#they will die cold and lonely and miserable in shoes too big for them sitting on a throne made of lies

[givemeureyes]

succession is fun because no one is going to break the cycle of abuse and you know this and yet you still tune in every week hoping they will break the cycle of abuse

[restlessfandoming]

campfire in the snow (chilumi)

hey friends back again with that fanfic writing :^)

this is my headcannon that childe absolutely suffers during the colder winter months as a hydro user (based on this post here) so SOMEONE’s gotta take care of him

in other words, a chilumi...chilumine? lumichilde? CHILDE X LUMINE sick fic !!!

thanks for reading as always <3

[Fic Masterlist]

“campfire in the snow”

“Ahchoo!” 

Lumine glanced at Childe, watching him sniffle miserably as they walked through the woods towards Mondstadt. 

The sky was overcast, giving the land the hazy gray glow of winter, and the chilly temperature felt stiff against shivering bodies—their coats only warming them slightly. Their shoes crunched in the snow from last night’s snowstorm; the promise of another snowfall hung in the air. 

“Are you sick?” Lumine asked. 

Childe gave a weak smile. “Of course not. In top shape as always.” Then, AHCHOO! Another sneeze. 

Paimon popped up in front of the Harbinger’s face, staring directly at his red nose. “You don’t sound so good to me. Paimon thinks you’re sick!”

“Hate to say it, but I definitely agree with Paimon,” Lumine said, ignoring the guide’s flailing arms of anger. “I think we need to get you somewhere warm.” 

The orange haired man playfully scoffed. “All I need to do is speak with the Grand Master of the Knights. Easiest mission of my—sniff—life.”

The traveler stopped in her tracks, and took off her own scarf, holding it out for Childe. “Then at least take this. I think you need this more than me.”

He looked at the scarf, eyes almost glazing over from yearning. He shook his head. “I’d never take something from a lady in need.” 

Lumine almost threw the scarf at him. “I’m not in need.”

“And she’s not a lady; have you seen her eat?”

“Paimon.”

“Paimon only tells the truth!”

“Thank you, really, but it’s just a little reaction to the colder weather. No big deal,” Childe assured, walking past Lumine’s offering. 

“What’s his problem?” she muttered, as he walked ahead. She heard him coughing in the distance. Why won’t he just take it? 

“He doesn’t seem so threatening now, does he?” Paimon said. “Paimon’s never seen him so weak…”

“Weak…,” Lumine echoed. 

Of course. 

Childe was a member of the Fatui. A Harbinger. A deadly fighter. Someone who used a bow despite it being his weakest weapon. 

He would never accept help like this, not when it made him feel weak. 

Lumine groaned in frustration. Stupid, stupid man. She continued on the path, picking up her pace to try and catch up to him. 

Except he was nowhere to be seen. The cold set into her body a little more. 

“Childe?” she called out. She ran down the path, eyes scanning every inch of the snowy road and fields. Then—

“Lumine, look!” Paimon shouted, speeding over to Childe’s body laying in the snow. 

The blonde traveler quickly scrambled to his side, flipping him over so his face wasn’t buried in the snow. He was drained of color, and his body felt ice cold. There was barely air leaving his nose. 

“Childe!” she called, shaking him. Wake up; please, wake up! 

He didn’t move. Lumine cursed. 

“What should we do?” Paimon asked frantically. 

Lumine took a deep breath in, then took off her own coat and scarf, placing it on Childe’s shoulders. She shuddered as the winter air nipped at her skin. 

“Now you’re gonna freeze to death!”

“It’s okay, Paimon,” she said, beginning to pick up the unconscious man. “We need to find somewhere to stop and start a fire.”

Paimon nodded worriedly, trying to (unsuccessfully) help Lumine shoulder Childe. The traveler eventually had his arm slung across her shoulders, and her arm gripped his waist. 

The three shuffled down the path, searching for any sort of shelter or firewood. As time went on, Lumine felt colder and colder, her whole body beginning to ache under the weight of Childe. Every so often, she would call out his name, hoping to hear a response, but there was nothing. 

As she crested the top of the hill, she spotted a tiny cabin at the base. Her ragged breath became concentrated as she mustered up the last of her energy to drag Childe there. 

“Almost...there…,” she strained out. No response. 

“Come on! You can do it!” Paimon cheered, though her scared expression betrayed her positivity. 

Lumine was mere feet away from the door when she heard a familiar high pitched and distorted laughter ring out behind her. 

An Abyss Mage! 

She turned to see it prancing around in its bubble, icicles swirling around it. 

Great, a Cryo Mage at that.

She set Childe down gently, then drew her sword. The blade shook in her hand, her teeth chattering. And she still felt winded. But I have to protect us. 

“Try to wake him up,” she told Paimon. The tiny fairy nodded and started tapping his shoulder.

Lumine charged the mage. Her blade scraped against the frozen barrier. She slashed frantically, making miniscule scratches. Around her, icicles fell as the mage chanted spell after spell. It took all of her will to continuously dodge the attacks. Charging enough energy, she unleashed a Palm Vortex. The shield cracked considerably. 

I can do this. She leapt at the mage, striking a few times, then casted a Gust Surge. The bubble crackled. A few more hits and the shield will be down. Then, it’ll be a piece of cake. 

She started concentrating, trying to summon another Palm Vortex, when an icicle came unexpectedly from the side, slamming into her. She crumpled to the ground. 

Nononono. She tried to get up, arms shaking, fighting the exhaustion in her body. 

The sinister laughter drew closer as the mage floated towards her. It raised its staff, ready to deliver the finishing blow.

“Hey!” 

Lumine looked past the mage. 

There stood Childe, hunched over, gripping his side, but standing. She almost cried out in relief. 

The mage made noises of anger, blinking away, then reappearing closer to Childe. 

The Harbinger raised his hand, droplets forming from his palm. 

No, Childe wait—! His Hydro elements didn’t stand a chance in this battle. 

The beginnings of his spear formed. But then, the water quickly crystallized, turning into shards of ice, and dropping to the ground. Childe winced painfully. 

Lumine jumped up on her feet, her energy renewed, and raced towards the mage. 

The mage raised its staff again, forming a huge icicle above Childe. He wouldn’t have enough time to move, especially in his condition. The shard started falling. 

“Childe!” Lumine screamed. 

He closed his eyes. The mask sitting atop his head began to glow. It crackled with purple electricity, and spiraled out, creating a barrier. The large icicle shattered on impact. The mage shrieked in confusion. 

Lumine took the distraction, and destroyed the Abyss Mage’s shield, then stabbed its critical point: right through its head. It vanished into the air. 

“Good job...traveler…,” Childe said between heavy breaths. His voice sounded distorted, his eyes and expression darker than before. The electro-shield came down, and Lumine watched as he fell to his knees, before rushing over, and catching him before he fell down completely.

She felt his forehead on her bare shoulder. “You’re burning up,” she whispered. 

He laughed weakly, before descending into coughs. “I hate to say it, but I think you were right,” he murmured. 

She saw Paimon opening the door to the cabin. “Okay, c’mon, we only have a little bit to go, then we can rest.” She felt him nod. 

When the three finally got into the cabin, Lumine laid Childe down, folding their scarves to make a pillow, and covering him with their coats. Paimon helped carry some pieces of wood to her, and soon a small fire was started. The guide disappeared back into her world to let Lumine rest. 

Lumine finally let out a sigh of relief. She looked over Childe, making sure he didn’t have any injuries she didn’t notice before. Her eyes fell on his mask, the mask that created the electro-shield earlier. 

Two elements? That shouldn’t be possible. Was he different, like her? Not of this world? There was certainly something dark about the mask, lurking beneath the surface. 

She reached for the mask. Childe’s hand weakly sprung up, catching her before she could touch it. His eyes were still closed.

“Now, now, we don’t touch things that aren’t ours—isn’t that right, girlie?” he teased quietly. His voice was hoarse, strained. 

“Even on the verge of death, you love teasing me,” Lumine responded. He still hadn’t let go of her wrist. “And anyways, I dragged you all the way here. You could at least tell me what that thing is.” 

He opened his eyes, narrowly. “Sorry, sweetheart, Fatui secret.” Lumine tried pulling her wrist away, but he held onto it, then shifted it so he was holding her hand. “Thank you, Lumine.” 

She blushed. “I couldn’t just leave you out there to die.” She looked at their intertwined hands. “Why did you take this mission anyways? You know it’s dangerous during the Cryo months for a Hydro user like you.” 

There was a long pause of silence. She almost thought he had fallen asleep. 

“It was for Mondstadt,” he finally replied. “I knew you would be here.”

She was feeling warm. Too warm. Is it the fire? Am I getting sick too?

“You should get some sleep. You’ll feel better when you wake up,” she said, completely avoiding what he said. He nodded and closed his eyes, a faint smile on his lips. 

Lumine observed his sleeping face, how harmless he seemed right now. None of his antics. None of the mystery surrounding him. None of that lurking darkness. Just a sick, lonely boy. A sick, lonely boy completely vulnerable to the world. 

She started to get up, maybe to go cook some stew for him, but to her surprise, Childe held tightly to her hand. 

“Stay,” he said, hazily. His eyelids were fluttering, like he was struggling to open them. 

“...Okay.” Tired herself, she laid down next to him, tucking herself under the coats as well, glad for the warmth. 

He pulled her closer, letting go of her hand, and instead wrapped his arms around her waist, tucking his head under her chin, like he was listening to her heartbeat—a heartbeat that was surely beating way too fast right now. This sickness is making him delusional…

She was about to start protesting when he started speaking. 

“No one ever stays,” Childe whispered. It had been no louder than a small leaf rustling in the nighttime wind; Lumine might not have heard it if she wasn’t listening. Her heart broke a little. 

She wrapped her arms tightly around him. You’re not alone.

“I’m here,” she whispered back. “I’m right here.”

[grownups-are-the-real-monsters]

Just leave it up to you

Summary: McVries ignored the question. “You can forget the heels though. My feet wouldn’t look so hot in those strappy’s being that all that’s left of 'em is blistered skin with red goo in the middle like a donut.” He clicked his tongue and Ray found a bit of anger well up from that ‘bee-sting’ again. “The point here, Garraty, is...” What was either a clap of thunder or a gunshot rang out (honestly who could tell the difference at his point?)

Ships: Gavries 

Word Count: 3,789

Not until some time after the incident with Jan & his mother did Peter McVries attempt another conversation with Garraty. But when the sky bled from blue to black, the boy had drifted his way back to Ray’s side. Nights on the walk were lonely & scary, it did one well to have a buddy. And Ray didn’t prefer anyone above McVries. 

“I’m jealous, Ray.” Pete--McVries slanted his grin to the right as he spoke, looking like a boy trapped inside an oil painted night sky. His eyes seemed gravely distant, glazed over & being hung out to dry. The promise Abraham mentioned burned deep in Ray like an internal bee-sting. ‘Number 61 coming up the road is lookin’ about ready to pop, wouldn’t you say?’

