORMED BY A P CLARKE. COPYRIGHT 2017.

THANK YOU FOR LISTENING.

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[dobseventeen]

A New Beginning (Part 3)

A/N: I got this written a week earlier than I planned, so that’s lit. This chapter was super fun to write, so I hope you guys like it! Please give me any feedback you have! 

Word Count: 3,289

Warnings: Cussing, fluff, kissing, touching, another slow burn chapter lmao sorry friends.

Summary: Y/N and Dylan finally go on their date.

Song: Electric // Alina Baraz & Khalid (this song was in my head the entire time I wrote this. I think it sets up the perfect lust-filled, first date-ish feeling.)

Previous chapter: Part 2

Next Chapter: Part 4

You stared in the mirror with shaky hands and butterflies in your stomach. Your thoughts fleeting about the amazingly horrifying situation you found yourself in. How the fuck were you really about to go on a date with Dylan O’Brien? Why, out of all the girls in the world, did he give you a chance? What if you did something ridiculously stupid because of your nerves, like trip over your heels, or spill wine down your dress? Why were you nervous in the first place? You just saw this guy not even 5 hours ago. Then you realized that you didn’t even have a chance to be nervous earlier because he showed up by surprise. 

“He’s just a normal guy, Y/N/N. Calm the hell down,” you muttered unconvincingly into your reflection.

Before you had the chance to entertain your paranoid, nervous thoughts any further, your phone dinged on the bathroom counter, under your scattered mess of makeup and hair products. Once you found your device in the clutter, your heart skipped a beat. 

Dylan O’Brien: “Hey gorgeous, I’m about to head your way! I’ll see you soon.” 

His message both made your nerves ignite, but also left you with a calmness in your chest that replaced the uneven breaths you were experiencing moments before. Once again, you found yourself wondering how another human could have such a visceral effect on you, especially since he wasn’t even in your sight. 

You walked out to the full length mirror in the bedroom portion of your hotel room, giving yourself a second look before you left on the biggest date of your life. You wore a black, off the shoulder dress, that was the perfect amount of flowy and classy, while still accentuating your body. The grey heels your wore were strappy, but simple. You were thankful that they were easy to walk in, hopeful that your paranoid thought of tripping over your own damn feet wouldn’t come to fruition. A rose gold choker wrapped around your neck, accompanied by a matching bracelet. Your makeup was definitely more done up than compared to what you wore to your interview earlier in the day. You were thankful you had the chance to get all dressed up for a night during your week long trip, especially considering who it was to be spent with. As you began to fantasize about the night ahead of you, you were interrupted by a knock on the door. 

“What the fuck?” you mumbled, as you checked the time on your phone. It had only been 5 minutes since Dylan had texted you. As you walked up and checked the peep hole, you saw a nervous Dylan on the other side. He rocked side to side on his feet while running his hands through his perfectly disheveled hair, with a slight smirk resting on his lips. He wore khakis with a perfectly fitting, grey button down shirt, the sleeves rolled halfway up his forearms. You swore you could’ve salivated at the sight of him. The sight of him instantly sent waves of an intense mixture of lust, happiness, and anxiousness. Never had you had a date in which the guy came directly to your front door to pick you up. Dates always started with you having to walk out to the guys car, or you meeting him somewhere. Dylan was already setting the bar high, giving you hope that the night would follow suit. You took a deep breath and opened the door. 

“Well hello there.” you greeted him with a warm smile. 

Dylan looked at you with wide eyes. Of course he found you attractive the other times he had seen you, but the mixture of your outfit, makeup, and hair tonight left him staggering. It took him an agonizing few seconds to collect his thoughts. 

“Wow, you look so..uhm-gr..ah...” he stumbled over his words while placing his palm to his forehead, causing a giggled to erupt out of you. The sound of your laughter soothed the nerves he felt in that moment, which he was not only thankful for, but craved more of it. 

“You look amazing, Y/N.” he finally stated with more confidence, as he beamed a smile at you. Sending the same intense, lust-filled waves through you again. Making you silently curse him for having that visceral effect over you, yet again.

“Well thank you, you don’t look too bad yourself, O’Brien.” giving him a slight wink and smirk. 

 Dylan extended his hand out to you, inviting you to take it. Without hesitation you took it as you closed the door to your room, thankful you had wiped the nervous sweat off your hands moments before he arrived.  You walked down the hallway for few moments, hands interconnected, before either of you spoke. Hoping to avoid an awkward silence, you began by asking the question that had been on your mind all day. 

“So Dylan, are you gonna tell me what the plans are for tonight that you had to spend all day setting up?” you questioned teasingly.

He looked at you with a coy smile and angled his head to the side, “Now if I told you what the plans are, that would ruin the surprise!” 

His response elicited another giggle out of you, causing a rush of lust-filled emotion to flow through him as you two approached the elevator. He watched as you lightly pressed the down button, looking at him with a look of sheer happiness. 

“Okay, okay, I can respect that. Can I get a hint at least?” you stated as you stood in front of him, staring up directly into his stunning brown eyes. He lightly brushed a piece of hair behind your ear, making you instinctively turn your face into his touch. His touch on you amplified any feelings he had given you thus far, causing your breathing to hitch and knees go weak. You both heard the elevator ding behind you. You grabbed his hand as you lead him onto the empty elevator. Lust filled the air, as you leaned back against the elevator wall, with Dylan leaning next to you, running his thumb over your still connected hands. 

“Okay, you get one hint. We’re going to be going a little outside the city.” he stated defiantly, knowing that wasn’t much of hint. 

“Oh no, this isn’t one of those things where you’re going to take me to some desolate ass place in the middle of the woods and murder me, is it?” you asked playfully.

“Oh god, you caught me! You’ve ruined all my plans.” he exclaimed dramatically while throwing his arms in the air. You gave a giggle and a sincere smile. All the nerves you felt 10 minutes ago had completely washed away. He made you so comfortable that it was almost scary. It didn’t seem possible, nor logical to feel this good 5 minutes into a first date. All the while Dylan was in a similar state of bliss. The feeling you gave him filled a space in him that had been taken away months prior. A void he’d be relentlessly trying to overcome. The thought that the answer to ending this void could be standing right in front of him yielded more hope than he’d thought possible. He loved the feeling you gave him, and he was looking forward to be surrounded by it more, even if it were just for the next few hours. The thought of it all made him even more excited to get the evening started. He took your hand as you stepped off the elevator and through the lobby. The same dark grey Benz was parked outside, directly in front of the doors. He opened the passenger door and ushered you in. As you stepped past him, he got a whiff of the sweet perfume you were wearing, causing him to take deep breath in, trying to conceal the desire that was undoubtedly coursing through his veins. He shut the door gently, climbed in the driver seat, and began the trip to the mysterious place that your date was located at.  