Garraty swallowed a thick ball of mucus. “Of what?” He whispered with hesitation. No one was all that close to them but something about what was coming seemed personal. 

“Jan.” A guttural sort of chuckle broke up his throat. 

That answer shocked Garraty some...maybe a lot. McVries hadn’t ever seemed interested in talk of Jan let alone...the girl herself. “Well, I’m sure a lot of guys here would’ve loved to grab onto a chick like her-”

McVries shook his head, the hair which wasn’t plastered down by sweat flayed out and sprinkled. “You’ve misunderstood me, my dear.” Turning then, his eyes were fully alive again. They once more reflected the hot inside Pete’s internal organs like a Jack-O-Lantern. “I wish I was your girl back home, Ray.” The cynical joke was hard to find under the tender voice but Garraty was almost sure that it had to be there. 

“Don’t know if you’d look as good in a skirt, Pete.” He chuckled, unwavering but nervous at the same time. 

“Oh, I would.” Pete shook a finger under his chin, smirking proudly. “These legs love to tease, Ray-Baby.”

Garraty blushed hard. “Why do you say shit like that?”

McVries ignored the question. “You can forget the heels though. My feet wouldn’t look so hot in those strappy’s being that all that’s left of 'em is blistered skin with red goo in the middle like a donut.” He clicked his tongue and Ray found a bit of anger well up from that ‘bee-sting’ again. “The point here, Garraty, is...” What was either a clap of thunder or a gunshot rang out (honestly who could tell the difference at his point?)

“If it wasn’t for you, Garraty, I’d want to die a whole lot more than how badly I actually want to live right now.” Earnest & hoarse emotion sang in his voice. So much it began to frighten Ray to a shocked silence. 

“You could win this damn thing. Though, I’m still a bit of victim to cynicism for thinking Stebbins might just run us all down...Ray, you have a real chance.” Pete looked like he might just stop to shake him by the shoulders which turned Ray’s stomach. “If I was your girl back home...”

Garraty waited for the big joke from the cynically insane. Something like ‘Then I could jerk you off’ because it would validate everything McVries had said was bullshit. All of it. That would be ok...Ray might be able to live with that. 

“Then you could come home and hold me when this hell was over.” 

That....That was what he couldn’t live with. Thoughts of Jimmy Owens danced through his panicked mind. “Pete, are you ok?” A damn insult of a question. 

Pete’s eyes blazed with anger. “What? I express an attraction to a guy so that must mean the walk is starting to get to me?” He challenged but gave no time for argument. “Priscilla and I had a threesome once.” Was added onto the end of his statement but not to brag...

Ray didn’t really know what it was for. That sticky-dryness began to coat the pink of his throat again. A hot blush crept over his ‘innocent’ face but something like anger beat hard in his chest. “What did he look like?” It was the dumbest question to possibly ask but it’s what he vomited out. Even Pete looked a little dumbfounded. 

He took in some air. “A bit like Stebbins.” He tilted his chin to the blonde, much closer than he’d been at the beginning to their conversation. “If I’m being honest.” He shrugged, keeping a neutral expression and pace. “The point is that I found them both attractive, Ray.” 

“Who? The guy and Stebbins?” 

Pete laughed again, not harshly but with amusement. “The guy and Pris, dear-one.” He melted with some exaggeration. “You though...” He looked Ray up and down. “You, I could eat with a spoon.” 

“Could you be serious for once?” 

McVries pulled away, looking almost insulted. “I’m not asking you to confess something back to me.” His voice hitched. “You got a girl back home, I know that. Just meeting you and being your friend’s been enough for me.” He closed his eyes like a sharp pain had cut through him. “So if you’re looking for the punchline, there isn’t one. This ain’t a joke.” Pete smiled, miserable & soft, shoved his hands into his pockets and left. 

Ray was the most confused he’d ever been in his entire life. 

Stebbins quickened his pace to join his side with something like joyful vigor. He very well could’ve started skipping. He hated the boy for it. “The masochism continues. McVries claims his love before succumbing to his suicidal ideations.” His laugh was manic yet calm. 

“Fuck off.” Ray growled with anger yet barely paid him any mind. His eyes stayed focused on the back of McVries. 

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

Stebbins had been walking in pace with Ray ever since Abraham had gotten his ticket from Scramm’s contagious cold. Garraty missed him. Five more boys had lost their lives & the weirdo kept busy.

“Another one down.” Stebbins whistled casually, talking up at Ray like they were the best of friends. It annoyed him to no end but at least it was better than silence. That was until he glanced at Garraty with an eager-push. “How’s the bittersweet love story, huh?” 

Frustration pumped into his body as it so often did when interacting with the headache of a person. But a part of his head drowned in the thoughts of actually missing the boy when the time came to win or die. Ray silently hoped for death before having to ever witness McVries’s come to pass. He looked at the sad remains of his feet. “What do I do Stebbins?”

The blonde’s stare grew cold like an old dinner, astonished and nothing short of it. Ray guessed Stebbins wasn’t expecting such a show of vulnerability now from him now. In all honesty, he’d shocked himself with that one too. Boiling tears attempted to pour down his cheeks as he stared ahead at Baker and McVries. Poor, poor Baker covered in his ‘rain’ being accompanied by a haunted friendly escort. For a maddening moment, Raymond Garraty felt the flood of ‘rain’ break from his nose & waterfall down his clothes, warm & wet. 

He panicked, organs twisting deep in his gut as he gasped for a breath that didn't gurgle. 

Stebbins cold hand on his shoulder woke him up from his bloody hallucinations. "Hey, what are you doing old boy?" 

Ray spit up plain clear mucus (no blood) onto the road and coughed into his fist. McVries had turned to watch in subtle alarm. He walked backwards, still next to Baker, with adoring eyes for the boy with spit running down his chin. 

Stebbins couldn't help but roll his eyes fondly at the idiots until Ray dribbled the mucus onto his shoes. He picked up his toes and frowned. "Aim with the eye, shoot with the mind, kill with the heart.” 

"-What?" Ray wiped his sleeve against his lips. 

Stebbins shrugged, pursed his lips and walked off towards the others. 

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Garraty pleaded for more time with Art Baker but that didn’t give him shit. Sobs painfully ricocheted through his body but ultimately made no change in his pace which was difficult but the art was masterful now...upsettingly. Turns out a person got good at shit like that if faced with enough practice time. 

‘Lead-lined’

Ray nearly vomited for the millionth time. “Walk a little longer, Art.” 

A glimmering sheet of tears filled Art’s eyes like a final curtain. “No--I can’t.” He shook his head, covered in rusty ‘rain’. He spoke more unrehearsed lines which broke whatever the hell was left of Ray’s heart. 

McVries found his way back to him though. That was something at the very least. The dark haired boy came upon Ray with enough leg-room in the hell-hole hint contract to press a small kiss onto Garraty’s temple. He received a warning for slowing pace but didn’t seem too concerned. 

The heat from his mouth alone caused a shutter through Ray’s body. 

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“Another time, another place.” Stebbins repeated Art Baker’s final words without even a hint of emotion. Pete & Ray intended to ignore the rabbit but the kid made it difficult. He glanced at the only other boys left in the walk, something awakening inside him. Garraty habitually darted closer to McVries. 

While Stebbins kept on mumbling to himself; words that Garraty didn’t completely understand, Pete started drifting towards the crowd. The hand Ray wasn’t even aware was grabbing his, started to fall from the grip. Skin sliding against skin as it dropped.

“Pete!” 

Helplessly he grabbed whatever he could reach and yanked him back straight. He expected Stebbins to protest--to let him alone--but the kid was still isolated in his own world. “Pete, no!”

McVries opened his eyes, squinted like an old cowboy and smiled. “No, Ray. It’s time to sit.” Horror struck Garraty so badly that it nearly knocked him onto the road first. 

He did what only he could. He blubbered. “Pete--please, walk a little longer. Please, please-” Hopelessly he grabbed onto his boy. The boy who just wanted to be held by Garraty was getting a twisted sense of his wish now. “Please, Pete. I-...I love you.” He whimpered.

McVries broke into the most delicately beautiful smile that Ray had ever seen in his life. 

“He’s right. Time to sit, Garraty.” Stebbins finally woke. Ray turned with venom but found the kid was standing lone within something gentle & true; no gross selfishness marked in his tone. He lost interest in staring at Ray and spoke into the air past the soldiers. “We are ka-tet. We are one from many...” He mumbled. 

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about!” Garraty turned back to McVries, scarred and beautiful but looking ready to die. “Honestly, shut the fuck up for once, Stebbins!” 

Pete giggled at that, still walking but wilting towards the ground all the same. Stebbins ignored Garraty and spoke to their only friend left. “McVries can you wait ten more seconds?” 

Pete blinked. But his loud-mouth remained shut, feet still pounding against the road. Stebbins took that to mean yes and aligned his eyes with Garraty’s again. “I’m going to win this.” He spoke, winningly but added. “So are you two fucking assholes.” a smirk then he began to count-down quietly. 

The crowd hushed but still couldn’t manage to hear Stebbins. The soldiers drew closer but there wasn’t much to do in the case of three boys still continuing to walk in pace. 

At the number 6...Ray finally clicked on to the meaning & couldn’t believe what was happening. Never once had the idea crossed his mind and hell, maybe Stebbins was pulling a fast one on them but he found that it did not matter if he could die with Pete. This gave him an out. 

“3...2...1″

Three boys from different states & in different states of mind, dropped like falling boulders. Ass first onto the road at the exact same time. In a perfect semicircle with their backs up against each other, they let out horrendous sighs of pain-relief. 

For a long time, the only sound was their low breathing & hesitant stomping of soldier boots, up and down the road. Men so unsure of what to do that it ignited terror through Ray’s gut but he kept his eyes closed. His head leaned against Stebbins & McVries’s.

Two seconds before The Major himself came upon the group...one of many...Ray supposed, Stebbins spoke up again. “A long road, like a tall Tower, must be most be conquered one step at a time...” He took in air like a balloon. “Forgot where I heard that, Ray but we got to the end of the road--to the top of the Tower--” 

McVries hummed. 

“I knew it was time for the wheel to run Peter over. But I figured the plan. Ka is a wheel but I am a driver...Ha!” He wasn’t making a lick of sense & Garraty would’ve gladly reminded him of the other Musketeers he let die before his little ‘revelation’ but...

According to The Major, they had to decide which two of them would be sacrificing themselves. ‘Ha! What a laugh, huh?’

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

They would not be celebrated. 

They were to quietly be paid off & to have their lives spared. 

It was to never happen again. 

Rules would be re-evaluated for the next go of The Long Walk.

The boys were to be treated in hospital for what was needed and no more. Garraty--Maine’s own--laid in bed hoping that Art Baker got his wish. That it wasn’t dark & that he could remember them. Too he hoped for his friend not to be mad. Their plan could’ve worked for him...though Ray excepted that Baker would’ve had to have been saved before the rainfall of blood. 