Shortly into the drive, he reached for your hand and pressed it to his lips, giving it a light kiss, instantly sending shivers through your body. You gave a sweet smile, trying to conceal the inevitable pink blush that now covered your cheeks. Dylan noticed, but decided to not comment on it, knowing that you were having the same effect on him. It made him happy knowing that you were feeling the same way he was, because up until this point, he had some trouble reading your nonverbal expressions. This realization made him feel even more elated, causing him to give your hand a light squeeze and send you a look of pure happiness. You looked up at him with a glowing expression, loving this feeling just as much as him. 

After about 30 minutes of driving out of LA traffic and freeways, the car turned onto a winding road leading up the side of a large hill. He could feel the excitement radiating off of you as you perched up to look out the window as you ascended up the curvy road. The sun had begun its decent into the sky, allowing for a beautiful view on the horizon. He rubbed his thumb over your connected hands as he reached the end of the road, that led to a gravel path surrounded by trees. The car continued down the path, through the trees. 

“A gravel path in the middle of a woods... are you sure you’re not planning to kill me, Dyl?” you asked jokingly, with a smirk plastered across your face.

“Definitely not planning to murder you, just want to make our first date memorable as hell.” he responded innocently. You heart jumped at his comment, “our first date.” This, hopefully, meant he wanted more than one date, and that he wanted this one to be special. Little did he know you were already wrapped around his finger. A McDonald’s could lie at the end of this path and you’d still consider this your best date ever.  

The trees began to clear and the end of the path was in sight. You could see the edge of the huge hill you were now on top of, with the skyline of Los Angeles on the horizon. Your eyes glazed over at the site. You couldn’t find the words to explain what you were feeling. You eagerly unbuckled your seat belt, ready to go see the incredible view that was laid out in front of you Dylan noticed your enthusiasm and it made his heart melt. The genuine excitement you had for this location confirmed that he made the right choice when planning the evening. He quickly parked the car and looked over at you staring out the windshield, eyes glowing with admiration. Little did you know that his eyes were doing the same as he watched you from the drivers seat. 

“Wanna go take a better look?” he asked with a small smile.

“Yes!!!” you exclaimed, returning a toothy smile his way. You quickly opened the door and made your way to the fence on the edge of the hilltop, Dylan following closely behind. You leaned against the fence, taking in the amazing landscape in front of you. With the sun setting behind the skyline that was filled with the sparkling lights of the buildings it contained, stars beginning to show in the sky, and the winding roads leading away from the city, scattered with headlights, you swore you could’ve fainted. Just when you thought you couldn’t admire the moment anymore, Dylan came up behind you, and placed his arms on either side you on the fence, his body resting against yours. 

“Do you like it?” he whispered in your ear. His actions sent chills through your body, causing an aching to begin at your core. You turned around in his arms to face him. 

With adoration-filled eyes, you looked up to his honey eyes and placed a hand on his cheek, “I love it. How did you know I would enjoy this so much?”

“Earlier today when I was driving you back from lunch, I noticed how much you looked out your window at the different sights of LA. I could tell you had a thing for sights or new places or whatever it is. And I knew that if you enjoyed the views of Burbank, then you’d definitely like this view.” he responded sweetly, while brushing some hair off your shoulder and licking his lips. You couldn’t believe he had paid that much attention to you, let alone planned a whole date around that small quirk he had picked up on. No one had ever done anything like this for you, and it made your heart swell and the fire in you ignite brighter. 

“I don’t even know what to say. I can’t believe you paid that much attention or even thought to plan our date around it, you really didn’t hav-,” you were cut off by his lips connecting to yours in the most passionate way possible. He mirrored your action and placed both his hands on your face, falling deeper into the kiss. In that moment you swore you could fly away. The feeling of his lips on yours put you on such a high that you couldn’t think straight. After your tongues danced with one another for a few seconds, you both broke away, desperately needing a breath. 

“You don’t need to say anything, gorgeous. Just enjoy yourself and know that there no where else I’d rather be tonight.” he said while running his thumb over your cheek bone, staring deeply in your eyes. 

Because you were so caught up in the moment of your arrival, you failed to notice the dining table set up on the edge of the hill, with white lights hanging about it, allowing for a very sensual, romantic lighting. A candle sat lit on the table, with a bottle of wine and two glasses, along with menus. You immediately questioned where the food from the menus would come from in the middle of this desolate area, but then noticed a building tucked away in the woods. You were astounded at the effort that it must have took to set this whole thing up.

“Dylan, this is so much. You really didn’t have to do all this. I would’ve been happy with freaking In-N-Out and movie.” you said sheepishly.

“Y/N, I wanted to do all this. I can see how much you adore all of it, and that’s all I wanted,” he replied with a sweet smile. 

“We can go to In-N-Out for our next date,” he added with a wink, as he pulled your chair out for you at the table. 

A waiter emerged from the building that took your orders and pour you each a glass of wine. 

“Good choice on the wine, O’Brien. White Zinfandel is my favorite.” you said as you sat your glass back down on the table. He looked up from his food and gave you a look of pure happiness. He didn’t need to speak for you to know he was glad to be there with you. 

Dylan couldn’t have asked for the night to be going any better. He could see the admiration radiating off of you for the whole set up that he planned. He would never admit it, but it took a lot of work to pull off this date on such short notice, and at times he worried whether it would be worth all the effort. Those thoughts quickly subsided the second he saw you glancing at the horizon as he parked the car. He loved the way you took everything in that you saw, like you would never be able to see anything again. He figured this was one of many quirks that you had, and he’d hoped he’d able to discover your others eventually. This led him to start wondering more about you, after all, he had only known you for about a day and half at this point. He was curious to know more about the beautiful woman sitting across from him.

You were staring off into the horizon, taking in the last few minutes of sunlight when Dylan got your attention. 

“So why LA? Why the sudden move all the way across the country? I mean I know you love the job you interviewed for, but why here?” he asked curiously.

“Well, California has always been the dream. I knew I wanted to end up here eventually. And along with the amazing job opportunity, some things came up that made this the perfect time to get away from the Midwest.” you stated simply. 

“What kinds of things, if you don’t mind me asking?” he carefully asked.

“Basically, a few months ago I got out of a four year relationship. It was really difficult, but it was necessary to end it. He kept holding me back from reaching my full potential. I wanted to live a life that I would be proud of, not just content with. When I mentioned that I wanted to apply for jobs on the west coast, he immediately shot it down and basically made me pick between him or furthering my career. He wanted me to stay there and work for the same company that I’d be interning at since I was nineteen.” you admitted somewhat shyly. You weren’t prepared to discuss your previous relationship on this date, but you weren’t upset about it either. You felt a sort of relief being able to speak those words aloud. 

Dylan listened to your explanation intently, shaking his towards the end. It was infuriating to him that there was someone in your life who could be selfish enough to try and keep you from living out your dreams. 

“You definitely made the right choice. And I’m not just saying that because I’m on a date with you. I don’t know you that well yet, but I do know that you have so much to offer the world and you are more than capable of living that life you’re proud of. I am so sorry that someone you knew for so long would try to hold you back like that.” he said with a hint of sadness. 

“Well thank you, Dyl. That really means a lot to me. I’m not sure how I got so lucky to end up here with you tonight.” you replied with soft grin.

Dylan felt that he could give you a million reasons as to why he was, in fact, the lucky one in this situation, but he didn’t want to seem overbearing, so he settled with a simple “Yeah, yeah, if you say so gorgeous,” with a coy smile. 

The rest of the dinner was filled with more talks about getting to know one another, some laughs, and lots of touching and hand holding across the table. The bottle of wine was gone before dessert made it to the table, but you didn’t mind. The alcohol flowing through your system only made your desire grow for the man sitting across from you. Every time he touched you, the ache in your core from the kiss earlier, would grow stronger, leaving you reeling by the time you both finished off the bottle of wine. Under the beautiful night sky and white lights hanging above you, you held onto his hands and were looking intently into his beautiful caramel eyes as he was telling you a story, and you started wondering what kind of line you should draw tonight, or if you should draw one at all... 

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Next Chapter: Part 4

[spookyspaghettisundae]

Pursuers

The cold wind swept over Kimberly’s skin. She suppressed a shiver.

Heavy clouds covered the moon and painted the black sky in shades of gray, but rows of streetlights and occasional building windows casting light revealed pockets of visibility along the dark streets of the city.

Fall had quickly turned cold. The summer days had barely passed.

A lonesome taxi passed by. All traffic sounded distant, and the sounds of Kim’s low-heeled boots echoed through the asphalt jungle. Some people said the city never slept, but it sure felt like it was its bedtime now. Kim took a phone from her sleek black pocket book and checked the time on its display.

2:31 am

She switched it off and—in the darkened display of the device—she saw the reflection of a dark sedan on the road behind her. Its headlights were off, but it silently rolled along, following her at a low velocity. She put the phone back into her pocket book and shot a glance over her shoulder.

The windows of the car were tinted, but she saw a faint glimmer flare up behind them, of what must have been a cigarette’s glow as the driver took a drag from a cancer stick. The car itself looked like it was at least ten years old and a bit scuffed up. The only way it could have looked more unsettling was if it had been an unmarked white van.

Kim trained her eyes on the sidewalk ahead of her and sped her pace up a notch. She had moved to the city only half a year ago and had spent most of her life in different types of suburbia. Of course this car made her paranoid. A fear chilled her deeper than the cool wind flowing over her exposed hands and face—she was afraid of becoming part of a statistic. Although the dress suit she wore was not revealing at all, Kim was an attractive woman in her late twenties and wary of some of the men out there.

She wondered if it was that asshole from before. She was on her way home from a company mixer. It had been a good time, except for the uninvited brother of a guy in middle management, Steve. Steve the ghoul; a lanky, balding, middle-aged basement dweller. Steve carried the stench of stale smoke and too many cheap drinks on his breath even before he had showed up at the party, and he made no attempt at slowing down. He had eyed Kim and some of the other ladies there. After he had touched Michelle inappropriately, he took a slap and the contents of Michelle’s cup to his face. To everybody’s relief, probably even his own brother, Steve was escorted out of the building after that incident.

So it was either Steve or some random creep, Kim thought to herself. She wished that there were more signs of life around her, something else to cut through the deafening silence that lurked between her echoing footsteps and the quiet rolling noises of the lightless car that crept after her.

She barely noticed how her pace had gotten so fast that it neared the speed of breaking out into a jog. Her focus on the lack of noises around her started to make her paranoid. A streetlight flickered and went off as she neared and passed under it, draping the patch in shadows. Kim heard something scampering and scuttling between some trash cans on the other side of the narrow street. Something else sounded like a chorus of tiny screeches. Not like rats. Like something else.

That was it—her paranoia had gotten the best of her. Her mind was playing tricks. She crossed her arms, clutching herself. Kim took another furtive look over her shoulder, and the car continued to pursue her even though she had turned the corner and advanced down another street. Some grit and glass crunched under a wheel as it rolled on, like a one-ton steel beast reminding her that it did not want to be ignored.

Only a few more blocks till she would get back to the apartment she shared with her husband. That was when she spotted a tight alleyway. The car could not possibly fit through there. Kim took another turn—right into that alley. Producing her phone from her pocket book again, she used it like an improvised rear-view mirror to look behind her. Some part of her feared that she might just be embarrassing herself and the slow-moving car was not following her—its route no more than a coincidence. Maybe somebody looking for a specific building or place to park.

She shook her head and lost that thought. It is not paranoia when someone is actually out to get you.

In the reflection on her phone’s display, she saw the car roll by the mouth of the alley and then disappear out of her sight. As the illumination from the streetlights grew distant with each step, she found this place to be completely dark.

Kim stopped for a moment and thought she heard that scampering again. She took a left down the next alley, hoping to move parallel to the street and follow the shortest way back home. Still dark here, most lights in the building windows above were too far up to shed enough light where she walked. Her boots echoed louder in these alleys, like sharp little thunderclaps, and the last vestiges of nightly city traffic sounded farther away than ever before.

Whispers came from behind a stack of crates in front of her. Then a giggle. It frightened her because it sounded like a kid at first, but before the laugh ended, it transformed and sounded like a male adult distorted through a dysfunctional radio.

Kim shivered and instinctively took a step backwards. Jingling and crunching sounds erupted from inside her pocket book as she dug around in it and hastily fumbled her fingers through the objects—keys, purse, lipstick—and grabbed her mace.

Barely visible, a tiny hand grabbed the side of the crates and pulled itself out of its hiding place. Another tiny hand lurched forward, slapping against the ground like a wet bag of meat. The arm it was attached to was way too long and spindly and dark. This thing was only steps away. As small as a common housecat, but with too many legs that followed as it moved into full sight. Legs that ended in tiny, awkwardly slender hands, with pointy-looking claw-like fingertips.