He thought that all over in the morning just before Jan--sweet & kind came to visit him for the very first time. 

“You pulled quite the stunt.” She spoke two seconds after the nurse left the room, wasting no time. Her smile was full of love that Garraty hated being on the receiving end of for the first time. 

“Stebbins did.” He clicked his tongue, grabbing her soft hand. 

“Which one was he?” 

Garraty bit into his cheek. “The blonde. Purple pants.” 

Jan nodded, looking to the TV in the corner of the room with quiet debates going on in her mind. “He’s the one with no visitors.” Turning back, her expression lost all joy. “Heard some rumors he’d gone manic.” 

Not surprising. Garraty frowned. “Hope that isn’t true. He was basically already in manicville at the start” He shrugged. He tried to think of anyone but Pete but it was just about the hardest shit to do--besides the damn walk itself. 

He blinked up at his girlfriend still sitting on the edge of the white-sheeted bed with a matching skin-tone. “The other boy’s parents & little sister have come today.” 

It was as if she knew & she most likely did. “Talked about how happy they were in the elevator up. The staff accompanying us--I think he was a male nurse--” She looked off in thought before deciding it mattered none & came back down on him with despair. “He said they ought to be ashamed. Raised a cheater, he said. Nobody likes a ‘hero’ who does only to serve himself.” Her hair fell against her chin. “97 sons--their mother’s boys--lost their lives thinking only one boy got to win. Not three queers who decided they were bigger than The Major.” 

“And what do you think, Jan?” He muttered. The girl rolled her eyes. 

“I’d be agreeing if I thought the same, wouldn’t I?” She let one tear loose. “Screw The Major.” She wiped down her cheeks and Ray vibrated from pure astonishment. “It wasn’t in the rules. And three boys were saved. They were given second chances.” 

That idea terrified Ray. He was given a second chance curtesy of Stebbins & how in the Hell could he make-up for the 97 lives gone?

“If this is the part where you break up with my because you’ve grown past me or-or grown tired of me, please just do it quickly.” More tears threatened to spill but she kept those ones in. 

Ray felt sick to his stomach. “If it helps, it’s neither of those things.” 

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

Nurse Barnes was a bitch. 

Garraty found that out rather quickly considering she had he own opinion on the Long Walk end results. ‘But it barely effected her work, great news!!’ She just did everything expected of her extremely aggressively like petulant child. 

Ray allowed her to escort him to Pete’s room and did his best to ignore her grimaces, annoyed sighs & mutterings. It could not dampen his great sense of relief and joy to see the person he turned out to love more than anyone else in the world. 

When Barnes turned the door-handle, Ray nearly fell to the floor in a heap of nervous sweat. “Give us privacy, please.” He would’ve mumbled the request, usual of him but a new fire burned inside him since he awoke in the hospital. Barnes slammed the door shut after him. No words. 

Pete McVries was getting up from his bed with caution for feet that still ached with pain but were getting better. He’d been on Garraty’s mind like nobody had ever been in all his life & he was the most beautiful sight in the world. 

“I’ve been focusing on getting my feet stable for weeks now.” Ray spoke slowly, eyes never leaving Pete. 

“Way to show off, Ray.” He managed a laugh. 

“Meaning, I can hold you now if you want, Pete.” He opened his arms wide. “That is, if you’d still have me?” 

McVries got up like the wind, almost as if his feet weren’t bloody and basically useless just some weeks ago. Ray assumed Pete was betting a lot on his recovery because he wasted no time jumping into his arms, legs wrapping around his waist. 

Unfortunately Garraty wasn’t quite there yet & the cute moment lasted just five seconds before they collapsed together onto the clean white floor. Their laughter blended together effortlessly in sweet harmony. Pete climbed atop Ray slowly, bumping their thighs together in the process. 

It killed most every calm nerve in Ray’s body staring up at the man he’d fallen in love with. His dark hair waved in contrast to the stark white of the ceiling as he drew closer & closer...noses touching. 

“I thought Priscilla was my great love...” he whispered, breath against Ray’s lips. “But Ray, you changed my life. I don’t want to die anymore. Every night, I kept walking just so I could see your face in the sunlight one more time.” He scrunched up his face in the cutest way. 

“Sappy shit sounds so cute coming out of your mouth.” Ray giggled, reaching a hand up to stroke his cheek along the scar. 

Pete pulled back, sitting now on Garraty’s lap. Ray brought himself to a seated position. “What about Jan?” his voice was small and almost accusatory but Ray could hardly blame him. 

“I broke it off with Jan.” 

Pete tried to hide his grin, seemingly sick of letting all his emotions pour out like a broken faucet. But Ray caught a gorgeous glimpse. “I love you, Pete.” He added, brushing his hand against the boy’s hair once more. 

“I love you too.” 

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“Can you accept the thank you or not? I’m never giving you another one.” McVries huffed, staring down at Stebbins who was merely sitting in his bed and flipping through a paperback. Garraty was sitting at the edge of the bed, knitting him a ‘Thank you’ scarf because it helped with his anxiety. Plus, he figured the blonde wasn’t much one for facing his own rewards. He might just take a lame scarf for it though if it meant no talking about his generosity. 

He looked up. “I’ll accept your compliment of a good plan because I’m a fucking genius for it.” He smiled, crooked yet nice. “But no, I won’t accept a thank you for saving your asses. I couldn’t have been in my right mind for that one.” He chuckled. 

Pete groaned. “Great. Good.” His eyes rolled as he gently scooched Ray over to sit next to him on the bed at Stebbins feet. Pete watched his boy knit with adoration that almost sickened Stebbins. “You gonna let him talk to us like that, Ray?” He poked him. 

Garraty held up what he had of the scarf so far and smirked when Stebbins just nodded. “Do you remember what you said?”

Stebbins looked off towards the wall and shrugged. 

Ray ignored his clear indication that he was done talking about it. “You called us a Ka-tet? What did you mean by that?” 

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

Peter McVries vowed to keep Ray safe & happy. 

Once out of the hospital & freshly encouraged to keep as far from the public as possible, he moved his boy into his boyhood home until they could get on their own feet. It was strange but the McVries family was warm and welcoming. Garraty enjoyed this stage in his life immensely. 

After that, came a cabin-style home nestled deep in Boulder, Colorado. Far from Maine but Ray’s mother was welcome to visit all she wanted, same with Pete’s parents and wonderful little sister--who had never looked so happy before as she did that first day in the hospital. Her big brother was alive and could still hug her.  

Stebbins had gone off on his own but was likely to pop by for visits, Garraty was almost sure of it. McVries felt he owed the strange boy something for what he’d done no matter how many times he rejected the idea. So he hoped to see him again. But for now...

Pete’s ebony hair dripped water down in a slinky path against his dewy skin, tired droplets paused and waited as flybys sped down to collide against them. Smoke breezed from Pete’s mouth and settled into the air. He took a deep breath, eyes fluttering closed with satisfaction as the heat in his chest returned. 

He brought his legs down to stretch as his back straightened, making his body a true reflection of his current state. Tiny pins and needles poked from under the bottoms of his feet, He wiggled his toes. But after a few seconds, he let them be. Sometimes it was a little euphoric to feel that little vibration of sleeping limbs. 

Ray carefully came into the bedroom looking tired from a long day of his new little life & slipped the cigarette from Pete’s fingers, taking his own drag. He coughed as he handed it back. "Cute.” McVries mumbled happily. 

Ray hummed, neck hot from a lingering blush and life truly felt amazing. 

[udunie]

Okay, you guys, here’s the part of the Gerard fic that I love (it goes on to a sex scene that I don’t like, cause it doesn’t seem to fit the tone of this part)

Warning for: prostitution, drug abuse, addiction, generally heavy themes

Also, this is basically not edited or betaed at this point, I just want to pick your brains about how to go on with this, cause I feel like ‘monster cock and fake tits’ isn’t the way to go... Please let me know what you think :D

ETA: wow love it when tumblr fucks shit up, anyway, fixed now lol

***

Stiles was just a month or two over eighteen when his dad died. He didn’t like to think about it. Or all the things that happened after. It was like whatever self control he ever had was buried with his dad, leaving him destined to make one bad decision after the other.

Stiles just wanted to forget. Preferably everything; not going to college, not being able to pay his dad’s medical bills, being forced to sell the house, living in his jeep and turning tricks on occasion to survive… He just wanted to escape it all.

First there was the drinking and the weed, and when those were not enough anymore to get him through the day, he tried other things… ecstasy, cocaine, whatever. With his ADHD, drugs didn’t always work as they were supposed to. Sometimes a little too well, sometimes not at all, or in ways he didn’t enjoy. Nothing really stuck.

It was exactly on his nineteenth birthday when he met Kate. 

“Want to try something new?” she asked, slithering up to him in the club. Stiles saw her around before, he knew she was selling something, though never really checked to see what. Lately he didn’t have the cash to get anything serious. “You look like you could use a little pick-me-up. You’re cute, so I’ll let you have one on the house.”

Stiles was a bit drunk and a bit high and very stupid.

“Wha’s it?” he asked, voice slurring a bit. 

“Silver Bullet,” she said, holding up a pill. It reflected the strobe lights weirdly. “It will shoot all your troubles dead, baby. That’s a guarantee.”

Stiles popped it into his mouth without hesitation, chasing the bitter taste down with the vodka tonic he managed to flirt out of someone.

And the rest was history.

***

Silver Bullet wasn’t like anything he ever tried before. For one, it worked; getting him high and happy and horny every fucking time. He wasn’t hungry, he wasn’t tired or cold or lonely when he took it. Everything was fun and easy and sexy. It felt like being in love with every single person around him. 

At first, it was easy. Almost too easy. He took a pill and felt like he wanted to make love to the world. He picked up a few johns, had sex that felt way better than it had any right to be and by the time he crashed, he had the money for the next few pills. 

Even when he was sleeping, he dreamed about them, about having a whole palmful of those pretty, white pills. Even in his dreams, he could see the tiny, metallic looking particles in them. When he asked about it, Kate said that was the magic and he believed her. Stiles couldn’t imagine going for a day without.

Then Kate raised the price. Then she raised it again. And again. ‘Welcome to the free market, where demand sets the price’ she told him, laughing. He tried to look around for another dealer, but nobody was selling Silver Bullet, they all told him to fuck off if he even just asked about it.

It only took a month for him to start begging her. He sold the jeep, he sold his parents’ wedding rings, he had nothing more to give.

“I will do anything, Kate, please,” Stiles told her. The music was too loud in the club, and the lights too blinding and the shadows too deep. For a second, he thought about just… taking the little tin box of pills he knew she had on her with force, but it was a struggle to even hold himself upright. He was always so tired when he went too long without it.

She leaned back against the wall. Stiles wondered if her smile was always that cruel.

“Hm… Anything?”

“Anything, whatever you want, I will do it,” he said, the words rushing out of him. 