Kim took another step backwards and into a puddle. The creature hissed, and the smell of vomit wafted over to her. Little slapping sounds pittered and pattered as it started moving in her direction. She instinctively used her phone as a flashlight, hoping to blind it or scare this critter away, but what happened was much worse.

She got a better look at it.

The thing did not have fur. The surface of its body consisted entirely of oily black skin and shiny eyes. Dozens—no, hundreds—of eyes, blinking and bulging and flitting around until they stared into the light, and a hundred pupils dilated in unison. Three mouth-like orifices opened, and the thing shrieked with such a cringe-inducingly high pitch that the display of Kim’s phone and the flashlight both shattered at the same time, bathing the small monstrosity in darkness once more.

Dropping her phone, she turned and ran back the way she came. The scampering moved quickly behind her, chasing her. Kim had no idea how to deal with this thing. Cutting the corner closely, she froze in her tracks like a deer in headlights. The black sedan that had been following her stood just outside the alleyway, and the driver switched the headlights on. She raised her hand to shield her eyes from the bright light.

Before she could snap out of it and run the other way, she felt something warm attach itself to her calf, followed by a searing, red-hot pain. A thousand needles pierced her flesh, and her eyes went wide as she looked down at the horrible creature that had latched onto her leg. She could see the dark gray fabric of her pants rapidly turning a darker shade of red. The hideous thing hissed at her with its three mouths, and she retaliated using her chemical mace—by spraying it directly in its eyes. All of them.

It shrieked again, mixed with inhuman giggles and tiger-like growls. The driver sitting in the sedan revved the car’s engine, and Kim panicked, feeling that the car would come for her and run her over. She lunged at the nearest building wall and slammed her leg with the creature into it. And again, and again, with the pain getting worse, and the sounds that it made becoming more blood-curdling with each hit.

The car’s engine roared, and she sprayed the creature one more time before kicking it away from herself. It let go of her and tumbled across the ground. Kim started to limp down the alley as fast as she could. She did not bother to watch how the monster might recover—she ran for her life. Steel screeched against concrete as the sedan barged into the alleyway and the creature giggled and shrieked and scampered and hissed. Tiny hand-feet slapped against asphalt as it chased her, and the car ground through the narrow alleyway after them, the cacophony provoking the creature’s shrieks to transform into a feverish howl.

The engine’s roar died down right after she heard a loud, thunderous thud behind her. Kim risked another look over her shoulder and saw the critter had stopped. One of the headlights was broken, and she could barely make out the silhouette of the creature—it rolled onto one side and several of its limbs flopped around as it tried to drag itself away after having been hit by the moving car.

The vehicle was now wedged into the alleyway behind it. A spiderweb-like pattern of cracks had formed on the windshield. The driver killed the engine, and the intact headlight went off.

The creature flailed around helplessly and left a trail of black slime behind it as it dragged itself along another inch. Thumping sounds came from the car’s front window when someone repeatedly kicked at it from the inside of the vehicle.

Kim set her jaw and channeled all her pent-up rage. She was going to take control of this situation now. She turned around and approached the injured creature. Its tiny clawed hands reached out to her, and she could not decide whether it was a pathetic attempt at pawing at her or a desperate plea for mercy. She let the heel of her boot do the talking and started stomping the life out of the thing.

Gurgling and squelching sounds exploded amid garbled howls of inhuman pain as she kept stomping it into the ground. The windshield of the car burst outwards and an androgynous figure pushed himself out from behind it, accompanied by a series of uttered expletives.

“Wait, Kim, fucking stop,” said a familiar voice.

A man dressed in black groaned and clambered out through the dislodged windshield of the car, pushing past the window and letting it fall sideways into the passenger seat where it crumpled and folded. She recognized his stupid fauxhawk hairdo, the pretentious black duster and combat boots, the excessive amount of eyeliner, even his black-painted fingernails. It was Kevin, the Criss-Angel-wannabe douchebag. Kim’s mentor in all things preternatural for the past few months.

“I want that thing alive,” Kevin said as he slid over the hood and landed in front of the car’s bumper next to her and the creature.

Kim saw a tiny hand paw at her boot, and she stomped it again before looking Kevin in the eyes.

“Fuck you, Kevin. Why didn’t you let me know this thing was following me? That you were following me? Asshole,” she said.

Kevin had no eyes for her. He shifted his weight back and forth and gawked at the thing under her boot with an air of wonder about him.

“I needed you to be afraid, otherwise it wouldn’t have stalked you,” he muttered. “Good thing I stole this car, too, my ass would bleed if I had to pay to get this thing towed back outta here—I hadn’t planned on you going off-script and off into some narrow-ass alley,” he added, thumbing over his shoulder to the car and alley behind him.

Kevin pulled a crumpled white plastic bag from his duster’s pocket. He shook it by the handles a few times until it assumed full shape, and Kim saw it was covered in strange symbols that he had drawn onto its outer surface with a black magic marker. Kim remembered Kevin’s emphasis in explaining that the marker he used for things like this was no regular marker—it was charged with the soul of a dead blues musician.

She gave a clipped nod to the thing under her boot and asked, “What is this thing?”

Kevin refused to answer and carefully positioned the bag in both his hands, readying to envelop the monster in it as he hunkered down. Then he asked, “Kick it again, please? Just for good measure.”

Kim stomped on it again, and it gurgled and screeched at the same time, emitting those sounds from two different mouths. Then she pulled her boot away, and Kevin slipped the bag over it until he had it all wrapped up and lifted it off the ground in one hand. The thing appeared to have little weight, but it started thrashing in the bag.

“I have no idea what to call it as of now, so let’s call it a psychic parasite, alley demon, or nasty little para-dimensional shit-lord,” Kevin said.

He held the bag up between them so they could look at it thrashing around.

“Last time you filled in for me on a job, I think an old, uh, rival of mine decided to sic a guy named Steve on you, and, well, I guess Steve was responsible for this thing,” he explained. Using his free hand, Kevin tapped on his own temple. “The dipshit doesn’t know I’m going to use this beastie to track them down now.”

Kim’s fury failed to subside. The pulsating pain in her left calf and the warm wet feeling of blood soaking her sock inside her boot reminded her with every burning throb. She glared at Kevin, and he just gave her the usual expression he always did whenever he confronted her with another reality-warping phenomenon: he smirked as he drank in her anger. Then he focused his stare on the bag instead.

“Athtaragnositharel,” Kevin uttered in an uncharacteristically commanding tone.

The thrashing stopped. A gust of wind let the bag flap weightlessly in Kevin’s hand; its captive now whisked away.

She snapped at him, “Does this finally cover my debt to you?”

Kevin chuckled. Then he pretended to wipe a tear from his eye. Kim frowned and looked at her injured leg.

“I’m afraid not, but you’re almost through with it now. I’ll need one last thing, and then you won’t have to deal with me ever again,” he said.

He winced when he got hit in the head by a flying shoe. A bald man in a pajama shirt leaned out of a window a few stories up and looked down at them, shaking a fist. Although difficult to discern his features at this distance with a light behind him, the man appeared to be red in the face with rage.

“Shut up down there, you hoodlums! I’m gonna call the cops!”

Kim started limping away, and Kevin gave the man in the window a middle finger. The man in the window ducked away, ranting as he closed the window behind him. Someone else must have beaten the man to his own threat, because police sirens already howled softly in the distance.

Kevin jogged a few steps to catch up to Kim and wordlessly offered her a shoulder to lean on as she limped on her way home. She shrugged him off and pushed him away.

“What’s in store for me next time? Asshole,” she muttered. “How am I going to explain these injuries to my husband,” she continued, interrupting Kevin’s attempt to answer.

He shrugged as he replied, “Can’t say for sure, but it might involve you biting off a corpse’s tongue. The corpse might be more lively than corpses normally are.”

Kim stared daggers at him. The death glare had such an intensity that Kevin grinned sheepishly, and he raised his hands with open palms, facing her in surrender.

Without wasting words on a goodbye, she continued on her way home. He tilted his head and looked after her for a moment, then turned and went down a different alleyway.

Encountering this little monster was not even the worst thing he had put Kim through so far. Her stomach knotted at the thought of what the next task entailed and what he had not told her about it.

Next time was going to be particularly awful.

—Submitted by Wratts

[erincardenthailandblog]

Making the days count

I have nineteen days left in Thailand. I made it to August. I’ve thought over and over again about what I would feel like when I finally made it to last month. It feels surreal to know that the month I felt would never come is finally here.

The bright cloudless days are gone. Mist hangs around the mountains in the distance, catching in the banana tree leaves that are the size of small umbrellas. The fields are thick and green with rice. Sprouted plants surround my home. It has been raining for three days straight. It’s raining when I wake up and it’s raining when I go to sleep. The rice fields are over flowing. They look like rivers. Everyone is saying that this is the wettest rainy season Thailand has had in years. A foreign teacher who has lived in Thailand for fifteen years said he’s never seen it rain this much. As sick as I am of the rain, there is something special about living in Thailand long enough to experience all the seasons. Getting caught in the monsoon storms has brought me a curious sense of belonging. I like knowing that I truly understand what it means to live in Thailand at this time of the year. This morning, when the school anthem started blasting through the speakers, students darted back and forth, chatting to one another as they clutched their umbrellas and tried to shield themselves from the rain. “Welcome to rainy season” I said to myself.

I recently learned that many of the rice fields in my village are also rice field fisheries. These fields grow not only rice but also wild fish. Most of the fish enter naturally from the surrounding water which floods into the fields. These rice field fisheries constitute a vital source of income and nutrition for many farmers. Every day people wade hip deep in the rice fields with huge nets made out of mesh and tall bamboo splits. They submerge the nets into the flooded fields and when they have caught enough fish, they lift the nets up using an extended bamboo pole. One weekend Olivia and I saw people gathered around, watching the fishermen fish with as if it were some sort of sporting event.

This past weekend WorldTeach held an End of Service event. The volunteers gathered together and told stories about what our students had done the past few weeks since we had last seen each other. This reminded me of when I have listened to parents speaking and laughing about things their child had done. I now understand this sentiment. As teachers we find pleasure in recounting something a particular student did, at how predictable they are and yet how they continue to surprise us.

I love reminders that on a dull, seemingly insignificant day there is still color in the world. There are things that still surprise me. I am still in awe. Not once have I considered my life here average but there are some things that I have forgotten felt so strange when I first arrived. Bathrooms without toilet paper or sinks have become normal. Power outages on a weekly, if not daily basis are expected. I am no longer bothered by the fact that I have to flick ants off my arms while relaxing in bed. I can now distinguish the sound between a gecko and a frog. Eyeing heaps of burning trash in my neighbor’s backyard no longer warrants a feeling of danger. Spicy Thai dishes no longer make my eyes water and mouth burn. I can tell whether a storm will shed light of heavy rain based on the cloud’s shade of grey and the strength of the wind. On a daily basis I use the handful of Thai phrases that I know- such as- “cow jai mai” which means, “understand?” with my youngest students. I no longer cower in fear during my runs when confronted by a mangy barking dog. I have learned the right precautions to take. If the dog is chasing me and barking, then I stop and walk. If the dog is chasing me but not barking, or barking but not chasing me, then I continue my run. I now walk through traffic dodging cars and motorbikes, with ease.

This past weekend WorldTeach also held a session on cultural readjustment in which we discussed the grief that comes with reverse culture shock. We talked about the loneliness of not being able to connect with anyone at home about our experience because it’s not something many people can relate to. We talked about the confusion, stress, and discomfort we may feel trying to reconcile this new version of ourselves in a place where an old version of our self exists.  Talking about the challenges we will face while readjusting to the life we left at home has made me aware of all that I appreciate about my life in Na Kae.

Throughout my time in Thailand, whenever I was homesick, restless, or impatient, it was because I was excited to return to the U.S and “start my life.” Teaching and traveling abroad was an opportunity I seized with the goal of expanding future career and personal possibilities but I always held the expiration date in mind. It took me a while to realize that this is my life. I have already started it, and I am living in Thailand.

A few weeks ago I sat on a crowded songthaew that I had waited one and a half hours for. The air was heavy with humidity and my back was slick with sweat. A little girl sitting directly in front of me on the middle bench was playing footsie with me. She kept brushing her feet against mine, and her little hands kept grazing my knee. My knee- caps hurt. They were pressed against the metal bench and the metal bars behind me were digging into my back. Another baby on the songthaew was crying. Because I am the “ferong” (foreigner) and I stick out like a sore thumb, everyone was staring and talking about me. I was hot, tired, and grumpy. Then, the songthaew started moving. The warm breeze came and dried the sweat from my face. Soon we were racing past the downy green rice fields. I looked at the children asleep in their mother’s arms and I became aware of how special it was to be sweaty and uncomfortable in one of the most beautiful places on the planet, partaking in something so much of a part of the daily routine and the daily lifestyle of a culture that was previously so unknown, but that now, is a part of me.