“Tell me I’m beautiful,” she said, fluttering her lashes. 

Stiles remembered seeing her through the haze of the drug. She’d looked like an ethereal being, like an honest-to-god angel.

“You… you are beautiful, you are the most beautiful woman in the world, I’ve never se-”

“Am I prettier than your mommy was?” she cut in.

She was standing so close, Stiles could almost taste the pill burning his tongue.

“Yes. Yes, you are, so much prettier,” he croaked, mouth dry.

She laughed, loud and harsh.

“Unfortunately, baby, flattery won’t get you anywhere,” she said. Stiles wanted to cry. “This is a family business, you know? What sort of a girl would cut her father’s profits?”

Stiles felt shaky and like he was about to throw up. He must have looked miserable, because Kate gave him a long, calculating look.

“But you know what? I can take you to meet him. Maybe you can dazzle him with your… talents.”

Kate was really the most beautiful woman in the world.

***

He was shaking during the whole car ride. He hadn’t had a high in three days, and he felt like he was about to die. Kate made him lie down, his head on her lap, and she stroked his hair, nails too sharp as they scratched against his scalp. The man driving the car - her brother, Stiles thought - gave him a few disgusted looks in the rearview mirror, but Stiles couldn’t care less.

He was going to meet Kate’s dad and fuck him and get high and everything would be fine.

Kate’s father lived in a huge house surrounded by a park and iron gates. It was like something out of a movie, but he was way too anxious to really appretiate it even as Kate led him inside. There was a double staircase in the entrance hall, and Stiles was told to wait there.

The place was big enough that he thought there should be an army of servants around, but everything was strangely silent. Stiles tried not to stare too much. All he could think about was getting his pills. Or maybe stealing something and pawning it off so he could get cash. But… Kate probably wouldn’t sell to him if he did that, right? It was hard to think with his whole body numb with need.

He spaced out instead, staring into mid distance, imagining how good it will be to get his pill and feel alive again. Stiles had no idea how long he just stood there until he finally heard Kate calling him from the top of the stairs. She sounded annoyed.

“Get your ass up here,” she bit out when she finally had his attention. “You don’t want to get him in a bad mood.”

Stiles didn’t. He ran up to her, not daring to touch the polished railing.

“Fuck, sorry,” he said, but she already turned her back, leading him to a set of tall double-doors. 

“Daddy,” she said, pushing them open. She sounded very different than when she was talking to Stiles. “Here he is.”

Kate’s father was an old, old man with short, white hair and a stern face that had Stiles shifting from foot to foot with nerves. He was lounging on a sofa in pajamas and a brocade house coat. His eyes were cold enough to make him shiver where he stood.

“Stiles, this is my father, Gerard. Daddy, this is the boy I’ve told you so much about.”

Stiles doubted that random junkies were a regular topic at the family dinner, but he didn’t say anything. He had a goal in mind, and Gerard didn’t look like he enjoyed people mouthing off.

The old man looked him over, like he was a piece of gum stuck on the sole of his shoe.

“Strip.”

Stiles swallowed, glancing quickly at Kate. She nodded her head at him, smiling in a way that made him second guess himself.

“Go on, baby, try to make a good impression.”

Stiles licked his lips, and got to it. He felt stupid and weird with her watching him undress for her father. Without the warmth of drugs in him, he was acutely aware of how boney and pale and… ugly he was.

When he was finished, he just stood there, eyes glued to a spot over Gerard’s shoulder, wanting to cover himself but knowing that he shouldn’t. 

“Don’t you like him, daddy?” Kate asked, sounding like she was pouting, but Stiles didn’t dare look at her again.

“I would have preferred a girl. You know that,” Gerard said. Stiles would have pissed himself if that much disdain was directed at him, but Kate just laughed, her voice sweet and light.

“But I don’t want to have a little sister or brother,” she said, teasing. “Chris is enough of a headache.”

Gerard barked out a laugh, sitting up straight.

“Damned right he is. Fine.” He picked up a shiny, darkwood box from the side table, opening it in his lap. It was lined with dark green velvet and there was an injection needle in it. It looked like it was antique, with little rings at the end of the crossbars. Beside it was a corked vial, filled with something that glittered like mercury, though lighter in color.

“Come here and get on your knees,” Gerard told him, not even glancing at Stiles. He clearly expected to be obeyed.

“I… What… what is that?” Stiles asked, watching him stab the needle through the cork and pulling some of the liquid into the syringe.

Gerard looked at him.

Stiles made the mistake of meeting his gaze.

Suddenly Kate was behind him, her breasts pressing into his naked back. 

“That’s the good stuff, baby. That’s the real Silver Bullet right there, the same one you love so much, just a thousand times better,” she whispered in his ear. “And if you want it, you better be a good boy.”

Stiles couldn’t take his eyes off the syringe. Just the mention of the drug made all his cravings rush back tenfold. He wanted it. He wanted to feel it so bad.

He dropped on his knees in front of Gerard without any more hesitation. He didn’t like needles, and he didn’t like him, but he wanted… He needed the high.

Stiles didn’t expect to be backhanded hard enough to make his ears start ringing. There was a dizzying moment when he forgot where he was or why. Gerard grabbed his jaw, his fingers biting into him.

“When I give an order, I expect you to follow, is that understood?” he asked, sneering into his face from up close. 

Stiles whined. His right cheek was burning. It would probably bruise… But it wasn’t even close to being the worst thing he ever got just to get high.

The man stared into his eyes for a long moment, maybe waiting for him to put up a fight, but all Stiles wanted was the Silver Bullet. 

“Good,” he said finally, patting his face where it hurt. “Open your mouth.”

Stiles did.

Gerard trapped his tongue between his knuckles and pulled it outward and to the side. His fingers tasted salty and a bit bitter.

“This way, it will get right to your head,” he commented, Stiles closed his eyes as he saw the syringe getting closer. He just wanted to be alive again. “Don’t move.”

Gerard injected him at the base of his tongue. There was a sharp bite of pain that made him suck in a breath. He could feel his mouth flood with saliva.

And then…

Stiles remembered how happy he was back when he was just a kid and his mom bought him exploding candy. It was sweet and sour and like he had a little firework going off in his mouth. This was like that, but he could feel it in his head, his skull was filled with exploding candy, popping and popping and throwing sparks of flavors and colors and shapes and smells in every direction, every nerve in his body sizzling and popping and popping… The world was suddenly and inexplicably beautiful. 

Everything was so pretty and bright and pleasurable that it almost hurt. 

He could feel his hips pumping into the air, body convulsing like it was caught in an orgasm that just didn’t want to end. There were still fingers in his mouth and he moaned, licking and sucking at them eagerly. He felt like he was a flame, radiating pleasure and everything around him reflected it back, just amplifying it even more until he was drowning in light.

***

“What a nasty little slut,” Gerard said, letting the boy kneeling in front of him suckle on his fingers, slurping around his knuckles like he was trying to give the blowjob of his life. His eyes were glazed over and he was twitching almost alarmingly. “It’s been… what? Forty seconds? And he already came twice.”

Kate laughed, leaning against the doorframe.

“You like him, don’t you?” she asked, crossing her arms.

Gerard did, but he didn’t want Kate to know. The girl had to learn to do better, even if she managed to do an adequate job with this one.

“Should have been a girl,” Gerard reminded her, pushing his fingers in as deep as they could go, nudging the boy’s tonsils. He didn’t gag, but his eyes did roll back. Ah, and he was coming. Again. “But I will take it.”

[dontdietwd]

Don’t Die, day 0

The city bus that stopped on the corner of 3rd St and Davis Avenue was nearly empty. It broke the eerie silence of the street to drop off a lone person, who stood there, back to the door as it closed and the bus went on its way down the street. Hands on the pocket of her black hoodie, Sam looked to her left to see the bus rattle away, discreetly feeling for the sheathed blade she kept hidden on the waistband of her jeans. She kept it with her all times, a habit that made her feel safer, stronger. Starting to walk, she kept her head down but her eyes up, attention on its peak. Her steps were silent, her old, worn-out tennis shoes light on the hard asphalt, but her rapidly pounding heart sounded loud on her ears as a dog leaped up the fence she passed with a sudden, deep bark. She took an involuntary step to the side, hand flying to grip the knife handle on the sheath. It wasn’t safe to walk around there at night, she knew that by experience. Eyeing the dog for a moment, as it kept barking angrily, she forced herself to breathe in and out and adjusted the straps of her small backpack from where it rested over her blonde dreadlocks.

It was a simple seven-minute walk from that corner to her house, but it felt like an hour.

Turning on the corner of 7th St, Sam should have been relieved to be close to her house, but she wasn’t. Her heart thumped hard again as she took a couple of steps after the corner and voices reached her ears. Loud, menacing laughter travelling through the air from a house near the end of the street, about a hundred yards away. Not far enough. Sam had counted her steps over and over again, eyes always darting around.

She knew that street in its details. The houses there were not close together, big spaces and trees between them, no fences. The blue house on the left corner was the nicest one, with the nicest people, an elderly couple who always smiled at her when they met, even though they never spoke. She felt sorry for them, growing old in a neighborhood like this. To her right, a long line of trees with no houses, cricket singing in the warm night. The second house had a nice but now overgrown front yard, a big For Sale sign stuck on the grass for a long time now. The first two houses on the right side belonged to just one family; loud people who were always crossing the yard between them, fighting daily and yelling at each other, but tonight the voices she heard didn’t come from there, but from the next house on the left. Two-story, old yellowing white paint, chipping brown windows and railings. Four steps lead up to a small porch, and an old, decaying couch under the window, now littered by a small group of men under the dim light. It wasn’t a rare occurrence; they were there many nights a week. Sam looked around once again and over her shoulders, checking if she was really alone, and removed her right hand from her pocket, only to snake it around the knife handle once again. Reassured it was really still there, she let her slightly trembling hand move back into the pocket, lowered her head and hastened her steps, but didn’t run.

Empty beer cans and a strong smell of low-quality weed decorated the place. Tonight there were three men other than the two who lived there. A man she knew to have a weird nickname like Gecko or something was sitting on the top step, back to the railing, lighting up the joint with a lighter. There was another sitting on the couch, she couldn’t see him properly behind the railing and the overgrown bush that tried to decorate it, but she saw enough of him to know it was the weird guy who lived at the end of Anderson Street, three blocks away from here. He was named after a letter. She didn’t even try to remember which one now. There was another man sitting on the floor in front of the door, a can in hand, draining it. She heard him belch when he finished, and he laughed throwing it to the floor by his side. Elbows resting on the railing, looking out at the street, was the younger of the two brothers who lived there, cigarette in hand, his expression guarded, looking pissed off like he usually looked. Finally, on the arm of the couch, the older brother, graying shaved head, a smirk playing on his lips as his light blue eyes saw her approach.

A cold chill started on the bottom of her spine and traveled up to lodge on the nape of her neck. One by one the men saw her, and she knew what was about to happen. They never permitted her to go by them in peace. That had never happened and Sam was not optimistic enough to think tonight it would be different.

“There she is!”, Sam heard Merle coo aloud in his hoarse, drunkenly drawled voice. “Done a lotta studyn’ today? Did ya give it good to the teacher for em’ good grades?”, he yelled and laughed, the others echoing him, highly entertained. They followed his rude, inappropriate comments and gestures, things Sam tried to ignore and stop herself from being offended by, but as usual, she failed miserably. She wanted to disappear, or better yet, she wanted them to disappear. To close her eyes and to see them gone when she opened them, but no, she didn’t dare to close her eyes. She kept them open and attentive, looking at each of the five men once again.

Only one of them was quiet, not following the other’s lead, light blue eyes like his older brother’s fixed on her now, teeth biting on his lower lip’s skin. The younger brother was not much older than Sam herself. He was the only one whose voice she didn’t hear on those occasions. He never said anything and she had never seen him laughing at what the others say. But he was there, and he didn’t stop the others from humiliating her every other night, so to her, he just as much a threat as the others. Sam looked away, walking even faster, trying to dodge the impending situation, but it was too late. One of the men, the one who had been sitting on the couch, was already up and crossing the front yard over the poorly kept grass in quick steps. He stood in front of her, blocking her way. His name was D, she remembered now. Sam didn’t know what it stood for, she had never heard his real name, but she liked to imagine it was Dickhead.

It was his last name. First name was Dead.

He smiled down at her, the smell of beer on his breath, with barely any teeth left in his mouth at all, except a few stained, yellowed teeth. Blonde, oily hair falling over his forehead almost covering his blue, reddened eyes. He wore a ragged tank too short to cover his protruding belly.

“Where ya goin’ sweetheart?”, he said opening his arms to block her way.

She stopped, just like her breathing did for a second. “Get out of my way, D”, she growled between clenched teeth.

“C’mon, sugar, let’s go inside and have us some fun.” And with that, he grabbed her left arm just above the elbow, strongly, and turned towards the stairs, forcing her with him. Her hands fell from inside the hoodie pockets. The other men got up from their positions to watch as Sam struggled to make D let go of her arm, urging him to pull her harder. Among them, Sam saw Merle up and attentive, smugness gone from his eyes, something unreadable taking its place. The men’s voices filled her mind of any further thought, D’s fetid breath suffocating her.

“Let go!”, she hissed aloud, arm bouncing strongly back and forth trying to escape, but he was stronger, even in his inebriated state.

“Not gonna happen, sweetie”, he smirked as he pulled her strongly against his chest, one arm circling her lower back, pressing her hard against him. “Been patient enough for years just talkin’ and hearin’ ya always bitchin’.”

“I’m warning you, D, get your fuckin’ hands off of me!”

He laughed aloud, the sound making a cold chill travel up her spine again, forcefully pulling her to the middle of the Dixons’ front yard. “Well shit, would ya look at the dirty mouth on ya!”

“Son of a bitch!”, she barked as he spoke, her free arm thumping against his chest with a clenched fist.

“You gonna show me how dirty ya can be, princess”. With that, he put even more force to his grip and pulled her to him, his mouth crashing against hers, his tongue moving over her tightly closed lips, trying to force its way into her mouth. Her stomach churned, bile rising to her throat. Eyes wide open, Sam saw as her two neighbors moved from where they had been watching it all so far. Her heartbeat even faster, now almost painfully as they both walked down the steps heading in their direction. The pair stopped dead in their tracks a moment later, though, as D’s loud, hoarse scream filled the night around them and cut off the laughter coming from the porch. He pushed her away from him, a hand touching his lips, eyes wide in horror as he saw his own blood run down.

Sam’s trembling hand wiped the blood from her own lips and spat on the floor, features showing just how disgusted she felt now, her hand already reaching for the knife on her waistband sheath.

“Fuckin´ bitch!”, D yelled, all signs of laughter gone, blood dripping from his lower lip. “Gonna show ya not to disrespect a man!” Raising his hand, he slapped her across the face, strong enough to make her head swirl to the side. She caught herself before stumbling to the ground, and just as she regained balance, her hand came up so quickly the other men almost missed the movement altogether, but D saw it and froze in place, eyes glued to the girl in front of him.

Blood stained her lips, a mix of rage and disgust in her eyes, and now a knife pointing to his throat.

“I. Warned. You”, she whispered menacingly, pausing after each word.

“I know whatcha need, kitten”, D said in a low voice, the smile returning to his bit down, bloody lip, “ya need a man to calm yer nerves. Ya ain’t of ‘em lesbos, are ya?”

“If ya ever touch me again – fuck, ya ever even look at me again, I swear I’ll cut off your dick and shove it up your ass!”, she hissed venomously and pressed the knife further, D taking a tentative step back and the tip of the knife pressed into his skin. She raised her voice then, hating that it trembled a little, “Now get the fuck outta my face!”

“Alright, alright, sugar.” He laughed and raised his arms in mocking surrender, taking more steps backwards to the house. “Just kidding anyway, keep ya panties on”. He turned to his friends to see them laugh at his absurdly stupid joke. “Tough one, ain’t she?”, he smirked at the other men and looked at her again over his shoulders, a dangerous smirk and a threatening glint in his eyes. “Won’t mind taming it”.

Sam followed his movements with her knife, still pointing it to him, her hand trembling a little even as he stepped up to the porch. Only then she looked at the others. Merle hadn’t moved and he wasn’t laughing, his hand touching at the gun tucked under the back of his waistband. Sam became sure he’d shoot her on the spot if she went any further with D. The others laughed with him as he approached, clapping him on the back, complimenting him for his attack like he was their hero. Merle’s younger brother, Daryl, was standing by him, observing the scene, his eyes looking dangerously at D and then back at Sam. Her narrowed eyes met his for a moment as she started to back away, eyes darting over every man there as she increased the distance between them. She finally turned around and retreated in hasty steps towards her house, the too-small distance between them feeling much longer as she did, her ears still trained on their vicious voices.

Bounding up her own front steps, Sam risked one last gaze at the neighbors’ house and caught Daryl watching her unlock the door, desperate for the psychological safety being inside would bring her. Once inside her house, she locked the door, knife still in hand, knuckles white from gripping it so hard. She faced the door for a long moment, half expecting it to be forced open at any second now. As long moments passed and nothing happened, Sam felt her legs threaten to give away and lowered herself to the floor, pulling her knees tight onto her chest.

She was sure the men didn’t hear the rage that came out of her in a low, throaty scream.

[elisdays]

Don’t Die - Day 0

The city bus that stopped on the corner of 3rd St and Davis Avenue was nearly empty. It broke the eerie silence of the street to drop off a lone person, who stood there, back to the door as it closed and the bus went on its way down the street. Hands on the pocket of her black hoodie, Sam looked to her left to see the bus rattle away, discreetly feeling for the sheathed blade she kept hidden on the waistband of her jeans. She kept it with her all times, a habit that made her feel safer, stronger. Starting to walk, she kept her head down but her eyes up, attention on its peak. Her steps were silent, her old, worn out tennis shoes light on the hard asphalt, but her rapid pounding heart sounded loud on her ears as a dog leapt up the fence she passed with a sudden, deep bark. She took an involuntary step to the side, hand flying to grip the knife handle on the sheath. It wasn’t safe to walk around there at night, she knew that by experience. Eyeing the dog for a moment, as it kept barking angrily, she forced herself to breathe in and out and adjusted the straps of her small backpack from where it rested over her silver blonde dreadlocks.

It was a simple seven-minute walk from that corner to her house, but it felt like an hour.

Turning on the corner of 7th St, Sam should have been relieved to be close to her house, but she wasn’t. Her heart thumped hard again as she took a couple of steps after the corner and voices reached her ears. Loud, menacing laughter travelling through the air from a house near the end of the street, about a hundred yards away. Not far enough. Sam had counted her steps over and over again, eyes always darting around.

She knew that street in its details. The houses there were not close together, big spaces and trees between them, no fences. The blue house on the left corner was the nicest one, with the nicest people, an elderly couple who always smiled at her when they met, even though they never spoke. She felt sorry for them, growing old in a neighborhood like this. To her right, a long line of trees with no houses, cricket singing in the warm night. The second house had a nice but now overgrown front yard, a big For Sale sign stuck on the grass for a long time now. The first two houses on the right side belonged to just one family; loud people who were always crossing the yard between them, fighting daily and yelling at each other, but tonight the voices she heard didn’t come from there, but from the next house on the left. Two-story, old yellowing white paint, chipping brown windows and railings. Four steps lead up to a small porch, and an old, decaying couch under the window, now littered by a small group of men under the dim light. It wasn’t a rare occurrence; they were there many nights a week. Sam looked around once again and over her shoulders, checking if she was really alone, and removed her right hand from her pocket, only to snake it around the knife handle once again. Reassured it was really still there, she let her slightly trembling hand move back into the pocket, lowered her head and hastened her steps, but didn’t run.

Empty beer cans and a strong smell of low quality weed decorated the place. Tonight there were three men other than the two who lived there. A man she knew to have a weird nickname like Gecko or something was sitting on the top step, back to the railing, lighting up the joint with a lighter. There was another sitting on the couch, she couldn’t see him properly behind the railing and the overgrown bush that tried to decorate it, but she saw enough of him to know it was the weird guy who lived at the end of Anderson Street, three blocks away from here. He was named after a letter. She didn’t even try to remember which one now. There was another man sitting on the floor in front of the door, a can in hand, draining it. She heard him belch when he finished, and he laughed throwing it to the floor by his side. Elbows resting on the railing, looking out at the street, was the younger of the two brothers who lived there, cigarette in hand, his expression guarded, looking pissed off like he usually looked. Finally, on the arm of the couch, the older brother, graying shaved head, a smirk playing on his lips as his light blue eyes saw her approach.

A cold chill started on the bottom of her spine and travelled up to lodge on the nape of her neck. One by one the men saw her, and she knew what was about to happen. They never permitted her to go by them in peace. That had never happened and Sam was not optimistic enough to think tonight it would be different.

“There she is!”, Sam heard Merle coo aloud in his hoarse, drunkenly drawled voice. “Done a lotta studyn’ today? Did ya give it good to the teacher for em’ good grades?”, he yelled and laughed, the others echoing him, highly entertained. They followed his rude, inappropriate comments and gestures, things Sam tried to ignore and stop herself from being offended by, but as usually she failed miserably. She wanted to disappear, or better yet, she wanted them to disappear. To close her eyes and to see them gone when she opened them, but no, she didn’t dare to close her eyes. She kept them open and attentive, looking at each of the five men once again.