There is a new Pilipino teacher at my school who has never taught before. She confided in me about having a hard time adjusting to her new environment. I told her not to expect anything to come easily, and that it will take time for the students to feel comfortable with her, as it will take time for her to feel comfortable with the students. I told her that patience is key. I admitted that it was only after summer vacation that I ever entered into the classroom feeling like a “teacher.”  I admitted that before I always felt like I was running around the classroom like a headless chicken in the dark. I told her to be patient with not only her students, but more importantly, with herself. I told her that with trust in the process of time, she would begin to feel more grounded.

It is easy to recognize the small ways that I have changed while the bigger changes are only now beginning to resonate as my departure date approaches. Giving advice to this new teacher made me realize that I have in fact, grown as a teacher and as a person. Six months ago I don’t think I could have imagined myself as the one giving advice. I did not think of myself as a source of wisdom or experience for someone else. But now, here I was, verbalizing for the first time, the importance of patience and realizing, for the first time, the way that trusting the patience I gave myself, has changed me.

Reflecting on these past eleven months I have surprised myself in numerous ways. When I first moved to Thailand none of the volunteers knew each other and we and had to start from scratch in order to get to know one another. I was surprised by how soon it was that I began to feel close to a handful of volunteers.  I was surprised by the fact that I felt I could tell them anything and everything. I never felt like I needed to be anything more. I didn’t need to be funnier, louder, more interesting, or smarter. I didn’t need to be anyone other than who I already was. I was surprised to realize that this was probably not only because of the people they are, but also because of a sense of inner peace that all the hours I have spent alone has given me. I am also surprised by how much I enjoy serving as a person with whom others confide in and seek advice from. I am surprised by the fact that I now enjoy my own company. When I first moved to Na Kae, spending what felt like endless hours alone felt uncomfortable and unsettling. Although too many hours alone can still leave me feeling restless, I now find comfort in the silence of my own thoughts.

Other July/ August Highlights:

-My male seventh graders are a huge handful but I cannot deny that they are also sweet as pie. Every day they greet me with precious, genuine smiles and say “thank you teacher” at the end of every lesson. It is so special to be thanked every day by children. They are grateful to learn.  And no matter how hard they are to manage, I am grateful to be their teacher.

-A group of ninth graders asked me to watch them practice a Beauty and the Beast Saturday Night Live skit that had the word “ass” in it about five times. They were planning on performing it for a province wide English competition. I couldn’t stop laughing. I had to explain to them why the word “ass” was inappropriate for a school competition and why they had to find another script or they would probably be disqualified.

- After introducing new vocabulary I often ask my seventh graders to recite the new vocabulary words out loud to me after giving them an assignment. I have them stand in a line and one by one come up to me to read the words out loud. It makes me happy to hear the ones in line practicing before it is their turn. It shows me that they care and they want to do well.

- I love it when the higher-level students help the lower level students. When my seventh graders recite vocabulary words the advanced students will say it under their breath for the less advanced students because they don’t want to leave their friends hanging. I don’t mind that they are giving away the answer because I support the fact that they are growing and learning from each other.

- I taught my seventh graders about parts of the body and gave them an assignment to draw an alien with labeled body parts. A lot of my students drew really impressive drawings and I kept my favorites because I want to frame them when I’m home.

-One of my eight graders got an A+ on her midterm. She was the only one in the class. She was not advanced last semester but this semester she has the highest grade. She studies very hard and it made me so happy to see her succeed. She squealed when I gave her back her test. It brought me so much joy to see how happy she was.

-I asked my students to write me letters and some of their responses were: o “Do you love me?” o “I don’t like a grub. Do you like a grub? Why you beautiful?”

- An eleventh grader wrote me a note apologizing for missing class. I almost cried I was so touched.

- Because it is rainy season most Thai people wear huge plastic ponchos when riding on their motorbikes. One day Olivia and I saw a woman put on silver rain pants and a silver raincoat. She looked like she was wearing a space suit. Olivia and I have pepto bismol colored rain ponchos and we feel like teletubbies every time we were them.

-I love going for motorbike rides with Olivia. Last week we passed by… o An old white man with a mustache riding a pink motorbike.  

o Women sitting atop platforms made out of bamboo stalks, weaving baskets out of dried palm leaves.

o Men walking home from the rice fields carrying huge loads of grass on their backs. o Baby water buffalo napping in mud piles under the shade of willow trees.

o The simple, wild, untouched, and raw beauty that is the Issan region of Thailand.

Lowlights of July/ August

- The power turning on and off multiple times in a night and which wakes me up every time because I am a horribly light sleeper.

- The animal living in my roof has begun to dig a hole in my ceiling and I was woken up one morning at 4 A.M by pieces of crumbling plaster falling on my head.

- A tenth grader, who always plays games on her cellphone during class, one day lost the game and shrieked at the top of her lungs in the middle of my lesson. I walked over to her and said, “Turn your phone off, or leave the classroom. You are disrespectful.” This was the first time where I had to be truly stern with a student and I was surprised by my own reaction. I didn’t recognize myself. I am known as the sweet teacher, the teacher who is almost “too nice.” But it felt right to assert my authority and refuse to let my students take advantage of my kindness.

- One of my sweet seventh graders failed the midterm and when I handed the test back to her she covered her face, hugged me, and wailed, “teacher nooooo.” I told her “mai pen rai” which means “no worries” and patted her back. I felt bad. Why should I be required to grade these students when it is such a challenge to learn from me in the first place? The classes are huge. There are 45 students and there aren’t even enough chairs for the entire class. I have at least ten students sitting on the floor and almost every day it rains. The rain falls on the school building’s tin roof and it sounds like millions of acorns are falling from the sky. When I teach I am yelling, almost at the top of my lungs so students in the fifth row can hear me, but when their English comprehension is so low, even the few words that they do understand are lost. It feels unfair to have so much power as a teacher when I have so little experience teaching.

Throughout my eleven months in Thailand running has been my favorite past time. I have experienced every season that Thailand has to offer and I can categorize the change in seasons by my memories of my surroundings during my runs through the rice fields. During the cool season I ran past dried tufts of grass and among fields of golden brown rice stalks waiting to be harvested. Now that is rainy season I run through puddles of mud and past soft emerald greenery that glistens in the golden hour of the evenings.  Ahead of me I run towards mountains hugged by rows of palm trees. Drips of dew cling to tall blades of grass that sprinkle my shins and ankles. I am in motion but in my heart I am still, calm, comforted.

I am holding on the motivation to enjoy every day knowing that I have so few left. I am making the days count.  

[sinbinsidney]

Nursey Week Prompt #7 - Memories.

Derek places the palm of his hand flat against the wooden door in front of him, dropping his head as he closes his eyes. The lines of his body are clean and crisp in his dark suit, and his warped reflection stares up at him from his shined shoes, mirrored black shade a sharp contrast with the white marbled floors underneath them. He’s thoughtless as he presses his forehead on the door in front of him, ignoring his carefully styled curls, an anxious frown working its way across his face.

He lets out a quiet sigh and straightens up, tugging at the lapels of his jacket. Setting his shoulders back, Derek opens the heavy wooden door and steps onto the walkway. His eyes follow the pale length of it until he sees a matching pair of shoes at the end of it.

Dex stands across from him, looking anxious, amber eyes alight with worry. Derek feels the nerves drain out of him the minute his gaze alights on that familiar face, watching as the tension sinks out of Dex’s shoulders at the same moment. Derek smiles and takes a few steps forward, foiling Dex as he does the same, walking in time until they meet in the middle.

Derek takes Dex left hand in his own and squeezes gently before turning to face Shitty where he stands beaming the two of them.

“Mawwaige. Mawwaige is wot bwings us together today. Mawwaige, that bwessed awangement–” Derek cracks a grin as Dex turns fire-red, stepping quickly on Shitty’s toes.

“Beaumont. Fitzgerald. Knight.” He grits out, eyes wide. “You did not.”

Shitty smiles beatifically at him and winks. Derek squeezes Dex’s hand again and turns to look at him, at his soon-to-be husband. The profile of his face, golden bright in the afternoon light, prompts Derek to remember, a wave of memory washing gently over his mind.

If Derek got nervous, which he doesn’t, alright, he thinks he would be a little anxious about touring Samwell all alone, a college he’s wanted to visit ever since Shitty Knight came back to Andover on Alumni Day to catch up with the team and his friends.

He’s perfected the casual lounge against the boards in Faber Rink, head tipped just slightly back against the glass, when he spots a tall, lean figure enter through the opening in the stands. The guy steps forward until he’s next to the glass, staring out at center ice with his hands tucked deep in his too-small jeans pockets, shoulders slightly hunched in uncertainty.

He closes his eyes and breathes out, clearly taking in the sensations that accompany a hockey arena: cold air that smells like ice and metal, bright reflections off the rink surface. His hair is fiery red in the morning light that streams through Faber’s windows, wayward strands turning a burnished gold where they’re highlighted by the weak beams. His skin is glowing pale, but Derek can make out a smattering of freckles across the cheek nearest him. Derek slips right out of his “casual” pose and bangs his elbow on the edge of the boards, tripping slightly over his own feet as he tries to right himself.

“Ow, fuck,” he curses reflexively. He frowns down at his arm, rubbing it slightly, and exercises extreme control in not jumping three feet in the air when a low voice reaches him.

“You alright, man?” The guy from before is standing directly in front of him, one eyebrow raised. Up close, the guy really shouldn’t be as attractive as Derek finds him, and yet…

His carefully combed and parted hair speaks to a rigidity in routine and adherence to expectation that Derek would love to break into pieces; he wants to see how this guy reacts when he’s pushed. Derek Nurse, poet extraordinaire and artist of the unknown, finds Mr. Uptight-and-Straight-laced attractive. His ears, which stick out too far to be biologically possible, are stupidly charming as they turn slightly red the longer Derek goes without talking.

Oh fuck, how long has he been staring at this guy in silence?

“Chyeah, I’m good. I’m good. Just…slipped.” He sticks out a hand, smirk constructed on his lips. “Derek Nurse.”

“Will Poindexter. Call me Dex,” the guy responds. His grip is firm, fingers long and calloused. Derek smiles at him.

“Nursey, then. It’s nice to meet you.” Dex looks a little surprised, but he loses some of that awkward tension, unlocking his knees and relaxing into his stance. Cautiously, he grins back at Derek.

“Yeah, you too.”

It is one hundred percent Not Nice to meet Dex, turns out. The guy is infuriating. He never listens to what Derek has to say, always going on and on about “trying to follow directions,” like hockey isn’t a sport where you have to constantly adapt to what’s going on right in front of you. Like some rules are bullshit and others are made to be broken.

Why Hall and Murray keep putting them together, Derek will never understand. Except, sometimes. He can kind of see it. Every once in a while, the two of them will stop yelling at each other and just skate, quick and instinctual like they were born to play together. Communication flows effortlessly until one of them realizes it and begins yelling again, dictating where to go and what to do, inevitably pissing the other off.

It takes until January for the two of them to realize their potential. Derek whips home a solid slapper from the point, taken off a beautiful pass that weaves through traffic to meet the tape of Derek’s stick perfectly. He’s slammed into the boards about two seconds later, goal horn echoing over the cheers of the crowd. Dex is yelling in his ear, arms wrapped tight around his chest.

“Fuckin’ beautiful, Nurse!” He screams.

“Damn straight!” He yells back, gloved hand on Dex’s shoulder. “Let’s get another!” Dex pulls back and grins wickedly, giving him a nod as Ollie and Wicks join in on the celly.

Afterwards, Derek and Dex are pulled into the coach’s office, where Hall and Murray are smiling like proud parents.

“Do you boys see, now? How good you could be?” Dex had shot a look over at Derek, who turned his head to meet his gaze. Dex held out his hand for a fist bump and nodded decisively when Derek returned the motion easily.

“Yeah, Coach. We get it.”

The first time they kiss, Dex is red in the face and Derek’s voice is hoarse from yelling. Derek is pressed up against Dex’s chest, thigh in between Dex’s where he’s forced him up against the library stacks, hands fisted tight in Dex’s hoodie. The thing is, they aren’t angry with each other. Dex is red because he turns into a tomato when he exercises, and Derek is hoarse because he had been yelling after Dex, chasing him through the shadows of the empty library. Dex had jimmied open the faulty door that faced Samwell River as it lazily swept by the campus on a dare from Holster, and now the hockey team is running rampant through the stacks.

Dex had crept up behind Derek and poked him in the sides, making him shriek shout and jump about a foot in the air. When Derek had whipped around, terrified, all he had seen was Dex cracking up, gasping for breath over his knees as he laughed his ass off at Nursey.

And so the chase began.

Derek had finally caught up to Dex and tackled him into the bookshelf, careful to protect his head with one hand, leaving them pressed tight together.

“Your fucking face, Nursey, oh my god, I wish I had a camera with me,” Dex laughs, smile flashing. His face is lit up in the pale moonlight, freckles standing out sharply. His hair is messy and he’s flushed pink now that he’s calmed down, marginally.