Only one of them was quiet, not following the other’s lead, light blue eyes like his older brother’s fixed on her now, teeth biting on his lower lip’s skin. The younger brother was not much older than Sam herself. He was the only one whose voice she didn’t hear in those occasions. He never said anything and she had never seen him laughing at what the others say. But he was there, and he didn’t stop the others from humiliating her every other night, so to her, he just as much a threat as the others. Sam looked away, walking even faster, trying to dodge the impending situation, but it was too late. One of the men, the one who had been sitting on the couch, was already up and crossing the front yard over the poorly kept grass in quick steps. He stood in front of her, blocking her way. His name was D, she remembered now. Sam didn’t know what it stood for, she had never heard his real name, but she liked to imagine it was Dickhead.

It was his last name. First name was Dead.

He smiled down at her, the smell of beer on his breath, with barely any teeth left in his mouth at all, except a few stained, yellowed teeth. Blonde, oily hair falling over his forehead almost covering his blue, reddened eyes. He wore a ragged tank too short to cover his protruding belly.

“Where ya goin’ sweetheart?”, he said opening his arms to block her way.

She stopped, just like her breathing did for a second. “Get out of my way, D”, she growled between clenched teeth.

“C’mon, sugar, let’s go inside and have us some fun.” And with that, he grabbed her left arm just above the elbow, strongly, and turned towards the stairs, forcing her with him. Her hands fell from inside the hoodie pockets. The other men got up from their positions to watch as Sam struggled to make D let go of her arm, urging him to pull her harder. Among them, Sam saw Merle up and attentive, smugness gone from his eyes, something unreadable taking its place. The men’s voices filled her mind of any further thought, D’s fetid breath suffocating her.

“Let go!”, she hissed aloud, arm bouncing strongly back and forth trying to escape, but he was stronger, even in his inebriated state.

“Not gonna happen, sweetie”, he smirked as he pulled her strongly against his chest, one arm circling her lower back, pressing her hard against him. “Been patient enough for years just talkin’ and hearin’ ya always bitchin’.”

“I’m warning you, D, get your fuckin’ hands off of me!”

He laughed aloud, the sound making a cold chill travel up her spine again, forcefully pulling her to the middle of the Dixons’ front yard. “Well shit, would ya look at the dirty mouth on ya!”

“Son of a bitch!”, she barked as he spoke, her free arm thumping against his chest with clenched fist.

“You gonna show me how dirty ya can be, princess”. With that, he put even more force to his grip and pulled her to him, his mouth crashing against hers, his tongue moving over her tightly closed lips, trying to force its way into her mouth. Her stomach churned, bile rising to her throat. Eyes wide open, Sam saw as her two neighbors moved from where they had been watching it all so far. Her heart beat even faster, now almost painfully as they both walked down the steps heading in their direction. The pair stopped dead in their tracks a moment later, though, as D’s loud, hoarse scream filled the night around them and cut off the laughter coming from the porch. He pushed her away from him, a hand touching his lips, eyes wide in horror as he saw his own blood run down.

Sam’s trembling hand wiped the blood from her own lips and spat on the floor, features showing just how disgusted she felt now, her hand already reaching for the knife on her waistband sheath.

“Fuckin´ bitch!”, D yelled, all signs of laughter gone, blood dripping from his lower lip. “Gonna show ya not to disrespect a man!” Raising his hand, he slapped her across the face, strongly enough to make her head swirl to the side. She caught herself before stumbling to the ground, and just as she regained balance, her hand came up so quickly the other men almost missed the movement altogether, but D saw it and froze in place, eyes glued to the girl in front of him.

Blood stained her lips, a mix of rage and disgust in her eyes, and now a knife pointing to his throat.

“I. Warned. You”, she whispered menacingly, pausing after each word.

“I know whatcha need, kitten”, D said in a low voice, the smile returning to his bit down, bloody lip, “ya need a man to calm yer nerves. Ya ain’t of ‘em lesbos, are ya?”

“If ya ever touch me again – fuck, ya ever even look at me again, I swear I’ll cut off your dick and shove it up your ass!”, she hissed venomously and pressed the knife further, D taking a tentative step back and the tip of the knife pressed into his skin. She raised her voice then, hating that it trembled a little, “Now get the fuck outta my face!”

“Alright, alright, sugar.” He laughed and raised his arms in mocking surrender, taking more steps backwards to the house. “Just kidding anyway, keep ya panties on”. He turned to his friends to see them laugh at his absurdly stupid joke. “Tough one, ain’t she?”, he smirked at the other men and looked at her again over his shoulders, a dangerous smirk and a threatening glint in his eyes. “Won’t mind taming it”.

Sam followed his movements with her knife, still pointing it to him, her hand trembling a little even as he stepped up to the porch. Only then she looked at the others. Merle hadn’t moved and he wasn’t laughing, his hand touching at the gun tucked under back of his waistband. Sam became sure he’d shoot her on spot if she went any further with D. The others laughed with him as he approached, clapping him on the back, complimenting him for his attack like he was their hero. Merle’s younger brother, Daryl, was standing by him, observing the scene, his eyes looking dangerously at D and then back at Sam. Her narrowed eyes met his for a moment as she started to back away, eyes darting over every man there as she increased the distance between them. She finally turned around and retreated in hasty steps towards her house, the too small distance between them feeling much longer as she did, her ears still trained on their vicious voices.

Bounding up her own front steps, Sam risked one last gaze at the neighbors’ house and caught Daryl watching her unlock the door, desperate for the psychological safety being inside would bring her. Once inside her house, she locked the door, knife still in hand, knuckles white from gripping it so hard. She faced the door for a long moment, half expecting it to be forced open at any second now. As long moments passed and nothing happened, Sam felt her legs threaten to give away and lowered herself to the floor, pulling her knees tight onto her chest.

She was sure the men didn’t hear the rage that came out of her in a low, throaty scream.

[mysticmilks]

An arranged marriage -au

Chapter 2

Kylo rushes to Hux. No, no, he hopes the man doesn't strangle himself to death or had a heart attack or what else could happen to the spoiled viscount, who left his home without his entourage for the first time? Could he believe in his acting so much to die from a shock? Whatever happened, it can't mean anything good for Kylo.

When he’s reached Hux on the backseat he touches his neck and searches for the pulse. Yes, it’s there. He is alive, that's a reliever. Kylo realizes with an annoyance he was holding his breath. No need of burying the body. He feels stupid, probably overreacted and the man is just sleeping tired after a sleepless night.

The man apparently finally decided to rest and he will wake him for more of his genuine performance. -Your Lordship, are you asleep? - the dumbest question one can ask, and the man doesn’t respond. He should leave him there and continue to drive without his constant wriggling and wailing through the gag.

Instead of that, he lightly slaps Hux's cheeks. No reaction, his head is his head is hanging in an uncomfortable position, if not for the safety belt he would have already fallen forward. Kylo carefully removes the gag and shakes him a little. -Armitage?

He slightly opens his eyes, then coughs and rapidly blinks “Air... breath ... hard to breathe.” - his words mixed with horrible wheezes. Kylo cut off the ropes across his chest and remove them.

-Better? “My head is spinning, could you ... sir” - his voice is so small, and he is visibly trembling - “I need to ... I'm going to be sick …” - more coughing and gagging noises - “...please, sir.”

“Okay, wait a sec, hold it” - he takes shaking and gasping for air Armitage. The man can’t stand with his hands and legs tied so he just puts him on the ground near their vehicle. Kylo’s used an extra rope simply for the show. And now his client lies there and looks miserable when he tries to brace himself on the ground while he is trying to puke. Kylo does regret his client-oriented tieing right now.

“I’ll help you, my lord.” -he gingerly comes in front of the man so he won’t be scared by him “Can you give me your hands?”

Man doesn't look at him, his face covered with a mess of a hair, but he holds out bonded hands in front of himself. Kylo cuts the ropes with his knife, and repeat that with his legs.

The man still looks miserable, but at least his position is more comfortable now. Hux probably never been alone while feeling unwell, he was raised in a castle, in one of the wealthiest families in the country, he was always surrounded by an army of doctors and servant.

With this in mind, Kylo decides to try to comfort young viscount, to show him he is not alone and it’s nothing to fear. He comes closer to him and puts a hand on his shoulders in intend to gently rub it but the man flinches from his touch. He removes the hand and looks closely at it. It’s big, with rough skin from his training. Why he even decided to do it? It’s okay, Kylo doesn't care about it. He shouldn’t touch his clients.

-It going to be fine - He shouldn't say if he doesn’t even understand what’s going on with the man. While Hux is standing on all fours trembling and making gurgling and coughing noises, it occurs to Kylo maybe he has some illness his loving father inconveniently forgot to mention. Kylo's heard about the man who needs to eat every couple hours or he'd faint. Maybe Armitage has something similar.

But he doesn't know what else he could do now, hence he is staying there like a guard, who apparently he is in this mission.

He’s trying not to look at his shaling back, to give the man some semblance of privacy. his eyes go down and he notices his still bare feet. They are pale and smooth like rest of his skin. It’s chilly outside, viscount must be cold in his thin nightgown and without shoes. Maybe Kylo should bring some spare clothes from the car or cover him with a jacket. He will ask him when the men stop.

"Water, sir" - he is still kneeling, his voice barely audible and face hidden "I need some water!" -Yes, your Lordship, wait here. - He is going to his bag on the front seat to fetch some water when he hears a running noise.

Fuck! He can’t believe it all was some more of the weak show. And now his client decides it's time to play "a runaway bride" part. Kylo ponders for a few seconds to wait near their vehicle until Armitage come to his senses or get tired and get back, but little lordling can be enough stubborn to decide to go back to his father home, and Kylo would be dishonored, lost his money and reputation. Or that brat can lose his royal ass in the forest, Kylo’d need to find him. Anyhow more trouble for him if he'd decide to wait.

Thus he is chasing him through the forest. Moreover, now he feels fooled and angry so he wants to punish young Hux for this cheap trick. Kylo bets he was never disciplined in his life, no one ever raised a voice to him, and he decideв he can act as he wants. He is the client but that it!

How could Kylo be so obtuse to believe him? It’s all that ridiculous fantasy about Armitage. He’s seen a pretty face and forgot he is on the job. To Kylo’s credit, it never happens to him before, he never lost control on a mission, but he never participated in ceremonies for the amusement of rich folks before too. So it has nothing to do with a pretty face, and the face is not that pretty anyways. He just felt lonely lately, no time to find a good laid.

“Stop! I swear I'll spank you when I catch you!" if he is going to be a child, Kylo is going to punish him like one. "Your father only demanded not to touch your face, but other parts weren’t of limit!" Kylo is screaming while running through the thick woods, glimpses of white fabric and red are visible ahead of him amind green and brown. "Your ass will be so sore when I finish with you, not only you can't seat on during your wedding feast but even consummate your marriage. Believe me, I've foreseen your so beloved husband won't like it!”

Hux runs pretty fast with his long legs and he had a head start but Kylo is much faster so he eventually catches him up and knocks him down to the ground.