Derek leans forward, can’t fucking help himself.

Now, they’re in the fucking Education section of Founder’s at 3:36 AM, wrapped up in each other as Dex sinks into the kiss without a beat of hesitation, throwing both arms over Derek’s shoulders. He grins into the kiss, pressing his smile to Derek’s mouth in little bursts.

He pulls back, leaning his head against the books and looks fondly down at Derek.

“You couldn’t have just asked, huh?” he chirps. Derek shakes his head and stares at him in amazement.

“But, you…” he trails off, voice fading into the muffled noises of the library. Dex raises an eyebrow and strokes his thumb over Derek’s shoulder.

“Nursey, I’ve been in love with you since the end of freshman year. I’m genuinely surprised it’s taken you this long.” Derek groans and thunks his head down on Dex’s chest, tucking his hand into Dex’s jacket pocket.

“We could’ve been fucking all this time,” he laments. Dex laughs, thankfully, and punches his shoulder.

“Hey,” he says, tilting Derek’s head up with two fingers under his chin. “We’ve got time now.”

Derek grins and leans forward to kiss him again, unable to stop smiling.

Their first date as a couple begins, objectively, as one of the worst dates of Derek’s life. Dex shows up eight minutes late to pick Derek up, breathing hard and button-up fastened all wrong, so it’s tight across his chest and askew all along the bottom. Between huffs, he tells Derek about how the car he had planned on using for tonight fell through when his lab partner, who owned it, had to use it to drive back home thanks to a family emergency; his phone had died while he was trying to get another car secured, so he hadn’t realized the time.

They’ve been dating for a few weeks now and have been friends for longer, so Derek can give him this one, at least. Dex leads him outside to where a very old, very beat-up pick-up truck is crouched in a parking spot near his dorm. Dex blushes hard and climbs determinedly behind the wheel. He waits until Derek is settled in the passenger seat before he reaches over and takes his hand, resting their woven fingers over the gear shift. He won’t meet Derek’s eyes, still blushing.

Derek grins at his idiot and leans over to press a kiss to Dex’s red cheek, flopping gracelessly back into his seat after a second, hand warm in Dex’s.

Ten minutes later, Derek is leaning against the bed of the truck as Dex looks despairingly at the flat tire, crouched over with his forearms pressed on his knees, flashlight in hand shining a bright beam onto the sad, deflated surface of the tire. They’re pulled over on an empty road in rural Massachusetts, halfway to the next town over for a nice restaurant Dex had looked up. There’s no sign of lights anywhere, either from an approaching car or a nearby house. Dex sighs and hangs his head.

“No spare in the back. And the maintenance guy won’t be here for another hour and a half.”

Derek shrugs and steps around a puddle to put a hand on Dex’s shoulder. “Hey, walking never hurt anybody, let alone us. We’re athletes, dude, it’s okay.” Dex looks up at him and gives a weak smile.

They’re walking hand-in-hand down the road when the roar of a car suddenly sounds from behind them, coming quickly over the hill they’ve just crossed. Dex tugs Derek to the side gently as the car zips past, tires dipping into another puddle left over by last night’s rainstorm.

Derek gets soaked to the skin in about two seconds, slightly muddy water dripping from his hair and face onto his shirt and nice jeans. He’s standing there, motionless, staring blankly ahead as the taillights disappear over the next hill. His shoulders are up by his ears still, not having moved from his instinctual flinch when the cold water hit his left side.

“…Derek?” No response. “Derek, babe, you okay?” Dex sounds frantically concerned, moving in front of Derek and pressing a hand to his side, ghosting it up and over Derek’s face, wiping away the water. Derek refocuses his gaze on Dex’s face and sighs. Dex’s eyes go soft and sorry as he takes in Derek’s ruined clothes.

When he looks back up at Derek’s face, he looks miserable.

“This is the worst date ever.”

“…kind of, yeah.” Dex deflates and drops his eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, voice thick in his throat. “I just, I wanted this to be good for you and then I was late and had a shitty car and then it broke down and we had to walk and now you’re soaking and–” Derek’s never heard Dex sound so terribly upset, not even during their worst arguments.

He kisses Dex to shut him up, leaning away to avoid getting Dex wet, too. Dex keeps trying to talk and Derek presses kiss after kiss to his mouth.

“Will,” he says, exasperated. “It’s alright. I know you tried.” He makes a face and plucks at his shirt. Dex takes him by the hand again and leads the way back to the truck.

Five minutes later, Derek is wrapped up in Dex’s hoodie, freed of his wet pants and shirt, which are drying out in the cab. His head is pillowed on Dex’s bicep where it’s curled behind him, surrounded by the pillows and blankets Dex had magicked out of the storage seat.

“Ray and Sarah won’t mind,” he had said, shrugging.

Dex is murmuring to him, right arm extended above them to point out the shapes he finds in the stars. Their legs are tangled together and Derek is tucked into Dex’s side, warmth building in the cocoon they’ve created together.

Dex lets his arm drop and rests it on Derek’s stomach, palm flat as he turns on his side, careful not to jostle Derek too much where he’s resting comfortably on his arm. He spends a few quiet seconds tracing over Derek’s face before he speaks, quiet and low.

“I’m sorry this was such a terrible date.” Derek looks at him, eyes half-lidded.

“Dex, I’m cuddled with my boyfriend and stargazing from a comfortable nest of pillows and blankets. I, for one, am considering this a great date.” Dex smiles brilliantly at him and attacks him with kisses, shifting to lean over him, propped up on his elbow as they make out beneath the stars, bare sliver of a moon lighting their way.

“I love you,” he murmurs. Derek strokes over his hair and runs his hand down to rest over Dex’s heart.

“I love you, too.” The rhythmic beat of Dex’s heart thumps away beneath his palm, constant and reassuring.

Derek tugs him back down, meeting him halfway.

Derek faces Dex on their wedding day and presses his left palm over Dex’s heart, right where it was the first time he ever told Dex he loved him. The gold of his ring glimmers up at him from his fourth finger.

The thump of Dex’s heart is still the same as it was that day, and Derek loves him more than he ever can know.

“I now pronounce you married. You may kiss your husband,” Shitty says from beside them, tears evident in the slight shake of his voice.

Dex curls a hand around his neck and leans forward.

Derek meets him halfway.

So, this Nursey Week has been an absolute experience. I’m going to take this time to say thank you to both Pie and Hals for being excellent moderators and organizers! This was lovely and I enjoyed every minute of it.

I would also like to thank you, dear reader, for taking the time to read the stories I’ve written this week. I hope you enjoyed going through them as much as I had writing them!