“Are you crazy?” he straddles him from behind and holds his wrists behind his back with one hand and push his head to the ground with another. They both are panting. “I'm tired of your games”

-Release me, stupid goon! Immediately! It's an order!

There are so much hatred and anger in his voice all pretense weakness from illness is abandoned. Kylo starts to suspect the man got lost in his own act.

There were furious fighting, an appearance of being ill, running away and now they are back to fighting and screaming! Will he fake illness once again in a couple of hours? Kylo is part of an ancient order, he was trained from the birth, but he is stuck here with this shallow nobleman who, for some petty reason, fancies himself as a great actor. He shouldn’t be here, in this forest, with this man, he was bound to do great deeds not to be an extra in other person wedding play! So he starts laughing, all of this is simply absurd!

"What was your brilliant plan?" - his voice is full of taunting. He wants to hurt him with the truth, to show him how foolish he is. He releases Armitage’s hands and stands up above him- "To broke your legs somewhere in this woods, to meet a wild animal, and be bitten, to get lost?"

Hux turns around and lifts himself up so he is sitting now and facing him. The front of his nightgown is dirty, brown and green from dirt and grass as well as his face. The man is looking at him with disdain, but Kylo can't stop laughing, this day has gone totally wrong.

“All of this to go extra miles for the old ritual! Were you that bored in your castle? Poor little Armitage, tired to play with of his daddie's wealth” all his anger is drained away, all he can feel now is disgust with these people. “Can't you wait for a day to play all the roles you want in the bedroom with your husband, your lordship? Or you are so used to people to do whatever you want, you can’t even imagine that you aren’t the most important person in the world.“

Hux is still looking quietly at him, his face cringed. Good, he deserved this.

“You are just a pathetic spoiled boy!” Kylo, with his most “eat shit” smile on the face, gives him his hand so he can manage to pull himself. ”Get up, your Lordship. We need to continue our sacred journey to your wedding destination.”

Armitage pushes his hand off, not making a move to get up. “You are even obtuser than I've initially thought. You still don't get it, merc” his voice still uneven from running and screaming but unexpectedly there is a lot of contempt and mockery in it too. “Brendol fooled you.”

“It's getting old! - he moves his hand once again to him to pull young viscount up. “Let's move!”

"He fooled you" - he says slowly with a scoff "And you believed his plain lie"

-Quit your play

“There is no play” he sighted “Just an old man who doesn't take no for an answer and a father who would sell his son for money and power.”

-What are you talking about? -Brendol didn't hire you for a pretense kidnapping but for real one. -Cut the crap, he told me about your traditions, you need to fight to show ...

“Yes” - he interrupted Kylo - “there are still pairs who fake kidnapping so they can marry if their parent opposes it”. he sounds like he is giving a lesson to an especially stupid kid “For others, it’s merely a part of a wedding feast when the bride or groom are kidnapped and guests need to participate in games to find them. During a feast. For fun.”

“It doesn’t make any sense. Why would your father lie to me, he could just order a kidnapping?” - Kylo doesn't understand that his order is famous for doing many things much worse than kidnapping for the force-wedding.

-He is a proud man, he is a ruler! He knows I’d never participate willingly in the ceremony, and it would be a disgrace for him if I made a scene in front of all the guest and the press. If people found out his son doesn't obey him he'd lose his reputation. How can he control troops if he can’t control his own son? But this way he can play it as my decision to elope for a secret wedding. If it's a romantic decision of a stupid boy who will mind? You may not believe me but it's true.

They are silent for a while, there’re only soft sounds of the forest around them. Somehow Kylo knows the man doesn't lie, nobody is that good at acting. This hapless Armitage is going to be force married and Kylo is now a part of it. This new knowledge must change everything, it must, except in the real world, it doesn't. He still has a job to finish, he still has his honor, status, his order and he must obey its rules. He can't break a contract even if his client is an asshole who sold his own son.

“Let's go back to the car.” - Kylo is deliberately not looking into his face but to the surface of the stream next to the place he’s lying, on the light that’s playing on the water. He doesn't want to know what Hux is thinking of him right now, presumably nothing good.

It's been a couple of minutes and the man didn't move.

-Let's go back to the car. -I have money, I can pay you! -Let's! go! Back! To the car!

Even if the question was only about the money, Kylo seriously doubts this man has something that doesn’t belong to his father. But money can fix it, they both know it. Armitage stands up but doesn't move to him. Kylo comes closer and stops mere inches away from him.

“I don't enjoy it and that isn't fair!”- Kylo says quietly, he tries to maintain calm voice, even though he wants to scream, and punch somebody, preferably some reach old bastard - “Your father is a piece of shit but he also one of the most influential people in this country. You should have obeyed him, it’d be better for everybody” - it’d be better for you. Whoever he is bound to marry, probably isn’t happy his sweet prize don’t want to marry him and humiliated him in Brendol's eyes.

-You can just let me go, tell them I've run away, tell them I've slit my own throat, tell them I've fallen from the cliff. -Go to the car, if it needed I'll drag your ass there! - he finally looks him in the eyes to show how serious he is about it, and Armitage doesn’t look away.

“We can run together! They won't seek us until the next day, you told that yourself, and we can be far away until that. You are brave, aren’t you, merc?” - Hux leans closer- “A mighty warrior as you are can easily outrun my father’s guard. You can find work in another country! I can work for you!” -What will you do? - he is smirking, he did not fall for cheap flattery, but he can listen where young viscount is going with this “Whoever you want” - Hux closes the gap between them, their bodies are touching now. “I can be you accounter, I’m good with numbers." Hux’s nightgown is so thin he can feel the warms of his body, "I can help you with negotiations." he is whispering in Kylo’s ear " I can wait for you in your home to greet you after hard working day”, his hand brushes along Kylo's side. “I can be yours” - his breath is warm on Kylo’s neck, hair on his nape is standing. Kylo feels one of Hux’s hand on his ass, and the other stroking his shoulder. Kylo, please pops up in his mind.

-What are you doing? - he catches Hux’s hands. His voice is hoarse, he doesn’t want to stop, but they can't continue. -You don't want me? Kylo should say no, he really should, but he doesn't answer. The thought is so tempting and he remembers his fantasy, which feels more like a vision now, so vividly. They could run away together, he is smart and skilled, they could get in the car, change direction, start a new life together, but it’d mean to abandon everything, to run for the rest of their lives.

-Tell me what you want and I'll give it to you! - Hux probably meant it as a seductive, but it sounds strange, desperate, like a rehearsed line from some vid. Has he ever said something like this before?

-Whatever I want? -Yes! -So you would rather go to a shady deal with merc who you don’t know, who can use you then betray you than marry that guy? -I'd drop to my knees and suck your cock right now for the mere possibility to avoid that marriage! - he says with frantic determination. He is definitely isn’t concerned about his purity and chastity right now. -Why?- Kylo must know the answer, he must understand what drives strange actions of young viscount before he makes any rash decision. - Why do you think I'll be any better than him? You don’t know anything about me, you don’t even know my name.

Hux is uncertain. There is a long pause between them. He looks somewhere in the woods and sighs before he starts quietly speaking again. -There are rumors he had multiple young wives and husbands who died or disappeared under strange circumstances.

Hux still isn't looking at him. Kylo has to ask but he fears he already knows the answer. -Who is your betrothed?

Hux is silent, Kylo knows he asked the right question. -Just tell me.

An old and powerful man, who is richer than Hux family, who isn’t much concerned if a story with force marriage became public knowledge, the man who like to play with new toys, but these toys tend to break. -Are you promised to Snoke?

[nashvilletonihon]

There’s No Race, There’s Only A Runner. Just Keep One Foot In Front Of The Other...

Hey guys. It’s been a few days (ok, maybe a little bit more than that) since I last posted anything. To be honest, I don’t have much to tell. I’ve been at my high schools for two weeks now and have actually taught less than a handful of times. This upcoming week is the Cultural Festival, so both Amino and Kumihama have been focused on preparing for that. This means there are shortened classes and varied schedules depending on rehearsal times. Cultural Festival is a school wide event that requires the students to all participate in various activities. At Amino, the First Years are required to perform in a play. The second years are required to sing and the Third Years are required to dance. There are also food stalls, games and activities that the teachers can buy tickets to. (I have one for a Japanese tea booth I plan on visiting on Wednesday.) At Kumihama, all of the students chose to perform in different plays depending on their homerooms. There is a general atmosphere of excitement and anticipation filling the hallways and classrooms at both schools and I am 100% ready to see all of the students hard work and effort come to fruition. We just have to hope against hope the typhoon doesn’t ruin everything.

This past month has been one of the most difficult of my life. I’ve been very open and honest about my struggles regarding moving to and living in Japan. This week was especially hard because I was not feeling well, school and classes did NOT go how I had imagined them and I was incredibly emotional and homesick. (For those of you following the saga that is my sleep schedule, I wish I could inform you that it’s getting better....but it’s not.) I thought maybe a run would combat the stress and anxiety I that I was feeling, so Wednesday night I did just that. In 90 degree weather and at least 1,000% humidity I put on my running clothes, laced up the new sneakers I bought (because I FINALLY found a pair in my size) and just...ran. I didn’t have a set destination. All I knew was that I needed to run away from my emotions. (Spoiler alert: They caught up with me later.) As I was aimlessly running, I stumbled upon a park a short distance from my apartment. Curious, I decided to take a little detour to see what it had to offer. Turns out there were a few tennis courts, a small lake, a really, really nice baseball field and some nature trails heading up a “mountain” toward one side the stadium. 

Feeling adventurous, I decided to explore one of the trails. I quickly realized how out of shape I am as I began to climb the almost vertical stairs. Huffing and puffing I hauled myself up this mountainside. With each step I took I became more and more emotional. I kept thinking about how classes that day had been a total bust. The students sat there. Stone faced. Silent. They just stared at me like I had grown a second head as I attempted to introduce myself. The more I tried to make it exciting, engaging and fun, the more they refused to participate. You want to talk about feeling judged? Stand in front of a classroom full of 30 high schoolers who want nothing to do with you and what you have to say. 

(It ain’t fun.)

Wheezing and panting, my mind filled with failures of the day, I finally reached the top of the mountain. Exhausted, stressed, anxious and downright fed up, I sat down next to a small, run down temple and cried. 

“What am I doing here? Why did I leave the great life I had in America for this? The students don’t care. I can’t understand anyone. I’m alone and I miss my family. I miss Preston so much. Does he miss me like I miss him? I miss going to movies with him. Feeling his arms around me in bear a hug. God, what I wouldn’t do for a hug. From anyone. I could still be working at a really great job right now back in the States and having the time of my life with my friends. Instead, I’m here. I don’t want to be here anymore. I feel like such a failure. This is too hard and I honestly don’t know if I have anything left to give. It’s only been a month but it feels like a lifetime. I want off this roller coaster. Please. I just want to go home.”

I cried until I thought I couldn’t cry anymore. (I did the next day while on the phone with my mom.) I sat there next to that temple with snot, sweat and tears running down my face and felt so, hopeless. To have so many things beyond my control is new for me and I hate it. I knew this was going to be hard but I had no idea it was going to be THIS hard. I know by now that I must sound like a broken record when it comes to this. “Yes Rachel, we get it. It’s hard but god bless, pull up your big girl panties and DO something about it.” Or maybe that’s just what I would tell myself from the outside looking in. And I promise you all that I am. I’m studying Japanese like it’s a dying language, saying yes to every offer that involves hanging out, grabbing food or exploring, getting involved in after school activities like Kendo and attempting to stay as busy as possible to keep my mind off of the crippling doubt and anxiety ridden thoughts I’m having.

Sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn’t. 

That being said, I’m a firm believer that the universe gives you exactly what you need precisely when you need it. Enter Kate and Jess on a rainy Thursday evening. A few days earlier, Leah (my predecessor) had reached out and informed me that last year an older Japanese couple, Kumi and Masani Yoshida, had invited some of the JETs over to their house for a weekly dinner. The wife used to be a JTE at Amino (my base school) and apparently their bread is famous among the Kyotango AET’s who have had the pleasure of attending one of these gatherings. 

I’ll be honest, I didn’t want to go. I had just finished bawling on the phone to my mom when I got the message that they were outside my apartment. I quickly splashed some cold water on my face, slipped my sneakers on and walked outside. No make-up. Messy hair. Sweaty and sick looking. “Sorry I look like death warmed over.” I mumbled. “Not at all. You look great.” Kate replied with a smile. (Already being much nicer than I deserved.) “Would you like to follow us so that you know how to get there the next time?” Not feeling particularly social, I quickly agreed and got in my car. 20 minutes later we had arrived at an adorable Japanese home with two of the kindest people waiting for us inside. (I dare someone to find an unkind person in Japan.) 

Dinner was entirely vegetarian, comprised of dishes like noodles, rice and vegetables all grown in and harvested from their personal garden. AND THE BREAD. (I would 100% die for that bread.) The Yoshida’s didn’t even seem to mind that I was mostly speaking in English, too tired to try to work out what I wanted to say in Japanese. Kate and Jess have been in Japan for five years now and did most of the translating for me and the Yoshida’s in return. I was maybe a little more candid than I should have been upon first meeting them about how lonely and miserable I was. (Keeping in mind that I had my incredibly gracious hosts sitting right next to me.) I told them mostly everything. How isolating the countryside is, especially when you’re a Prefectural JET because you don’t get the luxury of meeting all the Municipal AET’s at the Board of Education almost every week. I talked to them about how sad and homesick I was and how I didn’t know if I had it in me to last an entire year. They both listened with patience and responded with kindness. Kate told me about how she went through the same feelings and emotions when she arrived. Her situation was a little different from mine because she wasn’t a JET at that point and had no job to work at or school to attend. “I was home for 10 hours a day, by myself. It was awful.” she confided in me. “But don’t worry. We’ll make sure you’re not alone anymore.” I almost started crying at the dinner table. 

As the meal began to wind down, we made plans to return again the next week. This time Kumi invited us to come earlier than 6:45 so that Kate and I could help her cook dinner if we wanted. It’s a fantastic opportunity to expand my Japanese recipe book and authentic dish making skills, so of course I adamantly agreed. Laden with leftovers and some brand new towels (the Japanese love giving gifts) I slipped on my outside shoes as Kate informed me that Kumi is well versed in the art of tying and wearing 着物 kimono and that there is a festival dedicated to kimono is October. I was immediately invited and have plans to attend with Kate and Kumi if our schedules allow. Kate and Jess also made plans to pick me up the next morning to show me around Kyotango, take me to the grocery store so that they could help me with any questions I might have regarding labels and food items and to basically let me know that living in the countryside isn’t a death sentence. (However much it might feel like one at times.)

So this morning, we did all of that. It may have been raining but that didn’t dampen our spirits as we bought locally grown veggies and homemade bread at a cute café down the street from where I live, drove along the coastline for some of the most gorgeous views I’ve ever seen and a place that I definitely plan on taking my family and Preston when they come to visit next year. We grabbed a delicious lunch of ramen at the mall where I do some of my grocery shopping and capped off the afternoon with a trip to this tucker away liquor store next to the train station where I can find all of my favorite American whiskeys and spirits for half the price. Places I never would have known about if Kate and Jess hadn’t taken time out of their Saturday to drive around and show me. I am forever indebted to them and their kindness. We already have plans to go hiking once the weather cools down for good and to go to the 温泉 onsen (Japanese bath/hot spring) for some girl relaxation time when school gets to be too much. I laughed and smiled more today than I have all week. Most importantly though, I didn’t feel judged for the way I’ve been feeling. Here they are five years later with no plans to leave and a potential house in the works. Life’s funny, ain’t it?

I have no idea what tomorrow will bring. I have no idea what the next 11 months will bring. (Except maybe tears. And most certainly memories.) What I do know is that I am slowly surrounding myself with a group of wonderful, kind, caring, gentle, patient and genuine human beings who make each unknown day a little bit easier to manage. It makes me excited to introduce my family and boyfriend to them. To show my loved ones the people who have become so dear and so close to me. My network of support and a safety net when walking the tightrope gets to be a tad too scary. 

I’m one fortunate gal, I tell you what. I haven’t given up just yet, and I’ll keep puttin’ one foot in front of the other.

- レイチェル (Rachel)

[ask-shinso]

🐩

Despite the harsh rain falling down, Hitoshi Shinso marched on with his head held high and a gleam in his eye. But, that might just be from the tears that’d been dripping down his cheeks from even before he’d taken off. Luckily for him and his pride, the pouring rain was a good cover. But still, god forbid he ran into someone who knew him. Even it it were to be tears, or just him getting a raindrop in his eye, the last thing he wanted was his reputation to be that he was a big old wimp. 

Considering the tighter neighborhood, everyone knew everything about eachother, nobody was a stranger. Nobody moved out unless they were being drug out in a body bag or there was an incident WITH  a body bag. He didn’t like to think about that in lieu of recent events. Very recent. Too young, too young to have to understand death, and too young to experience it. But, he’d been graced with his first brush with chaos theory; A very cruel mistress indeed. At five, you’re supposed to be worrying about commanding your crew and going on adventures. Not hearing your father trying to explain to you that your mother won’t be coming home, that ‘daddy has to take care of a few things,’ that ‘she’s in a better place now.’ What is this ‘better place?’ What’s better than here, in Okayama, with me?, he’d wondered. He just couldn’t get the words out.

That’s what he’d been dwelling on as he stormed outside. No raincoat, no shoes, nothing–just him, and his thoughts, and the freezing rain. He understood. He understood it all. He knew what happened, even if he didn’t. 

The only thing that pulled him from the storm of thoughts in his head was the screaming of an animal he couldn’t quite place. Or maybe it wasn’t an animal. Maybe it was a person…they sounded awful either way. Muffled by the rain, distorted by the hundreds of possible alleyways and sewer drains that it could be coming from, Hitoshi was left at a standstill. Now it was him, the rain, his thoughts, and a screaming thing that his thoughts told him to go for. 

Go, Hitoshi Shinso, go find it, it said. They need help, they need a hero. Be a hero, now is your chance. Prove them wrong. You can help. You can help.

He wiped his face despite how the rain seemed to cover him again almost immediately, a huff escaping his lungs. He pressed forward, peeking into the alleyway to his right, going up another, looking in that one too just to go back to the first. He seemed to hesitate for only a moment before venturing deeper, watching where he stepped just in case there were any nails or broken glass that his feet could find and ruin his entire operation. It almost felt weird venturing out without the rest of his small crew following his footsteps to a T. They thought he was cool, or that’s what they said anyway. Part of him didn’t believe they were being honest, though. They only started hanging around him once his quirk manifested. Then they thought he was the best. Never before. 

The screaming grew louder as he drew closer to the heap of boxes beside the back door to the clothing shop on the right of the alley, leaving him to stop. His breath caught in his chest before he held it entirely, his heart pounding in his ears. Here, here it was, here was the thing he was looking for. What does he do? What if it’s something bad? What if he ends up–

Before he could have another doubt, he’d found his hands grasping the box to rip it upwards, a shout of triumph and fear of his own leaving his lungs. His voice sounded so small in comparison to how he’d wanted his battle cry to come out. He hadn’t even opened his eyes to see what it was, but the screaming had stopped; Instead, it’d been replaced by the hiss and growl of something that definitely didn’t sound friendly. He boiled up all the courage he could muster, just enough to open up his eyes a little tiny bit to see what he’d uncovered. Maybe just to look death in the eyes before it strikes.

Instead, though, he’d been met with the sight of a cat that was just as sopping wet as him, fur bristled and ears pinned back, ready to go at him as soon as he moved a muscle, it seemed. But maybe it was just as afraid as Hitoshi. Maybe it was just cold and wet and miserably confused, just like him. So, he didn’t run. He moved slowly, carefully setting down the box and crouching down, shining violet eyes and white pupils meeting with a pair of black slits surrounded in a striking icy blue. A cat. No, not a cat, a kitten. Far too young, far too small to be out like this. Too young to be alone. 

“You’re okay–it’s okay,” He whispered out, a trembling hand extending just a bit too quickly for its comfort. The cat braced itself and hissed, leaving Shinso jolting back as well. What was it that his father said? Slow and steady, slow and steady wins the race. “Slow and steady,” He mumbled, swallowing down the lump in his throat to try again, this time with much more grace. “Y–You’re okay. I’m not bad, I’m a good guy. I’m not bad,” He said, as if this cat knew of him, as if it cared. “M-My name is Hitoshi…are you cold? Are you okay?” He beckoned, wiggling his fingers a bit. It seemed to catch his offer finally, and, despite how it seemed to be just as anxious, it sulked forward to sniff his fingers, see if he was alright. 

Hitoshi couldn’t help but hold his breath, just to still himself even more. This things head was a little bigger than his fist–it could eat him if it wanted to. That was all he could think about, dying as a soggy boy to a cat he wanted to help out, because he knows the feeling of being a soggy boy in an alleyway. It wasn’t fun. So he’d prefer to make neither of them soggy boys, and not die to the second soggy boy that he was trying to help.

Luckily enough, he seemed to pass the test. 

The cat rubbed its head up against his hand, throat crackling to life as it began to purr in a way that brought tears to Shinso’s eyes. He began to quiver as he scratched behind its ears, under its chin–wherever it moved its head to for him to pet, he obliged. Sure, sure, he might be just another soggy, lonely, confused little boy, sitting behind a clothing store in the freezing rain for God knows what reason, but right here, right now, it felt okay to be a couple of soggy little boys.

If this was what running away felt like, if this was what it had in store for him, then he was happy that he was somewhere where he couldn’t be f–

“Hitoshi–!”

🐩 - Discovering their pet/favorite animal

Dancing bears, painted wings, things I almost remember… Accepting.